Whatever Andrew Cruger may have thought in his inner consciousness on
the subject of his son's engagement to Hélène Stanton, he outwardly
showed no sign that he was not well pleased. He simply gave the
consent that Beverly asked of him, and accepted the new condition as
another event in the continuity of life. "Of course there can be no
formal engagement until her father returns from Europe," said he.
"Can't we get his consent by cable?" asked his son.
"I don't believe in these irregularities," said the elder Cruger, whose
diplomatic training had made him something of a stickler for formality
and precedent. "There will be time enough for that when he returns."
Beverly submitted without another word, for he felt that his father had
already given way to him a good deal. The young people did not cable
to Mr. Stanton for his consent, for all agreed that there would be time
enough to acquaint him with the fact when he returned. Whatever Mr.
Cruger's mental attitude toward the engagement might have been his
manner toward Hélène was most cordial. As for Beverly's mother, she
was delighted beyond all words.
"The dear, dear girl, how I shall love her!" she said to Beverly, on
hearing the news. And after she had showered mother kisses,
plentifully mixed with mother tears, on them both, her happiness was
well-nigh complete.
That afternoon the Crugers were to make a formal call on Hélène.
Andrew Cruger had finally yielded to his son's entreaties and consented
to call on her, notwithstanding the fact that Mr. Stanton was still in
Europe and his formal consent had not been obtained.
"I have been looking forward to the day when I should see my son's
wife," said the elder Cruger, somewhat pompously to Hélène, as he
greeted her with outstretched hand. He could never get over the idea
that formalism was the soul of function.
"I have always felt that I would demand a great deal of her," went on
Mr. Cruger, in his best after-dinner manner. "I thank you for giving
me everything I could desire! You are the daughter of a man whose
charity and beneficence we all respect and admire, and--" Here he
paused to take breath.
"Thank you," said Hélène simply. She was surprised that he did not
kiss her instead of making a formal speech.
"I know that father means what he says," remarked Beverly to his
mother; "but I do wish he would say it in a less stereotyped manner."
"Hush!" replied his mother, "your father is speaking again."
"I want your married life to begin auspiciously," continued the elder
Cruger, as if he had not been interrupted. "So I have made what I
consider to be a sacrifice for you. I had hoped to retire from public
life, but I have altered my decision. I shall again represent my
country in a foreign land."
Hélène gratefully acknowledged the sacrifice, although she did not
quite see where it came in. She had heard that most American
representatives at foreign courts managed rather to enjoy life than
otherwise.
"When I go abroad as hostess in the Embassy that Mr. Cruger
represents," Mrs. Cruger said, taking up the thread of the
conversation, "I want my son's wife to share my honours. A sweet young
woman, far younger than I, is almost a--a--"
"A charming necessity," added Mr. Cruger, who made it a habit to finish
his wife's sentences.
"Yes, a charming necessity," echoed his wife, and, then she continued:
"The fact that Octavie is engaged suggests a double wedding. They will
marry in June, if the weather is good."
"What has the weather to do with Octavie's wedding?" inquired Mr.
Cruger.
"Simply that it's an automobile wedding, Andrew," replied his wife.
Mr. Cruger looked almost pained. "Permit me to remark, Mary, that no
Cruger was ever married in an automobile and I trust that no Cruger
will so far forget himself or herself as to establish so ridiculous a
precedent."
"The motor business comes in after the wedding, father; at least so
Octavie said," whispered Beverly.
"Your niece is very frivolous," remarked Mr. Cruger to his wife. "I
shall take pains to remind her that we Crugers marry quietly in
Trinity!"
Hélène laughed aloud. The idea of Octavie doing anything quietly
appealed to her sense of humour.
"She does not take us very seriously," thought Mr. Cruger. Mrs. Cruger
glanced at her husband and noticed a rather injured expression appear
upon his face. Evidently he was not highly pleased at Hélène's levity.
"You have written to your father?" Mr. Cruger asked her presently.
"No, Mr. Cruger," replied Hélène after a pause.
"No, my dear?" echoed Mr. Cruger in surprise.
"I will tell him when he returns," said Hélène.
Mr. Cruger was almost dismayed. "You have not written to your father?"
he repeated. "My dear Hélène, these formalities must be complied with!
Your father's consent is of the utmost importance. Not that I
anticipate any--er--opposition from that quarter, but it's merely the
idea of the thing! Of course, I am somewhat old-fashioned, I admit."
"In France, for instance, it is against the law," interrupted Beverly
in a satirical tone.
Hélène smiled. Her prospective father-in-law appeared to her somewhat
punctilious, but she determined to humour him.
"Your father is quite right, Beverly," she said. "I should have cabled
at once."
At this moment Joles entered, apparently somewhat nervous. "Mr. Von
Barwig is here, miss," he explained. "I told him you were engaged,
but----"
"Ask him to come up, Joles." Joles was surprised, but being a
well-trained servant, his face gave no outward indication of his
feelings.
"It is my music master, Mrs. Cruger. I think this is a splendid
opportunity for you to see him about your niece's music lessons." Mr.
Cruger looked almost shocked. A music master invited to take part in a
family function! Such conduct savoured of socialism, and socialism did
not appeal to him.
"Herr Von Barwig is a most exceptionable person," said Hélène, quite
unconscious of the thought her words had aroused in her prospective
father-in-law.
"Von Barwig? Von Barwig?" repeated Mr. Cruger, apparently interested
in the name. "Don't I know that name? It seems quite familiar. A
music master, you say? Yes, it seems to me that I do know it!"
"He's one of the dearest old chaps I ever met," broke in Beverly, "such
a gentle creature, a most excellent musician, but rather unfortunate."
"I know the name quite well, but if it's the man I mean it's impossible
that it can be the same. He was a fine musician, from Dresden I think.
Was it Dresden?" he asked himself, as if annoyed that his memory had
played him false. "It must have been Dresden or Leipsic."
"Herr Von Barwig," announced Joles, in his most formal and freezing
manner.
Poor old Von Barwig came into the room expecting to see no one but
Hélène, and was painfully astounded to see so many strangers. He wore
his old broadcloth suit; it was well brushed, but more shiny than ever.
Poons had carefully brushed it for him that morning and it was more
than scrupulously clean. His gloves were old, but Jenny had mended up
the holes the night before, so he looked even neater and more genteel
than usual this afternoon. He carried the cheap little bunch of
violets, wrapped in paper, in one hand and his hat in the other, for
Joles had never been able to persuade him to leave it in the hall. He
stood by the door, as close as he could get to it, as if afraid to come
in, and then bowed low to Hélène and the others. There he waited with
timid dignity, uncertain as to what he should do next. There was a
dead silence for a few moments.
"I'm so glad to see you," said Hélène in an affectionate tone, coming
to the rescue; and taking him warmly by the hand she led him away from
the door into the middle of the room.
"Glad to meet you again, Herr Von Barwig," said Beverly, coming
forward, and shaking hands with him far more cordially than the
occasion called for. He then introduced Von Barwig to his mother and
father. The elder Cruger looked at him very closely.
"It seems to me that we have met before, sir. Your face is very
familiar. Yes, yes; Prince Holberg Meckstein introduced me to you at
one of your concerts."
"Holberg Meckstein," repeated Von Barwig in a frightened voice. "Yes,
I--I knew him; but--but--I--forgive me, I--I do not remember!"
"It was in Leipsic; oh, it must be fifteen years ago!" said Mr. Cruger.
"At that time I had the United States Embassy at Berlin. Surely, you
must remember! You became nervous that night while conducting your own
symphony, and you fainted away right before the audience. Don't you
remember?"
"I remember," said Von Barwig, in a low hoarse voice, which he
controlled with great difficulty.
"And then a few months later you made some inquiries at the Embassy for
me," went on Mr. Cruger, "but I was unfortunately not there at the
time, and so was unable to be of service to you. You had some mission,
some object in going to America, the Secretary of Legation said. You
wanted a list of all the large towns in the United States. I hope you
were successful in finding what you were searching for?"
"No, sir, I did not accomplish--my mission," replied Von Barwig, who
had gained command of himself to some extent, and could speak without
giving evidence of his emotion. "It is extremely kind of you to
remember me!" His retiring, bashful manner was somewhat disconcerting,
but beneath it there was the unmistakable evidence of birth, breeding
and dignity.
"I am glad to find you in the house of such a distinguished citizen of
the United States as Mr. Stanton," said Mr. Cruger at parting with Von
Barwig.
"Ah, you know him, her father! He is a distinguished citizen?" said
Von Barwig, and the last ray of hope died within him. "He is a
distinguished citizen," he said to himself, "and he is her father." He
sighed deeply, and reproached himself for ever having hoped.
"That old man has a history," thought the elder Cruger, as he went up
to Hélène, intent on saying good-bye to her. Joles had announced his
wife's nieces, and he did not care to stay longer. He had done his
duty by Beverly and that was all that was necessary. As he shook hands
warmly with Hélène, he said to her:
"I should like to see Herr Von Barwig again."
Hélène squeezed his hand warmly; it was the first note of affection
that had been sounded between them.
"Let me know if I can be of any service to him," he said.
"I will, I promise you I will," replied Hélène, and Mr. Cruger took his
departure, accompanied by his son.
The girls were introduced to Herr Von Barwig. "And this is Hélène's
romance," thought Octavie, as she looked at Von Barwig and laughed
aloud. Von Barwig thought she was a very pleasant young lady, and
smiled back in return.
"I should like Charlotte to study for the next two years, Herr Von
Barwig, and Octavie till about June," said Mrs. Cruger, who was
determined to get Herr Von Barwig to teach her nieces, since Hélène had
recommended him so highly.
"I don't want to study at all," said Octavie. "Who ever heard of an
engaged girl studying?"
"And pray, am I not an engaged girl, as you call it?" asked Hélène, who
was pouring out tea. "And do I not study?"
"Yes, but you're an accomplished musician and----"
"One lump or two, Herr Von Barwig?" broke in Hélène, to change the
conversation.
"No lumps! Yes, thank you, I take one," said Von Barwig, somewhat
confused by the incessant chatter of the young ladies, who smiled at
his awkwardness.
"Cake, Herr Von Barwig?" Hélène held out the dish to her music master.
"No, thank you," he replied quietly, and then catching an appealing
look from her, he took a cake, and then another.
"The idea of waiting on a music master," whispered Octavie to
Charlotte; "she'll spoil him."
"She's a socialist," said Charlotte.
"Come, girls, tell Herr Von Barwig what you know. If he can teach such
a finished pianist as Hélène, I am determined that you shall have the
advantage of his tutelage."
"A finished musician?" thought Von Barwig. "Heaven save us! You have
had lessons before?" he continued to ask one of the gay young ladies.
"You have studied a great deal, yes?"
"We've had lots of lessons," replied Octavie, "but I don't think we've
studied; at least I haven't!" she confessed.
"Don't count on me! I know nothing; absolutely nothing!" volunteered
Charlotte.
"Well," said Von Barwig sententiously, "that is something at all
events! Many musicians take years to discover that."
"I only want to know enough to do a few stunts," said Charlotte to him
gaily.
Von Barwig's face fell. "Stunts! they do not love music," he thought,
"they want to do tricks." And then the girls talked on the subject of
musical comedies, popular songs and dance music, until their aunt
interrupted them.
"Come, Charlotte," said the excellent Mrs. Cruger. She thought her
nieces had had time to prevail on the eminent professor to take them.
"Remember your appointment at the museum."
Von Barwig, in the act of drinking tea, nearly choked. He thought of
his Dime Museum. "If they should ever dream of such a thing!"
"My drawing master is meeting me at the Museum of Art," explained
Charlotte to Von Barwig.
"Will you play something before you go?" asked Von Barwig. Charlotte
went to the piano and banged out a two-step march that was the raging
popular tune of the day.
"Ah, that is the stunt! Now, if you will play some music," ventured
Von Barwig, "I can just tell you where you are."
"Isn't that music?" asked Charlotte.
"It is rhythm and jingle--a stunt as you call it. Real musicians do
not write such things."
"Isn't there a method of learning how to play without practising?"
broke in Octavie.
"From nothing comes nothing," said Von Barwig with a sigh.
"Quite true," assented Mrs. Cruger.
"Some day," said Von Barwig prophetically, "some day they will invent a
machine that will play itself. All you will have to do is to pump a
bellows, or turn a wheel and the music will play itself! You will see;
there is so much demand for it, some one will rise to the occasion."
"Splendid!" said Charlotte. "Won't that save lots of hard work!"
"We'll write and make an appointment; Hélène will give us the address,"
said Octavie, as they said good-bye to Von Barwig.
"Thank you so much, Herr Professor, for your patience and courtesy,"
said Mrs. Cruger at parting.
Herr Von Barwig bowed. The girls accompanied by their aunt took their
leave, and he was left alone with Hélène. He took the paper from the
little bunch of violets he had brought with him, and handed them to her.
"Ah, thank you so much! But why do you always bring me flowers?"
"Why do we love the light?" he asked. "Because it gives us joy."
She took an orchid she was wearing and tried to pin it on his coat. "I
am afraid," said Von Barwig, "that it is healed up!" Hélène laughed.
"What a curious expression!" she said. Then she walked up to the
window and looked out.
"Shall we begin where we left off?" asked Von Barwig as he opened the
music. He had been waiting some time for her to come to the piano.
"You like him, don't you?" said Hélène in a low voice.
"The young Herr Cruger?" asked Von Barwig. Then without waiting for an
answer he went on: "Yes, he has a fine noble heart. He is different to
the young men here; quite different."
"I am glad you like him!"
"Why?"
"I don't know. I am glad, that's all!"
At that moment Von Barwig was supremely happy. Neither of them spoke
for a few moments.
"Shall we not begin?" he said, breaking the silence.
Hélène walked slowly to the piano and sat down.
At that moment Joles entered the room with a message for Miss Stanton.
"Put it down, Joles," she said, striking a note here and there on the
piano.
"It's a telegram, miss."
"Oh! bring it to me, then." He obeyed. She opened it and read:
"Left Paris this morning en route to New York.
FATHER."
A feeling of dread crept over her; the smile on her face gave way to a
hardness of expression. Gone was the joy, the happiness, in the girl's
face, and in its place was doubt, apprehension, anxiety.
Von Barwig looked at her; the keen eye of love quickly detected the
presence of fear. He did not speak, but his look demanded an answer to
its question.
"My father is coming home," she said, forcing herself to smile.
"Ah? So? I shall be glad to meet him," said Von Barwig.