SOMETHING more than a week after the scenes we have just related had
occurred, the Daltons were seated round the fire, beside which, in the
place of honor, in an old armchair, propped by many a cushion, reclined
Hans Roeckle. A small lamp of three burners such as the peasants use
stood upon the table, of which only one was lighted, and threw its
fitful gleam over the board, covered by the materials of a most humble
meal. Even this was untasted; and it was easy to mark in the downcast
and depressed countenances of the group that some deep care was weighing
upon them.
Dalton himself, with folded arms, sat straight opposite the fire, his
heavy brows closely knit, and his eyes staring fixedly at the blaze,
as if expecting some revelation of the future from it; an open letter,
which seemed to have dropped from his hand, was lying at his feet.
Nelly, with bent-down head, was occupied in arranging the little
tools and implements she was accustomed to use in carving; but in the
tremulous motion of her fingers, and the short, quick heaving of her
chest, might be read the signs of a struggle that cost heavily to
subdue.
Half-concealed beneath the projection of the fireplace sat Kate Dalton
she was sewing. Although to all seeming intent upon her work, more than
once did her fingers drop the needle to wipe the gushing tears from her
eyes, while at intervals a short sob would burst forth, and break the
stillness around.
As for Hans, he seemed lost in a dreamy revery, from which he rallied
at times to smile pleasantly at a little wooden figure the same which
occasioned his disaster placed beside him.
There was an air of sadness over everything; and even the old spaniel,
Joan, as she retreated from the heat of the fire, crept with stealthy
step beneath the table, as if respecting the mournful stillness of the
scene. How different the picture from what that humble chamber had so
often presented! What a contrast to those happy evenings, when, as the
girls worked, Hans would read aloud some of those strange mysteries of
Jean Paul, or the wild and fanciful imaginings of Chamisso, while
old Dalton would lay down his pipe and break in upon his memories
of Ireland, to ask at what they were laughing, and Frank look up
distractedly from his old chronicles of German war to join in the mirth!
How, at such moments, Hans would listen to the interpretation, and
with what greedy ears follow the versions the girls would give of some
favorite passage, as if dreading lest its force should be weakened
or its beauty marred by transmission! And then those outbreaks of
admiration that would simultaneously gush forth at some sentiment of
high and glorious meaning, some godlike gleam of bright intelligence,
which, though clothed in the language of a foreign land, spoke home to
their hearts with the force that truth alone can speak!
Yes, they were, indeed, happy evenings! when around their humble hearth
came thronging the groups of many a poet's fancy, bright pictures of
many a glorious scene, emotions of heart that seemed to beat in
unison with their own. They felt no longer the poverty of their humble
condition, they had no memory for the little straits and trials of the
bygone day, as they trod with Tieck the alley beneath the lindens
of some rural village, or sat with Auerbach beneath the porch of the
Vorsteher's dwelling. The dull realities of life faded before the vivid
conceptions of fiction, and they imbibed lessons of patient submission
and trustfulness from those brothers and sisters who are poets'
children.
And yet what no darkness of adversity could rob them of the first gleam
of what, to worldly minds at least, would seem better fortune, had
already despoiled them. Like the traveller in the fable, who had grasped
his cloak the faster through the storm, but who threw it away when the
hot, rays scorched him, they could brave the hurricane, but not face the
sunshine.
The little wooden clock behind the door struck nine, and Dalton started
up suddenly.
“What did it strike, girls?” asked he, quickly.
“Nine, papa,” replied Kate, in a low voice.
“At what hour was he to come for the answer?”
“At ten,” said she, still lower.
“Well, you 'd better write it at once,” said he, with a peevishness very
different from his ordinary manner. “They've remained here already four
days isn't it four days she says? to give us time to make up our minds;
we cannot detain them any longer.”
“Lady Hester has shown every consideration for our difficulty,” said
Kate. “We cannot be too grateful for her kindness.”
“Tell her so,” said he, bitterly. “I suppose women know when to believe
each other.”
“And what reply am I to make, sir?” said she, calmly, as having put
aside her work, she took her place at the writing-table.
“Faith, I don't care,” said he, doggedly. “Nor is it much matter
what opinion I give. I am nobody now; I have no right to decide upon
anything.”
“The right and duty are both yours, papa.”
“Duty! So I'm to be taught my duty as well as the rest!” said he,
passionately. “Don't you think there are some others might remember that
they have duties also?”
“Would that I could fulfil mine as my heart dictates them!” said Ellen;
and her lip trembled as she spoke the words.
“Faith! I scarce know what 's my duty, with all the drilling and
dictating I get,” muttered he, sulkily. “But this I know, there 's no
will left me I dare not budge this side or that without leave.”
“Dearest papa, be just to yourself, if not to me.”
“Isn't it truth I'm saying?” continued he, his anger rising with every
word he spoke. “One day, I'm forbid to ask my friends home with me
to dinner. Another, I 'm told I ought n't to go dine with them. I 'm
tutored and lectured at every hand's turn. Never a thought crosses me,
but it 's sure to be wrong. You din into my ears, how happy it is to be
poor when one 's contented.”
“The lesson was yours, dear papa,” said Nelly, smiling. “Don't disavow
your own teaching.”
“Well, the more fool me. I know better now. But what's the use of it?
When the prospect of a little ease and comfort was offered to me, you
persuaded me to refuse it. Ay, that you did! You began with the old
story about our happy hearth and contentment; and where is it now?”
A sob, so low as to be scarcely heard, broke from Nelly, and she pressed
her hand to her heart with a convulsive force.
“Can you deny it? You made me reject the only piece of kindness ever was
shown me in a life long. There was the opportunity of spending the rest
of my days in peace, and you wouldn't let me take it. And the fool I was
to listen to you!”
“Oh, papa, how you wrong her!” cried Kate, as, in a torrent of tears,
she bent over his chair. “Dearest Nelly has no thought but for us. Her
whole heart is our own.”
“If you could but see it!” cried Nelly, with a thick utterance.
“'T is a droll way of showing affection, then,” said Dal ton, “to keep
me a beggar, and you no better than a servant-maid. It's little matter
about me, I know. I'm old, and worn out, a reduced Irish gentleman, with
nothing but his good blood remaining to him. But you, Kate, that are
young and handsome, ay, faith! a deal sight better-looking than my Lady
herself, it's a little hard that you are to be denied what might be your
whole fortune in life.”
“You surely would not stake all her happiness on the venture, papa?”
said Nelly, mildly.
“Happiness!” said he, scornfully; “what do you call happiness? Is it
dragging out life in poverty like this, with the proudest friend in our
list an old toy-maker?”
“Poor Hanserl!” murmured Nelly, in a low voice; but soft as were the
accents, the dwarf heard them, and nodded his head twice, as though to
thank her for a recognition of whose import he knew nothing.
“Just so! You have pity enough for strangers, but none for your own
people,” said Dalton, as he arose and paced the room, the very act of
motion serving to increase his anger. “He was never used to better; he's
just what he always was. But think of me! think of the expectations I
was reared to, the place I used to hold, and see me now!”
“Dearest, best papa, do not say those bitter words,” cried Kate,
passionately. “Our own dear Nelly loves us truly. What has her life been
but self-denial?”
“And have I not had my share of self-denial?” said he, abruptly. “Is
there left a single one of the comforts I was always accustomed to? 'T
is sick I am of hearing about submission, and patience, and resignation,
and the like, and that we never were so happy as now. Faith! I tell you,
I 'd rather have one day at Mount Dalton, as it used to be long ago,
than I 'd have twenty years of the life I spend here.”
“No, papa, no,” said Nelly, winding her arm around his waist, “you'd
rather sit at the window yonder, and listen to a song from Kate, one of
your own favorites, or take a stroll with us after sunset of a summer's
evening, and talk of Frank, than go back to all the gayety of that wild
life you speak of.”
“Who says so?” asked he, roughly.
“You yourself. Nay, don't deny it,” said she, smiling.
“If I did I was wrong, then,” rejoined he, pushing her rudely away. “It
was because I believed my children were affectionate and fond, and
that whatever I set my heart on they 'd be sure to wish just as much as
myself.”
“And when has that time ceased to be?” said she, calmly.
“What! when has it ceased to be?” said he, sharply. “Is it you that asks
that question, you that made me refuse the legacy?”
“Nay, papa, be just,” interrupted she, mildly. “The merit of that
refusal was all your own. I did but explain to you the circumstances
under which this gift it was no less was offered, and your own right
feeling dictated the reply.”
Dalton was silent, a struggling sense of pride in his imputed dignity of
behavior warring with the desire of fault-finding.
“Maybe I did!” said he, at last, self-esteem gaining the mastery. “Maybe
I saw my own reasons for what I was going to do. A Daltou is not the man
to mistake what 's due to his name and family; but this is a different
case. Here 's an invitation, as elegant a piece of politeness as I
have seen, from one our own equal in every respect; she calls herself a
connection too, we won't say much about that, for we never reckoned the
English relations anything, asking my daughter to join them in their
visit to Italy. When are we to see the like of that again? Is it every
day that some rich family will make us the same offer? It's not to cost
us a sixpence; read the letter, and you 'll see how nicely it 's hinted
that her Ladyship takes everything upon herself. Well, if any one
objected it might be myself; 'tis on me will fall the heaviest part
of the blow. It was only the other day Frank left me; now I 'm to lose
Kate, not but I know very well Nelly will do her best.”
Slight as was the praise, she kissed his hand passionately for it; and
it was some seconds ere he could proceed.
“Yes, I 'm sure you 'll do all you can; but what is it after all? Won't
I miss the songs she sings for me; won't I miss her laughing voice and
her sprightly step?”
“And why should you encounter such privations, papa?” broke Nelly in.
“These are, as you justly say, the greatest sources of your happiness.
Why separate from them? Why rob this humble chamber of its fairest
ornament? Why darken our hearth by an absence for which nothing can
requite us?”
“I 'll tell you why, then,” said he, and a sparkling gleam of cunning
lit up his eye, as the casuistry crossed his mind. “Just because I
can deny myself anything for my children's sake. 'T is for them I am
thinking always. Give old Peter Dalton his due, and nobody can call him
selfish, not the worst enemy he had! Let me feel that my children are
benefited, and you may leave me to trudge along the weary path before
me.”
“Then there only remains to see if this promise of benefit be real,”
said Nelly.
“And why wouldn't it? Doesn't everybody know that travelling and seeing
foreign parts is equal to any education? How many things haven't I seen
myself since I came abroad, that I never dreamed about before I left
home! Look at the way they dress the peas with sugar in them. See how
they shoe a horse with a leg tied up to a post, as if they were going
to cut it off. Mind the droll fashion they have of fastening a piece of
timber to the hind wheel of a coach, by way of a drag! There 's no end
to their contrivances.”
“Let us forget every consideration but one,” said Nelly, earnestly.
“What are the dangers that may beset Kate, in a career of such
difficulty, when, without an adviser, miles away from us all, she may
need counsel or comfort. Think of her in sickness or in sorrow, or,
worse than both, under temptation. Picture to yourself how dearly bought
would be every charm of that refinement you covet for her, at the price
of a heart weakened in its attachment to home, bereft of the simple
faith that there was no disgrace in poverty. Think, above all,” cried
she and for the first time her lips trembled, and her eyes swam “think,
above all, we cannot give her up forever; and yet how is she to come
back again to these humble fortunes, and the daily toil that she will
then regard with shame and disgust? I ask not how differently shall we
appear in her eyes, for I know that, however changed in her habits,
how wide soever be the range of thought knowledge may have imparted,
her fond, true heart will still be all our own; but can you risk her
fortunes on an ocean like this; can you peril all her future for so
little?”
“To hear you talk, Nelty, one might think she was going to Jerusalem or
Australia; sure, after all, it's only a few days away from us she 'll
be; and as for the dangers, devil a one of them I see. Peter Dalton's
daughter is not likely to be ill-treated anywhere. I 'e were always a
'good warrant' for taking care of our own; and, to make short of it,
I wish it, and Kate herself wishes it, and I don't see why our hopes
should not be as strong as your fears.'
“You remember, too, papa, that Dr. Grounsell agreed with me, and spoke
even more strongly than I did against the scheme?”
“And did n't I pay him off for his interference? Did n't I give him a
bit of my mind about it, and tell him that, because a man was employed
as a doctor in a family, he ought not to presume to advise them on their
own affairs? Faith, I don't think he'll trouble another patient with his
counsel.”
“We must not forget, sir, that if his counsel came unasked, his skill
was unrequited; both came from a nature that wished us well.”
“The advice and the physic were about the same value both made me sick;
and so you 're like to do if you worry me any longer. I tell you now, my
mind 's made up, and go she shall!”
“Oh, papa, not if dear Nelly thinks--”
“What's that to me don't I know more of the world than she does? Am I
come to this time of life to be taught by a slip of a girl that never
was ten miles out of her home? Sit down here now, and write the answer.”
There was a stern determination in the way these last words were uttered
that told Nelly how fruitless would be all further opposition. She had
long since remarked, besides, how her father's temper reacted upon his
health, and how invariably any prolonged excitement terminated in
an attack of gout. Increasing age gave to these accesses of malady
a character of danger, which she already began to remark with deep
anxiety. Now she saw that immediate compliance with his wishes was the
only alternative left.
She seated herself at the table, and prepared to write. For some seconds
the disturbance of her thoughts, the mingled crowd of sensations that
filled her mind, prevented all power of calm consideration; but the
struggle was soon over, and she wrote on rapidly.
So silent was the chamber, so hushed was all within it, that the
scratching noise of the pen alone broke the stillness. Speedily glided
her hand across the paper, on which two heavy tears had already fallen,
burning drops of sorrow that gushed from a fevered brain! A whole world
of disaster, a terrible catalogue of ill, revealed itself before her;
but she wrote on. She felt that she was to put in motion the series of
events whose onward course she never could control, as though she was
to push over a precipice the rock that in its downward rush would carry
ruin and desolation along with it; but she wrote on.
At last she ceased, and all was still; not a sound was heard in the
little room, and Nelly leaned her head down upon the table and wept.
But while she wept she prayed, prayed that if the season of trouble
her thoughts foreshadowed should be inevitable, and that if the cup of
sorrow must, indeed, be drained, the strength might be sent them for
the effort. It might have been that her mind exaggerated the perils of
separation, and the dangers that would beset one of Kate's temper and
disposition. Her own bereavement might have impressed her with the
misery that follows an unhappy attachment; and her reflective nature,
shadowed by an early sorrow, might have colored too darkly a future of
such uncertainty. But a deep foreboding, like a heavy weight, lay upon
her heart, and she was powerless to resist it.
These instincts of our nature are not to be undervalued, nor confounded
with the weak and groundless terrors of the frivolous. The closing
petals of the flower as the storm draws nigh, the wild cry of the
sea-bird as the squall is gathering, the nestling of the sheep within
the fold while yet the hurricane has not broke, are signs that, to the
observant instincts, peril comes not unannounced.
“Shall I read it, papa?” said she, as she raised her head, and turned
towards him a look of calm and beaming affection.
“You need n't,” said he, roughly. “Of course, it 's full of all the
elegant phrases women like to cheat each other with. You said she will
go; that's enough.”
Nelly tried to speak, but the words would not come, and she merely
nodded an acquiescence.
“And, of course, too, you told her Ladyship that if it wasn't to a near
relation of the family one that had a kind of right, as I may say, to
ask her that I 'd never have given my consent. Neither would I!”
“I said that you could give no higher proof of your confidence in Lady
Hester's goodness and worth, than in committing to her charge all that
we hold so dear. I spoke of our gratitude” her voice faltered here, and
she hesitated a second or so; our gratitude! strange word to express the
feeling with which we part from what we cling to so fondly! “and I asked
of her to be the mother of her who had none!”
“Oh, Nelly, I cannot go I cannot leave you!” burst out Kate, as she
knelt down, and buried her head in her sister's lap. “I feel already how
weak and how unable I am to live among strangers, away from you and dear
papa. I have need of you both!”
“May I never leave this spot if you're not enough to drive me mad!”
exclaimed Dalton. “You cried two nights and a day because there was
opposition to your going. You fretted till your eyes were red, and your
cheeks all furrowed with tears; and now that you get leave to go
now that I consent to to to sacrifice ay, to sacrifice my domestic
enjoyments to your benefit you turn short round and say you won't go!”
“Nay, nay, papa,” said Nelly, mildly; “Kate but owns with what fears
she would consent to leave us, and in this shows a more fitting mind to
brave what may come, than if she went forth with a heart brimful of its
bright anticipations, and only occupied with a future of splendor and
enjoyment.”
“I ask you again, is it into the backwoods of Newfoundland is it into
the deserts of Arabia she is going?” said Dalton, ironically.
“The country before her has perils to the full as great, if not greater
than either,” rejoined Nelly, lowly.
“There's a ring at the bell,” said Dalton, perhaps not sorry to cut
short a discussion in which his own doubts and fears were often at
variance with his words; for while opposing Nelly with all his might,
he was frequently forced to coincide secretly with that he so stoutly
resisted. Vanity alone rose above every other motive, and even hardened
his heart against separation and absence from his favorite child, vanity
to think that his daughter would be the admired beauty in the salons of
the great and highly born; that she would be daily moving in a rank the
most exalted; that his dear Kate would be the attraction of courts,
the centre of adulation wherever she went. So blinded was he by false
reasoning, that he actually fancied himself a martyr to his daughter's
future advancement, and that this inveterate egotism was a high and holy
self-denial! “My worst enemy never called me selfish,” was the balm that
he ever laid on his chafed spirit, and always with success. It would,
however, have been rather the part of friend, than of enemy, to have
whispered that selfishness was the very bane and poison of his nature.
It was his impulse in all the wasteful extravagance of his early life;
it was his motive in all the struggles of his adversity. To sustain
a mock rank, to affect a mock position, to uphold a mock standard of
gentility, he was willing to submit to a thousand privations of his
children and himself; and to gratify a foolish notion of family pride,
he was ready to endure anything, even to separation from all he held
dearest.
“Lady Hester's courier has come for the answer to her note, papa,” said
Nelly, twice over, before Dalton heard her, for he was deep sunk in his
own musings.
“Let him come in and have a glass of wine,” said Dalton. “I 'd like to
ask him a few questions about these people.”
“Oh, papa!” whispered Nelly, in a tone at once so reproachful, that the
old man colored and looked away.
“I meant about what time they were to start on the journey,” said he,
confusedly.
“Lady Hester told us they should leave this to-morrow, sir.”
“Short notice for us. How is Kate to have all her clothes packed,
and everything arranged? I don't think that is treating us with much
respect, Nelly.”
“They have waited four days for our decision, papa remember that.”
“Ay, to be sure. I was forgetting that; and she came every day to press
the matter more and more; and there was no end to the note-writing
besides. I must say that nothing could beat their politeness. It was a
mighty nice attention, the old man coming himself to call here; and a
fine, hale, good-looking man he is! a better figure than ever his son
will be. I don't much like Mr. George, as they call him.”
“Somewhat colder, and more reserved, I think, than the other,” said
Nelly. “But about this answer, papa?”
“What a hurry they're in. Is it a return to a writ, that they must
press for it this way? Well, well, I ought to be used to all manner of
interruptions and disturbances by this time. Fetch me a caudle, till I
seal it;” and he sighed, as he drew forth his old-fashioned watch, to
which, by a massive steel chain, the great family seal was attached',
firmly persuaded that in the simple act he was about to perform he was
achieving a mighty labor, at the cost of much fatigue.
“No rest for the wicked! as my old father used to say,” muttered he, in
a happy ignorance whether the philosophy emanated from his parent, or
from some higher authority. “One would think that at my time of life
a man might look for a little peace and ease; but Peter Dalton has n't
such luck! Give me the letter,” said he, querulously. “There is
Peter Dalton's hand and seal, his act and will,” muttered he, with a
half-solemnity, as he pressed the wax with his heavy signet. “'Semper
eadem;' there 's the ancient motto of our house, and, faith, I believe
Counsellor O'Shea was right when he translated it 'The devil a better!'”
He read the address two or three times over to himself, as if there was
something pleasurable in the very look of the words, and then he turned
his glance towards Hans, as in a dreamy half-consciousness he sat still,
contemplating the little statue of Marguerite.
“Is n't it droll to think we 'd be writing to the first in the land, and
an old toy-maker sitting beside the fire all the time,” said Dalton,
as he shook his head thoughtfully, in the firm conviction that he had
uttered a very wise and profound remark. “Well well well! Life is a
queer thing!”
“Is it not stranger still that we should have won the friendship of poor
Hanserl than have attracted the notice of Lady Hester?” said Nelly. “Is
it not a prouder thought that we have drawn towards us from affectionate
interest the kindness that has no touch of condescension?”
“I hope you are not comparing the two,” said Dalton, angrily. “What's
the creature muttering to himself?”
“It 'B Gretchen's song he 's trying to remember,” said Kate.
“Nach ihm nur schau' ich
Zum Feuster hinaus!”
said Hans, in a low, distinct voice. “'Was kommt nach,' what comes next,
Fraulein?”
“You must ask sister Nelly, Hanserl,” said Kate; but Nelly was standing
behind the massive stove, her face covered with her hands.
“Zum Fenster hinaus,” repeated he, slowly; “and then, Fraulein? and
then?”
“Tell him, Nelly; tell him what follows.”
“Nach ihm nur schau' ich
Zum Fenster hinaus;
Nach ihm nur geh' ich
Aus dem Haus!”
repeated she.
“Ja, ja!” cried Hans, delightedly,
“Nach ihm nur geh' ich
Aus dem Haus!”
“What does that mean?” said Dalton, with impatience. “It's Gretchen's
song, papa,” said Nelly.
“His figure I gaze on,
O'er and o'er;
His step I follow
From the door.”
“I hope it isn't in love the creature is,” said Dalton; and he laughed
heartily at the conceit, turning at the same time his look from the
dwarf, to bestow a most complacent glance at the remains of his own once
handsome stature. “Oh dear! oh dear!” sighed he; “isn't it wonderful,
but there isn't a creth or a cripple that walks the earth that hasn't a
sweetheart!”
A cough, purposely loud enough to announce his presence, here came from
the courier in the antechamber, and Dalton remembered that the letter
had not yet been despatched.
“Give it to him, Nelly,” said he, curtly.
She took the letter in her hand, but stood for a second or two, as if
powerless to move.
“Must it be so, dearest papa?” said she, and the words almost choked her
utterance.
Dalton snatched the letter from her fingers, and left the room. His
voice was heard for an instant in conversation with the courier, and the
moment after the door banged heavily, and all was still.
“It is done, Kate!” said she, throwing her arms around her sister's
neck. “Let us now speak of the future; we have much to say, and short
time to say it; and first let us help poor Hans downstairs.”
The dwarf, clutching up the wooden image, suffered himself to be aided
with all the submissiveness of a patient child, and, with one at
either side of him, slowly crept down the stairs to his own chamber.
Disengaging himself by a gentle effort as he gained his door, Hans
removed his cap from his head and made a low and deep obeisance to each
of the girls separately, while he bade them a good-night.
“Leb wohl, Hanserl, Leb wohl!” said Kate, taking his hand
affectionately. “Be ever the true friend that thou hast proved hitherto,
and let me think of thee, when far away, with gratitude.”
“Why this? How so, Fraulein?” said Hans, anxiously; “why farewell? Why
sayest thou 'Leb wohl,' when it is but 'good-night'?”
“Kate is about to leave us for a short space,” said Nelly, affecting to
appear at ease and calm. “She is going to Italy, Hanserl.”
“Das schone Land! that lovely land!” muttered he, over and over. “Dahin,
dahin,” cried he, pointing with his finger to the southward, “where the
gold orange blooms. There would I wander too.”
“You'll not forget me, Hanserl?” said the young girl, kindly.
“Over the great Alps and away!” said Hans, still talking to himself;
“over the high snow-peaks which cast their shadows on our cold land, but
have terraces for the vine and olive-garden, yonder! Thou 'It leave us,
then, Fraulein?”
“But for a little while, Hans, to come back afterwards and tell thee all
I have seen.”
“They come not back from the sunshine to the shade,” said Hans,
solemnly. “Thou 'It leave not the palace for the peasant's hut; but
think of us, Fraulein; think sometimes, when the soft sirocco is playing
through thy glossy hair; when sounds of music steal over thy senses
among the orange groves, and near the shadows of old temples, think of
this simple Fatherland and its green valleys. Think of them with whom
thou wert so happy, too! Splendor thou mayst have it is thy beauty's
right; but be not proud, Fraulein. Remember what Chamisso tells us, 'Das
Noth lehrt beten,' 'Want teaches Prayer,' and to that must thou come,
however high thy fortune.”
“Kate will be our own wherever she be,” said Nelly, clasping her sister
affectionately to her side.
“Bethink thee well, Fraulein, in thy wanderings, that the great and the
beautiful are brethren of the good and the simple. The cataract and the
dewdrop are kindred. Think of all that teaches thee to think of home;
and remember well, that when thou losest the love of this humble hearth
thou art in peril. If to any of thy childish toys thou sayest 'Ich Hebe
dich nicht mehr,' then art thou changed indeed.” Hans sat down upon his
little bed as he spoke, and covered his face with his hands.
Nelly watched him silently for a few seconds, and then with a gentle
hand closed the door and led Kate away.