A Tale of the Kloster Part 16

and then as they both saw Brother Alburtus perilously nigh, she quietly sat down again at her former place, most demurely, while Sonnlein pa.s.sed on toward his _Kammer_.

As Brother Alburtus came upon her he stopped for a moment, hand rubbing hand as usual, looked at her in grave absorption and pa.s.sed on as though she were not there.

And then I could have sworn I saw peering at her, and next at the departing form of Brother Alburtus, the loathsome features of that awful woman whom I had not seen for over ten years, from the shelter of a tangled clump of vines and brush, which I solemnly promised myself should be cut down on the morrow, root and branch.

Stealthily I crept out of my hiding-place and proceeded to where it seemed I had seen the witch, but as I came near I saw naught, and yet as I walked slowly away there came faintly to mine ears as though receding from me, that horrible, cackling laugh I had reason to hold in so much dread.

CHAPTER XX

SISTER GENOVEVA IS GONE

O thou whose glory fills the etherial throne, And all ye deathless powers, protect my son!

--Iliad.

Twilight was fast deepening into night when I returned to my _Kammer_ in the large Brother House, or Bethania, which we built a few years after the departure of the Eckerlings, down in the meadow, nigh the Cocalico, and facing the Sister House, or Saron, Brother Beissel's cabin sitting circ.u.mspectly between the two houses of our Order.

Here, as in Zion, Sonnlein and I had adjoining cells. I was not greatly surprised as I entered mine, to hear him whistle softly a worldly tune, though where he had caught it I knew not--surely not from me--for our sober lives never favored such G.o.dless puckerings and twistings of the lips!

Then he hummed the blasphemous thing for a while, changing into whistling again, and in his humming and whistlings making such vain and perverse changes, flying from high to low, from loud to soft, mingling with it all such sundry quiverings and queer little runs and trillings, until not able to stand it longer--for it seemed he would never stop--I marched sternly to the doorway of his cell, flung back the light door and spake to him, "Art crazy or in love?"

"Both, _Vaterchen_, both!" he fairly shouted, as he grabbed me ere I knew what was up, and spun me around so I could hardly keep my feet.

"Surely thou'rt mad," I gasped feebly as I sank down on his bench, "Hast been drinking?"--though I knew he had not.

"Yea," he shouted again even louder than before, "from the loving cup of the G.o.ds!"

"Be not so boisterous, thou blasphemer! Wouldst have the Brethren think thee drunk?"

"The Brethren are not about; I am not so wild I know not how to save thy gentle reputation, _Vaterchen_"--and in truth in his adventures he ever regarded me.

"Still it poorly becometh thee to act like a thoughtless boy," I remonstrated.

"Surely, _Vaterchen_," he laughed gayly, "if thou didst but know what it is to be in love thou couldst not scold me so!"

"Every man to his trade," I replied dryly, not trusting myself to look at him; "my trade is preaching and trying to behave myself. Thine appears to be loving," saying the latter as sarcastically as my dislike for sharp words and my love for him would allow.

But he only laughed the louder as he said, "'Tis a trade that never had to advertise for apprentices."

"Cease thy levity; canst not be sober-minded? If thou must make music we have hundreds of n.o.ble hymns in our books."

"They are not framed to my mood, but"--and now in truth he looked more serious and manlike, as I most admired him--"dost thou agree with our superintendent that marriage is a sinful state?"

"Dost ask for mere curiosity, or hast found some foolish woman who careth for thee?" I asked with seeming ignorance.

He flushed at this, and then said gently, the schemer, "Nay, but sometime I might see one foolish enough, as thou sayest, to love me and perchance I might commit in all ignorance the grievous sin of marriage."

"I commend thy great thoughtfulness," said I, looking at him in a way that made him in turn look at me as though wondering whether I knew more than I cared to tell. "To relieve thy anxiety I shall tell thee, which I would not have proclaimed from the housetops, there being those who hold to stricter views, I do not regard marriage as sinful. The word of G.o.d sayeth not so. In truth it esteemeth marriage highly. We base our views of celibacy on what Paulus sayeth, thou rememberest, 'For I would that all men were even as I myself,' meaning unmarried."

"But Paulus himself wrote that he spake this by permission and not of commandment."

"True, and so say I, now that I am older and wiser. We practise celibacy, and praise it because we believe that, as good soldiers of the Lord, we can go better to battle than if we are impeded by wives and children."

A long pause and then anxiously, as though much depended on my reply, he asked with a touch of reverence in his voice, "Wouldst think it wrong for any of our Sisters to marry?"

"Our vows are binding only on our consciences. We compel no one to celibacy. Each follows his own will. Thou knowest many of the Brethren and Sisters who were married when they joined our order left us again to live together and no one said them 'nay,' but our single Sisters and Brethren have almost invariably remained with us."

"If I were to marry one of the Sisterhood, wouldst thou condemn either of us?" he asked eagerly.

"When thou'rt sure thou hast found one to break her vows for thee it were time to ask me that," I admonished him; and then, as I arose to return to my cell, I said smiling, not meaning it with malice, "thou knowest much may happen between sunrise and sunset."

Hardly had I said this--and oft it hath come to me how like it was to the fulfilling of a prophecy--when the Kloster bell rang out from Mt.

Sinai strong and clear as though calling us to face some sudden danger.

Alarm was writ plainly on our faces as we looked out of the little window, fearing to see the glare of fire against the sky, but we saw nothing. Soon the hall and corridors were filled with the anxious brethren, for it was still a few hours from midnight, and each of us knew something of great moment must be about to cause this hurried ringing so early in the night.

As Sonnlein and I hastened out of the corridor and the low doorway for Brother Beissel's cabin, the rest of the anxious brothers trooping after us, we saw our prioress and a number of the Sisters gathered about our leader in front of his cabin, the changing light from the fat lamps showing clearly enough the fear and consternation oppressing us.

As our leader saw me, he called me to him and said, his voice trembling in spite of him: "Our Sister Genoveva cannot be found; no one hath seen her since sunset."

I could feel Sonnlein's grip on my arm like the hold of a drowning man, but he said nothing.

"I myself saw her then in the Sisters' close, sitting at the foot of a large chestnut tree," said I slowly, for I could not help thinking of that evil face I now felt certain I had really seen peering at our sister from behind the thicket.

"She may have gone to some of the neighbors to attend some sick one,"

suggested Brother Beissel, but saying it as against his own belief.

"But first she would have left word with us," the prioress reminded him, "for such is our rule."

"Still, there may have been sudden illness that left no time for word to us," persisted our leader.

So far, no one had said a word as to the great fear that I knew was clutching the hearts of my Brothers and Sisters, which was that the Indians had either killed or carried away our Genoveva; for over a year had gone by since the French and Indians had taken up musket and tomahawk against the English settlements, and though we had thus far been spared the horrors of this savage war, yet we heard now and then of awful ma.s.sacres of the whites by the Indians not many miles to the north and west, among the outlying settlements off our province, so that the whole country, by reason of these barbarous deeds and the want of proper defense, was in a great state of excitement and apprehension.

Calling Brother Alburtus to me, I asked him slowly and distinctly, for he seemed oft not to understand one: "Thou wast in the Brother woods and the Sister woods at sunset. Didst see signs of Indians, the red men?"

But he only shook his head with his accustomed vacant air, so that Brother Beissel exclaimed impatiently: "'Tis waste of time to question him; he never seeth aught."

"Brother Beissel, if thou wilt send of the brethren among the neighbors to inquire of our sister, Sonnlein and I will go to the Sister woods,"

and with this I turned about for Sonnlein, but he was gone as though he too had been swallowed up, for I had felt him but a moment before at my elbow. My flesh was beginning to creep and p.r.i.c.k with unmanly fright when one of the brethren spake:

"He hath just gone with a f.a.got to Mt. Sinai," and as I looked where my brother pointed, I saw the occasional glimmer of a light through the trees and bushes.

Without waiting for a light, though the night was dark and overcast with heavy clouds, threatening rain, I dashed after my boy as fast as the gloom and my knowledge of our Kloster ground would let me.

When I reached him he was already at the chestnut tree, kneeling, torch in hand, closely searching the ground. As I came nigh I saw his face was hard and drawn, and though I could see his hands tremble, his voice was firm as a rock as he commanded me, as he never spoke to me before, to stand back a moment.