CHAPTER XIX

Anna put on her hat and went out to think it over. Fräulein Kuhräuber

was apparently still asleep. Letty, accompanied by Miss Leech, had to go

to Lohm parsonage for her first lesson with Herr Klutz, who had

undertaken to teach her German. Frau von Treumann said she must write at

once to Karlchen, and shut herself up to do it. The baroness was vague

as to her intentions, and disappeared. So Anna started off by herself,

crossed the road, and walked quickly away into the forest. "If it makes

her so happy, then I am glad," she said to herself. "She is here to be

happy; and if she wants Karlchen so badly, why then she must have him

from time to time. I wonder why I don't like Karlchen."

She walked quickly, with her eyes on the ground. The mood in which she

sang magnificats had left her, nor did she look to see what the April

morning was doing. Frau von Treumann had not been under her roof

twenty-four hours, and already her son had been added--if only

occasionally, still undoubtedly added--to the party. Suppose the

baroness and Fräulein Kuhräuber should severally disclose an inability

to live without being visited by some cherished relative? Suppose the

other nine, the still Unchosen, should each turn out to have a relative

waiting tragically in the background for permission to make repeated

calls? And suppose these relatives should all be male?

These were grave questions; so grave that she was quite at a loss how to

answer them. And then she felt that somebody was looking at her; and

raising her eyes, she saw Axel on the mossy path quite close to her.

"So deep in thought?" he asked, smiling at her start.

Anna wondered how it was that he so often went through the forest. Was

it a short cut from Lohm to anywhere? She had met him three or four

times lately, in quite out of the way parts. He seemed to ride through

it and walk through it at all hours of the day.

"How is your potato-planting getting on?" she asked involuntarily. She

knew what a rush there was just then putting the potatoes in, for she

did not drive every day about her fields in a cart without springs with

Dellwig for nothing. Axel must have potatoes to plant too; why didn't he

stay at home, then, and do it?

"What a truly proper question for a country lady to ask," he said,

looking amused. "You waste no time in conventional good mornings or

asking how I do, but begin at once with potatoes. Well, I do not believe

that you are really interested in mine, so I shall tell you nothing

about them. You only want to remind me that I ought to be seeing them

planted instead of walking about your woods."

Anna smiled. "I believe I did mean something like that," she said.

"Well, I am not so aimless as you suppose," he returned, walking by her

side. "I have been looking at that place."

"What place?"

"Where Dellwig wants to build the brick-kiln."

"Oh! What do you think of it?"

"What I knew I would think of it. It is a fool's plan. The clay is the

most wretched stuff. It has puzzled me, seeing how very poor it is, that

he should be so eager to have the thing. I should have credited him with

more sense."

"He is quite absurdly keen on it. Last night I thought he would never

stop persuading."

"But you did not give in?"

"Not an inch. I said I would ask you to look at it, and then he was

simply rude. I do believe he will have to go. I don't really think we

shall ever get on together. Certainly, as you say the clay is bad, I

shall refuse to build a brick-kiln."

Axel smiled at her energy. In the morning she was always determined

about Dellwig. "You are very brave to-day," he said. "Last night you

seemed afraid of him."

"He comes when I am tired. I am not going to see him in the evening any

more. It is too dreadful as a finish to a happy day."

"It was a happy day, then, yesterday?" he asked quickly.

"Yes--that is, it ought to have been, and probably would have been

if--if I hadn't been tired."

"But the others--the new arrivals--they must have been happy?"

"Yes--oh yes--" said Anna, hesitating, "I think so. Fräulein Kuhräuber

was, I am sure, at intervals. I think the other two would have been if

they hadn't had a journey."

"By the way, do you remember what I said yesterday about the Elmreichs?"

"Yes, I do. You said horrid things." Her voice changed.

"About a Baron Elmreich. But he had a sister who made a hash of her

life. I saw her once or twice in Berlin. She was dancing at the

Wintergarten, and under her own name."

"Poor thing. But it doesn't interest me."

"Don't get angry yet."

"But it doesn't interest me. And why shouldn't she dance? I knew several

people who ended by dancing at London Wintergartens."

"You admit, then, that it is an end?"

"It is hardly a beginning," conceded Anna.

"She was so amazingly like your baroness would be if she painted and

wore a wig----"

"That you are convinced they must be sisters. Thank you. Now what do you

suppose is the good of telling me that?" And she stood still and faced

him, her eyes flashing.

Do what he would, Axel could not help smiling at her wrath. It was the

wrath of a mother whose child has been hurt by someone on purpose, "I

wish," he said, "that you would not be so angry when I tell you things

that might be important for you to know. If your baroness is really the

sister of the dancing baroness----"

"But she is not. She told me last night that she has no brothers and

sisters. And she wrote it in the letters before she came. Do you think

it is a praiseworthy occupation for a man, doing his best to find out

disgraceful things about a very poor and very helpless woman?"

"No, I do not," said Axel decidedly. "Under any other circumstances I

would leave the poor lady to take her chance. But do consider," he said,

following her, for she had begun to walk on quickly again, "do consider

your unusual position. You are so young to be living away from your

friends, and so young and inexperienced to be at the head of a home for

homeless women--you ought to be quite extraordinarily particular about

the antecedents of the people you take in. It would be most unpleasant

if it got about that they were not respectable."

"But they are respectable," said Anna, looking straight before her.

"A sister who dances at the Wintergarten----"

"Did I not tell you that she has no sister?"

Axel shrugged his shoulders. "The resemblance is so striking that they

might be twins," he said.

"Then you think she says what is not true?"

"How can I tell?"

Anna stopped again and faced him. "Well, suppose it were true--suppose

it is her sister, and she has tried to hide it--do you know how I should

feel about it?"

"Properly scandalised, I hope."

"I should love her all the more. Oh, I should love her twice as much!

Why, think of the misery and the shame--poor, poor little woman--trying

to hide it all, bearing it all by herself--she must have loved her

sister, she must have loved her brother. It isn't true, of course, but

supposing it were, could you tell me _any_ reason why I should turn my

back on her?"

She stood looking at him, her eyes full of angry tears.

He did not answer. If that was the way she felt, what could he do?

"I never understood," she went on passionately, "why the innocent should

be punished. Do you suppose a woman would _like_ her brother to cheat

and then shoot himself? Or _like_ her sister to go and dance? But if

they do do these things, besides her own grief and horror, she is to be

shunned by everybody as though she were infectious. Is that fair? Is

that right? Is it in the least Christian?"

"No, of course it is not. It is very hard and very ugly, but it is quite

natural. An old woman in a strong position might take such a person up,

perhaps, and comfort her and love her as you propose to do, but a young

girl ought not to do anything of the sort."

Anna turned away with a quick movement of impatience and walked on. "If

you argue on the young girl basis," she said, "we shall never be able to

talk about a single thing. When will you leave off about my young

girlishness? In five years I shall be thirty--will you go on till I have

reached that blessed age?"

"I have no right to go on to you about anything," said Axel.

"Precisely," said Anna.

"But please remember that I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to your

uncle, and make allowances for me if I am over-zealous in my anxiety to

shield his niece from possible unpleasantness."

"Then don't keep telling me I am too young to do good. It is ludicrous,

considering my age, besides being dreadful. You will say that, I

believe, till I am thirty or forty, and then when you can't decently say

it any more, and I still want to do things, you'll say I'm old enough to

know better."

Axel laughed. Anna's dimples appeared for an instant, but vanished

again.

"Now," she said, "I am not going to talk about poor little Else any

more. Let her distant relations dance till they are tired--it concerns

nobody here at all."

"Little Else?"

"The baroness. Of course we shall call each other by our Christian

names. We are sisters."

"I see."

"You don't see at all," she said, with a swift sideward glance at him.

"My dear Miss Estcourt----"

"If my plan succeeds it will certainly not be because I have been

encouraged."

"I think," he said with sudden warmth, "that the plan is beautiful, and

could only have been made by a beautiful nature."

"Oh?" ejaculated Anna, surprised. A flush of gratification came into her

face. The heartiness of the tone surprised her even more than the words.

She stood still to look at him. "It is a pity," she said softly, "that

nearly always when we are together we get angry, for you can be so kind

when you choose. Say nice things to me. Let us be happy. I love being

happy."

She held out her hand, smiling. He took it and gave it a hearty, matter

of fact shake, and dropped it. It was very awkward, but he was

struggling with an overpowering desire to take her in his arms and kiss

her, and not let her go again till she had said she would marry him. It

was exceedingly awkward, for he knew quite well that if he did so it

would be the end of all things.

He turned rather white, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets.

"Yes, the plan is beautiful," he said cheerfully, "but very unpractical.

And the nature that made it is, I am sure, beautiful, but of course

quite as unpractical as the plan." And he smiled down at her, a broad,

genial smile.

"I know I don't set about things the right way," she said. "If only you

wouldn't worry about the pasts of my poor friends and what their

relations may have done in pre-historic times, you could help me so

much."

To his relief she began to walk on again. "Princess Ludwig is a sensible

and experienced woman," he said, "and can help you in many ways that I

cannot."

"But she only looks at the _praktische_ side of a question, and that is

really only one side. I am too unpractical, I know, but she isn't

unpractical enough. But I don't want to talk about her. What I wanted to

say was, that once these poor ladies have been chosen and are here, the

time for making inquiries is over, isn't it? As far as I am concerned,

anyhow, it is. I shall never forsake them, never, _never_. So please

don't try to tell me things about them--it doesn't change my feelings

towards them, and only makes me angry with you. Which is a pity. I want

to live at peace with my neighbour."

"Well?" he said, as she paused. "That, I take it, is a prelude to

something else."

"Yes, it is. It's a prelude to Karlchen."

"To Karlchen?"

She looked at him, and laughed rather nervously. "I am afraid," she

said, "that Karlchen is coming to stay with me."

"And who, pray, is Karlchen?"

"The only son of his mother, and she is a widow."

He came to a standstill again. "What," he said, "Frau von Treumann has

asked you to invite her son to Kleinwalde?"

"She didn't actually ask, but she got a sad letter from him, and seemed

to feel the separation so much, and cried about it, and so--and so I

did."

Axel was silent.

"I don't yearn to see Karlchen," said Anna in rather a small voice. She

could not help feeling that the invitation had been wrung from her.

Axel bored a hole in the moss with his stick, and did not answer.

"But naturally his poor mother clings to him, and he to her."

Axel was intent on his hole and did not answer.

"They are all the world to each other."

Axel filled up his hole again, and pressed the moss carefully over it

with his foot. Then he said, "I never yet heard of two Treumanns being

all the world to each other."

"You appear to have a down on the Treumanns."

"Not in the least. I do not think they interest me enough. It is an East

Prussian Junker family that has spread beyond its natural limits, and

one meets them everywhere, and knows their characteristics. What is this

young man? I do not remember having heard of him."

"He is an officer at Rislar."

"At Rislar? Those are the red hussars. Do you wish me to make inquiries

about him?"

"Oh, no. It's no use. His mother can't be happy without him, so he must

come."

"Then may I ask why, if I am not to help you in the matter, we are

talking about him at all?"

"I wanted to ask you whether--whether you think he will come often."

"I should think," said Axel positively, "that he will come very often

indeed."

"Oh!" said Anna.

They walked on in silence.

"Have you considered," he said presently, "what you would do if your

other--sisters want their relations asked down to stay with them?

Christmas, for instance, is a time of general rejoicing, when the

coldest hearts grow warm. Relations who have quarrelled all the year,

seek each other out at Christmas and talk tearfully of ties of blood.

And birthdays--will your twelve sisters be content to spend their twelve

birthdays remote from all members of their family? Birthdays here are

important days. There will be one a month now for you to celebrate at

Kleinwalde."

"I have not got farther than considering Karlchen," said Anna with some

impatience.

"A male Kuhräuber," said Axel musingly, swinging his stick and gazing up

at the fleecy clouds floating over the pine tops, "a male Kuhräuber

would be quite unlike anything you have yet seen."

"There are no male Kuhräubers," said Anna. "At least," she added,

correcting herself, "Fräulein Kuhräuber said so. She said she had no

relations at all, but perhaps--perhaps she has forgotten some, and will

remember them by and by. Oh, I wish they would tell me exactly how they

stand, and not try to hide anything! I thought we had left nothing

unexplained in the letters, but now Karlchen--it seems----" She stopped

and bit her lip. She was actually on the verge of criticising, to Axel,

the behaviour of her sisters. "Look," she said, catching sight of red

roofs through the thinning trees, "isn't that Lohm? I have seen you home

without knowing it."

She held out her hand. "It isn't much good talking, is it?" she said,

moved by a sudden impulse, and looking up at him with a slightly wistful

smile. "How we talk and talk and never get any nearer anything or each

other. Such an amount of explaining oneself, and all no use. I don't

mean you and me especially--it is always so, with everyone and

everywhere. It is very weird. Good-bye."

But he held her hand and would not let her go. "No," he said, in a voice

she did not know, "wait one moment. Why will you not let me really help

you? Do you think you will ever achieve anything by shutting your eyes

to what is true? Is it not better to face it, and then to do one's

best--after that, knowing the truth? Why are you angry whenever I try to

tell you the truth, or what I believe to be the truth about these

ladies? You are certain to find it out for yourself one day. You force

me to look on and see you being disappointed, and grieved, and perhaps

cheated--anyhow your confidence abused--and you reduce our talks

together to a sort of sparring match unworthy, quite unworthy of either

of us----" He broke off abruptly and released her hand. The passion in

his voice was unmistakable, and she was listening with astonished eyes.

"I am lecturing you," he said in his usual even tones, "Forgive me for

thinking that you are setting about your plan in a way that can never be

successful. As you say, we talk and talk, and the more we talk the less

do we understand each other. It is a foolish world, and a pre-eminently

lonely one."

He lifted his hat and turned away. Anna opened her lips to say

something, but he was gone.

She went home and meditated on volcanoes.

The Benefactress · 第 19 / 32 章