"Why, mamma, I have never thought about it, and with such people there can be hardly a question about liking or not liking. I think they are all pretty much alike, and the few points of difference are so unimportant that they are hardly noticed. One is called Stein, the other is called Timm, and that is nearly all."
"You are right, dear child," said the baroness. "These people are mutes on the stage; they are only seen when the principal personages are going out. Fortunately, I can promise you soon better and more agreeable company."
"Who is that?"
"Your cousin Felix. I have just received a letter from him, the postman is still in the kitchen; you can give him a letter if you think of writing a few lines to Hamburg,--he announces his coming for to-morrow or the day after. But was not that your father's voice? Good-by, dear child; get ready; we shall dine a little earlier and go to pay some visits."
The baroness kissed her daughter on the forehead and left the room. Miss Helen drew out the letter she had so hastily hidden, in order to add: "Mamma, who has just left me, is, after all, very kind indeed. She told me of a visitor who is coming: Felix Grenwitz (the lieutenant). We shall have a little more life now at Grenwitz, for it seems we can no longer count upon Mr. Stein. Adieu, dearest, dearest Mary."
CHAPTER V.
If anyone should have taken a special interest in Mr. Timm, he would have noticed that something extraordinary must have happened to him lately. The black dress coat which he now daily wore, and the greater care which he bestowed on his appearance, together with other kindred changes in his general manner, might have been explained by Miss Helen's presence, and the higher style which seemed to prevail at Grenwitz. But what meant the grave expression which was now frequently seen on his white forehead and in his blue eyes? What the silence to which he, the talkative man, now condemned himself for hours? What, especially, the restless industry with which he stood all day long bent over his drawing-board, busy with pencil and brush? Up to the day on which the family returned, Mr. Timm had given himself entirely to the pleasures of a pleasant rural retreat; but from the hour at which he had gone into the archive-room, and there found a small package of letters tied up with a red silk cord, all had changed. Not that it had been in Albert's nature to repent of his dolce far niente during that pleasant week--he, besides, worked so rapidly and easily that it was a trifle to him to make up for lost time. It was surely not the plats and the surveys, therefore, which troubled him now. Any one might have seen that by looking on that afternoon into his room, which he had, to his habit, carefully locked after him.
Mr. Timm was sitting on a lounge in his room, one leg crossed over the other, his head resting in his hands, and blowing mighty clouds from his cigar, while he was evidently thinking deeply. By his side, on the lounge, lay the letters which he had found among the archives. There were not many of them, all written in the same delicate handwriting, and upon rather grayish paper, such as was universally in use, even for letters, some forty years ago. The letters were rather old, apparently, for the ink was very much faded; but no contrary date was to be found anywhere.
"These letters ought to be valuable in some way," said Albert, speaking confidentially to his best friend and only intimate, his dear own self, "only I do not know how. If I should succeed in finding the answers, it would go hard indeed if a clever fellow, such as I am, could not ferret out the whole of the great secret. Besides, I think I am on the track. It is improbable, though not impossible, that both should have died, mother and child alike. Marie was evidently a fine girl, and that little trouble and heart-sore could hardly have cost her her life. And the child, illegitimate as it was, enjoyed, in all probability, the proverbial good luck of such children. Therefore, the mother may be alive, and the child may be alive. If they are both alive,--and I do hope and wish it,--they either know something of the codicil to the will of the noble scapegrace, or they do not. If they have been informed of it,--which again is not very probable, since it would be a perfectly sublime height of stupidity to shut the mouth against such a roast pigeon flying about and seeking to be devoured,--they must be made to apply for their property. If they should know nothing of it, which is more likely, we must assist them in their lamentable ignorance. In any case we must first of all find out where they are. It is not to be presumed that they have concealed themselves in the neighborhood. For in the first place Harald would have found them, when he spared no money and left no means unemployed in his search; and secondly, such people are very apt to run, on like occasions, as far as they can; and thirdly, this Monsieur d'Estein seems to have been a very sly fox, who would be sure to hide his little dove as safely as could be done from the fierce lion. This monsieur is every way a very inconvenient quantity in the problem, which I should like to eliminate if I knew how to do it. If he did not die soon afterwards, he probably did a good deal of mischief yet; perhaps he even married little Marie, adopted the child, carried both of them back to France or to America, and spoilt the whole game for me--who knows? That would be disgraceful; for the story might really become highly interesting to me and to others. I should like to see the faces of the two, if I appeared before them and said: My good friends, what will you give me if I help you to a nice little fortune of a hundred thousand dollars or so? Or perhaps--and that might be the more convenient way of doing the thing--I might present myself before dear Anna Maria some fine afternoon, and say to her: Pardon me, madam, if I interrupt you, but I found among the papers of my father, who, as you know, did business for your departed cousin Harald, certain documents which enable me to trace the legal owners of Stantow and Baerwalde with tolerable accuracy. My sense of justice, and the special respect I entertain for you and your daughter, are contending in my bosom. The one compels me to report my discovery to the proper court; the other whispers to me to keep the matter secret. What do you say, madam, if you were to re-enforce my disinterested veneration by a few thousand dollars, which, upon my honor, are very much needed just now?"
This suggestion seemed to inspire Mr. Timm. He jumped up from the lounge and walked up and down in the room, gesticulating actively. "That might become a gold mine for me," he said to himself. "I should worry the old woman till her big gray eyes were twice as large. I should put the thumbscrews on her, and every time I wanted money I would give a turn or two. She would do anything rather than risk a lawsuit. Then I should be, so to say, master in the house; then I could drop the fool's mask and show myself in my true form. Then I might say who was to marry Miss Helen; why, I might marry her myself if I chose, and calmly look forward to the arrival of my good friend Felix, which dear Anna Maria has just confided to me as a great secret. Not that I am much troubled by it, any way, for friend Felix was the worthy pupil of his master, and handled the cards as well as I did and would probably not have fared any better than I did if he had not belonged to an old family. As it was, Ensign Baron Felix Grenwitz escaped with a reprimand, while Ensign Albert Timm had to quit the service. I am curious how we shall meet. Perhaps he won't recognize me; perhaps he'll try to get rid of the troublesome guest as soon as possible. Ha! How things would change if these wretched letters did not skip over the most important points with a levity and carelessness of which women alone are capable!" Albert sat down again and commenced his letters once more, although he nearly knew them by heart. He had carefully numbered them, and perused them in the order in which they came.