"Engleman, you had better call the clergyman--my sister does not seem to come, she must have been detained; we will not wait any longer."
The speaker turned towards the mother, and Frank Linden looked full into the face of the young girl. It was not exactly beautiful, this fine oval, shaded by rich golden brown hair; the complexion was too pale, the expression too sad, the corners of the mouth too much drawn down, but under the finely pencilled brows a pair of deep blue eyes looked out at him, clear as those of a child, wistful and appealing, as if imploring peace for the sacred rite.
It might often happen that strangers entered the beautiful church and made a disturbance--at least so Frank Linden interpreted the look. Scarcely breathing, he leaned against one of the old stalls, and his eyes followed every movement of the slender, girlish figure, as she took the child in her arms and approached the clergyman.
"Herr Pastor," sounded the soft voice, "you must be content with one sponsor, for unfortunately my sister has not come."
The clergyman raised his head. "Then you might, Mrs. Smith--" he signed to the elder woman.
Frank Linden stood suddenly before the font beside the young girl; he hardly knew himself how he got there so quickly.
"Allow me to be the second sponsor," he said.--"I came into the church by chance, a perfect stranger here; I should be sorry to miss the first opportunity to perform a Christian duty in my new home."
He had obeyed a sudden impulse and he was understood. The gray-haired clergyman nodded, smiling. "It is a poor child, early left fatherless, sir," he replied. "The father was killed four weeks before its birth--you will be doing a good work--are you satisfied?" he said, turning to the mother. "Well then--Engelman, write down the name of the godfather in the register."
"Carl Max Francis Linden," said the young man.
And then they stood together before the pastor, these two who a quarter of an hour ago had had no knowledge of one another; she held the sleeping child in her arms; she had not looked up, the quick flush of surprise still lingered on the delicate face, and the simple lace on the infant's cushion trembled slightly.