At
the porch we were met by Maude, her slight girlish figure rounded into
the perfection of womanhood, the rich bloom of her cheek not quite as
deep perhaps; but the sweet blue eyes met mine with all the old
frankness, the charming naivete that had rendered her so much a
favorite when a child.
Sitting there in the lessening light it all came back; the old
university at Basle, and above all, the old professor, Maude's father,
whom we all loved.
"His place is well filled, and still we miss him," said Wagner.
There were tears in the young wife's eyes, and rising hastily she
disappeared into the house. A few moments later she appeared, her face
smiling and glad, a very sweet-faced babe clasped in her arms, another
tugging at her gown. "Allow me to show my treasures," she said, as she
seated herself beside me. Hours passed as hours will when friends have
been separated for years. Then came a summons to tea; and after that
Maude put up her jewels, and the pastor introduced me to his study.
Summer though it was, a bright fire of sticks was burning on the
hearth; bright, but not too bright to exclude the outside view. Slowly
the purple curtain drooped over the mountains, falling lower and
lower, until the small village, the tiled roofs, and the wooden spire
were wrapped in a cloud of dusky haze.
"You have wondered why I content myself here, when a professorship
was offered me at Basle," said Wagner at length. "It was a temptation,
I allow; and when I thought of Maude and the social position from
which I had taken her, I hesitated.
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