Part 78 (1/2)

”Yes,” said Johannes, ”but I must tell her who Gretchen is,--you will excuse me?”

”Yes, yes, go, for Heaven's sake! don't wait an instant!” Moritz called after him.

”Ernestine,” said Johannes, after he had exchanged morning greetings with the invalid, whose improvement was evidently steady and sure,--”Ernestine, you wish to see the young girl who was here yesterday, and I must first tell you who she is. Do you still cherish any affection for your uncle?”

Ernestine shook her head. ”He is dead to me.”

”I have something to tell you of him that may agitate you, and I scarcely dare to do it.”

”What can agitate me, after all the terrors that my own fancy has conjured up?” Ernestine asked composedly.

”Well, then, the girl who has helped to nurse you with touching fidelity for the last four weeks is Leuthold's daughter, and--an orphan!”

”Good G.o.d!” she exclaimed. ”Poor child! Is Leuthold dead?”

”Yes, he inflicted upon himself the punishment of his crimes. This world is past for him.”

Ernestine looked up gravely. ”I cannot mourn him. He was my evil genius, and shamefully abused my confidence. But I will not visit it upon his daughter,--poor, innocent child. I pray you bring her to me,--she is the only creature in this world who is linked to me by the tie of kindred!”

Johannes went to the window and beckoned to Gretchen, who was approaching the house with Hilsborn.

She came instantly, and a minute later was upon her knees at Ernestine's bedside. Ernestine would have drawn her towards her, but she sobbed, ”Let me kneel at your feet,--only so should the daughter of one who greatly wronged you dare to approach you.”

”Gretchen, poor, innocent orphan,” cried Ernestine, ”come to my heart!”

Then, regarding her with emotion, she declared, ”Indeed, if anything could lighten his errors, it would be his affection for such a child.

For the sake of that pure human love, I forgive him. If I were rich, I would share all with you as with a sister. If I had anything to give, I would give it to you. But I have nothing for you, except sympathy and affection.”

And the two girls were clasped in each other's arms.

CHAPTER X.

RETURN.

With reawakening strength, entirely novel feelings of affection and interest penetrated Ernestine's nature,--genuine human sympathies, such as her life hitherto had afforded no room for. In a few days the closest intimacy was established between herself and Gretchen. There was a simplicity about Ernestine that no one had believed her to possess. It was as if she now began to live for the first time, as if during the long period of her unconsciousness she had forgotten her former experience of the outward world, and she was as delighted as a child with all that unfolded itself before her eyes. She was as charmed as if she had never seen it before with the sight of the clear autumn sky. She would gaze long and thoughtfully upon the flowers that were laid upon her bed. She eagerly turned over, with Gretchen, the books of rare prints that Johannes brought for her amus.e.m.e.nt. Hitherto she had known Art only by name, and had not had an idea of its significance.

Her uncle had never supplied food for her imagination, lest she should be turned aside from the pursuit of her graver studies. Her weary soul now bathed in the waters of fancy which Johannes unlocked for her refreshment. He brought her photographs of pictures and statues by famous masters, and ideas of the beautiful were awakened within her, filling her with glad inspiration. And Gretchen met her with ready sympathy,--she was in advance of her, indeed, and could point out to her many beauties that else might have escaped her unpractised eyes. At such times Ernestine would regard Gretchen with admiration and surprise. It was a pleasure to see the two girls throwing their whole souls into these new enjoyments together. Even Hilsborn, who since Ernestine's convalescence had naturally been defrauded of many a delightful moment, could not grudge them so pure and true a happiness.

Sometimes from morning until night the two lovely heads would be bent together over books and prints, and sometimes they had a companion,--Father Leonhardt, who would come ”on purpose,” as he expressed it, ”to see the new books.” But his delight was in listening to Ernestine while she described the pictures minutely, oftentimes with so much truth and spirit that the old man would clasp his hands and cry, ”How beautiful that must be!”

”Do you see it, Father Leonhardt?” she would ask in her zeal, and the old man would reply delightedly, ”Yes, I see it!”

And when anything pleased him particularly, he would ask, ”Show me that picture again!” and Ernestine was unwearied in her descriptions and explanations.

Johannes and his mother were enchanted with this rejuvenation, as it might be called.

She avoided with secret dislike any return to her former world of thought,--it was too harsh a contrast to her present delight,--she seemed actually disgusted with the anatomical pursuits which had led her to dissect so curiously what now gave her so much pleasure. She would not again descend into those gloomy depths whence she had drawn nothing but despair, and all that she now looked upon was as novel and strange as if she had spent the last ten years immured in a tower, from which she had only looked out upon G.o.d's fair world from a far-off height.

Her recovery advanced so rapidly that eight days after her first awaking to consciousness she was able to be carried by Johannes and Gretchen into the library, once more restored to order and comfort by the faithful care of Willmers. She was placed in an arm-chair, and, as the Staatsrathin covered her with a warm, soft coverlet, she said in a weak voice, ”Now let us begin where we left off ten years ago!”

The Staatsrathin stooped, and, kissing her brow, whispered softly, ”It is a pity so much time has been lost!”