The Undying Past Part 66

Why should one not take John for a model, so long as one isn't a member of the consistory?"

Leo pressed the simple man's hand in grat.i.tude.

"And then, you know, Herr von Sellenthin, that in conference, Pastor Brenckenberg is the only man who has what, at the university, we called 'ideas.' It's a funny thing what becomes of those so-called ideas. When we were young we all had them in abundance, but they diminished as we grew older, and now one hardly knows what they are like. When one comes across them in another, they are apt to irritate at first, but finally one feels that they do good. Therefore I suffer Brenckenberg gladly in our midst. And besides that, Herr von Sellenthin, there is a homely saying which I have often found true, and which may apply even to your case. It is, that the majority of things are not so bad as they seem.

You will ask, what about the deadly sins? G.o.d knows they exist in plenty. Seven of them, the Scripture says. But the main point is this.

Why did the Saviour die on the Cross if we were to despair in our sins?

Either that death seems to us an act of folly, which G.o.d forbid, or we believe in it even as a miracle, which every day of our lives is worked anew, and which to-morrow will be worked especially for you, my dear friend."

Filled with his harmonious views of life, he waved his cup to and fro complacently, to stir up the sugar in the dregs of his milk-coffee.

Leo rose to take his leave. This man, so inoffensive that one couldn't help liking him, was not the priest that his soul needed. So he hurried away, as much without comfort as he had come. He felt as if he could have shaken the dust of that home of peace from his feet, only there was no dust there to shake. He drove through the rainy twilight towards Uhlenfelde. Night had fallen before he drew up at its closed gates. His horse splashed in a pool of water, and a shower-bath of raindrops trickled on him from the leafless branches which flanked the road. He would have got down to pull the bell, but a numbness which had overtaken him made him set still instead, and stare in front of him.

The gate-posts stood there like a pair of black hounds on their hind legs, glowering at each other. To right and left a piece of the wall crept out into the night; the rest was hidden by the darkness. Only from the castle came one pale path of light. It was the lamp burning in the bay where Ulrich's writing-table stood. It s.h.i.+mmered towards him along the damp undergrowth of the park, which stood out of the darkness here and there in mirrorlike patches, as if it wished to guide him to the place which he hesitated to approach. But the further it penetrated the fainter became the light, till at last it was powerless to withstand the night-shadows which swallowed it.

Leo felt an icy s.h.i.+ver pa.s.s through his drenched body. "There is the priest I want," he thought; "the only one on earth who can save me."

But of what avail were these weak longings? He would only stand before him to-day, as always, biting his lips, his frightened glance wandering along the walls, a martyr to nervous fears and yearning, his ears strained to hear if a gliding step was coming along the corridor, the step of one who would sweeten his distress, and destroy his hope. What object would there be in coming here to-day, if he did not confess and repent? His whip cracked. The horse stamped as he turned round in the spluttering water, through which the wheels ploughed with a creaking sound. He gave a last look, full of impotent rage and dull, painful longing at the peaceable stream of light which, like everything else in the world, served only to reproach him, and then he drove furiously back by the way he had come, still faintly hoping for what now was hopeless.

The next morning the rain had ceased. A pale sunlight, broken up by the drifting ma.s.ses of cloud for several minutes, and then gliding down on to the yellow plain, illumined the larches, and threw a sort of lantern reflection on the variegated walls of the outlying forest.

Leo drove, as he had done on the previous day, alone to church. This time he preceded instead of following his party, for he did not wish to be disturbed at the outset by Johanna's grim scrutiny. His soul was now busy with a host of happy plans and pious resolves. An old glimmer of his joyous childhood's faith had awakened in him again. He would humbly lay down the burden of his sins at the foot of G.o.d's throne, and receive the pardon which the Lord held in readiness for him, with quiet thankfulness. It pained him to think of the ferocity of his yesterday's mood. He had stretched out the greedy hand of a thief to s.n.a.t.c.h redemption, to obtain heaven's greatest blessing in an embittered and obstinate spirit. But to-day it was coming to him unbidden. The November wind was like a divine breath against his heated brow; the faint sunlight poured a wealth of gold on his head. "The miracle is beginning to work," he thought.

But at the bottom of his heart crouched still the demon of fear, and would not budge--the fear of meeting her.

If only he could have gone alone to the altar! But wherever he went she was there also. From her there was no escape. In the same way as she stood between him and his friend, she stood between him and his G.o.d.

The Uhlenfelde barouche was close in front of his dog-cart as he turned into the church square. There she was! That black-veiled graceful creature descending the steps of the carriage with a dainty swing of her rustling skirts was the woman he would have liked at that moment to take in his giant arms and crush--crush like a ball of putty. He pressed his nails deep into his flesh at the thought of how easy it would be to do it. Ulrich, slightly yellower than usual, and with more brilliant eyes than usual, came up to him on his stork-like legs.

"You left me in the lurch yesterday," he said, in mild reproach.

"It was too late to come in," apologised Leo. "I was afraid I should not get the trap over the ferry."

"Pity!" replied Ulrich, "I wanted you dreadfully."

"For anything special?"

"I wanted a father confessor," Ulrich said, smiling.

"And I was to be _that_," thought Leo, grinding his teeth; meanwhile he cast a sidelong glance at Felicitas, who was arranging her veil and hair, and ribbons, behind the carriage, and seemed in desperate need of a mirror. "To-day she is going to 'fetch' G.o.d Almighty" he reflected, and anger possessed him in every limb as he thought how he loathed her.

Then he went to offer her his hand. Her eyes, swimming in tears, looked up at him in sweet entreaty through the thick veil she wore. She pressed his hand twice in hers, a signal of freemasonry between them hatefully reminiscent to him of their mutual sin.

A few minutes later his own people drove up. They were all in black.

Mamma's lips were rounded from sheer pious ecstasy, and Elly, who seemed to-day strikingly to resemble her, wore the expression.

"We have all fasted," Leo's mother whispered to him, full of pride.

Hertha was very pale and studiously avoided locking at him. Johanna, who appeared terribly aged and haggard, suddenly came and asked him to let her take his arm. He acquiesced in amazement, for such a thing had not happened since he came home.

"This coming to the Holy Sacrament is my doing," she said, in a low tone.

"So I thought," he replied.

"And do you guess what my object is in doing it?"

"I think that I can."

"It is designed, above all things, to perfect the reconciliation between us two."

"And what more?"

"Can't yourself tell you?"

Their eyes met in bitter hostility.

"Leo!"

"Well."

"Is it not well that it should be so?"

"Oh yes! It's an excellent idea, ... really beautiful. Ha! ha! ha!"

The others, who had walked on, looked round. This outburst of hilarity was not in keeping with the sacramental mood.

At due door of the vestry he dropped his aster's arm and avoided speaking to her again. The superintendent was sitting at his official table, peaceably conning his sermon.

Leo went to him and spoke a few words of greeting. With a furtive smile of understanding the good man grasped both his hands, as much as to say--

"You and I, we know all about it?"

"Ah, if only you _did_ know," thought Leo, in bitter irony; and then once more he found himself searching for an excuse to get out of the way of the sweet, pale-faced, accursed woman who man[oe]uvred without ceasing to take her place at his side. How was it possible to collect one's thoughts for reverence and devotion as long as that white throat with its double dimple was craning itself amorously in his direction?

In the church they sat in the same order as they had done on the previous day. Leo with his mother and Elly in the first row, behind Ulrich and Felicitas, while Johanna and Hertha withdrew to the third bench.

Every seat in the church was full. On the plain altar, covered with a red cloth, two wax candles burned in the sconces, according to the custom on Communion days. The building, with its grey choir and galleries, its faded-looking painted pillars, and bare whitewashed ceiling, enclosed in its bald dreary s.p.a.ciousness countless black rows of melancholy human wors.h.i.+ppers. Only the reflection from the stained-gla.s.s window made a feeble effort to cast a little colour and character into the drab monotony, and over the altar niche shone brighter, it seemed, than before the words which promised such volumes--

"Peace be with you."

Peace, peace, at any price! Yet, was it not further off than ever?

The sense of the fatal woman's nearness was making all his pulses sting and throb. And while the sermon proceeded, like a tinkling bra.s.s on a tinkling cymbal, he sat hunched up, leaning forward against the book-rest, trying to follow an idea, and looking out for allusions which he could not grasp for all his suspicion.

Suddenly he felt ashamed of himself, and proud memories began to flash through his brain. He saw himself half-clothed galloping across the prairie, on his wild Arab; he heard the sounds of mad revelry round the camp fires at night, his own laugh, that of his drunken comrades, and he scented the mud vapour rising from the rus.h.i.+ng leviathan rivers which he had forded many a time on his horse's back.

A very different motto had ruled that merry, devil-may-care life. Then, "Repent nothing" had been written in sunbeams on his heart. "Repent nothing!" had cried the voice of the tempest and the laughter of his mistresses, and everything that had language.

But now?