exclaimed. 'Forgive me, Mr. Engelman—I was so interested, so absorbed—thank you a thousand times for your kindness!' She led the way out, with more apologies and more gratitude. Mr. Engelman recovered his tranquillity. He looked at her lovingly, and gave her his arm to lead her down-stairs.
On this occasion, Minna and I were in front. We reached the first landing, and waited there. The widow was wonderfully slow in descending the stairs. Judging by what we heard, she was absorbed in the old balusters now. When she at last joined us on the landing, the doors of the rooms on the first floor delayed her again: it was simply impossible, she said, to pass them without notice. Once more, Minna and I waited on the ground floor. Here, there was another ancient brass lamp which lighted the hall; and, therefore, another object of beauty which it was impossible to pass over in a hurry.
'I never knew mamma to behave so oddly before,' said Minna. 'If such a thing wasn't impossible, in our situation, one would really think she wanted Mr. Keller to catch us in the house!'
There was not the least doubt in my mind (knowing as I did, how deeply Madame Fontaine was interested in forcing her acquaintance on Mr. Keller) that this was exactly what she did want. Fortune is proverbially said to favor the bold; and Fortune offered to the widow the perilous opportunity of which she had been in search.
While she was still admiring the lamp, the grating sound became audible of a key put into the street door.
The door opened, and Mr. Keller walked into the hall.
He stopped instantly at the sight of two ladies who were both strangers to him, and looked interrogatively at his partner. Mr. Engelman had no choice but to risk an explanation of some kind. He explained, without mentioning names.
'Friends of mine, Keller,' he said confusedly, 'to whom I have been showing the house.'
Mr. Keller took off his hat, and bowed to the widow. With a boldness that amazed me, under the circumstances, she made a low curtsey to him, smiled her sweetest smile, and deliberately mentioned her name.
'I am Madame Fontaine, sir,' she said. 'And this is my daughter, Minna.'
CHAPTER XIII
Mr. Keller fixed his eyes on the widow in stern silence; walked past her to the inner end of the hall; and entered a room at the back of the house, closing the door behind him. Even if he had felt inclined to look at Minna, it would not have been possible for him to see her. After one timid glance at him, the poor girl hid herself behind me, trembling piteously. I took her hand to encourage her. 'Oh, what hope is there for us,' she whispered, 'with such a man as that?'
Madame Fontaine turned as Mr. Keller passed her, and watched his progress along the hall until he disappeared from view. 'No,' she said quietly to herself, 'you don't escape me in that way.'
As if moved by a sudden impulse, she set forth on the way by which Mr. Keller had gone before her; walking, as he had walked, to the door at the end of the hall.
I had remained with Minna, and was not in a position to see how her mother looked. Mr. Engelman's face, as he stretched out his hands entreatingly to stop Madame Fontaine, told me that the fierce passions hidden deep in the woman's nature had risen to the surface and shown themselves. 'Oh, dear lady! dear lady!' cried the simple old man, 'Don't look like that! It's only Keller's temper—he will soon be himself again.'
Without answering him, without looking at him, she lifted her hand, and put him back from her as if he had been a troublesome child. With her firm graceful step, she resumed her progress along the hall to the room at the end, and knocked sharply at the door.
Mr. Keller's voice answered from within, 'Who is there?'
'Madame Fontaine,' said the widow. 'I wish to speak to you.'
'I decline to receive Madame Fontaine.'
'In that case, Mr. Keller, I will do myself the honor of writing to you.'
'I refuse to read your letter.'
'Take the night to think of it, Mr. Keller, and change your mind in the morning.'
She turned away, without waiting for a reply, and joined us at the outer end of the hall.
Minna advanced to meet her, and kissed her tenderly. 'Dear, kind mamma, you are doing this for my sake,' said the grateful girl. 'I am ashamed that you should humble yourself—it is so useless!'
'It shall
Her voice—as firm as the voice of a man, while she declared her resolution—faltered and failed her when the last words of endearment fell from her lips. She drew Minna to her bosom, and embraced in silent rapture the one creature whom she loved. When she raised her head again she was, to my mind, more beautiful than I had ever yet seen her. The all-ennobling tears of love and grief filled her eyes. Knowing the terrible story that is still to be told, let me do that miserable woman justice. Hers was not a wholly corrupted heart. It was always in Minna's power to lift her above her own wickedness. When she held out the hand that had just touched her daughter to Mr. Engelman, it trembled as if she had been the most timid woman living.
'Good night, dear friend,' she said to him; 'I am sorry to have been the innocent cause of this little embarrassment.'
Simple Mr. Engelman put his handkerchief to his eyes; never, in all his life, had he been so puzzled, so frightened, and so distressed. He kissed the widow's hand. 'Do let me see you safe home!' he said, in tones of the tenderest entreaty.
'Not to-night,' she answered. He attempted a faint remonstrance. Madame Fontaine knew perfectly well how to assert her authority over him—she gave him another of those tender looks which had already become the charm of his life. Mr. Engelman sat down on one of the hall chairs completely overwhelmed. 'Dear and admirable woman!' I heard him say to himself softly.
Taking leave of me in my turn, the widow dropped my hand, struck, to all appearance, by a new idea.
'I have a favor to ask of you, David,' she said. 'Do you mind going back with us?'
