Only a Girl Part 70

"You must not speak thus in Fraulein Gleissert's presence," cried Hilsborn indignantly. "Can you not see how you wring her heart?"

"Oh, sir, I thank you," said Gretchen with dignity. She turned to Bertha. "Whatever your unfortunate first husband may have been, he was my father in the truest sense of the word, and no one can have a second father. Just so a mother who has once ceased to be such can never be a mother again. Call me false and heartless if you will,--G.o.d, who sees my heart, knows how it can love."

"This is all one gets for kindness," grumbled Bertha. "Here have I been beating my brains half the night to think what I could do for the girl, how I could take care of her, and this is all the thanks I get! Well, it's no wonder. 'What's bred in the bone will never come out of the flesh.'"

"Mammy! mammy! they want you to get out some clean sheets," a bullet-headed lad called aloud at the door.

"Come here, Fritz," cried Bertha. "There, look at your sister." And she drew the boy towards her, evidently expecting the sight of him to produce a deep impression upon Gretchen. "Look, Gretel, this is your brother,--doesn't this touch you? We have three more of them. But that makes no difference, you shall be the fifth; I want some one to take care of the little ones. Only think how fine it is for you to find parents and brothers and sisters all at once. They'll take care of you." And suddenly a tear rolled down her fat cheek. "For you are my child, after all!"

And she took Gretchen's face between her hands and pressed upon it a smacking kiss. The girl patiently endured the caress, but when her mother released her she stood erect again, like a fair flower upon which dust has been cast without robbing it of its fragrance or soiling its purity. As the flower differs from the soil whence it springs, this child differed from her mother. And as surely as the flower turns from the ground to the sun, the girl's pure spirit turned from her mother to the light that her education and training had revealed to her.

"Mammy," the boy persisted, plucking Bertha by the skirts, "come, hurry!"

"You'll tear my dress, you bad boy!" cried his mother, slapping his hand.

The boy screamed. "You're so slow when any one is in a hurry, I had to call you."

"Hold your tongue!" his father now interposed. "Leave the room. What will your new sister think of you?"

"I don't mind her," said the boy insolently, as he left the room.

Gretchen and Hilsborn exchanged one long look. It was as if they were old acquaintances and could understand each other without a word.

Gretchen shuddered at the thought of living in this family, and, besides, she had during the night formed a resolution that she was determined to carry out although it should cost her her life.

Her step-father broke the silence. "We shall never come to any conclusion in this way. Where's the good in talking? You must be taken care of, whether you like us or not. You might at least show some grat.i.tude to us for taking any trouble about you." He stroked his smooth, oily head as he spoke, and his artistic fingers gave a fresh curl to the lock just above his ear. "The case is simply this: My wife thinks it her duty to support you. As you may suppose, it comes rather heavy upon us with our four children, and it stands to reason that you should do a little something for yourself. We will not ask anything unsuitable of you, for I can see plainly that you are a young lady of education. But, if we are to fulfil the duty of parents towards you, it is only fair that we should claim some filial duty from you in return."

He concluded his speech with the bow that he always made in presenting travellers with their little account.

"Oh, is that all?" said Gretchen, greatly relieved. "Then do not have any anxiety on my account. I renounce all claim to a support, and, in the presence of this witness, to any parental duties from you. I ask nothing of you, and shall never ask anything of you, but that you will allow me to depart without hindrance."

The man looked significantly at Bertha, who clasped her hands in amazement. "Do you want to go, then? Why, what will such a child as you do without money or friends?"

Here Hilsborn interposed. "You forget that your deceased husband appointed me his daughter's guardian, and I a.s.sure you solemnly, I have never valued my life as I do now that this duty is mine,--a duty that I am determined not to give up."

Gretchen looked confidingly at Hilsborn. "You see, I am not without friends. I will go with this gentleman. There is but one path for me in this world, and that leads me to Ernestine's feet. There is but one duty for me,--atonement for my father's sin. I cannot restore to Ernestine what has been taken from her,--that I learned from the papers yesterday. I can offer her nothing but two strong young arms to work for her. The Bible says, 'The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children,' but I will not wait until they are visited upon me. I will blot them out, as far as I may, and make the curse powerless, that rests upon my unhappy father's grave. I will do what he had no time to do here,--make atonement for his crime." She raised her hands to Bertha in entreaty. "Oh, if you are my mother, open your heart to the first and last request of your child, and do not take from me the hope of obtaining pardon for my father by my labour and suffering!"

And she fell upon her knees before Bertha, who sobbed aloud.

"Ah, Gretel, my child, you are a dear, good girl. How could I ever forsake such a true, brave child? I see now how wrong and foolish I was. But I will do better. You shall learn to love me again. Only give up this silly idea of doing penance for your father. Why should you, innocent creature, suffer for his fault? you are not responsible for his actions."

"I am his flesh and blood, a part of him,--his honour is mine. The curse that strikes him strikes me too. Whatever burdened his conscience weighs upon mine. How could I find rest, living or dying, if I did not do all that I could to make good what he did that was wrong? If he took what was not his, ought I to keep it? Is it not my duty to restore it?

And, if I cannot do this, should I not try to pay the debt, although I can do so in no other way than by constant labour?"

"But tell me what you want to do. Your cousin has nothing more. What will you both live upon?" asked Bertha.

"I do not know yet I only know that, thanks to my poor father, I have been taught everything to enable me to support myself, and even another besides. I only know that I will dedicate my whole future life to Ernestine. I long to go to her,--she has suffered most from my father's fault."

The head-waiter drew Bertha aside, and whispered to her, "Let her go, be thankful that we have not a fifth child to support."

"But, oh, I love the girl so much!" said Bertha.

"That's all very well,--but are we in a condition to take such a charge upon ourselves, just for a whim? And do you suppose that, if we force her to stay, this spoiled princess will be of the least use to us? She would cry from morning until night, instead of working. Let her go wherever she chooses. You have done without her long enough not to make such a fuss now about having her with you. I should think four children were enough for you."

"Yes, but----"

"Hush, now, or we will leave the room," her husband whispered emphatically. "I will not burden myself with Dr. Gleissert's daughter against her will. Let her go with her new champion, and let us hear no more of her!"

"As you choose, then. It is my fault, and I must bear the consequences," said Bertha, for the first time with real sorrow.

"Fraulein Gleissert," the man said, turning to Gretchen, who had meanwhile been talking in a low tone with Hilsborn, "if you will not make any claim upon us hereafter, we are ready now, hard as it is, to relinquish our rights in favour of this gentleman, who was appointed your guardian by your father."

"I will promise never to do so, sir," replied Gretchen with a long sigh of relief. "I am ready to give you all the security I can."

"There is no need of that," replied Herr Meyer politely, with great satisfaction. "You know that the giving up of our claims depends upon your keeping your promise."

"Yes, I know that."

"Well, then, we will not trouble you further. Probably you would prefer settling the account for this room. It is not much,--you have eaten nothing."

"Come, that is too mean of you!" Bertha here interposed. "Is my own child to pay for the shelter of this roof for one night? No, I will not have it. Gretel, do not listen to him,--you shall have something to eat, too, before you go. I am not quite such an unnatural mother. And now come, Meyer, you ought to be ashamed of playing such a disgraceful part."

And half angrily, half good-naturedly, she drew her smart husband from the room.

"O G.o.d, I thank thee!" cried Gretchen from the depths of her soul.

Suddenly she paused, and reflected with evident hesitation and embarra.s.sment. Hilsborn took her hand.

"Well, my dear little ward, will you not tell me what is troubling you?"

Gretchen blushed and still hesitated. At last she conquered herself, and confided this grief also to her faithful friend.

"It has just occurred to me that I am not sure that I have money enough to pay my travelling expenses. I have something with me that I can sell, but if it should not be enough!"

Hilsborn smiled. "Is that all? Oh, never mind that, I have enough for both of us."

Gretchen looked mortified. "But I cannot take it from you, certainly not."

"What, Gretchen, will you not take it from your guardian? Why, this is a guardian's duty. And I will not give it to you, I will only lend it, and you can repay me when you are able."

"You will have to wait a long time,--I have so little that I can call my own. It will embarra.s.s me very much to be in your debt."

"Gretchen," said the young man earnestly, "do not let us speak of such trifles. I transport you to N----, you transport me to heaven. Which owes most to the other--you or I?"

Gretchen could not reply. These new, strange words bewildered her. The sunlight streaming from them penetrated her heart, crushed by the tempest of grief that had swept over it. The blossom opened,--she was no longer a child!

She looked down in confusion. Hilsborn too was embarra.s.sed. Neither could immediately recover from a certain constraint.

"Will you do me a great favour?" the girl asked at last