THE little Lina opened her eyes upon this world in the arms of her
father, the good Gotleib. He kissed the child with a holy joy:
"For," said he, "now is a thought of God fixed in an eternal form;"
and he felt that a Divine love flowed into this work of the great
God--this also thrilled his warm, manly heart with a wondrous love.
He felt the inmost of his being vibrating as with an electric touch,
to the inmost of the little new-born innocent. But the rapture of
the young father was altogether imperfect, until he had sealed his
lips in a love-kiss upon those of the fraulein Anna, who lay there
so white and beautiful in the new joy of a young mother. Like an
innocent maiden, she twined her arms around Gotleib's neck, and grew
strong in the influx of warm life that flowed into her responsive
cares of the husband of her heart. Then Gotleib held up the
newly-born Lina, and the mother's lips touched the soft cheek of the
tiny little one with a living rapture, as if all of Heaven were
embraced in this heart-possession.
And Gotleib knelt by the bedside, and thanked God for the beautiful
gift of love with a pious awe and holy joy--large tears stood in the
eyes of Anna. As he rose from his reverent posture, he kissed off
the bright tears even as the sun exhales dew-drops from a pure
flower, and said,
"Dost thou weep for joy, sweet one?"
And Anna said,
"Once--not long since--I had a dream--a beautiful dream--that this
day has been realized. I dreamed that I was in a quite heavenly
place--yet the place was as nothing--it was the _state_--for I sat
with an infant in my arms--a bright innocent little one--and, thou,
dearest Gotleib, knelt beside me; and an angel-woman stood near us,
in a soft heavenly glory, and said, in low musical,
spirit-words--'Behold the fruit of the union of good and truth.' And
then, methought, thou didst embrace me with a new joy of love, and
whispered, 'an angel of God is born of us.' This little one is the
dream-child, dear Gotleib."
Thus beautiful was the birth of the little Lina, who grew, daily, in
a pure innocent loveliness. While she is expanding in the first days
of her new, breathing, sensitive life, we will go back to the former
life of Gotleib and Anna.
Gotleib Von Arnheim had first seen the light in this same small
cottage, on the confines of the Black Forest of Germany. He was born
with a large, loving heart. But the father and mother, and the dear
God, were the only beings on whom his affections were fixed; for his
sensitive nature shrank from the contact of the honest-hearted, but
rough peasant neighbours, that made the little world of their simple
life. But soon death came, and the good father left the earth for
the beautiful Heaven-world. The little Gotleib missed his kind
father; but his mother told him of the bright inner life, and how
his father yet lived and loved him; and the heart of the boy was
comforted: he felt a sense of elevation in having his father, whom
he had known so familiarly here upon earth, now the companion of
angels, and living in such a bright and beautiful world.
Ah, life had to him such an inner beauty; and, when still, dreamy
moments of leisure intervened between his work and play, he revelled
in such dreams of fancy, as lent light and life and joy to his whole
being. But the death of the kind father had not only carried the
boy's fancy to the other world; it was also drawing the mother's
heart away to the fair spirit-land. Gotleib saw his mother's face
growing thin and pale; he knew that she was weak--for oftentimes, in
the long winter evenings, as he read to her from the holy word of
God, her hand would drop wearily with the raised spindle, and she,
who was never before idle, would fold her hands in a quiet, meek
resignation. At such times a tremour would seize the boy's heart.
The mother saw it; and, one night, when his fixed tender gaze rested
on her, she raised her spiritual eyes to his, and said,
"Dear Gotleib! thou wilt yet have the good God to love."
"Ah, mother! mother!" cried the boy, "wilt thou, too, leave me?"
His head was bowed upon her knees in bitter grief, the desolation of
earth was spread like an impenetrable pall over his whole future.
Suddenly he looked up, full of a strange, bright hope, and said,
"Mother, I too may die."
Then the mother put off her weakness, and long and loving was the
talk she held with her dear boy. She told him that from a little one
he had ever loved God; that the first word he had ever pronounced
was the name of the Holy One. She had taught him to clasp his tiny
baby hands and look up and say "God," ere any other word had passed
his lips. She had named him Gotleib, because he was the love of God
to her, and he was to be a lover of God. As she talked, the boy grew
strong and calm, and said,
"Yet, oh, my mother! God is so great for the heart of a small child.
God is so high and lifted up in the far heavens, that I feel myself
but as a tiny blade of grass that looks up to the far sun--dear
mother! the earth will be too lonely; ah, there is no hope but in
death."
"No, my son," said the mother, "there is a beautiful hope for the
earth also. I will tell you what will make you love God more truly
than ever."
The boy was fixed attention.
"Thou didst not know, dear Gotleib, that when God created thee a
strong, brave boy, He also created a tender, gentle little maiden,
like unto thee in all things, save thou wert a boy and she a maiden.
Thou wert strong and able to work, and she gentle and born to love
thee."
"Where is she?" inquired the excited Gotleib.
"I know not," replied the mother. "But God knows, and He will watch
over the two whom He has created, the one for the other; and, on
earth, or in heaven, the two will meet. Is it not better, then, not
to wish to die, but to leave all things to the will of God? For what
if thy little maiden is left alone upon the earth, and there is no
strong, manly heart upon which she may lean, and no vigorous arm to
labour for her, how will her spirit droop with a weary, lonely
sadness? No, my son, live! and the joy of a most beautiful, loving
companionship, may yet be thine. The earth will not be desolate ever
to thy orphan heart, with this beautiful hope before thee."
Thus, in the cold wintry night of a dark sorrow, did the good mother
plant a living seed of truth, that afterwards sprang up into a
vernal flowery Eden, that bloomed in the boy's heart with an eternal
beauty.
When the early spring came, Gotleib looked calmly and lovingly on
the beloved mother, who was leaving for the inner world. Death was
beautiful to him now; it was simply the new birthtime of a mature,
living soul.
The spirit of the mother's love seemed to linger over the home of
his childhood, and it was a great sorrow to leave the cherished
spot; but, his mother told him he was to seek a brother of hers in
the distant town of Heidelberg. As Gotleib turned from the now
voiceless home of his parents, a fervent desire arose in his heart
that he might again be permitted to dwell beneath this sheltering
roof and amidst its living associations.
The boy went forth into the unknown world, with a living trust in
his heart in the great God. His was a simple, childish faith, born
of his love--to him God was not a mystery. It was a Divine
personality he loved. Jesus had walked the earth, and his father and
mother also--all were now spirits, none the less to be loved and
trusted than when upon earth; but now they were to him in
transcendent states of glory. The Lord Jesus, as being infinitely
great and glorious, was the alone One to whom he now looked for
help--though ever as he knelt to pray to GOD, he felt that his
angel-mother bowed with his spirit, and by her prompting beautiful
words of humiliation and praise came to him, that he himself could
never have thought of; hence the affections of his heart all grew up
into the inner spirit-world.
And years passed in the good town of Heidelberg, years that brought
blessings to the orphan boy as they flew. The God in whom he trusted
had provided for him--had awakened a friendly kindness in many warm
hearts. And Gotleib, who was at first designed by his relatives to
spend his days over the shoemaker's awl and last, at length found
himself, by his own ardent exertions and the helpful kindness of
others, a student in the University. This was to him a most pure
gratification--not because of a love of learning, not because of
ambition, to attain a position before his fellow-men. Oh! it was
quite otherwise with the good youth--he had one object in life. The
hope that his dying mother had awakened in his heart was the guiding
star of all his efforts. That little maiden created for him, and to
be supported by him! The image was ever before him. Yes, he was a
student for a high and noble use. Science was to be to him the
instrument of a life of love and blessedness. To do good to others,
and thus to provide for the maiden, was what led him to the arduous
study of medicine.
It mattered not that cold and hunger and toil all bound him in an
earthly coil. The warm, hopeful heart has a wonderful endurance. The
delicate, attenuated form of the young student seemed barely
sufficient to hold the bright and glowing spirit that looked out
from his soft eyes, when he received his degrees. The desire of his
life was growing into a fruition; and when he returned to his poor
lodgings, a sense of freedom, of gratitude, and of delight, crowned
his yet barren life. To work! to work! seemed now the one call of
his being; but, whither was he to go? There was the childhood's
home, to which his heart instinctively turned; but, alone and
desolate, he could not dwell there. Gotleib had not forgotten his
mother's lessons; he knelt and prayed to God for guidance. Even as
he kneels, and feels his spirit in the sunshine of God's presence,
there is a knock at the door, and the good Professor Eberhard
enters. He has marked the student in his poverty and toil, and feels
that he will now hold out a helping hand to the young beginner. As
professor of anatomy, he needs the quick eye and delicate hand of an
expert assistant.
Gotleib looked upon the Herr professor as Heaven-sent, and in a few
days was installed in all the luxury of a life of active use.
Years passed away, and (sic) Gotlieb Von Arnheim sighed with a man's
full heart for a woman's sympathy and responsive affection. He had
seen bright eyes gleam and soft cheeks flush at his approach, and he
had looked wonderingly into many a sweet face. But he had not yet
seen the little maiden of whom his mother spoke--who was to be the
reflex of himself. All these German maidens were altogether
different from--and his heart remained unsatisfied in their
presence. He felt no visions of eternity as he looked into their
friendly faces.
Sometimes hope almost died out. But his trust in God seemed to
forbid the death of this sweet hope. Often he said, "the good God
would not have created this intense desire in one so wholly
dependent upon Him, were he not intending to satisfy it." At all
events, he thought--"If the maiden is not upon earth, she is in
heaven." So he worked and waited patiently.
The wintry winds were howling, as it were, a wild requiem over the
lordly ruins of the crime-stained castle of Heidelberg. Cold, and
bitter, and clear was the starry night, when the weary Gotleib
issued out of the Herr professor's warm house to answer the late
call of a sick woman. Gotleib looked up into those illimitable
depths where earths and suns hang suspended, to appeal to the
material perceptions of man that this is not the alone world--the
alone existence. The silent bright stars comforted the earth-wearied
heart in which the day's toil had dimmed the spirit's perception.
Gotleib stepped on bravely through the frosty darkness, and said
hopefully to himself,
"There is yet another world--another life than this."
And now he stood before the house in which his services were needed.
He entered a chamber, whose bare poverty reminded him of his student
days. But far sadder was cold poverty here, for a lady lay on a hard
couch before the scantily furnished grate, and her hollow cough, and
the oozing blood that saturated her white handkerchief, rendered all
words unnecessary.
A young girl, with blanched cheek and tearless eye of agony, knelt
by the wan sufferer. Gotleib felt himself in the sphere of his
life's use; cold and fatigue were alike gone. The sick and almost
dying woman seemed to revive under his touch--it was as if strength
flowed from the physician into the patient. His very presence
diffused an air of hope and comfort through the desolate apartment,
and the kind serving-girl, Bettina, who had guided him to the humble
lodging, seconded all his active efforts to produce warmth and
comfort, and soon returned with one of his prescriptions--an
abundance of fuel for the almost exhausted grate. The cheerful blaze
threw its strong light upon the young girl, who at first knelt in
hopeless grief beside her dying mother.
What was it that thrilled the heart of Gotleib, as he looked upon
this young maiden? Was it her beauty? No! he had seen others more
beautiful. Was it her sorrow? No! he had seen others quite as sad.
But, whatever it was, Gotleib felt he had met his destiny; the
fulness of his being was developed to him; and, all unconsciously,
the maiden turned to him as the Providence of God to her. She seemed
to rest her troubled heart upon his strong understanding. He said
her mother would not die immediately, and she grew calm.
It was very late that night when Gotleib retired; and very fervent
were the prayers that arose from his heart before he slept. He felt
a sense of gratitude for the uses he was permitted to perform to his
fellow beings, and, in his prayers, he felt that light shone from
the Divine sun upon that sorrowing maiden, and it was as if she
knelt by his side, and his strong spirit-arms upheld her in the
sunshine of God's love.
When the morning came, Gotleib awakened with a delicious sense of
enjoyment in life--with a looking forth into the events of the day,
that he had never before experienced. He hastened through his
morning duties with an elasticity of spirit and hope that was
altogether new to him. Though, as yet, his feeling was not defined
into a thought, it was a faint perception, a dim consciousness that
the elective affinities of his heart had all awakened. And while he
thought he was in an excessive anxiety to see after his feeble
patient, he was borne on rather by the attractions of his heart's
love. He paused in a thrilling excitement of hope and doubt before
the door of the poor chamber--he dreaded to have the agreeable
impressions of the last evening dissipated. But, when he knocked, a
light tread was heard; the door was gently opened, and the pale Anna
stood before him, with such a gentle grace, and so earnest a look of
gratified expectation, that, as she said in subdued tones,
"I hoped it was you," his heart bounded with exultation, to think
that the young girl had him in her thoughts. But, as he approached
the sick bed, his reason told him what was more natural than her
wishing for the arrival of her mother's physician.
A careful glance, by daylight, around the humble apartment, revealed
to Gotleib that Anna worked with her delicate, white, lady-looking
hands, for the support of her dying mother. A table, placed by the
window, was covered with artificial flowers of exquisite
workmanship, and, while he yet lingered in the chamber, Bettina, the
maid, entered from the street door, with a basket filled with the
same flowers--looked at Anna, and shook her head mournfully. The
young girl's lips quivered, and she pressed the tears back when she
saw no purchaser had been found for her labour. Gotleib saw and felt
with the most intense sympathy all that was passing. He lingered yet
longer--he made encouraging remarks to the sick mother, and, at
length, ventured to approach the table, and gazed with admiration on
the beautiful flowers, while his brain was busy in devising how he
was to make them the medium of conveying aid to the suffering mother
and daughter. He turned to the faithful Bettina, who clung to those
whom she served in their hard poverty--he told her that if she would
follow him he would find a purchaser for the pretty flowers. Anna
cast upon him a look of tearful smiling gratitude, and her simple,
"I thank you," as she held out her hand to him, bound him as with a
magnetic chain to her being. Bettina thought the Herr Doctor was a
most generous man, for he more than doubled the paltry sum she asked
for the flowers; though she did not consider it necessary to mention
the fact to Anna, she merely stated to her that she had found a
purchaser for as many flowers as she chose to make.
But Gotleib! what an Eden those flowers made of his chamber! with
what a joy he returned to it after hours of absence; it seemed as if
they brought him into contact with the sphere of a beloved
existence. He examined them with delight, and could not avoid
covering them with kisses. Never was patient visited or watched over
more attentively than was Madame Hendrickson; and, as the mother
revived, the daughter seemed to feel new life. Light beamed from her
soft eyes, and oftentimes Gotleib thought that the roses that
bloomed in her delicate face were far more beautiful and bright than
those that grew under her light and skilful touch.
For him she seemed to feel an earnest trustful gratitude. She never
concealed her glad recognition of his coming; she was too pure, and
innocent, and good, to think it necessary to conceal anything. And
Gotleib's visits were so pleasant, they grew longer and longer--for
he and Madame Hendrickson were of the same religious faith--and he
had a peculiar faculty for consoling her. Gotleib spoke of the other
world with such a definite perception of its existences and modes of
being, that the dying woman never wearied of listening to him. The
high and true faith of the good Gotleib opened to him a world of
beauty, which he poured forth in his earnest enthusiasm, more like a
gifted poet than a being of mere prose. Oftentimes, as he talked,
the light of his intelligence seemed to gleam back from the
answering eye of Anna, until his whole being was filled with
delight. While she felt that her hitherto dim and indistinct faith
was growing into form and fixedness, and her intellect awakened to a
sphere of ideas, to a world of perceptions, that endowed her all at
once with a charmed existence, and flooded her with the light of a
graceful beauty that made her appear to the admiring Gotleib like an
angelic spirit.
Thus were the spirit links being woven through the cold bright days
of winter. Madame Hendrickson was no longer confined to her bed; and
on the Sabbath days Anna could attend the public worship of God, of
whom, now, only she seemed truly to learn. It was to the Holy Supper
she went on that first solemn Sabbath day, after months of
confinement and sorrow. Oh! how blessed it was to listen to the
Divine Word, through which God seemed to her awakened perception to
shine, in a veiled beauty! and when she tasted the wine of spiritual
truth, flowing from the wisdom of the Divine One, and ate of the
bread of the celestial good of His love, Heaven seemed to open to
her receptive heart and mind--and, as her heart's prayers went up
with those of the shining angels round the throne of God, it was not
for herself that she prayed, but for him that had spoken living
truth to her virgin heart. Oh, the good child! In that holy moment
she rejoiced to reveal her heart's love to the Divine Father; she
knew that her love was born of her knowledge of God, and thus she
knew that it was blessed from above.
As she passed out of the church, she encountered the earnest glance
of surprised and delighted recognition from Gotleib. Very soon he
was at her side. In the fullness and stillness of her beautiful
thoughts and satisfied affections they walked on. Oh, how happy the
dear mother looked, when she saw the two enter her lonely chamber!
The heavenly light and warmth of love seemed to be within and around
them; and she saw that two beings so exactly created the one for the
other, could not but find an eternal happiness in each other.
Gotleib was truly in one of his genial, sunny moods; he seemed to
soar into worlds of light; his expanding heart was filling with the
glory of Heaven. The teachings of his childhood were all brought
forth; he talked of his beloved mother--now an angel of God--told of
the beautiful hope she awakened in his heart concerning the little
maiden created by God for him, when his heart shrunk in such pain
from the isolation her death would leave him in. Then he turned to
the blushing Anna, and said he thought the maiden was now found. She
lifted her love-lighted eyes to his--he clasped her hand and said
softly,
"Thou art mine!"
"I am thine," fell responsive from the maiden's lips; and an
infinite blessedness flowed into the loving, satisfied heart of
Gotleib.
The next day brought with it a new and beautiful joy,--a letter from
the beloved one, conveyed into his hand as he tenderly pressed hers,
at parting. For this his thirsty soul had yearned--for some
expression of the maiden's heart-love that had as yet gleamed upon
him but momentarily from her modest eyes. But alone in his chamber,
with the dear letter before him! Ah, now indeed he was to lift the
veil that hid his life's treasure. To have revealed to him the heart
and mind of the beloved one. And his whole being went forth to her
as he read the tender revealings. She wrote:
"Gotleib! my heart would fain speak to thine. It longs to say
gratefully, 'I love thee, thou heaven-sent one.' And I would tell
thee of a dream that came to me last night in my heart's beautiful
happiness.
"I was reading aloud to my mother in the book you lent me. I read of
how the angels ever have their faces turned to the Divine Sun. Of
how their shining brows are ever attracted to this central point, in
whatever position they may be--even as our feet are attracted to the
central point of the earth. I was happy in this beautiful truth, and
felt that through my love for thee, my thought was lifted upward,
and my face, too, was turned to the Lord; and when sleep came, it
seemed as if my happy spirit was conscious of a new and beautiful
existence. I found myself in a large place, and a company of angelic
spirits surrounded me; and we were seated at a table, adorned with
an exceeding elegance, and having many varieties of food, of which
we partook, but without a consciousness of taste--only there was a
genial delight of mind arising from the mutual love of all those
bright ones. An angel-woman spoke to me and said, 'This is the
Lord's Supper; appropriate to thyself the goods and truths of His
heavenly kingdom.' While she thus spoke, I saw thee, dear Gotleib,
approach, with such a smiling and beautiful grace, and thou saidst
to me, holding my hand--'Sweet one! how bright thou art! Hast thou
learnt some new truth! for thou art ever bright, when thou dost
perceive a new truth!' Then I answered, 'Ah, yes, indeed! I have
learned a beautiful new truth;' and I led thee to an east window and
pointed upward to the great Sun, that shone in such a Divine
effulgence--then I told thee how the angels were held by the
attraction of love in this centre of being--even as the children of
the world are held by the attraction of gravitation to the
earth--and as we talked, the light shone around thee, dear Gotleib!
with so heavenly a glory, that my heart was filled with a new love
for thee. For I saw, truly, that thou wert a child of God, and in
loving thee I loved Him who shone in such a radiant glory upon thee.
Oh! was not this a pleasant dream? Gotleib! what worlds of beauty
thou hast opened to me! Once my thought was so narrow, so bound down
to the earth; but thou hast lifted me above the earth. A woman's
heart is so weak--it is like a trailing vine, that cannot lift
itself up until its curling tendrils are wound round the lofty
tree-tops of a man's ascending thought. Gotleib, thus dost thou bear
me up into the serene, bright heavens, and like some blooming
flowery vine will my love ever seek to adorn thy noble thoughts."
Gotleib was charmed with the maiden's thoughts. Oh, yes--her flowers
were already flying over his highest branches. She soared above him,
and through her heavenly truths were growing clearer to him. How
grateful he was to his Heavenly Father, that from his own bosom, as
it were, was born his spirit's companion. But her life was from
God--and how holy was her whole being to him! She was enthroned in
his inmost heart, to be for ever treasured as the highest and best
gift of God.
It was evening when he next stood beside her. The mother slept, and
Anna and Gotleib stood in the moonlit window. Few, and softly
whispered, were his loving words to her. But she smiled in a oneness
of thought, when he said,
"In heaven, the sun shone upon us; upon earth the cold moonbeams
unite us; but the sunshine will soon come again."
Anna felt that her letter had made Gotleib very happy; and she bent
her head lovingly on his manly breast. Oh! to him, the desolate
forlorn one, how thrilling was the first caress of the maiden! His
lips touched her soft white brows with a delicious new joy. But
brow, eyes, cheeks, and lips, were soon covered with rapturous
kisses.
Ah! happy youth and maiden, thus bedewed with life's nectar of
blessedness! What are earth's sorrows to you? Heaven is in you, and
eternity only can satisfy the infinite desires of such hearts.
But as the days passed, the material body of the mother wasted away,
and her spirit was growing bright in its coming glory. She wished
much to see her beloved Anna in a holy marriage union before she
left this world. So a few weeks after the betrothal, Gotleib led his
bride to the marriage altar. It was a festive scene of the heart's
happiness even beside the bed of death. Madame Hendrickson felt that
she, too, was adorning for a beautiful bridal--and earthly care
being thus removed from her heart, she was altogether happy.
And the good, true-hearted Anna, in white bridal garments and virgin
innocence, looked to the loving mother and happy Gotleib like an
angel of God. Even the Professor Eberhard thought thus, and quite
certain it is, that the good minister spoke as if a heavenly
inspiration flowed into him, as he bound the two into an eternal
_oneness_ of being. "Little children!" said he, "love one another!
was the teaching of the great God, as he walked upon the earth.
Hence love is the holy of the holies. And it flows from God even as
heat flows from the material sun--and as the sun is in its own heat
and light, so God is in love."
And taking the marriage ring, he placed it on the soft, white,
rose-tipped finger of the bride, and said,
"How beautiful and expressive is this symbol of union, showing the
conjunction of good and truth, which conjunction first exists in the
Lord, for His love is the inmost, and His wisdom is like the golden
bond of truth encasing and protecting love. And this love of the
Lord flowing into man is received, protected, and guarded by woman's
truth, until, in her fitness and perfect adaptation to him, she
becomes the love of the wisdom of the man's love, and the twain are
no longer two, but one."
The fresh spring days were now coming--Madame Hendrickson went to an
eternal spring. But the heart of the loving Anna rose above the
earthly sorrow of separation, as if upheld by her husband's strong
faith; her imagination delighted itself in following the beloved
mother into her new and beautiful state of being.
Gotleib felt that now it was good for him to return to the home of
his childhood, for it was more delightful to live apart from the
strife and toil of men. In the simple country life much good might
be done, and yet there would be less of life's sorrow to look upon.
It was weary to live in a crowded haunt, where a perception of vice
and misery so mingled itself with the blessedness of his heart's
love. Anna was charmed and delighted with the pure country life, and
as business increased on the Herr Doctor's hands, it was so great a
happiness to her to minister to his comfort. After the long winter
rides, how she chafed his cold hands and warmed his frozen feet, and
how lovingly she helped him to the warm suppers of the good Bettina,
no homeless and desolate wanderer of earth can know. But to Gotleib,
what an inexpressible blessedness was all this; and how often he
left off to eat, that he might clasp Anna to his heart and cover her
with kisses! Thus went the blessed married life until another spring
brought with it the sweet "dream-child," as Anna called the little
one, whom the angel said, was "the fruit of the union of good and
truth."
The little Lina thus born into the very sphere of love, seemed ever
a living joy. The father's wisdom guided the mother's tender love,
and the little one was good and unselfish--and so gay in the
infantile innocence and grace of her being, that oftentimes the
young mother, leaning on the father's bosom, would whisper,
"Gotleib, she is indeed an angel of God."
One dark and wintry day, as the child thus sported in the inner glad
light and joy of her heart, and Gotleib and Anna as usual were
watching the light of her radiance, a beautiful White Dove flew
fluttering against the friendly window. The child grew still in her
wondrous joy. But the father quickly opened the window, and the
half-frozen bird flew in, and nestled itself in Anna's bosom. It was
fed and warmed and loved as bird never was before. For the little
one thought it was the spirit of God come down upon the house, and
Gotleib loved it because to him it was a living symbol of the peace
and purity of his married life, and Anna received it as a heavenly
gift for the loving child. Thus both literally and spiritually the
White Dove of innocence and peace dwelt in their midst.