'No,no;the young girl's mother has nursed you,'said Mr.Engelman.He looked at the doctor as he spoke;and the doctor interfered for the first time.'She has not only nursed you,sir,'he said;'I can certify medically that she has saved your life.Don't excite yourself.You shall hear exactly how it happened.'In two minutes,he told the whole story,so clearly and beautifully that it was quite a pleasure to hear him.One thing only he concealed--the name.'Who is she?'Mr.Keller cried out.
'Why am I not allowed to express my gratitude?Why isn't she here?''She is afraid to approach you,sir,'said the doctor;'you have a very bad opinion of her.''A bad opinion,'Mr.Keller repeated,'of a woman Idon't know?Who is the slanderer who has said that of me?'The doctor signed to Mr.Engelman to answer.'Speak plainly,'he whispered,behind the chair.Mr.Engelman did speak plainly.'Pardon me,my dear Keller,there is no slanderer in this matter.Your own action has spoken for you.
A short time since--try if you cannot remember it yourself--a lady sent a letter to you;and you sent the letter back to her,refusing to read it.
Do you know how she has returned the insult?That noble creature is the woman to whom you owe your life.'When he had said those words,the doctor crossed the room,and returned again to Mr.Keller,leading my mother by the hand."Minna's voice faltered;she stopped at the most interesting part of her narrative.
"What did Mr.Keller say?"I asked.
"There was silence in the room,"Minna answered softly."I heard nothing except the ticking of the clock.""But you must have seen something?"
"No,David.I couldn't help it--I was crying.After a while,my mother put her arm round me and led me to Mr.Keller.I dried my eyes as well as I could,and saw him again.His head was bent down on his breast--his hands hung helpless over the arms of the chair--it was dreadful to see him so overwhelmed by shame and sorrow!'What can I do?'he groaned to himself.'God help me,what can I do?'Mamma spoke to him--so sweetly and so prettily--'You can give this poor girl of mine a kiss,sir;the new servant who has waited on you is my daughter Minna.'He looked up quickly,and drew me to him.'I can make but one atonement,my dear,'he said--and then he kissed me,and whispered,'Send for Fritz.'Oh,don't ask me to tell you any more,David;I shall only begin crying again--and I am so happy!"She left me to write to Fritz by that night's post.I tried vainly to induce her to wait a little.We had no electric telegraphs at our disposal,and we were reduced to guessing at events.But there was certainly a strong probability that Fritz might have left London immediately on the receipt of Mr.Engelman's letter,announcing that his father was dangerously ill.In this case,my letter,despatched by the next mail to relieve his anxiety,would be left unopened in London;and Fritz might be expected to arrive (if he traveled without stopping)in the course of the next day or two.I put this reasonable view of the matter to Minna,and received a thoroughly irrational and womanly reply.
"I don't care,David;I shall write to him,for all that.""Why?"
"Because I like writing to him.
"What!whether he receives your letter or not?""Whether he receives it or not,"she answered saucily,"I shall have the pleasure of writing to him--that is all I want."She covered four pages of note-paper,and insisted on posting them herself.
The next morning Mr.Keller was able,with my help and Mr.Engelman's,to get downstairs to the sitting-room.We were both with him,when Madame Fontaine came in.
"Well,"he asked,"have you brought it with you?"She handed to him a sealed envelope,and then turned to explain herself to me.
"The letter that you put on Mr.Keller's desk,"she said pleasantly.
"This time,David,I act as my own postman--at Mr.Keller's request."In her place,I should certainly have torn it up.To keep it,on the bare chance of its proving to be of some use in the future,seemed to imply either an excessive hopefulness or an extraordinary foresight,on the widow's part.Without in the least comprehending my own state of mind,Ifelt that she had,in some mysterious way,disappointed me by keeping that letter.As a matter of course,I turned to leave the room,and Mr.
Engelman (from a similar motive of delicacy)followed me to the door.Mr.
Keller called us both back.
"Wait,if you please,"he said,"until I have read it."Madame Fontaine was looking out of the window.It was impossible for us to discover whether she approved of our remaining in the room or not.
Mr.Keller read the closely written pages with the steadiest attention.
He signed to the widow to approach him,and took her hand when he had arrived at the last words.
"Let me ask your pardon,"he said,"in the presence of my partner and in the presence of David Glenney,who took charge of your letter.Madame Fontaine,I speak the plain truth,in the plainest words,when I tell you that I am ashamed of myself."She dropped on her knees before him,and entreated him to say no more.
Mr.Engelman looked at her,absorbed in admiration.Perhaps it was the fault of my English education--I thought the widow's humility a little overdone.What Mr.Keller's opinion might be,he kept to himself.He merely insisted on her rising,and taking a chair by his side.
