Mrs. Baumhagen shrugged her shoulders and turned away. The two were standing close together and the bitter words died on her lips.

"Your guardian may talk to you about that," she said. "Will you be so kind, Linden, as to find my brother-in-law? I wish to speak with him."

He kissed Gertrude on the forehead, took his hat and went. Thank Heaven! he should soon be able to shelter her in his own house, this proud young girl who loved him so.

He walked quickly across the square. The fresh air did him good. He felt thoroughly indignant that any one should endeavor to separate them, putting hundreds of miles between them. How easily might a misunderstanding arise, how easily with such a character as hers, whom only the appearance of pettiness would suffice to arouse to scorn, hatred and defiance! How many couples who were deeply attached to each other had been separated in this way before now! He dared not think what would have become of him if it had happened so with them.

"'St!--'St,"--sounded behind him, and as he turned on the slippery sidewalk he saw Uncle Henry coming down the hotel steps. He had evidently been dining, and his jovial countenance displayed an astonishing mixture of sadness and physical comfort.

"I have had my dinner, Linden," he began, putting his arm through the young man's. "I was very much cast down by this affair of this morning.

You don't misunderstand me I hope? Eh? I am not one of those who lose their appet.i.tes when misfortune comes. I approve of our ancestors who had funeral feasts. I a.s.sure you, Linden, that wasn't such a bad idea as we of to-day fancy it. Give all honor to the dead, but the living must have their rights, and to them belong eating and drinking, which keep soul and body together. Ta, ta! A funeral always upsets me. The poor little fellow! I was fond of him all the same, you may be sure. I am sure you have not dined yet. Women never eat under such circ.u.mstances, every one knows."

"I was just going to look for you," replied Linden. "My future mother-in-law wishes to see you. We--are going to be married in three weeks."

The little man in the fur coat stopped, and looked at Linden as if he did not believe his ears.

"How? What? She has changed her mind very suddenly--did Gertrude improve the opportunity of her softened mood, or--?"

"Gertrude would never do that--no, Mrs. Baumhagen wishes to travel for some time with her eldest daughter, and--"

"Oh, ta, ta! And Gertrude is not to go?"

"On the contrary--but she would not."

"Aha! Now it dawns upon me, something has happened. Her serene Highness has been trying--now, I understand--travelling, new scenes, new people--out of sight, out of mind. Ha! ha! she is a born diplomatist.

Well, I will come, only let us take the longest way; the fresh air does me good. I am glad though, heartily glad--in three weeks it is to be then?"

The gentlemen walked on together in silence through the snow. It was wonderfully quiet in the streets in spite of the traffic of business.

Men and carriages seemed to sweep over the white snow. The air was mild, with a slight touch of spring, and Frank Linden thought of his home and of the small room next his own, which would not long remain unoccupied.

"How do you do, my dear fellow!" said a voice beside him, and a little man popped up in front of him, holding his hat high above his bald head--his sharp little face beaming with friendliness. Linden bowed.

Uncle Henry carelessly touched the brim of his hat.

"How do you come to know this Wolff?" he asked, looking after the man, who was winding his way sinuously in and out among the crowd. "He is a fellow who would spoil my appet.i.te if I met him before dinner."

"I am or rather was connected with him by business, through my old uncle--he had money from him on a mortgage on Niendorf," explained Linden.

"From that cravat-manufacturer? The old man was not very wise."

Linden did not reply. They had just turned into a quiet side-street.

"Does he still hold the mortgage?" asked Mr. Baumhagen.

"No, my friend's sister has taken it."

"Indeed! Why did you not come to _me_ about it? You could have had some of Gertrude's money--"

Frank Linden made a gesture of refusal.

"Oh--I promised the child; she has authorized me to put a certain capital at your disposal," explained the old gentleman.

"Thanks," replied Linden, shortly; "I will not have money matters mixed up with my courtship."

"And the new house at Niendorf?"

"Gertrude knows that she must not expect a fairy palace. Moreover we can live very comfortably there in the old rooms, though they are low and small. I have a very pretty garden-hall, and as for the view from the windows it would be hard to find another like it if you travel ever so far."

"Oh, the child is happy enough, but how about her serene Highness?"

chimed in Mr. Baumhagen.

"I would far rather have her say, 'My child has gone to live in a peasant's house,' than, '_We_ had to build first,'" remarked Linden, drily.

The old gentleman laughed comfortably to himself.

"Yes, yes, that is just what she would say--and she wants to go on a journey--it is astonishing! My dear old mother sought comfort in occupation when my father died--that was the good old custom--now-a-days people go on a journey. It would be better for Jenny, poor thing, if she were to sorrow deeply here in her home. But no, she must be dragged away so the whistle of the locomotive may drive away her last memory of her little one's voice. Linden!" The old man stopped and laid his hand on his shoulder. "Gertrude is not like that, you may take my word for it. She would not go away from the little grave out there--not now. She has her faults too, but--it is all right with her _here_," striking his breast. "Heaven grant she may be truly happy with you in the old nest. She has earned it by her sad youth--through her father."

Frank nodded. He knew it all very well, just as the old egotist told it to him.

"Well, now we must go," continued Uncle Henry; "my sister-in-law wants to speak to me about the wedding, I suppose."

"I think it is about the marriage contract," said Frank Linden, "and I want to beg you to urge upon Gertrude to yield to her mother's wishes--I shall like it better."

"Hm!" said the old man, clearing his throat. "I yield, thou yieldest, he yields, she--will _not_ yield! She is a perverse little monkey--pardon. But it is no use mincing matters. She takes it from her father. He was a splendid man of business, but as soon as his feelings were concerned, away with prudence, wisdom, calculation, and what not.

Oh, ta, ta! But here we are."

Mrs. Baumhagen received them very quietly, Gertrude was not with her.

"She is in her room," she said to Linden, as he looked round for her.

"She expects you."

He found her in the deep window. There was no lamp in the room, and the light from the fire played on the carpet, "Gertrude," he said, "how can I thank you!" And he took her hands, which burned in his like fire.

"For what?" she asked.

"For everything, Gertrude! You were quiet with your mother?" he added, quietly, as she was silent.

"Perfectly so," she replied; "I thought of you. But I am determined not to have a marriage settlement."

"You foolish girl. I might be unfortunate and have bad harvests and things of that sort--then you would suffer too."

She nodded and smiled.

"To be sure, and I would help you with all I possess. And if we have bad harvests and nothing, nothing will succeed, and we have nothing more in the world, then--" she stopped and looked at him with her happy, tear-stained eyes--"then we will starve together, won't we, you and I?"

CHAPTER IX.