The Fortune Hunter | Page 9

was developing
in a way so unnatural in her surroundings, so foreign to her education;
and she could see just how her father would look upon her lover. She
feared he would vent plain speech that would cut Mr. Feuerstein's
sensitive soul and embattle his dignity and pride against his love. ``I'll
speak to them as soon as I can,'' she said.
``Then you will speak to them to-morrow or next day, my treasure, and
I shall see you on Sunday afternoon.''
``No--not Sunday afternoon. I must stay at home--father has ordered it.''
``Disappointment--deception-- postponement!'' Feuerstein struck his
hand upon his brow and sighed tragically. ``Oh, my little Erebus-haired
angel, how you do test my love!''
Hilda was almost in tears--it was all intensely real to her. She felt that
he was superfine, that he suffered more than ordinary folk, like herself
and her people. ``I'll do the best I can,'' she pleaded.
``It would be best for you to introduce them to me at once and let ME
speak.''
``No--no,'' she protested earnestly, terror in her voice and her hand
trembling in his. ``That would spoil everything. You wouldn't
understand them, or they you. I'll speak--and see you Monday night.''
``Let it be so,'' he conceded. ``But I must depart. I am studying a new
role.'' He had an engagement to take supper with several of his
intimates at the Irving Place cafe, where he could throw aside the
heaviest parts of his pose and give way to his appetite for beer and
Schweizerkase sandwiches. ``How happy we shall be!'' he murmured
tenderly, kissing her cheek and thinking how hard it was to be practical
and keep remote benefits in mind when she was so beautiful and so
tempting and so trustful. He said aloud: ``I am impatient, soul's delight!
Is it strange?'' And he bowed like a stage courtier to a stage queen and
left her.
She joined Sophie and Heilig and walked along in silence, Sophie
between Otto and her. He caught glimpses of her face, and it made his
heart ache and his courage faint to see the love-light in her eyes--and
she as far away from him as Heaven from hell, far away in a world
from which he was excluded. He and Sophie left her at her father's and
he took Sophie home.

Sophie felt that she had done a fair evening's work--not progress, but
progress in sight. ``At least,'' she reflected, ``he's seeing that he isn't in
it with Hilda and never can be. I must hurry her on and get her married
to that fool. A pair of fools!''
Heilig found his mother waiting up for him. As she saw his expression,
anxiety left her face, but cast a deeper shadow over her heart. She felt
his sorrow as keenly as he--she who would have laid down her life for
him gladly.
``Don't lose heart, my big boy,'' she said, patting him on the shoulder as
he bent to kiss her.
At this he dropped down beside her and hid his face in her lap and cried
like the boy-man that he was. ``Ach, Gott, mother, I love her SO!'' he
sobbed.
Her tears fell on the back of his head. Her boy--who had gone so
bravely to work when the father was killed at his machine, leaving
them penniless; her boy-- who had laughed and sung and whistled and
diffused hope and courage and made her feel that the burden was not a
burden but a joy for his strong, young shoulders.
``Courage, beloved!'' she said. ``Hilda is a good girl. All will yet be
well.'' And she felt it--God would not be God if He could let this heart
of gold be crushed to powder.

III
FORTUNE FAVORS THE IMPUDENT
Like all people who lead useful lives and neither have nor pretend to
have acquired tastes for fine-drawn emotion, Otto and Hilda indulged
in little mooning. They put aside their burdens--hers of dread, his of
despair--and went about the work that had to be done and that
healthfully filled almost all their waking moments; and when bed-time
came their tired bodies refused either to sit up with their brains or to let
their brains stay awake. But it was gray and rainy for Hilda and black
night for Otto.
On Sunday morning he rose at half-past three, instead of at four, his
week-day rising time. Many of his hard-working customers were astir
betimes on Sunday to have the longer holiday. As they would spend the
daylight hours in the country and would not reach home until after the
shop had closed, they bought the supplies for a cold or warmed-up

supper before starting. Otto looked so sad--usually he was in high
spirits--that most of these early customers spoke to him or