‘She was penniless when she married, and her husband’s family had
been a declining one for generations. When he died, she was left
without a stick or stone of land or house, and without a penny of
fortune. She retired into a _Stift_--an institution, you know, for
poor ladies of noble family. There are many like it in Germany. She
procured admittance for her son into a place of the same kind--a
school, where he was hard-worked and ill-fed, and quite unable to
pursue the real bent of his talent for music. I made the acquaintance
of Frau von Birkenau six years ago. I could not describe her; she
was a beautiful soul; she did more for me than any one I have ever
known. She talked to me a great deal about her boy, and I went to
see him. I liked him, and told her so. She asked me if I would think
of him sometimes, and perhaps pay him an occasional visit, when she
should be dead; she suffered from a painful complaint, and bore her
sufferings like a heroine. I said the best and shortest way would
be for her to make a will, appointing me her son’s guardian, when I
should have full authority over him. This she did, about four years
ago, and very shortly afterwards she died. On my signing a document
to the purport that henceforth I undertook the duties of a parent to
him, the authorities of the school permitted me to remove Hugo, to
his and my great satisfaction. Since then he has been my companion in
all my ramblings, and though I don’t wish to sound my own praises, I
must say he looks a different fellow altogether from the white-faced,
pinched-looking lad whom I took away with me overwhelmed with grief at
his mother’s death.’
‘In-deed!’ observed Mrs. Mallory, in cold tones of intense, though
repressed, exasperation. ‘It sounds like a page from a romance. If my
opinion were asked, I should say I could hardly tell whether he or you
stood most in need of a guardian--of some one to control you. You have
encumbered yourself with his entire maintenance. He is a pensioner on
your bounty?’
Sebastian shook his head. Leaning his elbow upon the top of the piano,
he remarked,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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