by Myrtle Reed
XX
"Mine Brudder's Friend"
That day the Master put aside the garment of his years. The quartercentury that had lain between them like a thorny, upward path wassuddenly blotted out, and only the memory of it remained. Belated, butnone the less keen, the primeval joy came back to him. Youth and love,the bounding pulse and the singing heart,--they were all his.
It was twilight when they came away from the moss-grown altar in theforest, his arm around his sweetheart, and the faces of both wet withhappy tears.
"Until to-morrow, mine Liebchen," he said. "How shall I now wait forthat to-morrow when we part no more? The dear God knew. He gave to methe cutting and the long night that in the end I might deserve thee. Hewas making of me an instrument suited to thy little hand." He kissed thehand as he spoke, and Margaret's eyes filled once more.
Through the mist of her tears she saw the rising moon rocking idly justabove the horizon. "See," said the Master, "it is a new light from theeast, from the same place as thou hast come to me. Many a time have Iwatched it, thinking that it also shone on thee; that perhaps thy eyes,as well as mine, were upon it, and thus, through heaven, we wereunited."
"Those whom God hath joined together," murmured Margaret, "let no manput asunder."
"Those whom God hath joined," returned the Master, reverently, "no mancan put asunder. Dost thou not see? I thought thou hadst forgotten, andwhen I go to keep mine tryst with Grief, I find thee there, with thylips upon the cross."
"I have never gone before," whispered Margaret. "I could not."
"So? Mine Beloved, I have gone there many times. When mine sorrow hasfilled mine old heart to breaking, I have gone there, that I might lookupon thy cross and mine and so gain strength. It is where we parted,where thy lips were last on mine. Sometimes I have gone with mineCremona and played until mine sore heart was at peace. And to-day, Ifind thee there! The dear Father has been most kind."
"Did you know me?" asked Margaret, shyly. "Have I not grown old?"
"Mine Liebchen, thou canst never grow old. Thou hast the beauty ofimmortal youth. As I saw thee to-day, so have I seen thee in mine dream.Sometimes I have felt that thou hadst taken up thy passing, and I havehungered for mine, for it was a certainty in mine heart that the dearFather would give thee back to me in heaven.
"I do not think of heaven as the glittering place with the streets ofgold and the walls of pearl, but more like one quiet wood, where thegrass is green and the little brook sings all day. I have thought ofheaven as the place where those who love shall be together, free fromall misunderstanding or the thought of parting.
"The great ones say that man's own need gives him his conception of thedear God; that if he needs the avenging angel, so is God to him; thatif he needs but the friend, that will God be. And so, in mine dream ofheaven, because it was mine need, I have thought of it but as one sunnyfield, where there was clover in the long grass and tall trees at oneside, with the clear, shining waters beyond, where we might quench ourthirst, and thee beside me forever, with thy little hand in mine. Andnow, because I have paid mine price, I do not have to wait until I amdead for mine heaven; the dear God gives it to me here."
"Whatever heaven may be," said Margaret, thrilled to the utmost depthsof her soul, "it can be no more than this."
"Nor different," answered the Master, drawing her closer. "I think it islike this, without the fear of parting."
"Parting!" repeated Margaret, with a rush of tears; "oh, do not speak ofparting!"
"Mine Beloved," said the Master, and his voice was very tender, "thereis nothing perfect here--there must always be parting. If it were notso, we should have no need of heaven. But to the end of the road thouand I will go together.
"See! In the beginning, we were upon separate paths, and, after so longa time, the ways met. For a little space we journeyed together, andbecause of it the sun was more bright, the flowers more sweet, the roadmore easy. Then comes the hard place and the ways divide. But though theleagues lie between us and we do not see, we go always at the same pace,and so, in a way, together. We learn the same things, we think the samethings, we suffer the same things, because we were of those whom thedear God hath joined. Another walks beside thee and yet not with thee,because, through all the distance, thou art mine.
"And so we go until thy road is turned. Thou dost not know it is turned,because the circle is so great thou canst not see. Little dost thoudream thou art soon to meet again with thy old Franz. Through thethicket, meanwhile, I am going, and mine way is hard and set withbrambles. It is only mine blind faith which helps me onward--that, andthe vision in mine heart of thee, which never for a day, nor even for anhour, hath been absent.
"One day mine road turns too, and there art thou, mine Beloved, leadingby the hand mine son."
Margaret was sobbing, her face hidden against his shoulder.
"Mine Liebchen, it is not for me to bear thy tears. Much can I endure,but not that. After the long waiting, I have thee close again, thou andmine son, the tall young fellow with the honest face and the laughingways, who have made of himself one artist.
"The way lies long before us, but it is toward the west, and sunset hathalready begun to come upon the clouds. But until the end we go together,thy little hand in mine.
"Some day, Beloved, when the ways part once more, and thou or I shall becalled to follow the Grey Angel into the darkness, I think we shall notfear. Perhaps we shall be very weary, and the one will be glad becausethe other has come into the Great Rest. But, Beloved, thou knowest thatif it is I who must follow the Grey Angel, and still leave thee on thedusty road alone, mine grave will be no division. Life hath not taughtme not to love thee with all mine soul, and Death shall not. Life is thepositive, and Death is the negation. Shall Death, then, do somethingmore than Life can do? Oh, mine Liebchen, do not fear!"
The Autumn mists were rising and the stars gleamed faintly, like far-offpoints of pearl. At the bridge, they said good night, and Margaret wenton home, wishing, even then, that she might bear the burden for Lynn.
The Master went up the hill with his blood singing in his veins.Fredrika thought him unusually abstracted, but strangely happy, anduntil long past midnight, he sat by the window, improvising upon theCremona a theme of such passionate beauty that the heart within hertrembled and was afraid.
That night Fredrika dreamed that someone had parted her from Franz, andwhen she woke, her pillow was wet with tears.
It was not until the next afternoon that he realised that he must tellher. After long puzzling over the problem, he went to DoctorBrinkerhoff's.
The Doctor was out, and did not return until almost sunset. When hecame, the Master was sitting in the same uncomfortable chair that, withmonumental patience, he had occupied for hours.
"Mine friend," said the Master, with solemn joy, "look in mine face andtell me what you see."
"What I see!" repeated the Doctor, mystified; "why, nothing but the sameblundering old fellow that I have always seen."
The Master laughed happily. "So? And this blundering old fellow; hasnothing come to him?"
"I can't imagine," said the Doctor, shaking his head. "I may be dense,but I fear you will have to tell me."
"So? Then listen! Long since, perhaps, you have known of mine sorrow. Ofit I have never said much, because mine old heart was sore, and becausemine friend could understand without words."
"Yes," replied the Doctor, eagerly, "I knew that the one you loved wastaken away from you while you were both very young."
"Yes. Well, look in mine face once more and tell me what you see."
"You--you haven't found her!" gasped the Doctor, quite beside himselfwith surprise.
"Precisely," the Master assured him, with his face beaming.
The Doctor wrung his hand. "Franz, my old friend," he cried, "wordscannot tell you how glad I am! Where--who is she?"
"Mine friend," returned the Master, "it is you who are one blunderingold fellow. After taking to yourself the errand of telling her th
at Iloved her still, you did not see fit to come back to me with the newsthat she also cared. Thereby much time has been wrongly spent."
The Doctor grew hot and cold by turns. "You don't mean--" he cried."Not--not Mrs. Irving!"
"Who else?" asked the Master, serenely. "In all the world is she not themost lovely lady? Who that has seen her does not love her, and why notI?"
Doctor Brinkerhoff sank into a chair, very much excited.
"It is one astonishment also to me," the Master went on. "I cannotbelieve that the dear God has been so good, and I must always bepinching mineself to be sure that I do not sleep. It is most wonderful."
"It is, indeed," the Doctor returned.
"But see how it has happened. Only now can I understand. In thebeginning, mine heart is very hurt, but out of mine hurt there comes thepower to make mineself one great artist. It was mine Cremona that madethe parting, because I am so foolish that I must go in her house tolook at it. It was mine Cremona that took her to me the last time, whenshe gave it to me. 'Franz,' she says, 'if you take this, you will notforget me, and it is mine to do with what I please.'
"So, when I have made mineself the great artist, I have played on mineCremona to many thousands, and the tears have come from all. See, it isalways mine Cremona. And because of this, she has heard of me afar off,and she has chosen to have mine son learn the violin from me, so that healso shall be one artist. Twice she has heard me and mine Cremona whenwe make the music together; once in the street outside mine house, andonce when I played the _Ave Maria_ in her house when the old lady wasdead."
Doctor Brinkerhoff turned away, his muscles suddenly rigid, but theMaster talked on, heedlessly.
"See, it is always mine Cremona, and the dear God has made us in thesame way. He has made mine violin out of the pain, the cutting, and thelong night, and also me, so that I shall be suited to touch it. It is sothat I am to her as mine Cremona is to me--I am her instrument, and shecan do with me what she will.
"It is but the one string now that needs the tuning," went on theMaster, deeply troubled. "I know not what to do with mine Fredrika."
"Fredrika!" repeated Doctor Brinkerhoff. He, too, had forgotten thefaithful Fraeulein.
"The bright colours are not for mine Liebchen," the Master continued.
"The bright colours," said the Doctor, by some curious trick of mindimmediately upon the defensive, "why, I have always thought them verypretty."
A great light broke in upon the Master, and he could not be expectedto perceive that it was only a will o' the wisp. "So," he cried,triumphantly, "you have loved mine sister! I have sometimes thoughtso, and now I know!"
The Doctor's face turned a dull red, his eyelids drooped, and he wipedhis forehead with his handkerchief.
"Ah, mine friend," said the Master, exultantly, "is it not mostwonderful to see how we have played at the cross-purposes? All theseyears you have waited because you would not take mine sister away fromme, you, mine kind, unselfish friend! So much fun have you made of minehousekeeping before she came that you would not do me this wrong!
"And I--I could not send mine sister the money to take the long journey,and for many years keep her from her Germany and her friends, then afterone night say to her: 'Fredrika, I have found mine old sweetheart and Ino longer want you.'
"Mine Fredrika has never known of mine sorrow, and I cannot to-day giveher the news. It is not for me to make mine sister's heart to ache asmine has ached all these years, nor could I give her the money to goback to her Germany because I no longer want her, when she has given itall up for me. It would be most unkind.
"But now, see what the dear God has done for us! When it is all workedout, and we come to the end, we see that you, also, share. I know, minefriend, I know what it has been for you, because I, too, have beenthrough the deep waters, and now we come to the land together. It ismost fitting, because we are friends.
"Moreover, you are to her as she is to you. She has not told me, butmine old eyes are sharp and I see. I tell you this to put the courageinto your heart. If you make mine sister happy, it is all I shall ask.Go, now, to mine Fredrika, and tell her I will not be back until latethis evening! Is it not most beautiful?"
Limp, helpless, and sorely shaken, but without the faintest idea ofprotesting, Doctor Brinkerhoff found himself started up the hill. TheMaster stood at the foot, waving his hat in boyish fashion and shoutingmessages of good-will. At last, when he dared to look back, the Doctorsaw that the way was clear, and he sat down upon a boulder by theroadside to think.
He would be ungenerous, indeed, he thought, if he could not make somesacrifice for Franz and for Mrs. Irving. Unwillingly, he had come intopossession of Fraeulein Fredrika's closely guarded secret, and, as herepeatedly told himself, he was a man of honour. Moreover, he was notone of those restless spirits who forever question Life for its meaning.Clearly, there was no other way than the one which was plainly laidbefore him.
But a few more years remained to him, he reflected, for he was twentyyears older than the Master; still life was very strange. Disloyalty tothe dead was impossible, for she never knew, and would have scorned himif she had known. The end of the tangled web was in his hands--for threepeople he could make it straight again.
The long shadows lay upon the hill and still he sat there, thinking. Thechildren played about him and asked meaningless questions, for the firsttime finding their friend unresponsive.
Finally one, a little bolder than the rest, came closer to him. "Thegood Fraeulein," whispered the child, "she is much troubled for theMaster. Why is it that he comes not to his home?"
With a sigh and a smile, the Doctor went slowly up the hill to theMaster's house, where Fraeulein Fredrika was waiting anxiously. "Minebrudder!" she cried; "is he ill?"
"No, no, Fraeulein," answered the Doctor, reassuringly, his heart madetender by her distress. "Shall not Franz sit in my office to await theinfrequent patient while I take his place with his sister? You are gladto see me, are you not, Fraeulein?"
The tint of faded roses came into the Fraeulein's face. "Mine brudder'sfriend," she said simply, "is always most welcome."
She excused herself after a few minutes and began to bustle about in thekitchen. Surely, thought the Doctor, it was pleasant to have a woman inone's house, to bring orderly comfort into one's daily living. Thekettle sang cheerily and the Fraeulein hummed a little song under herbreath. In the twilight, the gay colours faded into a subdued harmony.
"It is all very pleasant," said the Doctor to himself, resolutelyputting aside a memory of something quite different. Perhaps, as hissimple friends said, the dear God knew.
After tea, the Fraeulein drew her chair to the window and looked out,seemingly unconscious of his presence. "A rare woman," he told himself."One who has the gift of silence."
In the dusk, her face was almost beautiful--all the hard lines softenedand made tenderly wistful. The Doctor sighed and she turned uneasily.
"Mine brudder," she said, anxiously, "if something was wrong with him,you would tell me, yes?"
"Of course," laughed the Doctor. "Why are you so distressed? Is it sostrange for me to be here?"
"No," she answered, in a low tone, "but you are mine brudder's friend."
"And yours also, Fredrika. Did you never think of that?" She trembled,but did not answer, and, leaning forward, the Doctor took her hand inhis.
"Fredrika," he said, very gently, "you will perhaps think it is strangefor me to talk in this way, but have you never thought of me assomething more than a friend?"
The woman was silent and bitterly ashamed, wondering when and where shehad betrayed herself.
"That is unfair," he continued, instantly perceiving. "I have thought ofyou in that way, more especially to-day." Even in the dusk, he could seethe light in her eyes, and in his turn he, too, was shamed.
"Dear Fraeulein Fredrika," he went on, "I have not much to offer, but allI have is yours. I am old, and the woman I loved died, never knowingthat I loved her. If she had known, it
would have made no difference.Perhaps you think it an empty gift, but it is my all. You, too, mayhave dreamed of something quite different, but in the end God knowsbest. Fredrika, will you come?"
The maidenly heart within her rioted madly in her breast, but she wasused to self-repression. "I thank you," she said, with gentle dignity;"it is one compliment which is very high, but I cannot leave mine Franz.All the way from mine Germany I have come to mend, to cook, to wash, tosew, to scrub, to sweep, to take after him the many things which heforgets and leaves behind, even the most essential. What should he thinkof me if I should say: 'Franz, I will do this for you no more, but forsomeone else?' You will understand," she concluded, in a pathetic littlevoice which stirred him strangely, "because you are mine brudder'sfriend."
"Yes," replied the Doctor, "I am his friend, and so, do you think Iwould come without his permission? Dear Fraeulein, Franz knows and isglad. That is why I left him. Almost the last words he said to me werethese: 'If you make mine sister happy, it is all I ask.'"
"Franz!" she cried. "Mine dear, unselfish Franz! Always so good, sogentle! Did he say that!"
"Yes, he said that. Will you come, Fredrika? Shall we try to make eachother happy?"
She was standing by the window now, with her hand upon her heart, andher face alight with more than earthly joy.
"Dear Fraeulein," said the Doctor, rejoicing because it was in his powerto give any human creature so much happiness, "will you come?"
Without waiting for an answer, he put his hand upon her shoulder anddrew her toward him. Then the heavens opened for Fraeulein Fredrika, andstar-fire rained down upon her unbelieving soul.