furthermore, the hope of becoming the instructor of his sons, should a personal interview prepossess him in my favour; and this interview, as I was advised by my Frankfort friend, might take place on the 19th of October, when the count would await my appearance in Magdeburg.
And now behold me, most unexpectedly, at the summit of my twenty years’ desire. Hastily finishing my toilet, I thrust the packet in my pocket, and went, or rather flew, to impart the joyful tidings to my beloved Frederica, whom, by good luck, I found unoccupied, her mistress being at church.
Frederica started back in alarm as she observed my breathless agitation, the glowing hue of my usually pale cheek, and the strange excitement of my demeanour, till, when I seized her wildly in my arms and pressed her hand against my burning brow, she cried aloud—“Ah, tell me, what misfortune has happened? What new disappointment has come to crush your already bruised heart?”
“Ah, Frederica,” exclaimed I, “I am so inured to misfortune, that I have even learned to meet it with smiles; but joy is an unexpected guest, and finds me all unarmed.”
“Joy!—joy did you say, doctor?” repeated the astonished maiden, (I had received from the university the degree of Doctor of Philosophy,) and she looked eagerly for a reply.
“Do you remember that happy night in the garden of Sans Souci, Frederica?—when, beneath the starry heavens, with but one Eye watching over us, we plighted our vows of love and fidelity—vows that, for nine long years, we have preserved hopelessly yet steadfastly. And now, wilt thou be mine, Frederica, since my fate has suddenly brightened?” It was my first thou, and I whispered it timidly. “A pleasant home awaits us; a lovely garden; a . Wilt thou share my happiness, dearest?” And drawing out the letter, I added—“See, here is an appointment from Count C, and I am chosen curate to his estates.”
Frederica took the letter, and as she read the contents, a stream of joyful surprise ran over every feature, till, laying her hand in mine, she looked up in my face with a beaming blush, and pearly tears rolled down her cheek as she replied—“I will go with thee wherever thou wilt, Ferdinand,” and then sank sobbing on my breast.
The holy angels were hardly happier than we during those first moments of delicious silence, till, tearing herself from my embrace, the pious maiden clasped her hands in grateful praise to Heaven; and then, turning on me her streaming yet joyful eyes, she softly murmured—“Is it, indeed, true? Is it not a dream, Ferdinand? Show me the letter once more; I have forgotten every word of its contents.”
CHAPTER THIRD.
BETROTHAL AND SEPARATION.
“One thing I am resolved on, dearest,” continued I, “and that is, that I will not even enter the door of my parsonage until I am married. What time would I have for all the little domestic arrangements that are so necessary to a housekeeping establishment, amid the first agitating cares of my holy office? How could I determine which should be the sitting-room, the study, the storehouse? Ah, Frederica, you must arrange all that; you must make the strange house look to me like a friendly homestead. Only take care, friend, to choose my study where a window opens on your flower-garden, for in the spring I shall have to watch that you do your task faithfully among the plants while I am at my sermon.”
Frederica blushed and turned laughingly away, as though she would not hear of such unseemly haste; but she soon began to talk of new window curtains, and how the garden must be re-arranged, and how her dear mother must come to live with us, and whether it would not be cheapest and best to buy all our furniture at Frankfort, with numerous other hints regarding kitchen and cellar, in all of which I heartily concurred.
Under present happy circumstances, my best plan seemed to enter immediately on every arrangement; to afford Frederica’s mistress due notice of her removal; to advise my landlady and pupils of the same on my part; and, pleasantest of all, to have the matrimonial bans published from the pulpit on the following Sabbath. All these things proceeded in proper form; presents and good wishes poured in from every quarter. I was richer in this world’s wealth than I had ever been; and, furthermore, the father of one of my pupils kindly offered me the use of his traveling-carriage for the journey—an offer which I did not refuse. I took care to provide myself with the necessary passports, for it was a stormy period, war and the rumour of war being everywhere talked of, and our king even then at the head of his army at Thüringen, awaiting the approach of the yet victorious Napoleon, though the general opinion was that, in the next fortnight, the French would be driven back over the Rhine by my brave countrymen. In fact, by way of speculation, I had already, in the seclusion of my quiet garret, prepared twenty-five songs of war and victory, which were so arranged as to suit the issue of many expected conflicts, the names of the heroes and battle-fields only being omitted. For these productions, I had hoped to receive a liberal compensation from the Berlin booksellers, and thinking now that I might dispose of them to yet greater advantage at Magdeburg, I determined to carry them with me. On the 14th of October, the very day of the defeat of the Prussian troops at Jena, I said farewell to Frederica; and although my return was to be the summons for our immediate marriage, and
