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DOCTOR JACOB.
CHAPTER I.
OUR o'clock chimed from the old Dom Tower
of Frankfort on the Maine; the sixty-two day-
scholars of Fraulein Fink's institution disap-
peared by twos and threes ; the back gate was
closed after them, and the weekly half-holiday
commenced.
Fraulein Fink loved her school, but she could not help
breathing a sigh of relief as she crossed the square court-
yard, around which the class-rooms were built; indeed,
she even smiled to herself at the pleasant prospect of a
leisure evening, a friend or two to tea in the garden, and
a nice little display of sweets in their honour. Perhaps
no inhabitant of the Free City worked harder than did
Fraulein Fink. From eight in the morning till eight at night
she was strenuously and anxiously occupied. A Jesuit
striving doggedly after the conversion of a heretic may
be compared to her ; but no other workman, and no work-
woman, however ardent. Her belief was Grammar ; her first
tenets of faith were the Subject and the Predicate, the major
sentence and the minor sentence. In the cause of the latter,
B
2
DOCTOR JACOB.
she won many a wrinkle and many a grey hair. Daily, she
woke up to battle for the Predicate; daily, she girded her
loins to fight for the major sentence.
Next to grammar, Fraulein Fink adored Goethe. Indeed,
it would be difficult to tell which of the two was the greater
passion of her life. She was certainly quite as happy when
discussing Wilhelm Meister of the Iphigenie with her friend
Professor Beer, as when giving a lecture on grammatical
construction in the first class.
"Without a sound mental occupation, or the frequent
interchange of ideas with a masculine intellect," she would
often say, " no sensible woman can be happy. My school
supplies me with the former—my learned friend, Professor
Beer, with the latter. I would not change my condition for
the world."
In spite of such habitual cheerfulness, a life of unmitigated
toil and of unceasing crusades for the Predicate, began to tell
upon Fraulein Fink's kindly features. The lines around her
mouth were now deep and close, the cheek bones protruded a
little, the temples sharpened off towards her slightly-silvered
auburn hair. There are two kinds of vanity : a vanity of
beauty and a vanity of ugliness ; and she possessed the
latter. You could not be in her company half an hour with-
out her impressing upon you the facts of her plainness and of
her advancing age. She persisted, too, in calling her hair
red, and to contradict her was almost an offence—if anything
could offend so complacent a person.
Fifty years of unprotected toil, and a plain face to keep
company with them, would be an arid waste for the reflection
of most women. Fraulein Fink could never talk of her past
life too often nor too cheerfully. Der liebe Gott had, indeed,
not seen fit to give her a husband, but He had bestowed upon
her intellect and a sphere of usefulness. What woman
could be more blessed? This was the way in which she
reasoned.
DOCTOR JACOB.
3
Having performed her toilette—that is to say, having
adjusted a prickly frilling of ribbon across her head, and
a couple of rings on her freckled fingers, she passed on to the
landing. Here she paused a moment. Five large ward-
robes fronted her; one containing the household linen,
another the household grocery, another jam and pickles;
applying the keys at her waist to several, she loaded herself
with tea, china cups, loaf-sugar, and biscuits, finally she
opened an adjoining door unceremoniously, and cried,—
" Hannchen, are you ready to set the table?"
" Ina minute, aunty."
And a right bonny girl, with rosy cheeks, bright eyes,
abundance of braided brown hair, white teeth, and a tall,
plump figure, presents herself to our view, in the act of
affixing a pink knot to her white dress.
" Your white dress, Hannchen!" said the aunt in a voice of
displeasure ; " it is surely clean enough for another concert in
the Zoological Gardens ? "
Hannchen loved dress, and stood a little in awe of the
Fraulein Fink.
" Indeed, aunty, the stiffness is quite out. Do you remember
how I complained of the bad starch whilst ironing it ?—and
you do like me to look nice when the Frau Directorin comes,
don't you ? "
The last little device worked well. Fraulein Fink changed
the subject.
" Is Miss Macartney out ?"
" I dare say not—that's the worst of English governesses,"
answered Hannchen, pettishly, " they never make friends,
and are always in the house when one doesn't want them. I
don't see, either, why you need ask her to take tea with
us, aunty; she has had her four-o'clock bread and fruit with
the rest. Let her amuse herself, as Mademoiselle and
Louise do."
" My dear Hannchen, Miss Macartney is an excellent
B 2
4
DOCTOR JACOB.
instructress, and, unlike most of her countrywomen, can eat
anything—her age, too, looks well for the school. It would be
most unreasonable to offend her."
Hannchen pouted a little, but said nothing, and the two
descended by a back staircase into the garden. Before this,
they crossed the playground, which, with the pear-trees and
benches belonging, was free to the three governesses, five
boarders, and sixty-two day-scholars. Fraulein Fink, Hann-
chen, and the English governess, alone were privileged to
enter the well-stored fruit-garden below. English governesses
never plucked fruit, on the sly, or made love to idle young
gentlemen over the hedge, and they were rewarded ac-
cordingly.
Tea being arranged in the summer-house, Hannchen was
despatched to invite Miss Macartney, soon returning, how-
ever, with the satisfactory intelligence that' that lady had
already gone for a walk. Whether her governesses went out
or stayed at home after school-hours, mattered little to the
Fraulein Fink ; so long as they appeared contented and
kept clear of conspicuous scrapes, she allowed them perfect
liberty, and felt provoked if they did not avail themselves
of it.
Soon came the Frau Directorin. She was a pleasant,
portly lady, bearing the same resemblance to her slim young
daughter as a fruit-laden apple-tree to the five-year old
sapling growing by its side. Hannchen and her friend kissed
each other warmly ; the two elder ladies exchanged plenty of
compliments, and as many affectionate greetings as if they
had not met for ten years, instead of as many days. Then the
little party sat down to tea.
"My dear Frau Directorin," said the schoolmistress (who
would not have omitted the title for the world), " pray do not
measure the number of your cups by mine. If the tea is
good, enjoy it—but I abstain, and from a motive which you, I
am sure, will commend. To tell you the truth, tea affects
DOCTOR JACOB.
5
me in the strangest manner—it makes me gossip about my
neighbours."
The two girls laughed aloud. Frau Directorin Heinrich
reverenced the instructress of her daughters highly, and
always spoke of her as a decidedly intellectual woman, whom
few could understand, who ought in fact to have lived in the
days of Goethe, Schiller, and Herder. She answered, with a
good-humoured smile,—
" Indeed ! But you never say any harm of your neigh-
bours, dear Fraulein Fink, so that it little'matters how much
you gossip. Your tea is excellent, and, even if you do not
join me, I will take a second cup."
Before the second cup was finished, she drew forth a large
yellow pocket-handkerchief and began hemming for the Herr
Director ; it had been purchased a bargain, and must, there-
fore, be discussed. Then the young ladies produced half-
finished stockings and plied their knitting-pins. Fraulein
Fink alone sat in idleness. She prided herself upon using
needles and knitting-pins but seldom ; other women were not
born with so decided a capability for Goethe and Grammar
—let them work to their hearts' content.
She leaned back on the garden seat and surveyed her
laden plum-trees and plentiful lettuce beds with eyes that
grew moist with feelings of pride and satisfaction. The
pleasant garden and roomy house adjoining, were her own—
had been won by school-room drudgery—or rather, for we
are transcribing her own thoughts now, by dignified and
elevating services in the cause of intellectual development.
All was quiet, and as the declining sun slanted through the
interlaced branches overhead, and the rising breeze wafted a
fruity air around, her heart swelled at the contemplation of
her little territory. Had her friend Professor Beer been by,
she would have quoted largely from Goethe ; as it was, she
descended to the only kind of sentimentality in which Frau
Directorin Heinrich could sympathise.
6
DOCTOR JACOB.
"Ah! my dear Frau Djrectorin," she said, clasping her
hands, "that blue sky—those green trees—the serene heaven'
liness of such an hour and such a scene—what good thoughts
does not the dear God require of us for all these ! When I
think of the countless hours I have spent here, which have
been as balm to my tired mind and limbs, I can only say, I
care not how soon I go to the quiet God's-acre, and there
rest without fear of a school-bell for ever !"
The Frau Directorin said something about her dear father
having talked, in the same way, bless him, years before he
died ; and what a reader of Zschokke he was !
Hannchen remarked that she wanted some cotton at the
next fair ; Elise Heinrich mooted the subject of a coming
concert in the Neue Anlage, and Fraulein Fink submitted with
a sigh to common-places.
By-and-by the four ladies went indoors to have a little music
in the drawing-room, the schoolmistress stopping half-way at
the kitchen.
" I will give out sausage and apple sauce for the dining-
room supper," she said to Lischen the cook, " and we will
have the same upstairs; but fetch us beer, fresh rolls and
butter—two portions of each., Are the ladies in ? "
"The English Fraulein returned a few minutes ago.
Mademoiselle and the pupils I haven't seen."
The refectory was a large bare apartment, furnished with
some rickety chairs, a hoarse and most unpleasant clock,
two long tables, an old piano, and a couple of racks for
books, afternoon doles of bread and fruit, &c. This room
served both the purpose of refectory and place of assembly
for the governesses and boarders when school-hours were
over, and being lighted by a window painted yellow, it made
every one look very bilious indeed.
Fraulein Fink peeped in. The English governess sat with
her hands clasped over her temples in an attitude that caused
the schoolmistress to start and utter a little scream. Miss
DOCTOR JACOB.
7
Macartney had been hitherto an undemonstrative, sedate,
comfortable kind of person. What sudden agony of terror
or grief, or pain, had driven the blood from her lips, and the
clenched hands so fiercely to her brow !
" My dear Miss Macartney !" said Fraulein Fink in her
unsteady English.
The governess rose to her feet and bared her eyes with
proud resolution to the inquisitiveness of her employer. They
were fine eyes, having a gleam of Irish passion and poetry
in them ; the whole face, too, though the face of a woman
past thirty, was not without beauty, a beauty perhaps which
few would recognise, but which was real beauty nevertheless.
For a deep olive complexion, black, waving hair, and a pecu-
liar curve of rather full red lips, though seldom popularly
received, are often accompanied by a rare power of ex-
pression.
" Something has happened to me, Fraulein Fink—I must
give up my employment," she said, quietly and firmly.
Fraulein Fink was passionate, but surprise and incredulity
stayed as yet the rising tide of wrath.
" What, my dear Miss Macartney?"
" I must leave this house—leave Frankfort, Fraulein
Fink."
Incredulity was gone now, and the tide swelled slowly and
surely to shore.
"What is your meaning? Have you lost your senses,
Miss Macartney ?"
The English woman sat down calmly. She had seen the
schoolmistress in anger before, and she feared it no more
than she feared the petulance of the youngest fourth-class
scholar. One great fear—one great suffering—had caused
all others to die within her long ago.
" I know that I am acting wrongly towards you," she said,
in a .quiet voice. " I know that I am failing in duty, and
therefore losing my reputation as a governess. Perhaps 1
8
DOCTOR JACOB.
may come to want bread by the step I am about to take. I
cannot help it—I must go."
" You shall not go."
"Try and keep me," answered Miss Macartney, in a
mockingly civil voice, " try and keep me—all the Senate of
Frankfort could not do it."
The tide of Fraulein Fink's wrath had broken on the shore
now. She faced her, flaming and utterly uncontrollable.
" I will not pay you one kreutzer of salary !"
" I do not expect it. I forfeit it knowingly and willingly."
" But you cannot and dare not break your engagement
with me. You would put me in the most awkward position—
you would do great harm to my school—you would incur
upon me expenses of which you know nothing—you would
be a great loss to me. I have influential friends in the city—
I know two advocates and a member of the senate : I will
go to them and ask if there is no protection against such
unprincipled dealings—I will compel you to remain !"
Miss Macartney understood Fraulein Fink thoroughly,
and liked her. She was vexed to hear her rail after this
strain, more because it lowered the schoolmistress than that
it hurt herself; indeed, despite her powerful mental agita-
tion, she could hardly help being amused by it. For some
moments, the Fraulein raged in this way, and not till the
storm was utterly spent did Miss Macartney speak. Then
she said, sorrowfully and humbly,—
"You have been kind to me, Fraulein Fink, and I would
rather have wronged any one in the world than you—you
have said no more to me than I had expected or deserved of
you. I am sorry that I was rude. I am sorry that I must
go—more than ever sorry that my going will inconvenience a
friend whom I esteem."
" Why must you go ?" asked the schoolmistress, in a milder
tone. " At least you ought to give me an explanation ; that
is the least reparation you can make."
DOCTOR JACOB.
9
Miss Macartney shuddered.
" You might as well ask me to go into the streets of Frank-
fort and beg for bread. The one would be as easy to me as
the other."
" You have had an intrigue with one of the rich Jew mer-
chants living next door, and you fly to escape disgrace.
Madefnoiselle Lamy did the same last year, but hadn't the
modesty to be ashamed, and I dismissed her—tell the truth,
Miss Macartney."
Fraulein Fink was a coward, and had forgotten for the
moment that she was dealing with an Englishwoman. When
Miss Macartney rose and fronted her, she turned pale, and
would have given two Prussian thalers to recall her hasty
words.
" Am I capable of disgracing myself, Fraulein Fink?" said
the governess, in a determined voice.
" I don't wish to offend you, but—but really your strange
conduct leads me to say things I should not otherwise
say."
" I ask again, and I ask with the determination of being
answered,—do you think me capable of disgracing myself?"
Fraulein Fink wiped the perspiration off her brow, and
looked around her. N o one was in sight, or she would have
tried for victory a little longer.
"Well, my dear Miss Macartney, I think not."
" Thank you. In future, Fraulein Fink, do not be so ready
to mention me in conjunction with Mademoiselle Lamy,
or her deeds. Now, let us have no more quarrelling. I
must go—however much I may regret, however much you
may threaten—if we were to talk here for twelve hours in
succession, it would come to that. But we will not be
enemies."
" Oh ! do not go, dear Miss Macartney 1" said the school-
mistress, with honest tears in her eyes.
" I like you—I esteem you—I am very sorry !" answered
IO
DOCTOR JACOB.
Miss Macartney, holding out her hand. " I may go far and
not find a better friend. God bless you, Fraulein Fink !"
After a little further talking, the two grew quite friendly
again. Nothing could reconcile Fraulein Fink to her
governess's abrupt departure ; but she was a kindly loving
soul, and seldom kept out of temper for more than ten
minutes. A hearty gush of tears, therefore, with one or two
quotations from Goethe, considerably relieved her troubled
mind, and when she joined the little party upstairs, she was
able to tell her story and enjoy her supper with almost wonted
cheerfulness.
And Miss Macartney !
Swiftly and noiselessly she sought her humble bedroom—
not to weep ;—oh ! no, her tears had ceased flowing long
ago ;—but to pack her trunks in readiness for the next day's
journey. When all was finished, she threw herself on the bed
and cried aloud,—
" Oh ! God, that I might die ! Can I never hide myself
and be in peace ? Be pitiful, and let me die !"
CHAPTER II.
Y six o'clock, Fraulein Fink was always up and
stirring ; half an hour later, quilts and beds
would be hung from all the bedroom windows,
and by seven the school bell rang for coffee.
The schoolmistress preferred to breakfast alone.
" Without a little tranquil reflection and enjoyment of
Nature before beginning the day's duties," she would say, " I
could never get through them. Sipping my fragrant coffee
amid the fresh leaves and singing birds, with our beautiful
Lutheran hymn-book open before me, I prepare myself for
daily trials and difficulties, and also for my rest when it
pleases God to call me !"
Accordingly, every morning Fraulein Fink might be seen
in her long red dressing-gown and black velvet cape, bearing
into the garden a tray, on which were placed a cup of coffee,
a roll, and the hymnbook of the Frankfort Church. She was
no hypocrite. The contemplation of her blooming garden,
and of some verse from Gellert or Klopstock, was no more
and no less to her than she represented it to be. Her mind
had been constituted a sentimental one, and she encouraged
the tendency.
On the morning following Miss Macartney's disclosure,
the good lady felt more than usual need of solitary prayer
and reflection. People had very long tongues in Frankfort,
and single women like herself were unprotected against them.
How should she act so as to prevent unpleasant, perhaps
12
DOCTOR JACOB.
injurious rumours, in consequence of her governess's de-
parture ? Above all, how should she act so as to prevent
thereby pecuniary loss and inconvenience ?
Now, the Fraulein had two counsellors to whom she always
went with her troubles. The first, Professor Beer, who taught
literature in her classes, was consulted on matters of mental
difficulty alone, such as the desirability or undesirability
of a new theory in elucidating complex construction of
sentences, the necessity of Algebra in the second class, &c.
The second, Dr. Paulus, of whom we shall speak by-and-by,
was her invariable resource in any perplexity concerning the
practical affairs of life. Dr. Paulus, moreover, as a married
man, was a more accessible authority than the Professor, the
latter gentleman being a bachelor.
Long before eight o'clock the stream of day-scholars began
to pour in. Having seen that her governesses were at their
desks in the different class-rooms, that Hannchen awaited
her pupils at the piano (that young lady needed supervision,
I assure you), and having courteously greeted two or three
masters in the court-yard, Fraulein Fink set off for a con-
sultation with Dr. Paulus. Luckily she had no lessons for an
hour qr two.
A pleasant walk through the public pleasure grounds led
her into the open suburb, with gay gardens and white villas
on either side. Soon she reached a Swiss cottage, having a
very large letter-box on the gateway, inscribed with the
Doctor's name in imposing letters.
A hostile-looking young woman, slip-shod and rough-
haired, showed her into the drawing-room, where she had
ample time to pick and choose her words for the coming
interview. Dr. Paulus was a Hanoverian, and a man of
learning. He spoke the purest German, and gave the
clearest, most logical opinions on every subject. Fraulein
Fink, therefore, felt it to be as much of an effort to converse
with him as to give a lecture on the Predicate ; in either
DOCTOR JACOB.
13
case she had to clear her thoughts and to weigh her
words.
Meantime, let us see what the Doctor is about. His well-
smoked, well-filled study adjoining the drawing-room is
empty ; the housemaid therefore ascends a second story,
and opens the door of a small breakfast-room, with an
abrupt,—
" There is a lady below—Fraulein Fink,"—returning to the
kitchen without awaiting further orders. Dr. Paulus at all
times inspired you with respect; indeed, it would be difficult
to imagine any circumstances which could make him appear
ridiculous. At the moment we introduce him he is dressed in
a long dressing-gown, and has not yet shaved or adjusted his
neckcloth ; he is also occupied in beating up eggs, an occu-
pation which would be rather derogatory to the self-dignity
and appearance of most men. Dr. Paulus looked every bit as
dignified and as learned in the above-mentioned act as
he did when arguing on the Pentateuch with a long-bearded
Rabbi in the Jewish chamber. His lips were set firmly
together, expressing a determination to do the thing com-
pletely. He did everything completely, whether it was
the making of a pudding for his invalid wife, or the drawing
up a statement for the religious society of which he was
secretary.
Let us photograph him for the reader. Dr. Christian
Paulus was in the prime of life. He was rather below middle
height, but never gave the idea of littleness. He was weakly
in health, but obtained general credit for robustness. Women
thought him good-looking, though they found fault with his
hair, it being of that black silky kind which clings straight
and smooth to the head, and gives an idea of shrewdness
almost approaching to cunning. Men never spoke of his
looks. Critically considered, his features were unexception-
able. The nose was firmly cut, the brow straight and smooth,
the eyes bright and penetrating, the mouth was decidedly
14
DOCTOR JACOB.
handsome, and expressed an unmistakeable resoluteness and
rectitude.
Having taken clerical orders in England, and married an
English wife, Dr. Paulus cultivated English whiskers, English
domesticities, and made English the language of his children.
Whilst the process of egg-beating went on, the following con-
versation took place between the master and mistress of
the house, she, poor little lady,lying on a sofa in the adjoining
room.
"Fraulein Fink must wait, Louisa—I'm determined this
pudding shall go into the oven so as to be ready for your
dinner. Doctors are doctors and no more. Had/taken you
in hand a few months ago, administered port wine, good
English chops, &c., I believe you would have been a strong
woman by this time."
" I shall never be that," said a weak voice from the sofa ;
" I dare say I shall not feel inclined for the pudding after all.
Don't trouble about it, Christian."
" Nonsense !" replied the Doctor, sternly; "the pudding
will be made, and you will eat it, Frau Doctor."
In five minutes the eggs and rice were mixed and duly
spiced; the cook came to receive orders regarding the
baking; Master Freddy, aged five, was installed by mamma's
sofa, and requested to keep watch in quiet till further notice,
and Dr. Paulus descended.
It took Fraulein Fink some time to tell her story ; she
always talked slowly, phrasing her sentences with a com-
plexity of words; but to-day she was at extraordinary
pains on account of Dr. Paulus being her listener. Simple
and compound sentences were dovetailed into each other
with the precision of grammatical examples ; ejaculations
were accompanied with formal emphasis and pauses ; the
most rigidly classic words were substituted for idiomatic
phraseology.
Dr. Paulus listened intently. He had a larger share of
DOCTOR JACOB.
curiosity in other people's affairs than have most men of so
learned a stamp ; any new experience, any unusual incident,
was to him as so much raw material of sociological specula-
tion. He enjoyed a puzzle—especially a puzzle involving
strange mental and moral conditions. He understood life
thoroughly, perhaps no man better, and he knew how much
that is mysterious, oblique, and inconsistent is mixed up with
the ordinary course of existence.
When Fraulein Fink had finished speaking, he rubbed his
chin, folded the skirts of his dressing-gown neatly over his
knees, crossed his arms, and said, with a smile,—
" You have not allowed the lady to go—of course, Fraulein
Fink ?"
" She goes after dinner—how can I prevent it, Herr
Pfarrer? She requires no salary—we are under no bond—"
The Doctor regarded her almost contemptuously.
" You must at least know whither she goes. Very strange
things have happened within the last few years in this city,
Fraulein Fink, especially among the English—please bear
that fact in mind, the lady is English. I entertain the
greatest respect for my adopted country, but it is a known
fact that very ordinary specimens of the nation come abroad."
"Gott im Himmel !" cried the poor schoolmistress; "what
is to be done ? Consider, Herr Pfarrer, my difficulties.
In the first place, I have to lose, perhaps with loss of pupils,
certainly with extra personal exertion and great inconve-
nience, an excellent English instructress, a perfeqLanistress
of style and syntax. Secondly, I have to rid mysfrf of an
unpleasant remembrance, which will for some time spoil my
enjoyment of God's nature and my tranquil fulfilment of duty,
and to spend perhaps three Prussian thalers in advertising."
Again the Doctor smiled. It amused him to watch the
workings of other people's minds, and to compare their con-
elusions on a given subject with his own. He liked to feel
himself master of any new chain of circumstances, especially
16
DOCTOR JACOB.
circumstances centred in one individual. Fraulein Fink
should henceforth be left to her own opinions on the matter.
Accordingly, taking out a note-book from his pocket,he said,—
" Oblige me by answering one or two questions, Fraulein
Fink. You are aware that my position as secretary to the
C Society throws me into frequent contact with all the
English who reside or visit here. Perhaps at some future
time I may discover a clue to this perplexing occurrence.
First, then, the name, age, and country of your governess?"
Fraulein Fink answered concisely.
Then the exact time of her coming to Frankfort, the
date of her leaving, and her proposed destination. Has she
named the latter to you ? "
" She only asked me to bespeak a porter to carry her lug-
gage to the railway station."
" At what time ?"
" Six o'clock—her lessons being then over."
" Hm !"
After a few minutes' pause he added,—
" I will come and speak to this lady, Fraulein Fink, and
see what my persuasions can do ; and I daresay I shall be
able to find you a suitable English governess without the
necessity of advertising. Indeed, I know a young lady "
At this juncture the hostile-looking housemaid above men-
tioned, butted into the room, head foremost, and put a card
into the Doctor's hand.
He looked at it attentively, held it close to his eyes, and
scrutinised the address; then laid it down, and composedly
finished his business with Fraulein Fink. That good lady
having bowed herself out, all cheerfulness and grammatical
elegance, again Dr. Paulus took up the card. After a second-
and still more inquisitive scrutiny, 'he repeated the name
aloud, as if to make sure whether it was strange to him or
not,—
" The Reverend Dr. Jacob."
CHAPTER III.
R. PAULUS entered his study with the con-
viction that he should find there some needy
member of his Church seeking a chaplaincy in
the Rhine provinces. Many a young brother he
had helped to his wishes, and many, alas ! he had
been obliged to send away disappointed. To-day he knew
of no opening, and it pained him to anticipate a sad face.
It struck him no less with surprise than with reverence,
when he saw a majestic old^rjian who looked as if need or
humbling appeal had never come within the range of his
experiences. Dr. Jacob stood up, and introduced himself with
the quiet cordiality of one who knows that his cordiality is
seldom given in vain. No wonder Dr. Paulus felt a little
taken aback, a little lessened, in fact, by the stranger's side.
A handsome man at sixty, we may safely say, is more nobly,
imposingly handsome than a handsome man at thirty. Soft
silvered hair gives such wondrous calmness and grandeur to
the features, especially if they be regular and commanding,
and the complexion have a tone of vigorous manliness about
it. Dr. Jacob possessed every possible physical advantage—
a fine, well-posed head, six feet two inches of height, fine
sensitive eyes, a clear healthful colouring, an English pair of
shoulders, and the easiest, most graceful carriage in the world-
Dr. Paulus, despite his missing neck-cloth, his well-worn
dressing-gown floured at the elbows, and for the most part
buttonless (for the Frau Doctor was ailing and incapable
c
i8
DOCTOR JACOB.
at all times), impressed his visitor not slightly. He was a
gentleman—he was learned—he was a man of keen under-
standing;—thus much the Reverend Dr. Jacob read at a
glance.
Settling himself cosily in the arm-chair assigned to him
by his host, he said in a remarkably clear, sonorous voice,—
" I presume, my dear Doctor, that coming, as I do, from
the Consul, you will not wish to be troubled with any letters
of introduction on my part ?"
Dr. Paulus bowed deprecatingly. He respected the Consul,
and was ever willing to serve him.
" I hear, however," continued Dr. Jacob, " that you are the
very person to'advise me on the matter of delivering them
elsewhere. Coming here, a clergyman of the Church of
England, and a servant in the same good cause as yourself,
even were I without the influential testimonials that I pos-
sess, to whom else should I apply so fitly ?"
" Coming in want and difficulty, coming under any cir-
cumstances, a servant of the good cause would find a hearty
welcome from me," said Dr. Paulus, warmly. " Give me your
hand, sir."
The two rose, clasped hands, and sat down again in a very
friendly mood. Dr. Jacob was the first to speak.
" I am not officially connected with the Society for con-
verting the Jews," he said, rather humbly; "to confess the
truth, my circumstances are such as would not allow me,
with a quiet consqi&iice, to accept any appointment which
might be the livelihood of some younger and needier man.
I have no family to provide for—I am old—why should I
stand in the light of others ?"
Dr. Paulus folded his dressing-gown more smoothly over
his knees, looking on its flowered pattern meantime. He
was a just man, just to the value of a farthing, to the hired
value of a minute ; approving of the precept, " The labourer
is worthy of his hire," and he said so.
DOCTOR JACOB.
19
" My dear brother," replied the older man, leaning back in
his chair, " perhaps there is less self-denial in my statement
than you may suppose. True, that I have earned no guineas
for myself throughout the course of my services—true, that I
have earned some hundreds for the good cause, but I have
had the privilege of working in my own way. I am impa-
tient under shackles ; the little good I can do in this earthly
life, I prefer to do freely and originally. And' now, to come
to explanations. For many years, I may'say, indeed, for the
greater part of my life, I have regarded the conversion of
the Jews as one of the most important and obligatory duties
of our Church ; and on returning from the East a short
time since, I constituted myself as a special missionary to
Jerusalem. It seemed to me a rational and not unworthy
Christian speculation, to strike a decisive blow at the very
nucleus of that great evil—Judaism ; a few zealous voluntary
workers have been often found to do the work of a large en-
listed corps ; at any rate, there is room enough for all. To
Jerusalem, therefore, I am bound now—there I shall most
probably die."
He watched the effect of his statement upon his listener
with placid curiosity. Dr. Paulus looked up, but there was
nothing to read in his face.
A long pause followed, at the end of which the latter said
in a business-like way,—
" The idea is a grand one ; you only require funds to carry
it out."
" I require power," said his visitor.
li You require power" repeated Dr. Paulus.
Both threw a strange emphasis on the latter word, as if
they knew what it meant, as if it tasted sweet to their
mouths. Their eyes met, they studied each other for a
couple of seconds, and not in vain.
Dr. Jacob continued,—
" Having obtained such liberal eftg©uragement from high
6 0
20
DOCTOR JACOB.
official authorities at home, it is not unnatural that I expect
some help abroad. My route lies through the Rhine Pro-
vinces, Wurtemberg, Bavaria, Austria, and Turkey—surely
the English residents of the towns through which I pass will
not refuse sympathy."
" And contributions," put in Dr. Paulus, for he was a se-
verely practical man, always setting before him the material
no less than the moral relations of things.
"Well, I confess that my private means, however well
economised, will not prove adequate to my needs, my dear sir,"
answered the other quietly ; " and such an undertaking cannot
subsist on itself—it must be supported. I will, if you please,
read a report I have drawn up concerning my proposed plan,
and the difficulties and exigencies it is likely to encounter.
Also, with permission, I will leave for your perusal one or
two private letters from the Bishop of N on the
subject."
Jacob's voice had a deep, sweet-toned ring in it, which
would have made anything worth listening to ; but the paper
proved to be clear, concise, and highly interesting in itself.
It was Dr. Paulus' habit, moreover, always to listen, never to
hear ; and every word of the report impressed itself faithfully
on his memory.
" You are an excellent statistician, but an incomparable
advocate," he said, when the reading was over. "Now the
way to fill your purse "
"To increase the funds of the mission," politely suggested
the other.
" I beg your pardon. Yes, the way to increase the funds of
your mission would be to put those arguments into a sermon."
Dr. Jacob's face lit, and he answered eagerly,—
" Exactly. I must preach here."
He waited for a minute or two, then finding that Dr.
Paulus was not likely to take the initiative, added in his
usual tone,—
DOCTOR JACOB.
21
" Of course there could be no objection to this ?"
"You know our English chaplain?" asked Dr. Paulus,
quickly.
" Not at all. But I intend calling on him this very after-
noon—indeed, I also intended to ask if you would favour me
with your company, and afterwards dine in my apartment at
the Hotel de Russie."
" You are very kind, but I never dine out. The fact is, my
poor wife is a great invalid, and to carve for six children
would be quite beyond her strength. I will, however, gladly
accompany you to Mr. Brill's."
"And you will not refuse to introduce me to Mrs. Paulus ?"
The good husband hesitated. His wife was as yet pro-
bably en papillotes, and being pretty and interesting, never
received visitors before she had undergone a curling opera-
tion from the hands of Lina, her maid. Any slight surprise
or agitation was apt to bring on a fit of faintness and flushes;
prudently, therefore, Dr. Paulus promised nothing, but quitted
the room to ascertain how matters stood.
During his absence, Dr. Jacob fell into a reverie. It must
have been a pleasant one, from the light in his eyes and
the smile on his lips. Once he stood up and looked out of
the window. To the right and to the left were handsome
villas, each the representative of so much wealth and so much
influence; beyond these rose the grey old Eschenheimer
Thor, and the massive Dom, and the shining roofs of the
rich free city.
Dr. Jacob looked on this pleasant prospect with the
triumphant expression of a conqueror. When his host
entered, the look had not passed from his face.
" My wife is awaiting the pleasure of an introduction—I am
sorry we are obliged to make so much ceremony about it,"
said the latter, apologetically, and forthwith led the way to
Louisa's sitting-room.
It was a pretty boudoir enough ; Dr. Paulus had every-
22
DOCTOR JACOB.
thing of the plainest and most unpretending kind in his own
apartment and the children's, but the Frau Doctor could
never have too much that was elegant, and tasteful, and deli-
cate around her. She wore white, too, another element in
the general airiness of the room, and being small, fair, and
fragile, looked the very palest primrose ever put in a beauti-
ful vase. A sturdy little fellow, dressed in a plain cotton
pinafore, sat on the foot of mamma's sofa, wearing the
demurest face in the world. Dr. Jacob's manner showed at
once that he felt a great interest in the little lady. He asked
a dozen questions about the baths she had tried, the physi-
cians she had employed, and the benefits respectively derived
from both. He even felt her pulse, and suggested a stimu-
lant, with the affectionate solicitude of an old friend. Then
he took Freddy on his knees, and began petting him in the
way so agreeable to most papas and mammas. This, how-
ever, did not do. Dr. Paulus never allowed his children to
be petted.
" You may go downstairs to the nursery, sir, till mamma
wants you," he said, with a voice that the most fractious child
would not have dared to disobey, and Freddy slipped out
quietly.
" Our children don't get spoiled, Dr. Jacob. I have quite
enough to do to spoil her" added the master of the house,
pointing to his wife ; " and children grow neither faster nor
better for it."
" I agree with you in theory, but I confess to an habitual
failing in practice," replied Dr. Jacob ; " children are so
attractive and loveable even in their very naughtinesses, that
it requires a great amount of self-denial to correct them."
Dr. Paulus changed the subject. He did not approve of
the sentiment, and hfe was as yet too unacquainted with the
propounder of it to dissent on his own grounds. After some
further conversation, the visitor left, first promising to meet
Dr. Paulus at the Cafe Milani in the afternoon.
DOCTOR JACOB.
23
When he was gone Mrs. Paulus broke into an exclamation
of delight.
" What a fine old man, Christian ! and how kind and
interested he is in everything !"
Dr. Paulus made no reply, being in deep thought. Louisa
knew that she had no power to read his thoughts, and awaited
an avowed opinion silently.
"A fine character—a powerful character, no doubt,
Louisa;" and having said thus much, the Doctor mused
again.
Louisa leaned back languidly on the sofa cushion, applied
the scent-bottle to her nose, and drew a deep sigh.
" Are you in pain ?" cried her husband, breaking from his
reverie ; " are you faint or cold ?"
" N othing, only the usual terrible weakness—don't mind
me, Christian."
" But I will mind you, Frau Doctor. Will you have a
little wine ?—would you like a carriage for half an hour's
drive ?—what would you like ? "
" Nothing would do me the slightest good. I am used to
these feelings, and must bear them."
She closed her eyes, and the Doctor watched her sorrow-
fully. He possessed deep religious, feelings ; his daily lite
was in keeping with the simplest and soundest principles of
his Church ; his cheerful acceptance of the good as well as
the evil of the world seldom flagged. But the sight of that
pale face, whose beauty had been the one treasured flower of
his life, often caused him to say bitterly,—
"Would that I, or that one of my children had been
stricken—would that the Almighty had seen fit to visit me
with any other affliction but this !"
By-and-by, Louisa asked,—
"Who is this Dr. Jacob? When will you spare time to
tell me all about him, Christian ? "
The Doctor spared time then and there; it was an unusual
24
DOCTOR JACOB.
thing for him to do, for very few indifferent husbands commu-
nicated so little to their wives as this devoted one did.
Women were not made for business—they were not made for
government—they were not made for judgment—they were
not made for deliberation—least of all, were they made for
reading character.
Such was the theory of Dr. Paulus regarding the capa-
bilities of the gentler sex—a theory that would not do very
well in England, but made him no enemies in Germany.
CHAPTER IV.
R. JACOB, meantime, was taking a leisurely
and circuitous route to the city. Leaving behind
him the majestic Eschenheimer Thor, with its
sugar loaf tower and pointed buttresses, he
turned into an alley of acacias, pausing every
now and then to admire some elegant villa on his left,
or to smile at some group of children playing in the
gardens on his right. The full glow of the mid-day sky, the
delicious softness and elasticity of the atmosphere, the
superb leafage overhead, and the scents of flowers around,
all helped to exhilarate his mind, and to make his pulse beat
with a younger and more vigorous life.
Dr. Jacob, like most men of strong mental power and fine
nervous susceptibilities, was ever peculiarly alive to outward
impressions. An American poet says,—
" What so rare as a day in June? "
and no one could have followed up his words to their fullest
meaning better than Dr. Jacob. To him a soft air was as
rich wine, a deep sky with no clouds in sight, more than a
lovely subject of contemplation ; both were as so much
tangible happiness received into his innermost nature. He
was utterly dependent on sensuous enjoyment, and could not
understand any man being able to live without it. A simply
intellectual idea was beyond his conception ; there must be
life, warmth, beauty about it to impress, much more, to attract
26
DOCTOR JACOB.
him. Therefore, he loved music, painting, and sculpture be-
yond the best books, and though a critic in art and an artist
in feeling, would cling partially to those artistic developments
which have for their end pleasure only.
Thus, enjoying to his utmost the unbroken sky, the white
villas, and glistening green leaves, he sauntered on till he
come to the Friedburger Thor. There he saw before him
the modest little lodge belonging to Herr Bethman's garden,
the one so celebrated for the marble Loveliness enshrined
there, the other for its terrible story of blood and revenge.
Dr. Jacob had heard of Dannecker's Ariadne with the lively
curiosity of an art lover, and had shuddered more than most
strong men would do, at the incident of poor Lichnowsky's
concealment and frightful death during the troubles of 1848.
He determined to see the Ariadne.
Mr. Gibson has done a great deal towards breaking down
the phalanx of purists in sculptui'e. He has proved that a
Venus just warmed with the most delicate tints of life can
be as lovely, as bewitching, as much of a goddess and more
of a woman, than the same beautiful creation in the simple
grandeur of colourless marble. We feel that the sculptor is a
crusader, and a bold one, but we fear that few of his followers
will go in his track, or will by any track reach the real Jeru-
salem, as he has done. Feeling this, and impressed by the
conviction that true art can never be left enough to itself, can
never, in fine, be too severely true, we would rather see Dan-
neckeFs Ariadne in the clear light of heaven.
The rosiness shed on it is a trick that only leads us to
undervalue the real Beauty for an ideal one. Is not the real
beauty enough of itself?
Dr. Jacob stood in silent enthusiasm before the statue.
He was disgusted at the pink curtains drawn around it, and
provoked at the young woman in attendance for wheeling it
in a circle for his benefit. But the mystic beautiful period of
Grecian godhead^fcnd godlike love was embodied there, and
DOCTOR JJACOB.
2 ?
he suffered his fancy to give rapturous life to the embodi-
ment.
The daughter of Pasiphae is no longer forsaken and de-
spairing from the neglect of Theseus; another younger,
more loving, more lovely, has made her heart glow and her
eyes soften. She forgets the faithlessness of the one whom
she loved in the fondness of him who will save her from all
that is evil. Dionysus is coming, and she meets him re-
clining on the panther. Beautiful, eager, yet calm, she looks
for him, sees him ; in another moment his kisses will be on
her expectant lips ; the happiness will be all his own which
is half hers now, One can almost see the lovely bosom
swell in its )oy, and hear a word of greeting break from the
parted lips. What womanly tenderness, what godlike tran-
quillity, what serene loveliness must have been present to the
eyes and heart of the old Suabian artist !
" I wonder how Dennecker, being a South German, and
accustomed to such homely types of beauty, ever conceived
anything so charming !" thought Dr. Jacob, as he tufned
away. " Bah ! that is a ghastly cast of that hot-headed,
wretched Lichnowsky ! When he said to his companion,
'Never mind those dogs !' speaking of the street mob, he
little thought that the same dogs would hunt him like bood-
hounds to the death."
Thus musing, he gave a handsome gratuity to the attend-
ant, and passed out of the pavilion. A few streets where
the houses were built after the fashion of old Frankfort, and
where numbers of workmen and their wives were dining, and
horseswere being shod sab dio, led into theZeil, that handsome
street which is at once City and West End, Rotten Row and
Fleet Street, to the Free City. The Zeil is always gay ; there
the rich Jewish families dash by in their shining carriages ;
the young merchants delight to exercise their fine horses ;
white-coated Austrian officers stroll arm-in-arm with the
Frankforters in dark-green and red uniforms ; the Burger-
28
DOCTOR JACOB.
master's equipage, with its civic eagle and laced trappings,
and grand servants wearing cocked hats and long blue coats
faced with gold, helps to give variety to the scene ; open
fiacres, full of English tourists, are driven calmly by cabmen
who are known by their red waistcoats and glazed hats—
and by their civility. All is lighthearted life and enjoyment.
Crossing over to the old guard-house, where a group of
Prussian soldiers were playing at pitch halfpenny, and eating
apples, Dr. Jacob sauntered leisurely down the shady side of
the street. The speciality of the Zeil is its shops of antiqui-
ties, and the luxuries most dear to Dr. Jacob's heart were rare
bijouterie. At the first display of mediaeval jewellery and
battered plate, he stopped ; at the second he put his hand on
the door as if to enter; the third, he entered without pause
or consideration. A drinking cup inlaid with uncut gems,
and having exquisitely grotesque medallions on the sides,
had taken his fancy, and he was not in the habit of control-
ling his fancies.
The English shopkeeper is civil; the German shopkeeper
is friendly. The former is quite satisfied if you buy his
article, pay your money, and say good morning—he has no
time for anything else. The latter asks more than he will
take, expects and likes a little bargaining, receives your
lowest bid good-naturedly, and gossips leisurely over the
negotiations; his customers are generally in no greater hurry
than himself, and both arrive at conclusions slowly.
Dr. Jacob liked this way of doing business ; he was inqui-
sitive, moreover, regarding the Frankfort people. He seated
himself comfortably therefore, played with a trayful of rings
on the counter, and chatted.
" And what about my countrymen ?" he asked, smiling
rather slyly ; " are there many here just now ?"
" There will be more later—the Rhine season has hardly
commenced yet—the English like the Rhine," said the jewel-
ler, smiling also.
DOCTOR JACOB.
29
" But what kind of English come here to live ? Are they
rich ? Are they liked ?"
"To tell you the truth, a good many come who don't pay
their debts," half whispered the shopman, evidently enjoying
a few facts to himself.
Dr. Jacob winced.
"Ah!"
"And a good many who haven't paid their debts at
home."
" Terrible !"
" And a few who have left worse things than debts behind
them."
Dr. Jacob winced again.
" But the rich ?"
" Of course I am not saying there are no rich English
here. A wealthy Englishman has just purchased a villa
at Bockenheim "
"Ha !—his name?"
" Wood."
" Dr. Paulus will most probably know him," mused Dr.
Jacob, aloud. The jeweller caught up his words.
" Dr. Paulus knows everybody, and everybody knows him.
Many English who come here are in mortal terror of Dr.
Paulus, I assure you."
The clergyman's face lit.
" I imagined so. Dr. Paulus is a clever man."
" He is more than clever. He is as good as St. Paul, and
as deep as the devil—so people say, and I believe them.
Many a bill has been paid through his mediation which
never would have been paid otherwise ; we tradesmen would
run our legs off to serve him."
" You will take ten florins less for the cup—I have a fancy
for such things and may come in again," said Dr. Jacob,
abruptly, laying his well-filled purse on the counter ; " send
it to the Hotel de Russie, and "
30
DOCTOR JACOB.
All at once his eye was arrested by a ring that he had in-
advertently pushed off the tray. A curious expression of
surprise and incredulity passed over his face, followed by a
slight pallor; then he exclaimed in a hard voice,—
"Where did you get that ?"
" Really I forget—so many of these things are constantly
passing through my hands; but I have another of the same
kind, far handsomer, and not much higher in price. This is
marked with an initial, you observe, which most people object
to."
" What initial ?"
The question was asked slowly, and as if at some cost to
the speaker.
Dr. Jacob rose to his feet and stood for some minutes
looking out of the window. When he turned, his voice had
regained its usual clear tone.
" You may put the ring with the cup. How much do I
owe you ?"
When the account was settled, Dr. Jacob left the shop, and
proceeded on his way. He looked in no more windows.
With his fine head slightly bent forward, and his lips moving
nervously, as if some impatient thought were forcing itself
into articulation, he hastened through the newly-called
Schiller Platz, by the Caterina Church, and the crowded
shop-windows of Jtigel, nor paused till he reached the Cafe
Milani.
CHAPTER Y.
OU cannot find a house in suburban Frankfort
which is not elegant or, at least, tasteful, and
the Reverend Mr. Brill's was no exception. He
occupied a charming villa fronting the blue
Taunus hills, and the fruitful strip of country
stretching towards Homburg. To the right and to the left,
undulated those blooming pleasaunces which make the fair
Free City like a May-day queen ; whilst the fashionable
Zoological Garden lay behind. The whole town offered no
livelier or more aristocratic site ; Mrs. Brill often recalled
the latter attribute with satisfaction.
The villa of itself was a pattern with most modern Ger-
man ones—with pure white walls, fanciful mouldings, gilt
balconies hung with creeping flowers, plenty of light, and
space, and height, a gay garden attached, and a summer-
house in brown carved wood, with pointed roof and trellised
sides, overlooking the street. We imagine this description
will answer for many.
Inside, all was no less compact, but a little the worse for
want of feminine supervision. For instance, every floor was
divided from the staircase by glass doors, the panellings of
which had been originally painted in delicate white and gold
arabesques. Alas ! the panes were cracked, broken, and
dingy, and the painted panels looked sadly suggestive of
children's finger-nails, and naughty boys' hoop-sticks. We
do not deny that the furniture was handsome ; but we affirm
32
DOCTOR JACOB.
that a satin sofa will look less elegant if a ragged stocking
or two lie on it, and a child's soiled pinafore protrude from
under the pillow ; and we may be fastidious,- but we imagine
a dining-room is not the fittest place for a lady to sort
linen in ; nor can we reconcile ourselves to a breakfast cloth,
crumby, greasy, spotty, being left on the table " from morn
till noon—from noon till dewy eve."
The two gentlemen were ushered into Mr. Brill's study—
that apartment partaking less of the elegance, but also less
of the above-mentioned drawbacks, than the other two.
True, that Dr. Paulus, having seated himself incautiously,
rose up with an exclamation of irritation, and found that a
bundle of dress-maker's work, with objectionable implements
sticking upwards, was lying on the chair. This, however,
was a trifle.
Soon dashed in a pretty, wild-looking girl of twelve, showily
but slatternly dressed, and holding a huge bunch of keys.
Dr. Paulus was no more disposed to spoil other people's
children than his own ; he had, moreover, always held a
high hand in the Brill house.
" Send your papa to me, Flory—at once," he said, au-
thoritatively.
Miss Flory liked to try for victory.
" Oh, Dr. Paulus ! do wait a minute. I want you to tell
me where we can get good tea ; we have had shocking stuff
from Schmidt's, and so dear ! I won't go there again."
" Do you not see that this gentleman is waiting to speak to
your papa ?" reiterated the Doctor. " Go immediately !"
Flory ran into the dining-room, red and indignant.
"How I hate Dr. Paulus ! Papa, don't hurry !—let him
wait and cool his temper. He has brought a gentleman with
him, too, that will make him ten times crosser."
Mrs. Brill was one of those women who are always hand-
some, often slovenly, and not easily trodden underfoot by the
world ; she knew that her husband had less decision of
DOCTOR JACOB.
33
character than most men, and she knew that Dr. Paulus had
more. Therefore she aspired to the difficult policy of sub-
serving the latter to the former where advantage accrued,
and battling against both on all other occasions. Dr. Paulus
had proved a true friend to Mrs. Brill many and many a
time, and she felt sure that he would never prove an enemy;
but he often acted the unpleasant role of monitor—this was
the thorn in her side. Strive, lose her strength in the strife,
as she might, Dr. Paulus's unassailability was as a rock
against a broken sea, and had she been bad at heart she
must have hated him. As it was, she respected, feared—and
provoked him.
Putting down her newspaper, and adjusting her half-
fastened collar and ribbons, she said, coolly,—
" Wait for me, Tom, my dear. I shall have you doing and
saying all sorts of indiscreet things, if you go in by yourself.
Flory, have you unpacked the grocery ?"
" Yes, mamma, and my next business es to go and get out
some clean things for the boys and help Carline to boil down
the bilberry jam."
" Can't you find time for a little writing and piano prac-
tice ?" urged Mr. Brill, a rather pleasant, but helpless gentle-
man, who looked as if he were always trying to see his way
through impossibilities ; " do let her play on the pianoforte,
my dear."
" What's the good ? I played enough at her age—would
you care for me to do it now, Tom ? Come, let us see what
the Doctor has to say."
The husband and wife entered together, looking, as they
really were, a fine pair, and as light-hearted as if such things
as duns and executions did not exist. They received Dr.
Jacob with no- less cordiality than they received every Eng-
lish stranger, feeling that such cordiality might afterwards
prove to be so much money laid out at good interest. This
calculation can hardly be called a peculiarity of the Reverend
D
34
DOCTOR JACOB.
Thomas and Mrs. Brill. How many worthy souls there are;
who scarcely trouble themselves to give a shake of the hands
without first asking themselves—cui bono ?
Having simply performed the ceremony of introduction,
Dr. Paulus left Dr. Jacob to play out his own game ; had he
doubted the tatter's capability or coolness, he would have
made an advantageous move for him at once. But he saw
that he was ready at emergencies and skilful at manoeuvres,
so he sat by in silent expectation.
Slowly and securely, knocking down with every sentence
some possible or probable objection, Dr. Jacob advanced to
his object, wheeled round it, touched it softly, then drew
back, built plausibilities and pleasantnesses around it, threw
a halo of benevolence and pity over it, finally let a little
fragrance of personal advantage play within reach of it—
then ceased and dashed the light of his fearless spirited eyes
full on his hearers.
Dr. Paulus mentally clapped his hands. Mr. Brill smiled
inwardly, thinking that the affair would be very nice and
popular indeed : before assenting, however, he looked at his
wife.
Her eyes expressed a dozen objections at once ; they
nudged him, made faces at him, spurred him, whipped him
up to the hedge of opposition.
" Perhaps before accepting this gentleman's proposal, you
and I had better talk it over, my dear—eh?" said her
husband, perplexed.
" Upon my word, Brill," exclaimed Dr. Paulus, sharply,
"you consult Mrs. Brill's opinion about what the cleverest
lady can possibly know nothing—why trouble her on the
matter ? The question is : do you object, or do you believe
in any objection existing, to Dr. Jacob's preaching in your
pulpit, for the benefit of the Jews ?"
Mr. Brill was now fairly driven into a corner. He knew
that no objection did exist, least of all in his own mind, but
DOCTOR JACOB.
35
with Mrs. Brill's eyes fixed so defiantly on him, he dared not
say so. She came to the rescue.
" I do not like to contradict you, dear Dr. Paulus, but I do
think that on this matter I am allowed to have an opinion."
" And on any other matter whatever, Mrs. Brill," answered
the Doctor, with somewhat bitter suavity.
" Then listen, if you please. As Mr. Brill's wife, I am
surely supposed to care for his interest, and also to know what
is likely to prove well or ill for him."
Dr. Paulus smiled satirically.
"And," continued the lady, hotly, "not doubting that Dr.
Jacob would preach admirably, and that his object is a most
laudable one, 1 still say that there are objections."
" What may they be ?"
"You shall hear, Dr. Paulus. In the first place, the more
eloquently a strange clergyman should preach here, and the
greater the impression made by him, so much the worse would
it be for Tom—Mr. Brill."
" How so ? " asked Dr. Paulus, quietly.
"Why did it lessen my husband's influence, when Mr.
Laurence preached for several Sundays? Did not people
begin to grumble and talk about complaining of the Chap-
Iain's doctrines ? Excuse me, Dr. Jacob, for speaking plainly
—Mr. Brill has a large family, and a great many enemies."
" People who are indifferent to me, my dear," said Mr,
Brill, correctively.
" People who would see you turned out of your chaplaincy
to-morrow, if it were possible," added the wife, with impa-
tience. " Any enthusiasm for another clergyman, therefore,
must be disadvantageous to us, Dr. Jacob. I am sorry to
say, an ill spirit exists among the English here—everyone is
jealous of everyone, and no two families live together in
harmony."
" I know many families who live in harmony, Mrs. Brill,"
put in Dr. Pauluss
D 2
3^
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Yes—German families ; that is quite another thing."
Dr. Jacob now changed the subject, with the mild disap-
pointed look of a man who suffered with his cause. He chatted
leisurely with Mrs. Brill on various topics, and found her
witty and entertaining,—a little imaginative, perhaps, in de-
scribing people and things, but not ill-natured on the whole.
Half an hour passed thus, at the end of which the two gen-
tlemen took their leave, Mr. Brill first promising to pay Dr.
Jacob a visit during the week.
" Perhaps you will sup or dine with us to-morrow," said
Mrs. Brill, graciously. "You and my husband can then
discuss the matter of preaching. We shall be delighted to
introduce you into our little circle of acquaintances, and to
make your stay in Frankfort agreeable."
Dr. Jacob bowed with a pleased smile as he drew on his
delicate kid gloves. Dr. Paulus lingered behind to whisper
in Mr. Brill's ear,—
" Do, my dear fellow, send Flory to school. It is not only
your duty to do so as a father, but as a Christian. For the
hundredth time, let me urge this upon you."
" I will—I really will after the autumn holidays," said Mr.
Brill, earnestly ; but he had said the same sort of thing as
earnestly over and over again, and Flory was still at home.
CHAPTER VI.
HE two gentlemen parted on the Zeil; Dr. Jacob
entered the Hotel de Russie ; Dr. Paulus turned
down the Allerheiligen Street towards the Frau-
lein Fink's.
It was just four o'clock as he passed through
the school-gate, and the upper garden buzzed with merry
voices ; most of the young ladies had rolls of bread and
baskets of fruit in their hands, half an hour being now al-
lowed for such refreshment. Dr. Paulus made himself at
home everywhere, and without entering the hall-door, coolly
walked round the quadrangle, looking in at all the class-
room windows. The fourth was empty, save for one weeping
mite of six years, who had a punishment lesson to learn ;
the third resounded with the laughter of the housemaid, with
whom the French governess was enjoying a gossip ; he then
looked into the refectory which divided the upper from the
lower classes. There he found Hannchen in the act of very
quickly demolishing a bunch of grapes, the same having
been gathered without her aunt's permission.
" Good day, Fraulein. Will you tell me where I can find the
English lady—your aunt fancies my mediation may be of some
good. Has Constance been attentive to-day at her music? "
" Constance is always attentive," answered Hannchen,
pocketing the half-plucked bunch of grapes. " It is very
kind of you to come, Herr Pfarrer—I believe Miss Macartney
is here."
38
DOCTOR JACOB.
And opening the door of the immense first-class room, she
left the two together. You will perceive that Hannchen
always found some happy way of slipping out of disagreeable
encounters.
Dr. Paulus could not feel exactly distant to any one who
had long been in daily intercourse with his daughter Con-
stance, and who had once or twice taken tea at his house,
so he held a cordial hand to the Englishwoman, saying
pleasantly,
"You are going to leave Frankfort, Miss Macartney, and I
am sorry to hear it. Fraulein Fink will not easily find so
indefatigable a lady for her school, and I am sure Constance
will not have her quaint German-English so patiently dealt
with from a stranger."
" I am sorry too," answered Miss Macartney, lowering her
eyes.
"Fraulein Fink has begged of me to try and effect an
alteration in your plans," continued the Doctor, watching her
face attentively. " Of course, by so doing, I place myself in
an awkward position. I have no possible right to advise, to
persuade, least of all, to question you—yet can I effect my
purpose without doing all these ? "
Miss Macartney did not look up ; she knew that Dr.
Paulus was of different stuff to Fraulein Fink, and she feared
both his scorn and his scrutiny.
" I would rather speak to you as a friend," added he, in a
kind voice ; " perhaps under no circumstances you would
expect injudicious or careless advice from me "
" Oh, no!" exclaimed the governess, eagerly ; " I know
that you have before helped hundreds of friendless gover-
nesses by your counsel and interest. I would have come to
you, had I dared."
" Granted, then, that you believe me incapable of ill-
advising you under any circumstances ; now that I come to
you as a friend, you will surely look for prudence and expe-
DOCTOR JACOB.
39
diency from me ? I know the world better than you do—
especially the mixed half-English, half-German society of a
town like this ; and if you give me your confidence, I dare-
say I can help you—without such confidence, I should but
make an effort in the dark."
Miss Macartney flushed and moved her hands nervously.
"Do you intend to give it me?" said the Doctor, with
some sternness.
Had Dr. Paulus been of a less decided and less strong-
minded type, she would have flung an angry "No" at him,
and so ended the matter. As it was, she sat powerless to
speak either in gentleness or in anger.
" Self-interest is generally supposed to be the ruling power
of the world," the Doctor went on, coldly ; " but I presume,
Miss Macartney, from the step you contemplate, that you are
utterly indifferent to it—in fact, that, unlike most ladies, you
are regardless of your reputation."
That stung her.
" Who dares to accuse me of having forfeited it ?" she
asked, with wild eyes.
Dr. Paulus's lip curled with scornful pity ; he had a way
of despising whom he compassionated, especially women,
and the curling lip betokened both feelings always.
" What and who will defend you ? Your sudden leaving
will not—those who are cognizant of it cannot."
" I do not ask for defence. Let people say what they
please of me—I care little for the opinion of the world."
" It would be easier for me to say so," answered Dr. Paulus,
with quiet emphasis ; " a woman must care for it."
" A happy woman, perhaps—an unhappy one can be even
indifferent to that. Oh ! Dr. Paulus, you cannot help me—
would to God that it were otherwise !"
" And what future do you plan out for yourself ? Have
you friends ? "
" None."
4°
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Whither do you go ? "
" I do not know."
"This is utterly irrational, and unworthy of an English-
woman," cried the Doctor, impatiently. "Whatever you
may say to the contrary, no one can help putting a bad
construction on such a step. I do myself."
The arrow hit. With gleaming eyes she said,—
" What kind of construction, Dr. Paulus ?"
" You fear some disclosure that may injure your character."
There was no answer, but her head drooped, her whole
attitude expressed despondent humility.
Though Dr. Paulus had a good heart, he was merciless
when too much tried, and his patience had been sorely tried
during this interview. A pitying look, a kind word, might
have brought the woman's bitter haughty spirit contritely to
his feet; he knew it, but wounded deeper than ever.
" I may seem hard to you, Miss Macartney ; my hardest
word is soft compared to the words and the looks you will
encounter from others—depend upon that."
" I will hide myself beyond the reach of malice—I will
defy it ! " she said, with a faint attempt at defiance.
Dr. Paulus laughed bitterly.
"Defy truth?"
And he repeated the words with a meaning that she could
not misunderstand. After a pause he added,
" I confess that you are to be pitied. When a woman
loses caste, she loses what no other advantages in life can
make up to her—but in your position, with the false step
goes every other advantage. You must see this—you must
know that even the homely hard-working life at the Fraulein
Fink's is a phase of respectability to which you can never
again attain—unless by great good-fortune. You would
hardly care to enter an establishment where the principal
was indifferent to her governess's antecedents; you would
surely expect to be received in no other."
DOCTOR JACOB.
4i
His candour and severity had brought her to the ground
at last; crushed, wounded, and abased, she covered her face
with her hands and moaned in her great wretchedness.
When her passion was spent, she said in a voice that was
dignified in its intense resignation,—
" Perhaps I had better stay ; anyhow I must suffer, and it
matters little where. By going, I only put off a day of meet-
ing that must come sooner or later; and by staying, I avert
a calumny which could hardly cause me unhappiness, but
might bring me to the need of bread."
"You speak of a day of meeting?" asked Dr. Paulus,
fixing his piercing eyes upon her.
" I did, but I cannot explain the words to you—they
escaped me inadvertently."
" If I appear obtrusive and harsh," Dr. Paulus added,
" remember that it is not the first, or the second or the third
time such a matter has been forced disagreeably to my
notice. Holding the position that I do, it is incumbent upon
me to raise a strong protest against all domestic offences
which deteriorate from the character and comfort of the
resident English here ; every new scandal, every new breach
of manners and morality, takes away from both in no ordi-
nary degree."
Quietly, and as if with an effort to subdue some great
dread, she answered,—
" Never fear that I will make an Englishman blush for
me. I am not the guilty being you imagine : perhaps at
some future time even you will judge me less hardly; any-
how, you will surely defer your condemnation till my crime
is proved."
" I have judged you according to circumstances," said Dr.
Paulus, " and you cannot deny that they blacken you ; if,
following the clue afforded by them, I have been unjust, I
ask your pardon."
Just then the fair head of Constance Paulus passed under
42
DOCTOR JACOB.
the window. A softer look came to Miss Macartney's eyes;
her lips quivered, and she said in a trembling voice,—
" Whether I go or stay, never let Constance hear any ill of
me—I love her best of all my pupils. You will not forbid her
from continuing my lessons ? "
" Certainly not," answered the Doctor, a little touched.
He then rose to go.
"You will think this matter over," he said, kindly. "01
course, as the friend of Fraulein Fink, I have been reasoning
on the side of her advantage, no less than of your own ; but
the two are one and the same thing. As far as I can see,
and guided by your words, you could not but be your own
enemy by a precipitate departure ; by staying, you have
nothing to fear "
" You do not know all," she broke in, agitatedly.
" At least, nothing to fear from your own conduct, may I
say ? "
" Thank God, yes," she answered fervently, and held out
her hand to him as if to show that it was clean.
" I believe, then, that I have fulfilled the instructions and
wishes of the Fraulein Fink. Adieu, Miss Macartney; take
counsel with the good lady herself—and, above all things,
form no hasty resolution."
Long after the Doctor's active figure had disappeared,
Miss Macartney remained standing where he had left her.
A great conflict was going on in her mind—should she go
or stay ?—to these two points ever tended her t-lroughts, and
hopes, and fears. To go, as she well knew, was to begin
again the uphill battle she had begun long ago—to fight
against privation and indignities and neglect—for the piti-
ful place of a governess—to pitch her tent in a strange place,
with no welcoming faces and no friendly voices—to witness,
daily and hourly, the meanest passions of human nature
cropping up like weeds in spring, to despise and be despised
anew !
DOCTOR JACOB.
43
If she stayed, she would have but one great suspense and
dread, no fresh difficulties to contend with, no heavier trials
than the daily labour of teaching—no angry and opposing
influences, except Hannchen's petty meannesses, and her
aunt's harmless fits of ill-temper. In a measure she was
independent—that is to say, when her lessons were given,
she was free to go where she pleased, and she had ex-
perienced enough of school life to value this privilege. More-
over, she was beyond the reach of scornful looks and
contemptuous words, both of which she had received plenti-
fully in'a private family.
Should she meet him ?
She put her hand to her heart as she took in the full
meaning of the words. Did she fear that it would break
with the terror or the joy of such a meeting ? Or did she
believe, like the weary followers of pious .Eneas, that "per
varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum? the gods had some
quiet haven of security in reserve for her ? It would have
been impossible to read anything from that pale, intent face.
CHAPTER VII.
N spite of Louisa's weak health and general inca-
parity, the household of Dr. Paulus was as well
regulated and comfortable as liberal means and
good method could make it.
The children were never allowed to be naughty—
the servants were never allowed to be slothful—and, though
the attainment of such ends as quiet and order involved
continual anxiety, he found time for it.
At seven o'clock his coffee machine was brought in and
set to work—and woe be to Master Louis, or his brother
Bob, if they failed to appear before the coffee had run put.
When the three elder children were punctual—when Con-
stance had tidied mamma's bed-room, and prepared the
invalid for breakfast—when Louis had given out the servants'
daily stores—when Bob had heard the little ones say their
prayers in the nursery—no family breakfast could be plea-
santer than that of Dr. Paulus. But if one of these small
duties should be omitted, the offender had no voice in the
conversation—perhaps even no conversation took place;
and if mamma were, in the smallest degree, neglected, the
neglectoPs place would be vacant.
Severe as he was, merciless as he could be in the case of
unfulfilled duty, Dr. Paulus was adored by his children, and
an encouraging word from his lips was treasured as a gold
coin, never to be made too much of. When they were good,
he delighted to amuse himself with them, having a view to
DOCTOR JACOB.
45
their mental development—led them on to argument and
discussion—induced them to define and to discriminate—
promoted their curiosity concerning such questions of daily
life as were within their reach—in short, tried to form their
characters for the world as it is, and not, as many parents
expect it, or hope it, may prove to their children. A foolish
or inconsistent speech met such a rebuke from him as
generally silenced the speaker for the next ten minutes ; a
really clever one elicited a hearty laugh.
" Papa," said bright-eyed, ready-witted Bob, " Harry Brill
said yesterday he wouldn't like to be like us, because we
never go to Homburg, and the Bergstrasse, and those sort
of pleasure-places. Wasn't that very rude of him ?"
" And, papa," added Louis, a timid, sensitive boy of four-
teen, with a face like a girl's, and a habit of colouring at the
slightest reproof, " I told him that we should have plenty
of pleasure and travelling when we were grown up."
" Hem ! So you think, my clever Louis, my man of the
world, that you are receiving your education at the Gym-
nasium in order to enjoy yourself in holiday-making ever
after ? A clever idea that!"
Poor Louis blushed painfully under his father's sarcasm,
and returned to his bread and coffee with little relish.
Just then the letters came in, which were always a signal
for silence, whether his wife was present or not. Dr. Paulus
read his letters without a remark as to their contents, and
without expecting a remark on the same subject from anyone.
Soon after, the boys, as was their wont, touched his cheek
with their lips, and hurried off to school. Constance, how-
ever, being the only daughter and eldest child, enjoyed the
privilege of unlocking papa's study for him before she left
the house, and, what she valued beyond all her simple
pleasures, a kiss and playful word or two besides.
When the Doctor rose, she entwined her arms round his,
and laid her delicate pink cheek on his shoulder.
46
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Come, papa," she said, " I must open the door of your
prison, and see you shut in before I go. Is it not a funny
idea that I should be your jailor, papa ? "
" A very funny idea, Connie, but not the funniest that has
emanated from your little head."
" Agatha Brill says I am such a baby for my age—ought
girls of fifteen to be so very womanly, papa ?"
" God forbid that you should be like Agatha "
Dr. Paulus stopped short, and then added,—
" If I find no fault with your babyishness, Connie, never
mind a hundred Agatha Brills and their opinions."
" Miss Macartney does not find fault with me either, papa.
She said, yesterday, ' Thank God every day of your life,
Constance, that you have such a father, and suffer your
heart to break rather than disobey him.' I do not quite
understand why she should have said this—do you,
papa ? "
" It is time for you to go, Connie—run away."
She kissed him without a word, and tripped off. Dr. Paulus
then seated himself at his high desk, sipped a glass of cold
water, folded his letters, and placed them in one of the nu-
merous little drawers of his desk. It was a peculiarity of his
to burn no correspondence, excepting the most trivial; and
for every class, and genus of letter he had a separate place.
He never mislaid a paper, or forgot its exact situation ; and
if any one had waked him up in the darkest night for any
specified communication, he would have been able to lay his
hand on it within three minutes.
Hardly had he seated himself to work when a light tap
and careless " Good morning, Dr. Paulus," caused him to
break off.
It was Mrs. Brill, who, in spite of her somewhat imperfect
toilette and unkempt tresses, looked the very picture of hand-
some matronly importance.
" Ah! excuse my interruption—it shall not last more than
DOCTOR JACOB.
47
five minutes," she said, sinking into the nearest chair. " I
called about Dr. Jacob."
A smile passed over the Doctor's face, as he pushed away
his papers. He thought his friend Brill a fool to allow his
wife such liberty of judgment and action, but she amused
him excessively.
" The fact is," she continued, " Dr. Jacob must have his
way. I have been thinking over the matter seriously, and
have come to that conclusion. If we oppose him, we
may displease the powers that be ; if we make much of
him, and pet him, we may do good to ourselves. I don't
know what you think, Dr. Paulus, but I have always found
enthusiasm for a cause to be another name for private
advantage."
" Only in the minds of the sordid, I should hope," said Dr.
Paulus, pointedly.
" Yes, in the minds of people no worse than their neighbours
—people who live harmlessly, and do what good they can.
Look at poor Tom and myself—we have a large family, and
an income of three hundred and fifty pounds a year ; we can
hardly, on this, keep the wolf from the door ; and if we paid
our bills as regularly as we should wish to do, the wolf would
come in. Now, we know that the Jews, and the Tasmanians,
and the Patagonians, ought to be converted ; but is it in
human nature that we should sacrifice great personal advan-
tages to that end? Again and again I say, No. If, on the
contrary, we could add a drop or two to the great ocean of
Bibles, prayer-books, and tracts, collected for the conversion
of the heathen, without harming ourselves, whose hands
would prove readier than ours ?"
Dr. Paulus had insisted to Miss Macartney, the previous
evening, on the omnipotence of this very principle of self-
interest; but when an illustrative truth was brought so
nakedly and forcibly to him, he winced.
" Then you have discovered a reason in favour of Dr.
48
DOCTOR JACOB.
Jacob's preaching?" he asked, curtly, and with a slight con-
traction of the brows.
" Yes, Dr. Paulus,—a very efficient one, too."
" May I ask what it is ?"
" Certainly," rejoined the lady, with a pleasant laugh.
" Tom and I are by no means anxious to appear better or
more disinterested than we really are. The plain truth, then,
is this—Dr. Jacob has high connections in England who
may be useful to us."
" Of course, the motive little affects the result, Mrs. Brill,
though I could have wished that you had found a better
one. As far as I can judge, Dr. Jacob is a good man and
a zealous missionary, and I am glad that Brill is inclined to
allow him fair play."
" Tom had really less to do with the decision than myself,"
said Mrs. Brill, provolcingly; "he was quite agreeable to
either yes or no, as he always is."
She knew that Dr. Paulus stringently abhorred any refer-
ence to her supremacy as wife, and took a mischievous delight
in pricking him with her little pins. Dr. Paulus, however,
could prick too.
" Most ladies delight to rule their husbands, but you are
the first I ever met with who was proud of the weakness that
allows such government," he said, gravely. " I hope, Mrs.
Brill, that Agatha and Flory are not accustomed to hear such
sentiments from your lips."
" Oh ! dear no!" she said, trying to hide her pique by a
laugh. " Poor children! I only hope they may get husbands
as kind as my poor Tom! By-the-bye, Dr. Paulus, will you
let Connie and Louis join my young people in the Zoological
Gardens to-night? The Mentz Band is coming, and the
weather is so lovely!—do give them a treat!"
" Many thanks; but as I am obliged to go out myself,
Connie must stay with her mamma; as to Louis, by the time
he has prepared his lessons, the evening is nearly over."
DOCTOR JACOB.
49
" I do think, Dr. Paulus, that you are a little too strict with
your children; they are very good, and Connie and Louis are
charmingly unsophisticated and well-mannered j but a little
bringing out would make them perfect."
Dr. Paulus thought Connie and Louis far from perfect,
much less Agatha and Flory, but he said nothing. Mrs. Brill
then took leave, having first expressed many sincere con-
dolences on the continued indisposition of the Frau Doctor.
CHAPTER VIII.
F no Burgherin of the Free City worked harder
than Fraulein. Fink, none in all Prussia could enjoy
a holiday so well. Whether she entertained a friend
or two to tea in her summer-house, or made a little
party to the Zoological Garden on a concert night,
or went to the Theatre or Circus, or whether she walked
alone to the Cemetery and mused on the eternal quietude in
store for her there, it was all the same. Her cup of content-
ment was ever filled to the brim. This last recreation bore
the palm from the former more worldly ones. Fraulein Fink
lived on sentiment, was cheerful on it, grew plump on it,
made merry on it; but religious sentiment reigned supreme
in her mind. Though an attentive member of the Lutheran
Church, she not unfrequently absented herself from the
Sunday morning's service, in order to pray by herself and
preach to herself in the beautiful God's Acre outside the
town. She would return from such musings in a very lively
mood, discourse to Hannchen (who felt secretly bored by it)
on the fragrance and shadiness of a certain little corner which
she had selected as her final resting-place; then proceed to
receive visitors, dine with extraordinary relish, and spend the
rest of the day in harmless pleasures.
On the Saturday in question, Hannchen had cajoled her
aunt into an unusually hilarious mood, the consequence of
which was a resolution to join the Frau Directorin and Elise
in the Zoological Garden. The expense certainly had to be
DOCTOR JACOB.
considered; one shilling each being required as entrance fee, a
further outlay of eighteen-penceforbeef-steak, ale, and potatoes,
in case they stayed to supper, and, perhaps, another sixpence
for ices. But Fraulein Fink was by no means parsimonious.
If she resolved to spend fifty kreutzers, she did not sigh over
them, make epitaphs on them, and try to make them do the
duty of sixty. If she spent a couple of florins, her manner
became rather more magnanimous, perhaps, befitting the
importance of the expenditure; but she never pretended to
spend more than she really did, or to treat the matter with
indifference, as if she thought nothing of it. She did not
know—as, indeed, few of her countrymen and countrywomen
know—what it is to live for appearance. Gentility, more's
the pity, is a home-bred English word. In Germany you see
poverty in plenty; but genteel poverty rarely. The proverb,
"Set the best foot foremost," is almost unknown to our
cousins. Those who are rich, are rich; those who are poor,
by hot being ashamed of poverty, are really less so.
Fraulein Fink having given out eggs, flour, and sugar, for
the school-room supper of pancakes and preserve, and having
seen that Lischen was busily scrubbing the first of her four
class-rooms, then proceeded to make her toilette. Soon she was
joined by Hannchen, all a-bloom with feathers, flowers, and
furbelows, and the two set off. You could not easily find a
livelier or pleasanter sight than the Frankfort Zoological
Garden on a concert day. Passing through an avenue where
cockatoos and parrots swing on their stands, looking like
splinters of some gorgeous rainbow caught on the trees, you
come upon a large open space covered by tables, at which sit
the youth and beauty and fashion of the Free City. A
prettily-built Restaurant is seen behind, and all around are
shady walks, interspersed with the most fanciful homes ever
conceived for bird, beast, or fish. At a little distance from
the Restaurant stands a raised summer-house, in the shape
of a pagoda, and here gleam the white coats of the Austrian
E 2
52
DOCTOR JACOB.
band; whilst they play, as only Austrians can play, some
delicious waltz of the never-to-be-forgotten Strauss, or some
stirring march of Jeschko, the petted Austrian band-master
of Mayence. Gaily dressed visitors stroll hither and thither;
Frenchified looking children, with their richly-habited Jewish
mammas, feed the grave young bears; sober professors go
into ecstacies of laughter as they watch the gambols of the
monkeys in their superb cage, or prevail upon the kangaroos
to leap across their little territory; Russian nurse-maids,
wearing pretty white caps, hold some baby heir to a thousand
serfs close to the guinea-pigs, or throw bread, for their amuse-
ment, to the swans and ducks swimming in the lovely willow-
hung lakelet. You see the wealthy merchants' wives, followed
by their children, under charge of a governess and maid
from Fulda, the latter being something distinguished in that
way, like an Ayah. Her costume is certainly marked, and
charmingly picturesque. A high coronet, tight bodice, with
coloured braces, blue skirt bordered with red, just reaching
below the knees, white stockings, and buckled shoes—what
could be a more becoming toilette for the bearer of a baby ?
Of English tourists there are plenty, and here, for, perhaps,
the only occasion during their Rhine trip, they leave Mr.
Murray's book behind them.
After strolling a little, the four ladies chose a table having
a good view of the gayest part of the scene^ and sat down.
By-and-by, Elise's brother joined them, and taking the seat
next to Hannchen, began to amuse her, as even a whisker-
less youth of eighteen could easily do, when no better beau
was in sight.
A waiter soon came up for orders, and the two chaperones
took into consideration the subject of supper.
If there is anything that keenly annoys a genteel waiter
next to receiving no trink-geld, or vails, it is to see people
indifferent on the subject of eating and drinking. This
Restaurant Kellner utterly despised those respectable quiet
DOCTOR JACOB.
S3
families who subscribe to the gardens merely for the music
and monkeys ; he looked with lofty pity on the ice-and-
confectionary-eating young people, and by no means gave
his best bow to the moderate old ladies and married couples
who refreshed themselves with coffee. Those who called
for a bill of fare, ordered a cloth to be laid, cutlets, salad,
cheese, &c., he would respect from the bottom of his heart
ever after. Now, Fraulein Fink knew of this waiter's idio-
syncracy as well as we do ; she quite intended, moreover,
to earn his esteem and enjoy a hot supper, but the latter
fact was to her as a plump mouse to a triumphant cat. It
was too much of a treat to be quickly enjoyed, and lost for
ever; it must be played with, dallied in the fingers, smelt
near and beheld at a distance. Moreover, she did not wish
to bring the waiter in question at once to that pitch of tender
obsequiousness of which only a Kellner who hears the order,
" Steaks, potatoes, salad, Gruyere cheese, ale," is capable.
No, she liked to wait, to toy with his patience, to bring him
to marble-like indifference to her existence—then to cause
his back to recover its elasticity, and his legs their nimble-
ness, at one magical touch.
. Antaeus, they say, was the most agile giant living, so long
as he touched the earth—but Plutus is stronger, for the
faintest chink of an unseen coin works quite as much effect
on the supinest waiter living.
Having ordered the savoury dishes to appear in an hour's
time, our little party found amusement in looking around
them, and in listening with unaffected enjoyment to the
music. After a while, the adjoining table was taken by a
party whom we are bound to notice.
First came Mrs. Brill. She wore a sky-blue feather, and
a pea-green dress, but looked wonderfully little the worse
for such a contrast. Her younger children followed, all
more or less over-dressed and handsome, and perfectly self-
possessed in their behaviour. Agatha, the elder daughter,
54
DOCTOR JACOB.
came last, with a pretty modest-looking girl at her side ; this
was Katchen Eggers, an orphan, placed under Mrs. Brill's
care for education. After a great deal of loud talking, in
which even the younger children joined, they seated them-
selves and ordered ices. Mrs. Brill's sharp eyes were busy
enough, meantime, and before the ices came, she knew who
were at the tables within her point of sight, how they were
dressed, and what they were eating.
She proceeded to make a great many remarks, which
would look ill-natured on paper, but sounded unimportant
enough as she threw them off, one by one, with the same
good-tempered voice and easy laugh.
The Garden had now become full. It was a matter of
difficulty to obtain either the possession of a table, or the
attention of a waiter, and the alleys and walks glowed like
tulip beds with the gay silks of the ladies.
By-and-by, a distinguished-looking Englishman approached
from the entrance. There was something about his face
and carriage that caused people to look at him inquisitively,
especially the resident English, who always felt curious
regarding strangers. Without having an air of wealth, he
carried that tone of good-breeding and aristocratic habits
which imply it; and without being consequential, he made
his way through the crowd with a calm superiority of
manner that is neither condescension nor haughtiness, but
outweighs both. Channing said that his road to power was
character, and Dr. Jacob entertained much the same con-
viction.
As he looked on so many representatives of rich families.
who were unknown to him—whose purses and houses were,
as yet, closed to him—whose bows and smiles were as yet
denied him—this thought was in his mind,—
" I come a stranger, but before many days I shall have
found the way to many a heart, and an entrance into many
a circle. Perhaps next week, I may have some of the most
DOCTOR JACOB.
55
influential residents pressing round me, and honouring me
here. We shall see."
His eyes soon fell on the Brill party, and, after a polite
word or two of greeting, he seated himself beside the elder
lady.
Dr. Jacob talked little, but talked well. He had a habit
of throwing back his head and folding his arms, as if perfect
ease were necessary to the exertion. And, without warming
with any subject, he grew calmly eloquent over it, and
lighted it up, so to say, by his wonderful knowledge of
human nature and readiness at analogy.
With Mrs. Brill, however, he merely suggested, and
listened—perhaps in this latter capacity lay the secret of so
much experience of character, and power to read it. A mind
of so common a calibre as Mrs. Brill's interested him no
less than the vigorous and well trained intellect of Dr.
Paulus; no amount of meanness or insignificance seemed
to pain him—perhaps, because he stood so far off from both.
Therefore Mrs. Brill's tongue went at its fastest rate, and Dr.
J acob listened with a smile.
Mr. Brill now came up, and proposed a stroll round the
Garden. Dr. Jacob gave Mrs. Brill his arm ; her husband
followed with Aggie; Katchen and the children brought up
the rear.
As they made their way among the crowded tables, Mrs.
Brill occasionally stopped to greet acquaintances, to whom
she introduced her companion. She was in high spirits,
feeling proud to hang on the arm of such a man, and
delighted at the idea of creating a little envious inquisi-
tiveness among her friends, as to whom the stranger
might be.
The Brills had a large visiting circle—a chaplain must
necessarily have such, in order to maintain his popularity
and position—and Mr. Brill's stood on rather shaky founda-
tions just now. It took them therefore some time to get
56
DOCTOR JACOB.
clear of the crowd; which feat accomplished, Mrs. Brill
gave a synopsis of her friends after the following manner:
"The Herveys are good people enough, but poor and
pinched, and never give anything beyond a tea and turn-
out ; the Norris family are rich, but half American, and
vulgar in the extreme ; the Woods are parvenus, and only
pass off as real coin among the homelier Germans ; they
drop their h's, make absurd mistakes in endeavouring to
observe etiquette-*-but are kind-hearted and inoffensive ; the
family of exceedingly tall daughters are well-bred, unex-
ceptionably respectable, and a little averse to pleasure,
except of the most decorous kind. The Germans, you. won't
care to hear of?"
" Certainly/' said Dr. Jacob.
" Fraulein Fink keeps a school, to which Aggie and
Katchen go. The old gentleman, with his two daughters,
is a Lutheran pastor, and a dear old soul, though exceedingly
comic ; that young officer, who bowed so grandly, is a Captain
in the Frankfort Cavalry and, entre nous, an admirer of our
Aggie's. Ah ! here comes our clever Jewish physician—isn't
it very extraordinary, Dr. Jacob, that all our best physicians
and lawyers are Jews ?"
Meantime, let us see how Fraulein Fink is enjoying herself.
The sun has sunk behind the blue Taunus range, the dews
have fallen, the fanciful gas-lights twinkle in the avenues,
the rainbow-coloured silks are no longer to be distinguished
from the foliage of acacia and laurel; the paroquets are
housed for the night, and a few of the tables are cleared.
Fraulein Fink has had no disappointment regarding her
hot supper. The cutlets were superb ; the beer was un-
dcubtedly Bavarian ; the salad had its due proportion of
beetroot and potato ; and after a proper appreciation of all
these,'her heart expanded with content and benevolence.
"Ah! my dear Frau Directorin," she said, clasping her
hands enthusiastically, " we may, in our most exalted mo-
DOCTOR JACOB.
57
ments of intellectuality, imagine ourselves to be beyond
the commoner pleasures of the palate. It is not so. This
superb music, these lovely gardens, the tranquillity of the
twilight sky, the mingled voices of happy fellow-beings—in
fine, all the manifestations of beauty and goodness that
bring us nearer to God and to man, are intensified, dear
Frau Directorin, and strengthened, by a savoury cutlet and
a glass of good beer thereto."
" No doubt !" answered the Frau Directorin ; "for my part
I never think music sounds so well as when I am knitting
stockings ; and if I have just supped off baked potatos and
buttered rolls—so much the better."
Fraulein Fink, you will perceive, was by no means a
hypocrite. Where she was weak, she owned to her weak-
ness ; where she was strong, she did not deny a pride in her
strength. Her strength of intellect resembled a fortress—
it looked all the more invincible for one or two rents in it.
At least so thought the Fraulein Fink.
CHAPTER IX.
T last came the Sunday appointed for Dr. Jacob's
benefit sermon. It was evident that some un-
usual attraction existed, by the stream of people
pouring into the small church facing the beauti-
ful Goethe statue. Ordinarily, Mr. Brill's con-
gregation was insignificant, owing, in the first instance, to the
very irregular attendance of such English residents as were
kindly disposed towards him; and secondly, to that complete
non-attendance of the hostile party.
You may obtain a good insight into the habits and general
tone of a household by the manner in which its members go
to church. The austerely punctual in all weathers, who look
out the lessons and texts, and fix their eyes devouringly on
the preacher, may be set down as formal, uninteresting people.
Some enter but just in time, blunder into the wrong pew, smile
at their error, open the prayer-book at any place but the right,
finally, on the clergyman's appearance, give _ their whole at-
tention to the service—only fidgeting, perhaps, if the sermon
prove too long. These are sure to be of the pleasant, open-
hearted, free-spoken class, whom nobody dislikes, and who
dislike nobody.
Then there are the unmistakably careless families—families
who come in one by one, sometimes a quarter of an hour too
early, sometimes a quarter of an hour too late, but equally
unconcerned on either occasion. The mammas and papas
of such families have generally left a glove or a pocket-
DOCTOR JACOB.
59
handkerchief at home; have whispered discussions with the
children, nudge, frown, and make signs to them, but are
utterly unable to maintain a decorous behaviour with all their
efforts. You may be sure there are ugly discomforts in their
house, as well as injudicious enjoyments—perhaps a debt or
two, certainly waste and want.
Among the early comers were the Paulus family. Louisa,
perhaps, was hardly strong enough to be out at all, but had
expressed so earnest a wish to hear Dr. Jacob's sermon, that
her husband could not find it in his heart to refuse her.
Connie looked very delicate and pretty, in her simple straw
hat and childish cotton dress, and the boys followed in the
most exact order possible, looking none the less gentlemanly
for their inexpensive paletots. Mamma alone wore anything
costly. Her chip bonnet, her moire dress, her velvet scarf,
were the admiration of the children, and poor Connie won-
dered if, when she was grown up, she should ever have a silk
frock or pale kid gloves.
The next comers were the Brills, who entered with a bang
and creaking of doors, a rustling of skirts, and a whispering
df voices. One bench did not suffice for so large a party,
and some discussion took place before a judicious division
could be effected. Flory nudged Tommy, Tommy kicked
Harry, Harry pinched little Jeannie, all to no purpose; at
last Mrs. Brill pushed the two youngest children into a seat,
and flounced down beside them; a struggle followed between
Tommy and Flory for the vacant place beside her, in which
Flory's crinoline got the day, and Master Tommy was obliged
to follow gentle Katchen Eggers into the next pew.
Then came Miss Macartney. She wore a thick veil, and
crept quietly to her seat, without looking round. Her pupils,
Katchen and Aggie, noticed that she did not, as usual, raise
her veil when she rose from her knees; her hands, too, sup-
ported her low bent head. Was she ill ?—or had she really
done something wrong, of which she feared the consequences,
6o
DOCTOR JACOB.
as some of the girls whispered in the first class? Both
Katchen and Aggie pondered over the matter till prayers
commenced.
A few minutes after eleven o'clock, Mr. Brill rushed into
the reading-desk, his hair unbrushed, his cassock awry, his
surplice tucked in at the neck. After kneeling down, with
the intention of praying, but, in fact, the poor man was too
concerned about his lateness to do more than say the first
text that came to mind, he rose, hitched the surplice to the
left, pushed his hair to the right, made a sign to his wife
involving some domestic secret, and began :
" Dearly beloved brethren," &c.
Meantime Dr. Jacob had, with much dignity and unob-
trusiveness, seated himself behind the communion rails. He
knew that every eye was upon him, that every look and
movement might be construed to his favour or disadvantage;
and, without wishing or intending to act a part, he wished to
create an impression. He did not put on a mask, and seem
entirely lost in devotion. During the prayers and the Litany
no one in the church prayed more fervently than he; but
whilst the Psalms and Lessons were being read, he suffered
his eyes to wander around the congregation.
It was but reasonable that he should feel interested in those
who had welcomed him with open arms; it was only human
that he should attend less to the portions of Scripture being
read by Mr. Brill, and which he knew by heart, than to faces
which were entirely new to him, and which it essentially
concerned his mission that he should learn to read well.
With a grave earnestness, therefore, he passed searchingly
from one family group to the other, nor ended the scrutiny
till his gaze rested on the occupant of the remotest bench—
namely, Miss Macartney.
She was a governess and an Englishwoman—thus much
he saw at a glance; the thick veil prevented a glimpse of her
features, and he looked no more.
DOCTOR JACOB.
61
This short survey convinced him that he was among no
ordinary, sober-minded English. Among the whole congre-
gation, hardly one family could be said to typify our national
character; that of Dr. Paulus approached nearest to it, but
with wide differences. The doctor was German, and held
German notions regarding a man's position in his house.
His wife and children were not allowed to have impulses,
much less opinions; they gave where he gave; they liked
where he liked, and vice versd. The other large families were
of that gay, uncertain kind one is sure to find in a fashionable
foreign town. Some were luxurious and generous; some
came to church merely because they regarded it as a nation-
ality that made them respected, and were, on principle,
liberal through any other channel but that of the pulpit;
some, though of high rank, had little to give, and gave either
spontaneously or when driven to it. Tourists, as a rule,
are not partial to extra outlay, and of tourists, there were
many.
Dr. Jacob clearly saw that his only road to success lay
through sudden, startling eloquence. Such a mixed assembly
could not be expected to give readily to a remote charity;
they must be drawn to it, fascinated by it, excited by it, awed,
by it. Statistical reports, he felt sure, would fall on the hearts
of his hearers as hailstones on a snowed surface—he must
have hot tears of pity, spasmodic rays of humanity, warm
gushes of enthusiasm from them. Then all would go well.
Mr. Brill, though an orthodox clergyman in most things,
could not help feeling that the morning service was a little
too long, consequently he made quick work of it. He made
quick work of his sermons, too, ordinarily, being signalled
by Mrs. Brill when the term of twenty minutes had expired.
And now Dr. Jacob mounted the pulpit. Certainly the
place became him. With his majestic silvered head thrown
back, his powerful, full-chested form drawn to its complete
height, his eyes brimming over with the largeness of his sub-
62
DOCTOR JACOB.
ject, he might well recall that prophet who stood up and
called out to the people, " Pray for the peace of Jerusalem."
At first the calm grandeur of his manner and the deep
ringing tones of his voice alone sufficed to attract all eyes
and ears; but soon a new and indescribable emotion stirred
every heart. You might have heard the fluttering of a but-
terfly against the windows. Mrs. Brill looked awed and
decorous. Dr. Paulus brightened and smiled from very ad-
miration and wonder. The rich, worldly English expressed
unusual disturbance of feeling. Miss Macartney sat with
clasped hands and marble features, as if every word were
striking some terrible conviction to her mind.
Dr. Jacob knew human nature well. He had been taught
to know it in rather a sceptical school; and however high
his ends might be, he generally made use of the lower rather
than the higher qualities of his fellow-beings to assist him.
To-day he wanted money from his hearers. They were far
from intellectual—far from devout; consequently, instead of
trying to elevate them to a high standard of religious en-
thusiasm, he brought himself down to the level of that en-
thusiasm they could easiest feel, and, instead of teaching,
moved them only.
He began his sermon by a gorgeous picture of the Jewish
life in the Free City. He drew vividly the gleaming white
villas, the smooth velvety pleasaunces, the marble statuary,
the flowery carpets, the mimic lakes, the gilded furniture, the
shining carriages, the fiery steeds, the obsequious lackeys,
the kingly banquets, in fine, all the magnificence which makes
up a modern Jewish menage.
Then he dwelt on the charitableness, and honour, and
talent of the men; the beauty and accomplishments of the
women; the promising abilities of the children; and asked
if the whole world could show a phase of society more bril-
liant, or more prophetic of power and success.
No; this race of merchant princes of Frankfort had no
DOCTOR JACOB.
63
rivals in Europe, and could never have rivals. Generations
might pass away, and still their names would fill the mouths
of men, signifying wealth, and understanding, and influence
—still their houses would be palaces, and their equipages
equal to those of royalty. But this regality and this power
were for earth only.
In the old Norse religion the power of Evil was represented
by a giant who was mighty for life and death so long as his
back was turned to the sun, but to face it was to die. So was
it with this gigantic Jewish power. Whilst Death kept in the
background, all went well. Spread the feast, bring in the
wine, fill high the silver cups, let the sounds of sweet music
and the sight of fair faces adorn the banquet, sprinkle perish-v
able flowers around the costly meats, ere yet the sun touches
the hills with its light. But slowly, surely, as the dawn of
spring, comes that Sun of Righteousness, in the face of which
the Giant must die !
In words, every one of which went straight and swift, as
an Indian's arrow, to the mark, he proceeded to dilate upon
that d&om of death. He drew, in vivid colours, the volup-
tuous Time, and the dread Eternity; he enlarged upon the
love of life common to all, and the dread of death, even as it
is softened and made holy by Christian belief; he recalled
many a solemn and peaceful death-bed which this belief had
hallowed; he described many a terrible struggle that had
taken place where such belief was wanting. Then, in short
and gorgeous sketches, he recalled to his hearers some ex-
periences of his past ministry in the East.
" It was sunset," he said, " and I lay under an olive-tree of
my garden, thinking of many things that had happened to
encourage me in my mission. Before me lay the Holy City
bathed in burning light—I could see the Mount of Olives,
and the road that led to Bethany. I could trace the founda-
tions of that temple which Solomon built, of fir, and cedar,
and algam wood, and decorated with gold of Parvaim and
64
DOCTOR JACOB.
cherubim, and rails of blue, purple, and crimson. The Garden
celebrated for that Great Agony, and the bitter Hill of Cal-
vary, were in sight. I was thinking solemnly of the desolation
which had come to the Jerusalem of old, and wondering how
the Jews could still hope, in spite of so much fulfilled pro-
phecy, when the sound of a halting step caused me to break
from my reverie. Before me stood an aged man, weary and
footsore from many days' travel. Indeed, so altered was he
from over-fatigue, that I did not recognise him as a proud
Rabbi with whom I had argued in vain some months since.
" ' Brother,' he said, in a feeble voice, ' I come from the
city of to tell you that your prayers have not been in
vain. I believe in Jesus Christ, the Son of God. Weak,
stricken down to death, despised of my people, bereft of my
child, the J oy and Glory of that new life have strengthened
me, and brought me here. The voice of my home called me
back, the face of my child called me many times—I know
that, in gaining Christ, I lose her—and yet I come. Receive
me into your Church, and let me lay my bones amongt he
scenes of your blessed apostleship.'
" With a calm smile he prepared himself to receive the
first sacrament of our Church. I had hardly pronounced a
blessing when, with that smile still on his lips, he fell back
dead!"
The preacher continued in this strain till, overcome by
the force of his glowing words and the pathos of his pas-
sionate voice, every heart lay at his feet. The women
trembled, and wept, and hid their faces. The men looked up
rapt and wonder-struck. When he ceased speaking, every
ine drew a deep breath, as if relieved from some powerful
spell.
CHAPTER X.
R. JACOB'S benefit-sermon created a furore
among the English. Money poured in on an
unexpected scale of liberality, and many proofs
were given, beyond money's worth, of the en-
thusiasm created for his cause. The poorer
of his countrywomen organized little bodies for weekly sub-
scriptions, sewing clubs, Bible donations, &c. ; little girls at
school laid by a penny from the weekly twopence, and gave
it to him without a tear of regret; anonymous tourists sent
in bank-notes to the value of a dozen thalers ; even among
the German-English set, no slight exertions were made. One
or two school-mistresses, having English pupils, asked the
favour of an evening lecture from Dr. Jacob, and their pupils
gave quite as readily to the Jewish Mission as to a Silver
Wedding-gift for the master of drawing or literature.
Then another kind of enthusiasm spread widely. N ot a
day passed but little pink notes of invitation were laid on the
Doctor's table ; from the rich English and American families
came cards for dinners or suppers ; from those of moderate
means came meekly-worded supplication for his company to
tea on such and such a day. Before a week passed two-
thirds of the best English houses were open to him, and
without appearing exultant at his success, he availed himself
of the proffered hospitality just enough to gratify all and
offend none.
" I confess, dear brother," he said to Dr. Paulus, " that
F
66
DOCTOR JACOB.
this warm reception touches me—humbles me. I am, God
knows, too unworthy of such kindness. Yet to draw back
from it would appear thankless. Often should I prefer a
quiet cigar with you, or a game of play with your children,
to the luxurious entertainments made for me."
" On no account refuse them to come here," answered the
other, apologetically; " I am not a man to vex myself without
cause at what might appear neglect. If you come seldom
you are none the less welcome, and I should be sorry for you
to come at all when you would be doing yourself greater
advantage elsewhere. It is a real pleasure for me to see
you. I can answer for it that it is no less of a pleasure to
my wife and the children, but we do not wish to make your
visits wearisome through a sense of duty to us. Remember
that."
So Dr. Jacob, because he felt that the Paulus family gave
him just their heart's welcome, and no more—that, however
much he might go, he would be received with the same
sincere, quiet cordiality—that, however much he might stay
away, he would still be held high in affection and esteem
—went oftener to the pretty Swiss cottage than to any
other house in Frankfort. And with, perhaps, greater plea-
sure.
No demonstrations were made in his honour; no costly
meats Avere laid before him; no rich wines were poured
in his cup. But the Doctor's eyes never failed to brighten
at his coming, and he was met with a Avarm hand-clasp
at the study-door. Louisa's pale cheek flushed with plea-
sure, and the children Avould show as much controlled joy
as they dared to'do. Sometimes he would come in at five
o'clock, when Louisa's tea was served in her sunny room,
and, Avhich Avas a very unusual thing, his presence always
brought the Doctor. Then Louisa, being petted and waited
on by both, grew quite cheerful and forgot the never-ceasing
headache.
DOCTOR JACOB.
67
But Dr. Jacob's heart ever yearned to children, especially
to such gentle pretty children as those of Dr. Paulus, and he
loved to come best of all when he was sure of finding all the
little party at home. No one else would have dared to pet
them as he did now ; much less would any one have dared
to invite them on half-holidays for little pleasure excursions
to the forest or Zoological Garden—but he did it with
impunity.
These days were like fairy-tales to the children. They
treasured up the remembrance of them in after life, and
never mentioned Dr. Jacob without sparkling eyes and eager
lips. It was a bright time for all. Bright for Dr. Jacob,
who forgot, in this pure home atmosphere, many deep
anxieties and troubles of which no one knew ; bright for Dr.
Paulus, who loved to turn from work and care to the inter-
course with a mind so vast and well stored; bright for
Louisa, who lived on tenderness and sympathy—above all,
bright for the children, who had enjoyed fewer fairy-tale
days than fall to the share of most.
Fraulein Fink did not stand aloof from the general feeling.
In early life she had spent a year or two in England, and
though, poor lady, she was almost starved whilst acting as
companion to an aristocratic spinster during that time,
prided herself upon an enthusiasm for anything English ever
after.
When, therefore, Aggie Brill and Katchen Eggers spread
daily reports of Dr. Jacob's goodness and eloquence in the
school, her curiosity knew no bounds. By lucky chance she
obtained an introduction to him at the house of Mr. Brill,
where she had called in the hope of settling up a long-
standing account. Dr. Jacob made it a habit to be polite
and pleasant to everyone ; but Fraulein Fink went home
convinced that to her well-chosen phraseology and pure
accent she owed his friendly chat and gracious compliment.
She went home, therefore, much in the state of exhiliration
F 2
68
DOCTOR JACOB.
with which she was wont to return after a reverie in the
Cemetery.
And now a grand idea took possession of her mind. We
have before noticed that, though perfectly retired and modest
in her conduct of life, and though entirely free from the kind
of vanity so common to elderly ladies, the Fraulein Fink
participated in a weakness to which that vanity leads. She
was very fond of the society of the opposite sex. Half an
hour's conversation with a clever man, she would say, was
more to her than a poem of Goethe, or a holiday in the
woods.
On no account must our readers deceive themselves as to
the pure intellectuality of the pleasure ; merely a chat on
passing events would have been no more to her from mas-
culine than from feminine lips. It was not the beard but the
brains she adored. A man who thought women were only
capable of listening to nonsense, she despised ; a man, like
Professor Beer, who discussed aesthetics, literature, or socio-
logy with her, was a hero.
Now, whatever may be the privileges of a single lady and
schoolmistress in England, in Germany they do not extend
to the power of inviting a gentleman to tea with impunity.
When the thing is done, it must be done warily, and under
many palliative circumstances. If the gentleman be mar-
ried and accompanies his wife, all is well,—if he be old, his
bachelorhood may be passed over,—if he be a bachelor and
middle-aged, nothing short of stringent necessity prevents
busy tongues from wagging. For instance, when, some time
since, Fraulein Fink had a great deal of business on hand
concerning her citizenship (for she was a Saxon by birth,
and only a Frankfort Biirgerin by right of purchase and
senatorial favour), Professor Beer was invited more than
once to take " the cup that cheers, but not inebriates," in her
little drawing-room, and no one thought of scandalizing the
matter. Professor Schwab, too, of the Gymnasium, had now
DOCTOR JACOB.
69
and then supped with her in former days. But since Hann-
chen had grown to a fine young woman, and neither of the
above-mentioned gentlemen were married, such pleasures
must be given up. Tears often rose to Fraulein Fink's eyes
as she recalled those " feasts of reason and flows of soul."
She complained bitterly of the social bonds by which she
was forbidden to enjoy a little intercourse with masculine
intellects over a cup of tea or glass of sugar-water.
" Who can wonder," she would say, " that the Bettina ran
into follies and excesses? Every woman of strong under-
standing and delicate susceptibilities is more or less tempted
to step over the barriers which a false etiquette has put up."
As she returned home from Mr. Brill's at the time of which
we speak, a vision of Paradise dawned on her lively imagi-
nation. To converse with Professor Beer was a privilege
which no woman in Frankfort, she thought, could fully com-
prehend but herself; to match his intellect against that of
Dr. Jacob, and by her own poor little power of suggestion,
to evolve and elucidate the noblest thoughts of both, as in
chemistry the tiny drop of acid changes and developes the
properties of mighty bodies—this would be a delight indeed.
She could not ask Dr. Jacob to read a paper before her-
pupils, because two-thirds of them were Jewesses ; she could
not follow up her acquaintance with him by means of the
Brill family, as she never visited at their house. Only one
course, and that a bold one, could bring about her wishes.
She must ask Dr. Jacob and Professor Beer to tea ! She was
known to have connexions in England—what more likely
than that a prior intimacy would be taken for granted,
and prevent any remarks upon her invitation? Then he
was elderly, a clergyman, and had come to Frankfort on a
mission in which most Christian men and women took an
interest. Indeed, after duly considering the matter, she was
inclined to think that such a step would look well in the
eyes of her patrons. As to Professor Beer, he had lately
70
DOCTOR JACOB.
been at great trouble in the purchasing of her house for her,
and it was a positive duty on her part to make him some
little return. This view of the case she resolved to commu-
nicate to her friend, the Frau Directorin at the next coffee-
party.
Accordingly, one morning Dr. Jacob was surprised by a
modest little letter from the schoolmistress, enclosing half a
dozen florins contributed by herself and governesses to his
Mission Fund, and begging his company to tea. With a
smile, the clergyman put both letter and money aside.
" Why should I not go ? " he thought. " The donation is
small, but the spirit in which it is given should receive
encouragement. How the hearts of the Frankforters are
warming to me already I"
CHAPTER XI.
RAULEIN FINK often regretted the prevail-
ing materialism of the age. She bewailed the
charming simplicity of intercourse which she
had enjoyed in Dresden thirty years ago, when
people had met together merely to exchange
ideas, and to sun themselves in the light of each other's
intellects. Then no other elements were needed but socia-
bility, sugar-water, and refinement, to form the most delightful
circles in the world. Alas ! that we must now link such gross
things as beer, sausage, and cherry-cake, even to the sacred
name of friendship ! Fraulein Fink, however, had learned
in the words of Goethe, " Dass wir entsagen miissen," and
renounced, as she received, with cheerfulness.
A considerable conflict took place in her mind regarding
the tea to be prepared for her guests : she wished it to be
generous ; she wished it to be refined ; she wished it to be
economical—the question was, how to attain all these ends
without detriment to one. To meet the first exigency ham
would be necessary, but it was certainly incompatible with
the two others; accordingly ham received a veto, and con-
fectionary took its place. A little display of chocolate, to
give an aristocratic and convivial air to the meal, was also
resolved upon.
But a more serious difficulty presented itself. Professor
Beer, like most other Germans, only drank tea when he
suffered from sick-headache or the loss of a relation; Dr.
72
DOCTOR JACOB.
Jacob, most probably, never liked coffee except after dinner;
very few Englishmen did. To provide tea exclusively, would
be to preclude all possibility of thirst on the part of the Pro-
fessor; to reverse the arrangement would be equally inhos-
pitable to the clergyman. A bright thought dawned on her
perplexed mind—Professor Beer loved beer as his ancestors
loved it in the days of Tacitus; the latter beverage, there-
fore, with tea, anise bread, and sweet-cakes, composed her
little feast.
Having made ready both her festal board and her person,
Fraulein Fink next retired to the summer-house to prepare
her inner woman. On any trying emergency, as we have
seen, she resorted to solitude ; and the promised pleasure,
though a pleasure of the first water, brought deep anxiety
with it. She must rub the work-a-day rust off her faculties
in order duly to impress her visitors; and to that end she
pondered over several ethical topics on which she was
strong, repeated aloud one or two quotations that she
resolved to introduce—in fine, put her mind in its Sunday
dress, omitting no attraction of ornament, or coquetries of
fancy.
Professor Beer came as punctually, at six o'clock, as if he
were engaged to give a lesson ; Dr. Jacob walked in leisurely,
half an hour later, with the unconcerned air of a man who
knows that his company is worth waiting for. Both visitors
were as contrasted to each other as two men could possibly
be, yet they soon fell into a pleasant animated conversa-
tion. The professor had lived long enough to value a good
talker, no matter what might be his nation or views. Dr.
Jacob liked everybody who was not dull or inquisitive.
We must say a word regarding Fraulein Fink's revered
friend and counsellor, before proceeding with the evening's
events.
A little beyond middle height, and framed for strength
rather than symmetry, with a square, well-set head, a deeply
DOCTOR JACOB.
73
browned skin, black curly hair, of that kind which looks as
if it were spun out of iron, with a glint of steel in it here and
there, a ragged beard, strongly marked features, expressive
of an honest, healthy nature, and ot a persevering and pro-
found, but not of a lively or acute, understanding, Professor
Beer stands before us no unworthy son of Adam. You
might, at the first glance, designate him as the last man any
woman could either despise or love. Hannchen admired
him, 'tis true, but then she was one of those young ladies
who admired all manner of professors on principle. Frau-
lein Fink, characteristically, owned to his outward imperfec-
tions, though to her they were but as the dark setting of
jewels, only improving their brilliancy.
" I have the pleasure of knowing one or two of your
pupils, Herr Professor," said Dr. Jacob, with his winning
smile, " and from them I have heard your name often.
Katchen Eggers, Mr. Brill's ward, is especially warm in your
praises."
The Professor blushed—not red, but a deeper brown. Per-
sonalities, however complimentary, were as unpleasant to him
as tea.
"The Fraulein Eggers is very attentive, but less clever
than Agatha Brill," he replied, evasively.
Dr. Jacob continued, more as if following out a train of
thought than diving into a subject:
" I pity this little Katchen, poor child ? Mr. Brill informs
me that she has no parents, and very few friends."
"But she has money, Herr Pfarrer," put in the Fraulein
Fink ; " and money, though it makes us gross, and inclined
to forego our higher aspirations and youthful enthusiasms,
undoubtedly is a consoler."
" And a tempter," added the Professor.
" Say an avenging angel, also," said Dr. Jacob. " If
money leads us to sin, it also leads us to sorrow."
" Mine, earned by hourly and daily toils in the school-
74
DOCTOR JACOB.
room," added the schoolmistress, " has brought me no sor-
row at present; only second to the sincere gratification of
having formed the grammatical style of some hundreds of
young ladies, is the feeling of thankfulness and pure enjoy-
ment and peace that money has brought me. When my
good friend here, Professor Beer, assisted me in purchasing
my right of citizenship, how infinitely happy I felt in buying
the privilege with florins toiled for in no worse a cause !
Ah!" added Fraulein Fink, rapturously, "nothing in my
life equalled that moment. God be thanked ! "
Whilst she was speaking, Dr. Jacob's eyes followed her
with a curious, half-contemptuous, half-wistful expression-
He concluded the subject rather sceptically :
" After all, money is the end and aim of life. We eat, we
drink, we rise, we lie down—to gain money. We take up
professions, we make friends, we adopt opinions, we hazard
our soul's peace—to gain money. For money, we throw
away health, youth—all that is best and beautiful under
heaven. Money makes us slaves, sinners, rulers among
men, saints in the eyes of the world. Well, the god must
be worshipped, since it has been set up !"
Which speech, Fraulein Fink, not quite understanding,
answered by a random quotation from " Hermann and Doro-
thea," wherein a worldly-wise father advises his son to
marry a well-dowered maiden.
"Sing a little song, my child," said Dr. Jacob, touching
Hannchen's arm; "you shy little birds always have sweet
voices."
The compliment was almost too delicate for Hannchen's
appreciation ; but the manner of it' sent her to the piano,
blushing like a June rose.
Dr. Jacob was a Goethe among women. - The most trifling
word from his lips carried a charm with it that none could
resist. Whether his quiet eloquence, or sweet voice, or
caressing manner, or noble features inspired such unusual
DOCTOR JACOB.
75
homage, it would be difficult to say; certainly, he had only
to hold out his hand for every warm little heart to drop
into it.
Meantime, let us see how some other members of Fraulein
Fink's establishment are occupying themselves.
Just as the drawing-room door opened to admit Lischen
with the lighter and more elegant part of the tea, which was
as dessert to dinner, Miss Macartney returned from her
usual walk. It was, as we have remarked, a very unusual
thing for the schoolmistress to entertain gentlemen visitors,
and Miss Macartney, without being an inquisitive person,
glanced naturally towards the open door, as she passed to
her bedroom.
Years after she remembered that moment, with every
minute circumstance attending it. She remembered how one
red ray of sunset slanted over the polished floor of the gaudy
little drawing-room, the position of every chair, the affected
■pose of Fraulein Fink's freckled hands ; the tutorial attitude
of .Professor Beer, who sat as if he were narrating the Sile-
sian War to the first class ; the self-satisfied smile and blush
of Hannchen in the act of rising from the piano ; lastly, Dr,
Jacob's large easy figure reclining in an arm-chair, the way
in which his soft white hair had been pushed off his broad
brow, the indolent toying of his" fingers with a book, the
complacent smile on his lips—all this was photographed in
her memory sooner than we can write it.
She was a brave woman, and had learned her bravery in a
spirit-taming war years ago, but her courage ebbed very
quickly now. Only the fear of worse things than she had
yet undergone, restrained her from a passionate cry. Every
drop of blood fled from her dark cheek, every pulse beat as
if she were in high fever, her knees trembled so that she
could hardly help falling.
Just then a cruel laugh from behind recalled her to herself.
" So," hissed the light laughing voice of Mademoiselle
76
DOCTOR JACOB.
Rappelin, the French governess, " you would like to be
invited to drink tea with the Messieurs—eh ? "
The drawing-room was closed now, and Miss Macartney
had, in a measure, recovered from her agitation. She felt
disinclined to quarrel, but the false blue eyes of the French-
woman were not easily shut when they had once been
opened to anything. She determined to sound the depth of
her suspicions.
"To whom do you allude, mademoiselle ? "
" Don't be angry with me—if you admire him, I can feel
for you. I adore sentiment—let us sympathize with each
other."
And the French girl laughed again, as if the thing were
really a Capital joke.
" You are quite welcome to sympathize with me, or the
Professor, or with whom you please," replied Miss Macartney,
in a voice of relief; " but I warn you that your sympathies
with the Herr Levi, who lives opposite, had need be more
closely concealed, if you wish to prevent a scandal. You
mock me, mademoiselle—take care lest you mock me once
too often. I would sweep the streets of Frankfort rather
than stoop to be the spy of a flirt; but you may find me
turning to that before I suffer your insolence."
Mademoiselle shrugged her shoulders, and made a mone
of discontent.
" The black bread and butter and taste of sausage are
carried into the dining-room—will you not share our superb
repast ? I have sent out for five kreutzer-worth of beer to
add to its splendour."
" I want no supper, thank you," coldly said Miss Macartney,
and turned away.
As soon as she saw the Frenchwoman fairly in the refec-
tory below, she descended by the front stairs, and closed the
street-door behind her.
Tired as she was, she could not rest in the house. On
DOCTOR JACOB.
77
she rushed, without pause or slackening of pace, till she had
passed through the upper Maine Gate, and reached that
promenade aptly called Beautiful View, which looks on to
the limpid Maine, and the old bridge with its golden cock ;
and the red towers of Sachsenhausen, whose people, with
their old-world simplicity and comic brogue, are so deliciously
rendered by the German Robson of the day.
Why do people always lounge on bridges ? Whether to
the Micawber class who are expecting something to turn up,
there is a kind of cheerfulness in the calm onward flow of
the water which shows them, if not fishes, at least where
fishes might be, I cannot tell; but so surely as there is a
bridge, no matter if crossing the Danube, beneath the hoary
dome of St. Stefan's, or the Thames, with tempting ledges
for suicidal temperaments, or the Seine, amid never-ending
new buildings, which pet the people and hide old Paris
from revolutionary eyes—it is ever the same. Bridges bring
idlers.
Miss Macartney did not observe the calm loveliness of the
scene ; she did not see the blotch of gold, like a Templar's
shield, on the old Cathedral; she did not see how the
princely houses on her right gleamed, as if of marble, against
the warm purple sky; she did not heed the tiny plash of
a pleasure-steamer gliding in to the quay; or the low-lying
tobacco and corn-fields stretching along the still, grey river,
all aflame here and there, as if a shower of gold coins had
been poured down on it; or the sounds of military music
before the Burgomaster's house, hard by ; or the voices of
happy children in the street.
Utterly self centered and unhappy, she retraced her
steps slowly homeward. Choosing the winding public plea-
saunce, rather for its quiet than for its beauty of lake,
parterre, and rocky dell, she tried to bring herself to some
course of action.
Should she make herself known, and run all hazards of
78
DOCTOR JACOB.
the expediency of such a step—throwing down her die wildly,
ready to lose or win all ? Or should she wait, hardly in hope,
hardly in despair, but silent and suffering ? Could any one
help her ? Could Dr. Paulus ?—if he were powerless to
advise or assist, there was no counsel or aid in all Frankfort.
Of this she felt assured. Fraulein Fink was her best friend;
and Fraulein Fink was not the woman to trust with a secret.
Dr. Paulus she could hardly call her friend, but he was wise,
charitable, and a man of the world. She felt sure that he
would pity and befriend her to the best of his power—
but
Something, that was the softest and best part of her
woman's nature, held her back from a confidence involving
a name still unspeakably dear. She recoiled from the idea,
shocked, self-reproachful, humiliated—tears came into her
eyes, and they fell, one by one, as she returned home.
It is recorded of Mungo Park that, when lost in the desert,
way-worn, hopeless, without courage to go on, or patience
to stay, his despondent heart was turned from its hard mood
by the sight of a tuft of moss. The tiny, lovely creation,
speaking, in its minuteness, so much of One whose Hand
fashions nothing amiss or in vain—the little living jewel,
among endless wastes and arid rocks, declaring Spring to
be yet in store for the world, and vitality, even in its most
insignificant forms, a thing God gives and loves ; this simple
spray of moss melted the traveller's heart. " If God cares
for the moss," he said, " surely he cares for me; "and he
went on in a reliant frame of mind.
So is it with woman, and the love to which her heart
clings. She may be exiled far from the reach of its influence
—it may appear to be dead, cold, oblivious—on she wanders,
in the desert of a loveless life, till the dreariness of it makes
her grow bitter, weakens her belief in the God to whom she
has burned incense ; finally, she is ready to lie down and
die, crying that all is vanity ! Then, softening and warming
DOCTOR JACOB.
79
her poor wistful heart, comes some good memory of the
Atlantis left far behind. A little thing—the merest waif
from summer days, long, oh ! how long gone by !—is enough
to bring back the old soft mood. She weeps, she prays,
and goes on in the wilderness, looking towards the future.
CHAPTER XII.
HE attendance at the brilliant table d'hote of
the Hotel de Russie was considerably increased
next day by a family party fresh from the Aus-
trian baths. It consisted of a heavy-framed,
hard-browed Bavarian Baron, his handsome
and witty French wife, a son who had just entered the
Austrian service, and some young children, under the super-
vision of a tutor, or Hausmeister, and English governess.
Dr. Jacob, who came into the salle-a-manger whilst the
waiters were handing round wine-lists, could not suppress
an exclamation of surprise as his eyes met those of the Ba-
roness.
" Ah !" she said, with the slightest shade of embarrass-
ment, which was instantly replaced by the most well-bred
smile in the world. "We little thought Frankfort had so
agreeable a surprise in store for us—so we have met again,
Dr. Jacob, to resume those pleasant hours we spent in solitary
Ischl."
" Pretty, never-to-be-forgotten Ischl!" answered Dr. Jacob,
occupying the vacant chair by her side, and bowing cor-
dially to the rest of the party. " I have not had a hbliday
since."
"Take one now—there is no second Ischl, but the Berg-
strasse is enjoyable enough with a pleasant party."
The Baroness said this carelessly, and without looking up.
Dr. Jacob spent a few seconds either in considering her pro-
DOCTOR JACOB.
81
position, or the ingredients of his soup. He answered, in his
usual voice,—
"Probably I may go there—all Frankfort does at this
season."
" And after the rustication, you will re-enter the world."
" What does the Baroness call re-entering the world ?"
" Returning to Vienna, of course."
He laughed—his pleasant musical laugh.
" I wish, for some reasons, I could do so. Vienna I shall
certainly visit before long, but only on my way to the East,
whither I am bound."
"That is to say," said the Baroness, sharply, "you are
resolved to undergo all sorts of torments from mosquitoes
and Bedouins, in order to bring home some sargophagus,
written over with hieroglyphics, or mummy, and be talked
about. The thing is fashionable."
" No," Dr. Jacob replied with seriousness ; "I am by no
means anxious to put myself in the mouth of gossipers.
My object is purely and simply connected with my call-
ing."
" In other words, you go upon business. You never
mentioned that ugly word at Ischl. Is this city of million-
aires a kind of a Midas, turning everybody into a money-
maker ?"
" All business is not money-making, my dear Baroness."
The answer implied an error of tact in the question, and it
was atoned for gracefully.
" But even ' business,' or words twice as unpoetical, shall
be forgiven you, if you save us from enmii in the Berg-
strasse."
Dr. Jacob bowed, and was about to reply, when the
youngest member of the Ladenburg family plucked at his
mamma's sleeve, crying vigorously,—
" Mamma, won't you let Miss Hedge have a little wine ?
—the governess we saw at Wiesbaden always had some."
G
82
DOCTOR JACOB.
At which the Baroness smiled pleasantly, shook her head,
and continued her dinner. When the seventh course was
finished, the Baron began to be talkative.
"We shall have coffee and cigars upstairs in half an hour;
won't you join us, Dr. Jacob ? You used, I think, to smoke
at Ischl."
"In good company—yes," replied Dr. Jacob, giving his
arm to the Baroness, and he did not relinquish it at the door
of her room.
" Will you come in and wait for the coffee, or shall I send
the tutor to fetch you ? " asked the lady.
" Why that trouble ? May I not have a romp with the
children, as I used to do at Ischl ?"
She scanned his features narrowly, and said, in a low
tone,—
" Can you bear to recall that time ? "
And he answered her so softly, that the two voices might
have been taken for one.
" Why not ? The pleasure was, at least, equal to the
pain."
The children now came up with the evident intention of
being made much of. Poets have often written of the ten-
derness and beauty of childhood ; is not the childhood of
poetry becoming rather an ideality than anything else?
Are these flounced, furbelowed, elegant-mannered little men
and women, we see around us, anything like the children of
poems and story-books? Now-a-days, the little ones no
longer make friends with birds and primroses and woodland
joys—they do not live in the once child-world of simplest
and most innocent tender things—they must have excite-
ment, variety, worldliness—they must live in miniature the
anxious varied life of society awaiting them—must have
balls, theatricals, jealousies, fancies—in fine, must be chil-
dren in size only.
The little Ladenburgs were by no means fit subjects for
DOCTOR JACOB.
83
the enthusiasm of Wordsworth, Longfellow, or Victor Hugo.
They had, it is true, good qualities intermixed with bad
ones; but the former were less admirable, on account of
their disingenuousness, and the latter worse because they
were the faults of worldly-minded men and women. As they
crowded round Dr. Jacob now, it was not in delight at meet-
ing an old friend who had played games with them, told
them stories, given them holiday treats ; they fawned on
him and flattered him in remembrance of his lavish gifts
only, and were already calculating the chances of new picture-
books and bon-bon boxes.
But they were pretty, clever, and high spirited, and Dr.
Jacob took the same amount of interest in them as in the
artless, child-like, loving Paulus circle. He had a strange
earnest way of watching all children. You might fancy,
from the expression of his face at such times, that he could
see far into their futures—that shadows of sin and sorrow
crowded thick and fast into his reach of vision—that he felt
indeed " the days of man's life to be few and evil." Their
merriest sallies made him sad, their most generous impulses
brought a bitter smile to his lips. A man must have a
tender heart and a long experience of the world to look on
children so. Soon Hermann was sent to the tutor; Marie
and Mathilde were despatched to their governess ; the Baron
and Count Josef sauntered to the balcony, and the lady was
left alone with her visitor.
Both were silent for some minutes, yet both seemed
anxious to speak. A streak of red warmed the cheek of the
Baroness, and her lips moved nervously during the silence.
At last she rose, and laying a white hand on his arm, said,
deprecatingly,—
" Dear friend, say first of all that you forgive me !"
Dr. Jacob almost shook off her hand in his impatience.
" Let us not speak of it," he cried, vehemently ; " if we are
to enjoy each other's society, we must utterly forget all that
o a
84
DOCTOR JACOB.
has happened. In the name of our former friendship, I
conjure you to be silent."
" You say former friendship—is there to be no friendship
now ? Am I really unforgiven ?"
" What have you done that you should ask that question ?
Your'own heart alone can condemn or exonerate you—to me
you have only been too generous."
He answered without looking up, and she sat down less
tranquil than before. Her colour went and came, her nostrils
dilated, a dangerous light gleamed in her eyes. By-and-bye,
she said, coldly,—
" I presume that you are no longer in ignorance of her
whereabouts—nay, perhaps you have met."
" Would to God that we had met, Baroness Ladenburg !"
" I cannot see that it is an end to be desired," she con-
tinued, still coldly ; " what good could result from such a
meeting?—None, I am convinced, that might add to the
comfort or happiness of your life. Everything you can wish
for is within your reach."
" Everything — but home — is that nothing?" said Dr.
Jacob, not without bitterness.
The Baroness caught up his words also, and with some-
thing of his tone.
" Home is a pretty word for girls and boys who make love,
to each other out of school. It is not for men and women
living in the world. Wherever you are, your position and
talents will procure you friends, influence, and much more
that I could name if I liked."
" Go on."
" You have no right to trouble yourself about one who has
thrown off all natural claims upon you. Would it not be
more reasonable to solace yourself in the friendship of those
who are ready to make sacrifices, who have already made
sacrifices, to prove the strength of it."
Her voice had gradually softened in tone, and the last
DOCTOR JACOB.
85
words fell honey-sweet on her listener's ears. His face
changed from its retributive look. He held out both hands
to her, with an implied willingness to be convinced.
"You can but know your own power—why blind yourself
to the incalculable advantages to be derived from the exer-
cise of it. Live, and do not content yourself with existence
only. Frame your life after the most approved pattern of
your Church. Does that pattern forbid the greater part of
your victories and enjoyments ? No—a hundred times, no."
" Yes—a hundred times, yes," answered Dr. Jacob, with a
disturbed look. "Would you force me to be a renegade?—
remember the difference between your Church and mine!"
"I do remember it; but your profession does not enjoin
upon you the renunciation of human passions and weak-
nesses. You are a clergyman—you are but a man."
" Pretty sophist!" he said, smiling self-complacently, as
if, from his height of mental character and superiority, not
dreaming for an instant that her words carried influence
with them ; " if I could only carry half your winning ways
with me, what converts should I not make !"
"Yet I cannot make'one. You flatter me by your words,
and show that you despise me by your conduct."
Dr. Jacob was about to answer, when Count Josef entered.
Coffee and the Baron followed, and their tete-d.-tete was not
- renewed that day.
CHAPTER XIII.
HE Baroness had formed a party to see " Don
Sebastian" that evening; but Dr. Jacob declined
her invitation to join it, and retired at once to
his room.
Deep thoughtfulness had taken possession of
him. At other times he would have thrown himself into the,
first arm-chair that offered, rung for a bottle of Rudesheimer
and the " Times," lighted a cigar, and indulged himself after
his own heart. To-night he stood long and pensively at the
window, looking out.
The Zeil appeared gayer than usual, for the tide of Rhine
tourists was flowing in. The shops glittered with lights, and
with the choicest treasures Frankfort could offer: rare an-
tiques and bijouterie were displayed against a background
composed of grotesque Majolica vases and cups ; Tacchi's
show of softly-coloured Bohemian glass looked like a hang-
ing conservatory filled with the richest flowers. To the right,
Albert's wonderful toys made a gay blotch in this street
picture. To the left were the quieter-hued but more beau-
tiful collections of cameos and works of art cut in stag's
horn. All the choicest treasures of Frankfort art and
manufacture were arrayed to the best advantage; and
ladies, wearing unmistakeable English bonnets, clustered
round them; broad-shouldered young squires strolled past
the old guard-house, and bought grapes of the plump pld
woman who kept a moveable shop there; no squilid
DOCTOR JACOB.
87
beggars, no unfortunate street-sweepers, no demoniac look-
ing outcasts ; very few care-worn, faces spoiled this pretty
picture—as pretty a street picture for colour, character, and
cheerfulness as Europe can show.
Dr. Jacob took no heed of all these things. He did not
see the purple and gold of the twilight sky, or the pic-
turesque gabled roofs shining against it; he did not see the
groups of gay ladies, or hear the merry laugh of children
passing by. He did not heed the buzz of three or four Pro-
fessors discussing politics in the street below, or the sound
of a sweet voice singing in an adjoining apartment. The
placid stream of German life ebbing by him was as absent
from his mind as the waifs and strays of English society that
had drifted upon it.
Two voices in the balcony below broke his reverie. They
were those of the Baron and Count Josef, who had come
thither to lounge away half an hour before going to the
theatre. What they talked of would not be pretty to tran-
scribe were this narrative intended for readers of our sex
only ; enough to say, that they chatted jocosely on such
subjects as one would hardly suppose a father would broach
to his son.
Dr. Jacob shut his casement with a shrug of the shoulders,
and an exclamation of disgust. He admired women, and
was admired by them, as only few men are ; but he admired
no women who were immodest, and he would not have given
a straw for the worship of all the flower of European Hetaerae.
No one could win so easily—no one cared so little to win,,
except after his own fashion. Within the pale of refined
society, among witty, delicate ladies and fair girls, he took
pride in being able to supplant men who might have been
his grandsons. He knew that his eyes and voice could still
• withstand the honeyed compliments and languishing glances
of fashionable cavaliers, but he only exercised his influence
in saloons and drawing-rooms. So far as his purity of life
88
DOCTOR JACOB.
went, Dr. Paulus had no cleaner hand to offer a woman than
Dr. Jacob. Therefore, to hear the husband of a pretly, bril-
liant woman conversing with his beardless son, on all kinds
of Bohemian adventures, caused him to wince as if under
sharp pain.
He paced up and down his luxurious apartment with
drooping head and clouded brow. The Baroness had proved
herself in more than one instance to be his friend ; the old
kind manner, the old winning coquetry, were not wanting in
her welcome to him ; his coldness had still power to hurt,
his frown still power to humble; he knew that her actions
and words were under his command—yet he felt wearied.
His empire over her was one that he was willing to relin-
quish. He did not need her now as he had once needed her,
and she had served him more for her own ends than for his ;
surely there could be no injustice in withdrawing from an
intercourse into which he had never pushed himself?
Other thoughts came to his mind ; thoughts of his life
before he called himself her friend, before he knew the1 spell
of her wit, her beauty, her wiles. Some tenderness, some
regret must have been mingled with these recollections, for
though he abhorred sadness, they clung to him, and even in
his sleep they hovered fitfully around his pillow.
Travelling with three children, a grown-up son, a tutor, a
governess, a French bonne, and a coachman, is not all
pleasure, even to a competent hand at holding the domestic
reins, as was the Baroness. The children being spoiled at
all times and hardened to the utmost, naturally treated papa
and mamma capriciously, as they were taught to treat their
inferiors—being good-natured when it suited them, and over-
bearing at other times. Count Josef was ever teasing for
money, flirting with the bonne on the sly, and provoking the
English governess openly, because she refused to be flirted
with; the tutor, good, harmless soul, was pleasant at all
DOCTOR JACOB.
89
times, but especially pleasant at meal-times ; played with the
children, when mamma's ill-temper had driven them from
her room, advised and consoled the governess in all her hours
of need and unhappiness ; smoked the Baron's bad cigars,
and listened to his coarse jokes with a smile ; posted the
father's, or the mother's, or the son's secret letters, without
troubling himself to think what they were about—in fine, did
much dirty work, with good will, and kept out of scrapes.
The Baron had an aggravating way of being amiable just
when his wife wished him to be otherwise, and vice versa.
The English governess (it makes one's heart sick to see the
number of our friendless young countrywomen abroad) had
a still more aggravating habit of being neither amiable nor
unpleasant, but simply indifferent; the bonne had hundreds
of faults, and, in the eyes of her mistress, no humanities.
To prevent this " chaotic haven of activities," as Mr. Car-
lyle says, from getting the better of her, involved no little
amount of ability and will on the part of the Baroness, and
both these she possessed in a high degree. Prudence failed
her in monetary transactions—that is to say, she generally
made arrangements in advance of the Baron's funds, thereby
trying the patience of her tradesmen ad infinitum j but no
one is infallible, and she had been brought up with rather
lax principles as to debit and credit. In person the Baroness
was very attractive, with dark hair and eyes, a bright peachy
complexion, rounded figure, small hands, and perfect taste in
dress. She wore very'bright colours, it is true ; but small
black-eyed ladies can do this with impunity, especially in a
carriage, and she almost lived in her carriage. Her husband
needs but, a short description. There are several kinds of
German Barons ; some are soldierly, chivalric, and good-
tempered, a little heavy indoors, perhaps, and seen to better
advantage at the chase, but always ready to smile at trifles,
always ready to like what comes in their way, and always
adored by their servants at a proper distance; a few are
9°
DOCTOR JACOB.
soldierly only in the cruel old-world way, go into paroxysms
of rage if a valet or dog offend, vituperate any unlucky gover-
ness who manages to make their children fond of her, are
unread in the ways of the world, parsimonious to miserliness
in their dealings, and boors in society.
Baron Ladenburg was a type of the latter class. Haughty
where he should be gentle, cringing where it was his duty to
be proud, wrong-headed on most matters, and opinionated on
all; fond of his children after a manner that made them grow
up without respect for himself or love for anybody else, fond
of his wife after a manner that allowed her perfect liberty
without the right or wish to control it, fond of all pretty
women till they began to care for him; such was the Baron
Ladenburg.
Knowing and valuing, as we do, the good and cheery
qualities of the German national character, and wishing to
present a fair portraiture of it, without picking or choosing
sitters, it behoves us, nevertheless, to cut as much darnel as
grows with the corn. You will find the rate of proportion
about the same in Germany as in England.
CHAPTER XIV.
WO or three days after, as Dr. Jacob sat calmly
answering a pile of letters one by one, Dr.
Paulus entered in no ordinary state of excite-
ment.
After a hurried greeting, he began:
" I have come upon an unpleasant business, Dr. Jacob—I
am sorry to say that you have enemies in Frankfort. Whether
you have knowingly or unknowingly made them, it is but just
that you should be made aware of their existence."
Dr. Jacob looked up with his quiet, undismayed smile.
" My dear brother, who has not enemies ? I only wish that
all were as harmless as mine."
" Malice is never quite harmless," Dr. Paulus answered,
shortly; " and no one, I think, has a greater right or need to
disarm it than yourself."
" Why so ?"
" The reason is obvious enough, but you must forgive me
for stating it so plainly. You are a stranger here—granted
that, in the short space of three weeks, you have created
for yourself an interest and an influence which are quite sur-
prising, they stand upon foundations of sand, and in an hour
may be shaken."
"I do not understand you," said Dr. Jacob, settling him-
self into a comfortable listening attitude; " who are the con-
spirators against me? What benefit to themselves, or what
injury to me, do they propose by their enmity ? "
92
DOCTOR JACOB.
Dr. Paulus answered by putting a letter into his hand. It
was written in fair English characters, and was anony-
mous. The purport of it, from first to last, was pure and
simple distrust. Dr. Jacob was not to be trusted, the writer
said ; his antecedents were unworthy of his calling; his so-
called mission was merely a means of obtaining money; his
life was in no wise framed after the precepts he taught. To
Dr. Paulus, as one of the most respected representatives of
the English Church in Frankfort, the letter had been ad-
dressed, in the hope that it might lead him to act warily, and
with due consideration for the future. Dr. Jacob was making
a tool of him, as he had already made tools of many good
men and women; he was fore-warned, it rested with himself
to be fore-armed.
Dr. Jacob read this strange letter with a singularly placid
expression of face; and, after the reading, surrendered it
silently to Dr. Paulus.
"What course of action do you propose to yourself?"
asked the latter gentleman, inquisitively.
" Simply—none whatever. Such slanders can only influ-
ence the class of people to whose opinions I am indifferent;
let copies of this letter be circulated here by tens and twen-
ties, how could they hurt me with my real and valued friends
—who are few ? "
" I think," Dr. Paulus began, persuasively, " that you
underrate the weight of such a matter. In my own eyes, it is
serious; firstly, because the best people here are but too liable
to suspicions; and, secondly, because the multitude (and you
would do well to respect it) outnumber the thinking, reasoning
people by far."
" That may be true, my friend; but fortunately, there is
only one lie against me, and I can command a legion of
truths. After all, to ignore malice is to disarm it. I am not
of a nature to be easily moved from my equanimity by such
things—why should an old man be at the trouble of stooping
DOCTOR JACOB.
93
to root up a nettle that has stung him ? N o, no ; the letter
will run its course, unhindered by me."
" Will you not at least keep it ?" asked Dr. Paulus.
Dr. Jacob smiled.
"On second thoughts, I will. It is a curious literary
curiosity, and on your account, I should be glad to trace its
origin—depend on it, the secret will out before long."
Dr. Paulus was one of those men who are always hot and
hurried, who have a hundred things on hand, who do them
thoroughly, and who have no leisure. Accordingly, he rose
to go when his errand was done.
" Come to us when you can," he said at the door; " it is
the one delight of my wife and children to see you ; but,
pardon me, if I put my veto upon your bringing them any
more presents. That costly vase of Louisa's, Connie's pretty
ring, and the numerous books and toys given to the younger
children, have filled me with shame. Really, you will drive
me to the pain of a refusal, if "
"Nonsense!" Dr. Jacob said, smilingly; "whilst I am
here, you must bear with me—I shall soon be so far off that
your dear wife and children will need some reminders of their
friend."
And Dr. Paulus left the room, hoping that their parting
was not to be yet. As soon as his step had died away, Dr.
Jacob put aside his papers, and locking the door after him,
sought the Baroness Ladenburg.
Since the first day of their meeting he had only seen her
twice, and in large societies—the first time at the table d'hdte,
the second at a dinner given by the Baron in his own rooms.
Consequently, no words had passed between them beyond the
merest conversational formalities. Once or twice the Baroness
had shown something of her former sparkling raillery and
winning softness, but, ordinarily, she had been cordial, and
nothing more.
She rose with a gratified look to meet him.
94
DOCTOR JACOB.
" This is really delightful of you !" she exclaimed, laugh-
ing gaily. " I was so solitary, and you have just saved me
from falling into a passion with Josef for taking out my pet
horse when I wanted him. Will you lunch with me off
ices and confectionary, after the fashion in Vienna ? "
" Willingly—but I must talk to you first, and my subject is
serious."
" I have something also serious that I could communicate
to you if it suited me," she answered, looking at him
closely.
He drew the anonymous letter from his pocket, and,
without preface, read it from beginning to end. She heard
him attentively, and never once took her eyes from his face.
" What is your opinion as to the authorship of this ? " he
asked, scrutinizing her in turn.
" First of all, tell me on whom your own suspicion
rests."
" I have hardly suspected any one at all: if I went deeply
into the subject, there are several persons who might occur
to me as capable of such folly."
" Why speak in enigmas ?—of all people in the world,
should I betray your secrets ? "
She said this with an impatient flash of her dark eyes, and,
rising to her feet, paced the room as she was wont to do
when in a passion. Her bright abundant hair fell in loose
braids over her blue cashmere morning dress, and her deli-
cate rosy cheeks looked more delicate still for the heightened
colour that excitement had given them. Undoubtedly she
was a woman to be admired, despite her failings.
" I cannot understand this want of confidence in me," she
went on, impetuously, " after our long friendship, after the
many proofs I have shown of my inability to act contrary to
your wishes ; after my own assurances of regard, surely you
will yourself allow that such conduct is alike ungenerous and
uncalled for ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
95
He replied coldly :
" My dear Baroness, I do not wish to vex you—on the
contrary, I would do anything that might be reasonable and
expedient to add to your happiness."
" My happiness !" she broke in, with impatient sarcasm ;
" you have proved long ago that my happiness is utterly
indifferent to you."
" No—I have only proved that I respect you too much to
allow even your happiness to stand in the way of your honour.
We Englishmen give undivided friendship to one woman only
—the woman we make mistress of our house and mother of
our children."
" And when such ties are broken—broken beyond all
possibility of re-union—as they are with you, you prefer to
act up to your principles of barren honour at whatever cost
to others J "
" And to ourselves. Remember that some self-sacrifice is
involved, Baroness Ladenburg."
She sat down and met his eyes with an expression of
doubt too plain to misconstrue ; without appearing to notice
it, he continued,—
" We shall soon part, perhaps for years, perhaps for the
space of our lives ; will you not let me carry away a remem-
brance of kind words from you ? Will you not be gentle and
forgiving with me ?—it is not for long that I ask it." v
" In plainer words, you wish me to be submissive and
obedient under your exactions."
" I did not say that. I have not yet exacted anything from
you—I would rather not do so."
Her face lit. A triumphant, bitter smile played on her
lips.
" You cannot throw me off so easily, if you would ; it
remains to be seen whether the power is all on your side.
Dr. Jacob, since my arrival in Frankfort, I have been put in
possession of a clue to the mystery which has saddened your
96
DOCTOR JACOB.
life so long; in other words, I have seen the person whom
you have sought, and still seek in vain."
"Is that the truth, and nothing but the truth, Baroness
Ladenburg ?" he asked, sternly.
" What better proof is needed than that letter ?"
Though outwardly unmoved, she knew that the blow had
hitrhard ; and, with crueller words still, assailed again and
again the bruised, bleeding place.
"Who else would try to embitter your life? Who else
would be at the pains of dishonouring your name ? No
man, even with sufficient motive, would be mean enough to
use so cowardly a means—a woman only can be generous to
the utmost, and mean to the utmost. Whose heart but hers
would rejoice at your ruin?"
"Tell me the naked truth," he said, vehemently, "and
leave me to comment upon it. I cannot hear such things
said of her, least of all by you."
" And if I choose to withhold both truth and commentaries ?"
He was too self-controlled, and too unimpassioned a man
to agitate himself lightly, but he could not restrain his im-
patience then. All his suspense, all his suffering, was
written in his face, and she read both with mixed feelings.
It was the aim of her life to obtain mastery over him; but
she would sooner have foregone it, than won through the
agency of another, that other whom he loved, but she hated.
" If I should withhold the truth ? " she repeated.
"You will not refuse it," he answered, quietly, and at the
same time fronted her with implacable features ; " nor will
you torture me at will. Speak out, and at once."
" If I am good, I suppose you will buy me a toy—if I am
naughty, to what dark cupboard will you consign me ? " she
said.
" I am in no mood for jesting, Baroness Ladenburg, and
by heaven ! if you trifle with me further, I will never see
you, much less speak to you, again."
DOCTOR JACOB.
97
Then she burst from him in a passion of jealous tears,
and walked to and fro, holding her hands before her face.
" Have you no heart ?" she cried, between short, proud
sobs ; " have you no pity for —why should I not say it—for
a woman who loves you ? What are you that you should be
so immoveable?—what am I that I should be so trodden
under foot ? My sufferings, my solitude, my affections are
as nothing to you, whilst the sound of her name fills you
with eager joy and longing. You drive me from you, and I
have proved myself truer to you than she has done."
" Thdrese," he said, reproachfully, as one might chide a
child ; " Ther^se, before you say more, think of your chil-
dren, and of the duty you owe them."
The tone of his voice and the touch of his hand seemed to
calm her. After a few minutes, she looked up with hard,
dry eyes.
" Hear me, then, and go," she-exclaimed ; " go if you will,
to come again no more. She whom you seek is in Frank-
fort—I have the testimony of my own eyes to prove it."
" Such a possibility had occurred to me also," Dr. Jacob
said, with the voice of a dreaming man ; " but you have seen
her, Therese ? "
" I have seen her."
" There is no possibility of your being deceived ?"
" Are you mad ?" she replied, scornfully. " I was as near
to her as I am to you now—I might have touched her had I
stretched out my arm. Is her face of all others so easily
forgotten by me ?"
" Strange !" he murmured to himself; then added aloud—
"Tell me when and where this took place—omit nothing."
" I was driving yesterday round the Rossmarket," con-
tinued the Baroness, "and had occasion to call at a jeweller's
shop just opposite the Guttenberg monument. As I alighted,
she passed me, our dresses brushed, and I think I was
recognised—I know not. There is no more to tell."
H
OS
DOCTOR JACOB.
" But this letter ?"
" Is penned from her dictation, without a doubt. Who
else would have conceived such treachery ?"
His brow darkened.
" Remember what taught her treachery, Baroness Laden-
burg. No, only her own words shall ever convince me that
she has stooped to throw a dirty stone at me."
u You have not yet named those whom you suspect."
" I have ill-wishers in England. They would easily find
agents here for their little game—well, let them play it out
to their hearts' content. And now we will not recur to this
subject again, or to any subject calculated to spoil our chat
or our luncheon. Let me help you to an ice, and hear from
you an account of' Don Sebastian.' I heard that beautiful
opera many years ago when at Munich."
CHAPTER XV.
T was characteristic of Dr. Jacob, that though the
tidings he had just heard moved him more than
anything else could have done, he composedly
finished his letter-writing, took his usual stroll on
the Zeil, lounged at Milani's, over the " Times,"
and, after a late dinner, set off to Mr. Brill's, in order to keep
an engagement with the children. He was the idol of the
young. Perhaps the serenest hours of his life were those
spent among bright young faces and merry little voices.
Perhaps the most troubled ones v/ould have been avoided,
had this atmosphere always remained about him. It is
certain that the presence of childhood is a wonderful purifier
of life ; and Dr. Jacob felt convinced of this, despite his
somewhat morbid habit of contemplating it, his sensibility
to the nascent evil in it, and his distrust of human nature
generally.
On the evening in question, he had promised to take
the Brill children, with Katchen Eggers, to the theatre, an
amusement in which the young take share much more fre-
quently in Germany than with us. To every German heart,
from that of the deepest thinking Kantean philosopher to the
humblest kitchen Lischen, or tiniest toddlekins in the nur-
sery, the theatre embodies all that is pleasant, free from care
and full of delightful emotions. Accordingly, no sooner had
Dr. Jacob set foot in the chaplain's garden, than Flory,
Tommy, and Emmy ran out to meet him with wild excitement.
h a
xoo
DOCTOR JACOB.
He smiled kindly on all, and allowed the youngest to lead
him by the hand into the play-room. There he found Kat-
chen dressed, like Werther's Charlotte, in white cambric,
adorned with blue ribbons, busily cutting black bread and
butter. Tea, in Germany, is for elders only, and. the younger
ones, without wishing or expecting anything better, go to
their " afternoon bread " with unabated relish.
" Aggie and I, being the eldest, have coffee," said Katchen,
with an artless blush. " Do, Dr. Jacob, join us ? Run,
Emmy, for a cup and a white roll."
"That will be delightful," answered Dr. Jacob; "and I
have luckily brought a packet of nut-cakes with me. We
are all your guests, Katchen ; let us see what a good little
hostess you make."
He sat down beside her, and the girl, flushing with plea-
sure, poured out her thin coffee with the prettiest shyness in
the world. Katchen was Dr. Jacob's favourite. Perhaps on
account of her sad story, he had felt such interest in her from
the first. Five years ago, her father, who was a wealthy
merchant in Russia, had brought her over to be educated at
Mr. Brill's, that gentleman having been recommended to
him by his banker. Whilst on this visit, Herr Eggers died
suddenly, leaving the little orphan in her happy, but some-
what turbulent home, to grow up amid influences good and
bad, and to have such lessons of life as chance might throw
in her way.
She was now on the verge of eighteen, Undine-like, ein
vuund&rschones Blondchen, with chestnut hair, girlish, mirth-
ful, wondrous blue eyes, and mignonne features ; she had a
dimpled chin, which the Germans esteem as a great beauty,
and, moreover, a sign of inward purity, supporting their taste
by a pretty church legend. It is said that the infant Saviour,
when in a playful mood, pressed his fingers lightly on the
chin of St. Barbara, who transmitted through generations
this loveliness and mark of heavenly favour. Katchen might
DOCTOR JACOB.
IOI
have been in the mind of that , pupil of Francesco Vanini,
whose timid, tender Madonna draws one from the more
beautiful Del Sartos or Raphaels in the Belvedere Gallery at
Vienna.
Character Katchen hardly possessed yet, nothing having
happened to develope it; heart, feeling, impulse, she had
in plenty.
Travellers in the Bavarian Tyrol are guided from the
gloomy, albeit grand Konigssee, to a tiny lake, entirely shut
in by wild peaks. The waters of this lake are so limpid as
to reflect every rosy cloud or golden ray of the heavens,
every vein of colour, every species of vegetation of the
mountains ; the lake itself is utterly without characteristic,
save this most lovely one—its power of reflection, its utter
oneness with the things it absorbs, and repeats, and re-
creates untiringly. All is still and solitary around. Only
the dim sound of a cattle-bell on the heights, or some
pictured Virgin nailed to the rocks here and there, recall the
outer world.
The hearts of many pure women are like this lake, living
only in the love of some stronger nature, reflecting, and
contented to reflect, only what that nature first gives, loving
it better for loving nothing else. And such was the heart
of Katchen.
The play-room party was merry enough. Dr. Jacob did
not so much amuse young people as lead them on to amuse
him; he suggested, opened fresh fields for speculation,
guided them within sight of a new object, then drew back.
He was not a great talker at any time ; close observers of
human nature seldom are ; but every word he said had ori-
ginality.
As the girls rose to fetch their hats, Katchen locked her
little hands around Dr. J acob's arm, and said, simply,—
" I almost feel sorry we are going to the theatre. We are
so happy with you here."
102
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Are you, my child ?" he asked, fondly, and laid his hand
upon her fair head reverently, as if he were giving a bless-
ing. Just then, Mrs. Brill emerged from the kitchen in
rather a promiscuous toilette.
"Do let me speak a word to you before starting, Dr.
Jacob. I would have come sooner but my stupid cook has
just broken a stew-pan, and it took me ten minutes to make
her understand that she must buy another."
" As many minutes as you please, Mrs. Brill, if the young
folks won't run away."
" I merely wished to say," continued the lady, in an under-
tone, " that should the opportunity arise, you might be so
kind as to introduce Aggie to the Baroness Ladenburg,
whom you mentioned last night as being an old acquaint-
ance. Aggie is growing up, and—and of course with so
many others growing up too, we wish the elder ones to get
into the world."
Dr. Jacob's brow knit.
■ " The Baroness is for herself charming," he replied, " and
would, I have no doubt, be delighted to form Miss Aggie's
acquaintance ; but perhaps you are not aware, Mrs. Brill,
that she has a son ?"
" Quite aware of it," Mrs. Brill said, smilingly.
"This son, Count Josef, is hardly a fit person for your
young daughter and ward to know. He is, to say the least
of it, a roue, worse still, a beardless one; excuse me for
speaking plainly, but your candour exacts mine in return."
She smiled off her disappointment, and the little party
set off, the girls carrying scarves on their arms, for the cool
walk home. Just outside the Gallus Thor was a fruit-stall,
at which Dr. Jacob paused, in order to fill the pockets of
the younger ones with peaches. Whilst so engaged, a deli-
cate-gloved hand was laid on his shoulder, and the voice of
all voices most unwelcome then, cried out in his ear,—
" How delightful to see you en famille, Heir Doctor!
DOCTOR JACOB.
103
Do let me join you, and I will promise to behave my
best!"
" Good evening, Count Josef," answered Dr. Jacob, drily.
" Won't you invite me to share in your evening's pleasure ?
Whatever your plan may be, I will fall into it delightedly.
My mother is so out of temper that I would rather face all
the troops of France than her ; my father has put me into
his black books because a five hundred florin bill has just
come in from my tailor at Gottingen ; the children and their
belongings don't allow me a minute's quiet in the salon—
was ever so miserable a wretch in the world ?"
Dr. Jacob could not forbear a smile, and Count Josef con-
tinued,—
" I suspect something has gone wrong with the Baroness,
for I do not know when I have seen her looking so tho-
roughly out of health, spirits, and temper as she does to-day.
We used to say at Ischl, Dr. Jacob, that if mamma feared
any one in the world it was you ; have you scolded her or
done anything to occasion this mood ? • I know that
mamma, like all pretty women, wants a great deal of admi-
ration. Give it to her, dear Herr Doctor, for our unfortunate
sakes."
" That I must leave for younger men, Count; if, in the
character of an old friend, I speak unpalatable truth to the
Baroness, I cannot help it. Remember, this is not the first
time I have unwittingly made her angry."
" If I only had an ugly mother, I should be the happiest
man alive," added Count Josef, philosophically; "a pretty,
capricious woman is always on the look out for flattery, and
always ready to take jealous affront—is delightful in every
capacity but one—her mammahood. Depend upon it, the
wise men of the world do well to make love to handsome
girls, and marry plain ones. I shall act upon this principle
myself."
Meantime, Dr. Jacob had fallen back from his young
io4
DOCTOR JACOB.
companions, in order that Count Josef's theories might not
reach their ears, and they were now in the Komedien Platz,
opposite the theatre. With a graceful apology at his in-
trusion, Count Josef followed the little party to their seats,
and took his place beside the not unwilling Aggie. Katchen,
always shy in the presence of strangers, sat next to Dr.
Jacob, and with girlish eagerness kept her eyes fixed on the
curtain.
The piece was "Katchen of Heilbronn." Katchen is a
peasant maiden, and loves a lord of the land. In spite of
his coldness, in spite of the difference of rank, in spite of
difficulties and dangers without number, Katchen follows
her lover the world over, and by sole virtue of her dear love
wins him at last.
One scene is charming. She lies asleep in a wood; her
lissome form, dressed in the Wurtemberg costume of a hun-
dred years back, looks all the prettier for the solitude
around. Her fair childish features are rippled now and
then with the smile of a happy dream. Whilst she is sleep-
ing and smiling so, her beloved one comes that way. He
is attracted by her loveliness, approaches her, takes her
hand, and she speaks to him, still dreaming.
During the last and most poetic part of the play, Count
Josef and Aggie paid little heed, having too much to say to
each other, but Dr. Jacob watched Katchen with interest.
With her small hands clasped, and her pretty head thrown
forward, she seemed to drink in every word as it reached
her ears; the love, the freshness, the beauty of the piece
enthralled her, tinted her cheeks with a rosy bloom, lighted
her eyes, and lent an eager joyous smile to her lips. Every
now and then, her tears came, and her bosom heaved ; but
when the curtain fell, she turned away her face and said not
a word.
" I haven't seen that piece so well acted in Vienna," said
Count Josef, as the little party made their way into the Platz;
DOCTOR JACOB.
105
"the Katchen was so in practice, too, I could not hear the
prompter at all."
" For my part," said Aggie, " Katchen (not you, Katchen,
my dear) was little less than a simpleton, and I wish the
duke had married the princess instead."
"And what does our little Katchen say?" asked Dr.
Jacob.
Katchen would not speak till Count Josef had dropped
behind, and then it was in a half whisper.
" She was beautiful, and she did rightly. I should like to
have been (Katchen of Heilbronn.'"
CHAPTER XVI.
HE clock pointed to three, and the twenty first-
class girls were awaiting Professor Beer. Of all"
the masters he was the only one feared and
loved by his pupils ; Monsieur Tremouly was a
fop, and the young ladies tittered boldly when
he was speaking, looked impudent when he found fault, and
put little value on his praise; the poor old writing master
had given up the attempt at managing them long ago,
leaving those to take heed who would, and the rest to their
fate ; the meek young Lutheran minister obtained a patient
hearing for his religious lesson, because of Fraulein Fink's
supervision; the cyphering master had to contend with
whisperings, joggings, nudgings, and quiet jokes ; Mademoi-
selle, by bawling and vituperating, procured a little quiet;
Miss Macartney's large firm eyes stared her younger pupils
into awe, and the elder ones into something like attention.
Professor Beer had somehow obtained the complete mas-
tery of these wild young things, though he was not an
imposing man, and took little trouble about the matter.
Every one of his pupils had, at some time or other, writhed
under his unsparing sarcasm, and felt for the moment as if
she hated him for life ; but his next cheery smile would put
her heart back into the right place, and all felt for him the
highest veneration of which their careloss natures were
capable.
Let us glance at his pupils.
DOCTOR JACOB.
107
Nearest to the Professor sits Katchen Eggers. She looks
very pretty as we see her now, leaning intently over her book,
both little hands supporting her head, with its weight of
golden hair, her red lips pursed up desperately, whilst her
eager eyes run over the syntactical rules which she will have
to repeat to the Professor. Her simple, spotless cambric
dress, her neat collar and pink ribbon, her smooth hair, no
less than retired manner, mark her from the others.
Opposite to her sits bold, black-eyed Miss Aggie, quite
^capable of writing the best German, English, or French
essay of any girl in the school, but quite incapable of con-
centrating her attention upon any subject for the space of
. ten minutes. She knows that Professor Beer will whip her
with some sharp reproof, but she is too full of fun and too
reckless to avoid it.
German girls remain children till they leave school—often
till they marry, and you would look in vain among Professor
Beer's grown-up pupils for one young lady possessing the
quiet self-reliance often seen in our girls of twelve. More-
over, you would find a bluntness of feeling, added to an
outward roughness of manner, which are only found among
the commonest English schools. Kindness of heart, quick-
ness, application, are universal; delicacy of mind and gen-
tleness of manner are rare. Professor Beer's elder pupils
were for the most part rough-looking girls of sixteen or
seventeen, with untidy hair, exceptionable hands, common
features, careless dress, many wearing childish print frocks
and long pinafores. Olive-skinned, black-eyed Jewesses
formed no small proportion of the class.
At the lower end of the room sat Hannchen, that young
lady having sat there many and many a time, in the hope of
creating an impression favourable to herself.
"Do let me hear Professor Beer's lessons in literature?"
she would say coaxingly to her aunt; " they are so improv-
ing." Consequently, the master had always for his vis-d-vis
io8
DOCTOR JACOB.
Hannchen's sprightly figure and bonnie face. She always
took off her apron at such times, showed her pretty teeth,
scented her hair, displayed her plump white arms—in short,
made every attempt upon the well-fortified heart of the
Professor.
And now his step is heard on the flag-stones, the girls shut
their books, and hide their lunch-baskets under the table;
Hannchen smiles and blushes as she turns to the quickly-
opened door, and the Professor enters.
He is a man of little ceremony, and with merely a bow to
all, takes his place. First he glances over the list of attend-
ant pupils placed before him, then selects the best-sharpened
pencil from the case at his side, and without a word opens
the copy-book of Katchen Eggers. Professor Beer taught
after his own method ; he never allowed a lesson to be
merely a lesson in itself; he dovetailed one into the other,
thus leading his pupils, partly by rules given, more by sug-
gestion, from the beginning to the end of a subject. He did
not teach, he caused them to teach themselves ; he did not
put the ore into their hands, he merely guided them within
reach of the mine. During his lesson, every girl felt that
her mind was being probed, searched into, made responsible,
exercised. Only bad teachers allow their pupils to be
passive.
.He proceeded through Katchen's composition, sentence by
'sentence, holding up every fault to the judgment of all, but
selecting one pupil only to amend. it. If she answered
wrongly, those who could correct her held up one hand,
awaiting the master's permission to speak out. Once or
twice Katchen made this signal, and the Professor could not
have failed to notice that delicate little hand among so many
red and coarse ones. Perhaps he noticed the prettiness of
her dress also, and the grace with which her golden hair was
braided round her small head. Certainly the orphan girl
gained more than one smile from him, and no stinging satire
DOCTOR JACOB.
during the lesson ; but we ought, in duty to Professor Beer,
to attribute this gentleness to Katchen's attentiveness and
docility. The girls all drew a long breath when the compo-
sition was brought to an end, and the reading began. He
read poetry well, hiding a natural hardness of voice by artistic
skill and careful modulation.
To-day he read King Sigurdds Bridal Journey, of Geibel,
prefacing it by a few remarks upon the living poets of Ger-
many. When he came to the description of Alfsonne, or the
sun of Alf, how—
" She stood in sweetest girlhood time, her rosy features glowed
Like the first blush of the morning, and her golden tresses flowed,"
his eyes rested on Katchen, and he thought that the poet
might well have taken her for his ideal.
As soon as the lesson was over, and the Professor rose to
go, Katchen rose also, saying, timidly,—
" I must say good-bye to you to-day, Herr Professor, since
I shall receive no more lessons."
"No more lessons, Katchen ?"
"No, Herr Professor. I am already eighteen, and Mrs.
Brill thinks that it is time for me to give up my studies. I
am sorry, find I thank you warmly for your kindness and
patience."
She held out her hand to him with a shy blush that spoke
her gratitude better than words could have done. Feeling
hot and yellow beneath the quizzical eyes of Hannchen
and nineteen pert girls, the poor Professor dared not do more
than press the little fingers momentarily, and reply,—
" I am very sorry, also, Katchen, and for my part thank you
for your unvarying attention. Accept my best wishes for
your happiness, and remember that you have always a sincere
friend in Felix Beer. Farewell, my child !"
" Won't you bid me good-bye, too ? " said saucy Aggie, all
smiles and delight that the days of her thraldom were over.
no
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I know that I have been a sad trouble to you, Herr Pro-
fessor, but I couldn't help it. Pray forgive me !
He shook hands with her, smiling somewhat gravely, and,
with his usual bow, left the room, chafing inwardly at Mrs.
Brill's decision, and wondering whether he should ever see
Katchen again. Frankfort was not so very large; surely
they should meet by chance now and then.
For that day and the next, Professor Beer's shoes pinched
him, pupils irritated him, dinners disgusted him. He-had
not the least idea that Katchen's blue eyes and rare golden
hair could have anything to do with the matter; but he
accepted his small crosses as the daily portion of mortal
men, keeping alike the contemplation and discomfort to
himself.
CHAPTER XVII.
R. JACOB did not sleep well that night, and
rose with a. determination to take an immediate
step towards removing his suspense of mind.
He maintained the maxim of the Roman poet,
" Carpe diem, quam minimum credula posterisj"
chafing at any evil which prevented him from enjoying the
day's pleasures, simple or extraordinary; hating alike anxiety,
pain, and unhappiness in any shape.
Leaving the hotel after breakfast, and turning down the
Tonges Gasse, he soon found himself amid those narrow
picturesque streets which yet remain of the mediaeval town
of Frankfort. Gloomy, yet grand old houses, resembling
gigantic cabinets of stained oak, are on either hand, and
with their gables jutting overhead, precludes every ray of
sun. Irregular, bell-shaped roofs, with tiny dormers here
and there, quaintly carved balcony and balustrade, panel
and porch, complete the old-world look of the place. But in
the market-place is found the finest picture of old German
architecture in its domestic form. There you are sur-
rounded by quaint fancies of the Middle Ages. To the
right and to the left, are the homes of those Burghers who
elected Charles IV.—whose apprentices dined off the ox
roasted that day in sight of the Election Chamber—whose
daughters hid behind the deep oriels, and listened to favoured
swains serenading in the dark.
It is not till you are inside the Romer, or town-hall, that
112
DOCTOR JACOB.
you perceive its great claim on your interest, and Dr. Jacob
passed into the inner court without pausing. But here he
stood still to admire the fantastic designs in glossy, time-
worn oak, on every side. Having ascended the staircase, he
looked from the balcony over the old Romerberg or market-
place, the grotesque houses around it, and the narrow
darkened streets beyond, with a feeling of antiquarian en-
thusiasm. He had not come, however, to muse over imperial
history in the Kaisersaal, or to pay a couple of florins for the
sight of the golden ball, or to admire Steinle's flaming Judg-
ment of Solomon. After inquiring of an official for the
location of the representative police authority, he was
ushered into a small room, the doors of which were sur-
rounded by servant girls.
The police officer was a very plump man, with that'air of
conscious superiority that plumpness and absence of mous-
tache or beard carry with them ; and with eyes impressing
you that they were examining, and would continue to examine
you, and would, after such examination, form an opinion of
you, with no regard whatever to your private feeling. He
received his visitor courteously, though with some excitement
of manner.
" Sit down, mein Herr. So Lina Schmolz has left your
service? I feared as much. I trembled in my bed for
fearing as much, mein Herr. I assure you, that terrible
young woman has caused me more anxiety than my whole
responsible office, my sick mother, my wife and five children,
the youngest of whom is a cripple."
" Pardon me, but I do not quite understand you," said Dr.
Jacob, with a smile.
" A thousand apologies from my inmost heart, mein Herr—
if it is not Lina Schmolz, who then ? I remember no female ser-
vant in English families likely to have misconducted herself."
" May I ask what department of police administration you
represent ?" asked Dr. Jacob, again smiling.
DOCTOR JACOB.
"3
" It is my office to keep the books of all the cooks, nurses,
and housemaids in Frankfort," said the officer, wiping his
brow as if it ought to perspire; " and no slight work it is.
Only think, mein Herr, there are several thousands of maid-
servants in this city, and I have to hold the character of
each in my keeping ; without showing their book they can-
not be hired; or, if hired, are liable to a fine. If a maid
loses her place because she is saucy, the book says so ; if
she is light-fingered, the book says so—in fact, like Cain, the
mark of her misdeeds follows her wherever she goes."
" This is quite a new state of things to me," replied Dr.
Jacob; "but I will not detain you even to obtain further
particulars. I will simply prefer the question which led me
here. I am anxious to institute a private inquiry through
the means of your authority—to whom can I direct my-
self?"
The Germans are not business-like people : they like to
dilute a homoeopathic dose of it in a large amount of small
talk, trifling, smoking, beer, pro re nata. Taken neat, it is
physic to them. Consequently the Police-Director made a
long preamble, beginning with his friend the Herr Direktor
So-and-so, and ending with the grand shooting festival to be
soon celebrated, before he returned to Dr. Jacob's question,
which he finally declared to be out of his province.
" If you will not object, however, to wait a few minutes,
whilst I enter the information of these young women in my
books, I will summon my colleague, Herr Heine, a man of
excellent understanding and great experience, and hear his
opinion."
Whilst the Police-Director wrote down verbatim state-
ments regarding the dismissals, mistresses, wages, and of-
fences of the damsels around him, Dr. Jacob was well
amused by turning over the dingy leaves of a character-book
lying on the table.
There he read how a certain Babele Meyer had been born
i
ii4
DOCTOR JACOB.
in Hochst, on the second day of January, 1830; how she
had been baptized on the fourteenth day after; vaccinated
in due time; confirmed as occasion served, entered service
at Frau So-and-so's on such and such a day; had received
dismissal because she broke a pitcher at the well; had after-
wards gone to Frau Professor Haugh's, with whom she
stayed two years, and so ad infinitum. An addendum read
no less funnily,-—
" The said Babele Meyer is five feet one inch in height;
has flaxen hair, and a mole over the left eyebrow ; is inclined
to be skinny, and has freckles."
By the time Dr. Jacob had got to the end of Babele's
story, the officer had the honour to be at his service, went
through a second preamble, with equally remote bearing on
the subject, and then sent for his friend.
The second police officer was exceedingly tall and thin,
and seemed to look down upon mankind generally from the
heights of some secret inquisitorial power only known to
himself. It was impossible to meet his eyes without feeling
that they convicted you of some crime;'their very glance
made you guilty in your own mind, and you would go away
from his presence with an uneasy idea that you were a kind
of Doppelganger, and had, in your second being, committed
all kinds of wickednesses. His bearing was that of a gentle-
man accustomed to polished society, and his fine graceful
figure looked well in the simple, soldier-like uniform of black
cloth, ribbed with white, and decorated with stars, belt, and
sword.
" Oblige me by stating, first your name, occupation, and
address, sir," he said, in unexceptionable English ; " then
your wishes."
" It is simply a matter of inquiry," Dr. Jacob said, handing
the officer his card. " I am anxious to discover the abode of
—of—a lady, whom I believe to be in Frankfort, and who,
from private reasons, has been some time estranged from
DOCTOR JACOB.
"5
her friends. As I leave shortly for the East, I should wish
to exert every effort during the next fortnight."
" The lady is English ? "
" Yes."
" Have you any idea of the probable time she may have
been here ? The passport system has been so altered lately,
that all strangers arriving within the last three months have
not required them. Before that period, passports of foreigners
residing in Frankfort for a shorter or longer time were sur-
rendered to us."
" Certainly within two years," Dr. Jacob answered ; "but
except by giving the lady's name, age, and probable occu-
pation, I cannot help you further."
" Will you kindly write down these particulars?" continued
the officer. " I can at least go through the passports of this
and the foregoing twelvemonths."
Dr. Jacob took out a superb gold pencil-case and wrote
the following:—
" Elizabeth Jacob. Aged thirty-five. An English lady,
and accomplished—most probably she would be engaged as
governess or companion."
" The lady is related to you ? " asked the officer, sharply.
" Yes—she is related to me."
" Excuse me if my question appears impertinent. In
our profession we are obliged to probe a thing, and view it
in all its circumstantial relations. You wish to find this
lady. I wish to assist you—what passes between us is con-
fidential."
" I hope so," said Dr. Jacob, gravely; " otherwise I might
have resorted to advertising in the daily papers, but the
publicity would be most painful to me. Your mediation, I
trust to find silent and speedy."
" Of course," answered the officer, musingly, and his eyes
rested on Dr. Jacob with the evident intention of knowing
him in all his circumstantial relations.
I 2
xi6
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Can I give you any further information ?" asked the
clergyman, rising.
"Thank you—for the present, no. You shall hear from
me in a few days."
Whereupon Dr. Jacob bowed himself out. He did not go
straight to Milani's, but made a variety of purchases on the
way; now stopping at a perfumer's (for he was a Sybarite in
his dressing-room) to choose scents, shaving-soaps, and kid
gloves ; now looking in at Albert's wonderful toy-shop, for
toys to please his little pets; now lounging on Jiigel's counter
over the newest editions of Tauchnitz, now selecting a pretty
reticule or blotting-book for some lady friend whose name-
day was near.
On returning to his hotel he met the Baroness with her
children, just returned from a drive. She gave him her hand
cordially.
" You dine no more at the hotel, because you wish to avoid
me?" she said, in a low voice, adding, half defiantly, "or
because you fear me?"
"To disprove both assertions, I will dine there this after-
noon," he replied.
" But you must tell the waiter to save a chair for you in
our proximity."
"And why not?"
He had accompanied her to the door of her room, and
with a gesture she invited him in; the children ran to their
governess, leaving the Baroness alone with her visitor.
" If I could make you believe that I was asking you from
any other motive than the mere pleasure of your society, I
would ask you to speak with me for five minutes. I have
something to say regarding that anonymous letter, and the
writer of it. After what took place yesterday, you know me
too well to suppose that my pride would stoop for any other
end than that of mediation between you two."
" Perhaps you had better not try to mediate," he answered,
DOCTOR JACOB.
ii 7
coldly, and without looking at her; " such a position must, I
think, hurt the interest and comfort of us all."
" Perhaps; but at least you will hear what I have to say?"
" I would not hurt your feelings for the world," Dr. Jacob
answered in the same voice; " say anything and everything
you like, without the slightest fear of your words receiving
an unjust judgment at my hands. No one knows the gene-
rosity of your impulses better than myself."
" And no one has so cruelly crushed them. After all that
I have suffered through you, I wonder at myself for being
capable of enduring your presence."
He looked at her now with a softened expression, and
beneath that look, the ice of her mood melted or seemed to
melt; she clasped her hands over her eyes, and trembled
violently. The sight of her agitation moved him, but he
appeared to struggle against his feelings, and walked to and
fro in silent conflict. At length he said, with a kind of stern
tenderness,—
"Would to God that I had never crossed your path, my
poor child. As it is, I am unable to repair any harm I have
done you—save by isolating myself, which I have done and
which I intend to do. I think of you often, Th£r£se, and
never without regret. Can I do more?"
" And I also am anxious to make reparation," she said,
quickly and nervously; " you shall see that I can still be as
generous as you believe me to have been hitherto. I am
determined to use.all the means in my power towards effect-
ing a meeting and reconciliation between yourself and
Elizabeth. Could I do anything more devoted to you, or
humbling to myself?"
" What chance have you of finding her ?" he asked, with
eagerness.
She was stung by his utter oblivion to the self-denial
implied in her words, and only saved herself from a return
of angry passion by a great effort.
n8
DOCTOR JACOB.
" You men are always so calculating and egotistical!
Nothing but the probability of promoting your own interest
has power to awaken you from your lethargy."
" The matter in question seems to me a positive
duty."
" Pick and choose words as you like, the fact is palpable,
and bespeaks the innate selfishness of a man's nature ; but
I will not waste my strength in battling against it. I will
carry out my intention, and leave you—leave you for ever, if
you like. You ask me what chance I have of success. I
believe I am on the right track. I believe that any day or
hour may bring me face to face with her."
" How so ?" asked Dr. Jacob.
" That does not matter. In case of either success or failure
you shall know all; but you cannot quarrel with me for
keeping so harmless a secret. And now a difficulty has
occurred to my mind—Will she hear me? Will she speak
to me?"
" If I do not mistake her character—no."
" Upon this matter I agree with you. Then again—sup-
pose we meet by chance, in the streets—in a shop—anywhere
—as is likely enough, since I frequent all the favourite resorts
of the English, what guarantee could I give that your arms
were opened to receive her ? "
" Tell her of my proposed mission to the East, and of my
yearning to see her before I go."
"Is it not almost certain that she will disbelieve anything
and everything I say ?"
" True—such an obstacle had not occurred to me."
" But," said the Baroness, hesitatingly, " a written word or
two of assurance would carry the force of truth with them-
Speak your sentiments of affection and forgiveness, and,
coming from my lips, they would lose their conviction ; write
the same, and she can no longer doubt."
" Remember the strange import that your mediation would
DOCTOR JACOB.
119
give either to a letter or message, or any token whatever,"
Dr. Jacob said, also with hesitation.
" Will you not trust me ? "
Her voice had a hurt, humbled expression, that carried
more weight with it than the most direct and passionate
appeal could have done. He considered a little, and replied,
earnestly,—
" I will trust you, Th<hr£se."
CHAPTER XVIII.
EFORE Lischen dished up the dinner, Fraulein
Fink might be seen under the fruit-trees, picking
up windfalls which she would afterwards divide
into several portions. These were intended for
the four o'clock meal of the governesses and
pupils, and with a brodchen, or little roll, lay on the side-
board in their sight, conveying a delicate hint of future
feasts. At twelve, the gong brought every member of the
institution to the refectory, and then Fraulein Fink, with
upraised eyes and clasped hands, said the following grace:—
" Komm, Herr Jesu, sei unser Gast,
Und segne was Du bescheert hast."
There was something very subtle in the way that the -
schoolmistress contrived to throw a charm and gracefulness
over her simple table. Nothing could have been less pre-
tending than the sorrel soup, or the second course of stewed
vegetables, or the third, and last, of boiled beef and salad;
yet she helped these dishes with such a look of pride, and
ate them with such an epicurean relish, that in spite of prima,
facie predispositions to the contrary, you fell into the same
mood, and could have sworn you had fared sumptuously at
kings' tables.
Schoolmistresses are, or were, supposed to have a personal
interest in the natural appetite of their pupils, to take great
care lest their morbid craving for food be too much fostered,'
DOCTOR JACOB.
121
&c. But Fraulein Fink enjoyed her dinner, and liked others
to enjoy it too. She helped her dish of snipped carrot and
thick sauce, and cut up her peculiarly unprepossessing piece
of beef, boiled 'down to the tastelessness of brown paper,-
with the smile that an epicure might wear when carving the
first woodcock or venison of the season; and she pressed
her governess to eat as hospitably and winningly as if she
were entertaining friends at a dinner-party. Then, whilst
the first course was changed for the second, she would make
use of the opportunity to let her young friends hear good
conversation, would discourse on passing events, or the
poets she adored, in the most elaborate style.
The meal over, she would cut off a regal portion of meat
for the servants and retire, leaving Hannchen to lock up the
remainder, and wash up the spoons.
On the day of which we speak, as Fraulein Fink was
crossing the courtyard, to her own rooms after dinner,
Lischen met her with a card in her hand.
"A lady, beautifully dressed, and having a splendid car-
riage at the door, requested to see the English governess,"
she said, breathlessly ; " never had a lady so grand come to
the house in her time."
Fraulein Fink held one hand over her eyes to keep off the
blinding sun, and with the other raised the card within
reading distance. It was delicately bordered, and bore
the name—
"MADAME LA BARONNE DE LADENBURG."
Doubtless some former employer of Miss Macartney's,
thought the Fraulein—these English were astonishingly
respected—never had a Baroness called on any governess
in her institution before—it looked creditable both for her
house and employees, and she returned to the refectory
with a beaming face.
" Dear Miss Macartney, I congratulate you on your well-
122
DOCTOR JACOB.
born connections. See, who is come to see you—if you will
introduce me, I shall feel honoured."
Miss Macartney looked at the card with a blank face,
though she could not conceal a tremor.
" I cannot see her," she cried, almost fiercely.
" My dear Miss Macartney, your dress is adapted for the
school-room, and your hair is nicely arranged, as it always
is. Never mind your morning toilette—do not turn away a
Baroness."
The governess looked up, and a smile curled her angry
lips. There was something so exquisitely humorous in
Fraulein Fink's constructions and conclusions, that had
she been on her death-bed she must have smiled to hear
them. The smile over, her nostrils dilated, and her cheek
flushed.
"Perhaps you are right, Fraulein—it would be a pity to
turn away a Baroness—especially a Baroness Ladenburg."
And with a proudly-held head, and still flushed cheeks,
she crossed the court-yard, ascended the front stairs, and
entered the drawing-room.
The two women formed a striking contrast. Miss Ma-
cartney was taller by the head than the Baroness, and
carried her height with that proud and defiant air which
handsome women assume when they scorn vanity. She
was, moreover, perfectly simple, and simplicity adds won-
drous dignity to such a stamp of beauty as hers. Her hair
was brushed, not without care, from her clear brow, and
knotted behind, leaving the well-shaped and well-poised
head in full relief; her fine features bore unmistakable
witness to an easily-stirred, wild, sincere nature ; and her
dress, though of the plainest kind, might have been worn by
any lady of the land.
The Baroness was pretty, and essentially a woman of
fashion. The rustle of her sweeping skirts, the perfume of
her lace handkerchief and pale gloves, the languishing in-
DOCTOR JACOB.
123
dolence of her deportment, and the unalterable propriety of
her set smile, would have created a greater impression any-
where than by the side of Miss Macartney. What con-
stituted her real charm in society was lost in Fraulein Fink's
modest drawing-room. Perhaps she felt conscious of being
at a disadvantage, for her reception of the governess was
almost embarrassed.
" I thought you would have refused to see me," she said,
with apparent surprise, " but it is wise and reasonable of you
to be friendly. Of course I should not know of your location
without having sought it."
" Why are you here ? " asked Miss Macartney, coldly and
naturally ; " you surely have good reasons for taking such a
step."
" The best reasons. I come to tell you many things,
and to hear of some from your own lips. Are you happy ?"
"Am I happy, Baroness Ladenburg? Ask your own
heart that."
" Are you comfortable here ?—have you enough to eat
and to drink ?—are the people kind to you ?—is there any-
thing of which you stand in need ? "
" By what right, and to what purpose do you cross-question
me thus ? Surely you must know that if I wanted bread,
you would be the last person of whom I should receive a
kreutzer. I beg of you to state your errand with the least
possible reference to my present condition."
" Which is bad enough, I fear, though you are too proud
to own it," added the Baroness, in the same light tone ;
"and now listen—Dr. Jacob is in Frankfort."
" I know it."
The Baroness glanced at her suspiciously.
" Yet you have not sought him ?"
"To what end should I seek him, madame ?—and he has
not sought me !"
" True—true," she replied, as if recollecting herself; " but
124
DOCTOR JACOB.
for any possible reconciliation between you two the time is
now or never. Unless you see him before he sets out for the
East, the chances are a thousand to one that you parted at
Ischl for ever."
" For ever ?" said Miss Macartney, in a hard voice.
"Yes. Dr. Jacob is bound, as you have most probably
heard, to the East, having no definite intention of returning.
At his age, and with the contingencies of travel and climate
considered, his return to Europe is hardly a thing to be ex-
pected."
Miss Macartney buried her face in her hands, and did not
speak. She forgot for a moment the hated presence of the
Baroness; she only remembered the one natural tie of her
life, and trembled at contemplating a future without hope.
Then the Baroness added, in honey-sweet tones,—
" It remains with you to obtain from him the restoration of
all your claims ; home, protection, love, all await you. Eliza-
beth—his noble heart is yearning towards you ; his rest is
broken for thinking of you at night—he seeks for distraction
from his grief in this arduous undertaking. Think of his
silvered hairs, and relent."
" Oh ! be moved to pity by my position," cried Miss
Macartney, in a passion of suspense ; " and give me the
truth. For Heaven's sake, tell me that you have not been
sent from him to me."
" And why not ? Is not the message a welcome one ?"
With tears of scorn on her cheeks, Miss Macartney turned
from her visitor.
" But to make you the messenger. He who was once loyal
and tender-hearted could hardly have sunk so low. I do
not believe you, Baroness Ladenburg. Go,—go, lest I insult
you further."
" I will not leave you till I have told all the truth," said
the Baroness, with hidden triumph shining in her eyes.
" Dr. Jacob opens his arms to you—but on conditions.
DOCTOR JACOB.
125
You must ignore all real or fancied injuries done to you.
You must not expect him for your sake to relinquish much
that has brightened his life since you two parted."
Miss Macartney's eyes flamed.
" He never made those conditions, madame. He could
not."
y We will see whose case is stronger, yours or mine,"
she continued; "you accuse me of slandering Dr. Jacob's
character—let his own hand-writing convince you that I say
nothing for which I am not amply supported by him. Read
this letter from him to me, and form your own conclusions."
She placed in Miss Macartney's trembling hands the lines
Dr. Jacob had written the day before for a very different
purpose.
" Dearest Elizabeth," he had said, " forget all that has
happened and come to me, for once and for all. Never was
I more your own than now, when your affection and com-
panionship could make my declining years happier and
better than any of my life. Forgive me as I forgive you,
and let us, at any sacrifice, love each other, and live for each
other only. God bless you !
"Stephen Jacob."
"Well," said the Baroness, without the slightest change of
countenance, "to what conclusion does the reading of this
letter bring you ?"
If she expected a triumph, Miss Macartney was deter-
mined not to give her one. However much she suffered
inwardly—and she did suffer agonies—there was no visible
traces of them. She answered, with stinging bitterness,—
" I have come to this conclusion, Baroness Ladenburg.
The woman who could use such a letter for such a purpose,
must be not only heartless, but without conscience, without,
in short, those feelings which make her fit to touch an infant
126
DOCTOR JACOB.
with her hands. Do you want to hear more?—listen, then.
I do not believe that the worst woman in this city could
have acted so basely; and if by any chance I ever touch you
with the tips of my fingers, I will run to the nearest fountain
and wash off the stain. And now, adieu !"
In less than a minute Miss Macartney had rushed down-
stairs, crossed the courtyard, and looked herself in her bed-
room, leaving the Baroness more discomposed than she had
ever felt in her life. M. du Chaillu tells us how King Rumpo
Chumbo and his followers said grace to their barbarous gods
after a cannibal dinner. The same thing is often done in
this civilized society of ours. For instance, Baroness Laden-
burg, having done her best to poison by her ruse, some of
the closest, holiest, domestic ties, merely for vain and selfish
purposes, returned home to say an ora pro nobis before the
crucifix in her bed-room. She was a devout Romanist, and
never allowed worldly affairs to interfere with her devotions.
Miss Macartney prayed also, but in a different mood.
Broken, despairing, in tears, she could only raise her hands
to Heaven, and repeat the plaintive words of a plaintive
mourner of old,—
" Give us help from trouble, for vain is the help of man."
She had no longer any hope. A gulf reaching to eternity
now stretched between her life and that of him for whom she
would have died.
What was death in comparison to an utter enstrangement
resulting from moral degradation ? And as she thought of
what he had been once, and to what he must have changed
since, she forgot her own unhappiness, and prayed for him
only.
CHAPTER XIX.
WO or three days after the events recounted in
the last chapter, Louis Paulus was sent by his
father with letters to the Post Office, and there
met Dr. Jacob.
" My dear boy, how glad I am to meet you,
just as I am starting for the gay'Fest Halle, now preparing
for the shooting festival. You must go with me."
Poor Louis shook his head wistfully.
" Dr. Jacob, I dare not, much as I should like it. Papa
expects me home at once."
" I will make it right with papa ; do you think he would be
angry with me for giving y.ou a little pleasure, Louis ? "
" Oh ! no ; but papa is particular on some points, espe-
daily as to our remaining'out unexpectedly."
" And rightly, if alone ; but with me, he could and would
have no objection. Can you not trust to my judgment in the
matter, Louis ?"
The prospect was so enticing, and Louis was so impres-
sible, that he allowed himself to be convinced, and jumped
into the fiacre. The driver cracked his whip, and, for every
one at that time was bound to the same spot, without a word,
- turned his horses' heads towards the Friedburger Gate.
It was the seventh of July, 1862, a day ever to be remem-
bered in Frankfort annals, for its morning sunshine, and
evening tragedy.
To Louis Paulus, the great German Union Shooting Fes-
128
DOCTOR JACOB.
tival was, at present, as much of a mystery as it is to many
of my readers. He knew that a Fest Halle, or Pleasure
Palace, had grown up like Aladdin's Palace outside the city ;
that eveiy spare bed was being put in readiness for the six
thousand free shooters who were to be quartered on the will-
ing townsfolk; that a procession, almost unequalled in mag-
nificence in past Frankfort history, was to inaugurate the
week's shooting; that fireworks, theatricals, dancing, conceits,
banquets, and toasts, were to fill up the eight days' festive
calendar ; that every house was to glow with the black, red,
and gold banners of the empire, that every one was to keep
holiday, and spend it in the Fest Halle; finally, that the
Frankforters were mad, and would remain so till their glitter-
ing patriotic pageant was over.
But Dr. Paulus did not think pleasure-seeking a necessary
part of education : and, consequently, he had not yet taken
a family ticket for the daily festivities at the Fest Halle.
Thackeray speaks of the delight of witnessing children's
faces at a pantomime; and Dr. Jacob experienced some-
thing of this feeling in watching the enthusiasm of Louis.
Reflected pleasure, like reflected light, is freest from blemish ;
though Dr. Jacob had gazed upon far more imposing and beau-
tiful sights than the pretty pavilion-like Fest Halle, a-glow
with festoons, flags, and ladies' silks—this, seen through
Louis' large eyes of admiration, pleased him most.
At the triumphal archway, where all fiacres were com-
pelled to halt, they encountered the Baroness, accompanied
by her husband, Count Josef, and some friends. Dr. Jacob
would rather have met any one else just then ; but it was his
habit to take all surprises with a smile, and consequently his
greeting wanted no wonted cordiality. Charming as the
Baroness ever proved herself to him, handsome as she unde-
niably was in the eyes of all, generous as her own acts
seemed to show, he could but feel a secret distrust of her, a
lurking dissatisfaction even when most fascinated. Had cir-
DOCTOR JACOB.
129
cumstances aided his resolution, he would never have sought
or consented to further intercourse with her; but a web of
chances (for in spite of Schiller's assertion, " There is no
chance," we see such webs dragging victims to their doom
daily) drew him into the charmed circle, and he saw and
conversed with her constantly. To-day he had not sought
her, neither had she sought him—yet they were again
together.
" What news do you bring me ?" were the first words of
the Baroness.
" None—and yourself?"
" If you lead me out of this crowd into the open air, I will
tell you everything ; but this child has ears."
"Not for French," answered Dr. Jacob, impatiently;
" indeed, I doubt whether he has ears for anything now, since
his eyes have so much to do."
He gave her his arm, and by means of his high stature,
soon pushed a way through the thronged naves of the Fest
Halle. Hardly had he reached the curtains of black, red,
and gold, which formed the only front wall of the airy edifice,
when he reiterated,—
"And yourself, Baroness Ladenburg?"
" Do not be sanguine—I have nothing favourable to com-
municate to you, since my mediation has been utterly fruitless,
as you feared."
" And as I expected ; but give me details—you have seen
her?"
" Was I not determined to see her ?"
" Your energy makes me envious. At least tell me how
you achieved so speedy a success !"
The Baroness stooped to arrange a flounce, and Dr. Jacob
saw that she coloured slightly; she answered, however,
without embarrassment.
" By pure chance I met her in the promenade, and at
once named you and your wishes regarding her; but I might
K
13°
DOCTOR JACOB.
as well have spoken to these stones. Dear Dr. Jacob, do
not grieve for the loss of so proud, so cold, so unforgiving a
heart."
" She has been injured beyond the limits of womanly
patience—remember that," said Dr. Jacob, sadly; "what-
ever you say, do not condemn her in the face of so many
palliative circumstances."
" Have you also had nothing to complain of? No—I can-
not and will not absolve her. She, for once and for all, dis-
cards you ; she will never see you, much less speak to you
again ; she shuts her heart entirely against all reparation on
your part, and forgiveness on her own. Is this a noble way
of acting ? Would a loving woman treat you so ? "
Dr. Jacob had turned a shade paler as he listened; his
proud head now drooped a little; his voice answered
mechanically.
" Be it so. God knows I have sinned towards her, and I
must bear my punishment. I would rather not hear her
judged by you, Thdr£se—I would rather let her name rest
undisturbed by my reproaches or your opinions. We have
each acted as perhaps we wer# greatly tempted to do,
and it is too late to atone for the evil effects of our actions
now."
They soon reached the limits of the Fest Platz, or grounds
belonging to the palace, and amused themselves by look-
ing around. What a month ago had been only an arid
common, was now a busy little colony, filled with every
necessary building for the comfort or amusement of man. A
police-station, a fire-office, a reading-room, dancing-saloons,
fountains, baths, smithies, bazaars, kitchens, slaughter-houses,
&c., 8cc., &c. Looking from the shooting-galleries, the scene
was quite fairy-like. The green pavilion, stretching across a
space of four hundred feet, and blooming with flags, festoons,
and coloured windows, the pretty gothic Prize Temple, on
the pinnacle of which stood a colossal Germania, from whose
DOCTOR JACOB.
hands streamed the national banner; the music, the gaily-
dressed crowds, the throngs of carriages outside the charmed
circle, the multifarious new phases of life and character which
a national movement is sure to call into play—no wonder
that Louis' brain whirled, and his pulses beat fast with
pleasure.
By-and-by, the firing of a gun called all the willing to the
banquet. Louis forgot the flight of time, forgot his father's
impending wrath, and his mother's anxiety, as he followed
Dr. Jacob and the Baroness into the Fest Halle. What with
the astounding masses of people, the gorgeousness of the
windows and picture galleries, the glare of banners, the
strains of the band, and the clattering of plates, the poor
boy almost lost self-conSciousness. Then it was so novel
and so delightful to dine at a table d'hote, to be served
by waiters wearing red and white caps, and taste of many
dishes, each brought to table to the sound of a horn ; and
lastly, to see glasses drained, and hear long speeches
about German Union, and German Freedom, Fatherland,
future grandeur, combined nationalities, patriotic crisis,
Frankfort made the seat of a new parliament, &c.
Count Josef ate his dinner, and paid compliments to the
cook with certain ungentlemanly reservations. He com-
plained of the canaille—this sort of patriotism was gaining
strength and increasing—swore at the ebullitions of indigna-
tion against one or two small principalities and powers,
satirized the enthusiasm of everybody, and the Frankforters
in general, finally declared his intention of starting for the
Bergstrasse in a few days.
" Can't you persuade your friends, the Brills, to go there ?''
he half whispered into Dr. Jacob's ear. " I speak au serieux
when I say that those two little girls are the prettiest I
have seen since leaving Vienna."
" What two little girls ? " asked Dr. Jacob, sharply.
" Miss Aggie, the black eyed, and Katchen, the blonde.
K 2
132
DOCTOR JACOB.
My dear Doctor, don't tremble lest I am about to tease you
on their account, for I have already obtained an introduction
to the Herr papa. I only ask you for the sake of old friend-
ship to persuade him that his daughter and jille adoptive
require change of air. The Bergstrasse without a flirtation,
must be as insipid as a roast goose without chestnuts."
" If you intend to flirt with Aggie and Katchen, I shall do
my best to keep Mr. Brill and his family at home. Seriously,
Count J osef, I do not like you to adopt that light strain when
speaking of unsophisticated young girls."
Count Josef made an irresistibly droll moue of concern.
" A lions ! What a fool I am when I begin to be confiden-
tial ! So long as the young ladies are not your daughters,
Dr. Jacob, I thought I was at liberty to flirt with them to my
heart's content."
By this time smoking, effete speeches among knots of
students, and a strong perfume of beer, made the crowded
banquet-hall far from pleasant; and the Baroness proposed a
stroll outside. Having procured seats under the overarching
roof of the Prize Temple, they luxuriated in the Watteau-like
scene around them.
There was something remarkable in the voluptuousness of
that summer day. The air was heavy with a warm, golden-
effulgence; the purple heaven seemed on fire with the intense
sunshine ; the trees and herbage looked bowed and oppressed
under it. Far off gleamed the white villas and green gardens
of suburban Frankfort; and further still the steel-coloured
turrets of the Romerberg and the massive old Dom crim-
soned beneath the sun; beyond all, rose the violet Taunus
mountains, cut as sharp as topazes against an opalline
sky.
Something Bacchanalian seemed to have taken possession
of the pleasure-seekers assembled on the Fest Platz. Already
a band of students were raising shouts for German Union,
and tossing their coloured caps in the air ; brightly-dressed
DOCTOR JACOB.
133
ladies were smiling their sweetest smiles; children played
about with boisterous enjoyment; grave men joked each
other like boys. Not a serious or troubled face was to be
seen.
" Be happy," said the Baroness, touching Dr. Jacob's arm,
tenderly ; " this is not the place, and now is not the time, to
think of all that you have suffered. Enjoy the present—let
me teach you to enjoy it."
" First teach me to forget the past."
" And is that impossible ?" she whispered, softly.
He looked at her, and felt that it was not impossible just
then. Certainly the Baroness Ladenburg never looked hand-
somer or more bewitching. Her superb hair lay in glossy
waves under her small lace bonnet; her cheeks were rosy
with excitement and pleasure ; her eyes looked subdued and
gentle ; her dress, too, might have made almost an ordinary
woman look beautiful; the delicate pink feather contrasting
with the dark hair; the white dress just tinted with rose
colour; the incomparable softness and fineness of the lace
shawl enveloping but not concealing ; well might Dr. Jacob
admire.
" You are very beautiful," he said, simply ; " I have never
seen any other woman so beautiful—if I were younger I
should be your lover."
She smiled with some coquetry.
" Having conceded so much, you must concede a little
more. Am I charming ? "
" Of course."
" And you find pleasure in my society ? "
" Again the same answer."
" And I find pleasure in yours—therefore you will go with
us to the Bergstrasse, when the Shooting Festival is over,
and not be misanthropic? Dear friend, let me entreat of
you to think of yourself—you are used to society, and you
need it; you are unused to solitude, especially a painful
134
DOCTOR JACOB.
solitude, and it irks you—give up the solitude and the pain-
fulness whilst you can, and be happy."
" Do you really care so much for my happiness, Thdrese ?"
he asked.
" Infinitely beyond my own."
Count Josef and the rest of the party had strolled away,
and no one saw the tear that fell from her eyes but Dr.
Jacob. Seeing it, he dropped his voice to a tender key,
and said,—
" I will not be ungrateful; your friendship at least shall be
sacred to me."
" And you will think no more of the past ? "
" I will endeavour to forget it in your presence."
" Confess," she said, with brightening cheeks, " that your
lines are cast in pleasant places. You have only been in
Frankfort a few weeks, and you are received with pride and
pleasure by dozens of good families ; every one is ready to
do you homage; every proof of admiration and desire of
your friendship has been shown—who else could attain so
easy a victory over all hearts? Your life might be all like
this intoxicating summer day."
" And storms would still come towards sunset," said Dr.
Jacob, half in jest, half in earnest; " see those clouds yonder
—we shall have thunder ere long."
He had spoken rightly. Swiftly from the west, copper-
coloured clouds were rolling towards the Fest Halle ; and
simultaneously, there arose murmurs among the crowd that a
tempest was impending; some sober fathers of families^
deeming that a thunder-storm would have ample play for its
wildest game in so light and fanciful a building, took the
first fiacre and returned home. In less than ten minutes rose
a fearful hurricane. The heavens were darkened with whirl-
winds of dust and rain ; the atmosphere was changed to
intense cold, from sudden and appalling sultriness, till at
last hailstones hissed like bullets against the fairy palace,
DOCTOR JACOB.
135
and every blow worked woeful mischief; the storm open-
ing, as it were, its giant arms, crushed it like a young
sapling.
Meantime, Dr. Jacob had half carried, half dragged the
trembling Baroness, and utterly helpless Louis, through the
crowded transepts, and secured for them standing room
under the music gallery. He thought that the extra thick-
ness of this part of the building, added to the shelter of
the gallery, would ensure their safety ; but even here every
moment brought its peril. To stand still was dangerous
—to rush forward was mad. With a kind of dumb courage,
inspired by Dr. Jacob's collected manner, his two charges
stood still.
The moment was terrible. The rattling of the hail, the
roar of thunder, the crash of beams, the breaking of windows,
lastly, and more awful still, the cries of the multitude, made
the scene too awful ever to be forgotten. It seemed as if the
whole structure was being uprooted and beaten in. Some
rushed out, to be driven back by the masses of slate and
timber that were swept from the roof; some crept under the
tables and benches; hundreds fell on their knees and prayed.
All at once Dr. Jacob put his arm round the Baroness, and
covered her eyes with one hand, crying at the same time,
sternly,—
" Louis, turn your face to me—do not look behind, if you
love me."
But he spoke too late. Faint from the pressure of the
crowd, Louis had drawn back, and ere Dr. Jacob's words
reached his ears, he had witnessed the first death that
shadowed his untroubled young life. Close behind him were
standing, in a little group, the rest of their party, viz., the
Baron and Count Josef, with their friends. As the Baron
quickly stooped forward to escape a shower of broken glass,
he was struck from behind, and fatally, by an iron-sheathed
beam. Louis saw the momentary death agony; the blanched
136
•DOCTOR JACOB.
cheeks, the filmy eyes, the convulsed limbs. Heartsick, half
crazed with terror, and haunted by the sight he had just
witnessed, he rushed bare-headed through the living crowd
and the flying missiles, through the morass of crockery, torn
clothes, and broken benches, till he reached the solitary,
turbulent heath, which divided the Fest Halle from the
town,
CHAPTER XX.
OOR Mrs. Paulus was in no state of mental or
physical health to bear such a storm, even had
no immediate anxiety attended it; but Louis' un-
precedented absence since the morning, and the
terrible phenomenon, especially as connected
with danger to her boy, had combined to bring on a fit of
hysteria. Connie and the younger children, who were never
taught to think of themselves when mamma was in distress,
did their best to reassure her, bathed her brow, covered her
eyes that she should not see the lightning, and repeated a
dozen expressions of artless consolation. But their efforts
were vain, and when Dr. Paulus came upstairs, all in a per-
spiration from damming up windows and mopping up floods
of water, he grew alarmed at her state.
" Give me the wine, Connie," he said, " and you, Bob, go
downstairs and see if the servants are carrying out my
orders : you little ones, sit still."
" That naughty, naughty boy," whispered Louisa, gasp-
ingly. " Oh, Christian, if he should be in the midst of
this !"
" Trust me, he is under shelter. Even an idiot would rush
to the first house in such a storm, and boys seldom come to
any harm," said the Doctor, cheerfully.
" The windows of Connie's bedroom are broken in," cried
Bob, from the landing, " and the servants are too frightened
to stir—come, papa."
DOCTOR JACOB.
Dr. Paulus waited, however, till the storm was somewhat
lulled, and in the first silence that followed its abatement, a
faint ringing of the street bell was heard. Immediately
after, Louis stood on the threshold, drenched to the skin, but,
with the exception of a scratch or two, uninjured.
" Oh ! mamma," he cried, "'it was so terrible at the Fest
Halle, and the big trees are uprooted in the promenades, and
the ground is covered with leaves, and some houses are un-
roofed "
"You have nearly killed me, Louis: why did you go
away?" Louisa moaned, and half-raised herself to take him
to her heart. But a cold firm hand put the child and the
mother apart.
" Louis," Dr. Paulus said, icily, " tell the plain truth
quickly."
" Papa," sobbed the boy, in a piteous voice, " do not be so
very angry with me. Dr. Jacob told me you would not mind
my going to the Fest Halle with him. I did hesitate—indeed
I did, papa."
" I do not want your self-excuses, sir ; I want the facts?
and the facts only. Where have you been since eleven
o'clock ?"
"With Dr. Jacob, papa (sob)—I met him at the Post Hof
(sob)—and he asked me to go with him to the Fest Halle
(sob)—he said you would not be angry with me as it was his
doing (sob)—and we went there and dined, and the storm
came on (sob), and—a gentleman was killed "
The last words were almost screamed out, so great was the
child's terror at the recollection. Dr. Paulus answered, with
a darkened brow,—
" Your fault has brought on its own punishment, Louis. I
make no further comments upon either ; but recollect this—
Dr. Jacob's invitation does not in the slightest degree excuse
your conduct: he could not know whether you were acting
as I most dislike—you did, and the whole sin is on your own
DOCTOR JACOB.
139
shoulder. Look at your poor mamma's pale face, and pray to
God to forgive you."
He turned to leave the room, and on the threshold added,
coldly,—
"Go to your room at once. If either of your brothers
or your sister like to sit with you, I do not forbid it; but
make no attempt to speak to me for three days."
" I will sit with you, Louis," whispered Bob, all impatient
to hear the interesting details ; " oh ! what a precious soaking
you've had !"
" Mamma, say you are not very angry before I go," pleaded
poor Louis, brokenly.
" I hardly know what I say—don't cry, Louis, and put
yourself between blankets—take the one off Bob's bed, and
the eider-down pillow from the top, and I will ask papa if
you may have some gruel. Now go, for you are standing in
wet clothes."
Louis went off with Bob, and soon Connie stole after
them, bearing a basin of warm soup, which proved an im-
mense consoler. The whole story was then given from
beginning to end, not without shudders on the part of both
narrator and listeners. At the close of the narrative, Connie's
cheek was pale with childish concern.
" The poor, poor man !—how terrible for him to die so
suddenly ! Oh ! Louis, if it had been Dr. Jacob !"
Meantime, let us return to the Fest Halle. Dr. Jacob's
situation was one of strange perplexity ; for a moment he
stood in doubt whether to leave the agitated Baroness to
Count Josefs rather inexperienced handling, or the missing
boy to his fate. Finally, he acted for both. Having, by an
extraordinary amount of muscular and vocal exertion, made
his way through the woeful cowed throngs, he succeeded in
placing the Baroness in her carriage, whispered to Count
Josef that he would follow presently, and then returned to
arrange the orderly transport of the poor Baron's body, and.
140
DOCTOR JACOB.
to make his search for Louis. It was dreary work. On
either hand were seen drenched, bruised, and appalled crea-
tures clamouring after lost friends or property; for, in the
terror-stricken scuffle, families had been divided, and clothes
literally torn to fragments. The unfortunate Fest Halle
looked like a child's card-house blown inside out; the sup-
porting columns had been stripped of their moss and Alpine
roses ; pictures and panels had been discoloured and rent
away; banners were hanging in fritters. Where, an hour
ago, had been all symmetry and decoration, was now ghastly
ruin and disfigurement; and the tattered gloom everywhere
apparent struck a keener chill to the heart because of the in-
toxicating sunshine and gorgeousness which had gone before.
Dr. Jacob had not observed Louis' flight, and accordingly
he made his first search in the building and grounds. After
much inquiry he learned that a boy answering to his age and
appearance had been seen to hasten towards the town imme-
diately after the most terrific crisis of the hurricane. With
a heavy, though relieved heart, Dr. Jacob drove to the house
of his friend. He loved Louis, and he would have given
worlds rather than have been the author of so dire a holiday
to any child; but the fact of Dr. Paulus's probable anger
did not occur to him, for he was rather lax in his notions of
parental and filial obligations.
His first question to the housemaid was regarding Louis,
and finding that he had arrived home unscathed save by a
wet skin, he ascended the stairs cheerfully.
" My dear Dr. Paulus," he said, taking both the Doctor's
hands in his own, " in the first place, forgiveness ; in the
second, forgiveness ; in the third, forgiveness !"
"How so?" asked the other, in a friendly though grave
voice.
" Have I not caused you uneasiness ?—have I not brought
your boy into the most frightful danger?—have I not perhaps
led him from the path of duty ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
141
"Rest easy on all scores," answered Dr. Paulus; "after
having so thoroughly inculcated obedience on the minds of
my children, I hold no one responsible when they transgress.
You did not say to Louis—Disobey your father and come
with me ! I presume you did not ?"
" On the contrary, I had no idea that he would be acting
against your wishes."
" But Louis knew well on what points of duty I insist most
stringently, and therefore the fault and the blame of it rest
entirely with him. Dismiss the subject from your mind, I
entreat you."
" Not till I have obtained grace for Louis. For my sake, let
the matter pass over; after all, I am the culprit, and the error
into which I led him has already met with sufficient punish-
ment."
"What he has already suffered was not the fruit of my
displeasure at his disobedience. You may thank God, Dr.
Jacob, that you have no children ; for tenderly as we deal
with them, earnestly as we pray for them, how they grieve
us ! Is it wise, is it Christianlike, to foster their very vices
from false feelings of affection?"
" Better to rule by love than by fear," put in Dr. Jacob,
with mildness.
" Excuse me, but I think you take a wrong view of the
matter," answered Dr. Paulus, warmly. " Are foul weeds
pulled up without a wrench ? Are men kept in due respect
of law without wholesome fear ? I will give you an illustra-
tion in point. In the old Synagogue of Worms (which you
ought to visit) the stranger is shown three golden crowns
over the pulpit, surmounted by a larger one; the guide tells
you that the first symbolizes Understanding,—the second, Law,
—the third, Government,—the larger one above, God ; and
the meaning is this—he who has no understanding abides by
no law; he who abides by no law, does not obey his earthly
sovereign ; and he who does not obey his earthly sovereign,
142
DOCTOR JACOB.
shall little know how to obey God. Is there not much of
wisdom in this Jewish symbol ? To the child, does not his
parent stand as his king or law-giver ? Does not the whole
order of the world hang on individual obedience ?"
" True," replied Dr. Jacob, with a faint smile at his friend's
earnestness ; " but judge the errors of the head more leniently
than the perversions of the heart. Louis did not go in the
face of your commands—to the contrary."
"We will not discuss the subject any further," said Dr.
Paulus ; " tell me more of this grievous catastrophe. Has
the Fest Halle really suffered so much injury, and is it true
that some one was killed ?"
The matter was thoroughly talked over, and when his
visitor had gone, Dr. Paulus lighted a cigar, and throw-
ing open his window, leaned out contemplatively. He
never smoked at his casement except in times of serious
thought; fqr, as he looked upon all cases? involving doubt or
difficulty unfit for the shattered faculties of his wife, he had
need of some dumb consolers. The cool dewy air of the
evening, and a fragrant havannah, furnished just enough
companionship for his needs.
As he rejoined his wife, he let fall the following chance clue
to his brown study.
"Dr. Jacob is a man of noble powers and great attain-
ments, but "
Mrs. Paulus was far too meek to ask the meaning of that
bid, but some time after she learned it, without any inquisi-
tiveness. May all passive wives be so rewarded!
CHAPTER XXI.
WEEK had passed since the hurricane; the
dilapidations of the Fest Halle were repaired;
its former gorgeousness was in part restored ;
the dire day's work was well-nigh forgotten by
the light-hearted Frankforters, and the Great
Shooting Festival began.
Immediately after her husband's interment, the Baroness
repaired with her children to the Bergstrasse, leaving only
Baron Josef (as we must now call him) behind, who was in
no humour to lose the gaieties he had so long anticipated.
Early on the inauguration day, he set off to Mr. Brill's,
looking very much like a doll soldier, in his extremely tight-
fitting white coat, pink facings, and plentiful silver buttons.
We were in the habit at one time of wondering why the
Austrian military are clad in such minute coats, but now the
following happy solution has occurred to us. The state of
finances oblige the government to such an economy—even
the Emperor himself sets the example. We will lay a wager
that the Imperial coat has not the breadth of a fat fly de
trop.
Baron Josef appeared more attracted than ever by Miss
Aggie ; and as he had appropriated his balcony at the Hotel
de Russie to their use, and otherwise contrived to make
himself agreeable, besides being, in his new rank of Baron,
agreeable under all circumstances, his reception by the Brill
family was cordial in the extreme.
144
DOCTOR JACOB.
"Will you mind waiting a few seconds?" Mrs. Brill said,
apologetically; " it is only to be expected that the girls
must have an additional peep or two in the glass on such
a day."
By-and-by Aggie appeared, looking very triumphant and
handsome in her bright dress, flying ribbons, and manipulated
coiffure. She gave Baron Josef an unembarrassed smile;
and though only sixteen, might have passed for twenty, in
her quiet way of receiving his compliments.
" Katchen is not quite ready, mamma," she said, when the
greetings were over ; " could we not as well walk on ? She
can follow with papa and Tommy."
Mrs. Brill knew very well that Aggie looked upon Katchen
as a possible rival, and helped her to play out her little game.
Accordingly, Baron Josef set off with his two fair charges,
and Katchen was left to Mr, Brill's chaperonage. At this
time she was in the children's room, helping to dress the
youngest girl, and trying ,to keep Tommy from soiling his
spotless white knickerbockers. There could not have been
a greater contrast to the brusque brunette Aggie, than fair,
fairy Katchen. Somehow, and without the slightest effort of
her own, she always had on the dresses that best suited one
so petite and so girlish—dresses of no special attraction but
that of being innocent, snowdrop-like, and inartificial. To-day,
in her white cambric and black lace fichu, worn, after the
manner of German girls, around the shoulders, and crossed
in front, with no adornment but her golden hair, she looked
a very pretty type of girlhood, and an uncommon one, in
spite of her simplicity.
Great was the astonishment of the trio when they
descended to the drawing-room, and found it empty; the
dining-room and study were next examined with like success;
finally, Tommy called his papa lustily, and that effort proved
also vain. The fact was, Mr. Brill, unknown to his wife (no
one knew anything of anybody's motives in the Brill house),
DOCTOR JACOB.
145
had gone out half-an-hour before, and finding himself in the
neighbourhood of the Hotel de Russie, had asked for the
Baron's apartment, and there settled himself comfortably.
Both the servants were absent on leave, to see the procession
in what stray manner they could, and beyond a deaf old
gardener, the house was empty.
Half frolicsome, half frightened, Katchen and her two
little companions hastened through the gardens towards the
town; every alley was alive with gaily-dressed pleasure-
' seekers; but not till they had passed under the triumphal
archway at the Gallus Gate, and entered the street leading
to the Ross-market, did they become impressed with the
difficulty of their undertaking. The Ross-market being
designed for the climax of the gigantic procession—viz., the -
grouping of the banners—was utterly barricaded on every
side. Baron Josef had wisely chosen a back way, but inex-
perienced Katchen stood aghast and bewildered. Before her
was the wide space of the Ross-market, with only here and
there a group of committee members, wearing coloured
sashes, and the members of the different gymnastic clubs,
in their brown holland costume, with coloured badges, who
were self-constituted police during the festival. Beyond lay
the Schiller Platz and the Zeil, dazzling with the streaming
flags of black, red, and gold, hung from each window, and
crowded with gazers. Seeing the forbidden space before
her, and the living sea opposed between herself and the
Hotel de Russie, knowing what a gorgeous and unparalleled
pageant would be lost by retreat, and feeling how vain the
attempt to advance, is it unnatural that Katchen should shed
tears ?
" Let us jump over this railing," proposed Tommy, boldly;
" if any one follows us, we can run for it. I'm not afraid of
the best of 'em."
" But supposing we do gain the Zeil, think of the crowds,
Tommy dear," said Katchen, in despair.
146
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I can see a clear space to the right—they are keeping it
for the procession—it must move in, you know, before it
moves out; twelve thousand men, horses, trumpets, and all,
cannot drop from the sky."
Passionately desirous of seeing the procession, and at all
times fond of fun, Katchen dexterously jumped over the
rails, the children followed, and away they sped across the
forbidden Ross-market. Just as they had set foot on the
neutral territory, however, one of the amateur police stopped
them.
" I am very sorry, Fraulein," he said, politely ; " but posi-
tively no one is allowed this way."
" But we have a balcony at the Hotel de Russie," pleaded
Katchen, with tears in her eyes, " and we shall have no
chance of seeing the procession if we are obliged to turn
back," and the young man, being gentlemanly, and gallant,
sympathised heartily, though he seemed unable to help.
Just at this crisis, one of the committee members came up,
and to Katchen's great joy, she recognized her old master,
Professor Beer.
" What is to be done ?" said the athlete; " this young
lady has a balcony on the Zeil, and I am especially ordered
to permit no egress whatever."
The Professor did not unwillingly find himself the Paladin
of his pretty pupil; though a grave, not to say an austere
man, the sight of youth and loveliness always refreshed him
like a dewy spring morning in the woods. Moreover, he
partook of the chivalric, urbane, light-hearted humour which
pervaded all classes just then, and quite in a youthful
manner he took Katchen's hand, and led her to her desti-
nation. He even forgot to blush over the exploit.
Thus, happily, Katchen saw that splendid pageant which
will not easily be forgotten by the Frankforters. Never were
so many varieties of colour, so many picturesque effects, so
many enthusiastic feelings, so many intoxicating^and patriotic
DOCTOR JACOB.
147
hopes combined to form one universal jubilee. Music, medi-
seval costume, nationalities mingled and harmonized, banners
and hymns consecrating an Utopian union of all Germany
—what wonder that we were all mad with a mirthful mad-
ness in the good old Free City of Frankfort ?
Whilst Aggie was coquetting with Baron Josef, and
throwing flowers to the Freeshooters passing under the
window, whilst Katchen and the children were watching with
large-eyed admiration the tawny fur-clad Germans dressed
after the description of Tacitus, the twelfth century bowmen
in blue doublets and white hose, the fourteenth century
cross-bowmen in grey and red, the sixteenth century match-
lock men in brown and green, and wearing helmets, the
firelock shooters of the Thirty Years' War in black jerkins
and orange knickerbockers, the pointers in scarlet, bearing
eagles and targets, the gigantic bouquet carried by little
girls and boys in pink and white, the twelve first prize cups
carried by young ladies dressed like bridesmaids, the hun-
dreds of banners and the countless bands of music ; lastly,
the thousands and thousands of Freeshooters from all the
German provinces, wearing oak leaves in their hats.
But, what is Dr. Jacob doing ? This highly coloured
vivacious noisy scene was little to his taste, especially just
then, for many things were troubling him. He had given
up his balcony to the Paulus family, and enjoyed a vicarious
pleasure in the sight of the enraptured young faces around
him. The joyous huzzaing, the trumpets, the Alpine horn,
and all the confused sounds and sights attendant on the
spectacle tired his senses more than any exertion could have
done. When, after five hours, it was over, he. breathed a
great sigh of relief.
" Thank Heaven, I shall be out of this tumultuous scene
to-morrow," he said.
" To-morrow ?—yoti do not seriously intend leaving us so
soon ?" said Dr. Paulusi
h a
148
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Not entirely. I shall only stay a few days in the Berg-
strasse, and afterwards return to Frankfort to put all things
in readiness for my journey."
" I am sorry from my heart that it must be so, and yet
I would be the last to persuade you to delay your good
errand," said Dr. Paulus, earnestly.
" I am sure you would, though I confess I could not
easily withstand your persuasions. Frankfort has been very
pleasant to me : had it not been for that terrible day in the
Fest Halle, I should look upon it as one of the most sun-
shiny spots I have ever visited."
"Ah, that sudden death created quite a sensation. By-
the-by, where is the poor widow ?"
" Staying in the Bergstrasse," answered Dr. Jacob, " en
route to Bavaria."
" Is it a great blow to her? "
" A great shock, undoubtedly; but these mariages de con-
venance do not nurture very warm conjugal feelings. I
believe the Baroness was married, when quite a school-girl,
to a man she had seen but once—what can one expect ?"
Dr. Jacob now led his visitors to table, where a pretty
little dinner awaited them. He did his duties as host admi-
rably, and recovered his wonted animation ere the first
champagne bottle had been emptied. Turn victu revocant
vires. Because, like the tired Teucri on the Libyan shore,
we go to our repast with weary hearts and tired frames,
rising up from the same refreshed and reinvigorated both
mentally and physically, does it argue that we are epi-
cureans ?
CHAPTER XXII.
HEREVER there is a German village, you
will find a " Golden Lion," and a " Golden
Lion" presupposes a prosperous landlord.
Goethe, in " Hermann and Dorothea," gives
us a charming picture of this pastoral element;
and to read it, is to pass a summer day in the Berg-
strasse. The life there is the freest from care in the world.
It savours somewhat of sourkraut, has little that is refined
or intellectual about it, but is merry with the music of
water-mills ; is philosophical, with a philosophy engendered
from a calm, lovely nature and an undisturbed existence;
is scented with wild flowers and freshly-mown hay, like a
poem of Uhland's; is, in fine, the reflex of many pleasant
idiosyncrasies of German life and character.
On a hot summer morning, Dr. Jacob alighted at the little
railway station of Bichenbach, and following a footpath
shaded by plum-trees and acacias, betook his way to Jugend-
heim, one of the most frequented resorts of the Bergstrasse.
As it possesses a mineral spring, and very picturesque sur-
roundings, Jugendheim is partly rural and partly fashionable;
to Dr. Jacob the experience was new, of so much homeliness
mingling with the holiday life of the upper ten thousand in
Germany. With us, we are never more luxurious and fine
than when taking pleasure ; to our cousins, pleasure is some-
thing so sweet in itself, that very few objective disadvantages
take from the colour of it. For instance, Dr. Jacob found
DOCTOR JACOB.
the hotel (a Golden Lion, of course) flanked by a tumble-
down street, swarming with pigs, geese, and bare-footed
children ; braided on each side by wooden cottages, with
coarse blue shirts hanging from each tiny dormer, and front-
ing an open space, where the stone spring, or Brunnen, drew
noisy, unkempt lads and maidens at all hours of the day;
to him, the uncomeliness of the prospect was hardly charmed
away by refreshing mill-sluices, endless undulated woods,
and beech-clad heights, overtopped by a superb sky.
Passing through a court-yard full of poultry, Dr. Jacob
found himself in what must be called an offshoot of a
kitchen, since here all the dishes were carved for the table
cPhdte. This affair was the important event of the land-
lord's daily life. An hour before, or an hour later, Dr. Jacob
would have found' him a chatty cosmopolitan, a much-
thinking politician, a village authority amid satellites; but
now he obtained nothing more from him than a faint attempt
at courteousness. To the right and left of him, were plates
of various eatables ; and his thoughts could not soar beyond
them. In the salle-a-manger, a few minutes later, Dr. Jacob
found him another being ; lively as far as his extreme rotun-
dity would allow, exerting a wonderful authority over his
maids, the forty-two guests having never to wait for the
fourth or fifth course, and never to ask a second time for
bread or sauce.
The Baroness and her children were inaccessibly hemmed
in at the upper end of the room, and Dr. Jacob, having
entered late, was obliged to take the only seat that offered.
We may safely affirm that there is not one German of five
hundred with whom you would not find yourself quite
friendly, i.e., if you responded to his initiative sociability.
In five minutes, and before he had finished his soup, Dr.
Jacob was in animated conversation with a pleasant, rosy-
faced Wirtemberg officer, and his delicate, sentimental
young wife. When biscuits and fruit came on, the gentle-
DOCTOR JACOB.
men lighted their cigars ; and soon after, most of the party
descended to the garden, where the ladies knitted and read
religious novels, and the children chased the chickens.
The Baroness greeted her friend with a kind of forced
apathy, which to strangers might have passed for grief
under her new trial. The truth was that she had been dis-
appointed in his behaviour; she had looked for more than
cold friendly services from him; she had expected him to
leave Frankfort, friends, duties, and all else, to offer his
sympathy and help. Beyond what the urgencies of the case
required, Dr. Jacob, who was really the most warm-hearted
and impulsive man in the world, did nothing. Yet, in spite
of many counteracting influences, in spite of inner struggle
and convictions of his better nature, he had come to the
Bergstrasse to be near her once more. But his homage was
too tardy to be met with much gratitude.
She began in a collected, business-like way,—
" I have much to say to you about Baron Josef, and should
have been glad of your advice on other matters earlier ; but
I will not waste time on useless reproaches to-day. I have
formed a plan for my son's settlement—for his marriage."
" Indeed !"
" And you perhaps may be able to aid me ; of course his
marriage is the first thing to consider, and that once happily
arranged, I shall feel free to enter upon other affairs. You
know Katchen Eggers, the ward of your English friend,
Mr. Brill?"
"Surely she is not the wife you have chosen for Baron
Josef?" said Dr. Jacob, with dismay.
" And why not ? She is well-educated, pretty, and will
have a very large fortunes-could I do better for my son ?"
" I fear you will find them extremely unsuited. Katchen,
I should say, has not one idea in common with Baron Josef.
She is, moreover, too young."
" Pshaw !—I was married at seventeen, and she is a year
r52
DOCTOR JACOB.
older; the younger Josefs wife, the better chance she has of
being happy, since she would easier fall into his ways of
thinking. I do not pretend to adorn Josef with good qua-
lities that he is innocent of, but I contest that girls in far
better positions than Katchen Eggers would have no hesi-
tation in accepting such an offer. Luckily, young girls here
are chosen for, and do not choose, which does away with a
great deal of false romance and sickly sentiment."
"You are acquainted with Katchen's guardians, and they
are agreeable to the contract ?"
The Baroness laughed satirically.
" When was a young man in Josefs position refused ? To
obtain good alliances for daughters is the one end and aim
of parents in Germany, and they are almost ready to sing a
Tc Deum when victory is won. I have not yet entered into
correspondence with Katchen's uncle in Russia, but the issue
of it is almost certain."
Dr. Jacob breathed a deep sigh, and sat for some time in
silent thought. Beneath the garden height on which they
sat, was a black, shiny pool, in the midst of which a spotless
white rose had been thrown by some careless hand. His
eyes grew riveted on the polluted blossom, as if he read in
it some sad allegory.
" This match must not be," he said, gravely. " Baron
Josef's wife would be fitter for her position were she chosen
from the ranks of the world. Katchen would assuredly
disappoint him, and their mutual life would not fail to be
miserable."
" Married life with us means less than it does with you
English; it involves fewer duties, fewer responsibilities,
therefore fewer disappointments. Besides, Josef has la
tete montee for Katchen already. There is love to begin
with."
" Love," repeated Dr. Jacob, with irony; " you would
hardly call.Baron Josefs admiration for any woman, love?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
153
"Not that kind of love which it is said in your country
can exist between couples who have celebrated both a silver
and golden wedding, I own. Josef is likely to tire of his
wife in a year; but is it to be supposed that all other young
men are as faithful as he is fickle ? "
" I have seen very happy married people here as well as
in England. Baron Josef is an extremely gay young man,
and in proportion as he is gay, so is he unfitted for a quiet,
pure-minded young woman like Katchen."
" After so many objections I suppose you will hardly talk
to Mr. Brill on the matter—that is to say, throwing the
balance of your opinion in my scale ?"
" Certainly not."
"You might at least show a little more sympathy for my
isolated position. Think of what I have lost in my late
husband—protection, position, half my wealth, the direction
of my affairs, the guidance of my children—all these I stand
in need of, yet you are farther from me than ever. Far
better that you had never come to Jugendheim."
She rose and left him without another word. By-and-by
she appeared at an upper window, beckoning the children
in-doors : but Dr. Jacob saw her no more that day.
The next morning, at an early hour, the Brills arrived.
He was made aware of their advent by the loud voices of
Mrs. Brill and Aggie in the passage, and by the obstreperous
shouting and romping of the younger children. At that
time most of the other visitors were at the baths ; the pretty
slope of back garden was quiet, save for one or two pic-
turesque old women who were scrubbing earthen boilers in
a purling spring, and the woodchopper's echoing axe in the
adjoining thicket. The scene charmed Dr. Jacob's heart.
The morning breeze blew freshly from the beech-clad heights
rising to the right, amid which gleamed a pretty ducal
Schloss ; to the left, forming a ravine, towered gigantic hills
of syenite; and below, flanked in by rock and woodland,
i54
DOCTOR JACOB.
lay green valleys, animated with rushing rivulets and pink
cottages and water-mills, whose wheels were never silent.
Beyond all, rose the endless beautiful Odenwald, or forest
of Odin, a chain of mountains that glow in unspeakable
green against an unflecked purple sky.
Laying down his book, Dr. Jacob took in all the goodness
and loveliness of this idyll. Truly, he thought, is calm
sunny Germany a place in which to educate oneself to con-
tentment. The abounding beauties of nature, the unassail-
able tranquillity and un-ambitious domestic life, the love of
simple pleasure, and the constant opportunity of gratifying
it—in what country are there so many elements which go
far towards forming a religious and harmless life ? "
Just then Katchen passed under his window, and ascended
the garden-path, looking eagerly to the right and to the
left, as if to take in all points of the prospect at once. Her
fair hair shone like gold in the morning sun, and as she
strolled along, swinging a wide-brimmed straw hat in one
hand, and with the other touching the trellised palings, it
was wonderful how her presence brightened and beautified
the place. Her light figure looked all the prettier for her
simple cotton dress, and there was a quiet dignity in the
bearing of her well-set head. Her type of face was more
intellectual than that of most German girls ; whilst at the
same time, she had all those attractions for which they are
noted, viz., profuse and richly-braided hair, regular features,
rosy lips, and delicate bloomy skin. As a rule, English
women have less perfect features, but more vivacity and play
of expression, than their German cousins ; Katchen, how-
ever, wanted for no animation or power of speaking without
words.
Dr. Jacob joined her with a smile, to which she re-
sponded, though as if with difficulty; never had he before
seen her look sad.
" My dear child, you must bring no troubled thoughts into
DOCTOR JACOB.
the Bergstrasse. What makes my little Katchen sorrowful
on this sunny day ?"
The tenderness of his voice caused her to turn away her
face, in order that he should not see the tears it had called
forth.
" I do not know that I ought to be unhappy," she replied,
hesitatingly; "perhaps it is only discontent, after all."
" Discontent with whom, and with what ?"
" I ought not to tell any one, you least of all, for it is
ungrateful, not to say treacherous, of me to find fault with
kind friends ;" she lowered her voice, and added, " Mrs.
Brill is as kind as a mother to me, but she makes me very
miserable sometimes."
"You did not wish to come here ?"
" It would be the same in Frankfort ; she is continually
making me feel humiliated, both for herself, for Aggie, and
for me—why, oh ! why did she consent to come here, at the
entreaty of Baron J osef ?"
Hardly had the words escaped her, when she hastened to
qualify them,—
" I do not mean to be disrespectful to Mrs. Brill, or to say
anything against your friend; but I cannot like him, and I
hate to be near him."
She clasped her hands over her eyes and wept passionately.
" Dear Dr. Jacob, tell me how I ought to act ?—this Baron
Joseph pays Aggie overt attentions, but he does that only as
a blind; he makes love to me, he importunes me at every
opportunity to hear him, and I have a horror of his pre-
sence."
"Do not fear to confide in me, dear child," he replied,
kindly. "I know better than yourself Baron Josefs bad
qualities, and I will protect you from him if I can." '
" Will you ?" she asked, smiling upon him in the gratitude
and joy of her impulsive young heart. " Oh ! I shall feel so
safe, so happy now !"
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I confess that your disclosure surprises me," mused Dr.
Jacob; "from all that I have observed and heard, I fancied
Aggie was Baron J osef s attraction here."
" Yes, you might well fancy so : he plays a deceitful part,
and I have not the courage or the tact to disconcert him. I
have once attempted to undeceive Mrs. Brill, but she laughed
at me and called me a child ; you cannot tell how miserable
I have been the last few days."
" But now you will be miserable no more, and enjoy this
lovely Bergstrasse with me ?"
" Ah! that will be indeed delightful! How I long to be
'among those sweet-scented fir-trees, watching the squir-
rels "
Mrs. Brill's voice close behind interrupted her speech.
" How d'ye do, Dr. Jacob?" she said, in her abrupt way.
" Tom desired his kindest regards to you—poor, dear man, I
wonder how he will get on now without me to look after him
—by-the-by, the oddest report is current in Frankfort con-
cerning you."
" What may it be ?" he ask"ed, quietly.
" Katchen, will you mind going to Aggie whilst Dr. Jacob
and I have our chat? Well," she whispered, ere Katchen
was fairly out of hearing, " they say that you will marry Ma-
dame de Ladenburg."
" Who says it, Mrs. Brill ?"
" All the world, and nobody in particular. Don't ask me
to mention names, Dr. Jacob ; and, moreover, they say that
you have already a wife, from whom you have been separated
some years."
"You may contradict both those assertions, Mrs. Brill;
and now let us change the subject."
CHAPTER XXIII.
HE Shooting Festival was now at its height;
every house was decked with garlands and the
banners, gold, red, and black, of the empire ; every*
day, thousands and tens of thousands flocked
to the Fest Halle, where a hundred rifles were
fired off a minute, where gigantic banquets, and all possible
amusements, were catered for the pleasure-craving populace.
From six in the morning till twelve at night, the scene of
festivity was crowded, and no one grumbled at being awaked
from first sleep by the light-hearted Freeshooters cheering
and singing strains from " Der Freischiitz," as they returned
home to their quarters. All day long the streets presented
a study. There you saw the handsome Tyrolese, with
his fantastic dress, and agile figure ; the John-Bull-like
Bremenser, with his green tunic, and sunburnt, practical
stolid features; the joyous Swiss, ever ready to drink or
dance; the hard-featured, true-eyed Bavarian, ever foremost
in the shooting-gallery, and wearing dozens of admission
tickets in his hat; the slightly-formed, graceful, aristocratic
Austrian ; the bare-kneed chamois-hunter of Berchtesgaden ;
the wine-loving, sunny tempered Rhinelander.
Inside the Fest Halle, all was life and frolic. At one
moment you would hear a distant cheering, and find every
one mounting benches and tables, in order to see some lucky
prize-winner borne round the building on the shoulders of
his friends, all shouting and singing : at another, you would
DOCTOR JACOB.
see a concourse of people round a trio of Tyrolese singers, who
were elevated to a little platform erected ex improvisoj or
a vehement speech would be made, every patriotic sentiment
being responded to by noisy enthusiasm, or a knot of students
would get up a tremendous chorus to some original repub-
lican song, or a fancy fountain would send up its waters in all
kinds of pretty shapes, or the favourite band-master Jeschko
would wave his baton and drown the buzz of the collected
thousands in the rapturous melodies of Mozart. Beyond
the proscribed limits of the Platz itself had congregated a
vast assemblage of booths, dining-rooms, pedlars' stalls,
•peep-shows, dancing-saloons, and cigar and ice-shops. Here,
as within the doors of the Platz, rich and podf mixed indis-
criminately. Ladies and gentlemen sat down to take ices
by the side of a group of soldiers'smoking over their glass
mugs of beer. Ladies might even with impunity join their
husbands and brothers in toasts of the last-mentioned
beverage, standing sub dio. Punctiliousness and conven-
tionalism were absent. It was a rare intoxicating time of
pleasure, of excitement, and of Utopian equality.
Dr. Paulus did not approve of his children's heads being
turned by gaity; but he liked them to become acquainted
with the world, and would have been sorry to keep them
in ignorance of so remarkable a celebration as the first great
German Confederate Shooting Festival. Accordingly, he
took them twice to the Fest Halle, showed them every object
of interest both within and without the building, explained
the. origin and bearing of Freeshooters'leagues in general,
and of this one in particular; drew their attention to the
different costumes and physiognomies ; and held up to their
reflection the folly of those parents who led children to so in-
structive a place merely to eat chocolate and ices ! Dr.
Paulus, it must be remembered, had iff) liking for his dinner
except as it was the means of sustaining strength, and he
entertained a horror of his children ever thinking otherwise<
DOCTOR JACOB.
*59
On the occasion of his second visit, he was in excellent
Spirits ; true, that his poor wife was not by his side, but she
had taken a charming drive in the morning, and had seemed
a trifle better in consequence ; the children were delighted
with everything, and expressed their delight intelligently;
sitting amid them, and watching the busy, joyous crowds
around, perhaps the whole building held no happier man
than Dr. Paulus.
A familiar tap on his shoulder disturbed his enjoyment.
"Well, Paulus, wonderful place this—what do you say
to it, eh ? "
It was Mr. Brill, looking good-humoured, slovenly, absent
as usual. With him was Mr. Horatio Wood, the new English
resident at Frankfort, whom, it will be remembered, the
jeweller mentioned to Dr. Jacob in the early part of this
story. Mr. Wood was a millionaire and a fiarvemij one of
those honest, H-aspirating men who, their fortune having
outcropped their pretensions, go abroad in order to make the
most of it. People did saythat Mr. Wood's fortune represented
so many ready-made three-guinea suits, five-guinea suits,
ten-guinea suits, youth's paletots, &c., but we need not go to
the root of the matter. Rich he was, undoubtedly; generous he
was no less, and important he must therefore be in a small
English community. Mr. Wood had not been ill-received.
Dr. Paulus worshipped the golden calf as little as he did the
pleasures of the palate ; and, though on friendly terms with
the new comer, had held aloof from his costly dinners,
because they were compliments he could not repay.
Mr. Brill continued,—
" I suppose you know that Emily and the young ones are
at Jugendheim, and that Dr. Jacob has gone there also?—
Mr. Wood, what do you want to say to Dr. Paulus about
Dr. Jacob ?"
Dr. Paulus bit his lip and listened expectantly.
" The fact is," began Mr. Wood, in an unmistakably com-
i6o
DOCTOR JACOB.
mercial way, " I cannot understand Dr. Jacob, and I should
be better pleased if I did. I have done what I could for his
mission, and have made him welcome to my house—but I'm
uneasy in my mind about him."
" Upon what point ?"
" I'm a plain man, Dr. Paulus, and I say upon many points.
Had you called upon me for a ten-pound note for any mis-
sion, had you, time after time, drunk of my wine and eaten of
my venison, I should have no more to say or think, but what
was pleasant about it; in fact, you would have been heartily
welcome. I know your position—I know your wife—I know
your children ; you are just what people think you to be,
and nothing more. But no one knows what to think of Dr.
Jacob."
" He is a clergyman, he is a gentleman, and he is a man of
talent."
" True—true, but you don't understand me. You remember
the proverb,' Where there's fire, there's smoke ;' and it holds
good in many things. Why should not people set a story
about your having a divorced wife ? "
" They may do it, for all I know," answered Dr. Paulus,
with a comic face ; " and I am sure I should not take the
trouble to contradict them."
Mr. Wood drew his listener a little aside, and continued,—
" But it is not pleasant to hear such reports of a man
in Dr. Jacob's position. Just because he is learned, and
preaches well, and is so aristocratic in appearance, do I feel
provoked by his injudiciousness. Why does he not say he's
married, if he is—or a bachelor, if he isn't ? Mystery never
did good service to anybody."
" I have no doubt that Dr. Jacob will be very happy to
give you a satisfactory account of his domestic relations it
you only ask him. How can he tell that such silly gossip gets
afloat ?"
" Why does such silly gossip get afloat ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
i6i
" Why are there fools in the world, and women who love
scandal ?—But what is said respecting Dr. Jacob, derogatory
to him both as clergyman and gentleman ? "
" The fact is," put in Mr. Brill, with a smile, " it is in
everybody's mouth that Dr. Jacob is going to marry the
Baroness Ladenburg, and has a wife living meantime."
" Let the marriage take place, and the injured lady declare
herself, then."
" For my part, Dr. Paulus," said Mr. Wood, somewhat
nettled at his derisive tone, " this seems to me no laughing
matter. Is it desirable for a small English community, like
our own, to be scandalized?—above all things, too, to be
scandalized by a clergyman !"
" My dear Mr. Wood, I should not laugh had I any doubts
in the world of Dr. Jacob's domestic relations; to me it
seems unfair to pay any heed to statements hurting a man
whose back is turned. When Dr. Jacob returns will be the
time to learn all."
Mr. Wood seemed by no means to concur with this senti-
ment; and, after a little further chat, the gentlemen parted.
Dr. Paulus returned home with the children, and Mr. Wood
and Mr. Brill took coffee together, within hearing of the
band.
" I told you Paulus would have nothing to say in the
matter," said the latter, in his usual inefficient manner ; "and
indeed I am far from believing that Dr. Jacob would do any-
thing to bring disgrace upon himself or upon us. The thing,
Wood, is preposterous."
Mr. Wood shook his head. He was a new-comer, re-
member, and wished to show his importance by making a
great stir in some direction or other.
" Above board is my motto,—always was,—and I must say
Dr. Jacob is one too many for me. He puzzles me, sets me
wondering, makes me keep my eyes open to see what he'll do
next; and I always feel uneasy when a man makes that
M
j62
DOCTOR JACOB.
impression on me. You never need fear anything from those
who do as other people do, and ai*e no cleverer than the
rest of us."
"For my part," summed up Mr. Brill, " I take people as
they are, and leave my wife to judge of their characters—I
find very few ill-natured souls, and no vicious ones in the
world. Let each go his way unjudged, I say."
In spite of his outward insensibility, Dr. Paulus had not
listened to Mr. Wood's words without a feeling akin to
uneasiness. Why had not Dr. Jacob made such suspicions
impossible by a plain statement of facts in the first instance ?
Why had he so often shown himself in company with the
Baroness Ladenburg, and why had he now followed her
to the Bergstrasse ? Then this dolce far nienle life of his for
the last few weeks—was not this a strange preparation for the
hardships and toils of a mission to the East ? Was his heart
really so much in his sacred errand as he had represented it
to be ? Was he bound up in it ? Did he pray for it ? Did he
live for it ?
And the beautiful, worldly widow of the Baron Ladenburg
—did Dr. Jacob really cherish an admiration for her beyond
that becoming an elderly man and a clergyman ? Had she,
and she alone, led him to the Bergstrasse ?
Dr. Paulus retired to rest that night with his mind made
up. Immediately on the return of his friend to Frankfort, he
would tell him the plain truth and ask plain truth in reply.
His own friendship for Dr. Jacob, his position with regard to
him as a missionary to the Jews, and their mutual calling,
would excuse such inquiry.
V It shall be done," said Dr. Paulus ; and his words, like
the zic placitam of Jupiter, were never said in vain.
It would be difficult to trace the report concerning Dr.
Jacob's marriage with Madame de Ladenburg to its proper
originator. Certainly, there was no ill-natured reason which
would have moved any one to such a course. Dr. Jacob was
DOCTOR JACOB.
163
at this time the most popular man in Frankfort; the most
sought after at men's dinners, the most idolized at ladies'
soirees. Of the Baroness, few' people knew anything at all,
but it was impossible that they could know anything of her so
disadvantageous as to give rise to an unpleasant rumour
regarding a ten days' widow. Circumstances, and circum-
stances alone, must be called to account for the story. Dr.
Jacob had been often seen with the haughty, handsome lady
in her husband's life-time, and, after his sudden death, had
made arrangements for the interment, had transacted money
matters for her, had settled her accounts at the Hotel de
Russie, had finally followed her to Jugendheim.
Why could not Baron.Josef have done all this instead of
Dr. Jacob, seeing that gossipers are so plentiful and so un-
charitable ?
And if, as some more placid temperaments judged the
matter, Dr. Jacob would in due time marry the Baroness—
quid mult a, why so many objections ? A man of sixty was
not too old for a woman of forty, and there was no law,
human or divine, interdicting a clergyman from a late
marriage.
M 2
CHAPTER XXIV.
ARON JOSEF arrived next day, and then little
pleasure parties were got up with great vivacity
on all sides. The Baroness naturally favoured
all opportunities of throwing Katchen and her
son together, as such might directly or indirectly
tend to the consummation of her pet project. Were we
to disclose the force of reasons ab ovo, which induced
Madame de Ladenburg to desire this union so heartily, we
feq.r our readers would find her rather too diplomatic and
designing to suit their taste. In the first place, she had
a great many debts, and Katchen's pretty fortune would help
her in that respect; then it must be highly to her own
advantage to have a daughter-in-law so inexperienced and so.
easily moulded as she presumed this young girl to be.
Katchen's tall, fawn-like figure, and well-bred, delicate fea-
tures, heightened her desirability ; for the Baroness hated
ugliness as a plebeian vice, and loved beauty as a patrician
virtue ; and to have a handsome wife would, in her view,
enhance Baron Josefs importance and position. When,
therefore, Katchen came to her one morning with a message
from Mrs. Brill, she took her hand and said, winningly,—
" My dear child, stay with me a "little. I have a topic to
discuss with you, which few young girls are unwilling to enter
upon. How old are you, Katchen ?"
" Eighteen," answered Katchen, blushing painfully under
the close scrutiny of the Baroness.
DOCTOR JACOB.
She is proud, thought the latter. I can see that by the
swelling of her nostrils and the curl of her lip at my ques-
tion ; she is handsome, with eyes that can flash on occasions
as befits the wife of a Baron, and with fair hair and com-
plexion which will contrast weli with mine. I like you,
Katchen Eggers, and I will show a real motherly love to you,
if only you prove tractable to my wishes.
She said aloud,—
" Eighteen is the rosebud time of life, when love and
romance are to be dreamed of and lived for. Tell me,
Katchen, would you like to have a lover ?"
" I do not know—I believe I am happy without one."-
" Happy, because you have known no greater happiness ;
but a brighter lot is in store for you, Katchen—you will be
married, you will have plenty of money at your command;
you will travel, and have all kinds of pleasures within your
reach ; you will, in fact, begin to learn what life really is."
The girl started, and looked with her pure, wondering eyes
full at her listener; as yet she by no means comprehended
the meaning of her words—she only knew that something in
their tenor disturbed her.
" Well, Katchen," pursued the Baroness, laying one hand
silkily on her young companion's arm, " are you not anxious
to know the name of this gallant lover, who is coming to lead
you into fairyland ? "
" My lover, madame ? "
"Your lover, Katchen; your very own. Listen to my
description of him, and guess the riddle for yourself. Your
lover, then, is of the middle height, well-made, dark, with
regular features and good moustachios ; he dances superbly,
plays on the piano and guitar to perfection, pays the prettiest
compliments in the world, and lastly (which is no objection
with young ladies generally, Katchen), he wears the uniform
of an Austrian hussar."
"Baron Josef!" screamed Katchen, utterly shocked from
166
DOCTOR JACOB.
all notions of propriety, and trembling from head to foot.
" Oh ! madame, let me go !"
She would have rushed at once from the room, but the
Baroness caught her hand and led her back.
" My dear child," she said, smilingly, " why this agitation ?
True, a Baron does not fall to the share of every young lady,
though she be charming, and ever so amiable; but do not
be frightened—Josef is yours, hand and heart. You shall
be my daughter, Katchen !"
" Oh ! no, no—it cannot be !"
" And why not ? Are you fearful of the responsibilities
attaching to the name of Baroness ?—I was at your age,
but they sat lightly enough on my shoulders a few months
after marriage. Look at the bright side of everything—
think of the balls you will attend, and the dresses you will
have "
"I cannot marry Baron Josef," said Katchen, gathering
courage with the fresh danger suggested by every word of
the Baroness ; "I do not love him. We should be very
unhappy." , t
This to the Baroness was wholly an unexpected objec-
tion : that a young girl should refuse a Baron, moreover an
accomplished, fascinating wearer of a military coat, merely
because no practical kind of love existed between them,
was to her an unaccountable folly. She laughed aloud, and
replied,—
" Love will come afterwards, my little girl, on your part.
On his, I assure you it is well-established already; he is
continually dwelling on your golden hair and blue eyes.
What more would you have ?"
Katchen's eyes were fixed to the ground as if by a spell,
and only a slight tremor told the emotion within. She
felt too powerless in the strong hands of her antagonist to
strike another blow in self-defence; neither could she, in
the first moments of her blind, childish fear, think of anyone
DOCTOR JACOB.
167
powerful enough to deliver her. In passive silence she
heard all.
" But for the present, this introductory dialogue will do ;
in a few days, I shall receive a letter from your guardian
in Russia, which, if assenting, will bring the happy days of
trousseau-preparation, betrothal, and bridal-gifts, very near
to you. Come and kiss me, Katchen, and let me see how
prettily you can behave to your future mamma.5'
Still Katchen said never a word.
"Will you make no becoming little speech to me, no
graceful indication, either by word or action, that may warm
my heart to you? Foolish little Katchen, how backward
you are to become conscious of your good fortune !"
The manner in which these sentiments were expressed
savoured of the most ingenuous womanly nature; but as
the untutored rustic will detect the true coin from the false
at once, so Katchen, simple and inexperienced as she was,
felt that the clear ring of the right metal was wanting in
them; and accordingly, instead of warming into tears or
other girlish demonstrations, she replied,—
" Oh ! Baroness Ladenburg, let me go ! I cannot say
anything to you now—please let me go 155
And like a released lark, she flew out of the room. Her
message was forgotten in her utter bewilderment; passion-
ately desirous of solitude, and knowing that it was not to
be had in the house just then, she stole out of the front-door
of the " Golden Lion," turned down the narrow street abut-
ting it, and crept into the stillness and shadow of the wood.
Seating herself on the trunk of a tree, she buried her face
in her hands, thinking deeply. It was no imaginary danger
that she had to encounter; it was no far off illusionary evil
threatening her—oh, no !—the danger was but too real, the
evil was but too near.
Who could help her ? Could Mr. Brill ?—he was her
guardian, and had ever been kind and fatherly; would he
i68
DOCTOR JACOB.
allow her to be made unhappy ? or must his course of action
be guided by that other and unknown guardian in Russia ?
Could Dr. Jacob ? He was a friend of the Baroness, and
he was so good and so noble—would he not do his utmost
to dissuade her from the project—would he not, by his
eloquence, use an influence far stronger than that of easy,
vacillating Mr. Brill? Had he not promised to aid her
and counsel her in any troubles ? Could she show her
trust in him more than by confiding in it? The reso-
lution to consult Dr. Jacob brought some comfort to her
mind, though the very thought of Baron Josef as her lover
made her tremble with fear. The birds of the air avoid
by instinct poisonous herbs and berries ; and with the
innate abhorrence of her pure nature for anything evil,
Katchen shrank from the merest finger-tip contamination
with him. She knew that he was selfish, dissipated, and
unprincipled ; she had heard him say cruel things in jest,
and look dissolute looks in earnest. She knew, without
giving words to them, the virtues in which he was most
wanting, the sins to which he was most prone; and she
feared him as children fear darkness, as the helpless stag
fears the hounds behind it.
Having thus steadily confronted her trouble, and at last
brought a little ray of hope within the circle of it, for Dr.
J acob seemed as a tower of strength to her untried youthful
mind, she returned home. Dr. Jacob's room adjoined the
salle & manger downstairs, so that she could enter it without
being observed by any one, the latter apartment being
always empty in the afternoon. To her great joy, her timid
knock was responded by the well-known, well-loved voice
of her kind friend.
" Come in," he said, gently, as she stole up to him like a
frightened fluttering bird, with no strength beyond that of
tears.
He took her hand within his own, and put the damp,
DOCTOR JACOB.
169
lustrous locks from off her face, forbearing to speak till the
first passion of her grief should be spent; then he said, in
a calm voice,—
" Katchen—why this despair ? Have I not promised to
be your friend always ? "
" Gh ! Dr. Jacob, save me from Baron Josef !"
" Baron Josef has not impertinently pressed his attentions
upon you ? " he said, angrily.
" No, oh, no ; but the Baroness "
"And what has the Baroness said or done to cause you
unhappiness ? Come, my child, sit down beside me and tell
your story."
She obeyed him, going over the unwelcome ground with
many tears, and ending by a passionate appeal to him for
delivery.
"Baron Josef is false-hearted, and I hate him; I would
rather die than be his wife !" she said, impetuously, and
then she looked up into his face as if she knew that he could
help her.
"You are right, Katchen. Baron Josef is neither true
nor virtuous, and you must not marry him."
" If I could only get away from this place," added Kat-
chen, pitifully. " Think how constantly I shall be compelled
to see him and to listen to him ! Ohs Dr. Jacob ! what
shall I do?"
" We must put an end to these marriage negotiations at
once.' I will to-day write to your guardian in Russia, and
prevail upon Mr. Brill to withhold his consent. There will
then be one obstacle less in the way, Katchen."
Her blue eyes shone like an April sky when the shower
is over; and she carried his hand to her lips in the fulness
of her gratitude.
" Will the Baroness be very angry ? " she asked, simply.
" I think she will," he replied, with a smile; " do you
stand so much in awe of her ?"
170
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Not whilst you are here ; but were I alone, I would
never dare to confront her. Oh, Dr. Jacob ! you are so
good, and so kind, what shall I do when you are gone ?"
" Will you miss me, Katchen ? "
"Were I with you always," she replied, speaking in a
thoughtful, pensive way, " I think my life would be wholly
different to what it is here. You are so unlike any one else
I have ever seen; you have so much love and tenderness
towards those who are weaker than yourself; you never say
bitter words against those who have displeased you; you
always, try to make every one good and happy ; you always
win love because your own heart is so full of affection "
She stopped short and blushed, for he had turned his face
away.
"Am I wrong in speaking to you so? Are you angry
with me ?"
" My little Katchen," he said, and his voice touched her
more than it had ever done, for so much of sadness w,as
mingled with its sweet tones, " could I be angry with you
for loving me? No, Katchen, I was thinking that were you
my daughter, were you always with me, my own life wpuld
be twice as happy as it is now; and, oh, Katchen (for I am
far otherwise than you deem), twice as good !"
" Good," she murmured, wonderingly—" how could your
life be better ? "
" Dear, would to God it were worthy of your admiration !
—rather, I should say, of your love. But we are all weak,
Katchen, and were I like Baron Josef, young, rich, and
handsome, still comparing my own heart with your pure
nature, I should stand back, and never dare to hold out my
hand to you."
In reply, she held out both little hands to him, and took
a fatherlike kiss and blessing from his lips.
CHAPTER XXV.
R. JACOB, like the great statesman whose cha-
racter is so much admired by the lady readers
of Lord Macaulay's History, was a Trimmer.
He loved always to trim between two extremes,
alike avoiding pusillanimity and fool-hardiness,
conservatism and innovation. He never willingly offended
the most uninteresting acquaintance, or threw his conviction
with undue warmth into any cause; and because he was
now called upon to oppose his beautiful friend, with no
ordinary degree of tenacity, he found himself in an unplea-
sant dilemma. To offend the Baroness irrevocably was by
no means agreeable to him. We must have told our story
badly if the reader has not perceived that he admired her
extremely, and must at some former time have expressed his
admiration, thereby giving her what would otherwise have
been an unwarrantable influence over him.
Could Katchen be rescued, and the Baroness kept in
placidity ? Here was the Gordian knot for our diplomatic
genius ! Having looked at the matter in all its bearings,
Dr. Jacob at length resolved to write to Mr. Brill, urging on
him the very strong objections existing to a marriage between
his ward and Baron Josef; to write to Katchen's Russian
guardian at once, seemed rather a premature step in the
present state of affairs, and might do harm, since he, the
writer, was no relation of the young girl; and had no pos-
sible ground for interfering. Therefore, through Mr. Brill
172
DOCTOR JACOB.
and the Baroness, or through no one, could Katchen he
freed.
After having written to Mr. Brill, he sought his lady-
antagonist, who received him with a coldness of manner
that augured ill for his cause.
" Have you come to take leave of me, Dr. Jacob?"
" Not yet, my dear Baroness. I can surely spare myself
a few days' holiday before giving up all holidays whatever."
"Are you really in earnest about this mission to the
East ?" she said, sharply ; " do you fully intend carrying out
your self-exiling project?"
" Fully."
She seemed to cojisider a moment as to the best way of
expressing some innermost thought, and then added,—
"To me it seems an unnecessary enthusiasm, and a very
ill-timed one. At your time of life, one must leave self-
sacrificing projects to younger men, and live a little for one's
self. How do you propose fulfilling your duties to her—to
Elizabeth, by such a course ?"
"You presume what seems to me an improbability, and
what seemed so to yourself a few days since. Have you not
seen her in vain ?—have I not sought her in vain ? I fear
there is no more happiness in store for me, as connected
with so dear a tie, Baroness Ladenburg ; there are some sins
for which one can never atone."
"Then you propose leaving Frankfort shortly, and leaving
it alone ?"
He sighed deeply.
" I can but submit to fate, and the consequences of my own
acts."
"You are wrong," she cried, vehemently; "doubly, trebly
wrong! With your brilliant talents and great powers of
winning all hearts, with your wonderful aptitude for shining
in society, and influencing everyone and everything within
your reach, you are virtually committing suicide by retiring
DOCTOR JACOB.
173
from the world. Again, you are a Sybarite, and you propose
to yourself the life of a Spartan ; you are fastidious on all
points of refinement and etiquette, and you voluntarily banish
yourself to a savage land. Where will be the enjoyment
or satisfaction in such an existence ?"
He answered her very slowly.
".I have already weighed these objections, and whether I
may be wrong or right in the resolution to which they have
brought me, I shall now adhere to it. Listen to me, dear
friend. There is one whose hand would perhaps stay me
from my course, were I daring enough to hold out mine ;
there is one whose warm woman's heart could perhaps con-
sent to sacrifice much repute, much worldly advantage,
perhaps much domestic peace for my sake. I am not too
old to be insensible to her loveliness and her love, nor am I
wanting in my appreciation of either ; but I dare not take so
much of beauty and so much of happiness to my heart, since
where I have hitherto given my affection I have given un-
wittingly a curse."
Her head was bowed low over her clasped hands, and she
heard him with a thrill of joy that made the blood dance in
her veins, and the heart beat tumultuously in her breast.
She was, however, too completely mistress of herself to be
quickly overcome, and her voice had no quiver in it as she
replied,—
" Not a curse—only the withholding of it could be that."
" Therese," he said, with a slight tremor of his lips, " never
think that I undervalue the deep and generous feelings I
have called forth in your nature ; never think that either in
word or deed I hold your name as less dear and sacred
because you have once shown yourself too generous to me ;
never think that I leave you without sorrow, or that I shall
remember you without regret. But there are impassable
barriers between you and me. You are rich—I have only
moderate means ; and there is a feeling—I cannot explain
T74
DOCTOR JACOB.
its nature, I cannot account for its existence—which would
prevent any honourable man from offering his hand to a
woman in comparison with whom he is poor. I have tried
to combat with this feeling—I have wrestled with it more
than once, but it is too strong for me; and such being the
case, I may speak out my thoughts freely to you before we
part. For, Therese, we must part."
He had risen, and now stood before her, and, taking her
hands in his, he said, in a low key,—
"We must part, Therese. Duty and circumstances alike
lead-us into different paths. Tell me that you forgive me,
that you will keep a tender recollection of me. To-morrow,
it behoves us to meet as friends only. To-day we are
parting as lovers, and may dare to speak of love."
She rose, that proud passionate woman of the world, and
flinging her arms around his own, laid her cheek on his
shoulder, crying bitterly.
"Do not leave me—I cannot, cannot bear it! The love
of my life, heart, and soul have been for you, and for none
other; do not cast it away, do not teach me to hate you."
" Think of all I have said to you—think of the difference
between your position and mine, between your religion and
mine. It cannot be."
" If you loved me you would not say so. A woman sees
no obstacle in the way where she gives her whole heart.
Ah me i could I only believe that you loved me, I should be
too happy," she moaned, with pitiful earnestness.
" If I had no regard for you, should I have come here ?"
he said.
" But you have come to torture me, to break my heart,—is
that love ?" and she broke from him as if with sudden indig-
nation.
He added,—
" Should I have ever shown myself so tender of your
reputation, Therese, should I have kept myself so far apart,
DOCTOR JACOB.
175
had I loved you less worthily ? Think tenderly of me,
dearest—least of all, accuse me of coldness."
His words were very sweet to hear, though they tended to
separation, and the Baroness, melting gradually under their
influence, allowed him to take her hands and look into her
eyes.
"You have loved me; would to God that I could have
made you happier, and taken you to my heart, dear one ! For
the last time, let me,say it, and for the last, let me seal it with
my lips."
He kissed her, and then led her to a seat, for she was
trembling and over-wrought. To moot Katchen and her
betrothal with Baron Josef was now wholly impossible.
Sive casu, sive consilio Deorum Immortalium, affairs had
taken a sudden and unexpected turn, quite putting out of the
question any intervention on that head. Dr. Jacob stood in a
very different position with regard to the Baroness from what
he had done on entering her room. Half an hour ago, he
might have pleaded for Katchen, and perhaps won her cause ;
could he plead for any one now with the woman who had
offered him her love, her hand, her all, in vain ?
Thoughtful and troubled, he left her ; the solitude of his
apartment recalled that last passionate phase of their inter-
course. He loved the Baroness no more, but he had loved
her once, and it pained him deeply that he should cause her
so much wretchedness. Her beauty, her impulsiveness, her
attractions of manner, were not easily effaced from his
memory : he regretted that she could not still be his friend ;
but had no obstacles existed, he would not have made her
his wife. There he had deceived her. Some men can love
a woman who is not wholly pure^ or good, can give up every-
thing for her, can become blinded to her very faults. But
Dr. Jacob, though by no means infallible, was not such a
man. He could not make an idol of a woman whose soul
was less white than God had made it. He could not bear
176
DOCTOR JACOB.
the slightest speck upon a woman's small hand, though he
was almost culpably temperate in judging men's errors.
Like the simple Norse peasantry of a primitive age, he
held pure womanhood to be armour-proof alike against the
beast of prey or the temptation of sin; but if once a spot
had flecked it, there was no longer beauty, no longer delight,
no longer respect of man or beast.
It made him sad to think that for him all love, all loveli-
ness, all joys of woman's nearest and best companionship
were over. He was young in heart, though his hair was
silvered ; and but for one sad memory he would have rejoiced
even now to make his home with some tender, gentle nature,
and for her sake never to wander more. Affection, especially
the affection of women, was inexpressibly dear to him; the
sound of a woman's soft voice, and the sight of a woman's
fair face, filled him with gladness and tranquillity. He pos-
sessed that strange power over the weaker sex which would
have rendered his' task easy, if he had set before him the
pleasant one of choosing a wife ; but conscience, reason, duty,,
alike forbade. No, frequent and fresh as might be the
flowers around him, easily as the freshest would yield to his
hand, he must go on and take no heed.
Then he thought of Katchen. He recalled the graceful out-
line of her light figure, the gloss and beauty of her golden
hair, the tender sweetness of her earnest blue eyes, the
numerous girlish simple charms of her manner. In his youth
he had loved and lost one just so winning and beautiful, and
he felt that he would have given several years of the life that
came after, to have wooed Katchen Eggers for one long
summer day.
CHAPTER XXVI.
RAULEIN FINK had a select little circle of
acquaintances, who met at each other's houses
once a fortnight, for coffee, knitting, and con-
versation ; some years since, with a laudable
view to improving the tone of these Kaffee
Gesellschafts, the worthy directress had induced her friends
to vary their evening's amusement by readings from the
Urania, Oberon, Wilhelm Meister, and the Cid; but the
intellectual flame, for want of a little fanning, had expired
soon after its birth, and long and heartily did Fraulein Fink
regret it. Not being a 'wife and a mother, she felt less warm
an interest in husbands' likes and dislikes, children's ailments
and clothes, than did her married acquaintances ; and when
these topics had been fully discussed, nothing remained but
small talk concerning the play, the gardens, and the affairs
of the Frankforters in general. Politics, literature, and the
world at large were ignored, as befitting only the Bettinas of
society; for in Germany, Goethe's Bettina suggests the out-
rageous, unbecoming, and unfeminine blue-stocking. Books,
as books merely, were not tabooed, the historical novels of
Miihlbach, the religious ones of Wildermuth and the modern
poets, being the most enthusiastically cited.
The Great Shooting Festival, however, brought a new and
invigorating current into this stream that went " voiceless
by," and the first coffee party, after every flag had been
pulled down from the houses, was a very spirited affair
N
178
DOCTOR JACOB.
indeed. Excepting Fraulein Fink, there was not a lady
among them but could tell stories of the gallant Freeshooter,
or perhaps Freeshooters, who had been quartered upon her
household. One had entertained two Tyrolese, and she
recounted, with tears in her eyes, the sweet simplicity of these
children of Nature, their untutored ways, their love of music,
their unsophisticated sayings ; another had given bed and
breakfast to a sturdy merchant from Bremen, who had sent
her out to buy two silk dresses for his wife, and given the'
costliest to her; a third had offered the use of an attic to
two pleasant young fellows from St. Gall, and all she could
do to the contrary, they would make love to her girls, and
present them with scents and trinkets ; a fourth had housed
a handsome Austrian doctor, who afterwards invited herself
and husband to visit him and his family in Vienna; and so
on, ad infinitum. All had some pretty incident to relate
and " some natural tears they shed," to think that the
charming, unequalled, never-to-be-forgotten festival was
over.
" For my part," said Frau Directorin Heinrich, "could
we have such a festival again, I would willingly receive those
dear men from Salzburg, though they did dirty my newly-
polished floors, and drink an unaccountable quantity of
coffee—bless me, I cried like a child when they went off!"
" And I," added Fraulein Fink, " could but weep to think
that Germany will never realize the union and freedom of
which every one has dreamt during this last fortnight."
" I don't think the Swiss thought much of that," put in
Professor Beer's mother; ".from what I could learn, they,
only cared for the beer and the Fest Halle."
The Frau Beer was a plump little old lady, with short hair
and mild blue eyes. She always wore a white cap with a-
black bow on the top, looking as if a crow had suddenly
lighted there 5 and she never left off knitting, or looked at
her pins, let the conversation be what it might. She lived
DOCTOR JACOB.
179
with her two sons very happily, and knew not which to love
most, for both seemed to live only for her sake. We have
before remarked on the Professor's admiration of Katchen,
but any project of marriage was far from his mind. As to
the elder son, Professor Edouard, he was too fond of his
books, and his walking holiday tours, to dream of admiring
ladies.
Besides the Frau Beer, was the merry German wife of
Fraulein Fink's French master, Madame Tremoully. She
had a fair round face, pleasant to look at, and a wonderful
knack of laughing at nothing, and seeing fun in trifles. Then
there were the wife and sister of a Lutheran minister, who
had resided many years in the country, and bore the same
comparison to the grammatical Fraulein Fink, that a Suffolk
farmer's wife and sister might do to a carefully-mannered
schoolmistress in London; they perspired a good deal,
though it was five o'clock in the afternoon, and sat on the
sofa as if they feared it was going to break under their
weight. These ladies made profound obeisance to Fraulein
Fink, and never premised anything before backing it with
her opinion. A lively advocate's wife, with a great predilec-
tion for sweets and scandal, and a very tall old lady who was
too deaf to join in anything but the coffee, chocolate, and
knitting-pins, completed the party, worthy Frau Beer repre-
senting the hostess.
" The only drawbacks to the whole affair," said the country
Frau Pfarrerin, in a broad Suabish brogue, " were the smash
of crockery, and the death of Baron Ladenburg caused by
the hurricane. They say that five thousand pieces in all
were broken, and as to the poor man, he hadn't a grey hair."
"One can well say," answered Fraulein Fink, "in the
words of Neander,—
" Das Leben ist gleich einem Traum ;
Gleich einem leichten Wasserschaum,
Ist alle reine Herrlichlceit."
N 2
DOCTOR JACOB.
" But the Baroness is not inconsolable," cried the advo-
cate's wife. " I don't repeat anything without good authority,
and I assure you she will marry again when the mourning is
over."
" Ah !" came from all quarters of the room.
" Yes; moreover, she is to marry an Englishman, Dr. Jacob."
Fraulein Fink immediately gained immense homage by
recounting Dr. Jacob's charming manner and agreeable con-
versation, of which she had been favoured with personal
experience. When the whole story of the memorable evening
that he spent at her house, had been given, the advocate's
wife looked round with a mysterious smile.
" But you will all be surprised to hear what more I have to
tell you," she said. " Oh ! these English !—these English !
Far from being rich, as people suppose, Dr. Jacob will marry
the Baroness in order to pay off his debts !"
" He lodges at the Hotel de Russie, and lives there like a
prince," said one.
"He gave the English clergyman's wife a splendid cameo
bracelet," cried another.
"He gave Frau Dr. Paulus a solid silver sugar-basin!"
screamed a third.
"He has spent fifty thalers at Albert's on children's toys !''
exclaimed a fourth.
" His room at the Hotel is full of costly vases and books,"
added a fifth.
" He spends money as if he were a Rothschild," finally
clinched Madame Tremoully, and then all the ladies sat in
silence looking at each other. By-and-by their surprise died
away, and those who, like Fraulein Fink, had seen Dr. Jacob,
began to dilate on his handsome bearing, his winning voice,
his sweet smile ; he was quite a Goethe among them, and
indeed they drew many a comparison between this wonderful
Englishman and their idolized poet, for all German women
idolize Goethe.
DOCTOR JACOB.
181
About eight o'clock the ladies separated, assuring the Frau
Beer that never was coffee so good or cakes so excellent as
hers. Certainly, both had tasted sweet to the palates of all;
but remember, dear reader, that delightful bit of gossip con-
cerning Dr. Jacob ! Was ever coffee insipid, were ever cakes
dry, when flavoured with a spice of scandal ? No, no ! We
say it in all charity, but at the same time with a strong con-
viction of its truth. I daresay Lucretia and her friends would
not have kept so quietly to their spinning-wheels, had not
some neighbour, or neighbour's wife, formed the topic, and
therefore, bond of union, between them.
As soon as her visitors had disappeared, the active old
lady, laying aside her cap, began to prepare supper. A
very small kitchen, furnished by an extraordinary variety
of green earthenware, stewing-pans, and bowls, adjoined the
family refectory, and here, with the assistance of a comely
maid, she soon concocted a savoury though homely supper.
The Beers were not rich, and only occupied a small flat on
the fourth storey in an unfashionable street; but they were
comfortable, contented people, and always sat down to a well-
supplied board.
When all was ready, she tapped lightly at the door of her
sons' rooms, and then the little family sat down to table.
We must say a word about the elder Professor. He was a
very thin, fragile-looking man, with large eyes, that had been
used to the detriment of their lustre, and a broad wrinkled
brow, telling you of all sorts of Kantean studies and critical
investigations, perhaps involving more mental power and
exercise than many more practical and progressive subjects
. have done. He was not a dogmatic man, though fond of
skirmishing in conversation, and could hold his own, in
argument, against any dozen learned professors in Germany.
It was pleasant to see how much these two learned sons
made of their unlearned mother ; praising her cookeries with
delicate flattery, as if she had been some young lady to whom
DOCTOR JACOB.
they were making love ; helping her to the nicest morsels;
deferentially hearing her opinion upon topics of which she
knew almost nothing, and taking for wit all her homely little
sallies. Well might the Frau Beer be proud of her two pro-
fessors.
" Thou eatest no potato-salad, my Felix," said the old lady,
with concern; " surely there is something wrong with thee.
Never but once have I seen thee refuse it, and that was
when thy father died—poor dear father, how he loved good
eating !"
Professor Felix smiled (it is wonderful how a smile can
irradiate a hard-featured, brown-skinned man), and replied,—
"No wonder that Edouard finds Chinese so easy, since his
mother has bequeathed him such a memory. Holidays make
,me bilious, mother—when I have climbed up the Rhigi, I
shall have a better appetite."
The conversation now turned upon the coming Swiss tour
of the brothers, and the potato-salad was forgotten. But it is
not unnoticeable in our history, for people of Professor Beer's
consistent character do not refuse a much-loved delicacy
without reason; something more than holiday-making had
taken away his appetite. The fact was, he had just heard
the rumour of Katchen's betrothal with Baron Josef, and
though the intention of asking for her hand himself might
otherwise never have been more than a misty dream in his
mind, to know her the betrothed of another caused him sharp
pangs. It is a question whether Werther would have deemed
Lottchen half so charming, had not that cruel Albert, like the
dragon Ladon guarding the golden apples, stood between
himself and his goddess. Had no such tidings reached his
ear, Professor Felix would have turned to the potato-salad
with ordinary relish, though in reality Katchen was no
farther removed from him now than before. But no amount
of Sanskrit, Hebrew, and Scandinavian literature had ren-
dered the Professor's heart insensible to the graces and
DOCTOR JACOB.
183
gentleness of that fair young pupil of his ; and he recalled
her shining hair, her smooth straight brow, her candid loving
blue eyes, her rosy lips, her soft voice, with an angry self-
condemnation, and a feeling of bitterness towards the young
Baron. He was not aware of her rich parentage, and he
thought fiercely—Why did I not try for the prize ? True,
she is young and beautiful; perhaps not so young or beautiful,
but my love might have won her ! Ten years ago 1 lost
Hedwig by not speaking in time, and she married a Jew
doctor fifteen years older than herself. Katchen Eggers,
like Hedwig, is won by the boldest wooer.
Professor Felix went to bed in a very disturbed state of
mind, thinking of the sweet Hedwig he had lost years ago, of
the sweeter Katchen he had later loved no less, and equally
in vain.
A German poet has said, " Die erste Liebe ist die beste"—
the first love of one's heart is sweetest; and many others
have sung in the same strain. But we don't believe a word
of it. True, that Paris returned to his spring-tide love,
(Enone—but remember, dear reader, the intervening story of
Helen and Troy, and all the passionate phases of it; did he
seek CEnone till Helen was lost for ever, and he needed a
tender nurse for his wounded body and sick soul ? Then
Dido again; did she not vow eternal fidelity to her much-
loved lord, Acerbas ? What became of her vows when young
Apneas, with his noble stature and lovely locks, and " purple
light of love," presented himself at Carthage ? Did she not
use all womanly wiles to entice him to stay ? Did she not,
having enticed in vain, throw herself despairingly on a funeral
pile, and, like a swan, die singing her own death chant?
No, no.
" Oh, love, thus may'st thou know my love for thee,
In that I once before have so well loved ;
We do not trust our treasures over sea,
Unless the ship is proved."
CHAPTER XXVII.
R. BRILL, with an unaccountable amount of
energy, induced by a private lecture from Dr.
Paulus, wrote back that under no circum-
stances would he countenance the marriage-
of his adopted daughter with a Roman Ca-
tholic, baron or no baron. He further added, that he had
never approved of Baron Josef's intimacy with his family,
and urged upon Dr. Jacob to reason with Mrs. Brill and
Aggie on the matter; they wouldn't mind him, he added
pathetically. Both mother and daughter had been aghast at
the very idea of quiet Katchen securing such a prize, and
eventually agreed that it was a satisfaction .she was cheated,
even if Aggie were in the same boat.
" After all, I believe Katchen's money tempted him," said
Aggie, with worldly wisdom ; " and if he does propose to me,
why, mamma, we must manage papa, that is all. Baron
Josef is none the worse for having been bred a Catholic, and
I could go to church all the same," &c., &c.
Matters, therefore, went on smoothly at Jugendheim,
except that the Baroness seldom left her apartment, and
never to join in the many excursions that were proposed and
carried out. She met Dr. Jacob only at the table d'hote^
where they interchanged a few words of common courtesy,
and parted without a hand-clasp.
That she was suffering, and suffering deeply, was plain to
all eyes, though none guessed the cause. Perhaps her poor
DOCTOR JACOB.
governesses and tutor fared worse in consequence; certainly
she was never in good-humour with them for two consecu-
tive hours, and treated her children with alternate indulgence
and severity.
Baron Josef's spirits seemed in no wise damped by Mr.
Brill's decision. He tormented Katchen less by his atten-
tions than formerly; but flirted all day long with Aggie,
romped with Flory, and gave presents to the little ones.
Certainly there was. a spice of bonhomie and rollicking good-
nature about this young man that went far to cancel his
rakishness in the opinion of those whom he tried to please ;
and he did try to please the Brills evidently.
"Why are you such a fool, Josef?" said the Baroness to
him one morning, when he had been showing Aggie undue
attention in her presence; " those English girls are not to be
played with, I assure you. It is a dangerous game, and if
you get yourself entangled in a foolish marriage, what will
become of you ?—you are bound hand and foot by your Jew
creditors already."
Baron Josef apostrophised his creditors in a very uncom-
plimentary manner, and continued,—
"Never mind me, mamma; I'll be the best of sons to you, if
you let me go my own ways. I don't mean to marry the
little black-eyed thing—it is only a flirtation, and in the
Bergstrasse qa se sauvej one must flirt to get rid of the
time. Why don't you flirt, mamma ?—that was quite your
forte, once."
" I tell you the pastor's wife does not look upon it as a
flirtation ; if so, need she have snubbed you when you
appeared in the light of Katchen's suitor? Need Agatha
have snubbed you ? "
This flattered Baron Josef immensely ; for the admiration
of a German girl, and that of an English one, were not one
and the same thing. He did not take up the cudgels again,
but made great eyes at Aggie when next they met.
186
DOCTOR JACOB.
Dr. Jacob dreamed away the next few days in the manner
that he liked best—reading pleasant books beneath the cool
shadows of the beech-wood ; bathing at sunrise ; chatting
with the peasantry at all hours ; climbing sunny heights at
evening, and looking down upon the lazy happy villages
below. This kind of life—the basking, as it were, in sun-
shine and summer sounds, this utter yielding to innocent
voluptuousness—dulled him to every experience but enjoy-
ment. All troubles, past and future, grew faint in his mind;
he was happy for the time in the way that children and brute
creatures are happy—making friends of Nature, and all that
was hers.
Another influence was present. Not a day passed but
Katchen grew nearer and dearer to him. He talked to her
of the world in which she had hitherto lived so simply and
so ignorantly; he led her on to views of life in its various
relations wholly new, charming, and absorbing to her; he
guided her fresh young mind, step by step, from its childish
wonder and bewilderment to the threshold of womanhood,
and astonished as well as awed her by showing the distance
she had mentally travelled under his guidance. Art, books,
science, poetry, above all, life with its mysteiy and its sad-
ness, were now subjects of reflection to her. He showed her
what was beautiful, and she felt the beauty; he said what
was good, and she recognised the goodness; he taught her
what poetry could be, and she trembled before the sweetness of
its power, in love with the life that was not the life of yester-
day or to-day, but the new life he had made for her.
Katchen now felt that there were a thousand things exist-
ing in the world of which she should never have known but
for him. The sweetness of Tennyson, the power and the
pathos of Goethe, the sunny life of Lowell, the splendid
phantasies of Shelley, the might and marvel that a picture,
or a statue, or a landscape can possess—all these were
opened to her as the leaves of a book which he had written.
DOCTOR JACOB.
187
And Dr. Jacob found almost as much fresh,.sweet exist-
ence in these teachings. To watch the trembling, unsteady
light of her eyes, the eager flush of her cheek, the rapt smile
of her lips,—to feel that he was leading this guileless and
loving nature into an atmosphere worthy of it,—to feel, above
all, that the joy and the wonder and the tearful rapture were
so much homage paid to himself,—whilst yielding indolently
to the charmed time, he hardly knew how far its enjoyment
and piquancy were due to Katchen. He liked to have her
with him, and confessed that he liked it; but he by no means
imagined to what degree this liking went. He wished that
she were his child—and was not that natural ?
One morning she tapped lightly at Dr. Jacob's door, and
begging permission to enter, put a small packet into his
hand.
" I<—I have felt so grateful to you, and so unable to show
my gratitude," she said, with fresh bloom on her cheeks,—
" you must take this, I have been very happy in working it
for you."
He broke the string, and found a delicately-worked travel-
ling cap, very inexpensive, very simple, but patterned in
flowers, with such patience and skill as only German girls
are capable of in embroidery. English young ladies read too
much of Ruskin and Carlyle to spend time upon very labo-
rious gifts, however grateful they may feel.
" My little Katchen, have you really set all these—all these
stitches for me ? That was too kind of you ; you will make
the cap a constant reproach when I wear it, for I shall think
of your poor tired eyes."
" Oh, no I" she cried, eagerly; " you must think only of
my glad heart. I was always singing over it, or thinking of
the happy days I owed to you—perhaps a whole happy life.
Who knows ?"
Dr. Jacob turned the gift in his hands with unaffected plea-
sure.
x88
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I have received many presents in my life-time," he re-
plied, "but none so welcome to me as this. Others have
been generous to me from motives of self-interest, of vanity,
and petty ambition—you, from the tenderness and love of
your heart. You must let me thank you for it, Katchen," and
so saying, he kissed her on the brow.
It was surely neither wholly an unwarrantable nor strange
act; for a man of sixty may kiss a girl of eighteen with im-
punity, when he entertains an honest father-like affection for
her, and has for weeks treated her as he might do a child of
his own; yet Katchen trembled and blushed with an emotion
which it would have been difficult to define. She had never
trembled and blushed in his presence before—at least, from
the same feeling. What had he said or meant, that her
heart should beat so tumultuously, and the slow words falter
on her lips,—
" I must go now—" she stammered. " I cannot "
" Where must you go ?"
"Nowhere—that is, all the others are gone to the baths,
and I had better go to meet them."
" Get your hat and take a little stroll with me instead," he
said, smiling ; " I will show you a spot fit for the fairies, and
read verses to you that shah rhyme with the mill-wheels."
Katchen was ready in a moment, almost too happy in the
prospect of a walk with him, and the two set forth gaily.
It was a perfect July morning. The white roads warmed
the feet like hot lava, the broad unblemished sky glowed like
purple adamant; sharp and clear against it stood out the
mountain summits, here and there a grey ruin or white villa
gleaming amid the rich, silent forest-green. In those upper
regions all was motionless, hushed, and aglow with luxurious,
lethargic warmth—but below, in the gold-green valleys, mill-
wheels were turning endless crystalline cascades, and under
the cool purple shadows of the lichened rocks a rude wooden
cart or two drawn by oxen were wending their drowsy,
DOCTOR JACOB.
tinkling way; here and there, a sunny yellow upland re-
sounded with the voice of women reaping, in blue boddices
and red skirts, or the glimpse of a bright red bloomy orchard,
alive with apple-gatherers, broke the sultry stillness.
Dr. Jacob led Katchen through the village into a lovely
ravine, where the beech-clad heights on either side threw
deep shadows over dell and glade, and where no sound was
heard but a single wood-chopper's axe in the distance, and
the monotonous purling of a stream at their feet. A curious
circular stone table, with two or three broken granite columns
near, reminded them that they were on the verge of the
Forest of Odin.
German scenery, like German pastoral poetry, induces a
calm inactive frame of mind, which in England is difficult to
attain. Dr. Jacob was not the same man that he had been
on coming to Jugendheim a few days since : his thoughts
had flowed into untroubled channels, and the waters tasted
sweet and refreshing to his soul.
" I shall often think of Jugendheim," he said to Katchen,
after silently contemplating the scene around. " Pray God,
my dear child, that this sojourn may be to you the happy
threshold of a happier womanhood. For me, it is the Indian
summer of a troubled life."
" Troubled ? " echoed Katchen ; " have those died who
were dear to you ? A man is so free and brave, and can
throw his heart and soul into so many things—I cannot
understand a man's life being sad. Women have no con-
solation under trials but to sit at home and work. Men
have so much."
" Worse things than death can divide those who love each
other, Katchen; wrong, estrangement, anger—death is better
than either of these."
"You ought never to have been made unhappy, because
you are so good," she said, earnestly; " you have made my
life quite different from what it was, and when you are gone,
igo
DOCTOR JACOB.
I shall try to be as I know you would have me. If I could
always go to you for advice and assistance, I should look
into the future without fear; but though you have freed me,
and given me happiness now, by-and-by other dangers may
come, and you will not be near to help me."
Though he was an old man, it was very sweet to hear her
say this ; and he thanked her for her confidence.
"You must not call me good, my child. Many troubles
and temptations have led me from my better nature, and
made me faultier than I might otherwise have been ; I trust
to God to forgive me for my short-comings, but it pains me
to hear such praises from your lips. Perhaps, when I am
far away, you will hear evil of me "
" I would not believe it!" she cried, with a flash of indig-
nation in her large blue eyes.
" But if you were bound to believe, Katchen,—if it were
true?''''
" Oh ! no—no, you are jesting ; you will be worthy of my
esteem and love always," she replied, pleadingly, and locked
her little hands around his arm.
He sat for some moments in deep thought, not looking at
the glowing landscape before him, not looking on the fair
earnest face by his side. New and strange thoughts were
passing in his mind. Was this sojourn at Jugendheim really
the Indian summer of his life ? Or were joy and sunshine
and affection in store for him hereafter ? He looked into his
own heart, and read there a sweet sudden conviction.
When he spoke his voice was moved.
" I am thinking, Katchen," he said, very slowly,—" I am
thinking that I should have been a better and happier man
had I known you in my youth. I am thinking, Katchen,
that the best and brightest successes of life are not worth the
pure affection you give me now. I am an old man, and the
fresh flower of the spring would wither if taken to my heart.
Your hair is golden, but mine is grey, and though I love you
DOCTOR JACOB.
191
—loVe you, Katchen, I dare not ask you to be my wife. Tell
me only, were I a younger and happier man, were I all and
more than you deem me to be, could you love me—could
you love me, sweet one, with the one dear love of your life ?"
She did not burst into sudden tears, or tremors, or blushes,
but calmly and gently crept nearer to him, whispering,—
"I do not know if I could have loved you then—I know that
I love you now. You found me a child, but you'have made
me a woman, and I love you with a woman's love. If you
will take me to your heart, if you will let me follow you to the
end of the world, I will thank God daily on my knees for so
much happiness, and pray to become worthy of you."
Then she hid her face on his arm, and wept like a fright-
ened child. For some time both were silent, but his hand
passed caressingly over her hair, and that touch conveyed
love and trust in it. When she grew calmer, he said, in a
low, sad voice,—
" My darling, I love you as I never thought to love again
—perhaps for a few years I could make you very happy, but
think of the great gulf between us two—think of my grey
hairs, Katchen, and of the swift age stealing upon me. Did
I think of myself only, I should, without pausing, place the
white blossom of your pure young life on my bosom, and
wear it proudly, and with deep thankful joy. But think of
you also, Katchen, and I dare not earn a short selfish bliss
by such a sacrifice of another."
She heard him without a word, and he continued,—
" Listen, Katchen, and judge whether I love you truly or
no. To make you mine, would be to render my declining
years the most perfect ones of my life. The sight of your
fair young face, the sound of your sweet voice, the love of
your innocent heart, would so alter and brighten my future,
that did I hope for such happiness, I could not speak calmly
of it to you now. You would give me your love, feeling
that you made no sacrifice by so doing. I refuse it, because
19a
DOCTOR JACOB.
T look into far-off years, and know what they must infallibly
bring."
" What must they bring ?" asked Katchen, brokenly.
" Separation—separation for ever, my child. Remember
that I can hardly expect more than a few years of life. Could
I bear to leave you so soon ?—could I be happy whilst we
were together, knowing that death must divide us ere long.
Would you be happy so ?"
She put the damp golden locks from off her brow, and
fronting him, said, with a strange pathetic eloquence,—
" What you say only makes it plainer to me that we
should not part now. Because you are old, should I not,
loving as I do, cling closer to you ? Because we may soon
be separated, with no more meetings on earth for us, should
I not grudge every moment spent away from you ! You
speak as if I should love you from duty, and not for love's
sake—as if I should serve you with my hands, and not with
my heart. Were only a day remaining to us, since we love
each other, should it not be spent together? No matter
whether the day were of summer or of winter, prosperous
or unhappy, should we not make it our own ? Let me go
with you, let me judge for myself whether I chose wisely or
no; only let me follow you and love you always !"
It was strange that Dr. Jacob, who had listened unmoved,
a few days since, to the passionate outpourings of such a
nature as that of the Baroness, should be touched by the
simple plaintive eloquence of this young girl. His eyes
grew dim, his lips trembled, and he could not give utter-
ance to his thoughts—his whole being was transfixed with
wonder.
" Do you love me so, Katchen ?" he asked.
" I have never loved before—I have no one else to love !"
she cried, passionately. " If you leave me now, it will break
my heart."
" Oh ! my little one, think again; for in loving me, you
DOCTOR JACOB.
193
will have much to bear. The world will make sport of you,
Katchen, if you become the wife of an old man—the world
will not forget that you are rich, and that 1 am in need of
wealth—the world sets itself very bitterly against a prece-
dent. Could you be patient whilst it scoffed at us both ?—
could you love me, and be happy in my love through all ? "
"You do not care for me—I know it all now. Oh ! why
did I give my heart to you ?—let me go, and never see your
face again."
She would have broken from him, and fled like a fawn,
but his strong hand and sad voice kept her back; pale,
silent, and trembling, she allowed him to take both her
hands, and speak his thoughts.
" Child," he said, " I am cruel only because I hold your
happiness too dear to be trifled with. I have tried you, and
you have shown me the steadfast loyalty of your nature. I
have held up before you in its true light the sacrifices you
will make in becoming my wife, and I find you fearless, and
fond, and unshaken. Be it so, Katchen. I take all your
love, God knows, humbly, as to my own unworthiness of it;
but hopefully as to my power of responding to it. You
shall be very happy, darling, so long as my dear love can
make you—the rest we must trust to God. Let me kiss
you, Katchen, and claim you henceforth mine."
When Dr. Jacob led Katchen back to the " Golden Lion"
half an hour afterwards, neither of them could realise their
respective positions. For Katchen it was a joy wondrous,
unexpected, wholly absorbing, to know that he loved her.
He had been the first idol of her warm young heart, the
mirror of all that was good, and chivalric, and dear; he
had hitherto stood far above her, a god almost, in his talents,
and virtues, and reverent bearing : now he had taken her
to himself, to be as long as life should last, his joy, his child,
his wife / His wife, and he loved her—he had said that he
loved her.
o
DOCTOR JACOB
In her new triumphant happiness, Katchen longed for an
opportunity of showing her love ; she would be, through all,
so true, so good, so loving to him !
To Dr. Jacob, the revelation of Katchen's love came as
a dream in the night. He looked at her fair fresh girlhood
and asked himself—What am I that I should, beyond other
men, win so much love? Can I love her and shield her
from suffering ? Can I keep the bloom on her cheeks, and
the peaceful light in her eyes ? So far as his own powers
went, he did not doubt that she could be happy. He knew
that he possessed a strange influence over all women; that
young and old alike yielded to it, and that his love was
masterful, and could ever carry victory before it. His heart
beat proudly and joyously at the new spring-tide awaiting
him. She loved him; she had promised to be his wife.
Had he not a right to rejoice ? There was no thought in
his mind of separation or wintry days now—to reward her
trust, to respond to her love, to render her life with him one
blissful summer-day—for these ends must he henceforth live.
Nos Capuam sumpsimus. Do not suppose that it was the
young men only who forgot their soldierly duties and sworn
hatred of Rome, amid the marble villas and myrtle groves
of Capua. Many an inexperienced Ulysses, many a sage
Priam doubtless doffed his shield and buckler, to take a
short delicious rest; they knew that the Romans were not
far off, they knew that their enemies were ready, yet they
lingered and drank the cup of pleasure provided by the gods.
Of course they saw their error afterwards. Who is not
weather-wise when the storm is over ?
As they entered the garden, Dr. Jacob said,—
" It will be well for us to keep our own counsel, my child,
for the next day or two. Till I have written to your guar-
dian and heard from him, I cannot appear in the light of
your betrothed ; it would hardly add to your comfort to
make our engagement known before it has been sanctioned."
DOCTOR JACOB.
*95
He added, in a low voice,—
" In a very short time, God willing, I will take you wholly
to myself," and with a silent hand-clasp they parted.
" Good day, Herr Pfarrer," said the landlord, taking off
his cap. " Let me offer you a glass of apple-wine ; nothing
like apple-wine for giving an appetite."
" Very willingly, Mr. Landlord ,* it is quite a pleasure to
be thirsty here, since you have so many agreeable drinks.
What news in the village to-day ? "
The landlord rubbed up a glass mug with his white apron,
filled it with foaming cyder from the cellar, and then seating
himself beside Dr. Jacob in the porch, answered his question.
"For news, Herr Pfarrer, there is mighty little, except
that the uncle of my wife has just died, and the poor woman
was so upset that she had much ado to finish making her
cherry cake for dinner. As we are his only relations, there
will be a hundred florins or two, not to speak of wine presses
and a handsome bit of orchard for us, so we have deter-
mined to have him carried to the blessed God's acre decently,
and to pay for a good funeral sermon into the bargain. The
pastor was here not ten minutes ago to settle with me.
"'For fifty kreutzers, I do preach funeral sermons,' he
said,4 but I can't recommend 'em for your uncle, as he was
a man of importance ; for a florin, 1 would do my duty by
him ; for two florins, you should have the best sermon your
heart could wish for.'
"So I settled for the two florins, and my conscience is
easy," added the rosy landlord, toying with his pipe. " Ah !
Herr Pfarrer, one doesn't get a little legacy without many
responsibilities !"
Just then a man, wearing the livery of a telegraphic mes-
senger, came up, and placed a letter in the landlord's hand.
It was for Dr. Jacob, and with some curiosity he broke the
seal.
The dispatch ran as follows
o 2
196
DOCTOR JACOB.
" From Herr Dr. Paulus, Frankfort, to Herr Dr. Jacob,
Jugendheim.
"I implore yon to return to Frankfort without delayj
your crcdi^ your honour, all that is dear to you, is at
stake?
CHAPTER XXVIII.
OW should he tell Katchen ?
It seemed hard to leave her just when she
so needed the strength of his presence; when
he so needed the sunshine of hers. That short
portentous message took all the summer from
his heart—he felt no longer young, no longer buoyant. Brave
to bear trouble as he,had been at all other times, his spirit
sank now beneath the threatened evil. Had the blow come
yesterday—a few hours ago even—he could have borne it,
and not flinched; for it would have hurt himself only, but
now In the first selfish moments of his repining, Dr.
Jacob wished that Katchen were already his wife, already his
own beyond the power of all temporary separations ; more-
over, he was but a man, and the charmed cup of pleasure had
been raised to his lips—was it but human that he should
embrace the unexpected blooming May-day of his mid-
winter, crying like Faust—" Oh 1 stay, for thou art fair !"
Later, his conscience reproached him for such regrets. He
blamed himself for having spoken of love to this fair young
girl; he compared his own waning even-tide of life to her
unclouded morning, and felt, in the bitterness of his self-
judgment, that he would give his right hand to recall the
deed.
But it was done past recall. He had yielded to the tempta-
tion, and must submit to its consequences, sweet or bitter, as
they might prove to him. He had called forth her love, and
DOCTOR JACOB.
he could not give it back again. He could not summon
courage, and say to her—Take back this sorrowful sweet
gift; return to your girl's dreams, and think of me as one
who is dead ; since the path you have chosen will be bor-
dered with thorns, and rough to your tender feet, cease to
love me—cease to desire my love, ere both have turned your
bread to bitterness unalloyed, and your tears to tears past
consolation.
Dr. Jacob was essentially a man of the world, and an
adherent to common sense, and Crassa Minervdj looking
on his recent conduct to Katchen, therefore, he felt keenly
that he had laid himself open to scorn, that he had acted in
a manner unbecoming his grey hairs, that he had " done
the thing which he ought not to have done." True, the
remembrance of his late interview with the Baroness was a
little salve to his conscience, for was she not beautiful, and
rich, and devoted to him ? Had he not shut his eyes to all
these attractions because duty forbade ? But oh ! unsophis-
tical human nature ! how often in our quack-doctorings of
conscience do we overlook the moving power of such and
such an action, because the sequence was harmless ! How
often do we console ourselves for having done that virtuous
thing, and avoided this evil thing, forgetting that the former
tasted honey-sweet to us, and the latter of asphodel. He
did not love the Baroness, and he forsook her ; he did love
Katchen, and he clave to her. Neither courses of action were
in themselves culpable—but surely the one as well as the
other was based on self-interest and self-love.
Ten readers out of twenty perhaps will say Dr. Jacob's decla-
ration to Katchen was unjustifiable. But girls of eighteen have
loved old men before now,. There was Goethe and Bettina;
Montesquieu and Marie, and many other instances are in
point. Besides, Dr. Jacob was no ordinary man ; his noble
features and stately bearing, his great conversational powers,
his tender, respectful ways to women, his sweet voice and
DOCTOR JACOB.
199
sweeter smile, may have claimed many of these involuntary
successes. He had never toyed with women's affections, he
had never gone out of his way to win bright-eyed smiles, or
quick story-telling blushes ; but they seemed his by inherent
right. It is a question whether they made him happier.
To return to Dr. Jacob's gloomy contemplations. He sat
at the window with the telegram in his hand, wondering how
he should break the news to Katchen, wondering how she
would hear it from him. Two hours intervened between the
passing of the next train for Frankfort, and he resolved to
defer the evil moment. She should be happy whilst she
could. N ow and then he caught a glimpse of her white dress
as she fluttered bird-like in the garden shrubberies, so won-
deringly, childishly happy ; once she dared to look up at his
casement, and though the action was a mockery, he kissed
his hand to her gaily. He loved Katchen ; her confession of
love had filled him with proud, hopeful gladness, but it was
less the disappointment of a lover than the self-reproach of
an honest man, that made his spirit sore within him as he
quailed from the sight of her now.
By-and-by, a rush of feet and burst of voices announced
the return of the bathing party; the next proceeding would
be dinner at the table d'hSte, and unless he seized the present
moment, he must leave Katchen without a word of farewell.
A very gentle " Katchen" sufficed to call her under his
window, and the low-voiced command, " I have something
to say to you," brought her into his presence at once.
Dr. Jacob often recalled Katchen as he saw her then. She
had come quickly from the garden, and the action, as well as
the pleasure of obeying him, had called up a soft blush to her
cheeks, and a glad light to her eyes. There was something
of humility in her look of gladness that must have been very
sweet to the eyes of any man—a look of perfect heart-trust
and soul-surrender, a look that only a woman, pure from the
world's taint, can give, and giving, gives but once. She knew
20O
DOCTOR JACOB.
that she was beautiful in his eyes, and rejoiced to be so ; but
she wished all other eyes to pass her by. Such a look of
love, pure and simple, of love that knows no time, of love
, that is bewildered and staggered in its new unspeakable
heritage, I have seen idolized by the old Madonna painters
of Albert Durer's school, and by no other.
Her fair hair was brushed off from the smooth straight
brow and delicate ear, and carefully braided in a crown at
the back of her head, giving singular purity and grace to her
whole appearance ; indeed, it was chiefly this purity that
made Katchen so lovely in Dr. Jacob's eyes. He had seen
many women far more beautiful, far more dazzling, far more
charming, but he had seen none whom his heart so reve-
renced, none whom he would so unwillingly have pained,
none, above all, whom he would so unwillingly have caused
to blush for him.
She put a little bunch of flowers in his hands with a radiant
smile.
" See," she said, " I have been thinking of you all the time.
What will you say to me if I become so idle ?"
He took the flowers from her hands, and placed her on a
chair beside him without a word; then gathering from his
silence and his face that something had happened, she cried,
eagerly,—
" Oh ! have I vexed you ? Are you angry with me ? What
have I done ?"
" My darling, you have done nothing—it is I that must vex
you, since I must leave you."
The glow of joy died from her face, and she looked at him
with bewildered, tearful eyes.
" Leave me ?" and she could say no more.
" Will you bear it bravely, Katchen ?—will you believe,
through all, that I love you ?"
" You will soon be back again—say that you will soon be
back again ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
20I
He turned away from her pitiful, eager face, and con-
tinued,—
" I hope so, Katchen—I believe so; but if not, if things
should happen differently, if my conduct be misconstrued—
if, in short, you hear much evil report of me "
" Oh !" she cried, passionately, " why do you speak of such
possibilities?—why do you look so sad? Do I not love you,
and belong to you, wherever you may go ? Be true with me,
and tell me all."
" I will be true with you. I will put entire reliance on
your candid, loving nature. Listen, Katchen ; I am called to
Frankfort on affairs which I cannot explain to you now, but
which affect my reputation. Difficulties await me there—
anywhere ; perhaps, even, my name may be held up to you
as that of no true man or honest gentleman; perhaps it will
be disgraced, Katchen : can you love me then ? You are my
betrothed, literally my wife ; but I make no avowed claim upon
you, till I have passed through the ordeal awaiting me. I
am content that we are as strangers in the eyes of the world ;
for your dear sake, my Katchen, I will bear my burden alone
—but through the storm, will you believe in my entire con-
stancy to you ?—whilst the war is waging against me, will you
keep secret faith with me, will you believe in me ?—and if I
conquer, Katchen, if I am enabled afterwards to hold out an
unsullied hand to you, will you take it?"
" I do not know what you mean when you speak of dis-
grace," said Katchen, with earnest, childlike pathos. " I do
not understand how anyone can say or do anything which
may make your name less honoured than it is ? but I know
and understand that if people could slander you, could falsify
your words and actions, could make you appear different to
what you are, and unworthy of the love and esteem that all
yield to you, I should love you still the same, and should find
my way to you, no matter where you might be, and never
leave you again."
202
DOCTOR JACOB.
Whilst she spoke, his face had become veiy sad; and now
as he pressed her to his heart, a tear or two fell on her
brow.
" Dear child," he said, in a broken voice, " would to
God that I were worthy of you—would to God that my. soul
were as white and my heart as pure as yours ! I have
done wrong in winning your love, Katchen, and the punish-
ment is already coming upon me. Can you forgive my
error, can you forgive the sorrow to which I have already
brought you ?"
" Have you not brought me happiness also ?"
" But if deeper sorrow, inconsolable sorrow comes,
Katchen ?"
"I could bear anything so long as I were with you," she
said, quickly.
" God bless you, my Katchen ! And now I have only one
thing more to ask of you. Promise that, under no circum-
stances, you will suffer your faith in me to be shaken, under
no circumstances you will believe that I am failing in love
and truth to yoitj whatever else you are called on to credit
with your understanding, let your heart grant me thus
much ?"
"Yes," she answered, simply; and no further guarantee
was needed than the steadfast gaze of her blue eyes.
" But," he continued, in a tone of the deepest sadness, "if,
thinking of yourself only, and of the numerous trials this
engagement may bring upon you, I come, Katchen, to say we
must part for life ; for your own sake I shall say it, and hold
by it. My path lies through dangers and difficulties, among
which, perhaps, my sense of right may not allow me to lead
you, you so young and so fair. You would be very happy as the
honoured wife of a young and honoured man. If I cannot
bear to shut you out from a long blessed life of domestic love
and comfort merely for my selfish love, would you take this
kindly of me ?—would you believe that the present loss were
DOCTOR JACOB.
203
worth the future gain ?—would you not forgive me, and try
to be happy in that same better way ?"
But she answered never a word.
"Tell me how you would take this from me," he
repeated.
For answer, she was kneeling and weeping at his feet,
telling by her tears all the sweet simple story of her love, and
then he knew that she loved him too well, that he had tried
to save her in vain.
Like Undine's fountain, the latent hopes and joys of that
warm young heart were opened, never to be sealed again.
She could not unlearn to love him ; and seldom to the heart
of a lover had so sweet a conviction brought so sharp a
pang.
" And now," he said, " I must go."
She watched him put away her poor happy flowers in his
purse with a scared, hopeless look, but sat quite still and
calm till he had locked his valise, and approached her ; then,
as a wounded bird flutters at the sight of the sportsman, and
hides its head in blind terror, she turned away from him, and
covered her face with her hands.
"I cannot bear it!" she murmured, shuddering; "I feel
as if you were going away, and never coming again—why,
oh ! why did you say those cruel things to me ?"
"Forgive me, my darling. I did it but to spare your
greater suffering by-and-by—but, through all, you must love
and trust me."
For a moment he held her to his heart; then he kissed
her lips, her brow, her warm wet cheeks, her golden hair,
her little hands, and, without a word more, left her standing
there alone.
He did not know, when, a quarter of an hour later, he
. wended his solitary way to the little Bichenbach station, that
she was near him. Whilst he had been taking leave of the
Brills and the landlord, she stole out by the back-garden
204
DOCTOR JACOB.
gate, and unseen, had gained an elevated vineyard path over-
looking the road. There, hidden among the interlaced vines,
she watched him coming from the " Golden Lion," his slow
descent of the dusty slope, his final disappearance behind the
brickwork of the railway offices. Poor child ! it was the only
consolation within her reach.
CHAPTER XXIX.
E must go back for a day or two in this his-
tory, to relate what occurred at Frankfort in
connection with Dr. Jacob.
It is a warm, misty August morning, and
Dr. Paulus sits at his desk, drawing up a
monthly report for his society. Affairs are smooth in the
Paulus house. Louisa has coughed a degree less of late,
the children have been unusually helpful and reasonable,
the servants have been satirised into something like sense—
in toto, the domestic wheels are oiled, and run lightly. Dr.
Paulus is habitually a cheerful man, never allowing troubles
to make him outwardly morose, bitter, or melancholy; but
to-day his pen glides over the paper with extraordinary
alacrity, and the writer's face is complacent, as if every
word that he wrote thanked him for such a service.
By-and-by a knock, and " a thousand pardons, Herr
Doktor," introduces the garrulous jeweller, whom we our-
selves introduced to the reader in an early part of this story.
" Good morning, Herr Schmidt," said the Doctor, cheer-
fully; " have you sold all your Prize cups, eh, and intend
retiring for life ? Come now, give me, in round figures, the
profits of the whole affair to you."
Herr Schmidt was a rosy, round man, with eyes that were
never in tune with his mouth, the former being sharp, Jewish,
and speculative, the latter, supine, uncommercial, and con-
servative. He made use of his eyes when he bought, and
206
DOCTOR JACOB.
of his mouth when he sold, giving his customers to under-
stand that he was the easiest going man in the world, only
desirous of small profits, by no means miserable if a gold
watch or any other article went for half its value. All
things considered, Herr Schmidt was a good-natured man
and an honest tradesman, and Dr. Paulus respected him
accordingly.
"You're joking, Herr Doktor. I sold a good many
brooches and rings to the young Freeshooters for their
sweethearts, 'tis true, but the cups did not pay—the fact was,
they were too good."
" Nonsense," replied Dr. Paulus, who knew better; "you
like to be thought a martyr, that's all—everyone does."
The worthy jeweller did not answer, but looked to the
right and to the left in rather an embarrassed manner,.
which, added to the expression of his eyes, led Dr. Paulus
to believe that some unpleasant errand lay at the bottom of
his visit.
At length the secret came out.
" I hope you will excuse my request, Herr Doktor ; but
you have so often helped me through difficulties with the
English residents here, that, on the present occasion, I have
come to you as the first authority."
" Ha !" said the Doctor, with a roguish twinkle of the eye,
" what new affair has been added to the calendar of our
countrymen's offences ? Anything very serious ? "
"Pray, don't be angry with me, Herr Doktor; I couldn't
help it, you know. If a gentleman asks my credit, I give it.
I'm the more sorry in this case, as the debtor is a personal
friend of yours. Don't think for one moment that I would
proceed to strong measures, or otherwise annoy your friends ;
but when anyone runs up a pretty heavy bill, and then goes
away without any hints as to coming back, we tradesmen
are bound to take precautions—to feel the ground safe under
our feet."
DOCTOR JACOB.
207
" Ha!" said Dr. Paulus, " you mean the English Chap-
lain, of course ? Oh, have a little patience "
"No, no, Herr Doktor; the English Chaplain may
owe for butter and meat, but he owes nothing to me, nor
is he gone away that I know of. I am speaking of Dr.
Jacob."
" Of whom ?" cried Dr. Paulus, rising from his chair.
" Pray, dear Herr Doktor, excuse me: what could I do,
you know? He owes me upwards of two hundred florins,
and they say that Frankfort has seen the last of him."
" Then they say what is false, and you may tell them so,"
answered the Doctor, somewhat recovering from the first
shock. " Dr. Jacob is on a visit to Jugendheim, which place,
as you know, is but a short distance from Darmstadt, and,
in all probability, he will return next week."
" You think that I need be under no uneasiness regarding
my bill, then ?" suggested the jeweller, timidly.
Dr. Paulus considered a few minutes before answering.
To him, debt seemed almost next to murder in its crimin-
ality, especially debts contracted by those who do not need
to work with those who do need it. He had seen a great
deal of this genteel swindling in Frankfort, which city, on
account of its cheerfulness, and vicinity to Homburg, forms
the optata arena of much flotsom and jetsam thrown off from
distant European societies. Eveiy one who has resided
long abroad, knows how few of his countrymen he meets
whom his soul delighteth to honour ; and Dr. Paulus, more
than any man, could bear witness to the loose principles,
as to debit and credit, which had so often caused him to
blush for the representatives of his adopted country. That
Dr. Jacob had purchased things without possessing the
power, much less the intention of paying for them, he did
not for a moment believe ; but he could not help censuring
the imprudence, not to say culpable negligence, of which
his friend had been guilty, in taking no notice whatever of
208
DOCTOR JACOB.
such a debt before even a temporary absence from Frank-
fort.
" Of course Dr. Jacob will return, and will pay you,"
answered Dr. Paulus, after a long cogitation. "What do
you say is the total amount ? "
"Two hundred florins, for antiques, trifles in jewellery,
&c. You may look at the bill, Herr Doktor."
Dr. Paulus ran his eyes over the paper handed to him,
more and more amazed at his friend's proceeding. To a
mind so methodical as his own, the very fact of owing for
a chicken at the poulterer's or for a term's schooling at the
Gymnasium, would have been detestable ; but the idea ot
running up a bill for gifts to lady-friends and children, or
valuable trifles in the shape of rings and snuff-boxes, was
positively ludicrous. He gave back the account with a
smile, adding,—
"Dr. Jacob is generous, and seems somewhat of a curi-
osity lover. I can't say, for my own part, that I would
give thirty florins for a battered saltcellar in the shape of
a sea-monster ; but chacun a son gout, if every one were
of my way of thinking, you would sell no antiques."
" And have no bad debts," said the jeweller, pathetically.
" We won't talk of bad debts yet, dear Herr Schmidt, if
you please. Dr. Jacob is a friend of mine, and till circum-
stances tell a very ugly story against him indeed, I shall
consider him worthy of my confidence and esteem."
" And you think I may be easy in my mind about this
little bill, Herr Doktor ? "
" At present I have every reason to think so."
" Thank you ; a hundred thousand pardons for my inter-
ruption. Good morning, Herr Doktor," and the jeweller
bowed himself out.
Hardly, however, had Dr. Paulus got into working order
again, when a second visitation came, in the person of Mr.
Brill.
DOCTOR JACOB.
209
" Here's a pretty business, Paulus ; when will this un-
happy place have a little peace, I wonder ? "
" What now ?—don't be so agitated, my dear fellow.
The Government hasn't nominated a new chaplain, has
it?"
" If it did, I should have only myself to blame. How will
it sound at home when such a story gets about ?—of course,
not to my credit."
" What story ?—I am quite in the dark at present."
" In short, then, this man who has preached in my pulpit,
who has drawn money from my congregation, and who has
been made welcome at my house, is a scoundrel!"
" My dear Brill," said Dr. Paulus, deprecatingly, " softly,
softly !"
"Softly, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Brill, excited beyond
measure; " the time is gone by for softness with regard
to Dr. Jacob. I tell you he is a dishonest man, and
if a dishonest man is not a scoundrel, my name is not
Brill."
Dr. Paulus being quite unshaken and incredulous, smiled
contemptuously at his friend's sudden fit of energy ; it was
as good as a piece of first-rate acting to him, to hear Mr.
Brill talking heroics against Dr. Jacob.
" It is rather unfair to condemn a man who is not able
to defend himself," he added, gently ; " granted that Dr.
Jacob may have left a debt behind him, we have no proof
of his inability or unwillingness to liquidate it."
" I wish you were half as lenient to me when my bills
came in," said poor Mr. Brill, in an aggrieved voice. " I get
into debt merely for necessaries of meat, drink, and clothes ;
Dr. Jacob gets into debt for jewellery, and luxuries of every
kind, which are useful to no man. You never excuse my
debts, though I have nine children ; but Dr. Jacob, who has
none, seems blameless in your eyes."
"Not blameless entirely; but you would not have me call
p
2IO
DOCTOR JACOB.
him a scoundrel when he can, and no doubt will, clear
himself in a few days. Your own affairs we won't speak of;
you know that I do most stringently oppose bill-running,
and though my income is not larger than yours, and my
family equally expensive, I avoid it—not without an effort,
of course, but with great ultimate comfort in every way.
If I have urged upon you the expediency of such a course,
I have only been actuated by a sense of kindness."
"True, true ! I'm very grateful, I'm sure; for the many
little helps you have given me, and would take your advice
if I could ; but about Dr. J acob—my dear Paulus, he is
frightfully involved; and the worst of it is, people say he
is no more bound to the East on a sacred mission than I
am."
" Let us have proofs from these loose talker's; of what
use for one to say this, and another to say that, of Dr. Jacob,
each picking up his little lump of dirt to throw at him ? I •
want to know—where are the proofs ? "
"Well, certainly, proofs there are none at present—that
is to say, with regard to the reality of his mission ; the debts
themselves are true enough."
" Debts?"
" Dr. Jacob owes several hundred pounds in this city. If
this fact is not alone enough to awaken your suspicions, I
think nothing would do so. Of course I was not made
aware of these things till within the last day, for Dr. Jacob
carried himself too much en grand seigneur, and was too
well received of the better classes, to excite the slightest
suspicion. When, however, a fortnight since, he slipped
off quietly to the Bergstrasse, and day after day passed
without tidings of him, his creditors grew naturally alarmed;
some flew to the Consul, some to me, and neither of us
could give them much consolation."
Dr. Paulus had changed countenance at the first part of
this speech, but now he was himself again, and fronted Mr.
DOCTOR JACOB.
2EI
Brill with his usual unflinching eagle-like glance. His lip
curled contemptuously as he said,—
" Dr. Jacob is but an hour's journey distant from his
enemies—let them seek him."
"No one is his enemy, Paulus, that I know of. I, for
one, have no wish to hurt his character, and should be very
glad if our worst fears should prove unreal."
" But it seems extraordinary to me, considering the state
of panic into which you are all thrown, that some step is
not taken for everyone's satisfaction in the matter. Is there
an inseparable barrier between Jugendheim and Frankfort,
Dr. Jacob and his creditors, Mahomet and the mountain ?"
" The fact is, respectable tradesmen don't like to put any-
one under arrest."
" Arrest!" cried Dr. Paulus, his eyes flashing fire as he
spoke. " If Dr. Jacob is put under arrest for such a sum,
it would be a disgrace to every English resident in Frank-
fort—and, by Heaven, it shall not be so, were my own
chairs and tables to go to the pawnbroker's for him !"
" Oh, dear, no ! I didn't mean exactly to say that, dear
Paulus, for of course people are not arrested till it is amply
proved that they can't and won't pay their bills; what I
meant to say was this—tradespeople have a great dislike
to stringent measures till they are absolutely necessary,
and in this case they are unwilling to act unpleasantly
towards Dr. Jacob, whilst any hope remains of getting their
money without it. You know, as well as I do, that a shop-
keeper often looses a debt, rather than bring a customer
into publicity—the affair would give him a bad odour."
"What is proposed, then? Are these magnanimous
creditors of Dr. Jacob's to suffer martyrdom, or has some
Paladin stood up in their defence ? "
Mr. Brill moved to the edge of his chair, ruffled his hair,
sipped a little water that stood near, finally looked very
hard at the door, and said,—
v 2
212
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I did think oi asking you to see into this matter. As
a friend, you could easily put the inquiry to Dr. Jacob with-
out giving offence."
" Whether he is a swindler, or not—eh ? Such a question
would give me. offence, I think, Brill, friend or no friend, who
put it."
For the life of him, Mr. Brill dared not state the ultimate
purpose of his visit, viz., to ask Dr. Paulus to go to Jugend-
heim, and make all things clear. The latter, however, an-
ticipated him.
" I am not able to run down to Jugendheim to-day, nor
shall I be to-morrow," he said; " but I will speedily take
some step towards clearing up this mystery," and ringing
the bell, he dispatched his servant with the telegram already
given to our readers.
" Before sunset we shall, at least, have learned something,"
added Dr. Paulus, cheerfully. "For if Dr. Jacob is not
forthcoming, we may safely infer there is danger, and if he
makes his appearance, suspicion will be already falsified.
I would keep my own counsel if I were you, Brill, and say
no word concerning the matter at present. Talking we'll
leave to the women."
Mr. Brill departed therewith, a little crestfallen under the
implied rebuke, and quite determined to recall his wife, his
Penthesilea furens, to the scene of action ; for, somehow or
other, circumstances always made a fool of him when no
Mrs. Brill was by.
When he had gone, Dr. Paulus lighted a cigar, and fell
into deep thought. His faith was not shaken in his friend,
but it had received a blow, and though he did not like to
confess the feeling to himself, he felt uneasy. What if the
worst were true ?—and this mission to the East nothing
more than a charlatan's ruse and subtle theft ? What, if
Dr. Jacob should have deceived all his generous supporters,
both as to his calling and his fidelity to it ? Was he really
DOCTOR JACOB.
213
a clerk in Holy Orders? Was he really of good birth and
breeding ? Was he really an honest man ?
Whilst but half inclined to listen to these vagaries of a
frightened fancy, Dr. Paulus could not restrain a gnawing
anxiety at heart. He had loved this man. He had allowed
his brilliant talents and winning graces of manner to charm
and lead him ; he had felt happier within sight of those
beautiful eyes and that pleasant smile ; he had loved to
hear that mellow voice, that cheery laugh. Could all
these attributes belong to a thief, a perjurer, a cunning
coiner of gentle appearances, an intruder on respectable
society? Was Dr. Jacob's exterior dignity and virtue but
as the glossy husk of the Red Sea apple, hiding within
rottenness, ashes, and vanity only? His heart said a
thousand times, No. He recalled many and many an
evening spent by Dr. Jacob among his family, when he
had entered into their homely joys and troubles, tenderly
solicitous of the invalid, fond and merry with the children,
grave and earnest with himself, giving forth humane and
enlightened sentiments on all subjects of discussion.
When Dr. Paulus returned to his work, it was with the
fullest conviction of hi6 friend's integrity. Perhaps his pen
did not fly quite so rapidly as before, but the mind of the
writer was made up, and who is not cheerful under such
circumstances ? To have made up one's mind is certainly
one of the readiest specifics for mental serenity. Ulysses,
there can be no doubt, was a miserable man whilst swaying
between the call of love and the voice of conscience on the
island of Ogygia. Rosy might be the charms of Calypso,
sylph-like her flitting form, honey-sweet her whispered
words—in vain, he knew that he ought to go, but he could
not summon sufficient decision to do so, and the silken
fetters that held him back, scarred his skin beyond all the
spears of Troy. But we feel quite assured that he slept
.soundly enough when he had once given the word—" Vat
214
DOCTOR JACOB.
operant ventusoff and away." Calypso might make the
place very hot to him when she found his matronly, homely
Penelope was- the mover of this resolution; but she could
not keep him from feeling that he had acted like a man.
CHAPTER XXX.
HOUGH Dr. Jacob looked a little care-worn as
he entered the Swiss Cottage, there was nothing
in his appearance indicating either very great
anxiety or dread; he greeted his friend with a
cordial, unshrinking hand-clasp, and asked after
Louisa and the children as if nothing had happened. Indeed,
he was so perfectly at ease, and so completely his old genial
self, that Dr. Paulus at once negatived any secret suspicion
he might previously have entertained, and felt ashamed that
such had ever been the case.
Nothing is more embarrassing than for two friends to meet
who have some explanation in hand, involving the reputation
of the one and the affections and esteem of the other; on
such occasions, it is better to fire straight at the enemy, for
the sooner clear ground is made, the better. Once let
matters stand still for lack of sufficient courage to measure
swords, and little hope remains of future understanding.
Dr. Paulus felt that circumstances might vilify his conduct
so as to divide him from Dr. Jacob more effectually than any
intended insult could do ; he therefore lost no time in explain-
ing himself.
" My dear Doctor," he said, with a peculiar curl of the
lip, which he wore when finding himself in difficult crises,
" here is a pretty state of things !—and the worst of it is,
you are not suffered to enjoy your holiday in quiet. Would
you believe, that because you have left some unpaid bills
2l6
DOCTOR JACOB.
behind you, all the English in Frankfort are prepared to dub
you—chevalier $ Industrie, I might say—I will, however, be
more moderate and say instead, a run-away creditor. Write
a cheque at once and stop such silly tongues."
Dr. Jacob smiled an odd smile, and replied,—■
" I think the worthy tradespeople here must have had
many dealings with run-away creditors, to be so suspicious
already. Had I gone to St. Petersburg or America, there
might have been cause for alarm. But the talkers have not
rested at the bills, Dr. Paulus ; tell me the rest that is said to
my discredit."
" I would rather you should obtain further enlightenment
from any one else, I assure you, for to me it is painful enough
to hear slanders of friends, much more to repeat them;
simply, every one suspects you."
" Of what ? "
" Of doing dishonourable things, of perverting to other
uses the money obtained for your mission, of—but why go
into all these disagreeable details ? I know what gossip is
afloat in the town, and what remedy best puts a stop to it.
It only remains for you to deny all that is charged against
you in the daily paper ; your statement can be printed to-
night, and by to-morrow morning it will be read in every
house."
" But," said Dr. Jacob, anxiously, " who is for me and who
is against me? Do you mean to say that such a justification
is really necessary on my part ? "
" Certainly it is. If such things were said of myself to-
morrow, I should pursue the same course."
" It seems almost incredible that acquaintances, nay,
friends, are so ready to raise the hue and cry against one ;
they might surely have waited a little."
" Your friends raise no hue and cry against you," said Dr.
Paulus, reproachfully.
" Pardon me, my dear brother, if in haste. I spoke bit-
DOCTOR JACOB.
2x7
terly: I know that, excepting yourself, I can hardly call any-
one a friend here ; still, I did look for something like generosity
from people who have welcomed me to their houses, and
treated me with more than the cordiality of mere acquaint-
ances. Better had they withheld their dinners and soirees
till they could put faith in me."
" So is it in the world," mused Dr. Paulus; " there is
ever a star rising and falling; had nothing of this slander
got abroad, your popularity must soon have waned. Goethe
says, (What does not charm, is dead ;' and you, in the
natural order of things, will soon be morally dead to this
fickle world of fashion."
"I have been popular," said Dr. Jacob, slowly. "When
I came to Frankfort a few weeks since, I said to myself
that I would gain power; and what I have gained, I do not
lose without an effort. I will not be trampled under foot."
"You are quite right, and I repeat, deny these reports,
deny the slur on your domestic relations, on your sincerity
of purpose, on your integrity regarding the charities entrusted
to you; finally, on your antecedents. I have already written
a declaration for you ; sign it, and the matter is ended."
"You are very kind, my dear Paulus, but I cannot assent
to such a course; the publicity of it would be alike dis-
tasteful to me and to others—at least, to many well-wishers.
Any questions you may like to put to me, I will answer
truly; but I have no inclination to publish a refutation of
absurd charges in a newspaper."
" There is one question I should like to ask you, if I have
your permission," asked Dr. Paulus, a little eagerly.
" One and a dozen."
" Have you ever been married ? "
" I have."
"Is your wife living ? "
" She is not."
" Pardon me for the question, but so many rumours have
2l8
DOCTOR JACOB.
come to my ears regarding your domestic relations, that I
shall be quite glad to know the truth. May I also ask if
you are about to be married again ?"
" I am, dear Paulus,—at least I have proposed to myself
such a happiness."
"I wish you every blessing with all my heart," said Dr.
Paulus, rising, and holding out his hand ; " pray, don't let my
inquisitiveness appear impertinent—I- "
" Rest quite easy on that score, my friend," answered Dr.
Jacob, with a warm shake of the hand ; " since the first day
I knew you, I have been your debtor for constant kindnesses .;
and I should before have given you my confidence, had not
some former occurrences made my first marriage -a very
painful subject to me. But of that no more. The question
now is—how anl I to ease the minds of my creditors ? "
" Pay them," put in Dr. Paulus, very quietly.
" But if I have not the money ? "
Had a thunderbolt fallen at his feet, Dr. Paulus could not
have looked more wonder-struck; he turned first red, then
pale, jumped to his feet, sat down again, finally exclaimed,—■
" You are joking."
" Not exactly. The fact is, I have come with the purpose
of confessing to you ; and the summa summarum of my con-
fession amounts to this—my remittances from England are
not quite due, and till they are, I am the poorest man in
Frankfort. It is nonsense for me to mince the matter with
you : I am a bad financier, and always allow my wants to
exceed my income, which unfortunate habit leads me into
difficulties before I am aware. Now, no one is more desirous
of clearing off this small heap of bills than I am, but I
cannot do so till a few weeks are over. Of course, I could
borrow—who likes borrowing ? I will sign bills to the neces-
sary amounts, and take any reasonable steps towards satis-
fying everyone who has claims on me—what man can do
more ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
219
There was a strange underlying lightness in his manner
that hurt Dr. Paulus, and in spite of so much evidence to the
contrary, filled his mind, with vague uneasiness. Had Dr.
Jacob come to him with a straightforward story and a
straightforward appeal—" Lend me so much money till such
and such a day," he would have written a cheque for him on
the spot; but he could not bear this flippant tone, where such
grave things as the reputation and honour of a clergyman
were concerned, and his voice was almost stern as he
replied,—
" Excuse me, if I think the occasion hardly a subject for
jest. For a man of your position and talents, the very idea
of being doubted and slurred, bears odium with it, no matter
who the doubters and slurrers may be. Of course, you know
best what needs led you to incur those debts, and I do not
believe that you would have incurred them without an actual
necessity, or at least a cogent reason ; still, my own feelings
as to debt and credit are such, that I would make any sacri-
fice rather than keep honest, hard-working tradesmen waiting
for their money."
Dr. Jacob's face changed ; a perceptible shade of remorse
stole over his features—his whole attitude bespoke humility.
For some minutes neither spoke.
At length, Dr. Paulus, whose heart was full, approached
his friend, and said, with a burst of bitter, honest passion,—
" Tell me before God, as man to man, as brother to
brother, as priest to priest, are you dealing fairly with me in
this matter?—are you, in deed and in truth, a minister of
Christ's religion ?—are you a veritable missionary in His
holy cause? Are you all, and no more, than you seem
to be ? "
The two men stood face to face in the broad full sunlight
of the August noonday. There, in that little study, were the
witnesses of its occupier's hard, unremitting toil of hands and
brain; there, were the heavy folios of Hebraistic and Latin
220
DOCTOR JACOB.
theology, from which he had collected innumerable evidences
to wield against the Rabbis in argument; there—were the
carefully compiled reports of the last fifteen years, which had
been drawn up with no ordinary labour by his own hand;
there—were the orderly letter boxes, the daily used Book of
Prayer, the piles of references, and all the countless little
testimonies of an honest, toilsome man's daily work.
No doubt could ever be cast on the sincerity of his mission,
the integrity of his purpose, the whiteness of his soul. So
much good work he had measured out for himself to do, and
he rose up every day contentedly to do it. No vain desire of
men's applause, no craving for power, or luxury, or change—
no ambition of dazzling the world had ever disordered that
busy, healthful, well-ordered mind. No blot obscured that
escutcheon. No ghost of the past would rise and tell its
story against him. Dr. Jacob recalled his own life, which
had been that of a Sybarite, and compared it with this
wholesome Spartan one. For himself, he had tasted of
pleasure, of power such as had never come within the other's
dreams ; his lines had been cast in pleasant places, his cup
had been filled with rich wine—yet a feeling of envy now
crossed his mind.
Which of the two was the happiest man ? Who was the
best Christian ? Who could look back upon the best spent
manhood? On whose grave would the spring flowers
readiest blow ? He staggered mentally as he drew this com-
parison, and, not without a strong effort, brought his mind to
the starting-point from which so many winged memories had
carried it.
" Are you all, and no more, than you seem to be ? "
Could he answer that question and not lie? Could he
evade it, and not show himself unworthy ?
With working brow and pale, compressed lips, he said,—
" Who is all, and no more, than he seems to be ? I am a
minister of the Church, and in my youth have served her not
DOCTOR JACOB.
221
unworthily. If I have sinned, am I alone? If I have erred,
where is the man who never took a false step ? Take my
hand, Paulus, for I can hold it out to you without shame."
" Oh, my brother ! " cried Dr. Paulus, moved as he had
never before been moved in his life, "I, at least, have no
right to judge you, since I know my own shortcomings ; but
since you see your errors, let me implore you to desist from
them. Let me beg you humbly and from my inmost heart,
to abstain from these small deviations from duty, which
may, in time, become broad ways of destruction. You are a
clergyman, and, beyond all men, should deal fairly, setting
an example of rectitude and strict integrity. I am not a rich
man, but I will gladly assist you in this matter, if you assure
me, on your word of honour, that no kreutzer subscribed for
your fund has been appropriated to other purposes."
Whilst speaking he had drawn back, and now he fronted
Dr. Jacob with a face of the deepest, most painful anxiety.
He was not a hard man, and on the present occasion his
heart was full of emotions ; but he never allowed his feelings
to overcome his moral convictions, and was rarely betrayed
into any outward demonstrations of what might be passing
in his breast. He was so rigid in the performance of his own
duties that he showed little pity for those who failed, espe-
cially when they were of his own sex and calling. But he
had loved Dr. Jacob, and though there was sternness in his
heart, there were tears in his eyes, as he saw his friend cover
his face with his hands, and heard his voice breaking under
the words,—
" May God forgive me, but I have done this thing."
It was a terrible moment for both men ; terrible to the
guilty one who spoke, terrible to the God-fearing one who
heard. Perhaps in acuteness and suddenness of pain, Dr.
Paulus suffered, most, since it must always be worse for a
hater of evil to become unexpectedly aware of some lurking
sin in the friend of his heart, than for the offender himself;
222
DOCTOR JACOB.
his remorse, his shame, his poignancy of grief, we can
measure, ameliorated, as they undoubtedly are, by the innate
degeneracy of his nature; but the other's grief and humili-
ation, and downfall of proud affection, these admit of less
comprehension and less consoling.
Dr. Paulus had set up his friend on so high a pinnacle,
that hardly an angel's story against him would have been
credited. True, on more than one occasion, he had differed
strongly with him on some points of ethical doctrine, but
these were, after all, mere contests of opinion ; never had he
discovered in Dr. Jacob any besetting sin or any moral
ugliness, defacing the goodness and sweetness of his nature.
What had he just heard? This man, with his silvered
locks and lofty presence, with his mild eyes and benevolent
smile, with his splendid talents and gracious manner,—this
man now stood before him, self-convicted of having perverted
sacred money, of having virtually fobbed a Christian com-
munity, of having foully disgraced a holy calling !
He groaned aloud, and tears—bitter tears—forced from
the depths of his troubled and ashamed soul, coursed down his
cheeks. The tears of such a man do not touch those who
witness them, but they inspire awe, and nothing else could so
keenly have impressed Dr. Jacob with a sense of his great
forfeiture ; for had he not forfeited all the love and esteem of
that pure heart ?
At length he rose, and laying one hand on the shoulder of
Dr. Paulus, said, calmly,—
" There is yet atonement to be made in the eyes of man,
and forgiveness to be obtained from God. Will you be
slower to relent than He ? Believe me, the crudest part of
my punishment is the loss of your esteem, dear Paulus ; give
me your hand—tell me you are my friend still."
" God forbid that I, a sinner, should hold myself aloof from
a fellow-sinner who has given me his confidence, and asked
my help," answered the Doctor, fervently. " No, Dr. Jacob,
DOCTOR JACOB.
223
however much I may sorrow, and I do sorrow deeply, over
this knowledge, it shall never be used hardly against you.
Here is my hand. I give it, if not in the perfect brotherly
love I gave it to you an hour ago, still willingly, hope-
fully, freely, since I believe that your first step will be
towards the restitution of your error. Am I wrong in this
conviction ?"
Dr. Jacob responded by a second grasp of the hand, and
the two men talked long and earnestly, finally parting with
more cheerfulness than could have been expected from the
result of such an interview.
CHAPTER XXXI.
ISS MACARTNEY, being thoroughly ner-
vous, unstrung, and wretched, had determined
to leave Frankfort when the close of the
summer term would allow her to do so without
injustice to her employer. The course of our
narrative, therefore, brings us to her last day in the Bleich
Strasse, which last day is an important connecting link
between her history and that of Dr. Jacob.
A fortnight had now passed since ther commencement of
the summer holidays, but Fraulein Fink good-naturedly
allowed Miss Macartney to remain under her roof till she
could decide as to her future plans. Having found no diffi-
culty in procuring a governess at this season, the worthy
directress could show such kindness without hurting self-
interest in the matter ; accordingly Miss Macartney was free
to enjoy that unparadisiacal existence—life at school in
holiday-time.
It was dreary enough. At seven o'clock, a little tray, on
which were placed a tin of coffee, a yellow cup, two or three
pieces of sugar, and a roll, was brought into her bed-room ;
the good-hearted housemaid would then volunteer a little
gossip out of compassion, would perhaps tell her how she
had been to the circus the night before, and how beautiful it
was; or how Fraulein Hannchen had dressed in pink and
white for the ball, and come home at two o'clock in the
morning, &c.—to. all of which Miss Macartney listened
DOCTOR JACOB.
225
apathetically enough. Breakfast over, she would wander
through the silent class-rooms, glad of the solitude, yet
chafing against it, thinking, thinking, till her brain, grew
giddy, and her heart sick. Sometimes she would cross the
burning court-yard, and seek the welcome shadow of the
garden, plucking a blossom here and there, looking to the
right and to the left, yet heeding nothing. To her, occu-
pation was now impossible. Whilst she worked for wages
she earned them honestly. Now she was free ; and freedom
was a thousand times more unendurable than her former
drudgery had been, since it left her to her thoughts.
At dinner-time, Fraulein Fink and Hannchen joined her,
both in Sunday dress and in high spirits, anticipating some
pleasant excursion to Homburg, Wiesbaden, or Hochst.
How could they sympathise with a sad face when it was
holiday-time ? Miss Macartney did not blame them, but
she wondered if they read of any sorrow in her heart, and
she thought that inj,their places she should have acted
differently.
Then came the long, drowsy, murmuring summer after-
noon ; the happy pipings of birds, the heavy incense of
flowers, the golden glow of ripening fruit, the purple far-off
Taunus hills—how could these be lovely to her in her isola-
tion and despair? How could she love Nature when her
heart was bitter towards man ? All these golden hours of
sunset she would spend, in the verandah of the refectory,
aimless, idle, alike without fear and without hope.
After long hours of indecision, she resolved to go back to
England, where she still had friends, and the day before
starting was filled up with necessary preparations. Having
packed her trunk and prepared her travelling bag, she put
on her bonnet in order to make one or two farewell calls
upon the parents of favourite pupils. On entering the Zeil,
she stopped at the shop of Herr Schmidt, the jeweller, and
after a minute's hesitation, entered,
Q
226
DOCTOR JACOB.
" I called," she said, falteringly, " in order to re-purchase
a little ring I sold to you some months since; then I wanted
the money, but now I am in circumstances to present myself
with it."
The ring was described and looked for, but to no purpose;
at length, after some parley between master and assistant,
the former said,—
" I fear, madam, that you have come too late. I distinctly
remember selling such a ring, with the initial E., to a gen-
tleman in the.beginning of last month."
Miss Macartney's lips trembled.
" It was the only relic I had of some one who is dead to
me," she said, drawing down her veil, and turned away as if
to go.
" Perhaps it can yet be reclaimed for you ; the gentleman
is well known to me, and might be induced to change it,"
exclaimed the jeweller, kindly and cheerfully, for his heart
had just received comfort from the words of Dr. Paulus;
" his name is Dr. Jacob, and he will be in Frankfort
shortly."
Miss Macartney bowed, thanked him, and left the shop.
She had resolved to go to England, believing the worst of Dr.
Jacob, overwhelmed with shame at his course of action. Of
his proposed marriage with the Baroness she had heard but
little, and indeed the bare statement carried so much con-
tradiction with it, that very«few English residents gave
credence to such a story. Of his debts, she had heard
enough to make her passionately desirous for flight. He
was lost to honour, to herself, to the place that was his in
the world by right; had he sought her and remained with
her, she would have clung to him through all the sorrow, all
the disgrace; as it was, they were irrevocably divided j there
was nothing left for her but to go.
Her heart softened when she learned that he had bought
her ring. It was a gift from him on a summer birthday,
DOCTOR JACOB.
227
years ago; she well remembered both the giving and the
day ; then she was a girl, with a girl's rosy smile and light-
some laugh, with a girl's happy eyes and harmless foolish
dreams. He had come out to the garden and put it on her
finger with a birthday wish, and she had kissed it for his dear
sake.
Why would those thoughts come back to her? Was not
the blithesome, bright-eyed girl virtually dead? Was not
the affection which had once made his gift so priceless, dead
also—dead beyond any hope of resurrection ? All that had
been innocent, and happy, and hopeful in her life was past;
what remained for her but to drift like a withered leaf to that
sea from whence no waif is drifted back !
With tears still streaming down her cheeks, she took her
way towards the residence of Dr. Paulus. She had purchased
a farewell gift for Constance, and wished to thank her parents
for many small kindnesses.
It was about that hour of the day when the intense noon-
tide heat begins to wane, and the thick dusty leaves twitter
again with songs of birds. As Miss Macartney entered upon
the sweet-scented Fried-hof, or old cemetery garden, and felt
the cool shadows of the acacias, her heart stilled a little from
its emotion, and she felt that the world was pleasant. Per-
haps there is no surer sedative to a troubled spirit than the
. calm, cool fragrance of a garden, especially a garden that is
brightly coloured with flowers, and has undulating shades
and windings about it. In the old Fried-hof, or Place of
Peace, whither we follow Miss Macartney, nothing of the
vrave-yard remains, beyond quaint tombstones rising here
and there from shrubberies of laurel and honey-suckle ; but
so moss-grown, so old-world are they, that you look upon
them much with the feelings of Stephenson amid the sculp-
tured sarcophagi qf Copan.
Miss Macartney found her eyes drawn instinctively towards
one of these strange monuments. It was a heavy cross of
Q 2
2z8
DOCTOR JACOB.
stone, black with age, scarred in many places, and, by force
of its weight, slanting gradually towards the ground. An
angel in bas-relief, and two lines of epitaph, in old German
characters, to this effect, were, engraved upon it:—
" Oh ! ye who love the world and those in it, love no more,
since all that I loved is lost, and what should I do now had
I no Christ ?"
There was something in these words that appealed to her
feelings strongly. She felt so utterly alone, so sadly in need
of some stronger faith than that by which her past life had
been guided. Here was the record of a bruised heart and a
blighted life, both of which had been healed and freshened
by religious trust—could not such trust reach her also ?—
could she not stretch out her hand in the dark, and yet
touch the hem of the Saviour's garment ? Her thoughts
grew calmer and clearer as she recalled early teaching and
early prayer; the' balmy air, the peaceful garden with its
bright flowers and grey graves, the under-toned pipings of
birds, the far-off murmur of the city, soothed her, as prayer
had seldom done. Yes, there was a God to befriend her, and
to give her something more than repose, when life and its
troubles were over. She would learn to wait in patience and
in hope.
Whilst the current of her ideas was thus seeking a new
and clearer channel, the gate of the Fried-hof clicked, and
Dr. Jacob entered. From the Zeil to the residence of Dr.
Paulus, there was no shorter or pleasanter way than by the
cemetery garden; and no quieter, which latter reason per-
haps led him there on this occasion. Sauntering along, half
from the indolence habitual to him, half from the grave
thoughts and anxieties of his mind, Dr. Jacob's step fell
noiseless on the smooth turf, and before either of them was
aware, they stood face to face,
CHAPTER XXXII.
HE Baroness received the intelligence of Dr.
Jacob's abrupt departure with mixed feelings of
self-reproach and dismay. She confessed to
herself—and the confession was a very bitter
one—that she had played her game badly. Only
a few weeks since, every chance had been in her favour;
she had seen a day on which Dr. Jacob and herself were both
free, yet they were now divided without hope of reunion.
She did not doubt that Miss Macartney was the cause of
Dr. Jacob's return to Frankfort. Of his circumstances she
knew but little ; and her married experiences with regard
to debts, loans, and usuries, made her very reckless on the
subject of money at all times ; that money-matters, there-
fore, were in any way concerned with this sudden movement,
never ,once entered her head, otherwise she might easier
have taken courage.
Her first impulse was to seek Mrs. Brill, to discover, if
possible, some clue by which her future course of action
should be governed. The Baroness, as you will perceive,
had great energy of purpose, and though foiled in this her
dearest dream, was by no means disposed to give up all
hope. She would have surrendered a third of her fortune
to see Dr. Jacob at her feet. Is it possible that my readers
don't sympathize with her ? If she loved unwisely, at least
she loved too well—and love had come little within her
experiences hitherto.
230
DOCTOR JACOB.
" My dear Mrs. Brill," she began, with a well-feigned
indifference, " I am quite disturbed about our friend, Dr,
Jacob,—what can have taken him away so suddenly?"
Mrs. Brill smiled, looked wise, finally said, bluntly,—
"Truth will out sooner or later, and no one would accuse
me, I think, of wishing to hurt Dr. Jacob's character. The
fact is, Madame de Ladenburg, his affairs are in a very un-
satisfactory state."
" Ah !" answered the Baroness.
"Yes, debts, I suspect, and nothing else, have robbed us
of our friend. Tell me, dear madame, who and what are
his friends—will they come to his aid ?"
" I assure you, I know nothing of Dr. Jacob's friends."
" Then Heaven help the poor man—for the tradespeople
of Frankfort have been at so much loss lately through un-
principled English that I fear they will have very little
patience with him."
" What will they do ? "
" What will they do ? " said Mrs. Brill, laughing pleasantly;
" arrest him, to be sure, my dear friend. Poor Tom would
help him if he could, but nine children are hindrances to
that sort of friendliness; Dr. Paulus may come forward as
a friend in need, though I suspect he is far too prudent to do
so. If nobody brings the poor dog a bone, why, the poor
dog has none ; in other words, if Dr. Jacob's friends cannot
satisfy his creditors, his creditors will take the only measures
in their power of satisfying themselves."
A new light was gradually breaking upon the mind of the
Baroness. As the difficulties besetting Dr. Jacob's "path
became clearer and clearer, she gleaned from them some-
thing like hope for herself. The very word arrest sounded
sweet in her ears, since it might replace in her hands one
chance of the many she had lately lost. If things came to
the worst, if he were really seized by the servants of the
law, would he not gladly accept money of her, rather than
DOCTOR JACOB.
incur the disgrace of a debtor's prison? She knew his
proud nature; she had seen how haughty he could be on
occasions; could he bear to be put to shame in the eyes
of all men?—he, a clergyman and a gentleman ! No, no,
ten times sooner would he suffer himself to become her
debtor; ten times sooner would he take her outstretched
hand. The hope of such a triumph brought sudden bright-
ness to her face, and sudden joy to her heart. Without
wishing to betray herself, she tried in vain to conceal her
eagerness,—
" Dear Mrs. Brill," she said, hurriedly, " Dr. Jacob is a
valued friend of mine, and I shall rejoice to aid him if the
occasion arise; indeed, I cannot let him be put to any in-
convenience whilst the money of which he stands in need
is in my hands. But such offices of kindness coming from
a lady to a gentleman are very easily misunderstood and
misjudged; and to bring my own name into disrepute
would alike hurt both of us. You must know, my dear
Mrs. Brill, that any feeling beyond that of friendship would
be absurd between Dr. Jacob and myself."
" Of course," said Mrs. Brill, smiling assentingly, though
her mind misgave her on the subject.
" Of course," added the Baroness, smiling also ; " and
therefore I must act with circumspection. Only Mr. Brill
and we two shall be cognizant of the matter."
" Certainly—if you wish it."
" I do wish it earnestly. It is just possible that Dr. Jacob
might refuse any such offers from me at the onset, and Mr.
Brill ought therefore to be trained in our tactics. May I
write to him—or may I ask you to write to him ? "
" Willingly," replied Mrs. Brill, rising to fetch her writing-
desk. " I only wish poor Tom had so kind a friend when
the quarterly bills pour in."
At which the Baroness looked sympathetic, murmured
something about feeling the warmest interest in her friend's
232
DOCTOR JACOB.
husband, and her willingness to prove it by actual service
—then dived heart and soul into the matter of the letter.
Mr. Brill must have been dull indeed, did he fail to per-
ceive that, like the lover in the N orse tale, a very steep glass
hill intervened between him and his golden apple. As
subtle sentence after sentence flowed from her pen, dictated
by the Baroness, the good wife groaned in secret over Tom's
perspective dismay.
" I hope Tom may fulfil your commission to your satis-
faction," she said, when the letter was brought to an end;
" but I would rather have done it myself, indeed I would—
men are so unbusiness-like."
" How can he possibly mistake my meaning ? " exclaimed
the Baroness, petulantly. " The money is placed at his
disposal, and he has only to act warily, that is to say, with-
out at first exciting Dr. Jacob's suspicions. Voild, tout"
And the letter was sent.
Leaving the Baroness to her reflections, we will now
return to some other members of our Jugendheim circle.
Mrs. Brill, as may have been already seen, concerned
herself very little about Dr. Jacob's absence and the cause
of it. Happily, she possessed that even temperament re-
commended by Horace to his friend Delius, which receives
all chances and changes of this mortal life with tranquillity.
Baron Josef rejoiced in his heart of hearts at the unexpected
removal of so formidable a barrier between himself and
Katchen ; for Katchen was still fairer in his eyes than the
coquettish Aggie. Indeed, Aggie already began to lose her
freshness of charm, whilst Katchen, from having always
held aloof, grew lovelier and more bewitching every day.
And Katchen !
For her, there was no longer any greenness of wood, or
fairness of vineyard, or music of mill-wheels. Though she
felt happy beyond measure in the proud consciousness of
Dr. J acob's love, even that happiness was alloyed with pain.
DOCTOR JACOB.
233
He loved her, and she trembled and wept alternately. If
he should be ill ? If he should die ? If he should ever love
her less ? Such misgivings would arise in her mind, only
to be stilled by simple prayers.
On the second morning after his departure, she received
a letter from him. Half in the hope of it, shd had lingered
within earshot of the front door, in order to meet the post-
man. He smiled at her eagerness, made a pretty speech
about love-letters in general, and declared that he wished
for no better task than to make her blush every day; but
without heeding him, she hid herself in the garden. In her
delight and excitement, she had not observed Baron Josef,
who stood idling at an open window. But he saw the
colour mount to her cheeks, and the light to her eyes, as
she took the letter; he saw her glide into the shrubbery,
fluttering with shy happiness, and naturally he formed his
own conclusions.
"Whew!"
A long whistle was followed by a longer oath ; then, steal-
ing in her track, he gained her hiding-place unobserved. If
Baron Josef had never before deemed Katchen lovely, the
revelation must have dawned upon him then.
She sat under an overhanging acacia, the light foliage
throwing sprays of shadow on her white dress and fair face,
the golden sunshine adding fresh brightness to her hair,
the pure green leafage making her delicate skin look more
delicate still. Her head was bent eagarly over her lap, on
which lay the open letter, and both hands were hidden in
the loosened locks that fell under her straw hat. Baron
Josef, as we have before indicated, had no soul for the best
and highest degree of beauty ; but he saw that Katchen
looked prettier than ever, he felt that she was farther from
him than ever, and, with a dissolute man's recklessness, he
resolved to recompense himself for his loss in the only way
that he could.
234
DOCTOR JACOB.
Before she perceived him, he had seized the letter from
its resting-place; then waving it high over her head, he
cried, half in jest, half in earnest,—
" Mein Fraulein, you have been very cruel to me, and I
cannot refrain from revenging myself. This letter remains
intact in my hands, but it remains till you claim it by some
suitable reward."
At first Katchen hardly understood either his action or
his words. Her colour went and came, her bosom heaved,
she tried to speak, and failed. At length she rose, and
stretched out her hands towards her treasure.
"How dare you?" she cried, between half-stifled sobs;
" are you not ashamed of such meanness ? "
"Do not take my harmless joke au serieux," answered
Baron Josef, with mock humility. " If you choose to look
divine, I cannot help growing desperate; and, as I have
before said, the letter is yours for a small reward—a very
small reward, indeed."
She would not pretend to understand his meaning, and
turned her back upon him in childish scorn ; it amused him
to see her angry,—he admired her far more in anger than
in meekness ; moreover, he liked at all times to play a
reckless game which had for its end the kiss of a beautiful
woman.
" Will you not purchase your letter so—will you not let
me kiss you ? " he whispered, coming closer to her.
Katchen shrugged her shoulders disdainfully.
" Only one kiss on your hand to set against that priceless
letter ?"
" N ever !"
"Not if I chose to read it by way of vengeance? Re-
member, Katchen, that I have no kind recollections to soften
my heart towards you. I have loved you distractedly, and
you have shunned me as you would shun a gorilla. If I
growl, whose fault is it ? "
DOCTOR JACOB. 235
With one hand he held both her own fast, and with the
other raised the letter as if to read its contents ; in spite of
her efforts at self-control, Katchen screamed and turned pale.
" Is it from some clandestine lover—yes or no ? I feel
naturally interested in the matter, as you are still in some
sort my betrothed; for notwithstanding Mr. Brill's veto,
mamma and I shall win the day, Katchen. Without Dr.
Jacob to back Mrs. Brill, we shall win the day; do you listen
to me ? Try to care for me, for I will make you very happy
as my little wife, "
" I will die rather than marry you," cried Katchen, with
something of her old courage returning. "If you knew
how I disliked you, you would never come near me again."
" I love you, Katchen, indeed I do, and I'm not so bad-
hearted after all. Here is your letter, and since you will not
pay me for it, I must needs pay myself."
She would have broken from him, but he seized her hand
and kissed it several times. Too frightened and shaken to
struggle, Katchen submitted unresistingly to the affront,
and when he released her, sank trembling on the bank.
Perhaps Baron Josef felt a little abashed then; anyhow,
his face changed in expression, and his voice had a shade of
contrition in it as he said,—
" Are you angry with me ? "
" Angry ? "
The word died half unsaid on her lips ; covering her face
with her hands she wept unrestrainedly, forgetting her re-
covered letter, forgetting his hated presence even, in her
shame. Baron Josef alone was to blame, no one had been
near to witness his conduct, still she could not divest herself
of the idea that Dr. Jacob would henceforth love her less.
She must tell him ; for was it not her duty to tell him every-
thing? What would he think of her? She belonged to
him, to him only, and Baron Josef, of all other unworthy
men, had dared to touch her hand with his lips.
236
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Are you angry with me ?" reiterated Baron Josef, in still
milder tones.
" Go away," she murmured, brokenly; " do not speak to
me again."
" When you grow calmer, you won't feel so bitter to me,
Katchen. Remember how you have maddened me by your
coldness, and how I have hitherto controlled my feeling for
your sake. But you looked so pretty in your anger, I could
not help myself,—on my soul, I could not! If in a ha§ty
moment I steal a kiss, do I commit a crime ? Good
Heavens ! I wish there were no pretty faces in the world,
since the ugly ones never get a man into trouble !"
" Please go," said Katchen, entreatingly. " If you stay,
I shall only make you more angry."
" One little word of forgiveness, and I will vanish like
Mephistopheles in Faust."
But Katchen said no word.
"Just look up and show me that your eyes are dry. I
cannot bear to see a woman crying."
She looked up, and Baron Josef, who had a sort of
humanity somewhere, strolled back to the house, wishing^
Katchen were kind, wishing dinner were ready, wishing a
hundred things, possible and impossible, after the manner of
idlers.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
O sooner had Baron Josef gone than Katchen
drew a long breath of relief, and collecting all
her scattered powers of thinking, tried to devise
some means by which she might henceforth
avoid him. She did not recommence her letter
at once, but kissed it, and pressed it again and again to her
heart, with a vague sense of the comfort and happiness con-
tained in every word. Whilst Baron Josef's hated kiss was
still fresh on her hand, and the impress of his clasp still
visible on her wrists, she felt unfit to commune with Dr.
Jacob's good and beautiful affection. As the wild Kaffir
tribes deem their altars defiled if only an infidel's shadow
fall on them, so Katchen, having once promised herself unto
the man she loved, could not brook a look, much less a word
of love from another. Some women, but not those whom we
would make mistresses of our hearths and mothers of our
children, can be true to their Ulysses, yet receive the suitors
with a smile. To Katchen love was as a second religion.
At length, with her bright lips parted, and her long hair
falling over the page, she began to read her first love-letter.
Her first love-letter !
Dr. Jacob's letter to Katchen was tender and true, and
told her all the love of the writer's heart; but as she read on,
an indefinite underlying anxiety betrayed itself, that grew
deeper and deeper with every word.
A little bird lighted on a branch near, and Katchen raised
238
DOCTOR JACOB.
her head to hear its song. She knew that the letter had
some secret to tell her, some secret which would bring pain,
perhaps parting, and she was not brave enough to learn it
yet. The sweet tenderness of his opening words had flooded
her heart with joy ; she felt so triumphant in his fondness,
so sure of his loyalty, she must be happy for a little while.
There was no sound but the far-off stroke of a woodman's
axe, and the trill of the bird over-head ; all was still dewy
shadow and repose. The day and its sorrows had hardly
begun.
Two or three minutes passed, and the little bird's song was
over. She saw it droop its head, as if with sudden weariness
or pain, then fly straight and swift into the densest part of
the wood, and the great heart of the summer seemed sad-
dened for a while.
Katchen again took up her letter, and read to the end.
This time she did not linger over every'loving word, and fix
it in her memory before reading the next; she felt that she
could not bear such terrible suspense any longer, and with
Avonderful effort, she controlled herself till the meaning of
the letter was told.
And it was separation. Not separation for weeks, or for
months, or for years, but separation without hope of re-union,
separation without limit of time—separation for life.
At first Katchen was too stunned to estimate the full
misery implied by such a word. She was too young, too
sanguine, too guileless, to imagine any circumstances that
could come like insuperable barriers between herself and Dr.
Jacob. He spoke of error and selfishness on his part; he
blamed himself severely for having sought to obtain her
affections ; he asked her pardon for known and unknoAvn
offences, in the way that a father might do to a child he had
injured. No wonder Katchen loved him better, set him still
higher in her esteem and honour as she read these things—
no wonder she saw in them self-denying goodness and high-
DOCTOR JACOB.
239
souled tenderness only. For her sake, he had resolved to
sacrifice her love ; for his, she resolved to cling to him still
closer.
When she read the words " disgrace," " dishonour," " sin,"
she understood them in no wise as they were meant. Dr.
Jacob wished to prepare her for the worst. He knew how
much more would be said of him than the naked truth, and
he knew that the naked truth alone was enough to break her
heart. But he had worded his half confession with such
marvellous tenderness that Katchen must have been less
than a woman had she not loved him ten-fold more for it,
and by drawing his own sacrifice in such strong colours, he
but insured her greater trust and fervency. He laid before
her the extent of his error in asking her to become his wife,
followed out the probable effects of so unequal a mar-
riage, pictured the bitter self-reproach he should incur by
robbing her of a fairer home and worthier protector. Then
he spoke of his own desolate life, and told her simply
and pathetically how her sweet affection had promised to
brighten it.
In a celebrated picture of our own time, the artist has
delineated war under its darkest aspect. The ruin and
despair, the devastation of hearth and home and altar, are
seen clearly, as in a vision. The individual woe and suf-
fering seem to shriek in your ears. The chaos of all that
was once beautiful, and earth-like, and happy, wearies your
eyes as if with sharp pain. But in the window of a falling
cottage, speaking of summer days, and young voices, and
pure thoughts, is a rose, fresh, blooming, full of fragrant
life.
Dr. Jacob might have had this picture in mind when com-
pacing his own existence and nature to those of Katchen.
But he had used his eloquence in vain. Every word that
added to the mass of self-condemnatory evidence, proved
him more guiltless in her eyes; he had not spared himself
240
DOCTOR JACOB.
in order to save* her, and to save her from what ?—Perhaps
from the taunts of the world, perhaps from some deep
anxieties—perhaps even from disgrace ; would not all these
be as nothing to her, if borne by his side ?
Long and earnestly she sat under the acacia tree, trying
to evolve out of her own trustfulness and love, some conso-
lation under this heavy unexpected trouble, trying to devise
some way by which that trustfulness and love should best
console him, trying to look hopefully into the future, above
all—trying to believe that there would be no parting.
She resolved to write to him at once, and say, in her own
poor simple words, how her heart must break if he left her ;
and somewhat cheered by this resolution, she returned to
the house. Many tears fell over that little letter; many
prayers and hopes accompanied it on its way. Like the
lamp of the Hindoo maiden, it was sent forth on a sea of
uncertainty, and the fate of it would bring joy or despair to
the sender.
Hardly had the letter been sealed, when Mrs. Brill broke
in upon her solitude, with a pleasant smile, and a merry—
" My dear Katchen, I've such a piece of good news to tell
you !"
" Good news for me ?"
"Yes, child, you are looking just now as dismal as Gret-
chen in the play, and anything lively may be acceptable.
Well, Katchen, I have just heard from your Russian pere
adoptif, who is by no means averse to Baron Josef as yout
husband; and who, moreover, has now come to something
definite with regard to you. Of course, had Baron Josef
chosen Aggie, we should have been equally delighted ; but
as Baroness Ladenburg, you will be able to introduce the
poor girl, and find her a good husband one day, "
" I cannot marry Baron Josef," said Katchen, calmly.
" And why not ? "
" I hate him, and he knows it,"
DOCTOR JACOB.
241
" That is mere child's play between you and him," Mrs.
Brill continued, unruffled ; " if you have quarrelled a little
before marriage, you are sure to live in harmony ever after ;
and from what I have seen of Baron J osef, I believe him to
be exceedingly good-tempered."
" Oh, Mrs. Brill !" pleaded Katchen, with tears in her
eyes ; "do, for pity's sake, be serious with me. Again and
again, I say I will never marry Baron Josef; to whom else
can I look for help if not to you ?—and if you love me, you
will do all in your power to prevent this matter from going
any further. I am not the child I was—I believe I shall do
something desperate and wrong, if you drive me against my
will "
" My dear girl, I would not have you unhappy for the
world; but it is only in novels that young ladies say they
will never marry Baron Josef or Baron anybody else. Every
woman marries the man she woulddt have had for the world
—no rule in algebra is surer. When I was a girl, I declared
that nothing should induce me to marry a meek parson—
didn't I marry the meekest of parsons, and would I change
my Tom for any other husband in the world ? No, no—my
dear, the man who proposes to a woman is the one she
marries ; and the one, in nine cases out of ten, best suited
to her."
Katchen burst into tears.
" If you knew how unhappy I am, you would not speak so
lightly to me," she said, with some bitterness; " I will appeal
to Mr. Brill; he at least cannot have the heart to force my
wishes—he is fond of me—he is fond of him "
"Of whom—Baron Josef?" asked Mrs. Brill, with sur-
prise ; " I think you are in error, Katchen."
She blushed and answered hesitatingly,—
" I did not mean Baron Josef—I forgot what I was
saying."
" Tom loves you dearly; so do I," continued Mrs. Brill.
R
242 DOCTOR JACOB.
" I'm sure you have been like ^daughter to both of us, dar-
ling, and I only wish our Harry were old enough to be your
husband—but this marriage with Baron Josef would really
be so advantageous in every way "
Here a message from the Baroness interrupted the dia-
logue, which was not continued that day.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
FTER the before-mentioned interview which
took place between Dr. Jacob and Dr. Paulus,
Dr. Paulus set about a systematic arrangement
of his friend's affairs, in order to give him an
opportunity of clearing himself, both with regard
to his debts and his fraud. The last word caused a deep
shudder to run through the muscular frame of Dr. Paulus.
He hesitated more than once as to the expediency and recti-
tude of one minister cloaking the sin of another—yet had not
an erring brother confessed to him, throwing himself upon
his love and Christian charity ? Could he assume the right
which belonged to One only, and condemn him straightway?
Did not Christ himself command forgiveness, yea, even if the
offence were committed seven times seven ? Serious thought
and earnest prayer left him tender towards Dr. Jacob, and
he resolved to stand by him so long as he testified a penitent
and deeply humbled spirit.
Accordingly, he lost no time in calling upon those creditors
who had the most urgent claims, and by a simple adherence
to truth, putting their minds at ease. He knew that Dr.
Jacob had still a large sum in his hands, the remainder of a
bounty collected for his mission, and he had his word of
honour that no kreutzer of it should go towards any other
purpose. He knew now also that his friend's income was
small, and that speedy payments were impossible; but
his own faith was still large, and like the leaven which
R 2
244
DOCTOR JACOB.
leaveneth the whole lump, it diffused itself over the hearts
of others.
" Dr. Jacob does not seek to hide his difficulties," he said,
" but he has means of overcoming them, if you will give him
time. Were I a rich man, I would gladly relieve your fears;
but I can only say,—what I should not say inconsiderately,
—1 Have patience with him, and he will pay you all.'"
It was a curious fact, and one not likely to escape the ob-
servation of Dr. Paulus, that of all Dr. Jacob's admirers, the
richest and most influential deserted him now, whilst the
poorer and humbler clung to him with renewed interest and
affection. The Wood clique prided themselves upon passing
him without a bow on the Zeil, and on excepting him from a
dinner; but those homely little folks who had hitherto only
dared to invite him once or twice, and then with a feeling of
shame at their simple hospitality, now vied with each other
in sympathy.
Dr. Paulus, as we have seen, bent no knee to the golden
calf, and more than one cynical remark this contrast drew
from him. He witnessed silently, but with inward contempt,
the adulation and homage which had been paid to Dr. Jacob
on his first coming to Frankfort; he had often prophesied to
himself a reaction. The reaction had come in earnest.
Dr. Jacob seemed less hurt by the coldness of the one
class than touched by the devotion of the other. With so
many harassing anxieties on his mind, he could not afford to
bewail trifles, and it was not in his nature to bewail at all.
He made the least of all mere cares. He could forget his
debts; biit he thought every day and every hour of Katchen
in her sadness.
Woefully did he regret that summer day on which he had
wooed and won Katchen Eggers. He scourged himself with
the sharpest self-reproaches, he tasted the bitterness of re-
morse in every morsel of bread, in every drop of wine. For
himself, he could have borne all the dreary yearning after a
DOCTOR JACOB.
245
lost love, all the sorrow of it, all the retribution of it, but he
shrank from inflicting suffering on her. Yet was it not better
that she should weep for one day, rather than for long years.
Was he not cruel only to be kind, in speaking the doom of
separation? Was he not shielding her from evils of which
she knew nothing—disgrace—dishonour ?
He quailed before those terrible words, and to write them
to one so pure, so fair, so loving, hurt him more than any
scorn of man could have done. Indeed, the writing of that
farewell letter involved the sharpest pain of his life's experi-
ences; he knew how she would hope for it, exult over it, and
hide it, in her little eager hands; he knew how her blue eyes
would dance with joy as she began it, and how they would
grow weary with weeping before the end had come. Yet he
felt lighter of heart when he had told her all. For she was
saved, and henceforth no sorrow could hurt him.
The next day, amongst other letters, came two, which he
read over twice, and with deep interest. The first was from
Katchen, and its contents have been already suggested; the
second from some of his principal creditors, and ran as
follows:—
" Frankfort-on-the-M.,
'' Sept. 8th,
"Most honoured Sir,—We beg to inform you that,
having before suffered heavy pecuniary loss from bad debts
incurred by non-residents of this city, we shall be under the
disagreeable necessity of resorting to such protection as the
law affords us, unless our account be settled within ten days
from the present time.
"We have the honour to remain,
"Your obliged servants,
" Krauter & Co."
Dr. Jacob's face darkened as he read. Only two days since
Dr. Paulus had been assured by Herr Krauter himself that
246
DOCTOR JACOB.
he was content to wait a little for his money, that he by no
means wished to inconvenience his creditor, &c. In the face
of these asseverations came an insolent letter, and a threat
of arrest. Who was the mover of both ? Krauter himself
was a mild man, rather inclined to miserliness, but by no
means inclined to hostile measures; some enemy had incited
this step, and, whoever he might be, this enemy should be
foiled. Dr. Jacob was proud, and even in his fall would
allow no foot to tread upon him. To the last he would be
himself.
But a debtors' prison !
The words sounded more terrible to him than they would
do to most men, for he was essentially a Sybarite, loving
luxurious rooms, costly wines, delicate meats, expensive
liberalities, and refined pleasures. It was, moreover, not so
much the contempt of others as self-abasement that he
dreaded,—less objective than subjective degradation that
made a prison so formidable to him. Except as he shrank
from the contemplation of Katchen's sorrow, and that of one
other, he cared little what the world would say or think of
him. But he did abhor solitude, coarse living, homely sur-
roundings, and personal restraint; and he despised human
nature too much to feel respect for human law. The loss of
friends, of peace of mind, of position, he accepted as from
God, and the sequence of his errors; but he was very un-
willing to suffer at the hands of men.
For hours he paced his costly apartment in the deepest
thought, his head bowed, his hands clasped listlessly behind
him, his grand figure bent. Once or twice, visions of happi-
ness would flash across his mind, making him for the moment
young, strong, and hopeful; through all, and in spite of all,
he would cling to Katchen, and hide himself with her for one
short sweet day of love. His life had been reckless, and far
from immaculate hitherto, in so far as the laws of society
were concerned; he had lived far too much in the world for
DOCTOR JACOB.
247
his dignity as a minister of religion; he had acted carelessly,
reprehensibly, with regard to money; he had squandered
where he should have been miserly, had harvested where he
should have been profuse. Why should he draw back
abashed now from what in former days he would have done
on the impulse ? He was but a man, and she was so lovely,
she loved him so dearly—the temptation must overmaster
him; he would dare all for her sake.
For her sake / He started at those words as if a serpent
had stung him. Was he not old, dishonoured, unfit in every
way to love her? Would not his death be bitter, and his
grave without rest, if he sacrificed so fair, so promising, so
happy a nature to his man's passion ? Would not every word
of love and trust from her lips cut to his heart like a sharp
sword ? If he confided in her, she must unlearn to love him;
if he deceived her, he must lose her alike for ever !
In his youth Dr. Jacob had travelled in American forests,
and he now recalled that stupendous splendour of parasitic
vegetation, which adorns whilst it destroys alike the fairest
and youngest of woodland trees. Draping them with sprays
of silver, giving to every stem and branch an added beauty
and grace, the poisonous Spanish moss gradually preys upon
the vitality it embraces, till only decay and death remain.
Had not his love for women been like this dire parasitic
plant? Had it not first made their lives more lovely, their
world a paradise, their hearts triumphant—bringing slowly
and surely in the end weariness, life without joy, and withered
hopes? To few men was granted such a gift of winning love
—to none had the gift been so fatal.
Many recollections that had been buried for long years
crowded to his mind now; shadow after shadow rose before
him, each with its retributive story. Vainly he drove them
back—vainly he shut his eyes, and tried to exist for the pre-
sent only. He had outraged the opportunities of the past,
and they wreaked vengeance upon him when their time came.
248
DOCTOR JACOB.
With white working features he fought against Memory,
against Hope, against Fear, against all the powers which he
had hitherto defied. For the first time in life he felt that he
was weaker than Fate, since he was unable to compensate
himself for what she had taken away.
This temporary agony but hardened his heart. He would
not stoop to the dust before an inexorable Destiny—there
was yet one sweetness he might win if he staked largely—
and he resolved to stake largely. There was no God in his
heart then ; no craving for a mind at rest, for a life of recti-
tude, for a calm anticipation to death, for a perfected existence
hereafter.
His case was desperate, and he brought desperation to
meet it. In such moments brutal men have committed
murder, despondent men have committed suicide, men of
refinerfient and many loveable qualities have committed
crimes of which we should judge only the most depraved
to be capable.
Suddenly, as if with some new and direct bearing upon
his ideas, he unlocked his desk and turned a roll of bank-
notes in his fingers ; for several minutes he played with them
as he might have played with a pet dog, or with Katchen's
locks.
" To prison !" he murmured, with a ghastly smile ; and
then he forced back the horror of the word, and fixed his
eyes upon a dim golden Future only.
He seated himself at the table and wrote some letters in
fierce haste, as if he feared some unforeseen accident might
alter his resolution. In one envelope he merely returned Herr
KrautePs bill with bank-notes to the amount. To Katchen
and Miss Macartney he wrote a few words only.
Hardly had he sealed his letters, when a low tap, and a
gentle "Pardon, sir," caused him to dash aside the paper
money and assume a mien of composure.
The intruder was a delicate-looking, grey-haired woman
DOCTOR JACOB.
249
of the middle age, having about her that air of poor gentility,
which is unmistakable and touching. Dr. Jacob's heart
smote him as he recognized in her the mistress of a small
fancy shop where he -had purchased countless articles in
stationery and children's toys. He immediately drew out his
purse, with an apology.
" Really, Frau Linder, I ask your pardon for such delay in
paying your little account—has my thoughtlessness inconve-
nienced you ?—if so, why did you not apply to me before ? "
The woman looked at him with a sad hesitation of manner,
for which he could not account ; her eyes seemed filling,
indeed, and twice she tried to speak, but her voice failed.
" I fear you are in trouble," Dr. Jacob continued, hurriedly,
and at the same time pressing a bank-note into her hand.
"1 have, perhaps, put you to anxiety and loss ; let me repair
them in the only way left to me."
The note was twice the value of the debt, and it was put
back gently.
" I did not come to crave your help," she said, in the voice
which women use towards those whom they love and honour ;
"but I came—I came "
Her tears made the remaining words thick, though her
listener lost no syllable.
" I came to crave your acceptance of mine, if it is worth
having," she said, humbly and touchingly ; " do not think of
the debt, I know that you have others larger and more press-
ing, and I have lived frugally and saved money. Will you
take a little loan of me till you are richer—my daughter and
I should both be so much happier if you would—you are not
angry with me, Herr Doktor ?—oh, do not be angry ! "
She might well have trembled at the expression of his
face, and mistook it for anger. His eyes were hard and
cold, his lips blanched, his brow contracted as if the wear
and woe of many years were centred in so many minutes, his
broad chest heaved, he seemed to gasp for breath. An awful
25°
DOCTOR JACOB.
tempest convulsed him. Coming as it did in the midst of
evil thoughts, of angry passions, of reckless intentions and
godless hopes, this woman's voice of charity and goodness
smote his inmost soul like lightning. Its suddenness and
pureness made the darkness around him tenfold darker. He
staggered at the picture of hell so near to his vision, so
remote from hers, and felt abased, smitten, abandoned.
" Do not be angry," she repeated, rising in her terror
to go. " I will not mention it again. I thought, perhaps,
even such a trifle might be useful just now."
And she secretly put back the poor little treasure of six
thaler notes in her pocket, half crying still, and terrified at
what she had done.
On the threshold, however, he stopped her with a voice
that she would in no other place have recognised as his.
" Pray for me," he said; " if I dared to pray for myself
to-night, it would be for such a heart as yours."
He held out his hand, then drew back with a strange
gesture of after-thought, as if his delicate white fingers with
their costly rings, were either too pure or too bad to touch her
coarse hard-working ones.
" God bless you ! " he added, hurriedly; " thank you—thank
you."
And he shut the door upon her.
CHAPTER XXXV.
T is a stormy night, with copper-coloured clouds
and far-off portending peals of thunder. The
pretty gaslights of the Zoological Gardens are
blown out every five minutes, and though the band
continues to play under shelter, and a hundred or
two visitors sup and chat in the pavilion, the concert has lost
its spirit.
At the other end of the town, streams of people may be
seen wending their way towards the Circus ; officers with
shining stars, ladies in full dress, servant-maids with neatly
braided hair and spotless white aprons, groups of children,
and a sprinkling of English tourists, pass under Fraulein
Fink's window, in continued succession, all bent upon the
same errand. Next to seeing the Circus itself, was the
pleasure of seeing the circus-goers ; accordingly, Fraulein
Fink, Hannchen, her friend Elise, and a very shy young
cousin of hers, who stood in the place of beau to both girls,
were collected at the drawing-room window, watching with
interest every passer-by.
" I do wish," said Hannchen, " that somebody rich would
marry me, and let me go to the theatre every night! Wouldn't
I make my husband some good soup, and knit him warm
stockings, when he held out such rewards !"
Fraulein Fink hardly knew whether to reprove or no.
" My Hannchen, thou must cook and knit for him, whether
he give thee pleasures or no. Is it not so Theodor ?"
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DOCTOR JACOB.
" Of course I dare not say," replied Theodor, blushing and
squeezing Hannchen's hand behind the chair ; " we men are
all selfish."
A little badinage ensued, after which Elise went to the
piano, and Fraulein Fink began to prepare supper, thinking
kindly of a time when she had loved to sit by the window
with a young gentleman, and quarrel playfully. On a sudden
Hannchen cried,—
" Aunty, there must be a fire somewhere ! See ! the
Bin-germeister's carriage has fetched him from the Circus !"
The Burghermaster of Frankfort, like the Emperor of
Austria, is always present in case of fire, and on this occasion
no sooner had the poor man settled himself to the enjoyments
of the Circus than such a summons came. In less than a
minute his gorgeous carriage dashed back to the town, fol-
lowed by a train of stragglers, shouting,—
"To the fire !—to the fire !"
" Himmel! " said Fraulein Fink, raising her hands depre-
catingly, " how the wind blows! God help the poor creatures
who are in danger !"
" I never saw a fire—do let us go, aunty !" Hannchen
exclaimed, entreatingly. " With Theodor we can take no
harm, and it would be so exciting !"
After some further coaxing, Fraulein Fink consented, and
the little party set off. Guided by the stream of people, they
traversed the Zeil, crossed the Schillerplatz, and entered the
Ross-market, Fraulein Fink thinking all the time of the
meteor Goethe's father saw there, on the night of the poet's
birth. They were now within full view of the fire, but the
press of spectators prevented them from advancing beyond
the entrance to the narrow street where it was raging.
In Germany the military are always called out on such
occasions, and, forming a circle, they prevent any one from
entering the scene of danger, except those officially concerned
in it. Consequently, there is no display of voluntary bravery,
DOCTOR JACOB.
253
and much less excitement than we see on such an occasion
in England.
It was a grand extravagant sight. The wide space of the
Ross-market was flooded with wild lurid light; the bronze
group of statuary in the midst glowed as if of molten gold;
the upturned faces of the crowd were awed, and flushed, and
eager; everything seemed alive with strange fiery-life—weird
shadows and sounds scared the eye and the ear—the heavens
were burnished, as if a second temple flamed out some dire
prophecy—the churches gleamed blood-red—peaceful dwell-
ing-houses wore a fierce and strange aspect.
" It's like the infernal scene in Robert le Diable," whis-
pered Hannchen, nervously. " I don't like it—we had bet-
ter go."
"Hush!" said Fraulein Fink, touching her arm; "see,
who goes yonder."
Hannchen looked up quickly, and saw Doctor Jacob's tall
form within a few yards of them. He was making his way
quickly and quietly through the crowd, not looking at the
fire, not heeding the fanciful pictures it made around him,
not hearing the turmoil; evidently he was bent upon some
speedy and important errand.
"I thought Dr. Jacob was in prison!" cried Hannchen.
" The dear God be thanked that it is not so !"
"You may well say so, my dear Hannchen; for an hour's
conversation with such a man is a thing to remember all
one's life. I wouldn't have the dear man hurt for the world."
And Fraulein Fink sighed pensively as she turned her
steps homewards.
Dr. Jacob, meantime, walked straight towards the Main-
Neckar railway station. He did not notice that he was fol-
lowed at a distance by a short active figure, whose following
was done so awkwardly, that one might tell at a glance it was
that of a novice. Dr. Paulus, for it was he, had been led a
little out of his way by the spectacle of the fire; and as his
=54
DOCTOR JACOB.
errand had had Dr. Jacob for its object, no wonder that he
should stop short as soon as he caught sight of him. But it was
unlike the Doctor to linger and hesitate, and shield himself
from observation behind the shoulders of taller men. We
must explain this conduct to our readers. He had an hour
before been thrown into great perplexity and vexation by
the tidings of Dr. Jacob's impending arrest, and he was now
hastening, good, true friend that he was, with a small packet
of honestly earned money in his breast-pocket, determined
to save him who had once been his friend, and whom he
still loved—from so utter a degradation. Fellowship, that is
to say, fellowship of ministry, was a strong feeling in the
heart of Dr. Paulus; and, as we hope this narrative will show,
the one weakness of his strong nature was Dr. Jacob, the
man of so many errors, and so many attaching amiabilities.
But on coming suddenly upon him in this way, on being
let, with no kindly warning, so cruelly into the light of a
cowardly and damning intention on his part, namely flight,
no wonder Dr. Paulus stood still, hit to the heart's core. At
first pure and intense grief alone possessed him, but by-and-
by the lion-like rage which is latent more or less in us all,
and which nothing calls forth in greater intensity than out-
raged affection, overmastered all other feelings. He clenched
his fist, and bit his lips till the blood came, hardly able to
save himself from an imprecation, quite unable to save him-
self from a muttered expression of scorn and anger.
And then a terrible smile broke the darkness and stoniness
of his face. This unexpected revelation of Dr. Jacob's in-
tentions had given to himself the power of frustrating them,
and he would use that power to the utmost. Was it not
right, was it not incumbent upon him so to use it? He
did not carry out his purpose at once, in spite of the storm
raging within his breast, but followed in the other's track
slowly. To have seen the two men without knowing their
histories—the one so erect, and, despite all, still so proud in
DOCTOR JACOB.
255
his bearing; the other so bowed, and pale, and humble—one
would have at once imputed to Dr. Paulus the criminality, to
Dr. Jacob the innocence.
They were now within two or three paces of each other,
and still Dr. Paulus maintained his distance. Truth to say,
as soon as his first bitter wrath and disappointment were
over, his purpose grew weaker, and his courage waned. He
felt it hard to go up like a policeman and make his friend
prisoner. He dreaded the look of shame that he should have
to encounter from those fine eyes—the flush of those beauti-
ful features—the trembling and shrinking of that wonderful
voice. The good man drew back abashed at the picture of the
guilty man's abasement; it was as if the shame, and the sor-
row, and the sin were all his own, and the nearer the meeting
the more terrible it seemed. Had Dr. Jacob been a younger
man, without white hair, and slightly bent shoulders, perhaps
these contending emotions might never have troubled Dr.
Paulus; but as it was, he faced the painfulness and the de-
gradation consequent upon his first resolution for a few
moments, and then abandoned it.
It was clearly his duty to thwart Dr. Jacob's flight, yet he
could not do it; because of the man's strange fascination, he
could not do it; he felt this, he owned to himself the weak-
ness and womanliness of yielding to such a feeling—yet he
yielded.
*#**##
Dr. Jacob, now unwatched, went up to the bureau and
took two first-class tickets for a station between Frankfort
and Heidelberg, purchased a newspaper and a cigar, then
stationed himself opposite to the entrance and waited, as if
expecting some one. By-and-by a fiacre drew up, and Miss
Macartney alighted.
She was veiled and plainly dressed, but carried herself
with a new and gladder air; her voice, too, sounded softer
than we have hitherto heard it.
256
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Have I kept you waiting ?" she asked.
He answered hurriedly, and led her at once to the plat-
form. The train was not yet up, and they walked to and fro
in silence. Once, as they passed under a lamp, he looked
into her face, and asked, in an anxious voice,—
" I have much, very much to tell you, Elizabeth, and I
dared not write. Can you forgive me all and everything ?"
" Have I not already forgiven ? " she replied, and as soon
as the implied reproach was spoken, she would have given
worlds to recall it.
" Ah !—I forgot—yes—I can hardly hurt you now."
" Not whilst you love me," she answered, cheerfully.
" I have many things to confess," he continued.
" Do not use that word to me."
"To disclose then, if you will; positive crimes, for which
the law might punish me, and I shall ask of you more than
one sacrifice."
" Not on her account?" she said, with beating heart.
" N ot on her account."
" Yes," she replied, and then they were both silent.
Five minutes later, the guard blew his horn, the train
started, and Dr. Jacob had done that deed which no after
atonement could cancel. Had he stayed, bravely and hum-
bly, to breast the tide of difficulties setting in against him,
all would yet have been well, and the friends, the honour,
and the position, so lately lost, might have been regained.
Now they were gone and for ever.
He had staked for the last time, and largely. Would he
lose or win ?
CHAPTER XXXVI.
ARDLYhad Katchen recovered from the agita-
tion into which Mrs. Brill's overtures had thrown
her, when she received a message from the Ba-
roness, requesting an interview. At first, in
childish petulance, she resolved to refuse ; but
on second and calmer thoughts, she deemed it best to con-
sent. The blow must be struck sooner or later—better strike
it now and have no more to fear.
Accordingly, she took her way, not without some trepi-
dation, into the presence of the Baroness, greeting that lady
simply and coldly as her heart dictated.
"My dear little Katchen," began the Baroness, in her
blandest manner, "why do you avoid me and show such
restraint in my presence ? Do I not love you ?—do I not
wish to make you happy ?"
" Perhaps so, Madame de Ladenburg ; but your notions of
happiness are very different to my own. I can't feel and
think after a pattern, just as I copy my sampler."
And having said thus much, Katchen trembled and won-
dered how long her courage would last. The Baroness
meantime played with a delicate piece of silk embroidery,
puzzled at the sudden change that had come over her neo-
phyte, formerly so shy and meek, now so hostile and sar-
castic. Was there a lover in the way, as her son guessed ?
She determined to sound to their secret depths those still
waters of Katchen's nature.
s
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Of course you can't, love, and I should be the last person
to force the impulses of your young heart. For instance, if I
supposed that Baron Josef had a rival, I would say no further
word in his favour."
Katchen had not looked for this kind of attack ; a hasty
blush dashed her cheeks, she felt no power of uttering a word.
" If I supposed that you had a lover, Katchen, poor Josef
and his sighs must remain unpleaded for—if not, I want to
know, in plain German, what grounds of objection you have
against him. Be candid with me, as behoves the subject.
Have you, or have you not, another and more favoured
suitor ?"
What could Katchen do or say ? She felt the merciless
gaze of the Baroness fixed upon her, and she knew that alike
confession or denial were fraught with danger. Should she
confess all, and save herself that way ? Or should she refuse
Baron Josef merely on the plea of her own dislike to him?
She had pledged her secrecy to Dr. Jacob, and she chose the
latter course.
" Baron Josef is utterly unsuitable to me, and of my own
free will I will never become his wife. If you were to ques-
tion me a hundred times, Madame de Ladenburg, my answer
would remain unchanged. Why will you force me to say that
which must sound disrespectful in your ears. I find no fault
with Baron Josef: I simply dislike him."
But the Baroness had marked her changing colour, her
hesitating manner, and her quiet underlying earnestness of
tone. Something had evidently changed the timid young
girl she had first met into a resolute, passionate woman.
Like the Goddess of Cythera, the Baroness possessed a
hundred novas artes, nova consilia, by which to obtain the
mastery of a weaker mind than her own, and now they were
all exercised to the utmost.
"And you wen't tell me that other whom you like? Sly
little Katchen !"
DOCTOR JACOB.
259
Katchen writhed under her raillery, and was already losing
command over herself. Her antagonist saw, it, and made
another thrust.
" When a lover is kept so in the background, people are
allowed to form their own suppositions regarding him, which
suppositions are seldom favourable. My dear Katchen, let
me speak to you as a mother might do, a mother who knows
the world and the heartless people in it. Ten to one if this
lover of yours has not heard of your dowry. A thousand to
one, I may say."
" What right have you to say such things ?" cried Katchen,
starting to her feet in uncontrolled anger. " I will not stay
to hear them from you. If I refuse Baron Josef, does my
refusal give you a right to tyrannize over me ?"
"Tyrannize over you!" laughed the Baroness, lightly;
" that is hardly a fair word, my child. I but strive to open
your eyes, perhaps to some dangerous adventurer. You are
young, pretty, and inexperienced—it would be a thousand
pities for you to throw yourself away."
A beautiful smile, half of pride, half of humility, played
on Katchen's lips ; she was comparing her own littleness to
the greatness and strength of him she loved ; and the com-
parison made her feel happier than any conscious superiority
could have done.
" I shall not throw myself away," she said, almost involun-
tarily ; and then she added, with a blush, " I am not ashamed
of him I love."
"Then you infer that he is ashamed of you. One
conclusion or the other must necessarily be arrived at,
Katchen."
The stinging words drew Katchen into committing a
further imprudence, which she regretted as soon as it was
beyond recall, but which she could no more help than the
bee can help stinging the hand which is ready to crush it.
She felt, with no tangible ground for doing so, that her
S 2
260
DOCTOR JACOB.
confession would be a triumph over her adversary, and what
woman could have resisted such a triumph then ?
" I am engaged to marry Dr. Jacob," she said, proudly.
The Baroness did not speak, or change colour, or tremble,
but her eyes gleamed with reckless passion, and her hands
plucked convulsively at the folds of her dress, as if she must
crush something. When she looked up, so completely had
she dissimulated the inner rage and scorn of her heart, that
Katchen found some disappointment in her calmness.
"You are not surprised?" she asked, having grown more
courageous since her daring avowal.
" Surprised, and why ?"
" I cannot tell—I do not know," poor Katchen replied,
blu shingly.
The Baroness added, in a tone of the deepest irony,—
"Those who know Dr. Jacob well would hardly be sur-
prised at anything he might do ; it is somewhat of a prece-
dent, I own, for a man of sixty to marry a child of eighteen,
but I by no means affirm it is preposterous. What better
guide can a young girl have than a man who might be
her grandfather ? Indeed, the mutual position possesses
unequalled advantages. Such a marriage quiets the natural
happy spirits of a young girl, brings her at once face to face
with the hard realities of life; removes from her reach all
those pleasant, though, perhaps, pernicious dreams of love
and romance in which most youths and maidens delight;
gives her instead of a fondly foolish lover, the grave exactions
and experienced councils of a parent. You have no father ;
in Dr. Jacob you will find one. For such a privilege, you
are, doubtless, ready to renounce all other privileges of girl-
hood—truly, Katchen, you have chosen wisely."
Every word stabbed Katchen to the heart with bitter
poison, and yet she could but listen to the end. With pale
cheeks and heaving bosom, she awaited it.
" Dr. Jacob may have chosen less wisely. It remains to
DOCTOR JACOB.
be seen whether of the two he will not renounce most; in
his endeavour to render you happy, think of the many
sacrifices he must make ; in his endeavour to appear happy
himself he will hardly fail to suffer also, since silence is
acknowledged to be a bad remedy under trouble."
" I love him so dearly—my love must make him happier,"
whispered Katchen, half sobbing ; " you do not know me—
you do not know him."
Again the Baroness laughed—that light sarcastic laugh
which Katchen found harder to bear than her haughtiest
or most stinging word.
" Not know him ?" she replied, with curling lip and kindling
eyes—" not know him ?"
And she repeated the words with a cruel mocking sug-
gestiveness in her tone.
" And if you do, Madame de Ladenburg, can you say that
he is not good and noble ?"
"Those are strong words, in speaking of mortal men,
Katchen. Who of us is good and noble ? Dr. Jacob cannot
be blamed for partaking of the foibles of his kind. No man,
Dr. Jacob least of all, could bear a close investigation as to
the goodness of his life or the nobility of his character."
" I do not know what you call goodness and nobility, but I
know that I love him, and that if he had as many faults as I
believe him to have virtues, I could not love him less,"
replied Katchen, sadly and simply. " Let us not talk of him
any more, since you say so much that makes me miserable.
May I go now ? I hope Baron Josef will be happy."
" I hope that you may be happy also, darling. Certainly it
would have become you better to take the position of my
daughter-in-law, than that of Dr. Jacob's wife—however, I
can only say that I trust my pleasant words will prove as
prophecies, and my unpleasant ones as vagaries of my brain
only. Tell your lover how sincerely I hope for his happiness.
Your lover! Katchen, when I think of Dr. Jacob's white
262
DOCTOR JACOB.
hair, I can hardly believe it. Well, we live to learn. Adieu,
child."
Once in the solitude of her own room, Katchen reproached
herself bitterly for her imprudence. Why had she not
forced herself to bear any sarcasms and any stings patiently
for his dear sake ? Was it not breaking faith with him ?—
and what would he think of her in consequence ?
Holding her aching temples, she tried to clear her
thoughts, and, if that were possible, to convince herself
that she had done no real harm. Surely Dr. Jacob was
of too high and too noble a nature to countenance subter-
fuge—surely, in advising her to keep silence, he had not
intended her to deny him, should the need arise !
Oh ! to have him with her again !—to feel the support of
those strong arms, the consolation of that kind voice, the
courage of that sweet smile! By his side how light must
appear any troubles compared to those she endured now !
CHAPTER XXXVII.
ARLY the next morning Katchen awoke with a
vague sense of much misery endured and to
come ; all night long she had dreamed of it, and
no wonder that, on awakening, the poor child's
cheeks looked pale. The bitter fruits of her
passionate confession were already in part reaped. Mrs.
Brill and Baron Josef had obtained speedy enlightenment on
the subject from the Baroness, and to neither was the intelli-
gence welcome or expected. Mrs. Brill stormed, wept, and
laughed hysterically by turns, threatening to annul the en-
gagement through the agency of her husband and his coad-
jutor in St. Petersburg, trying to annul it herself by railing
against Dr. Jacob in the most unlimited manner. He was in
everybody's debt, he had come no one knew whence, and was
going no one knew whither—he might be a charlatan for all
she knew, and certainly was a spendthrift—perhaps he had
already a wife—indeed, she had heard more than one report
on this head—perhaps ad infinitum. Moreover, Katchen had
to endure endless taunts as to Dr. Jacob's personal disquali-
fications—not taunts after the manner of the Baroness, for
Mrs. Brill was really the most good-natured person in the
world, but taunts that stung nevertheless. Of course Aggie
and Baron Josef had each a congratulatory speech and an
odd smile to accompany it, and even the children were full of
rumour and curiosity. All things considered, and with the
prospect of a strict and speedy veto being put upon her fur-
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DOCTOR JACOB.
ther intercourse with Dr. Jacob, it is not surprising that
Katchen cried herself to sleep, slept wretchedly, moaning at
intervals, and woke unrefreshed.
It was a bright bird-singing morning when she put back
the heavy golden locks from her face, and sat up in her little
bed, thinking. There were no curtains to her window, and
she saw the green glowing summit of the Melibocus, and the
white watch-tower crowning it, over which the sun was slant-
ing its first languid rays. The broad, peaceful landscape,
the glowing beechen woods, the far-stretching blue line of the
Vosges hills, the calm, unbroken glory of the early summer
morning, brought something like tranquillity to her heart.
There is always something soothing to a troubled mind in
the contemplation of distance, whether the space spanned be
of sea, of plain, or of mountain range. However heavily-
laden or heart-sick we may be, when our eyes wander over a
wide extension of prospect, we feel that there is, at least,
some spot which our troubles do not touch, some tiny haven,
perhaps very far off and tedious to reach, but certainly within
view, where we can cast off our burden and put on a cheerful
countenance.
And Katchen took a little courage as she gazed upon the
beautiful, friendly, far-stretching Odenwald. It seemed to
entice her, to wear the face of a deliverer, to welcome her
into its deep solitary summer. The very heavens seemed to
stoop to her and draw her nearer. The forest leaves seemed
to whisper, " Be true."
But, could she be true if she stayed and allowed them to
part her from him for ever? Could she be happy, if she
went ?
There was something very terrible in the alternative. Either
she must lose her old home, her kind guardian, her adopted
brothers and sisters, or she must lose him—him whose love
had made the world new and strange and beautiful to her.
Her heart was very bitter towards Mrs. Brill on account of
DOCTOR JACOB.
her invectives, and bitter towards Aggie on account of her
jests; the bare recollection of Baron Josefs face, when he
had spoken a congratulation, was hateful. And she was full
of unspoken love and tenderness for Dr. Jacob.
Still she paused, terror-stricken, on the threshold of her
enterprise, and a gossamer thread might have drawn her
back; instead of that gossamer thread, instead of one con-
soling hope, one loving promise of forbearance, came the
dreaded possibility of a forced marriage with Baron J osef.
Slowly and sorrowfully, though with less of despair in her
face, she dressed herself, put one or two necessaries for a
journey in her bag, and descended to the garden. As yet it
was but five o'clock. Lazily-driven cows, with tinkling har-
ness-bells, were wending their way towards the hay-field, and
here and there the uplands were swarming with mowers. But
the host and hostess of the "Golden Lion" were chatting over
their morning coffee, and did not notice Katchen's light step
on the gravel. Unperceived, therefore, she passed into the
street, through the fields, and so to the foot of the wooded
Melibocus. A dog ran out of the Forester's house to bark at
her, otherwise she pursued her way without interruption.
It would have been difficult to analyse her frame of mind
Jthen. She had as yet no precise intention of advance or
return. She only felt that by the one course she should prove
to Dr. Jacob the length and depth and breadth of her attach-
ment, thereby linking her fate irrevocably with his; whilst
by the other she should encounter much certain unhappiness.
Without resolving anything she went on.
Dr. Jacob had mentioned in that second and parting letter
that she might write to him in a few days at Heidelberg,
through which place he should pass on his way to Vienna ;
and Heidelberg therefore formed the gaol of all her hopes
and wishes. To await him there, to prove beyond doubt that
whatever the world might do she believed in him, to carry
out by deeds rather than words the reality of her affection
266
DOCTOR JACOB.
this ambition made her eyes brighten and her heart beat
quickly, as she followed the winding path of the forest.
Katchen had crossed the Melibocus many a time, and she
knew, without looking at the guide-posts, the route that led to
Auerbach, and the route that led to Zwingenberg. The latter
place was passed by the trains to Heidelberg every two hours;
accordingly, Katchen left the lovely valley and ruined towers
of Auerbach behind her, keeping in view the Rhine valley
and the Belvidere tower surmounting it.
As she continued to ascend, the prospect widened; be-
tween glowing vistas of birch and beech she caught glimpses
of vineyard and village and ruined schloss, all flecked with
shadow; whilst here and there a wooded bluff had caught
the first red burnish of the sun. Overhead, birch and beech
made a leafy roofing, pricked scantily by the warm rich sun-
light, whilst no sound but the " earliest pipe of half-awak-
ened birds " broke the stillness.
It was very lovely, and Katchen drank in the loveliness,
though her heart was full of tumult and misgiving. When
she had gained the summit she sat down, thoroughly wearied,
but forcing herself to think ere the time for thinking would
be too late.
Should she go on or turn back ?
As yet there was ample time to follow either resolve. She ■
might yet return to Jugendheim by the family breakfast hour,
awakening no suspicions as to her intention, if indeed it had
been an intention. She might yet avoid Mrs. Brill's anger,
and Mr. Brill's vexation; she might yet return to the old
happy home life. But the memory of Baron Josef turned all
her half penitent thoughts to bitterness, and all her soft im-
pulses to hardness and wrath. Hastily rising, she quickened
her steps, never resting till she came in sight of Zwingen-
berg.
The Melibocus is a pleasant mountain to cross on a
summer morning, the ascent being gradual, and the descent
DOCTOR JACOB.
267
short; but Katchen had overrated her strength in the under-
taking; and when she entered Zwingenberg, she could have
cried for very weariness. There was no restaurant at the
railway station, and she was therefore obliged to accept such
a breakfast as the landlord of the "Golden Lion" could give
her.
For, of course, there was a "Golden Lion" at Zwingenberg,
with its cheery host in white stockings, green small-clothes,
yellow jacket, and square cap; and this same individual bowed
poor frightened Katchen into a large, smoky, dingy parlour,
set a little cake of new bread and a cup of coffee before her,
wished a friendly " good appetite," promised to inform her at
what hour the train passed, finally made his exit, wondering
what had brought so young and pretty a fraulein alone to
the " Golden Lion " at that hour of the day.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
WO facts, sifted from a mass of rumour, black-
ened beyond any chance of redemption, Dr.
Jacob's character in the eyes of his best friends.
Firstly, Dr. Jacob had left Frankfort at a time
when his honour, his good name, his common
honesty, behoved him to stay.
Secondly, he had previously liquidated a large debt by
means of money not his own.
Dr. Paulus did not try to reason.away these two courses of
action. Both told him bitter, unpalatable, soul-sickening
truth; but he met it bravely, seeking no sympathy from the
wife of his bosom, the child of his love, or the friend of his
confidence. Like St. Paul, he held that every man must
bear his own burden, and he looked upon the need of sym-
pathy as becoming women and children only. Do not call
him hard—he had feeling, gentleness, love to abounding, in
his heart of hearts; he simply held deep sorrow as something
solemn, and wholly individual, for God's condolence, and the
privacy of one's closet only.
Dr. Paulus therefore locked the door of his study, and bat-
tied with his great agony alone. He did not walk up and
down, as he was wont to do in ordinary dilemmas ; he did
not light a cigar and sip wine, as he often found relief in
doing when any grave question occupied his mind ; but he
sat down by his desk, and, burying his face in his hands, wept
long and bitterly.
DOCTOR JACOB.
269
Homer felt the true dignity of tears when he depicted the
horses of his heroes weeping because they foresaw the death
of their riders ; and he could in no other way have so nobly
distinguished one animal from the rest of its fellows. But
the tears of a wise and good man are sublime. A woman
will weep for wantonness—a man never. A woman's tears
are dried by sympathy—a man's must flow till every drop of
his bitter cup is drained.
Since the death of a little daughter, years ago, Dr. Paulus
had felt no such grief as he felt now. He did not think of
his personal mortification. He did not think of the public
scandal and private wrath resulting from Dr. Jacob's acts,
all of which he should have to encounter. He thought only
of the man he had loved, and the sins which lay on his
head.
Better than a brother he had loved this fellow-servant in
the Church ; more than he should have trusted a brother,
had he trusted him, and trusted to what purpose ? To un-
stable promises—to perjuries—to gross, unmanly frauds !
Therein lay the sharpest sting of all. Dr. Jacob's cowardly
flight hurt Dr. Paulus more than the culpable motive that
had led him to flee; he could have forgiven open acts of
dishonesty, of unwarrantable recklessness, but he felt that
this stroke dealt in the dark was utterly beyond forgiveness.
He chided himself for dwelling so much on his own loss, for
his loathing to believe that his friend could be his friend no
longer. In his deep anguish of mind even his judgment grew
distorted like a broken lens, giving false shape and colouring
to all things that came within its reach. He felt it his duty
to put out of the question the pleasant and friendly ties for-
merly existing between himself and Dr. Jacob, bringing the
whole force and energy of his disturbed anguished mind to
bear solely upon the sinner and his sin.
The sin was a terrible one, especially in a clergyman; and
if Dr. Jacob should have falsified his calling," it would be
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DOCTOR JACOB.
more terrible still. This man, with his splendid talents, his
refined manners, his scholarly education, his kindly nature,
had shown himself beyond doubt a swindler, a liar, a coward.
The enviable popularity he had gained so quickly by his
great gifts and striking abilities, was changed for the pub-
licity of crime. The polished circles of society in which he
had hitherto moved and shone, were now shut from him as
from the street-sweeper.
In his old age, too, he had forfeited all this. Or had his
hair grown grey in shame ? Was this last sin but the crown-
ing phase of a false life, and not the mere fruit of impulse
and desperation ? Had he held out an unclean hand to his
friend's pure wife and innocent children ? Had he violated
the sanctities of the hearth to which he had been welcomed
so lovingly ?—and violated them under the disguise of bor-
rowed virtues and mock graces ?
And the end? What would become of him in his dis-
graced and lonely age? Where would he hide his white
and dishonoured head ? Where would he find comfort
during the last enfeebled days of life ? How would he meet
death ?
Dr. Paulus was a devout minister and a God-fearing man;
no wonder that he shuddered at the contemplation of this
supreme perversion. Had he once loved and honoured Dr.
Jacob less abundantly, he would not now have so wept and
bewailed his fall; had he entertained less faith in the per-
fection of his character, he would not now have lamented so
bitterly over his degradation.
In the quaint old town of Esslingen, in Wurtemberg, we
remember to have seen a dismantled beautiful Gothic church,
subserving the purpose of a brewery. There, amid glorious
arches, and painted altar-pieces, and sculptured figures of
saints, echo all day long the coarse jests and songs of the
workmen, the treading of horses' feet, the rolling of wine-
presses—the ungodliest of sounds, making what was once a
DOCTOR JACOB.
271
holy place utterly vile ; what was once open and dear to all, an
abhorrence to the least pure. Thus, also, it is with men.
Never had Dr. Paulus felt so much want of faith in human-
kind, never had he so needed a higher consolation than any
to be derived from the world.
" God be merciful to me a sinner!" he cried, kneeling; and
then he prayed humbly, as if the sin of his brother were his
own.
The first person to confer with Dr. Paulus on the matter
was Mr. Brill, who, poor man, brought a vast amount of sup-
positions and propositions, but no single thought upon any-
thing. His hair stood off his forehead more awry than ever,
his buttonless coat bore the signs of dust and dismember-
ment, his whole dress and appearance bespoke great agita-
tion.
" What on earth is to be done now, Paulus ?" he said, help-
lessly. " I can stir neither hand nor foot, and yet everybody
will be looking to you and me. The very fact of Dr. Jacob's
preaching in my pulpit showed that I countenanced him.
What reason had I to do so ? It is a bad business, Paulus ;
and I fear we don't know the worst yet."
" Have you grounds for fearing so ?" asked Dr. Paulus.
"Well, the fact is, there's a woman in the case."
"You say a fact—give me your proofs."
Mr. Brill felt in both pockets, then brought out a scrap of
paper to the following effect:—
"Company of Commissionaires,
Guarantee Mark,
No. 33."
" Of course, you know that these commissionaires are
thoroughly reliable ; and that when employed they give you
such a guaranty as this paper ?"
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DOCTOR JACOB.
" Of course," said Dr. Paulus, impatiently.
"The landlord of the hotel at which Dr. Jacob was
staying, has naturally many commissions for these men ; but
on the day of Dr. Jacob's leaving, he employed only one, or
rather only one was employed from the house."
" Go on."
" And that one, No. 33, took Dr. Jacob's bag to the
station."
" But the woman—my dear Brill, do finish your story;
you were about to divulge something about a woman."
" Wood gave me a very concise version of the whole affair.
Wood, you know, is a sharp fellow, and never misses his
game; but I have to beat about the bush a good deal before
I find it. What he told me was this : the commissionaire
saw Dr. Jacob shake hands with a lady, give her his arm on
the platform, finally enter a railway carriage with her."
" It is not much to Mr. Wood's credit that he should run
about collecting all manner of scandalous stories concerning
Dr. Jacob, now that he is gone. Silence is what we want
silence for our own sakes ; if the creditors do not take upon
themselves to hunt him down, why need others ? Take my
advice, Brill, and remain neutral."
" You don't believe a word of this new report, yet I assure
you Wood is a man of undoubted veracity."
" For all I know, it maybe true, and Dr. Jacob has another
sin on his shoulders. What remains for us to do ? Nothing.
I cannot, moreover, bring myself to believe that Dr. Jacob is
bad in the way you would imply."
" Pray, don't say I imply anything, my dear Doctor. I
never implied anything in my life."
Dr. Paulus smiled contemptuously.
" Others imply, then. I cannot believe it without the
strongest, most incontestable evidence, Brill."
"You have an astonishingly high opinion of Dr. Jacob
still," said Mr. Brill, half enviously; " that man seems to
DOCTOR JACOB.
273
have the power of fascinating everybody by witchcraft. Half
the English ladies in Frankfort are shedding tears about him,
and I wonder how many would shed tears if I were to leave
to-morrow. Even Madame de Ladenburg writes to me
saying that she is willing, for the sake of former friendship,
to help Dr. Jacob out of his difficulties."
" Did Dr. Jacob know of that letter?" asked Dr. Paulus,
quickly.
"No ; for Madame de Ladenburg especially begged me to
keep silent, and if the aid were accepted, she said that the
necessary money should be forwarded anonymously."
" It was not forwarded ? "
" My dear fellow, on the very day that I received her
letter, Dr. Jacob paid Messrs. Krauter and Co., and left
Frankfort."
" What induced Krauter to resort to such a threat ? Was
Wood at the bottom of it ?—he disliked Dr. Jacob from the
first; as a parvenu is very apt to dislike a gentleman who so
easily gets into the society from which he is himself nalu-
rally excluded."
" I don't believe for a moment that Wood and Krauter
once mentioned Dr. Jacob's name in conversation. Wood
is a good-hearted fellow, and would certainly be above such
a thing."
" I think I will look in at Krauter's to-day," said Dr. Paulus,
after some consideration ; " I should like to be clear as to
the moving spring of Dr. Jacob's sudden departure, which
indirectly appears to have been Krauter's letter; but directly,
I fear, was something else."
" You will set some one on Dr. Jacob's track?"
"To what end ? For Heaven's sake, Brill, let us get quit
of the business as soon as possible. I am not his creditor—
I am not a minister of justice—I was his friend, and now am
nothing."
" True, trqe," answered Mr. Brill, apologetically; " don't
T
274
DOCTOR JACOB.
think I wish to bring Dr. Jacob to trouble, Paulus ; I feel
terribly grieved at his conduct, and almost as much ashamed
as if I were myself the culprit. Had he been a lawyer or a
doctor, or anything but a clergyman, the case would not
have been half so deplorable—but a fellow minister—it's
too terrible to think of. And you advise us to take no
heed, eh ?"
" I will think the matter over alone, and then communicate
my ideas to you on the subject," said Dr. Paulus, gravely;
" a great many reasons exist for and against our acting either
as Dr. Jacob's opposers or friends. If the slightest palliation
can be found, I, for one, will stand by his side ; if not—can I
refuse to do my duty ? Have I ever refused to do my
duty ? "
" Oh ! dear no, dear Paulus. Go on."
" My meaning is simply this : let us stop, as far as lies in
our power, all unmanly and unnecessary talking, and only
act, if driven to it, by the force of moral obligation. Do you
understand me ? "
" You will wait till a clear case is made out against him,
and if it cannot be made, will let the matter drop."
" Exactly."
" Then I will do the same, Paulus," said Mr. Brill, helping
himself to a cigar; " by-the-by, why don't you send Mrs.
Paulus and the young ones to Jugendheim. Lovely place,
plenty of new milk, table dlhote at a shilling, &c."
He then took his leave. After a long consideration, Dr.
Paulus changed his dressing-gown, and making himself neat
and trim, as became a man of methodical habits, set oiit on
a round of miscellaneous visiting, having one common end
and aim. He resolved to obtain a confirmation or refutation
of Mr; Brill's story, and to learn, if that might be, alike the
worst and the best concerning Dr. Jacob. Not curiosity, but
a stern sense of duty, impelled him to this change of resolu-
tion. He could not hope to palliate, much less to justify, his
DOCTOR JACOB.
275
heavy offences, but he did hope to save him from the report
of still heavier ones. We give the summary of his investiga-
tions as they were jotted down in his note-book.
Particulars relative to Dr. Jacob's departure.
Messrs. Krauter and Co. were actuated to their menacing
letter by an anonymous communication they had themselves
received on the previous day. The writer of it advised them,
by all means, to resort to strong measures, as Dr. Jacob had
wealthy friends, whose assistance only desperation would
drive him to , ask. Strange to say, the envelope bore the
stamp and postmark of Hesse-Darmstadt.
Private inferences.—Jugendheim lying in Darmstadt, and
being at that time the resort of several family parties from
Frankfort, might be judiciously examined on this head.
Ladies were fond of anonymous correspondence ; was it not
possible that a lady had taken this means of revenging her-
self for some real or fancied injury? The names of Mrs.
Brill and Madame de Ladenburg among others suggested
themselves, but vaguely. Many things must happen before
any conclusion could be arrived at.
Again, several facts had been brought to light by a further
examination of No. 33 of the Commissionaires' Company.
It appeared, from his statement, that the lady who met Dr.
Jacob at the station had a considerable quantity of luggage
with her, which he himself took off the fiacre. The driver
afterwards gave him a ride back to town, telling him, among
other things by the way, that the lady, being English, paid
him double fare unwittingly, i.e., forty-eight kreutzers, from
the Bleich Strasse to the railway station, instead of twenty-
four !
Here Fraulein Fink's testimony was valuable. Her
governess, Miss Macartney, she said, left her institution on
the evening of the fire, bound, as she explained, to South
t 2
276
DOCTOR JACOB.
Germany, though a few days previously, she had declared her
intention of returning straightway to England.
Private inferences.—About the same time that Dr. Jacob
made his appearance in Frankfort, Mis3 Macartney arrived
at a sudden resolve to leave it—on the same day, and at the
same hour that he fled from his creditors, she fled with him.
No one could prove that an interview had taken place between
them; no tangible evidence showed the slightest mutual re-
lationship or intimacy—yet was it not to be inferred that
some such tie must have existed ?
Here was the mystery for the future to unravel.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
HEN Katchen reached Heidelberg, she felt
for the first time frightened at what she had
done. Was it not wicked, immodest, nay,
utterly unpardonable, to throw herself into the
arms of Dr. Jacob—however noble-minded he
might be? Would he not despise her for the very thing she
had done out of the depth of her dear love ? Would he now
deem her worthy to be loved ?
In a scared, helpless way, she turned her steps towards
the gigantic hotel which stares at the traveller with its hun-
dreds of eyes as he leaves the railway, and seems to catch
him, willing or no, in its arms. She chose it because it was
near, and because she felt too weary and too spiritless to
search for another. Never in her life had she entered an
hotel before, except at Jugendheim. Would the people be
civil to her, she wondered, or would they ask questions, and
confuse her by inquisitive looks ? Would they let her have a
plate of soup, or a cup of coffee, in her own room, and take
no further notice of her ? Oh ! for some quiet cottage, like
the mill-house at Jugendheim, with no one to encounter
beyond the good-tempered housewife and her large-eyed
happy children.
The doorkeeper, in his grand, gold-laced hat and imposing
uniform, did not ring the bell at Katchen's approach, evi-
dently thinking that a young lady without luggage must
belong to some party staying at the hotel. When, however,
278
DOCTOR JACOB.
she lingered on the threshold, blushing and hesitating, he
took off his hat and asked her wishes.
"A little bedroom, if you please—I have come to await a
friend," she said, with a painful effort.
A tremendous pull at the bell brought a very consequential
waiter from the neighbouring ante-room or portico, who eyed
Katchen from head to foot, pondered for a minute before a
large frame hung with numbered keys, finally took one from
its hook, and begged her to follow him. Fashionable hotels
make one feel as if one were a needle lost in an extremely
large haystack. Katchen looked to the right and to the left,
above and below; everywhere she saw endless suites of
numbered rooms, as similar and as numerous as the cells of
a beehive. Being young and pretty, she obtained some sym-
pathy from the waiter, who was himself young and hand-
some ; and instead of leading her up to the fourth or fifth
story (which he would have done had our heroine been a
withered maiden lady or obese widow), he led the way
through a long corridor looking on to the garden; and being
roofed with glass after the manner of a conservatory, and
otherwise made light, airy, and pleasant, contrasted agree-
ably with the somewhat sombre dining-room joining it.
Cheerful family parties were here taking coffee or ices, whilst
glimpses of fruit and plate and glasses, in the sailed, manger,
betokened the early table cPhote.
" Will you please to dine at the table (Thdte in half an
hour's time, Fraulein, or await your friends?" asked the
waiter, blandly, whilst he drew up the blinds of her little
room.
" I do not think my friends will come till to-morrow—that
is—I am not sure," answered Katchen, timidly ; " can I have
my dinner here whilst I am alone ? I should not give much
trouble—a little soup would suffice for me."
Poor Katchen ! she little thought that the more trouble
you give at an inn the more money you pay, and, there-
DOCTOR JACOB.
279
fore, the more honour you obtain. Hotel-keepers adore a
gourmand. Of course, every one looks at the world with
different eyes.
" The Fraulein would do better to dine at the table d'hote
—soup, fish, game, everything of the best, and cheaper than a
private dinner—every one does," said the waiter.
" Very well," replied Katchen, with quiet resignation ; and
he took his leave.
We may safely affirm that hotel-keepers in general have as
regular a scale of etiquette as of charges. If you occupy a
small room on the third or fourth story, dine at the table
d'hote and drink cheap wine, or, worse still, water, he will bow
with the air of a man who shows you signal benevolence in
countenancing you at all; if you are domiciled on the second
story, form one of a party of gentlemen, drink Riidesheimer
and champagne, smoke plenty of cigars, &c., he will incline
his head as if you were really a Christian; but if you are
lodged in a handsome parterre suite, order dinner at all
hours, and in unlimited quantities, with extras and costly
wines, have one or two servants in your train, and are always
needing the use of a carriage, you will have the satisfaction
of seeing the Herr Wirth bend within an inch of breaking
his back, and die for you, figuratively speaking, on the
spot.
How we pity single ladies, governesses, companions, and
the like who travel alone. For them are no sweet smiles of
welcome, no fawning flatteries, no signs of supreme joy on
arrival, no sighs de profundis at departure. Of course, the
landlord and his tribe of satellites are most civil, and the fair
traveller gets what she wants: food, shelter, the neatest,
tiniest of dormitories ; but how humiliating to feel that the
waiters never attend to her till every more important claimant
is disposed of, that they crawl like snails at the timid clicking
of her knife on the glass, whilst they run as if the devil were
behind them when a fat bon-vivant or a pert young officer but
28o
DOCTOR JACOB.
looks their way. The weakest have gone to the wall since the
world began.
It was not the conduct of the waiters, but that of the
visitors, however, which called many indignant blushes to
Katchen's cheeks, and made her long to rush away ere her
dinner had been tasted. No sooner was she placed at the
table, between a stout English lady and her very precocious
and greedy young son, than inquisitive, merciless eyes were
turned upon her from all quarters. If she had carried the
evidence of a dubious character in her face and about her
person, she could not have formed the target for sharper
arrows of distrust. Young couples on the bridal trip, wealthy
families setting out for Switzerland, dandies from Cam-
bridge, and fops from the counter, alike gazed at her with
supercilious inquiry. We must say, for the honour of their
nation, that the sprinkling of Germans present forbore
such an onslaught, and took Katchen simply for what she
was.
Meantime, the six courses of fish, flesh, and fowl had been
quickly passed round, and confectionary followed. Katchen
could not resist a smile at the eager way with which sober-
looking people seized the nearest plate of peaches or crackers,
and transferred the contents to their own, in some cases
making a tiny reservation for the sake of manners. It amused
her no less to hear a lady, with superb silks and airs, recom-
mending her husband to take the pudding with serrup since
it was so good.
When at length an opportunity offered for escape, she
stole to her own room, determined that nothing should again
induce her to join the table d'hote. Once more the thought
Hushed her cheeks—had she, by her own conduct, deserved
this treatment ? Might it not really be wrong for a girl to
travel alone ? She covered her face with her hands and
thought long and deeply.
The letter had not yet been written to Dr. Jacob, telling
DOCTOR JACOB.
281
him of her flight, and its purpose. Till that letter should be
written she might retrace her steps, since her terror of a com-
pulsory marriage with Baron Josef would alone excuse her
flight. But the memory of that summer day, with its sweet
joy and sweet sorrow, forced itself to her mind; she recalled
Dr. Jacob's words of love—so simple, so pathetic, so tender;
she contrasted him with all other men who had come within
her narrow range of experience; she pictured his tall
figure, his soft locks, his broad brow, his wondrous smile
—she must love him ; come what might, of trouble or shame,
through her resolve, she felt that she must cling to him till
the end.
And she wrote her letter—a very shy, childlike letter it
was, but overflowing with trembling love and tenderness.
She begged him to come to her at once, to let her stay
with him as his child, if that might be, only to let her stay
with him always, no matter whither his steps tended, or what
new accidents had befallen him.
The railway station lay within a stone's throw of the hotel,
and half hoping that the next train might bring him (for he
had spoken in his last letter of soon passing through Heidel-
berg), Katchen seated herself on one of the shaded benches
behind the platform, to wait and watch. No one was in sight
but a little dwarf woman, with a basket of bouquets at her
feet, and a half-knitted stocking in her hands ; a cheery, neat
little creature, whom the landlord allowed to hand flowers
round the table c^Mte^ and thus earn a few kreutzers. She
nodded pleasantly as she recognised Katchen, and held up a
bunch of verbena.
"It is lucky to take flowers on a journey, Fraulein," she
said wistfully, and with a touch of cunning.
" But I am not going on a journey," replied Katchen
smiling.
" Then welcome your friends with them, Fraulein—so
sweet, so sweet."
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DOCTOR JACOB.
Katchen gave the little thing a kreutzer or two, and fastened
the flowers in her girdle.
" They shall be kept for him," she thought; and she loved
the poor dwarf woman for his sake.
By-and-by fiacre after fiacre full of tourists drove up,
and one or two guards crept from their hiding-places like
flies in winter time. One man, with an imposing mien,
and a voice that might have vied with that of Achilles,
put on a wonderful cocked hat, trimmed with gold lace,
an embroidered coat and sash, folded his hands over a
silver-headed staff of office, composed his features to
suitable solemnity, and finally announced the coming
train.
" From Frankfort, Mentz, Darmstadt."
Katchen trembled as she listened, and fixed her eager eyes
on the glass doors through which all passengers must pass.
Soon came the puff of smoke and the merry blast of the
engine-driver's horn, which ushered in the " resonant steam
eagle," as a modern poet has said. The solemn guard threw
open the glass doors, the stream of new comers poured in,
Katchen half rose in her excitement, and sank back again,
chiding herself for her vain hope.
The Achillean voice startled her sad thoughts.
" Do you go by this train ? " it said, fiercely, as if the ques-
tion involved an important issue. On receiving Katchen's
negative, the wearer of the cocked hat and sash disappeared,
intent on herding his flock of passengers safely. When the
train had dashed off again, Katchen saw him retire behind a
desk of the guard's room, lay aside his uniform carefully, and
emerge in ordinary clothes, looking blithe and utterly trans-
formed.
Trains came from Frankfort twice more that day, and both
times Katchen waited expectantly before the glass doors. The
little dwarf woman disposed of her flowers, the guard donned
his liveiy, and became pro re natd, a sadder and a wiser man;
DOCTOR JACOB.
283
travellers innumerable arrived and departed—but no one
came for her.
" To-night he will get my letter," she thought, as she lay'
down in her little bed, " and to-morrow he will surely
come."
So ended Katchen's first day at Heidelberg.
CHAPTER XL.
LL things must be considered relatively. The
fairest gaol of the Trojan may be the pande-
monium of the Grecians ; the costliest dinner
we enjoy in our lives is perhaps a tragedy to
the cook ; the most romantic ruin or waterfall
becomes hateful to the cicerone; the grandest cathedral
forms a daily scene of drudgery to weary beadles. What a
curious chapter might be written on this subject! How
interesting it would be to know the exact state of feeling
in which a waiter finds himself when he keeps holiday,
and is a guest. How nicely must be characterised a hotel-
keeper's contemplation if he travels and lodges at an inn !
How funny to learn what passes in the mind of a sea-
captain suddenly become passenger—a milliner ordering a
bonnet for herself—a police officer whose house should be
searched!
Heidelberg Castle has many relative aspects. To the
lodging-house keepers, and other human spiders who live on
the summer swarm of tourists, it is so much bait and sugar
by which their prey is captured ; to photographers, cice-
rones, and donkey-drivers, it is so much sunk capital from
which a regular income is drawn ; to the homely inhabitants
of the town it is little or nothing, except on a festival; to
the swaggering jovial students, it is a pleasant smoking
resort; to the vulgar people who travel because fashion
dictates, it is very nice indeed; to a few art and nature
DOCTOR JACOB.
285
lovers, it is alike a study and an enjoyment. What would
it be without tourists ? Verily, a paradise !
The second day of Katchen's sojourn was sadder than the
first; no letter, no telegraphic message, no token, had
reached her from Dr. Jacob. Four times in renewed hope
she seated herself on the shaded bench, and watched a
train come in ; each time the guard we have before men-
tioned slipped from his chat and his coffee, to don the
cocked hat and the solemn Quixotic mien ; each time he
asked her much in the way in which Achilles may have
frightened the Trojans—" Do you go also ?"—each time the
dwarf woman brought her flowers ; each time a stream of
passengers filled the platform ; each time, as the last face
was scanned, she turned away sick at heart, and with
gathering tears in her eyes.
A fifth train was due from Frankfort later ; but so utterly
desponding and perplexed was she, that she could not
summon courage to brave another disappointment. She
felt also that she was becoming an object of joke and spe-
culation among the porters and fruit-sellers belonging to the
station, and she could not endure the stentorian " Fahren
Sie mit ? " of the guard.
Listlessly, therefore, and with the mere hope of killing
time, Katchen followed the shady chestnut walk skirting the
town, and leading circuitously to the Castle. A guide would
have led her in the train of tourists and loungers, by a
directer route to the principal entrance. She would then
have passed under that gorgeous gateway in red stone, so
youthful and joyous in conception, so redundant and rich
in workmanship, under which passed the fair English bride
of an Elector Palatine, hundreds of years ago. She must
also have enjoyed, if it were possible for her to enjoy any-
thing, that stupendous pile of architectural and sculptural
magnificence, which, for colouring, richness, variety, and
poetic feeling, is unrivalled ^.nd indescribable, except in the
286
DOCTOR JACOB.
hands of Victor Hugo. To read a page of his Rhine book
is like drinking wine out of a skull, or dancing a Bacchanale
on a tomb. Mingling, as Horace has done in his odes, an
irresistible fancy and a genial philosophy, the great French,
author gives us Heidelberg in its artistic grandeur; its heroic
pomp, its human mirth and mourning, its dust and ashes.
There is nothing left to be said of Heidelberg which is
not said or suggested in Le Rhin and Hyperion.
The less-frequented path which Katchen had taken, led
her, by a sudden and steep ascent, to that part of the Castle
rising majestically above the town. To reach the terrace
fronting it, one must creep like a mole under subterraneous
chambers and passages innumerable, and Katchen felt a
thrill of horror at being alone in such a place. Soon, how-
ever, she was dazzled by a glare of red sunlight, and a few
stone steps brought her face to face with the beautiful fagade
of the Elector Frederick, whilst the silent town and the
silver Neckar lay below.
Kfetchen had no eyes for the new, lovely, unequalled scene.
She did not see the sunset flush on the river like spilt wine;
she did not see the glow of the Heiligenberg, as if a crown
were descending on it; she did not see the distant, far-
stretching valley, sleepy and soft and voluptuous, as if
awaiting the embrace of the tender summer night; she did
not see the stately brightness of steeple and town—all coated
and mailed and fiery, by the might of the setting sun. The
terrace, commanding a view of so much that is varied and
vivid, is broad and extensive, and surmounted at each end
by a summer-house, or what now serves that purpose, having
pointed roofs with heavy stone copings and long windows.
To the first of these Katchen stole noiselessly, and stood
looking down upon the grass-grown way by which she had
come—dreaming, dreaming.
Projecting from the Castle wall, amid sculptured figures
of Paladin and Elector and Hero, was a massive lion's head
DOCTOR JACOB.
287
in red stone, and in the open mouth of it a little bird had
built its nest.
" That was in the spring-time," thought Katchen, wist-
fully. " Ah ! how long it is since then ; the birds made
their little home, and were happy—where are they now ?
Will they ever return ? "
Something seemed to answer " No," and covering her face
with her hands, she wept childishly, thinking that her own
hopes had also outlived their spring, and would return
nevermore. Suddenly her heart stood still with a great joy
and wonder. For a moment she listened, half in doubt,
half in mistrust of so much happiness; then she doubted
no longer. She had heard the voice of Dr. Jacob—he was
within a few yards of her ; as he leaned over the parapet
in indolent enjoyment, every word that he was uttering
reached her ears.
" There is nothing more charming in Europe than this,"
he said, in clear, cheerful tones,—" always excepting the view
of Vienna from the Kahlenberg—Sobieski's Kahlenberg, you
know. We shall see it on our way."
Why did Katchen's features grow sharp and livid as if the
words had been subtle poison ? Why did her hands clutch
convulsively at the wall, and her slight frame totter ? Why
did she sink to her seat, stifling a low heart-broken cry ?
Dr. Jacob did not stand on the terrace alone, and his
companion was Miss Macartney. Her hand lay confidingly
on his arm, her face looked up brightly to his; she was
handsome, she was a gentlewoman, and the voice with which
she answered him had love and trust in it.
" I can hardly fancy the panorama from the Kahlenberg
to be so lovely as this, because the Danube is yellow, and
the monotonous plain of Aspern must form a feature of it.
But if you like it better, so shall I."
Is it matter of wonder that Katchen's young inexperienced
mind should have formed a fatal conclusion upon such
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DOCTOR JACOB.
slight evidence ? We think not. The simpler and sincerer
a woman's nature may be, so the more certain is a nascent
instinct of jealousy to lurk in it. Possibly it may lie dormant
through life, and no one dream of its existence; but if a
gossamer thread of suspicion but chance to mislead the
judgment, no matter if Woodstock have only a mythical
Rosamond, her dagger and poison are made ready. Virgil
says, " Quis fallere possit amantem ?" He should have
said, " Quis non fallere possit amantem ?
Poor Katchen ! she was already reaping the bitter fruits
of her imprudent step.
At first, she hardly accused Dr. Jacob for having brought
her to this misery, seeing in it the consequences only of her
own blind self-deception. Why did she not believe him
when he said that it was impossible for him to make her
happy ? Why did she not passively accept her sentence from
his mouth ? Why did she not abide by the truth as he had
broken it to her, wisely, tenderly, lovingly ?
And now she must drink the cup of desertion ; full to the
brim it was, and not of wine, but of poison, sickening, loath-
some, asphodelian ; making everything in the world look
cruel and weird to her, making the faces of those she loved
unnatural and pitiless, making all dear and familiar things
cruel. He had deserted her for another, and she—what had
she not done for him? Home, friends, peace, love—how
much was forfeited—perhaps never to be won again ? What
if Mr. Brill should withhold forgiveness, and send her to
her Russian guardian with the brand of misconduct on her
brow ? What if she should be forced into a marriage with
Baron Josef? Then the dread of scoff, and shame, and
reproach—the agonizing terror of being ridiculed and scorned
for the sake of her dear love—love so plentifully given—so
cruelly betrayed ! Could she survive it ? Oh ! why had he
not told her all, and spared her this great suffering ? His
heart could not have become cold and merciless at once—'
DOCTOR JACOB.
289
he must remember that cloudless summer day at Jugend-
heim, when first he spoke of love—that parting in his room
at the " Golden Lion"—and her letter, her poor little pleading
letter, was it thrown aside, alike with every recollection of
her ?
She wept long and silently, unobserved and unobservant
of the loungers who came and went. Any one near might
have noticed that she shivered at times, as if chill, and
breathed in a quick convulsive manner ; but to mere passers-
by, she appeared to be sleeping. Meantime, the flush of
crimson had died away from mountain, and river, and ruin
—the bell of the old Dom called to vespers—the music
ceased playing in the Castle gardens, and evening stole on.
Katchen feared to stay, and dreaded to go. She thought
she could better support her thoughts in the open air than
in her lonely little room. Most of all, she dreaded the long
wakeful night, and the morrow which must come. At length
she rose reluctantly to return. As she did so, a man's figure
came between her and the waning light, and a hand was
laid upon her arm. With an indignant deprecation, she
strove to free herself, taking the intruder for some wild
rollicking student, but a whispered word from him unde-
ceived her. It was Baron Josef!
v
CHAPTER XLIr
DID not expect to find you alone," he said,
at the same time motioning her to the seat she
had just relinquished. " What conclusions must
I arrive at in consequnce?"
"Do not think about me at all; you have no
right to ask such questions," she replied.
"No right! Softly, Katchen. I will show you that I have
the best possible right. Know, then, I am indeed to be your
husband."
"You are frightening me by falsehoods, Baron Josef.
Nothing shall make me believe that Mr. Brill would drive
me to marry you."
"You require proofs—my appearance here is the best
possible one, since as your lover I am certainly the fittest
person to follow you, when you run away so romantically.
But tell me, Katchen, why did you do it ? Was it through
love of somebody else, or through fear of me ?"
Katchen was silent. He could not see her face plainly in
the twilight, but he knew that she was trembling as if in
fear.
" Won't you answer me ?" he said.
No answer came.
" This is child's play, and, by Heaven, I will bear it no
longer ! Listen, Katchen, and judge whether you act wisely
in mocking me. You are alone in Heidelberg, and utterly
helpless in my hands. Why did you go ? We are really to
DOCTOR JACOB.
291
be married. The good Fates and your guardian have so
decided. Why not take me with a good grace ?"
A bitter cry broke from her lips.
" Oh ! why will you treat me thus ?" she said : " I cannot
bear it. I left Jugendheim because I feared they would force
me to marry you, and "
"Your confession to my mother explains the rest. Be-
cause you wished to marry Dr. J acob. What a pity you did
not choose a younger man to be my rival, Katchen. Because
you wished to marry Dr. Jacob, eh ?"
"Yes "
"Why do you hesitate, when I am listening with the
greatest attention ? He asked you to come here, and wait
for him, would you not say ?"
Katchen tried vainly to frame an answer.
Baron Josef continued,—
" Yet I find you alone, Katchen ! Am I to infer from this
that Dr. Jacob has played you false—the old wretch !"
" If I did wrong, and must suffer the consequences, is not
that enough ?" wailed Katchen, now utterly at his mercy.
" I acted in a moment's passion—I gave no thought to what
might follow. Have pity upon me !"
" You are an incomprehensible girl, Katchen. I am but a
year or two older than yourself, in a position to maintain you
handsomely, in a rank to which most girls aspire vainly—
and not wholly a bad fellow. Dr. Jacob is old enough to be
your grandfather, is an adventurer, perhaps something worse.
I loved you—Dr. Jacob did not; yet, of us two, you chose
him !"
" How can you say that you loved me ? Was not Aggie
always in your thoughts?—were you not always by her
side ?"
"That is folly, Katchen. You must know that a man's
patience has limits; and I grew tired of hanging about
you when I found it was to such little purpose. True, that I
u 2
292
DOCTOR JACOB.
really cared for you more than ever, but it is not agreeable to
be snubbed at every opportunity ; and you cannot deny that
you treated me shamefully ?"
"You have your revenge," she said, in a low calm tone;
" take it, and let us cry quits."
"No, we do not cry quits yet, Katchen. Your whole life
depends upon the decision you must make to-night—a
decision which involves your marriage with me, or a worse
fate. Three days ago, your name was free from reproach,
and your reputation had no spot on it. I .can hardly feel
towards you as I did then. If you say you will try to love
me, the confession will bring less joy with it; if you consent
to become my wife, I should lead you with less pride to the
altar. Three days ago, your pride was child-like, but not
wholly unjustifiable ; you can afford to be so proud no longer.
Putting my own inclinations out of the question, Katchen, I
must sacrifice something in making you my wife now; any
man must do the same."
" I do not ask the sacrifice," she replied, very coldly.
" You may not ask it just at present, but your view of the
case will alter in time. You little know how much harm you
have done yourself by this one foolish step ; you little know
how the truth will be thrown in your face, and how much
more than the truth will be circulated and believed among
those who know you. Had you gone off with your lover,
all well and good : but the. lover is not at his post, and
you are dead beaten, as we soldiers say. Can you lift up
your head after this, Katchen ? or will you be wise, and save
yourself?"
" How can I save myself?" she said.
" Very simply—marry me."
Her voice told all the scorn of her heart, though he could
not see her features.
" Do you think I would marry you, Baron Josef?"
" I'm sure you might do worse. Kemember that it is your
DOCTOR JACOB.
293
only chance of escape from what women dread beyond loss
of beauty, beyond loss of life even—from the world's slander."
Several minutes of silence followed. There was no sound
but the plash of oars on the river below, and the wind
stirring ghost-like shadows among the ruins. Her heart
beat tumultuously as she sobbed without tears.
" Are you not afraid of that word, -Katchen ?"
His only answer was a pitiful moan.
"Never mind," he said, in a gentler voice; "do not be
angry with me, Fraulein Katchen. I but tell you the truth.
If you marry me, I swear that this reproach shall never be
cast at you—that you shall have as happy a home as ever
woman had. For your sake, even, I will try and tame
myself a little. I know that I am a bad fellow, but many
others worse than me make their wives happy. For the last
time I say it, Katchen, I love you. For the last time, I ask
it—will you be my wife ? In spite of your avowed love for
another—in spite of your folly in coming here—in spite of
what must henceforth cling to your name in consequence—
you are still in my eyes lovely and loveable. If I have been
rough and rude, forgive me ; if I have hurt your feelings,
remember that you have often hurt mine. Do not think
badly of me because I have represented what must ne-
cessarily give weight to my own cause; do not cry over my
hasty words, but give me the right to comfort and protect
you."
Katchen held out her hand, and said, brokenly,—
" If you have ever cared for me, be my friend now. God
knows I need one."
" A friend can avail little, Katchen. Even your guardian—
and he a priest of your Church—could not shield you from
scandal and shame; neither can I—except as your hus-
band."
" Oh ! how can I marry you so, without love, without one
kind and tender recollection of the past, without one hope
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DOCTOR JACOB.
for the future ? We should but despise each other, and hate
each other as years wore on. Baron Josef, it would be un-
natural—wicked."
"Think of all that I have said, and do not decide too
hastily. If you exercise your judgment calmly for ten
minutes, you will see the actual necessity of consent, for it
amounts to a necessity on your part; that is, if you desire
one peaceful moment in life. Shall I give you half an hour
for consideration ?"
" Not so long," she replied, faintly; " half that time."
He struck a fusee on the wall, and held his watch to the
light.
" It is now a quarter past eight, and in another quarter of
an hour, I must have your answer. You will hear the church
clock strike a minute before I come back to you ; for I will
meantime take a cigar on the terrace."
As he rose to go, he bent down, and touched her hand,
whispering,—
" Remember what I have said. It is a question of dis-
grace on the one hand, and a position and protection on the
other ; remember, also, that I love you, and would treat you
tenderly."
Then he sprang forward, and left her to her thoughts.
She could see his tall, slight figure and flashing sword at the
upper end of the terrace : now he leaned on the parapet and
looked down; now he entirely disappeared behind the
sculptured coping of the tower, and she only saw his shadow
in the gloaming. All was still, except the beating of her
heart, and the fitful wind among the broken archways. She
could not think, she could not reason ; but reckless, despe-
rate, and heart-broken, she dashed like a wounded bird
against the bars of her dark prison.
CHAPTER XLII.
E must now conduct our readers to a cheery
house in the narrow little street through which
Katchen had passed a few hours before on her
way to the Castle. From the outside, which
is dingy in the extreme, and abutting upon a
dark and choked-up cul-de-sac, you would hardly imagine
the interior to be at all cleanly, much less comfortable ; but
you would find yourself mistaken. The rooms to which we
lead you are filled with velvet couches and walnut-wood
tables, the floors are polished brightly, the eider-down pillows
are covered with delicate chintz, the elbow cushions on the
window-sills are frilled with the whitest lace—all is elegance
and comfort.
The apartments in question open one into the other, after
the German fashion, and are all half-boudoir, half-bedroom
—that is to say, rooms furnished as to serve any purpose.
They have large windows, southward, looking upon the
superb green height which supports the Castle; northward,
fronting the town and the river.
In the largest and prettiest room, a table is spread for
supper, and a woman's figure moves busily hither and
thither, intent upon preparing the meal.
When the dishes are brought in, the wine-bottles un-
corked, the rolls spread with butter, and the meat adorned
with cresses, she lights a lamp, and calls out, cheerfully,—
" Supper is ready."
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DOCTOR JACOB.
No answer came, and she entered the next room, where
Dr. Jacob was sitting. An open book lay on his knees, but
he was not reading. The expression of his face, could Eliza-
beth have seen it clearly, would have puzzled and pained
her, there was so much suffering about it, and so much reck-
less, unsparing self-disdain.
She did not see this, however; placing her hand on his
shoulder, she repeated,—
" Supper is ready," in a voice that told of secret heart-
happiness.
" Already supper !—one is always eating and drinking," he
said, wearily.
"We will wait till you are hungiy, if you like," she an-
swered, seating herself by his side, and the two sat together
silently in the twilight. Elizabeth wanted to talk and be
natural, but could think of no pleasant subject. She was no
coward; only loving Dr. Jacob as few women love in their
lives, she dreaded lest some confession from his lips should
come to shake this love to its very foundations.
By-and-by she was startled by a strange question.
" Elizabeth," he asked, in a tone of voice that careless
listeners might have taken for gay, or at least indifferent,
—" Elizabeth, did you ever read the ' Sorrows of Werther ?"'
" Of course—why do you ask ?"
" It is curious to read a book twice at different epochs of
life, especially such a book as ' Werther.' I have just read it
for the second time, and the first was long ago—very long
ago—before you were born."
He continued, after a pause,—
" You know that it was your mother's sister I was to have
married, only she was weak in purpose, and whilst I held
back till I should have taken my orders, she allowed herself
to be persuaded into marriage with another. She was a
blonde, and beautiful, and I was twenty-one. I read
' Werther' and Byron, to console myself, and between the
DOCTOR JACOB.
297
two very nearly put an end to my foolish existence. As I
read this story now, all those passionate phrenzied follies
come back to me; every page and every sentence recall
thoughts and feelings they occasioned, and the marvel of it
is, that I do not despise myself as I was then."
He laughed a laugh that had a terrible satire and convic-
tion in it, and added,—
" I wonder how many men find their maturer years better
and pleasanter to remember than their youth ! You will say
that at twenty-one, with all manner of vague philosophies
floating in my brain—with ' Werther' in one hand and a
pistol in the other—with no higher humanities than a uni-
versal feeling of fellowship and pity, and a love or fancy for
one pretty woman—with no greater aspirations for life than
to end it unnaturally, or pass it unhealthily, I was not much
that is worth recalling to mind. But you will grant that
through all I was sincere, and sincerity is the virtue that we
lose with youth. Whilst young, we do not deceive others,
we do not willingly deceive ourselves ; we do not cheat the
world with borrowed moralities, we do not swallow this and
reject that, because the world tells us it is meet so to do ; we
are free, and own no master. N ow reverse the picture. Who
is free in maturer age ? Who can say, looking back on his
life, that he has not given to conventionalism what he has
refused to God ?—that he has not dealt fairer with the world
than with Christ? Again I say, youth is virtue, and the
beautiful alone is good. Was I not gifted with aptness and
fitness for well-doing ? Was I not trained to good faith, to
purity, to honour? Was I not then kindly of heart, chari-
table of disposition, honest of purpose ? Was I not educated
in the schools of travel, art, books, and refined society ? Was
I not received as a brother and a disciple among the best
and most learned of men ? Was I not, lastly, true and stead-
fast in rhy belief of the Holy Word? Had I not an under-
standing to know what was right and what was wrong?"
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DOCTOR JACOB.
He rose to his feet, and paced the room in great agitation j
his brow was moist, his eyes were hard and bright, his chest
heaved convulsively.
"What availed all those?" he continued. "Nothing,
nothing ! Training, talents, good breeding, honourable call-
ing, self-questioning, thought—none have been so strong but
the leaven of the world has leavened them. I say, therefore,
youth is virtue, even when it is vague, and purposeless, and
dreamy. Never mind the fool-hardiness, the contempt of
law, and society, and reason, the harmless errors, the im-
petuous shortcomings—I respect my youth, because it was
sincere; I despise my manhood, because it has been false."
Said Elizabeth, tenderly, " Do not give way to painful
reflections just now, when you so need quiet and calm. You
have done much good in your life-time, and if you have fallen
from your earlier and better aspirations, how few there are
who have not done the same ! When we were living in
Suffolk, and you had the incumbency of Meadowfield, whose
life was simpler and truer than yours ? Do you remember
how, a little motherless girl of thirteen, I was your house-
keeper, and accompanied you in all your walks and parish
visits ? Do you remember the good, homely villagers, and
how they loved you ? Do you remember the little cripple
you pensioned for life, the old blind woman you maintained
in ease, the orphan girl you took to be my playmate, and
made so happy, the children you fed and clothed and played
with. Oh ! my father, let your thoughts rest upon that time,
if they must wander to the past—it was innocent, it was
worthy of you, it was fruitful of good works."
" Good works !" he said, catching up her words bitterly ;
" a few pounds spent upon clothes and meat for the poor in
the week, one or two helpless beings cared for, kind words
dropped here and there—well, let them be called good works,
since I can claim no higher."
She added,—
DOCTOR JACOB.
299
" They may appear trifles to you, but they were not trifles
to those who were benefited by them. You might have been
more, but you were much to those around you. Your pas-
sionate eloquent ministry, was that nothing ?"
"To those poor, plodding country souls, the tritest truisms
would have had double the meaning and double the piety.
No, Elizabeth, I have a talent for preaching, and I know it;
but not at Meadowfield was that talent likely to save souls."
The last words stayed on his lips as if they awakened a
train of thought from which he would fain have recalled
himself. He continued in a voice that told of great mental
conflict,—
"To save souls ! Is it not wonderful that I should have
set myself that task?—I whose own soul had such need of
salvation ! Oh ! God, there is something awful in the com-
plications of evil to which a desire for good has led. This
turning of Religion into a trade, this drafting of indiscrimi-
nate men into the precincts of His temple, which loses its
sacredness in consequence, is, I feel convinced, partly ac-
countable for the errors of my life and that of hundreds of
others. Do not think I shield myself from self-reproach;
no, hard as I am upon others, I will not spare myself. To
save souls !—the vainest, the least understanding, the least
earnest men, now take up the craft of piety, and profit thereby
as never apostles and priests profited when the life of the
preacher was that of constant martyrdom. Put into one scale
what the nation pays for its religious instruction, and put
into the other what it receives in return. Which, think you,
will kick the beam ? But to return to myself. What did I
give in barter for my tithes ? I will go back to an earlier
period of my life than that at Meadowfield, to a period of
which you remember but little, namely, my ministrations in
London. I had a church in the neighbourhood of Mayfair,
and made myself the fashion, partly because I had a trick
of eloquence, and partly because I had deeply studied the
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DOCTOR JACOB.
human heart. I threw the entire passion and power of my
mind and life into my sermons, existing in the week, but
living only on Sundays. I believe that some few were led
through me to intellectual aspirations, to an idea of prayer,
of self-denial, of charity, of hopes of a future state—I believe
that I went far to save some souls Jn
There he stopped short. All the concentrated, self-con-
suming thought which had hitherto lain beneath the surface
of his words, now expressed itself in the glance of his eyes
and the working of his white lips. He tried to keep back the
tide of passion, but it had ebbed too far. Raising his hands
to his brow as if to steady the throbbing brain, he cried,
almost wildly,—
" Where was I ?—what was I doing all this time ?—I who
talked of God, and taught the way to Christ. Was I better
or worse than those who came to learn of me? Was I
nearest to Heaven or to Hell when denouncing the unbeliev-
ing, or setting forth the rewards of the just ? I cannot tell; I
only know that my lessons and my Bible did not match. My
preaching may have been sincere, my life was false. Eliza-
beth, you are a woman, and can pardon all errors but one---
of that one I have not to blame myself. True, that your
mother and I lived unhappily together, and ultimately
parted; we did not part because I outraged her wifely
rights : I was true to her whilst she remained with me, and
even when we were no longer bound to each other, I lived a
life of comparative purity. But the love of power, that is to
say, of money, of influence, of position, lay at the bottom ol
all my sins. With everyone, as with women, I strove for
that moral influence which is only to be obtained by those
who are at the same time wegjc and strong—weak, inasmuch
as they are vain; strong, inasmuch as they desire power,
and set themselves to obtain it. I was not content with the
power of my pulpit—I craved for the power of clique, of
reputation, of the world. But these ends are not gained
DOCTOR JACOB.
301
easily. To win the world, one must begin with falseness,
glossing over foibles and cheats and cunning—cloaking all
things with a fair outside, however foul the heart may be
within; and to win money quickly, one must enter into
speculation—gamble—throw into lotteries—bet on the turf—
do anything, in fact, and not notice if the coin you pick up
has a little dirt on it. I did win money—I will tell you how."
Elizabeth, who had been listening with pale face and
suppressed breath, now rose, and placing her hand on his,
said, imploringly,—
" Why recall so much that is painful ? If you would not
spare yourself, at least spare me."
He looked at her with an expression of the deepest sadness,
and said,—
" My poor child, others will have less mercy for you than I.
Sooner or later, you must know all, and better that you
should know in part from my own lips—you will pardon it
the readier."
N ot heeding her deprecating gesture, he continued,—
" I speculated, then—speculated honestly in the beginning,
as most men do—dishonestly in the end, using alike ill-gotten
money, and money that was not my own, for the same pur-
pose—the attainment of wealth. Well, the affair prospered
to a certain point. I lived luxuriously, and had a good
balance at my banker's, entered into brilliant circles, re-
ceived my friends as if I had been a millionaire, and placed
peers' daughters on my right hand at the dinner-table. But
exaggerations never last, and neither did this phase of my
life. Just escaping dishonour, hardly escaping bankruptcy,
I first travelled to the Far West, then retired to the
country, to read the Scriptures to rustics, to tell honest,
hard-working yeomen not to love the things of this world
—to preach poverty, and simplicity, and content—I, who
had, so to say, sold my soul in exchange for wealth and
vanities ! What greater parody could be found upon our
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DOCTOR JACOB.
whole clerical system, than this history of mine ? Better the
simple and safe Quaker doctrine of non-priesthood, better
the sublime madness of Irving's prophetic manifestations,
better the Romish superstitions of celibacy and asceticism,
than the turning of Christ's word into a trade-company, by
which incapable men are allowed to parcel out the Bread of
Life, with no more conscience or discrimination than shop-
keepers their wares. Again I repeat, that I do not justify
myself, but I cannot help seeing the misery and error to
which this state of things has led. But," he added, in a dif-
ferent tone, " I have talked till I am tired, and you are weary.
Pour out the tea, dear child, and give me a cup here. I am
not hungry enough to sit at the table."
Elizabeth obeyed, and followed her father with anxious
eyes, as she ate her supper in the adjoining room. By-and-
by, he said,—
" That poor child—little Katchen—I cannot help thinking
of her, and reproaching myself on her account—indeed, I
hardly remember reproaching myself at all, till I knew how
much she cared for me."
" Every one cares for you," answered Elizabeth, somewhat
sadly.
" Yes, and every one has reason to regret it, with the bit-
terest regrets of their lives. To whom have I brought
comfort or happiness? To whom have I returned joy for
trustingness, and love for faith ? It has been my fate to win
love, and to turn it to gall and ashes."
" If I judge Katchen rightly, her love will never be turned
to gall and ashes, whatever may happen. Her nature is
singularly constant and devoted, as all reticent self-contained
natures are."
"Therein lies the sadness," he broke in, impetuously;
" because she is so clinging and full of trust, I but tremble
for her the more. Think of the sorrow she must endure
from true, much more false reports. Think of her secret
DOCTOR JACOB.
303
pining, her want of sympathy from those around her, her
need of all that she found and lost in me. I formed her to
myself, God knows without dreaming of the consequences,
without the remotest idea that she was learning to love me,
whilst I only imagined she was learning to think ; and,
having taught her to love—involuntarily—I left her. True,
that I left her, as the only way of repairing my error—the
sorrow to her is no less real on that account. Poor child !—
poor child !—a sad, strange experience has been her first
romance, of which she made me the hero !"
For some time both were silent. When he spoke again, it
was in a different voice.
"We had better continue our journey to-morrow, for many
reasons. What packing you have to do may as well be done
to-night, and then we can leave at what hour we please.
Whilst you are busy over your portmanteau, I will stroll to
the Poste Restante and inquire for letters. The night is
lovely, and a little air will be better to me than anything
just now."
He put on his hat, and nodding, with a smile which had
little sunshine in it, he took his way towards the Market-place.
As yet the moon had but partly risen, and he saw only a
shadowy outline of that sculptured fagade under which little
Katchen was striving to avoid her destiny in the form of
Baron Josef. Poor little Katchen I
CHAPTER XLIII.
E left Katchen on the terrace of Heidelberg
Castle with Baron Josef, unable to think, un-
able to reason, only feeling the oppression of a
near and intense terror, a terror worse to her
timid nature than darkness, or loneliness, or
ghostlike sounds. She hardly feared that Baron J osef would
do her harm ; but she felt herself in his power, and, feeling
this, she trembled and sickened with apprehension. He
might extort a promise from her, and what then ? To be
the wife of a man she disliked so much, a man whose touch
of the hand caused her horror, whose glance made her shrink
back in disgust, whose insinuating voice called up blushes to
her cheeks—could she bear that ? Oh ! no, no, if driven
to it by hard necessity, she could marry any man she knew
but him.
When more than half the allotted time had expired, a
sudden hope flashed across her, a hope that braced her
sinking powers of endurance, and cleared her confused
thoughts. Baron Josef had separated himself now beyond
ear-shot and eye-range, and it seemed possible to her that
she might turn her knowledge of the ruin to some use, and
evade him. She did not pause to consider the ultimate
consequences of such a step, she only seized upon it as a
present means of escape. To stave off "the dreaded decision,
to obtain delivery, and, at least, temporary freedom from his
importunities—thus much might be gained.
DOCTOR JACOB.
Swiftly and silently she glided to the entrance of the sub-
terranean chambers, pausing, with a shudder, before she
ventured within their damp precincts. Fully to understand
Katchen's repugnance to Baron Josef, we have only to con-
sider the step she was now taking. To most young girls
darkness and solitude together go far to form the utmost
concentration of horror, and with Katchen this was especially
the case, since her nature was timid and inexperienced to a
degree. Till she had known Dr. Jacob, her education had
been that of a child ; she had never travelled five miles alone,
she had never judged for herself, nor found herself placed in
any emergency ; she had never needed presence of mind.
But now two distinct courses of action lay before her, both
involving no ordinary amount of suffering and terror. She
must either confront the darkness or Baron Josef. She
plunged into the former, and groped her way through several
vaulted passages, till further progress was forbidden by a
blank wall.
Then she paused to listen. All was still as death, and the
blackness and mouldy atmosphere chilled her with horror. A
streak of light showed her the path by which she had come,
and she fixed her eyes wistfully upon it, as if it were a friend
in that dreadful place. Some minutes passed; Katchen
imagined them hours, and judging that Baron Josef would
have returned to the town, she resolved to find her way back
to the terrace, to take the longer and less frequented path
homeward, and gain a refuge as quickly as possible; and,
having once gained it, to refuse admittance to Baron Josef;
then, if it were possible, to leave for Jugendheim by the early
train, before he would be up.
But with every backward step her difficulties increased, for
the entrance was much more difficult to find than to lose ;
soon not a ray of light, not a breath of fresh air, not a sound
reached her. The damp stones chilled her feet, the sepul-
chral air sent a shudder through her young limbs ; her
x
3oS
DOCTOR JACOB.
breathing grew quick and painful. Alarm unutterable took
possession of her mind. She fancied that she should wander
there the whole night long, and die of fright and faintness;
she imagined that some fearful voice would hiss in her ears,
or some spectral figure appear before her eyes. All kinds of
fantastic beings were reputed to haunt Heidelberg Castle,
and of some she had heard. There was the white lady, who
predicted to the Elector Frederick the fall of the Palatinate,
and whose sad chanting is still heard among the arches
of his palace ; there were little wizard musicians, who sat
whistling satanic airs in the ruined chapel of St. Udalrich;
there were the two black knights, who pace the inaccessible
frieze of Otto Henry, and many others.
These legends had delighted her in many and many a by-
gone hour ; but they added fearfulness to her position now.
Indeed, so great had become her dismay that she would
gladly have extricated herself even by the assistance of Baron
Josef. Half in hope that he might be within hearing, she
called several times upon his name. But there was no answer
beyond the hollow echo of her own voice.
An hour of such suspense would have turned her brain ; it
lasted only a few minutes, and yet they were minutes she
never forgot. When a sudden ascent brought her into the
fresh air and starlight, she was so utterly powerless that she
sank to the ground as one in a fainting fit. Her eyes were
burning and dry, her heart beat with rapidity, and her limbs
grew cold and moist. Nothing would have terrified her now.
But though she had 'escaped the horrors of the vaults, her
present position was far from an agreeable one. She found
herself on the platform of what had once been a running
gallery, elevated some yards from the ground ; and whilst,
on the one hand, advance was cut off by a broken wall,
on the other, there was no means of escape save by a flying
leap. The wall was two feet thick, and crumbled to chinks
in places; through these she caught glimpses of dark piles of
DOCTOR JACOB.
3°7
masonry and massive towers, crowned with sprays of linden,
and gloomy, ghost-like shadows around all.
By-and-by, a warm glimmer of light drew her eye to a
nearer part of the building, which she had not hitherto
observed. On looking closer, she saw a cluster of small
square windows fronting the court-yard; figures were mov-
ing backwards and forwards, sounds of music and singing
reached her ears, doors were open and shut with an echo.
Katchen judged rightly that this was one of the wings let to
visitors. She knew that many families hired rooms there
during the autumn months, and with this knowledge arose a
new hope. Parties were often formed among the occupiers
of these tenements to explore the Castle by moonlight. The
moon was slowly rising—oh ! she would soon be discovered,
and rescued ! But she was so cold and weary that she felt
hardly able to wait. The singing still continued, and such
strains of it as reached her carried a strong spell with them,
recalling happy days at Jugendheim. She fancied that the
melody was one the Baroness Ladenburg used to sing; often
had Aggie and herself stolen beneath her window to listen
to her fine voice ; and often on those occasions had Dr.
Jacob caught them in the act, and laughingly punished them
by pelting plums and flowers on their heads. Baron Josef
was less obnoxious in those earlier days of their acquaintance;
many a time his droll stories and wild songs had amused
without shocking her. Then Mrs. Brill, ever careless, ever
kind, ever cheery—always trying to give the young ones
pleasure, or to help them at their lessons,—the children's
rough, affectionate ways,—lastly, Dr. Jacob's deep-toned
voice, and the new sweet instruction he had given her;—all
these recollections came at once, and seemed more than she
could bear.
" Oh !" she cried, wringing her hands, with a pitiful burst
of tears," I was wrong—I was wicked to leave my home, and
this is the punishment!"
x 2
3°8
DOCTOR JACOB.
She wept for some time, in a hopeless, child-like way; and
by-and-by, grown calmer, folded her cold little hands, and tried
to repeat a prayer. It was a very fragmentary one, merely
two or three sentences from a collect, yet the act brought
comfort with it. She felt less desolate, less isolated, after
having made her simple want known to God. Poor child !
—poor child!
At length a faintness, half the result of mental, half of
bodily fatigue, overcame her. She rose with an effort to
shake it off, but in vain ; her limbs tottered, her head swam,
and she fell, striking her forehead sharply against the jagged
brickwork, but, happily for herself, losing all consciousness
of pain and terror in the fall.
Soon after, the singing that we have mentioned ceased
suddenly; the sound of a violently-pulled bell rang through
the suite of apartments which Katchen had watched with
such earnestness ; footsteps echoed in the court-yard, and
lanterns gleamed here and there. Evidently something had
occurred to arouse the inhabitants of the Schloss.
CHAPTER XLIV.
HEN Katchen returned to consciousness, she
found herself in a pretty room, with bright
pictures hanging on the walls, shining sofas
gleaming in the moonlight, polished floors,
and a white porcelain stove, surmounted by a
flying Cupid. All was strange and new to her. She felt
sure that she had never before slept in that bed, with its
crimson coverlet, over which the fine linen sheet was but-
toned so neatly. She had never before looked out of those
deep-embrasured windows, or seen that ebony crucifix placed
on the opposite wall. Where was she ? How had she come
thither ? What had happened since yesterday ?
Slowly all came back to her ; the heartbreaking revelation
on the terrace—the interview with Baron Josef—the after-
flight from him, and its dire consequences.
Did this stiff aching of her brow, and quick throbs of her
pulse, mean that she was ill ?—if so, who was taking care of
her ?
As if in answer to this thought, an adjoining door was
opened softly, and a voice, tuned to its lowest and tenderest
pitch, whispered her name.
" Katchen," it said, caressingly, whilst a gentle hand
touched her cheek, " say that you are better—that you will
sleep for our sakes."
And the Baroness, for it was she, bent low, and touched
the young girl's lips with her own ; then, seeing her bewil-
derment, added,^
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Darling, you are with friends, who will take care of you;
do not reflect on what has happened—do not fear that you
shall be driven to act against your wishes. Only think of
yourself, Katchen, and try to recover the strength you have
lost."
Katchen's first feeling was one of intense dismay, but who
—especially in her feeble, overwrought state—could withstand
words so loving, said in tones so sweet ? After all that she
had endured, the very fact of being sheltered and tended,
brought intense satisfaction with it. She would rather have
heard the voice of Mrs. Brill, of Aggie,—of anyone she loved
—but she was too unstrung as yet to awake to her real posi-
tion.
" How long have I been here ? " she asked, dreamily.
" Not long; but you must not talk till to-morrow, Katchen,
and then I will answer all the questions you like to put to me ;
now try to sleep, whilst I sit here and watch by you."
What had made the Baroness so thoughtful and kind ? won-
dered Katchen. Was she really loveable and womanly after
all ?—was she drawn towards her by her son's love ? Was
she at least her friend ? She could only accept the solicitude
as it came, none other being at hand.
" You are very good," she said, brokenly ; " too good, for I
have not deserved it of you. Do not stay up on my account
—I am tired, and shall sleep."
" But I shall stay till you do sleep, for there is some one
who would never forgive me if I neglected you. Can you
guess who that some one may be, Katchen ?"
She answered, trembling,—
" Baron Josef? "
" Yes—who else would follow me here from the same
motive ?"
" Where am I, madame ? "
"In Heidelberg Castle, my pet. Would you desire a pret-
tier or more romantic place in which to recover from an ill-
DOCTOR JACOB.
3"
ness ? The Brills will join us here soon, and we shall have
no limits to pic-nics, drives, and excursions; but close your
eyes, Katchen, and hear the rest to-morrow."
Katchen saw it all now. It was the voice of the Baroness
she had heard when imprisoned on the broken niche of the
gallery; she was under the same roof with Baron Josef; she
should see him to-morrow and the next day, and he would
gain his own way at last.
Hours passed before she slept, and the sleep that came
was hardly rest. Again and again she dreamed horrible
nightmares of the subterranean chambers, and the isolated
platform, and the weird spirits of the ruin. Once she woke
up crying hysterically. The day was breaking then, but her
watchers slumbered lightly, or not at all, for in a minute the
Baroness was by her side, bathing her temples, and holding
a bottle of scent to her nostrils.
"Poor Josef is beside himself with anxiety," she whispered,
ere she left her ; " he has been sitting up in the next room,
lest Ad£le or I should fall asleep and neglect you; will you
not send him a friendly message ? "
"Tell him to forgive me," murmured Katchen; and hardly
had she spoken than she feared that she had said too much.
"And he may see you for a few minutes to-morrow—let me
say that ? "
" N ot to-morrow," pleaded Katchen, faintly.
"For one minute only ! Think of his state of mind, and
be kind to him—say for one minute, darling !"
What could Katchen do but consent ?
Morning came, and found her more ill than they had feared.
The wound on her forehead was deep and painful, and she
lay prostrate in a low fever, caused by exposure to cold.
Quiet and care, the doctor said, would restore her in a few
days, but for the present all excitement must be strenuously
avoided. This the Baroness willingly conceded. It was
especially her wish just now that Katchen should be under
3X2
DOCTOR JACOB.
her own eye, and nothing could have happened so fortu-
nately as an indisposition that might form sufficient pretext
for her retention in Heidelberg.
Meantime the poor child lay on her little bed, as patient
and meek as a wounded bird, but chafing at her imprison-
ment all the time. She longed to ask the Baroness a hundred
questions, and dared not. Why had not Mrs. Brill come to
nurse her ?—or Aggie? What right had the Baroness to be so
devoted, so more than kind ? What had changed her humour
so suddenly?—for Katchen could not easily forget the bitter
words and the bitterer look of the last interview at Jugendheim.
Her heart sickened at the prospect of more such words and
looks, and yet how were they to be avoided except by a con-
sent, which would bring even worse consequences ?
In the evening of the next day she was subjected to a hard
trial, for Baron Josef came to visit her.
" I have my mother's permission to come," he said ; " but I
await yours to remain ; you are too much of an angel, I am
sure, to keep a poor sinner at the gates of Paradise in despair;
and I am a poor sinner indeed, Katchen, whom no saint can
save but yourself, whether it be St. Catherine, St. Agnes, St.
Martha, or any other holy person. You are a Protestant, you
know, and it behoves me, before you become my little wife,
to turn Protestant too. Therefore from henceforth I shall
abstain from mass, give no money for the burning of tapers
before the Virgin (which will be a great economy), and for-
bear crossing myself when I see a crucifix. You will like me
better then, won't you ? The Protestants are much nicer, I
know; they don't prevent their priests from marrying, nor do
they believe in purgatory and such things. Yes, I intend to
read your prayer-book quite through, and get Mr. Brill to
teach me what I ought to do. Will that please you ?—will
that make you believe that I'm fond of you ? "
Katchen blushed beneath his look, and answered, timidly,—
" You swear, and read bad books—Protestants don't do so."
DOCTOR JACOB.
3*3
He shrugged his shoulders, and suppressed an ejaculation
of perplexity.
" My darling girl, all soldiers swear; it's incumbent upon
them—part of their duty so to do, in fact; and as to books
—who told you I read bad books ? "
" I saw you reading Voltaire the other day, and Mr. Brill
says his books are very bad."
"Well, then, I won't read Voltaire any more," replied
Baron Josef, with a relieved look; " I won't read at all, if you
object to it. Oh ! you don't know what I would and what I
wouldn't do for your sake. Can you forgive me for my be-
haviour last night ?—it was very rude, I know, but then you
drove me to distraction—I'm sure Werther didn't feel so
desperate when he shot himself for Lottchen's sake, as I felt
then. Do forgive me—you must!"
" Don't say any more about it now—perhaps I was wrong
also "
"You wrong!—no, that couldn't be, except that you are
Cruel, and try me so. You never did a wrong thing in your life.
But," and he tried to take her hand, and put his lips close to
her ears, " when Dr. Jacob is thousands of miles away, and
when you know that he is not so good and perfect as he
ought to be, whilst perhaps you discover by degrees that I
am not the bad fellow you have taken me for, how will it be
then ?"
Katchen burst into tears.
"What can I say, Baron Josef? Do not press me now.
I am very unhappy—have a little patience "
He declared himself to be gifted with twice the patience of
Job on her behalf, and rhapsodized to his heart's content for
another five minutes, when his mother summoned him away.
When the Baroness joined her son, she appeared in excel-
lent spirits, and full of hope for the future.
" Nothing could have happened more favourably for our
plans than Katchen's extraordinary self-delusion regarding
3r4
DOCTOR JACOB.
Elizabeth Jacob," she said, cheerfully. "I pretend not to
know this, but I see she quite fancies that Dr.. Jacob has
brought a wife, or, at least, a sweetheart, to Heidelberg."
Baron Josefs face grew dark.
" Is that the plain reason of Katchen's despondency and
meekness, mother ?"
" Without a doubt. Child as she is, she has learned what
it is to be jealous."
" And do you intend to prevent Dr. Jacob from seeing her
before he leaves this place ?"
" Am I a fool, Josef?"
" Pardon me for saying so; but, confound it, mamma, it
isn't fair to tell her lies, and keep her imprisoned, as if you
were her jailer. Let Dr. Jacob and I fight it out between us,
the best man winning the prize; but do not give us any under-
hand woman's work—I hate it, and would not marry the
prettiest girl in Europe under false pretences."
" You are talking nonsense, Josef. By leading Katchen to
think ill of Dr. Jacob, we are doing her the greatest kindness
in the world. Though he does not actually say so, I can see
that he wishes to marry her ; and what chance of happiness
exists for Katchen—for any young girl—with a man three
times her age, and possessing but very uncertain means?
'Tis preposterous to speak and think of Dr. Jacob as we
should do were he a young man, and really fitted to be her
lover. After all, he may want her for her money—who
knows ? You must remember that Dr. Jacob's antecedents
are very doubtful."
"You say he intends to marry her?"
" I feel sure of it; and if he once obtained access to Kat-
chen, and won her back to him, which his strange eloquence
could easily do, bars, bolts, and vigilance would prove in
vain. The man is gifted with witchcraft, or something like
it, in obtaining influence over people's minds—what mind so
easily glamoured as Katchen's ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
" And if he glamoured her into running away with him to-
morrow, I could not find it in my heart to dislike Jacob so
very much," Baron Josef added, ruefully.
" No—because you, no more than anyone else, can with-
stand his enticing manners. But confess, Josef, is it not
more reasonable to suppose that Katchen would be ultimately
happier with you than with him ?"
" I suppose it is, mamma," he replied, with a self-contented
yawn. " A baron and a white coat generally do go far to-
wards making a young lady's paradise. Besides which, I
make love splendidly—so fiery, so poetic !—shall I give you
a specimen ? "
" I would rather decline—listen to me instead. If we wish
to baffle Dr. Jacob, we must steal a march upon him, and
leave Heidelberg before he has the slightest notion of such
an intention on our part."
" Upon my word, Madame la Baronne, you would make an
admirable General! To strike one's tents and leave the
enemy in possession of a sacked city is a first-rate piece of
strategy—what next ? "
"Acting as if with Mrs. Brill's permission (which of course
she would grant), we will take a pretty route into the heart
of Switzerland, stopping here and there, and giving you
ample time to exercise your boasted talents for love-making.
Left to us two, Katchen will be ready to marry you in a
week, and will be desperately in love within a fortnight. I
know these young girls well; their hearts are light to break
and to mend—and really you deserve Katchen after so much
patience under rebuff."
"I love her desperately," said Baron Josef, with a serious
face; " I do indeed."
"Keep your own counsel, then, and whisper no word of
this projected start to any one—above all, say nothing con-
cerning Elizabeth Jacob. And now let us have coffee."
Baron Josef could not repress a pang of self-reproach when
316
DOCTOR JACOB.
he next saw Katchen's sad young face ; he yearned to blurt
out the truth, but more sober reflection followed. He thought
of the loss such a confession entailed on himself, and of Dr.
Jacob's gain; was he required to sacrifice her for another,
whom no one could prove to be worthier? Besides, and
herein lay the salve for his conscience, would not the truth
consign Katchen to much positive and more probable unhap-
piness? Was he not really acting a kind and friendly part
in concealing it ?
Ulysses, by a plentiful use of wax, deafened his com-
panions' ears to the fatal songs of the syrens. How many of
us, no less crafty, stifle the voices of retributive conscience
by self-justification ?—a useful kind of wax in its way, easily
adapted, abounding everywhere, and considered harmless,
because it works in silence.
Meantime Katchen lay on her couch, thinking, thinking.
Every passing hour made it plainer to her that she was a
prisoner. For reasons she could only guess at in the dark,
the Baroness and Baron Josef never left the apartments
simultaneously. If the former were out, the latter "would
invariably stay indoors, and vice versa. True, Baron Josef
did not force himself into her presence without first asking
permission, but every half-hour came a message, a billet, a
bouquet, a basket of fruit, or a new book from him. Then
he had grown so incomprehensibly gentle and submissive to
her—oh ! she said to herself in her solitude, " I can but yield
and end this warfare—it will be easiest."
As night wore on she chafed at her own weakness, and
resolved to make a more determined stand—to turn upon
the Baroness, in fact, and demand her freedom; to tell Baron
Josef for the last time, and firmly, though temperately, that
she could never marry him. Meek as she was, her heart
grew bitter towards the Brills, because of their silence and
apparent indifference. Then she thought of Dr. Jacob, and
DOCTOR JACOB.
3i7
wept, hiding her face on the pillow. If he would only come
and say farewell—if he would only send a line or message of
remembrance ; but this terrible mystery and silence she
could not bear.
About midnight, as she lay awake, pondering on her dan-
gers, and trying to find any means of escape, she was startled
by the sound of a pebble hitting her window. Involuntarily
she jumped out of bed and peered out. A dark figure was
standing on the gravelled pathway below, evidently awaiting
the effect of his signal. Trembling in every limb with min-
gled excitement and perplexity, Katchen drew back and
listened. Again a pebble was thrown up. Who could it be ?
Who would seek this means of communicating with her?
Who cared for her, and connived at releasing her from impri-
sonment? Did Dr. Jacob? In spite of everything that had
happened, was he anxious to say some parting word which
the Baroness would not permit ? Had he come with expla-
nations and excuses for his neglect of her ? Should she see
his face yet again, and hear his voice in love and tenderness?
Soon, however, the window of an adjoining apartment was
thrown open, a light reflected from it flashed across her own,
and a cheery bass voice called out,—
" A pretty Herr Professor you must be, to wake up decent
men at this time of night. Come upstairs, however, and turn
to your right, where you will find me with cigars and beer
awaiting you."
And another voice, equally bass and cheery, answered,—
" Better late than never, Edouard. I was stopped at
Berne, and had much ado to get here so soon. How's the
mother ?"
Katchen's heart leaped, for the speaker was her old master,
Professor Beer. Excepting Dr. Jacob, no one had so large a
share of her reverence as he, and now she felt a new vague
hope inspired by his arrival. If she could only see him, or
communicate with him, she might yet be saved. She knew
318
DOCTOR JACOB.
that he was returning from a holiday tour in Switzerland,
and she knew that he would pass through Jugendheim on his
way to Frankfort. What so feasible as to entrust a letter or
message to his hands, telling the Brills of her unhappiness ?
Could they learn from herself the real nature of the Baroness's
apparent kindness, she felt sure that they would come
to her without delay. Mr. Brill loved her; Mrs. Brill Avas
kind-hearted in the extreme ; on the assistance of both she
relied firmly, if she could tell them the truth, which she could
not do whilst under the surveillance of the Baroness.
She leaned her aching temples on her hands and pondered.
Her chance of rescue was now or never. To-morrow the
Professor might be gone ; to-morrow her fortitude might give
way, and the fatal promise might be given. The manner of
accomplishing her purpose, however, had no slight difficulty.
Her room adjoined the sleeping apartment of the Baroness
on one side, and on the other a small drawing-room, com-
municating in its turn with a fourth; the latter, however,
belonging to another suite of apartments, was always barred,
and opened upon a different staiixase. This staircase the
Professor had ascended, and it occurred to her that he might
possibly be the guest for whom the fourth and last apartment
had been prepared. All day, whilst lying on her couch, she
had heard sounds of floor-waxing, window-rubbing, and pil-
low-shaking in that direction ; what so likely as that the
Professor should have asked his friend to bespeak quarters
for him ?
Having dressed herself swiftly and noiselessly by the flicker-
ing moonlight, she crept on tip-toe into the draAving-room
and listened. At first all was still; but by-and-by voices and
footsteps sounded in the distant corridor ; good-nights were
exchanged ; the door was shut, and she heard the Professor
humming a song to himself whilst he unstrapped his valise.
To Katchen's first timid tap came no answer; to her
second, a hearty "Herein? and then she entered. All the
DOCTOR JACOB.
3i9
figurative powers of Ossian would not enable us to pourtray
the bewilderment of the poor Professor. Retreating to a
farther end of the room with a dramatic bound, he looked at
his visitor much as Macbeth looks at Banquo, or Orestes at
the visionary furies. At length, gallantry overcame surprise,
and he advanced with a cordial hand and friendly smile,
really convinced that it was his little scholar Katchen Eggers,
and no mythical delusion in her shape.
Very simply and sorrowfully Katchen told her story, leav-
ing out that part of it concerning Dr. Jacob, and keeping her-
self solely to Baron Josef's importunities, and the Baroness's
machinations. She was unable to repress tears as she dwelt
on her isolation and imprisonment; and she could not help
reproaching Mrs. Brill for her apparent neglect.
" Tell them," she said, earnestly, and with a pathetic sad-
ness that touched her hearer's heart, " tell them, that whatever
they may think, I have not deserved this indifference; or if
I have, I will never vex them again. I cannot marry Baron
Josef—why will they break my heart ? If I were to marry
him, we should both be very unhappy, and his mother would
hate me."
" God forbid !" interrupted the Professor ; " why on earth
should anybody hate you, dear child?"
"You don't know Madame de Ladenburg, Herr Professor :
she must have her own way, or revenge herself. She is try-
ing to have her own way by marrying me to her son; and if I
consent to please her, she would spoil my peace afterwards.
With all her apparent kindness, she can be cruel!"
" To think that you are entirely at her mercy is dreadful,"
said the Professor, bringing all the logic of his well-trained
mind to bear upon the case in question ; " but I really don't
understand the motive which should induce such extraordi-
nary conduct on her part. As I have often taught you,
Katchen, the weight lifted by a lever can only be in propor-
tion to the momentum or moving power—so the energy
320 DOCTOR JACOB.
induced must be pro rata with its cause. This lady may be
very anxious for you to become her son's wife; but something
more than this feeling is necessary to account for her extreme
measures. If there was some one else she did not wish you
to marry, affairs would be considerably explained."
Katchen crimsoned. She felt intuitively that ever since
her confession regarding Dr. Jacob, the Baroness had looked
upon her with unfavourable eyes ; but she could not define or
describe the feeling, neither could she confide it to the Pro-
fessor. She replied, with childish simplicity,—
" Why did she not choose Aggie ?—Aggie would so willingly
have married the Baron, and she cared for no one else."
Professor Beer looked up with the smile that Katchen had
often dreaded in Fraulein Fink's class-room—an inquisitorial
smile, a smile that portended a frown.
" And you did care for somebody else ?—eh, Katchen ? "
" I hardly knew what I was saying—I am very unhappy,
and could almost wish to die," she said, piteously, and cover-
ing her face with her hands wept without restraint.
How did the Professor act ?
Hfs position was truly an embarrassing one ; for though
intimate with Sanskrit, and most Aryan tongues, he was
utterly unread in the simple language of a woman's heart.
Moreover, you must not forget that Professor Beer was an
old lover of Katchen's, and for the love of her had lost all
appetite on a certain day noticed in this history. Here was
a situation trying indeed, but one that could doubtless be
made much of by a discreet tactician.
The Professor knew no tactics at all in this science, and
only acted upon the impulses of a chivalric though rough
heart. Without sentimentalizing, he put himself again in
the position of her master, stopped her tears with the voice
of authority rather than the voice of affection; then, as she
grew calmer, rewarded her obedience as he would have re-
warded it in her school-days.
DOCTOR JACOB,
321
" That is well done," he said, gently shaking her
hand; "and now, Katchen, listen to me. Do not dis-
tress yourself, or give way to unnecessary alarms, for I
think I see a plan of speedily putting an end to this
persecution."
Such a bright look thanked him ! He received it with a
pleased smile, and continued,—
"I had intended to remain a day or two in Heidelberg;
but for your sake I will alter my plans, so as to be at Jugend-
heim by to-morrow at noon. I will then lay the whole truth
forcibly before your guardian and Mrs. Brill, and if they
can be brought to see things in the same light that I do,
you will be free to-morrow. I don't pretend to fathom
the Baroness's conduct, not knowing sufficient of her ; but
she has treated you unwarrantably—Mr. and Mrs. Brill
must see that."
"Oh, Herr Professor !" cried Katchen, joyfully, and taking
his great brown hands in hers, "how can I thank you
enough ? let me do something for you—let me work for you
to prove my gratitude."
" Did I not say when you took leave of me that I would be
a friend to you should you ever need my services !" he
replied ; " and I am only too glad of an opportunity to keep
my promise."
" But you will let me knit you a pair of stockings, Herr
Professor?" pleaded Katchen—"just one pair?"
" The mother knits and sews for me, and she would
hardly like to lose her employment, little Katchen," an-
swered the Professor, somewhat wistfully ; for he thought
of what a home might be, brightened by so sweet and
child-like a nature, and he dared not hope for it himself.
" What can I do for you, then ? "
And again Katchen received a cold answer, though the
Professor's heart was kindling into all kinds of bitter-sweet
emotions, for which he chided himself when left alone. Men
Y
322 DOCTOR JACOB.
of his stamp constantly reproach themselves with little reason,
taking as folly or error what is natural and manly sentiment
only; and throughout their lives, lingering modestly on the
outworks, whilst more daring warriors win the citadel at a
blow.
CHAPTER XLV.
T will be as well here to transcribe the letter that
Dr. Jacob found awaiting him at the Poste Restante.
It was from Mrs. Brill, and written with the dash
that characterised all that lady's movements :—
"Jugendheim, Sept., 185,
"My dear Dr. Jacob,
" Fancy our surprise and fright yesterday when at
breakfast our Katchen was missing. If any more Russian
guardians offer us the charge of their wards with a thousand
a year, never again shall Tom be induced to undertake such
a responsibility. It was then eight o'clock : no one had
caught glimpse of her but an old milk-woman, and she was
too stupid to be of the least use in giving us a clue.
" She had seen her leave the ' Golden Lion,' and that was
all. Why didn't the stupid old creature follow her, and just
learn whither she was bound, to the right or to the left ?
But these German peasantry are so dense—give me my
native Suffolkers, with all their impudence. Well, as soon as
we had swallowed our coffee and rolls, we held a council as
to what should be done. Everyone seemed to be of opinion
that I ought to go back to Frankfort at once, as it was most
likely Katchen had gone home in a pet about Baron Josef.
This, however, I must explain more fully to you. A great
deal has been lately said by the Baroness and myself regard-
ing the suitability of a marriage between her son and our
y 2
324
DOCTOR JACOB.
young charge, and we had mutually decided that unless she
showed the most urgent and reasonable grounds of refusal,
the engagement should be again brought on the tapis. Of
course no one was more anxious than myself for the child's
happiness; but young girls take such foolish fancies into their
heads, and have so little judgment to boot, that I did not
doubt Katchen would very soon come over to our side. The
day before her flight she had an interview with Madame de
Ladenburg on the subject, and now comes (to us) the most
extraordinary part of the story. She confessed to the
Baroness that she loved you, and was engaged to marry
you ! Is she mad? Are you mad? Are we all mad? Of
course I cannot for one moment believe that you ever con-
templated so unprecedented a step; but Katchen, we all
knew, did worship you in a most extraordinary manner, and
it seemed just possible that she may have misunderstood
some kind word or action of yours, which, coupled with her
absurd prejudice against the young Baron, formed a pretext
for her flight. Katchen was always a strange child, a second
Katchen of Heilbronn, I take her, who would follow anyone
she cared for to the world's end, and would abate no iota of
her love, whatever treatment she.: might receive. Well, I
started by the first train for Frankfort, and you may imagine
my dismay in finding no Katchen. Poor dear Tom was out
of himself, as the Germans say—raved, cried, and paced the
room like a maniac. If Aggie had run away I think he
would hardly have been in such distress of mind. We
immediately drove to your lodgings at the hotel, but finding
you gone (which surprised us no little), returned by the
next train to Jugendheim, and there found, not indeed our
Katchen, but a letter from you, the contents of which I
need not repeat. That you ever dreamed of marrying the
child I still won't believe; but that you had said some-
thing which she might have understood as an offer of mar-
riage was now plain to us. And now, dear Dr. Jacob,
DOCTOR JACOB.
325
answer all the following questions, either on paper or in
person:—
" Firstly—Why have you stolen a march upon us in this
way, and left us in the dark as to your movements ?
" Secondly—Why do you object to our Katchen marrying
Baron Josef, or Baron anybody else ?
"Thirdly—What made her fancy herself engaged to
you ?
"Fourthly—Who is this mysterious lady who left Frank-
fort in your company ?
"Above all, I ask you to restore Katchen to us, since it
seems beyond doubt that she has sought your protection from
this marriage; remember that she is under age, and my Tom
is responsible for her ; remember that you are our friend,
and are bound to treat us honourably. I am very angry
with her, with you, with everybody. She has shown herself
ungrateful and foolish beyond comprehension, and the fact of
Baron Josef teazing her was hardly a sufficient reason to huff
us all.
"The Baroness, Tom, and Baron Josef, will follow this
letter, and will not return without a proper explanation—and
Katchen. They will stay at the Hotel S . As you men-
tioned in your letter to her that you should be in Heidelberg
to-day, I trust you will all meet, and soon set my poor mind
at rest.
" The Baroness is frightfully annoyed at Katchen's
behaviour, though she likes the child well enough to forgive
her and make up a marriage yet. Clear yourself of any
intention to entice Katchen from her home, and I promise
you an invitation to the wedding.
"Adieu. Tom will tell you what a ferment Frankfort
is in regarding your abrupt departure. I hate tattle, and
forbear.
" Yours truly,
" Emily Brill.
326
DOCTOR JACOB.
"P.S.— But for your letter to Katchen, I shouldn't have
known where to write to you."
" Oh ! my little Katchen !" said Dr. Jacob, as he read
this letter to his daughter; " what have I done, to what unhap-
piness must I have brought you !"
" Katchen left Jugendheim, and alone ?"
" Think of it only—that child, that timia young creature,
Elizabeth ; there must have been more than the mere annoy-
ance of Josefs attentions at the bottom of such a step. Is
it possible that "
He broke off suddenly, and for some time remained
silent. When he spoke his voice had a melancholy triumph
in it.
" Katchen has followed in the steps of all other women I
have known and loved—she, so young, so simple, so un-
tutored. She has given me her whole heart, and in this last
wild act of hers, I but trace the consequences of my own
imprudence. Whilst I was developing her intellect and
leading her into new fields of thought, I was but teaching her
to love me ; whilst thinking to enlarge her character and
elevate her taste, I was but making her more truly a woman.
I might have known how it would be—I might have divined
that books, ideas, nature, were only understood and loved for
sake of the teacher. Can I wonder that her romantic, un-
tutored young nature should have run into this extreme of
self-devotion ? Can I blame her, who was young and weak,
for falling into an error which I had no strength to
avoid though strong, and a man of sixty years? She
loves me, this little Katchen,—loves me in my time of
failing strength and whitening hairs. Strange !—that there
should be youthfulness about me still—I, who have lived
several lives in one, and each phase burning with passion
and action. Well, I am not old yet, or Katchen would not
"love me."
DOCTOR JACOB.
327
And again he laughed, that self-derisive painful laugh
which had once before so chilled Elizabeth's heart.
" Supposing," he continued,— " supposing that anything
should happen to this poor child on her wanderings—any
harm, no matter in what shape—and it is not impossible,
would not that be a comfortable subject for future contem-
plation, a self-satisfying subject, I should rather say, since it
must touch upon my vanity? For younger men, few women
leave their homes nearly broken-hearted ; but for me, this fair
girl of eighteen summers rushed out into the world with all
her sorrow and her innocence, and has come to harm !
Good Heavens ! after this, I ought to have enough vitality to
live another youth ! But now it is no time for talking. Did
not Mrs. Brill say that Katchen was not found at Frankfort,
and that they were seeking her here? Katchen gone !—it
seems still hard to believe. What do you think, Elizabeth ?—
can we seek her ?—shall we find her ?"
"There is a great probability of her being here," replied
Elizabeth; " she knew that your route lay through Heidel-
berg, and evidently desired to seek your protection from
Baron Josefs persecutions, which must have been far more
repugnant to her than the Brills supposed. She had no other
friend but you—to whom else should she have gone ?"
" How dreadful to think of the poor child alone in this
place, so uproarious with student life as it is ! We must set
about our inquiry at once—but where to begin—there is the
difficulty."
A further discussion followed, at the end of which, Dr.
Jacob put on his hat and went straight to the hotel named in
Mrs. Brill's letter. There he found, not Katchen, indeed,
but the little room she had quitted a few hours ago, and the
somewhat startling intelligence that she had started out for
a walk, and had not been seen since." He moreover found,
to his disgust, no Mr. Brill, but the address of Madame de
Ladenburg, who was domiciled in Heidelberg Castle. From
328
DOCTOR JACOB.
the lips of that lady he learned of Katchen's safety under her
roof; and therewith, for the time being, was obliged to con-
tent himself.
He made an appointment with the Baroness for the next
day, the circumstances of which will be narrated in the
coming chapter.
CHAPTER XLVI.
HEN he alighted in the court-yard, she de-
scended, hat in hand, and met him on the
threshold.
" Let us talk here, or stroll in the gardens,"
she said, with apparent nonchalance ; " I have
been a prisoner all day long, and pine for a breath of air."
"You have stayed indoors on Katchen's account—that
was kind," he replied; and then giving her his arm, he led
her through the court-yard without speaking. Passing under
the old portcullis, with its sculptured knights and hanging
teeth, they entered that superb avenue of rare trees which
sweeps the ruins in a curve, and which even in the tourist
season can boast of solitude. By-and-by they seated them-
selves in the most secluded part of it, overlooking a broken
fountain, whose Undine had long since passed away, and
a torso of some water-god, to whom no joyful waves paid
homage. A little strip of once cultivated ground, and an
unsightly pool of black slime, added to the weird aspect of
the place; whilst merry strains of music from a distant
restaurant seemed to mock all that was past, even the haunt
of forgotten gods and of buried legend.
Dr. Jacob was the first to speak.
" I have much to say to you, much perhaps that will be
unwelcome to your ears ; but it must be said now or never.
Have I your permission to speak ? "
"How can I silence you? Circumstances have thrown
33°
DOCTOR JACOB.
us together, and we must both make such use of them as
we think best. Reproach me if you like, I will find a way
of revenge."
" And so can I," he said, quietly, as if giving utterance to
the merest commonplace.
" But at least you will acknowledge that Chance has put
the best card in my hand."
" Explain yourself."
She was silent for a few minutes, and then spoke with
flashing eyes and glowing cheeks.
" The best card is now in my hand, and I intend to play
it well. With your daughter I have no more to do—she
cannot divide me from you now; but the fate of Katchen
Eggers will henceforth be decided by myself alone. Can
you guess what kind of decision I shall make ? "
"You would like her to marry Baron Josef—that is only
natural."
" And you would like to marry her yourself—I find that
unnatural."
"We do not meet to-day to argue matters of opinion," he
said, with impatience; " let us confine ourselves to facts.
For good reasons of your own, you desire and intend that
Katchen should become the wife of your son ; for equally
good reasons, I intend to thwart the project as much as I
can. I speak in earnest, madame, and I repeat—Katchen
shall never become the wife of Baron Josef."
" I am quite willing to keep to facts, for, in this instance,
they favour me. Katchen is ill; she is placed under my
charge; she is full of bitterness towards you because of
your seeming neglect; she sees Josef daily, and under the
most advantageous circumstances. Now, let us judge of
your own chances of success. You are separated from
Katchen, not only by the course of events, but by more
stubborn things still—stone walls and vigilant watchers.
You might convince her of your faithfulness, you might
DOCTOR JACOB.
33i
induce her' to disbelieve evil reports of you, you might win
her again, and for ever, always supposing the last barriers
to be overcome. If not, what avail your powers of persua-
sion? what avails your eloquence? what avails your ten-
derness ?—you will never see Katchen Eggers again till she
is Josef's wife."
" You have no right to prevent me, and no power," he
replied, catching somewhat of her own reckless manner;
" for the present, at least, Katchen belongs to me, and not
till she has cancelled that right by her own lips will I relin-
quish it. She promised to marry me; perhaps for her own
happiness I shall relinquish that promise—but whilst it is
not withdrawn, I act as her husband might do. You may
threaten, Baroness Ladenburg,—I can threaten also ; we will
see who is the victor."
"We will see," she said ; " for the present I can withstand
you ; by-and-by, you will find I have not boasted vainly,
and I am content to await your verdict."
He fell into deep thought, striking his stick resolutely on
the turf as if it gave him pleasure to crush the daisy roots.
When he spoke, his voice was searching, and his face was
moved.
" Tell me, Baroness Ladenburg," he asked, watching her
features narrowly, " what day of the month is this ?—the
twenty-third of September, I believe !"
A bright thread of crimson scarred her cheek like a sabre-
wound; her eye-lids drooped as they met his gaze ; the
words she tried to speak, died away unuttered on her lips.
" The date is fixed in my calendar, and you can hardly
have forgotten it, Thdrkse."
"Can a past folly or sin never be allowed to rest in its
grave?" she cried, bitterly ; "are you more merciless than
Fate?"
He continued in the same voice :
" On the twenty-third of September, seven years ago, you
332
DOCTOR JACOB.
were prevented from ruin—from disgrace—from all kinds of
unhappiness, by one whom you have hated ever since—do
you deny that, Thdrese ? "
"You say from all kinds of unhappiness—that remained
to be proved. We might have been happy—we must have
been happy, had you loved me."
" I did love you—as well at least as anyone can love the
wife of another man, the mother of another man's children.
You were beautiful and unhappy in your married life ; I was
free, and I admired you; we were thrown much together,
and my admiration grew into love. I take upon my shoulders
all the blame, all the sin, all the sorrow of it. But I was
not so led away by my passion as to entertain the thought
of dishonouring your husband, your children, above all,
yourself, even for one mad moment. Grant this much to
me, Ther&se, that I never once allowed my love to get the
better of my reason ; in the letter, we were innocent, though
in the spirit, guilty. Never once did I breathe a word of
temptation in your ear. Small as this justification is, let me
take it."
" You are ready to justify yourself—is there no excuse for
me ? I was young, admired, and neglected as a wife; is it
no slight exculpation for my madness that I had little com-
fort in my home—that I was driven to take such consolation
as the world offered ? Of all others, do you judge me
harshest—you, for whose sake I did this thing ? I, at least,
acted generously."
" You acted generously to me, but to another it was other-
wise. Listen, Thdr&se, and I will recall the story. We met
at Ischl in the height of the season, when parties of pleasure
were formed every day, and we had ample opportunity of
intercourse. Elizabeth was with me, and she was so unfor-
tunate as to excite the admiration of your husband ; do you
deny that she resisted his attentions with all the dignity and
tact she possessed ?"
DOCTOR JACOB.
333
"She disliked him from the first, and was, moreover,
engaged to marry an Englishman at the same time; is it
matter of wonder or commendation that she acted as she
did ? An opposite course would have been idiocy on her part."
" She treated the Baron with the disdain he merited, and
grew daily colder to you, a coldness hardly to be wondered
at, since any daughter would have shown the same feeling
towards a married woman whom her father admired. If
Elizabeth was the only one among us who adhered to the
right—however much she came in our way—we must, at
least, accredit her equal to her deserts. Let us look at what
we ourselves contemplated. Do you remember the letter
you wrote to me on the twenty-third of September?"
He drew a faded paper from his pocket-book and held it
towards her. She shrugged her shoulders defiantly, and
turned away her head.
"You remember it, Therese, and not without cause; but
do not think that I reproach you for having written it—for
any proof that you have given me of your over-mastering
love; God forbid ! I am weak, I have sins enough of my
own, and whatever happens, I shall ever remember your
erring love with tenderness; I shall ever be grateful for it
—but I cannot think of it without thinking also of the sins
it led you to commit against another—that other innocent;
and my heart hardens to you on her account. You wrote
to me in a frenzy of unhappiness and jealousy, asking me
to take you away from your unfaithful husband and loveless
home, consenting to give up honour, children, all, for my
sake. In an evil hour I consented. Look back upon the
past, Thdr&se, and ask yourself whether you lost or won in
that desperate game."
" She saved us for her own ends," broke in the Baroness,
with passion, " and with no consideration for my interests ;
cold, calculating as she is, only prudence and circumspection
have ever actuated her. Do not hope to win me over to
334
DOCTOR JACOB.
Elizabeth. She divided us—I hated her. That I hated her
only proved that I loved you. Do you condemn me for my
affection even ? "
" You know that I condemn you in no part of your
conduct towards me," he continued; " a man can but have
softness in his heart for the woman who loves him. No,
Th<£rese ; but I hold you responsible for the after-loneliness
and sorrow of Elizabeth's life. She discovered our place
of flight, and saved her father's honour—saved you from all
that is dearest to a woman, and from immeasurable evils.
How did you requite her ? "
His voice trembled, his eyes grew dim, as he added,—
"You separated us by a falsehood that embittered my
heart towards my child, and made me appear her worst
enemy. When, after a necessary absence, I returned to
Ischl, she was gone no one knew whither. Do you deny
that you drove her away ? Do you deny that you robbed
her alike of her lover and of her father? And by what
means ?—by whispering slanders to the one—by garbling a
letter of the other, so as to make him appear the contemner
of his daughter's honour. A letter that I wrote to you, per-
fectly harmless in itself, was copied so dexterously, and with
such base interpolations, that in it I proved myself as alike
regardless of parental duty, of good faith, of any principles
whatsoever. Elizabeth believed that, for your sake, I was
willing to countenance the Baron's undisguised admiration—
to purchase, in fact, a short-lived enjoyment by the sacrifice
of her honour and her peace. Oh ! Thdr&se, Thdrese ! have
no bad dreams come to you after such dark work ? Have
you never repented the hearth that you made desolate, and
the heart you tried to break ? "
She looked up to him with something of her old bewitch-
ing beauty, with something of the melting tenderness which
he had never yet found strength to withstand, and answered,
in low tones,—
DOCTOR JACOB.
335
" Have you forgotten that we were happy for a little while ?
Have we not had our dreams also? I loved you—to be
loved by you for a day, for an hour even, seemed to me
worth the winning—but an obstacle stood in the way, and
I threw it recklessly aside. Can you blame me—you for
whom I dared so much ! Is not the strength of love to be
measured rather by its power for evil than for good ?"
" No," he answered, fiercely; "no, a hundred times, no.
I have often done wrong; I have seldom acted up to the
incontestable creed of right in my mind, and I have tho-
roughly enjoyed life at intervals, perhaps no man more so.
But I should be a happier man now, had I always obeyed the
broad and homely principles of rectitude. The ancients had
a superstitious reverence for the threshold of their temples,
and never placed the left foot on it. I see here, Thdrese,
an analogy to our common Christian life ; and I believe, with
the worshippers of Apollo, that, as the first footsteps set
under evil auspices never reached the adytum, so, with us,
the first wilful sin leads farther and farther from the presence
and peace of God. I believe now that every falling away
from the rigid dictates of conscience is so much aggre-
gate of bitterness in the cup of life, to be tasted at the
last, when youth, and bloom, and success are gone. There
is no throwing away those dregs, Th^rese. I have done
good indirectly, and on a large scale, giving beyond my
means, lifting up the fallen, clothing the naked, soothing the
last hours of the dying. I cannot remember that I ever
hurt any one by a harsh or unjust word. Yet because
I have been too weak to follow out my better and less
impulsive duties—too careless in living up to the everyday
standard of virtue ; too lax in fulfilling the simple obliga-
tions of a citizen—these impulsive benevolences, these off-
shoots of good, give me little satisfaction now. Believe me,
Th^rese, and I speak to you as a friend only, and without
any reference to our respective positions either in the past
33^
DOCTOR JACOB.
or the present—the most generous soul, the most tender
heart, the most liberal hand, avail nothing without integrity
of purpose. We may console ourselves in youth and in
middle life, by, so to say, an illegitimate virtue; but in old
age Truth in its nakedness and beauty takes affright at it,
and leaves us sitting in dust and ashes, and prone humi-
liation. We may defy the prejudices and authority of men,
and set up for ourselves codes and statutes in which plea-
santness takes the place of principle, and loose liberalities
of sentiment take the place of universal charity and love of
human kind. No matter—we deceive ourselves—we deceive
others—we cannot deceive God, or flee from His silent
reproach at the last."
" My religion has more heart in it than yours," she said,
eagerly ; " and therefore must be better adapted for weak,
ever-failing creatures as we are. We Romanists deal with
human nature as it is—you Protestants with human nature
as it ought to be."
" It is not a question of religion," he replied, in a sor-
rowful voice; "but a question of cause and effect. As
surely as the stone thrown forwards moves in a parabola—
as surely as the circumference of a circle is in proportion to
its diameter—so surely must the evil, or a vicarious one,
come back to the projector. But of this no more. You and
I have sowed, and must reap accordingly."
A long pause ensued. At length the Baroness broke it
impatiently.
" You know all—have you any more reproaches to make?
Are we to part in peace or in war at the last ?"
" That is as you yourself decide, Madame de Ladenburg ;
if you are willing to give up Katchen, I have no further
reference to make to the past—for you, as well as for my-
self, I am content to have it henceforth buried."
" And if I am not willing ? "
" I shall use it as best I can to frustrate your intentions.
DOCTOR JACOB.
337
Mr. and Mrs. Brill would hardly leave Katchen in the hands
of you, after my most urgent dissuasions to the contrary "
" —Good, easy Mr. and Mrs. Brill like me too much to be
set against me from hearing a raked-up story of old days,
if that is what you mean. Had they not trusted me impli-
citly, think you they would let Katchen remain in my charge
now ? And you forget your own short-comings, my friend,
—your bills, your broken promises, your enemies without
number. No—do not play with fire; let me go my own
ways in peace."
" Yes !" he repeated ; "yes, we will each go our own way
in peace—after a little ; but first, I must save Katchen."
Just then, as if a white dove had suddenly alighted at his
feet, piping joyfully because the cage was left far behind,
Katchen herself stood before him—not the rosy, radiant
Katchen he had first known, but a Katchen more lovely
still, with a woman's sweet trembling love in her eyes, and
a woman's smile, half of joy, half of doubt on her lips.
Z
CHAPTER XLVII.
"OU will save me !" she cried, stretching out
her hands towards him; " yes, you do not
care for me any longer, but you will still be my
friend—I feel sure of that!"
The Baroness, who had been accustomed to
surprises all her life, took this crowning one with extreme
evenness of temper, at least as far as could be seen from
without; she also held out her hands, though not far enough
to reach Katchen.
" My dear girl, this is a little rash of you," she said, in a
fond, chiding way ; " really I feel as if I ought to scold—I
could find it in my heart to do so. But are you gifted with
divination that you find us in this secluded spot ?"
" I thought I heard your voices from the window," replied
Katchen, still addressing Dr. Jacob, with a deep blush;
" and I stole downstairs, and saw you go this way. I have
been resting under the trees a long, long time in sight; but
you never looked round, and at last I summoned courage to
come. Oh ! I have been so unhappy ! I have wanted your
help so much !"
She looked up wistfully, as if expecting a smile of wel-
come, a hand-clasp, or a kindly word ; but none came. For
two or three minutes she thus waited, the large tears gather-
ing in her eyes, the suppressed sobs heaving her bosom, the
little hands trembling.
Still Dr. Jacob's face was averted. Then a long pitiful
DOCTOR JACOB; 339
look of suffering came to her eye—a look of inexpressible
wonder and despair.
" I would not have come," she said, half choking with
childlike passion, "to make you angry or vexed ; but I
thought you were too fond of me for that; it is such a little
while ago since you always gave me the kindest word and
smile of any one, and I do not know what I have done
to deserve your anger now. It was wicked to leave my
home, but I did it out of my love for you—all the wrong I
have done has been out of my love for you. Baron Josef
says I have disgraced myself. I thought lightly of his
words when he spoke them; my heart will break since I find
that you think as he does. But he and Madame de La-
denburg have a right to say cruel things to me, because I
have repulsed them. I have done it all for your sake, and
yet every one is kinder to me than you "
" Yes," replied Dr. Jacob, sadly, "every one is kinder to
you than I am."
There was a silence of some moments, during which
Madame de Ladenburg's soft hand stroked the young girl's
hair.
" My dear Katclien," she said, gently, " indeed you are
misjudging Dr. Jacob. Remem.ber, darling, that very many
and great objections exist to—to his marrying you : you are
young and do not know the world, but he is a man of
experience, and, out of his very fondness for you, hesitates
on the threshold of such an imprudence."
Katchen broke from her caressing hands with flaming eyes.
"Don't speak to me, Madame de Ladenburg—least of all,
don't speak of Dr. Jacob just now—I cannot bear it. You
have only kind motives, I know ; but I shall appear un-
grateful if you try to comfort me by defending him. Oh !
perhaps I am wrong and wicked, and he has never deserved
my anger, after all."
"Child," said Dr. Jacob, "no reproaches from your lips
% 2
34°
DOCTOR JACOB.
could hurt me as your confidence has done ; not because I
have been false to you, Katchen, but because my whole past
life is unworthy of it. Could you know that past life, could
you read my heart, you would feel that this apparent false-
ness is just the one truthful, blameless feeling of which I
need not be ashamed. False as I have been to the world, to
society, to my better nature, I have been true to you, and true
only to you, my Katchen ; because I have been true, we are
separated now—because I loved you as my child, we must
be separated in the future. Could I bring you to shame and
sorrow and trials numberless—you, so pure, so young, so
unfit to bear them ? Could I take you out of your youth and
innocence for my own selfish ends ? No, no, I am not good
—I am not noble, I am quite unworthy of your affection—
and I must leave you."
She drew nearer to him and said in a timid, beseeching
voice,—
" But you do not go alone. There is some one else who
loves you very much, who "
Dr. Jacob half caught up her meaning with a melancholy
smile.
" You would fain believe me happy, my poor child ; well, I
shall not be alone—I shall have a nurse when I am ill, and a
companion when I am tired of my own thoughts—a com-
panion, moreover, who will care for my comforts beyond her
own."
" You will have a wife, and that is why you are so cold to
me," Katchen said, a true woman's jealousy and reproach
underlying her words ; " you should have told me this at first
—it was not generous, not just."
" A wife, Katchen !"
The Baroness tapped Katchen's shoulder with a merry
mocking laugh, and repeated the words, too, adding,—
" This then is the reason of your melancholy reverie, little
Katchen ! Well, a woman is a woman all the world over, no
DOCTOR JACOB.
34i
matter whether she has seen fifteen summers or fifty ! I
could have relieved your cares in a moment, had you only
confided them to me, Katchen. Dr. Jacob may have had a
dozen sweethearts in his time, but he has certainly no wife :
you must be thinking of his daughter."
Katchen's cheeks crimsoned, and for a moment she stood
still, overcome with shame and bewilderment. Then she
drew nearer Dr. Jacob, and bending her golden head low
over his hands, said, half in joy, and half in penitence,—
" I felt that I could never be your wife, that I am not
worthy; but what shall hinder me from still being as your
child? You have a daughter who will look upon me as her
sister, for your sake, and we might live so happily together.
When you are out, we can arrange your room, and make little
dishes for you that you like; and in the evenings you will read
to us. Ah ! we shall be so happy ! I can play pretty well
on the piano—the music of Mendelssohn and Schubert, the
composers you like best; that will please you in the twilight;
and I will improve my handwriting so as to be able to copy
letters for you, and be of use. There will be enough for us
two to do—your daughter and I—and yet we shall never feel
that we serve you well enough. Shall it be so—will you let
me call you father ? "
" My Katchen, listen," replied Dr. Jacob, much moved:
" such a life as this can never be for me—you, I trust, will
have all and more than the happiness pictured in it, but you
could have little happiness either as my wife or as my adopted
child. Ah! how willingly I would have your innocent lips call
me father, how gladly would I accept the services given by
you with such love and joyfulness—but, Katchen, I dare not
take you with us, I am not good enough, not happy enough.
Hard as it is for you, my poor darling, it must be ; this one
meeting is our parting. And why ?—because I am not good,
and honourable, and true as you once thought me—because
I am unable and unfit to call myself your protector. For
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DOCTOR JACOB.
your sake, dear child, I would gladly feel young again, would
gladly cancel the years that are past, and the thoughts and
deeds which have made them unworthy of you; but I
cannot do this—it is too late, I can only recoil from the
Past as I have made it, and take the dreary Future as it
comes. But for you, Katchen, life may be beautiful, and
good, and happy yet—must be, since you are so innocent
and loving; forget me, forget everything connected with me,
and hope afresh."
The young girl drew nearer to him, weeping bitterly.
" I could not if I tried," she said; " how could I wish to
forget you ?—even if you forsake me now "
" Katchen," cried Dr. Jacob, in a passion of reproach, "if
I forsake you now—though," he added, very sorrowfully,
" forsaking is hardly the word—it will be just the one self-
sacrificing deed of my life. I dare not drag you, sweet one,
down to the level of my abasement; if I dared, I were the
most heartless wretch under the sun."
He motioned her away, and covered his face with his hands;
but she clung to him, forgetting the presence of the Baroness,
forgetting everything in the abandonment of her grief.
"Forgive all that I have caused you to suffer, and be
happy for my sake," he said, softly, kissing her. " It is
better so. None in all my life have I loved so well, and yet
we must part. Farewell."
When the Baroness, who was too well-bred to remain
within apparent earshot all this time, saw Dr. Jacob moving
away alone, she returned to Katchen, all caresses and smiles.
" Don't cry, darling," she said ; " you shall not be forced
into anything against your will, and by-and-by, who knows,
J osef may appear no worse than other men. Be brave, little
one ; you are not the first woman whose heart has been
nearly broken by Dr. Jacob."
And Katchen's pride did what her self-control, unaided,
could not have done.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
T noontime the same day, Professor Beer made
his appearance in the apartments of the Brill
family. He found Mrs. Brill sorting shirts and
stockings for the laundress, Aggie reading the
newspaper, Flory writing down the week's ex-
penditure (that young lady being housekeeper), Mr. Brill
pencilling his Sunday's sermon on the backs of old letters,
and Harry and Emmy playing at marbles. Nothing could
equal the suavity and good-humour with which Aggie's old
master was welcomed, nor the interest testified in his
narrative.
At the first mention of Katchen's tears, Mr. Brill jumped
to his feet, in extreme agitation.
" My dear Emily," he said, with as much reproach as he
dared put into the adjective, "did I not say, over and over
again, that I ought to fetch Katchen myself? What do we
know about Madame de Ladenburg? Pleasant, accomplished,
stylish, and that sort of thing, she undoubtedly is—but
whether a good woman, or trustworthy, never seems to have
troubled your head. I wish, my dear, you had listened to me
in the first instance."
" But, papa," said Flory, sedately, " Katchen was in the
wrong to run off to Heidelberg as she did—remember
that."
" Wrong or right, she belongs to us ; and the Baroness is
a woman of the world, of whom we know next to nothing.
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DOCTOR JACOB.
Don't you hear from the Herr Professor that she was un-
happy, and worried to death about Baron Josef."
" Well, Tom," broke in Mrs. Brill, " I do think you take
the matter rather au serieuxj the Baroness is not an ogre,
and Katchen stands no chance of being starved, poisoned, or
beaten ; she may hear rather more said in praise of Baron
Josef than she likes, 'tis true—but he won't carry her off and
marry her nolens volensj and, of course, I shall allow her to
follow out her own inclinations ultimately. How could you go
to Heidelberg, when you had two church-meetings to attend?
How could I go, with all the children here—and the journey
and hotel expenses would have been a dozen thalers at least!
The Baroness kindly offered to relieve me of the task, as she
was bound thither; she has money enough at command, and
nothing else to do but spend it—shouldn't I have been an
idiot to refuse such an offer ? "
" I shall go to-night to bring Katchen back anyhow,"
rejoined Mr. Brill, somewhat sulkily.
" You have my hearty concurrence, my dear," added his
wife, with the greatest goodnature. " Katchen will doubtless
value her home a thousand times more after this temporary
absence, and I hope we shall find her a good husband in
time. What do you think, Herr Professor ? "
The Professor declined an opinion, and Aggie said,
pertly,—
"You will at least own that Katchen is pretty, Herr
Professor, a kind of Madonna,—in fact, with blue, sleepy
eyes, and yellow hair 1 Gentlemen admire that style of
beauty !"
"And other kinds of beauty, too," added the Professor,
emboldened by Miss Aggie's attentions; and that young
lady, being at a loss for beaux just then, contrived to keep
up a battledoor and shuttlecock conversation with her old
master, till the bell rang for table d'hbte, which he joined.
Whilst the Professor was pleading for Katchen, and Dr.
DOCTOR JACOB.
345
Jacob sat with the Baroness beside the broken fountain,
Elizabeth busied herself in making purchases for the coming
journey, and in writing to her old friend, Fraulein Fink. She
was very sad. Vague fears and misgivings forced themselves
to her mind regarding the future ; for she could not believe
that her father had done with the world yet, the world that
had flattered him, fondled him, forgiven him, kept him to
itself for so many years. She saw, with secret satisfaction,
his evident weariness and desire for repose ; but she stood in
fear of his master-passion—the love of power. Oh! she
thought, if he were only able to enjoy simple pleasures, and,
above all, could find in a library what he could never find in
life—then all would be well!
She was right. Had Dr. Jacob made friends with books,
and applied his fine intellect to higher pursuits than the
study of man for his own small and selfish ambitions, the
world would never have been so bitter to him. In our
libraries we meet the highest intellects without fear, and are
not crushed by them ; we bring our own susceptibilities and
dreams into the confidence of the poet we love best, and feel
half-poets by so doing. With Plato and Homer, with Pascal
and Moliere, with Spencer and Newton, we are alike at
home, unembarrassed, and purified. All good books are
Bibles.
In the midst of Elizabeth's melancholy thoughts, a visitor
was announced, whom she little expected to see—viz., Dr.
Paulus. He shook hands with her, expressed his satisfaction
at finding her at home, and then plunged at once into the pith
and marrow of his errand.
" I believe," he said, with a slight smile, " that it is
Dr. Jacob's daughter whom I have the pleasure of ad-
dressing ?"
"Yes, I am Dr. Jacob's daughter," she replied, not without
a certain proud sadness.
" Miss Macartney, pardon—Miss Jacob," he continued, " I
346
DOCTOR JACOa
will be plain with you, and state the motive of my visit at
once. We are friends, are we not, and understand each
other? You love my child, and will therefore more rekdily
excuse anything I may say to hurt your feelings. Connie
loves you, and for many other reasons I am bound to show
you respect and consideration. I repeat, we are friends ? "
Elizabeth gave him her hand in reply. He went on in a
business-like way,—
" When, some months since, you declared it your intention
to leave Frankfort, was not that intention formed on account
of Dr. Jacob's arrival there ? "
" It was."
" And on account of the arrival of another person—the
Baroness de Ladenburg ? "
She half rose, with a flush upon her cheeks, and said, im-
petuously,—
" Is it necessary, is it right to question me thus ? Oh! Dr.
Paulus, I know he has committed many grievous faults, but
he is my father, and so dear to me—forbear !"
" I would forbear if it were possible," answered Dr. Paulus,
with the imperturbable face of an operating surgeon; " and
I ought, before asking such questions, to have stated my
reason for doing so ; I will, however, hasten to repair my
omission. You must know that your father's debts in Frank-
fort "
" Debts !" repeated Elizabeth, turning very pale ; " were
they not paid ?"
" Some were paid ; and far better would it have been had
they remained standing. Do you understand me, Miss
Jacob? "
Her lips trembled, and the words she spoke failed to reach
his ear. He could not bear the look of misery and shame that
came over her face, and rose to the window. By-and-by, she
said, faintly,—
" Tell me all—it is right that I should know."
DOCTOR JACOB.
347
Before proceeding, he glanced at her ; she was white
and over-wrought, but he read in her firmly-closed mouth
and steadfast eyes a courage that was ready to encounter the
worst.
" The debts that remain," he continued, " are sufficiently
large to cause anxiety to the creditors, though they are
trifling in comparison to those that were paid, as is sup-
posed, as is proved almost beyond certainty, by Missionary
Funds in your father's possession. I am sorry to make such
communications, Miss Jacob ; but sooner or later you would
have -learned them, and I cannot fulfil the purpose of my
errand without full explanations on my part as well as on
yours. Perhaps I can still in some measure help you ; I
have come to do so if I can. I must first, however, learn
some particulars as to Dr. Jacob's previous history. The fact
is, those of his well-wishers who yet stand by him will take
an active part in his behalf, if they find that his past life
deserves it. We know him to be eloquent, learned, cha-
ritable, full of social amiabilities; but we would fain know
more. Believe me, you will best serve his interests, and,
consequently, your own, if you consent to answer such ques-
tions as I put to you."
" I will trust you," she said ; " God knows I have need of
your help and advice. Ask me what you please."
Dr. Paulus took out his note-book, and commenced an
investigation.
"Your sudden intention of leaving Frankfort was formed
in consequence of your father's liaison with Madame de
Ladenburg, was it not ? "
" I feared that such a liaison existed," she replied, " and
for many reasons was averse to meeting Madame de Laden-
burg ; but as far as she is concerned, my father's conduct
did not disgrace me. There was no liaison, Dr. Paulus."
He looked up sharply.
" My dear madam, Dr. Jacob accompanied her in her
34§
DOCTOR JACOB.
drives, was constantly at her house, followed her to the
Bergstrasse."
" There was no liaison," she repeated, firmly.
He made a note of her statement, and continued,—
" Some circumstances of a serious nature had previously
divided you from your father—he was living in apparent ease,
you were governess in a day-school—how are we to account
for such a state of things? Dr. Jacob's best friends cannot
help throwing the balance of their opinions in your favour."
She answered, as if with great difficulty,—
"It is a long story, sir, and I would sooner submit to
torture than repeat it; but you have a claim on my confi-
dence, and I will go over the unwelcome ground as quickly
as I can. I have said that my father's name is unjustly
linked too closely with that of Baroness de Ladenburg; but
she has been my enemy for years, and my enemy because I
opposed anything like intrigue between herself and him.
Ultimately she divided us. This was seven years ago, in
the year 185— ; a few months after our acquaintance began.
We were staying at a watering-place in Austria, my father,
myself, and—and—an Englishman, who was to have been
my husband. It is usual in such places for the inmates of the
same hotel to form intimacies ; there was therefore nothing
extraordinary in the fact of many pleasure excursions being
arranged between the party of the Baroness and ourselves.
Enough to tell you that this woman conceived the most
violent fancy for my father, a fancy which led her into
intrigue after intrigue for her own end. She falsified cir-
cumstances so as to convince me that my father was my
bitterest enemy, and she convinced him that I was the
hardest and most undutiful daughter."
" Then the Baroness deceived you both ?" said Dr. Paulus,
biting his lips in perplexity.
" Yes, by making me believe he was her lover, and her
unscrupulous lover; and, what is worse still, by making me
DOCTOR JACOB.
349
believe that he countenanced her husband's admiration for
myself. Oh ! Dr. Paulus, it is a dreary history—have you
not heard enough ?"
" Answer two questions," he said, kindly, " and then we
will leave the Baroness and all connected with her. Was Dr.
Jacob quite ignorant of her double dealing in the matter?
Was he really blameless in his conduct towards you ? "
"Yes, a hundred times, yes," she answered; "he was
absent when she practised the deceit on me, and had there-
fore no opportunity of clearing himself. I imagined him to
be cruel, cowardly, and cold; how could I do otherwise,
when she showed me a letter in which he declared himself
devoted to her, and ready to sacrifice me for her sake ? "
" The letter was forged !"
" It was forged, naturally, but I had no suspicions of
fraud, and, worked into the utmost anguish, passion, and
despair, by its poison, I left my home. For seven years I
supported myself as a governess, hiding my place of abode,
and only gaining trace of my father now and then. They
met again and again at Ischl, at Baden, at Vienna ; I saw
neither till a couple of months ago."
Dr. Paulus then asked several questions relating to Dr.
Jacob's earlier history, the bearings of which can be given
in a few words. Elizabeth dwelt with some natural pride
upon the brilliant period of her father's youth, when, leaving
Oxford with high honours, he first took society by storm, win-
ning hearts as easily, perhaps easier, in the salon than in the
pulpit; how he was courted by the world, and how he
courted it; how he became the most fashionable of fashion-
able preachers, numbering dukes, statesmen, authors, and
sceptics, among his congregation ; how he entered into aris-
tocratic circles, and married the penniless daughter of an
Irish peer; how he impoverished himself by a luxurious
menage and a lavish charity, and tried to retrieve such
expenditure by speculation; how he lived unhappily -with
DOCTOR JACOB.
his wife, and separated from her after the first six years of
marriage ; how he finally left London on account of pecu-
niary difficulties, passed some time in a country village,
fulfilling there the duties of pastor, unexceptionably; how
he travelled, and then afterwards accepted a chaplaincy in
the East, where he lived with his daughter till the period
of his acquaintance with Madame de Ladenburg—all these
facts need only be skimmed over for the reader's benefit.
" And now," said Dr. Paulus, when Elizabeth's recital was
ended, " I can only thank you for the confidence you have
reposed in me, and assure you it shall be used solely with
a view towards assisting Dr. Jacob in his difficulties. I
confess I do not exactly see my way clear at present, but
I will do my best; meantime, let me advise you, as a friend,
to quit Heidelberg at once. He is not safe here."
She looked up with a new and sudden terror in her eyes.
"They will not put him in prison?" she whispered.
" Oh ! it cannot, must not come to that!"
"We will hope and trust not, my dear madam," answered
Dr. Paulus, rising; " but remember my advice, and act up
to it. I give it to you without authority, mind; I have no
right whatever to warn you, even were I doubly assured of
the necessity of warning "
" Thank you—you are very good," she replied, offering
her hand, which he shook, and then hurried towards the
door briskly.
Just then a slow but firm step sounded on the stairs. Dr.
Paulus recognised it at once, and changed countenance.
"Your father !" he murmured, in a low tone. " I would
rather not see him, dear Miss Macartney—Miss Jacob. I
cannot see him."
Putting her finger on her lips to implore silence, Elizabeth
went to the door with the intention of preventing Dr. Jacob
from entering, but she was too late. As she touched the
handle, he pushed it from without, and before the face of
DOCTOR JACOB.
Dr. Paulus had changed from its expression of consterna-
tion, he stood before them. It was strange then to observe
the way in which these two men changed places with each
other. Dr. Jacob, from an inner consciousness of humiliated
pride and self-degradation, grew rigidly cold and haughty;
though in his heart he bowed down before the rectitude of
the other's life. Just because he compared it to his own
with such disadvantage, because he felt how much healthier
and nearer Heaven, was this honest, plodding, Christian
career, than that of his own startling, meteor-like success ;
because he remembered his last and worst sin, almost as it
were a sin against Dr. Paulus, did he shrink from want of
a better self-dignity into cold self-contempt, which shows a
surface prouder than pride.
Dr. Paulus, on the contrary, erect, cheerful, full of con-
fidence and personal dignity as he was on all ordinary
occasions, now drooped his crest, and folded his wings like
a conquered fighting bird. All the light went out from his
eyes, all the briskness from his square symmetrical figure,
all the authority and elasticity from his voice.
" Forgive me if I intrude," he said, utterly at a loss for
composure ; " I came in the hope of being of service—that
is, I will do all within my power "
"You are very kind," broke in Dr. Jacob, cutting his
friend's sentence in halves with an icy voice ; " but I cannot
accept your kindness, since I have forfeited all right to it.
Thank God, I am not too old to work yet—I can still,
perhaps, pay my debts without the aid of charity—and,"
here he blushed a little, " earn back the money I have mis-
appropriated. See, I have a little of it left."
He emptied the contents of his purse on the table, in all
amounting to about fifty pounds, and then added to the heap
his rare diamond ring, his antique breast-pin, his watch and
seal; Dr. Paulus watching him with disconcerted eyes as he
proceeded to fold up both money and trinkets in paper.
352
DOCTOR JACOB.
" Let them go to the fund which I have robbed," he said,
holding out the packet to him ; " it is not vain to hope that
I may replace the rest in a few months. I will do my best.
To promise more would be useless."
An embarrassed silence followed, during which Dr. Paulus
eyed the folded paper forced upon him, as if it contained
hot coals ; at length he rose to go, bade adieu to Eliza-
beth cordially, then advanced to her father with outstretched
hand.
" Let me wish you well at parting, sir," he said, in a
nervous voice ; " for we shall never perhaps come again in
each other's way. God bless you !"
The outstretched hand was not taken, but at the last
words, spoken as they were with honest, impetuous, manly
feeling, a change came over Dr. Jacob's features. He felt
that this good man's heart still went with him, still owned
him, still absolved him; in spite of all that had happened,
in spite of their antagonistic lives, past and to come, in spite
of the guilt on one side and the rectitude on the other,
nature had it all her own way now—the warm brotherly,
human affection gushed forth, hiding the surrounding dark-
ness, illumining it, warming it, opening upon it vistas of
distant light, and distant though not unreachable heavens.
If Dr. Jacob had ever put faith in any man it was in Dr.
Paulus, but to this point of forgiveness his belief had not
reached. He could not conceive a sympathy broad enough
and strong enough to bridge over the deep gulf of difference
lying between them ; he could not think well enough of
himself to imagine Dr. Paulus hoping for him, caring for
him, making allowance for him still. The very reason of
his coldness, was this feeling. Had Dr. Paulus been less
virtuous, he would have held up his head in spite of his
virtue; had Dr. Paulus been less modest, he would have
not wanted for self-confidence in his presence.
His heart was melted now to that point which renders the
DOCTOR JACOB.
353
strong man like a weak woman, the man of the world like a
little child. He took the hand held out to him, a hand as
warm and cordial in its clasp as it had ever been, and said,—
"The worst of all is, that I have played traitor to you.
For the sake of your little ones, forgive me."
Men of the strongest mental powers, men who would have
suffered martyrdom for a principle in the Dark Ages, men
who meet pain and death, and all the things most terrible
to us, with unflinching eyes, are just those men least capable
of bearing certain emotions, hardly of pleasure, yet akin to
it, hardly of pain, yet painful. For instance, to feel that
Dr. Jacob gave to him, what he gave no one else, namely,
the sincere penitence of his richly-gifted though erring
nature—to feel that his sorrow, his tears, his trembling
words, his shaking hands, were all as so much homage to
his own less noble but juster, steadier self—never had Dr.
Paulus been a sadder and a humbler man. He measured
generously the great difference between them, giving the
other his full measure of superior gifts, his grand persuasive
voice, his large and liberal mind, his overflowing charity,
his sweet humanities, his capabilities of wisdom and virtue.
Oh ! to what pitch of perfection might he not have arrived !
—whilst to himself no such possibilities had been granted,
yet he was walking on smooth pastures of self-respect, ease,
public esteem !
He did not trust himself to speak, but his moist eyes and
quivering lips told Dr. Jacob as much, perhaps more, than
words could have done. The two men clasped hands and
looked in each other's eyes silently, each reading the other's
thoughts, each feeling that it was for the last time, each sad
that their parting should have come, and come thus !
Dr. Paulus hurried away, full of thoughts which he com-
municated to no one—thoughts which made him grave for
days after, which impressed, in some degree, all the after-
phases of his outward as well as his inner life.
A A
CHAPTER XLIX.
S soon as Dr. Paulus had gone, Dr. Jacob
begged to be left alone; and Elizabeth, feeling
that she could not urge upon him the necessity
ior leaving Heidelberg just then, reflected long
and earnestly on the intelligence she had just
received. She was a woman of great energy and promp-
titude, excessively proud as to fulfilment of duty, and scru-
pulously careful as to justice in monetary transactions. All
her life this last principle had waged war with the oppo-
site one ruling her father's actions ; but in leaving Frankfort,
the city of so many successes and humiliations, she had
hoped that he would begin life on a simpler and more whole-
Some regime, spending sparely, and asking credit of no one.
She was bitterly disappointed to find that he had left heavy
obligations behind him. Had he clearly and candidly ex-
plained the state of his affairs, however culpable he might
have proved himself in so doing, she would have loved him
better for the confession, and set to work with the double
strength of love and pride to release him from difficulty.
But this reticence on his part hurt her more than the most
startling revelations could have done. She would set to
work no less strenuously now, though with less heart.
Revolving many practical womanly plans in her mind for
making money and earning comforts for him, she put on
her bonnet and walked towards the town. It occurred to
her that whilst at the Poste Restante, the official had started
DOCTOR JACOB.
355
on hearing her name, and at the same time interchanged
a look with one of his colleagues. This circumstance
awakened her suspicions, and with the natural quickness
of her sex, she immediately linked it to the threatened
danger suggested by Dr. Paulus. Were they watched ?
Would her father be tracked like a common thief? Would
he be hurried off to prison just as he had crossed the
threshold of a newer, calmer, better life ?
She was right. They were watched.
Before leaving the market-place, she stopped at a fruit-
stall, in order to look round, and then caught sight of a tall,
slim figure in the distance, that had been well known to
her in Frankfort. Perhaps our readers may remember Dr.
Jacob's visit to the Romer, detailed in an early chapter of
this story, and the introduction he received upon that 'occa-
sion to two police functionaries, one of whom boasted of an
extraordinary tallness of stature and vigilance of eye. This
gentleman, wearing the sword and peculiar uniform of his
profession, would have attracted notice anywhere—firstly, for
his giraffe-like elevation above his fellows ; and secondly,
for his wonderfully bright and observant eyes, that seemed
to have the power of seeing everything at once, and not
only the shell but the pith and marrow of it also. Elizabeth
Jacob had little difficulty in understanding his sudden advent
in Heidelberg. Her father's debts had placed him in the
power of the law, and its agents were on his track.
She had a very ready store of expedients, and after a
short but decisive deliberation, the following points seemed
clear to her :—
Firstly—The only chance of present escape, lay in giving
her watcher a false clue.
Secondly-—The only chance of final escape, lay by the
Neckar, since the rail would already have been made unsafe.
Thirdly—The only chance of escapg at all, lay in prompt-
nessi
A A ^1
356
DOCTOR JACOB.
Having followed out these conclusions to their ultimate end
and practicability, she walked leisurely towards her lodging.
We have before mentioned that it was situated in a narrow
street leading to the less frequented entrance of Heidelberg
Castle, fronting green heights, and having narrow gardens
at the back stretching towards the river. Elizabeth Jacob
took in at a glance all the advantages and disadvantages
of this position. Could she once succeed in baffling her
vigilant pursuer, so as to gain an hour's time, all would be
well; and if she succeeded in her object, it must be by
making use of the river. But the difficulty of persuadiqg
Dr. Jacob to flight, added to the difficulty of getting him
quickly to the water's edge, was the heaviest she had to
encounter. Her first step was to ascertain the amount of
danger she should incur by blinding the people of the house
as to their movements.
" If the Hausfrau is at home," she said to the cook, who
was bearing in water from the well, " tell her that she may
prepare coffee for us in an hour's time ; and, Lischen, should
a gentleman call here inquiring for Dr. Jacob, say that he
will find us in the Castle Gardens, for we are going thither
at once."
Lischen disappeared in the culinary regions, and Elizabeth
entered her own apartments, locking the glass door after
her, and drawing the curtains closely behind it, so as to
convey the idea of absence to passers-by. Hastily col-
lecting her money and valuables, she sought Dr. Jacob, who
was seated in the sitting-room overlooking the garden, his
hat and stick beside him, as if just laid by.
" Dear father," she said, " I want to ask a favour of you—
the afternoon is so cool and lovely, and the river lies so
temptingly before us, humour my whim, and take a row
with me."
"Now?" he asked, listlessly.
" Now " she answered, opening the door pf the innermost
DOCTOR JACOB.
357
room that led to the garden. " See, we have only five
minutes' walk if we choose this way to the water's edge.
Oh ! be quick, lest the air gets too cold. Come !"
She had not been able to restrain a certain agitation of
manner, and it aroused him.
"You have some reasons for this—tell me?" he asked,
anxiously.
" I am burning to enjoy the Neckar that Schiller loved,"
she replied, with a forced laugh; " and if we delay, there
will be no more sunset on the hills. Was I not always pas-
sionately fond of Nature and poetical association? Let me
have my own way."
" Oh! yes," was the absent answer, and they entered the
garden together. This back way to the river proved by no
means an enticing one, passing as it did through many a
choked-up cul-de-sac, and abutting upon the unventilated
town shambles. N or was the prospect from the landing-place
suggestive of pleasure-trips. N o pretty boats or gay steamers
were in sight; the river was muddy and low ; the neighbour-
ing slaughter-houses and fishermen's beer-houses exhaled
unwholesome smells and sounds ; the shore swarmed with
squabbling children, barking dogs, and wretched geese;
excepting one or two dingy craft, laden with fruit and vege-
tables, there was nothing to convey the idea of any possible
transit.
Dr. Jacob shrugged his shoulders.
"We have come to the wrong place," he said, "and had
better cross the bridge, and enjoy a pleasant walk instead
of this mythical row, Elizabeth. Anyhow, let us get out of
the fearful atmosphere prevalent here by the quickest pos-
sible route—it is stifling."
Just then a boatman appeared from one of the beer-
houses we have above mentioned, and jumping into the
midst of the cabbages and potatoes, prepared his oars as if
to set off. Acting upon a sudden and involuntary idea
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DOCTOR JACOB.
Elizabeth addressed the man in Suabish German, asking his
destination. He replied that he was bound for a village a
few miles up the river.
"We are desirous of going there by water to-night," she
said ; " will you take us ?"
Germans are never shocked or surprised into incivilities
at a precedent, and the boatman assented good-naturedly,
merely adding, that he never had taken any such passengers
before, and was doubtful if they could find a dry seat.
" Are you mad, Elizabeth ?" asked Dr. Jacob, who had
understood only the drift of this dialogue; " it is all very
well to enjoy a sunset on the Neckar under some circum-
stances, but to do so in company with reeking krauts and
onions is not to my taste, if it be to yours."
"Father," said Elizabeth, quickly and firmly, "we must
leave Heidelberg to-night. Every moment that we linger
brings new danger with it—if you do not go with me now,
the last years of your life, instead of being spent in happy
ease with me, will wear away miserably in prison. Gome,
whilst there is yet time ; your best friends wish you to save
yourself. There is nothing to keep us here—there is every-
thing to drive us away. Oh ! for my sake "
Tears were in her eyes, and a trembling eloquence was in
her voice as she spoke, but he stood like one beyond the
reach of either.
" Come," she reiterated, gathering fresh energy as she saw
all the danger of his indifference, " no time must be lost if
we would save ourselves. For God's sake, father, listen to
me n
" Why should I not remain here, to bear the just conse-
quences of my acts ? Except that you need me, there is
nothing to make life or its privileges valuable to me. The
cards that I won are taken out of my hands, and I have no
energy to play for them again. Let the worst come !"
" No, the worst shall not come ! You are old, and I am
DOCTOR JACOB.
359
your daughter—your daughter who loves you, and who has
lost you so long. My father, do not break my heart, and
take from me all that is worth living for. Am I not alone
in the world? Who else will cleave to me if you forsake
me ? Oh ! suffer me to be happy at least!"
He was touched now, and had turned away that he might
not be pained by the sight of her tears.
"And Katchen?" he asked.
" Katchen has nothing to fear from the future. You could
not serve her better than by leaving her, since in forgetfulness
of you lies her best chance of happiness. If not for mine,
for Katchen's sake, father?"
" Be it so," he replied : " do with me as you will."
They entered the boat and placed themselves on a heap of
hay, so as to be sheltered from the rising breeze. The
boatman lighted his pipe and plied his oars. Silently and
swiftly they passed under the shadow of the crested Zetten-
buhl, and ere the hills had cooled from the burning flush of
the sunset, Heidelberg Castle grew faint and faded before
their eyes, recalling a tattered crimson banner Avhich some
victorious Titan had set up in the upper air ages ago, and
never wind or storm had ruffled since.
CHAPTER L.
HORTLY after the events recorded in our last
chapter, a curious meeting took place at the
house of Dr. Paulus. It was composed of all
those persons more particularly interested in
Dr. Jacob, and as they have for the most part
already made the reader's acquaintance, we will proceed
without delay to report their transactions.
Dr. Paulus is the first to speak. He looks a shade thinner
and older than when we saw him first, and a few white hairs
are perceptible in his close black locks ; his voice, too, wants
its accustomed decision and cheerfulness. It is evident that
the late strange phase in the history of Frankfort has hurt
him to an unusual degree.
" My friends," he began earnestly, and with a deep under-
lying vein of feeling, " I could weep with you to-day, if no
heavier and more incumbent duties than those of brotherly
love and Christian pity for the lost sheep of Israel had
called us together ; but, if I read the Scriptures aright—
and I have made it the first aim of my life so to do—when
we have expended prayers and tears innumerable—yea, tears
that had their source in the most hidden, most painful humi-
liation that a Christian can feel—when we have taken the
bitterness of our tribulation between our teeth—tasted it and
swallowed it, as so much physic sent from the hand of the
Great Physician of our souls, trusting and hoping that much
healing, comfort, and spiritual health will arise to us thereby
DOCTOR JACOB.
361
—then I say, my brothers, that so, being strengthened, and
purified, and enlarged, both in the muscularity of our bodies
and souls, we shall no longer abide in the Temple, but come
forth into the open air to do our work manfully. So now,
having lamented, wept, and prayed over the transgressions
of him whom we loved once to call friend and brother, let
us no longer delay to examine the sins of which he is
accused, rendering justice alike to him and to those honest
and hard-working people whom he has wronged. But first,
let me ask all of you here assembled, to bring forward no
facts concerning Dr. Jacob which do not directly and imme-
diately bear upon the object of our meeting; and also let
me entreat you to remember that our meeting can have but
one object—viz., the administration of justice in our small
community, and the prevention of further such transactions
and conspiracies as may tend to the slandering and con-
temning of our Church, and, in consequence, to the dis-
pleasure of its Great and Only Head. Firstly, therefore, I
call upon those persons having claims of any description
whatever on Dr. Jacob, to lay them before me."
Mr. Wood then rose, and with some haste and vehe-
mence, objected to the form of Dr. Paulus's proposition.
"You affirm, Dr. Paulus," he said, "that we are here
assembled to render justice to Dr. Jacob ; but, as far as
my experiences go, it is more usual to speak of bringing
a criminal to punishment in such cases. Again, might
it not be as well to. say the person calling himself Dr.
Jacob, since we are quite ignorant as to the veracity of
his title ? "
Dr. Paulus bit his lip.
" If you would kindly allow me to follow out my own plan
of conducting this meeting," he answered, icily, " such ques-
tions should be ignored till a later and fitter moment. I am
in a condition to answer you fully, and am willing to do so ;
but it seems to me that Dr. Jacob's liabilities must neces-
362
DOCTOR JACOB.
sarily form the first object of inquiry. What is the opinion
of other gentlemen present ? "
Mr. Brill coughed violently, and by that means escaped
giving an opinion at all. The creditors naturally held with
Dr. Paulus ; only one English gentleman, and he a new
comer, supported Mr. Wood.
The bills were then laid on the table. Dr. Paulus glanced
over them without remark, but Mr. Brill could not forbear
a titter, and Mr. Wood broke out into open invective.
" Thirty-five florins for eau de Cologne alone !" he ex-
claimed, with a sneer : " more money than my wife has ever
spent upon perfumes in her life—and this sum in about
eight weeks ! Really, gentlemen, we must take the extreme
lavishness of the man's debts into consideration ! Debts
for bread and clothing I can look over, where there is a
willingness to pay; but debts for knick-knacks which only
shop-boys and dandies ever dream of wanting—it's dis-
gu sting !"
" Dr. Jacob was also fond of pale kid gloves, it seems,"
added Mr. Brill; " for here is an account for twenty pair,
dear me ! and I never had a pair of light gloves in my life !
One would think he was born a duke !"
" It is very singular that no article for which he got into
debt was absolutely necessary," said one of the new comers ;
" upon my word, this Dr. Jacob must have had the strangest
turn of mind."
" The strangest want of principle, you mean," bitterly
retorted Mr. Wood. " I have no common patience with
gentlemen swindlers. Look here—twenty-five thalers for
carriage hire ! Seven thalers for soda-water ! Thirty thalers
for books ! And, upon my soul! twenty-four thalers for a
musical box !"
When all the bills had been examined, Dr. Paulus quietly
summed them up and declared the sum total. No one made
any remarks, and he then asked permission to read one or
DOCTOR JACOB.
363
two letters, lately received from England, concerning Dr.
Jacob. As he read on, his voice gained cheerfulness and
his brow cleared.
"Dr. Jacob," so ran the first letter, "is, as he reports
himself to be, a clergyman of the Church of England and
a Doctor of Divinity. 1 subjoin the register both of his
ordination and assumption of degree, extracted from the
Clergy List. He was introduced to me a few months since,
whilst on a passing visit to England, by a letter from my
brother in the Church, the Bishop of J , who mentioned
him as having laboured zealously and conscientiously as a
chaplain in the East for several years. I subjoin the Bishop's
letter for your perusal. Dr. Jacob's fore and after history is
unknown to me. He struck me as being a remarkable man,
full of eloquence in the pulpit, and, for a clergyman, unfor-
tunately fascinating in society. It was said that he had
formerly lived too much in the world, but his bearing was
at all times in keeping with his profession. If Dr. Jacob
has left your town in debt, I feel assured that it was not a
premeditated offence."
This letter being signed by a well-known statesman, and
backed by the further testimony of a bishop, created a new
and deep impression upon the hearers of Dr. Paulus. Mr.
Wood's face changed from contemptuous animosity to grave
concern. Mr. Brill looked sorrowful and, for once in his
life, decided. The creditors with one accord took up their
bills.
Then Dr. Paulus spoke again.
" You are now convinced," he said, with some pardonable
triumph in his voice, " that Dr. Jacob came among us as no
pretender to the dignity of Christ's minister. Whatever sins
he may have committed—and I own they were many and
great—he committed under no falsely assumed character,
but as a clergyman. As a clergyman, therefore, we must
judge him. I now call your attention, however, before en-
3^4
DOCTOR JACOB.
tering minutely into Dr. Jacob's defalcations, to the circum-
stance that some absurd reports have got afloat regarding
his personal history, and an anonymous letter that I received
after his arrival in Frankfort has been adduced as evidence
against him. This letter (I speak on the testimony of the
writer) was written out of sheer private malice by a lady,
with whose name Dr. Jacob's has been often coupled—
Madame de Ladenburg. Again, you have heard, doubtless,
that he left in company with another lady—and she was
hinted at one time to be his wife—at another to be a less
reputable connection. I can assure you, on the most incon-
testable evidence, that this lady is his daughter. I have had
opportunity of previously forming her acquaintance, and can
add, that she is a person of eminent good qualities and
accomplishments. Having so far cleared Dr. Jacob from
all charges of falseness "
"I object to the words ' all charges of falseness,'" broke
in Mr. Wood, hastily; " it was falseness to promise pay-
ment, and afterwards break such a promise."
" Having proved,at any rate," continued Dr. Paulus, "that
he appeared among us as no counterfeit of the real coin
of gentleman, we must now consider his offences. I own
their magnitude alarms me. For debt is something so
degrading, so harassing, so shackling to the freedom of a
man, that I can understand no one obtaining the least thing
on credit, necessary or unnecessary, without forfeiting all
self-respect and peace of mind. True, that Dr. Jacob's
debts are not large ; nevertheless, they are large compared
with the time, circumstances, and means which we must set
against them, being all contracted in a few weeks, under no
pressing need, and with small chance of payment. Again,
and this is the crowning sin and sorrow, we miss one, that
one the largest debt of the number. Think of it, my
brothers, the money that Dr. Jacob had earned in a holy
cause—the money that had been consecrated by prayer, and
DOCTOR JACOB.
365
given by charitable people for the conversion of erring fellow
men—this money went to the vainest of secular purposes.
He was a clergyman, and gifted with marvellous eloquence,
sweet graces and humanities, a mild, loveable, ineffable
manner; he had served the Church faithfully under trying
circumstances, had prayed by her altars, had blessed and
taught her children—this man, so strangely gifted, so expe-
rienced in the world, so full of love for others, so tender
towards the old and the weak, so beautiful of aspect—this
man suffered himself to be tempted of the Devil, and fell !
Instead of judging him, should we not rather pray for our-
selves, seeing that we know not how we also may be led
astray ? We must believe, looking on all we know of his past,
we must believe that he halted and looked back in the dark,
trying to catch the Saviour's hand on those terrible waters
of temptation. Who will say that he should have proved
himself stronger? And we have lived calmly and in tern-
perate atmospheres, having the bread and wine of our
homely lives within reach, and perhaps born with no inhe-
rent cravings for more. But let me cease, and having spoken
out freely, invite all who are willing, to do the same. I fully
admit Dr. Jacob's culpability, but I would urge upon you such
circumstances as may mitigate your indignation against him."
He sat down, somewhat pale and over-wrought, for his
heart had been poured out into his words, and with him
excitement was as wearing as it was novel. He had moved
others also. Mr. Wood looked crestfallen. Mr. Brill twice
rose and sat down again, finally delivering himself of a
chaotic jumble of words, that had very little meaning what-
ever. A long silence was followed by a warm discussion,
during which, many minor points of this history were
touched upon, and many extraneous feelings of discord and
jealousy inadvertent to it were brought forward. The meet-
ing, however, ended satisfactorily in the following reso-
lutions
366
DOCTOR JACOB.
Firstly—That all sums collected at the English Church
by missionary preachers, in future, should be duly taken
account of, and held in keeping by, the churchwarden, till
its expenditure.
Secondly—That no clergyman should be suffered to
preach without a previous personal introduction .to the chap-
lain, consul, and churchwardens.
Thirdly—That no clergyman should be allowed to make
subscriptions, except in the church, and publicly before the
congregation.
Fourthly—That a small indemnity should be collected
among the English for the neediest of Dr. Jacob's creditors,
and that such instalments as might henceforth arrive from
Dr. Jacob, Dr. Paulus alone should administer.
The assembly then broke up.
CHAPTER LI.
T is Easter Monday in Vienna, a year after. The
stream of vivacity and national lightness of heart,
which has been frozen during the long Lent asceti-
cism, breaks forth into sudden sunshine, and floods
the streets with an unceasing ripple of gaiety.
Truly, there is no second city for pleasantness like Vienna,
and it reaches the height of its ebullient liveliness in Easter.
Whether you stroll along the Graben, with its gay shops
and painted allegorical shutters, its streams of omnibuses
and droskies, whose horses wear gaudy trappings, and whose
drivers never raise the pipe from their lips save to shout
as they turn a corner; or whether you lounge in the lovely
aisles of living green of the Prater, enjoying its smooth
undulating sward, its gleaming islets, its bands of music, its
glittering carriages and clatter of horses' feet; or leaving the
seven-storeyed houses of the city, its bazaars and arcades, its
unmacadamized streets, its princely cafds and hotels, all white
and shining and warm in the clear sunlight; its towering
cupolas, its quiet old cloister of the Scotch Benedictines, its
gigantic barracks, and light bridges spanning the ever-curled
Danube; its majestic St. Stefan's; its ramparts, and far reach-
ing emerald green Glacis, flanked by palaces, and shaded here
and there by chestnut alleys—everywhere crop up evidences
of that volatile happy humour which renders the Viennese the
most charming people under the sun, and the readiest to
seize all Easter Mondays of life by the forelock.
368
DOCTOR JACOB.
But among the happy hundreds of thousands who are
seeking pleasure within and without Vienna on this festive
day, we are only concerned with one, and him we find
strolling leisurely down the Graben, looking at the group
of short-skirted Sclavonian peasants, with their holiday
headgear of white linen and high leather boots—at the gay
heap of Easter eggs for the little ones in the windows—at
the regal Lichtenstein equipage, with its footmen in scarlet
coats and silver shoulder-knots—at the pretty Hungarian
ladies, with their national braided cloaks and delicate lace
shawls, pinned under their chins by way of bonnets—at the
Imperial carriage, with its four white horses and orange-
liveried postilions—at the elegant and spirituelle Viennese,
with their small chiselled features, brilliant colour, and
tall fawn-like figures—at the knots of priests in long
coats, broad-brimmed hats, and shining top-boots—at the
military without number, wearing white uniforms and gay
facings.
A smell of incense pervaded the streets, for prayers .were
being said in all the churches, and Dr. Jacob quickened his
steps in order that he might not lose High Mass in the
glorious old Cathedral of St. Stefan. He rarely entered a
place of worship from motives of curiosity, and abhorred
the Romish doctrines ; but to-day his spirits were strangely
out of tune with the joyfulness around him, and his nerves,
after a long quiescence, had, on a sudden, threatened a
terrible reaction. He felt that some strong excitement
was his only remedy against extreme depression just
then; and being no longer young, and no longer able
to sun himself in the joy of wine or the smiles of
women, he turned to St. Stefan's, to be thrilled and moved
and electrified by the most majestic music that the world
offers.
Music is so much a religion in itself, that even the
believer who stands as far removed from a Romanist as
DOCTOR JACOB.
3^9
Cancer from Capricorn, cannot choose but worship when he
hears a Benedictus or Gloria as it is given on a festival in
the churches of Vienna. To those who would fain seek
from the unfathomable Paternity of God, a consoling
belief that not the creeds but the lives of men will prove
wings to bear their spirits nearer to him in Eternity, it
brings a feeling of humiliation and sweet fellowship to pray
by the side of one who adores the same power in different
ways.
Dr. Jacob paused a few seconds to delight his eyes with
the matchless and massive grandeur of St. Stefan's, awed
at the towering height of it, the gloom and breadth and
sombre antiquity of it. He was pained to see so many
gaudy wax virgins, and ghastly Saviours trimmed with paper
flowers, marring the rugged though powerful bas-reliefs that
cover the outer walls. On every spot that his eye rested,
he saw representations of Apostolic history and monkish
legends with pious ejaculations in barbarous Latin. Having
contemplated the stupendous tower, with its delicate
proportions of arch and buttress, standing clear and
defiant against the upper sky, and the roof, with its red
and green tiles softened and mellowed by age, he entered,
bestowing kreutzers here and there to the wretched old
creatures who begged and counted their beads in the slant-
ing sun.
Inside, the perfume of incense was rising in thick clouds
and obscuring everything. By-and-by, when his eye had
become familiar with the darkness, he could trace rich
sculpture, fanciful wood-carving, altars and tombs of gleam-
ing marble, delicate rose windows, lighting up the darkness
like stars. He could not make his way for the throngs of
worshippers, but stood beneath the stone pulpit of St. J ohn
Capistran. Silence prevailed—for the host was being
elevated, and all present were on their knees ; acolytes in
white and red surplices were swinging the censers backwards
B B
370 DOCTOR JACOB.
and forwards. Soon the six gorgeously-robed priests retired
to their station beside the altar, and the darkness and still-
ness and gloom were pierced by a woman's thrilling, pathetic
voice. She was singing the A ve Maria. Rising from notes
of soft but steady passion, the voice ascended to its poise
in the upper air, swift and straight like a skylark; then,
when all the cloggings of earth and humanity were left
far below, it swayed gently to and fro, in sweet pulsations of
tenderness and entreaty, a messenger between earth and
Heaven—God and man.
Dr. Jacob leaned upon a carved coping of the pulpit stair,
and mused. He was not subject to impulsive emotion of
any kind, much less to religious emotion; but he had been
living for months past with one aim and intent—namely, to
turn back the current of self-reproach that had set in from
his past life, and had failed miserably. He felt now, as
he had once said, that there is no fleeing from the silent
reproach of God.
As the strain of that wondrously moving voice fell upon
his ear, his heart softened. The purity and sweetness of it
subdued him from his hard mood, and forced him to self-
examination. Looking down into the clear pitiless waters of
the past, he saw there all the gaza Trojce, the broken
weapons, the dishonoured escutcheons, the soiled armour,
the ruined spoils of a life that might have been glorious, but
had been apples of Sodom only. Talents, wealth, friends,
every gift 'of fortune had strewn the threshold of his man-
hood, and he had trampled them like grass beneath his feet.
What had he done with his youth ? What had he done with
his fulness and prime of years ?
Every one has seen pictures whose first sketch of the
master has been filled in by his pupils ; of Michael Angelo,
for instance, with lovely outlines of saints' heads, and crude
backgrounds, wanting in all his thought, purpose, and colour.
And so, many noble ideas of the great artist have no sooner
DOCTOR JACOB.
371
left his fashioning hand, than all is marred, disfigured,
changed. Something of this thought was in Dr. Jacob's
mind, as he leaned, half dreaming, half thinking, in the
gloomy nave of St. Stefan's. The gaiety of the city without,
his inability to attune his mind to the prevailing temper, his
late monotonous and quiet life, all these formed so many
chords which the Ave Maria, as a key-note, had struck. He
entered the cathedral in just that mood when men are easily
moved to lightness or sobriety of mind, and, instead of either,
he found himself unwillingly forced into the presence of a
retributive memory.
What had he done with his life ?
To that point his thoughts ever returned, and with in-
creasing bitterness. In his old age—in the days of failing
strength and fading grandeur of manhood, he must reap the
harvest that he had sown when all the world was smiling on
him. Therein lay the crowning self-reproach. No second
harvest blooms for the despiser of the spring; no peace
comes with the whiteness of a dishonoured winter. He had
lived joyously, recklessly, lavishly—grudging nothing to
others, asking for himself but the homage so willingly ac-
corded; seeking atonement for short-comings in duty by
undue acts of liberality ; upholding happiness, and beauty,
and ease, at all risks ; despising life, except for the enjoy-
ment it yielded him—despising goodness, even, when it
hindered his pleasure.
Destiny was too strong for him now. He could resist
much; he could not resist the slow, irrevocable reproach of
old age and infirmity. His triumphs were over. Others
might enter the same lists, and break victorious lances in the
same cause ; for him there remained no more charm of the
world or of society. A quiet arm-chair, a helpful woman's
ministry, a Bible in large print, a short slow walk in the sun,
a little gossip of the world and men and books, a few waifs
and strays from the great sea of literature and politics—•
373
DOCTOR JACOB.
these only were needed in the haven of old age into which
he was drifting. For this he had lived, and other men
before him!
And the end ! When the Bible should be shut for the
last time; when the movements of the outer world, however
large and startling, should be nothing more to him than to
the grass already growing in the churchyard; when to-
morrow should no longer mean light and movement, sights
and sounds, pain and pleasure, but stillness, and darkness,
and infinity—how would it fare with him then ? The
simple ineffable religion of Christ had of late seemed in-
sufficient for his great loneliness, his great discontent, his
great need. He had entered upon new fields of specula-
tion and religious theory, seeking from philosophy what
he could not find in the Gospel, losing his own indivi-
duality in the new luminous atmosphere around him, throw-
ing heart, soul, understanding, into one great effort—the
effort of Hope.
There is no hell he had said to himself; there is no
punishment for sin, no Satan, no miserable Hereafter; devia-
tion from the right is but the fruit of circumstance, the
result of character, and is amply cancelled by the sorrows
and sufferings of life ; each soul is no property of man, but
a particle of the great cycle of Being, which has for its
centre one head, one beginning, one end, and around which
revolve all lesser cycles, gaining, in each phase of motion,
light, intensity, and grandeur. There is no human Birth,
no human Death, but Life, Life Omnipotent, and Life Eternal,
in which each human unit has a share ; sin and sorrow are
good and necessary, forming the night of the moral Universe,
at their darkest, being illumined with merciful stars, and
leaving gentle tears behind.
But grand and enthralling as he had found this religious
system, there was yet wanting something of which he
stood in need. He owned to himself that the Temple
DOCTOR JACOB.
373
he had thus raised was too vast, too lofty, too spiritual
for his small human capability and comprehension. He
could not weep in it, he could not pray in it; he could
not hide his face in it during the hours of weakness and de-
spondency.
No—the Cross, with its emblematic shame and suffering
and after-peace; the Man of God, with his sublime simple
goodness, and outstretched hands to bless all, hands which
were pierced because he was better than other men ; the
Prophet, Priest, and King, who is Brother alike of the strong
and weak, the highly endowed and the idiot; whose life had
such sweetness and sadness and solemnity, whose death
such heroic suffering, whose resurrection such emblematical
teaching—here, and here alone, is the best altar for the sick
heart and fainting soul.
But he could not kneel before it. He could lose himself
in a vague sort of devotional ecstasy anywhere—in a mosque,
in a cathedral, in a synagogue, before a village sanctuary—
but he felt farther than ever from that simplicity of mind
which enables one to clothe one's inner self with a creed as
with a garment.
Without a church, without a home, without a duty—where
then was his consolation ? His capacity for power and
pleasure was almost gone; he was poor, he was lonely—
worst of all, he was old. He smiled bitterly as he reviewed
this interspection, despising all humanity in himself, and
thinking what a poor thing life was at best. Well, there was
yet the instinct of existence, the undying delight in common
air, sky, and the seasons with their fruit. Of books, if men
and the world of art grew wearisome, this remained. To a
temperament so sensuous as his, Death could never come
like a friend.
He left St. Stefan's as the last knot of worshippers were
disappearing, and the sacristan's keys jingled down the
aisles. Leaving the gay Graben to the left, he threaded his
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DOCTOR JACOB.
way through countless arcades and bazaars, and entered a
gigantic house overlooking the Esterhazy palace and the old
church of the Scotch Benedictines. Having ascended four
flights of spiral stairs, he rang the bell of a pretty though
modest mdnage. A pleasant-faced landlady brought in
supper, and hovered about him, petting him in the way
which all women did naturally. When she had gone, he
threw himself into an easy-chair, and took up a letter in
Elizabeth's handwriting—for Elizabeth was not living with
him now. He had found domestic life with her unbearably
monotonous and full of retributive memories, and, seeing
him fretted by her very tenderness, she went away under
some plausible pretext. They had been parted too often
and too painfully ever to live together in comfort, and she
preferred to go whilst there yet remained a feeling of
affection which could not have endured continued trials and
shocks. Dr. Jacob read her letter with alternate smile and
sigh. She wrote to him from a little town on the Rhine,
where she had fallen in with some old friends—amongst
those, him who had been, and was still, her lover, and she
told him scraps of Frankfort news. He read Katchen was
about to marry, and none other than her old master, good,
ugly, gaunt Professor Beer; then he read how Baron
Josef had engaged himself to a young Jewish lady with an
enormous fortune, and how the Baroness had again appeared
in Frankfort, taking the lead of the greatest circles, and
having suitors innumerable at her feet; then he read of the
Brills, of the good Dr. Paulus and of his sick wife, of the
little schoolmistress, Fraulein Fink, who had just married
her niece, pretty Hannschen, and of others whom he had
dazzled and dismayed a little while ago.
A little while ago ! It seemed like a dream to him now—
the last dream of so many, and perhaps the fairest. He put
the letter aside, hoping that he might never hear of that
time again; regretting that of all the rich gifts bestowed
DOCTOR JACOB.
375
upon him at his birth the power of forgetfulness had been
withheld. He could still enjoy, he could still think, he could
still act; but he could not forget, and recollection was less
bearable than intellect without faith, solitude without hope,
old age without love.
THE END.
LONDON : SPENCER BLACKETT, 35, ST. BRIDE STREET, E.C.
"A CHARMING TALE FOR GIRLS."
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A SAGE OF SIXTEEN.
BY
L. B. WALFORD.
With numerous Full-Page and Text Illustrations by J. E. GOOD ALL.
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lesson not only for girls, but even more, perhaps, for older readers."—
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" Mrs.. Walford's work is always well done. She has a great power of
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VII. THE HISTORY OF A WEEK. New Edition.
Crown 8vo.
*** To be followed by other Works by the same Author.
LONDON: SPENCER BLACKETT,
35, ST. BRIDE STREET, E.C.
FOR INFANTS
AND INVALIDS,
" 55, Bath Row,
Birmingham.
"Dear Sir,—I enclose photograph of
my little boy Stanley, age fourteen months
He has been brought up entirely on your
Food from the age of three months, and
has never had any sickness. I may say
he is very bright and intelligent. You
can make whatever use you like of this
letter and photograph.
" I remain faithfully yours,
" A. Jeffries."
MELLIN'S FOOD BISCUITS.
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MELLIN'S LACTO-GLYCOSE OR MILK FOOD
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Price 2s. 6d. and 4s- 6d. per Bottle.
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READ THIS FACT, ,
94, Commercial Roacl, Peckham, July 12,1889.
" Dear Sir,—I am a poor hand at expressing my feelings on paper,
but T should like to thank you, for your lozenges have donp Wonders
for me in relieving my terrible cough. Since I had the'operation
of ' Tracheotomy' (the same as the late Emperor of Germany, and
unlike him, thank God, I am still alive and getting on well) performed
at St. Bartholomew's Hospital for abduct, or paralysis of the vocal
chords, no one could possibly have had a more violent cough'indeed
it was so bad at times that it quite exhausted me.; Tim mhcus also,
which was very copious and hard, has been softefrecl, l fiave
been able to get rid of it without difficulty." ' • -; * " *
Mr. T. Keating. I am, sir, yours truly,' J. Him.
M HID I e7^ la MOTE.
The above speaks for itself. From strict inquiry it appears Jfcat
the benefit from using Keating's Cough Lozenges, is u^j#st^p..
The operation was a specially severe one, and was perforffi8apIg|jPie
specialist, Dr. H. T. Butlin, of St. Bartholowmew's Hospital, otnce
the operation the only means of relief is the use of these Lozenges.
So successful are they that one affords immediate benefit, although
from the nature of the case the throat irritation is intense.
kindly allows any reference to be made to him. %
THE UTTERLY UNRIVALLED
REMEDY FOR COUGHS,
HOARSENESS AND THROAT TROUBLES.
"keat»ng;s cough lozenges" are sold everywhere.
in Tins, 1 '14 and 2/9 each, Free by Post, 15 Stamps.
THOS. KEATING, Chemist. London.
66Dirt flies before it and clothes wash
themselves.99—Lady, July 7th, 1892.
WASHES WITH NO RUBBING WHATEVER.
WHITENS LINEN
WITHOUT SUNSHINE OR CHEMICALS
SOLE MANUFACTURERS:
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LiOTldrm Office- Q & in. Snnthflmnfrm £;tv =.£);, Holborn, W.C.
L. B. WALFOFD'S SERIES.
NEW UNIFOR,(fl EDITION.
h ■
y:
" Mrs. Walford's work is always well done. She has a great power of giving
distinctness and variety to her characters."—Athenceum.
Price, Picture Boards, 2s. ; Cloth extra, 2s. 6d., with Engraved Frontispiece.
{Postage 4d.)
MR. SMITH : A Part of his Life.
"A work of ijuite extraordinary talent, whi ill will at once win for its author
place among contemporary novelists."—Echo.
THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER.
'"The Baby's Grandmother' is, in its way, a work of genius. . . . It is long since
we have read so bright and so brilliant a novel." Spectator.
COUSINS.
'' Cousins' is a charming story. It is long since we have read a book which we
cordially recommend to our readers;"—Vanity 1 air.
"Is characterised by great skill and greater delicacy."—Times.
TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS.
"Is delightful; it sparkles with gaiety; it is very original and very natural."—Athenei.m..
PAULINE. j J|l I
" Dealing with the passions of men and women, and not with the sentimentality of the
schoolroom or the artificial intriguing of ' society,' it preserves a purity of tone and a dignis
of method not too often found in the novels of the day.'' —Examiner.
DICK NETHERBY.
"One of the best stiioies of humble Scottish life that has appeared for mauy years.'--
Academy. '
THE HISTORY OF A WEEK.
%* To be followed by othei Works by the same Author.
Large Grown 8vo, Cloth elegant. Pt .'ce 7s. 6d. Illustrated. Postage, bet.
A SAGE OF SIXTEEN. By L. B. Walford, Author of " The
Baby's Grandmother"Mr. etc. With numerous IllusLmtioiis
by J. E. Goodall.
" The book, like everything Mrs. Walfoid does, has a pure and healthy tone, and though j
written for, and best suited to, young girls, wj'1 give pleasure to the graver minds that seek
relief from the actualities of life in the sympathetic t'ollowiug of the bright aspirations of
youth."—Evening Neves.
Crown 8vo. Price, Beards, 2s. ; Cloth Gilt, 2s. 6d. Postage, 4d.
NAN : and other Stories. By L. B. Walford.
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Crown 8vo, Stiff Cover, is. ; Cloth Gilt, is. 6d. Postage, 2\d.
A MERE CHILD. By L. B. Walford. « II
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=- == m I I'G..
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