The German Pioneers: A Tale of the Mohawk. Spielhagen Friedrich
brushed his hair from his face. With all the thoughts that crossed his brain, with all the feelings that filled his breast, he knew not what more he should say--what he had said.
"Catherine, believe me, oh, believe me! I had not thought when I reached New York that I should not return alone to my home. I will take you back again--will take you where you will. My uncle Christian Ditmar and his wife, my aunt, are old and childless and will be glad to have you; and Conrad and I will again live as we have hitherto. Conrad has ever been to me a kind and faithful brother, and he now feels very sorry that he has so offended you. We will both watch over you--watch over you all--as we always have here where we are the farthest settlers. However, as you will, Catherine, as you will."
She had now raised herself up, and, as she stood there in the light of the moon which had for some time risen above the edge of the forest, Lambert thought that the beloved maiden had never before appeared so beautiful.
She had folded her hands, and, not looking at Lambert, but upward, she said softly but firmly: "I will go with you, Lambert Sternberg--come what will."
They walked back toward the house, side by side, the moon shining in the deep blue sky with radiant clearness. From time to time Lambert cast sly glances at the beloved one. He had yet so much to tell her--so very much--but he would not speak since she herself was silent, and he knew that she could speak more beautifully than he had ever heard any one speak before. It was also so well and he was so thankful that at last the burden was lifted from his soul, and that she had forgiven him and would entirely forgive him when she learned how much he had suffered.
This Catherine had already perceived in the painful vehemence of a man otherwise so quiet and self-contained. She had felt it in the storm that had swept through her own soul. Now after the turmoil of the storm she was at peace. What had happened? Was everything that she silently hoped, lived upon, cherished, forever destroyed? Or, amid thunder-claps, did a new world bloom far more beautiful than she had ever dreamed?
Thus, lost in their own peculiar thoughts, they again reached the house.
"Do you come at last?" said Conrad.
He was standing in the door which he now opened wide for the two. Then he gave his hand to Catherine and his brother and greeted them for the first time. "You before took me so by surprise," said he, "that I did not know where my head stood. In what a confusion everything about here lay! It had become somewhat disordered during the two months that you, Lambert, was away. You know I do not well understand housekeeping. I came home a couple of hours ago, having been upon Black River for eight days after beaver. However, instead of beaver I found Onondagas, whose manner was far from friendly--the cursed scoundrels. I went to Uncle Ditmar's who had, meanwhile, kept our cows. Bless has calved. Ditmar will keep the calf if you do not wish to raise it. Take seats here. I have meanwhile rearranged the evening meal as well as I could after my awkward interference. There is baked ham, your favorite dish, Lambert."
Conrad was unusually busy while he thus spoke. He set the chairs to the table, pulled them back, that he might wipe them off with his brown hand, and then set them up again. Again and again he put wood on the fire, so that the fire crackled and the flame went roaring up the chimney. For no definite reason, except that it had to be so, he kicked his wolfhound, Pluto, while she, having just come in, kept blinking at Catherine with her large yellow eyes. He himself did not look at the strange girl, and when his glance accidentally passed over her face he became red and embarrassed, and speedily turned his eyes away again.
In this way he acted during the whole meal. He talked, stood up, sat down again, tried to put things in order, but brought them into greater confusion, so that Lambert became red in the face and thanked the Lord when he saw Catherine smiling in a friendly way. She thought she could interpret Conrad's conduct in his favor. It was apparent enough that it had not made an unfavorable impression on the young and beautiful girl. It cost her no trouble now and again to return a friendly word to his talk. Lambert was astonished, and it sounded strange to him as she once laughed in the same cheerful, soft tone in which she spoke. He had not heard her laugh once during her whole journey.
So he sat there full of thankful joy that everything had turned out so well after he had been very despondent and was filled with secret unrest like one who, having with difficulty escaped a great danger, does not venture to yield to the feeling of security and seems to feel the ground shaking under his feet.
But as the meal was now drawing to a close another care began to press upon him with increasing weight. During the journey, in the farm-houses which they entered, which were often very small, it had happened more than once that he had passed the night in the same room with the family and his companion. Two or three nights when they could reach no human habitation they had taken their rest in the forest, and he had seen the beloved maiden by the light of the camp-fire sleeping peacefully, while he looked up through the tops of the trees and thanked God that he was permitted to watch over her slumber. But this occurred on the journey--an unusual condition, which could not and should not last. There was in the upper story a store-room partitioned off, in which one of the brothers used to sleep, while the other had his simple couch in a small recess in the lower room. The brothers had hit upon this arrangement the preceding year, when the inroads of the French necessitated redoubled watchfulness. Afterwards, though the danger was over, they had kept up the custom until Lambert's departure. Lambert had thought of each room for Catherine, but Conrad had mentioned during the meal that, on his eight-days' excursion, he had learned that the French were stirring again. Consequently renewed watchfulness was necessary, and that since Lambert must be very tired from his journey, he would undertake the watch for that night.
"Then we will in turn both watch above," said Lambert after a pause. "Catherine will be satisfied for the night here below. To-morrow we will make a better arrangement for her. Is that satisfactory, Catherine?"
"Quite so," replied the young woman. "I saw in the recess sweet-smelling hay, and here is the beautiful white bear-skin; do not trouble yourselves. I shall get along all right. Good night."
She gave Lambert her hand and then Conrad, who looked on with surprise. He wondered at his brother, and followed him up the narrow stairway after they had bolted and barricaded the door.
Catherine watched them as they ascended, drew a deep breath, passed her hand over her forehead, and began to clear away the supper table, and to wash up and put away the dishes, that she might with better courage carry forward the work of reducing things to order which she had before timidly begun. This took a long time. Often she stood benumbed in the midst of her work with her hand pressed against her forehead. Her heart was so full she could have sat down and shed a flood of tears. At the same time a firm, unchecked serenity filled her soul, such as she had experienced when quite a young thing playing at forfeits when the band of children in their colored dresses wildly pursued each other.
Then awakened out of such strange dreams, she again quietly continued her work, and at last looked about the room with a self-satisfied air, since it had now assumed quite a different appearance. Having carefully put out the fire on the hearth, she sought her modest couch that she had prepared in the recess on the farther side of the large room.
Through the narrow port-holes in the thick plank wall there stole in streaks of the moon's rays, spreading about her a faint twilight. It was easy to breathe in the fresh forest exhalation which blew in at the openings and played about her cheeks. The brook purled uninterruptedly. From time to time there was a rustle, first gentle, then swelling out, and then again holding back like the tones of an organ. It was the solemn music of the primitive forest. She had already noticed this music on her journey when, sleeping under the trees on gathered moss, she, with dream-veiled, half-open eyes, saw Lambert sitting at the camp-fire. She could now also hear his step as he made the round of the gallery above. Conrad's tread would be heavier. Once he stopped directly over her head. Was he looking in the distance for the blood-thirsty enemies? or was he listening to the mocking-bird's wonderful song which she had for some time noticed coming from the forest in soft, sobbing tones, as the nightingale had warbled, over in her German home, in the linden tree at the gable of the parsonage. Then again it, shrieked like a vexatious parrot, or laughed like a magpie. This sounded quite ludicrous. Then it was no more the mockingbird's twofold, demon-like