Library of the Worlds Best Literature, Ancient and Modern, Volume 3 | Page 9

would," replied Hansei, at last, "but I've got to hew wood in
the winter. Walpurga, let's make life pleasant to each other, and not sad.
I shall have enough on my shoulders, and can't have you and your
palace thoughts besides."
Walpurga quickly answered, "I'll throw this ring, which the Queen gave
me, into the lake, to prove that I've stopped thinking of the palace."
"There's no need of that. The ring's worth a nice sum, and besides that
it's an honorable keepsake. You must do just as I do."
"Yes; only remain strong and true."
The grandmother suddenly stood up before them. Her features were
illumined with a strange expression, and she said:--
"Children! Hold fast to the good fortune that you have. You've gone
through fire and water together; for it was fire when you were
surrounded by joy and love and every one greeted you with
kindness--and you passed through the water, when the wickedness of
others stung you to the soul. At that time the water was up to your neck,
and yet you weren't drowned. Now you've got over it all. And when my
last hour comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the
happiness a mother's heart can have in this world."
She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and sprinkled it
over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face.
They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head on a roll of
bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a strange expression. After
a while she opened her eyes again, and casting a glance full of
happiness on her children, she said:
"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so often sang
together; that one verse, the good one."

Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:--
"Ah, blissful is the tender tie That binds me, love, to thee; And swiftly
speed the hours by, When thou art near to me."
They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous shouting of
the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to interrupt it.
* * * * *
As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the white
foal.
"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.
The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her
hymn-book out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast with
both hands, she went into the house, being the first to enter. Hansei,
who was standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk from his pocket
and wrote the letters C.M.B., and the date, on the stable door. Then he
too went into the house,--his wife, Irma, and the child following him.
Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked thrice at
the door. When she had entered she placed the open hymn-book upon
the open window-sill, so that the sun might read in it. There were no
tables or chairs in the room.
Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you,
freeholder's wife."
From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's wife," and
was never called by any other name.
And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended over meadow
and brook and the neighboring forest. She examined the room. There
was naught but a green Dutch oven and bare walls, and she had brought
nothing with her. In her paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were
chairs and tables, horses and carriages; but here--None of these follow

the dead.
Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and forest,
where the sun was now shining.
How was it yesterday--was it only yesterday when you saw the sun go
down?
Her thoughts were confused and indistinct. She pressed her hand to her
forehead; the white handkerchief was still there. A bird looked up to
her from the meadow, and when her glance rested upon it it flew away
into the woods.
"The bird has its nest," said she to herself, "and I--"
Suddenly she drew herself up. Hansei had walked out to the grass plot
in front of Irma's window, removed the slip of the cherry-tree from his
hat, and planted it in the ground.
The grandmother stood by and said, "I trust that you'll be alive and
hearty long enough to climb this tree and gather cherries from it, and
that your children and grandchildren may do the same."
There was much to do and to set to rights in the house, and on such
occasions it usually happens that those who are dearest to one another
are as much in each other's way as closets and tables which have not
yet been placed where they belong. The best proof of the amiability of