"Have they a daughter named Barbara?" asked Frohman.
"Yes," was the reply.
Henry Frohman's heart gave a leap. There came back to his mind the picture of that day in the German woods.
"Where do they come from?" he continued, eagerly.
On being told that it was Darmstadt, he cried, "I must meet her."
He gave his friend no peace until that end had been brought about. He found her the same lovely girl who had thrilled him at first sight; he wooed her with ardor and they were betrothed.
He now yearned for a stable business that would enable him to marry. Meanwhile his affairs had grown. The peddler's pack expanded to the proportion of a wagon-load. Then, as always, the great West held a lure for the youthful. In some indescribable way he got the idea that Kentucky was the Promised Land of business. Telling his fiancée that he would send for her as soon as he had settled somewhere, he set out.
But Kentucky did not prove to be the golden country. He was advised to go to Ohio, and it was while driving across the country with his line of goods that he came upon Sandusky. The little town on the shores of a smiling lake appealed to him strongly. It reminded him of the home country, and he remained there.
He found himself at once in a congenial place. There was a considerable German population; his ready wit and engaging manner made him welcome everywhere. The road lost its charm; he turned about for an occupation that was permanent. Having picked up a knowledge of cigar-making, he established a small factory which was successful from the start.
This fact assured, his next act was to send to New York for Miss Strauss, who joined him at once, and they were married. These were the forebears of Charles Frohman—the exuberant, optimistic, pleasure-loving father; the serene, gentle-eyed, and spacious-hearted woman who was to have such a strong influence in the shaping of his character.