The Captain came, having previously written a most sensible letter,
which had entirely quieted Charlotte's apprehensions. So much clearness
about himself, so just an understanding of his own position and the
position of his friends, promised everything which was best and
happiest.
The conversation of the first few hours, as is generally the case with
friends who have not met for a long time, was eager, lively, almost
exhausting. Toward evening, Charlotte proposed a walk to the new
grounds. The Captain was delighted with the spot, and observed every
beauty which had been first brought into sight and made enjoyable by the
new walks. He had a practised eye, and at the same time one easily
satisfied; and although he knew very well what was really valuable, he
never, as so many persons do, made people who were showing him things of
their own uncomfortable, by requiring more than the circumstances
admitted of, or by mentioning anything more perfect, which he remembered
having seen elsewhere.
When they arrived at the summer-house, they found it dressed out for a
holiday, only, indeed, with artificial flowers and evergreens, but with
some pretty bunches of natural corn-ears among them, and other field and
garden fruit, so as to do credit to the taste which had arranged them.
"Although my husband does not like in general to have his birthday or
christening-day kept," Charlotte said, "he will not object today to
these few ornaments being expended on a treble festival."
"Treble?" cried Edward.
"Yes, indeed," she replied. "Our friend's arrival here we are bound to
keep as a festival; and have you never thought, either of you, that this
is the day on which you were both christened? Are you not both named
Otto?"
The two friends shook hands across the little table.
"You bring back to my mind," Edward said, "this little link of our
boyish affection. As children, we were both called so; but when we came
to be at school together, it was the cause of much confusion, and I
readily made over to him all my right to the pretty laconic name."
"Wherein you were not altogether so very high-minded," said the Captain;
"for I well remember that the name of Edward had then begun to please
you better, from its attractive sound when spoken by certain pretty
lips."
They were now sitting all three round the same table where Charlotte had
spoken so vehemently against their guest's coming to them. Edward, happy
as he was, did not wish to remind his wife of that time; but he could
not help saying, "There is good room here for one more person."
At this moment the notes of a bugle were heard across from the castle.
Full of happy thoughts and feelings as the friends all were together,
the sound fell in among them with a strong force of answering harmony.
They listened silently, each for the moment withdrawing into himself,
and feeling doubly happy in the fair circle of which he formed a part.
The pause was first broken by Edward, who started up and walked out in
front of the summer-house.
"Our friend must not think," he said to Charlotte, "that this narrow
little valley forms the whole of our domain and possessions. Let us take
him up to the top of the hill, where he can see farther and breathe more
freely."
"For this once, then," answered Charlotte, "we must climb up the old
footpath, which is not too easy. By the next time, I hope my walks and
steps will have been carried right up."
And so, among rocks, and shrubs, and bushes, they made their way to the
summit, where they found themselves, not on a level flat, but on a
sloping grassy terrace, running along the ridge of the hill. The
village, with the castle behind it, was out of sight. At the bottom of
the valley, sheets of water were seen spreading out right and left, with
wooded hills rising immediately from their opposite margin, and, at the
end of the upper water, a wall of sharp, precipitous rocks directly
overhanging it, their huge forms reflected in its level surface. In the
hollow of the ravine, where a considerable brook ran into the lake, lay
a mill, half hidden among the trees, a sweetly retired spot, most
beautifully surrounded; and through the entire semicircle, over which
the view extended, ran an endless variety of hills and valleys, copse
and forest, the early green of which promised the near approach of a
luxuriant clothing of foliage. In many places particular groups of trees
caught the eye; and especially a cluster of planes and poplars directly
at the spectator's feet, close to the edge of the centre lake. They were
at their full growth, and they stood there, spreading out their boughs
all around them, in fresh and luxuriant strength.
To these Edward called his friend's attention.
"I myself planted them," he cried, "when I was a boy. They were small
trees which I rescued when my father was laying out the new part of the
great castle garden, and in the middle of one summer had rooted them
out. This year you will no doubt see them show their gratitude in a
fresh set of shoots."
They returned to the castle in high spirits, and mutually pleased with
each other. To the guest was allotted an agreeable and roomy set of
apartments in the right wing of the castle; and here he rapidly got his
books and papers and instruments in order, to go on with his usual
occupation. But Edward, for the first few days, gave him no rest. He
took him about everywhere, now on foot, now on horseback, making him
acquainted with the country and with the estate; and he embraced the
opportunity of imparting to him the wishes which he had been long
entertaining, of getting at some better acquaintance with it, and
learning to manage it more profitably.
"The first thing we have to do," said the Captain, "is to make a
magnetic survey of the property. That is a pleasant and easy matter; and
if it does not admit of entire exactness, it will be always useful, and
will do, at any rate, for an agreeable beginning. It can be made, too,
without any great staff of assistants, and one can be sure of getting it
completed. If by-and-by you come to require anything more exact, it will
be easy then to find some plan to have it made."
The Captain was exceedingly skilful at work of thus kind. He had brought
with him whatever instruments he required, and commenced immediately.
Edward provided him with a number of foresters and peasants, who, with
his instruction, were able to render him all necessary assistance. The
weather was favorable. The evenings and the early mornings were devoted
to the designing and drawing, and in a short time it was all filled in
and colored. Edward saw his possessions grow out like a new creation
upon the paper; and it seemed as if now for the first time he knew what
they were, as if they now first were properly his own.
Thus there came occasion to speak of the park, and of the ways of laying
it out; a far better disposition of things being made possible after a
survey of this kind, than could be arrived at by experimenting on
nature, on partial and accidental impressions.
"We must make my wife understand this," said Edward.
"We must do nothing of the kind," replied the Captain, who did not like
bringing his own notions in collision with those of others. He had
learnt by experience that the motives and purposes by which men are
influenced are far too various to be made to coalesce upon a single
point, even on the most solid representations. "We must not do it," he
cried; "she will be only confused. With her, as with all people who
employ themselves on such matters merely as amateurs, the important
thing is, rather that she shall do something, than that something shall
be done. Such persons feel their way with nature. They have fancies for
this plan or that; they do not venture on removing obstacles. They are
not bold enough to make a sacrifice. They do not know beforehand in what
their work is to result. They try an experiment--it succeeds--it fails;
they alter it; they alter, perhaps, what they ought to leave alone, and
leave what they ought to alter; and so, at last, there always remains
but a patchwork, which pleases and amuses, but never satisfies."
"Acknowledge candidly," said Edward, "that you do not like this new work
of hers."
"The idea is excellent," he replied; "if the execution were equal to it,
there would be no fault to find. But she has tormented herself to find
her way up that rock; and she now torments every one, if you must have
it, that she takes up after her. You cannot walk together, you cannot
walk behind one another, with any freedom. Every moment your step is
interrupted one way or another. There is no end to the mistakes which
she has made."
"Would it have been easy to have done it otherwise?" asked Edward.
"Perfectly," replied the Captain. "She had only to break away a corner
of the rock, which is now but an unsightly object, made up as it is of
little pieces, and she would at once have a sweep for her walk and stone
in abundance for the rough masonry work, to widen it in the bad places,
and make it smooth. But this I tell you in strictest confidence. Her it
would only confuse and annoy. What is done must remain as it is. If any
more money and labor is to be spent there, there is abundance to do
above the summer-house on the hill, which we can settle our own way."
If the two friends found in their occupation abundance of present
employment, there was no lack either of entertaining reminiscences of
early times, in which Charlotte took her part as well. They determined,
moreover, that as soon as their immediate labors were finished, they
would go to work upon the journal, and in this way, too, reproduce the
past.
For the rest, when Edward and Charlotte were alone, there were fewer
matters of private interest between them than formerly. This was
especially the case since the fault-finding about the grounds, which
Edward thought so just, and which he felt to the quick. He held his
tongue about what the Captain had said for a long time; but at last,
when he saw his wife again preparing to go to work above the
summer-house, with her paths and steps, he could not contain himself any
longer, but, after a few circumlocutions, came out with his new views.
Charlotte was thoroughly disturbed. She was sensible enough to perceive
at once that they were right, but there was the difficulty with what was
already done--and what was made was made. She had liked it; even what
was wrong had become dear to her in its details. She fought against her
convictions; she defended her little creations; she railed at men who
were forever going to the broad and the great. They could not let a
pastime, they could not let an amusement alone, she said, but they must
go and make a work out of it, never thinking of the expense which their
larger plans involved. She was provoked, annoyed, and angry. Her old
plans she could not give up, the new she would not quite throw from her;
but, divided as she was, for the present she put a stop to the work, and
gave herself time to think the thing over, and let it ripen by itself.
At the same time that she lost this source of active amusement, the
others were more and more together over their own business. They took
to occupying themselves, moreover, with the flower-garden and the
hot-houses; and as they filled up the intervals with the ordinary
gentlemen's amusements, hunting, riding, buying, selling, breaking
horses, and such matters, she was every day left more and more to
herself. She devoted herself more assiduously than ever to her
correspondence on account of the Captain; and yet she had many lonely
hours; so that the information which she now received from the school
became of more agreeable interest.
To a long-drawn letter of the superior of the establishment, filled with
the usual expressions of delight at her daughter's progress, a brief
postscript was attached, with a second from the hand of a gentleman in
employment there as an Assistant, both of which we here communicate.
POSTSCRIPT OF THE SUPERIOR
"Of Ottilie, I can only repeat to your ladyship what I have already
stated in my former letters. I do not know how to find fault with her,
yet I cannot say that I am satisfied. She is always unassuming, always
ready to oblige others; but it is not pleasing to see her so timid, so
almost servile.
"Your ladyship lately sent her some money, with several little matters
for her wardrobe. The money she has never touched, the dresses lie
unworn in their place. She keeps her things very nice and very clean;
but this is all she seems to care about. Again, I cannot praise her
excessive abstemiousness in eating and drinking. There is no
extravagance at our table, but there is nothing that I like better than
to see the children eat enough of good, wholesome food. What is
carefully provided and set before them ought to be taken; and to this I
never can succeed in bringing Ottilie. She is always making herself some
occupation or other, always finding something which she must do,
something which the servants have neglected, to escape the second course
or the dessert; and now it has to be considered (which I cannot help
connecting with all this) that she frequently suffers, I have lately
learnt, from pain in the left side of her head. It is only at times, but
it is distressing, and may be of importance. So much upon this otherwise
sweet and lovely girl."
SECOND POSTSCRIPT, BY THE ASSISTANT
"Our excellent superior commonly permits me to read the letters in which
she communicates her observations upon her pupils to their parents and
friends. Such of them as are addressed to your ladyship I ever read with
twofold attention and pleasure. We have to congratulate you upon a
daughter who unites in herself every brilliant quality with which people
distinguish themselves in the world; and I at least think you no less
fortunate in having had bestowed upon you, in your step-daughter, a
child who has been born for the good and happiness of others, and
assuredly also for her own. Ottilie is almost our only pupil about whom
there is a difference of opinion between myself and our reverend
superior. I do not complain of the very natural desire in that good lady
to see outward and definite fruits arising from her labors. But there
are also fruits which are not outward, which are of the true germinal
sort, and which develop themselves sooner or later in a beautiful life.
And this I am certain is the case with your protégée. So long as she has
been under my care, I have watched her moving with an even step, slowly,
steadily forward--never back. As with a child it is necessary to begin
everything at the beginning, so it is with her. She can comprehend
nothing which does not follow from what precedes it; let a thing be as
simple and easy as possible, she can make nothing of it if it is not in
a recognizable connection; but find the intermediate links, and make
them clear to her, and then nothing is too difficult for her.
"Progressing with such slow steps, she remains behind her companions,
who, with capacities of quite a different kind, hurry on and on, learn
everything readily, connected or unconnected, recollect it with ease,
and apply it with correctness. And again, some of the lessons here are
given by excellent, but somewhat hasty and impatient teachers, who pass
from result to result, cutting short the process by which they are
arrived at; and these are not of the slightest service to her; she
learns nothing from them. There is a complaint of her handwriting. They
say she will not, or cannot, understand how to form her letters. I have
examined closely into this. It is true she writes slowly, stiffly, if
you like; but the hand is neither timid nor without character. The
French language is not my department, but I have taught her something of
it, in the step-by-step fashion; and this she understands easily.
Indeed, it is singular that she knows a great deal, and knows it well,
too; and yet when she is asked a question, it seems as if she knew
nothing.
"To conclude generally, I should say she learns nothing like a person
who is being educated, but she learns like one who is to educate--not
like a pupil, but like a future teacher. Your ladyship may think it
strange that I, as an educator and a teacher, can find no higher praise
to give to any one than by a comparison with myself. I may leave it to
your own good sense, to your deep knowledge of the world and of mankind,
to make the best of my most inadequate, but well-intended expressions.
You may satisfy yourself that you have much happiness to promise
yourself from this child. I commend myself to your ladyship, and I
beseech you to permit me to write to you again as soon as I see reason
to believe that I have anything important or agreeable to communicate."
This letter gave Charlotte great pleasure. The contents of it coincided
very closely with the notions which she had herself conceived of
Ottilie. At the same time, she could not help smiling at the excessive
interest of the Assistant, which seemed greater than the insight into a
pupil's excellence usually calls forth. In her quiet, unprejudiced way
of looking at things, this relation, among others, she was contented to
permit to lie before her as a possibility; she could value the interest
of so sensible a man in Ottilie, having learnt, among the lessons of her
life, to see how highly true regard is to be prized in a world where
indifference or dislike are the common natural residents.