The Lost Manuscript Part 110

"It is of no use now," replied Fritz, boldly. "I will no longer be treated as a stranger. I once heard the honest _thou_ from you, but never since. It pains me."

Laura regretted that. "But only when we are quite alone," she entreated.

"I propose it for all time," continued Fritz, undisturbed, "otherwise there will be continually mistakes and confusion."

He offered her his hand, which she shook gently, and before she could stop him she felt a kiss on her lips.

Laura looked at him tenderly, but then immediately drew back and ensconced herself in a corner of the carriage. Fritz was quite different to-day from usual; he looked confident and bold. In the house he had always been modest, while Laura had more than once thought of this relation, and had written in her book: "When two human beings are united in soul they ought to let each other know it." Now he used little ceremony. He looked boldly out of the carriage, and when they met travelers did not retreat as she had done after meeting the milkwoman, but looked as if challenging notice, and greeting people first.

"I must begin about the Hindus," she said to herself, "in order to turn his thoughts to other subjects."

She asked him about the contents of the Veda.

"I cannot think of it to-day," exclaimed Fritz, gaily. "I am too happy to think of the old books. I have only one thought in my heart: 'Laura, the dear girl, will become mine.' I could dance in the carriage for joy."

He jumped up from his seat like a little boy.

Fritz was fearfully changed; she did not know him again; she withheld her hand from him, and looked at him, suspiciously, askance.

"The heavens are covered with clouds," she said, sadly.

"But the sun s.h.i.+nes above them," replied Fritz; "it will come out again in a few minutes. I propose that we examine the great leather bag which my mother gave us; I hope there will be something good in it."

Thus did the prose of the Hahn family betray itself, and Laura observed with secret regret how eagerly the Doctor rummaged the bag. She had, however, in her excitement thought little of her breakfast, so when Fritz offered her some of its contents she extended her little hand for it, and both ate heartily.

Something darkened the seat next the coachman; a misshapen head showed itself at the window, and a discordant snarl was heard in the carriage.

Laura pointed terrified at the apparition.

"Merciful heavens, there is the dog again!"

The Doctor also looked angrily at the hostile figure. "Drive him away,"

cried Laura; "make him run home."

"He will hardly find his way back," replied the Doctor, thoughtfully; "what would your father say if he were lost?"

"He has been the enemy of my life," exclaimed Laura; "and must we now take him with us into the world? The idea is insupportable, and a bad omen, Fritz."

"Perhaps we shall meet a wagon that will take him back again," said the Doctor, consolingly; "meanwhile we must not let him starve."

In spite of his aversion he handed him some breakfast, and the dog disappeared again under the ap.r.o.n.

But Laura continued disturbed.

"Fritz, dear Fritz," she exclaimed, suddenly, "you must leave me alone."

The Doctor looked at her with astonishment. The _you_ was an orthographical error which must be atoned for. He was again about to give her a kiss, but she drew back.

"If you love me, Fritz, you must now leave me alone," she cried out, wringing her hands.

"How can I do that?" asked Fritz; "we are traveling for good into the great world."

"Get upon the box by the coachman," begged Laura, imploringly.

She looked so serious and depressed that Fritz obediently stopped the carriage, descended from it, and climbed upon the coach-box. Laura drew a deep breath, and became more tranquil. Her words had influenced him.

Intractable as he was, he would do much to please her. She sat alone, and her thoughts became more cheering. The Doctor turned round frequently, knocked at the window, and asked how she was. He was very tender-hearted, and full of loving attentions.

"The whole responsibility for his health rests on me," she thought, "what hitherto his dear mother has done for him now becomes my duty. A delightful duty, dear Fritz. I will keep him from working at nights, for his health is delicate, and every day I will go walking with him, in the coldest weather, to accustom him to it."

She looked out of the carriage, the wind was stirring the leaves; she knocked at the window:

"Fritz, it is windy, you have no shawl on."

"I shall no longer use one," called out the Doctor, "this effeminacy must be shaken off."

"I beg of you, Fritz, not to be so childish. Put one round you, or you will certainly catch cold."

"With a _you_, I will certainly not put it on."

"Take it, my darling Fritz, I beg of _thee_," entreated Laura.

"That sounds quite different," said Fritz.

The window was opened, and the shawl put out.

"He is firm as a rock," said Laura, seating herself again. "Complaisant as he appears, he knows well what he chooses to do, and, contrary to his own convictions, will not give in, even to me. That is all for the best, for I am still a childish creature, and my father was in the right; I need a husband who will look more calmly on the world than I do."

It began to rain. The coachman put on his cloak, and Fritz spread his plaid and enveloped himself in it. She became very anxious about Fritz, and again knocked at the window.

"It is raining, Fritz."

This the Doctor could not deny.

"Come in, you will get wet and catch cold."

The carriage stopped, and Fritz obediently got down and entered it, while Laura wiped away the raindrops on his hair and shawl with her pocket-handkerchief.

"You said _you_ four times," began Fritz, reprovingly. "If it continues thus, you will have a large reckoning to pay."

"Be serious," began Laura, "I am in a very solemn mood. I am thinking of our future. I will think of it day and night, dearest one, that you may not feel the loss of your mother. Your dear mother has always taken your coffee up to you, but that is unsociable, you shall come over to me and take your breakfast with me; your Hindus must grant this half-hour to me. About ten o'clock I shall send you over an egg, and at dinner-time you will come over again to me. I shall take care that the cooking is good; we will live simply, as we are accustomed, and well.

Then you shall tell me something about your books that I may know what my husband is occupied with, for this is a wife's right. In the afternoon we will take a walk together in the streets."

"What do you mean?" asked Fritz, "'over there,' 'here,' 'in the streets'? Surely we shall live together."

Laura looked at him with open eyes, and a blush slowly mantled over her face up to her temples.

"We cannot, as man and wife, live in different houses?"

Laura held her hand before her eyes and remained silent. As she did not answer, Fritz drew her hand quietly from her face, and large tears rolled down her cheeks.