Joseph in the Snow, and The Clockmaker. In Three Volumes. Vol. III.

Faller went to the Baths, where Annele's second sister was, and where he met an old acquaintance. The bath master was the former Landlord of the "Golden Lion," who, after the death of his wife, had retired to this place. He had the same benevolent air, and patronised every one whom he met. The trials he had endured seemed to have passed very lightly over him, for he was remarkably cheerful and communicative. He commissioned Faller to inform the whole village, and the whole country, that he had been comparatively innocent. He told him that his wife had misled him, and then affected the most entire ignorance and unconsciousness; and, even if he had been far more guilty than he really was, he had done ample penance for his sins in one solitary hour. He proceeded to detail to Faller, how his wife had denounced and exposed him on the very morning of his ruin, while, in fact, she was the one chiefly to blame. It seemed a relief to him to abuse Brazil, where, he said, no justice was to be found, or he would now, from his speculations in that country, have been a rich man. He then praised the Spa, and the good milk, which performed miracles; and if there were only gaming tables established here, it would be the most fashionable Spa in the whole country.

Faller came home again; but in the early spring, just as the snow was again melting, he died.

Shortly after his death, Petrowitsch was also buried. He had often conquered death; for since autumn his violent cough had become so much worse, that he constantly expected to choke; and in fact one of those attacks carried him off at last, quite suddenly.

Just as the Doctor had prophesied, so it was. Petrowitsch possessed nothing but an annuity, which he had secured by sacrificing the remains of his capital, for the greater proportion of it had been swallowed by the gaming tables at Baden-Baden.

Many discrepancies and contradictions in Petrowitsch's conduct, were thus explained. Above all, the Doctor maintained that the old man had been angry with the world, because he was angry with himself.

Lenz took one of Faller's sons to live with him, the little girl was left with her mother, and Kathrine, the farmer's wife, adopted the twins – she, indeed, only wished to take one, but the children refused to be separated.

Franzl was proud and thankful to be able to tell her old, kind friend Kathrine, the present state of the Morgenhalde. "I do not know," said she, "which Annele spoils the most – her husband or myself. The angels in heaven must rejoice, when they see how these two live together. You know I am from Knuslingen: no one can take me in; and though I don't wish to boast, I am pretty sharp, and see more than most people. At first they were still a little afraid of each other, like a house that has been burnt down – the moment you dig in it, the flames are apt to burst out afresh. They were alarmed lest any thoughtless word should tear open an old wound, until they by degrees gradually discovered that each was changed for the better, and mutually loved each other dearly; and what they used to imagine malice, and ill temper, irritating both so grievously once upon a time, they found to be only sorrow, at not having fallen on the right mode of making each other happy. All thoughts of keeping an inn are at an end with Annele; and I must say my Lenz has become much more manly and energetic. The Choral Society is changed into a Polytechnic; and they all say that Lenz appears there to the greatest advantage, for he is very clever. They have some office there: I can't quite explain what it means – but it is something to benefit everybody. My Lenz is the head, and he is called Master of the Union. When you see the Balancemaker from Knuslingen, he can tell you all about it better than I can, for he is a member also. Do you know that my Lenz had a fine silver medal sent to him from England, because his musical clock won the prize at the Great Exhibition? And when he showed the medal to Annele, he said: 'I am so happy for your sake, because it shows you I can do something.' Then she cried, and said – 'That is a shred from our buried life – never wake it again. I need no testimonial of your merits from others: I can give you the best myself.'

"When she spoke thus, he looked up to his mother's picture, and said; 'Mother I you may rejoice in heaven, for we are happy!'"

Kathrine heard this good report with sincere pleasure. Franzl, however, was like a wound-up piece of clockwork. She continued: – "And did you hear what we inherited from Petrowitsch? Nothing but his dog, who will neither eat a morsel of potato, nor a bit of bread: he should soon learn to do so, I can tell him; but my Lenz is far too good to the dog, and says he saved little Marie's life. So not one kreuzer did we inherit from our rich uncle. The Doctor, it seems, said so long ago. He was in some Sickly Insurance, I think they call it, or some such name, and had nothing but a good annuity. Now it is evident why he was so hard and tough. And it is also come out that his capital, that he had scraped together in so many different parts of the world, all went at the gambling table. Yes; there is no doubt that gamblers are often at the same time the stupidest, as well as the cleverest men. The Doctor said so, and what he says is always sure to come true. Won't you stay here till tomorrow? The Doctor's old mother is to be buried then – the very last of the old generation. She was not quite seventy-eight. My Lenz said, when his uncle died, 'I am rather glad that I don't get anything from him – I shall now help myself, and trust to no one else.' He intends to take his own son Wilhelm, and young Faller, as apprentices; but he says they must first leave home and travel."

"And are they good and kind to you?" asked Kathrine, merely to say something.

"Good Heavens! kind! – they are only too kind. I don't know what use I am of, that they pretend they could not be happy without me. It is only a sad pity that I can't help getting old; but my grandmother was eighty-three when she died, and I dare say she was in reality ninety-three, for all old people make great mistakes about their age, never having learnt either to read or to write. I may live to be as old. I eat and drink well, and sleep like a top. All prospers in our house. And see! the wood is beginning to grow famously, and it now belongs to us; and as surely as the wood is now growing as fast as it can, where God has placed it, and thrives just as it ought, so surely is everything in our house increasing and prospering. These are fine shady young trees, are they not? I hope to live to see them large timber."

Kathrine had not time to wait for that; and when she was on her way home with the twins, escorted part of the way by Lenz, and Annele, and Faller's widow, Franzl called out to her from the kitchen – "Kathrine, be prepared to stand godmother to our next."

This is the story of Lenz and Annele of the Morgenhalde; and now we know why the young mother has white hair, and why, at the moment of parting with her son, she begs him to bring her home a plant of Edelweiss.

When Lenz came home, he found a garland of fresh flowers hung over the picture of his mother. He nodded gratefully to Annele. She had always thus cherished the memory of this day. It was now eighteen years since his mother had been buried. They did not say it to each other, but they knew in their hearts, that the memory of their admirable mother bloomed always afresh in their hearts, just as the flowers in the fields, year after year, bear fresh blossoms.

Faller's widow and her daughter dined with them. On the former lamenting – "Oh! that my husband had only lived to see our twin sons setting off together to travel!" – Lenz told her how much she ought to rejoice, that the twins that Kathrine had adopted years ago, had done so well in the world. The one, who was a soldier, had become a corporal; and the other was to inherit his adopted father's property. Her daughter, a tall slender girl of fifteen, said she had promised to write to her brother, and to Wilhelm, the first of every month.

After dinner Lenz returned to work as usual. This day eighteen years, he had soothed a much more excited state of mind by work. It was invariably his custom to master all his emotions in his workshop. Annele sat beside him with her needlework. She was no longer restless, and her eyes no longer flashed with impatience, but had a sweet and calm expression; and Lenz's work always succeeded better when she was near. She spoke little, and the whole course of her present thoughts might be guessed from her saying – "Our Wilhelm has six shirts of that fine linen, that your excellent mother spun with her own hands."

The places of the two lads were quickly filled, for from all sides people pressed forwards to place their sons with Lenz.

Franzl was particularly proud and pleased, that Lenz took a grandson of the Balancemaker in Knuslingen, as an apprentice.

In the evening the Schoolmaster arrived, with a large bundle of papers under his arm. He laid them down. You could plainly read on them, in large letters – "Acts of the Clockmakers' Union."

The Schoolmaster begged Lenz, before the Members of the Union assembled, to walk with him in the wood. Lenz went with him. In the mean time Annele placed two rows of chairs straight in the room, for Lenz was Master of the Union.