Part 8 (1/2)
CHAPTER VI.
When the brothers entered the drawing-room they found it deserted, but Frida stood outside on the terrace. She could not have heard them approach, for as Sandow pa.s.sed out at the French window she turned hastily round, and the traces of tears were clearly seen. She rapidly pa.s.sed her handkerchief over her face, but it was impossible to conceal her emotion. It was not usual with the merchant to display much consideration for the feelings of others, but here he could easily connect the girl's distress with the painful conversation at the dinner-table, and in a sudden accession of sympathy he tried to help her through her trouble.
”You need not be so anxious to hide your tears, Miss Palm,” said he.
”Here in a strange country you feel home-sick, I am sure.”
He seemed to have touched the right chord, for in the trembling tone with which Frida replied lay the plainest proof of its truth.
”Yes, an inexpressible home-sickness!”
”Naturally, you have been such a short time here,” said Sandow, carelessly. ”All Germans feel that at first, but it soon pa.s.ses away.
If one is lucky in the New World one is glad to forget old times, and in the end rejoices at having turned one's back on them. Do not look so shocked, as if I had said something monstrous. I speak from my own experience.”
Frida certainly had looked shocked. Her eyes, yet moist with tears, shot forth a glance of scorn and dislike as she hastily cried--
”You cannot be serious, Mr. Sandow. I shall forget, give up my country, even the recollection of it? Never, never!”
Sandow looked rather surprised at this pa.s.sionate protest from the quiet girl; round his lips played a half contemptuous, half pitiful smile as he replied--
”I reckon you well disposed to learn that. The misfortune of most Germans here is that they hold so fast to the past, that the present and future are allowed to glide away unnoticed. Home-sickness is one of those sickly, affected sentiments which are sometimes considered as poetic and interesting, while in real life they are only hindrances.
Whoever will get on here must keep his head clear and his eyes open, in order to seize and profit by every chance. You are compelled by circ.u.mstances to seek for a living here, and this weak longing and dreaming will not help you in that.”
Hard and heartless though these words might sound, they were spoken with perfect sincerity. The unfortunate remark about his business friend, which might have been expected to irritate and embitter the merchant, seemed, on the contrary, to have awakened an interest in the girl, whom till then he had scarcely observed.
Frida gave no spoken contradiction to the lesson he condescended to give her, and which chilled her inmost heart. But her questioning, reproachful look said enough, and these serious, dark eyes seemed to produce an extraordinary effect on the usually unimpressionable man.
This time he did not avoid the look, but bore it unflinchingly.
Suddenly his voice took involuntarily a milder tone, and he said--
”You are still young, Miss Palm, very young, far too young to wander about the world alone. Was there, then, no one in your native land who could offer you a shelter?”
”No, no one!” came almost inaudibly from the lips of the girl.
”Of course--you are an orphan. I heard that from my niece. And the relation who invited you to New York died while you were on your way there?”
The slight inclination of the head which Frida made might be interpreted in the affirmative, but a burning blush overspread her face, and her eyes sought the ground.
”That is really very sad. How was it possible to find a proper refuge in New York, where you were quite a stranger?”
The flush on the girl's cheeks became still deeper.
”My fellow-travellers took charge of me,” she answered hesitatingly.
”They took me to a countryman, the pastor of a German church, where I was most kindly received.”
”And this gentleman recommended you to my niece. I know her mother had numerous connections in New York, with some of whom Jessie keeps up a correspondence. She feels such warm sympathy for you, that you need have no anxiety for the future. With the recommendation of Miss Clifford, it will not be difficult to find a suitable place.”
Frida appeared as unpractised in falsehood as Jessie. With the latter she had not been obliged to use the deception which was necessary in speaking to the master of the house. Jessie had from the first been acquainted with circ.u.mstances which must be carefully concealed from Sandow, even now when he began to display some interest in her. But the manner of the girl showed how hard her part was. Sandow knew her shy and taciturn, but this obstinate silence appeared to annoy him.