The castle miller had in fact left his granddaughter, Katharina Mangold,
his sole heiress, and confirmed as her guardian the man previously
selected as such by her deceased father. This guardian was Councillor
Roemer, who, at the reading of the will, shook his head and pondered
deeply upon the inconsistencies that exist in the human soul. The old
man who had wellnigh throttled him under the influence of a mad
suspicion that he was robbing him of his gold, had, scarcely an hour
before, appointed him his executor, with almost limitless authority. He
had provided that in case the operation about to be performed resulted
in death, all his real estate, with the exception of the castle mill,
should be sold. With regard to this exception, he declared that the
mill had made him a wealthy man, and that his granddaughter, even
although she came to be as "proud and haughty" as her step-sisters, had
no need to be ashamed of bringing it to her future husband. The baronial
estate to which it belonged was to be divided, and each
portion--forest-land, farm-land, farm-buildings, meadows, and
kitchen-gardens--sold singly to the highest bidder. As for the villa,
with its surrounding park, it was to be sold likewise, and Councillor
Roemer was to be allowed to purchase it, if he wished to do so, at the
rate of five thousand thalers less than its taxable value. These five
thousand thalers were his, not only as some indemnification for his
trouble as guardian, but in token of the "esteem" of the testator for a
man who had never been haughty "like the rest of them at the villa," but
more like a kind and even devoted relative. The will further provided
that the whole property should be invested in government securities and
other solid stock, the choice of which should be left entirely to the
guardian, as a prudent and careful man of business.
The young heiress had lived for the past six years away from home. Her
dying father had left her in charge to a Fraeulein Lukas, who had been
her governess always,--in fact, had supplied a mother's place to her.
Herr Mangold saw plainly that his darling, who had held herself shyly
aloof from the step-sisters so much her elders, must not be deprived of
her governess's tender care, and had therefore provided that she should
accompany Fraeulein Lukas to Dresden, whither the latter removed shortly
after her employer's death, and upon her marriage with a physician to
whom she had long been betrothed. In the young girl's letters thence to
her guardian she had never expressed a wish to revisit her home, nor had
it ever occurred to her grandfather, the castle miller, to recall her.
He had acquiesced willingly in her removal to Dresden, because the sight
of her constantly renewed his grief for his daughter, the only being
whom he had ever really loved. Now, after his death, the girl's guardian
requested her to return, for some time at least, arranging at the same
time to be her escort himself from Dresden as soon as the weather should
become warmer, towards the end of April, since--this fact, however, he
naturally suppressed--the Frau President Urach had protested against her
being accompanied by the former governess. His ward had acceded to
everything, and, upon his asking her further whether she had any
personal wish with regard to the disposal of her property, had begged
that when the castle mill was rented, the huge corner room and the
recess with which it communicated might be reserved for her, and that
everything in them might be left exactly as it had been during her
grandfather's lifetime. This was done.
It was March, and a young girl was walking from town upon the highway,
here and there bordered by neat cottages. She turned into the broad road
leading to the castle mill. The traces of the last snow-storm had not
entirely disappeared, the water had not dried in the broad ruts left by
the wheels of the mill-wagons or in the deep footprints of the
passers-by; but the young girl's little feet were encased in stout
leather boots, and her black silk dress was so well caught up that there
was no trace of mud upon its edge. She looked no elf or fairy as she
walked on with a sure, elastic step. No; she was rather like some fair
Alpine maid, with veins and sinews full of vigorous health, nourished by
the pure breath of the mountain air and the sweet fresh milk of
mountain-fed cows. A close black velvet jacket, trimmed with fur, showed
the full, graceful outlines of bust and waist, and upon her brown hair
sat, a little to one side, a cap of marten-skin. Her features were far
from classically regular: the aquiline nose was too short for the width
and shape of the brow, the mouth too large, the dimpled chin too
strongly marked, the eyebrows not sufficiently delicate; but all these
defects were more than atoned for by the pure oval of the whole face and
the incomparable freshness and beauty of its colouring.
She turned into the open door of the court-yard of the castle mill,
scattering before her a number of chickens assembled upon the wagon-road
to pick up some scattered grains of wheat. They flew hither and thither
with a loud cackling, and a couple of watch-dogs, roused from their lazy
doze by the noise, barked furiously. How bright and golden the warm
spring sunshine looked, flooding the walls of the grand old pile of
masonry heaped up in ancient times beneath the eye of its noble builder!
The day before yesterday the last thick icicle had fallen clattering
from the open jaws of the lion's head at the end of the gutter on the
roof, above which the air was now quivering with heat from the sun-baked
slate. The sap was swelling in the big brown chestnut-buds, making them
glisten as if powdered with diamond-dust; a couple of pots containing
some languishing plants had been put outside of the window of one of the
miller's rooms, to enjoy the first breath of spring; and upon the
well-worn wooden steps leading from this very room was seated a dusty
miller, eating a huge piece of bread-and-cheese.
"Moor! Watch! good dogs!" the young girl called across the yard in a
coaxing voice. The dogs leaped about madly, whining as they tugged at
their chains.
"What do you want?" asked the miller, rising clumsily.
She laughed gently. "I want nothing, Franz, except to say 'good-day' to
Susie and yourself."
In an instant bread, cheese, and knife were thrown down on the ground.
The man was not tall,--shorter than the young girl,--and he looked up
speechless into the blooming face, which he had seen last belonging to a
sickly child not tall enough to reach to his broad shoulders. She used
to be called the "miller's mouse," and, swift and agile as any mouse,
would follow him about the mill and granary for hours at a time; now she
was mistress here, and he, the former foreman, her tenant. "Queer
enough," he said, shaking his head in loutish wonder; "the eyes and the
dimples in the cheeks are the same, but what a size she is!" And he
measured her with shy, incredulous glances. "Aha, she gets it all from
her Sommer grandmother; she was just such a white-and-red creature,
and---- Be quiet, you rogues!" he interrupted himself, shaking his fist
at the barking dogs. "The fellows really know you, madame."
"Better than you do; the 'size' has not led them astray," she replied,
going over to the dogs and caressing them as they leaped up upon her.
"You give me a wonderful title, Franz; I have not been promoted in
Dresden, I assure you."
"But the Fraeuleins over in the villa are always called so," he said,
doggedly.
"Indeed!"
"And you are worth ten of them. So young and rich,--so immensely rich!
There's the mill,--the finest far or near. Zounds! 'tis a prize indeed.
Good gracious!--only a girl, hardly eighteen years old, and the owner of
such a mill!"
She laughed. "Yes, it is mine; and a dreary life I shall lead you, old
Franz. But where is Susie?"
"Keeping her room; 'tis in her right side again, poor old thing! Her
own doctoring did no good, and Doctor Bruck is there now."
The girl gave him her hand and went into the house. The heavy oaken
door swung to behind her with a jar that resounded from all four walls
of the large hall. Beneath her feet the floor trembled and shook with
the dull sound of the machinery that was heard through a low, open door
in a stone-vaulted archway, and the odour of freshly-ground grain filled
the air. The young girl breathed it in eagerly; a flood of memories
overcame her; she grew pale with emotion, and stood still for a moment
with folded hands. Yes, she had indeed loved to make herself "at home"
in the mill, as the Frau President had said, and her father had often
brushed the flour from her dress and braids and laughingly called her
his "little white miller's mouse." Thu stern old man, her grandfather,
whom she could best remember shouting down his orders, in a harsh,
authoritative voice, from the first landing of the stairs, had never
loved her; she had almost always fled from his cross looks either to
Susie's bright kitchen or to Franz; and yet she now thought of him with
deep regret, and wished he were just descending the stairs that had
creaked beneath his heavy tread; perhaps she should no longer have
feared his face, repulsive, as she now knew, with the insolence of
wealth; perhaps he would have been gentler and kinder, now that she had
grown like her grandmother.
She found the door of the corner room up-stairs locked, but along the
narrow passage connecting the back building with the main part of the
mill she heard Susie's wailing voice. Ah, yes, there was the poor old
servant's sleeping-room,--a dark little chamber, with round, leaded
panes of glass in the windows, through which were seen the gray thatched
roof of a wood-shed, and the pavement, always damp, of the side-yard.
She shook her head impatiently, and walked along the passage.
As she entered the sick-room, the close, heated atmosphere of which was
filled with smoke, she saw in the dim light that penetrated the old
green glass of the window a man standing with his back towards her. He
was very tall, much taller than she, and broad-shouldered in proportion.
He was apparently about to depart, for he had hat and cane in hand. Ah,
this, then, was Doctor Bruck, of whom her brother-in-law Moritz had told
her when he informed her of the betrothal of her beautiful sister
Flora,--how, as a student, the young doctor had secretly loved the
much-admired and feted belle, but had not dared to aspire then to the
hand that was at length his own; this, then, was he. She had almost
forgotten the engagement, and had never during her journey thither
remembered that she should see this new member of the family.
The opening door had swung noiselessly upon its hinges, but perhaps the
girl's silk dress rustled, or the stream of fresh air that she brought
with her, and that seemed laden with the breath of violets, startled the
young physician; he turned hastily.
"Doctor Bruck? I am Kitty Mangold," she said, briefly introducing
herself; and, passing him quickly, she held out both hands to Susie, who
sat propped up with pillows in an arm-chair.
The old woman stared at her with bewildered eyes.
"I seem fallen from the skies, do I not, Susie dear? But just at the
right time, I perceive," she said, stroking back the old woman's
dishevelled gray locks beneath her night-cap. "How comes it that I find
you here in this wretched little back room? The stove smokes, and does
not give out heat enough to dry these damp old walls. Did they not tell
you that you were to take possession of the corner room and sleep in the
recess?"
"Yes, yes, the Herr Councillor told me all that; but it seemed such a
crazy thing for me to be stuck up all alone in the best corner room,
like a lady, or like your blessed grandmother herself."
The young girl suppressed a smile. "But, Susie, you always sat there in
grandpapa's time, did you not? Your spinning-wheel stood by the window;
I am sure I have often enough put it out of order for you; and your
work-basket had its place on the table. Will you not allow a change of
apartment, Herr Doctor?" she said, turning to the physician.
"I not only allow it, I have urgently advised it, but have been met by
the patient's most determined opposition," he replied, with a shrug.
His voice was gentle but sonorous, and just now tinged with the pitying
tone one so readily adopts in the presence of suffering.
"Well, then, we will not lose a moment," said Kitty, as she laid her fur
cap upon Susie's bed and drew off her gloves.
"Nothing in the world shall induce me to go there," the housekeeper
protested. "Fraeulein Kitty, don't ask it!" she entreated, peevishly.
"That room is the very apple of my eye; I have been cleaning it and
rubbing it up every day since the Herr Councillor told me you were
coming. I had fresh curtains put up there only the day before
yesterday."
"Very well; stay here, then. I meant to take tea every afternoon at the
mill, as I used to do in my childhood. But, since you are so obstinate,
I will not come at all, depend upon it. I shall only be four weeks here
in M----, and then you can show your 'cleaned and rubbed-up' room to any
one whom you choose."
The effect was instantaneous. The grave decision in the young girl's
face and bearing showed that she was not dealing for the first time with
a querulous and obstinate invalid.
With a deep sigh Susie drew out the key of the room from beneath her
pillow and handed it to her young mistress, who was hastily pulling off
her velvet jacket. "Of course the corner room is not heated," she said,
taking up a basket of wood by the stove.
"No, 'tis impossible you should do that," said Doctor Bruck, with a
glance at her rich dress. He laid hat and cane on the table.
"I should be very much ashamed if I could not," she replied, gravely,
but with a blush, as she noticed his glance.
She went out, and in a few moments a fine fire was crackling in the
stove of the corner room, where Doctor Bruck opened the windows, that
the fresh warm breath of March might replace the odour of soap and
water.
Kitty entered. "I beg you to observe, Herr Doctor," she said, "that I
am still fit to be seen," displaying as she spoke, not without some
scorn in the gesture, her small, rosy hands, their wrists encircled by
snowy linen cuffs.
An expressive smile lit up his grave face; he said nothing, however, but
turned away to close again the southern window, through which a strong
draught came so freshly that it fluttered the brown curls upon the
girl's forehead. The curtain, too, blew into the room; Kitty seized it
with a skilful hand and tried to replace each stiff fold as it was
before.
"Poor dear Susie! if she only knew how I detest these curtains!" she
said, half laughing, half provoked. "They must stay now whether I like
them or not, for she must have coaxed them out of my guardian entirely
for me. Figured muslin curtains before such arched windows in the finest
mediaeval room that can be imagined! I meant to arrange and furnish it
just as it might have been three centuries ago, with round, leaded panes
of glass, and broad, oaken, cushioned window-seats; and there, upon the
huge door leading out upon the stairs, I meant to have large antique
brass bolts and hinges. Grandpapa must have had the old ones taken off;
the marks are still there to show where they were. And then, with old
Susie sitting by the window at her spinning-wheel!--I had imagined it
all so pretty and cosy,--and now I shall have to give up the whole
thing."
"But I can't see---- Are you not mistress here?"
"Oh, I shall never be able to do anything in such a case; I know myself
too well," she replied, almost dejectedly. "In such matters I am a
terrible coward." The contrast between this frank confession and the
young girl's commanding exterior was so great that there needed indeed a
keen glance into her hazel eyes to convince one that she spoke only the
simple truth. These eyes were not very large, but well shaped and
clear; their calm gaze was in thorough harmony with her independent,
self-assured bearing. How quietly and practically she arranged
everything for the coming of the invalid! A bed was made up on the sofa;
the castle miller's huge leather-cushioned arm-chair was drawn out of
the window-niche and placed so as to shelter the patient from every
draught. She brought a little table from the recess, and placed the
well-scoured footstool before the high sofa, and all was done as
regularly and easily as if she had never been away from the mill. She
was so absorbed in the occupation of the moment that she seemed to have
quite forgotten the presence of the man standing by the southern window.
Only when she opened the table-drawer and took out a white cloth with a
woven red border, to spread it upon the little table in front of the
arm-chair, did she turn to him and say, "There is something delightful
in this old bourgeois order; nothing is ever out of place. Here it all
was before I was born, and in all these six years that I have been away
nothing has been changed. I am at home at once." She pointed to the
mirror above the table. "There, behind the frame, I see the corner of
the almanac, where grandpapa kept his accounts, and over the top is
still sticking the rod, with its faded ribbon, once my mother's terror."
"And yours too?"
"No; grandpapa never paid me, poor little thing, enough attention to
care about my improvement." She spoke entirely without bitterness,
rather with a kind of smiling resignation. She went on to remove every
particle of dust that had accumulated during Susie's illness upon tables
and chairs, and closed the other windows. "There must be some flowers
upon these stone window-ledges; their fragrance will refresh my poor
Susie. I shall beg brother Moritz for some hyacinths and pots of
violets from his conservatory----"
"You will have to apply to Frau President Urach; she has absolute and
sole control of the conservatory; it belongs to her apartments."
The young girl opened her eyes. "Is etiquette so strictly observed at
the villa now? During papa's lifetime the conservatory was the common
property of the family." She shrugged her shoulders. "True, my
father's distinguished mother-in-law was, at that time, only an
occasional guest at the villa." Her melodious voice sharpened slightly
in tone as she spoke these last words, but she tossed her head as she
finished, as if she could thus shake off a momentarily disagreeable
sensation, and added, with a smile, "'Tis all the better that I came
first to the mill to acclimatize myself."
He left the window and approached her. "But will they not be vexed over
there that you did not immediately upon your arrival place yourself
under the protection of the family?" he asked, seriously, as one who
would like to hint a gentle word of advice without presuming.
"They have no right to be so," she hastily and eagerly replied, with a
blush. "Those 'over there,' 'the family,' as you call them, are alike
strangers to me; I cannot beforehand feel as if I belonged to them, not
even to my sisters. We do not know one another; there has not been even
the slight tie of an interchange of letters between us,--I have
corresponded only with Moritz. While papa lived, Henriette resided with
her grandmother; we saw each other but seldom, and then always in the
presence of the Frau President. My sister, Moritz Roemer's wife, lived
in town, and died long ago. And Flora? She was very beautiful and
charming,--a belle who was at the head of papa's household while I was a
child. Flora must have been wonderfully gifted, one always felt so timid
and awe-stricken in her presence. I never ventured to talk to her, or
even to touch her beautiful hands, and to-day I feel it would be very
presuming for me to adopt towards her the familiar tone customary
between sisters."
She paused and looked to him for a rejoinder, but he was gazing away far
over the distant prospect, and said no word by way of encouragement.
Had he not served for the lovely girl as Jacob served for Rachel?
Possibly he did not even like to think that love for a sister could find
lodgment in the heart that was at last his own. In spite of the
gentleness and courtesy which were his by virtue of his profession, he
looked as if he could vindicate his rights with great decision and
gravity.
"As matters stand, the villa is no longer my home; I can visit it only
as a guest, upon the same footing with other guests," she began again,
after a moment's pause. "Here in the mill I am on my native soil, the
air of home about me, and the sensation of home in my heart; and Franz
and Susie will as faithfully protect my minority as can be done at the
villa, with all its strict etiquette." A rebellious smile hovered upon
her lips. "Moreover, they will forgive this breach of decorum sooner
than you think, Herr Doctor; nothing better could be expected of the
'miller's mouse.'"
The pet name her father had given her was certainly most inapplicable
now; any name that suggested a timorous flitting and gliding hither and
thither into holes and corners scarcely befitted this girl, so calmly
presenting to the world the spotless shield of her fair brow, and with
all the supple vigour of her healthy youth, bearing herself with a kind
of calm dignity.
Gradually a comfortable warmth was diffused by the stove. Kitty took
from her pocket a tiny flask, and, pouring a few drops of cologne upon
the heated iron, the air was filled with a purifying fragrance. "Susie
will feel very grand and fine when she comes in here now," she said,
gaily, looking about her once more to see that all was as it should be.
Everything was in order, except that the recess door was ajar, and
through it could be seen the gay carnations upon the head of the
bedstead near the window. For the first time the girl's eye fell upon
the well-known, clumsily-painted flowers that had once been the delight
of her childish soul; the bloom left her cheeks, even her red lips grew
pale.
"Grandpapa died there?" she whispered, agitated.
Doctor Bruck shook his head and pointed towards the southern window of
the room.
"Were you with him?" she asked, quickly, coming closer to his side.
"Yes."
"He died so suddenly, and Moritz gave me such an unsatisfactory account
of his death, that I do not even know what caused it."
The doctor was standing so that only his profile was towards her; he
wore a heavy moustache and beard, and yet she could see his lips close
tightly, as if it were difficult for them to frame a reply. After a
moment's pause, he slowly turned and looked her full in the face. "They
will tell you that he died in consequence of my want of skill in
surgery," he said, in a voice which emotion made almost husky.
The young girl started back in horror; the glance which had been fixed
upon the lips of the speaker sought the ground.
"Solely and simply for your own satisfaction," he continued, with gentle
gravity, "I should like to assure you that such an assertion is utterly
untrue; but how can I expect that you should believe me? We have never
met before to-day, and know nothing of each other."
She might have easily extricated herself from her present embarrassment
with some superficial commonplace, but it never occurred to her to do
so. He was right; how could she know if he were really blameless and
public opinion in the wrong? True, his whole bearing was stamped with
simple frankness and integrity. She could not but feel that it was not
his nature to deign one word in self-justification in the face of unjust
suspicion; nay, that even the assurance he had just given her was a
condescension on his part. And yet she would not say what she could
give no real reason for believing.
He evidently expected no answer, for he turned away, but with so much
dignity and proud composure that Kitty had a sudden sense of shame, and
the blood rushed to her cheeks. "May I bring Susie in here now?" she
asked, in an uncertain voice.
He assented, and she hastily left the room. In Susie's little bedroom
she wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes, and learned from
the old housekeeper the manner of her grandfather's death.
"It has done the doctor no end of harm in town," the old woman
concluded. "He used to be thought the best there, and had more to do
than he could get through with; now they all say he doesn't understand
his business. That's the way of the world, Fraeulein Kitty. And he was
not to blame for the misfortune. Everything went well; I saw it with my
own eyes. But the castle miller was to keep perfectly quiet. _He_ keep
quiet, indeed! I know better than any one how the smallest trifle would
make him turn red as a turkey-cock. Why, if Franz only spoke too loud,
or a wagon drove too quickly into the yard, he would fall into a rage.
I have borne enough in his service, and not a penny did he leave me for
my pains,"--she laughed, a short, angry laugh;--"if _you_ had not cared
for me I should be begging my bread now."
Kitty raised her forefinger gravely, to impose silence upon the peevish
old woman.
"Just as you please; I will be quiet," she said, as she sat like a
helpless child while her young mistress wrapped her up in shawls and
coverlets. "I am only sorry that such a good gentleman as the doctor
should be so abused, and the very bread taken out of his mouth; and it
is too bad for his poor old aunt, for whom he works so hard. She gave
him his education out of her scanty means,--the old Frau Dean. She lives
with him: he was always her pride; and for her to live to see this----"
Kitty put a stop to this talk, which threatened to become very
discursive, by carefully helping the old woman to rise from her
arm-chair. She was too much estranged from her former home, her
thoughts and hopes were too much concentrated in Dresden, to admit of
much interest at present in the private affairs of Flora's lover. She
certainly pitied the physician, whose failure to cure had so suddenly
imperilled position, and even means of subsistence; but grief for her
grandfather, who must have suffered much, far outweighed that
compassion.
Supported upon the young girl's strong arm, old Susie hobbled along the
passage. The door of the corner room was open, and at the foot of the
stairs leading down to it stood Doctor Bruck, with arms extended, to
receive and assist the sufferer. It was a characteristic group that met
his eyes. Kitty had put around her neck the invalid's sound arm, holding
the brown, bony hand firmly clasped in her own upon her left shoulder,
while her right arm was around Susie's waist. The girl looked the
embodiment of self-sacrificing compassion, as, bending over the crippled
old creature, she laid her glowing young face upon the gray head, above
the wrinkled brow.
In a few moments Susie was comfortably seated in the airy apartment.
She anxiously examined the famous curtains, was much shocked at the bed
upon the "beautiful sofa," and tried in vain to conceal her pleasure at
being once more able to count every sack of grain that was brought to
the mill or carried thence.
The girl looked at her watch. "It is time I should present myself at
the villa, if I would not run the risk of intruding upon the Frau
President's distinguished tea-table," she said, with a feigned shudder,
taking her gloves from her pocket. "In an hour I will come back and
make you some broth, Susie----"
"With those hands?"
"With these hands, of course. Do you suppose I sit with them in my lap
in Dresden? Why, you knew my Lukas, Susie,--she is just what she used
to be, always astir, not a moment lost. You ought to see her. Such
another doctor's wife it would be hard to find." And she left the
apartment to get jacket and cap from Susie's room.