LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume III, Issue 217, 18 February 1875, Page 3

LITERATURE.

FiiONI. An Alpine Story. ( Concluded.) After long hours of suspense, anxiety, and useless searching, Boldl wild with grief and exhaustion approached the mayor’s house. He had information that the baby had been brought there for the present in want of another home for it. It was clear, bright moonlight, but no one was abroad ; Boldl could approach the inn unseen. A watchdog prepared to bark, but recognising Boldl’s familiar, caressing voice, he came near, wagging his bushy tail, and followed him on his errand. Boldl went round the large building, he passed the mayor’s room and Hannerl’s curtained window ; he knew the child would not be there : he proceeded to the servants’ part, giving a look in at each window, with a sharp ear to catch every sound. But all was still. At the farthest away from any of the house-people’s windows, there was one standing open, only covered with wire muslin to keep flies and other insects out. Boldl gave a hardy push, and his hand broke through the wire-blind. Entrance into the house was won. He thrust his hand farther in to remove the hooks, and wirework and frame came out at once. Floods of moonlight streamed into the dai’k room, and there in the middle of the room stood something huge which Boldl recognised as a finely - carved cradle. Hei e, indeed, lying in Hannerl’s cradle, lay Froni’s baby. They had put him out of the way, lest his crying should disturb their sleep. The child had been crying indeed for some hours, finding itself alone in a strange place ; but at last it fell asleep, and now slept the good, sound slumber of childhood. Boldl had but one idea: getting hold of the baby—his own baby, lest it should disappear like its mother. He introduced himself into the room by the window accompanied by the dog, knelt at the cradle, kissed the little face, took up the bundle of featherbeds containing his precious boy, and made out of the window in triumphant speed. He called the willing dog to follow him, lest they, noticing the fraud.too soon, should send

him on his track ; and man, dog, and babybundle soon plunged into the thick forest, leaving no trace behind. A few minutes after Boldl’s withdrawal another form broke out of the wood, appearing on the lighted-up place before the inn. It drew near the house in the same cautious, stealthy way, and the same manoeuvre began over again. Boldl had been right; Froni was not quite gone. Seeing herself too weak to grapple with the authorities of the place, she resolved to go —not home into her own village—sending a letter to her old teacher and patron the priest, for the papers would do the work—but to go up to the emperor himself. Francis Joseph was in Styria, and many an instance of his benevolence and gracious clemency, his cordial behavior to the country folks, had become a current tale in the villages far about. Froni would journey night and day, she would throw herself at the emperor’s feet; she knew right would be done to her, for she knew enough of the world to see that she had been dealt with most unlawfully. But before she undertook the great task, before setting out on the long journey, she must see her child once more, kiss it, and then go. . , . Froni had found the open window and seen the cradle ; Boldl had prepared the way Froni was in the room. She knelt at the cradle praying to God for strength and patience, her tears fell hot: one look, one kiss, one blessing, and she must be gone again ! Her head softly went down into the white cushions, and she gave a piercing shriek—the bed was empty—washer child dead, then! . , She darted up, a piece of the baby s clothes lay on the floor near the window, another hung upon the shelf, a third outside on a bush. Her baby had been stolen! She rushed to the door: it was fastened outside. Her knocks and shrieks brought some of the maids up, some men-servants followed, the door was opened. They took her for a mad woman, not recognising her at first not able to collect the sense of her wild talk. The master himself appeared; he thought a whole band of thieves, robbers, murderers had broken in. He was the first to take in the state of things: the child was stolen, that was evident; and the robber must be run after, A wild hunt began whose utter confusion defies description. Ivveryone ran in different directions, no one knowing where to direct his steps. The men shouted, the women shrieked, the dogs barked, the master swore, the neighbors came, joining the hunt, the whole village began to stir. And Froni foremost; her hair flying, her garments torn, her feet and arms bleeding, darting up and down, now joining one party, now another, now again flying by herself onwards, outstripping the others too slow for her anxiety. Boldl would have had far the better of his pursuers had he not been hindered in speed: first, by the baby bundle he was afraid to introduce between the thorny bushes running right across homewards; secondly, by the dog’s unwillingness to follow him. As soon as the latter heard the voices of his own people of the inn he wanted to run back to them, declining to hear and obey Boldl any longer. He had to keep him tight by the leather strap round his neck, dragging the beast along with him. So far all right still. He advanced slowly, but as yet was clear out of sight of his followers, when suddenly stumbling over some roots, losing his equilibrium, requiring both Iris hands to save his baby from a heavy fall, he for one moment involuntarily let the dog loose—and off darted the nasty beast! Now Boldl knew all was lost. But to be caught here in the wood, like a common thief and robber? No, by no means! and onwards again he toiled. His pursuers, led by the dog, now could not fail to get at him. Boldl now stood between them and the wild rushing river. A thought flashed through his brain, followed by instant execution. He ran to the next weir he knew of ; it was a convenient passage for him, and, to prevent those behind him from following, he, coming to the middle of it, drew out the huge iron nail, hastening to reach the end before the waters came down. Froni now stood by the side of the brook, panting for breadth, her bosom heaving ; she had recognised Boldl, and knew with a thrilling happiness her baby was not stolen but saved. But scarcely had she been able to take in that bewildering truth than she must again tremble for the two beings she loved more than her life. The waters came on with a thundering noise ; one more step and Boldl would be safe, when suddenly his foot slipping, he had but time to throw the baby away from him, landing it safely in the high grass ; then gliding down he disappeared as by magic, the floods covering him and washing him out of sight. A piercing shriek from Froni, echoed by all the bystanders, and the rushing of the waters. Then, many feet below, Boldl’s form came up to the surface, faintly struggling with the floods. All stood helpless and hopeless. Not so Froni. He had tried to save her child! She ran down the slope, with a winged pace, overgaining the current. Having got a-head of the drowning man; having chosen the right place, where the waters flow on level ground for a few yards; she boldly threw herself down, with outstretched arms, receiving Boldl’s nearly lifeless form as the waters carried him downwards. Surrounding his body with one arm she managed to raise his head and keep_ it over the waters, her other arm working against the stream. Good swimmer as Froni had been once in her home on the shore of the lake, formed by the wild waters rushing into it; here in the falling waters, forming cascade after cascade, with her load, swimming was out of the question; all she could do was to /contrive to remain afloat on her back until those who saw her need and now followed with speed should come to the rescue.

Help was greatly needed: they were approaching a great fall at greater height than they would have been able to stand. But before they came to it, the passage was barred with logs and branches; and many a villager’s arms were employed to bring on shore the two who, having been next to united in death, should never again in this life be parted. From lay in high fever in the Wiesenhof, in the master’s own bed; she was tended and cared for with attention and anxiety, Boldl, who after a day or two was quite himself again, except that he felt a good deal knocked up, had run up to town for a couple of physicians. The village smith, who cured the rest of the world in the place, he thought not good enough for the present case. The learned doctors came: two very clever men, who, after a private conversation with Boldl, immediately understood the

state of affairs. Whenever they spoke to Boldl their talk was gay and hopeful, but when they had to do with his father, encouraged by the son’s twinkling and nodding, their faces grew grave and long, expressing fear and doubt. It was a sad case ; not belonging to the run of daily occurrances : a young, delicate woman dying for having saved a young man’s life; for surely Bolen was so far gone, had not she contrived to keep his head above the flood, risking her own life, there had been an end of wild Boldl on earth. But there might be still hope for her recovery, if they could only gladden her heart in some way as soon as she regained her senses. The Wiesenhofbauer went about his house grave and silent. His only son had been saved to him by Froni—just by her ! And his only son was resolved on one thing; Froni dying, he would adopt her child and make him his heir : Froni living, she would become his wife. If his father would not consent —well, he would leave his home and go with his wife and child to another place, earning their living, working as a laborer on some farm. The father saw that, by his harsh and unlawful proceedings against Froni, he had severed his son’s heart from his own, and he felt he must suffer from it. He was his only child ; the father could not do without him. So there was no help but giving in, though with a sour face he spoke his consent. But his trials were not over : he had another lesson of humility yet to learn. Froni was convalescent. Her baby was crawling on her bed ; diving, as it were, in a sea of golden waves streaming down the red silk coverlet, his little fingers brushing through his mother’s curly hair, all his movements accompanied by shrieks of delight. And now Boldl entered. He sat down at the side of the bed, where he had been watching through many a long anxious night. Boldl and Froni talked a long time Boldl would not give way—but he found it hard to persuade Froni, until she saw that he was resolved. * Dost thou remember,’ she said gravely, ‘ what I said to thee once ?—and if the Wiesenhofbauer himself came ’ * And when the Wiesenhofbauer himself comes to ask thee to marry his son Froni! Froni ! what wilt thou say ?’ He waited in breathless suspense, and no answer coming, he repeated the question : “What wilt thou say ?’ His loving eye, his eager hand, waited for a reply. Froni hid away her tearful face, and putting her hand in his, she sobbed, “God willed it so !’ And Froni was in Boldl's arms, firmly clasped to his faithful breast, her hair and eyes covered with his kisses, her lips softly whispering: ‘ Oh, how I love thee!’ The baby looked on with amazement and utter want of understanding, but rather amused than displeased at the scene. At sunset the Wiesenhofbauer came into the room—there was no escape, Boldl would have it, and the father had to do it—gravely smiling and congratulating Froni on her recovery. Then he sat down on the chair and began to play with the baby, trying in succession several topics. But talking of this and talking of that would not bring the Bauer any nearer to what he had to say. He grew impatient with himself, nothing would prove an introduction. What he had to say must be spoken out by itself, right from beginning to end, and he did not care to meet with his son before the thing was done. So, putting down his pride, he suddenly broke out: ‘ Well, Froni, if thou wilt have my son, take him.’

Veronica smiled. ‘ What am Ito do with so wild a boy?’ ‘ Well, what am I to do with him in the end? I want to get rid of him. Thou might’st try to tame him—l can’t!’ ‘ Shall I try, indeed?’ ‘ Do try, in Heaven’s name! * And the old man lay his blessing hand upon the golden hair of the woman. She drew it down and pressed it to her lips ; her tears fell hot upon it. The old man, too, cried. Coming out of the room, he fell into the arms of his son. e Thou hast been listening, rascal!’ 1 No, father, I see in your face that all is right. Father, you were about to loose an only son—you have won him back and found a daughter. ’ * And a grandson,’ added the Bauer, who had grown fonder of the baby than he as yet cared to own. Now, when you visit the V iesenhof, you are greeted by little George, running about merrily in the yard, or riding on Tobi’s old knee, or helping his grandfather to a fresh pipe. The Wiesenhofbauer has given up all work to his son; he enjoys sitting in the clean yard, under the little vine-covered verandah at the door, observing his children’s active pursuits all day long ; his eyes follow Avith smiling satisfaction the fair young woman so strangely beatiful in her simplicity, and his mouth is full of his daughter’s praise. And in the comfortable large bedroom, there stands a hbav cradle : Boldl has fetched it from toAvn himself for his little daughter; she is but a fortnight old —an age we consider too young for her to appear on the scene—although her father manages to sit over the cradle for hours together contemplating her unrivalled beauty. The mayor never got over his vexation. He sold his estates, and now lives in the toAvn. Hannerl, by virtue of her money, Avas soon married to a townsman —a gentleman, her father said. She did not fail to produce her husband; together Math a new bonnet of the last shape, matching her light grass-green toAA'n costume; _in her native village, eiuded by many a girl Avho covered her fair head with a M'hite or red silk handkerchief. The Wiesenhofbauer thought her bonnet was not worth Veronica’s cap, and Veronica’s rich golden hair of natural groAvth. And so in the end all were satisfied and happy. Would you have it otherwise, dear reader? M. S. E.