THE EVE OF A WEDDING
Ten days later the household, which had been Peter Grimm's and was his
no longer, had sufficiently adjusted itself to new conditions to
endeavour to carry out his dearest wish--the marriage of Kathrien to
Frederik.
It was near the close of a rainy afternoon, and Mrs. Batholommey
(installed in the house as temporary chaperone and adviser to Kathrien)
was busily engaged in drilling four little girls from her own
Sunday-school class to sing the Bridal Chorus from Lohengrin.
Standing at the piano, and playing with a sure, determined touch, she
gazed over her shoulder at the children and sang vigorously, nodding her
head to emphasise the tempo:
"Faithful and true we lead ye forth
Where love triumphant shall lead the way.
Bright star of love, flower of the earth,
Shine on ye both on your love's perfect day."
As the last line was reached, Mrs. Batholommey raised her hand in a
signal to stop.
"That's better. Now, children--not too loud. Remember, this is a very
_quiet_ wedding. You're to be here at noon to-morrow. You mustn't speak
as you enter the room, and take your places near the piano. Now we'll
sing as though the bride were here. I'll represent the bride."
Mrs. Batholommey pointed at Kathrien's door as she spoke, and started
toward it with subdued but undeniable enthusiasm.
"Miss Kathrien will come down the stairs from her room, I suppose--and
will stand--I don't know where--but you've got to stop when I look at
you. Watch me now----"
Bending her knees, she stood bobbing up and down in time to the
children's singing, until she caught the step, then started down the
stairs, unconsciously raising and lowering her dress skirt to emphasise
the rhythm of the song.
Across the room she marched, head bent and eyes cast down, while the
children repeated the familiar verse over and over.
Having marched herself into a corner she halted and faced the little
singers. At that moment, however, Frederik entered, and the rehearsal
was over for the day. Mrs. Batholommey quickly left her rôle of bride
and dismissed the chorus with many warnings and instructions.
"That will do, children. Hurry home between showers and don't forget
what I've told you about to-morrow!"
While she busied herself helping them into their rubbers and
waterproofs, Frederik puffed at a cigarette in silence and was seemingly
without the slightest interest in what was going on around him. A great
change had taken place in his demeanour since his uncle's death. He had
come into his own. The place, and everything, including Kathrien
herself, would be his. He did not even try to veil his feeling of
mastership. Walking over to his uncle's desk-chair, he sat down and
began to pull off his gloves, looking at the children a trifle
superciliously.
Mrs. Batholommey felt it necessary to explain, and murmured with
deprecatory haste:
"My Sunday-school children. I thought your dear uncle wouldn't like it
if he knew there wasn't going to be _any_ singing during the marriage
ceremony to-morrow. I know how bright and cheery _he_ liked everything,"
she purred. "If he were alive it would be a church wedding! Dear, happy,
charitable soul!"
As she spoke she handed the children their umbrellas and, exchanging
good-byes, the little choir hurried out into the rain.
"Where's Kathrien?" said Frederik.
"Still upstairs with Willem," answered Mrs. Batholommey, glancing up
toward the little boy's room apprehensively as she spoke, and lowering
her voice a bit.
Frederik made an inarticulate sound of annoyance, and putting his hand
into his pocket, took out two steamer tickets and examined them. His one
idea was to get away from the simple, quaint surroundings that his uncle
had kept and beautified for him in the fond, proud hope that his nephew
would love and care for the place as he had done.
To Frederik it meant nothing but a humdrum existence, full of annoying
detail. The money for which it stood had been his goal--that, and
Kathrien, his uncle's very brightest flower--a flower which he was about
to tear up by the roots and transplant to foreign soil.
Mrs. Batholommey sat down in the big chair by the fire, and took up her
crochet work with a sigh. Occasionally she looked at Frederik, and
finally she spoke.
"Of course I'm glad to stay here and chaperone Kathrien; but poor Mr.
Batholommey has been alone at the parsonage for ten days--ever since
your dear uncle--it will be ten days to-morrow since he di--oh, by the
way, some mail came for your uncle. I put it in the drawer."
Frederik did not trouble to answer. He merely nodded.
"Curious how long before people know a man's gone," soliloquised Mrs.
Batholommey.
Opening the drawer carelessly Frederik took out his uncle's mail--two
business letters and one in a plain blue envelope. He looked at them a
moment, put them down, and proceeded to light another cigarette. Then he
rose, and picking up his gloves looked toward the office.
"Did Hartmann come?" he said.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Batholommey, holding up a corner of the shawl she
was crocheting, and surveying it critically. With a coquettish glance
toward the bridegroom, she hummed a little bit of the wedding march.
Frederik paid no attention to her, but, turning, gazed out of the
window. Mrs. Batholommey, however, as the wife of a clergyman, was not
used to being ignored; moreover, she was naturally of a persevering
disposition--and, added to that, she had something on her mind and could
keep still about it no longer.
"Er----" (Mrs. Batholommey coughed expressively.) "By the way, Mr.
Batholommey was very much excited when he heard that your uncle had left
a personal memorandum concerning _us_. We're anxious to have it read."
She might as well have addressed herself to a stone. Frederik made no
sort of a response. Instead, he lounged over to the piano and examined
some of the wedding presents piled up there.
Mrs. Batholommey rose with decision and approached the piano.
"_We are anxious to have it read!_"
No answer.
With a scorching glance at Frederik, Mrs. Batholommey, her work gathered
in a fluffy white bunch in her arms, marched quickly out of the room and
slammed the door.
A moment later James, newly returned from the South, entered the room
from the office. Frederik had found it impossible to get on without him
in the matter of winding up his uncle's business and had sent an urgent
and somewhat peremptory call for his immediate return.
As, just then, he needed James, he was rather more civil to him than
usual; but, from the first, he did not fail to sound the
employer-employee note.
He came forward and shook hands cordially.
"Good-afternoon. Good-afternoon. How do you do, Hartmann? I'm very glad
you consented to come back and straighten out a few matters. Naturally,
there's some business correspondence I don't understand."
"I've already gone over some of it," answered Hartmann.
"I appreciate the fact that you came over on my _uncle's_ account."
So saying, Frederik turned away with a ceremonious bow.
Hartmann went over to the desk and took a letter from the file. Then he
said coldly:
"Oh, I see that Hicks of Rochester has written you. I hope you don't
intend to sell out your uncle before his monument is set up."
Frederik turned toward Hartmann and put down his cigarette.
"I? Sell out? My intention is to carry out every wish of my dear
uncle's."
James, at this moment catching sight of Frederik's black-bordered
handkerchief, said sceptically:
"I hope so," and vanished into the office with a handful of papers.
He wished as few words as possible with Frederik. He could not bear to
look at him--for the thought that to-morrow Kathrien was to marry the
man and go out of his own life for all time was almost more than he
could stand. He had watched her grow from a lovely little girl to a
lovelier woman--he understood her as did no one else, not even Oom
Peter, who, too, had loved her so devotedly.
And he felt that she loved him, though no word had ever been said. And
now--he must let her go--he must let this worthless fellow take her--to
a life of unhappiness; for knowing the sweet soul of Kathrien, who could
doubt that such a marriage would bring her unhappiness?
Frederik's eyes rested thoughtfully on Hartmann's retreating figure.
Then a slight sound attracted his attention, and he looked up in time to
see Kathrien coming downstairs. Her simple white dress held no touch of
mourning, yet she was a wistful, pathetic little figure, full of
sadness.
"Ah, Kitty! See----" (taking out the tickets as he spoke). "Here's the
steamship tickets for Europe. I've arranged everything."
He took a step forward to meet her.
"Well, to-morrow's our wedding day, _lievling_, yes?"
"Yes," answered Kathrien in a breathless way.
"It'll be a June wedding," Frederik went on, "just as Oom Peter wished."
Kathrien forced herself to speak brightly.
"Yes--just as he wished. Everything is just as he----" she broke off
suddenly with a change of manner, and gazed at Frederik with beseeching
earnestness.
"Frederik, I don't want to go away. I don't want to take this journey to
Europe. If only I could stay quietly in--in my own dear home!"