16 THE DANCE
OF DEATH,
the necessary arrangements with the captain, we landed.
“We had still a full league to go; some time elapsed before we could procure any conveyance, and when we commenced our route, the night had set in dark and misty. The man who drove the vehicle mistook the path, and led us astray, so that it was bedtime ere we reached the town. In the restlessness of his anxiety, my friend would not wait to alight at his father’s house; we en- tered the inn, and there learned, that the old clergyman was at that moment suffering severely from the return of a painful complaint, to which he was occasionally subject.
“Emanuel knew that any agitation of mind at the present moment might be attended with the most dangerous consequences to his father; so taking our little bundles in our hand, we set out on foot towards the parsonage, which stood near the church, and into which, after knocking gently for a long time at the door, an old servant gave us admittance.
“She confirmed the intelligence we had re- ceived at the inn, with the consoling addition, that there was no immediate danger; that the invalid was asleep, and that she would call up the daughter who was watching beside him; while my friend, learning that his eldest sister had gone to rest, that she might relieve the other in the morning, gave her express injunctions not to disturb her, nor the two children, as he called them, by the news of our arrival. We entered, in the meantime, a large and somewhat gloomy parlour, dimly illuminated by the single light which was carried by the servant.
“It was with a strange emotion that I looked around upon the dreary dwelling, which con- tained the being who had been so long the object of my daily and nightly dreams, and whom I now hoped at last to see face to face; a happiness the more agitating and intense, that it was so unexpected and so unlikely. My glance wan- dered rapidly over the lonesome chamber; its furniture was of that modest kind which I had seen a hundred times before in the dwellings of respectable citizens; but my eyes involuntarily dwelt on several little work-tables, which stood in the windows or against the walls, without knowing to which in particular I ought to direct my attention and my homage. Emanuel had thrown himself on an old-fashioned sofa, in visible and painful expectation.
“At last the door opened gently. A young lady in a simple house dress, bearing in her hand a light, which threw its clear ray on her coun- tenance, entered the room, with a timid but friendly air. The joyful beating of my heart seemed to announce to me that this was the charming original of the miniature; I drew in my breath that 1 might not disturb her, as, without observing me in the recess of the window, she flew towards her brother, with the faltering exclamation, “ Emanuel, dearest Ema- nuel!’ Fle started up, stared on her with a fixed look, and extended his arms to receive her, but without uttering a word.
“You would scarcely know me again,’ said she, “ I have grown so tall since we parted; but 1 am still your own Jacoba.’
- “Jacoba!’ he repeated, in a sorrowful tone;
“yes! yes! even such 1 had pictured you.— Come to my heart!’ Then drawing her to him —“ How is my fathier?’ said he; “ how are Regina, Lucia, and the little one?’
“All as usual,’ answered the young lady— “ only that my father has suffered more severely from his pains this time than before. We could not venture to leave him except when asleep: I watch beside him always till about daybreak, and then I waken Regina. Ah! she is no longer so strong and healthy as I am—and poor Lucia is still but a child!’
“Enough,’ said my friend, as if struggling with an oppression at the heart—and introduced me to his’sister. She saluted me with an air of shyness and embarrassment, the natural result of her solitary education, and then hurried out to prepare some refreshments, and to give direc- tions for our repose.
- “Now,’ said I, with a triumphant glance at
my friend, when we were left alone— now I know the name of the charming picture, or rather of the still more lovely original. It is Jacoba.’
“Jacoba!’ he repeated with a deep sigh— “ well, well, be it as you will;—but for heaven’s sake, no more of this—earnestly I ask it of you-— not a word of the picture. That is my secret.’
“The sister entered again occasionally, but only for a moment at a time. Her shyness seem- ed to prevent her from taking any part in our conversation; and every instant she hurried out to see that her father was still asleep. We agreed that the old man, to whom any mental agitation might be dangerous in his present irri- table state, should know nothing of his son’s pre- sence, and that Jacoba should merely waken her elder sister an hour earlier than usual, that before commencing her duties by her father’s bed-side, she might have time to bestow a parting embrace upon her brother.
“Jacoba went out and did not return. Shortly afterwards the servant came in, and whispered that the old man was awake. I grieved at this; 1 would gladly have gazed a little longer on those features, and compared them with the portrait which lay concealed as usual in the breast of my friend. Yetthis was needless. The resemblance had already struck me; and though there seemed to me more fire, more lustre in her eye, some allowance was of course to be made for the failure of the painter, who drew but from me- mory.
“My friend accompanied me to my room, and then betook himself to the little apartment which bore his name, and which, it seemed, had always been kept in readiness for him. I felt my heart filled with a sensation of ineffable contentment and delight. I had seen the being whom my fancy had invested with a thousand perfections, and whose retiring shyness seemed only to add new Despite of the veil of charms to her beauty.
