A FEW days afterward Jeanie went into her friend's sitting-room, to consult her about the best way of forwarding to Scotland a letter she had written. She was surprised to find her father there; he was standing with Fraulein Gertrud at the window which overlooked the garden and the river beyond it. As she entered, he turned and looked at her with an earnest and somewhat anxious though by no means sorrowful expression. Gertrud, however, did not move. Jeanie's mind at once sprang to the conclusion that her father had been offering to restore the lordship of Savelburg to her as its rightful owner. She was sure such an offer would be made, though equally sure it would be rejected; nay, she did not well know how it could be otherwise. The trampled battlefield of Bohemia was now no place for a lonely and unprotected woman, least of all when she was a member of the Reformed Communion.
Her father stretched out his hand to her with the words, “Come hither, my child; we have much to tell thee.”
Jeanie drew near with some hesitation and a vague trembling at her heart, though she knew not what she feared. Her father's manner reassured her. He took her hand, placing it in that of Fraulein Gertrud, who extended hers to receive it, though still without turning her face towards Jeanie. “Can you try to love this dear friend even better than you have loved her hitherto? For she has blessed your father, and crowned his spoiled life, with a gift infinitely beyond his deservings.”
Jeanie looked from one to the other bewildered. What could this mean? What was the gift? Surely not the lordship of Savelburg? Her father would not speak of it in such terms. Yet at the moment she could think of nothing else. Her words showed the confusion of her mind. “You cannot mean Savelburg? I knew you meant to give it up, but I cannot understand―how has it ended?”
“It is still hers, and still mine; —mine more than ever.”
And now Gertrud turned, and kissed the forehead of the young girl. “My child, my daughter,” she said, “you cannot be more dear to me than you were before; but I shall now have the right to call you mine, and to keep you with me. I leave your father to tell the rest.” So saying, she passed quickly, though with her usual calm, stately step, out of the room.
There was a pause before Hugh Graham found his voice. Then he said, with deep emotion, “It is a noble heart that takes in trust a worn spirit and wasted life like mine—willing to begin the world again with me, who am girding on my armor when the day's work ought to be half done, —a grown man sent back to school to learn his first lessons over again, thanks to his own mistakes and follies. Yet, thank God, it is not quite too late to learn.”
“Dear father, this is wonderful,” said Jeanie, as the true meaning of his words dawned upon her at last; “I did not guess—did not see.”
“You could not see. Who sees the trees bud and the grass grow? I believe that from the first night of my coming, when I told the sad news, and saw how she tried to uphold and comfort all around, this thing has been growing silently. God gives His best gifts thus. My child, are you content?”
“Content?” said Jeanie, with a beaming face. “That is no word for it, —glad, thankful, satisfied.”
“Will you go with us twain, who henceforth will be but one, to Savelburg, although toil and danger may await you there?”
“Where should I go save with my own, whom God has given me so wondrously?” Then, after a pause, “But can we live there, as things are now, and keep our faith?”
“We know not yet what will be the fate of that most unhappy kingdom of Bohemia. I fear the prospect is but dark, now that the great Gustavus is no more. But we have still the right, by every law—whether of the kingdom or of the empire—to go to Savelburg and take possession. If the Kaiser rules, I am, under him, the rightful lord; should the popular party regain their power, there is the true heiress, the descendant of their ancient chiefs. If liberty of conscience be denied us, we are no worse off than the humblest of our tenants.”
“And Hugh?”
“Hugh must, I fear, remain with the Swedish army. I think it would almost break his heart to leave the King's Service, as he calls it still. I will have him well educated; and we shall see hereafter what to do. Besides, it would bear hard on your uncle to take all from him at once.”
Jeanie thought her father little knew how much had been taken from Charles Graham; and perhaps it was best that he should never know. She only said, “Father, I have just been writing to our dear old friend and pastor, Master John Aird; shall I tell him all this?”
“Leave the letter open, and I will add a few lines myself. I should like to tell him God has heard his prayers. Ay, and the prayers of one now long at rest with Him, whose face you wear, my Giovana, and who seems to look at me through those soft eyes of yours! She asked that all she loved might be brought safely home. And all are homeward bound, thank God.”
“Yes, dear father. Surely His word has been found true for us― ‘He will fulfill the desire of them that fear Him: He also will hear their cry, and will save them’!”