The Waldenburg Road [pp. 5-11]

874.] TIlE WALDENB (JR C B OAD. (3
,where my name, my common name which is
so distasteful to you, would be the dearest
word on earth to gentle lips. I know nioth ing of your classical music? Granted. But
some one would love to sing the ballads I
like. I know nothing of foreign literature?
Granted. But some one would prefer the
poor books I like. The newspapers you de*spise some one would arrainge carefully be side my easy-chair; and this same some one
would love to feel my hand-this large, hard working hand which you scorn-resting on
her golden hair."
"You are fortunate," said the congregation, in its coldest tone.
"But the pity of it all is, that I love you,
Miss Valois-only you."
"What is that to me?"
"Simply this: you have now a chance, a
,last chance, to escape from your hopeless,
dreary life. I am not rich, as you know, but
I shall never be poorer, and I have that daily,
plodding, plebeian industry which is sure to
succeed in time. I am able now to have a
home of my own, and fool enough to want you
in it."
"I will never marry for a home," said the
congregation.
Why not for a husband, then?
"You!"
"Yes, me. You need not try to kill me
with your eyes. What is your idea, pray?
I know it without your answer. Some finetoned, mooning fellow, who knows all about
high art, who shudders over band-music, who
goes through life suffering acutely in every
sense from the contact of the common herd.
A man who disdains the politics of his own
country and the questions of the day, to rhapsodize over the past! A man who scorns
America, and goes wild over every thing foreign and old! Great Heavens! Our life is
but short, and shall we spend it down among
the dead men? Is there nothing to do in the
:great to-dtay. that we must devote ourselves
entirely to yesterday?"
In his warmth, the red came up into the
preacher's cheeks, and his dark eyes gleamed.
The congregation looked at him with slow
surprise; could it be that John Nott was
handsome, after all?
I know the man, and I despise him,"
continued the preacher. "Such as he is,
however, he will never look at you! He is
found only among the rich, this smallbrained sybarite! If not rich himself, he
marries for money. You will find that he
never discerns kindred souls among the
,poor! Do not flatter yourself; if he should
meet you a hundred times he would see in
you only a poverty-stricken old maid. The
ladies of his fancy ride in their own carriages."
The congregation had now a bright-red
spot in each of its cheeks, and, in its anger,
it was equal to any emergency; no danger
now of a hard lump in the throat, or a telltale mist in the eyes. The preacher came
fdown from the pulpit.
"Valeria," he said, standing before her,
"for the last time I ask you, will you be my
wife?"
"I will not be your wife."
"I love you, Valeria."
No answer.
"Think of it a moment. Will you reject
this great gift, the love of an honest man?
And, on your own side, think of your life;
this is your only chance."
" Heavens and earth, John Nott! Do you
tell me that again? Will you never under stand that that has nothing to do with the
question? I will not marry you, because I
do not love you. That is the whole of it."
"But I long to make you comfortable,
dear; and perhaps I could make you love
me. Indeed, I am sure I could," said this
resolute lover.
This calm certainty roused all thle pride
in proud Valeria's heart.
"Listen," she said, in her French way "listen. I not only do not love you, but I
absolutely hate you! Will that suffice, sir?"
"It will," atnswvered John Nott, likewise
angry. "Miss Valois, I shall not trouble you
again. The subject is at an end forever."
He turned away, but not without a look
of scorn. The woman he loved had turned
into a scorpion. No gentle heart could cher ish ugly hate.
"I hope," began Valeria, after a mo ment's silence, " that you will not think
me-"
"The subject is at an end forever, Miss
Valois."
"For my own sake, however, I must
apologize for my rude manner-"
"The manner is nothing to me; your little furies are beneath my notice. You are a
fool to refuse me, and I am a fool for loving
you! But, as Heaven is my witness, I will
surely root out this folly from my heart, and
cast it away forever."
"So much the better," replied Miss Valois, putting on her gloves with minute care.
"I really must start back to the farm-house.
Go first, please."
John Nott wrenched up some of the
benches by main strength, made a passable
ladder to the window for Valeria's benefit,
but swung himnself up by his hands and sprang
down on the outside. Valeria climbed cautiously up to the sill, and, with much inward
trepidation, managed, after several attempts,
to reach the crotch in the tree; she had lost
her coolness, and was really trembling when
she reached the ground. John had not offered to assist her, had not even glanced toward her; he stood at some distance, whistlingo
to himself, with his hands in the pockets of
his short sack-coat. As she turned down
the overgrown path, he walked back, swung
himself up with one hand, closed the window,
and then rejoined her.
"I do not know where this road goes,"
said Valeria, taking forcible hold of her composure and speaking in an even voice. "I
catme into it by chance."
"It leads back to' the river; I came out
on it, and found your foot-marks turning into
it about half a mile from the bridge. The
people in the house there told me you had
gone up into the Waldenburg Hills."
"How did you know I had left the city?"
"I missed you, and went to your boardilg-house to inquire where you had gone; I
have not lost sight of you for seven years."
Then there was another silence.
"I wonder why this old road was ever
made?" began Valeria again, in a light, con versational tone, remembering, with a sink ing heart, the long walk back to the farm house, but determined not to give way or be tray her depression and fatigue.
"Oh, I found out all about it," replied
practical John. "It was laid out about
twenty years ago by a little colony of Ger mans, who settled among these hills and tried
to make a business of getting out the stone.
They were Pietists, and built, first of all,
that little church, selecting the highest peak,
so that its white cross could be seen from all
their lonely homes, like a beacon set on a
hill. The deserted house near by was the
home of their pastor."
"But I have seen no other houses."
"They are mostly east of the church, near
the deserted quarries; but we pass one or
two on the way back."
"What became of the colon?" asked
Valeria, determined to keep up the conver sation.
"They labored patiently, in the German
fashion, for several years; but the ground
was hard anid sterile, and they could not com pete with the quarries on the line of the rail roads farther north. A number of them died,
their graves are there behind the church;
and at last, discouraged, they sent an agent
farther to the West and purchased some fine
valley-laud in Illinois, removing thither, with
all their possessions. Their church, their
dead, and their carefully-made road, they
could not take; so they left them behind,
hidden away in these hills, with the white
cross to mount guard over them."
"Why should they have selected this
sterile spot?" said Valeria, bringing another question promptly to the firont.
"They did not select it; theirt agent was
cheated. Immigrants are often cheated; shame
to our country that it should be so!"
"Ohio is, however, generally speaking, a
rich State," remarks Miss Valois, in her
school-mistress tone.
"Yes; it is a regular Scriptural land, with
its corn and wine and oil! I suppose petroleum will do for oil, won't it?"
"Pray, do not be so irreverent, Mr. Nott."
"Oh, yes-I dare say! Saul among the
prophets!"
Miss Valois did not venture to rebuke this
sarcastic compliment. But, after a moment,
she bravely began again:
"I am always surprised when I realize
that Ohio is twice as large as Switzerland.
Greece also, the famous land, which fills so
large a portion of the world's libraries, could
be put down in it, twice over; and Holland
or Denmark would fill only its corners."
To this instructive remark, John Nott
made no reply whatever, and a long pause
ensued. Valeria was conscious of this silence in every vein, but she had not the voice
to say any thing more; she felt suffocated.
By-and-by, they came to a wide gully,
through which ran a brawling brook, spreading itself out with noisy glee. There was-no
way of crossing except wading. Valeria
looked doubtfully at her boots; she had not
many pairs, and, for a poor teacher, was
somewhat fastidious as to their shape.
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