A WASTED PLEA
Frederik concealed his annoyance as best he could, and smiled
affectionately at the little bride-to-be, trying to coax her out of her
mood. He looked around the familiar room a bit scornfully.
"Huh! This old cottage with its candles and lamps and shadows! What does
it amount to? Wait until I've shown you the home I _want_ you to
have--the house Mrs. Frederik Grimm _should_ live in."
He patted her arm once or twice as he spoke, to give further weight to
his words; but they seemed lost on Kathrien. Her eyes grew more and more
troubled and her sweet face increasingly wistful.
"I don't want to leave this house," she said. "I don't want any home but
this. I should be wretched if you took me away."
As she spoke, she glanced helplessly at the fresh flowers on Oom Peter's
desk, placed there daily by her faithful, loving little fingers.
"I'm sure Oom Peter would like to think of me as here, among our dear,
dear flowers!"
Frederik tried to reassure her as one does a child, and answered
soothingly:
"Of course--but what you need is a change, yes?"
Kathrien turned away and traced a pattern on the newel post with her
slender fingers. She found it very hard to talk. After a moment, she
went on:
"I--I've always wanted to please Oom Peter.--I always felt that I owed
everything to him--if he had lived and I could have seen his happiness
over our marriage, that would have made _me_ happy, almost. But he's
gone--and every day--the longer he's away from me, the more I see for
myself that I don't feel toward you as I ought. You know it. But I want
to tell you again. I'm perfectly willing to marry you. Only--I'm afraid
I can't make you happy."
Looking at him with sorrowful, perplexed eyes, she went on:
"It's so disloyal to speak like this after I promised _him_; but,
Frederik, it's _true_."
Frederik found it hard to keep his patience; yet he continued to reason
with Kathrien in a voice even gentler than before, though with an
accent of finality in it that she could not disregard as he said:
"But you _did_ promise Uncle Peter you'd marry me, yes?"
Her answering "Yes" was barely audible.
Frederik continued insistently:
"And he died believing you, yes?"
Kathrien merely nodded; she could not look at him, could not speak.
After a moment she went on, her eyes still averted:
"That's what makes me try to live up to it. Still, I cannot help feeling
that if Oom Peter knew how hard everything seems--how alone I feel----"
"You are not alone while I am here, _lievling_----"
Kathrien smiled pathetically.
"You don't understand, Frederik. You mean to be kind--and you _are_
kind. And I thank you for it; but if only my mother had lived! As long
as dear Oom Peter was here he was father, mother, everything to me. I
felt no lack; but now--oh, I want my mother to turn to----"
The girl's eyes were suddenly suffused with tears.
"Don't you _see_? Try to know how I feel.--Try to understand----"
Suddenly Frederik stopped her torrent of words. He took her in his arms
before she realised it, and, kissing her, he said:
"_Natürlich_--I understand. I love you--and in time--Wait! You shall
see! You must not worry, sweetheart. These things will come right, all
in good time."
But Kathrien had released herself with nervous if quiet haste.
"Willem is feeling so much better," she said, with a change of tone to
the ordinary.
"_Tc!_"
With his usual display of annoyance at the mention of Willem, Frederik
left Kathrien and walked over to Oom Peter's desk, where he began to
pick up and lay down the various articles strewn about its surface;
without in the least realising what he was doing.
"I do hope that child will be kept out of the way--to-morrow," he said
roughly.
"Why?"
"Oh--oh, I----"
Frederik found it hard to tell why.
"You have always disliked poor little Willem, haven't you?" demanded
Kathrien.
"N--no----" answered Frederik. "But----"
His nervousness was very evident as he still moved fussily about the
desk.
"_Yes, you have_," continued Kathrien calmly. "I remember how angry you
were when you came back from Leyden University and found him living
here. How could you help being drawn to a little blue-eyed,
golden-haired baby such as he was then?--Only five years old, and such a
darling! He won us all at once, except you. And in all the three years
he has been here, we've only grown more and more fond of him each day.
You love children--you go out of your way to pick up a child and pet it.
Why do you dislike Anne Marie's little boy?"
"Oh!" cried Frederik impatiently, "he has a way of staring at people as
though he had a perpetual question on his lips----"
He was interrupted by a vivid flash of lightning and a long roll of
thunder.
"Oh, a little child!" said Kathrien reproachfully. "He has only kindness
from everybody. Why shouldn't he look at one?"
"And then his mother!" went on Frederik, gazing into the fire, while
the rain, steadily increasing with the nearer approach of thunder and
lightning, blotted away the pleasant landscape outside the windows.
"Uncle and I loved Anne Marie, and we had forgiven her. Why should _you_
blame her so bitterly? Surely she has suffered enough to expiate----"
"I don't want to be hard upon any woman. I've never seen her since she
left the house, but--Hear that rain! It's pouring again! The third day.
You're wise to have a fire in here. This old house would be damp
otherwise in a long storm like this. By the way, Hartmann is back for a
few hours to straighten things out--I'm going to see what he's doing."
Frederik went up to Kathrien, and putting his arms about her, led her up
to the piano, saying:
"Kitty, have you seen all the wedding presents? Wait for me a while here
and look at them till I come back. I'll be with you again in a few
minutes."
Smiling, and giving her cheek a tender pat, he left her alone.
As she stood there, surrounded by all her gay presents, she looked
anything but the picture of a happy bride. Giving no thoughts to the
gifts, she stood, motionless, her eyes slowly filling with tears.
Suddenly the outer door slammed, and a moment afterward Dr. McPherson
entered. His tweed shawl and cap proclaimed the recent violence of the
storm as he hurriedly took them off and hung them up, and placed his
soaked umbrella in the rack. With a book under his arm, he came quickly
toward the girl, saying:
"Good-evening, Kathrien. How's Willem?"
Kathrien tried to hide her tears; but it was impossible to elude the
keen eyes of Dr. McPherson. In one quick glance he caught the situation.
"What's the matter?" he said curtly.
"Nothing," said Kathrien in a voice whose tremble she could not control;
yet bravely wiping away her tears as she spoke. "I was only thinking--I
was hoping that those we love--and lose--can't see us here. I'm
beginning to believe there's not much happiness in _this_ world."
The doctor looked at her with affectionate reproof, much as if she had
been a naughty child.
"Why, you little snip!" he said whimsically, as he pulled her toward him
determinedly. "I've a notion to chastise you! Talking like that with the
whole of life before you! Such cluttered nonsense!"
Still talking he started toward the stairs and Willem's room, and
Kathrien sank into a chair; but the doctor changed his mind, turned, and
came back to her again.
"Kathrien, I understand you've not a penny to your name," he said
gruffly, "unless you marry Frederik. He has inherited you--along with
the orchids and the tulips."
He put his arm around her with a gentle, protective movement as he went
on:
"Don't let that influence you. If Peter's plans bind you--and you look
as if they did--my door's open. Don't let the neighbours' opinions and a
few silver spoons," glancing towards the wedding gifts, "stand in the
way of your whole future."
Having thus opened his warm Scotch heart and his home to the motherless
girl, it was indicative of his character that he should give her no
chance to thank him. Before she could speak, he had run up the stairs,
placed his cigar on the little table in the upper hall, and hurried into
Willem's room.
Outside the sky grew blacker and blacker, darkening the room where
Kathrien sat. Suddenly she rose from her chair, and stretching out her
arms, gave a cry that was dragged from her very soul.
"Oh! Oom Peter, Oom Peter, why did you do it? _Why_ did you do it?"
She looked all at once a woman. No longer the carefree, happy girl she
had been but a few short weeks before. Standing thus, her beautiful face
full of agony, she did not hear Marta as she came in from the
dining-room to carry upstairs the dainty wedding clothes for the
morrow--a mass of filmy, fluffy white, laid carefully over both arms.
At first Marta did not see her in the dim yellow gloom of the large
room; but a moment later, in alarm, she dropped the clothes in a careful
heap on a chair, and ran to Kathrien as fast as her stocky figure and
many Dutch petticoats would allow.
"_Och_," she cried sympathetically. At her pitying touch, Kathrien
suddenly buried her face on Marta's broad breast, and broke into
convulsive sobs. Marta hushed her as she would a baby, with many sweet,
caressing Dutch words.
"Sh! Sh! _Lievling_, Sh! Sh! Old Marta is here! Cry all you want
to----'Twill do you good! A bride to cry on her wedding eve! Who ever
heard such things! You should be happy--the good Mynheer Grimm would
wish his child happy on her wedding eve! Sh! You will have a fine day
to-morrow, for it storms to-night--a good sign! You must have a bright
face to show your husband, and a face of happiness! Not a swollen little
face--like this! What a face to take to a bridegroom! Marta has fixed
the dress--'tis wonderful! See there over the chair, so filmy--like a
cloud--you will be like a lily in a cloud of dew to-morrow. Think how
beautiful! Do not spoil it all, _lievling_! Be happy, Kathrien, Kathrien
_wees, bedard, kindje lievling_. Be happy among those who love you so!"
Comforted by Marta's soothing words, and relieved by a good cry,
Kathrien wiped her eyes.
"There, there, Marta," she said, drawing a long, quivering breath,
"others have troubles too, haven't they?"
Marta nodded her head vigorously.
"_Ach!_" she sighed. "_Gut--Ja!_ Others have their troubles!"
Kathrien kissed Marta gently, then said:
"I had hoped, Marta, that Anne Marie would have heard of uncle, and come
back to us at this time--you are so brave--you never complain--Poor
Marta!"
Once more Marta sighed.
"If it could have brought us all together once more--but no
message--nothing--I cannot understand--my only child."
Nearer and nearer came the storm. The rain pounded on the shingles and
pattered loudly against the windows. The wind howled around the eves,
and the old house rattled and shook in spite of its solid foundation.
Marta, still brooding over Kathrien like a motherly hen over her
chicken, shuddered at the rattling of the window blinds.
From the midst of the general tumult a new sound detached itself--a
sharp double rap from the old-fashioned knocker.
"_Och!_" cried Marta. "It must be Pastor and the others! You don't feel
much like seeing visitors, my lamb. Run away now before I let 'em
in--and bathe your eyes in lavender water."
She hurried to the front door, and Kathrien, at once brought to herself,
hastened upstairs to her room.
As Marta opened wide the door, Mr. Batholommey and Colonel Lawton (Peter
Grimm's former lawyer) seemed fairly blown into the hall.
"Good-evening, Marta," boomed the clergyman's unctuous tones. "The
elements are indeed at war to-night! I trust the household is well?"
Marta curtseyed bobbingly to both men as she said:
"Yes, sir, thank you, Mr. Batholommey, only poor little Willem, sir.
He's strange and not like himself, sir. The doctor was in and out
through the day, and now he's here again--upstairs with Willem."
As Marta talked, Mr. Batholommey divested himself of his long black
rainproof coat, and Colonel Lawton (who had not felt it necessary to
reply to Marta's civil greeting) hastily took off his rubber poncho,
giving it a vigorous shake that sent the raindrops flying. He was a
tall, middle-aged man, loosely put together, who wore his clothes very
badly. One somehow got the idea that they were never pressed.
"Brr!" he cried, taking off his overshoes. "What a storm for June! It's
more like fall! Look at my rubbers--and yours are just as
bad--mud-soaked! Get 'em off, quick. They're enough to give any one a
chill!"
Marta had slipped out unnoticed, and now Frederik came in just in time
to see the dripping coats hung up on the hat rack.
"Good-evening," he said in what he intended for a cordial tone.
"Ah, just in time," answered Colonel Lawton. "Gee Whillikins! What a
day!"
Then turning again to Mr. Batholommey he went on jocularly:
"Great weather for baptisms--Parson."
Having successfully disentangled himself at last from all his
water-soaked outer coverings, Mr. Batholommey turned and offered a damp
and rainy hand to Frederik.
"Good-evening, good-evening, Frederik," he said impressively. "I'm glad
to see you. We are pleased to be here, _in spite_ of the weather."
"Well, here we are, Frederik, my boy,----" put in Colonel Lawton. "At
the time you set."
After shaking hands with both men, Frederik, perhaps unconsciously,
wiped his own on his handkerchief. Then going to the desk, he took a
paper from under the paperweight. After studying it a moment, he said
(smiling a bit to himself and turning that the others might not see the
smile):
"I sent for you to hear a memorandum left by my uncle. I came across it
only this morning."
Both Mr. Batholommey and Colonel Lawton tried to conceal their
excitement.
"I must have drawn up ten wills for the old gentleman," announced
Colonel Lawton, "but he always tore 'em up."
Then, throwing back his head and peering at Frederik through his
spectacles:
"May I have a drink of his plum brandy, Frederik?"
"Certainly," answered Frederik carelessly. "Help yourself. Pastor, will
you have some?"
Colonel Lawton poured out a glass of brandy and offered it to Mr.
Batholommey, then helped himself with alacrity. In the roll of thunder
which came at that moment, no one heard the footsteps of Mrs.
Batholommey, as she entered from the "front parlour."
The tableau that met her vision caused her to give a little shriek as
she stopped short, and gazed with horror-struck eyes at her husband and
his brandy glass.
"Why, _Henry_! _What_ are you doing? Are your feet wet?"
Mr. Batholommey did not get a drink every day, and this one was much too
nearly his to be relinquished now. It was not a case for self-denial.
It was not a case where it was necessary to be a good example for any
one. Therefore the pastor gave place to the husband for a moment, and
when Mrs. Batholommey repeated:
"Are your feet wet, Henry?"
He answered with decision:
"No, Rose, they're _not_. I want a drink and I'm going to _take_ it.
It's a bad night."
Mrs. Batholommey said no more, but closing her mouth tightly, turned
away with lifted eyebrows and downcast eyes, reproachful indignation
bristling at every point.
Her husband, well pleased at his little victory, smacked his lips with
enjoyment; returned the now empty glass to the Colonel and, rubbing his
hands together, went toward the fireplace. Mrs. Batholommey, her
indignation quickly forgotten, joined him there and sat down beside him.
Colonel Lawton, hastily replacing decanter and glasses on the table,
also drew up a chair in front of the fire--and waited.