"But nothing can happen; you only just have to get up again."

"I mean something different from usual; wouldn't you like to lie down and die, Elsli?"

"Why, no; I don't think I should like to die. I never thought of that. What makes you think of it?"

"I suppose you don't know what it will be like. Clarissa told me all about it, and we have talked it over a great many times together. I never talk to mamma about it, because she always begins to cry. But I will tell you, and then you will be glad too to think about going to heaven. I'll tell you the pretty song that Clarissa taught me. Would you like to hear it now?"

Elsli would have been glad to hear the song, but at that moment Mrs. Stanhope entered the room. She was much surprised to see the two little girls already on such good terms, and still more so when Nora said:—

"Mamma dear, there is really no hurry about the silk and the pencils, nor about the eggs either; I don't care for any of them just now; it will do as well by and by. I'd rather have Elsli stay here with me."

Her mother was well pleased, and answered,—

"Certainly; Elsli can stay with you now; it will be time enough for the errands when she comes in the afternoon."

The two children were equally delighted; Nora at the prospect of pleasant intercourse to enliven her weary hours, and Elsli at the thought of sitting in peace and quiet by this friendly new acquaintance.

As Mrs. Stanhope sat down with them, nothing more could be said about the Song of Paradise, and Nora must put off till another time her account of all that Clarissa had told her about the happiness of the heavenly life. So at first there was silence between them, but then she asked Elsli about her life at home, and Elsli told about her little brothers and the baby, and then about Fani; and once started upon that topic she hardly knew where to stop. She told how kind he was to her, and how clever at his lessons, how he helped her with her exercises, and she did not know how she could live without him. If she was ever so tired and miserable, it always rested her and made her happy to have Fani come home; for he was so full of hope and courage that it seemed as if her burdens were lifted off, and she felt as gay as he did, while he described the delightful things that they would do and see together some day.

Mrs. Stanhope listened with pleasure to the soft-voiced child whose blue eyes grew more and more tender as she talked on about her brother. As for Nora, she did not lose a word of it all, and evidently lived it over in imagination with the deepest interest, and when her mother said:—

"Now, Elsli, it is time for you to go; we shall expect you back at four o'clock," Nora added:—

"And tell your mother that you will not be at home till eight; you will have supper here."

With a happy heart the little maiden went off to school, and as soon as school was over, she darted off, not even stopping to speak to Emma, lest she should be detained. As she was hurrying along the path towards Oak-ridge, she heard some one calling to her,—

"Wait, wait, I say; why don't you stop when I tell you to?" It was Feklitus who was running after her:—

"I can't stop, I shall be late," called Elsli over her shoulder, and ran on; Feklitus followed for a while, very angry, and sending fearful threats after her; but he grew soon out of breath, and when he stopped to catch his breath and cough, he saw that she was quite beyond the reach of even his voice, and that farther chase was useless.

As for Elsli, she never drew a long breath till she had reached the house at Oak-ridge. Nora had been watching for her from the window, and she called out eagerly:—

"Come in, Elsli; come here and rest; you shouldn't run so hard." She found Nora alone, and Nora told her, with great satisfaction, that her mother had gone out for a walk at her request, and that they were to be left together for the whole evening.

"So now," she added, "I shall have a chance to tell you a great deal that you have never thought about; that is, how delightful it will be when we leave earth and go to heaven. Oh! oh!" she continued, growing more and more excited as she went on, "who can tell how beautiful it will be? Far more lovely than anything we have ever seen; and there will be no sick people there, and no one is tired there; everybody is happy, and there is a river with flowers growing along its banks, and—but wait; I will tell you Clarissa's song, and then you'll know about it."

Nora's great eyes grew more sparkling, and the red spot in her pale cheeks burned more than ever, as she recited the Song of Paradise; while Elsli listened with growing wonder to her excited tones. It seemed as if she saw the beauty that the song described, and her voice trembled with emotion. When she ceased with the last words, "The sick are well again," Elsli sat silent and motionless, oppressed with awe and with this wholly new experience, while Nora seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.

"Don't you like the song?" asked she at last.

"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Elsli decidedly.

"Wouldn't you like to go with me, where it is so beautiful?"

"Are you going?" asked Elsli.

"Oh, yes, very soon. Clarissa told me long ago about it; and how Philo went, and I should go too. She has talked to me again and again about it; and I long to go, because no one is ever sick or tired there. And, when I go, wouldn't you like to go with me, Elsli?"

"Yes, I should like it," said Elsli, catching the enthusiasm of the beautiful hope which shone in Nora's eyes. "But can we go whenever we want to?"

"Oh, no; the good God calls us when our turn comes. I only want to know if you want to go, as I do, so that we can talk about it together. And perhaps we shall be called at the same time; and how delightful it would be to go together and walk in the bright gardens, and pick the roses and lilies by the shining river, and never be sick or tired any more, but be happy forever!"

So Nora talked on about the heavenly land, and Elsli's eyes grew larger as the glories of the future life were pictured to her, and a wholly new world opened before her. Time flew rapidly by, and they did not notice its passage.

Meantime, in the house of Dr. Stein, life was moving on in a much more lively manner. After school, Oscar, Emma, and Fred had started off, each in a different direction. Each was occupied with his own plans. Fred took the road towards home. He had a very interesting description of a rare little animal to read to his aunt, and he was very glad that the others were bound elsewhere, and he had the way clear before him. When he saw Feklitus running after Elsli in hot haste, he called out, with a sarcastic laugh:—

"Hallo, Feklitus! it's a fine thing to have somebody like Elsli to make use of, isn't it?" For he had noticed that when Feklitus couldn't understand anything in his lessons, he always went to Elsli secretly for help, for he didn't want the big boys to know that he couldn't get along without it.

Content with this scathing sarcasm, Fred ran on to the house, where through the open door of the kitchen he saw his aunt standing by the table, stirring something in a pudding-bowl. She was reading aloud from a paper that lay on the table before her. "Take four large eggs, two spoonfuls of flour, and the rind of a lemon"; and she started back as Fred suddenly sprang in with a shout of delight at his good-fortune at finding her alone. "This is splendid, aunty! Now, just hear this!"

He seated himself on a high stool, spread his book upon his knees and began:—

"You know that papa once caught a bittern. Well, I want to read you a description of it. The 'bittern, Stellaris,'—are you listening, aunty?"

"Oh, yes, I'm listening. Go on."

"—'is of a reddish yellow color, with spots of black. It makes a strange noise in the night; usually Krawy! Krawy! but sometimes Uplumb! Uplumb! The hen lays four biggish eggs.' Do you know what I am reading, aunty? What was the last thing?"

"Yes, yes, I heard. 'The hen lays four biggish eggs,'—two spoonfuls of flour, and the rind of a lemon," said his aunt, unconsciously speaking out what was on her mind.

Fred looked up anxiously, for she had spoken quite seriously, without a trace of fun in her tones.

"Oh, I didn't mean that," she said, laughing, as she observed her mistake. "I was only thinking more of my receipt than of your bittern, Fred."

"I'm glad you don't really think that birds lay flour and lemon-peel," said Fred, and went on:—

"'The flesh tastes of—'"

But the description was interrupted. Oscar and Emma came bursting into the kitchen together, and while Oscar stood as close to his aunt, as he could, on the right, Emma pulled her head down on the left and began whispering into her ear. Between the two, she had hard work to keep on with her pudding.

"Only think, aunty," began Oscar, "Feklitus says now that he won't have our motto on the banner, that he has heard another that he likes a great deal better. What do you say, aunty? What shall we do about it? You know how cross he is when he is opposed, and he'll break off altogether."

"Emma, do be still a moment; I will listen to you presently. Now, Oscar, what is this verse that Feklitus proposes; let us hear it and see if it is a good one."

"Liberty, Equality, Fraternity; With song and the juice of the vine,"

repeated Oscar.

"Is that all?"

Oscar nodded.

"Well, we cannot put that on the banner, at any rate," said his aunt decidedly. "Tell Feklitus that there isn't even a verb in that motto, and it won't do. I advise you to ask him to make the speech at the festival, and then perhaps he'll drop the question of the motto."

"What a splendid idea! We never even thought of a speech! that's just the thing!" and Oscar rushed away in a state of great enthusiasm.

"Now, aunty," cried Emma, in a tone of relief as he disappeared, "it's my turn now. Don't you think I am right?"

"I didn't hear exactly what you said, Emma," said her aunt; "I haven't the gift of hearing different things with different ears at the same time."

"What I say is that it's a shame for Fani to have to go to work in that factory, and not have any time to paint and draw. I am sure he ought to be a painter, right away; and if he goes into the factory he can't get out till it's too late."

"But, Emma, it's not such an easy thing to become a painter as you seem to think. And, then, who knows whether Fani has really talent enough; it needs much more than merely to be able to copy nicely at school, you know."

"But, aunty, I only want you to say that it would be much better for Fani to be a painter, if he can, than to go into the factory. Now, don't you really and truly think so, aunty?"

Emma was so pressing that her aunt could not avoid answering her; so she said kindly, "If Fani had any real prospect of becoming a painter, I should certainly think well of it; but I do not see that he has any."

"May I go on now, aunty?" asked Fred; "it seems to me that Emma is talking a vast deal of nonsense, as usual."

But Emma was not to be put off so.

"Aunty," she said, "what is a decorator?"

"A person who decorates; that is, adorns or beautifies. Why do you ask, my child?"

"It means a scene-painter too; a man who paints scenery for the stage," said Fred.

"Yes, that's it," said Emma, and she scampered away.

Fred sat silent for a while, and then he said:—

"Aunty dear, did you notice how queerly Emma behaved? Do you suppose she is thinking of going on the stage?"

"No, indeed, my dear boy," said his aunt calmly; "she has no idea of that kind, you may be sure."

"Well, take my word for it, she has something out of the way in her head. She's not often very particular to know the meaning of a word; she's not very keen after knowledge. I'm sure there's something in the wind."

There was no time for more; for a sudden familiar shriek struck their ears.

"A snake! oh, a snake! a snake!"

Fred clapped his hand to his pocket, and then ran out-of-doors.

"Now I can finish the pudding," thought aunty; but another still wilder scream betokened such dire alarm that she threw down her spoon and followed.

It was Rikli, of course, who was standing half-way down the steps leading up to the back door, looking down on a pretty little green snake on the step below, that was wriggling along as fast as possible, trying to make its escape. Fred was seated quietly on the top step, waiting for the noise to subside.

"How absurd you are, Rikli," said her aunt gently; "if you are so afraid of that harmless little creature, why don't you turn round and run away?"

"It will run after me, and catch me! it is a snake!" cried the child, jumping up and down.

"Fred, take the little thing away," said his aunt; "I suppose it belongs to you."

"Yes; I had it in my pocket, and I suppose it crept out while I was reading. But I think Rikli ought to be taught not to behave so ridiculously. I thought I'd wait a little while and see if she wouldn't get over it."

Their aunt agreed that it was high time for Rikli to conquer her foolish fears, but she doubted whether Fred's method was a very wise one. Something must be done about it, but not just this; so she bade Rikli to come up the steps, and Fred to carry off the offender, and let her finish her pudding.



CHAPTER VII.

WHAT OSCAR FOUNDED AND WHAT EMMA PLANNED.

Feklitus took very kindly to the idea of making the speech at the Musical Festival, and told his parents at once of the coming event. This announcement made a great sensation in the household of Mr. Bickel, who at once ordered a new suit and a new pair of boots for the boy; and both parents determined to go and hear him speak. A change had come over the boy since this proposal had been made to him. He became very silent and went about with his head bowed and his brows knit as if oppressed with heavy thoughts.

One afternoon he came out of school and made one great spring from the upper step to the ground. It was not from joyfulness of heart that he made this leap, but because the sudden pressure of those who came behind him gave him an irresistible impulse, and he could not stop for the single steps. He did not go on with the other boys, but turned round the corner of the school-house, and waited there till all the girls had passed out, in groups of two and three, and, last of all, Elsli came hurrying along alone; she had been delayed by waiting to write out her exercise for the next day. Suddenly she felt herself seized from behind and held fast.

"Let me go, Feklitus," she cried; "I am in a hurry; Nora is waiting for me."

"I want to ask you something first," said the boy, "and then you may go."

He spoke in a masterful voice, and held fast to the child's frock.

"Tell me this; if you were going to make a speech at a musical festival, how should you begin?"

"What a stupid question, Feklitus! when you know perfectly well that I should never do such a thing!" And Elsli tried to pull her dress away from the boy's hand; but he held her fast.

"I didn't say you would; but suppose you did,—you can suppose anything,—how would you begin?"

"I don't know, I'm sure; I never thought anything about it in my life."

"Come, now, if you don't tell me, I'll keep you here till after dark. Come; I'll just make a beginning, to start you. Begin: Highly respected gentlemen and brothers—now, what next?"

"Let me go; I really ought to go. I have no idea what to say next."

"What an obstinate girl you are!" cried Feklitus angrily; "I'll punish you for this before long; when you come into the factory, you'll catch it; you see if you don't!"

This vague threat frightened Elsli the more from its very vagueness; so she thought for a moment, and then began;—

"Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! Now that we have sung together, let us rejoice together; and enjoy a long, long festival!"

As Elsli spoke, Feklitus relaxed his hold of her, as she had hoped he would do; and instantly she darted away like an arrow shot from a bow; and before Feklitus had recovered from his surprise, she had gone beyond pursuit. The boy looked thoughtfully after her retreating figure for a few moments, and then went towards home.

On the next Sunday the great Musical Festival was to take place; and the banner would be ready but just in season. The day before, there was to be a rehearsal of the performance, so that Feklitus might try his speech, and the order of the procession be arranged. A table-cloth tied to a pole was to take the place of the unfinished banner.

It is needless to say that there was but little appetite for dinner at Dr. Stein's table on this Saturday; Oscar rose as soon as he could hope to be excused, and Emma did not remain any longer. She had scarcely taken her eyes from the clock since she sat down, and had answered at cross purposes all dinner-time.

"What are you children about now, that you are in such a tremendous hurry?" asked their father, as they were leaving the room. Emma did not wait to answer.

But Oscar said:—

"You will see to-morrow. To-day we are going to put up the stand for the speaker and to arrange the procession. You'll be surprised, I'm sure. Of course you'll come and hear Feklitus speak?"

"With pleasure. Your mother and aunt will go too, I'm sure. Are you one of the company, Fred?"

"No, indeed. I have more important things to interest me. It is of more use to find and to study the smallest common frog than to attend a thousand musical festivals."

Rikli started as if she thought he was going to produce a specimen of frog from his pocket at that moment. Oscar cast a look of pity upon his brother, and left the room.

That afternoon as Mrs. Stein and her sister sat out in the garden, with their work-basket on the table between them, the former said:—

"It is singular how things repeat themselves. When the children tell us how Feklitus is constantly running after Elsli, though no one can understand why, it reminds me of times long ago when his father, stout Fekli, used to pursue Gritli, and how she used to run on before him, looking back now and then and calling out with a laugh:—

"'Come and catch me if you dare, You big, heavy-footed bear,'"—

A piercing shriek broke in upon the laugh which followed the repetition of this long-forgotten couplet, and they both sprang to their feet; but immediately recognizing the voice, they sat quietly down again, and resumed their work.

"It is only Rikli," said her mother; "she is always in a fright about nothing."

"Fred is probably amusing himself at her expense with some beetle or frog," said the aunt. "I can't help being sorry for the child, and it's too bad of Fred; but it's useless to run to her every time she screams."

Just then the sound of singing arose from the other side of the garden, apparently trying to overpower the noise of the child's cry, and they heard the words:—

"Hanseli is a cry-baby, Rikli is another; She's so exactly like him That he must be her brother."

"That's Fred!" exclaimed Mrs. Stein. "So he is certainly not with Rikli." And as the little girl's shrieks grew louder she began to think something serious was the matter, and the two ladies started away in the direction of the sound. Poor Rikli was indeed in a wretched plight. She was standing in a ditch, covered quite to her neck in the muddy water, and holding up her arms above her head, in an effort to protect it from the many little green frogs that were sporting about her. Aunty reached her first, and, taking the little girl by the arm, she quickly rescued her from her uncomfortable position. As soon as Rikli found herself in safety, she exclaimed reproachfully:—

"Why didn't you come when I called you first?"

They did not stop to answer her, but hurried her into the house, and forthwith into the bath-tub without delay. After the necessary scrubbing and cleansing were over, Rikli put her question again, and the explanation she received was likely to impress upon her the folly of unnecessary alarm, and the certainty that her cries would be unheeded as long as she persisted in uttering them so needlessly.

All this time Oscar was occupied with assembling his chorus in the place chosen for the festival, that the rehearsal might be conducted in due order, except the currant-wine and gingerbread, which naturally were reserved for the festival itself, which was to come off next day. The stage was made of four posts, stuck into the ground, and covered with boards.

The moment for beginning the performance arrived; Feklitus mounted the platform.

"Highly respected gentlemen and brothers! now that we have sung together so well, let us rejoice together; and celebrate the event with a great feast, and all touch glasses together."

With these words, spoken in a loud but rather hurried voice, Feklitus bowed to the company, and came down from the stage.

"Go on, go on with your speech!" shouted every one.

"Why, that's all; and then we must all touch glasses," said Feklitus, who was quite satisfied and elated at having got through so well.

But at his words arose a great uproar; the boys wanted more, and insisted on Feklitus' going on. Oscar alone said not a word; he was transfixed with one thought, that had been suggested by the first words of this brief speech. "Now that we have sung!" To be sure, it had not occurred to him that to have a Musical Festival successful, there ought to be some music. But it was not too late yet to repair the oversight. Controlling his mortification at his blunder, he sprang to the platform, and tried to call the attention of the noisy crowd.

"Here, fellows, listen to me! Be quiet! I want to tell you something important!" and as the noise began to subside, he shouted:—

"We must have some singing! Who of you can sing? We'll find a song, and then learn it. Who can sing?"

But no one came forward; no one could sing! Feklitus declared that there was no need of singing; a speech, a procession, a banner, a collation; why did they want anything else? But Oscar was determined to have a song, and suddenly he thought of Fani. Where was Fani? He could sing, and should sing. But Fani was not to be found, and soon the assembly broke up; the members scattered, and the platform raised its head in solitary grandeur.

Oscar ran home in a state of tremendous excitement. What would become of his much-boasted festival if he could get no music for it? His father's jests, Fred's air of superiority, all the mortifying consequences rankled in his mind. Fani must be found, and if only he would lead, the rest must somehow be got to join in.

As he reached the house, he met Emma just coming home.

"Where is Fani?" he asked. "Have you been putting him up to something that has made him desert us and go off with you instead?"

Emma colored, but did not reply; she went on into the house, as if she did not hear a word that Oscar said. As she came into the sitting-room, Kathri opened the opposite door, saying:—

"Marget is here, asking if any one has seen Fani? she wants him in a hurry, and has been hunting everywhere for him."

Emma's face and neck became flaming red; she seized her aunt's hand, and drew her out of the room. Mrs. Stein went into the kitchen to see what Marget's haste was. She learned that Mr. Bickel had just been to her house to say that he wanted Fani immediately in the factory; he had a place for him at once. He needn't leave school, but could come in the afternoon and on holidays, and he would earn quite a good bit of money directly. Marget had been trying in vain to find Fani, to come and talk to her cousin; she was very much afraid that the great man would be angry at being kept waiting, and Fani would lose the place.

Mrs. Stein told Marget that she would send Oscar to look everywhere for the missing boy, and Marget went home.

Meantime, Emma had drawn her aunt into her own room, and as soon as they were safely inside, with the door shut, she began in imploring tones:—

"Oh, aunty, help me! help me! so that no harm will come of it, and that papa may not be angry with me, and make Fani's mother understand how splendid it is going to be, and that Fani will be a great painter by and by. He has gone to Basel to-day!"

"To Basel! I hope you are not in earnest, Emma!" said her aunt, much disturbed.

"Yes, it is really true, aunty. Do go to Fani's mother and explain to her that it's all right, and don't let her come to papa about it. I'll tell you just how it was, and then you can tell Marget. I saw an advertisement in a newspaper the other day, like this, 'A decorator in Basel wants a lad, about twelve years of age, to do light work and learn the business.' Then the address was given. I showed it to Fani, and we both thought that it would be a good chance for him to learn to paint, and at the same time to earn something, so that he needn't go into the factory. Don't you remember that you said a decorator meant a beautifier, and Fred said it meant a scene-painter? Fani can paint roses and flowers and garlands, and he wanted awfully to go. At first he said he must ask his mother; but then he thought it would be no use, because she said painting was no work at all, but only nonsense. So we planned that he should just go off; and then, if they asked where he was, I should tell them; and as soon as he can, he is to write and tell them that he is going to be a painter."

"This is terrible!" exclaimed her aunt.

"You've done great mischief, Emma. What will become of him, and how will he get to Basel without money?"

Emma said she had given him all her own money, and he could certainly reach Basel, and if only aunty would go and tell his mother about it, all would be right. Aunty lost no time. She went directly to Heiri's cottage, and met Mr. Bickel coming out from the door-way.

"As I have said," was his closing remark, "I will soon put a stop to his loafing; for I will cut off his wages every hour that he idles."

"You can't cut down his wages, Cousin Bickel, before he begins to have any," said Marget to herself as Mr. Bickel marched off with his most important air.

Aunty went into the little house. The outer door opened into the kitchen, and beyond was the living-room. The door between stood open, and through it could be seen two very old cradles, and the wash-tub stood near the door in the kitchen, so that as she stood at her work Marget could watch the three little boys and the baby at the same time. Although Hans was now two years old, he still had a cradle, which served as a bed at night, and as a means of quieting him by day. Whenever he set up his accustomed scream, his mother laid him into the cradle, where, soothed by the rocking motion, he soon fell asleep. The two older brothers, Rudi and Heirli, standing one each side of the cradle, pushed it back and forth with great good-will.

Aunty sat down by the wash-tub, and, after begging Marget to go on with her work, she began gently to unfold her story, winding up with the offer of writing immediately to Basel, to find out how Fani was situated, and on what terms his master had taken him. Then, if everything was not satisfactory, he could be brought home again. In Marget's ears still lingered her Cousin Bickel's threat about cutting down wages. Perhaps Fani wouldn't earn much at the factory after all. If he were in Basel, she should not have his food to provide, and if he could earn enough to clothe himself while learning a trade, it would probably be better than he could do at home, and no trouble to her either. As these calculations passed through Marget's mind, she concluded not to oppose the boy's wishes, and she assured her visitor that his father would be satisfied if the doctor's family thought it a good arrangement, and would some of them look after the boy a little. It was a great relief to Emma's kind aunt that so little blame was likely to attach to the girl for the consequences of her rash advice; and now she concluded her visit with some inquiries about Elsli. Marget's report was favorable. Elsli spent all her time out of school at Oak-ridge, and was very happy in her work. Marget got along very well with the children, and certainly the liberal pay which Elsli brought home every day was a great gain; to say nothing of many clothes which the sick child could not use, and which would clothe Elsli for a long time to come. All this was pleasant tidings, and aunty went home with a much lighter heart. About half-way home she met Oscar coming to meet her. He darted towards her, and at once began to pour out the story of the unlucky musical festival; how he had entirely forgotten that there must be music, and how he dreaded the ridicule he should encounter when the mistake was discovered. He saw but one means of escape; if he could change the name of the festival, so that no music need be expected; then, by altering the motto a little, and changing some words in the speech—didn't aunty think it could be done?

No; she did not think that idea practicable. "You see, Oscar," she said, "a celebration must celebrate something, an anniversary or some interesting event. As there is nothing of the kind in this case, I really think your only course, since you have no music ready, is to give up the festival entirely for the present, and wait till you have something to celebrate."

Poor Oscar! he was terribly disappointed; yet he could not but acknowledge that his aunt was right, and he followed her into the house, dreading his father's questions and the discovery that was sure to follow. Supper was just ready as they entered the house, so that Emma could not satisfy her eager desire to know the result of her aunt's mission; so that she, as well as Oscar, sat at the table in troubled silence, both absorbed in secret fears, and both hoping, if they did not speak, that they should escape being spoken to. Fred noticed their unusual demeanor, and presently he remarked, slyly:

"There is a bird called the ostrich, Struthio which has a habit of hiding its head in the sand, believing that, in so doing, he conceals himself from the hunter. This bird is sometimes seen in this neighborhood, and his usual food is potato-salad."

Oscar took no notice of this bit of sarcasm, but remained intent on his potato-salad; but his father, who was watching him, laughed and said:—

"Is he overpowered by the pleasures of the approaching festival?"

As no farther questions followed, and the supper went on without any inquiries about Fani, both Oscar and Emma rose from the table with easier minds. The danger was not yet over, of blame for Emma and ridicule for Oscar; but they had gained time, and they breathed more freely as they turned again to their aunt for help and advice.



CHAPTER VIII.

AT SUNSET.

Elsli continued to go daily to the little invalid, and, from the first visit, she had been a dear friend and companion to the sick girl, who would not hear of her going on errands, but kept her by her own side from the moment she came, till it was time to go home. Mrs. Stanhope, whose only object in life was her little girl's happiness, was more than pleased with this arrangement; and watched with delight as Nora grew, from day to day, more cheerful and even lively in the companionship of a girl of her own age. And Elsli, too, profited by the intercourse; she was of a yielding nature and easily took new impressions, and now that she passed all her time in refined society, she insensibly grew into its likeness; and her voice, her manners, her way of speaking, all seemed assimilated to those of a very different way of life from that to which she had been accustomed. Was it that this new way was really more suited to her nature than the old?

The two girls studied together every day Elsli's lessons for the morrow, greatly to the pleasure and advantage of both. To Elsli especially, it was a new and delightful sensation to go to her class with a perfectly prepared lesson, and to hear the praises which the teacher daily bestowed upon her improvement; while Nora, whose invalidism had long cut her off from her books, found a fresh zest in resuming her studies with her eager friend. After lessons came supper, and then the evening with its long talks. These were generally about the beautiful country, to which Nora hoped soon to go, and where Elsli followed her in sympathetic thought. One regret began to dim Nora's satisfaction at the prospect; the thought that they couldn't go together; and Elsli would say, sadly, "If you should go and leave me here alone, how could I bear it?"

At last September came, with its cool but sunny days. One evening, as the children sat at the window looking across the meadows towards the setting sun; from a dark cloud that hung in the western sky, a great flood of shining light suddenly poured down across the valley, illuminating the trees, the grass, and the shrubs with its dazzling radiance.

"Look! look!" cried Nora, "that is the crystal stream! there it comes rolling toward me! Oh, I wish I could go there now! It is certainly the promised land, where we all shall be so happy. Come nearer to me, Elsli. I feel so weak I cannot sit up alone."

Elsli sat close by her, and drew the tired head to rest upon her shoulder; and so the two friends sat, silently gazing at the wonderful sight, until at last the sun disappeared behind the woods, and slowly the mists of evening filled the valley, and all the glory was over.

But for Nora it had only just begun. When her mother came in from the next room, she thought her little girl was asleep on Elsli's shoulder. She was asleep, indeed; but she would never awaken on earth. Mrs. Stanhope took her in her arms, and burst into tears.

"Run, Elsli, for the doctor, as fast as you can!" cried she, and Elsli ran. The doctor was not at home, but Mrs. Stein soon saw the truth, from Elsli's answers to her many questions.

"Dear little Nora!" she said sadly. "Her sufferings are over forever. She has gone to heaven to be at rest."

Elsli stood as if struck by lightning.

"Is she gone? Is Nora really gone to heaven?" she exclaimed, and then she burst into tears, and trembled so that she could scarcely stand.

"My dear child," said the doctor's wife tenderly, taking Elsli by the hand, "come and sit down with me a little while, till you feel better."

But Elsli could not. She covered her face with her apron, and ran out of the house, crying bitterly.

"Oh, how could she go and leave me behind?" she kept saying to herself as she hurried back to Oak-ridge. She found Mrs. Stanhope still bending over Nora, and sobbing as when she left her. Elsli seated herself on Nora's footstool, and wept in silence. It was not long before the doctor came. He bent over the child's form a moment, and then turned to the mother.

"Mrs. Stanhope," he said, and his tones were very tender, "I can do nothing. Your little girl is gone. I will send my wife to you."

Mrs. Stein came, but her words brought no comfort to the bereaved mother. She heard nothing; she saw nothing but the quiet little form that lay lifeless before her. When Mrs. Stein was convinced that she could be of no use to her, she went across the room to Elsli, who sat weeping on the footstool by the window, and taking her by the hand, she led her out of the room, saying gently:—

"Now it is best for you to go home, my dear. We will not forget you, and remember that our Father in heaven never forgets his children. Think how well and happy Nora is! She will never be ill again, in that land where the weary are at rest."

"If she had only taken me with her," moaned poor Elsli, and when Mrs. Stein left her, as their ways parted, she could hear the sobbing child for a long time as she slowly walked, with her apron over her eyes, along the lane that led to her home.

At home, Mrs. Stein found the children grouped about their aunt, who was telling them about Nora. Fred had many questions to ask about death, and how people can die and come to life again. Emma was much depressed, for she felt, now that it was too late, that she had not done anything to make Nora's illness more cheerful.

That evening Mrs. Stein and her sister were full of anxious thought. They felt keen sympathy with the sorrowing mother at Oak-ridge, and they talked a great deal about the blow that had fallen upon poor little Elsli. She had not only lost a friend whose companionship had brought her new life, but she must now go back to the hard and uncongenial labor from which she had had a brief and blessed respite. Fani too, the only bright spot in her dark lot, was away now, and who could tell when she would have him again? Indeed, Fani's fate was also a source of anxiety, especially on account of Emma's share in his disappearance. Would all turn out right for the boy? Would he get a suitable education, and what sort of a future lay before him? The information they had obtained from Basel had not proved perfectly satisfactory. The scene-painter had, to be sure, taken Fani into his service, but the boy had nothing to do with the painting but to clean up the brushes and palettes, and grind the colors; and, although he had his board and lodging from his master, he must pay for his clothes himself. It was not a very promising outlook for Fani. His parents were willing to have him stay away from home, but they expected him at least to support himself, if not to send them some money occasionally. Mrs. Stein could not decide what ought to be done, and all this new care would have been a very heavy burden to bear, if her sister had not lightened it by her sympathy and encouragement. Aunty's cheerful spirit always inspired hope and confidence.

* * * * *

The next morning, Emma, with a downcast air, asked leave to take some flowers over to lay upon the bed by Nora. Her mother was glad to let her go, and glad too that Fred offered to accompany his sister. The children were admitted to the house, and shown into the room where Nora lay upon a snow-white bed; herself as white and cold as marble.

Mrs. Stanhope was kneeling by the bedside, her face buried in the coverlet. Emma laid her flowers upon the bed, and, with fast flowing tears, looked upon the peaceful face, and remembered sadly that she had not done a friendly act for the little invalid, nor helped to wile away her lonely hours. She left the room sorry and ashamed, regretting her selfishness, when it was too late to do any good.

A little while after, Mrs, Stein came softly into the quiet room. Mrs. Stanhope raised her head, and, as she returned the kindly greeting, her grief broke out, and she exclaimed with sobs:—

"Oh, if you knew how miserable I am! Why—ah, why! does God take from me my only child? Fortune and lands, everything else he might have taken, if he would only have left me my child! This is the very hardest fate that could have befallen me! Why must I suffer more than any one else in the world?"

"Dear Mrs. Stanhope," said the doctor's wife, as she took the poor lady's hand and pressed it tenderly in her own; "I feel for your sorrow, but I beg you to think of what your child has gained. God has taken her to himself, and she is free from pain and weariness forevermore, in his sheltering arms. You do not know what poverty means! Think of the many mothers who only see their children grow up to hard labor, and suffer for want of food and clothing. Take the sorrow that God has sent you; do not try to measure it with that of others; the sorrow that comes to each seems the heaviest for each to bear. But our Father knows why he has given each row, and the road he leads us is the one best for us to follow."

Mrs. Stanhope became more tranquil as these words fell on her ear, but her face still wore an expression of inconsolable grief. She was silent a few moments, and then she told Mrs. Stein that she meant to take Nora home and lay her beside the little boy in the garden by the Rhine, and that she should send to her true friend and house-keeper Clarissa to come at once to Oak-ridge to make the preparations for their return, and accompany her on her painful journey. This arrangement was a great relief to Mrs. Stein, who returned home with an easier mind, and hastened to impart this bit of good news to her sister. But aunty was nowhere to be found, and Emma, who was sitting alone in an unusually subdued mood, told her mother that she was probably with Fred, who had been looking for her, "to show her a beetle or some such thing," she supposed! So Mrs. Stein sat down with her little girl, who wanted to ask her questions about Nora. Emma longed to hear that Nora had not suffered from her neglect, and had been contented and happy without her; for she had been feeling more and more how selfish she had been in never repeating her first visit, merely because she had not herself enjoyed it, never thinking what she might have done for poor sick Nora.

Fred had sought his aunt for a long time, and when he found her he carried her off to a remote part of the garden, where stood a lonely summer-house. There he drew her down beside him on a bench, and said he had something to say to her alone.

"Do you know, aunty, I saw Nora to-day, and she is dead; and I cannot see how she can come to life again, and go to heaven."

"You cannot understand that, Fred? Neither can I. But the good God does many things which we cannot understand, and yet we know they are. And as we are told by One whom we can trust that we shall live again after our body dies, we must believe it. I believe it, Fred, with all my heart."

"But," argued Fred, "I have always thought that life is the same in men as in animals, and when an animal dies, it can never be made alive again. I have noticed that myself."

At this moment, the conversation was interrupted, for they saw the doctor in the garden, and aunty hastened to join him, as she had promised to visit his cauliflowers with him this evening.

Fred sat still lost in thought; he did not care for cauliflowers.



CHAPTER IX.

A LAST JOURNEY AND A FIRST.

A large travelling-carriage passed by the door of the doctor's house, in which sat alone, a lady clothed in black. It was Clarissa, who had come to carry little Nora to her home by the Rhine. The doctor's four children were standing in the garden, and they watched it as it passed, thinking what a sad journey its occupant must have had. Their aunt stood at an upper window watching it also, and as it disappeared round the corner she beckoned Fred to come up to her in his room. He came running up the stairs.

"See, Fred! I am clearing your room up a little. There are a great many useless things here; why should you keep them? See; in this box is a dead creature; let's begin with this, and throw it away"; and as she spoke she carried the box towards a window.

"What are you doing, aunty?" cried the boy. "That is my very best chrysalis; it will turn into a beautiful moth by and by; one of the finest of our butterflies, with wonderful marks on its wings."

"What nonsense!" said his aunt. "This little creature is utterly dead; don't you see it is stiff and motionless."

"Don't you know about caterpillars, aunty dear?" exclaimed the boy, holding fast to his box. "I'll tell you about it. This is a chrysalis; and it seems entirely dead, but it's only the outside that is dead. Inside, where we cannot see it, lies something that is alive; and by and by, when the time comes, this shell will be cast off, for there will be no farther use for it, and out will fly a new lovely creature with exquisite wings."

"But, Fred, I don't understand how that can be possible! How can a poor worm, that only crawls about all its life, die, and then suddenly turn into a beautiful new creature with wings, and fly away leaving its old body behind? Do you understand it, Fred?"

"No, I don't understand it, but I know it's so."

"Well, my dear boy," said his aunt, seriously, "what if there was something hidden within little Nora, which was alive too, and which, leaving the poor dead shell behind, has flown on shining wings away to distant heights, where it is entering on a new and happy life!"

Fred stood thoughtful a few moments, and then said, "I never thought of it in that way, aunty. Now I shall have a very different idea about Nora. How glad she must be to fly away on her new wings from the sick body in which she was imprisoned! Are not you glad, aunty, that you know about the chrysalis, and isn't it wonderful?"

"It certainly is; and it teaches us that there are many things about us that we cannot understand, and yet which are true, though no one can explain them. So by and by, Fred, when you are a learned man, as I hope you will be, when you come to something you cannot understand in nature, you must say modestly, 'This is beyond my powers of explanation; this is the work of God'; and so stand reverently before his greatness, that is about and above us all."

Fred handled his chrysalis with respect as he laid it away with his other treasures. A new thought had come to him about that and about other things.

Clarissa had arrived; but her coming did not bring comfort to the sorrowing mother; on the contrary, it seemed only to renew her grief. Clarissa would have been glad to hear all about her darling's last days, and how the end came, but the mother could not bear any allusion to the subject, and Clarissa kept silence. She consoled herself by looking at Nora's peaceful face, that seemed to have a message of comfort for her. When she heard that Elsli had been alone with Nora when she died, she was very anxious to see the girl, and sent for her to come and speak with her. When Elsli came into the pleasant room where she had passed so many happy days, and glanced towards the empty window-seat, she was overcome with fresh grief. Clarissa took her by the hand, and, drawing her to a seat by her side, immediately began to ask about Nora; and soon Elsli was pouring out her whole heart; and she told Clarissa all that she and Nora had said to each other about the heavenly land, and she repeated the hymn that Nora had taught her. Then she told how quietly Nora had left her at last, and said that she hoped to follow her soon into her beautiful home.

Clarissa hung upon every word that fell from Elsi's lips with gratitude and satisfaction. It was she who had taught Nora that hymn as she sat upon her knees when she was a very little child, and as she heard it repeated now it was with the same tones, the same motions of hand and head that the child had used who learned it from her own lips; it seemed to Clarissa as if Nora lived again in Elsli. Weeping with mingled joy and sorrow, she went in search of Mrs. Stanhope.

"Surely," she exclaimed, "this child is the image of our darling; it is her sister, with her voice, her words, her very thought. This, too, is our child."

Mrs. Stanhope roused herself for a moment to listen to Clarissa's words, but she was not moved by them; she threw herself again on her bed and would not be comforted. Clarissa was not disheartened by this indifference; she was so completely impressed herself by the wonderful resemblance between the children that she led Elsli into the room where the hopeless mother lay in full indulgence of her grief, and said:—

"I bring you this little girl, Mrs. Stanhope; for I look upon her as a legacy that our Nora has left us."

Mrs. Stanhope looked for a moment into the girl's face; then she suddenly kissed her and said:—

"Elsli, Nora loved you, and you loved her. You shall stay with me always"; and they all three wept together, but there was healing in the tears.

Like one in a dream Elsli went home that day. She understood, but not wholly, what had happened. She had believed that Nora would ask her heavenly Father to call her to heaven, and would come herself to meet her; and now it seemed as if she had already come to meet her to lead her elsewhere than to heaven.

Clarissa went to make the arrangements with Marget, about which there was no difficulty whatever. For as soon as Marget understood that not only was Elsli to be provided with a home for life, but that the help which she might have afforded her parents as she grew older was to be made good to them, she was overjoyed. She said that Elsli was not fit for hard work, and that the care of the little boys was quite beyond her, especially since Hans was growing more and more troublesome. So she gladly agreed to let her go, with the understanding that she should return home at least once a year for a visit.

In an incredibly short time the whole village was in possession of the news that the wealthy Mrs. Stanhope had offered to take Elsli home with her, and to keep her as her own child always; and that they were to start for the villa on the Rhine the very next day. The excitement produced by this news was intense. Wherever two neighbors met on the road, they stopped to talk over the good-luck that had happened to Elsli. In the school, the children could not keep quiet, so great was their interest in the event. Even Mr. Bickel was moved to make an unheard-of effort He took his big stick in his hand, saying:—

"Wife, we ought to go and call on Mrs. Stanhope, and apprise her of our relationship with that girl Elsli. If she needs any advice about the child, I am the proper person to give it. Perhaps we shall be asked to make our cousin a visit, when she is settled there by the Rhine; there are great factories of all kinds there, and perhaps Mrs. Stanhope may have some connection with them, and that may help us in our business."

But Mr. Bickel had to lay aside his stick again, for his wife was not ready to go to make so important a visit at so short notice.

If there was excitement elsewhere, at the doctor's house there was a real jubilee. The mother and the aunt were filled with thankfulness that the delicate girl had fallen into such good hands, where she would be loved and cared for, and where her natural refinement would have every chance of development. All the family were full of pleasure and anticipations of great things in the future.

Oscar went about all day, lost in thought. He was trying to turn this new state of things to account; for it was a great trial to him that the beautiful embroidered banner had had to be laid aside; and he was determined, if possible, to find some use to put it to. Emma, too, was evidently preoccupied, and Fred said to himself, as he saw her knitted brows, "She's got some scheme working in her brain." As for Fred himself, he sat deeply engaged in making long lists of all the caterpillars, beetles, snails, and other similar creatures that he knew were to be found in the neighborhood of the Rhine. To make assurance doubly sure, he put the Latin name under the common name of each.

That evening Elsli was sitting on the long bench at home, quite hidden by the three little brothers, who had taken complete possession of her. She bore the infliction patiently, for she knew it was the last time, at least for many months. She had begun to realize her good fortune, and to rejoice in the prospect before her. Clarissa had completely won her heart; and the child could talk to her freely and without reserve, as she had never spoken to any one before, except Nora. She did not feel so much at ease with Mrs. Stanhope, but she loved her as Nora's mother, and Mrs. Stanhope was kind to her, but not like Clarissa. Elsli puzzled her mind a good deal about the sort of life she was to lead in her new home; and as to whether she should be able to do all that was required of her, and to do it properly. But more than all, she was worried about Fani, from whom she was now so completely separated, and whom she might not see again for long years. As she sat pondering on these problems, she was totally unconscious that Hanseli was pulling and kicking her in the old style, when Emma suddenly came into the room.

"Elsli," she cried, breathlessly, before she had fairly passed the threshold, "you are going away to-morrow, and I have something very important to say to you. Put the boys down, and come with me; do."

"Hanseli will scream if I do," said Elsli, and he did scream; but Emma took him without ceremony from his sister's arms, setting him on the ground with no gentle hand; and before the frightened child had recovered from his surprise, she had dragged Elsli away round the corner of the house to a secluded place behind the big apple-tree.

"Here, I want you to take this with you," she began, holding out a thick roll of paper, "and I want to tell you that you are going to pass through Basel on your way."

"Are you sure?" asked Elsli, with sparkling eyes.

"Yes, yes, I am sure; and now listen. Tell Mrs. Clarissa that Fani is in Basel, and that you want to see him. I know she will take you, she is so kind. Then you give him this roll, and tell him that I sent it, and that I hope he is well. Here is his address."

"Oh, how glad I am!" cried Elsli. "Do you really think I ought to ask Mrs. Clarissa to take me to Fani?"

"Of course you ought; only think how pleased he will be to see you. Promise, Elsli,—" but before Elsli could answer, Oscar came round the corner; and, spying Elsli, he seized her by the hand, exclaiming:—

"I've been hunting for you everywhere; and I've found you at last! Come with me; I want to tell you something!"

He drew her away to the other side of the house, and stopped by the hazelnut hedge; Emma did not follow them, for fear of vexing her brother. She had sent to Fani, by Elsli, all the white paper and all the pencils that she could collect in the children's room at home, and she thought it but prudent to keep out of Oscar's way.

"Now, attend to what I am going to say, Elsli," began Oscar, seriously; "it is something very important for you to know. You are going to foreign parts, where you will have no friends; I mean no acquaintances among people in general. But no doubt there will be some Swiss there, and you can form a society of our countrymen, that can meet every week, and talk over all the news from their own country."

"Yes, but I shouldn't know what to say," said Elsli, very much perplexed.

"Never mind, the others can do the talking," said the boy, eagerly; "but now comes the really important part of it. Next summer, when you are coming home again, you must agree upon some convenient place where all the members of the society shall meet Then crowds of people will collect from all sides, and I will be there with my beautiful banner, and we will have a procession and a great celebration of the first anniversary. Be sure to write me the date of the foundation, Elsli!"

"Yes, I will certainly," assented Elsli, but her tone was less decided than her words, for she was anything but clear as to how the society could be formed, or why it should be formed at all. Further questions were, however, impossible, for at this moment Fred appeared with Rikli in his wake, and a long strip of paper in his hand. Oscar vanished.

"Now, Elsli, read this," said Fred.

"Here are the names of all the beautiful caterpillars, and rare beetles and snails, that you are likely to find where you are going. I want you to hunt in all the hedges, and stir up the earth now and then in your walks. Then the fellows will turn up, and you can collect them, and send me the finest specimens. You will, won't you? I'll send you something pretty in return. You can put them right into your pocket, you know, until you get home from your walk, and hold the pocket together so,—; so that they won't crawl out"; and Fred pinched up his pocket-hole so that no kind of a crawling thing could have escaped from it. Rikli shuddered all over.

Elsli was very willing to do Fred this service, but she did not really see how, any more than in Oscar's case; but she said, modestly:—

"I will do my best, Fred; but how am I to know the creatures whose names are on your list?"

This was a sensible question, and Fred could not help seeing the importance of it; but he was not to be deterred by a slight obstacle. He looked again at his lists.

"Suppose I should draw a figure of each creature against its name!" he said to himself. "I will come to see you to-morrow morning, before you go away," he said to Elsli, and was off.

Little Rikli, whose lesson had been learned at such a severe cost, was quite cured of her foolish screaming whenever Fred came near her with his dear little insects; but she watched his every motion, lest his fist or his pockets should disgorge some green-eyed frog or other equally unpleasant treasure. Her big brother had, however, a great fascination for the child, who followed him everywhere like his shadow. She now came nearer to Elsli, and said, entreatingly:—

"Don't send the nasty things alive, will you, Elsli, dear? You'll stuff them first, won't you?"

Just then, who should make his appearance but Feklitus, in his very best Sunday suit, and at the same moment Marget's voice was heard from the cottage, calling in a tone loud enough to sound above Hans' screams:—

"Elsli, where are you? It's strange that you can't stay in the house two minutes at a time to-day."

Rikli ran away; but Feklitus seized Elsli by the arm and held her fast.

"I want to go to see the lady at Oak-ridge," he said, roughly. "I am your cousin, and I want to tell her so, and that some time or other we mean to come and visit you down there by the Rhine; but I'm not going alone, and you've just got to come with me."

"Let me alone; don't you hear that I am wanted in the house!" And Elsli tried to free herself from his hold.

"You shall come," said the boy; and he grasped Elsli still more firmly, and dragged her away with him.

Oscar, Emma, Fred, and Rikli all met with the same reception from Kathri on their return home; she stood on the front porch, and said to one after another as they came up, in a warning whisper:—

"Hush, hush! don't make a noise! Mrs. Stickhop is in the parlor, come to say good-bye."

Poor Elsli did not sleep much that last night at home. She was excited by all the last words and commissions and leave-takings of her friends, and oppressed by the thought of what was before her on the morrow, and it was in a half-dreamy state that early on the following morning she began her journey, with Mrs. Stanhope and Clarissa, in the large carriage, along the high road, through the country that lay still in the dawning light. Suddenly a folded paper, weighted with a small stone, flew through the air into the carriage window.

"Good-bye, Elsli. I wish I could go with you," cried a voice from the road-side. It was Fred, who had not been able to finish his work before, and who had only painted his last snail just in season to throw his now illustrated list after Elsli.

This last greeting brought the tears to Elsli's eyes. She seemed now fully to realize that she was leaving home, leaving all who had ever known and loved her. Clarissa saw it all, and, taking Elsli's hand in hers, she expressed, by the warm grasp that she gave her, a mother's sympathy and love.

For the next week the doctor's family were busy talking over and over all the events of the past few weeks, from the arrival of little Nora to Elsli's final departure. On the tenth day came a long letter from Elsli, which gave food for farther conversation. The mother and the aunt and the four brothers and sisters were all equally impatient to know the contents. The letter was addressed to Emma, who knew it from its envelope, opened it out, and exclaimed with delight:—

"It is eight pages long! I will read it aloud to you"

ROSEMOUNT ON THE RHINE, Sept. 28, 18—.

DEAR FRIEND,—Thank you a thousand times for your good advice, for without it I should never have dared to say a word about Fani.

But I will begin at the beginning and tell you everything as it has happened. When Fred said good-bye and I drove away from you all, I had to cry a little! But Aunt Clarissa—this is what I am to call her always—was very kind, and talked to me, and bade me tell her everything that troubled me. Mrs. Stanhope shut her eyes and lay back in the carriage, so still that I thought she was asleep, so I thought it was a good time to tell Aunt Clarissa all about Fani, as you advised. She didn't even know that there was such a person, so I had to tell her everything that had happened, and how long it was since I had seen him. She said of course I must see him in Basel, and that we should have plenty of time, as we were not going farther than that, that day. She said she would go with me to find him, and that Mrs. Stanhope would be perfectly willing. When we reached Basel we went to a big hotel. I never saw anything like it before. I could scarcely eat my dinner for joy that I was going to see Fani again. Directly after dinner Aunt Clarissa told Mrs. Stanhope that we wanted to go to see my brother, and Mrs. Stanhope said she would go with us, as she did not want to stay alone.

We went across a long bridge, over a river, and quite a distance further. At last we came to some small houses, and we began to inquire for the painter Schulz. There we were right before his house. Mrs. Stanhope opened the door and went right into the work-shop, and we followed her. Fani sprang up with a great cry of joy, and threw his arms round Mrs. Stanhope, and his eyes were full of tears, for he was terribly homesick, and had never seen any one from home since he went away. Then he caught sight of me, and he was gladder still; and he wasn't the least shy with Mrs. Stanhope—you know he never is—but he put his arms round her again, and exclaimed:—

"Oh, you don't know how glad I am to see some one from home!"

You can't imagine how kind she was to him. At last she told Fani to call his master, and when the man came she went out into another room to talk with him. After a while she came back, and then, what do you think? She asked Fani if he would not like to go and live with me at her house! I can't begin to tell you how I felt. At first I could scarcely breathe for joy, and then I began to think I must have made a mistake; it couldn't be true. But Fani cried out with delight, and he seized Mrs. Stanhope's hand and looked at her so beseechingly, and he promised to work as hard as he could, and do everything to please her if he might only go. "You shall," she said; and then she told him when to meet us at the railroad next day. What a promise for Fani and me!

As we were going back to the hotel, Mrs. Stanhope said to Aunt Clarissa, "Did you notice the resemblance? Doesn't he look at you out of his big brown eyes just as my Philo did?" Aunt Clarissa saw the likeness too, and said that was the reason that she took a fancy to Fani the moment she saw him. You see, Philo was Nora's little brother. In the evening, Mrs. Stanhope spoke several times about the likeness, and it was the first time that she had talked with us at all. All that night I kept thinking it was too good to be true; it must be a dream; but the next morning, when we got to the railroad station, there was Fani, and he had been waiting three hours, ever since six o'clock. Mrs. Stanhope laughed a little at his impatience—it was the first time she had laughed at all.

All day long we travelled in the railway carriage, and Fani was as happy as he could be. When we stopped at a station, and Aunt Clarissa was going to get out and fetch us something to eat, Mrs. Stanhope stopped her and said: "No, no; we have an escort now, he must wait upon us." Then she explained to Fani what he was to do, and you ought to have seen how he ran about and did it all so handily, and he kept looking at Mrs. Stanhope to see if she was pleased; and she was pleased, that was plain enough. In the evening we stopped at Mainz on the Rhine, and Mrs. Stanhope said we should see the river in the morning. And the next day, what do you think? we went on a splendid steamboat; no one can possibly understand it without seeing it. Fani was like a crazy creature all day, he was so wild with delight; and Mrs. Stanhope let him run about all over the boat and look at everything. Sometimes I didn't see him for an hour at a time! By and by he came and took your present, and said he was going to draw everything that he had seen, and just how the whole boat was arranged, so that he should never forget it. And he wants me to thank you a great deal for the beautiful present. I forgot to say that before.

In the evening, when we left the boat, we found a carriage and a wagon waiting for us. We drove for half an hour or more, and then we came to Mrs. Stanhope's house. It is a large house, standing in the middle of a garden, and with large trees about it. When we got out of the carriage, Fani whispered to me, "Do you suppose I shall work in the stables or in the garden?" Of course I couldn't tell him; I did not even know what I was to do myself. But nothing has turned out as we thought it would. At first Mrs. Stanhope was so sad that we did not see her at all for three days. Aunt Clarissa was just as kind as she could be. She took us all about the garden and showed us the place where Philo was buried; a white cross stands there with his name on it. And Nora was buried by his side, under a big linden.

On the fourth day Mrs. Stanhope came to table with us, and after dinner she talked very kindly with us, and said that now it was time for us to begin to work. Oh, how surprised Fani and I were when we found out what we were to do! What kind of hard work do you guess it is? No work at all! You won't believe it, but it is true. We just sit all the morning in the school-room and study! The teacher comes at nine o'clock and stays till one, and Fani and I are the only scholars! Of course Fani is much cleverer than I am; but the teacher is very kind, and when I cannot do my lessons he only says: "Come, be brave, and you'll soon do as well as your brother!" I get along very well, and I am not so ashamed as I was when all the children in school were ahead of me. It is one o'clock before we know it, and we are glad when school-time comes the next day. After dinner we all go into the garden; and Mrs. Stanhope takes Fani with her, and he talks with her about his lessons and his ideas about all sorts of things; and it is easy to see that she likes him very much, better of course than she does me; you know how frank he is. He tells her just how he feels and how glad he is to be here with her, and he thanks her over and over again for all her kindness, and he holds her hand tight; and, when he looks up at her so beaming with happiness, she strokes his hair, and seems more fond of him than I have ever seen her of any one except Nora. But I can never do as Fani does; though I have just the same feelings, I cannot speak them out; and I'm afraid she does not think that I am so grateful, and I can quite understand that she cannot care as much for me as for Fani. But Aunt Clarissa is very good to me, and, when we come in out of the garden, I go into a room with her and she teaches me to sew and to embroider as you do. Tell Oscar that, even if I don't succeed in finding people to form a society, I will at any rate work him a beautiful banner,—Aunt Clarissa says that I may,—so he must be sure to write me what he wants for a motto. While I am working, Fani has a lesson in drawing; a teacher comes for two hours. Mrs. Stanhope almost always sits with him during this lesson, for she is delighted that Fani learns so quickly, and draws such beautiful things already.

After that Fani and I go into the garden by ourselves and play about as much as we like. We run into every corner of it, for all about are stone seats to rest on, and white marble statues, and the garden is large and beautiful and stretches way down to the river; and there stand the great lindens, and it is all the most splendid and beautiful place in the world. Please tell Fred that I am looking all the time after beetles and such things, but I haven't been able to catch any; he mustn't be vexed with me, perhaps I shall succeed better by and by.

After supper Aunt Clarissa sits down at the piano, and we sing Nora's favorite song and several others that she has taught me. Generally Fani sits in the other room and draws by himself; but when he sings with us it sounds much better, and it's only when he sings, too, that Mrs. Stanhope comes in to listen. After this, we get our lessons ready for the next day. But time passes much too quickly here; and Fani and I are always sorry when the day is over and we have to go to bed. I am almost never tired now; and, oh, it is so lovely to live here and to be with Fani. When we go in to our meals, Aunt Clarissa always says, "Thank God that we have children again with us at table!" And yesterday Mrs. Stanhope answered: "I think you would like to have the house full of children." And Aunt Clarissa replied, "I should never have too many of them." Then Mrs. Stanhope said: "Next year we must invite our friends from Switzerland to visit us; all four of the doctor's children; and you can take little Rikli under your special charge." At these words Fani shouted for joy; but I couldn't utter a sound; I could scarcely swallow, I was so delighted. Aunt Clarissa clapped her hands and said, "Elsli must write directly and invite them, so that we may make sure of them"; and, afterwards, she said to me again, "What a splendid plan that is of Mrs. Stanhope's!" In the evening Fani and I went all round the garden to pick out all the places that we particularly want to show you. Fred will be able to catch his own insects. Fani is going to write you a long letter, and then one to Oscar; but first he wants to draw a picture of the linden trees and the little spot under them, to send you for a present. We send our love to you all a thousand times, and beg you to give it to our father and mother and the little boys.

Fani sends his special love to you.

Your true friend,

ELSLI.

When the letter was finished, there came a burst of shouting and hand-clapping that seemed as if it would never stop. Such good news for the children! What a prospect of delights! The mother and aunt sympathized in their pleasure; but they took the greatest satisfaction in the thought that their anxiety for Fani was forever relieved, and that God had led the two children whose welfare lay so near their hearts, by such unlooked-for ways, into a happy and hopeful life.

Which of the four children was most pleased with the prospect of the visit to the villa on the Rhine, it would be impossible to say. They could talk of nothing else, and think of nothing else. Oscar saw in imagination whole armies of Swiss collected there, and united in one fraternal society by his efforts, with Fani's help. He began at once to employ every spare moment in searching for a motto for the promised banner. Emma was in a condition of almost feverish joy. Fani was really on the road to become a painter, and her long-cherished wish was being accomplished. Now that Mrs. Stanhope was evidently so fond of him, surely everything would be done for his improvement. But she could hardly wait for the time to come for their visit, for every day she had some new idea for his future that she longed to tell him. Fred had his hands full of preparations. He looked forward to making such an increase of his collections that he was afraid he should not have room to contain them all. He induced his aunt to promise him all the useless boxes in the house, and all winter long he stored them away in his room in readiness for the expected occupants.

Little Rikli enjoyed the anticipation of the summer with pure delight. She was never so happy as when with Fred, yet her pleasure in being with him had been always mixed with fright; but she was sure that under the protection of good Aunt Clarissa there would be no danger that frogs or beetles should be allowed to annoy her, or that any unpleasant creatures would crawl out upon her under the shady lindens by the river.

Fani and Elsli grew better and happier every day; they had but one unsatisfied wish—that the summer would come; so that they might welcome their dear old friends to their new home, and show them its beauties and share its blessings with them.

Aunt Clarissa took great pains that the two children committed to her care should not forget the good Father in heaven who had provided such a home for them. She led them often to the spot where Philo and Nora lay buried, and reminded them how quickly and unexpectedly sorrow may be changed into joy, as they had themselves experienced; then she told them that just so quickly joy may be changed to sorrow, and that into the brightest sunshine the shadow of death may fall; so that only those can live happy and secure who have full trust in God, who holds all life in his hand, and who makes both joy and sorrow work together for good to those who love him.



VOLUME TWO

CHAPTER I.

THE NEW HOME.

Winter was over and gone. The early summer roses had opened again, and raised their heads high about the villa on the Rhine. They glowed and blossomed in all the garden-beds, and glistened in the sunshine, and sent their sweet perfume far and near on every breeze. On the pebbly path that led down from the splashing fountain to the lindens by the river, Fani and Elsli scampered back and forth, drinking in the fragrant air.

"Do you know where Mrs. Stanhope's house gets its name?" asked Fani, as he stood by a bed of flowers, watching with delight the airy butterflies flitting from blossom to blossom, and then floating away as in ecstacy up into the blue air.

"Of course I do," answered Elsli; "it is called Rosemount because there are so many rose-bushes stretching from up here way down to the lindens."

"Well, that's true; but there's nothing melancholy about it," said Fani, reproachfully. "What makes you look so sad, Elsli? You almost always look sad nowadays, and it isn't right, for I'm sure there's no reason for it. And Mrs. Stanhope notices it, too, and she doesn't like it very well; she must think that you are horribly ungrateful, and that you don't realize how well off we are. And yet you can't help realizing it when you think how it used to be at home."

"Yes; I do think of it, and I realize it all perfectly, Fani; and I am not a bit ungrateful. But you see I can't express it to Mrs. Stanhope; I wish I could. And then, besides, Fani," she added, after a pause, "Aunt Clarissa has often told me that when we are well off ourselves, and have everything we need, and more, too, we ought to think all the more about the poor, and do what we can to help them. And I am always thinking about them, and wishing that I could share some of the good things we enjoy with those who have none."

"What do you mean, Elsli?" cried Fani; "there is no one about here who is poor; even the men and women-servants live like gentlefolk. Have you never noticed that Lina, the chambermaid, wears a hat when she goes out, and a red and yellow shawl, just like Mrs. Bickel? And what red cheeks the cook has! She has enough to eat, I'm sure; and the coachman wears gloves when he drives."

"Yes, I know; but I mean—well, you see we have a great deal of time to ourselves, and can run round in the garden and amuse ourselves, and I can't help thinking that I might be doing something useful. I might knit some stockings for the children at home if I had some yarn, but I don't like to ask for any; I have so many things."

"Why, of course you can't ask for it, Elsli; what are you thinking of? And you know how many clothes and things Mrs. Stanhope is always sending to mother? Only last week a big bundle went off; don't you remember, Elsli?"

"Yes, I know all that; but what I mean is that I want to do something myself, and not go on taking my own comfort and enjoyment when so many other people are suffering."

"But you know the doctor said you must take comfort; and he told Mrs. Stanhope not to let you sit at your books and study all the time, but to keep you a great deal in the open air. Come, let's run all round the big rose-bed, and draw in long breaths of that delicious perfume. How strong it is! I can smell it way off here. Come!" and Fani took hold of his sister's hand and began to run. But she held back.

"I can't run as you do, Fani," she said, breathing heavily; "I would rather go down to the stone seat under the lindens by the river and sit a while."

"Now you see, Elsli," said Fani, as he walked slowly by her side down towards the river, "now you see how soon you get tired. It is a good thing for you that you have this garden to stay in. And how lovely it is down here, too! do you notice? there's quite a different smell here, and its delicious!"

Fani was already seated on the bench, and he leaned back against the trunk of the old linden, whose head was crowned with flowers that diffused a sweet perfume through the air. The fresh foaming waves of the river ran below, bathing the low hanging branches as they flowed along.

"Oh, how beautiful it is here! It will do you good to shout as loud as you can, Elsli. I'm sure it would make you feel better."

"Yes, indeed," said the girl assentingly, but no joyous look came into her pale face, such as shone from Fani's eyes. "When I sit here I always think of Nora. There's such a beautiful view of the sunset from here. And then I think of the evening when she went away, how the whole sky was golden, as if the heavens were open, and you could look right into them and see the crystal river flowing there forever. Whenever it is a clear evening, and the red clouds come in the west, I always think that Nora is looking down at me and beckoning me to come to her. How dearly I should love to go!"

Fani sprang to his feet in great distress.

"How can you talk so, Elsli? Here we are living so happily together. Nobody was ever so happy as we are, and yet you talk as if it was all nothing, and all you want is to die! I'm sure I don't want to die, and you ought not to. And if you were to talk in this way to Mrs. Stanhope just once, what do you suppose would happen? I can tell you—she'd just send us straight home, I know; and how would you like that? And I'm certain that she means to have us stay here always; for several times when I've said something about being a painter she has begun to talk about the future, and she takes it for granted that you and I are to live with her. Just think of that! Then I shall be a gentleman and you a lady like Mrs. Stanhope, and then—"

"Oh, Fani, you trouble me still more when you talk so," interrupted Elsli, sadly. "I see more plainly every day that I can never be what Mrs. Stanhope wants me to be. I am afraid she will be more and more vexed about it, and will like me less and less. And you too will be ashamed of me by and by, because I cannot be what you would like to have me."

Fani had seated himself again at Elsli's side, but at these words he sprang again to his feet, crying out reproachfully:—

"Oh, Elsli, what strange notions have you taken into your head? It isn't pleasant in you to talk so. Why don't you think of all the nice things there are, and what good times we have together, and let all these melancholy ideas go?"

"I don't think of melancholy things on purpose, Fani, and I wish I did not at all," said Elsli, pleadingly. "It is this way. Whenever I begin to think of something very pleasant, then sad thoughts come into my mind, and I keep wondering whether there isn't something that I can do for those in trouble, and then I am unhappy because I can't think of anything. I see so many things that you don't see, and I can't get them out of my head all day long."

"What sort of things?" asked the boy in surprise.

"Well, for instance, twice when we have been coming home from our afternoon walk, we have met a man with a heavy shovel on his shoulder, and you didn't notice him because you were so busy talking with Mrs. Stanhope. The man looked down on the ground, just as father does when he comes home at night all tired out and says, 'We shall hardly pull through, if I work ever so hard; I'm afraid we can't keep out of debt.' I'm sure that man is worried just as father was, and I keep thinking if I could only go after him and find out where he lives, I might do him some good, perhaps."

"But you mustn't do that," cried Fani, much horrified. "Don't you remember how Mrs. Stanhope told us in the very beginning that we must never go into any house where we didn't know the people? and that we mustn't speak first to people we don't know, as we do at home? You must not go and talk to that man. Do you hear, Elsli? Mrs. Stanhope would be very angry with you."

Elsli thought for a while. Presently she said, "I do not believe that Mrs. Stanhope meant that I should not speak to a poor man who is in trouble, as this man is. She only meant that we mustn't talk with people who ask us questions about where we came from and how we live at home. I don't believe she meant people like this man at all."

"Oh, Elsli, you can't make distinctions, that way," said Fani, impatiently. "All we have to do is to mind what we are told, and not speak to strange people or go to their houses. Now let's talk about something else; this sort of talk is tiresome. Come here; I'll show you something."

The children sat down again side by side on the stone bench, with their heads close together, and Fani took something out of his pocket which they both examined carefully. It was a small, nicely painted landscape, in fresh bright colors. Elsli studied it silently.

"Do you see what it is?" asked Fani.

"Yes, indeed, I knew it at the first glance. It is Rosemount; there are the roses and the linden trees. How beautifully you have done it, Fani! Won't Emma be delighted when she sees it, and surprised too? I'm sure she has no idea that you can paint so well!"

"I'm so glad she is coming," cried the lad, and his face glowed with pleasure. "There is no one that I can talk with about being a painter as I can with her. She understands just how I feel, and is as much interested in it as I am myself."

"Are you still bent on being an artist?" asked Elsli.

"Yes, indeed, more and more. Every day, and after every drawing lesson, I care about it more than ever before. I don't say anything about it, because I see that Mrs. Stanhope doesn't like the idea. You see, Elsli, she means to keep us with her all our lives, just as if we were her own children. I'm sure of it, from a great many things that she has said. We can stay here just as long as we don't do anything to displease her, and of course we sha'n't do that. Several times when I've said that I should like to be a painter, Mrs. Stanhope has said that it was a very good profession for persons who had no home, and were obliged to live alone, and could travel as much as they pleased in foreign countries. She said I might paint at Rosemount as much as I chose, but that I must not make it my business, because then I should have to go away to live. So you see that she is quite decided that we are to stay here."

Elsli shook her head.

"I don't know, Fani. It seems to me that we don't belong here in this beautiful house. Don't you feel so too, Fani? Somehow as if we were only here on a visit, and that to-morrow we might be going away again."

"There you are again with the old story," said Fani, rather vexed, for this doubt was very distasteful to him.

The time which they had to spend in the garden was now over, and hand in hand they passed back up the white pebbly path, and by the sweet-scented rose-beds, and entered the hall, which stood with wide-open doors on the garden side.



CHAPTER II.

A JOURNEY.

Great was the excitement in the doctor's house at Buchberg. July had come at last, and the long-looked-for journey was at hand. Only one more day! The big trunk was packed and locked and placed in the lower hall, ready to go. Now there were only the hand-bags and satchels to be filled with the last needful articles. This task was not so easy as one might expect, however. On the contrary, mother and aunty found it the most difficult part of the whole. For the three older children had received permission to choose each the things which he wanted most to fill up his own bag, with the express understanding that these must be useful things. But the three had their own definitions of "useful." So they worked with all their might, running, breathless, up stairs and down, loaded with most extraordinary articles, most of which were rejected by the packers as utterly unsuitable, and consigned to the places whence they came.

Fred came first with four great boxes under each arm, which were tied up with so many strings, that no accident could have opened them if they had gone all the way round the world. These he brought to his aunt, while Emma was, at the same time, pressing upon her mother a heavy roll, which she had brought under one arm, and an enormous package which she could scarcely carry.

"Those can't go, Fred," said his aunt, decidedly. "I couldn't possibly get those eight boxes into this bag, and what's the use? You certainly can't need whatever there is in them."

"Yes, I do, aunty; six of them are full of living creatures which I must carry with me to take care of them, or they would all die. The other two have in them specimens of beetles and snails and other things of the same kinds as those I expect to find near the Rhine, but, of course, they are somewhat different, and I want to carry these to compare with those, don't you see, aunty? Perhaps if we squeeze the boxes with all our might we can get them in, except those that have the live creatures."

"No, Fred, it can't be done," said his aunt, kindly. "Take them back into your room; and you needn't be in the least anxious. I'll take care of the live ones while you are gone, and, as to the others, when you want to compare any of them with what you find, write to me about it, and I will send you as good a description as I can make."

Meantime, Mrs. Stein had been gazing in despair at the two huge, misshapen packages which Emma had placed upon the table to be put into her hand-bag.

"What have you in that big roll? It is too large to go even into the trunk! What are you thinking about?" she cried.

"Oh, mamma, can't they be tied on the outside of the bag? I could carry them all together myself. I do want to take them with me so much. In the roll are ever so many drawing-copies, such as we had at school, and some that were given us on the Christmas-tree. Fani spoke of them in one of his letters, and I'm sure he'll be delighted to have them. I put in all ours, and I borrowed some from the master, who said I could have them if I would take great care of them and bring them safely back again."

"What foolishness, Emma! You seem to forget that, for the last year, Fani has had his own drawing-teacher, who gives his pupils what he thinks best for them to copy, and, doubtless, has plenty of patterns of all kinds. So take the roll away; it would be absurd to carry it. And that hideous bundle, what is in it? It is twice too big to go in here."

"I was afraid it would be," said Emma, rather crestfallen. "But I thought I could carry it in my lap, and, really, I must take it, mamma. It is that book which I chose for a Christmas present, you know; the 'Lives of Distinguished Painters.' I want to carry it for Fani to read; and, for fear of hurting the handsome binding, I wrapped it up in two petticoats and a waterproof cloak and a small table-cloth, and then I put some enamel-cloth outside the whole."

"You do get hold of most unfortunate ideas, my child! we shall never get ready at this rate. Come, we'll take the book out of all these wrappings, and then perhaps we can get it in. But you haven't brought anything that you really need, though you have had such a long time to think about it all. And here aunty and I are standing waiting and can't get through, because you have nothing ready for us."

At this moment aunty exclaimed, in a tone of alarm:—

"For pity's sake, Oscar! what is that that you are tugging along?"

With a tremendous racket Oscar came into the room, dragging behind him a drum, which he could not carry, because in one hand he had a large bunch of bells and in the other a harmonica and a flute.

"Oscar dear, your own good-sense can tell you that you can't get a drum into this bag; to say nothing of the other instruments. What in the world do you want with them? Mrs. Stanhope wouldn't thank you for such music!"

"It isn't for the house, aunty," answered the boy. "It is for the festival out-of-doors. I've taken only Fred's small drum, because mine is too large. See if it won't go in here!" and Oscar measured the drum against his travelling-bag, only to be compelled to acknowledge that it was too large by half. The bells, too, had to be laid aside, though the boy complained that they were absolutely needed to call the guests together at the festival.

"Whose flute is that?" asked the aunt; "it is a beauty."

"It belongs to Feklitus. He is learning to play on it; and he was glad enough to lend it to me, because while it's gone he can't be made to practise!"

Mother and aunt agreed that the flute must not be packed without the consent of Feklitus' parents.

Fred came now with an armful of articles of various kinds for his bag, and behind him appeared Kathri, saying:—

"Mrs. Bickel wants to see Mrs. Stein."

"This isn't a very good time to choose," said Mrs. Stein, with a sigh. "I shall have to leave this all to you," she added, turning to her sister; "and, children, you really must make up your minds what is necessary to take, and not bring all sorts of useless stuff, that only has to be carried back again."