He went on hastily, yet with frequent interruptions, as though time and breath were both growing short for him. "My will is at Schwerin. I have thought of everything, but--my illness came so suddenly--my wife's death--I fear my affairs do not stand quite so well as they should." After a short pause, he resumed, "My son will have the estate, my two married daughters are provided for, but the unmarried ones--poor children! they will have very little. Axel must take care of them--God bless him, he will have enough to do to take care of himself. He writes me that he wishes to remain another year in the army. Very well, if he lives carefully, something may be saved to pay debts. But the Jew, Habermann, the Jew! Will he wait? Have you said anything to him?"
"No, Herr Kammerrath; but Moses will wait; at least I hope so. And if not, there is a good deal of money coming in from the farm, much more than last year."
"Yes, yes, and real estate has risen. But what good is it? Axel understands nothing of farming; but I have sent him books, through Franz, books about agriculture,--he will study them; that will help him, won't it, Habermann?"
"God bless the poor old Herr!" thought Habermann. "He was always so practical and reasonable himself, he wouldn't have said that when he was strong and well; but let him take what comfort he can," so he said yes, he hoped so.
"And, dear friend, you will stay with him," said the Kammerrath earnestly, "give me your hand upon it, you will stay with him?"
"Yes," said Habermann, and the tears stood in his eyes, "so long as I can be useful to you or your family, I will not leave Pumpelhagen."
"I was sure of it," said his master, falling back exhausted upon the pillows, "but Fidelia shall write--see him once more,--see you and him together."
His strength was gone, he drew his breath with difficulty.
Habermann rose softly, and pulled the bell, and as Daniel Sadenwater came, he took him into the ante-room, "Sadenwater, our master is worse, I am afraid he cannot last long; call the young ladies, and the young Herr, but say nothing definite about him."
A shadow fell upon the old servant's face, as when the evening wind passes over a quiet lake. He looked through the half-opened door of the sick-room as if it came from thence, and said to himself as if in excuse, "God bless him, it is now thirty years----" turned away, and left the room.