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Title: Two little Finns
Author: Mary E. Ropes
Release date: September 24, 2024 [eBook #74471]
Language: English
Original publication: London: The Religious Tract Society
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TWO LITTLE FINNS ***
Transcriber's note: Unusual and inconsistent spelling is as printed.
[Illustration: The Story of the Isle of Ghosts.]
TWO LITTLE FINNS.
BY
MARY E. ROPES
_Author of "Big Ben's Little Boss," "Seedy Mike," etc._
London:
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY
56 PATERNOSTER ROW, AND 65 ST PAUL'S CHURCHYARD.
BUTLER & TANNER
THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS
FROME, AND LONDON.
CONTENTS
[Illustration]
CHAP.
I. AN IMPORTANT TRUST
II. THE STORY OF THE ISLE OF GHOSTS
III. THE SIEGE OF THE COTTAGE
IV. PLAYING THE GHOST
V. A COUNCIL OF WAR
VI. BEARDING THE LIONS IN THEIR DEN
VII. THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND
VIII. GENERAL NICOLAI AGAIN
IX. A MISER ROBBED
X. A FRIEND AT COURT
TWO LITTLE FINNS
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I
AN IMPORTANT TRUST
EARLY in the present century—that is to say, somewhere about the
year 1816—there lived on the borders of a great forest in Finland a
woodcutter and his two children. Their home was a log hut built in two
storeys. On the lower floor was a kitchen, a tiny corner of which was
screened off for a bedroom, while upstairs were two small chambers,
one for the man, Grubert Reuss, and the other for his little daughter,
Blonda, a girl eleven years of age. The boy, Anthony, commonly called
Tonie, who was thirteen, slept downstairs, and made himself very
useful, especially in the early mornings, by bringing in wood, filling
the water-tub from the lake that bounded this part of the forest on one
side, lighting the fire, and sweeping out the kitchen all ready for
Blonda when she came down to prepare breakfast.
They were very poor—Grubert and his children—but this did not hinder
them from being contented and happy. Their food was coarse and wanting
in variety, consisting for the most part of black rye bread, barley
porridge, vegetable soup, eggs, goat's milk, and the mushrooms, roots
and berries that they found in the woods. But they had enough to eat,
and their clothing was not of an expensive kind; so they managed to
get along very well, especially now that Blonda was becoming quite a
clever little housekeeper, and was able to make her father's earnings
go almost as far as her mother had done in years gone by, before the
fever which devastated that part of Finland swept her away, leaving the
little home bereft.
Tonie was only five and his sister three when their mother died, and
a hard struggle had it been for Grubert to bring up his little ones
without his wife to help him. But he was a good and a brave man, with a
firm and simple reliance on the love and justice of the Almighty, and
the courage which comes from a good conscience, and from an earnest
wish and effort to do right. And now the hardest time had passed, and
his children were beginning to reward him for all his care by their
love, their obedience, and their industry.
The woodcutter's cottage stood quite two miles away from any other
dwelling, and three from the little village of Carfoos, where they
went to church on Sunday morning. Their pastor's house was the nearest
neighbour to theirs, and the pastor himself, old Bertholm Oshart, was
their best and dearest friend—a man full of the spirit of his Master,
and living only for Him and His service. In point of worldly goods, he
was little better off than the woodcutter himself; but though silver
and gold had he none for his little flock, such as he had, gave he
them, and this was of his best—his very heart and soul and life; and he
was justly revered and beloved by all the people to whom he ministered.
One family only in the village of Carfoos showed a dislike to the good
old man. They were a lawless, unprincipled set, of the name of Valden,
who had done much harm by their evil example, and whom the pastor had
had occasion solemnly to warn and reprove. Bitterly resenting his
faithfulness, the Valdens never forgave him. Several times, and in
various ways, they had tried to injure him, and more than once they had
succeeded, though of their personal animosity and unkindness Pastor
Oshart took no heed.
But in this family, the youngest was a poor, half-witted youth, as much
devoted to the good old minister as the rest were set against hum. The
pastor, while others jeered at or despised the lad, had always treated
him with gentleness, and poor Freskel's affection and gratitude were
constantly being shown. Nor could his brothers keep him from following
the old man about, and ministering to him in such ways as he could,
these being by no means few. Half-witted though Freskel was, no one
for many miles round knew as much as he did about the woods and the
water, the animals and fish, the wild fruit and flowers and birds;
and hardly ever a day passed without the lad bringing to the pastor's
house some humble offering. Now it was a hare which he had snared,
or some game-bird's eggs he had found, or a string of freshly caught
salmon-trout, or a basket of mushrooms or wild strawberries. He chopped
wood for the pastor, he fetched water, he weeded the little garden; he
led the goats out to pasture in the summer, and cut up food for them in
winter, when the whole land was covered with snow. A smile, a kindly
word, a caressing touch from the old man was ample reward for all that
he could do, and when he was near to the pastor his happiness was
touching to see.
With Grubert, Tonie, and Blonda too, Freskel was very friendly, and the
children liked nothing better than a day's expedition with this lad, to
whom Nature was an open book, and the only one he was ever likely to be
able to read.
One morning Grubert Reuss told his children that he would be obliged to
set out that day for Klingengolf, the nearest town, to sell his stock
of carved toys and other wooden articles made by him and Tonie during
the long winter evenings, and to buy various things that were wanted
for home use. The town was quite thirty-five miles distant, and as
Grubert had no conveyance, he would be obliged to walk, and could not
possibly get back for at least three days.
"So, my dears," said he, "you will be alone at all events for to-night
and to-morrow night. Shall you be afraid?"
"No, father," replied Tonie; "what should harm us? It is summer time,
and there are no wolves near us, as there are now and again in winter;
though even if there were, they would only prowl about here at night,
and then we are always safe at home. And there is nothing else to do us
harm, as thou knowest well, dear father."
"Yes, all will be well," said Blonda; "fear not for us. And we promise
to be such good children, and to take good care of the home till thou
return to us again."
Then the little girl set about preparing a basket of provisions for
Grubert to take with him, and in half an hour he was on his way.
The young folk had a busy morning. The house had to be swept and
tidied; then there was dinner to prepare and to eat. After that they
worked in the little garden, and then, later in the afternoon, they
sallied out to pick wild berries for supper.
The long bright day passed pleasantly, and the shadows beginning to
gather were making them think of going to bed, when just as they were
about to lock up the house for the night, a hurried knock came at the
front door of the cottage, which faced the wood.
Blonda opened it, and to her surprise Pastor Oshart, pale and panting,
stepped across the threshold.
"Your father, my children! Is he at home? I would speak with him at
once."
"Dear pastor," said Tonie, "he has gone away to Klingengolf, and will
not be back for three days."
"That is indeed unfortunate," replied the old man, and he glanced down
uneasily at a small leather bag he was carrying, and which now for the
first time, he produced from under his cloak.
"Is there nothing in which we can help you, Pastor Oshart?" asked
Tonie. "Blonda and I would be so glad to serve you."
"Yes, my children, it may be that you can," answered the old man. "Let
me sit down, and I will tell you why I am come here to-night. But
first, Tonie, close thou the shutters and the door, and make all safe,
lest some one peep in, or come and surprise us."
Tonie and Blonda exchanged frightened glances. The thought of any
possible danger to them in this home of theirs had never occurred to
them before, and now, as their eyes sought once more the old man's
face, they could see that he was anxious and troubled.
"Listen, little ones," said the pastor. "This morning Rolf Bresser, a
friend of mine, came to me and begged me to take charge for a few days
of a bag of money—gold and silver coin. It had been given him, he said,
by a rich man, to distribute among the poor of the village where he
lived. There has been an epidemic of small-pox in the place, and the
villagers have been compelled in many cases to burn their clothes and
bedding to get rid of the infection. This money is to help them to buy
clothing before the cold weather returns.
"Rolf Bresser expected to start for home to-day," Pastor Oshart went
on, "but he has been delayed by business, and this morning he told me
he had reason to fear that the Valdens or some of their friends had got
scent, somehow, of the matter, and he was in dread of being robbed of
the money before he could get away. For this reason, my children, he
brought the bag to me for safely, and I locked it up in my chest, and
Rolf went away quite content. But scarcely had I sat down to my dinner,
when the door opened softly, and Freskel Valden stole in.
"'Hush, my father!' he said, putting a finger to his lips. 'The
brothers think that poor Freskel sees nothing—knows nothing; but my
eyes are open, my ears are not stopped, if only they or I could do
aught for thee, my father.'
"Then, Tonie and Blonda, he told me in his strange fashion that his
brothers Dorlat and Hervitz had got wind of the money-bag, and had
contrived to track Rolf Bresser to my door. This being so, of course I
felt that my house was no longer a safe hiding-place for the treasure,
and I feared lest the Valdens or their boon companions should break in
at night and carry it away. So after dark I got out of my back door,
hiding the bag under my cloak, and hurried hither to ask your father to
take care of it till such time as Rolf is able to start for home. For
truly no one could suspect that in a woodcutter's cottage there could
be anything worth stealing."
"No, dear pastor," replied Blonda; "father has often said that after
all we poor folk are the happiest, for none envy us or covet what we
have."
"And this being so, my children—now I come to think of it—the bag is
quite as safe here as it would be were your father at home, and I need
have no fear of leaving it with you. Here, Blonda, my little maid, take
and hide it away, and whenever my friend is ready to leave, he or I
will come and claim it at thy hand.
"I hope and trust that those miscreants the Valdens have not tracked me
hither as they tracked Rolf to my house. Indeed, I should hardly think
it possible they could have done so, after all my care and precautions.
And now, children, good-night, and God bless you. Lock and bolt the
door after me, and let no one in on any pretext whatever."
Then the door opened, letting in a breath of cool air laden with the
scent of pines—and Pastor Oshart was gone.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II
THE STORY OF THE ISLE OF GHOSTS
THE night passed quietly enough. Perhaps the old pastor's fears were
groundless, and Freskel's brothers either had given up the idea of
getting hold of the bag of coin, or suspected nothing of its change of
quarters.
With the morning light came a sense of security, and the children were
ready to laugh at their fears of the night before.
After their early meal of bread and goat's milk, they resolved to go
and spend the day out of doors, taking dinner with them.
The time must pass slowly enough while their father was away from them;
and the weather to-day was so fine that it seemed a pity for them to
stay at home, when they had really nothing much to do.
So Blonda put up some dinner in a little basket, and Tonie took his
fishing tackle, and carefully locking both doors of the house, they set
out for a long day by the lake side.
On the shore, not far from the cottage, was a natural grotto formed by
four great boulders of Finnish granite, which were so disposed as to
make three rough walls and a roof, so that there was shelter within
from sun and rain, and from wind too, unless this blew directly across
the lake from the eastward, towards which the grotto was open, facing
the rising sun.
In this pleasant resort the children established themselves. Blonda
took out her knitting, while Tonie began to arrange his fishing tackle,
and bait his hooks before embarking on the raft which Grubert had
constructed from trunks of pine, and which served the children instead
of a boat whenever they wanted to fish in deep water across the lake.
"The poor, dear pastor! How weary he looked and anxious too, last
night!" said Blonda. "His sweet old face was quite white and drawn;
didst thou remark it, Tonie?"
"Yes, surely," replied the boy; "and yet, Blonda, it may be that
his fears were altogether groundless, after all. Freskel is but
half-witted, and it is not impossible that he is mistaken, and that his
brothers knew nothing of the bag, or even if they knew, perhaps they
had no thought of so wickedly robbing the pastor of what his friend had
entrusted to his care."
"I know not," rejoined Blonda thoughtfully, as she picked up a dropped
stitch in her knitting. "But Freskel Valden—half-witted though he
be—is, it seems to me, clear enough of vision and true of understanding
in all matters which concern Pastor Oshart. Who knows, Tonie, whether
such great love as his for our good minister may not make him wise,
even as the very beasts and birds of the forest are wise through love,
and cunning in their watchfulness over those for whom they care!"
"Thou may'st well be right, sister," said Tonie. "As our father has
often told us, God has gifts for all, even the most simple among His
creatures; and to one He gives wisdom of one sort, and to another of
a different kind. But there, Blonda, I am ready now for my fishing;
say, little sister, wilt thou come with me on the raft to the Isle of
Ghosts, or stayest thou here?"
"I think I will stay, Tonie, for I want to finish this pair of socks
for father, and I have not too much time. Come thou back to me here by
dinner-time, and perhaps if thou return to the island afterwards, we
can then go together."
So Tonie pushed off on his raft towards the centre of the lake, where,
rising abruptly out of deep water, stood a rocky islet formed of the
grey stone boulders which are to be found strewn everywhere on land
and in the water over a great part of Finland. There were trees on
the island and underwood in great tangles everywhere. Wild raspberry
bushes and other brambly growths had struggled up between the rocks,
clothing the rough crags almost down to the water's edge, while tiny
ferns nestled under the shelter of the overhanging stones, a contrast,
in their delicate beauty, to the massive grandeur of their surroundings.
Blonda was still watching Tonie as he dexterously propelled the
raft across the water, when she was startled to hear a man's voice
behind her saying in Russian, of which she knew enough to understand
conversation and herself speak a little,—
"What then, my good friend, is the name of this island?"
"The name of the island, sir general, is the Isle of Ghosts," replied a
voice, which Blonda recognised as that of the head wood-ranger, Philip
Bexal, a sort of steward who looked after the forest land for his
master, and paid Grubert Reuss and the rest of the woodcutters their
wages.
"And pray, why the Isle of Ghosts?" asked the deep rich voice of the
first speaker. "Does not everybody know that there are no ghosts, at
least in these enlightened days?"
Blonda glanced through the cracks between the boulders, and saw a tall
young officer in a general's undress uniform. He was standing, with the
steward by his side, close to the right wall of the grotto, and facing
the lake.
"This has always been the name, so far as I know, sir general," replied
Philip Bexal. "The whole story is too long to tell; but since, noble
sir, you are visiting our country—or this part of it—for the first
time, and would know all you can about it, I will tell you what I may
in a few words."
"Good; commence then, my friend," said the officer; "and I will sit on
this stone and listen."
"A great, great many years ago," began Philip, "all this part of
Finland was quite wild. Rock, and forest, and water, but no living
creature save wild beasts, such as the wolf, the fox, the wolverine,
the lynx and the bear, with the weaker animals upon which they preyed.
So then the beasts had it all their own way, till there settled here—so
runs the legend—a band of marauders, from no one knows where, but it
was thought that their own land was in the far south. Possibly this
land may have grown too hot to hold them, and hence they emigrated
northward in a large vessel of their own, as tradition says.
"Sailing up the Finnish Gulf, they landed on our coast, and came inland
to the lake country. Here they built for themselves rude dwellings of
wood. They hunted, they fished, they sowed, they reaped, and now and
again they made raids into the country round about, and voyages to
other parts of the coast, and under cover of night carried off from
the villages and towns booty of all sorts. And not content with this,
they even intercepted in their vessel, ships with valuable cargoes, and
murdered the poor men who tried to protect their property.
"So that they became a terror to the whole land; for, as they
multiplied and grew stronger, there was no force found that could
withstand them; and what made matters worse, noble sir, many of the
wild young scapegraces among the Finns joined the robber band; and
since there were no police in those far-off days, these banditti had
the whole land at their mercy."
"And what did they with the property that they wrested from the people
of the country?" asked the stranger.
"Some of it," replied Philip, "was taken away by ship to distant parts
and sold. But no one seems to know what the robbers did with their gold
and silver, though there always were stories enough about of their
having amassed quantities of treasure."
"But what about this island, my man?" questioned the officer, with a
good-humoured imperiousness in his voice. "Restrain thine eloquence,
and come to the point."
"I humbly beg the noble sir's pardon," replied the steward; "I come
at once to this matter of the island. The reports at length appeared
somehow to centre here, and rumour said that in this group of rocks the
riches of several generations of robbers were hoarded."
"A safe enough rumour to circulate," laughed the young officer. "It
is not likely that the robbers would suffer any outsider to prove for
himself the truth of the report."
"That is true, sir general; but now hear the end of the story of this
evil race. Mighty as the robbers had become, and a terror and scourge
in the land, a force yet mightier had gone out against them."
"And what might this have been?" enquired the stranger.
"The arm of the God of Hosts, the sentence of the Most High," replied
Phil solemnly.
The officer took off his cap and crossed himself reverently.
Then he said,—"Go on, my man; I am listening."
"In the spring of one year," went on Philip Bexal, "there came from the
east a terrible visitation, a pestilence such as had not been known
there before. It swept through the land on the wings of the biting east
wind, and men fell before it as the flies drop before the winter's
breath. Right in among the lawless, godless band the black death leapt.
Hard-drinking, foul-living men—what stand could they make against the
awful scourge? To right and left they fell, smitten down, like Israel
of old, by God's destroying angel. Only a few—so runs the tale—only
a few escaped, and they took ship and fled away, leaving their goods
behind, feeling, doubtless, that, like Achan, they were being punished
for the possession of the accursed thing."
"And who may this Achan be of whom thou speakest?" asked the young
officer.
"Noble sir, he is a character of Holy Scripture," answered Philip Bexal.
"It seems to me that thou art well versed in Holy Writ," remarked the
stranger, his lip curling in a sarcastic smile.
"Sir, I am a Lutheran, and we of Luther's creed read our Bibles with
diligence, finding in them the revelation of God's will and the chart
for our guidance over life's sea."
"Indeed!" responded the officer dryly. "This is all very interesting,
but now I will thank thee to proceed, my friend, for truth to say, thy
tale is over long, and I ought to be moving on towards Klingengolf. My
tarantass and post horses, as thou knowest, wait in the road not far
from this."
"I have nearly finished," said Philip. "It is said that the great wave
of death rolled on after a while, and this part of the land began to
recover. Gradually the former haunts of the robbers became inhabited
by peaceable people; a part of the denser forests were cut down, the
wild beasts became scarce, and the country grew more civilized. Only
that, following the bad example of the robber band, some of the people,
having built ships, sailed forth to become pirates in their turn, and
this did they till King Eric the Saint, of Sweden, weary of their
evil practices, and of the danger to his own merchant vessels, in the
twelfth century undertook a crusade against them, and compelled the
people here, who were nothing better than pagans so far, to embrace
Christianity. But from the time of the pestilence, every now and again
rumour hath busied itself about the treasure of the robbers, though no
one has ever seen a vestige of it; and to this present day, noble sir,
that island is held to be the very heart of the golden mystery, and to
hide somewhere in its rocky bosom the long-hoarded secret.
"Of late, especially, there has been a re-awakening of interest, since
some of our villagers, while fishing at night, have seen (or so they
declare) a shadowy form gliding in and out among the granite boulders,
like some ghost about the tombs. And they are foolish enough to believe
that the wraith of one of those dead men, more wicked perhaps than his
companions, is doomed to haunt the place, ceaselessly searching, it may
be, for treasure which he is never permitted to find. Great folly, sir
general, such superstition," added Philip, shrugging his shoulders;
"but you see—"
"I have heard it said," interrupted the stranger, silencing the steward
with an impatient gesture, "that in a mountain and lake country the
legends of the old days are more in number and live longer than in a
flat land. This is perchance because nature has there no fastnesses
wherein to store the things which make for tradition.
"Well good Philip Bexal, I thank thee for thy courtesy, and now I shall
be moving on. But first, I will just peep round this singular pile of
rocks; it looks, methinks, almost like a grotto."
Then Blonda heard a step, and in another moment the handsome face and
lofty form of the young officer appeared in the opening.
"Good-morning, my little maid," said he kindly; "tell me thy name?"
"I am Blonda Reuss," replied the child.
"Her father is Grubert Reuss, one of the woodcutters on this estate,"
put in Philip, who had followed the stranger.
"And art thou an only child, little Blonda?" asked the young officer.
"No, sir, I have a brother, Tonie is his name; see, he is yonder,
fishing from the raft by the island."
"He then, for one, fears not the ghosts," laughed the stranger.
"No, kind sir; why should he? Our father says, that those who fear God
and trust in Him need fear nothing else in heaven or hell, but may have
confidence that He who made all things can keep in their right places
(wherever these may be) both the good spirits and the bad."
"Well spoken, little one! Art ready to give an answer for the faith
that is in thee?" cried the stranger, laying his white gloved hand on
the child's shoulder. "And pray, Blondinka, what sayest thou to this
story of treasure in the Isle of Ghosts?" And the keen eyes of the
officer peered enquiringly into Blonda's fair, open face.
Her gaze met his frankly and fearlessly, as she replied, "For myself,
good sir, what can I say? I am a child, and I know nothing. My father
tells Tonie and me not to think of there being gold hidden away in some
rocky fastness of the island, for fear we should give ourselves up to
the thought of it and the search for it, and thus forget our everyday
work and the duty that God puts near at hand for us to do. He says,
moreover, that since Scripture tells us that 'the love of money is the
root of all evil,' and since also our Saviour Himself has said, 'How
hardly shall they that have riches enter into the kingdom of heaven,'
it is better and safer for us never to concern ourselves about hidden
gold; and he, our father, himself believes that this island is no
treasure house at all. But not so Freskel Valden."
"And who may Freskel Valden be?" asked the officer. "Some wise old
grey-beard who can tell many a story of the long ago?"
Blonda laughed gleefully. "Nay, sir stranger," she said, "he is but a
youth, and the good God in making his body left out—so they say—half
his mind. Some call him a fool, but not I, for he knows many things
that we know not, and where he loves, his heart makes him wiser than
the wisest."
"Would that I had as kind an advocate, my little Blonda!" said the
young man. "Give my respects to thy father, child, and say that
General Nicolai is glad to have met thee, and that if at any future
time I should be passing this way again, I would be glad to renew my
acquaintance with his little daughter, and see him and thy brother in
your own home. And now farewell, dear child. If thou and thy wise,
half-witted friend should chance to find the robbers' treasure,
remember that I put in a claim for at least half."
And laughing good-humouredly, the tall officer went away towards the
road, accompanied by Philip Bexal.
CHAPTER III
THE SIEGE OF THE COTTAGE
"MY children, I have bad news for you from Klingengolf; your father
will not be home for some time. He has had a fall, and has broken his
right arm badly, so that now he is in the hospital, and must stay there
till the bone is set. These sad tidings came by a man who was passing
through Carfoos on business, and your father sent me the message by
him, begging me also to come at once and tell you, my little ones."
Tonie and Blonda were eating their supper on the third evening after
Grubert's departure when Pastor Oshart came in with his bad news, which
made the children very down-hearted, for they had been looking forward
with gladness to Grubert's return that night, and they grieved too over
the suffering which they knew such an accident must cause him.
When the good pastor had answered all the questions that were put to
him, so far as it was in his power to do so, Tonie said,—
"Well then, since we are likely to be alone for some time longer, and
Master Rolf Bresser is not yet ready to claim his property, were it not
wise, dear pastor, for you to take it back to your house? Would it not
be safer there than here?"
"Nay, my boy, nay," replied the old man. "One or other of those fellows
may well be lurking about my house still. Rolf Bresser is known to have
been there more than once, so the money would be supposed to be there
too. No, Tonie, since so far there seems no sign of the hiding-place of
the bag having been discovered, better let it rest where it is. Where
have you put it, my children?"
"Upstairs, under Blonda's bed," replied Tonie.
"Good, then leave it there. And now goodbye. I will try and run over to
see you to-morrow, so that, in writing to the father at Klingengolf, I
may give him the latest news of his dear ones. Forget not, Tonie, to
use all care and diligence in shutting up the house; and once shut, see
that thou open the door to none. In this lonely place, even when we
look not for danger, it is well to take all possible precautions."
The old pastor trudged off homewards; he would gladly have remained and
spent the night with the children at the woodcutter's cottage, for he
did not like their being alone, but he knew that his old housekeeper
at home would almost no die of fear if he did not return. And he felt
now as if the cottage—even though the money was there—was safer from
intruders than his own house, since he fondly believed that no one had
a suspicion whither the bag had been conveyed.
As for Tonie and Blonda Reuss, they were tired and sleepy, for they had
been out nearly all day, so they went to bed early. And by the time
the night fairly closed in, they were both sound asleep—Tonie in his
slip of a room screened off from the kitchen, and Blonda in her little
bed-chamber upstairs.
Tonie had been asleep for about three hours or so when he was roused by
a loud knock at the front door of the cottage, the door that faced the
forest, from which the house was separated only by the road. Startled,
breathless, he sat up in bed, hardly knowing as yet whether he was
awake or dreaming. Then came the knock again, and he sprang out of bed,
hurried on some clothes, and by a sort of natural instinct was running
to open the door, when he remembered the pastor's words, "When the door
is once shut, open to none."
"But what if some one should be ill or in trouble, or have lost his
way?" said Tonie to himself. "Surely in such case it were cruelty not
to open!"
And so thinking, he paused at the door, and called through it, "Who
knocks? Who is there?"
"Open to us; we would speak with thee," said a gruff voice, which Tonie
did not recognise.
"That may not be," replied the boy. "My father is from home, and we are
only children here; go your way, I cannot open to you."
"Alas!" said another voice, shrill and sharp, which Tonie thought
sounded like that of Hervitz Valden. "My companion here hath cut
himself grievously with an axe, and is faint with loss of blood. He
would fain lie down for an hour or two. Let us in, and suffer him to
rest on a bed for a while, and after that we will go on our way."
Just at that moment, Blonda came down, roused by the noise, and stood
at her brother's elbow, wrapped in an old dark cloak.
"A man wounded with an axe; shall I let him and the other in? How
thinkest thou, Blonda?" said Tonie.
"No, brother, we can but obey the commands given to us by those who
are wiser than we," replied the little girl. "If harm should come of
our opening, we should be blamed, and rightly. If what the man says is
true, that his fellow is wounded, and would fain lie down, that what
doth hinder him from lying on the moss under the trees? It is warm
weather, and the ground is not damp."
"Ay, Blonda, thou art right," said Tonie.
Then he called through the door once more—"Pass on, travellers; we
cannot open to you."
"Now listen, thou young imp," said another voice, which Tonie knew
could belong to none other than Dorlat Valden. "We have lately been
robbed of a bag of coin, and we would get back our own. We have some
reason to think that the money has found its way to this cottage. Let
us in quietly, and we will take our own and depart. Refuse to admit
us, and thou must take the consequences. We know that thy father is
disabled and in the hospital at Klingengolf. There is not a soul within
miles of this place, and therefore think not that you children will
have help. And, moreover, we have an old grudge against thy father,
Tonie, seeing that he is a friend of that meddling old pastor, Bertholm
Oshart, and if thou do not our bidding, we are ready for revenge. But I
waste time in parleying with thee. Once more, wilt thou open to us?"
"We have orders to open to none to-night, and we cannot choose but
obey," replied Tonie firmly.
"It is so," said Blonda; "we are but children, and we cannot choose but
obey."
There was the sound of a muttered oath from Dorlat, and an impatient
exclamation from Hervitz. Then the latter said,—
"By fair means or foul, ye obstinate brats, we purpose to enter; so
understand this once for all. If you let us in without hindrance, no
harm shall come to either of you, or to your father's goods; but if we
have to break in and help ourselves, then beware, for in truth we will
not spare you."
To this Tonie was about to reply, but Blonda whispered, "Answer him
not; let us rather think what we shall do if the men find means to
enter. The money must be saved at all costs."
"Ay, but how? There is not a place here in which we could hide it where
the men will not search if once they get in. No; we must get it away
somehow."
"Could we not run to Carfoos with it?" suggested Blonda anxiously.
"Too far," rejoined Tonie; "besides, we might be overtaken and robbed.
Yes; that cannot be thought of, but, perhaps—"
Just then came a thundering knock with an axe upon the door. The wood
cracked; the iron of the lock rang again.
The children stood staring at each other, seeming rooted to the floor
in their terror.
"The lock is broken," whispered Tonie. "If now the bolt hold not, they
will be in directly."
"I will run up and fetch the bag," said Blonda, and she flew upstairs
and was back again, with the bag in her hand, in a moment.
Meanwhile another heavy blow had fallen, which would have split the
door in two had not the long bolt held it together.
"Oh, if but our dear father were here; he would tell us what to do!"
sobbed Tonie, wringing his hands in an agony of fear.
"The Heavenly Father is near us, Tonie; He heareth ever. See, the bolt
holds yet, and we will cry to God to help us, so that we may not betray
our trust."
Amid the noise of the rude, angry voices and the heavy blows of the
axe, Blonda's clear voice sounded strangely calm and sweet.
"Great Father, Thou knowest that we are in fear, and are sore beset
this night. Our other father is away, and the evil men would steal this
treasure, which is not ours, but meant only for Thy poor and hungry
ones. We cry to Thee for help. Show us what to do; send Thine angel to
deliver us; take care of us, and likewise of this bag, for Christ's
sake, Amen."
As the children rose from their knees, a great crash of glass was
heard. It seemed to come from Blonda's room upstairs.
"What is that?" cried Tonie. "Surely the men have not got in through
thy window?"
But the words were scarcely spoken when flying down the steep, narrow
staircase came the lithe form of Freskel Valden.
"Question me not," he muttered hoarsely. "We have but a moment. Hast
thou got the money, Blonda? It is well; then follow me. If but we can
win forth out of these four walls, Nature shall keep the treasure for
us."
So saying, Freskel led the way to the back door, and, stooping,
listened intently with his ear to the key-hole.
"Good," said he, "no one is there; come, let us go."
Tonie turned the key softly in the lock, removed the wooden bar that
strengthened the defences of the door, and in an instant Freskel glided
out, followed by the children. As Tonie drew the back door to behind
him, a great crash and shout in the house announced that the front door
had at last given way.
"Quick! In among the trees with you, or we may be seen from the
windows!" said Freskel, in low, hissing tones. "Dorlat has eyes like a
cat, and finding you not, he may come out to look for you in the open."
The children darted into the deep shadows of the pines, and in a minute
or two had reached the margin of the lake, and crouched down behind a
boulder.
"Shall we hide the bag under one of these stones, Freskel?" whispered
Tonie.
"Nay, nay, that were a fool's corner indeed!" replied Freskel. "Rather
let it make a voyage across the lake to the island, and there shall the
ghosts guard it safely for us till the pastor ask for it again."
"Then, if thou wilt convey it thither, Freskel," said Blonda, "take the
raft; Tonie can paddle it for thee."
"Nay, little one, see how the moon shines! The harvest moon too; and if
she turned her big yellow face on yon raft, she would betray us. Nay,
I go indeed—but it must be as the fish goes. Give me the bag, Blonda;
see, I will sling it by this kerchief to my neck! So—now it is safe,
and the sooner I go the better. Hide, both of you, but watch too, lest
the enemy come upon you unawares even here. Kiss me for luck, little
Blonda, for I am going—nay—I am gone!"
And, as the lad spoke, he joined his hands above his head, and dived
down into the still, black water, and when the children next caught a
glimpse of his dark head, he was well on his way towards the rocky,
bush-grown shore of the Isle of Ghosts.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV
PLAYING THE GHOST
FOR two long, weary hours Tonie and Blonda waited behind the boulder
by the lake side. Once only, at the end of the first half-hour, Tonie
stole into the pine wood at the back of the house, and, under the deep
shadow of the trees, glanced up at the windows, and saw a light in one
after another, as the men pursued their search for the money.
When the light flashed through the window of Blonda's little room, the
boy noticed that the glass was broken away. Close to the casement, a
tall birch tree reared its stately form, and Tonie understood at once
how Freskel had contrived to get into the house, and wondered at his
ingenuity and courage. To come to the help of the besieged children, he
must have climbed the long, straight, silvery stem like a squirrel, and
then swung out from a bough until he could grasp the window ledge, gain
a footing there, and dash through the glass.
"Was it not bold of him, and clever too?" said Tonie, when he rejoined
his sister in the niche where she was hiding, and told her how Freskel
had managed to come to their assistance.
"Yes; and he came as God's answer to our prayer for help," said Blonda,
with kindling eyes. "Tonie, surely thou and I can never doubt God
again. How frightened we were! We knew not what to do, or whither to
go, but no sooner had we cried to the good Lord to send us help than we
heard the crash of the window, and down came Freskel like an angel from
the skies. And knowest thou, Tonie, what was in my mind as we opened
the door so quietly, so easily, and passed out? It seemed to me that,
perchance, thus felt the apostle Peter when God sent the angel at night
to strike off his chains, and open barred doors for him, and lead him
forth out of prison, and from the death that threatened him."
Tonie gave a little chuckle. "I know not how Peter felt," said he, "but
think you not, little sister, that Freskel Valden is rather a queer
angel?"
"I know not—I care not!" replied the child, peering out earnestly
across the water, while Tonie, standing up, watched, for fear of
surprise, the bit of pine wood behind which stood the cottage. "Does it
matter what an angel looks like, so long as he is the messenger of God,
and comes to our help? Could one of the white-robed and flying ones do
more?"
"Strange that this same angel of thine comes not back from the island!"
remarked Tonie, in a matter-of-fact tone. "Only think, my Blonda, what
it would be if, after all, he had played us false, and gone off with
the—"
"Tonie! For shame! How canst thou?" said the little girl indignantly.
"Think but how faithful, how loyal he has been for years to our pastor!
And besides, Tonie, would God have sent us a bad angel in answer to our
prayer? Nay—if our earthly parents, as Jesus says, could never give
us a stone when we ask for bread, is it likely that the loving Father
in Heaven would send us a curse instead of a blessing, when we cried
to Him for help? Nay, Tonie, I have full faith in poor Freskel, and I
would answer for his honesty with my life."
"Poor Freskel thanks and blesses thee for that, Blonda!" said a low
voice in her ear, and turning quickly, she saw Freskel, who had
approached unobserved and unheard.
The little girl looked up at him in wonder, for his face was full of
excitement, with great eyes that shone like lamps under his streaming
locks.
"The bag of coin—is it safe, Freskel?" asked Tonie.
"Safe!" laughed the youth. "Oh yes! So safe that none save Freskel
could ever find it; though, after all, a bag of treasure more or
less—what matters it, when untold wealth lies ready for the finding."
"Thou wert absent a long time, Freskel," said Blonda gently. "Tell us,
was it so hard to find a place wherein the bag could be hidden safely?"
But Freskel did not appear to hear. A strange, triumphant look lighted
up his face, as he stood gazing out across the water at the Isle of
Ghosts, which reared its rugged points under the moonlight, clothed in
a weird and spectral splendour.
"Who said I could not keep a secret?" he murmured at last, in a
strange, sing-song voice. "The winds of heaven say not whence they come
nor whither they go; the flowers have no words to tell us who paints
their cheeks, and tints their eyes, and unfolds their leaflets one by
one. They keep their secrets, and Freskel keeps his."
"But surely thou wilt tell the dear pastor—wilt thou not—where his
friend's money lies hidden?" questioned Tonie.
"His friend's money? What money?" said the youth vaguely.
"Art thou mad, Freskel? What should it be but the bag of coin that thou
hast just hidden lest the robbers steal it away."
"Ach, yes; I remember now," answered Freskel, more quietly. "Fear not;
the pastor shall know all about it. But now, go home, and to bed, you
two, and Freskel will go to the pastor's house."
"But how know we that the robbers are not still lurking about near the
cottage?" Tonie asked.
"They have gone," replied Freskel. "I caused them to hear strange
voices and to see a strange face, and they were smitten with fear, and
fled away, thinking perchance that the ghosts of the old, old robbers
of the long ago were claiming them for fellows and mates."
The children stood and stared in horror the half-witted youth.
"Now thou must be altogether mad!" remarked Tonie severely. "Thou! How
couldst thou make them afraid with thy voices and faces, when thou wert
in the island hiding the bag?"
"Hush Tonie, be not so harsh to him!" whispered Blonda. "Freskel dear,"
and she turned to the youth with a smile, "thou hast been good to us,
and we thank and bless thee. Nay, but now I was saying to my brother
that thou wert even as God's angel sent to us in our distress. But and
if thou seek to deceive us thus with lying vanities, what, oh what must
we think of thee? God's angels of help tell no falsehoods."
"Neither doth Freskel," replied the lad. "Listen, Blonda, for I would
not that such a little white-souled thing as thou should think evil
of me. Thinkest thou that I was all the time on the island? Nay; I
hid away the bag, and also I found what I sought not, and suddenly
possessed what I coveted not.
"Then, all at once, I remembered Dorlat and Hervitz, and wondered if
they were still at the cottage, and I swam back to another part of the
shore, and crept up through the wood, and opened the back door softly,
listened, and heard them upstairs hunting, hunting for what was not
there. So then, Tonie, I slipped into thy room, and wrapped myself in
a sheet from thy bed, and stood in the passage by the back door, this
being open and the moonlight coming in. There I stood, half in light
and half in shadow, and howled grievously, and struck on the door
handle with a knife that I took from the kitchen.
"Then Dorlat, my big brother, came down the stair, and spied the ghost,
and he gave one cry, and fled out through the broken door, and after
him came Hervitz, and also two others. And for a short space I followed
them, gliding in my white robe through the wood, and howling to speed
their flight. Then I returned, leaving the sheet in the house, and came
hither to you. So, Blonda, I am no liar; nay, and if poor Freskel was
God's angel to you when he led you forth, he is no less so now that he
has chased the evil-doers from your home."
"Forgive me, my poor Freskel," cried Blonda, penitently. "Thou hast
done nobly, and we can never thank thee enough."
"It is well; I go now to the pastor," said the youth, "and tell him
all—all—save only one thing; but that is poor Freskel's secret. Poor
Freskel? No, not poor! Rich Freskel—but a secret! A secret! Where did
I hear those words: 'A bird of the air shall carry the voice, and that
which hath wings shall tell the matter'? Did the pastor read them in
the church? I know not—I know not, but I hope they are not true."
And the youth moved slowly away, a dreamy, absorbed expression in his
face and a strange light in his eyes.
The children went home, and found the whole house in confusion, the
intruders having turned everything upside down in their search for the
money. But Tonie managed to barricade the broken door with some of the
kitchen furniture, and Blonda hung an old quilt before her smashed
window.
Then the young folk went to bed, and slept peacefully on far into the
morning.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER V
A COUNCIL OF WAR
THE next day, the whole of Carfoos was up in arms, for though Freskel
had told no one but Pastor Oshart that his brother were concerned in
the night attack on the woodcutter's cottage, Dorlat and Hervitz were
held in such ill repute, that as soon as the news reached the village
that Grubert Reuss' house had been forcibly entered, suspicion had at
once fallen upon them. Indeed, so vehement in their indignation were
the villagers that the old pastor could hardly restrain them from
making a raid upon the dwelling of the Valdens, and laying violent
hands upon the two young men and upon their father also, for Jaspar
Valden was accounted no better than his sons, though, being seldom
abroad, he was not so well-known by sight.
"It is time that our village was rid of this family of evil-doers,"
said one of the men in council. "They are lawless enough to have
descended in a direct line from the dreadful pirate band that are said
to have settled here so long ago, and stored their treasure in the Isle
of Ghosts."
"It is so," assented another; "and I propose that we take the law into
our own hands, and punish these men as they deserve. But you, Pastor
Oshart, it seems to us that you know more about them than you care to
say. Why do you keep silence among us, when perhaps you have positive
proof of the guilt of the brothers Valden, and possibly of old Jaspar
also, in this matter of breaking forcibly into a man's homestead in
search of plunder?"
"I have no proof that I should be justified in bringing forward at
present," replied the old man, who could not suffer Freskel to witness
against the members of his own family, and who had not yet heard the
story of the siege of the cottage from the lips of Tonie and Blonda.
"Nor, my people, would I counsel you to punish these men for violence
with violence, however much they may seem to deserve such treatment at
our hands. At the same time, I feel with you that a peaceful village
and godly community cannot longer suffer in its midst the presence of
such a family. Therefore my advice would be that you should depute
one of your number on whose wisdom and self-control you can rely to
go to the Valdens, and to tell them, in the name of the inhabitants
of Carfoos, that we desire, nay, that we require them to leave this
neighbourhood in the course, say, of a week, and that if they refuse to
do as we wish, we must call in the aid of the police, and, collecting
all possible evidence against them, have them punished by the law."
"Pastor Oshart, your counsel is wise. I propose that we do as you
suggest," said the oldest villager present.
"And I would add," said another, "that our good pastor be elected to
undertake to be our messenger and ambassador to the Valden family. We
have no one amongst us in whom we have such confidence, or for whom we
cherish so great esteem."
"It is true. So be it, then. Let the pastor be our ambassador!" shouted
a score of voices.
"Yet bethink you a moment, my friends," said Rolf Bresser, who had
arrived at Carfoos early that morning, and joined the little company
collected at the pastor's house. "It is true that so far as you
yourselves are concerned, it is well that the pastor should be your
messenger. But none of you seem to have thought whether this mission
would not be difficult and perhaps even dangerous, for the ambassador
himself. Though I am not one of you, I have some right to speak now,
since, innocently, I am the cause of the late disturbance which has
brought things to a crisis; for it was I that entrusted the bag of
money to Pastor Oshart's care, fancying—and probably not without
reason—that the brothers Valden had come to know of it, and might rob
me ere I could quit the neighbourhood. The pastor, in his turn, having
the same feeling, and wishing to secure the safety of the property
entrusted to him, stole away, under cover of night, to the woodcutter's
cottage, and in that humble abode, where it might well be considered
safe, left the bag of coin.
"Reuss himself was not at home, but the treasure was safely hidden
away, and nothing occurred to disturb the little guardians that night.
Two nights later, however, after the good pastor had brought the
children news of their father's accident at Klingengolf, the cottage
was broken into, and but for the courage and timely help of one whom I
may not name here, the money entrusted to me for the poor of my village
would have been carried away. In some fashion best known to themselves,
the Valdens must have come to suspect that the bag of coin was no
longer in the custody of the pastor; indeed, they may have followed him
on his second visit to Grubert's cottage, mistaking the motive for it.
"Knowing of the woodcutter's absence from home, the men doubtless
expected to have no trouble in effecting an entrance and seeing for
themselves whether the money were there or no. Well, as we know,
the robbers entered indeed, but the rest of their evil intent was
frustrated. My friend, your pastor, tells me this morning that the
money is hidden in a safe place, and as for the children of Grubert
Reuss, they are no longer to stay alone in the cottage in the forest,
but will remain with the pastor until their father's return. But now,
to come back to the point from which I started," continued Rolf; "think
you, indeed, that, after all that has passed, your pastor will be a
welcome visitor at Jaspar Valden's home? Remember there are old grudges
out against him for his faithful warnings in the past. And now there is
this new trouble. What greeting, think you, he will receive?"
"You are right, Rolf Bresser!" cried several voices at once. "Our
pastor shall not go. We will not expose him to insult or worse."
"Peace, children," said the old man tranquilly. "It is my duty, and I
have no misgivings. I thank thee, Rolf, and you, my people, for your
thought of me, but your kindness cannot alter the thing that is right.
I accept the embassage, and this evening I go to the Valdens. And as
for thee, Rolf, my friend, since thou dost not commence thy journey
until the morrow, come thou and sup with Tonie and Blonda Reuss and
me, and take care, during my absence afterwards, of these lambs of my
flock, who must be left no longer unshepherded, a prey to the prowling
wolf of the night."
After supper, good Pastor Oshart was about to set out on his unpleasant
errand, when Blonda came down the stairs with her cloak and hood on.
"What is this, child?" asked the old man. "Whither goest thou so late?
Why, it is time almost that all good little maids were asleep."
"I would go with you, dear pastor," replied Blonda, smiling up in his
face.
"With me, little one? Nay, that must not be. Knowest thou whither I am
bound?"
"Yes, surely," said Blonda. "You go to the Valdens."
"And that is no place for thee, my lamb; stay here with Tonie and my
good Rolf till I return. Go, take off thy things, Blonda."
"They said you might be in danger, dear pastor," sobbed Blonda, "and
I thought I might perhaps help you. Or if I could not help—being so
small—at least I could share your danger, as my dear father would have
done had he been here. It is so hard you should go all alone."
"Little one, I am not alone," replied the old man, smiling. "Knowest
thou not, Blonda, that they who are in the path of duty have ever with
them the presence of Him, the Beloved, who said to His disciples in the
old time, 'Lo, I am with you alway'?
"So, my child, fear not for me. What, must I pray for thee as Elisha
prayed for his servant, that thine eyes may be opened, and that thou
mayest see that they which are with me are more than those which are
against me? Nay, my dear little maid, wipe away those tears, but pray
that I, thine old pastor, may speak wise words and brave and true,
giving a message, not only from the people of Carfoos, but from Him
Whose I am and Whom I serve."
So saying, the good old minister laid a gentle hand in blessing on
Blonda's little fair head, then he opened the door and passed out into
the night.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VI
BEARDING THE LIONS IN THEIR DEN
"MAY I enter?" said Pastor Oshart.
He had knocked several times at the door of the Valdens' cottage, but
there was so much noise inside that he could not be heard. So at last
he opened the door, and standing on the threshold, faced the three men,
who turned toward him as he spoke.
"You here, Master Oshart! Truly, this is a day of marvels! Pray what
will you with us?" asked Jaspar, with a frown.
"Ay," screamed the shrill, mocking voice of Hervitz, "what dealings can
this saint of Carfoos have with us sinful Valdens?"
"I come on urgent business," replied the pastor, with grave gentleness.
"Have I your permission to come in and tell my errand?"
"Oh, come in, come in, of course, most righteous prophet and teacher!"
sneered Dorlat. "Think you that we could be so wanting in courtesy
as to keep our best of friends outside our door? Why, bethink thee,
father, and thou, brother Hervitz, what reason we have for loving and
reverencing this holy man! We have not forgotten—have we—what we owed
him in the past?"
"Nay, that have we not!" cried Hervitz, with a laugh. "And no one can
say of us that we pay not our debts."
"Peace, Hervitz!" said Jaspar. "Let us hear the man's business; though,
all the same, Pastor Oshart, you are somewhat over-bold to come thus
into the lions' den."
The old minister smiled. "My God hath shut the lions' mouths ere this,"
he said quietly; "and what he did for His servant Daniel of old He
could do now, if it so pleased Him. The Lord's arm is not shortened
that it cannot save."
"There speaks the cant of your cloth!" piped the piercing voice of
Hervitz. "Lucky for you if you need not to put your God to the test!"
"Master Jasper Valden," said the pastor, looking past the sharp, weasel
face of Hervitz, and speaking to the old father, "have I your leave to
sit? I am an old man, and, moreover, very weary to-night."
Jaspar rose and silently pushed a stool across the floor, and Pastor
Oshart sat down.
"Master Jasper Valden, and you, Dorlat and Hervitz," said he, "I
am sent to you with a message from all the people of Carfoos. And
the message is this. You are requested to move away from this
place and to return no more. We give you one week in which to make
your preparations, and if at the end of that time you are still
here, information against you will be lodged at the Klingengolf
police-station, and the law must be suffered to take its course."
"And pray why should we thus be driven forth?" questioned Jaspar, his
stern, rugged face flushing angrily. "Have we not as good a right to be
here as you or any one else?"
"All peaceable and law-abiding folk have an equal right," replied the
old pastor, with mild firmness. "And whose fault is it, my masters,
that ye are not of such?"
"Yet know I not what charges could be brought against us," said Jaspar;
"nor yet," he added fiercely, "why the whole village should band
together to hound us out of the place."
"If you are wise, Jaspar Valden," answered Pastor Oshart, "you will
not ask me to name and count up the misdeeds which have brought you
and yours into disfavour with all Carfoos and its neighbourhood. But I
tell you this, that should you be taken up for trial at Klingengolf,
evidence will not be wanting to bring home to you some of these
misdeeds. We would—to say truth—spare ourselves and you the disgrace of
a public trial; but your lawlessness and the terror with which you have
filled our quiet village cannot longer be suffered. This, then, is my
message from my people your neighbours. What answer am I to take back
to those who sent me?"
At this, the father and his two sons sullenly rose and went to the
other end of the long low room, and there held a discussion in muttered
tones, the meaning of which did not reach the pastor's ears.
At last the three men turned, and Jaspar came forward.
"Since the people of Carfoos are unjust and cruel," said he, "we
willingly quit so unpleasant a neighbourhood. But mind you, sir
pastor, let it clearly be understood that we do this, not because
we acknowledge the truth of the accusations, or the right of our
neighbours to dictate to us what we shall do, but because we care not
to remain among those who hate us, and who do us an injustice."
"Is this, then, your reply?"
"It is, Master Oshart."
"It is well," said the old pastor. "So now that I have spoken on behalf
of my people, and received your answer, I have yet something to say
that concerns more particularly myself. It is about Freskel. I love
the boy; he is fond of me; we understand one another. To you, with his
wavering mind, his wayward will, his strange, wild ways, he can be of
little use, and of no comfort. My wife is dead, I have no child; leave
Freskel with me, and I pledge myself to be all to him that a father
can."
There was a pause, broken only by a contemptuous snort from Dorlat
and a shrill exclamation from Hervitz. Old Jaspar said nothing, but
looked gloomily down, and clenched his great knotted right hand on the
table. The pastor waited patiently for a minute or two; at last he said
gently,—
"Jaspar Valden, you have heard my request; will you be pleased to grant
it?"
The old man roused himself. Shaking back the masses of grey hair that
overhung his brow, he straightened his mighty form to its full height
and said, "Had it been any one but you, Pastor Oshart, that asked me
this, I would have said, 'Take the boy and welcome'; but to you I
say, 'No.' If I care not for the brat myself, none the more would I
have him beloved by my enemy. For think not, sir pastor, that I have
forgotten your impudent interference in speaking to us years ago. Who
are you that you should presume to remonstrate with us? Who asked you
to concern yourself with our affairs? I tell you—"
"One word, Master Valden," said the old pastor. "You surely forget
that it is my duty in the sight of God, to warn and admonish in the
home of sin, as much as it is my privilege to comfort in the house of
mourning, or to speak a word in season to him that is weary. In all
ways, and to all men, Christ's gospel of repentance and salvation must
be preached by me; yea, woe is me if I preach not the Gospel. And woe
is me, likewise, if respect of persons, or fear of violence, or even a
desire not to offend, makes me to hold my peace, keeping back the word
of truth that the Lord hath given me to speak.
"Jaspar Valden, I have no ill-feeling towards you in my heart. Would
to God that I needed not to say unto you aught but comfortable words.
Would to God that ye were seekers after truth, would-be followers of
the loving and gracious One, whose servant I am."
Jasper was about to speak, but Pastor Oshart rose from his seat and
held up his hand, and the old man kept silence.
"Oh, my friends (suffer me to call you so this once)," cried the
pastor, "my mouth is open unto you, my heart is enlarged. This night I
have been sent to you in God's providence with a message from man, and
now I stand before you having also a message from the Lord Himself. He
only knows if the Gospel invitation will ever be spoken to you again.
He only can tell whether or no for any or all of you the day of grace,
the accepted time, ends to-night. I beseech you, flee from the wrath to
come while yet you may. I pray you, in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled
to God. I earnestly plead with you to turn from your evil ways, from
the love of money which causes you to sin, and to come, just as you
are, to the open arms of Jesus. For are we not told that 'when the
wicked man turneth away front his wickedness and doeth that which is
lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive'?
"And since He is faithful that hath promised, no word shall fail of all
that the Lord hath spoken, if you will but come as penitents to Him and
cry, 'God be merciful to me a sinner, for Jesus, Thy Son's, dear sake.'"
Here the old pastor's voice broke in a sob; the inspired light died out
of his eyes, and tears rolled down his furrowed cheeks.
"Oh, my people!" he sighed tremblingly. "'Turn ye—turn ye; why will ye
die?'"
Jasper Valden's rugged, powerful face worked with emotion as the pastor
spoke.
Once he seemed on the point of replying impulsively, but a hard,
scornful look from his son Dorlat silenced him.
Again there was silence, and Pastor Oshart turned towards the door
and waited there. Presently he said very gently, "I pray you, Master
Valden, to re-consider that matter of your son Freskel. Give him to me,
and before God I promise that you shall not repent it."
Jaspar passed his great hand across his brow; the expression of his
face was troubled and irresolute. "I know not what answer to give you,"
he said at length.
"Indeed, father, this foolish weakness is unworthy of thee," said
Dorlat, scowling from under his shaggy brows at the pastor.
"Yes, why should the impertinent old preacher have his way with us
after all?" yelled Hervitz, in his shrill falsetto. "If we let him
hence with a whole skin and an unbruised head, surely that is more than
he deserves who comes thus a-meddling."
"And as for Freskel," added Dorlat, "we can make use of him yet, fool
though he be; but even if not, better get rid of him in some other way
than give him to be turned against his own flesh and blood, and become
their enemy."
"Jaspar Valden, it was to you that I appealed, and for your answer I
wait," said the pastor, taking no notice of what the young men said,
and not even glancing in their diction.
"You hear what these, my sons say?" asked the old man, with an uneasy
look at the two evil faces beside him. "Well, as you know that we are
a united family," (here he gave a hard, bitter laugh), "of course what
they speak, I must stand to."
"God help you then!" sighed Pastor Oshart. "And the boy Freskel remains
with you?"
"He remains with us."
"Then, since this is final, I have only to say good-night," said Pastor
Oshart.
For one moment he paused with the door open, but there was no response
to his farewell from either Jaspar or his sons; so he gave them one
last sad look, then shut himself out into the darkness and plodded
wearily home, cast down in even that brave heart of his, and murmuring,
as he gazed up to the silent stars, "'O Lord, I have laboured in vain,
and I have spent my strength for nought.'"
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VII
THE GHOST OF THE ISLAND
SUMMER had passed; autumn too, with its crisp, frosty nights and
sunshiny days, and its forest foliage glowing with a glory of crimson
and gold, the dress put on by all the trees save the solemn pines and
firs, which still kept to the sombre hues of their evergreen.
Yes, winter had come; not as it comes here, with an occasional short
spell of frost and fall of snow alternating with south-west winds and
rain, but stern, white, and still, with unbreaking frost, and trees
ghost-clad, and grand, polished, gleaming snow-roads, over which the
Finnish sledge-carts glided smoothly, the bells on the horses tinkling
bravely.
The whole wide lake was one sheet of glass, out of which, in solemn,
solitary grandeur, rose the island, bare now of green,—a great giant
with a hoary head, and with his mantle lined and furred here and there
with pure white snow.
In the cottage of Grubert Reuss there was once more the happiness of
reunion, for the father had returned to his home. But the family were
poorer than ever before, for the man's right arm was disabled by his
injury, and was unfit for a woodcutter's work; and Tonie, whom Philip
Bexal had taken on instead, had neither strength nor experience as yet
to do a full day's work, and therefore only earned half-pay.
Still Grubert was not idle. Though his right arm had not power to wield
the axe, his hand had not lost its cunning, and now that he could not
employ himself in felling timber in the forest, he set to work to make
use of his time at home. Many were the ingenious toys, the pretty
carved boxes and useful vessels, which he made out of wood. Some he
polished, others he painted, and when he had completed a goodly number,
he carried or sent them to Klingengolf, where a dealer was willing to
take all he could make.
Tonie and Blonda, too, were fully occupied, and were never idle a
moment. The former was out in the woods all day, helping to fell timber
and cart it down to the river bank some miles away, while the latter,
when not busy with sweeping, cooking, washing, or mending, sat down
to her loom and wove yard after yard of coarse linen towelling, which
Grubert took to sell in the town when he had goods of his own of which
to dispose.
Almost the only recreation that the children had was to bind on their
skates, and hand in hand to fly off and explore the lake. Like swallows
they skimmed the surface, fearless and sure of their footing. Now and
again a solitary wolf, or even a pair of wolves, might be seen skulking
across the ice, but the animals seemed to pay no heed to the little
skaters, and they in their turn did not trouble their heads about them.
One or two wolves were not dangerous, and the young folks never went so
far from home as to run the risk of encountering these creatures in any
numbers.
The good pastor was working away among his people as hard as ever. With
the autumn came illness to the village, and the old man's strength had
been sorely tried by the demands made upon it; and even now, when the
condition of Carfoos was healthy once more, he had hardly recovered his
usual vigour.
As for the Valdens, they had indeed moved away; but they had not gone
far; and though just at first they kept quiet, and nothing was heard of
them, now again there had begun to be circulated rumours that spoke of
quantities of wood mysteriously stolen, snares robbed that had been set
for hares and birds. Birch trees were being despoiled of, their bark,
and even frozen venison, frozen pigs and game and poultry, had been
stolen out of the sheds where the villagers stored their marketable
provisions to be in readiness for taking to town to sell.
As for Freskel, he still haunted the home of the pastor, though not as
much as he had done before his father and brothers left Carfoos. But
there was a great change in the lad, which the pastor could not but
see, and which, he felt assured, dated back to that night when Freskel
had been of such signal service to the children at the woodcutter's
cottage, and in saving from the covetous hands of Dorlat and Hervitz,
Rolf Bresser's bag of money.
Pastor Oshart knew not what to make now of the boy's strange moods,
for Freskel went about as one in a dream, sometimes seeming quite
unreasonably elated, and at others downcast and shrinking guiltily, as
though conscious of doing wrong. To all questions the youth returned
evasive replies, and even his love for the pastor could not induce him
to make a confidant of his old friend. Some strange spell seemed to be
about Freskel, some bad influence was slowly but surely undermining his
happiness and dragging him down.
And now, at this time, once more it was reported that the Isle of
Ghosts was haunted, and the glimmer of a ghostly light and the flitting
of a shadowy form had been seen at night from the shores of the lake.
Connecting these reports with Freskel Valden's frequent and unaccounted
for absences, the good pastor came to the conclusion that the poor,
half-witted lad had become possessed by a mad passion for the
ill-gotten gold which tradition said still lay hidden in some corner
of the island, and that the ghost which haunted that lonely pile of
rock was none other than Freskel himself. Pastor Oshart, however,
said nothing to any one about his suspicions, for he hoped gradually
to bring some better influence to bear upon the poor youth's heart
and life,—some strong motive which would overcome the greed of riches
which he inherited from his father and shared with his wicked brothers,
Dorlat and Hervitz.
The good old man did not for one moment believe that any treasure
existed at all on the island, save in the imagination of a few
foolish or idle people. But he dreaded—and rightly—the strength of an
absorbing, covetous passion on such a mind as that of poor Freskel,
which was only too apt to lend itself to delusions of all sorts.
"Father," said Blonda to Grubert one afternoon as she sat down to her
loom, "Father, hadst thou any special need for some of this linen last
night or this morning?"
"No, my child; why?" asked Grubert.
"Because I see that quite a long piece of it is gone," replied the
girl. "When I put away my work last evening, at supper-time, I had two
rolls of linen, and had begun a third, and now I see that one of them
is not here."
"Strange!" remarked Grubert. "Has Tonie taken it for any purpose?"
"Hast thou taken a roll of my towelling, Tonie?" asked Blonda, for her
brother came in just at that moment.
"I? No, little sister; what should I want with it?" replied the boy, in
great surprise.
"It is quite impossible that it should have been stolen," said Grubert,
"for no one comes here but our dear pastor and poor Freskel Valden."
"Was Freskel here this morning?" asked Tonie.
"Yes," answered his father. "He came just after breakfast, when thou
wert one out into the forest and Blonda to the goat shed."
"What could he want at so early an hour, I wonder!" said Tonie. "Why,
he must have risen at about three o'clock in the morning to come all
the way from where the Valdens live now. What could have been his
purpose?"
"Who can tell?" said Grubert. "Thou knowest how strange he is, with his
whims and his fancies. He sat down here in the kitchen by the fire, and
warmed himself, and presently I left him, for I had promised to see
Pastor Oshart as early as I could. When we all returned to dinner, as
thou knowest, Blonda, Freskel was no longer here."
"It is strange! Passing strange!" said Blonda.
But as there was no accounting for her loss, the subject was dropped,
and nothing more was said about it.
That evening our two little Finns strapped on their skates, and set out
for an hour's exercise and recreation on the lake. It was a glorious
night; there was no wind, the moon rode high and clear in a cloudless
sky, and the stars, like ten thousand luminous eyes, peered down upon
the little skaters, as with long, easy sweeps they glided, hand in
hand, across the beautiful sheet of ice that reflected the moonlight
like a mirror.
As the children neared the island they slackened their pace.
"I wonder," said Tonie, "if there is any truth in the old tradition
about this place! Think, Blonda, what it would be if thou and I could
but light upon the treasure hidden so long! How rich we should be, and
how happy! And—"
"Hush, hush, Tonie; speak not so," cried Blonda. "If gold lies buried
in that island, there let it lie for me! After all, it was all
ill-gotten booty, if the story of the robber band be true, and such
treasure will bring a curse, and not a blessing. No, Tonie, father
is right when he tells us not to suffer our minds to dwell on such
matters, lest the longing after filthy lucre come between us and God.
For thou knowest what our Lord saith in His word:
"'For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.'"
Tonie did not reply, but suddenly digging the heel of his skate into
the ice, he stopped short, and his sister, rather startled, did the
same. Then he whispered eagerly, as he pointed towards the island,
which was now close to them, "Hush, Blonda; didst thou see that?"
Blonda followed the direction in which her brother's finger was
pointing.
"I see nothing," she said softly. "What should I see?"
"Didst thou not see that light? It flashed an instant and was gone. Up
there it was, just between those two peaks. There, there it is again!
Oh, Blonda, can it be the ghost after all?"
"Nonsense, Tonie!" replied the little girl stoutly. "Thou knowest that
there are no ghosts; has not our father told us so again and again?"
"Then what sayest thou—and what would our father say—to that?" muttered
Tonie under his breath, as from behind a huge rock there came in sight
a strange, shapeless white as the snow around.
For a moment it stood motionless; then, with a doleful, unearthly cry,
it vanished as suddenly as though the rock had opened and swallowed it
up.
For some minutes the children waited to see if the ghost re-appeared,
but their waiting was in vain, and presently they turned homeward, too
full of their adventure to care to prolong their skating expedition.
They were, however, scarcely half-way back to the shore, when they met
two men muffled up in sheep-skin coats, and wearing huge felt boots,
which prevented their slipping on the ice.
"Dorlat and Hervitz Valden," said Tonie, when they had passed.
"Yes; I wonder what brings them out here!" answered Blonda. "Thinkest
thou, Tonie, that they are going to brave the ghost of the island—or
the thing that pretends to be a ghost—and to make a search for the
treasure?"
"How can I tell, Blonda? But one thing I know, little sister, whether
a ghost be a dangerous neighbour or no, Dorlat and Hervitz Valden are
dangerous enough, as we know by experience. I glanced over my shoulder
but now, and saw those evil brothers standing and looking after us.
Come, let us get home!"
Once more taking hands, the children glided swiftly away, and when they
next looked back, Dorlat and Hervitz were nowhere to be seen, and the
whole wide expanse of frozen water lay bathed in moonlight, save only
where the Isle of Ghosts cast a black shadow, its tall, jagged peaks
seeming to form upon the clear ice the long fingers of a giant hand,
feeling about for something to clutch and to destroy.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER VIII
GENERAL NICOLAI AGAIN
EARLY the next morning, Freskel opened the door of Grubert's cottage,
and found only Tonie in the kitchen.
"What is it, Freskel?" asked Tonie, who was lighting the fire and
getting things ready for Blonda to prepare the breakfast.
"There is to be a great hunt in the forest, Tonie; some fine people
from the Tzar's city came to Klingengolf yesterday, and they are all
driving down to Carfoos in their Russian troika sledges, and here
they will put on snow shoes, and go on foot into the wood and round
among the hills, to look for beasts to slay; and Freskel will guide
the hunters and find them a bear, and for that Freskel will have
money—silver money!" And the lad's eyes gleamed avariciously.
"And what use hast thou for money?" asked Blonda, who at that moment
entered the kitchen and heard Freskel's words.
"I want it to hoard; to hoard and to look at sometimes, so that I may
hug myself to think how rich Freskel—the poor, foolish Freskel is,"
replied the youth, his whole full of a covetous greed, which gave it a
strangely repulsive appearance.
"Then beware, my lad!" said Grubert's deep voice, for the woodman
too had come downstairs, and now joined the little group. "For hark
ye, Freskel Valden, the devil baits some of his deadliest traps with
silver and gold, and the miser's heart is his very throne. Yes, beware,
Freskel, for thou art in danger."
The lad looked from one to another of his friends with a half-puzzled,
half-cunning look, which they could not understand. Then he was turning
sulkily away, when Grubert said—
"Leave us not, Freskel, until thou hast broken thy fast. Come and share
our meal; there is plenty for all."
So Freskel sat down with them.
And while they were eating, Blonda, suddenly remembering the
disappearance of the linen, and thinking that Freskel might perhaps
throw some light upon her loss, said, "By the bye, Freskel, such a
strange thing has happened to me; I have lost some linen towelling I
had woven. Did any beggar or stranger chance to come in while thou
wert alone here a day or two ago, or didst thou perchance leave the
door open when thine errand here was done? The roll could not have
disappeared by itself, yet gone it most surely is."
Freskel gave no reply for a minute, but he put down the wooden spoon
with which he was eating his barley porridge, and glanced round the
table quickly, furtively.
"No," he said, at last, "Freskel knows nothing; how should a poor fool
like Freskel know?" Then he gulped down his mug of milk, stuffed a
bunch of rye bread into his pocket, and rose abruptly from the table.
"The hunt will be out," he said, "and I must go, for how will the grand
city people find their way without Freskel to guide them?"
And seemingly glad to get away, he opened the door, and sprang across
the threshold, and into the forest, to meet the party who had bespoken
his services as leader.
Grubert and Tonie went out soon after breakfast, but shortly returned,
saying that Philip Bexal had given all the woodmen a holiday on account
of the hunt, so that no felling or carting of timber should disturb the
game, or interfere with the sportsmen, who, he had heard, were some
very grand people from the Court of St. Petersburg.
Thinking, however, that they might be of service in some way, and
wishing, at all events, to see the sport, if they could do so without
going too far from home, the father and son soon set forth again,
asking Blonda to bring their dinner to them, and promising to meet
her, as near one o'clock as possible, at a place known by the name of
the Grey Cave, a deep, rocky hollow in a sort of cliff, at the back
of which a chain of hills, full of boulders and fragments of stone,
skirted the eastern side of the forest.
Blonda had plenty to do all the morning, and by noon she was quite
glad to set her kitchen in order, pack up the dinner in a basket, and
dress herself for going out. It was a cold day, and she was clothed
even more warmly than usual, adding to her accustomed wraps a large,
thick scarlet shawl, which she folded corner-wise and put round her
head, crossing it over her chest, and loosely looping together the ends
behind at the waist.
As she trotted away with her sheep-skin capote, her high over-all
felt boots, her red shawl, her basket on her arm, and a stout stick
in her hand, she looked like a very comfortable, substantial "Little
Red Riding Hood," going forth to see the world, but far too sensible
and experienced to be taken in by any sort of wolf which Finland could
produce.
Blonda did not go into the wood at all, but kept along at the foot of
the range of hills, wending her way in and out among the great blocks
of stone, and avoiding the deep snowdrifts, which her practised eye
easily detected. Arrived at the cave, she set down her basket on a flat
stone, and creeping just within the arch of the cavern, for shelter
from the keen wind, she sat down to rest a bit, for she had been on her
feet all the morning, and now she was a little weary with her walk.
Suddenly she heard in the distance a baying of dogs; then there was
silence, then again the barking quite near, and a minute after, two
great, powerful hounds sprang out of the forest. For one instant they
paused opposite the cave, eying Blonda curiously, their handsome heads
erect, their hair bristling. She rose from her seat on the stone and
made a step towards them; but that moment they put their noses to the
snow once more, seemed to recover the scent, and dashed past her into
the inner recesses of the Grey Cave.
For a minute or two, there was a great noise at the back of the cavern:
eager scratching up of snow, barking and growling, and angry grunts.
By this time Blonda had left the cave, and now stood outside, and
well to the left. It was a good thing that she did so, for all at
once, there was a strange, shuffling, scrambling noise, and out of the
cave there rushed a huge brown bear, followed by the dogs, which were
worrying him, and trying to bite through his shaggy fur. At the same
moment, from among the trees, there stepped a tall, commanding form,
which the little girl recognised at once as that of General Nicolai.
The bear had shuffled by him and was in full retreat, when the young
officer raised his gun and fired. The bullet wounded the beast without
disabling it, and, furious with pain, the animal turned before the
sportsman had time to load again. Shouldering one of the hounds aside
and half stunning the other with a cuff, Bruin rushed back, reared
up on his hind legs, and seizing the gun, bit and crushed it out of
shape with his teeth, while he fixed the claws of one great paw in the
fur-covered shoulder of his assailant.
It must have fared badly indeed with General Nicolai had not Blonda
at that moment, seeing his peril, thought of a way to help him. She
suddenly tore off her red shawl, and coming close up behind the bear,
she dexterously threw the soft, clinging folds right over the great
beast's head and face. In the same instant, the dogs attacked him once
more, and poor Bruin, bewildered, blinded, and entangled, rolled over
backwards, madly clawing the air.
Just then loud shouts, cries, and exclamations announced the arrival
on the scene of the rest of the hunting party, who had been led off by
Freskel and their dogs for some distance on a new trail, before they
missed the general. By them, the poor bear was shortly despatched; and
no sooner was he dead, than one of the newly-arrived gentleman, an
elderly man, approached the young officer, and with respectful anxiety
enquired if he were hurt. But, happily, the general's fur coat was
thick, and the cloth of firm, close texture, so that the bear's claws
had not penetrated far.
"So calm thine anxiety, my friend," said the young officer, laughing.
"In no way do I find myself the worse for this encounter, though,
without doubt, I must have been but for my little deliverer. See, there
she stands, my brave little maid with the blue eyes. By my faith, that
was something like presence of mind! Just at the critical moment she
turned the fortunes of the fight in my favour. And now I look closer
at this child," continued the young man, "methinks I have seen those
innocent eyes and flaxen locks before. Is it so, little one?"
"It is even so, sir general," replied Blonda. "I am Blonda, daughter of
Grubert Reuss."
"And when and where did we meet, little Blonda? Tell me that."
"Last summer, sir, in the grotto by the lake, just after Philip Bexal
told you the story of the Isle of Ghosts."
"Ah, yes!" laughed the young man. "I cannot but remember thee now; thou
hast once more chapter and verse for everything, even as thou hadst
then. And said I not that I hoped one day to see thee again, and also
make the acquaintance of thy father and brother, and visit you all in
your home?"
"Yes, sir, you did indeed," replied Blonda; "and there are my father
and brother, sir general; they are standing with Freskel Valden behind
your friends of the hunt."
"Come forward, Grubert Reuss, and thy son too," said the young man,
raising his voice a little. "Here, my good fellows, you have a daughter
and a sister to be proud of. And thou also, thou strange lad, who
shrinkest away out of sight, I would speak with thee," he added,
beckoning to Freskel. "So Freskel Valden is thy name?"
"Yes, I am Freskel," replied the youth.
"Thou, too, art no stranger to me," said the officer; "long ago this
little maid spoke of thee, saying how wise love made thee in many ways.
Thou seest, Blondinka, I have not forgotten thy words. Nay, Freskel,
hang not thy head. If thou think that thou art scarce deserving of all
the kind things our little friend hath spoken of thee, see to it that
at least thou deserve them in the future. And now, Grubert Reuss,"
continued the general, "lead on and show me the way to thy house. Many
things have I seen in this part of my—of Finland, but the inside of a
woodman's cottage is still to me an undiscovered country. And beside, I
would have some further talk with my little friend here."
The elderly gentleman, who seemed to be the next in rank to the
general, now ventured a few words of expostulation, which the young man
did not take very well.
"Pray, who is master here? Tell me!" he said, drawing himself up
haughtily.
"Your im—I beg pardon, general, I forgot; you scarce need to be told
that I am always your servant to command."
"Then please to remember that in future," said the young officer
sternly. "And now thou and the rest of my company return to Carfoos,
unpack the provisions we brought with us, and order the sledges for
Klingengolf. There will be no more sport to-day, and to-morrow we go
in a different direction. I will join you at Carfoos later. My good
friends here will accompany me, and show the way through the forest."
So saying, the young general turned from his own companions, and with
Grubert, Tonie and Blonda walked to the cottage.
Arrived here, he sat by the kitchen stove and warmed himself, and
learning, by some remark of Tonie's, that the family had not yet dined,
he declared himself extremely hungry, and asked permission to join them
in their repast. The dinner basket was accordingly unpacked, and the
food shared among the four hungry people, Blonda adding some barley
coffee and goat's milk as a treat in honour of the special occasion.
The young general ate up his hunch of black bread to the last crumb,
and thanked his host for the most delightful repast he had enjoyed for
long enough.
Then he sat and chatted with the family for some time, asking many
questions and showing a real interest in the replies given. At last,
pulling out his watch, he declared it as time for him to go.
"But first, Grubert Reuss," said he, "I have a very pleasant duty to
perform. In remembrance of thy little daughter's service to me this
day, I ask thee to accept this pocket-book of Russian notes. The banker
at Klingengolf will readily change them for thee into Finnish money.
And as for my little maid with the forget-me-not eyes, let me give
thee, child, something which may be of use to thee some day. I am much
at the Court in St. Petersburg, and have some little influence there.
If ever thou or thine, or any in whom thou mayest be interested, should
be in trouble, apply to me, and I pledge myself to help thee, granting
thee any boon thou dost ask, if it be but in my power."
So saying, the young general wrote a few words on a piece of paper
(which he tore out of a memorandum-book), folded it small, then asked
for a candle, and producing a bit of red wax, he proceeded to seal
the letter, leaving upon the hot wax the impression of his great
signet-ring. Lastly, he addressed it to General Nicolai, Winter Palace,
St. Petersburg, and handing it to Blonda, told her to keep it safely,
as she might want it some day. Then he took a kindly leave of her, and,
accompanied by Grubert and Tonie, he started for Carfoos to join his
party.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IX
A MISER ROBBED
FRESKEL VALDEN did not return with the hunting party to Carfoos, nor
did he go home with Grubert, his children and his guest. He managed to
slip away unobserved, and betook himself to several different places
in the forest where he had set traps and snares. In one of these he
found a cock-of-the-woods, in another a hare, which he hid away in some
secret nook known only to himself, there to await his convenience in
the matter of carrying them home or to Pastor Oshart.
He had some food in his pocket, with which to satisfy the cravings of
hunger. And as soon as it was dark, (which at this season was before
four o'clock in the afternoon), he turned his steps towards the lake,
and reaching its margin, took a long, careful look round, then crossed
over at a rapid run, and was soon hidden in the shadow of the rocky
island.
As for Grubert, Tonie and Blonda, they spent the rest of the day very
happily, the two former making and carving things out of wood, the
latter mending her father's and brother's garments. But they had much
to talk over, much to plan, for the present General Nicolai had given
them amounted to 200 roubles—about £20 of our money—a very large sum to
people accustomed to handle only a small weekly wage, barely sufficient
for the simplest daily requirements.
They were still discussing the important matter, and offering
suggestions to each other, when supper-time came. And after eating
their frugal meal, they were about to resume work till it was time to
go to bed, when they fancied they heard a little noise just outside the
front door.
Blonda ran and opened it and looked out. She could see no one, however,
and was about to shut out the keen night air, when she caught sight of
a queer-looking bundle in the corner, close to the lowest hinge of the
door.
"Why, what can this be?" she cried, as she picked it up.
And closing the door, she brought the bundle back into the room under
the light of the lamp. And as she unrolled it, she gave a little cry
of satisfaction, for there, soiled and crumpled, was her lost piece of
towelling, not a yard of it missing.
"Well, if a ghost borrowed it," said Blonda merrily, "a ghost has
brought it back."
"It would have been more civil," said Tonie, "if that same ghost had
washed and ironed out the linen before returning it, but I suppose we
must not expect too much of ghostly courtesy and good nature."
But while these light-hearted children were talking thus, the ghost
himself—as wretched and miserable as ever a ghost could be—was
gliding noiselessly over the snow through the woods, looking up now
and again to the moon and starlit heaven, and showing two great dark
eyes wild and reckless, full of misery and despair. Yet this face so
sadly contorted, these eyes so terribly changed, belonged to the one
light-hearted, simple-natured Freskel Valden.
The lad's laggard steps were not like the light, swift stride of former
days, and it took longer than usual to reach the pastor's dwelling.
Yet when he did so, he hesitated irresolutely for some minutes before
knocking, and muttered to himself in muffled tones. At last, taking
courage, he knocked. The door was at once opened by the good pastor
himself.
"Ah, Freskel, so it is thou?" he said. "Come in and have some supper
with me. I was just sitting down to mine."
The lad did not seem to hear what the old man said. He staggered in,
feeling his way almost as a blind man might do. Then suddenly looking
up, he found Pastor Oshart's kind, anxious eyes fixed upon his face.
"My father," said he, making a step forward and catching hold of the
pastor's arm, "it is all over—Freskel has lost all—and—and—" Here the
lad's voice broke in a hard, dry sob.
"Why, what is this, my son?" questioned the good old man tenderly. "I
understand thee not; thou speakest in riddles. Surely such as thou and
I, my Freskel, have nothing to lose, and therein lies one comfort of
being poor."
"Alas, you know not!" cried Freskel. "I kept it from you."
"Kept what from me, my son?"
"My secret, my great secret!" cried the boy, his eyes gleaming wildly.
"And now it is all of no use. Some one has found out its hiding-place
and stolen it away, and poor Freskel no longer cares to live."
"Hush! Oh, hush, my child!" said the old man. "These are wild and
wicked words. Try to tell me the whole story quite simply, and let me
judge of thy loss. It may be that I can help and comfort thee."
But Freskel shook his head. "No, no," he said, "no one can help. But I
will tell you, my father—tell you all. My father knows the story of the
Isle of Ghosts and of the treasure there?"
"Yes, surely, Freskel. Has not every child heard this fable and in his
turn believed it?"
"But what if it be no fable, dear pastor?" cried the lad, his eyes
kindling and a sudden colour flushing his pale cheeks. "What if it
were true, my father? And what—Oh, pastor, the story is no fable—the
treasure is real, not fairy gold. I found it—I, Freskel—myself, the
night I swam across the lake to hide Rolf Bresser's bag of money."
"Gently, Freskel; what didst thou find?" asked the old man.
"The robbers' treasure," whispered the lad. "I looked for some safe
place wherein to hide the bag, and a stone rolled over, and underneath
was a hollow like a basin—a large basin—and in the hollow a round box
of iron, open and full of gold and silver money that shone in the
moonlight. I lifted some in my hand and poured it back like a gold and
silver fountain. And then—"
"Yes, Freskel, and then?"
"Then I feared to tell any one, lest I should not be suffered to keep
all the money; and I could not bear to think of parting with one little
coin. So I kept silence. But as oft as I could, I went to the island,
and uncovered my treasure, and tried to count the pieces, and played
with them. And lest any should come and search and find my money, I
acted the ghost to frighten them away, wrapping myself in a length of
white stuff which I took from the house of Grubert Reuss when no one
was at hand.
"Oh, my pastor, look not on me so sternly; I returned the linen cloth
to-night, for poor Freskel's treasure is gone, and what need is there
any longer for a ghost?"
"My poor lad, thou hast greatly sinned," said the old man. "This evil
spirit of covetousness and greed is one of Satan's messengers, and see
into what sins that spirit hath led thee! Tell me, my child, would it
have been possible to thee in former times to have stolen from dear
little Blonda the fruit of her hard toil, so that thou mightest more
readily deceive others? And again, Freskel, hast thou not also lied to
cover thy fault?"
"Alas! Yes, father, that have I indeed."
"Covetousness, theft, lying, deceit—a terrible list of sins, my child!
I know that it is not easy for thee always to choose between right and
wrong, and far be it from me to judge thee too hardly in this matter.
But before I speak to thee further about thine own faults, Freskel,
I would ask what makes thee think that thou hast found the ancient
treasure of the legend? Were the coins very old and barbarous looking?"
"No, my father; they are even like the gold and silver of our own
country."
"Strange!" muttered Pastor Oshart to himself. "That can be no ancient
hoard."
"And thou hast not a single coin that thou couldst show me, Freskel?"
"Not one, my father. All were beneath the stone, and all have gone. And
yet I was there only last night, and from the island I saw Blonda and
Tonie skating on the lake. And when they stopped (seeing, perhaps, the
light I had with me), I wrapped myself in the white linen and cried
out, and then vanished quickly, even as a ghost should. After that they
went away, and I ran back by a path that would cross theirs and so
home. But oh, my father, I must tell you that now my beautiful, shining
hoard is gone, I care for nothing any more."
"Listen, Freskel," cried the old man, sitting down and drawing the poor
lad nearer to him, "listen. Once in the very long ago, when our Lord
Jesus Christ was on earth and taught the people, mingling with the poor
and sinful and working miracles among them, there came to him a rich
young ruler, and asked him what he must do to inherit eternal life. It
was a great question, Freskel, one which we should all ask in our turn.
Wouldst thou know what the Master answered?"
"Yes, I would know," replied the lad.
The old man continued: "Our Lord spake to the young ruler, reminding
him of the commandments which were part of God's law to Israel. And he
answered, 'All these have I kept from my youth up. What lack I yet?'
"Then Jesus said unto him, 'If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that
thou hast and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven,
and come, follow Me.'"
"What?" exclaimed Freskel. "Sell all—all and he so rich?"
"Even so," replied Pastor Oshart.
"And what did that young man?" asked Freskel, fixing eager eyes on the
pastor's face.
"He did as too many people do whom Christ calls to make sacrifices for
His sake," replied the old man. "'He went away sorrowful, for he had
great possessions.'
"Ah, Freskel, this love of money—this clinging to wealth—makes it very
hard to follow Jesus. Our Lord goes before us, and the path is often
rugged, and hills are steep, and the snares and pitfalls of the way
are many; and yet we try to toil along after Him, dragging with us our
heavy chains of gold and our burden of precious things, and we see
not that while we are greedily clutching what we already have, or are
eagerly searching for fresh treasure, the Lord passes on and is no more
seen of us, the example of Jesus is forgotten, His love and favour are
no longer the one thing needful for us.
"My boy, we cannot serve God and mammon, and unless we are willing to
give up all for His sake, we are not worthy of Him and we are none of
His."
"I have nothing left to give up," replied Freskel sadly. "All that I
had is gone."
"Child," answered Pastor Oshart tenderly, "Perhaps the Lord saw that so
long as thy heart and mind were set upon this treasure of thine, there
was room for nothing else; and so, in His providence, He has suffered
it to be taken from thee. Dost thou understand? Let me put it plainer.
Suppose that in the garden of some tender earthly father grew a certain
tree, the fruit of which, though sweet to the taste, made the children
loathe the wholesome food needful to keep them in health. Should we
count that father worthy of blame, Freskel, or think him cruel, if he
cut down the tree and removed temptation from his little ones?"
"No, dear pastor, the father would only be kind in doing so."
"And thus it is with God, my son. If He takes from us that which we
love, why is it, but that our hearts may cling to Him rather than to
that which cannot help us. Tell me, Freskel, hast thou been happy all
this time since the secret hoard became thine?"
"Happy? Oh, no," replied the lad, "for I was ever in fear."
"But the real treasure," said Pastor Oshart, "the blessing of God,
maketh rich, and He addeth no sorrow—no, nor fear which hath torment.
Oh, my poor child, hear to-day, if never before, the tender voice of
Jesus, who saith, 'Follow Me, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.'
"Hear Him who calls the weary and the heavy laden and the sorrowful,
and gives them rest, and who says to all who will hearken to His word,
'Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust
do corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. But lay up for
yourselves treasure in heaven, . . . for where your treasure is, there
will your heart be also.'"
"O pastor! O my father!" cried Freskel, throwing himself on his knees
at the old man's feet, in a passion of contrite tears. "Pray to the
Good Lord for Freskel that Satan have him not. Dear pastor, does not
Jesus know that poor Freskel is like a child, and foolish? And if He
knows, will He not forgive? Tell me the truth, my father; though I have
sinned and forgotten Him, will Jesus pardon?"
The good old man drew the weeping lad to his heart, and while his own
tears fell thick and fast, he said, "Be comforted, my son! Thy sorrow
for the sin which thou hast sinned is the pledge of God's forgiveness.
Come, let us unburden our hearts before Him, and those hearts, emptied
of all earthly treasure, shall be filled by Him; yes, henceforth,
through His grace, by Him alone."
CHAPTER X
A FRIEND AT COURT
THINGS went on very quietly for some weeks at Carfoos and in its
neighbourhood after the events we have just recorded.
Blonda was too glad to get her roll of linen back to trouble herself
as to how it had disappeared or how been returned to her. She washed,
and ironed, and put it away, quite content that her work had not been
wasted, but that she should still get something by the sale of it in
the Klingengolf market when her father next paid the town a visit.
Blonda often thought of the young general, and of his goodness to them
all, and wondered if the time would ever come when she should need to
make use of his sealed paper, and claim his promise of help. Tonie and
she had many earnest conversations upon this subject, and he especially
was always building upon the small foundation of the general's promise
all sorts Of castles in the air.
As for Freskel, Pastor Oshart had so far kept entirely to himself the
lad's confidences, seeing no use in telling others, and perhaps setting
the whole neighbourhood talking, and exciting the lad afresh just as he
was beginning to be reconciled to his loss, and was growing more like
the innocent-hearted, boyish Freskel of old. But the pastor had seen
but little of him lately, as for some reason the lad had been kept more
at home.
Of the Valdens as a family not much was heard now-a-days. Except on
that night when Tonie and Blonda had met Dorlat and Hervitz on the ice,
no one in the neighbourhood had seen the brothers for some time.
"The Valdens are flying at higher game, I fancy, just now," said Philip
Bexal to Grubert one day. "They have been seen with some strangers at
a town twenty miles beyond Klingengolf, and I am told they seemed to
have plenty of money, and were swaggering about with the bravest. But
so long as they come not hither, I care not what they do. One is only
thankful to be well quit of them."
But one day, not more than a week later, most astonishing news reached
Carfoos. The police at Klingengolf, acting upon special information
received, had made a raid upon the Valdens' home, and had arrested, all
at once, the old man Jaspar, and his three sons, Dorlat, Hervitz, and
Freskel. Rolf Bresser was the bearer of the tidings, for he was on his
way from Klingengolf to St. Petersburg on business, and coming to spend
a few days at Pastor Oshart's house, he gave him a full account of the
capture.
"But for what crime are they arrested?" asked the old pastor.
"For fraudulent dealing and the circulation of base money," replied
Rolf. "It seems that some two years ago, the brother Dorlat and Hervitz
were thought to be mixed up in some way with a gang of coiners, but
before any proof could be got against them, the gang took fright, and
made off, bag and baggage, one night, and no one knew whither they
went. But it appears that they left behind them, stored in some corner
of the Isle of Ghosts, a quantity of their false money, and lately they
must have communicated this fact, and the whereabouts of the coin, to
the brothers Valden, who lost no time in securing it.
"They then proceeded to various towns, buying all sorts of cheap wares
with the counterfeit money, receiving in change for false gold as much
real silver as possible, and for their spurious silver money good
copper. For a time their evil trade prospered, but at last the trick
was found out, and traced home to the Valdens. Whereupon, not content
with securing the prime movers in the matter—Dorlat and Hervitz—the
police have also got hold of old Jaspar and poor, foolish Freskel."
"Jaspar is without doubt in the secret," said Pastor Oshart; "but as
for Freskel, how should he know false money from true? Indeed, I am
certain he does not," added the old man, remembering Freskel's story,
which he now thoroughly understood for the first time. "If the base
coin has passed through his hands at all, he has handled it in all good
faith, and has only been a tool in the grasp of his brothers."
"Yes, Oshart," said Rolf Bresser, "something must assuredly be done for
the poor boy. They say he is broken-hearted, and does nothing but sob
and cry for his pastor father."
"My poor, foolish boy!" said the old man, wiping his eyes. "I will go
down to Klingengolf this very day, and represent his case to the head
of police there, and see what can be done for him. Meanwhile, thou wilt
remain here, Rolf, and take care of my house for me?"
"Yes, my friend; I have a day or two to spare, and will here await thy
return."
"Another matter, Rolf! If I start, as I should, at once, I shall not
have time to let Grubert Reuss and his family know about Freskel. Wilt
thou go and carry the news to them? It will comfort little Blonda (who
loves the poor lad) to know that I have gone to do what I could for
him."
"I will be sure to visit them this very afternoon," replied Rolf
Bresser.
It was three days before the pastor returned from Klingengolf, and when
he did, he brought only bad news. After half an hour spent at his own
house, the old man walked over to Grubert's cottage.
And in answer to Blonda's, and Tonie's anxious enquiries, he replied,
"My children, everything I could say for the lad went for nothing.
He is one of a family long suspected of all sorts of misdemeanours.
The base money—or some of it—had passed through his hands, as well as
through those of his brothers, and he has been associated with them. I
saw the head inspector at the police-station, and he was most courteous
and even friendly, and heard me with patience.
"'But,' said he, 'nothing but a special order signed by the Tzar could
effect Freskel Valden's release. In default of such an order, he must
go for trial with the rest, and I should think you have but little
chance of obtaining it.'"
Blonda was very grave and thoughtful for a minute or two after Pastor
Oshart had ceased speaking, but all at once her face lighted up.
"Pastor, dear pastor!" she cried. "We will save poor Freskel yet and
set him free!"
And before the old man had time to reply, she rushed up to her room,
and presently returned holding in her hand the sealed paper General
Nicolai had given her.
"See, dear pastor," she said, "the good general told me that if ever
I was in trouble or needed anything I was to send or take him this.
He is at Court and has influence there, and he promised to give me
anything I asked, if it were in his power. Oh, if I could but go to St.
Petersburg!"
"My child," said Grubert, "that is not to be thought of."
"But my friend, Rolf Bresser, is going," said Pastor Oshart; "confide
thy paper to him, and I will add a full account of the circumstances,
telling the general all about poor Freskel. And thou too, Blonda, shalt
send a few lines (thou canst muster Russian enough for that), reminding
General Nicolai of his promise to thee."
It took Rolf Bresser a long while to get to the great city, and the
patience of Freskel's friends was sorely tried before the news came
for which they were longing and waiting. But it was Rolf himself who,
on his return journey, was the bearer of a full and free pardon for
Freskel Valden, and also of a special sealed packet for Blonda from her
friend General Nicolai.
On opening this packet, it was found to contain the title deeds of a
property consisting of a fine piece of land, and a farm with house and
out-buildings, furniture, and live stock, all complete. And this was to
be Blonda's own; a wonderful gift indeed! But yet more wonderful were
the few lines that accompanied these papers, and which ran thus:—
"To Blondinka, my little heroine of the scarlet shawl! May God have
thee in His holy keeping, child with the forget-me-not eyes. May He
give thee a long, happy and useful life, with thy good father and
brother, in the new home whither it is my pleasure that you move in the
spring. And since, my little maid, thy faith in One above is so strong,
and thy vision of the right is so clear, pray sometimes for him who to
thee is known only as General Nicolai, but who here, in his own city,
is thy friend at Court,—
"NICOLAI 1st, Emperor of all the Russias."
The rest of our story may be told in a few words. Grubert and his
family went to live on Blonda's farm, and prospered exceedingly.
Freskel Valden came to reside with Pastor Oshart, and growing in all
things good, was called the pastor's son. As for Jasper, Dorlat, and
Hervitz, they were sent off with a convict band to work in the Siberian
mines.
With regard to the legend of the Isle of Ghosts, we believe that the
idea of its being a sort of Treasure Island has just about died out.
And probably, were we now to visit the neighbourhood, we should hardly
find any one who could point out that particular island, or tell
the story that Philip Bexal told by the lake side on that memorable
day that first introduced General Nicolai to the simple-hearted,
old-fashioned Blonda Reuss, one of our—
TWO LITTLE FINNS.
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