“Nonsense! I was speaking to you. What does all this mean?”
She turned on him an indescribable look, and after a moment said in a slow, meaning tone, “Have you not heard my explanation, sir?”
Such was her manner, he felt he could as easily strike her as say another word.
Muttering an oath, he turned on his heel and left her to herself.
The next morning her father bade her “Goodbye.” In parting he said, meaningly, “Christine, beware!”
Again she turned upon him that peculiar look, and replied in a low, firm tone: “That recommendation applies to you, also. Let us both beware, lest we repent at leisure.”
The wily man, skilled in character, was now thoroughly convinced that in his daughter he was dealing with a nature very different from his wife’s—that he was now confronted by a spirit as proud and imperious as his own. He clearly saw that force, threatening, sternness would not answer in this case, and that if he carried his points it must be through skill and cunning. By some means he must ever gain her consent and cooperation.
His manner changed. Instinctively she divined the cause; and hers did not. Therefore father and daughter parted as father and daughter ought never to part.
After his departure she was to remain at West Point till the season closed, and then accompany Mrs. Von Brakhiem to New York, where she was to make as long a visit as she chose;—and she chose to make a long one. In the scenery, and the society of the officers at West Point, and the excitements of the metropolis, she found more to occupy her thoughts than she could have done at Chicago. She went deliberately to work to kill time and snatch from it such fleeting pleasures as she might.
They stayed in the country till the pomp and glory of October began to illumine the mountains, and then (to Christine’s regret) went to the city. There she entered into every amusement and dissipation that her tastes permitted, and found much pleasure in frequent visits to the Central Park, although it seemed tame and artificial after the wild grandeur of the mountains. It was well that her nature was so high-toned that she found enjoyment in only what was refined or intellectual. Had it been otherwise she might soon have taken, in her morbid, reckless state, a path to swift and remediless ruin, as many a poor creature all at war with happiness and truth has done. And thus in a giddy whirl of excitement (Mrs. Von Brakhiem’s normal condition) the days and weeks passed, till at last, thoroughly satiated and jaded, she concluded to return home, for the sake of change and quiet, if nothing else. Mrs. Von Brakhiem parted with her regretfully. Where would she find such another ally in her determined struggle to be talked about and envied a little more than some other pushing, jostling votaries of fashion?
In languor or sleep Christine made the journey, and in the dusk of a winter’s day her father drove her to their beautiful home, which from association was now almost hateful to her. Still she was too weary to think or suffer much. They met each other very politely, and their intercourse assumed at once its wonted character of high-bred courtesy, though perhaps it was a little more void of manifested sympathy and affection than before.
Several days elapsed in languid apathy, the natural reaction of past excitement; then an event occurred which most thoroughly aroused her.
XXXVI
An Apparition
Mr. Ludolph had hoped to hear on his return that Dennis was dead. That would end all difficulties. Mr. Schwartz did not know;—he was not at last accounts. Ernst was summoned. With a bright, hopeful face he stated that his mother had just received a letter saying Dennis was a little better. He was much surprised at his employer’s heavy frown.
“He will live,” mused Mr. Ludolph; “and now shall I permit him to return to my employ, or discharge him?”
His brow contracted in lines of thought that suggested shrewdness, cunning, nothing manly, and warily he judged.
“If I do not take him, he will go to Mr. French with certainty. He had better return, for then both he and Christine will be more thoroughly under my surveillance.
“Curses on Christine’s waywardness! There may be no resisting her, and my best chance will be in managing him. This I could not do if he were in the store of my rival;” and so for unconscious Dennis this important question was decided.
At last, as we have said, his delirium ceased, and the quiet light of reason came into his eyes. He looked at his mother and smiled, but was too weak even to reach out his hand.
The doctor, coming in soon after, declared danger past, and that all depended now on good nursing. Little fear of his wanting that!
“Ah, mine Gott be praised! mine Gott be praised!” exclaimed Mr. Bruder, who had to leave the room to prevent an explosion of his grateful, happy feelings that might have proved too rude a tempest for Dennis in his weak state. He was next seen striding across the fields to a neighboring grove, ejaculating as he went. When he returned his eyes shone with a great peace and joy, and he had evidently been with Him who had cast out the demon from his heart.
Day after day Dennis rallied. Unlike poor Christine, he had beneath him the two strongest levers, love and prayer, and steadily they lifted him up to health and strength and comparative peace. At last he was able to sit up and walk about feebly, and Mr. Bruder returned rejoicing to his family. As he wrung Dennis’s hand at parting, he said, in rather a hoarse voice: “If any von tell me Gott is not goot and heareth not prayer, den I tell him he von grand heathen. Oh! but we vill velcome you
