Sequel to The neighbors' children

Preface

The favorable reception given to the first part of our story of the “Neighbors’ Children” has induced us to send forth the Sequel, as we promised, which we do in the hope of its meeting with the same welcome. As the little volume already published was intended to illustrate the importance of the Scriptural injunction to “train up a child in the way he should go,” so in the latter is exemplified not only the value and effect of such training, as shown in its sustaining influence on one of the young heroes of our story, but also the disadvantages that are sure to attend those whose earthly guardians have neglected this duty, the performance of which is commanded in the Book of Truth as imperative. We feel it to be unnecessary to multiply words by way of preface — we would rather leave our story to inculcate its own moral ; but we cannot help taking this opportunity of saying some-

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IV

PREFACE.

thing on a subject to which much interest is due. We know that much suspicion as well as censure has been justly directed to many of the writings translated from foreign languages ; some have been condemned for their frivolity, and others for their injurious moral tendency ; hut let us beseech indulgence for this which we have offered to our young readers. We would be the last to wish to transplant a noxious weed or poisonous flower, no matter how bright their coloring, into the fair garden of our young literature ; but while we add this one more offering to those already approved, we trust it may prove truly an “ herb of grace.” We will only say further of our little book, that having had much opportunity of reading the works of the German author — ‘and she has written much — whom we have thus chosen to bring before our American public, we have scanned them closely, and found nothing throughout their pages but what tells not only of a sound and healthful state of mind — but an earnest desire to teach to the young, lessons of pure morality, founded on the rules of Scriptural truth. We hope, therefore, our unpretending volume will be greeted with the same welcome as that which preceded it, and gain the same favor

PREFACE.

V from those in our happy country, who prefer true teaching to meretricious ornament, as its original has done in Germany — that nursery of powerful intellect, where its excellent author still labours. We therefore commit it to their charitable consideration with a remark from the pious Thomas k Kernpis : “ Let not the reader mistake the motive of the writer, whether he shows great learning and beauty of thought, or is content to inculcate Truth in a plain, unadorned manner. Enquire not who has written or said it, but rather remark what has been written or said.”

SEQUEL TO THE

NEIGHBORS' CHILDREN.

Chapter I

“ If that way be your walk, you have not far ; So much the nearer danger ; go, and speed ! Havoc, and spoil, and ruin, are my gain.”

The duty of family prayer was one which was never neglected at Steinrode; but on this, the morning of the Baron’s intended journey, it was performed with even more than usual solemnity. Although Faith teaches man to believe himself ever an object of care to a superintending Power — as safely watched over abroad as at home — there are few who set out for an absence of some days or weeks, without a thought of what may happen in that space of time, and so more earnestly commend themselves and their concerns to the keeping of a heavenly Protector. It wTas therefore with deeper feeling, and more devotional importunity than usual, that the prayer of this morning was offered, petitioning for safety and a happy reunion ; or if that, in the hidden depth of purpose belonging to 2 (13)

Divine Wisdom, were denied, that all might meet around the great throne in Heaven ; that to such of them as should be spared to pursue the stern journey of life, preserving grace should be given ; chastened, if needs he, but not given over to hardness, or unbelief ; afflicted, scourged, but not forsaken, or delivered up to despair. The father spoke in exhortation to his children, charging them to be kind and obedient to their mother, and careful to keep out of the way of temptation to err from the influence of bad example. He adverted to the family who were at present under their roof, and bade them be cautious in their behaviour towards them. aThey do not see things in the same light as ourselves,” said he, “or they would be with us at this moment ; but we trust that God will yet enable them to see the true way. And for ourselves, we know that although ‘ here is no continuing city,’ let us bless Him that we can yet look forward to one, the foundations whereof are laid in Heaven — whose Builder and whose Maker is God.’

What is that mysterious influence which operates upon the spirit, and causes it dimly to foresee what is irresistibly “borne in upon the mind,” as some one has termed presentiments ? What secret intimation is given of events to come, though “ clouds and shadows rest” upon the future? Man’s boasted wisdom reaches not so far as to solve the mystery ; and it is a subject on the elucidation of which he

THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

must remain ignorant until, divested of its veil of flesh, the spirit shall revel in the full blaze of light which we believe was its original inheritance, and which we trace in the bright gleamings that occasionally flash through the darkness that envelopes this present state. That “ coming events cast their shadows before,” we know ; but cannot tell in what manner the premonition is made — whether from internal consciousness or external agency, or the immediate influence of some celestial guardian, commissioned by the universal Parent to watch over man, and warn him of the threatened danger. As though it were so in this case, and the dark cloud about to overshade was dimly foreseen, all were deeply impressed with the simple service of this morning ; for many times had the sun to rise and set in floods of golden light — many alternations of night and morning were to take place — many times was the earth to change her seasons of fruit and flowers — before all who knelt around that family altar, should again assemble there.

Lady Yon Grosse, as yet not humbled by her adversity, never appeared to bend the knee in company with that Christian family ; but the time was not far distant when that proud spirit was to be bowed, and exchange the stiff neck of rebellion for the meek and child-like deportment taught by the sanctified use of afflictions.

The breakfast-table had been withdrawn, when

THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

Baron Lindenburg, now nearly ready to set out, remembered some business which he had to transact in the village of Steinrode, of which it was necessary a message should be sent back to the castle ; he therefore proposed that the servant who was to accompany him on his travel, should proceed thither with the horses, and Felix walk over with himself. Much was the boy delighted with the prospect, inasmuch as he promised himself a short visit to Ehrenfried; but in this latter particular he was disappointed. The day was rather raw and chilly, and Felix had complained, the evening before, of a slight sore throat. Yet, hardy as the young pines upon their own native hills, they never thought of keeping within doors for a trifling indisposition ; but the careful mother, calling him to her that she might fasten his collar, and secure his throat from the damp atmosphere by tying a warm comforter around it, discovered that his jacket had lost a button. It was but five minutes’ work to sew it on ; and while her busy fingers accomplished the task, she bade him return as quickly as possible, for there was some errand she wished him to do for herself.

“Now Felix, my dear,” said she, “I am sorry to disappoint you of your visit to Ehrenfried, but it cannot be helped at present ; you and Herman shall both have holiday on Saturday, but now you must come back as quickly as possible.”

“I will, mother dear,” replied he; “ do n’t I always do what you tell me ?” and he lovingly threw his arms around her neck, and looked up with his laughing blue eyes into her face.

“Not always — lately ,” she answered, with a smile, as she passed her fingers through his w^avy hair, and removed the curls from his fair forehead, where she imprinted more than one maternal kiss ; and if her mother’s heart swelled with some pride as her eyes rested on her beautiful boy, she might well be excused for the weakness — if weakness it were — for there are few who do not acknowledge the power of beauty. It is a gift — a glorious gift from God himself, investing its possessor with more than earthly seeming; and if rightly appreciated by its owner, is a powerful talisman, making man almost a god, and woman an angel.

We have said she kissed him again and again — did she feel that she held him in her arms for the last time? Did she behold some dark brooding angel unfold his baleful wing over the head of her darling, and deem that in those mother’s kisses there lay a charm that could ward off the treacherous influence ? We know not how this was, but we believe that the pious prayer breathed in the secret chamber of that mother’s heart, ascended up to God, who, for good and wise purposes (in a dark and mysterious providence) saw fit to shroud the early days of this beautiful boy in deep dark- 2 * ness, and covered him with the wing of his protection, even while he permitted his impulsive spirit to be disciplined in one of the severest schools that Adversity can teach.

The Baron’s leave-taking was quiet ; and he felt better at leaving his family since they were not alone. Lady Yon Grosse and her children were still not thinking of removal ; the Count was expected to be there shortly; hut better than all, aunt Angela was again with them. All seemed well, and yet gloom hung upon them, they knew not why, for the Baron’s absence from home w^as no uncommon thing, being often obliged to be from home. Although the day was dull and gloomy, it threw none of its chilling shadow over the bright spirit of Felix, who trudged along gaily by his father’s side, on their way to the village. A few words with Ehrenfried had to serve in place of the hoped-for visit ; but the prospect of the whole of Saturday was enough to compensate for the disappointment. The Baron soon concluded his business with the farmer whom he wished to see, and having given the message he wished sent back, he laid his hand upon the boy’s head and gave him his blessing, bidding him, when they parted, go home as quickly as possible.

Since Felix did disobey, it is almost to be regretted that he did not slight the admonition of his mother, and remain longer with Ehrenfried ;

but this be did not do. How necessary it is for all ever to keep in the path of duty : had Felix done so, what years of misery had been spared ! After parting with his father, he set forth vigorously to retrace his homeward road, and had already reached the forest path, when he saw Amade and Eugene upon it. They had left the castle without observation, and the former was already exulting in the success of his scheme, when the cheerful voice of Felix hailing them from a distance once more recalled him to himself, and to the probable consequences of his perilous undertaking. Muttering curses between his teeth as he awoke to the danger of his present position, when it should be discovered in the search certain to be made for Eugene as soon as he was missed at the castle, that he had been seen with himself in the forest, and so betrayal was the sure consequence, like all other villains, he was obliged to seal his first sin with a second. Cursing, therefore, the accident that had thrown Felix in the way of his purpose, he was at the same time resolutely determined to prevent his return to the castle, caring not for the anxiety he might cause, and dreading only to be found out. Dressing his face in smiles, whilst his heart was trembling at the thoughts of its own dark purpose, he repeated the tale with which he had already cheated Eugene to Felix when he came up to them, well knowing that the prospect of capturing a fox in a trap would not be lost upon the lively boy. He was right. The hasty impulsive Felix, in his great delight and wish to see master Reynard outwitted, forgot the request of his mother, the admonition of his father, to return as speedily as possible, and turning from the path which led to home and safety, he followed the insidious guide into the bosom of the forest, where he had said, and truly, that the snare was set. It was, perhaps, the first time in his life that Felix had so positively disobeyed the command of his parents; but we have before said that his unavoidable companionship with Eugene had not been without effect. His plastic nature, too easily impressed, had, in more than one instance, yielded to the force of his bad example, although he did not love him ; and now in this, the last and greatest departure from duty of which he had been guilty, punishment, severe and tedious punishment, followed immediately on the commission of the offence. It was no doubt so ordered, or at least permitted, in mercy and in love. Severe but salutary as the chastenings of our Heavenly Father always are, who or what suffered or gainsay their wisdom, how many have been rescued by them from the headlong road to ruin ; how many of the straying restored to the right path. “Before I was afflicted,” said the inspired minstrel, “ I went astray, but now I keep thy love.” And

THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

now God, whose broad eye sees the end from tho beginning, loved the spirit he saw it necessary to chasten, and sent the discipline in early life, to save that which had brought forth no “ fruit unto holiness” in nature, although many faithful hearts had to bleed for a time, and sorrow as those “without hope,” until the issue of the great plot should be unfolded.

With many tales of fox-chasing and fox-cunning, irresistibly charming to boys of their age, Amade cheated the rugged way which led them to a different and more distant part of the forest than Felix had ever yet seen. Here the oaks stood thicker upon the ground, the interlacing branches and spiry undergrowth, giving it the appearance of some primeval grove, whose sylvan solitude man had not dared to disturb ; and the same stream that ran so quietly through the castle garden, meeting with many obstacles from rocks and inequalities of ground, roared with a voice like that of an angry spirit (as it rushed on its headlong course), increasing the wildness and savage grandeur of the scene. Feelings of awe had already begun to creep over the boys, as is ever the case when Man, standing in the temple of mighty Nature, is aware of the Divinity that rules the spot ; but astonishment was added with almost paralysing effect, when Amade, applying his finger to his lips, gave a shrill whistle, which was answered

THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

close by, and Dietrich, the wild, frightful, and revengeful Dietrich, rushed forth from the thicket, and, with a cry of maniac joy, threw himself upon Eugene. For him resistance would have been useless, had it been offered ; but naturally timid, fright had now rendered him powerless, and with fainting limbs and nerveless brain, he struggled not in the hands of his captor, who bound him hand and foot with* every demonstration of savage delight. No word escaped the poor boy’s lips ; he had fully recognized Dietrich, and he gave himself up to his enemy as submissively as the dove yields to the swoop of the falcon. Not so Felix; his first impulse was to fly; but Amade, now fearing nothing but his escape, soon overtook him ; and although the boy made stout resistance, he was at length overpowered by superior strength, and a handkerchief was forced into his mouth to stifle the cries which he had already sent forth into the still forest, hoping, but vainly, thereby to bring some help. He fought until overpowered, for Dietrich, having easily disposed of Eugene, now came to the assistance of Amade, and bound him hand and foot with cords, with which, as it seemed, he was plentifully provided. Feeling how useless the further resistance of one weak boy against two powerful men would be, he yielded quietly to the fate, whatever it might be, that awaited him, and, more collected than his frightened companion, endeavouring to gather some light from the conversation of the men who were so unexpectedly arisen as enemies.

“ What does this mean, knave ?” asked Dietrich of Amade, with a scowl.

“ 1 bring you two instead of one,” said Amade, laughing. “ I did not want this fighting fellow any more than yourself; but I could not help bringing him. He must not be suffered to escape, for he would go back to the castle and betray us both ; no, keep him as close as you can, at least until after I have made tracks from this abominable Deutschland. He would be sure to tell what he saw, and nobody must know that I had anything to do with Eugene. But indeed I pity the poor boy, for I have always had a liking for him, and it must have been his evil genius that led him into my way this morning.”

“ A bad business, a bad business,” muttered Dietrich ; “ what shall I do with the boy ? he does not belong to any part of my plan.”

“ You must take what you can get, or give up your silly purpose altogether,” said Amad6, fiercely ; “ I have no notion of putting my neck into the hangman’s noose ; ’tis a manner of going out of the world I never fancied. You must either take both or none ; and if you choose to wander about here as you have been doing, you will be sure to be discovered; in that case you will be condemned to the death of an incendiary, before you will have had time to accomplish your plan of vengeance.”

The look of threatening bestowed on him by Dietrich awed him into silence ; but he folded his arms, and assuming an attitude of scornful determination, he waited until his comrade should decide and speak.

It was some time ere he did so ; and then again much altercation ensued. Dietrich insisted that he had no wish to punish Felix along with Eugene ; he said he knew what the boy’s parents would suffer from his removal; ah.! he only knew how well the grief occasioned by the loss of a child — his little Annie — his only darling; no, he had vowed revenge upon her grave, and revenge now stood in her stead to him — he could not, would not give up Eugene, now that he had him in his power. Arnade, when he again spoke, represented the extreme imprudence of letting Felix go back; in any event he must be kept some time from home, whilst Dietrich prosecuted his plan of carrying off Eugene to Poland, or at least until his own term of service had expired, which would be shortly, and he was beyond all reach of pursuit in France, where his mother lived. For although he too was kindly disposed towards Felix, he was not weak enough to expect to bind the boy to a promise of secresy which he would be sure to break, since he w’ould certainly tell how he had met himself 'with Eugene in the forest, and then it could not be but that he would suffer punishment as being an accomplice in the abduction of the latter. “No, no,” said he, as he concluded his argument, “ there is nothing else that can be done ; Felix must share the lot of Eugene, at least for the present, or else the whole affair is at an end.”

Dietrich at length was made to comprehend what Amade meant, and going towards the hoys, bade them make no noise, neither offer any resistance, for both would be unavailing. Much of their future treatment would depend on their quiet submissiveness ; at present nothing more was required of them than to do as they were told ; and as their first act of obedience to their new master they were bidden to follow him in silence to a spot, towards which he led the way. He strode over the crackling undergrowth, as though quite familiar with the way, although path there was none, bearing still, as the heart of Felix told him, in a direction opposite to Steinrode. The trees at length began to grow' thinner, the thickets less tangled, and patches of blue sky appearing through the foliage, showed that they were approaching the opposite edge of the forest. The neighing of a horse caused them to look up, and there by the side of a by-road made by the colliers of that region for 3 transporting wood to their coal-pits, stood a small miserable wagon, covered with coarse linen, to which was harnessed a stout country horse, seemingly able to carry them on a long journey, for although rough as a tinker’s pony, he was in excellent condition.

A quantity of clothing, made of the roughest material, such as is worn by gipsey tinkers and collier hoys, was taken from some hidden coffer within the vehicle, and our two acquaintances were directed to put on such as their conductors designated, divesting themselves of every article of their own by which they could possibly be recognised. The next act of procedure was to cut off their hair ; this was speedily done by Amadd, and in the most disfiguring manner, so that in the patched and squalid dresses they were obliged to assume, no one could have recognised them as the children of nobility ; for we must acknowledge those advantages of person which birth is supposed to confer are greatly aided by the auxiliary of dress. Whilst all this transforming process was going on, Amade and Dietrich only exchanged a few words with each other — the whole business being accomplished in a few minutes, and the boys having been desired to mount up into the wagon, a request which they seemed rather reluctant to obey, they were somewhat rudely assisted to do so, after which the confederates separated. Dietrich took his place beside them, and after threatening to punish all attempts to escape, or any refractory behaviour maintained a resolute and gloomy silence, closing his ears to the prayer they would utter, and deaf to the sobs which issued from their breaking hearts, he drove his stout charger rapidly over stack and stone, at a pace which occasioned such a jolting of the wagon as threatened every bone in their bodies with dislocation. That he was fearful of pursuit was evident ; for he not only urged the animal to a speed absolutely cruel, but held on his way through a wild mountainous region, by solitary roads, where no human being appeared, and where no smoke, curling above the tree-tops, gave sign of human habitation.

We must leave them for awhile to pursue their disastrous journey, to look after those anxious hearts left behind : but let us just enquire what Amade did, or how he concluded the first act of his treacherous drama, so successfully begun, and the termination of which his coward heart trembled to contemplate. He remained standing on the same spot where Dietrich left him until the sound of the wheels was entirely lost in the distance; a bright red spot gloAved on his dark cheeks, and his eyes burned w’ith unusual light. At length he roused himself.

“Would that J had never seen those unlucky jewels,” said he to himself; “they have done me no good, but caused me to live in daily terror of detection ; and now I have plunged still further into crime, and must deepen the dye by adding to it duplicity. Ah ! so it is ever ; one cannot stop with one sin — after the first step is taken, others must follow. But now there is nothing left for me but to play the play out. Would that this accursed term of service were at an end, for I shall never know a moment’s peace until I am safe in my native country. It will be horrible for me to face my mistress, but I must do it like a man ; — but I would far rather have given that haughty Melanie

to Dietrich than Felix ah ! that hurts me more

than all the rest. But I must act, and quickly ; self-reproach will now do no good.”

He proceeded, even as he spoke, to gather up the clothing of which he and Dietrich had divested the boys, and carried them to the bank of the stream, at a place both deep and rapid, which lay about a quarter of a league from the castle, and in a direction entirely opposite to that from whence he parted with Dietrich and his captives. He laid their caps and upper garments on the shore to show that at this spot they had gone into bathe ; and some yards further down, he hung a portion of their linen on some bushes that protruded from the water ; and as at that place the current was particularly strong, it might be very readily supposed they had both been swept away by its rapidity, and drowned. Having accomplished all this, he returned to the castle by a circuitous route ; and entering by the porter’s lodge in front, he spoke to the old woman at the gate, and went on directly to the servants’ room, where he was glad to find his absence had not been noticed. Not a word was said of the children ; and thus many hours passed before any one missed Felix and Eugene from among the rest. And indeed, it was not until the family were called to assemble for dinner, that any one, except the mother of Felix, thought of enquiring for them ; but then each one recollected that neither of them had been seen from the time of the early breakfast hour. Then the consternation rose to a fearful height, and each heart boded misfortune.

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THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

Chapter II

“And wilt thou pluck my fair son from mine age,

And rob me of a happy mother’s name ?”

Lady Lindenburg, occupied with her other children, did not remark the protracted absence of Felix with any uneasiness, until the morning was far advanced. Wondering at a disobedience so unusual in any member of her family, she was prepared to chide him for his unwonted delay ; but when the dinner-bell rang, and the others appeared ready to take their places at the table, her displeasure changed to alarm when she found he was not among the number. f

She enquired of Herman if he had seen his brother — of the servants, if any of them had met him on his return from the village; a negative from each one was the only answer to her question. The dinner was left untouched. Filled with anxiety, the mother despatched messengers every where for tidings of her missing boy ; some to the park — others to Petusmuhl — although she felt assured he would not go there after her expressed wish that he should not. The forest was searched — she examined the gardens herself — but all was in vain. No one had seen him but Ehrenfried, and

THE NEIGHBORS’ CHILDREN.

the farmer to whom he had gone with his father ; both had seen him leave the village on his homeward road, but this was at so early an hour, that it gave no clue to what might have happened. Hour succeeded hour — each one increasing the weight of anxiety that pressed upon her heart, but she yielded not to the tears that would have unnerved her, until late in the evening ; then the messengers sent to a distance returned, and all brought the same answer — no traces had been found.

Until this time, Lady Yon Grosse, accustomed to Eugene’s long absences (for he went wherever he pleased without asking permission), was by no means alarmed ; and expressed herself to Melanie, that she thought “Lady Lindenburg was making a great rout about nothing ; she did not know why boys should always be tied to their mother’s apron — ’t was a sure way to keep down their spirit. For her part, she would let Eugene do as he pleased — there was nothing she loved so well as independence of character.” But when the bell was rung for supper, and Eugene did not answer to the summons, then her consternation was wild and fearful. She ran shrieking through the garden ; and, unheeding the darkness, into the park.