Rensselaer Republican, Volume 15, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 22 March 1883 — GOTLIEB’S CONSTANCY. [ARTICLE]

GOTLIEB’S CONSTANCY.

The first rays of the morning sun had not yet tinged the hill-tops surrounding the German hamlet of V. when a young man attired in the villagers’ Sunday suit, knocked at the door of a cottage just on the outskirts of the tou’n. The knock, timid at first, met with no response, but at the second and louder one a young girl opened the door and said: “Is that you, Gotlieb?” “Yes, Rose, I could not go without seeing you once more,” answered the young man. “Come and sit with me on this bench; I would speak to you that the sound of your voice and your pretty face may be the last recollections I shall [carry with me to the land beyond the sea.” With words half deprecatory at the unseasonableness of the hour, yet calling him a foolish Gotlieb with those accents of love and tenderness women give to words otherwise insignificant, she stepped outside in the fresh morning air. Very lovely she was in the flush of her girlhood,'for Rose Stanish was scarcely 16, and sixteen years ne’er crowned a lovelier face. So thought Gotlieb, as he took in at one glance the mass of wavy blonde hair, the fan: face, lit by eyes of glorious blue, from whose shining depths came mingled glances of shyness, coquetry and innocence, down to the tiny bare feet that sought a hiding place in the long, smooth grass. “Rose,” he exclaimed,do you know that you are as lovely as the picture of the Madonna that hangs in the chapel of the great house on the hill?” “Am I?" was the response, in a tone half questioning, half assenting. “But I'm not half as handsomely dressed,” and she looked down at the coarse peasantdress she wore with a look of unmistakable disgust.

“Rose! Bose! You are prettier in that drees than the burgomaster’s wife in all her velvets and fine feathers." ‘•Then how much handsomer won Id I not be with them? Besides, Master Gotlieb, you forget that everyone does not see me with your eyes.” “No, nor would I have them so see you,” he said quietly, for he was stung that at the moment of a separation which might last for years, she could think of her dress. “See, the sun is climbing the -mountains, and I must bid you good-by. Don’t forget me, Rose, jmd, God prospering, I shall be with you in five years at the most. Promise me not to forget me, my sweet Rose,’’ and twining his arms -around the young girl’s waist,heimprint--ed a kiss on her lips as she sobbed out her promise, and ere many moments was already far on his road. With a heavy heart Rose turned and entered the cottage. * It is the same old story, so old, yet always possessing the charm of youth and novelty; the story heart has whispered to heart since time was; the story whose “open sesame" to the realms of happiness are the words “I love and am beloved.* Between the two and the realization of -their dreams had intervened the arm of the law, of that German law that, with an eye to the future, prohibits marriage unless both parties can produce a given sum as security against pauperism. Of the influence of that law on the morals* and prosperity of the people, let statistics speak. I only deal with it as to its influence on Rose and Gotlieb, causing their separation, as neither possessed as many kreutzers as florins were required, and both knew that years must elapse before the requisite sum could be amassed. Gotlieb had heard of that land where wealth only waited to be garnered, as wheat from the fields; where industry • perseverance were sure rounds in the ladder of opulence; so, with a sad heart it is true, but wooed by the hope of a speedy return, possessed of that which to Rose and himself Would be riches,he had determined to try his fortune in the new world. Rose had made no effort to detain him, understanding the impossibility of obtaining their wish if he remained. Besi des, she had an inherent love' of dress, which she knew could never be gratified in their native hamlet, but which she saw in ’rV cd to its fullest exkn* by the im-

mense wealth with which her day dreams pictured Gotlieb should ® return. Of course such thoughts had never found voice in his prest nee, but they were the constant solace and companions of the young girl as she fulfilled her daily tasks. That she loved Gotlieb she felt sure, for at the dance, the race, the festival, was he not the lightest and surest of foot, the handsoniest lad the whole country round? So, when Gotlieb had cast loving glances on her, she had not been too shy to return them, and it had all ended in the exchange of the little golden circles it had taken months of economy to purchase, and the voyage to America. ***** One evening,just at the same time of the year, five years after Gotlieb’s departure, a traveler could have been seen wending his way down the path that led to the hamlet of V . As a sudden turn in the road brought the village in full sight, a cry of joy escaped his l'ps,and although a hard day’s walk lay behind him, he quickened his pace as his eye took in each well-remembered spot Suddenly he stopped short and an exclamation of surprise fell from his lips as he became convinced that someTiouse stood in the place of the cottage he sought Involuntarily his mind reverted to the last time he had stood on that spot and taken a parting look at the sleeping hamlet. It was very little changed since then, the large house alone standing out as an intruder in the picture he had so indelibly impressed upon his memory. What could it portend? Was Rose dead? —he had not heard from her for three years. His heart stood still at the thought,when suddenly a light broke over his features. The house was not hers —she only boarded with the old couple. They, no doubt, had died, and some rich burgomaster had bought the place. Where, then, should he seek Rose? No doubt the people of the great house could tell him of her. Ah! Gotlieb! Gotlieb! your faithful heart could believe her dead, but false—never! You would have as soon doubted your own truth as her fidelity! With renewed courage he descended the path. In the garden a young child was at play, while a lad; watched its sport She wore the dress of the upper class—that he could see. It was, then,as he supposed. Some rich landowner had purchased the ground and erected the house. With a heart lightened of a weight he was scarcely conscious it bore, he reached the entrance. Tapping gently at the gate he bade the lady good evening. At the sound of his voice she rose abruptly and turned a frightened look on the speaker, and, as her eyes fell on his face, a single cry escaped her lips—“Gotlieb!”

“Rose—Rose Franish, am I dreaming?” he said, looking excitedly, alternately at her and at the child who now dung to her skirts. Five years had made a greater change in her face than in his. Her’s had lost its happy contour; its happy, contented look, and, although her eyes were as blue, and the ripples of her hair as golden as the day he left her,there was such a change that, but for that cry, he would have doubted that his betrothed stood before him. “Rose, tell me, am I dreaming?” he repeated, in a voice so full of anguish that tears stood in her eyes as she said: “Gome, you must not stand here. Some one may see us, and .that would not be well,” and, catching his hand, she dragged rather than led him into the house. Shutting the door carefully, she continued: “Now, Gotlieb, yoa may speak freely; we are alone.” She was much calmer now than he was, for she had contemplated this meeting for months, while to him it had come with the force of the unexpected. He had trusted her so implicitly, and now to find himself deceived! “You have been married three years,” he said simply. He had no need to ask; he knew it was the time when her letters had ceased. “Yes. The burgomaster’s wife died, and—and —” she hesitated. “And you married him. He could give yon what I might not be able to do.” He spoke quietly now, so quietly that she was deceived, and with the selfishness that was such a blot on her character, she could not bear that her loss should inflict so little pain. “What would you?" she Said. “You could dance with the girls and enjoy your Sunday promenade, because in that new world no one knew of poor Rose. But here it was different. Everywhere I was left to myself, for was I not Gotlieb’s betrothed? Not one of these boobies could see that I could dance and yet be true to you. Two years passed so slowly—three years seemed to me an age. The burgomaster was kind. He gave me pretty things, and made me dance, and said that I was the sweetest Rose of all Germany. Besides, how did I know but what you, one day, might see a prettier face then mine, and never come back?” He listened to her as if in a dream. Could it be for this he had toiled and saved? He might tell her that never dance nor festival had he seen sines last

his arm encircled her in the waltz. But wordi and protestations were useless now, and he began to feel she was not worthy of the devotion he had given her. Bitterly he contrasted this meeting with what he had so often pictured it. How often had he thought of her delight when she should listen to the stories sos that land that had been so kind to him; for Gotlieb had found the true philosopher’s stone. Care and economy had transmuted the fruit of perseverance into gold As he realized how worthless it all was to him now,he bowed his head on his hands and a great heart-sob escaped him. Rose was touched deeply by this first sign of how much he had suffered. Her better nature was aroused, and, bending quickly over him, she said: “Gotlieb, do not mourn so. lam not worth so much regret I loved you, but I loved myself better. Believe me, however, I would have spared you the pain of this meeting. God only knows how fervently I prayed that you might be as false to me as I was to myself, If it will console you, I will, say what no wife should utter—you alone have held my heart. Does that suffice? Go, now. My husband may come in at any moment The meeting would not be pleasant to either. I know my duty. He is kind, and. believes I have forgotten you. Let him not be undeceived. Good-by, Gotlieb,” and, rising, she held out hey hand to him. He knew she was right. It was best he should go. Seizing her hand, he imprinted a kiss upon it, and was gone. The next day he left his native hamlet, never to return. She had been faithless, but she had loved him. That was the one 'consolation he carried back with him to the land of his adoption, where success still attended his efforts, although no other face made him forget the false, fair features of Rose Franish.