Meanwhile Gustave Sandow had mounted to the higher story, where were
situated his brother's private apartments.
"I began to think you would not condescend to come at all," was the
remark, delivered in his sharpest and most unpleasant tone, with which
he greeted the dilatory Gustave.
"I was talking to Miss Clifford," replied Gustave, as if fully aware
that that fact would completely justify him. "It was impossible to
break off our interesting conversation sooner."
The allusion did not fail of its effect. The projected marriage was too
important to Sandow, and his ward's disinclination to it, too well
known to him, to allow him to throw the slightest hindrance in the way
of his brother's courtship. He therefore replied more graciously--
"I suppose it was one of your usual altercations; you amuse yourselves
with this continual wrangling; but I do not find that you make much
progress with Jessie. She is more reserved than ever towards you."
"Frank, you cannot judge of my progress,", said Gustave, with an
injured air. "It is considerable I assure you."
"We will hope so," replied Sandow, significantly, "and now to business.
I want to talk to you of the affair, which I, and some business friends
in New York contemplate taking in hand together. Jenkins tells me he
has already spoken of it to you, and yesterday I gave you the
correspondence to look over, so you must now be pretty well up in the
subject."
"Decidedly I am."
Gustave had all at once become serious, and the answer rang quite
differently from his usual cheerful, careless tone. Sandow took no
notice of the change, but continued--
"You know we possess in the West large districts which are not yet
settled. The purchase was to be made under extremely advantageous
circumstances; but the extent of territory was so enormous that Jenkins
was not able to complete it with his own means alone. He therefore
applied to me and won me over to his views. We were fortunate in
obtaining the land for a very moderate sum, and what now concerns us is
to have it occupied advantageously. This can only be done by
colonisation, and German colonisation in particular seems most
suitable. We have prepared all the necessary notices, and intend now to
begin seriously."
"Only one question," said Gustave, interrupting the dry business-like
narration. "Have you any personal knowledge of your possessions?"
"Why, I should not undertake such an extensive business without full
information. Naturally I know all about it."
"So do I," said Gustave laconically.
Sandow started and drew back a step.
"You! How? When? Is it possible?"
"Certainly, and in the most simple manner. Mr. Jenkins, whom I looked
up in New York at your express wish, explained to me when the
conversation fell on this subject, that you reckoned greatly on me, or
rather on my pen. I therefore held it necessary to make myself
thoroughly acquainted with the whole affair. That was really the cause
of my late arrival, and of my 'pleasure tour,' as you called it. Before
all, I wished to know where my country people were to be sent."
Sandow knitted his brows gloomily.
"All this trouble was quite superfluous. We are not in the habit of
going to work in such a circumstantial manner. But what seems to me
very remarkable is, that you should have been here a whole week without
giving me the slightest hint of your journey. But never mind. We
certainly reckon much on you and your literary connections. Our agents
will do their best, but that is not enough. People have become very
suspicious about agents, and the outlay has been too great to let us
run any risks. Our great wish is that one of the great influential
German papers which stands above all suspicion of a puff, should open
the subject in our interest. It is true that you are no longer on the
staff of the _K--sche Zeitung_; but they regret having lost you, and
would gladly receive your contributions from America. A series of
articles written in your eloquent and brilliant style would secure our
success, and if you use your other literary connections skilfully so as
to make the thing widely known, there is no doubt that in a few years a
great German emigration will take place."
Gustave had listened in silence without offering the least
interruption; but now he raised his eyes and fixed them earnestly on
his brother's face.
"You forget one trifle, which is that your territory is totally unfit
for colonisation. The land lies as unfavourably as possible, the
climate is in the highest degree unhealthy, indeed, in some seasons
deadly. The soil is unproductive, and to the most gigantic efforts
returns only the smallest results. All the aids of skilful cultivation
are utterly wasted, and the few settlers who are scattered here and
there are sunk in sickness and misery. They are exposed, utterly
defenceless, to the rigour of the most cruel elements, and those who
might follow them from Europe would share the same fate."
Sandow listened with ever-growing surprise, and at first words failed
him, at last he exclaimed angrily--
"What absurd exaggerations! Who has put such ideas into your head, and
how can an utter stranger judge of such circumstances? What can you
know of it?"
"I have made the strictest inquiries on the spot. My information is
authentic."
"Nonsense! And if it were what have I to do with it? Do you think that
you, who have scarcely been a week in the counting-house, can give me
instructions in the management of my speculations?"
"Certainly not! But when such a speculation costs the life and health
of thousands we are accustomed to call it by a different name."
"By what name?" asked Sandow, threateningly, advancing close to his
brother.
Gustave would not be intimidated, but replied firmly--
"Knavery!"
"Gustave!" cried Sandow furiously, "you dare"--
"Naturally that word applies only to Mr. Jenkins. The remarkable
attention with which that honourable personage received me, the
constant sounding of my praises, the popularity of my name, and the
brilliant success of my pen, which were to work wonders here as they
had done at home--all this roused my suspicions and induced me to
undertake the journey. You don't know the place, Frank, or at all
events have only glanced superficially at it. But now that I have
opened your eyes you will seek for the proof of my assertions, and let
the whole thing drop."
Sandow did not seem much disposed to profit by the means of escape
which his brother offered to him.
"Who says I shall?" asked he harshly. "Do you think I can give up
without an effort the hundreds of thousands already invested there,
merely because you have some sentimental objections to urge. The land
is as good or as bad as in many other districts, and the immigrants
have to struggle with climate and soil everywhere. These difficulties
will be easily overcome by perseverance. It would not be the first
German colony which had flourished under most unfavourable
circumstances."
"After hundreds and thousands had been ruined! That is enriching
foreign soil with German blood at too great a cost."
Sandow bit his lips; he evidently controlled himself with difficulty,
and his voice was hoarse and stifled as he replied.
"What business had you to go there on your own account? Such
exaggerated conscientiousness is here quite misplaced, and also quite
useless. And if I did not accept Jenkins' offer there are plenty of
others who would; and I must acknowledge that he applied to me first."
"First to you--a German--that was certainly a sign of remarkable
respect from an American."
It was singular that the same man who a quarter of an hour before, had
shown himself so anxious to conceal the choice of his heart from his
austere brother, since it might displease him, now boldly defied him,
under circumstances in which he could not be so profoundly interested.
Sandow, though ignorant of his conversation with Jessie, was astonished
to the highest degree at this conduct.
"You seem to be now playing the part of moral hero," said he with
bitter sarcasm; "that does not suit very well with the extremely
material motives which brought you here. You should have first made
things clear to yourself. If you want a share in my house you must set
its interest before everything, and in that interest I require you to
write this article, and take care that it appears in a suitable place.
Do you hear, Gustave? Under any circumstances you will do that!"
"To bring my countrymen here to rot in that swamp of fever and misery!
No."
"Consider the subject well before you give such a decided refusal,"
warned Sandow with an icy calm, under which lay a half-concealed
threat. "It is the first demand I make on you; if you fail me now, any
future accommodation is impossible. It is quite in my power to draw
back from the proposed arrangement; think of that!"
"Frank, you would not force me"--
"I force you to nothing; I only explain to you that we part if you
persist in your refusal. If you are prepared for the consequences, well
and good. I hold to my conditions."
He bent over his writing table, and took from it some papers which he
placed in his pocket-book. Gustave stood silently by, his eyes fixed on
the floor, a dark cloud on his brow.
"Just at the moment when Frida is on her way here," murmured he.
"Impossible. I cannot sacrifice that."
"Well?" asked Sandow, turning to him.
"Give me time for consideration. The thing has come so suddenly, so
unexpectedly. I will think it over."
The elder brother was quite contented with this partial submission; he
had certainly not doubted that his threat would produce its effect.
"Good! a week sooner or later does not matter. I hope you will have
sense to see that one must act according to circumstances. But come
now, it is high time that we were at the office. And once more,
Gustave, give yourself up to my guidance for the future, and undertake
no more extravagances like this journey. You see, it only gives rise to
differences between us, and increases the difficulties of your
position."
"Decidedly," said Gustave, half aloud, while he prepared to follow his
brother. "My position is tolerably difficult, worse than I had
anticipated."
It was afternoon of the same day, and Jessie awaited with some anxiety
and a great deal of curiosity the arrival of the young visitor. Gustave
had told her in the morning that he should try to leave business
earlier than usual, in order to meet Miss Palm at the station, and
bring her to the house before his brother came home. At the appointed
hour, then, he entered the drawing-room, leading a young girl.
"Miss Frida Palm," said he, introducing her. "My protegee, from this
moment _our_ protegee, since you are so good as to afford her an asylum
in your house."
Jessie felt painfully impressed by this mode of introduction. So he did
not even venture to introduce the girl to her as his betrothed.
"Protegee," that was a word open to so many interpretations. He
intended evidently to leave himself a means of retreat, should his
brother show himself unyielding. Miss Clifford pitied with her whole
heart the young creature who had given herself to such an egoist, and
consequently her reception was warmer than she had at first intended.
"You are very welcome, Miss Palm," said she kindly; "I have heard all
about you, and you may confide yourself to me without fear. I am not
accustomed to neglect my protegees."
The "I" was slightly but distinctly accented, but he, at whom the
remark was directed, remained, alas, totally unmoved. He seemed
extremely pleased that his plan had succeeded, and the young stranger
replied in a low, rather trembling voice--
"You are very kind, Miss Clifford, and I only hope that I may deserve
your goodness."
Jessie placed her visitor beside her, and while the usual remarks on
the weather, her journey, and arrival were made, she took the
opportunity of examining her more closely. She was certainly a very
young girl, almost a child, who had evidently scarcely reached her
sixteenth year, but the delicate childish features bore an expression
of seriousness and decision, astonishing at such an age. The large,
dark eyes generally rested on the ground, but when they were raised for
a moment, they gave a glance full of shyness and restraint which suited
ill with the energetic features. The dark hair was simply drawn back
from her face, and the deep mourning dress made the young stranger
appear even paler than she naturally was.
"You are an orphan?" asked Jessie, with a glance at the dress.
"I lost my mother six months ago," was the short, touching answer.
That touched a kindred string in Jessie's bosom. She still mourned too
for her beloved parents, and by the recollection came an expression of
pain in her face.
"In that our fates are alike. I am an orphan too, and it is only a year
since my father was torn from me. Yours is, no doubt, much longer
dead."
The girl's lips trembled, and she replied almost inaudibly--
"In my childhood. I scarcely knew him."
"Poor child," said Jessie, with overflowing sympathy. "It must indeed
be sad to stand so alone and desolate in the world."
"Oh! I am not desolate. I have found a protector, the noblest and best
of men!"
In these words lay a truly affecting devotion, and the look which at
the same moment was cast upon Gustave, betrayed an almost enthusiastic
gratitude; the latter, however, received it all with enraging
indifference, with the air of a sultan, as Jessie angrily considered.
He appeared to look upon it as a richly deserved compliment, and
replied in his usual jesting manner--
"You see, Miss Clifford, what my reputation with Frida is. I should be
happy if you would come round to this opinion too, which, alas, I dare
not hope."
Jessie ignored this remark. To her the manner in which he received the
devotion of his future wife, and treated it as a subject for jesting
was quite revolting, and she returned to Miss Palm.
"At present I must welcome you alone. You do not yet know my guardian,
but in a short time you will meet him, and I hope with all my heart
that you will succeed in gaining his sympathy."
Frida made no reply; she looked in the same timid manner at the
speaker, and then dumbly at the ground. Jessie was rather surprised at
this strange reception of her kindly meant words, but Gustave joined in
the conversation, with the remark--
"At first you must have great consideration for Frida. It will be
difficult for her to accustom herself to her new surroundings, and the
part which she is forced to play in the house oppresses and terrifies
her."
"Forced at your desire!" Jessie could not refrain from adding.
"Yes, that cannot now be altered. At all events she knows the
conditions, and also that there is no other way of reaching our end.
Frida, you confide entirely in me, don't you?"
Instead of answering, Frida stretched her hand towards him, with an
expression which would have excused any lover for pressing the little
hand to his lips. But this one calmly held it in his own, nodded
protectingly, and said--
"I was sure of it."
"I will do all in my power to relieve what is painful in your
position," said Jessie, reassuringly. "And now may I keep you with me?"
"We had better wait till to-morrow," said Gustave. "It would very much
surprise my brother to find a complete stranger, of whose arrival he
had not even been warned, established as a member of his household.
That might at once arouse his suspicions. It would be better for Frida
to return to the hotel where I stopped with her and left her things. In
the course of the evening some opportunity of speaking of her is sure
to arise, and then the removal can be effected without any trouble."
Jessie was annoyed at the suggestion, in proportion as she recognized
its justice.
"You are incredibly prudent, Mr. Sandow! I really admire all these
precautions, and this clever calculation of all possible emergencies."
Gustave bowed as if he had really received a compliment.
"Yes, yes, Frida," said he, in reply to the look of surprise with which
the girl listened to this perpetual bickering. "Miss Clifford and I
have an excessive mutual admiration. You see already, what great
respect we show each other. But now it is time to start, or my brother
will surprise us here."
Frida rose obediently. Jessie felt a deep sympathy with the poor girl
who resigned herself so completely to the selfish plans of her lover,
and bade her a hearty farewell.
Gustave accompanied Miss Palm to the carriage, which waited to take her
back to the hotel; but just as they were descending the steps a second
carriage drove up, and Sandow, whose office hours were now over,
stepped out.
"My brother," said Gustave in a low voice.
Miss Palm must have stood greatly in awe of this terrible brother, for
she suddenly turned deadly pale, and made an involuntary movement as if
to fly, while the arm which rested in her companion's trembled
violently.
"Frida!" said the latter, in an earnest, reproachful tone.
Frida struggled for composure, but her timidity this time was not the
cause of her agitation. It was not the look of a startled dove which
met the new arrival, but one in which lay gloomy, almost wild
resistance, and the energetic side of her nature was shown so
distinctly in her features that it seemed as if she were rather
beginning a struggle with a dreaded enemy than trying to conciliate
him.
Sandow had meanwhile entered, and met the pair face to face in the
vestibule. He bowed slightly, but seemed surprised to see his brother
accompanied by a perfect stranger.
Frida returned the greeting, but instead of stopping hastened anxiously
forwards, and thus prevented the possibility of an introduction.
Gustave saw that it would be useless to try to effect it, so placed her
in the carriage, closed the door, and directed the coachman to the
hotel.
"Who is that girl?" asked Sandow, who had waited for his brother.
"A certain Miss Palm," said he lightly, "an acquaintance of Miss
Clifford's."
"And to whom you act as cavalier."
"Not at all; my service is paid to Miss Clifford. At her wish, I
fetched the young lady, in whom she is much interested, from the
station, and brought her here. You know I left the office earlier than
usual."
"Ah, indeed! Are you already on such good terms with Jessie that she
entrusts you with such commissions?" said Sandow, much gratified to
find his brother had made such decided progress, while they re-ascended
the stairs and walked along the corridor together.
As they entered the drawing-room, Gustave took the thing promptly in
hand.
"My brother has already seen your protegee, Miss Clifford," he began.
"We met him in the hall."
"Who is this new acquaintance, Jessie?" asked Sandow, with an interest
not usual to him. "I have heard nothing about her."
Jessie felt now, when the moment for the first equivocation had
arrived, the whole weight of the responsibility she had undertaken;
however, she had gone too far to be able to draw back. She returned
hesitatingly,
"She is a young German, who has been strongly recommended to me from
New York. She has come here to look for a situation as companion, and I
thought--I wished"--
"Yes, you have gone pretty far," interrupted Gustave. "This Miss Palm
seems to have taken your sympathies by storm; just think, Frank, Miss
Clifford has offered her her own house, and seriously intends to give
her to us for a companion."
Jessie cast an indignant glance at him, but was obliged to accept the
proffered help.
"I have certainly invited Miss Palm for a few weeks," she said. "At
least, if you have no objection, Uncle Sandow."
"I," said the latter absently, while his eyes already sought the
evening papers, which lay on the table on the garden terrace. "You
know, I never interfere in your domestic concerns. No doubt you would
like a companion for a time, and if this young girl has been well
recommended, pray arrange the affair as you like."
With this he stepped on to the terrace and seized the newspaper.
"I saw that I must come to your help, Miss Clifford," said Gustave
aside to Jessie. "You are evidently very inexperienced in deception."
"You seem to think it a reproach," said Jessie, in a voice equally low,
but trembling with anger. "Certainly I have not yet brought the art to
such perfection as you have."
"Oh! that will come in time," said Gustave encouragingly. "When you are
in difficulties that way, only turn to me. I am quite at home there."
"Gustave, have you read the evening papers yet?" came from Sandow on
the terrace. "The German Exchange is very lively; prices are rising
considerably. Here is your own journal; you will find a notice of it."
"Ah! prices are rising? really?" asked Gustave, stepping on to the
terrace and taking the German paper which his brother offered him.
Sandow immediately buried himself in another sheet, and so did not see
the air of sovereign contempt with which Gustave turned over the page
containing the money article, and bestowed his whole attention upon the
leading article, which was upon the political situation.
Jessie followed him with her eyes, and, as she beheld him bending so
eagerly over what she supposed to be the money article, she curled her
lip contemptuously, and thought--
"That poor, poor child! What will be her lot at the side of such an
egoist?"