The Lost Manuscript Part 117

"Get up, eloper," he shouted, "if you still wish to take leave of your forsaken father."

There was a noise in the room and a prattering of slippers, and Laura's head peeped through the opening in the door.

"Father, you are not going to leave us!" she said pleadingly.

"You have left me," replied Mr. Hummel; "we must have a few final words together. Dress yourself properly, and you shall accompany me down the hill. I will wait for you in the hall."

He had to wait some time for his daughter, and paced impatiently up and down, looking at his watch.

"Gabriel," he said to the servant, who came up to him in his best attire, "much misfortune arises from women's long hair. It is on that account that they never can be ready at the right time; this is their privilege by which they vex us, and it is on that account that they maintain they are the weaker s.e.x. Order and punctuality will never be obtained unless all womankind have their pig-tails cut off on one day."

Laura glided down the stairs, clung to her father's arm, and stroked his cheeks with her little hand.

"Come into the garden, my little actress," he said; "I must speak to you alone for a few minutes. You have succeeded in eloping, you have gone through the scandal,--in what state of mind are you now?"

"Uneasy, dear father," said Laura, dejectedly. "I know that it was a folly, and Ilse says so too."

"Then it must be so," replied Mr. Hummel, dryly. "What is now to become of you?"

"Whatever you wish, father," said Laura. "Fritz and I are of opinion that we must follow your wishes unconditionally. I have by my folly lost all right of expressing a wish; if I could still venture to make a request," she said, timidly, "I should like to remain here for a short time."

"Then you wish to get rid of your seducer?"

"He is going back to his parents, and we will wait, my father, until he has an appointment at the University: he has prospects."

"Indeed," said Mr. Hummel, shaking his head. "All that would have been very sensible before the elopement; now it is too late. Your banns have been published in church, now, three times."

"The people would not have it otherwise," continued Mr. Hummel. "When it was known that you had eloped, the clergy could not avoid publis.h.i.+ng the banns; you had not been long out of the gate when this calamity took place."

Laura stood terrified, and a burning red suffused her cheeks. The bells of the little church by the wood below sounded. Mr. Hummel took a paper out of his pocket.

"Here are those cursed old G.o.dmother's gloves; I wish at last to get rid of the trash. Here you have your dowry, I can give you nothing more; put them on quickly, that people may at least observe by your hands that this is a festive day for you. When it comes to the business of the wedding-ring you can easily take them off."

"Father," cried Laura, wringing her hands.

"You could not bear the idea of a wedding-cake," said Mr. Hummel, "so you must do without a wedding-dress, and many other things. These dramatic att.i.tudes would have been very suitable before the elopement, now you must be married without question either immediately, or not at all. Do you think that one goes out into the world for a joke?"

"My mother!" exclaimed Laura, and the tears rolled from her eyes.

"You chose to run away from your mother, and if your father, out of consideration for these strangers, had not come, you would have had to do the business alone. You wished to escape from our homely, simple feelings."

Laura laid hold of a tree with trembling hands, and looked imploringly at her father.

"You are not so bold as I thought. Now the timid hare in you comes to light."

Laura threw herself on her father's breast and sobbed; he stroked her curls.

"Little Hummel," he said, kindly, "there must be punishment, and it is not severe; I am satisfied that you should marry him. He is a worthy man; I have observed that; and if it is for your happiness, I shall easily get on with him, but you must not immediately begin to hum and buzz if I sometimes bristle up in my way. I wish, too, that you should marry him to-day, that is now the best course for all parties. You may exercise your bridal feelings later and go through your emotions as you like. Be brave, now, my child, the others are waiting, and we must not delay them. Are you ready?"

Laura wept, but a soft "Yes" was heard.

"Then we will awake the bridegroom," said Mr. Hummel. "I believe the sacrificial lamb sleeps without any foreboding of his fate."

He left his daughter, hastened to the Doctor's door, and looked into the room. Fritz lay fast asleep. Mr. Hummel seized the boots which were standing before the door and b.u.mped them down beside the bed.

"Good morning, Don Juan," he shouted; "have the kindness to get immediately into this leather. These are your bridal boots. My daughter Laura begs you to make haste, and the clergyman is impatient."

The Doctor sprang out of his bed.

"Are you in earnest?" he asked.

"Terribly in earnest," said Hummel.

He did not have to wait long for the Doctor. He entered the garden where Laura was still sitting alone in the bower, uneasy, like an imprisoned bird that does not venture to leave its cage. Mr. Hummel led the Doctor up to her.

"There, you have her," he said solemnly. "It is a fine morning, just like that when I set out as a boy. To-day I send my child into the world, and that is another kind of feeling. I do not object to it if you live happily together, till first your children run away from you into the world, and then the grandchildren: for man is like a bird, he takes pains and collects the bits of straw together for his home, but the young brood do not care for the nest of the parents. Thus the old raven must now sit alone and find few who will be vexed with his croaking. Take my stubborn girl, dear Fritz, and do not let her have too much of her own will. I have watched you for some time, and I will tell you something in confidence: ever since the affair of the cat's-paws it occurred to me, that in the end you would be no bad husband for this Hummel. That you are called Hahn is, after all, only a misfortune." He kissed them both right heartily. "Now come, runaways, for the others are expecting you."

Mr. Hummel walked before his children to the house; he opened the door of the sitting-room where the whole family were a.s.sembled. Laura flew to Ilse, and concealed her hot face on the breast of her friend. The latter took the bridal wreath, which her sisters had brought, and placed it on Laura's head. Gabriel opened the door. Years before the Doctor had drawn his friend from the bramble bush against the wall into the church; now he walked into the little village church hand in hand with his love, and again the children strewed flowers. When the clergymen joined the hands of the bridal pair. Ilse also clasped the hand of her husband.

"Your mother is wanting," said Hummel, to the bride, when she embraced him after the wedding; "and the Doctor's family also. But you are citizen's children, and however exalted your feelings may be you must accommodate yourself to our customs. You will go from here back to your native town. There your mothers will keep the after-nuptials, and you, runaway, shall not escape the bad poetry. You must excuse me if I am not at home on that day; I have to make a business journey, and it is not suitable to marry one's child twice in a week." He then said, in a low tone to his daughter: "between ourselves, I do not wish to peck of the same wedding-cake with the Hahn family. You are not to live with me, nor in the house over the way:--that has been advised by our friends, and I think it quite right. After the marriage feast you may travel for some weeks, and then return to your own home."

"The bridal journey you will make alone," said the Professor; "not with us. Ilse and I have determined, after a short rest, to return to the city. I have some months of the vacation still before me which I shall endeavour to make of use to a select circle of students. Among books we shall again find what we lost among strangers,--peace with ourselves, and peace with those about us."

It was about Easter the following year. Mr. Hummel and Gabriel stood dressed in festive black before the door of No. 1. Park Street.

"I was to see her, Gabriel," began Mr. Hummel, confidentially. "I took the money to her this time myself, because you wished it. I inquired concerning her of the people at the Inn and of the neighbors. She behaves with modesty, and her character is greatly changed. Much water, Gabriel," and he pointed to his eyes.

"You were kind to her?" asked Gabriel, faintly.

"As a lamb," replied Mr. Hummel, "and she the same. The room was poor, one picture only hung there without a frame, Gabriel, as a remembrance of her happy position in that house. It was a c.o.c.k with golden feathers."

Gabriel turned away.

"At last the place became too moist for my dry const.i.tution, but care has been taken of her. She is to be placed in a respectable business as a saleswoman, and as for the illegitimate Knips, the ladies will take care of him. I have spoken with Madame Hummel, and she with the Hahn woman over the way; they will arrange for the charitable collections.

But as far as you are concerned, Gabriel, with all respect,--what is too much is too much."

Mr. Hummel respectfully seized Gabriel's waistcoat b.u.t.ton, and twisted the averted face as by a screw round to himself. Then he looked into the sad eyes for some time without saying a word, but they both understood each other.

"It was a hard time, it was a mad time, Gabriel, in every point of view," began Mr. Hummel, at last, shaking his head; "what we went through with princes was no trifle."

"He was very light," said Gabriel, "and I carried him like a feather."

"That is nothing to the purpose," said Mr. Hummel; "the affair was creditable. Just think what it is to have saved a young Sovereign.

That few of us can do. For a moment, ambitious thoughts came into my head--that is to say, the Chamberlain, no ill-disposed man and an old acquaintance of ours, sounded me on a delicate point when he last called."

"He also sent for me," interposed Gabriel, with dignity. "Prince Victor had commissioned him to send his respects, and to say that the Prince was to marry the Princess."