So it came about without the dear old clergyman or his wife noticing it, and without the child noticing it, that she had grown to be the most important personage in the family. When she went dancing about the house in her simple frock, her little silk handkerchief round her neck, her cheeks rosy with health, and her hair hanging down her back unconfined by ribbon or comb, the whole household rejoiced in her happiness. When she sat quietly beside her foster-father learning her lessons, and looking up at him with her great eyes while he taught her something new and interesting, and then at last closed her books with a deep sigh, as though she were sorry that lessons were over for the day, and yet glad, for she had been hard at work for some time, and could not have properly understood anything more, Mrs. Behrens would leave her clippers at the door, and go about dusting the furniture in her stockings. She was afraid of disturbing the lessons: "For," she said, "teaching children is quite different from writing sermons, and if it's a deadly sin to speak to old people when they're busy, a child's mind--good gracious, the waving of a tulip-stalk would be enough to distract its attention!"
Hawermann's little daughter was always pretty, but she never looked so pretty as when running to meet her father, she took him by the hand and led him to the great lime-tree under which the good clergyman and his wife were sitting, and if Hawermann sometimes looked sad at the thought of how little he could do for his own child, there was a whole heaven of joy in her eyes because he was there, and she seemed to feel she could best repay the love and kindness her foster-parents showed her, through her love and gratitude to her father. She had just entered her thirteenth year, and as yet hardly understood the feelings and impulses of her own heart. She had never asked herself why her father was dear to her. With Mr. and Mrs. Behrens it was different. She had daily signs of their affection, and daily opportunities of doing little loving services for them in return. While with him--she only knew he was her father, and that he often said things to her that must have come from his heart, and often looked at her with a quiet sadness that could not fail to go to hers. If she had made out a debtor and creditor account, the clergyman and his wife deserved more at her hands, but still----! The Lord our God has so joined people together by the ties of nature that they cannot be divided.----
This day had been a happy one for both Hawermann and his child, and now he was sitting in the shady arbour overlooking the fields he had tilled and the neighbouring country. Spring was gone, and the summer sun was shining warmly and brightly through white fleecy clouds, a soft breeze slightly cooled the air, and the green ears of corn were waving in the sunshine as though the earth were fluttering her green silken banner in honour of her sovereign lady the sun. Her regimental music sung by thousands of birds was hushed now that the spring was gone, and only the cuckoo and corn-crake were to be heard; and instead of the songs that but a few weeks ago had sounded in every thicket, the wind came up over the fields laden with sweet odours, for the hay-harvest had begun. How pleasant it is to see a long stretch of country lying before one, divided into stripes of green and yellow, here and there interspersed with wooded hills; to see old earth decked out in the brilliant garments which the seasons have woven for her. But still life in such a place is not without its anxieties, and people are fearful lest by any misfortune they should not reap as abundant a harvest as they ought, from their little bits of land, and even these long lines of colour, and the hills and trees, seem in their eyes poor and barren.--I am quite aware that it is not so in reality, but they think so at the time.--With us it is quite different, our fields stretch out in one kind of corn as far as the woods, the rape-fields resembling a great sea in the golden sunlight. Large meadows and paddocks are to be seen full of cattle, and immense hay-fields in which long rows of mowers are at work in their white shirt-sleeves. Everything is for the best and works for a good end, and wherever the eye falls there is peace and fruitfulness.--I know quite well that it is not the case, but one thinks so at the time.--It all depends upon the way we look at a thing. One man sees nothing but riches and peace, while another slips away into the shade and lets the humming of the bees, and the soft fluttering of the butterflies around him sink into his heart.--Hawermann was filled with quiet thankfulness as gazing on this scene he went over again, in thought, the events of the past eleven years. Everything had gone well with him during that time, he had paid both Bräsig and Moses what he owed them, and he was on good terms with his employer. Indeed Mr. von Rambow had become almost confidential with him, for although he was not accustomed to talk over his private affairs with anyone, he had always found Hawermann so respectful, trustworthy and zealous in his service, that he had gradually got into the habit of consulting him about things that had more to do with himself individually than with the management of the estate. As yet however he had never spoken to him about his family worries, but now he was going to do so.
When Hawermann had been sitting in the arbour for a short time, he heard a couple of carriages drive up to the door. "Here they are already," he exclaimed, springing to his feet, and going towards the house to receive the squire and his family.
Mr. von Rambow, with his wife, his three daughters and his son, had come to spend six weeks or so at Pümpelhagen to enjoy a little country-air. "Well, Mr. Hawermann," he said, "I fear that we have come upon you sooner than you expected, but I got my business in Rostock finished much more quickly than I had thought possible.--How is all going on?--Is everything ready for the ladies?"--"Quite ready," said Hawermann, "but I'm afraid that you'll have to wait a little before dinner can be served."--"All the better," he answered. "The ladies will have time to dress, and you can show me the wheat-field.--Alick" turning to his son, a handsome young man in uniform, "you can afterwards take your mother and sisters for a turn in the garden, for," with an effort to smile, "you take no interest in agriculture."--"Dear father, I ....." the son began, but his father interrupted him, saying kindly: "Never mind, my boy.--Now, Mr. Hawermann, come and show me the wheat. It's in the field just below the garden, I think."
They walked away together. What a terrible change had taken place in Mr. von Rambow's appearance, he had grown so old, and it was not only the hand of time that had aged him, he seemed to have some anxiety which was wearing him out.--At the sight of his wheat-field he cheered up, and said: "What a splendid crop! I don't remember ever having seen such wheat at Pümpelhagen before."--Hawermann was much pleased, but like all of his class he did his best to hide it, and because his heart laughed within him, he just scratched his head, and said they must wait and see what sort of weather they had at the time of harvest, and that there was generally a frightful quantity of rust down there at the edge of the meadow.--"Anything that may happen to it now will be by no fault of ours," said Mr. von Rambow, "I am very much pleased with the look of this field.--Ah," he went on after a short pause, "why didn't we know each other twenty years ago, it would have been better for us both."--Hawermann became grave and sympathetic at once when he found his master was in trouble.--They had now reached the place where the Gürlitz estate marched with Pümpelhagen.--"That wheat doesn't look as well as ours," said the squire.--"Well," replied Hawermann, "the soil is every bit as good as ours, but it hasn't been well treated, it is the Gürlitz glebe."--"A propos," interrupted Mr. von Rambow, "do you know that Gürlitz is sold? It was sold a few days ago in Rostock for twenty-five thousand nine hundred and fifty pounds. Prices are rising, are they not, Hawermann? If Gürlitz is worth twenty-five thousand nine hundred and fifty pounds, Pümpelhagen would be cheap at thirty-six thousand," and he looked sharply at Hawermann as he spoke.--"Yes, Sir, it would," replied Hawermann. "But the sale of Gürlitz may bring you good luck in another way. You see it was arranged that the sale of the estate should break the lease of the glebe lands which belong to it, and as these lands march with your wheat-field, the best thing that you can do is to take a lease of them yourself."--"My dear Hawermann! I take the lease!" cried the squire, and then he turned away sadly, as if he could not bear to look at it any longer. "I have enough on my shoulders already," he added, "without undertaking anything new."--"You shall have no trouble whatever about it, only give me power to act for you, and I will arrange everything with Mr. Behrens."--"No, no, Hawermann, it's impossible. The expense, the payment of rent in advance, the large amount of stock required. I can't do it. I have so many calls on my purse as it is, that I hardly know where to turn."--Mr. von Rambow went back up the hill with so much difficulty, and stumbled so often over the stones on the road, that Hawermann sprang to him and offered him his arm. Just as they reached the garden the old man became so giddy that the bailiff took him into the arbour, and made him sit down and rest.--The squire soon recovered when brought out of the hot sun, but Hawermann looking at him could hardly imagine him to be the same man who had taken him into his service eleven years ago. At last he began to speak again, and it seemed a relief to him to unburden his mind.--"Dear Hawermann," he said, "I want you to do something for me. My brother's son, Frank--you used to know him--has left school, and will soon be of age, when he will have to take the management of his estate into his own hands. I am his guardian by my late brother's will, and have advised him to learn farming practically, and as he has agreed to do so, I have chosen you to be his teacher. You will find him an intelligent, good-hearted young fellow."--Hawermann answered that he would do his best, he had known the lad when he was quite a child, and had liked him.--"Ah!" sighed Mr. von Rambow, "why couldn't my own boy have done the same? Why was I weak enough to give way to my wife's entreaties against my better judgment? Nothing would satisfy her but he must go into the army.--And now it has come to this, he is deeply in debt, and I know he has not told me all, I see it in his manner. If he would only confess I should know where we stand, and I might be able to set him free from the money-lenders.--And what if I also were to fall into their hands," he concluded in a low, broken voice.--Hawermann was even more frightened by the expression of his master's face than by his words, and he answered with emotion: "It won't be so bad as that comes to, and then. Sir, you must remember that you have still to be paid for the fifteen hundred bushels of rape, and I'm certain there's all that."--"Ah," said Mr. von Rambow, "and I have already been paid for seventeen hundred bushels, and the money is all spent; but that isn't the worst of it. If that were all I shouldn't be so troubled," he exclaimed, as though he must speak and so lighten the burden of his anxiety. "The business I had to do at Rostock isn't settled yet, though I told you it was. I only said that for the sake of my family. I have undertaken to pay a debt of a thousand and fifty pounds for one of my sons-in-law, and I find that I cannot raise so large a sum in Rostock, though I had hoped to do so, and yet the money must be in the hands of the man who has just bought Gürlitz in three days' time.--Can you advise me what to do, old friend? You were once in the same position as I am now, and you succeeded in freeing yourself; don't be angry with me for referring to it. You are and have always been an honest man, and can understand how miserable it makes me not to know how to keep my honest name unstained."--Hawermann understood him perfectly, he had once been in the same distress for want of thirty pounds, as the squire was now for a thousand. "Have you spoken to the purchaser of Gürlitz?" he asked, after a long pause of deliberation.--"Yes," was the reply, "I told him frankly that I should find it difficult to pay so large a sum at once."--"And what was his answer?" said Hawermann, "perhaps that he was in want of it himself?"--"No, I don't think that was it, but I didn't like his looks at all, his manner was sly and smooth, and when I told him of my difficulty his proposals were so cunningly made to entangle me, that I at once broke off all negociations, and determined to do my utmost to raise the money in proper time. But I have failed as you know, and don't know where to turn, or what to do."--"I only know of one remedy," said Hawermann, "and that is to go to old Moses in Rahnstädt."--"To a Jew?" asked the squire. "No," he exclaimed, "I'll never do that.--I couldn't bear to fall into a usurer's hands.--No, rather than do that, I'd bear Mr. Pomuchelskopp's impertinence."--"Whose did you say?" cried Hawermann, starting as if a wasp had stung him.--"Why the new purchaser of Gürlitz of whom we have just been talking," said Mr. von Rambow, looking at his bailiff in astonishment. "He is a Pomeranian, and comes from a place nearer the river Peen; he is short and stout, and has a fat face."--"Yes," said Hawermann. "And so it is he who is going to be our neighbour here. It is he with whom you are going to have money-transactions.--No, no, Mr. von Rambow, I beg, I entreat you to have nothing to do with that man.--You can bear me witness that I have never said anything good or bad of the man who ruined me, but now that you are in danger, it becomes my duty to speak; that man was the cause of all my misfortunes," and springing to his feet he went on excitedly, his face as he spoke losing its usual calm expression, and an angry sparkle coming into his eyes. "Yes, that is the man who drove me out of house and home, who heaped one misery after another on me and my poor wife, so that she at last broke down and died.--Oh, Sir, whatever you do, beware of that man!"--The warning was too emphatic to be passed over unheeded.--"But who can I get to help me?" he enquired.--"Moses," answered Hawermann, firmly and decidedly. The squire made a gesture of dissent, but Hawermann came a little nearer him, and went on still more emphatically than before: "Mr. von Rambow, Moses will help you, we will go to him after dinner, and I assure you on my own knowledge of the man that you will never repent going to him."
The squire rose and took Hawermann's arm. He found in him a support both physical and moral, for when a calm, even-tempered man loses his ordinary serene composure, he exerts a greater influence over others than people of a more impulsive nature ever can.
The conversation during dinner was slight and subject to long pauses. Each was busy with his own thoughts. Hawermann thought of his new and formidable neighbours, the squire of the money he wanted to raise, and the young lieutenant seemed as if he had lost himself in a long sum in addition which he could not manage to add up rightly, so that if my lady had not ridden her high horse a little, and spoken of the calls she intended to make on the grand people in the neighbourhood, and if the three girls had not chattered about the pleasures of a country-life, and about all the pretty things they had seen during their drive, it would have been a regular quaker's meeting.
After dinner Mr. von Rambow and his bailiff drove to Rahnstädt. The squire felt as he entered the door of Moses' house as if he were going to pick a guinea out of the mud with his hitherto clean hands. On the threshold he was greeted with a stuffy smell of tarry wool that had just left the back of the sheep on which it had grown, and which is a very different article from the same wool when it is woven into a carpet for a lady's boudoir. The entrance-hall and business-room were very untidy, for though Flora was a good woman she never could manage to keep the skins out of sight, for Moses said shortly that they were part of the trade, and David was continually adding new items to the list of things lying about, so that finally the house became a very paradise for rats, for these delightful little creatures take as kindly to the fusty smell of a wool-stapler's shop, as doves to oil of aniseed.
Mr. von Rambow did not feel more comfortable when he was in the business-room, for Moses was old-fashioned, and when business permitted always wore his worst coat on the Christian Sabbath, holding it an article of faith to make himself look as different as possible from Christians in their holiday-attire. When he came forward hastily to receive the squire, exclaiming: "Mr. von Rambow!--I am highly honoured!" and then turning to his son who was spending his Sunday-leisure from "wool-stapling" in the enjoyment of lying at full length on the sofa: "Why don't you move, David? Why are you lying there? Get up and let Mr. von Rambow sit down." And when he led the squire to the sofa, and signed to him to sit down in the place David had just quitted, poor Mr. von Rambow would willingly have left the guineas lying in the dirt--if only he had not been in such desperate need of them.