NINE YEARS LATER.
A sunshiny Easter morning shone over hill and valley. A crowd of
holiday-making people poured out of the little church at Tannenegg, and
scattered in every direction. A long row of blooming lads and lassies came
in close ranks, moving slowly towards the parsonage. They were the
newly-confirmed young people of the parish, who had that day partaken of
the Communion for the first time. They were going to the house of their
pastor, to express their gratitude for his careful and tender teaching and
guidance, before they went out into the world. Among these were Dietrich
and Veronica. Gertrude stood at a little distance from the church, and
watched the procession as it passed by. Her eyes were filled with tears of
pleasurable emotion, as she noticed that her dark-eyed Veronica was
conspicuous among all the maidens for the tasteful neatness of her
costume, and for the sweetness and grace of her bearing. The glance which
Veronica cast upon the mother in passing was full of love and gratitude;
and seemed to repeat the words that the faithful girl had spoken in the
morning, as she left her to go to the church. "I cannot thank you enough,
as long as I live, for what you have done for me, mother." A yet brighter
expression of happiness crossed Gertrude's countenance when the young men
came in procession after the girls, as her eyes fell on the well-formed
lad, a head taller than his companions, who nodded at her, and greeted her
with merry laughing looks, kissing his hand again and again, and yet once
again. That was her tall handsome Dietrich. His mother's heart leaped in
her breast at the sight of his fresh young life, so full of hope and
promise. Gertrude waited till the visit to the pastor was over, and the
young people had separated on their various paths. Then she in her turn
entered the parsonage. She wished herself to speak her thanks to this true
and long tried adviser and friend, for all that he had done for her
children.
"You are a fortunate mother," said the aged pastor, after he had listened
to Gertrude's expressions of gratitude. "Those are two uncommon children
that the good God has confided to your care, and I feel the greatest
interest in them. The lad has a clear head, and a winning grace that draws
everyone to him. Veronica is serious and conscientious; she has a calm
steady nature and can be depended upon for fidelity to duty, such as it is
rare to find. The children will be your stay and comfort in your old age.
May you keep them in the paths of virtue."
"With God's help;" said Gertrude, and she left the parsonage with tears of
happiness in her eyes. As she passed the garden of her neighbor Judith,
the latter called out over the low hedge,
"They have just gone by, all four of them. It always seems to me strange
that while all babies in the cradle look just alike, so that you can't
tell them apart, they grow up to be such very different men and women."
"No, no, these four were never alike," replied Gertrude, "but I agree that
they grow more and more unlike every day."
"Yes, that they do. And of you three near neighbors, you certainly have
drawn the best lot in children," said Judith with enthusiasm, "two like
your two are not to be found in a long day's journey. Veronica will fully
repay you for what you have done for her."
"I have been repaid long ago by the child's attachment to me. She has
never given me anything but satisfaction ever since her mother died. If I
have any anxiety about Veronica it is lest she over-work herself. There is
something feverish in her love of work; she can never do enough. No matter
how late I go into her room at night, she is always finishing off some
piece of work; and no matter how early I get up in the morning, she has
already begun something new. If I had not positively forbidden it, she
would keep at it even on a Sunday. It is a real source of anxiety to me,
lest she should over-work and break down."
"Oh, I don't think you need be afraid of that, Gertrude; work never yet
hurt any one, least of all the young folks. Let her work away. But I don't
see the need of her scowling so all the time. She looks for all the world
as if she were fighting and struggling against enemies and difficulties
of all sorts. I like better Dietrich's laughing eyes; they are so full of
fun. When he goes down the street singing--
'Gladly and merrily
Live to-day cheerily,
Black care and sorrow
Leave till to-morrow,'
it goes right to my heart, and I could sing too for very joy. No one can
help loving him."
Gertrude listened with sunshine in her face to these words of praise, but
a little cloud of anxiety shadowed her eyes as she said,
"Yes, God be praised, he is a good boy and means well, but I do wish that
he had a little of Veronica's firmness of purpose. It is very pleasant to
have every one like him, but too great popularity is not always a good
thing. And those two companions that are always hanging about him, are not
such as I myself would choose for his friends."
"If they could all be put to some steady work it would be the best thing
for them," said Judith. "Idleness is the mother of mischief. Blasi is not
an ill-meaning fellow, but he is lazy, greatly to his own injury. Long
Jost is the worst of the two; a sly-boots, and a rare one too. It is to be
hoped that he will break his own leg, when he's trying to trip some one
else up with it."
"No, no, Judith, on this holy Easter day, we will not have such unkind
hopes as that. I hope and believe that the good God holds the children in
his protecting hand. We have given them to him; that is my comfort and
support Good-bye, Judith; come often to see us; we are always glad of your
company."
On the evening of this sunny Easter day, while rosy clouds moved slowly
across the clear sky, and the golden glow faded in the far west behind the
wooded heights, Gertrude came back from a long walk in the fields and
woods. On one side of her strode Dietrich, talking rapidly and earnestly:
the fresh joy of youth was written in every movement of his little figure,
and laughed from the depths of his clear eyes. On the other side Veronica
walked, listening in silence. Her noble features, above which her black
hair fell in shining waves, had a serious, thoughtful expression, but
every now and then, when Dietrich let fall some particularly apt
expression, a look would cross her face that irradiated it like a sunbeam
crossing a shadowed plain. Mother Gertrude looked now proudly at her
radiant son, now approvingly at her stately daughter, and again she lifted
grateful glances towards the glowing heavens where she saw promise of
another brilliant day to come. Far and wide, in all Tannenegg, was not to
be found that day, such another happy mother as Gertrude.
When they reached the crossways where the footpath led up by the tavern of
the Rehbock, Dietrich turned into it, and his mother was about to follow
him, but Veronica drew her back, saying anxiously,
"Don't go that way, mother dear; it is not much farther by the other
road."
Dietrich laughed aloud.
"Now there it is again. Do you know, mother, that I can never get Veronica
to go past the Rehbock. She would rather go ten minutes farther round, and
she will not say why either. To-day, Veronica, I am determined that you
shall go this way or tell us why not."
"No; to-day we will not quarrel, Dietrich, please;" said the girl
entreatingly, but with a tone that showed no signs of yielding her point,
"let us sing a song as we go; mother loves to hear us sing."
As she spoke, she walked steadily along the road, and the others followed,
"Well then," said the lad, "let's sing 'Gladly and merrily'"--and he began
to sing the familiar tune.
"To-night I should rather sing the Fisher-boat," said Veronica, and
without demur the good-natured boy dropped his song, and joined his clear
tones with Veronica's steady voice, the two harmonizing perfectly as they
sang:
"A tiny boat, a fisher-boat,
Tossed lightly on the silver sea;
Around the rocks, in air, afloat
The white gulls circle lazily.
A tiny boat, a fisher-boat--
The fisher draws his slender line;
He half in dream-land seems to float.
Saying, 'to-morrow will be fine.'"
Softly singing, in the soft falling shadows of evening, the happy trio
drew towards their home, and disappeared within the cottage door.