DAYLIGHT.
It was a happy waking hour to all next morning, every eye shone
brightly, and each saluted his neighbour gaily, saying, "Good morning!
beautiful weather!" while in truth the most beautiful atmosphere was
within their own hearts. The sun above was certainly most brilliant,
and the snow covered hills and trees glittered in the rays of the
morning light; but the best of all was, that there was something to
gladden all hearts of a less changeable nature than the weather: a
child had been saved, and parents and grandparents made happy; a
delightful wedding had taken place, though there had been neither
baking nor roasting, nor clattering of plates and dishes. And how
admirably and faithfully did the Pastor expound the truth! What a sad
thing it was that he persisted in leaving them, when they would gladly
have kept him for ever!
In the attic in Schilder-David's house, Adam and Martina were standing
by the bed of little Joseph, who was still fast asleep, though a bright
streak of sunshine, as wide as the little garret window could admit,
shone right on the face of the boy. There was an expression of saucy
petulance on the features of the child; his head was thrown back, his
lips curled and half opened, and his clenched fist lay close to his
rosy cheek.
"I will wake him; it is time," said Martina.
"Do let him sleep on, to oblige me. I am just the same when I have
undergone any great excitement, I could sleep on for three days and
nights without stirring. How pretty a child looks asleep! I never saw
him asleep before." Thus talked Adam and Martina, and looked fondly at
their child.
Adam felt as if there was not room for him in the attic. He sat down on
Martina's trunk, and, in such a gentle voice that it appeared to
proceed from some one else, begged her to stand out of the light, that
he might see Joseph, distinctly.
"I will remain here till he wakes," said he; and Martina told him again
and again, how Joseph on the preceding night had called out "Is it not
yet morning?" At the sound of these words the boy turned and moved
restlessly, but continued sleeping.
His mother now, however, bent over him, and called out to him in a
clear, ringing voice, "Mother, is it not yet light? The light is come,
Joseph! wake up. Your father is here."
Joseph now looked up with a face of surprise and curiosity, but he
began to cry bitterly from terror, when the gigantic form of his father
stood upright in the small attic; he probably appeared to the child
like some monstrous apparition in a dream, and when the large figure
interposed like a gloomy cloud, between the bed and the sunlight, the
attic seemed almost as dark as night. Martina had no little trouble in
pacifying the boy. Adam was obliged to leave the room till Joseph was
dressed, and during the few minutes that he was standing outside the
attic, while the mother was soothing the child, feelings of remorse for
his past transgression again smote him--but only for a moment; he was
Adam Roettmann still, who could and would be master of all; he was angry
with the boy, who did not seem to care for him, nor to clasp him round
the neck as he expected; he was resolved to teach him by stern
discipline, and that this very day, he must love and honour him as his
father.
When Joseph came out of the room he ran down stairs quickly, past Adam.
"The boy must be taught differently; this is not proper conduct towards
his father," said Adam to Martina, indignantly.
She, however, begged him to think how much the boy must love him, to go
in search of him through the snow, and at night, so fearlessly; as yet,
however, the child was naturally shy, and his father still a stranger
to him. Adam must try to win the love of his boy by gentleness and
kindness, and not suppose he could do this by force.
"You are right, quite right," said Adam, and he went down the narrow
stairs with such a heavy tread that the small house shook. Joseph was
in the room below, seated on Schilder-David's knee, and Adam called to
the boy, "You are to get a present from me to-day; what would you like?
Tell me."
The boy did not come, but knit his brows, and looked at his father with
a shy glance. He left his grandfather, but did not go to his father; he
was staring with astonishment at the nail on the wall over the stove,
for there hung a written document framed. Long before daylight,
Schilder-David had replaced there Martina's Confirmation Certificate. A
bright gleam of sunshine lighted up the text, which was: Revelations
3rd chapter, 11th verse. "Hold that fast which thou hast, that no man
take thy crown."
In another house in the village, however, there was weeping and
wailing, and that too in the best of all. In the Parsonage the maid sat
in the kitchen, crying bitterly: "The fine fat goose, which was to have
been roasted this very day, and it was the very thing for such a
welcome guest: such a lovely bird, and so well frozen by hanging
outside the window! and now in all the confusion last night, it has
been stolen. I am sure it ought to choke those who were so wicked as to
steal from the Pastor; and how like an angel he spoke to them, and
thanked them for what they had done--and now they play him such a trick
as this! He ought to bring it into his sermon today, and preach to them
on an appropriate text; and the first man that coughs, has stolen the
goose, I will go through the whole village, to spy out who has got my
goose. I will find out whether the fox, the wolf, a dog, a weasel, or a
raven has stolen it; but more likely far some wicked wretch, intending
to roast it. I am resolved to get it back; we have really nothing for
dinner to-day." These, and many other lamentations were poured forth
amid bitter tears, and scolding, and execrations, by the maid in the
kitchen, till at last the Pastor came into the kitchen, saying, "What
is going on here?" The fact was duly detailed to him, and, as a proof
of her assertion, the maid pointed out the empty hook on which the
goose had hung outside the window.
"The hook is still there, but the goose is gone," said the girl,
sobbing, and laying hold of the hook, as if she thought it the very
thing to hang the thief upon. Brother Edward also came in, and the maid
begged him to oblige her by looking at the hook. The Pastor turning to
his brother-in-law, said, "It is often thus; just the very last
delicate morsel, carefully cherished, falls on the floor, when it is
actually stuck on your fork."
"And you are positively making a jest of it!" said the Pastorin to her
husband; "you men never seem to have any idea of the great difficulty
of preparing a good dinner in the country, and how pleasant it is when
all is prepared; and it seemed quite a happy chance that my mother sent
me some chesnuts."
"I am not making a jest of it; on the contrary, it is very annoying to
me."
"The greatest annoyance to you is, assuredly, that any person here is
capable of being a thief. They cannot, however, enjoy the fruits of
their theft, I feel sure," interrupted Edward.
"By no means: I am so material in my nature, that I should have liked
excessively to have myself enjoyed a fine, well browned, crisp, roast
goose;--and as for the thief? If the goose had been stolen from any one
else, the man would have equally been a thief, but it would vex me less
than now, when I have lost my own goose and the giblets too."
"We have still got the giblets," said the maid, in a soothing tone.
They all laughed, and at that moment the letter carrier came up the
stair. He brought the country newspaper. The Pastor hastily looked over
the clerical intelligence, and there, sure enough, he saw that the
living in Odenwald, for which he had applied, had been given away to
another clergyman, a much younger man, and one of the new fashioned
stiff necked species.
"You see here is another empty hook," said the Pastor, giving the
newspaper to his wife, and pointing out the paragraph to her.
Along with the newspaper was a letter from their uncle, the President,
announcing the appointment of another to the living, but that there was
great anxiety to induce our Pastor to take a charge in the Capital.
"I shall refuse, and remain here," said the Pastor, abruptly.
The cook of the Parsonage, who went to the inn in order to buy some
meat to replace the missing goose, had two pieces of news to spread
abroad which had no great connexion certainly, but which she mixed up
together in the most singular manner: the stolen goose, and the Pastor
staying in the village.
The bells rung out in soft melodious peals in the bright light; this
ringing on Christmas-day is appropriately termed a "lullaby." When the
Pastor again entered the church he found the villagers assembled, and
crowded together from the door of the Parsonage all the way to the
church, and they all saluted their Pastor kindly, in token of their
gratitude and joy, that he was now to remain till the day of his death
in this parish.
While the organ sounded in the church, a figure, closely muffled in a
cloak, glided past the kitchen of the Vicarage, and unexpectedly a fat
goose was once more suspended by its legs on the hook outside the
window. Was it the stolen one or another? was it the thief restoring
what he had taken, or some good hearted person replacing it by another?
This could never be ascertained. The cook declared that she knew how to
shut her eyes, that she had neither recognized the person, nor did she
wish to do so. She was, however, so overjoyed, that she hurried to the
vestry, to tell the Pastor that there was no occasion for him to preach
about the stolen goose, for it was come back. She did not venture to go
into the vestry, and went home again. "He is too sensible a man," said
she, "to preach about a goose," and there she was perfectly right.
Little Joseph went to church with his parents, holding a hand of each;
he looked curiously at the people he met, but said nothing, only
clinging close to his father. At the church door the parents dismissed
Joseph to join his schoolfellows, and themselves separated--one joining
the women, and the other the men--in their different parts of the
church; but the two were now united, the same building containing them,
and their voices harmonizing together. The singing was not so perfect
as usual, for the best singer was wanting, who had often with his deep
bass notes helped the schoolmaster out of a difficulty. Haespele failed
the choir, for he was so hoarse that he could not speak a word, far
less sing.
When little Joseph joined his comrades, some of them asked him--"Do you
know what you are called now?"
"Joseph Roettmann, just as I always was."
"No, Joseph in the Snow, that's your new name," and they persevere in
calling him by that name to this day.
In the course of the afternoon many healths were drank in the inn to
the worthy Pastor, and also to "Joseph in the Snow," and each had much
to tell of all that had occurred during the night. The terror would
have been a hundredfold increased, had they known all the steepness of
the rocks and precipices. It seemed a much greater wonder that no one
had been injured, than even little Joseph having made his way straight
to the Forest Mill through so many perils. Schilder-David was at home,
dressed in his Sunday clothes, seated before his large Bible, carefully
reading its precious words--running his finger along the lines as a
guide--from where he had left off two evenings before. Schilder-David
lived out his life in his usual quiet fashion, constantly reading his
Bible from beginning to end. There had been a wonderful combination of
mercies for him, and all had turned out for the best.
At noon a messenger came into the village, and declared that there was
a corpse lying in the Forest Mill.
"The Roettmaennin!" exclaimed all.
"No! the Forest Miller himself; it seems he must have died last night,
but it was only discovered to-day. There is no doubt that he killed
himself by trying to drink as hard as Speidel-Roettmann, and I hear
nothing could be more horrible than to hear the Roettmaennin, who tried
to wake him at night to come to her aid, scolding and cursing. It was a
dead man she was raging at."
All shuddered, and certainly the death of the Forest Miller was much
deplored, but he ought to have died at some other time, for now people
spoke less of Joseph's rescue, and more of the Forest Miller's sudden
death.
No one was more horrorstruck by this sudden death than Leegart; it
showed that she did know more than other people: she can by her wishes,
wish the death of a man. She had incautiously wished that there should
be poison in all the spices he bought from the grocer, and in all the
wine from Roessler's Inn. A shudder of pleasure and awe crept through
her veins, that she should be endowed with such miraculous gifts. She
dared not venture to leave the house; every one must be well aware of
what she had done, and she sincerely regretted it; she had not really
intended the man's death. I will take good care, vowed she to herself,
never to do anything of the kind again; I wish nothing but good to the
whole world, and even to the Roettmaennin herself. At last she ventured
to go to Martina, and said privately to her in the attic: "I beg you
will, in a quiet way, take care that none of the women to whom I was
talking yesterday repeat what I wished with regard to the Forest
Miller. Men are apt to be vastly superstitious, and might at last
actually believe, that I knew more than other people; but I don't wish
to have this reputation." Leegart was only half pleased, when Martina
assured her that no one thought about the matter, and that the world
was not so silly as to believe in such things. Leegart thought to
herself: "Martina is very stupid, but I am thankful if I alone have the
gift of knowing what is to come to pass in the world." She shrunk from
every evil thought, that had ever hitherto passed through her mind with
regard to others, or was yet to pass. It was a dreadful responsibility
to possess such a gift, and to be able to influence the fate of others
just as she chose. Whenever the women came to pay her a visit Leegart
never failed to repeat: "I mean well to the whole world; no one can
have better intentions than I have. I wish every one, without a single
exception, all that is good."
No one understood what Leegart meant, but all agreed in saying--
"Yes, indeed, you were always kind to everybody."
"And do you know what I am going to say?" exclaimed Leegart, with
sparkling eyes, "I say nothing but this: the Parsonage, and Tony of the
Forest Mill. Remember that I said it--I say no more."
Soon after the news came of the miller's death, the Pastor and his
wife, escorted by Edward, drove to the Forest Mill; and it was
fortunate they did so, for they found Tony in a perfect agony of grief
and remorse, for she had gone through so much that was dreadful since
yesterday, and she continually blamed herself, that in studying the
welfare of others she had forgotten her father.
Tony welcomed the Pastorin as a guardian angel, and she became more
composed when she promised to stay with her. Edward begged she would
give him something to do for her; Tony looked at him intently, and drew
close to the Pastorin.
The newly made widow at the mill howled and lamented horribly, and when
the Pastor addressed her she scarcely listened to him, but stared
incessantly at Tony, as if she would have poisoned her by her glances.
The martyr was now free, and her tormentor was forced to quit the house
a beggar.
Let people contend against it as they will: Leegart must positively
have known something!
Tony went to the Parsonage at the new year, and continued to reside
their during her year of mourning. By degrees she revived from her deep
sorrow, and looked quite as pretty as she did before, only her beauty
had become far more refined.
At midsummer large additions were made to the Forest Mill, and Edward
often came to visit his sister, and he never was at the Parsonage
without going to the Forest Mill, and seeing that all the arrangements,
and instructions were properly carried out.
Leegart often went to the Parsonage to work there, and might have told
a great deal about the harmony and good feeling that prevailed between
the Pastorin and Tony; the latter being most thankful to be instructed
by the Pastorin in all matters. But Leegart had made a firm resolution
to speak very little in future; it was only at Roettmannshof, where the
young Roettmaennin now lived, that she poured forth her heart. Nowhere
was Leegart more at home, than at Roettmannshof, and she often said:
"Nothing can be more delightful than to see that great strong Adam,
carrying his little daughter about in his arms, and playing with her;
no one could have believed that he was so handy and clever."
When Leegart had made the first short frock for the little girl, and a
very pretty bright pink one it was, Adam, when he had the child in his
arms, was not a little proud of having taught her, when any one asked,
"Where is your pretty frock?" to lift up the frock to shew her finery.
Leegart was in a state of never ending awe and wonder at Adam's gentle
ways, and Martina could not resist saying, "He often says that he had
no enjoyment of little Joseph's infant years, so he is resolved to make
up for it now. Nothing makes him happier."
The fierce old Roettmaennin had long since passed away. She would not
allow it, but the horrible manner in which she had raged at and cursed
the dead miller, constantly recurred to her thoughts. She sent for a
lawyer, and desired him to prepare a document, to be laid before the
Consistorial Court, declaring the marriage of Martina and Adam to be
null and void; she, however, never saw the end of this lawsuit, for she
died before the snow was fully melted, through which Joseph had gone to
meet his father.
When the Pastor now stands in the pulpit he sees beneath him, in
the front row, two fine looking young men, who are the best of
friends--Adam Roettmann and the young Forest Miller, Edward, who has
married Tony.
"Joseph in the Snow" lives in winter in the village with
Schilder-David, in order that he may be near school; he is a fine well
informed lad.
Haespele always maintains that a boy who ran such risks, and was the
means of effecting such a happy and strange revolution, cannot fail to
become a remarkable man.
Leegart, however, invariably adds, "Whatever you do, pray don't
prophesy; it is such a frightful responsibility." She knows the future
fate of "Joseph in the Snow," but she wisely keeps it to herself.
END OF 'JOSEPH IN THE SNOW.'
* * * * *
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