After that he seized Fanny by the hand, and without taking leave of any one, dragged her along with him to Aunt Teresa's. The child wept all the way.
The chastised damsels wished, in their wrath, that their departing father might never return again. And their wish was gratified, for Mr. Meyer never did return home again. From henceforth he vanished from Pressburg. Where he went or what became of him nobody ever knew. Some maintained that he had jumped into the Danube, others that he had emigrated; and years afterwards distant travellers sent word home from time to time that they had seen a man greatly resembling him, some said in England, some in Turkey.
CHAPTER V.
THE TEMPTER IN CHURCH.
Three years had passed since Fanny went to live with Aunt Teresa. Those three years had a great influence upon her youthful and pliable disposition. At first Teresa was severe and stony-hearted towards the child; her obstinacy, like a thorny hedge, had to be broken down. The smallest fault was chastised, every moment of her time had its allotted task, of which she had to give an account, not a single contradiction, not the slightest sulkiness was put up with. Then, too, she was never able to escape detection, a far-seeing, austere pair of eyes was ever upon her, making falsehood impossible, looking through her very soul, seizing and pruning down every thought as it arose. The weeds had to be extirpated before the seeds of nobler flowers could be sown.
When, however, she had at last brought under the child's unruly disposition and convinced her that it was of no use to play the hypocrite or tell lies, inasmuch as there is a Being Who sees behind all our thoughts, Who is everywhere present and watchful, Whom nothing escapes, and Who watches over us even when we are asleep, so that we are bound from very necessity to be just and honest; when she had brought her charge as far as this, I say, Teresa began gradually to teach her how conversion could have its pleasant side likewise.
Teresa's confidence grew proportionately with Fanny's candour. She frequently left the child to herself, ceased to supervise her allotted tasks, showed her that she believed what she said, and thereby gradually exalted and purified her whole disposition. Perceiving that her rigorous mentor trusted her, Fanny began to discover what self-respect means. And what a precious treasure that is! and what a pity more attention is not paid to it!
Teresa never alluded to the child's relatives; on the contrary, whenever her thoughts seemed to be turning that way she would divert them into a different direction. And gradually, as Fanny's notions of right and wrong grew clearer and firmer, she felt less and less of a desire to inquire after the members of her own family. At last it came to this—that when, one day, having obtained Teresa's permission to go somewhere, she suddenly came face to face in the street with Matilda, who was riding in an open carriage, she fled terror-stricken into the court-yard of the house where dwelt a lady of her acquaintance, in order that her sister might not see her.