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Page 10
"Well, this buoy, what name did it bear?"
"Doctor, I am not a _savant_. I can read my own language a little, but
as for foreign tongues--and then it was so long ago."
"However, you ought to be able to remember something about it--and
doubtless you showed it to Mr. Malarius, with the rest of the
articles--make a little effort, Mr. Hersebom. Was not this name
inscribed on the buoy, 'Cynthia'?"
"I believe it was something like that," answered the fisherman vaguely.
"It is a strange name. To what country does it belong in your judgment,
Mr. Hersebom?"
"How should I know? Have I ever been beyond the shores of Noroe and
Bergen, except once or twice to fish off the coast of Greenland and
Iceland?" answered the good man, in a tone which grew more and more
morose.
"I think it is either an English or a German name," said the doctor,
taking no notice of his crossness. "It would be easy to decide on
account of the shape of the letters, if I could see the buoy. Have you
preserved it?"
"By my faith no. It was burnt up ages ago," answered Hersebom,
triumphantly.
"As near as Mr. Malarius could remember, the letters were Roman," said
the doctor, as if he were talking to himself--"and the letters on the
linen certainly are. It is therefore probable that the 'Cynthia' was not
a German vessel. I think it was an English one. Is not this your
opinion, Mr. Hersebom?"
"Well, I have thought little about it," replied the fisherman. "Whether
it was English, German, or Russian, makes no difference to me. For many
years according to all appearances, they have lain beneath the sea,
which alone could tell the secret."
"But you have doubtless made some effort to discover the family to whom
the child belonged?" said the doctor, whose glasses seemed to shine with
irony. "You doubtless wrote to the Governor of Bergen, and had him
insert an advertisement in the journals?"
"I!" cried the fisherman, "I did nothing of the kind. God knows where
the baby came from; why should I trouble myself about it? Can I afford
to spend money to find his people, who perhaps care little for him? Put
yourself in my place, doctor. I am not a millionaire, and you may be
sure if we had spent all we had, we should have discovered nothing. I
have done the best I could; we have raised the little one as our own
son, we have loved him and taken care of him."
"Even more than the two others, if it were possible," interrupted
Katrina, drying her eyes on the corner of her apron. "If we have
anything to reproach ourselves for, it is for bestowing upon him too
large a share of our tenderness."
"Dame Hersebom, you must not do me the injustice to suppose that your
kindness to the little shipwrecked child inspires me with any other
feeling than the greatest admiration," said the doctor.
"No, you must not think such a thing. But if you wish me to speak
frankly--I must say that this tenderness has blinded you to your duty.
You should have endeavored to discover the family of the infant, as far
as your means permitted."
There was perfect silence for a few minutes.
"It is possible that we have done wrong," said Mr. Hersebom, who had
hung his head under this reproach. "But what is done can not be altered.
Erik belongs to us now, and I do not wish any one to speak to him about
these old reminiscences."
"You need have no fear, I will not betray your confidence," answered the
doctor, rising.
"I must leave you, my good friends, and I wish you good-night--a night
free from remorse," he added, gravely.
Then he put on his fur cloak, and shook hands cordially with his hosts,
and being conducted to the door by Hersebom, he took the road toward his
factory.
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