"Every day is a fresh beginning;
Listen, my soul, to the glad refrain,
And, spite of old sorrow and older sinning,
And puzzles forecasted, and possible pain,
Take heart with the day, and begin again."
--SUSAN COOLIDGE.
It is the eve of Arnold's wedding. He had much to do, hear, and say,
and was obliged to play the happy bridegroom. At the same time his
thoughts were constantly with Sibylla, who, with her husband, had
long since left Berlin, and whom he had not seen again. Why did he
crave a better fate than hers?
The evening passed amid flowers, poems, presents, and drinking of the
best wines. Dr. Uhlhart seasoned with his jests the epicurean feast.
He missed Wulf, and had missed him from the play resorts for some
weeks. But he had searched for him, and rejoiced to find the youth
no longer actually ill, but wholly demoralized and miserable. Wulf
loved Sibylla, and this was ground enough for Uhlhart's hatred;
besides, she loved him in return, and that was ground enough for him
to meditate revenge. O, this wily doctor penetrated their hearts
more deeply than they themselves did!
After the family had gone to Banker Kouzky's to the preliminary
wedding entertainment, Theodora escaped to her little room in order
to obtain the rest she needed so much. Her unsightly disfigurements
excused her from participation in large assemblies, and she had the
exclusive immunity to remain only for the ceremony at the morrow's
wedding. She had brought no light, that she might be entirely alone
with her thoughts. She remembered Arnold with sisterly love,
wondering whether he would be really happy in his new relation. She
feared he would suffer in many ways. And Wulf? For him it was only
a question. Either he would be thoroughly reformed or wholly lost.
While her thoughts were thus engaged a lady was announced, who, upon
going to meet her, proved to be Ingeborg. Theodora had not expected
the young girl, as she was not aware of the death of Wulf's uncle.
Few words, however, were necessary to place all the circumstances
before her, and only a brief reflection upon them to enable Theodora
to recognize that Ingeborg's coming was not only the sole thing to be
done, but also the best.
After the young traveler had been rested and refreshed, and first of
all learned of Wulf's physical improvement, both women conversed
earnestly together. Theodora was well acquainted with life in the
great world, its temptations and dangers, and now in her retirement
she also followed with deep interest the development of persons and
situations in her own immediate connection. With her clear judgment,
her helpful inclinations, and large influence, which, although
somewhat concealed, was none the less marked, Theodora had learned of
Wulf's fall as well as of Uhlhart's treachery. But her lips remained
closed on this subject. Meanwhile she imparted to Ingeborg her
apprehensions that Wulf had been led to contract debts, and might be
the prey of usurers, who carried on a nefarious business in large
cities, and who brought many young men to destruction. She also
interested herself in the life and misery of many at Berlin.
Ingeborg was scarcely imaginative enough to conceive it all,
accustomed as she had always been to the simplest ways, but she
listened in amazement. "O," she thought, "if such horrible things
take place in these lovely dwellings, I would be far from them!" But
comfortingly Theodora's words also reassured her, as she talked of
the golden Spring of Christian love, which, though often unattractive
outwardly, and even invisible, still permeated this great city,
offering its rescuing draught to old and young, rich and poor, as
well as to the sorrowing, the lonely, and the forsaken. With this
Ingeborg's heart beat responsively; for she could recognize God's
great hand here also, building up this glorious kingdom, to further
which they who would help must give up the crown for this life.
"Wulf will do well here yet," she said softly.
"I think so, too," replied Theodora; "but he will not receive this
glorious call until he has been baptized in the sea of great sorrows."
They both decided that Ingeborg should wait until the wedding was
over, then visit Wulf and ask him, now in the holidays, to go to his
sick mother's home to recruit his health. As to his debts, Theodora
begged that Ingeborg should exert all her influence to induce Wulf to
leave his affairs in the hands of a reliable man, whose name she
mentioned.
"Do you know," she continued, "whether they have money enough at home
to meet all these obligations?"
"O, much, plenty!" replied Ingeborg.
The next morning the Kahrings were astonished to greet Ingeborg as
their guest. "She has business in Berlin," explained Theodora; and
as they were accustomed to question none of her assertions, and as
the approaching wedding occupied all thoughts, there was no curiosity
excited.
Ingeborg felt out of place in the midst of all this excitement. The
whole atmosphere lay as a mountain on her soul. When Arnold
approached Ingeborg, she seemed to be a reminding spirit of the
better part of his life; but he exerted a gloomy impression upon her.
How could he be so joyless and dissatisfied? Intuitively, Ingeborg
felt that this marriage had not been made in heaven, and she became
more and more timid in this great aristocratic house, and wished she
might go home this day instead of on the morrow.
She went earlier than the others to the church, in order to see all
without being observed. After the ceremony she would return with
Theodora. Every thing conspired to render her solemn. What a great
church! She had never seen one so splendid. Garlands of flowers
were festooned, carpets laid, lights flashed, and the house was
filled with spectators and wedding guests. At length the bridal pair
entered. Ingeborg could understand how this cold, stately lady
inspired no love. How dignified Arnold appeared--so different from
his usual manner! And yet her eyes wandered until Wulf came. Dr.
Uhlhart was with him. That was his evil spirit. But was this pale,
dejected young man before her eyes the same strong, vigorous Wulf,
who had rescued her from death? She could not look away from him.
Had the people here made him so white and ill? He must leave; he
must breathe pure air again. How fortunate that she had come! She
would go even sooner than she had decided.
The ceremony being over, the wedding procession passed out of the
church. Wulf was one of the last to leave. He did not look up; his
thoughts drew his eyes downward. A frightful reaction was taking
place within him: in the instant, whether he should begin a new life,
become a new man--every thing hinged upon that--in order to gain the
noble prize, or in an instant lose this prize forever.
He followed the crowd mechanically, when suddenly his hand was
seized, and an entreating voice said: "Wulf, stay here. Let the
others go; come with me!"
He was so ill, he was scarcely surprised to see Ingeborg before him.
But he remained beside her, feeling as though he belonged to her.
His home, his childhood, his sick mother, reached out to him, through
her, a hand, and he grasped it.
The carriages were gone, and the spectators had dispersed. But there
was one carriage remaining without, containing Theodora looking for
Ingeborg.
At a glance she observed what had occurred, and, without losing her
self-control, she calmly invited both to enter. They soon arrived in
her quiet room. Here Theodora withdrew to superintend preparations
for their entertainment. Wulf sat beside Ingeborg, having no
apparent control of his will, indifferent to every thing. He
scarcely inquired for his mother or for Karen, nor how Ingeborg came.
The latter summoned all her strength, for she realized she must now
be Wulf's stay. How gladly would she have accepted his guidance in
every thing, but he remained in perfect apathy. She could scarcely
have borne it, had not the hope of better things peered like a star
through the present clouds.
She told him of Martin's return on Christmas, and of his rich
father's joy, and his desire to give some outward expression as a
token of his gratitude. Wulf listened quietly. Christmas? That had
already passed, and Sibylla lost to him! Where had the succeeding
few days flown? Ingeborg became exhausted. All her thoughts
centered in the desire to have him at home. "Wulf," she entreated,
"we will go away from here." He bowed his head abstractedly. "Shall
I go to help pack your trunk?" she asked.
"Pack?" This question seemed to recover his senses. "Ingeborg, I
can not go. I must stay."
"No, indeed! why can not you go?"
Wulf hid his face in his hands, and cried:
"Go away; I am a miserable creature. Go back alone. I must remain
here."
"What retains you?" continued Ingeborg.
"My debts."
"Debts?" reiterated Ingeborg, cheerfully.
"Yes; I have debts, many debts; at my boarding house, to Dr. Uhlhart,
to Jews--and no money to pay them."!
Ingeborg sprang up.
"O, I have so much money, so much!" and drawing from her pocket a
packet of bills, she exclaimed: "There, Wulf; take it, take it; it is
all yours!" while half weeping and half laughing she laid the money
in his hands.
Now, for the first time in her life, she rejoiced in the possession
of money and in her thoughtfulness to bring all she had at home with
her.
Wulf remonstrated against receiving it; to accept it seemed more
dishonorable than any thing else; but Ingeborg begged and insisted.
Just then Theodora entered. How well she understood the method of
restoring tranquillity out of agitation without intruding, and
without wounding Wulf's sensibilities! The objections had soon been
dispelled, and she was freely discussing with him the best thing to
do. She undertook to pay Uhlhart after Wulf's departure. She
accompanied him to his boarding-house in the evening to arrange
matters there; she settled the Jew's account, who was astonished, and
not too well pleased to have his money returned so soon; and when
they came back, after arranging all these difficult affairs, they
found Ingeborg quite rested and restored. Wulf, too, was much
changed. This burden of debt had lain upon his soul like lead, and
he trusted himself to Theodora's guidance as if he had been a child
and she his mother, without realizing the dependence. She also began
to exert an irresistible influence over him. Did he, too, feel that
she stood upon that eminence which judges human nature humanely? and
that she could forgive all, because she understood all?
While Ingeborg forgave all because she loved, Theodora, in spite of
her real earnestness, seemed to have nothing to forgive, and verified
that beautiful sentiment: "All must ardently recognize, as well as
believe, that man himself has nothing to forgive."
"You will come to the train early to-morrow morning, at eight
o'clock?" said Ingeborg as Wulf parted from them.