MAX'S STORY CONTINUED--THE BLACKSMITH SHOP
"I need not describe the joy there was in the Jansen family when I
brought home Mrs. Brederhagan's deed of gift and the money. Christina
did not yet know that her voice was destroyed, and hence was disposed
to refuse what she called 'the good lady's great generosity.' But we
reminded her that the widow was rich, and that her son had inflicted
great and painful wounds upon her, which had caused her weeks of
weary sickness, to say nothing of the doctor's bills and the other
expenses they had been subjected to; and so, at last, she consented
and agreed that, for the present at least, she would receive the
widow's money, but only until she could resume her place on the
boards of the theater. But the deed of gift drove the brooding
shadows out of the heart and eyes of poor Mrs. Jansen.
"I need not tell you all the details of Christina's recovery. Day by
day she grew stronger. She began to speak in whispers, and gradually
she recovered her power of speech, although the voice at first
sounded husky. She was soon able to move about the house, for youth
and youthful spirits are great medicines. One day she placed her hand
on mine and thanked me for all my great kindness to her; and said, in
her arch way, that I was a good, kindhearted friend, and it was a
pity I had any weaknesses; and that I must not forget my promise to
her about the next New Year's day. But she feared that I had
neglected my business to look after her.
"At length she learned from the doctor that she could never sing
again; that her throat was paralyzed. It was a bitter grief to her,
and she wept quietly for some hours. And then she comforted herself
with the reflection that the provision made for her by Mrs.
Brederhagan had placed herself and her family beyond the reach of
poverty. But for this I think she would have broken her heart.
"I had been cogitating for some days upon a new idea. It seemed to me
that these plain, good people would be much happier in the country
than in the city; and, besides, their income would go farther. They
had country blood in their veins, and it takes several generations to
get the scent of the flowers out of the instincts of a family; they
have subtle promptings in them to walk in the grass and behold the
grazing kine. And a city, after all, is only fit for temporary
purposes--to see the play and the shops and the mob--and wear one's
life out in nothingnesses. As one of the poets says:
"'Thus is it in the world-hive; most where men
Lie deep in cities as in drifts--death drifts--
Nosing each other like a flock of sheep;
Not knowing and not caring whence nor whither
They come or go, so that they fool together."
"And then I thought, too, that Mr. Jansen was unhappy in idleness. He
was a great, strong man, and accustomed all his life to hard work,
and his muscles cried out for exercise.
"So I started out and made little excursions in all directions. At
last I found the very place I had been looking for. It was about
twelve miles beyond the built-up portions of the suburbs, in a high
and airy neighborhood, and contained about ten acres of land. There
was a little grove, a field, a garden, and an old-fashioned, roomy
house. The house needed some repairs, it is true; but beyond the
grove two roads crossed each other, and at the angle would be an
admirable place for a blacksmith shop. I purchased the whole thing
very cheaply. Then I set carpenters to work to repair the house and
build a blacksmith shop. The former I equipped with furniture, and
the latter with anvil, bellows and other tools, and a supply of coal
and iron.
"When everything was ready I told Christina another of my white lies.
I said to her that Mrs. Brederhagan, learning that her voice was
ruined forever by her son's dagger, had felt impelled, by her
conscience and sense of right, to make her a present of a little
place in the country, and had deputed me to look after the matter for
her, and that I had bought the very place that I thought would suit
them.
"And so we all started out to view the premises. It would be hard to
say who was most delighted, Christina or her mother or her father;
but I am inclined to think the latter took more pure happiness in his
well-equipped little shop, with the big sign, 'CARL JANSEN,
BLACKSMITH,' and the picture of a man shoeing a horse, than Christina
did in the flowerbed, or her mother in the comfortable household
arrangements.
"Soon after the whole family moved out. I was right. A race that has
lived for several generations in the country is an exotic in a city."