Lenz was gone, Pilgrim sat long alone, gazing at the light and
twirling his sandy beard. He was angry with himself. He had said
everything,--too much, in fact,--and defeated his own ends. There was
nothing to take back, all was true; but of what use had it been? He
walked restlessly up and down his room, then sat down again and stared
at the light. How strange life is! How few men work out the fate they
were meant for! The young will not believe it. They scold their elders
for grumbling, and then make botchery of their own lives. The world is
all right; only we must not expect to have everything our own way.
There was a deep, hidden life in Pilgrim. Ten years ago he had gone
abroad with a courage ready to conquer the world, and a silent
happiness in his heart that needed the assurance of no pledge or spoken
word. He loved Amanda, and the doctor's beautiful daughter had inclined
to him like a princess; like a goddess she had stooped to him. During
his holidays she let him help her in her garden work by copying the
names of her foreign plants in his neatest hand from a book on the
little wooden tallies which together they stuck into the ground to mark
the different specimens. She was an angel of mercy to the poor forsaken
boy, and even when he grew towards manhood he was frequently allowed to
assist her. Always the same gentleness he found in her. Her every look
was a blessing. When he passed the garden for the last time, on setting
out upon his lonely journey, she shook hands with him over the garden
fence, and said, "I have a whole album to remember you by in the little
slips you wrote the foreign names on. If, where you are going, you find
these foreign plants in their native soil, you must let them remind you
of our garden and the household that is so fond of you. Good by, and
come safe back!"
"Good by, and come safe back!" those words followed him over mountain
and valley, over seas and through distant lands. The name of Amanda was
shouted exultantly through many a foreign clime, and many an echo
repeated "Amanda."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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