"Carmen," she said sadly, "judging from what you say, you have in your heart completely cut yourself off from the Lord's mercy and our faith, and therefore it is better that things should be as they are, for you must not play the hypocrite--anything is preferable to that. You would destroy yourself and be of no benefit to us." She laid her hand gently on Carmen's head, and added: "Go now, dear Sister, and tread the new path you have chosen for yourself; and Heaven grant it may not lead to misery! If, however, happiness deserts you, and your heart yearns after us, like the thirsty wayfarer in the desert, then return to the people of the Lord, that we may help you to return to Him."

She tenderly kissed the maiden's brow, pressed her to her bosom again and again, and let her go. She followed Carmen's lovely form with her eyes as she pa.s.sed through the doorway and left the room; then, folding her hands in prayer, she said: "Lord, forgive the child. A soul which was entrusted to me by Thee, which I knew not how to guide aright, has been taken from me. If she goes astray, let mine be the blame, for it was my fault; but if she seeks Thee in another path of life, then give her Thy peace. Ah, how much I have still to correct in myself! Yet I would fain do my utmost for the souls Thou hast committed to my charge.

I praise Thee, and would not think of my trials, if only I am counted worthy to suffer for Thy sake."

So Carmen was freed from the fetters she had unwillingly worn for so long. Alexander had arranged with her and her father that she should go to his mother at Wollmershain; but the separation from her father was a severe trial to her loving heart. Fate had scarcely united them, and already they must part and, knowing what misery it was to the old man, it seemed almost more than she could bear. And yet it must be.

She promised to visit her father twice every week, and would be quick and diligent in her home duties, so as to make her visits longer.

The days were now very lonely without the bright, cheerful presence of his daughter; and when winter came, his own dwelling was ready to be occupied, but all the zest and pleasure of moving into his new abode seemed to have vanished. He took Sister Ursula, an aged widow, as his servant and housekeeper. How he loved to sit by the window in his room, from whence he could look out on the hill where the cemetery was laid out! "The Brothers will soon carry me along that path," he thought, "and it will be well for me when the time comes. I have always longed to be laid away in our own G.o.d's-acre, among the Sisters and Brothers, and enter with them into the joy of our Lord."

He now had also the happiness of having Carmen with him for several days at a time. The house seemed illuminated by her presence, her room was close to his, and there she had plants which he took care of for her. There was also a snug little corner where they pa.s.sed many happy hours together. But with the knowledge of the fearful secret which overshadowed her father's life a deeper gravity had come to her, which subdued her otherwise exuberant and joyous temperament; and Alexander often asked if it was the love she felt for him which had thus checked her former cheerfulness. And this shadow did not pa.s.s away when, shortly after Christmas, her wedding was celebrated, and Mauer informed her that he had divided the fortune left him by Inez from his own property, in order to make it over to her daughter, to whom it by right belonged. So the young couple remained at Wollmershain, after Alexander had sold his commission and left the army; and Mauer was happy in the a.s.surance that his daughter would always be near him.

CHAPTER XI.

On a bleak November day, when all nature wore its most dreary aspect, the carriage of Herr von Trautenau, now well known in the village, drew up before Brother Mauer's door. The horses had scarcely stopped, when the door opened and Alexander sprang out, followed by Carmen, whose face bore traces of recent tears.

"Be brave, dear heart!" he said.

"I have you and our darling boy left," she answered with emotion; and turning back to the carriage, took a little child from the nurse's arms. She kissed him fondly, and the little fellow clapped his hands and crowed merrily at his mother as she held him in her arms. Then from beneath the flaxen ringlets which covered the infantile head a pair of large black eyes looked around with wonder at the strange place and the dark figure, with the white cap, that stood in the doorway.

Carmen was surprised to see Sister Agatha.

"Have I come too late?" she asked in a tone of anguish.

"No, dear Carmen, he still lives," said the faithful nurse, soothingly.

"But he is failing rapidly since the attack this morning. He has been so weak of late that we have felt prepared for the end to come at any time. He has been asking anxiously for you since consciousness has returned, and Sister Ursula sent at once for me, that I might be with him while she went for another doctor, as Brother Jonathan has just been summoned to the country to visit the miller."

"How good you are, dear Sister Agatha!" said Carmen, pressing her hand affectionately.

They had now entered the house, and Alexander remained in an adjoining room, while Carmen went at once to her father. The bed had been drawn close to the window to give him more air, and he was now resting quietly, as if asleep, his hands crossed on his breast, and the shadow of death on his brow. Carmen was greatly shocked at the change.

"My darling father, I am here with you; do you know me, your own Carmen?" she asked, kneeling by the couch.

At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes, and a faint, happy smile broke over his stiffening features.

"My child--are you here? Now I am ready to go."

"Father, let us hope G.o.d will spare you to us!"

"No, my precious child, let us hope He will, at last, set me free; for I long, oh so earnestly! to be at rest. Carmen, a guilty conscience is a scorpion which never ceases to torment, and deals a death-blow to all peace and happiness; therefore keep your heart pure, my darling, and ever have G.o.d's commandments before your mind, so as to avoid sinning against them. Let me persuade you to come back into the bosom of our faith, and draw your husband with you. He could enter the Brotherhood, even though he lived elsewhere. Oh, ensure the safety of your soul, under the shelter of our holy religion, so that your life be not poisoned with remorse, as mine has been!"

She kissed her father's hand with love and reverence; then raising her head, looked in his eyes, which rested on her so anxiously. "Father I promise you I will remain faithful to my G.o.d, and endeavor to keep His laws."

Mauer sank back on his pillows. "Brother Jonathan," he whispered, after a pause, "has kept my fearful secret; and even though he always involuntarily reminds me of it, he has maintained his friendship and brotherly love for me until now; but he has never allowed me to forget that my wealth must go to the community, as an atonement for my crime; so I have specified in my will that, in expiation of a great sin, I have left all my money to the commonwealth of the Brotherhood and their missions: thus, in benefiting all, to make amends for sinning against one."

Carmen silently kissed his pale lips; then, rising, went into the next room and brought back with her Alexander and the child. They kneeled beside the dying man, and Carmen asked with tears "Father, bless your children!"

"Do you value the blessing of such as I?" he said humbly.

"Yes, my father, I cannot live without it."

Then the old man laid his hands on the three heads and murmured words of benediction.

CHAPTER XII.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and the shadows of twilight began to gather on the gloomy sky. Agatha brought in a lamp, and all retired save Carmen; thus leaving her and her father alone together, undisturbed. Mauer lay quiet, with his eyes half closed; while his daughter sat holding his hand in a loving clasp, her head buried in the coverlid. In the stillness which prevailed in the chamber of death, the door was heard to open, and some one entered noiselessly; but the draught caused by the open window closed the door sharply behind the visitor. Mauer opened his eyes at the sound, and looked up vacantly as if he did not recognize Jonathan. Carmen also raised her head; but when she saw who it was, she immediately hid her face again, for she felt it quite impossible to speak to him now. Kneeling between the bed and the wall, her form was completely hidden in the dark shadow.

"Brother Mauer, I have just returned from the Country, and hear that you have been ill. What is the matter?" asked Jonathan.

At the sound of his voice, the sick man shivered as if from an icy breath of wind. He stared at the physician with dilated eyes.

"Brother Jonathan," he faltered, "the end has come, and the old, dark story will be laid with me in the grave. I know I have sinned grievously, but have atoned with a life of repentance and cruel suffering for the murder of an inoffensive wife."

As the old man spoke, Jonathan looked at him sharply and searchingly.

The light of the lamp shone on his altered features, which bore the stamp of death. The physician seized his hand; the pulse was almost gone; there was no possibility of saving his life; each moment brought the end nearer. Then Jonathan's hate, revenge, and scorn broke loose, and flashed unrestrained from his eyes, which were fixed on the figure lying before him. For twenty years he had hated this man more than any other on earth; and for twenty years he had been obliged to put on the hypocrisy of love towards him. What a trial for his hot, seething pa.s.sion! At the last, the moment had now come when his enemy was in his power, and he could throw up his visor and show his real face! Now was the time to crown his revenge, before the object of it pa.s.sed entirely out of his reach forever.

Jonathan glanced hastily around the quiet darkened chamber, to convince himself that they were alone. He saw no one; the faint light showed only the pale features of the dying one pressed against the pillow. It was not possible that any one could be there! Old Ursula, the only other occupant of the house, had retired to the kitchen to weep and lament; and having pa.s.sed directly up from the front door to the sick-room, he was ignorant of the presence of others in the dwelling.

Then Jonathan gave free play to his wild rage. "Murderer of your wife?" he said scornfully. "Fool! if it had been only the drops you gave her, she would be alive now; but nothing could have saved her. In the hurry of that night, Thomas, being just roused from sleep, gave you the other man's medicine, and handed yours to him. What you had was only good for infants; and Sister Julie might have drunk the whole bottleful without injury."

Mauer's gaze wandered uncertainly towards the speaker; a shudder pa.s.sed over his dying form, and his brain made a powerful effort to penetrate the mists gathering over it.

"I did not kill Julie, and you knew it and never told me?" he stammered, with fast-failing voice.

"Certainly I knew it; but did you ever ask me about it? The other man had more forethought than you, and read the label before administering the dose to his child; and when he saw the name, he brought it back at once. It was two hours before he could get to my house again, and then Thomas had to prepare fresh medicine. Then I took the opium-drops intended for Sister Julie, and jumped on my horse; for although I knew she never could recover, I wanted to fulfil my duty as a physician, and do all I could to correct my servant's mistake. But I found her already dead; yes, from all appearances she must have been dead several hours. When I asked how that could have resulted from the drops, and saw your disturbed countenance, and how you became pale and faint, I thought you must have meditated the death of your wife, and with such design had given her a double dose which you intended should be fatal.

I put the vial in my pocket, so that my servant's blunder might not be brought up against him or me. But Mauer," cried Jonathan, in a voice of frenzy, "when I stood by Don Manuel's death-bed and discovered your guilty love for Inez, while your wife stood in your way, everything became clear to me."

"You knew, Brother Jonathan, that I was bearing all the tortures of remorse, and yet gave me no word of explanation?" whispered the unhappy victim.

"That is not surprising. Do you know what hate is? You knew that I loved Inez. Can you imagine how I must have hated you who robbed me of her?" continued Jonathan, pitilessly.

"Yes, I knew you looked on yourself as a murderer! It answered my purpose not to have you think otherwise. It was sweet to me to see how this thought tortured you; it was a great satisfaction to know I held you in my power, like a b.u.t.terfly on a needle, which it cannot get away from, and yet which remains quiescent and kills it painfully and slowly. Do you think I would not have brought you to justice if it had been true? Surely I would not have failed to do it; but Thomas, who knew all the circ.u.mstances and was with me in the mission, is here; he would have witnessed against me, had I accused you before the public.

But I knew how to revenge myself on you for having stolen Inez from me, and for refusing me Carmen's hand. Your life must pay for Inez; your death will rob Carmen, as you have willed away your fortune from her for your supposed crime and left it to our community. Thus you will die at last, filled with regret at having wasted a life in unnecessary penance, and your silent lips will now take the old, dark story into the grave. I, however, will always feel an inward sense of triumph and delight that it was my foot which crushed you!"

He was silent, and stood with folded arms, looking down gloatingly on Mauer. He did not observe that in the shadow between the wall and the bed a head was raised. Suddenly a dark form rose, shadowy and indistinct. Jonathan grew pale. "Inez!" he gasped, and shrank back.

"No. Carmen; who has heard your cruel words, so that the silent lips shall not take the dark story of your wickedness to the grave. Wretch!

devil incarnate! Can the earth hold such infamous sc.u.m? and has Heaven no lightning with which to strike you dead? Oh, father, my poor, persecuted father! There are no words to tell what you have suffered through this man!" And she threw herself again by the bed, and cast her arms about her dying parent.

But a glorious light of heavenly peace had settled on those pale features. With newly-acquired strength, he returned his daughter's embrace, raised his hands, and cried with accents of joy: "Child, rejoice, praise the Lord with me, for your father can now appear before his Judge, innocent of this crime. Blessed be G.o.d forever--amen!"

He stretched out his arms and sank back; one more sigh, as if the liberated soul were unfolding its wings to be borne on the breeze to heaven, and he lay still and peaceful in his daughter's arms.