Her appearance was much as Christian Däsel had described it, but he had not seen her cheeks flush with pleasant excitement as they were now doing, while she looked in the direction in which Alick was pointing; nor had he seen her grey eyes swimming with happy tears as she turned them on her husband.
"Ah!" she exclaimed, slipping her hand into Alick's: "How beautiful it is! I never saw such a rich land! Just look at those corn-fields over there!"--"Yes," said Alick, who was much pleased with her delight, "the soil here is a great deal richer than in your province." It was a pity that he did not stop there, but she had alluded to his pet hobby, farming, so he went on: "But there is much room for improvement in our farming operations; sufficient intelligence has never yet been brought to bear on the subject, and so we don't make half as much out of the land as we might. Look there at that wheat-field on the other side of the hill! It is part of the Pümpelhagen estate, and I hope, in a couple of years' time, to have a crop of plants of great mercantile value in that field, and then you'll see that it will bring me in three times as much money as it does now."--Then he launched forth on the commercial value of flax, hops, oil producing plants, carraway and anise-seed, with which, in alternate years, he, as a good farmer, would sow clover and esparcet, "to keep his cattle in good condition, and to make manure." After that he went on to explain what plants were used for dyes, and told his wife that red was extracted from the madder, blue from woad and yellow from weld, and said that he was certain to get a good price for crops of that kind. Just as he had reached this point and was riding his hobby much to his own satisfaction, he was startled by a horse passing the carriage at full gallop. It was Fred Triddelfitz who appeared in all the brilliance of a rainbow, and disappeared with the velocity of a falling star.
"What was that?" cried Frida, and Alick shouted: "Heigh! Heigh!" But Fred took no notice, for he had to bring the news to the people at the triumphal arch, and had only time as he galloped past Gürlitz manor to call out to Pomuchelskopp whom he saw standing at the gate, that they were coming, and would be at the village in five minutes.--"Come, Mally and Sally, it's high time for you to come!" shouted Pomuchelskopp over the garden-hedge, and Mally and Sally threw the bit of worsted work they were doing; down amongst the nettles beside the arbour, put on their Leghorn hats, and took their stand one on each side of their father. Then father Pomuchelskopp said to them: "Don't look round, girls, whatever you do, for we must seem as if we had come out for no other reason than to have a walk this beautiful morning."
But he was doomed to meet with disappointment.--The Pümpelhagen carriage was driving slowly through the village, when Mrs. von Rambow suddenly asked her husband: "Who is that lovely girl who bowed to us just now?" He answered that it was Louisa Hawermann, his bailiff's only daughter, and that the house beside which she was standing was the parsonage. Meanwhile Muchel and his two daughters were going out at their gate as if for a walk, when as ill-luck would have it, our old friend Henny was driven by the demon of housekeeping to go out and feed the chickens. She had on a white cotton cap trimmed with frills round the face, and the inevitable black merino gown which she still considered good enough for morning wear. When she saw Pomuchelskopp and the two girls passing out at the gate, she was very angry with her husband for going without her, and so she rubbed the chickens food off her hands on the old black skirt, and followed them. Her stiff unbending figure clothed in white and black looked exactly like a tombstone going out for a walk.
"Muchel!" she called after her husband.--"Don't look round," said Muchel, "our being here must seem to be accidental."--"Kopp!" she shouted. "Ar'n't you going to wait for me? Do you want me to run myself out of breath?"--"I'm sure I don't care whether you do or not," growled Pomuchelskopp. "Don't look round, girls, I hear the carriage now. It'll be here immediately."--"But, father," remonstrated Sally, "that's mother calling."--"Pshaw! Mother here, mother there!" cried Pomuchelskopp in a rage. "She'll spoil everything. But, my dear children," he continued after a short pause, "don't repeat what I've just said to your mother."--Henny now came up with them, very much out of breath with her run: "Kopp!" she began, but got no further in her speech, for the carriage had now reached them, and Pomuchelskopp stood still, and making a low bow, exclaimed: "A-ah!--I wish you joy, I wish you joy!" and Mally and Sally curtsied at the same time as their father spoke. Alick desired the coachman to stop, and said he was glad to see Mr. Pomuchelskopp and his family looking so well. Whilst this was going on, Muchel was pulling his wife's dress secretly as a sign to her to greet the von Rambows also, but she remained standing as stiff and straight as before, only puffing and blowing a little after her late exertions. Frida leant back in the carriage, and looked as if she had nothing to do with what was going on. Muchel then proceeded to speak of the happy chance which had led to the unexpected pleasure of this meeting, and told how he and his two daughters were taking a walk, and had never .... here he stopped short, for at the same moment he received a sharp pinch from Henny, and heard her whisper savagely: "You're treating your wife with very little respect!"--As soon as Pomuchelskopp came to this abrupt conclusion of his address, Alick signed to the coachman to drive on, saying at the same time that he hoped soon to have the pleasure of seeing his neighbour again.
Pomuchelskopp stood still with a very hang-dog look, and Mally and Sally took their former places at his side, but instead of pursuing their walk as they had intended, they turned their steps homeward, Henny following them, and leading her recalcitrant husband back to his duty after her usual gentle fashion. Never, as long as he lived, did Pomuchelskopp forget the events of that morning, or the admonitions with which his wife overwhelmed him.
"Those seemed to be very disagreeable people," said Frida as they drove away.--"You are quite right in your supposition," answered Alick, "but they are very rich."--"Ah!" cried Frida, "mere riches don't make pleasant companions."--"True, dearest Frida, but the man is an excellent farmer, and for that reason, as well as because he is a near neighbour, we must admit him and his family to our acquaintance."--"Are you in earnest, Alick?"--"Certainly," he replied.--After a little thought, she asked: "What sort of man is the clergyman?"--"I know him very slightly, but my father had a high opinion of him, and my bailiff has a great love and respect for him.--But," he added after a pause, "that is only natural, for the parson has brought up his only child almost from her infancy."--"Oh; the beautiful girl we saw at the parsonage door; but of course the clergyman's wife had more to do with that than he had. Do you know her?"--"Yes--that is to say, I've seen her. She appeared to be a cheery old lady."--"They must be very good people," said Frida decidedly.--"Dear Frida," said Alick settling himself more comfortably in his corner, "how quickly you women jump at a conclusion! You think that because these people adopted a child who was no relation to them, and---and--have brought her up well, that ......" He was going to have enlightened his wife as to the probable double motive which composes every action, however apparently good, by showing her some of the lessons he had learnt in what he called "knowledge of human nature"--for it is a well known fact that puppies which have been blind for nine days of their life, always think they understand more of the ways of the world on the tenth day than all of their surroundings put together.--But before he could go on to prove the wickedness of the world, his young wife started forward on her seat, exclaiming: "Oh, Alick, look. A flag and a triumphal arch. They are preparing a grand reception for us."--And Degel the coachman said, looking over his shoulder at her: "Yes, Madam. I wasn't to tell you, but now you've seen it for yourself. I must drive very slowly now for fear the horses should take fright."
CHAPTER II.
At last they drove up to the assembled villagers, and Hawermann approaching the carriage said a few words of welcome that came straight from his heart, and as Alick, in spite of his knowledge of human nature, had nothing ready to say on the spur of the moment, the young lady bent forward and gave the old man her hand with a friendly smile. As she did so, she read in his face as he did in hers, truth, honesty and uprightness. Alick now shook hands in his turn. Then the schoolmaster came forward followed by the line of Äsel, and gave out the key-note of one of the "Hymns of thanksgiving for peculiar mercies." The one chosen was No. 245 in the Mecklenburg hymn-book, and was intended to be used "after a severe thunder-storm." Very wisely, however, Master Strull began at the second verse because he thought it most suited to his squire: "Lord, we praise thy might."--Bräsig now wanted to wave his flag, but Gustavus Kegel held on tight: "Will you let the string go, you young rascal!" he cried.--"We know thy dreadful wrath!" sang the schoolmaster.--"Let the string go; d'ye hear me, boy?" said Bräsig impatiently.--"Yea, in thee do we trust, nor find thee to fail," sang the schoolmaster.--"Wait till I get hold of you, boy, and I'll give you such a thrashing," cried Bräsig.--"Thy kindness how tender, how firm to the end," sang the schoolmaster.--"I say, Sir, the strings have caught in the poplar," cried Gustavus. So Bräsig pulled and tugged at the banner, and in setting it free dragged off some of the small branches and leaves round which the string was entangled. The schoolmaster sang: "Hark, the crash of the storm." Fred Triddelfitz, who had meanwhile taken possession of the dinner-bell that was kept in the passage, rang a violent alarum. Bräsig waved his banner, and all the men and women, young men and maidens, boys and girls shouted at the top of their voices: "Hurrah! Hurrah!" And David Däsel blew on his horn: "The Prussians have taken Paris, &c." so solemnly that it was enough to touch the heart of even a dog. At the last toot of the horn, at the end of the first line, the old watch-dog, which Gustavus Kegel had let loose for fun, rushed at David Däsel's legs, and at the same moment the two brown horses began to dance and snort so much, that it was lucky that Degel the coachman was prepared for something of the kind happening, and at once drove on to the front-door. Alick got out of the carriage, and then helped his young wife out. The house was as grandly decorated within as without, and Mary Möller bustled about amongst the garlands of leaves and flowers in her new red jackonet gown, with a flushed face and red arms. As soon as she had grown a little cooler amongst the flowers, she rushed back to the kitchen to see how the cook was getting on with the dinner, just as if she were an iron heater and must be put in the oven again every time she got cool. As Mrs. von Rambow crossed the threshold, Mary came forward to meet her with her red arms extended as if she were a daughter of Moloch, and placed a wreath of blush-roses on her mistress' head. Then stepping back a few paces, and kneading her arms as if she wanted to make them flash fire, she repeated the following address, which she and Bräsig had been three months in composing:
"Hail to thee our queen and lady dear!
I swear to do all my duty here,
To be of thine ev'ry wish observant,
And to remain thy most obedient,
Ever faithful, humble servant."