Only a Girl: or, A Physician for the Soul.

by Wilhelmine von Hillern

Gretchen tried to wipe his eyes with her little apron, and patted his cheeks with her chubby hands.

There is a wonderful power in the touch of a child's soft, pure hand, soothing a wildly-beating heart and strengthening a soul sickened by hope deferred. It seemed to Leuthold as if the wounds that had tormented him were healed by that gentle touch. He kissed the rosy little palms again and again. He would labour with all his might for this child--she should have a brilliant future at any cost. He arose, and, putting her gently down on the carpet, walked slowly to and fro with folded arms, revolving in his busy brain a thousand plans for the future. His thoughts were rudely disturbed by Bertha, who, for want of any other object, wreaked her ill humour upon Gretchen. The child had got hold of an embroidered footstool, and was engaged in the delightful occupation of picking off the bugles and pearls fastened upon the fringe. Bertha snatched it away, and was slapping the little hands violently, when suddenly Leuthold seized her arm and held it in a firm grasp, while anger flashed in his eyes; and his words, his bearing, his whole manner, filled her with terror as he began: "Your nature is so coarse that you cannot even appreciate the promptings of maternal instinct. Had you possessed one atom of feminine feeling, you would have seen what a comfort the child is to me, and would have lavished tenderness upon her, instead of maltreating her. But of what consequence are my sorrows to you? When I staggered and fell to the ground beneath the weight of my misery, you thought only of yourself; your gentlest word to me was 'miserable man.' Let me tell you, however, that the weakness of an ailing man is not so repulsive as the rude strength of a coarse woman. Therefore, be kind enough to moderate the exhibition of your strength, at least towards this angel, who shall never suffer for an hour as long as I draw breath."

Bertha put Gretchen on the ground, and stood with arms akimbo. "Oh!" she began, trembling with rage, "is this the tone you begin to take--talking in this way to me just when you ought to be grateful to me for consenting to share your wretched lot?"

"My wretched lot?" repeated Leuthold, while his face grew deadly white again. "Who has made my lot a wretched one?--who other than yourself? Do you dare to increase its misery? Is not your disobedience, your folly, the cause of the whole misfortune? If you had obeyed my commands, and kept watch upon what was going on in the house, the arrival of the lawyers would not have escaped you. You might have informed me and I could, even at the last moment, have prevented the making of that will. You, and you alone, have ruined my child's and my own future; and, instead of falling at my feet and begging for forgiveness, you dare to reproach me! It would be ridiculous, if it were not so deplorable!"

"Of course." said Bertha, "it is all my fault. I expected that. Why didn't you stay at home yourself and watch? Because you suspected nothing, no more than I did, and because you wanted to get out of the way of Heim, who knew all about your former disgrace. Is it my fault that you have conducted yourself so in the past that you have to avoid all your old acquaintances?"

Leuthold swelled with indignation. "Silence, wretched woman! Would you drive me to extremities?"

"Yes," continued Bertha more angrily than ever,--"yes, I don't care now what you do. The only satisfaction I can have now is speaking out the truth to you for once. I will be reconciled to my father while there is time. Perhaps he will make over the business to me. I understand how to conduct it, and can make it pay. I shall have a better chance there, at any rate, than in staying here to starve with you. My honest old father was right when he warned me against you. Heaven only knows what infatuated me so with your hatchet face. I saw from the first what you were,--a heap of learning and mind, and a perfect icicle, with whom I never could be happy. We had only been married two months, when there was all that disgraceful fuss with Hilsborn; my father wanted me to be separated from you then; but you stuffed my ears with stories of your brother here, who would make you rich; and I believed you, and gave up my old father, and came here to this hole to live with you. What did I get by it? The little property that I inherited from my mother has been frittered away in household expenses, that you might seem disinterested to your brother. I gave up every things--concerts, theatres, parties,--and willingly; for I depended upon a brilliant future. I have waited patiently and obediently until your brother should kill himself with the drink of which he was so fond; and, now that he is dead, what have I got in exchange for time, youth, money, and all? And now I am to make a grateful courtesy, and say, 'My dear husband, 'tis true that you have robbed me of everything, you have attempted to strangle me; but I will nevertheless take the liberty of remaining with you, that you may continue to enjoy the pleasure of calling me rough, coarse, and good for nothing, and that you may instruct me with which hand I am to put in my mouth the potatoes that are all we shall have to live upon.' This is what I am to say, is it not? Yes----"

Leuthold had been listening attentively, and, in the course of this long speech, had regained his former composure. He now interrupted her with, "That is, in other words, that you contemplate adding to my misfortunes the withdrawal of your amiable presence, leaving me to bear my heavy lot alone. Your intention demands my gratitude; if you wish for a divorce, I am entirely agreed to it, only pray furnish the ground for it yourself, that my good name may not be compromised. We have lived together hitherto in such outward harmony, it might be difficult to convince a court of the impossibility of a longer union. There must, therefore, be some legal ground for a divorce, and you can arrange all that to suit yourself."

"What!" cried Bertha, "am I to conduct myself disgracefully that people may despise me and pity you,--wolf in sheep's clothing that you are? No, no; I'm not quite so stupid as that. And then my father would not receive me, and there would be nothing left for me in this world."

Leuthold walked thoughtfully to and fro. "It was the mistake of my life that ten years ago I married you to get money to make that journey to Trieste. I thought you more harmless than you are. For ten long years I have endured the annoyance of your coarseness and narrow-mindedness. Such a wife as you are is a perpetual thorn in the side of such a man as myself; my nerves have suffered terribly. And now I find you are not even capable of maternal affection,--you cannot treat your child as you should. If it were not for Gretchen, I would never see you again,--but now----"