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Her eyes closed, and she fell into a gentle sleep. "She vake no more in dis vorld," said Mrs. Bruder, in an awed tone. Mr. Bruder, unable to control his feelings any longer, hurried from the room. His wife, with streaming eyes, silently dressed the little girls, and took them home with her, crying piteously all the way for mamma.
Somehow he had become the centre of the little party. He felt pleased, flattered, honoured. "And perhaps Bruder Schliemann will play something for us now." It was Kalkmann speaking, and Harris started visibly as he heard the name, and saw the black-haired man by the piano turn with a smile. For Schliemann was the name of his old music director, who was dead. Could this be his son?
"According to English ideas it seemed strict, of course," the other said persuasively, so that he went on. " Yes, partly that; and partly the ceaseless nostalgia, and the solitude which came from never being really alone. In English schools the boys enjoy peculiar freedom, you know." Bruder Kalkmann, he saw, was listening intently.
You haf fallen into de natural faults of dose who work alone, but we can soon cure dese. Now here is some vork dat I vant you to do under my eye, and dat study on outlining you can take home. Moreover, I can give you some lessons in outlining from my own picture;" and Mr. Bruder showed him what he had done.
Bruder Schliemann conducted at the piano. Dear me, I can see him now with his long black hair and and " He stopped abruptly. Again the odd, dark look passed over the stern face of his companion. For an instant it seemed curiously familiar.
They were all conscious of the pleasant rhythm of the great engine, to which no music in the world was comparable. Over Vollstedt's waltz, Lustige Brüder, the company with a sense of relief was still discussing the danger they had safely escaped. "We hoisted distress signals." "Rockets were shot off." "They were already getting the life-belts and life-boats ready."
Bruder, and, with an eagerness that his friends could not understand, sought to educate hand and eye. Dennis judged rightly that mere business success would never open to him a way to the heart of such a girl as Christine. His only hope of winning even her attention was to excel in the world of art, where she hoped to shine as a queen.
"You can no read Sherman?" "Oh, yes, I can. German is my native tongue." "Strange dot him should be so." "Why?" "Der Shermans haf hearts." Christine flushed deeply, but Mrs. Bruder without a word put her husband's letter into her hand, and Christine read eagerly what, translated, is as follows: "MY DEAR WIFE Perhaps before this reaches you our best friend, our human savior, will be in heaven.
Her thoughts ran much on Christine. One day she wrote, feebly: "Would Miss Ludolph be willing to come and see a dying woman? Mr. Bruder carried it, but most unfortunately Christine was out, so that her maid, ever on the alert to earn the price of her treachery, received it. It was slightly sealed. She opened it, and saw from its contents that it must be given to Mr. Ludolph.
The Bruders were very kind, and it was astonishing how much Mrs. Bruder, though burdened with her large family, found time to do. If Mrs. Fleet had been her own mother she could not have bestowed upon her more loving solicitude. Mr. Bruder was devotion itself. He removed his easel to an attic-room in Mrs. Fleet's house; and every hour of Dennis's absence heard him say: "Vat I do for you now?
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