"Visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children to the third and fourth generation!" These words, hitherto only empty sounds to him, haunted his memory in terrible distinctness. They perfectly expressed the dread that possessed him.
"Father, how silent you are!" said Gretchen timidly.
"Oh, my child,--my life! I can do nothing but look at you and delight in you! Your loveliness is like a revelation to me from on high! I have become a new man since I know myself the father of such a child! I cannot jest and laugh,--my joy is too deep! So let me be silent, and, believe me, the graver I am, the more I love you."
Gretchen instantly understood and sympathized with her father's mood. "You are right,--we do not jest and laugh in church, and yet I am so filled there with gratitude for God's kindness to me! How I thank Him now for this moment! I have prayed Him for so many years to send you to me, and now my prayer is answered,--you are here. His way is always the best. He has not sent you before, because I was not old enough to appreciate this happiness." Leuthold had seated himself by this time, and she stood beside him and pillowed his head upon her breast. "You are worn out, father dear. You look so sad. But now you are mine, and I will tend you and cherish you until you forget all your care and anxiety. Oh that Ernestine,--I will not wish her ill, but would she only give back to me every smile that she has stolen from you,--to me, who have nothing but your smile in this world!" She imprinted upon his forehead a kiss that burned there like a coal of fire.
"We will not speak of Ernestine now, my child," said Leuthold. "Let her be what she is. We will talk of her by-and-by. Lately she has not been so hard to control, and has often spoken of you affectionately. I think she will shortly marry, and then she will be gentler, for love always ennobles. She has not quite decided as to her future course yet, but I think she will marry. At all events, she will take care of you if anything should happen to me. Yes, she will,--I am sure of it."
"Father," cried Gretchen in alarm, "how can you talk so? What could happen to you?"
"Why, my child, I might die suddenly. We must be prepared for everything, the future is in God's hand."
Gretchen knelt down beside him, and pressed her rosy lips upon his slender hand. "Father dear, why cast a shadow upon this happy hour? Just as I have found you, must I think of losing you? Oh, my Heavenly Father cannot be so cruel! You are in His hand, and He who has brought you to me will let me keep you."
She laid her head upon his knee with childlike tenderness, and was silent.
"Visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children" rang again in the ears of the happy and yet miserable father. Thus several hours passed, amid the girl's loving talk and laughing jests, until at last, at noon, she sprang up and declared she must go home to dinner. Leuthold would not let her go. He said they would not expect her at the school,--they would know she would stay with her father. And so they dined together, for the first time after so many years. But to Leuthold the meal was like the last before his execution.