Gertrude's Marriage Part 9

"Vile wretches, who make the most sacred things a matter of traffic!"

He sat for a long time lost in thought, and a deep furrow marked itself out between his brows. Then he wrote a long letter to his friend, the judge, and gradually his face cleared again--he was telling him about Gertrude.

CHAPTER VII.

"Good morning, Uncle Henry," said Gertrude, who was sitting at her work-table in the bow-window. She rose as she spoke and went to meet the stout little gentleman as he entered.

"Well, it is lucky that one of you at least is at home," he replied, rubbing his gla.s.ses with his red handkerchief, after giving Gertrude's hand a hearty shake. "I wonder if one of the women-kind except you could possibly stay at home for a day. Mrs. Jenny is making calls, Mrs.

Ottilie is gone to a coffee party--it is easy to see that a strong hand to hold the reins is wanting here."

Gertrude smiled.

"Uncle, don't scold, but come and sit down," she said. "You come just in time for me; I had just written a little note to you to ask you to come and see me. I need your advice."

"Oh! but not immediately, child, not immediately! I have just had my dinner," he explained, "and nothing can be more dangerous than hard thinking just after a meal. Ta, ta! There, this is comfortable; now tell me something pleasant, child--about your lover; for instance, how many kisses did he give you yesterday? Honestly now, Gertrude."

He had stretched himself out comfortably in an arm-chair, and his young niece pushed a footstool under his feet and put an afghan over his knees.

"None at all, uncle," she said, gravely; "people do not ask about such things either, you know. Besides I see Frank very seldom," she hesitated. "Mamma goes out so much, and I cannot receive him when she is not at home. And, uncle, it is about that that I wanted to speak to you. Mamma,"--she hesitated again,--"mamma makes me so anxious by all manner of remarks about Linden's circ.u.mstances. You know, uncle--"

"And you think she knows all about them?" said the old gentleman. "Oh, of course, ta, ta!"

"Yes, uncle. You see the day before yesterday mamma went out to dine with Jenny, and when she came back she called me into her room, and as soon as I got there I saw that something had happened. Just fancy, uncle, she had been in Niendorf to see, as mamma expressed it, the place where her daughter was going to bury herself. It would be horrible, she declared, to take a young wife to this peasant house; it was not fit for any one to live in; she had felt as if she were in some third-rate farm-house. Linden was sitting in a room--she could touch the ceiling with her hand it was so low, and it was all so poor and common. In short, I could not go there, and if I would not give up my whim of being Mr. Linden's wife, she would have to build a house for me first, for he--he--well, he certainly would not be able to do it, and it would be much more convenient too, to have a snug nest made for him by his mother-in-law. Jenny, who was present at this scene, agreed with her in everything. Oh, uncle, I am so sorry for him, and it is all on my account."

"Did your mother speak to him about building?" asked Uncle Henry.

She drew her hand across her forehead.

"I don't know--I went away without answering. If I had made any reply, it would have been of no use--we battle with unequal weapons, or rather I cannot use my weapons, for she is still my mother."

Her uncle's eyes gazed at her with unmistakable compa.s.sion--she was so pale and she had a weary look about her mouth.

"You poor child! I see they do not make your engagement time exactly a Paradise to you," he thought; but he only cleared his throat and said nothing.

"And what can I do about it?" he asked, after a pause.

"I am going to tell you that now," said Gertrude. "You see I have to torment you. I am not on such terms with Arthur that he could advise me in this. I want to ask you, uncle, to speak to Frank--I must know how great his pecuniary difficulties are, and--"

"Nonsense, child," interrupted the old gentleman, evidently unpleasantly surprised,--"Why should you drag me in? Pecuniary difficulties! What can you do about it? For the present you have nothing to do with it--and you will find out about it soon enough."

"You mean because we are not yet man and wife?" she asked.

"Of course!" he nodded.

"O, it is quite the same thing, uncle," she cried, eagerly. "From the moment of our betrothal, I have considered myself as belonging to him entirely, and everything of mine as his. Then why, since I can already dispose of a part of my property as I please, should I not help him out of what may perhaps be a very unpleasant situation?"

"But, my dear child--"

"Let me have my say out, uncle. You know I have ten thousand dollars that came from my grandmother, about which no one has anything to say but myself, and you shall pay over these ten thousand dollars to Linden. I suppose he will have to build--he may need all sorts of things then, and he will be fretted and worried--do this for me, uncle; you see _I_ cannot talk to him about such things."

"Indeed, I will not, Miss Gertrude."

"Why?"

"Because he would take it, finally--or he would be angry. Thanks, ever so much."

"But I want him to take it."

He was silent.

"When are you going to be married, child?" he inquired at length.

A rosy flush pa.s.sed over Gertrude's face--"Mamma has not said anything about it yet. Frank wants it to be in April, and--I do not want to increase his difficulties by my reception."

"Very well, very well, he can wait as long as that," said the old gentleman.

She looked disappointed, but she said nothing.

"I don't want to go against your wishes, little one," he continued, perceiving her sorrowful looks. "I only want to do what is right in matters of business. Now you see if you are bent on following out this plan you will throw away a fine sum of money--in order to make your nest a right comfortable one. _Amantes_, _amentes_--that is to say in plain English, lovers are mad--and when you wake up to what you have done all your fat is in the fire."

Gertrude said nothing, but she wore a pained expression about her mouth. _He_ too spoke so. How often lately had she heard the same thing? Even her pleasure in the single present Linden had made her had been spoiled by similar insulting remarks.

"Oh, don't look so miserable about it, little one," yawned the old gentleman; "what have I said? We men are all egotists with one another I a.s.sure you. Why then will you confirm your lover in his egotism and let the roasted larks fly into his mouth beforehand? Keep a tight rein over him, Gertrude, that is the only sensible thing to do; you must not let him be anything more than the Prince Consort--keep the reins of government in your own little fists; confound it, I believe you can rule too!"

"Uncle," said the young girl, softly going up to him, "Uncle, you are a hypocrite, you say things that you don't believe yourself. You are all egotists? And I don't know any one in the world who has less claim to the t.i.tle than you."

"Really, child," he declared, laughing, "I am an egotist of the purest water."

"Indeed? Who gives as much as you to the poor of the city? Who supports the whole family of the poor teacher, with rent, clothes, food and drink? _Who_ now, uncle?"

"All selfishness, pure selfishness!" he cried.

"Prove it, uncle, prove it logically."

"Nothing easier. You know the story of how I got a cramp in my leg and dragged myself into the nearest house on the Steinstra.s.se, and sank down on the first chair I could find. I was just going to dinner; had invited Gustave Seyfried and Augustus Seemann to dine with me--well, you know they have lived in Paris and London. So there I sat in that little low room. The people were at dinner and a dish of thin potato soup stood on the table, that would have been hardly enough for the man alone. Seven children--seven children, mind you, Gertrude,--stood round, and the mother was dealing out their portions. She began with the youngest; the oldest, a lad of fourteen, got the last of the dish.

There was not much in it, and I shall never forget the look of those sunken hungry eyes as they rested on that empty bowl. It made me feel so queer all at once. I asked casually, what the man's business was?

Teacher of language at twelve cents an hour! He could not get a permanent position on account of his ill health. Good G.o.d, Gertrude!

Four hours a day would give him fifty cents and he had seven children!

"Well, do you know, that day we had oysters before the soup, and they were rather dear just then, so I reckoned up that each one of those smooth little delicacies cost as much as an hour's lesson, in which the poor man talked his poor, weak throat hoa.r.s.e. They wouldn't go down my throat in spite of their slipperiness. I couldn't swallow more than half a dozen and that was disagreeable. At every course it was the same story, and when Louis uncorked the champagne, every pop seemed to go straight to my stomach. I never ate a more uncomfortable dinner--it disagreed with me besides, and I had to take some soda water. 'Confound it!' I said, 'this thing can't go on,' and--you know, child, that a good dinner is the purest pleasure in the world for men of my sort. So there was nothing for me, if I wanted to enjoy my oysters again, but to comfort myself with the thought that the seven hungry mouths were also busy about their dinner. So I sent John to the teacher's wife to ask her how much money she needed a month to feed all seven, with herself and her husband into the bargain, so they would have enough. And, good gracious, it wasn't such an enormous sum, and so I pay her a certain sum every month and I can enjoy my dinner again at the hotel. Now, prove if you can that that isn't pure selfishness."

"Oh, of course, uncle," said the young girl, with brightening eyes, "but I like that sort of selfishness."

"It is all one, Gertrude; I am sending Hannah into retirement now out of selfishness; she is getting so stout that she can't get through the door any more with the coffee tray. And I ask you if I am to keep another servant to open the double doors for her, just for the sake of the old asthmatic woman? That would be fine! So I said to her this morning, 'Hannah, you can go at Easter, and I will continue your wages as a pension.' She was delighted, because she can go to her daughter, now."