Heimatlos Part 13

"Then I will give my half to Stineli," declared Silvio.

"And I my half too," said Rico.

"Hurrah! now everything belongs to Stineli," shouted Silvio, gleefully. "The garden, the house, and everything in it--the chairs, the table, the violin, and you and I too are hers. Now let's sing again!"

Rico, in the meantime, had been thinking, and now hesitatingly asked, "How can it be that Silvio's father's house belongs to me, even if he was my father's best friend?"

This reminded Mrs. Menotti that as yet Rico knew none of the circ.u.mstances leading up to her discovery, so she began from the beginning and related the events in the proper order. When she finished, there was a grand jubilee among the children, because they realized that there was nothing to hinder Rico's coming to live with them immediately.

After the commotion had somewhat subsided, Rico said to Mrs. Menotti: "You must let nothing here be changed because this good fortune has come to me. I will simply come and live with you, and we shall all be at home, and you can be our mother."

"O Rico, to think it should be you of all people!" exclaimed Mrs.

Menotti. "How well Stineli has advised us to let our troubles be made right, and how soon the answer came! I gladly give the property over to you, and I gladly remain here, too. I will be a true mother to you, Rico, for I have long loved you as an own son. You and Stineli must call me mother after this. We shall be the happiest family in all Peschiera."

"Now we _must_ finish our song," burst out Silvio, who felt so happy that his feelings needed an outlet. Rico and Stineli were no less jubilant, and they sang merrily.

Rico was about to put up his violin, when Stineli said, "I should like to stop with a different song, Rico; can you guess which one?"

"Yes, I can." Then they sang in grat.i.tude to G.o.d and in sweet memory of the dear old grandmother who taught it to them:

"He never will refuse His aid If you a prayer will send; Whatever in His care is laid Shall have a happy end.

Then let the blessing onward go, And cause it not to stay, That you may rest in peace below And happy be alway."

It is needless to say that Rico did not go to Riva that day. The situation was immediately explained to the hotel people, so that they could hire a subst.i.tute to play for the dance. How glad Rico was to be excused they could scarcely imagine.

The landlady received the information with the greatest astonishment.

She hastily called her husband and told him the news. Later she congratulated Rico and said to him that she heartily wished for G.o.d's blessing upon his home. Not in the least did she begrudge him his good fortune. She had really grown very fond of him, and her pleasure was genuine. For some time the people of the hotel Three Crosses had been making Rico liberal offers to come to live with them, and she was relieved that now this could not happen. Her husband was glad for Rico, because he had known the father well; he wondered now that he had never noticed the striking resemblance between father and son.

Rico left word to have his belongings sent over to his house the next day, and then bade them a friendly farewell.

"We want you to give us your orders for all the entertaining you may do in the future," the landlady said, as he was about to leave. Rico thanked them in his usual quiet fas.h.i.+on and departed.

Before night nearly all Peschiera had heard of Rico's good fortune. He was a favorite in town, and the news caused much rejoicing.

Mrs. Menotti spared no pains to make Rico comfortable in his new home.

The large front room upstairs was prepared for his special use. After everything had been arranged to her satisfaction, she went to gather some flowers as a finis.h.i.+ng touch, and she had just placed them on the table when she heard Rico coming.

"Mrs. Menotti has your room ready, and she is upstairs," said Stineli.

"Won't you go up to see it now?"

Rico expected to see a pleasant room, but he was not prepared to find the artistic effect which held him spellbound as he reached the threshold. Mrs. Menotti understood his nature so well that she knew what he would like, and she had arranged every detail herself. She met him at the door, and taking his hand, led him to the windows overlooking the lake. Rico wished to express his grat.i.tude, but he could only murmur, "I am so glad to be at home."

In the sitting room downstairs, where the doors opened so pleasantly into the garden, the family, after Rico had come to stay, spent the most delightful evenings imaginable. Ten o'clock no longer brought sadness to the happy circle, and the months slipped by quite unheeded.

Rico was now supposed to manage his business, and he usually spent the days in the field and garden with his foreman. The first day they were out together the foreman thought, "I know more than my master," but that evening, when the soul-inspiring strains of the violin and voice came floating out to him across the garden, he thought, "My master does know more than I"; and thereafter he had a profound respect for Rico.

CHAPTER XXI

SUNs.h.i.+NE AT LAKE GARDA

Two years had pa.s.sed since Rico had come to his home, and it seemed to them all that every day was filled with more pleasure than the preceding one. Stineli knew that the time was at hand when she ought to go home, and it made her sad whenever she thought of it. There was the possibility that she might not be allowed to come back, and she could think of nothing worse than that. Rico, too, began to be unhappy about it, for he had promised that she should go back to be confirmed.

It seemed to be his duty to let her go, and though he put it off from day to day, it weighed upon his mind to such an extent that he scarcely spoke except when it was necessary.

Mrs. Menotti saw that something was wrong, and inquired into the cause; she had long ago forgotten that Stineli would ever have to leave them. When they told her she said, "Stineli is still very young; it will be just as well to wait until she is older"; so they had one more year of undisturbed pleasure.

One day, about a year later, a message came from Bergamo, saying that some one was there who was to take Stineli back with him. There was no way out of it now, so the preparations for the journey began. Silvio cried and cried because his Stineli was going away.

"You must be sure to come back," said Mrs. Menotti. "Promise your father anything he wants if he will only let you come."

Rico said scarcely a word when Stineli went, but it seemed to him that she took all the suns.h.i.+ne in the world away with her. The clouds remained from November to the following Easter. The days had dragged along in monotonous fas.h.i.+on, with the zest of life completely gone.

Now it was Easter Sunday. The festivities of the day were over, the garden was one ma.s.s of bloom, and the fields gave promise of a bountiful harvest. It ought to have made everybody happy, yet here was Rico, sitting with Silvio in the midst of all this luxury and beauty, playing the most melancholy tunes he could think of. To be sure they suited Rico's mood, but they depressed Silvio and made him extremely fretful. Suddenly they heard, "Rico, haven't you a more cheerful welcome?"

Silvio screamed for joy. Rico threw the violin on the bed and rushed out. Mrs. Menotti came in from an adjoining room to see what had happened. There on the threshold stood Stineli. The suns.h.i.+ne was back again. She had not had the slightest notion of the hearty welcome that awaited her return. In fact, the others had not realized how necessary she was to their happiness until she was gone. They gathered about Silvio's bed as usual, and they asked questions and answered them and rejoiced that the days of separation were over.

A few years later something came about so naturally that it seemed as if it could not have been otherwise. One lovely day in May--as fine a day as Peschiera had ever seen--a long wedding procession moved from the church to the Golden Sun. The tall, handsome Rico was at the head, and by his side, with a wreath of roses on her fair brow, was the beautiful Stineli. Next came Silvio, in a softly upholstered cart drawn by two Peschiera boys. Next in line was the mother, in her rustling festive attire, looking somewhat pale and tired. The flower girls who came next were almost hidden in the roses they carried; following them came the guests, and it seemed from their number that all Peschiera must have turned out to do honor to the young bride and bridegroom.

The pride of the landlady of the Golden Sun, when she saw the procession coming, can be better imagined than described. Ever after, when anybody told about a wedding, she would say scornfully, "That is nothing compared to Rico's wedding at the Golden Sun."

The loyal Peschierans rejoiced that Rico was to make his home among them. The suns.h.i.+ne never again left him, and the home nestled in the beautiful garden was always a happy one. Stineli never let the Lord's Prayer be forgotten, and the grandmother's song could be heard every Sunday night.

WISELI FINDS HER PLACE

CHAPTER I

COASTING

Directly opposite the city of Bern lies a small village beautifully situated on a hill. I cannot tell you what it is called, but I will describe it to you so that you may know it if you are ever there. On the summit of the hill there is but one house; it is surrounded by a flower garden, which meets on each side of the house the stretch of lawn at the front. This residence is called The Hill, and is the home of Colonel Ritter. A short distance down the hill, on a level stretch of ground, stands the church, with the parsonage beside it. This is where Mrs. Ritter spent her happy girlhood as the pastor's daughter.

Still farther down, amid a group of houses, is the schoolhouse. On the left of these, all by itself, stands an attractive little house with a garden. In the front lawn are placed some flower beds containing roses, carnations, and mignonette. The asparagus beds at the sides of the house are screened from the front by a low raspberry hedge. The whole place presents a well-kept appearance. The road goes on down the hill to the main road that follows along the Aar River to the open country.

This long, sloping hill provided excellent coasting during the winter.

The distance from the top of the hill to the Aar road below made a continuous coast of about ten minutes' duration. This incomparable sledge course gave to the children of the village the greatest pleasure of the year. No sooner was school dismissed than they ran for their sleds and hurried up the hill. The hours pa.s.sed like minutes, so that six o'clock, the time when they were expected at home, came much too soon. The closing scene on the hill was usually an interesting one, for they always wanted to go down once more before they broke up for the night, and then once again, and after that just one single time more, so that it might be inferred from their excited haste that their lives depended upon making as many trips as possible.

They were usually governed by a wise rule that compelled them all to ride down and return in the same order, so as to avoid the possibility of collision and confusion; but the rule was occasionally disregarded, when the final excitement swayed them. This happened to be the case on a bright January night, when the intense cold made the snow crackle as it was crunched under the feet of the children, who came panting up the hill, drawing their sleds after them, their faces glowing from their exertions. The boys were shouting, "Once more! once more!" as they turned their sleds and fell into line.

Now it happened that three of the boys claimed the same place in the file, and not one was willing to go behind the others. During the dispute two of them crowded the big boy Chappi to one side into the snow, where his heavy sled sank into the drift. This made him angry, for it gave the others the opportunity to get ahead of him. In glancing back he noticed a little girl standing near, watching him; she had wrapped her hands in her ap.r.o.n to keep them warm, but she was s.h.i.+vering in her thin dress.