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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31521-8.txt b/31521-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..527b12d --- /dev/null +++ b/31521-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4723 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Frida, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Frida + A Tale of the Black Forest + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: March 6, 2010 [EBook #31521] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms. +_See page 42._] + + + + +LITTLE FRIDA + +A TALE OF THE BLACK FOREST + + BY THE AUTHOR OF + "LITTLE HAZEL, THE KING'S MESSENGER" + "UNDER THE OLD OAKS; OR, WON BY LOVE" + ETC. ETC. + +THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, LTD. + +LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. LOST IN THE WOODS 9 + + II. THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT 16 + + III. FRIDA'S FATHER 23 + + IV. THE PARSONAGE 29 + + V. THE WOODMEN'S PET 36 + + VI. ELSIE AND THE BROWN BIBLE 42 + + VII. IN DRINGENSTADT 46 + + VIII. THE VIOLIN-TEACHER AND THE CONCERT 54 + + IX. CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST 68 + + X. HARCOURT MANOR 76 + + XI. IN THE RIVIERA 86 + + XII. IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 95 + + XIII. IN THE SLUMS 104 + + XIV. THE OLD NURSE 115 + + XV. THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE 127 + + XVI. THE STORM 131 + + XVII. THE DISCOVERY 137 + + XVIII. OLD SCENES 151 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms _Frontispiece_ + + Ere the child consented to go to bed she + opened the little "brown book" 17 + + "Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last + passage together" 66 + + + + +LITTLE FRIDA. + +CHAPTER I. + +LOST IN THE WOODS. + + "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will + take me up." + + +"See, Hans, how dark it gets, and thy father not yet home! What keeps +him, thinkest thou? Supper has been ready for a couple of hours, and who +knows what he may meet with in the Forest if the black night fall!" and +the speaker, a comely German peasant woman, crossed herself as she +spoke. "I misdoubt me something is wrong. The saints preserve him!" + +The boy, who looked about ten years old, was gazing in the direction of +a path which led through the Forest, but, in answer to this appeal, +said, "Never fear, Mütterchen; father will be all right. He never loses +his way, and he whistles so loud as he walks that I am sure he will +frighten away all the bad--" + +But here his mother laid her hand on his mouth, saying, "Hush, Hans! +never mention them in the twilight; 'tis not safe. Just run to the +opening in the wood and look if ye see him coming; there is still light +enough for that. It will not take you five minutes to do so. And then +come back and tell me, for I must see to the pot now, and to the infant +in the cradle." + +The night, an October one, was cold, and the wind was rising and sighing +amongst the branches of the pine trees. Darker and darker gathered the +shades, as mother and son stood again at the door of their hut after +Hans had returned from his useless quest. No sign of his father had he +seen, and boy though he was, he knew too much of the dangers that attend +a wood-cutter's life in the Forest not to fear that some evil might have +befallen his father; but he had a brave young heart, and tried to +comfort his mother. + +"He'll be coming soon now, Mütterchen," he said; "and won't he laugh at +us for being so frightened?" + +But the heart of the wife was too full of fear to receive comfort just +then from her boy's words. + +"Nay, Hans," she said; "some evil has befallen him. He never tarries so +late. Thy father is not one to turn aside to his mates' houses and +gossip away his time as others do. It is always for home and children +that he sets out when his work is done. No, Hans; I know the path to the +place where he works, and I can follow it even in the dark. Stay here +and watch by the cradle of the little Annchen, whilst I go and see if I +can find thy father." + +"Nay, Mütterchen," entreated the boy; "thee must not go. And all alone +too! Father would never have let you do so had he been here. O Mutter, +stay here! Little Annchen will be waking and wanting you, and how could +I quiet her? O Mütterchen, go not!" and he clung to her, trying to hold +her back. + +Just as his mother, maddened with terror, was freeing herself from his +grasp, the sound of a footstep struck her ear, and mother and child +together exclaimed, "Ah, there he comes!" + +Sure enough through the wood a man's figure became visible, but he was +evidently heavily laden. He carried, besides his axe and saw, two large +bundles. What they were could not be distinguished in the darkness. + +With a cry of joyous welcome his wife sprang forward to meet her +husband, and Hans ran eagerly to help him to carry his burden; but to +their amazement he said, though in a kindly tone, "Elsie--Hans, keep off +from me till I am in the house." + +The lamp was lighted, and a cheerful blaze from the stove, the door of +which was open, illumined the little room into which the stalwart young +wood-cutter, Wilhelm Hörstel, entered. + +Then, to the utter astonishment of his wife and son, he displayed his +bundle. Throwing back a large shawl which completely covered the one he +held in his arms, he revealed a sleeping child of some five or six years +old, who grasped tightly in her hand a small book. In his right hand he +held a violin and a small bag. + +Elsie gazed with surprise, not unmingled with fear. "What meaneth these +things, Wilhelm?" she said; "and from whence comes the child? _Ach_, how +wonderfully beautiful she is! Art sure she is a child of earth? or is +this the doing of some of the spirits of the wood?" + +At these words Wilhelm laughed. "Nay, wife, nay," he replied, and his +voice had a sad ring in it as he spoke. "This is no wood sprite, if such +there be, but a little maiden of flesh and blood. Let me rest, I pray +thee, and lay the little one on the bed; and whilst I take my supper I +will tell thee the tale." + +And Elsie, wise woman as she was, did as she was asked, and made ready +the simple meal, set it on the wooden bench which served as table, then +drew her husband's chair nearer the stove, and restraining her +curiosity, awaited his readiness to begin the tale. + +When food and heat had done their work, Wilhelm felt refreshed; and when +Elsie had cleared the table, and producing her knitting had seated +herself beside him, he began his story; whilst Hans, sitting on a low +stool at his feet, gazed with wondering eyes now on the child sleeping +on the bed, and then at his father's face. + +"Ay, wife," the wood-cutter began, speaking in the _Plattdeutsch_ used +by the dwellers in the Forest, "'tis a wonderful story I have to tell. +'Twas a big bit of work I had to finish to-day, first cutting and then +piling up the wood far in the Forest. I had worked hard, and was +wearying to be home with you and the children; but the last pile had to +be finished, and ere it was so the evening was darkening and the wind +was rising. So when the last log was laid I collected my things, and +putting on my blouse, set off at a quick pace for home. But remembering +I had a message to leave at the hut of Johann Schmidt, telling him to +meet me in the morning to fell a tree that had been marked for us by the +forester, I went round that way, which thou knowest leads deeper into +the Forest. Johann had just returned from his work, and after exchanging +a few words I turned homewards. + +"The road I took was not my usual one, but though it led through a very +dark part of the Forest, I thought it was a shorter way. As I got on I +was surprised to see how dark it was. Glimpses of light, it is true, +were visible, and the trees assumed strange shapes, and the Forest +streams glistened here and there as the rising moon touched them +with its beams. But the gathering clouds soon obscured the faint +moonlight.--You will laugh, Hans, when I tell you that despite what I +have so often said to you about not believing in the woodland spirits, +that even your good Mütterchen believes in, my heart beat quicker as now +one, now another of the gnarled trunks of the lower trees presented the +appearance of some human form; but I would not let my fear master me, so +only whistled the louder to keep up my courage, and pushed on my way. + +"The Forest grew darker and darker, and the wind began to make a wailing +sound in the tree-tops. A sudden fear came over me that I had missed my +way and was getting deeper into the Forest, and might not be able to +regain my homeward path till the morning dawned, when once more for a +few minutes the clouds parted and the moon shone out, feeble, no +doubt--for she is but in her first quarter--and her beams fell right +through an opening in the wood, and revealed the figure of a little +child seated at the foot of a fir tree. Alone in the Forest at that +time of night! My heart seemed to stand still, and I said to myself, +'Elsie is right after all. That can only be some spirit child, some +woodland being.' + +"A whisper in a little voice full of fear roused me and made me approach +the child. She looked up, ere she could see my face, and again repeated +the words in German (though not like what we speak here, but more the +language of the town, as I spoke it when I lived there as a boy), +'Father, father, I am glad you've come. I was feeling very frightened. +It is so dark here--so dark!' As I came nearer she gave a little cry of +disappointment, though not fear; and then I knew it was no woodland +sprite, but a living child who sat there alone at that hour in the +Forest. My heart went out to her, and kneeling down beside her I asked +her who she was, and how she came to be there so late at night. She +answered, in sweet childish accents, 'I am Frida Heinz, and fader and I +were walking through this big, big Forest, and by-and-by are going to +see England, where mother used to live long ago.' It was so pretty to +hear her talk, though I had difficulty in making out the meaning of her +words. 'But where then is your father?' I asked. I believe, wife, the +language I spoke was as difficult for her to understand as the words she +had spoken were to me, for she repeated them over as if wondering what +they meant. Then trying to recall the way I had spoken when a boy, which +I have never quite forgotten, I repeated my question. She understood, +and answered in her sweet babyish accents, 'Fader come back soon, he +told little Frida. He had lost the road, and he said I'se to wait here +till he came back, and laid his violin and his bag 'side me, and told me +to keep this little book, which he has taught me to read, 'cos he says +mother loved it so. Then he went away; and I've waited--oh so long, and +he's never come back, and I'se cold, so cold, and hungry, and I want my +own fader. O kind man, take Frida to him. And he's ill, so ill too! Last +night I heard the people in the place we slept in say he'd never live to +go through the Forest; but he would go, 'cos he wanted to take me 'cross +the sea.' Then the pretty little creature began to cry bitterly, and beg +me again to take her to father. I told her I would wait a bit with her, +and see if he came. For more than an hour I sat there beside her, trying +to warm and comfort her; for I tell you, Elsie, she seemed to creep into +my heart, and reminded me of our little one, who would have been about +her size had she been alive, though she was but three years old when she +died. + +"Well, time went on, and the night grew darker, and I knew how troubled +you would be, and yet I knew not what to do. I left the child for a bit, +and looked here and there in the Forest; but all was dark, and though I +called long and loud no answer came. So I returned, took the child in my +arms (for she is but a light weight), and with my tools thrown over my +shoulder, and the violin and bag in my hand, I made my way home. The +child cried awhile, saying she must wait for fader, then fell sound +asleep in my arms. Now, wife, would it not be well to undress her, and +give her some food ere she sleeps again, for she must be hungry?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT. + + "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me; + Bless Thy little lamb to-night." + + +"Indeed you are right, Wilhelm," said his wife. "No doubt the poor +little maid must be hungry, only I had not the heart to waken her.--See, +Hans, there is some goat's milk in the corner yonder. Get it heated, +whilst I cut a bit of this bread, coarse though it be. 'Tis all we have +to give her; but such as it is, she is right welcome to it, poor little +lamb." + +As she spoke she moved quietly to the bed where the child lay asleep. As +she woke she uttered the cry, "Fader, dear fader!" then raised herself +and looked around. Evidently the story of the day flashed upon her, and +she turned eagerly to the wood-cutter, asking if "fader" had come yet. + +On being told that he had not, she said no more, but her eyes filled +with tears. She took the bread and milk without resistance, though she +looked at the black bread as if it were repugnant to her. Then she let +herself be undressed by Elsie, directing her to open the bag, and +taking from it a nightdress of fine calico, a brush and comb, also a +large sponge, a couple of fine towels, a change of underclothing, two +pairs of stockings, and one black dress, finer than the one she wore. + +[Illustration: Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the +little "brown book."] + +Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the little "brown book," +which was a German Bible, and read aloud, slowly but distinctly, the +last verse of the Fourth Psalm: "Ich liege und schlafe ganz mit Frieden; +denn allein Du, Herr, hilfst mir, dass ich sicher wohne" ("I will both +lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in +safety"). Then she knelt down, and prayed in simple words her evening +prayer, asking God to let father come home, and to bless the kind people +who had given her a shelter, for Christ's sake. + +Elsie and Wilhelm looked at each other with amazement. Alas! there was +no fear of God in that house. Elsie might cross herself when she spoke +of spirits, but that was only as a superstitious sign that she had been +told frightened them away. + +Of Christ and His power to protect and save they knew nothing. Roman +Catholics by profession, they yet never darkened a church door, save +perhaps when they took a child to be baptized; but they only thought of +that ordinance as a protection to their child from the evil one. God's +holy Word was to them a sealed book. True, all the wood-cutters were not +like them, but still a spirit of ignorance and indifference as regarded +religion reigned amongst them; and if now and then a priest sought their +dwelling, his words (such as they were) fell on dull ears. Things seen +and temporal engrossed all their thoughts. The daily work, the daily +bread, and the nightly sleep--these filled their hearts and excluded +God. So it was not to be wondered at that little Frida's reading and +prayer were an astonishment to them. + +"What think you of that, Elsie?" said Wilhelm. "The child spoke as if +she were addressing some one in the room." + +"Ay, ay," answered his wife. "It was gruesome to hear her. She made me +look up to see if there was really any one there; and she wasn't +speaking to our Lady either. Art sure she is a child of earth at all, +Wilhelm?" + +"Ay, she's that; and the question is, wife, What shall we do with her? +Suppose the father never turns up, shall we keep her, or give her over +to them that have the charge of wanderers and such like?" + +Here Hans sprang forward. "Nay, father, nay! Do not send her away. She +is so pretty, and looks like the picture of an angel. I saw one in the +church where little Annchen was baptized. Oh, keep her, father!--Mutter, +do not send the little maid back into the forest!" + +But Elsie's woman's heart had no thought of so doing. "No, no, my lad," +she said. "Never fear; we'll keep the child till some one comes to take +her away that has a right to her. Who knows but mayhap she'll bring a +blessing on our house; for often I think we don't remember the Virgin +and the saints as we ought. My mother did, I know;" and as she spoke +great tears rolled down her cheeks. + +The child's prayer had touched a chord of memory, and recalled the days +of her childhood, when she had lived with parents who at least +reverenced the Lord, though they had not been taught to worship Him +aright. + +Wilhelm sat for a few minutes lost in thought. He was pondering the +question whether, supposing the child was left on his hands, he could +support her by doing extra work. It would be difficult, he knew; but if +Elsie were willing he'd try, for his kind heart recoiled from sending +the little child who clung to him so confidingly adrift amongst +strangers. No, he would not do so. + +After a while he turned to his wife, who had gone to the cradle where +lay their six-weeks-old baby, and was rocking it, as the child had cried +out in her sleep. + +"Elsie," he said, "I'll set off at break of day, and go amongst my +mates, and find out if they have seen or heard aught of the missing +gentleman.--Come, Hans," he said suddenly; "'tis time you were asleep." + +A few minutes later and Hans had tumbled into his low bed, and lay for a +short time thinking about Frida, and wondering who she had been speaking +to when she knelt down; but in the midst of his wondering he fell +asleep. + +Wilhelm, wearied with his day's work, was not long in following his +son's example, and was soon sound asleep; but no word of prayer rose +from his heart and lips to the loving Father in heaven, who had guarded +and kept him from the dangers of the day. + +Elsie was in no hurry to go to bed; her heart was full of many thoughts. +The child's prayer and the words out of the little book had strangely +moved her, and she was asking herself if there were indeed a God (as in +her childhood she had been taught to believe), what had she ever done to +please Him. + +Conscience said low, Nothing; but she tried to drown the thought, and +busied herself in cleaning the few dishes and putting the little room to +rights, then sat down for a few minutes beside the stove to think. + +Where could the father of the child be, she asked herself, and what +would be his feelings on returning to the place where he had left her +when he found she was no longer there? Could he have lost his way in the +great Forest? That was by no means unlikely; she had often heard of such +a thing as that happening. Then she wondered if there were any clue to +the child's friends or the place she was going to in the bag; and +rising, she took it up and opened it. + +Besides the articles we have already enumerated, she found a case full +of needles, some reels of cotton, a small book of German hymns, and a +double locket with chain attached to it. This Elsie succeeded in +opening, and on the one side was the picture of a singularly beautiful, +dark-eyed girl, on the verge of womanhood; and on the other a blue-eyed, +fair-haired young man, a few years older than the lady. Under the +pictures were engraved the words "Hilda" and "Friedrich." Elsie doubted +not that these were the likenesses of Frida's father and mother, for the +child bore a strong resemblance to both. She had the dark eyes of her +mother and the golden hair of her father, if such was the relationship +she bore to him. + +These pictures were the only clue to the child's parentage. No doubt she +wore a necklace quite unlike anything that Elsie had ever seen before; +but then, except in the shop windows, she had seen so few ornaments in +her life that she knew not whether it was a common one or not. + +She put the locket carefully back in its place, shut the bag, and +slipped across the room to take another glance at the sleeping child. +Very beautiful she looked as she lay, the fair, golden hair curling over +her head and falling round her neck. Her lips were slightly parted, and, +as if conscious of Elsie's approach, she muttered the word "fader." +Elsie patted her, and turned once more to the little cradle where lay +her infant. The child was awake and crying, and the mother stooped and +took her up, and sat down with her in her arms. A look of anxiety and +sadness crossed the mother's face when she observed that although she +flashed the little lamp in the baby's face her eyes never turned to the +light. + +For some time the terrible fear had been rising in her head that her +little Anna was blind. She had mentioned this to her husband, but he had +laughed at her, and said babies of that age never took much notice of +anything; but that was three weeks ago, and still, though the eyes +looked bright, and the child was intelligent, the eyes never followed +the light, nor looked up into the mother's face. + +The fear was now becoming certainty. Oh, if only she could make sure, +see some doctors, and find out if nothing could be done for her darling! + +A blind child! How could they support her, how provide for the wants of +one who could never help herself? + +Poor mother! her heart sank within her, for she knew nothing of the One +who has said, "Cast all your cares upon me, for I care for you." + +Now as she gazed at the child she became more than ever convinced that +that strange trial had fallen upon her. And to add to this new +difficulty, how could she undertake the charge and keeping of this +stranger so wonderfully brought to their door? + +Elsie, although no Christian, had a true, loving woman's heart beating +within her, and putting from her the very idea of sending away the lost +child, she said to herself, "The little that a child like that will take +will not add much to the day's expense; and even if it did, Elsie +Hörstel is not the woman to cast out the forlorn child." Oh, the pity of +it that she did not know the words of Him who said, "Inasmuch as ye did +it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me;" and +again, "Whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth +me." But these words had never yet reached her ears, and as yet it was +only the instincts of a true God-created heart that led her to +compassionate and care for the child lost in the forest. + +Taking the babe in her arms, she slipped into bed and soon fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +FRIDA'S FATHER. + + "And though we sorrow for the dead, + Let not our grief be loud, + That we may hear Thy loving voice + Within the light-lined cloud." + + +Early in the morning, ere wife or children were awake, and long before +the October sun had arisen, Wilhelm Hörstel arose, and putting a hunch +of black bread and goat-milk cheese into his pocket, he shouldered his +axe and saw and went out into the Forest. + +The dawn was beginning to break, and there was light enough for the +practised eye of the wood-cutter to distinguish the path which he wished +to take through the Forest. + +Great stillness reigned around; even the twittering of the birds had +hardly begun--they were for the most part awaiting the rising of the +sun, though here and there an early bird might be heard chirping as it +flew off, no doubt in search of food. Even the frogs in the Forest ponds +had not yet resumed their croaking, and only the bubbling of a brooklet +or the falling of a tiny cascade from the rocks (which abound in some +parts of the Forest) was heard. The very silence which pervaded, calmed, +and to a Christian mind would have raised the thoughts Godward. But it +had no such influence on the heart, the kindly heart, of the young +wood-cutter as he walked on, bent only on reaching the small hamlet or +"Dorf" where stood the hut of the man with whom he sought to hold +counsel as to how a search could be instituted in the Forest for the +father of little Frida. + +As he reached the door, and just as the sun was rising above the +hill-tops, and throwing here and there its golden beams through the +autumn-tinted trees, he saw not one but several wood-cutters and +charcoal-burners going into the house of his friend Johann Schmidt. +Somewhat wondering he hastened his steps, and entered along with them, +putting as he did so the question, "_Was gibt's?_" (What is the matter?) +His friend, who came forward to greet him, answered the question by +saying, "Come and help us, Wilhelm; a strange thing has happened here +during the night. + +"Soon after Gretchen and I had fallen asleep, we were awakened by the +noise of some heavy weight falling at the door; and on going to see what +it was, there, to our amazement, lay a man, evidently in a faint. We got +him into our hut, and after a while he became conscious, looked around +him, and said 'Frida!' Gretchen tried to find out who it was he wished, +but could only make out it was a child whom he had left in the Forest; +but whether he was still delirious none could tell. He pressed his hand +on his heart and said he was very ill, and again muttering the word, +'Frida, Armseliger Frida,' he again fainted away. + +"We did what we could for him, and he rallied a little; and then an hour +ago, Gretchen stooping over him heard him say, 'Herr Jesu. Ob ich schon +wandelte im finstern Thal fürchete ich kein Unglück: denn Du bist bei +mir' ('Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil: for thou art with me'); and giving one deep breath his +spirit fled." + +As their mate said these words, exclamations of sorrow were heard +around. "_Ach_, poor man!" said one. "Thinkest thou the child he spoke +of can be in the Forest?" "And the words he said about fearing no evil, +what did they mean?" said another. "Well," said one who looked like a +chief man amongst them, "I believe he was _ein Ketzer_, and if that be +so we had better send to Dringenstadt, where there is a _ketzer Pfarrer_ +[heretic pastor], and get his advice. I heard the other day that a new +one had come whom they called Herr Langen." + +Then as a momentary pause came, Wilhelm Hörstel stepped forward and told +the tale of the child he had found in the Forest the night before, who +called herself Frida. The men listened with amazement, but with one +breath they all declared she must be the child of whom the dead man had +spoken. + +"Ay," said Wilhelm, "and I am sure she is the child of a _Ketzer_ +[heretic]; for what think ye a child like that did ere she went to bed? +She prayed, and my wife says never a word said she to the Virgin, but +spoke just straight to God." + +"_Ach_, poor _Mädchen_!" said another of the men; "does she think the +Lord would listen to the prayer of a child like her? The blessed Virgin +have pity on her;" and as he spoke he crossed himself. + +"If these things be so," said the chief man, by name Jacob Heine, "then +it is plain one of us must go off to Dringenstadt, see the _Pfarrer_, +and settle about the funeral." + +His proposal was at once agreed to, and as he was overseer of the +wood-cutters, and could not leave his work, Johann Schmidt, in whose hut +the man had died, was chosen as the best man to go; whilst Wilhelm +should return to his home, and then take the child to see her dead +father. + +"Yes, bring the _Mädchen_" (little maid), said all, "and let us see her +also; seems as if she belongs to us all, found in the Forest as she +was." + +There was no time to be lost, for the sun was already well up, and the +men should have been at work long ago. + +So they dispersed, some going to their work deeper in the Forest, +Wilhelm retracing his way home, and Johann taking the path which led +through the wood to the little town of Dringenstadt. + +As Wilhelm approached his door, the little Frida darted to him, saying, +"Have you found my fader? Oh, take me to him! Frida must go to her +fader." Tears rose to the wood-cutter's eyes, as lifting the child in +his arms he entered the hut, and leaving Frida there with Hans, he +beckoned his wife to speak to him outside; and there he told her the +story of the man who had died in Johann's cottage. + +"Ah, then," said Elsie, "the little Frida is indeed an orphan, poor +lambie. How shall we tell her, Wilhelm? Her little heart will break. +Ever since she woke she has prattled on about him; ay" (and the woman's +voice lowered as she spoke), "and of a Father who she says lives in +heaven and cares both for her earthly father and herself. And, Wilhelm, +she's been reading aloud to Hans and me about the Virgin's Son of whom +my mother used to speak." + +"Well, never mind about all that, wife, but let us tell the child; for I +and my mates think she should be taken to see the body, and so make sure +that the man was really her father." + + * * * * * + +"Fader dead!" said the child, as she sat on Wilhelm's knee and heard the +sad story. "Dead! Shall Frida never see him again, nor walk with him, +nor talk with him? Oh! dear, dear fader, why did you die and leave Frida +all alone? I want you, I want you!" and the child burst into a flood of +tears. + +They let her cry on, those kind-hearted people--nay, they wept with her; +but after some minutes had passed, Wilhelm raised her head, and asked +her if she would not like to see her father once more, though he could +not speak to her now. + +"Yes, oh yes! take me to see him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, take me!" Then +looking eagerly up she said, "Perhaps Jesus can make him live again, +like he did Lazarus, you know. Can't he?" But alas! of the story of +Lazarus being raised from the dead these two people knew nothing; and +when they asked her what she meant, and she said her father had read to +her about it out of her little brown book, they only shook their heads, +and Wilhelm said, "I feared there was something wrong about that little +book. How could any one be raised from the dead?" + +Frida's passionate exclamations of love and grief when she saw the dead +body of the man who lay in Johann Schmidt's hut removed all doubt from +the minds of those who heard her as to the relationship between them; +and the manner in which the child turned from a crucifix which Gretchen +brought forward to her, thinking it would comfort her, convinced them +more firmly that the poor man had indeed been a heretic. + +No! father never prayed to that, nor would he let _her_ do so, she +said--just to Jesus, dear Jesus in heaven; and though several of those +who heard her words crossed themselves as she spoke, and prayed the +Virgin to forgive, all were much taken with and deeply sorry for the +orphan child; and when Wilhelm raised her in his arms to take her back +to his hut and to the care of Elsie, more than one of the inhabitants of +the Dorf brought some little gift from their small store to be taken +with him to help in the maintenance of the little one so strangely +brought among them. Ere they left the Dorf, Johann Schmidt had returned +from executing his message to Dringenstadt. He had seen the _Pfarrer_, +and he had promised to come along presently and arrange about the +funeral. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE PARSONAGE. + + "The Lord thy Shepherd is-- + Dread not nor be dismayed-- + To lead thee on through stormy paths, + By ways His hand hath made." + + +On the morning of the day that we have written of, the young Protestant +pastor of Dringenstadt was seated in a room of the small house which +went by the name of "Das Pfarrhaus." + +He was meditating more than studying just then. He felt his work there +an uphill one. Almost all the people in that little town were Roman +Catholics. His own flock was a little one indeed, and only that morning +he had received a letter telling him that it had been settled that no +regular ministry would be continued there, as funds were not +forthcoming, and the need in one sense seemed small. He had come there +only a few months before, knowing well that he might only be allowed to +remain a short time; but now that the order for his removal elsewhere +had come, he felt discouraged and sad. Was it right, he was asking +himself, to withdraw the true gospel light from the people, and to leave +the few, no doubt very few, who loved it to themselves? Karl Langen was +a true Christian, longing to lead souls to Jesus, and was much perplexed +by the order he had received. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him, +and the woman who took charge of his house on entering told him that a +man from the Forest wished to speak to him. Telling her to send him in +at once, he awaited his entry. + +Johann Schmidt was shown into the room, and told his sorrowful tale in a +quiet, manly way. + +The pastor was much moved, and repeated with amazement the words, "A +child lost in the Black Forest, and the father dead, you say? Certainly +I will come and see. But why, my friend, should you think the man was an +Evangelisch?" Then Johann told of the words he had repeated, of the +child's prayer and her little brown book. + +Suddenly a light seemed to dawn on the mind of the young pastor. "Oh!" +he said, "I believe you are right. I think I have seen both the father +and the child. Last Sunday there came into our church a gentleman and a +lovely little girl, just such a one as you describe the child you speak +of to be. I tried to speak to them after worship, but ere I could do so +they had gone. And no one could tell me who they were or whither they +had gone. I will now see the Bürgermeister about the funeral, and make +arrangements regarding it. I think through some friends of mine I can +get money sufficient to pay all expenses." + +Johann thanked him warmly, and hastened back to tell what had been +agreed on, and then got off to his work. + +Late in the afternoon Pastor Langen took his way to the little hut in +the Black Forest. + +The Forest by the road he took was not well known to him, and the solemn +quiet which pervaded it struck him much and raised his thoughts to God. +It was as if he had entered the sanctuary and heard the voice of the +Lord speaking to him. It was, as a poet has expressed it, as if + + "Solemn and silent everywhere, + The trees with folded hands stood there, + Kneeling at their evening prayer." + +Only the slight murmuring of the breeze amongst the leaves, or the +flutter of a bird's wing as it flew from branch to branch, broke the +silence. All around him there was + + "A slumberous sound, a sound that brings + The feeling of a dream, + As when a bell no longer swings, + Faint the hollow echo rings + O'er meadow, lake, and stream." + +As he walked, he thought much of the child found in the Forest, and he +wondered how he could help her or find out to whom she belonged. Oh, if +only, he said to himself, he had been able to speak to the father the +day he had seen him, and learned something of his history! Johann had +told him that if no clue could be found to the child's relations, +Wilhelm Hörstel had determined to bring her up; but Johann had added, +"We will not, poor though we be, let the whole expense of her upbringing +fall on the Hörstels. No; we will go share for share, and she shall be +called the child of the wood-cutters." + +As he thought of these words, the young pastor prayed for the kind, +large-hearted men, asking that the knowledge of the loving Christ might +shine into their hearts and bring spiritual light into the darkness +which surrounded them. The afternoon had merged into evening ere he +entered the wood-cutters' Dorf. As he neared Johann's hut, Gretchen came +to the door, and he greeted her with the words, "The Lord be with you, +and bless you for your kindness to the poor man in the time of his +need." + +"Come in, sir," she said, "and see the corpse. Oh, but he's been a +fine-looking man, and he so young too. It was a sight to see his bit +child crying beside him and begging him to say one word to her--just one +word. Then she folded her hands, and looking up said, 'O kind Jesus, who +made Lazarus come to life, make dear fader live again.' Oh, 'twas +pitiful to see her! Who think you, sir, was the man she spoke of called +Lazarus? When I asked her she said it was all written in her little +brown book, which she would bring along and read to me some day, bless +the little creature." + +The pastor said some words about the story being told by the Lord Jesus, +and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. He did not offer her a Testament, +as he knew if the priest heard (as it was likely he would) of his having +been there, he would ask if they had been given a Bible, and so trouble +would follow. But he rejoiced that the little child had it in her heart +to read the words of life to the kind woman, and he breathed a prayer +that her little brown Bible might prove a blessing to those poor +wood-cutters. + +Pastor Langen at once recognized the features of the dead man as those +of the stranger whom he had seen with the lovely child in the little +church. He then made arrangements for the funeral the next day, and +departed. + + * * * * * + +On the morrow a number of wood-cutters met at the house of Johann +Schmidt to attend the funeral of the stranger gentleman. Wilhelm +Hörstel, and his wife, Hans, and little Frida, were there also. The +child was crying softly, as if she realized that even the corpse of her +father was to be taken from her. + +Presently the young pastor entered, and the moment Frida saw him she +started forward, saying in her child language, "O sir, I've seen you +before, when fader and I heard you preach some days ago." All this was +said in the pure German language, which the people hardly followed at +all, but which was the same as the pastor himself spoke. He at once +recognized the child, and sought to obtain from her some information +regarding her father. She only said, as she had already done, that he +was going to England to see some friends of her mother's. When +questioned as to their name, she could not tell. All that she knew was +that they were relations of her mother's. Yes, her father loved his +Bible, and had given her such a nice little brown one which had belonged +to her mother. + +Could she speak any English, the pastor asked. + +"Yes, I can," said Frida. "Mother taught me a number of words, and I +can say 'Good-morning,' and 'How are you to-day?' Also mother taught me +to say the Lord's Prayer in English. But I do not know much English, for +father and mother always spoke German to each other." + +No more could be got from the child then, and the simple service was +gone on with; and when the small procession set off for Dringenstadt, +the kindly men took it by turns to carry the little maiden in their +arms, as the walk through the forest was a long one for a child. + +In the churchyard of the quiet little German town they laid the mortal +remains of Friedrich Heinz, to await the resurrection morning. + +Tears rose to the eyes of many onlookers as Frida threw herself, +sobbing, on the grave of her father. Wilhelm and Elsie strove in vain to +raise her, but when Pastor Langen drew near and whispered the words, +"Look up, Frida; thy father is not here, he is with Jesus," a smile of +joy played on the child's face, and rising she dried her tears, and +putting her hand into that of Elsie she prepared to leave the "God's +acre," and the little party set off for their home in the Black Forest. + +Darkness had fallen on all around ere they reached the Dorf, and strange +figures that the trees and bushes assumed appeared to the superstitious +mind of Elsie and some of the others as the embodiment of evil spirits, +and they wished themselves safe under the shelter of their little huts. + +That night the little stranger child mingled her tears with her prayers, +and to Elsie's amazement she heard her ask her Father in heaven to take +greater care of her now than ever, because she had no longer a father on +earth to do it. Little did the kneeling child imagine that that simple +prayer was used by the Holy Spirit to touch the heart of the +wood-cutter's wife. + +And from the lips of Elsie ere she fell asleep that night arose a cry to +the Father in heaven for help. True, it was but + + "As an infant crying in the night, + An infant crying for the light, + And with no language but a cry." + +But still there was a felt need, and a recognition that there was One +who could meet and satisfy it. + +At all events Elsie Hörstel clasped her blind babe to her heart that +night, and fell asleep with a feeling of rest and peace to which she had +long been a stranger. + +Ah! God had a purpose for the little child and her brown Bible in that +little hut of which she as yet had no conception. Out of the mouths of +babes and sucklings He still perfects praise. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE WOODMEN'S PET. + + "Lord, make me like the gentle dew, + That other hearts may prove, + E'en through Thy feeblest messenger, + Thy ministry of love." + + +Pastor Langen, ere leaving Dringenstadt, visited the hut in the Black +Forest where Frida had found a home. + +His congregation, with two or three exceptions, was a poor one, and +his own means were small; yet he had contrived to collect a small +sum for Frida's maintenance, which he had put into the hands of the +Bürgermeister, who undertook to pay the interest of it quarterly to the +Hörstels on behalf of the child. True, the sum was small, but it was +sufficient to be a help; and a kind lady of the congregation, Fräulein +Drechsler, said she would supply her from time to time with dress, and +when she could have her now and then with herself, instruct her in the +Protestant faith and the elements of education. Frida could already +read, and had begun to write, taught by her father. Every effort was +being made to discover if the child had any relations alive. The +Bürgermeister had put advertisements in many papers, German and +English, but as yet no answer had come, and many of the wood-cutters +still held the opinion that the child was the offspring of some woodland +spirit. But in spite of any such belief, Frida had a warm welcome in +every hut in the Dorf, and a kindly word from every man and woman in it. + +The "woodland child" they called her, and as such cherished and +protected her. Many a "bite and sup" she got from them. Many a warm pair +of stockings, or a knitted petticoat done by skilful hands, did the +inmates of the Dorf present to her. They did what they could, these poor +people, for the orphan child, just out of the fullness of their kind +hearts, little thinking of the blessing that through her was to descend +on them. The day of Pastor Langen's visit to the hut, some time after +her father's funeral, Frida was playing beside the door, and on seeing +him coming up the path she rose from the spot where she was sitting and +ran eagerly to meet him. + +But though unseen by her, he had been standing near for some time +spell-bound by the music which, child though she was, she was bringing +out of her father's violin, in the playing of which she was amusing +herself. + +From a very early age her father, himself a skilled violinist, had +taught her to handle the bow, and had early discovered the wonderful +talent for music which she possessed. + +The day of which we write was the first one since her father's death +that Frida had played on the violin, so neither Wilhelm nor Elsie was +aware that she could do so at all. The pastor was approaching the +cottage when the sound of music reached his ears, and having a good +knowledge of that art himself, he stood still to listen. A few minutes +convinced him that though the playing was that of a child, still the +performer had the true soul of music, and only needed full instruction +to develop into a musician of no ordinary talent. As he drew nearer his +surprise was great to see that the player was none other than the +beautiful child found in the Black Forest. Attracted by the sound of +steps, Frida had turned round, and seeing her friend had, as we have +written, bounded off to meet him. Hearing that Elsie had taken her babe +and gone a message to the Dorf, he seated himself on a knoll with the +child and began to talk to her. + +"How old are you?" he asked her. + +"Seven years and more," she replied; "because I remember my birthday was +only a little while before Mütterchen (I always called her that) died, +and that that day she took the locket she used to wear off her neck and +gave it to me, telling me always to keep it." + +"And have you that locket still?" queried the pastor. + +"Yes; Elsie has it carefully put away. There is a picture of Mütterchen +on the one side, and of my father on the other." + +"And did your mother ever speak to you of your relations either in +Germany or England?" + +"Yes, she did sometimes. She spoke of grandmamma in England and +grandpapa also, and she said they lived in a beautiful house; but she +never told me their name, nor where their house was. Father, of course, +knew, for he said he was going to take me there, and he used to speak of +a brother of his whom he said he dearly loved." + +"But tell me," asked the pastor, "where did you live with your parents +in Germany?" + +"Oh, in a number of different places, but never long at the same place. +Father played at concerts just to make money, and we never remained long +anywhere--we were always moving about." + +"And your parents were Protestants?" + +"I don't know what that means," said the child. "But they were often +called 'Ketzers' by the people where he lodged. And they would not pray +to the Virgin Mary, as many did, but taught me to pray to God in the +name of Jesus Christ. And Mütterchen gave me a little 'brown Bible' for +my very own, which she said her mother had given to her. Oh, I must show +it to you, sir!" and, darting off, the child ran into the house, +returning with the treasured book in her hand. The pastor examined it +and read the inscription written on the fly-leaf--"To my dear Hilda, +from her loving mother, on her eighteenth birthday." That was all, but +he felt sure from the many underlined passages that the book had been +well studied. He found that Frida could read quite easily, and that she +had been instructed in Scripture truth. + +Ere he bade her farewell he asked her to promise him to read often from +her little Bible to Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans. "For who knows, little +Frida, that the Lord may not have chosen you to be a child missionary to +the wood-cutters, and to read to them out of His holy Word." + +Frida thought over these words, though she hardly took in their full +meaning; but she loved her Bible, and wished that the people who were so +kind to her loved it also. + +On his way home the pastor met Elsie with her babe in her arms, and told +her of his farewell visit to Frida, and of his delight with the child's +musical talent, and advised her to encourage her as much as possible to +play on the violin. + +Elsie's face brightened as he spoke, for she and her husband, like many +of the German peasants, dearly loved music. + +"O sir," she said, "have you heard her sing? It is just beautiful and +wonderful to hear her; she beats the very birds themselves." + +Thanking her once more for her care of the orphan child, and commending +her to God, the pastor went on his way, musing much on the future of the +gifted child, and wondering what could be done as regarded her +education. + +In the meantime Elsie went home, and entrusting her babe to the care of +Frida, who loved the little helpless infant, she made ready for her +husband's return from his work. Hans had gone that day to help his +father in the wood, which he loved much to do, so Elsie and Frida were +alone. + +"Mutter," said the child (for she had adopted Hans's way of addressing +Elsie), "the pastor was here to-day, and he played to me--oh so +beautifully--on my violin, it reminded me of father, and made me cry. O +Mutter, I wish some one could teach me to play on it as father did. You +see I was just beginning to learn a little how to do it, and I do love +it so;" and as she spoke, the child joined her hands together and looked +pleadingly at Elsie. + +"_Ach_, poor child," replied Elsie, "how canst thou be taught here?" + +And that night when Elsie repeated to Wilhelm Frida's desire for lessons +on the violin, the worthy couple grieved that they could do nothing to +gratify her wish. + +Day after day and week after week passed, and still no answer came to +any of the advertisements about the child; and save for her own sake +none of the dwellers in the wood wished it otherwise, for the "woodland +child," as they called her, had won her way into every heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ELSIE AND THE BROWN BIBLE. + + "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." + + +Frida, as time went on, was growing hardy and strong in the bracing +Forest air. Every kindness was lavished on her, and the child-spirit had +asserted itself, and though often tears would fill her eyes as something +or other reminded her vividly of the past, yet her merry laughter was +often heard as she played with Hans in the woods. Yet through all her +glee there was at times a seriousness of mind remarkable in one so +young, also a power of observation as regarded others not often +noticeable in one of her years. She had become warmly attached to the +kind people amongst whom her lot was cast, and especially so to Elsie. +Several times she had observed her looking anxiously at the babe in her +arms, taking her to the light and endeavouring to attract her attention +to the plaything which she held before her. Then when the babe, now some +months old, showed no signs of observing it, Frida would see a great +tear roll down Elsie's cheek, and once she heard her mutter the words, +"Blind! my baby's blind!" Was it possible? Frida asked herself; for the +child's eyes looked bright, and she felt sure she knew her, and had +often stretched out her little arms to be taken up by her. "No," she +repeated again, "she cannot be blind!" Poor little Frida knew not that +it was her voice that the baby recognized. Often she had sung her to +sleep when Elsie had left her in her charge. Already father and mother +had noted with joy the power that music had over their blind babe. One +day Frida summoned courage to say, "Mutter, dear Mutter, why are you sad +when you look at little Anna? I often notice you cry when you do so." + +At that question the full heart of the mother overflowed. "O Frida, +little Frida, the babe is blind! She will never see the light of day nor +the face of her father and mother. Wilhelm knows it now: we took her to +Dringenstadt last week, and the doctor examined her eyes and told us she +_ist blind geboren_ [born blind]. O my poor babe, my poor babe!" + +Frida slipped her hand into that of the poor mother, and said gently, "O +Mutter, Jesus can make the babe to see if we ask Him. He made so many +blind people to see when He was on earth, and He can do so still. Let me +read to you about it in my little brown book;" and the child brought her +Bible and read of Jesus healing the two blind men, and also of the one +in John ix. who said, "Whereas I was blind, now I see." + +Elsie listened eagerly, and said, "And it was Jesus the Virgin's Son who +did that, do you say? Read me more about Him." And the child read on, +how with one touch Jesus opened the eyes of the blind. She read also how +they brought the young children to Jesus, and He took them into His +arms and blessed them, and said to His disciples, "Suffer the little +children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the +kingdom of heaven." + +"Oh," said Elsie, "if only that Jesus were here now, I'd walk miles and +miles to take my Anna to Him; but, alas! He is not here now." + +Frida was a young child, and hardly knew how to answer the troubled +mother; but her faith was a simple one, so she answered, "No, Jesus is +not here now, but He is in heaven, and He answers us when we pray to +Him. Father once read to me the words in Matthew's Gospel--see, here +they are--'Ask, and it shall be given you.' Shall we ask Him now?" and +kneeling down she prayed in child language, "O Lord Jesus, who dost hear +and answer prayer, make little Anna to see as Thou didst the blind men +when Thou wert on earth, and oh, comfort poor Elsie!" + +As she rose from her knees, Elsie threw her arms round her, saying, "O +Frida, I do believe the God my mother believed in hath sent thee here to +be a blessing to us!" + +Often after that day Frida would read out of her brown Bible to Elsie +about Jesus, His life and His atoning death. And sometimes in the +evening, when Hans would sit cutting out various kinds of toys, for +which he had a great turn, and could easily dispose of them in the shops +at Dringenstadt, she would read to him also; and he loved to hear the +Old Testament stories of Moses and Jacob, Joseph, and Daniel in the +lion's den; also of David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, who had once +been a shepherd boy. They were all new to poor Hans, and from them he +learned something of the love God has to His children; but it was ever +of Jesus that Elsie loved to hear, and again and again she got the child +to read to her the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest." And erelong it was evident, +though she would scarcely have acknowledged it, that she was seeking not +only the rest but the "_Rest_-Giver." And we know that He who gave the +invitation has pledged His word that whosoever cometh to Him He will in +no wise cast out. + +All this while Wilhelm seemed to take no notice of the Bible readings. +Once or twice, when he had returned from his work, he had found Frida +reading to his wife and boy, and he had lingered for a minute or two at +the door to catch some of the words; but he made no remark, and +interrupted the reading by asking if supper were ready. But often later +in the evening he would ask the child to bring out her violin and play +to him, or to sing one of his favourite songs, after which she would +sing a hymn of praise; but as yet it was the sweetness of the singer's +voice and not the beauty of the words that he loved to listen to. But +notwithstanding, by the power of the Holy Ghost, the Bible was doing its +work--slowly, it may be, but surely; so true is it that God's word shall +not return to Him void. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN DRINGENSTADT. + + "Sing them over again to me, + Wonderful words of love." + + +Three years had passed. Summer had come round again. Fresh green leaves +quivered on the trees of the Forest, though the pines still wore their +dark clothing. The song of the birds was heard, and the little brooks +murmured along their course with a joyful tinkling sound. + +In the Forest it was cool even at noontide, but in Dringenstadt the heat +was oppressive, and in spite of the sun-blinds the glare of light even +indoors was excessive. + +In a pleasant room, into which the sun only shone through a thick canopy +of green leaves, sat a lady with an open book in her hand. It was an +English one, and the dictionary by her side showed it was not in a +language she was altogether familiar with. The book evidently recalled +memories of the past. Every now and then she paused in her reading, and +the look which came into her eyes told that her thoughts had wandered +from the present surroundings to other places, and it might be other +days. + +Sitting beside her, engaged in doing a sum of arithmetic, was a +beautiful child of some ten years old, neatly though plainly dressed. +The lady's eyes rested on her from time to time, as if something in her +appearance, as well as the book she was reading, recalled other days and +scenes. + +"Frida," she said, for the child was none other than our little friend +found in the Forest, "have you no recollections of ever hearing your +mother speak of the home of her childhood, or of her companions there?" + +"No, dear Miss Drechsler, I do not remember her ever speaking of any +companions; but she told me about her mother and father, and that they +lived in a beautiful house in England, somewhere in the country; and +whenever she spoke of her mother she used to cry, and then she would +kiss me, and wish she could show me to her, for she knew she would love +me, and I am sure it was to her that my father was taking me when he +died. See, here is my little brown Bible which her mother gave to her +and she gave to me." + +Miss Drechsler took the Bible in her hand, and examined the writing, and +noted the name "Hilda;" but neither of them seemed to recall any special +person to her memory. + +"Strange," she said to herself; "and yet that child's face reminds me +vividly of some one whom I saw when I was in England some years ago, +when living as governess to the Hon. Evelyn Warden, and I always connect +it with some fine music which I heard at that time." + +Then changing the subject, she said abruptly, "Frida dear, bring your +violin and let me hear how far you are prepared for your master +to-morrow." + +Miss Drechsler, true to her promise to the German pastor, had kept a +look-out on the child known as "the wood-cutters' pet," who lived in the +little hut in the Black Forest. From the time Pastor Langen had left, +she had her often living with herself for days at a time at +Dringenstadt, and was conducting her education; but as she often had to +leave that town for months, Frida still had her home great part of the +year with the Hörstels in the Forest. At the time we write of, Miss +Drechsler had returned to her little German home, and Frida, who was +once more living with her, was getting, at her expense, lessons in +violin-playing. She bid fair to become an expert in the art which she +dearly loved. She was much missed by the kind people in the Forest +amongst whom she had lived so long. Just as, at Miss Drechsler's +request, she had produced her violin and begun to play on it, a servant +opened the door and said that a man from the Forest was desirous of +seeing Fräulein Heinz. The girl at once put down her instrument and ran +to the door, where she found her friend Wilhelm awaiting her. + +"Ah, Frida, canst come back with me to the Forest? There is sorrow +there. In one house Johann Schmidt lies nigh to death, caused by an +accident when felling a tree. He suffers much, and Gretchen is in sore +trouble. And the Volkmans have lost their little boy. You remember him, +Frida; he and our Hans used to play together. And our little Anna seems +pining away, and Elsie and all of them are crying out for you to come +back and comfort them with the words of your little book. Johann said +this morning, when his wife proposed sending for the priest, 'No, +Gretchen, no. I want no priest; but oh, I wish little Frida were here to +read to me from her brown book about Jesus Christ our great High Priest, +who takes away our sins, and is always praying for us.'" + +"Oh, I remember," interrupted Frida. "I read to him once about Jesus +ever living 'to make intercession for us.' Yes, Wilhelm, I'll come with +you. I know Miss Drechsler will say I should go, for she often tells me +I really belong to the kind people in the Forest." And so saying, she +ran off to tell her story to her friend. + +Miss Drechsler at once assented to her return to the Forest to give what +help she could to the people there, adding that she herself would come +up soon to visit them, and bring them any comforts necessary for them +such as could not be easily got by them. Ere they parted she and Frida +knelt together in prayer, and Miss Drechsler asked that God would use +the child as His messenger to the poor, sorrowing, suffering ones in the +Forest; after which she took Frida's Bible and put marks in at the +different passages which she thought would be suitable to the different +cases of the people that Wilhelm had spoken of. + +It was late in the afternoon ere Wilhelm and Frida reached the hut of +Johann Schmidt, where he left the child for a while, whilst he went on +to the Volkmans to tell them of Frida's return, and that she hoped to +see them the next day. Gretchen met the girl with a cry of delight. + +"_Ach!_ there she comes, our own little Fräulein. What a pleasure it is +to see thee again, our woodland pet! And see, here is my Johann laid up +in bed, nearly killed by the falling of a tree." + +The sick man raised himself as he heard the child's voice saying as she +entered, in reply to Gretchen's words, "Oh, I am sorry, so sorry! Why +did you not tell me sooner?" And in another moment she was sitting +beside Johann, speaking kind, comforting words to him. He stroked her +hair fondly, and answered her questions as well as he could; but there +was a far-away look in his eyes as if his thoughts were in some region +distant from the one he was living in now. After a few minutes he asked +eagerly,-- + +"Have you the little brown book with you now?" + +"Yes, I have," was the reply. "Shall I read to you now, Johann? for +Wilhelm is to come for me soon." + +"Yes, read, read," he said; "for I am weary, so weary." + +Frida turned quickly to the eleventh chapter of Matthew, and read +distinctly in the German, which he could understand, and which she could +now speak also, the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest." + +He stopped her there. "Read that again," he said. She complied, and then +he turned to her, saying, "And Jesus, the Son of God, said that? Will He +give it to me, thinkest thou?" + +"Yes," she said, "He will; for He has promised to do it, and He never +breaks His word." + +"Well, if that be so, kneel down, pretty one, and ask Him to give it me, +for I need it sorely." + +Frida knelt, and in a few simple words besought the Saviour to give His +rest and peace to the suffering man. + +"Thanks, little Frida," he said as she rose. "I believe that prayer will +be answered." And shutting his eyes he fell quietly asleep, and Frida +slipped out of the room and joined Wilhelm in the Forest. + +"Is little Anna so very ill?" she queried as they walked. + +"I fear she is," was the answer the father gave, with tears in his eyes. +"The mother thinks so also; though the child, bless her, is so good and +patient we hardly know whether she suffers or not. She just lies still +mostly on her bed now, and sings to herself little bits of hymns, or +speaks about the land far away, which she says you told her about, and +where she says she is going to see Jesus. Then her mother begins to cry; +but she also speaks about that bright land. 'Deed it puzzles me to know +where they have learned so much about it, unless it be from your little +brown book. And the child has often asked where Frida is. 'I want to +hear her sing again,' she says." + +"O Wilhelm, why did you not come for me when she said that?" + +"Well, you see, I had promised the pastor that I would let you visit +Miss Drechsler as often as possible, and then you were getting on so +nicely with your violin that we felt as if we had no right to call you +back to us. But see, here we are, and there is Hans looking out for us." + +But Hans, instead of rushing to meet them as he usually did, ran back +hastily to his mother, calling out, "Here they come, here they come!" + +"Oh, I am glad!" she said.--"Anna, dear Anna, you will hear Frida's +voice again." + +The mother looked round with a smile, but moved not, for the dying child +lay in her arms. A moment longer, and Frida was beside her, her arms +round the blind child. + +"Annchen, dear Annchen, speak to me," she entreated--"just one word, to +say you know me. It is Frida come home, and she will not leave you +again, but will tell you stories out of the little brown book." + +A look of intelligence crossed the face of the blind child, and she +said,-- + +"Dear Frida, tell Annchen 'bout Jesus, and sing." + +Frida, choking back her sobs, opened her Bible and read the story that +little Anna loved, of Jesus taking the children in His arms and blessing +them; then sang a hymn of the joys of heaven, where He is seen face to +face, and where there is "no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying, +neither is there any more death," and where His redeemed ones _see_ His +face. + +The mother, almost blinded with tears, heard her child whisper, "'See +His face;' then Annchen will see Him too, won't she, Frida?" + +"Yes, Annchen. There your eyes will be open, and you will be blind no +more." + +As Frida said these words she heard one deep-drawn breath, one cry, +"Fader, Mutter, Jesus!" and the little one was gone into that land +where the first face she saw was that of her loving Saviour, whom +"having not seen she loved," and the beauties of that land which had +been afar off burst on her eyes, which were no longer blind. + +Poor father! poor mother! look up; your child sees now, and will await +your coming to the golden gates. + +Heartfelt tears were shed on earth by that death-bed, but there was a +song of great rejoicing in heaven over another ransomed soul entering +heaven, and also over another sinner entering the kingdom of God on +earth, as Wilhelm Hörstel bent his knee by the bed where his dead child +lay, and in broken words asked the Saviour whom that child had gone to +see face to face to receive him as a poor sinner, and make him all he +ought to be. In after-years he would often say that it was the words +little Frida, the woodland child, had read and sung to his blind darling +that led him, as they had already led his wife, to the feet of Jesus. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE VIOLIN-TEACHER AND THE CONCERT. + + "There in an arched and lofty room + She stands in fair white dress, + Where grace and colour and sweet sound + Combine and cluster all around, + And rarest taste express." + + +Three years had passed since all that was mortal of the blind child was +laid to rest in the quiet God's acre near where the body of Frida's +father lay. After the funeral of little Anna, Frida at her own request +returned to the Forest with her friends, anxious to help and comfort +Elsie, who she knew would sorely miss the blind child, who had been such +a comfort and companion to her when both Wilhelm and Hans were busy at +work in the woods; but after remaining with them for a few months, she +again returned for a part of each year to Dringenstadt, and made rapid +progress under Miss Drechsler's tuition with her education, and +especially with her music. + +The third summer after little Anna's death, Frida was again spending +some weeks in the Forest. It was early summer when she returned there. +Birds and insects were busy in the Forest, and the wood-cutters were +hard at work loading the carts with the piles of wood which the +large-eyed, strong, patient-looking oxen conveyed to the town. Loud +sounded the crack of the carters' whips as they urged on the slow-paced +oxen. Often in those days Frida, accompanied by Elsie (who had now no +little child to detain her at home), would take Wilhelm's and Hans's +simple dinner with them to carry to them where they worked. + +One day Frida left Elsie talking to her husband and boy, and strolled a +little way further into the Forest, gathering the flowers that grew at +the foot of the trees, and admiring the soft, velvety moss that here and +there covered the ground, when suddenly she was startled by the sounds +of footsteps quite near her, and looking hastily round, saw to her +amazement the figure of the young violinist from whom she had lately +taken lessons. + +"Fräulein Heinz," he said, as he caught sight of the fair young girl as +she stood, flowers in hand, "I rejoice to meet you, for I came in search +of you. Pupils of mine in the town of Baden-Baden, many miles from here, +where I often reside, are about to have an amateur concert, and they +have asked me to bring any pupil with me whom I may think capable of +assisting them. They are English milords, and are anxious to assist +local musical talent; and I have thought of you, Fräulein, as a +performer on the violin, and I went to-day to Miss Drechsler to ask her +to give you leave to go." + +"And what did she say?" asked the child eagerly. "How could I go so far +away?" And she stopped suddenly; but the glance she gave at her dress +told the young violinist the direction of her thoughts. + +"Ah!" he said, "Fräulein Drechsler will settle all that. She wishes you +to go, and says she will herself accompany you and also bring you back +to your friends." + +"Oh! then," said Frida, "I would like very much to go; but I must ask +Wilhelm and Elsie if they can spare me. But, Herr Müller, do you think I +can play well enough?" + +The violinist smiled as he thought how little the girl before him +realized the musical genius which she possessed, and which already, +young as she was, made her a performer of no ordinary skill. + +"Ah yes, Fräulein," he said, "I think you will do. But you know, as the +concert is not for a month yet, you can come to Dringenstadt and can +have a few more lessons ere then." + +"Come with me, then, and let me introduce you to my friends;" and she +led him up to the spot where Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans stood. + +They looked surprised, but when they heard her request they could not +refuse it. To have their little woodland child play at a concert seemed +to them an honour of no small magnitude. Hans in his eagerness pressed +to her side, saying, "O Frida, I am so glad, for you do play so +beautifully." + +"As for that matter, so do you, Hans," she replied, for the boy had the +musical talent so often found even in German peasants, and taught by +Frida could really play with taste on the violin. + +"O Herr Müller," she said, turning to him, "I wish some day you could +hear Hans play; I am sure you would like it. If only he could get +lessons! I know he would excel in it." + +"Is that so?" said the violinist; "then we must get that good Fräulein +Drechsler to have him down to Dringenstadt, and I will hear him play; +and then if we find there is real talent, I might recommend him to the +society for helping those who have a turn for music, but are not able to +pay for instruction." + +Hans's eyes danced with delight at the idea, but in the meantime he knew +his duty was to help his father as much as he could in his work as a +wood-cutter. "But then some day," he thought, "who knows but I might be +able to devote my time to music, and so it would all be brought about +through the kindness of little Frida." + +Frida was a happy girl when a few days after the violinist's visit to +the Forest she set out for Dringenstadt, to live for a month with +Fräulein Drechsler, and with her go on to Baden-Baden. A few more +lessons were got from Herr Müller, the selection of music she was to +perform gone through again and again, and all was ready to start the +next day. + +When Frida went to her room that evening, great was her amazement to see +laid out on her bed a prettily-made plain black delaine morning dress, +neatly finished off at neck and wrists with a pure white frill; and +beside it a simple white muslin one for evening wear, with a white silk +sash to match. These Miss Drechsler told her were a present from +herself. Frida's young heart was filled with gratitude to the kind +friend who was so thoughtful of her wants; and she wondered if a day +would ever come when she would be able in any way to repay the +kindnesses of the friends whom God had raised up for her. + +In the meantime Herr Müller had told the Stanfords, in whose house the +concert was to be held, about the young girl violinist whose services he +had secured. They were much interested in her, and were prepared to give +a hearty welcome, not to her only, but to her friend Miss Drechsler, +whom they had already met. + +Sir Richard Stanford, who was the head of an old family in the south of +England, had with his wife come abroad for the health of their young and +only daughter. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford were Christians, and +interested themselves in the natives of the place where they were +living, and themselves having highly-cultivated musical tastes, they +took pleasure in helping on any of the poorer people there in whom they +recognized the like talent. + +"Father," said his young daughter Adeline, as she lay one warm day on a +couch under a shady tree in the garden of their lovely villa at +Baden-Baden, "suppose we have a concert in our villa some evening; and +let us try and find out some good amateur performers, and also engage +two or three really good professionals to play, so that some of the +poorer players who have not opportunities of hearing them may do so, and +be benefited thereby." + +Anxious in any reasonable way to please their daughter, a girl not much +older than Frida, Sir Richard and Lady Stanford agreed to carry out her +suggestion; and calling their friend Herr Müller to their assistance, +the private concert was arranged for, and our friend the child of the +Black Forest invited to play at it. + + * * * * * + +The day fixed for the concert had come round, and Adeline Stanford, who +was more than usually well, flitted here and there, making preparations +for the evening. The concert-room had been beautifully decorated, and +the supper-table tastefully arranged. Very pretty did Ada (as she was +called) look. Her finely-cut features and graceful appearance all +proclaimed her high birth, and the innate purity and unselfishness of +her spirit were stamped on her face. Adeline Stanford was a truly +Christian girl whose great desire was to make those around her happy. +One thing she had often longed for was to have a companion of her own +age to live with her and be as a sister to her. Her parents often tried +to get such a one, but as yet difficulties had arisen which prevented +their doing so. The very morning of the concert, Ada had said, "O +mother, how pleasant it would be, when we are travelling about and +seeing so many beautiful places, to have some young girl with us who +would share our pleasure with us and help to cheer you and father when I +have one of my bad days and am fit for nothing." Then she added with a +smile, "Not that I would like it only for your sakes, but for my own as +well. It would be nice to have a sister companion to share my lessons +and duties with me, and bear with my grumbles when I am ill." + +Adeline's grumbles were so seldom heard that her parents could not help +smiling at her words, though they acknowledged that her wish was a +natural one; but then, where was the suitable girl to be found? + +"Ah! here we are at last," said Miss Drechsler, as she and Frida drove +up to the door of the villa where the Stanfords lived. "How lovely it +all is!" said Frida, who had been in ecstasies ever since she arrived in +Baden. + +Everything was so new to her--not since her father's death had she been +in a large town; and her admiration as they drove along the streets +between the rows of beautiful trees was manifested by exclamations of +delight. + +Once or twice something in the appearance of the shops struck her as +familiar. "Surely," she said, "I have seen these before, but where I +cannot tell. Ah! look at that large toy-shop. I know I have been there, +and some one who was with me bought me a cart to play with. I think it +must have been mamma, for I recollect that the purse she had in her hand +was like one that I often got from her to play with. Oh, I am sure I +have lived here before with father and mother!" + +As they neared the villa, the "woodland child" became more silent, and +pressed closer to her friend's side. + +"Ah! here they come," exclaimed Adeline Stanford, as followed by her +father and mother she ran downstairs to welcome the strangers. Miss +Drechsler they had seen before, but the appearance of the girl from the +Black Forest struck them much. They had expected to see a peasant child +(for Herr Müller had told them nothing of her history nor spoken of +her appearance), and when Frida had removed her hat and stood beside +them in the drawing-room, they were astonished to see no country child, +but a singularly beautiful, graceful girl, of refined appearance and +lady-like manners. Her slight shyness soon vanished through Ada's +unaffected pleasant ways, and erelong the two girls were talking to each +other with all the frankness of youth, and long ere the hour for the +concert came they were fast friends. + +[Illustration: "Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage +together." _See page 61._] + +Ada was herself a good pianist, and could play fairly well on the +violin, and she found that Herr Müller had arranged that she and the +girl from the Forest should perform together. + +"Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage together; we must +be sure we have it perfect." + +"Oh, how well you play!" she said when they had finished. "Has Herr +Müller been your only teacher?" + +"Latterly he has," was the answer; "but when I was quite little I was +well taught by my father." + +"Your father!" said Adeline; "does he play well? He cannot have had many +advantages if he has to work in the woods all day." + +"Work in the woods! why, he never did that." Then she added, "Oh! I see +you think Wilhelm Hörstel is my father; but that is not the case. My own +dear father is dead, and Wilhelm found me left alone in the Black +Forest." + +"Found in the Black Forest alone!" said Ada. Here was indeed a romance +to take the fancy of an imaginative, impulsive girl like Adeline +Stanford; and leaving Frida with her story unfinished, she darted off to +her parents to tell them what she had heard. They also were much +interested in her story, for they had been much astonished at the +appearance of the girl from the Forest; and telling Ada that she had +better go back to Frida, they turned to Miss Drechsler and asked her to +tell them all she knew of the child's history. + +She did so, mentioning also her brown Bible and the way in which God was +using its words amongst the wood-cutters in the Forest. + + * * * * * + +The concert was over, but Sir Richard, Lady Stanford, and Miss Drechsler +lingered awhile (after the girls had gone to bed), talking over the +events of the evening. + +"How beautifully your young friend played!" said Lady Stanford; "her +musical talent is wonderful, but the girl herself is the greatest wonder +of all. She cannot be the child of common people, she is so like a lady +and so graceful. And, Miss Drechsler, can you tell us how she comes to +be possessed of such a lovely mosaic necklace as she wore to-night? +Perhaps it belongs to yourself, and you have lent it to her for the +occasion." + +"No, indeed," was the answer; "it is not mine. It evidently belonged to +the child's mother, and was on her neck the night she was found in the +Forest." + +"Then," said Sir Richard, "it is just possible it may be the means of +leading to the discovery of the girl's parentage, for the pattern is an +uncommon one. She is a striking-looking child, and it is strange that +her face haunts me with the idea that I have seen it somewhere before; +but that is impossible, as the girl tells me she has never been in +England, and I can never have met her here." + +"It is curious," said Miss Drechsler; "but I also have the feeling that +I have seen some one whom she greatly resembles when I was in England +living in Gloucestershire with the Wardens." + +"'Tis strange," said Lady Stanford, "that you should see a likeness to +some one whom you have seen and yet cannot name, the more so that the +face is not a common one." + +"She is certainly a remarkable child," continued Miss Drechsler, "and a +really good one. She has a great love for her Bible, and I think tries +to live up to its precepts." + +That evening Sir Richard and his wife talked together of the possibility +of by-and-by taking Frida into their house as companion to Ada, +specially whilst they were travelling about; and perhaps afterwards +taking her with them to England and continuing her education there, so +that if her relations were not found she might when old enough obtain a +situation as governess, or in some way turn her musical talents to +account. + +The day after the concert, Frida returned with Miss Drechsler to +Dringenstadt, to remain a few days with her before returning to her +Forest home. + +As they were leaving the Stanfords, and Frida had just sprung into the +carriage which was to convey them to the station, a young man who had +been present at the concert, and was a friend of the Stanfords, came +forward and asked leave to shake hands with her, and congratulated her +on her violin-playing. He was a good-looking young man of perhaps +three-and-twenty years, with the easy manners of a well-born gentleman. + +After saying farewell, he turned into the house with the Stanfords, and +began to talk about the "fair violinist," as he termed her. "Remarkably +pretty girl," he said; "reminds me strongly of some one I have seen. +Surely she cannot be (as I overheard a young lady say last night) just a +wood-cutter's child." + +"No, she is not that," replied Sir Richard, and then he told the young +man something of her history, asking him if he had observed the strange +antique necklace which the girl wore. + +"No," he answered, "I did not. Could you describe it to me?" As Sir +Richard did so a close observer must have seen a look of pained surprise +cross the young man's face, and he visibly changed colour. "Curious," he +said as he rose hastily. "It would be interesting to know how it came +into her possession; perhaps it was stolen, who knows?" And so saying, +he shook hands and departed. + +Reginald Gower was the only child of an old English family of fallen +fortune. Rumour said he was of extravagant habits, but that he expected +some day to inherit a fine property and large fortune from a distant +relative. + +There were good traits in Reginald's character: he had a kind heart, and +was a most loving son to his widowed mother, who doted on him; but a +love of ease and a selfish regard to his own comfort marred his whole +character, and above all things an increasing disregard of God and the +Holy Scriptures was pervading more and more his whole life. + +As he walked away from Sir Richard's house, his thoughts were occupied +with the story he had just heard of the child found in the Black Forest. +He was quite aware of the fact that the girl's face forcibly reminded +him of the picture of a beautiful girl that hung in the drawing-room of +a manor-house near his own home in Gloucestershire. He knew that the +owner of that face had been disinherited (though the only child of the +house) on account of her marriage, which was contrary to the wishes of +her parents, and that now they did not know whether she were dead or +alive; though surely he had lately heard a report that, after years of +bitter indignation at her, they had softened, and were desirous of +finding out where she was, if still alive. And then what impressed him +most was the curious coincidence (he called it) that round the neck of +the girl in the picture was just such another mosaic necklace as the +Stanfords had described the one to be which the young violinist wore. + +Was it possible, he asked himself, that she could be the child of the +daughter of the manor of whom his mother had often told him? and if so, +ought he to tell them of his suspicions--the more so that he had heard +from his mother that the lady of the manor was failing in health, and +longing, as she had long done, to see and forgive her child? If he were +right in his surmises that this "woodland girl," as he had heard her +called, was the daughter of the child of the manor, then even if the +mother was dead, the young violinist would be received with open arms by +both the grand-parents, and would (and here arose the difficulty in the +young man's mind) inherit the estates and wealth which would have +devolved on her mother, all of which, but for the existence of this +woodland child, he, Reginald Gower, would have inherited as heir-at-law. + +"Well, there is no call on you to say anything about the matter, at all +events at present," whispered the evil spirit in the young man's heart. +"You may be mistaken. Why ruin your whole future prospects for a fancy? +Likenesses are so deceptive; and as to the necklace, pooh! that is +nonsense--there are hundreds of mosaic necklaces. Let the matter alone, +and go your way. 'Eat, drink, and be merry.'" + +All very well; but why just then of all times in the world did the words +of the Bible, taught him long ago by the mother he loved, come so +vividly to his remembrance--"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with +thy God;" and those words, heard more distinctly still, which his mother +had taught him to call "the royal law of love"--"As ye would that men +should do to you, do ye even so to them"? + +Good and bad spirits seemed fighting within him for the mastery; but +alas, alas! the selfish spirit so common to humanity won the day, and +Reginald Gower turned from the low, soft voice of the Holy Spirit +pleading within him, and resolutely determined to be silent regarding +his meeting with the child found in the Black Forest, and the strange +circumstance of her likeness to the picture and her possession of the +mosaic necklace. + +Once again the god of self, who has so many votaries in this world, had +gained a great triumph, and the prince of this world got a more sure +seat in the heart of the young man. But all unknown to him there was one +"climbing for him the silver, shining stair that leads to God's great +treasure-house," and claiming for her fatherless boy "the priceless boon +of the new heart." + +Was such a prayer ever offered in vain or unanswered by Him who hath +said, "If ye ask anything according to my will, I will do it. Ask, and +ye shall receive"? + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST. + + "Christmas, happy Christmas, + Sweet herald of good-will, + With holy songs of glory, + Brings holy gladness still." + + +Summer had long passed, autumn tints had faded, and the fallen leaves +lay thick in the Forest. + +For days a strong wind had blown, bending the high trees under its +influence, and here and there rooting up the dark pines and laying them +low. Through the night of which we are going to write, a heavy fall of +snow had covered all around with a thick mantle of pure white. It +weighed down the branches of the trees in the Forest, and rested on the +piles of wood which lay ready cut to be carted off to be sold for fuel +in the neighbouring towns. The roll of wheels, as the heavily-laden +wagons passed, was heard no more. The song of the birds had ceased, +though the print of their claws was to be seen on the snow. All was +quiet. The silence of nature seemed to rest on the hearts of the +dwellers in the Forest. In vain Elsie heaped on the wood; still the +stove gave out little heat. She busied herself in the little room, but a +weight seemed to be on her spirit, and she glanced from time to time +uneasily at Frida, who sat listlessly knitting beside the stove. + +"Art ill, Frida?" she said at last. "All this morning hast thou sat +there with that knitting on thy lap, and scarce worked a round at it. +And your violin--why, Frida, you have not played on it for weeks, and +even Hans notices it; and Wilhelm says to me no longer ago than this +morning, 'Why, wife, what ails our woodland child? The spirit has all +left her, and she looks white and tired-like.'" + +Frida, thus addressed, rose quickly from her seat, a blush, perchance of +shame, colouring her cheeks. + +"O Mutter," she said, "I know I am lazy; but it is not because I am ill, +only I keep thinking and wondering and--There! I know I'm wrong, only, +Elsie dear, Mutter Elsie, I do want to know if any of my own people are +alive, and where they live. I have felt like this ever since I was at +Baden-Baden; and I have not heard from Adeline Stanford for such a long +time, and I suppose, though she was so kind, she has forgotten me; and +Miss Drechsler has left Dringenstadt for months; and, O Mutter, forgive +me, and believe that I am not ungrateful for all that you and Wilhelm +and the kind people in the Dorf have done for me. Only, only--" And the +poor girl laid her head on Elsie's shoulder and cried long and bitterly. + +Elsie was much moved, she did so love the bright, fairy-like girl who +had been the means of letting in the light of the gospel to her dark +heart. + +"_Armes Kind_" (poor child), she said, soothing her as tenderly as she +would have done her own blind Anna, had she been alive and in trouble, +"I understand it all, dear." (And her kind woman heart had taken it all +in.) "It is just like the little bird taken from its mother's nest, and +put into a strange one, longing to be back amongst its like again, and +content nowhere else. But, Frida, dost thou not remember that we read in +the little brown book that our Lord hath said, 'Lo, I am with you +alway'? Isn't that enough for you? No place can be very desolate, can +it, if He be there?" + +In a moment after Elsie said these words, Frida raised her head and +dried her eyes. + +Had she been forgetting, she asked herself, whose young servant she was? +Was it right in a child of God to be discontented with her lot, and to +forget the high privilege that God had given her in allowing her to read +His Word to the poor people in the Forest? + +"I must throw off this discontented spirit," she said to herself; and +turning to Elsie she told her how sorry she was for the way in which she +had acted, adding, "But with God's help I will be better now." + +Frida was no perfect character, and, truth to tell, ever since her +return from Baden-Baden, a sense of the incongruity of her circumstances +had crept upon her. The tasteful surroundings, the cultured +conversation, the musical evenings, the refinement of all around, had +enchanted the young girl, and the humble lot and homely ways of her +Forest friends had on her return to them stood out in striking +contrast. And, alas! for the time being she refused to see in all these +things the guiding hand of God. But after the day we have written of, +things went better. The girl strove to conquer her discontent, and in +God's strength she overcame, and her friends in the Forest had once more +the pleasure of seeing her bright smile and hearing her sweet voice in +song. + +Johann Schmidt had fallen asleep in Jesus with the words of Holy +Scripture on his lips, blessing the "wood-cutters' pet," as he called +her, for having, through the reading of God's Word, led him to Jesus. +But though sickness had left the Forest, the severe cold and deep snow +were very trying to the health of all the dwellers in it, and the winter +nights were long and dreary. + +One day in December, Wilhelm Hörstel had business in Dringenstadt, and +on his return home he gave Frida two letters which he had found lying at +the post-office for her. They proved, to Frida's great delight, to be +from her two friends Miss Drechsler and Adeline Stanford. + +Miss Drechsler's ran thus:-- + + "DEAR FRIDA,--I have been thinking very specially of you and + your friends in the Forest, now that the cold winter days have + come, and the snow, I doubt not, is lying thick on the trees and + ground. Knowing how interested you are, dear, in all your kind + friends there, I have thought how nice it would be for you, if + Elsie and Wilhelm consent, to have a Christmas-tree for a few + of your friends; and in order to carry this out, I enclose a + money order to the amount of £2, and leave it to you and Elsie + to spend it to the best of your power. + + "I am also going to write to Herr Steiger to send, addressed to + you, ten pounds of tea, which I trust you to give from me to + each of the householders--nine in number, I think--in the little + Dorf, retaining one for your friends the Hörstels. Will you, + dear Frida, be my almoner and do my business for me? I often + think of and pray for you, and I know you do not forget me. I + fear I will not be able to return to Dringenstadt till the month + of May, as my sister is still very ill, and I feel I am of use + to her.--Your affectionate friend. M. DRECHSLER." + +"Oh, isn't it good? isn't it charming?" said Frida, jumping about the +room in her glee. "Mayn't we have the tree, Mutter? And will you not +some day soon come with me to Dringenstadt and choose the things for it? +Oh, I wish Hans were here, that I might tell him all about it! See, I +have not yet opened Adeline's letter; it is so long since I heard from +her. I wonder where they are living now. Oh, the letter is from Rome." + +Then in silence she read on. Elsie, who was watching her, saw that as +she read on her cheeks coloured and her eyes sparkled with some joyful +emotion. + +She rose suddenly, and going up to Elsie she said, "O Mutter, _was +denken Sie?_ [what do you think?]. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford enclose +a few lines saying they would like so much that I should, with your +consent, spend some months with them at Cannes in the Riviera, as a +companion to Adeline; and if you and Miss Drechsler agree to the plan, +that I would accompany friends of theirs from Baden-Baden who propose to +go to Cannes about the middle of January. And, Mutter," continued the +girl, "they say all my expenses will be paid, and that I shall have +Adeline's masters for music and languages, and be treated as if I were +their daughter." + +Elsie looked up with tears in her eyes. "Well, Frida dear," she said, +"it does seem a good thing for you, and right glad I am about it for +your sake; but, oh, we will miss you sorely. But there! the dear Lord +has told us in the book not to think only of ourselves, and I am sure +that He is directing your way. Of course I'll speak to Wilhelm about it, +for he has so much sense; but I don't believe he'll stand in your way." + +Frida, overcome with excitement, and almost bewildered with the prospect +before her, had yet a heart full of sorrow at the thought of leaving the +friends who had helped her in her time of need; and in broken words she +told Elsie so, clinging to her as she spoke. + +Matters were soon arranged. Elsie and Wilhelm heartily agreed that Frida +should accept Sir Richard and Lady Stanford's invitation. They only +waited till an answer could be got from Miss Drechsler regarding the +plan. And when that came, full of thankfulness for God's kindness in +thus guiding her path, a letter of acceptance was at once dispatched to +Cannes, and the child of the Forest only remained with her friends till +the new year was a fortnight old. + +In the meantime, whilst snow lay thick around, Christmas-eve came on, +and Frida and Elsie were busy preparing the tree. Of the true Christmas +joy many in the Forest knew nothing, but in some hearts a glimmer at +least of its true meaning was dawning, and a few of the wood-cutters +loved to gather together and hear Frida read the story of the angelic +hosts on the plain of Bethlehem singing of peace and good-will to men, +because that night a Babe, who was Christ the Lord, was born in a +manger. How much they understood of the full significance of the story +we know not, but we _do_ know God's word never returns to Him void. + +The tree was ready at last. Elsie, Frida, and Hans had worked busily at +it for days, Miss Drechsler's money had gone a long way, and now those +who had prepared it thought there never had been such a beautiful tree. +True, every child in the Forest had had on former occasions a tree of +their own at Christmas time--none so poor but some small twig was lit +up, though the lights might be few; but this one, ah, that was a +different matter--no such tree as this had ever been seen in the Forest +before. + +"Look, Hans," said Frida; "is not that doll like a little queen? And +only see that little wooden cart and horse; won't that delight some of +the children in the Dorf?--And, Mutter, we must hang up that warm hood +for Frau Schenk, poor woman; and now here are the warm cuffs for the +men, and a lovely pair for Wilhelm.--And, O Hans, we will not tell you +what _you_ are to have; nor you either, Mutter. No, no, you will never +guess. I bought them myself." + +And so, amid chattering and laughing, the tree got on and was finished; +and all I am going to say about it is that for long years afterwards +that particular Christmas-tree was remembered and spoken of, and in far +other scenes--in crowded drawing-rooms filled with gaily-dressed +children and grown-up people--Frida's eyes would fill as she thought of +the joy that Christmas-tree had given to the dwellers in the Forest, +both young and old. Ere that memorable night ended, Frida and Hans, who +had prepared a surprise for every one, brought out their violins, and +sang together in German a Christmas carol; and as the assembled party +went quietly home through the snow-carpeted Forest, a holy influence +seemed around them, as if the song of the angels echoed through the air, +"Peace on earth, and goodwill to men." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +HARCOURT MANOR. + + "Shall not long-suffering in thee be wrought + To mirror back His own? + His _gentleness_ shall mellow every thought + And look and tone." + + +Three years and a half have passed since the Christmas-eve we have +written of, and the golden light of a summer day was falling on the +earth and touching the flowers in a lovely garden belonging to the old +manor-house of Harcourt, in the county of Gloucester in England. + +In the lawn-tennis court, which was near the garden, preparations were +making for a game. Young men in flannels and girls in light dresses were +passing to and fro arranging the racquets and tightening the nets, some +gathering the balls together and trying them ere the other players +should arrive. It was a pleasant scene. Birds twittered out and in the +ivy and rose covered walls of the old English manor-house, and the +blithe laughter of the young people blended with the melodious singing +of the choristers around. + +The company was assembling quickly, kind words were passing amongst +friends, when there appeared on the scene an elderly lady of great +elegance and beauty, to whom all turned with respectful greeting, and a +hush came over all. + +Not that there was anything stern or severe in the lady's appearance to +cause the hush, for a look of calmness and great sweetness was in her +countenance, but through it there was also an appearance of sadness that +touched every heart, and although it would not silence any true young +joy, had certainly the effect of quieting anything boisterous or rude. + +The "gentle lady" of Harcourt Manor was the name Mrs. Willoughby had +gone by for some years. It was pretty well known that a deep sorrow had +fallen upon her whilst still in the prime of life; and those there were +who said they could recall a time when, instead of that look of calm +peace and chastened sorrow, there were visible on her face only haughty +pride and fiery temper. + +It was hard to believe that that had ever been the case; but if so, it +was but one of many instances in which God's declaration proved true, +that though "no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but +grievous, nevertheless _afterward_ it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of +righteousness." + +Mr. Willoughby, a man older by some years than his wife, was a man who +had long been more feared than beloved; and the heavy trial, which had +affected him no less than his wife, had apparently hardened instead of +softening his whole nature, though a severe illness had greatly +mitigated, it was thought, some of his sternness. + +The party of which we are writing was given in honour of the return from +abroad of the heir of the manor, a distant relation of the Willoughbys, +Mr. Reginald Gower, whom we have written of before. For five years he +had been living abroad, and had returned only a month ago to the house +of his widowed mother, the Hon. Mrs. Gower of Lilyfield, a small though +pretty property adjoining Harcourt Manor. + +Just as Mrs. Willoughby entered the grounds, Reginald and his mother did +so also, although by a different way, and a few minutes passed ere they +met. + +The young man walked eagerly up to the hostess, a smile of real pleasure +lighting up his handsome face at the sight of the lady he really loved, +and who had from his boyish days been a kind friend to him. But as he +greeted her, the look of sadness on her countenance struck him, and some +secret thought sent a pang through him, and for the moment blanched his +cheek. Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had it in his power, +by the utterance of a few words, to dispel that look of deep sadness +from the face of one of the dearest friends, next to his mother, whom he +possessed? + +"Very glad to see you back again, Reginald," said Mrs. Willoughby. "But +surely the southern skies have blanched rather than bronzed your cheeks. +You were not wont to be so pale, Reggie. Ay, there you are more like +your old self" (as a flush of colour spread over his face once more). +"We hope you have come to stay awhile in your own country, for your +dear mother has been worrying about your long absence.--Is it not so, +Laura?" she said, addressing herself to Mrs. Gower, who now stood beside +them. + +"Yes, indeed," was the reply; "I am thankful to have my boy home again. +Lilyfield is a dull place without him." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby; "it is a dreary home that has no child in +it." And as she spoke she turned her face away, that no one might see +that her eyes were full of tears. + +But Reginald had caught sight of them, and turned away suddenly, saying, +"Farewell for the present;" and raising his cap to the two ladies, he +went off to join the players in the tennis-court, to all outward +appearance one of the brightest and most light-hearted there. + +But he played badly that day, and exclamations from his friends were +heard from time to time such as, "Why, Reginald, have you forgotten how +to play tennis?" "Oh, look out, Gower; you are spoiling the game! It was +a shame to miss that ball." + +Thus admonished, Reginald drew himself together, collected his thoughts, +concentrated his attention on the game, and played well. But no sooner +was the game over than once again there rose before his eyes the face +and figure of the beautiful foundling of the Black Forest, with her +strange story and her extraordinary likeness not only to the picture of +the young girl in the drawing-room of the manor, but also to his gentle +friend Mrs. Willoughby. + +Oh, if only he had never met the young violinist; if he could blot out +the remembrance of her and be once more the light-hearted man he had +been ere he heard her story from Sir Richard Stanford! + +He had been so sure of his sense of honour, his pure morality, his good +principles, his high-toned soul ("True," he said to himself, "I never +set up to be one of your righteous-overmuch sort of people, nor a saint +like my noble mother and my friend Mrs. Willoughby") that he staggered +as he thought of what he was now by the part he was acting. Dishonest, +cruel, unjust--he, Reginald Gower; was it possible? Ah! his +self-righteousness, his boasted uprightness, had both been put to the +test and found wanting. + +"Well, Reggie, had you a pleasant time at the manor to-day?" said his +mother to him as they sat together at their late dinner. + +"Oh, it was well enough," was the reply; but it was not spoken in his +usual hearty tone, and his mother observed it, and also the unsatisfied +look which crossed his face, and she wondered what had vexed him. + +A silence succeeded, broken at last by Reginald. + +"Mother," he said, "what is it that has deepened that look of sadness in +Mrs. Willoughby's face since I last saw her? And tell me, is the story +about their daughter being disinherited true? And is it certain that she +is dead, and that no child (for I think it is said she married) survives +her? If that were the case, and the child should turn up and be +received, it would be awkward for me and my prospects, mother." + +"Reginald," Mrs. Gower replied, for she had heard his words with +astonishment, "if I thought that there was the least chance that either +Mrs. Willoughby's daughter or any child of hers were alive, I would +rejoice with all my heart, and do all I could to bring about a +reconciliation, even though it were to leave you, my loved son, a +penniless beggar. And so I am sure would you." + +A flush of crimson rose to Reginald's brow at these words. Then his +mother believed him to be all that he had thought himself, and little +suspected what he really was. But then, supposing he divulged his +secret, what about debts which he had contracted, and extravagant habits +which he had formed? No! he would begin and save, retrench his expenses, +and if possible get these debts paid off; and then he might see his way +to speak of the girl in the Black Forest, if she was still to be found. + +So once more Reginald Gower silenced the voice of conscience with, "At a +more convenient time," and abruptly changing the subject, began to speak +of his foreign experiences, of the beauty of Italian skies, art, and +scenery; and the conversation about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter passed +from his mother's mind, and she became absorbed in her son's +descriptions of the places he had visited. And as she looked at his +handsome animated face, was it any wonder that with a mother's +partiality she thought how favoured she was in the possession of such a +child? Only--and here she sighed--ah, if only she were sure that this +cherished son were a true follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and that +the Word of God, so precious to her own soul, were indeed a light to his +feet and a lamp to his path! + +That evening another couple were seated also at their dinner-table, and +a different conversation was being held. The master of Harcourt Manor +sat at the foot of the table, opposite his gentle wife; but a troubled +look was on his face, brought there very much by the thought that he +noticed an extra shade both of weariness and sadness on the face of his +wife. What could he do to dissipate it? he was asking himself. Anything, +except speak the word which he was well aware would have the desired +effect, and, were she still alive, restore to her mother's arms the +child for whom she pined; but not yet was the strong self-will so broken +down that those words could be spoken by him, not yet had he so felt the +need of forgiveness for his own soul that he could forgive as he hoped +to be forgiven. + +Did not his duty as a parent, and his duty towards other parents of his +own rank in life, call upon him to make a strong stand, and visit with +his righteous indignation such a sin as that of his only child and +heiress marrying a man, however good, upright, and highly educated he +might be, who yet was beneath her in station (although he denied that +fact), and unable to keep her in the comfort and luxury to which she had +been accustomed? + +"No, no, _noblesse oblige_;" and rather than forgive such a sin, he +would blight his own life and break the heart of the wife he adored. +Such was the state of mind in which the master of Harcourt Manor had +remained since the sad night when his only child had gone off to be +married at a neighbouring church to the young musician Heinz. But some +months before Reginald Gower's return from abroad, during a severe +illness which had brought him to the borderland, Mr. Willoughby was +aroused to a dawning sense of his own sinfulness and need of pardon, +which had, almost unconsciously to himself, a softening effect on his +mind. + +His wife was the first to break the silence at the dinner-table. "Has +not Reginald Gower grown more manly and older-looking since we saw him +last?" she said, addressing her husband. + +A shade came over his face as he answered somewhat testily, "Oh, I think +he looks well enough! Of course five years must have made him look +older. But Reginald never was the favourite with me that he is with you, +wife; a self-indulgent lad he always seems to me to be." + +"Well, but surely, husband" (once she always called him father, but that +was years ago now), "he is a good son, and kind to his mother." + +"Well, well, I am glad to hear it. But surely we have some more +interesting subject to discuss than Reginald Gower." + +Mrs. Willoughby sighed. Well she knew that many a time she had a +conflict in her own heart to think well of the lad who was to succeed to +the beautiful estates that by right belonged to their own child. + +Dinner over, she sought the quiet of her own boudoir, a room specially +endeared to her by the many sweet memories of the hours that she and her +loved daughter had spent together there. + +The day had been a trying one to Mrs. Willoughby. Not often nowadays had +they parties at Harcourt Manor, and she was tired in mind and body, and +glad to be a few minutes alone with her God. She sat for a few minutes +lost in thought; then rising she opened a drawer, and took from it the +case which contained the miniature of a beautiful girl, on which she +gazed long and lovingly. The likeness was that of the daughter she had +loved so dearly, and of whose very existence she was now in doubt. Oh to +see or hear of her once more! Poor mother, how her heart yearned for her +loved one! Only one could comfort her, and that was the God she had +learned to love. She put down the picture and opened a little brown +book, the very _fac-simile_ of the one which little Frida possessed, and +which God had used and blessed in the Black Forest. Turning to the +Hundred and third Psalm, she read the words, well underlined, "Like as a +father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." +Then turning to the Gospel of Matthew, she read Christ's own blessed +word of invitation and promise, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and +are heavy laden, and _I_ will give you rest." Ah, how many weary, +burdened souls have these words helped since they were spoken and then +under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost written for the comfort of weary +ones in all ages! Ere she closed the book, Mrs. Willoughby read the +fourth verse of the Thirty-seventh Psalm: "Delight thyself in the Lord, +and he shall give thee the desire of thine heart." Then kneeling down +she poured out, as she so often did, the sorrows of her heart to her +heavenly Father, and rose quieted in spirit. + +Ere she put away the little brown book she looked at it thoughtfully, +recalling the day, not long before her daughter had left her, when they +had together bought two Bibles exactly alike as regarded binding, but +the one was in German, the other in English. The German Bible she had +given to her daughter, who presented the English one to her mother. On +the fly-leaf of the one she held in her hand were written the words, "To +my much-loved mother, from Hilda." Ah, where was that daughter now? And +if she still possessed the little brown German Bible, had she learned to +love and prize its words as her mother had done her English Bible? Then +carefully locking up her treasured book and portraits, she went +downstairs, to wait in solitary grandeur for her husband's coming into +the drawing-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN THE RIVIERA. + + "My God, I thank Thee who hast made + The earth so bright, + So full of splendour and of joy, + Beauty, and light; + So many glorious things are here, + Noble and right." + + +More than four years had elapsed since Frida had left her home in the +Black Forest. April sunshine was lighting up the grey olive woods and +glistening on the dark-green glossy leaves of the orange-trees at +Cannes, and playing on the deep-blue waters of the Mediterranean there. + +Some of these beams fell also round the heads of two young girls as they +sat under the shade of a palm tree in a lovely garden there belonging to +the Villa des Rosiers, where they were living. A lovely scene was before +their eyes. In front of them, like gems in the deep-blue sea, were the +isles of St. Marguerite and St. Honorat, and to the west were the +beautiful Estrelle Mountains. Around them bloomed masses of lovely +roses, and the little yellow and white noisettes climbed up the various +tall trees in the garden, and flung their wealth of flowers in festoons +down to the ground. + +The two girls gazed in silence for some minutes at the lovely scene. +Then the youngest of the two, a dark-eyed, golden-haired girl, said, +addressing her companion, "Is it not lovely, Adeline? The whole of +nature seems to be rejoicing." + +"Yes, indeed," answered her companion. "And I am sure I owe much to the +glorious sunshine, for, by God's blessing, it has been the means of +restoring my health. I am quite well now, and the doctor says I may +safely winter in England next season. Won't it be delightful, Frida, to +be back in dear old England once more?" + +"Ah! you forget, Adeline, that I do not know the land of your birth, +though I quite believe it was my mother's birthplace as well, and +perhaps my own also. I do often long to see it, and fancy if I were once +there I might meet with some of my own people. But then again, how could +I, on a mere chance, make up my mind to leave my kind friends in the +Forest entirely? It is long since I have heard of them. Do you know that +I left my little Bible with them? I had taught Elsie and Hans to read +it, and they promised to go on reading it aloud as I used to do to the +wood-cutters on Sunday evenings. It is wonderful how God's Word has been +blessed to souls in the Forest. And, Adeline, have I told you how kind +your friend Herr Müller has been about Hans? He got him to go twice a +week to Dringenstadt, and has been teaching him to play on the violin. +He says he has real talent, and if only he had the means to obtain a +good musical education, would become a really celebrated performer." + +"Yes, Frida," replied her friend; "I know more about all that than you +do. Herr Müller has been most kind, and taken much trouble with Hans; +but it is my own dear, kind father who pays him for so doing, and tells +no one, for he says we should 'not let our left hand know what our right +hand doeth.'" + +A silence succeeded, broken only by the noise of the small waves of the +tideless Mediterranean at their feet. + +Then Frida spoke, a look of firm resolution on her face. "Adeline," she +said, "your father and mother are the kindest of people, and God will +reward them. This morning they told me that they mean to leave this +place in a couple of weeks, and return by slow stages to England; and +they asked me to accompany you there, and remain with you as your friend +and companion as long as I liked. Oh, it was a kind offer, kindly put; +but, Adeline, I have refused it." + +"Refused it, Frida! what do you mean?" said her friend, starting up. +"You don't mean to say you are not coming home with us! Are you going +back to live with those people in the little hut in the Forest, after +all your education and your love of refined surroundings? Frida, it is +not possible; it would be black ingratitude!" + +"O Adeline, hush! do not pain me by such words. Listen to me, dear, for +one moment, and do not make it more difficult for me to do the right +thing. Your parents have given their consent to my plan, and even said +they think it is the right plan for me." + +"Well, let me hear," said Adeline, in a displeased tone, "what it is you +propose to do. Is it your intention really to go back to the Forest and +live there?" + +"Not exactly that, Adeline. I have thought it all over some time ago, +and only waited till your parents spoke to me of going to England to +tell them what I thought was my duty to do. And this is what has been +settled. If you still wish it, as your parents do, I shall remain here +till you leave, and accompany you back to Baden-Baden, where your +parents tell me they intend going for a week or so. From there I propose +returning to my friends in the Forest, not to live there any more, but +for a few days' visit to see them who are so dear to me. After that I +shall live with Miss Drechsler. Her sister is dead, and has left her a +good deal of money, and she is now going to settle in Dringenstadt, and +have a paid companion to reside with her. And, Adeline, that situation +she has offered to me." + +"Well, Frida," interrupted her friend, "did not I wish you to be my +companion? and would not my parents have given you any sum you +required?" + +"O Adeline dear, hush, I pray of you, and let me finish my story. You +_know_ that it is not a question of money; but you are so well, dear, +that you do not really _need_ me. You have your parents and friends. +Miss Drechsler is alone, and I can never forget all she has done for me. +Then I am young, and cannot consent to remain in dependence even on such +dear friends as you are. I intend giving lessons in violin-playing at +Dringenstadt and its neighbourhood. Miss Drechsler writes she can +secure me two or three pupils at once, and she is sure I will soon get +more, as the new villas near Dringenstadt are now finished, and have +been taken by families. And then, Adeline, living there I shall be near +enough to the Forest to carry on the work which I believe God has called +me to, in reading to these poor people the words of life. And at Miss +Drechsler's I mean to live, as long as she requires me, _unless_ I am +claimed by any of my own relations, which, as you know, is a most +unlikely event. I believe I am right in the decision I have come to. So +once again I pray of you, dear Adeline, not to dissuade me from my +purpose. You know how much I love you all, and how grateful I am to you. +Only think how ignorant I would have been had not your dear parents +taken me and got me educated, as if I had been their own child. Oh, I +can never, never forget all that you have done for me!" + +Adeline's warm heart was touched, and her good sense convinced her, in +spite of her dislike to the plan, that her friend was right. "Well, +Frida," she said, after a minute or two's silence, "if you feel it +really to be your duty, I can say no more. Only you must promise me that +you will come sometimes, say in the summer time, and visit us." + +Frida smiled. "That would be charming, Adeline; but we will not speak of +that at present. Only say you really think I am right in the matter. I +have not forgotten to ask God's guidance, and you know it is written in +the Word of God which we both love so well, 'In all thy ways acknowledge +him, and he shall direct thy paths.' But come; we must go now and get +ready, for we are to go to-day to the Cap d'Antibes." + +And in the delights of that lovely drive, and in strolling amongst the +rocks honeycombed till they look almost like lacework, the two friends +forgot the evils of the impending separation. + +In the meantime Frida was warmly remembered by her friends in the +Forest, and their joy when they heard that she was once more coming to +live near them was unbounded. + +"Ah," said Elsie, as she bent her head over a sweet little year-old girl +whom she held on her lap, "now I shall be able to show her my little +Gretchen, and she will, I know, sing to her some of the sweet hymns she +used to sing to my little Annchen, and she will read to us again, +Wilhelm, out of the little brown book which I have taken great care of +for her." + +"Ay," put in Hans, "and Mütterchen, she will bring her violin, and she +and I will play together some of the music you and father love; and she +will, I know, be glad to hear that through Sir Richard Stanford and Herr +Müller I am to become a pupil in the Conservatorium of Leipsic. I can +hardly believe it is true." + +"Ay, my son, thou art a lucky one, and ye owe it all to Frida herself. +Was it not she who told Sir Richard about your love of music, and got +Herr Müller to promise to hear you play? Ah! under the good God we owe +much to the 'woodland child.'" + +And so it fell out that after a few more happy weeks spent at Cannes and +Grasse, Frida found herself once more an inmate of Miss Drechsler's +pretty little house at Dringenstadt, and able every now and then to +visit and help her friends in the Forest. + +"Ah, Mütterchen," she said as she threw herself into Elsie's arms, "here +I am again your foundling child, come to live near you, and so glad to +see you all once more.--And Hans, why, Hans, you look a man now; and oh, +I am so pleased you are to go to Leipsic! You must bring down your +violin now and then to Miss Drechsler's, and let us play together. I am +sure you will be a great musician some day, Hans." + +The young man (for such he now was) looked much gratified at his +friend's hopeful words, and said, "If I do turn that, I shall owe it all +to you, Frida." + +But the girl interrupted his speech by saying, "Now, Mutter, let me see +little Gretchen;" and next minute she was stooping over the bed where +lay the sleeping child--the very bed whence the spirit of the blind +child whom she had loved so dearly had taken its flight to the heavenly +land. + +"What a darling she looks, Elsie! Oh, I am glad God has sent you this +little treasure! She will cheer you when Hans has gone away and her +father is all day in the Forest." + +"Yes," said Elsie, "she is indeed a gift from God; and you, Frida, must +teach her, as you taught her parents and Anna, the 'way of life.' And O +Frida, thou must go down to the Dorf, for all the people there are so +eager to see thee once more. And now that thou hast grown a young lady, +they all wonder if thou still beest like the woodland child, and wilt +care about the like of them, or if perchance thou hast forgotten them." + +"Forgotten them! O Elsie, how could they think so? Could I ever forget +how they and you gave of their little pittance to maintain the child +found in the Black Forest, and how you all lavished kindness on her who +had neither father nor mother to care for her? I must go at once and ask +them what I have done that they should have thought so badly of me even +for a minute. Don't you know, Mutter, that I have given up the going to +England to live with Miss Drechsler at Dringenstadt, in order that I may +often see my dear friends in the Forest; and that shall be my life-work, +unless"--and here the girl looked sad--"any of my own friends find me +out and claim me." + +"Hast had any clue to them, Frida?" asked Elsie. + +"Alas, no!" said the girl, "none whatever; and yet I have seen a great +number of people during these few years. And I have always worn my +necklace, which, being such a peculiar one, might have attracted +attention and led to the discovery of my parentage; but except one +Englishman, whom I met at the Stanfords', who said I reminded him of +some one whom he had seen, there has been nothing to lead me to suppose +that any one thought of me except as a friend of the Stanfords. But, +Elsie, though I am not discontented, still at times there is the old +yearning for my own people. But God knows best, and I am not going to +waste my life in useless longings. I have got five pupils in +Dringenstadt already, and several more applications, and next week I +begin my life-work as a teacher of the violin.--Don't you envy me, +Hans?" + +"That is what I do, Fräulein Frida," said Hans. Somehow as he looked at +the fair young lady the old familiar name of Frida seemed too familiar +to use. Frida turned quickly round on him as he uttered the word +"Fräulein." + +"Why, Hans--for I will not call thee Herr--to whom did you speak? There +is no Fräulein here--just your old sister playmate Frida; never let me +hear you address me again by such a title. Art thou not my brother Hans, +the son of my dear friends Elsie and Wilhelm?" and a merry laugh +scattered Hans's new-born shyness. + +And to the end of their lives Frida and Hans remained as brother and +sister, each rejoicing in the success of the other in life; and in after +years they had many a laugh over the day that Hans began to think that +he must call his sister friend, the companion of his childhood, his +instructor in much that was good, by the stiff title of Fräulein Frida. + +Ere Frida left the hut that day, they all knelt together and thanked God +for past mercies, and it was Elsie's voice that in faltering accents +prayed that Frida might still be used in the Forest to lead many to the +knowledge of Christ Jesus through the reading of the Word of God. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS. + + "There are lonely hearts to cherish + While the days are going by, + There are weary souls who perish + While the days are going by. + If a smile we can renew, + As our journey we pursue, + Oh, the good we all may do + While the days are passing by!" + + +The London season was at its height, but though the pure sunshine was +glistening on mountain-top and green meadow, and beginning to tinge the +corn-fields with a golden tint in country places, where peace and +quietness seemed to reign, and leafy greenery called on every one who +loved nature to come and enjoy it in its summer flush of beauty, yet the +great city was still filled not only by those who could not leave its +crowded streets, but by hundreds who lingered there in the mere pursuit +of pleasure, for whom the beauties of nature had no charm. + +On one peculiarly fine day a group of people were gathered together in +the drawing-room of a splendid mansion in one of the West End crescents. + +There was evidently going to be a riding party, for horses held by +grooms stood at the door, and two at least of the ladies in the +drawing-room wore riding habits. + +In conversation with one of these--a pretty fair-haired girl of some +twenty years--stood Reginald Gower. "Will your sister ride to-day, do +you know?" he was asking, in somewhat anxious tones. + +"Gertie? No, I think not; she has a particular engagement this morning. +I don't exactly know what it is, but she will not be one of the party. +So, Mr. Gower, you and Arthur Barton will have to put up with only the +company of myself and Cousin Mary." + +Ere the young man could reply, the door opened, and a girl dressed in a +dark summer serge and light straw hat entered. She carried a small +leather bag in her hand, and was greeted with exclamations of dismay +from more than one of the party. + +"Are you going slumming to-day, Gertie? What a shame! And the sun so +bright, and yet a cool air--just the most delightful sort of day for a +ride; and we are going to call on your favourite aunt Mary." + +"Give her my love then," replied Gertie, "and tell her I hope to ride +over one of those days and see her. No, I cannot possibly go with you +to-day, as I have an engagement elsewhere." + +"An engagement in the slums! Who ever heard of such a thing?" said her +sister and cousin together. + +"I am sorry to disappoint you, Lily dear, and my cousin also; but I had +promised two or three poor people to see them to-day before I knew +anything of this riding party, and I am sure I am right not to +disappoint them.--And, Mr. Gower, I know your mother at least would not +think I was wrong." + +"That is true, Miss Warden. My mother thinks far more about giving +pleasure to the poor than she does about the wishes of the rich. But +could you not defer this slumming business till to-morrow, and give us +the pleasure of your company to-day?" + +But she shook her head, and assuring them they would get on very well +without her, she turned to leave the room, saying as she did so, "O +Lily, do find out if it is true that Aunt Mary's old governess, Miss +Drechsler, of whom we have all heard so much, is coming to visit her +soon, and is bringing with her the young violinist who lives with her, +and who people say was a child found in the Black Forest. I do so want +to know all about her. We must try and get her to come here some +evening, and ask Dr. Heinz, who plays so well upon the violin, to meet +her; and you also, Mr. Gower, for I know you dearly love music." + +Had Lily not turned quickly away just then, she would have noticed the +uneasy, startled look which crossed Reginald Gower's face at her words. +Was this woodland child, he asked himself, to be always crossing his +path? + +He had hoped he had heard the last of her long ago, and some years had +elapsed since he had seen her. The circumstance of the likeness to the +picture in Harcourt Manor, and the coincidence of the necklace, had +_almost_ (but as he had not yet quite killed his conscience), not +_altogether_, escaped his memory; and still, as at times he marked the +increasing sadness on Mrs. Willoughby's countenance, he felt a sharp +pang of remorse; and since he had known and begun to care for Gertie +Warden, her devoted Christian life and clear, truthful spirit were +making him more conscious than ever of his own selfishness and sin. + +True, he had no reason to suppose that she cared for him in any way +except as the son of his mother, whom she dearly loved, but his vanity +whispered that perhaps in time she might do so; and if that came to +pass, and he found that his love was returned, _then_ he would tell her +all, and consult with her as to what course he should follow. + +Lately, however, he had become uneasy at the many references which Lily +Warden made to a Dr. Heinz, who seemed to be often about the house, and +of whom both sisters spoke in high terms as a Christian man and pleasant +friend. What if he should gain the affection of Gertie? Heinz! something +in the name haunted him. Surely he had heard it before, and in +connection with the young violinist. And now was it possible that that +beautiful girl was really coming amongst them, and that his own mother +might meet her any day? for she was often at the house, not only of the +Wardens, but also of their aunt Mary, with whom the girl was coming to +stay. + +No wonder that during the ride Lily Warden thought Mr. Gower strangely +preoccupied and silent. She attributed it all to his disappointment at +her sister's absence, and felt vexed that such should be the case, as +well she knew that in the way he wished Gertie would never think of +Reginald Gower; but she felt sorry for him, and tried to cheer him up. + +Through that long ride, with summer sunshine and summer beauties around +him, Reginald saw only one face, and it was not that of Gertie Warden, +but that of the young girl whom he had heard play on the violin at the +house of the Stanfords at Baden-Baden. + +Oh, if he had only had courage then to write home and tell all that he +had heard about her! And in vivid colours there rose before his mind all +the disgrace that would attach to him when it became known that he knew +of the girl's existence and kept silence. The reason of his so doing +would be evident to many. And what, oh, what, he was asking himself, +would his loved, high-souled mother think of her son? Surely the words +of the Bible he heeded so little were true, "The way of transgressors is +hard," and his sin was finding him out. + +As soon as the first greetings were over, and the party were seated at +the lunch-table in Miss Warden's pretty cottage situated on the banks of +the Thames, Lily said, "O Aunt Mary, is it true what Gertie has +heard--that Miss Drechsler and a beautiful young violinist with a +romantic story are coming to visit you? Gertie is so anxious to know all +about her, for neither she nor any of us can believe that she can excel +Dr. Heinz in violin-playing; and, indeed, you know how beautifully +Gertie herself plays, and she often does so now with Dr. Heinz himself." + +"Yes, Lily dear, I am glad to say it is all true. I expect both Miss +Drechsler and her young _protégé_ next week to visit me for a short +time, after which they propose to go to the Stanfords at Stanford Hall, +who take a great interest in the young violinist--in fact, I believe she +lived for three or four years with them, and was educated along with +their own daughter.--By the way, Mr. Gower, you must tell your mother +that her old friend Miss Drechsler is coming to me, and I hope she will +spend a day with me when she is here." + +"I am sure she will be delighted to do so, Miss Warden," replied the +young man; but even as he spoke his cheek blanched as he thought of all +that might come of his mother meeting the young violinist. + +Reginald rode back with his friends to their house, but could not be +induced to enter again, not even to hear how Gertie had got on with her +slumming. "Not to-day," he said; "I find I must go home. I don't doubt +your sister has been well employed--more usefully than we mere +pleasure-seekers have been," he added, in such a grave tone that Lily +turned her head to look at him, as she stood on the door-steps, and +inquire if he were quite well. "Quite so, thanks," he replied, in his +usual gay tone; "only sometimes one does think there is a resemblance +between the lives the butterflies live and ours. Confess it now," he +said laughingly; but Lily was in no thoughtful mood just then, so her +only reply was,-- + +"Speak for yourself, Mr. Gower. I have plenty of useful things to do, +just as much so as making a guy of myself and going a-slumming, only I +am often too lazy to do them," and with a friendly nod she followed her +cousin into the house. + +Reginald rode slowly homeward, and, contrary to his usual custom, went +to his own room to try to collect his thoughts and make out in what form +he would deliver Miss Warden's message to his mother. It was very +evident to him that the meshes into which his own sins had brought him +were tightening around him. Turn which way he liked, there was no +escape. At least only one that he could see, and that was, that if the +secret came out, and the young violinist of the Black Forest were proved +to be the grandchild of the Willoughbys, he should keep silence as to +his ever having known anything of the matter. + +The more he thought of it, the more that seemed his wisest course; and +even if it should come out that he had heard her play, that would tell +nothing. Yet his conscience was ill at ease. Suppose he did so, what of +his own self-respect? Could he ever regain it? Fortune would be lost, +and all ease of mind gone for ever. Then again, if he told his story +now, it would only be because he knew that in any case it would be +disclosed, and shame would await him. + +How could he ever bear the reproaches of his kind friends the +Willoughbys, and more than all, the deep grief such a disclosure would +cause to his loved mother? In that hour Reginald Gower went through a +conflict of mind which left a mark on his character for life. But, alas! +once more evil won the day, and he resolved that not _yet_ would he tell +all he knew; but some day _soon_ he might. But once again, as he rose to +go downstairs, Bible words came into his mind: "_To-day_, while it is +called to-day, harden not your hearts." + +O happy mother, to have so carefully stored the young heart with the +precious words of God! Long they may be as the seed under ground, +apparently forgotten and useless, yet surely one day they will spring +up and bear fruit. True even in this application are the words of the +poet,-- + + "The vase in which roses have once been distilled + You may break, you may shiver the vase if you will, + But the scent of the roses will cling to it still." + +Well may we thank God for all mothers who carefully teach the words of +Holy Scripture to their children. + +That day Reginald delivered Miss Warden's message to his mother, but did +not mention the young girl who was to accompany her. + +"Oh, I will be delighted to see Miss Drechsler again," said his mother. +"I liked her so much when she was governess at the Wardens'. We all did; +indeed, she was more companion than governess, and indeed was younger +than I was, and just about Mary Warden's own age. I remember well going +one day with Mrs. Willoughby's daughter, Hilda, to a musical party at +the Wardens', and how charmed Miss Drechsler was at the way Hilda played +the violin, which was not such a common thing then as it is now." + +"The violin?" queried Reginald. "Did Miss Willoughby play on the +violin?" + +"Oh yes! she was very musical, and that was one of the great attractions +to her in the man she married. He, too, was a wonderful violinist--Herr +Heinz they called him. He was, I believe, a much-respected man and of +good family connections, but poor, and even taught music to gain a +livelihood." + +"Heinz!" Reginald was repeating to himself. Then he had heard that name +before first in connection with the child of the Black Forest; but he +only said, "It is curious that I have lately heard that name from the +young Wardens, who speak a great deal of a Dr. Heinz. He also is a good +violinist. Can he be any relation, do you think, of the one you allude +to?" + +"Possibly he may; but the name is not at all an uncommon German one. By +the way, I heard a report (probably a false one) that Gertie Warden is +engaged to be married to a Dr. Heinz--a very good man, they say. Have +you heard anything of it?" + +"I never heard she was engaged, nor do I think it is likely; but I have +heard both her and her sister speak of this Dr. Heinz, and I know it is +only a Christian man that Gertie would marry." + +Having said so much, he quickly changed the subject and talked of +something else. The mother's eye, however, was quick to notice the shade +on his brow as he spoke, and she was confirmed in the opinion she had +formed for some time that the very idea of Gertie Warden's engagement +was a pain to him. As he rose to go out he turned to say, "Remember, +mother, that I have given you Miss Warden's message." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN THE SLUMS. + + "In dens of guilt the baby played, + Where sin and sin _alone_ was made + The law which all around obeyed." + + +The summer sunshine, of which we have written as glistening among the +"leafy tide of greenery," and on the ripening corn-fields and +gaily-painted flowers in the country, was penetrating also the close +streets of one of the poorest parts of London, cheering some of the +hearts of the weary toiling ones there, into whose lives little sunshine +ever fell, and for a while, it may be, helping them to forget the misery +of their lot, or to some recalling happier days when they dwelt not in a +narrow, crowded street, but in a country village home, amidst grassy +meadows and leafy trees, feeling, as they thought of these things, +though they could not have put the feeling into words, what a poet gone +to his rest says so beautifully,-- + + "That sorrow's crown of sorrow + Is remembering happier things." + +But the very light that cheered revealed more clearly the misery, dirt, +and poverty around. + +In one such street, where little pale-faced children, without the +merriment and laughter of childhood, played in a languid, unchildlike +way, sickness prevailed; for fever had broken out, and indoors suffering +ones tossed on beds, if they could be so called, of sickness. + +At the door of a small room in one of the houses stood a girl of some +ten or eleven years old, looking out anxiously as if in expectation of +some one, turning every now and then to address a word to her mother, +who lay in the small room on a bed in the corner. + +"He baint a-comin' yet," she said, "'cos I knows his step; but he'll be +'long soon--ye see if he don't! I knows as how he will, 'cos he's that +kind; so don't ye fret, mother--the doctor 'ill be here in no time. +There now! Susan Keats giv' me some tea for ye, and I'll get the water +from her and bring you some prime and 'ot--ye see if I don't!" So +saying, the child ran off and went into a room next door, and entering +begged for some "'ot water." "Ye see," she said, addressing a woman +poorly clad like herself, "she be a-frettin', mother is, for the doctor, +for she's badly, is mother, to-day, and she thinks mayhap he'll do her +good." + +When the child returned to her mother's room, she found Dr. Heinz (for +it was he) sitting by her mother's side and speaking kindly to her. He +turned round as the child entered. "Come along, Gussie," he said; +"that's right--been getting mother some tea. You'll need to tend her +well, for she's very poorly to-day." + +"Ay, ay," muttered the woman, "that's true, that's true. Be kind to +Gussie, poor Gussie, when I am gone, doctor. The young lady--Miss +Warden be her name--she said she'd look after her, she did." + +The doctor bent over the dying woman and said some comforting words, at +which the woman's face brightened. "God bless ye," she said, "for +promising that. Oh, but life's been weary, weary sin' I came 'ere--work, +work, and that not always to be 'ad. But it's true, sir, what ye told +me. He says even to the like o' me, 'Come unto me, and I will give you +rest;' and He's done it, I think. Ye'll come again, sir, won't ye?" + +After a few moments of prayer with the poor woman, and giving her some +medicine to allay her restlessness, Dr. Heinz left the room. From house +to house in the fever-stricken street he went, ministering alike to body +and soul, often feeling cast down and discouraged, overwhelmed at times +by the vice and poverty of all around. The gospel had never reached +these poor neglected ones. The very need of a Saviour was by the great +majority of them unfelt. Love many of them had never experienced. The +evil of sin they did not comprehend. Brought up from babyhood in the +midst of iniquity, they were strangers to the very meaning of +righteousness and virtue. No wonder that the heart of the doctor was +oppressed as he went out and in amongst them. Yet he felt assured that +by love they could be won to the God of love, and that only the simple +gospel of Jesus Christ dying in their room and stead, told in the power +of the Holy Ghost, could enlighten their dark souls and prove the true +lever to raise them from their sin and misery. And so, whilst +alleviating pain, he tried when possible to say a word from the +book--God's revealed will, which alone "maketh wise unto salvation." +More than once on the day we write of, as he went from house to house, +the vision of a young girl whom he had often met going about doing good +flitted before his eyes. + +Gertie Warden and Dr. Heinz had first met in one of those abodes of +wretchedness, where she stood by a bed of sickness trying to comfort and +help a dying woman. + +Only two years before that and Gertie was just ready to throw herself +into the vortex of the gay society in which the other members of her +family mingled; but ere she did so the voice of the Holy Ghost spake to +her as to so many others, and showed her how true life was only to be +found in Christ and lived in Him. Henceforth she lived no longer a life +of mere worldliness, but a life spent in the service of Him who had +loved her and given Himself for her; and then her greatest joy was found +in visiting the poor, the afflicted, the tried--ay, and often the +oppressed ones of earth. + +In her own family she found great opposition to her new mode of life; +but the Lord raised up a kind helpful friend to her in the person of the +gentle, sorely-tried Mrs. Willoughby of Harcourt Manor. To her Gertie +confided all her difficulties as regarded her district visiting (or, as +her sister called it, her slumming), and many a word of sympathy and +wise counsel she got from her friend. + +One day she spoke of Dr. Heinz. + +"You cannot think how much the people love him," she said, "and trust +him. 'Ah!' I heard a poor woman say the other day, 'if only all were +like him, it's a better world it would be than it's now.' And do you +know," she went on, "he is actually interesting my father and Aunt Mary +in some of his poor patients. And he likes to come to our house +sometimes in the evenings and play on the violin along with us; and he +does play beautifully. I wish you knew him, dear Mrs. Willoughby, for I +know you would like him. But, dear friend, are you not well?" + +For at the name of Heinz a deadly faintness had overcome Mrs. +Willoughby. Was not that the name of her daughter's husband? and if he +should prove to be in any way related to him, might he not be able to +give some information regarding her loved one? But she composed herself, +and in answer to Gertie's question she replied,-- + +"It is nothing, dear, only a passing weakness. I am all right now. Tell +me something more of this Dr. Heinz and the Christian work he is engaged +in. He must be a German, I fancy, from his name." + +"Yes, he is," replied Gertie; "he was speaking to me lately about his +relations. He was born in Germany, and lived there till he was a boy of +seven years old. Then his parents died, and he came to this country with +an older brother who was a wonderful violinist, and he taught him to +play; but many years ago this brother married and returned to Germany, +leaving him here in the charge of some kind friends; and though at first +he heard from him from time to time, he has ceased to write to him for +some years, and he fears he is dead. He knows he had a child, for his +last letter mentioned her, but he knows nothing more." + +Again that terrible pallor overcame Mrs. Willoughby, but this time she +rose and said in an excited tone,-- + +"I must see this Dr. Heinz. Could you bring him to see me, Gertie, and +soon? Say to him that I think, although I am not sure, that I knew a +relation of his some years ago." + +"Oh yes, Mrs. Willoughby; I will gladly ask him to come and see you. +Indeed, I was just going to ask if you would allow him to call--" Here +the girl hesitated a moment, then said, "You see, it was only last +night, but I am engaged to be married to Dr. Heinz, and do wish you to +know and love him for my sake." + +Love one of the name of Heinz! Could she do so, the gentle lady was +asking herself. What if he should prove to be the brother of the man who +had caused her such bitter sorrow? But at that moment there rose to her +remembrance the words of Scripture, said by Him who suffered from the +hand of man as never man suffered, "Forgive, as ye would be forgiven," +and who illustrated that forgiveness on the cross when He prayed for His +deadly enemies, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." +The momentary struggle was over. Mrs. Willoughby raised her head, and +said in a calm, quiet tone,-- + +"God bless you, Gertie; and may your union be a very happy one. I should +like to see Dr. Heinz." + +And so it came to pass that ere many days had elapsed, Dr. Heinz was +ushered into Mrs. Willoughby's drawing-room in the London house which +they had taken for the season. He was hardly seated before she said,-- + +"Yes, oh yes--there can be no mistake--you certainly are the brother of +the man who married my daughter. Tell me, oh tell me," she added, "what +you know of her and of him!" + +Dr. Heinz was strongly moved as he looked on the face of the agitated +mother. + +"Alas!" he said, "I grieve to say I can tell you nothing. I have not +heard for several years from my brother, and at times I fear he must be +dead. My poor brother, how I loved him! for, Mrs. Willoughby, a gentler +or more kind-hearted man never lived. You may be sure, however much your +daughter was to blame in marrying any one against her parents' wishes, +she found in my brother a truly loving, kind husband." + +"Thank God for that!" she replied. "But now tell me, was there a child? +Gertie spoke as if you knew there was one." + +"Certainly there was. In the last letter I had from my brother, he spoke +of the great comfort their little girl (who was the image of her mother) +was to them--his little Frida he called her, and at that time she was +three or four years old. Oh yes, there was a child. Would that I could +give you more particulars! but I cannot; only I must mention that he +said, 'I am far from strong, and my beloved wife is very delicate.'" + +"Ah," said the mother, "she was never robust; and who knows what a life +of hardship she may have had to live! O Hilda, Hilda! Dr. Heinz, is +there no means by which we may find out their whereabouts? I have +lately had some advertisements put into various papers, praying them to +let us know where they are; but no answer has come, and now I am losing +all hope." + +"Would that I could comfort you!" he said; "but I also fear much that we +have lost the clue to their whereabouts. I will not cease to do all I +can to trace them; but, dear Mrs. Willoughby, we believe that there is +One who knows all, whose eyes are everywhere, and we can trust them to +Him. If I should in any way hear of our friends, you may be sure I shall +not be long of communicating with you. In the meantime it has been a +great pleasure to me to have made the acquaintance of one whom my dear +Gertrude has often spoken to me of as her kindest of friends." + +Then Dr. Heinz told of the work in which he was engaged amongst the +poor, sorrowful, and also too often sinful ones, in the East End of +London. + +Before Dr. Heinz left, Mrs. Willoughby showed him the little brown +English Bible which her daughter had given to her not long before her +marriage, and told him about the German one, which looked exactly the +same outwardly, which she had given to her daughter. + +"Strange," said Dr. Heinz, as he held the little brown book in his hand, +"that in the last letter I ever received from my brother, he told me of +the blessing which he had got through reading God's Word in a brown +Bible belonging to his wife, adding that she also had obtained blessing +through reading it." + +"Praise God!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "then my prayers have been +answered, that Hilda, like her mother, might be brought to the knowledge +of God. Now I know that if we meet no more on earth we shall meet one +day in heaven.--I thank Thee, O my God!" + +It was with a heart full of emotion that Dr. Heinz found himself leaving +Mrs. Willoughby's house. Oh, how he longed that he could hear tidings of +his brother and his wife, and so be able to convey comfort to the heart +of the sorrowful lady he had just left! + +As he was walking along, lost in thought, he came suddenly face to face +with Reginald Gower, whom he had lately met several times at the +Wardens', and to whom he suspected the news of his engagement to +Gertrude Warden would bring no pleasure; but from the greeting which +Reginald gave him he could not tell whether or not he knew of the +circumstance. + +He accosted him with the words: "What are you doing, doctor, in this +part of the town? I thought it was only in the narrow, dirty slums, and +not in the fashionable part of the west of London, that you were to be +found; and that it was only the sick and sorrowful, not the gay, merry +inhabitants of Belgravia that you visited." + +"Do you think then," replied Dr. Heinz, "that the sick, sad, and +sorrowful are only to be found in the narrow, dark streets of London? +What if I were to tell you that although there is not poverty, there are +sorrowful, sad, unsatisfied hearts to be found in as great numbers in +these fashionable squares and terraces as in the places you speak of; +and that the votaries of fashion, whom you style gay and merry, are too +often the most wretched of mankind, and that beneath the robes of silk +and satin of fashionable life there beats many a breaking heart? You see +that splendid square I have just left. Well, in one of the handsomest +houses there dwells one of the sweetest Christian ladies I have ever +met. She has everything that wealth and the love of friends can give +her, yet I believe she is slowly dying of a broken heart, longing to +know if a dearly-loved daughter, who made a marriage which her parents +did not approve of, years ago, is still alive; and no one can tell her +whether she or any child of hers still survives. I know all the +circumstances, and would give a great deal to be able to help her. He +would be a man to be envied who could go to that sweet mother, Mrs. +Willoughby, and say, I can tell you all about your daughter, or, if she +is not alive, of her child. O Reginald Gower, never say that there are +not sad hearts in the west part of London, though you may see only the +smiling face and dry eyes. You remember the words of the gifted +poetess,-- + + 'Go weep with those who weep, you say, + Ye fools! I bid you pass them by, + Go, weep with those whose hearts have bled + What time their eyes were dry.' + +But I must go. Have you not a word of congratulation for me, Reginald?" + +"Why?" was the amazed reply; "and for what?" + +"Oh," said Dr. Heinz, somewhat taken aback, "do you not know that I am +engaged to be married to Gertrude Warden?" + +"You are?" was the reply, with a look of amazement that Dr. Heinz could +not fail to notice; "well, I rather think you are a lucky fellow. +But"--and a look of deep sorrow crossed his face as he spoke--"I do +believe you are worthy of her. Tell her I said so. And would you mind +saying good-bye to her and her sister from me, as I may not be able to +see them before starting for America, which I shall probably do in a +week; and should you again see the Mrs. Willoughby you have been +speaking of, and whom I know well, please tell her I could not get to +say farewell to her, as my going off is a sudden idea. Good-bye, Dr. +Heinz. May you and Miss Gertrude Warden be as happy as you both deserve +to be;" and without another word he turned away. + +Dr. Heinz looked after him for a moment, then shook his head somewhat +sadly, saying to himself, "There goes a fine fellow, if only he had +learned of Him 'who pleased not himself.' Reginald is a spoiled +character, by reason of self-pleasing. I must ask Gertrude how he comes +to know Mrs. Willoughby, and why he is going off so suddenly to America, +although I may have my suspicions as to the reason for his so doing." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD NURSE. + + "It chanced, eternal God, that chance did guide." + + +"How are you getting on with your packing, Frida?" said Miss Drechsler, +as the girl, wearing a loose morning-dress, looked into the room where +her friend was sitting. + +"Oh, very well," was the answer; "I have nearly finished. When did you +say the man would come for the trunks?" + +"I expect him in about an hour. But see, here comes the post; look if +there is one for me from Miss Warden. I thought I would get one to tell +me if any of her friends would meet us at Dover." + +Frida ran off to meet the postman at the door, and returned in triumph, +bearing two letters in her hand. + +"One for you, auntie" (she always now addressed Miss Drechsler by that +name), "and one for myself. Mine is from Ada Stanford, and yours, I am +sure, is the one you are expecting." + +A few minutes of silence was broken by Frida exclaiming,-- + +"O auntie, Ada has been very ill again, and is still very weak, and she +asks, as a great favour, that I would come to visit them before going to +the Wardens; and adds, 'If Miss Drechsler would accompany you, we would +be so delighted; but in any case,' she writes to me, 'you would not lose +your London visit, as my doctor wishes me to see a London physician as +soon as I can be moved, specially as to settling whether or not I should +go abroad again next winter. So in perhaps another month we may go to +London, and then you can either remain with us or join your friend at +Miss Warden's.'" + +"What do you think about it, auntie? Of course it is a great +disappointment to me not to go with you; but do I not owe it to the +Stanfords to go to them when I may be of use during Ada's +convalescence?" + +Miss Drechsler looked, as she felt, disappointed, she had anticipated so +much pleasure in having Frida with her in London; but after a few +minutes' thought she said, "You are right, Frida: you must, I fear, go +first to the Stanfords. We cannot forget all that they have done for +you, and as they seem to be so anxious for you to go there, I think you +must yield to their wishes; but I must go at once to Miss Warden, who is +expecting me. You had better write at once and tell them we hope to be +at Dover in four days. They live, as you know, not so far from there. I +think that the train will take you to the station, not above a couple of +miles from Stanford Hall, where I doubt not they will meet you; but I +must write at once and let Miss Warden know that you cannot accompany +me, and the reason why, though I hope that erelong, if convenient to +her, you may join me there. Ah, Frida! 'man's heart deviseth his way: +but God directeth his steps.'" + +And so it came to pass that Miss Drechsler arrived alone at Miss +Warden's, whilst Frida went to Stanford Hall. + +When it became known in the Forest that the woodland child, as they +still called her, was again about to leave them for some undefined time, +there was great lamentation. + +"How then are we to get on without you?" they said. "_Ach!_ shall we +have to do without the reading of the book again? True, Hans Hörstel +reads it well enough; but what of that? He too has left us. _Ach!_ it is +plain no one cares for the poor wood-cutters and charcoal-burners who +live in the Forest, and some grand English gentleman will be getting our +woodland child for a wife, and she will return to us no more." + +But Frida only laughed at these lamentations. "Why, what nonsense you +speak!" she said. "It is only for a little while that I am going away. I +hope to come back in about three months. And many of you can now read +the Bible for yourselves. And as to the grand gentleman, that is all +fancy; I want no grand gentleman for a husband. The only thing that +would detain me in England would be if any of my relations were to find +me out and claim me; but if that were to be the case, I am sure none of +my friends in the Forest would grudge their child to her own people, and +they may be assured she would never forget them, and would not be long +in revisiting them." + +"_Ach!_ if the child were to find her own friends, her father or her +mother's people, that would be altogether a different matter," they said +simultaneously. "We would then say, 'Stay, woodland child, and be happy +with those who have a right to you; but oh, remember the poor +wood-cutters and workers in the Forest, who will weary for a sight of +the face of the fair girl found by one of them in the Black Forest.'" + +Very hearty was the welcome which awaited Frida at Stanford Hall. Ada +received her with open arms. + +"Ah, Frida, how glad I am to see you once again; and how good of you to +give up the pleasure of a month in London to come to see and comfort +us!--You will see how quickly I will get well now, mother.--And erelong, +Frida, we shall take you to London ourselves, and father will show you +all the wonders there." + +Frida answered merrily, but she felt much shocked to see how +delicate-looking Ada had become. + +The girls had much to tell each other of all that had happened since +last they met; and when dinner was over, and Frida went to see Ada as +she lay on her couch in her prettily-fitted-up boudoir, Ada roused +herself to have, as she said, "a right down delightful chat." + +"See, Frida, here is a charming easy-chair for you; please bring it +quite close to my couch, and now tell me all about your Forest friends. +How are Elsie and Wilhelm, and their little Gretchen and Hans? But, +indeed, I believe I know more about them than you do; for only two days +ago my father received a letter from Hans's music-teacher in Leipsic, +giving him unqualified praise, and predicting a successful musical +career for him." + +"Oh, I am glad!" said Frida. "How pleased his parents will be, and how +grateful to Sir Richard Stanford for all he has done for him!" + +And so in pleasant talk the evening of the first day of Frida's visit to +Stanford Hall drew to a close. As time passed on, Ada's health rapidly +improved, and together the girls went about the beautiful grounds +belonging to the Hall--Ada at first drawn in an invalid chair, and Frida +walking by her side. But by-and-by Ada was able to walk, and together +the girls visited in some of the cottages near the Hall--Frida finding +out that Ada in her English home was conveying comfort and blessing to +many weary souls by reading to them from her English Bible the words of +life, even as she had done from her German one in the huts of the +wood-cutters, carters, and charcoal-burners in the Black Forest. + +"Have you heard, Ada," said Lady Stanford one morning at breakfast, +"that the old woman who has lately come to the pretty picturesque +cottage at the Glen is very ill? I wish you and Frida would go and see +her, and take her some beef-tea and jelly which the housekeeper will +give you. I understand she requires nourishing food; and try and +discover if there is anything else she requires." + +"Certainly, mother," answered Ada; "we will go at once and see what can +be done for her.--That Glen is a lovely spot, Frida, and you have never +been there. What say you--shall we set off at once? The poor woman is +very old, and her memory is a good deal affected." + +"I shall be pleased to go, Ada; but I have a letter from Miss +Drechsler, received this morning, which I must answer by the first post. +She tells me that her friend Miss Warden is in great distress about the +illness of a friend of hers. She wishes to know how soon I can join her +in London; and now that you are so well, Ada, I really think I ought to +go." + +"Ah, well," said Ada with a laugh, "time enough to think of that, Frida. +We are not prepared to part with you yet; but seriously, mother talks of +carrying us all off to London by another fortnight, and that must +suffice you. But after you have written your letter we will set off to +the Glen." + +It was a lovely walk that the girls took that summer day through green +lanes and flowery meadows, till they came to a beautiful glen +overshadowed with trees in their fresh summer foliage of greenery, +through which the sunbeams found their way and touched with golden light +the green velvety moss and pretty little woodland flowers which so +richly carpeted the ground. + +"How beautiful it is here!" said Frida, "and yet how unlike the sombre +appearance of the trees in the dear Black Forest!" + +"Ah," said Ada, "that Forest, where I do believe your heart still is, +Frida, always seemed to me to be so gloomy and dark, so unlike our +lovely English woods with their 'leafy tide of greenery.'" + +As they spoke they neared the cottage where dwelt the old woman they +were going to see. It was thatch-covered and low, but up the walls grew +roses and ivy, which gave it a bower-like appearance. + +"She is a strange old woman," said Ada, "who has only lately come here, +and no one seems to know much about her. A grandchild of fourteen or +fifteen years old lives with and takes care of her. Her memory is much +impaired, but she often talks as if she had friends who if they knew +where she lived and how ill-off she was would help her; but when +questioned as to their name, she shakes her head and says she can't +remember it, but if she could only see the young lady she would know +her. They fancy the friends she speaks of must have been the family with +whom she lived as nurse, for her grandchild says she used often to speak +of having had the charge of a little girl to whom she was evidently much +attached. But here we are, Frida, and yonder is little Maggie standing +at the door." + +When they entered the room, Frida was amazed to see how small it was and +how dark; for the ivy, which from the outside looked so picturesque, +darkened the room considerably. Ada, who had seen the old woman before, +went forward to the bed where she lay and spoke some kind words to her. +The old woman seemed as if she hardly understood, and gave no answer. + +"Ah, madam," said the grandchild, "she knows nothing to-day, and when +she speaks it is only nonsense." + +Frida now came forward and laid her hand kindly on the poor woman, +addressing a few words of sympathy to her. The invalid raised her eyes +and looked around her, giving first of all a look of recognition to Ada, +and holding out her thin hand to her, but her eyes sought evidently to +distinguish the face of the stranger who had last spoken. "She knows," +explained Maggie, "yours is a strange voice, and wishes to see you, +which she can't do, miss, for you are standing so much in the shade." + +Frida moved so that the glimmer of light which entered the little room +fell on her face. As she did so, and the old woman caught a glimpse of +her, a look of joy lit up the faded face, and she said in a distinct +voice: "'Bless the Lord, O my soul;' my dear has come to see me. Oh, but +I am glad! It's a long time since I saw you, Miss Hilda--a long, long +time. I thought you were dead, or you would never have forgotten your +old nurse you loved so dearly; but now you've come, my lamb, and old +nurse can die in peace." And seizing Frida's hand, the old woman lay +back as if at rest, and said no more. + +Frida was startled, and turning to her friend, said, "O Ada, whom does +she take me for? Can it be that she knew my mother, whose name was +Hilda, and that she takes me for her? Miss Drechsler says I am +strikingly like the picture I have of her. Perhaps she can tell me where +my mother lived, and if any of her relations are still alive;" and +bending over the bed, she said in a low tone, "Who was Hilda, and where +did she live? Perhaps she was my mother, but she is dead." + +The old woman muttered to herself, but looked up no more, "Dead, dead; +yes, every one I loved is dead. But not Miss Hilda; you are she, and you +have come to see your old nurse. But listen, Miss Hilda: there is the +master calling on us to go in, and you know we must not keep the master +waiting for even a minute;" and then the old woman spoke only of things +and people of whom no one in the room knew anything. But through all +Frida distinctly heard the words, "Oh, if only you had never played on +that instrument, then he would never have come to the house. O Miss +Hilda, why did you go away and break the heart of your mother, and old +nurse's also? Oh, woe's the day! oh, woe's the day!" + +"Was his name Heinz?" asked Frida in a trembling voice. + +"Oh yes, Heinz, Heinz. O Miss Hilda, Miss Hilda, why did you do it?" and +then the old woman burst out crying bitterly. + +"O miss, can you sing?" said Maggie, coming forward; "for nothing quiets +grandmother like singing." + +"Yes, I can," replied Frida.--"And you, I am sure, Ada, will help me. I +know now the woman, whoever she is, knows all about my mother." + +Together the two young girls sang the hymn, "Jesus, Lover of my soul." + +As they sang the dying woman became quieter, her muttering ceased, and +presently she fell into a quiet sleep; the last words she uttered before +doing so were, "Jesus, Lover of my soul." Much moved in spirit, Frida +quitted the house; she felt as if now she stood on the verge of +discovering the name and relations of her mother. She and Ada hastened +their return home to confide to Lady Stanford all that had passed. She +was much interested, and, as Sir Richard entered the room just then, she +repeated the story to him. He listened eagerly, and said he would at +once find out all he could about the woman and her friends; and so +saying he left the house. + +He returned home cast down and discouraged. The woman had become quite +delirious, and the names of Hilda and Heinz were often on her lips, but +he could, of course, get nothing out of her. The grandchild could tell +nothing of her former life; she never remembered hearing where she had +been nurse, but her father, who was now in Canada, might know. Sir +Richard could write and ask him. She had his address, and sometimes got +letters from him. The doctor said he did not think that grandmother +would live over the night. The only thing that had quieted her was the +singing of the young lady whom she had called Miss Hilda, and who had +come to the cottage that day with Miss Stanford. Maybe if she could come +again and sing grandmother would be quieter. + +On hearing this Frida rose, and said if Lady Stanford would allow her, +she would go and remain all night with the old woman, who she felt sure +must have been her mother's nurse. She often, she said, watched a night +by dying beds in the Black Forest, and had comforted some on their +death-beds by reading to them portions of God's Word. + +The Stanfords could not refuse her request; and when Lady Stanford had +herself filled a basket with provisions for Frida herself and little +Maggie, the girl set off, accompanied by Sir Richard, who went with her +to the door of the cottage. + +Finding the poor woman still delirious, Frida took off her cloak and +bonnet and prepared to spend the night with her, and sitting down beside +the bed she once more began to sing some sweet gospel hymns. In low and +gentle tones she sang of Jesus and His love, and again the sufferer's +restlessness and moaning ceased, and she seemed soothed. + +Hours passed, and the early summer morn began to dawn, and still the old +woman lived on. Every now and then she muttered the name of Miss Hilda, +and once she seemed to be imploring her not to vex her mother; and more +than once she said the name of Heinz, and whenever she did so she became +more excited, and moaned out the words, "Woe's me! woe's me!" Frida +watched anxiously every word, in the hope that she might hear the name +of Hilda's mother or the place where they lived; but she watched in +vain. It was evident that though there was a look of returning +consciousness, life was fast ebbing. A glance upward seemed to indicate +that the dying woman's thoughts had turned heavenward. Frida opened her +Bible and read aloud the words of the "shepherd psalm," so precious to +many a dying soul, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow +of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me." + +To her amazement the sick woman repeated the words, "_thou_ art with +me;" and as she finished the last word the soul fled, and Frida and +Maggie were alone with the dead. The story of Frida's birth was still +undisclosed, but God's word, as recorded in Holy Scripture, had again +brought peace to a dying soul. Neighbours came in, and Frida turned away +from the death-bed with a heart full of gratitude to the Lord that she +had been allowed with His own words to soothe and comfort the old +nurse, who she felt sure had tended and loved her own mother. + +When she returned to the Hall, the Stanfords were truly grieved to hear +that the old woman was dead, and that there had been no further +revelation regarding Frida's relations. Lady Stanford and Ada had just +persuaded Frida to go to bed and rest awhile after her night of +watching, when the door opened, and the butler came in bearing a +telegram to Miss Heinz. Frida opened it with trembling hands, saw it was +from Miss Drechsler, and read the words, "Come at once; you are needed +here." + +What could it mean? Was Miss Drechsler ill? It looked like it, for who +else would require her in London? Fatigue was forgotten; she could rest, +she said, in the train; she must go at once. In a couple of hours she +could start. Ada was disconsolate. Nevertheless, feeling the urgency of +the case, she assisted her friend to pack her boxes; and erelong Frida +was off, all unaware of what might be awaiting her in the great city. +But ere we can tell that, we must turn for a while to other scenes, and +write of others closely linked, although unknown to herself, with the +life and future of the child found in the Black Forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. + + "Being convicted by their own conscience." + + +The day on which Reginald Gower met Dr. Heinz on the street, and sent +through him a farewell message to Gertrude Warden, found him a couple of +hours afterwards seated in his mother's boudoir, communicating to her +his suddenly-formed plan of starting in a few days for America. + +It was no easy thing to do. The bond between mother and son was a very +strong one, and her pleasure in having had him with her for some little +time had been great. Her look of pleasure when he entered the room made +it more difficult for him to break the news to her. + +"Earlier back to-day than usual, Reggie," she said, "but never too early +for your old mother. But is anything amiss?" she said in a voice of +alarm, as she noticed the grave look on his face. "Have you heard any +bad news, or are you ill?" + +"No, mother, it is neither of these things--there is nothing the matter; +only I fear, mother dear, that what I am going to say will vex you, but +you must not let it do so. I am not worth all the affection you lavish +on me. Mother, I have made up my mind to go to America, and to remain +there for some time. I cannot stop here any longer. I am tired--not of +my dear mother," he said, as he stooped over her and kissed her fondly, +"but of the idle life I lead here; and so I mean to go and try and get +work there, perhaps buy land if I can afford it, and see if I can make +anything of my life as a farmer. Nay, mother, do not look so sad," he +pleaded; "you do not know how hard it is for me to come to this +resolution, but I must go. I cannot continue to live on future prospects +of wealth that may--nay, perhaps ought never to be mine, but must act +the man--try and earn my own living." + +"Your own living, Reginald!" interposed his mother; "surely you have +enough of your own to live comfortably on even as a married man, and +your prospects of succeeding to Harcourt Manor are, I grieve to say for +one reason, almost certain. O Reginald, don't go and leave me so soon +again!" + +But the young man, usually so easily led, fatally so indeed, stood firm +now, and only answered, "Mother, it must be, and if you knew all you +would be the first to advise me to go. Mother, you will soon hear that +Gertie Warden is engaged to be married to a man worthy of her--a noble +Christian doctor of the name of Heinz; but don't think that that +circumstance is the reason of my leaving home. Fool though I have been +and still am, I was never fool enough to think I was worthy of gaining +the love of a high-principled girl like Gertie Warden. But, mother, your +unselfish, God-fearing life, and that of Gertie and Dr. Heinz, have led +me to see my own character as I never saw it before, and to wish to put +right what has been so long wrong, and which it seems to me I can do +best if I were away from home. Ask me no more, mother dear; some day I +will tell you all, but not now. Only, mother, I must tell you that the +words of the Bible which you love so well and have so early taught to me +have not been without their effect, at least in keeping my conscience +awake. And, mother, don't cease to pray for me that I may be helped to +do the right. Oh, do not, do not," he entreated, as his mother began to +urge him to remain, "say that, mother; say rather, 'God bless you,' and +let me go. Believe me, it is best for me to do so." + +At these words Mrs. Gower ceased speaking. If, indeed, her loved son was +striving to do the right thing, would she be the one to hold him back? +Ah no! she would surrender her will and trust him in the hands of her +faithful God. So with one glance upward for help and strength, she laid +her hand on his head and said, "Go then, my son, in peace; and may God +direct your way and help you to do the right thing, and may He watch +between us when we are separate the one from the other." + +Just as Reginald was leaving the room Miss Drechsler entered. She +greeted Mrs. Gower cordially, remembering her in old times; and she +recognized Reginald as the young man who had spoken to Frida the day +after the concert, though then she had not heard his name. + +As Reginald was saying good-bye, he heard his mother ask Miss Drechsler +where her friend the young violinist was. "I thought you would have +brought her to see me," she added. Her answer struck Reginald with +dismay. + +"Oh! she did not accompany me to London after all. A great friend of +hers was ill, and she had to go to her instead. It was a great +disappointment to me." + +Reginald went to his room feeling as if in a dream. Then it might never +come to pass, after all, that Frida's parentage would be found out; and +Satan suggested the thought that therefore he need not disclose all he +knew, but let things go on as they were. + +He hugged the idea, for not yet had he got the victory over evil; at all +events he thought he would still wait a bit, but he would certainly +carry out his intention of leaving the country for a while at least; and +two days after the time we write of, his mother sat in her own room with +a full heart after having parted from her only son. Well for her that +she knew the way to the mercy-seat, and could pour out her sorrow at the +feet of One who has said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I +will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE STORM. + + "More things are wrought by prayer + Than the world dreams of." + + +After Mrs. Willoughby's interview with Dr. Heinz of which we have +written, her thoughts turned more than ever to the daughter she loved so +well. + +It seemed certain from what Dr. Heinz had said that there had been a +child; and if so, even although, as she feared, her loved daughter were +dead, the child might still be alive, and probably the father also. The +difficulty now was to obtain the knowledge of their place of residence. + +Mrs. Willoughby quite believed that if any news could be obtained of +either mother or child, Mr. Willoughby's heart was so much softened that +he would forgive and receive them thankfully. Once more advertisements +were inserted in various papers, and letters written to friends abroad, +imploring them to make every inquiry in their power. + +More than once Dr. Heinz called to see his new-made friend; but as Mr. +Willoughby had returned to Harcourt Manor, whither his wife was soon to +follow him, he never met him; and as Dr. Heinz was leaving town to take +a much-needed holiday in the west Highlands of Scotland, nothing more +could be done for the present to obtain information regarding the lost +ones. It thus happened that although Dr. Heinz was a frequent visitor at +Miss Warden's, he never met Miss Drechsler; but he heard from Gertie +that she had not been able to bring the young girl violinist with her. + +It was to Mrs. Willoughby that Mrs. Gower went for sympathy and +consolation at the time of her son's departure. Mrs. Willoughby heard of +his sudden departure with surprise and deep sorrow for her friend's +sake. + +"Reginald gone off again so soon!" she said. "Oh, I am sorry for you, +dear friend! And does he speak of remaining long away? Making his own +living, you say? Has he not enough to live comfortably on in the +meantime? And then, you know," and her eyes filled with tears as she +spoke, "his future prospects are very good, unless--" + +But here Mrs. Gower interrupted her. "Dear friend, from my heart I can +say, if only dear Hilda or any child of hers could be restored to you, +there is no one would more truly rejoice than I would; and I believe +Reginald would do so also." But even as she said these words a pang of +fear crossed her mind as to Reginald's feeling on the subject; but the +mother's belief in her child refused to see any evil in him, and she +added, "I am sure he would. But in any case the day of his succession as +heir-at-law to Harcourt Manor is, we trust, far off, and so perhaps it +is best for him that he should make his way in life for himself. I have +been able now to trust him in God's hands, who doeth all things well." + +From that visit Mrs. Gower returned to her home comforted and +strengthened. Alone she might be, yet, like her Saviour, "not alone, for +the Father was with her." And ere many days had elapsed she was able to +busy herself in making preparations for her return to her pleasant +country home, which she had only left at Reginald's special request that +for once they might spend the season together in London. + +One thing only she regretted--that she would be for some weeks separated +from her friend Mrs. Willoughby, who was not to return to Harcourt Manor +for some weeks. + +Ah! truly has it been said, "Man proposes, but God disposes." The very +day that Mrs. Gower started for her home, Mrs. Willoughby received a +telegram telling her that Mr. Willoughby was very ill at the Manor, and +that the doctor begged she would come at once; and so it turned out +that, unknown to each other, the friends were again near neighbours, and +Mrs. Willoughby in her turn was to receive help and comfort from her +friend Mrs. Gower. + +Long hours of suspense and anxiety followed the gentle lady's arrival at +her country home. It soon became evident that Mr. Willoughby's hours +were numbered, but his intellect remained clear. His eyes often rested +with great sadness on his wife, and as he thought of leaving her alone +and desolate, his prayer was that he might hear something definite +regarding the child ere he died. Could he but have obtained that boon, +he would have felt that that knowledge had been granted to him as a +pledge of God's forgiveness. + +Not always does our all-wise God grant us signs even as an answer to our +prayers. Still, He is a God who not only forgives as a king, royally, +but also blesses us richly and fully to show the greatness of His +forgiving power. And such a God He was to prove Himself in the case of +Mr. Willoughby. + + * * * * * + +Whilst he lay on that bed of death, watched over and tended by loving +friends, Reginald Gower was tossing on a stormy sea, a fair emblem of +the conflict between good and evil, right and wrong, that was still +raging within his breast. But that night, when the waves of the Atlantic +were wellnigh overwhelming the vessel in which he sailed, when fear +dwelt in every heart, when the captain trod the deck with an anxious +gravity on his face, light broke on Reginald's heart. So his mother's +prayers were answered at last. The Holy Spirit worked on his heart, and +showed him as it were in a moment of time his selfishness and his sin; +and from the lips of the self-indulgent young man arose the cry never +uttered in vain, "God be merciful to me a sinner." And when the morning +light dawned, and it was seen they were nearing in safety the harbour +whither they were bound, Reginald Gower looked out on the sea, which was +fast quieting down, and gave thanks that the conflict in his soul was +ended, and that clear above the noise of the waters he heard the voice +of Him who, while He tarried here below, had said, "Peace, be still," +to the raging billows, say these same words to his soul. + +"Safe in port," rang out the captain's voice; and "Safe in port, through +the merits of my Saviour," echoed through the soul of the young man. + +"Now," he said to himself, "let house, lands, and fortune go. I will do +the just, right thing, which long ago I should have done--write to Mrs. +Willoughby, and tell all I know about the child found in the Black +Forest." + +At that resolution methinks a song of rejoicing was heard in heaven, +sung by angel voices as they proclaimed the glad news that once more +good had overcome evil--that the power of Christ had again conquered the +power of darkness--that in another heart the Saviour of the world had +seen of the travail of His soul and was satisfied. + + * * * * * + +In the meantime, the events we have written of were transpiring in +Harcourt Manor. Mr. Willoughby still lay on a bed of sickness, from +which the doctor said he would never rise, although a slight rally made +it possible that life might yet be spared for a few days or even weeks. + +He was wonderfully patient, grieving only for the sorrow experienced by +his wife, and the sad thought that his own unforgiving spirit was in +great part the reason why now she would be left desolate without a child +to comfort her. + +Daily Mrs. Gower visited her friend, and often watched with her by the +bed of death. + +Dr. Heinz, at Mrs. Willoughby's request, came to see Mr. Willoughby, and +obtained from his lips a message of full forgiveness if either his +daughter, her husband, or any child should be found after his death; and +together they prayed that if it were God's will something might be heard +of the lost ones ere Mr. Willoughby entered into rest. "'Nevertheless,'" +added the dying man, "'not my will but thine be done.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE DISCOVERY. + + "All was ended now--the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow." + + +One day shortly after Dr. Heinz's visit, Mrs. Gower came to Harcourt +Manor accompanied by Miss Drechsler, who had arrived from London the +night before to remain with her for a couple of days. + +"You will not likely see Mrs. Willoughby," she said as they neared the +manor-house, "as she seldom leaves her husband's room; but if you do not +object to waiting a few minutes in the drawing-room whilst I go to see +her, I would be so much obliged to you, as I am desirous of knowing how +Mr. Willoughby is to-day. He seemed so low when I last saw him." + +"Oh, certainly," answered Miss Drechsler. "Don't trouble about me; I can +easily wait. And don't hurry, please; I am sure to get some book to +while away the time." + +They parted in the hall, Mrs. Gower turning off to the sick-room, while +Miss Drechsler was ushered by the butler into the drawing-room. The room +was a very fine one, large and lofty. It had been little used for some +weeks, and the venetian blinds were down, obscuring the light and +shutting out the summer sunshine. + +At first Miss Drechsler could hardly distinguish anything in the room, +coming into it as she did from a blaze of light; but as her eyes became +accustomed to the gloom, she made out first one object and then another +clearly, and rising from the place where she had been seated, she began +to look around her, turning to the pictures, which she had heard were +considered very fine. She looked attentively at some of them. Then her +eyes rested on a full-sized portrait of a beautiful girl, and with a +start of astonishment Miss Drechsler uttered the word, "Frida! and with +her curious necklace on, too. What does it mean?" she queried. + +In a moment the whole truth flashed on her mind. That, she felt sure, +must be a picture of Frida's mother, and she must have been the missing +child of Harcourt Manor. + +She sat down a moment, feeling almost stunned by the discovery she had +made. What a secret she had to disclose! Oh, if Mrs. Gower would only +come back quickly, that she might share it with her! Oh, if Frida had +only been with her, and she could have presented her to her grandparents +as the child of their lost daughter! + +At last the door opened, and her friend appeared, but much agitated. +"Excuse me, dear Miss Drechsler, for having kept you so long waiting; +but I found Mr. Willoughby much worse, and I must ask you kindly to +allow me to remain here for a short time longer. Perhaps you would like +to take a stroll about the beautiful grounds, and--" + +But Miss Drechsler could no longer keep silence. "O dear friend, do not +distress yourself about me! Listen to me for a moment. I have made such +a discovery. I know all about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter; but, alas, she +is dead! She died some years ago; but her only child, the very image of +that picture on the wall yonder, is living, and is now residing within a +few hours of London. She is my _protégé_, my dearly-loved young +violinist, Frida Heinz, the child I have told you of found in the Black +Forest!" + +"Is it possible?" replied Mrs. Gower. "What a discovery you have made! +thank God for it. Can she be got at once, I wonder, ere the spirit of +her grandfather passes away? Oh, this is indeed an answer to prayer! The +cry of the poor man's heart for days has been, 'Oh, if God has indeed +forgiven me, as I fully believe He has, I pray He may allow me to know +ere I go hence if my child, or any child of hers, is alive to come and +comfort my dear wife in the sorrow that is awaiting her!'" + +"A telegram must be sent at once to Stanford Hall, where she is now +living," said Miss Drechsler; "and another to Miss Warden, asking her to +send off Frida, after she arrives at her house, at once to Harcourt +Manor." + +And without loss of time the telegram was dispatched which summoned +Frida to London, and from thence to the manor-house. + +The first sense of surprise having passed, Mrs. Gower's thoughts +involuntarily turned to Reginald. How would he like this discovery? But +again the mother's partiality, which already had too often blinded her +to his faults, suggested the impossibility that he would receive the +news with aught but pleasure, though there might be a momentary feeling +of disappointment as regarded his future prospects. But now she must +return to the sick-room, and try to see her friend for a minute or two +alone, and tell her the glad tidings; also, if possible, let her hear +the particulars of the story from the lips of Miss Drechsler herself. + +It was no easy matter now, under any pretence, to get Mrs. Willoughby to +leave her husband's side even for a moment. The doctors had just told +her that at most her husband had not more than two days to live, perhaps +not so long, and every moment was precious; but Mrs. Grower's words, +spoken with calm deliberation, "Dear friend, you must see me in another +room for a few minutes about a matter of vital importance," had their +effect. And she rose, and after leaving a few orders with the nurse, and +telling her husband she would return immediately, she quietly followed +Mrs. Gower into another room. + +She listened as if in a dream to the story which Miss Drechsler told. +Incident after incident proved that the child found in the Forest was +indeed her grand-daughter; and as she heard that her own child, her +loved Hilda, was indeed dead, the mother's tears fell fast. + +The necklace which Frida still possessed, the same as that worn by the +girl in the picture, the small portrait which had been found in her bag +the night that Wilhelm Hörstel had discovered her in the Black Forest, +all confirmed the idea that she was indeed the grandchild of the Manor; +but it was not until Mrs. Willoughby heard the story of the "brown +German Bible" that she sobbed out the words, "Oh, thank God, thank God, +she is the child of my darling Hilda. Now, dear friend, this discovery +must be communicated by me to my husband, and he will know that his last +prayer for me has been granted." + +Mr. Willoughby was quite conscious, and evidently understood the fact +that at last a child of his daughter's had been found. As regarded the +death of the mother, he merely whispered the words, "I shall see her +soon;" then said, "I thank thee, O my Father, that Thou hast answered +prayer, and that now my sweet wife will not be left alone.--Give my fond +love to the girl, wife, for I feel my eyes shall not see her. That is my +punishment for so long cherishing an unforgiving spirit." + +And if God could act as a man, such might have been the case; but our +God is fully and for ever a promise-keeping God, and He has declared, +"If any man confess his sins, He is faithful and just to forgive him, +and to cleanse him from all iniquity." And so it came to pass that ere +the spirit of Mr. Willoughby passed away, he had pressed more than one +kiss on the lips of his grandchild, and whispered the words, "Full +forgiveness through Christ--what a God we have! Comfort your +grandmother, my child, and keep near to Jesus in your life. God bless +the kind friends who have protected and loved you when you were +homeless.--And now, Lord, let Thy servant depart in peace.--Farewell, +loved and faithful wife, who, by the reading to me God's word of life, +hast led my soul to Christ." One deep-drawn breath, and his spirit fled, +and his wife and grandchild were left alone to comfort each other. + + * * * * * + +"And now, Frida, my loved child, come and tell me all about those +friends who were so kind to you in the Forest," said Mrs. Willoughby +some days after Mr. Willoughby's funeral. "Ah, how little we thought +that we had a grandchild living there, and that our darling Hilda was +dead! When I look upon you, Frida, it almost seems as if all these long +years of suffering had been a dream, and my daughter were again seated +beside me, work in hand, as we so often sat in the years that have gone. +You are wonderfully like her, and I believe that during the last four +hours of his life, when his mind was a little clouded, my dear husband +thought that Hilda really sat beside him, and that it was to her he said +the words, 'I fully forgive, as I hope to be forgiven.' But comfort +yourself, Frida; at the very last he knew all distinctly, and told us to +console each other.--But now tell me what I asked you to do, and also if +you ever met any one who recognized you as your mother's daughter." + +"Not exactly," replied Frida. "Still, one or two people were struck with +my likeness to some one whom they had seen, but whose name they could +not recall. Miss Drechsler was one of those, and now she says she +wonders she did not remember that it was Miss Willoughby, although she +had only seen her twice at the Wardens', and then amongst a number of +people. And then a young man, a Mr. Gower (the same name as your +friend), who had heard me play on the violin at the Stanfords' concert, +told them that he was much struck with my resemblance to a picture he +had seen. I wonder if he could be any relation to your Mrs. Gower?" + +"Was his name Reginald?" Mrs. Willoughby asked hurriedly. + +"Yes. Sir Richard Stanford used to call him Reginald Gower; but I seldom +saw him. But, grandmother, is there anything the matter?" for as Frida +spoke, Mrs. Willoughby's face had blanched. Was it possible, she asked +herself, that Reginald Gower had known, or at least suspected, the +existence of this child, and for very evident reasons concealed it from +his friends? A terrible fear that it was so overcame her; for she liked +the lad, and tenderly loved his mother. She felt she must betray +herself, and so answered Frida's question by saying,-- + +"Oh, it is nothing, dear, only a passing faintness; but I shall lie on +the sofa, and you shall finish your talk. Now tell me about the Forest." + +And Frida, well pleased to speak of the friends she loved so well, told +of her childhood's life in the Forest, and the kindness shown to her by +Elsie and Wilhelm, not forgetting to speak of Hans and the little blind +Anna so early called to glory. "And, O grandmother, all the wood-cutters +and charcoal-burners were so kind to me, and many amongst them learned +to love the words of this little book;" and as she spoke she took from +her pocket the little brown German Bible, her mother's parting legacy to +her child. "It was no words of mine that opened their eyes (I was too +young to have said them); but I could read the Word of God to them, and +they did the deed." + +Mrs. Willoughby took the little book in her hands and pressed it to her +lips. "It was often in the hands of my darling Hilda, you say? and those +words in a foreign language became as precious to her as did the English +ones to her mother in the little Bible she gave her ere they parted? +Blessed book, God's own inspired revelation of Himself, which alone can +make us 'wise unto salvation.'" + +Mrs. Willoughby listened with great pleasure to Frida's tale, glancing +every now and again at the fair girl face, which was lit up as with +sunshine as she spoke of her happy days and dear friends in the Forest. + +"I must write to a friend in Dringenstadt," she said, "to go to the +Forest and tell them all the good news,--of how good God has been to me +in restoring me to my mother's friends, and in letting me know that a +brother of my father's was alive. But see, here comes the postman. I +must run and get the letters." + +In a minute she re-entered bearing a number of letters in her hand. + +"Ah! here are quite a budget," she said. "See, grandmother, there is one +for you bearing the New York mark, and another for myself from +Frankfort. Ah! that must be from the uncle you spoke of, Dr. Heinz. You +said he had gone there, did you not?" + +Whilst Frida was talking thus, her grandmother had opened her American +letter, and saw that it was from Reginald Gower. "He has heard, of +course, of my dear husband's death, and writes to sympathize with me. +But no; he could hardly have heard of that event, nor of the discovery +of our grandchild, and replied to it. He must be writing about some +other subject." + +She then read as if in a dream the following words:-- + + "DEAR FRIEND--if indeed I may still dare to address you thus--I + write to ask forgiveness for a sore wrong which I have done to + you and Mr. Willoughby. I confess with deep shame that for some + years I have had a suspicion, nay, almost a certainty, that a + child of your daughter was alive. Miss Drechsler, now living + with Miss Warden, can tell you all. I met the girl, who plays + charmingly on the violin, at a concert in the house of Sir + Richard Stanford. Her face reminded me of a picture I had seen + somewhere, but at first I could not recall where, until the + fact, told me by the Stanfords, of a peculiar necklace which the + girl possessed, and which they described to me, brought to my + remembrance the picture of your daughter at Harcourt Manor with + a _fac-simile_ of the necklace on. Added to this, I had heard + that the girl had been found by a wood-cutter in the Black + Forest, and that of her birth and parentage nothing was known. + It is now with deep repentance that I confess to having + concealed these facts (though I had no doubt as to whose child + she was), because I knew that by disclosing the secret my right + to succeed to the property of Harcourt Manor would be done away + with. I felt even then the shame and disgrace of so doing, and + knew also the trouble and grief I was causing to you, whom + (although you may find it difficult to believe) I really loved, + and who had ever been such a kind friend to me. I now see that + it was a love of self-indulgence which led me to commit so foul + a sin. Conscience remonstrated, and the words of the Bible, so + early instilled into my mind by my mother, constantly reproached + me; but I turned from and stifled the voice of conscience, and + deliberately chose the evil way. All these years I have + experienced at times fits of the deepest remorse, but + selfishness prevailed; and when I heard that Frida Heinz was + coming to England, and that probably ere-long all might be + disclosed, I resolved to leave my native land and begin a better + life here. Ere I left I had reason to believe that she was + unable to come to England, so even now I may be the first to + reveal the secret of her existence. I do not know if even yet I + would have gained strength to do this or not, had not God in His + great mercy opened my eyes, during a fearful storm at sea, when + it seemed as if any moment might be my last, to see what a + sinner I was in His sight, and led me to seek forgiveness + through the merits of Christ for all my past sins. _That_ I + believe I have obtained, and now I crave a like forgiveness from + you whom I have so cruelly wronged. Should you withhold it, I + dare not complain; but I have hopes that you, who are a follower + of our Lord Jesus Christ, will not do so. One more request, and + I have done. Comfort, I beg of you, my mother when she has to + bear the bitter sorrow of knowing how shamefully the son she + loves so dearly has acted. By this post I write also to her. I + trust to prove to both of you by my future life that my + repentance is sincere. REGINALD GOWER." + +Mrs. Willoughby's grief on reading this letter was profound. To think +that the lad whom she had loved, and whom in many ways she had +befriended, had acted such a base, selfish part, overwhelmed her; and +the thought that if he had communicated even his suspicions to her so +long ago the child would have been found, and probably have gladdened +her grandfather's life and heart for several years ere he was taken +hence, was bitter indeed. But not long could any unforgiving feeling +linger in her heart, and ere many hours were over she was able fully to +forgive. + +Of Mrs. Gower's feelings we can hardly write. The shame and grief she +experienced on reading the letter, which she received from her son by +the same post as that by which Mrs. Willoughby received hers, cannot be +expressed; but through it all there rang a joyful song, "This my son was +dead, and is alive again." The prayers--believing prayers--of long years +were answered, and the bond between mother and son was a doubly precious +one, united as they now were in Christ. It was for her friend she felt +so keenly, and to know how she had suffered at the hand of Reginald was +a deep grief to her. Could she, she queried, as she set out letter in +hand to Harcourt Manor--could she ever forgive him? That question was +soon answered when she entered the room and met her friend. Ere then +Mrs. Willoughby had been alone with her God in prayer, and had sought +and obtained strength from her heart to say, "O Lord, as Thou hast +blotted out my transgressions as a thick cloud, and as a cloud my sins, +so help me to blot out from my remembrance the sorrow which Reginald has +caused to me, and entirely to forgive him." After two hours spent +together the two friends separated, being more closely bound together +than ever before; Mrs. Willoughby saying she would write to Reginald +that very night, and let him know that he had her forgiveness, and that +without his intervention God had restored her grandchild to her arms. + +In the meantime letters had reached Dr. Heinz telling that the search +for the missing ones was at an end. His short holiday was drawing to a +close, and erelong Frida was embraced by the brother of the father she +had loved so much and mourned so deeply. + +And ere another summer had gone she was present at her uncle's marriage +with Gertie Warden, and was one of the bridesmaids. And a few days after +that event it was agreed, with her grandmother's full consent--nay, at +her special request--that she should accompany them on their marriage +jaunt, and that that should include a visit to Miss Drechsler and a +sight of her friends in the Black Forest. + +Many were the presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby to Elsie, Wilhelm, and +others who had been kind to her grandchild in the Forest. + +"O grandmother," said Frida, as she was busy packing up the things, "do +you know that I have just heard that my kind friend the German pastor +has returned to Dringenstadt and settled there. He was so very kind to +me when I was a little child, I should like to take him some small +special remembrance--a handsome writing-case, or something of that +kind." + +"Certainly, Frida," was the answer. "You shall choose anything you think +suitable. I am glad you will have an opportunity of thanking him in +person for all his kindness to you, and, above all, for introducing you +to Miss Drechsler. And look here, Frida. As you say that Wilhelm and +Elsie can read, I have got two beautifully-printed German Bibles, one +for each of them, as a remembrance from Frida's grandmother, who, +through the reading of those precious words, has got blessing to her own +soul. See, I have written on the first page the words, 'Search the +scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they +which testify of me.'" + +It was settled that during Frida's absence Mrs. Gower should live at +Harcourt Manor, and together Mrs. Willoughby and she bid adieu to Frida +as she set off three days after the marriage to meet her uncle and his +bride at Dover, from whence they were to start for the Continent. Tears +were in Frida's eyes--tears of gratitude--as she thought of the goodness +of God in restoring her, a lonely orphan, to the care of kind relations +since she had crossed the Channel rather more than a year before. + +Frida endeared herself much to her uncle and his wife, and after a trip +with them for some weeks, they left her with regret at Miss Drechsler's, +promising to return soon and take her home with them after she had seen +her friends in the Forest. + +"Ah, Frida," said Miss Drechsler, when they were seated in the evening +in the pretty little drawing-room, "does it not seem like olden days? Do +you not remember the first time when Pastor Langen brought you here a +shy, trembling little child, and asked me to see you from time to time?" + +Ere Frida could reply, the door opened, and Pastor Langen entered, and +Miss Drechsler introduced him to his _protégé_. + +"Frida Heinz! Is it possible? I must indeed be getting _ein Alter_ if +this be the little girl who was found in the Black Forest." + +He listened with interest whilst Miss Drechsler told him the history of +her past years, much of which was new to him, although he had heard of +Frida's gift as a violinist; but when she told of the wonderful way in +which her relations had been discovered, he could refrain himself no +longer, but exclaimed,-- + +"_Lobe Herrn_, He is good, very good, and answers prayer." + +And ere they parted the three knelt at the throne of grace and gave +thanks to God. + +On the next day it was settled that Frida should go to the Forest and +see her old friends, taking her grandmother's present with her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +OLD SCENES. + + "God's world is steeped in beauty, + God's world is bathed in light." + + +It was in the leafy month of June that Frida found herself once more +treading the Forest paths. The smaller trees were clothed in their +bright, fresh, green lining-- + + "Greenness shining, not a colour, + But a tender, living light;" + +and to them the dark, gloomy pines acted as a noble background, and once +again the song of birds was heard, and the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the +forest streams. + +Memory was very busy at work as the girl--nay, woman now--trod those +familiar scenes. Yonder was the very tree under which Wilhelm found her, +a lonely little one, waiting in vain for the father she would see no +more on earth. + +There in the distance were the lonely huts of the wood-cutters who had +so lovingly cared for the orphan child. And as she drew nearer the hut +of the Hörstels, she recognized many a spot where she and Hans had +played together as happy children, to whom the sighing of the wind amid +the tall pines had seemed the most beautiful music in the world. + +As she recalled all these things, her heart filled with love to God, who +had cared for and protected her when her earthly friends had cast her +off. The language of her heart might have been expressed in the words of +the hymn so often sung in Scottish churches:-- + + "When all Thy mercies, O my God! + My rising soul surveys, + Transported with the view, I'm lost + In wonder, love, and praise." + +Words cannot depict the joy of Elsie and Wilhelm at the sight of their +dear woodland child. They had already heard of her having found her +English relations, and heartily they rejoiced at the good news, although +well they knew that they would seldom see the child they loved so well. + +Many were the questions asked on both sides. Frida, on her part, had to +describe Harcourt Manor and her gentle grandmother and her father's +brother, Dr. Heinz, and his beautiful bride. She told also of the +full-sized picture (which hung on the walls of Harcourt Manor) of her +mother, which had been the means of the discovery of her birth, from her +extraordinary likeness to it. + +When the many useful presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby were displayed, +the gratitude of those poor people knew no bounds, and even the little +girl looked delighted at the bright-coloured, warm frocks and cloaks +for winter wear which had been sent for her. Hans was by no means +forgotten: some useful books fell to his share when he returned home in +a few weeks from Leipsic for a short holiday. + +It was with difficulty that Frida tore herself away from those kind +friends, and went to the Dorf to see her friends there, and take them +the gifts she had brought for them also. It was late ere she reached +Dringenstadt, and there, seated by Miss Drechsler, related to her the +doings of the day. + +To Pastor Langen was entrusted a sum of money to be given to the +Hörstels, and also so much to be spent every Christmas amongst the +wood-cutters and charcoal-burners in the Dorf. The two Bibles Frida had +herself given to the Hörstels, who had been delighted with them. + +When, soon after that day, Dr. Heinz and his bride, accompanied by +Frida, visited the Forest, they received a hearty welcome. Many of the +wood-cutters recognized the resemblance Dr. Heinz bore to his brother +who had died in the cottage in the Forest. + +Many a story did Dr. Heinz hear of the woodland child and her brown +book. + +The marriage trip over, the Heinzes, accompanied by Frida, returned to +their homes--they to carry on their work of love in the dark places of +the great metropolis, taking with them not only comforts for the body, +but conveying to them the great and only treasures of the human mind, +the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. And to many and many a sin-sick, +weary soul the words of Holy Scripture spoken by the lips of those two +faithful ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ brought peace and rest and +comfort. And Frida, on her part, found plenty of work to do for the +Master in the cottages near Harcourt Manor, in which her grandmother +helped her largely. + +Three years had passed since Frida had become an inmate of her +grandmother's home, and they had gone for the winter to London in order +to be near Frida's relations the Heinzes, and at Frida's request Ada +Stanford, who was now much stronger, had come to pay her a visit. Many a +talk the two friends had about the past, recalling with pleasure the +places they had visited together and the people they had seen. The +beauties of Baden-Baden and the sunny Riviera were often dwelt on, and +together they loved to review God's wonderful love as regarded them +both. They spoke also of their visit to the dying woman in the Glen, +whom Frida had long before found out to have been a faithful nurse to +her mother, and for whose little grand-daughter Mrs. Willoughby had +provided since hearing from Frida of the old woman's death. + +Then one day the girls spoke of a musical party which was to take place +in Mrs. Willoughby's house that day, and in the arranging for which Ada +and Frida had busied themselves even as they had done years before in +Baden-Baden for the party at which Frida had played on the violin. A +large party assembled that night, and Dr. Heinz and Frida played +together; but the great musician of the night was a young German +violinist who had begun to attract general attention in the London +musical world. He was no other than Hans Hörstel, the playmate of +Frida's childhood. + +Very cordial was the meeting between those two who had last seen each +other in such different circumstances. + +And Sir Richard Stanford, who was also present, felt he was well repaid +for what he had spent on young Hörstel's education by the result of it, +and by the high moral character which the young man bore. + +It was a happy night. Frida rejoiced in the musical success of the +companion of her early years, and together they spoke of the days of the +past, and of his parents, who had been as father and mother to her. + +Long after the rest of the company had gone, Hans, by Mrs. Willoughby's +invitation, remained on; and ere they parted they together gave thanks +for all God's kindness towards them. + +All hearts were full of gratitude, for Mrs. Gower was there rejoicing in +the news she had that day received from Reginald, that he was about to +be married to a niece of Sir Richard Stanford's, whom he had met whilst +visiting friends in New York; and she was one who would help in the work +for Christ which he carried on in the neighbourhood of his farm. He was +prospering as regarded worldly matters, and he hoped soon to take a run +home and introduce his bride to his loved mother and his kind friend +Mrs. Willoughby. He added, "I need hardly say that ere I asked Edith to +marry me I told her the whole story of my sin in concealing what I knew +of the birth of Frida Heinz; but she said, what God had evidently +forgiven, it became none to refuse to do so likewise." + +So after prayer was ended, it was from their hearts that all joined in +singing the doxology,-- + + "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!" + +And with this scene we end the story of the child found in the Black +Forest, and the way in which her brown German Bible was used there for +the glory of God. + + +THE END. + + +PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN. + + + + +Nelson's "Royal" Libraries. + + +THE TWO SHILLING SERIES. + + RED DICKON. Tom Bevan. + LAST OF THE SEA KINGS. David Ker. + IN TAUNTON TOWN. E. Everett-Green. + IN THE LAND OF THE MOOSE. Achilles Daunt. + TREFOIL. Margaret P. Macdonald. + WENZEL'S INHERITANCE. Annie Lucas. + VERA'S TRUST. Evelyn Everett-Green. + FOR THE FAITH. Evelyn Everett-Green. + ALISON WALSH. Constance Evelyn. + BLIND LOYALTY. E. L. Haverfield. + DOROTHY ARDEN. J. M. Callwell. + FALLEN FORTUNES. Evelyn Everett-Green. + FOR HER SAKE. Gordon Roy. + JACK MACKENZIE. Gordon Stables, M.D. + IN PALACE AND FAUBOURG. C. J. G. + ISABEL'S SECRET; or, A Sister's Love. + IVANHOE. Sir Walter Scott. + KENILWORTH. Sir Walter Scott. + LEONIE. Annie Lucas. + OLIVE ROSCOE. Evelyn Everett-Green. + QUEECHY. Miss Wetherell. + SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY. Mrs. Charles. + "SISTER." Evelyn Everett-Green. + THE CITY AND THE CASTLE. Annie Lucas. + THE CZAR. Deborah Alcock. + THE HEIRESS OF WYLMINGTON. E. Everett-Green. + THE SIGN OF THE RED CROSS. E. Everett-Green. + THE SPANISH BROTHERS. Deborah Alcock. + THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE. Harold Avery. + THE UNCHARTED ISLAND. Skelton Kuppord. + THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. Miss Wetherell. + THE BRITISH LEGION. Herbert Hayens. + THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. + SALE'S SHARPSHOOTERS. Harold Avery. + A TRUSTY REBEL. Mrs. H. Clarke. + BEGGARS OF THE SEA. Tom Bevan. + HAVELOK THE DANE. C. W. Whistler. + + +THE EIGHTEENPENCE SERIES. + + TOM TUFTON'S TOLL. E. Everett-Green. + NEW BROOM. Charles Turley. + STAR. Mrs. L. B. Walford. + A SON OF ODIN. C. W. Whistler. + PRESTER JOHN. John Buchan. + SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD. E. Everett-Green. + SONS OF FREEDOM. Fred Whishaw. + SONS OF THE VIKINGS. John Gunn. + STORY OF MADGE HILTON. Agnes C. Maitland. + IN LIONLAND. M. Douglas. + MARGIE AT THE HARBOUR LIGHT. E. A. Rand. + ADA AND GERTY. Louisa M. Gray. + AFAR IN THE FOREST. W. H. G. Kingston. + A GOODLY HERITAGE. K. M. Eady. + BORIS THE BEAR HUNTER. Fred Whishaw. + "DARLING." M. H. Cornwall Legh. + DULCIE'S LITTLE BROTHER. E. Everett-Green. + ESTHER'S CHARGE. E. Everett-Green. + EVER HEAVENWARD. Mrs. Prentiss. + FOR THE QUEEN'S SAKE. E. Everett-Green. + GUY POWER'S WATCHWORD. J. T. Hopkins. + IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. W. H. G. Kingston. + IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES. E. Everett-Green. + LIONEL HARCOURT, THE ETONIAN. G. E. Wyatt. + MOLLY'S HEROINE. "Fleur de Lys." + NORSELAND TALES. H. H. Boyesen. + ON ANGELS' WINGS. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + ONE SUMMER BY THE SEA. J. M. Callwell. + PARTNERS. H. F. Gethen. + ROBINETTA. L. E. Tiddeman. + SALOME. Mrs. Marshall. + THE LORD OF DYNEVOR. E. Everett-Green. + THE YOUNG HUGUENOTS. "Fleur de Lys." + THE YOUNG RAJAH. W. H. G. Kingston. + WINNING THE VICTORY. E. Everett-Green. + TRUE TO THE LAST. E. Everett-Green. + WON IN WARFARE. C. R. Kenyon. + + +Nelson's "Royal" Shilling Library. + + THE KINSMEN OF BRITHRIC'S HAM. H. Elrington. + THE WATCH TOWER. William A. Bryce. + LITTLE FRIDA. + THE GIRL WHO HELPED. Annie Swan, etc. + THE GOLD THREAD, & WEE DAVIE. Norman Macleod. + FEATS ON THE FIORD. Harriet Martineau. + ACADEMY BOYS IN CAMP. S. F. Spear. + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Miss Gaye. + ESTHER REID. Pansy. + TIMOTHY TATTERS. J. M. Callwell. + AMPTHILL TOWERS. A. J. Foster. + IVY AND OAK. + ARCHIE DIGBY. G. E. Wyatt. + AS WE SWEEP THROUGH THE DEEP. Dr. Gordon Stables. + AT THE BLACK ROCKS. Edward Rand. + AUNT SALLY. Constance Milman. + CYRIL'S PROMISE. A Temperance Tale. W. J. Lacey. + GEORGIE MERTON. Florence Harrington. + GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + HUDSON BAY. R. M. Ballantyne. + JUBILEE HALL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + LOST SQUIRE OF INGLEWOOD. Dr. Jackson. + MARK MARKSEN'S SECRET. Jessie Armstrong. + MARTIN RATTLER. R. M. Ballantyne. + RHODA'S REFORM. M. A. Paull. + SHENAC. The Story of a Highland Family in Canada. + SIR AYLMER'S HEIR. E. Everett-Green. + SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. Harold Avery. + THE CORAL ISLAND. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE DOG CRUSOE. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE GOLDEN HOUSE. Mrs. Woods Baker. + THE GORILLA HUNTERS. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE ROBBER BARON. A. J. Foster. + THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. Emily C. Hartley. + UNGAVA. R. M. Ballantyne. + WORLD OF ICE. R. M. Ballantyne. + YOUNG FUR TRADERS. R. M. Ballantyne. + MARTIN'S INHERITANCE. + OUR SEA-COAST HEROES. Achilles Daunt. + GIBRALTAR AND ITS SIEGES. + THE SECRET CAVE. Emilie Searchfield. + LIZZIE HEPBURN. + VANDRAD THE VIKING. J. Storer Clouston. + + + + +"THE" BOOKS FOR BOYS. + +AT TWO SHILLINGS. Coloured Plates. + + +By R. M. BALLANTYNE. + + =FREAKS ON THE FELL.= + + =ERLING THE BOLD.= + + =DEEP DOWN.= + + =WILD MAN OF THE WEST, THE.= + + =GOLDEN DREAM, THE.= + + =RED ERIC.= + + =LIGHTHOUSE, THE.= + + =FIGHTING THE FLAMES.= + + =CORAL ISLAND, THE.= The author of "Peter Pan" says of "The Coral + Island": "For the authorship of that book I would joyously swop + all mine." + + =DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER.= A tale of the prairies, with many + adventures among the Red Indians. + + =GORILLA HUNTERS, THE.= A story of adventure in the wilds of + Africa, brimful of exciting incidents and alive with interest. + + =HUDSON BAY.= A record of pioneering in the great lone land of the + Hudson's Bay Company. + + =MARTIN RATTLER.= An excellent story of adventure in the forests + of Brazil. + + =UNGAVA.= A tale of Eskimo land. + + =WORLD OF ICE, THE.= A story of whaling in the Arctic regions. + + =YOUNG FUR TRADERS, THE.= A tale of early life in the Hudson Bay + Territories. + + +By W. H. G. KINGSTON. + + "The best writer for boys who ever lived." + + =WITH AXE AND RIFLE.= + + =CAPTAIN MUGFORD.= + + =SNOW-SHOES AND CANOES.= + + =HEIR OF KILFINNAN, THE.= + + =BEN BURTON.= + + =DICK CHEVELEY.= A stirring tale of a plucky boy who "ran away to + sea." + + =IN THE EASTERN SEAS.= The scenes of this book are laid in the + Malay Archipelago. + + =IN THE WILDS OF AFRICA.= The adventures of a shipwrecked party on + the coast of Africa. + + =IN THE WILDS OF FLORIDA.= A bustling story of warfare between Red + Men and Palefaces. + + =MY FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTHERN SEAS.= A tale of adventure at sea and + in Cape Colony, Ceylon, etc. + + =OLD JACK.= An old sailor's account of his many and varied + adventures. + + =ON THE BANKS OF THE AMAZON.= A boy's journal of adventures in the + wilds of South America. + + =SAVED FROM THE SEA.= The adventures of a young sailor and three + shipwrecked companions. + + =SOUTH SEA WHALER, THE.= A story of mutiny and shipwreck in the + South Seas. + + =TWICE LOST.= A story of shipwreck and travel in Australia. + + =TWO SUPERCARGOES, THE.= An adventurous story full of "thrills." + + =VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.= A young sailor's account of his + adventures by land and sea. + + =WANDERERS, THE.= The adventures of a Pennsylvanian merchant and + his family. + + =YOUNG LLANERO, THE.= A thrilling narrative of war and adventure. + + +T. NELSON AND SONS, LTD., London, Edinburgh, and New York. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Frida, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + +***** This file should be named 31521-8.txt or 31521-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/5/2/31521/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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+ margin-left: 2em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +.poem span.i4 { + display: block; + margin-left: 4em; + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; +} + +/*title page*/ +.noi {text-indent: 0em;} +.head {font-size: 2.5em;} +.sub {font-size: 1.3em;} +.by {font-size: 1.1em;} +.books {font-size: .8em;} +.pub {font-size: 1.5em;} +.location {font-size: 1.2em;} +.sub2 {font-size: .8em;} + +.adblock {margin: auto; width: 36em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Frida, by Anonymous + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Frida + A Tale of the Black Forest + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: March 6, 2010 [EBook #31521] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>Little Frida<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub2">A Tale of the Black Forest</span></h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 420px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="420" height="600" alt="Frontispiece" title="Page +42" /> +<span class="caption">Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms.<br /> +<a href="#front"><em>See page 42.</em></a></span> +</div> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p class="noi center"><span class="head">LITTLE FRIDA</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">A TALE OF THE BLACK FOREST</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="by">BY THE AUTHOR OF</span><br /> + +<span class="books">"LITTLE HAZEL, THE KING'S MESSENGER"<br /> + +"UNDER THE OLD OAKS; OR, WON BY LOVE"<br /> + +ETC. ETC.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="pub">THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, <span class="smcap">Ltd</span>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="location">LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK</span></p> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + +<table summary="Contents"> +<tr> +<td class="tdr">I.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Lost in the Woods</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#I">9</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">II.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Wood-cutter's Hut</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#II">16</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">III.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Frida's Father</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#III">23</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Parsonage</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#IV">29</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">V.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Woodmen's Pet</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#V">36</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Elsie and the Brown Bible</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#VI">42</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Dringenstadt</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#VII">46</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">VIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Violin-Teacher and the Concert</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#VIII">54</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">IX.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Christmas in the Forest</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#IX">68</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">X.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Harcourt Manor</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#X">76</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Riviera</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XI">86</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Great Metropolis</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XII">95</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Slums</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XIII">104</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XIV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Old Nurse</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XIV">115</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XV.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Power of Conscience</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XV">127</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVI.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Storm</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XVI">131</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Discovery</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XVII">137</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> +<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Old Scenes</span></td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#XVIII">151</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + + +<hr /> + +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<table summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms</td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#frontis"><em>Frontispiece</em></a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl">Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened +the little "brown book"</td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#ere">17</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td class="tdl">"Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage +together"</td> +<td class="tdr2"><a href="#come">66</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr /> + +<h1><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +LITTLE FRIDA.</h1> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>CHAPTER I.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">LOST IN THE WOODS.</span></h2> + +<p class="centerb">"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me +up."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 8px;"> +<img src="images/quote.png" width="8" height="7" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="cap">SEE, Hans, how dark it gets, and thy father not yet home! What keeps +him, thinkest thou? Supper has been ready for a couple of hours, and who +knows what he may meet with in the Forest if the black night fall!" and +the speaker, a comely German peasant woman, crossed herself as she +spoke. "I misdoubt me something is wrong. The saints preserve him!"</p> + +<p>The boy, who looked about ten years old, was gazing in the direction of +a path which led through the Forest, but, in answer to this appeal, +said, "Never fear, Mütterchen; father will be all right. He never loses +his way, and he whistles so loud as he walks that I am sure he will +frighten away all the bad—"</p> + +<p>But here his mother laid her hand on his mouth, saying, "Hush, Hans! +never mention them in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> twilight; 'tis not safe. Just run to the +opening in the wood and look if ye see him coming; there is still light +enough for that. It will not take you five minutes to do so. And then +come back and tell me, for I must see to the pot now, and to the infant +in the cradle."</p> + +<p>The night, an October one, was cold, and the wind was rising and sighing +amongst the branches of the pine trees. Darker and darker gathered the +shades, as mother and son stood again at the door of their hut after +Hans had returned from his useless quest. No sign of his father had he +seen, and boy though he was, he knew too much of the dangers that attend +a wood-cutter's life in the Forest not to fear that some evil might have +befallen his father; but he had a brave young heart, and tried to +comfort his mother.</p> + +<p>"He'll be coming soon now, Mütterchen," he said; "and won't he laugh at +us for being so frightened?"</p> + +<p>But the heart of the wife was too full of fear to receive comfort just +then from her boy's words.</p> + +<p>"Nay, Hans," she said; "some evil has befallen him. He never tarries so +late. Thy father is not one to turn aside to his mates' houses and +gossip away his time as others do. It is always for home and children +that he sets out when his work is done. No, Hans; I know the path to the +place where he works, and I can follow it even in the dark. Stay here +and watch by the cradle of the little Annchen, whilst I go and see if I +can find thy father."</p> + +<p>"Nay, Mütterchen," entreated the boy; "thee must not go. And all alone +too! Father would never have let you do so had he been here. O Mutter, +stay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> here! Little Annchen will be waking and wanting you, and how could +I quiet her? O Mütterchen, go not!" and he clung to her, trying to hold +her back.</p> + +<p>Just as his mother, maddened with terror, was freeing herself from his +grasp, the sound of a footstep struck her ear, and mother and child +together exclaimed, "Ah, there he comes!"</p> + +<p>Sure enough through the wood a man's figure became visible, but he was +evidently heavily laden. He carried, besides his axe and saw, two large +bundles. What they were could not be distinguished in the darkness.</p> + +<p>With a cry of joyous welcome his wife sprang forward to meet her +husband, and Hans ran eagerly to help him to carry his burden; but to +their amazement he said, though in a kindly tone, "Elsie—Hans, keep off +from me till I am in the house."</p> + +<p>The lamp was lighted, and a cheerful blaze from the stove, the door of +which was open, illumined the little room into which the stalwart young +wood-cutter, Wilhelm Hörstel, entered.</p> + +<p>Then, to the utter astonishment of his wife and son, he displayed his +bundle. Throwing back a large shawl which completely covered the one he +held in his arms, he revealed a sleeping child of some five or six years +old, who grasped tightly in her hand a small book. In his right hand he +held a violin and a small bag.</p> + +<p>Elsie gazed with surprise, not unmingled with fear. "What meaneth these +things, Wilhelm?" she said; "and from whence comes the child? <em>Ach</em>, how +wonderfully beautiful she is! Art sure she is a child of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> earth? or is +this the doing of some of the spirits of the wood?"</p> + +<p>At these words Wilhelm laughed. "Nay, wife, nay," he replied, and his +voice had a sad ring in it as he spoke. "This is no wood sprite, if such +there be, but a little maiden of flesh and blood. Let me rest, I pray +thee, and lay the little one on the bed; and whilst I take my supper I +will tell thee the tale."</p> + +<p>And Elsie, wise woman as she was, did as she was asked, and made ready +the simple meal, set it on the wooden bench which served as table, then +drew her husband's chair nearer the stove, and restraining her +curiosity, awaited his readiness to begin the tale.</p> + +<p>When food and heat had done their work, Wilhelm felt refreshed; and when +Elsie had cleared the table, and producing her knitting had seated +herself beside him, he began his story; whilst Hans, sitting on a low +stool at his feet, gazed with wondering eyes now on the child sleeping +on the bed, and then at his father's face.</p> + +<p>"Ay, wife," the wood-cutter began, speaking in the <em>Plattdeutsch</em> used +by the dwellers in the Forest, "'tis a wonderful story I have to tell. +'Twas a big bit of work I had to finish to-day, first cutting and then +piling up the wood far in the Forest. I had worked hard, and was +wearying to be home with you and the children; but the last pile had to +be finished, and ere it was so the evening was darkening and the wind +was rising. So when the last log was laid I collected my things, and +putting on my blouse, set off at a quick pace for home. But remembering +I had a message to leave at the hut of Johann Schmidt, telling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> him to +meet me in the morning to fell a tree that had been marked for us by the +forester, I went round that way, which thou knowest leads deeper into +the Forest. Johann had just returned from his work, and after exchanging +a few words I turned homewards.</p> + +<p>"The road I took was not my usual one, but though it led through a very +dark part of the Forest, I thought it was a shorter way. As I got on I +was surprised to see how dark it was. Glimpses of light, it is true, +were visible, and the trees assumed strange shapes, and the Forest +streams glistened here and there as the rising moon touched them with +its beams. But the gathering clouds soon obscured the faint +moonlight.—You will laugh, Hans, when I tell you that despite what I +have so often said to you about not believing in the woodland spirits, +that even your good Mütterchen believes in, my heart beat quicker as now +one, now another of the gnarled trunks of the lower trees presented the +appearance of some human form; but I would not let my fear master me, so +only whistled the louder to keep up my courage, and pushed on my way.</p> + +<p>"The Forest grew darker and darker, and the wind began to make a wailing +sound in the tree-tops. A sudden fear came over me that I had missed my +way and was getting deeper into the Forest, and might not be able to +regain my homeward path till the morning dawned, when once more for a +few minutes the clouds parted and the moon shone out, feeble, no +doubt—for she is but in her first quarter—and her beams fell right +through an opening in the wood, and revealed the figure of a little +child seated at the foot of a fir<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> tree. Alone in the Forest at that +time of night! My heart seemed to stand still, and I said to myself, +'Elsie is right after all. That can only be some spirit child, some +woodland being.'</p> + +<p>"A whisper in a little voice full of fear roused me and made me approach +the child. She looked up, ere she could see my face, and again repeated +the words in German (though not like what we speak here, but more the +language of the town, as I spoke it when I lived there as a boy), +'Father, father, I am glad you've come. I was feeling very frightened. +It is so dark here—so dark!' As I came nearer she gave a little cry of +disappointment, though not fear; and then I knew it was no woodland +sprite, but a living child who sat there alone at that hour in the +Forest. My heart went out to her, and kneeling down beside her I asked +her who she was, and how she came to be there so late at night. She +answered, in sweet childish accents, 'I am Frida Heinz, and fader and I +were walking through this big, big Forest, and by-and-by are going to +see England, where mother used to live long ago.' It was so pretty to +hear her talk, though I had difficulty in making out the meaning of her +words. 'But where then is your father?' I asked. I believe, wife, the +language I spoke was as difficult for her to understand as the words she +had spoken were to me, for she repeated them over as if wondering what +they meant. Then trying to recall the way I had spoken when a boy, which +I have never quite forgotten, I repeated my question. She understood, +and answered in her sweet babyish accents, 'Fader come back soon, he +told little Frida. He had lost the road, and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> said I'se to wait here +till he came back, and laid his violin and his bag 'side me, and told me +to keep this little book, which he has taught me to read, 'cos he says +mother loved it so. Then he went away; and I've waited—oh so long, and +he's never come back, and I'se cold, so cold, and hungry, and I want my +own fader. O kind man, take Frida to him. And he's ill, so ill too! Last +night I heard the people in the place we slept in say he'd never live to +go through the Forest; but he would go, 'cos he wanted to take me 'cross +the sea.' Then the pretty little creature began to cry bitterly, and beg +me again to take her to father. I told her I would wait a bit with her, +and see if he came. For more than an hour I sat there beside her, trying +to warm and comfort her; for I tell you, Elsie, she seemed to creep into +my heart, and reminded me of our little one, who would have been about +her size had she been alive, though she was but three years old when she +died.</p> + +<p>"Well, time went on, and the night grew darker, and I knew how troubled +you would be, and yet I knew not what to do. I left the child for a bit, +and looked here and there in the Forest; but all was dark, and though I +called long and loud no answer came. So I returned, took the child in my +arms (for she is but a light weight), and with my tools thrown over my +shoulder, and the violin and bag in my hand, I made my way home. The +child cried awhile, saying she must wait for fader, then fell sound +asleep in my arms. Now, wife, would it not be well to undress her, and +give her some food ere she sleeps again, for she must be hungry?"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span><a name="II" id="II"></a>CHAPTER II.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">Bless Thy little lamb to-night."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> +<p class="noh"></p> +<div class="figleft" style="width: 8px;"> +<img src="images/quote.png" width="8" height="7" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="cap">INDEED you are right, Wilhelm," said his wife. "No doubt the poor +little maid must be hungry, only I had not the heart to waken her.—See, +Hans, there is some goat's milk in the corner yonder. Get it heated, +whilst I cut a bit of this bread, coarse though it be. 'Tis all we have +to give her; but such as it is, she is right welcome to it, poor little +lamb."</p> + +<p>As she spoke she moved quietly to the bed where the child lay asleep. As +she woke she uttered the cry, "Fader, dear fader!" then raised herself +and looked around. Evidently the story of the day flashed upon her, and +she turned eagerly to the wood-cutter, asking if "fader" had come yet.</p> + +<p>On being told that he had not, she said no more, but her eyes filled +with tears. She took the bread and milk without resistance, though she +looked at the black bread as if it were repugnant to her. Then she let +herself be undressed by Elsie, directing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> her to open the bag, and +taking from it a nightdress of fine calico, a brush and comb, also a +large sponge, a couple of fine towels, a change of underclothing, two +pairs of stockings, and one black dress, finer than the one she wore.</p> + +<p><a name="ere" id="ere"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 408px;"> +<img src="images/i016.jpg" width="408" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +<span class="caption">Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the +little "brown book."</span> +</div> + +<p>Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the little "brown book," +which was a German Bible, and read aloud, slowly but distinctly, the +last verse of the Fourth Psalm: "Ich liege und schlafe ganz mit Frieden; +denn allein Du, Herr, hilfst mir, dass ich sicher wohne" ("I will both +lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in +safety"). Then she knelt down, and prayed in simple words her evening +prayer, asking God to let father come home, and to bless the kind people +who had given her a shelter, for Christ's sake.</p> + +<p>Elsie and Wilhelm looked at each other with amazement. Alas! there was +no fear of God in that house. Elsie might cross herself when she spoke +of spirits, but that was only as a superstitious sign that she had been +told frightened them away.</p> + +<p>Of Christ and His power to protect and save they knew nothing. Roman +Catholics by profession, they yet never darkened a church door, save +perhaps when they took a child to be baptized; but they only thought of +that ordinance as a protection to their child from the evil one. God's +holy Word was to them a sealed book. True, all the wood-cutters were not +like them, but still a spirit of ignorance and indifference as regarded +religion reigned amongst them; and if now and then a priest sought their +dwelling, his words (such as they were)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> fell on dull ears. Things seen +and temporal engrossed all their thoughts. The daily work, the daily +bread, and the nightly sleep—these filled their hearts and excluded +God. So it was not to be wondered at that little Frida's reading and +prayer were an astonishment to them.</p> + +<p>"What think you of that, Elsie?" said Wilhelm. "The child spoke as if +she were addressing some one in the room."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," answered his wife. "It was gruesome to hear her. She made me +look up to see if there was really any one there; and she wasn't +speaking to our Lady either. Art sure she is a child of earth at all, +Wilhelm?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, she's that; and the question is, wife, What shall we do with her? +Suppose the father never turns up, shall we keep her, or give her over +to them that have the charge of wanderers and such like?"</p> + +<p>Here Hans sprang forward. "Nay, father, nay! Do not send her away. She +is so pretty, and looks like the picture of an angel. I saw one in the +church where little Annchen was baptized. Oh, keep her, father!—Mutter, +do not send the little maid back into the forest!"</p> + +<p>But Elsie's woman's heart had no thought of so doing. "No, no, my lad," +she said. "Never fear; we'll keep the child till some one comes to take +her away that has a right to her. Who knows but mayhap she'll bring a +blessing on our house; for often I think we don't remember the Virgin +and the saints as we ought. My mother did, I know;" and as she spoke +great tears rolled down her cheeks.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>The child's prayer had touched a chord of memory, and recalled the days +of her childhood, when she had lived with parents who at least +reverenced the Lord, though they had not been taught to worship Him +aright.</p> + +<p>Wilhelm sat for a few minutes lost in thought. He was pondering the +question whether, supposing the child was left on his hands, he could +support her by doing extra work. It would be difficult, he knew; but if +Elsie were willing he'd try, for his kind heart recoiled from sending +the little child who clung to him so confidingly adrift amongst +strangers. No, he would not do so.</p> + +<p>After a while he turned to his wife, who had gone to the cradle where +lay their six-weeks-old baby, and was rocking it, as the child had cried +out in her sleep.</p> + +<p>"Elsie," he said, "I'll set off at break of day, and go amongst my +mates, and find out if they have seen or heard aught of the missing +gentleman.—Come, Hans," he said suddenly; "'tis time you were asleep."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later and Hans had tumbled into his low bed, and lay for a +short time thinking about Frida, and wondering who she had been speaking +to when she knelt down; but in the midst of his wondering he fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>Wilhelm, wearied with his day's work, was not long in following his +son's example, and was soon sound asleep; but no word of prayer rose +from his heart and lips to the loving Father in heaven, who had guarded +and kept him from the dangers of the day.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>Elsie was in no hurry to go to bed; her heart was full of many thoughts. +The child's prayer and the words out of the little book had strangely +moved her, and she was asking herself if there were indeed a God (as in +her childhood she had been taught to believe), what had she ever done to +please Him.</p> + +<p>Conscience said low, Nothing; but she tried to drown the thought, and +busied herself in cleaning the few dishes and putting the little room to +rights, then sat down for a few minutes beside the stove to think.</p> + +<p>Where could the father of the child be, she asked herself, and what +would be his feelings on returning to the place where he had left her +when he found she was no longer there? Could he have lost his way in the +great Forest? That was by no means unlikely; she had often heard of such +a thing as that happening. Then she wondered if there were any clue to +the child's friends or the place she was going to in the bag; and +rising, she took it up and opened it.</p> + +<p>Besides the articles we have already enumerated, she found a case full +of needles, some reels of cotton, a small book of German hymns, and a +double locket with chain attached to it. This Elsie succeeded in +opening, and on the one side was the picture of a singularly beautiful, +dark-eyed girl, on the verge of womanhood; and on the other a blue-eyed, +fair-haired young man, a few years older than the lady. Under the +pictures were engraved the words "Hilda" and "Friedrich." Elsie doubted +not that these were the likenesses of Frida's father and mother, for the +child<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> bore a strong resemblance to both. She had the dark eyes of her +mother and the golden hair of her father, if such was the relationship +she bore to him.</p> + +<p>These pictures were the only clue to the child's parentage. No doubt she +wore a necklace quite unlike anything that Elsie had ever seen before; +but then, except in the shop windows, she had seen so few ornaments in +her life that she knew not whether it was a common one or not.</p> + +<p>She put the locket carefully back in its place, shut the bag, and +slipped across the room to take another glance at the sleeping child. +Very beautiful she looked as she lay, the fair, golden hair curling over +her head and falling round her neck. Her lips were slightly parted, and, +as if conscious of Elsie's approach, she muttered the word "fader." +Elsie patted her, and turned once more to the little cradle where lay +her infant. The child was awake and crying, and the mother stooped and +took her up, and sat down with her in her arms. A look of anxiety and +sadness crossed the mother's face when she observed that although she +flashed the little lamp in the baby's face her eyes never turned to the +light.</p> + +<p>For some time the terrible fear had been rising in her head that her +little Anna was blind. She had mentioned this to her husband, but he had +laughed at her, and said babies of that age never took much notice of +anything; but that was three weeks ago, and still, though the eyes +looked bright, and the child was intelligent, the eyes never followed +the light, nor looked up into the mother's face.</p> + +<p>The fear was now becoming certainty. Oh, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> only she could make sure, +see some doctors, and find out if nothing could be done for her darling!</p> + +<p>A blind child! How could they support her, how provide for the wants of +one who could never help herself?</p> + +<p>Poor mother! her heart sank within her, for she knew nothing of the One +who has said, "Cast all your cares upon me, for I care for you."</p> + +<p>Now as she gazed at the child she became more than ever convinced that +that strange trial had fallen upon her. And to add to this new +difficulty, how could she undertake the charge and keeping of this +stranger so wonderfully brought to their door?</p> + +<p>Elsie, although no Christian, had a true, loving woman's heart beating +within her, and putting from her the very idea of sending away the lost +child, she said to herself, "The little that a child like that will take +will not add much to the day's expense; and even if it did, Elsie +Hörstel is not the woman to cast out the forlorn child." Oh, the pity of +it that she did not know the words of Him who said, "Inasmuch as ye did +it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me;" and +again, "Whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth +me." But these words had never yet reached her ears, and as yet it was +only the instincts of a true God-created heart that led her to +compassionate and care for the child lost in the forest.</p> + +<p>Taking the babe in her arms, she slipped into bed and soon fell asleep.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span><a name="III" id="III"></a>CHAPTER III.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">FRIDA'S FATHER.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"And though we sorrow for the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let not our grief be loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That we may hear Thy loving voice<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">Within the light-lined cloud."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">Early in the morning, ere wife or children were awake, and long before +the October sun had arisen, Wilhelm Hörstel arose, and putting a hunch +of black bread and goat-milk cheese into his pocket, he shouldered his +axe and saw and went out into the Forest.</p> + +<p>The dawn was beginning to break, and there was light enough for the +practised eye of the wood-cutter to distinguish the path which he wished +to take through the Forest.</p> + +<p>Great stillness reigned around; even the twittering of the birds had +hardly begun—they were for the most part awaiting the rising of the +sun, though here and there an early bird might be heard chirping as it +flew off, no doubt in search of food. Even the frogs in the Forest ponds +had not yet resumed their croaking, and only the bubbling of a brooklet +or the falling of a tiny cascade from the rocks (which abound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> in some +parts of the Forest) was heard. The very silence which pervaded, calmed, +and to a Christian mind would have raised the thoughts Godward. But it +had no such influence on the heart, the kindly heart, of the young +wood-cutter as he walked on, bent only on reaching the small hamlet or +"Dorf" where stood the hut of the man with whom he sought to hold +counsel as to how a search could be instituted in the Forest for the +father of little Frida.</p> + +<p>As he reached the door, and just as the sun was rising above the +hill-tops, and throwing here and there its golden beams through the +autumn-tinted trees, he saw not one but several wood-cutters and +charcoal-burners going into the house of his friend Johann Schmidt. +Somewhat wondering he hastened his steps, and entered along with them, +putting as he did so the question, "<em>Was gibt's?</em>" (What is the matter?) +His friend, who came forward to greet him, answered the question by +saying, "Come and help us, Wilhelm; a strange thing has happened here +during the night.</p> + +<p>"Soon after Gretchen and I had fallen asleep, we were awakened by the +noise of some heavy weight falling at the door; and on going to see what +it was, there, to our amazement, lay a man, evidently in a faint. We got +him into our hut, and after a while he became conscious, looked around +him, and said 'Frida!' Gretchen tried to find out who it was he wished, +but could only make out it was a child whom he had left in the Forest; +but whether he was still delirious none could tell. He pressed his hand +on his heart and said he was very ill, and again muttering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> the word, +'Frida, Armseliger Frida,' he again fainted away.</p> + +<p>"We did what we could for him, and he rallied a little; and then an hour +ago, Gretchen stooping over him heard him say, 'Herr Jesu. Ob ich schon +wandelte im finstern Thal fürchete ich kein Unglück: denn Du bist bei +mir' ('Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil: for thou art with me'); and giving one deep breath his +spirit fled."</p> + +<p>As their mate said these words, exclamations of sorrow were heard +around. "<em>Ach</em>, poor man!" said one. "Thinkest thou the child he spoke +of can be in the Forest?" "And the words he said about fearing no evil, +what did they mean?" said another. "Well," said one who looked like a +chief man amongst them, "I believe he was <em>ein Ketzer</em>, and if that be +so we had better send to Dringenstadt, where there is a <em>ketzer Pfarrer</em> +[heretic pastor], and get his advice. I heard the other day that a new +one had come whom they called Herr Langen."</p> + +<p>Then as a momentary pause came, Wilhelm Hörstel stepped forward and told +the tale of the child he had found in the Forest the night before, who +called herself Frida. The men listened with amazement, but with one +breath they all declared she must be the child of whom the dead man had +spoken.</p> + +<p>"Ay," said Wilhelm, "and I am sure she is the child of a <em>Ketzer</em> +[heretic]; for what think ye a child like that did ere she went to bed? +She prayed, and my wife says never a word said she to the Virgin, but +spoke just straight to God."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>"<em>Ach</em>, poor <em>Mädchen</em>!" said another of the men; "does she think the +Lord would listen to the prayer of a child like her? The blessed Virgin +have pity on her;" and as he spoke he crossed himself.</p> + +<p>"If these things be so," said the chief man, by name Jacob Heine, "then +it is plain one of us must go off to Dringenstadt, see the <em>Pfarrer</em>, +and settle about the funeral."</p> + +<p>His proposal was at once agreed to, and as he was overseer of the +wood-cutters, and could not leave his work, Johann Schmidt, in whose hut +the man had died, was chosen as the best man to go; whilst Wilhelm +should return to his home, and then take the child to see her dead +father.</p> + +<p>"Yes, bring the <em>Mädchen</em>" (little maid), said all, "and let us see her +also; seems as if she belongs to us all, found in the Forest as she +was."</p> + +<p>There was no time to be lost, for the sun was already well up, and the +men should have been at work long ago.</p> + +<p>So they dispersed, some going to their work deeper in the Forest, +Wilhelm retracing his way home, and Johann taking the path which led +through the wood to the little town of Dringenstadt.</p> + +<p>As Wilhelm approached his door, the little Frida darted to him, saying, +"Have you found my fader? Oh, take me to him! Frida must go to her +fader." Tears rose to the wood-cutter's eyes, as lifting the child in +his arms he entered the hut, and leaving Frida there with Hans, he +beckoned his wife to speak to him outside; and there he told her the +story of the man who had died in Johann's cottage.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>"Ah, then," said Elsie, "the little Frida is indeed an orphan, poor +lambie. How shall we tell her, Wilhelm? Her little heart will break. +Ever since she woke she has prattled on about him; ay" (and the woman's +voice lowered as she spoke), "and of a Father who she says lives in +heaven and cares both for her earthly father and herself. And, Wilhelm, +she's been reading aloud to Hans and me about the Virgin's Son of whom +my mother used to speak."</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind about all that, wife, but let us tell the child; for I +and my mates think she should be taken to see the body, and so make sure +that the man was really her father."</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>"Fader dead!" said the child, as she sat on Wilhelm's knee and heard the +sad story. "Dead! Shall Frida never see him again, nor walk with him, +nor talk with him? Oh! dear, dear fader, why did you die and leave Frida +all alone? I want you, I want you!" and the child burst into a flood of +tears.</p> + +<p>They let her cry on, those kind-hearted people—nay, they wept with her; +but after some minutes had passed, Wilhelm raised her head, and asked +her if she would not like to see her father once more, though he could +not speak to her now.</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes! take me to see him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, take me!" Then +looking eagerly up she said, "Perhaps Jesus can make him live again, +like he did Lazarus, you know. Can't he?" But alas! of the story of +Lazarus being raised from the dead these two people knew nothing; and +when they asked her what she meant, and she said her father had read to +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> about it out of her little brown book, they only shook their heads, +and Wilhelm said, "I feared there was something wrong about that little +book. How could any one be raised from the dead?"</p> + +<p>Frida's passionate exclamations of love and grief when she saw the dead +body of the man who lay in Johann Schmidt's hut removed all doubt from +the minds of those who heard her as to the relationship between them; +and the manner in which the child turned from a crucifix which Gretchen +brought forward to her, thinking it would comfort her, convinced them +more firmly that the poor man had indeed been a heretic.</p> + +<p>No! father never prayed to that, nor would he let <em>her</em> do so, she +said—just to Jesus, dear Jesus in heaven; and though several of those +who heard her words crossed themselves as she spoke, and prayed the +Virgin to forgive, all were much taken with and deeply sorry for the +orphan child; and when Wilhelm raised her in his arms to take her back +to his hut and to the care of Elsie, more than one of the inhabitants of +the Dorf brought some little gift from their small store to be taken +with him to help in the maintenance of the little one so strangely +brought among them. Ere they left the Dorf, Johann Schmidt had returned +from executing his message to Dringenstadt. He had seen the <em>Pfarrer</em>, +and he had promised to come along presently and arrange about the +funeral.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE PARSONAGE.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"The Lord thy Shepherd is—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dread not nor be dismayed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lead thee on through stormy paths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0 mb">By ways His hand hath made."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">ON the morning of the day that we have written of, the young Protestant +pastor of Dringenstadt was seated in a room of the small house which +went by the name of "Das Pfarrhaus."</p> + +<p>He was meditating more than studying just then. He felt his work there +an uphill one. Almost all the people in that little town were Roman +Catholics. His own flock was a little one indeed, and only that morning +he had received a letter telling him that it had been settled that no +regular ministry would be continued there, as funds were not +forthcoming, and the need in one sense seemed small. He had come there +only a few months before, knowing well that he might only be allowed to +remain a short time; but now that the order for his removal elsewhere +had come, he felt discouraged and sad. Was it right, he was asking +himself, to withdraw the true gospel light from the people, and to leave +the few, no doubt very few, who loved it to themselves? Karl Langen was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +a true Christian, longing to lead souls to Jesus, and was much perplexed +by the order he had received. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him, +and the woman who took charge of his house on entering told him that a +man from the Forest wished to speak to him. Telling her to send him in +at once, he awaited his entry.</p> + +<p>Johann Schmidt was shown into the room, and told his sorrowful tale in a +quiet, manly way.</p> + +<p>The pastor was much moved, and repeated with amazement the words, "A +child lost in the Black Forest, and the father dead, you say? Certainly +I will come and see. But why, my friend, should you think the man was an +Evangelisch?" Then Johann told of the words he had repeated, of the +child's prayer and her little brown book.</p> + +<p>Suddenly a light seemed to dawn on the mind of the young pastor. "Oh!" +he said, "I believe you are right. I think I have seen both the father +and the child. Last Sunday there came into our church a gentleman and a +lovely little girl, just such a one as you describe the child you speak +of to be. I tried to speak to them after worship, but ere I could do so +they had gone. And no one could tell me who they were or whither they +had gone. I will now see the Bürgermeister about the funeral, and make +arrangements regarding it. I think through some friends of mine I can +get money sufficient to pay all expenses."</p> + +<p>Johann thanked him warmly, and hastened back to tell what had been +agreed on, and then got off to his work.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>Late in the afternoon Pastor Langen took his way to the little hut in +the Black Forest.</p> + +<p>The Forest by the road he took was not well known to him, and the solemn +quiet which pervaded it struck him much and raised his thoughts to God. +It was as if he had entered the sanctuary and heard the voice of the +Lord speaking to him. It was, as a poet has expressed it, as if</p> + +<div class="poemblock3"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Solemn and silent everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The trees with folded hands stood there,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Kneeling at their evening prayer."</span><br /> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">Only the slight murmuring of the breeze amongst the leaves, or the +flutter of a bird's wing as it flew from branch to branch, broke the +silence. All around him there was</p> + +<div class="poemblock4"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"A slumberous sound, a sound that brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feeling of a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when a bell no longer swings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint the hollow echo rings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er meadow, lake, and stream."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>As he walked, he thought much of the child found in the Forest, and he +wondered how he could help her or find out to whom she belonged. Oh, if +only, he said to himself, he had been able to speak to the father the +day he had seen him, and learned something of his history! Johann had +told him that if no clue could be found to the child's relations, +Wilhelm Hörstel had determined to bring her up; but Johann had added, +"We will not, poor though we be, let the whole expense of her upbringing +fall on the Hörstels.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> No; we will go share for share, and she shall be +called the child of the wood-cutters."</p> + +<p>As he thought of these words, the young pastor prayed for the kind, +large-hearted men, asking that the knowledge of the loving Christ might +shine into their hearts and bring spiritual light into the darkness +which surrounded them. The afternoon had merged into evening ere he +entered the wood-cutters' Dorf. As he neared Johann's hut, Gretchen came +to the door, and he greeted her with the words, "The Lord be with you, +and bless you for your kindness to the poor man in the time of his +need."</p> + +<p>"Come in, sir," she said, "and see the corpse. Oh, but he's been a +fine-looking man, and he so young too. It was a sight to see his bit +child crying beside him and begging him to say one word to her—just one +word. Then she folded her hands, and looking up said, 'O kind Jesus, who +made Lazarus come to life, make dear fader live again.' Oh, 'twas +pitiful to see her! Who think you, sir, was the man she spoke of called +Lazarus? When I asked her she said it was all written in her little +brown book, which she would bring along and read to me some day, bless +the little creature."</p> + +<p>The pastor said some words about the story being told by the Lord Jesus, +and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. He did not offer her a Testament, +as he knew if the priest heard (as it was likely he would) of his having +been there, he would ask if they had been given a Bible, and so trouble +would follow. But he rejoiced that the little child had it in her heart +to read the words of life to the kind woman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> and he breathed a prayer +that her little brown Bible might prove a blessing to those poor +wood-cutters.</p> + +<p>Pastor Langen at once recognized the features of the dead man as those +of the stranger whom he had seen with the lovely child in the little +church. He then made arrangements for the funeral the next day, and +departed.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>On the morrow a number of wood-cutters met at the house of Johann +Schmidt to attend the funeral of the stranger gentleman. Wilhelm +Hörstel, and his wife, Hans, and little Frida, were there also. The +child was crying softly, as if she realized that even the corpse of her +father was to be taken from her.</p> + +<p>Presently the young pastor entered, and the moment Frida saw him she +started forward, saying in her child language, "O sir, I've seen you +before, when fader and I heard you preach some days ago." All this was +said in the pure German language, which the people hardly followed at +all, but which was the same as the pastor himself spoke. He at once +recognized the child, and sought to obtain from her some information +regarding her father. She only said, as she had already done, that he +was going to England to see some friends of her mother's. When +questioned as to their name, she could not tell. All that she knew was +that they were relations of her mother's. Yes, her father loved his +Bible, and had given her such a nice little brown one which had belonged +to her mother.</p> + +<p>Could she speak any English, the pastor asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can," said Frida. "Mother taught me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> number of words, and I +can say 'Good-morning,' and 'How are you to-day?' Also mother taught me +to say the Lord's Prayer in English. But I do not know much English, for +father and mother always spoke German to each other."</p> + +<p>No more could be got from the child then, and the simple service was +gone on with; and when the small procession set off for Dringenstadt, +the kindly men took it by turns to carry the little maiden in their +arms, as the walk through the forest was a long one for a child.</p> + +<p>In the churchyard of the quiet little German town they laid the mortal +remains of Friedrich Heinz, to await the resurrection morning.</p> + +<p>Tears rose to the eyes of many onlookers as Frida threw herself, +sobbing, on the grave of her father. Wilhelm and Elsie strove in vain to +raise her, but when Pastor Langen drew near and whispered the words, +"Look up, Frida; thy father is not here, he is with Jesus," a smile of +joy played on the child's face, and rising she dried her tears, and +putting her hand into that of Elsie she prepared to leave the "God's +acre," and the little party set off for their home in the Black Forest.</p> + +<p>Darkness had fallen on all around ere they reached the Dorf, and strange +figures that the trees and bushes assumed appeared to the superstitious +mind of Elsie and some of the others as the embodiment of evil spirits, +and they wished themselves safe under the shelter of their little huts.</p> + +<p>That night the little stranger child mingled her tears with her prayers, +and to Elsie's amazement she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> heard her ask her Father in heaven to take +greater care of her now than ever, because she had no longer a father on +earth to do it. Little did the kneeling child imagine that that simple +prayer was used by the Holy Spirit to touch the heart of the +wood-cutter's wife.</p> + +<p>And from the lips of Elsie ere she fell asleep that night arose a cry to +the Father in heaven for help. True, it was but</p> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"As an infant crying in the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An infant crying for the light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with no language but a cry."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">But still there was a felt need, and a recognition that there was One +who could meet and satisfy it.</p> + +<p>At all events Elsie Hörstel clasped her blind babe to her heart that +night, and fell asleep with a feeling of rest and peace to which she had +long been a stranger.</p> + +<p>Ah! God had a purpose for the little child and her brown Bible in that +little hut of which she as yet had no conception. Out of the mouths of +babes and sucklings He still perfects praise.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span><a name="V" id="V"></a>CHAPTER V.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE WOODMEN'S PET.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Lord, make me like the gentle dew,</span><br /> +<span class="i2">That other hearts may prove,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">E'en through Thy feeblest messenger,</span><br /> +<span class="i2 mb">Thy ministry of love."</span><br /> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">PASTOR LANGEN, ere leaving Dringenstadt, visited the hut in the Black +Forest where Frida had found a home.</p> + +<p>His congregation, with two or three exceptions, was a poor one, and his +own means were small; yet he had contrived to collect a small sum for +Frida's maintenance, which he had put into the hands of the +Bürgermeister, who undertook to pay the interest of it quarterly to the +Hörstels on behalf of the child. True, the sum was small, but it was +sufficient to be a help; and a kind lady of the congregation, Fräulein +Drechsler, said she would supply her from time to time with dress, and +when she could have her now and then with herself, instruct her in the +Protestant faith and the elements of education. Frida could already +read, and had begun to write, taught by her father. Every effort was +being made to discover if the child had any relations alive. The +Bürgermeister<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> had put advertisements in many papers, German and +English, but as yet no answer had come, and many of the wood-cutters +still held the opinion that the child was the offspring of some woodland +spirit. But in spite of any such belief, Frida had a warm welcome in +every hut in the Dorf, and a kindly word from every man and woman in it.</p> + +<p>The "woodland child" they called her, and as such cherished and +protected her. Many a "bite and sup" she got from them. Many a warm pair +of stockings, or a knitted petticoat done by skilful hands, did the +inmates of the Dorf present to her. They did what they could, these poor +people, for the orphan child, just out of the fullness of their kind +hearts, little thinking of the blessing that through her was to descend +on them. The day of Pastor Langen's visit to the hut, some time after +her father's funeral, Frida was playing beside the door, and on seeing +him coming up the path she rose from the spot where she was sitting and +ran eagerly to meet him.</p> + +<p>But though unseen by her, he had been standing near for some time +spell-bound by the music which, child though she was, she was bringing +out of her father's violin, in the playing of which she was amusing +herself.</p> + +<p>From a very early age her father, himself a skilled violinist, had +taught her to handle the bow, and had early discovered the wonderful +talent for music which she possessed.</p> + +<p>The day of which we write was the first one since her father's death +that Frida had played on the violin, so neither Wilhelm nor Elsie was +aware that she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> could do so at all. The pastor was approaching the +cottage when the sound of music reached his ears, and having a good +knowledge of that art himself, he stood still to listen. A few minutes +convinced him that though the playing was that of a child, still the +performer had the true soul of music, and only needed full instruction +to develop into a musician of no ordinary talent. As he drew nearer his +surprise was great to see that the player was none other than the +beautiful child found in the Black Forest. Attracted by the sound of +steps, Frida had turned round, and seeing her friend had, as we have +written, bounded off to meet him. Hearing that Elsie had taken her babe +and gone a message to the Dorf, he seated himself on a knoll with the +child and began to talk to her.</p> + +<p>"How old are you?" he asked her.</p> + +<p>"Seven years and more," she replied; "because I remember my birthday was +only a little while before Mütterchen (I always called her that) died, +and that that day she took the locket she used to wear off her neck and +gave it to me, telling me always to keep it."</p> + +<p>"And have you that locket still?" queried the pastor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; Elsie has it carefully put away. There is a picture of Mütterchen +on the one side, and of my father on the other."</p> + +<p>"And did your mother ever speak to you of your relations either in +Germany or England?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she did sometimes. She spoke of grandmamma in England and +grandpapa also, and she said they lived in a beautiful house; but she +never told me their name, nor where their house was. Father, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> course, +knew, for he said he was going to take me there, and he used to speak of +a brother of his whom he said he dearly loved."</p> + +<p>"But tell me," asked the pastor, "where did you live with your parents +in Germany?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, in a number of different places, but never long at the same place. +Father played at concerts just to make money, and we never remained long +anywhere—we were always moving about."</p> + +<p>"And your parents were Protestants?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what that means," said the child. "But they were often +called 'Ketzers' by the people where he lodged. And they would not pray +to the Virgin Mary, as many did, but taught me to pray to God in the +name of Jesus Christ. And Mütterchen gave me a little 'brown Bible' for +my very own, which she said her mother had given to her. Oh, I must show +it to you, sir!" and, darting off, the child ran into the house, +returning with the treasured book in her hand. The pastor examined it +and read the inscription written on the fly-leaf—"To my dear Hilda, +from her loving mother, on her eighteenth birthday." That was all, but +he felt sure from the many underlined passages that the book had been +well studied. He found that Frida could read quite easily, and that she +had been instructed in Scripture truth.</p> + +<p>Ere he bade her farewell he asked her to promise him to read often from +her little Bible to Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans. "For who knows, little +Frida, that the Lord may not have chosen you to be a child missionary to +the wood-cutters, and to read to them out of His holy Word."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>Frida thought over these words, though she hardly took in their full +meaning; but she loved her Bible, and wished that the people who were so +kind to her loved it also.</p> + +<p>On his way home the pastor met Elsie with her babe in her arms, and told +her of his farewell visit to Frida, and of his delight with the child's +musical talent, and advised her to encourage her as much as possible to +play on the violin.</p> + +<p>Elsie's face brightened as he spoke, for she and her husband, like many +of the German peasants, dearly loved music.</p> + +<p>"O sir," she said, "have you heard her sing? It is just beautiful and +wonderful to hear her; she beats the very birds themselves."</p> + +<p>Thanking her once more for her care of the orphan child, and commending +her to God, the pastor went on his way, musing much on the future of the +gifted child, and wondering what could be done as regarded her +education.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Elsie went home, and entrusting her babe to the care of +Frida, who loved the little helpless infant, she made ready for her +husband's return from his work. Hans had gone that day to help his +father in the wood, which he loved much to do, so Elsie and Frida were +alone.</p> + +<p>"Mutter," said the child (for she had adopted Hans's way of addressing +Elsie), "the pastor was here to-day, and he played to me—oh so +beautifully—on my violin, it reminded me of father, and made me cry. O +Mutter, I wish some one could teach me to play on it as father did. You +see I was just beginning to learn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> a little how to do it, and I do love +it so;" and as she spoke, the child joined her hands together and looked +pleadingly at Elsie.</p> + +<p>"<em>Ach</em>, poor child," replied Elsie, "how canst thou be taught here?"</p> + +<p>And that night when Elsie repeated to Wilhelm Frida's desire for lessons +on the violin, the worthy couple grieved that they could do nothing to +gratify her wish.</p> + +<p>Day after day and week after week passed, and still no answer came to +any of the advertisements about the child; and save for her own sake +none of the dwellers in the wood wished it otherwise, for the "woodland +child," as they called her, had won her way into every heart.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">ELSIE AND THE BROWN BIBLE.</span></h2> + +<p class="centerb">"Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path."</p> + + +<p class="cap2">FRIDA, as time went on, was growing hardy and strong in the bracing +Forest air. Every kindness was lavished on her, and the child-spirit had +asserted itself, and though often tears would fill her eyes as something +or other reminded her vividly of the past, yet her merry laughter was +often heard as she played with Hans in the woods. Yet through all her +glee there was at times a seriousness of mind remarkable in one so +young, also a power of observation as regarded others not often +noticeable in one of her years. She had become warmly attached to the +kind people amongst whom her lot was cast, and especially so to Elsie. +Several times she had observed her <a name="front" id="front"></a>looking anxiously at the babe in her +arms, taking her to the light and endeavouring to attract her attention +to the plaything which she held before her. Then when the babe, now some +months old, showed no signs of observing it, Frida would see a great +tear roll down Elsie's cheek, and once she heard her mutter the words, +"Blind! my baby's blind!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> Was it possible? Frida asked herself; for the +child's eyes looked bright, and she felt sure she knew her, and had +often stretched out her little arms to be taken up by her. "No," she +repeated again, "she cannot be blind!" Poor little Frida knew not that +it was her voice that the baby recognized. Often she had sung her to +sleep when Elsie had left her in her charge. Already father and mother +had noted with joy the power that music had over their blind babe. One +day Frida summoned courage to say, "Mutter, dear Mutter, why are you sad +when you look at little Anna? I often notice you cry when you do so."</p> + +<p>At that question the full heart of the mother overflowed. "O Frida, +little Frida, the babe is blind! She will never see the light of day nor +the face of her father and mother. Wilhelm knows it now: we took her to +Dringenstadt last week, and the doctor examined her eyes and told us she +<em>ist blind geboren</em> [born blind]. O my poor babe, my poor babe!"</p> + +<p>Frida slipped her hand into that of the poor mother, and said gently, "O +Mutter, Jesus can make the babe to see if we ask Him. He made so many +blind people to see when He was on earth, and He can do so still. Let me +read to you about it in my little brown book;" and the child brought her +Bible and read of Jesus healing the two blind men, and also of the one +in John ix. who said, "Whereas I was blind, now I see."</p> + +<p>Elsie listened eagerly, and said, "And it was Jesus the Virgin's Son who +did that, do you say? Read me more about Him." And the child read on, +how with one touch Jesus opened the eyes of the blind. She read also how +they brought the young children to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> Jesus, and He took them into His +arms and blessed them, and said to His disciples, "Suffer the little +children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the +kingdom of heaven."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Elsie, "if only that Jesus were here now, I'd walk miles and +miles to take my Anna to Him; but, alas! He is not here now."</p> + +<p>Frida was a young child, and hardly knew how to answer the troubled +mother; but her faith was a simple one, so she answered, "No, Jesus is +not here now, but He is in heaven, and He answers us when we pray to +Him. Father once read to me the words in Matthew's Gospel—see, here +they are—'Ask, and it shall be given you.' Shall we ask Him now?" and +kneeling down she prayed in child language, "O Lord Jesus, who dost hear +and answer prayer, make little Anna to see as Thou didst the blind men +when Thou wert on earth, and oh, comfort poor Elsie!"</p> + +<p>As she rose from her knees, Elsie threw her arms round her, saying, "O +Frida, I do believe the God my mother believed in hath sent thee here to +be a blessing to us!"</p> + +<p>Often after that day Frida would read out of her brown Bible to Elsie +about Jesus, His life and His atoning death. And sometimes in the +evening, when Hans would sit cutting out various kinds of toys, for +which he had a great turn, and could easily dispose of them in the shops +at Dringenstadt, she would read to him also; and he loved to hear the +Old Testament stories of Moses and Jacob, Joseph, and Daniel in the +lion's den; also of David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, who had once +been a shepherd boy. They were all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> new to poor Hans, and from them he +learned something of the love God has to His children; but it was ever +of Jesus that Elsie loved to hear, and again and again she got the child +to read to her the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest." And erelong it was evident, +though she would scarcely have acknowledged it, that she was seeking not +only the rest but the "<em>Rest</em>-Giver." And we know that He who gave the +invitation has pledged His word that whosoever cometh to Him He will in +no wise cast out.</p> + +<p>All this while Wilhelm seemed to take no notice of the Bible readings. +Once or twice, when he had returned from his work, he had found Frida +reading to his wife and boy, and he had lingered for a minute or two at +the door to catch some of the words; but he made no remark, and +interrupted the reading by asking if supper were ready. But often later +in the evening he would ask the child to bring out her violin and play +to him, or to sing one of his favourite songs, after which she would +sing a hymn of praise; but as yet it was the sweetness of the singer's +voice and not the beauty of the words that he loved to listen to. But +notwithstanding, by the power of the Holy Ghost, the Bible was doing its +work—slowly, it may be, but surely; so true is it that God's word shall +not return to Him void.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">IN DRINGENSTADT.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="o0">"Sing them over again to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">Wonderful words of love."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="cap2">THREE years had passed. Summer had come round again. Fresh green leaves +quivered on the trees of the Forest, though the pines still wore their +dark clothing. The song of the birds was heard, and the little brooks +murmured along their course with a joyful tinkling sound.</p> + +<p>In the Forest it was cool even at noontide, but in Dringenstadt the heat +was oppressive, and in spite of the sun-blinds the glare of light even +indoors was excessive.</p> + +<p>In a pleasant room, into which the sun only shone through a thick canopy +of green leaves, sat a lady with an open book in her hand. It was an +English one, and the dictionary by her side showed it was not in a +language she was altogether familiar with. The book evidently recalled +memories of the past. Every now and then she paused in her reading, and +the look which came into her eyes told that her thoughts had wandered +from the present surroundings to other places, and it might be other +days.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>Sitting beside her, engaged in doing a sum of arithmetic, was a +beautiful child of some ten years old, neatly though plainly dressed. +The lady's eyes rested on her from time to time, as if something in her +appearance, as well as the book she was reading, recalled other days and +scenes.</p> + +<p>"Frida," she said, for the child was none other than our little friend +found in the Forest, "have you no recollections of ever hearing your +mother speak of the home of her childhood, or of her companions there?"</p> + +<p>"No, dear Miss Drechsler, I do not remember her ever speaking of any +companions; but she told me about her mother and father, and that they +lived in a beautiful house in England, somewhere in the country; and +whenever she spoke of her mother she used to cry, and then she would +kiss me, and wish she could show me to her, for she knew she would love +me, and I am sure it was to her that my father was taking me when he +died. See, here is my little brown Bible which her mother gave to her +and she gave to me."</p> + +<p>Miss Drechsler took the Bible in her hand, and examined the writing, and +noted the name "Hilda;" but neither of them seemed to recall any special +person to her memory.</p> + +<p>"Strange," she said to herself; "and yet that child's face reminds me +vividly of some one whom I saw when I was in England some years ago, +when living as governess to the Hon. Evelyn Warden, and I always connect +it with some fine music which I heard at that time."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>Then changing the subject, she said abruptly, "Frida dear, bring your +violin and let me hear how far you are prepared for your master +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Miss Drechsler, true to her promise to the German pastor, had kept a +look-out on the child known as "the wood-cutters' pet," who lived in the +little hut in the Black Forest. From the time Pastor Langen had left, +she had her often living with herself for days at a time at +Dringenstadt, and was conducting her education; but as she often had to +leave that town for months, Frida still had her home great part of the +year with the Hörstels in the Forest. At the time we write of, Miss +Drechsler had returned to her little German home, and Frida, who was +once more living with her, was getting, at her expense, lessons in +violin-playing. She bid fair to become an expert in the art which she +dearly loved. She was much missed by the kind people in the Forest +amongst whom she had lived so long. Just as, at Miss Drechsler's +request, she had produced her violin and begun to play on it, a servant +opened the door and said that a man from the Forest was desirous of +seeing Fräulein Heinz. The girl at once put down her instrument and ran +to the door, where she found her friend Wilhelm awaiting her.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Frida, canst come back with me to the Forest? There is sorrow +there. In one house Johann Schmidt lies nigh to death, caused by an +accident when felling a tree. He suffers much, and Gretchen is in sore +trouble. And the Volkmans have lost their little boy. You remember him, +Frida; he and our Hans used to play together. And our little Anna seems<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +pining away, and Elsie and all of them are crying out for you to come +back and comfort them with the words of your little book. Johann said +this morning, when his wife proposed sending for the priest, 'No, +Gretchen, no. I want no priest; but oh, I wish little Frida were here to +read to me from her brown book about Jesus Christ our great High Priest, +who takes away our sins, and is always praying for us.'"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I remember," interrupted Frida. "I read to him once about Jesus +ever living 'to make intercession for us.' Yes, Wilhelm, I'll come with +you. I know Miss Drechsler will say I should go, for she often tells me +I really belong to the kind people in the Forest." And so saying, she +ran off to tell her story to her friend.</p> + +<p>Miss Drechsler at once assented to her return to the Forest to give what +help she could to the people there, adding that she herself would come +up soon to visit them, and bring them any comforts necessary for them +such as could not be easily got by them. Ere they parted she and Frida +knelt together in prayer, and Miss Drechsler asked that God would use +the child as His messenger to the poor, sorrowing, suffering ones in the +Forest; after which she took Frida's Bible and put marks in at the +different passages which she thought would be suitable to the different +cases of the people that Wilhelm had spoken of.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon ere Wilhelm and Frida reached the hut of +Johann Schmidt, where he left the child for a while, whilst he went on +to the Volkmans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> to tell them of Frida's return, and that she hoped to +see them the next day. Gretchen met the girl with a cry of delight.</p> + +<p>"<em>Ach!</em> there she comes, our own little Fräulein. What a pleasure it is +to see thee again, our woodland pet! And see, here is my Johann laid up +in bed, nearly killed by the falling of a tree."</p> + +<p>The sick man raised himself as he heard the child's voice saying as she +entered, in reply to Gretchen's words, "Oh, I am sorry, so sorry! Why +did you not tell me sooner?" And in another moment she was sitting +beside Johann, speaking kind, comforting words to him. He stroked her +hair fondly, and answered her questions as well as he could; but there +was a far-away look in his eyes as if his thoughts were in some region +distant from the one he was living in now. After a few minutes he asked +eagerly,—</p> + +<p>"Have you the little brown book with you now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have," was the reply. "Shall I read to you now, Johann? for +Wilhelm is to come for me soon."</p> + +<p>"Yes, read, read," he said; "for I am weary, so weary."</p> + +<p>Frida turned quickly to the eleventh chapter of Matthew, and read +distinctly in the German, which he could understand, and which she could +now speak also, the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest."</p> + +<p>He stopped her there. "Read that again," he said. She complied, and then +he turned to her, saying, "And Jesus, the Son of God, said that? Will He +give it to me, thinkest thou?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>"Yes," she said, "He will; for He has promised to do it, and He never +breaks His word."</p> + +<p>"Well, if that be so, kneel down, pretty one, and ask Him to give it me, +for I need it sorely."</p> + +<p>Frida knelt, and in a few simple words besought the Saviour to give His +rest and peace to the suffering man.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, little Frida," he said as she rose. "I believe that prayer will +be answered." And shutting his eyes he fell quietly asleep, and Frida +slipped out of the room and joined Wilhelm in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"Is little Anna so very ill?" she queried as they walked.</p> + +<p>"I fear she is," was the answer the father gave, with tears in his eyes. +"The mother thinks so also; though the child, bless her, is so good and +patient we hardly know whether she suffers or not. She just lies still +mostly on her bed now, and sings to herself little bits of hymns, or +speaks about the land far away, which she says you told her about, and +where she says she is going to see Jesus. Then her mother begins to cry; +but she also speaks about that bright land. 'Deed it puzzles me to know +where they have learned so much about it, unless it be from your little +brown book. And the child has often asked where Frida is. 'I want to +hear her sing again,' she says."</p> + +<p>"O Wilhelm, why did you not come for me when she said that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I had promised the pastor that I would let you visit +Miss Drechsler as often as possible, and then you were getting on so +nicely with your violin that we felt as if we had no right to call you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +back to us. But see, here we are, and there is Hans looking out for us."</p> + +<p>But Hans, instead of rushing to meet them as he usually did, ran back +hastily to his mother, calling out, "Here they come, here they come!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am glad!" she said.—"Anna, dear Anna, you will hear Frida's +voice again."</p> + +<p>The mother looked round with a smile, but moved not, for the dying child +lay in her arms. A moment longer, and Frida was beside her, her arms +round the blind child.</p> + +<p>"Annchen, dear Annchen, speak to me," she entreated—"just one word, to +say you know me. It is Frida come home, and she will not leave you +again, but will tell you stories out of the little brown book."</p> + +<p>A look of intelligence crossed the face of the blind child, and she +said,—</p> + +<p>"Dear Frida, tell Annchen 'bout Jesus, and sing."</p> + +<p>Frida, choking back her sobs, opened her Bible and read the story that +little Anna loved, of Jesus taking the children in His arms and blessing +them; then sang a hymn of the joys of heaven, where He is seen face to +face, and where there is "no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying, +neither is there any more death," and where His redeemed ones <em>see</em> His +face.</p> + +<p>The mother, almost blinded with tears, heard her child whisper, "'See +His face;' then Annchen will see Him too, won't she, Frida?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Annchen. There your eyes will be open, and you will be blind no +more."</p> + +<p>As Frida said these words she heard one deep-drawn breath, one cry, +"Fader, Mutter, Jesus!" and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> the little one was gone into that land +where the first face she saw was that of her loving Saviour, whom +"having not seen she loved," and the beauties of that land which had +been afar off burst on her eyes, which were no longer blind.</p> + +<p>Poor father! poor mother! look up; your child sees now, and will await +your coming to the golden gates.</p> + +<p>Heartfelt tears were shed on earth by that death-bed, but there was a +song of great rejoicing in heaven over another ransomed soul entering +heaven, and also over another sinner entering the kingdom of God on +earth, as Wilhelm Hörstel bent his knee by the bed where his dead child +lay, and in broken words asked the Saviour whom that child had gone to +see face to face to receive him as a poor sinner, and make him all he +ought to be. In after-years he would often say that it was the words +little Frida, the woodland child, had read and sung to his blind darling +that led him, as they had already led his wife, to the feet of Jesus.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE VIOLIN-TEACHER AND THE CONCERT.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock4"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"There in an arched and lofty room<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She stands in fair white dress,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where grace and colour and sweet sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Combine and cluster all around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">And rarest taste express."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">THREE years had passed since all that was mortal of the blind child was +laid to rest in the quiet God's acre near where the body of Frida's +father lay. After the funeral of little Anna, Frida at her own request +returned to the Forest with her friends, anxious to help and comfort +Elsie, who she knew would sorely miss the blind child, who had been such +a comfort and companion to her when both Wilhelm and Hans were busy at +work in the woods; but after remaining with them for a few months, she +again returned for a part of each year to Dringenstadt, and made rapid +progress under Miss Drechsler's tuition with her education, and +especially with her music.</p> + +<p>The third summer after little Anna's death, Frida was again spending +some weeks in the Forest. It was early summer when she returned there. +Birds and insects were busy in the Forest, and the wood-cutters<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> were +hard at work loading the carts with the piles of wood which the +large-eyed, strong, patient-looking oxen conveyed to the town. Loud +sounded the crack of the carters' whips as they urged on the slow-paced +oxen. Often in those days Frida, accompanied by Elsie (who had now no +little child to detain her at home), would take Wilhelm's and Hans's +simple dinner with them to carry to them where they worked.</p> + +<p>One day Frida left Elsie talking to her husband and boy, and strolled a +little way further into the Forest, gathering the flowers that grew at +the foot of the trees, and admiring the soft, velvety moss that here and +there covered the ground, when suddenly she was startled by the sounds +of footsteps quite near her, and looking hastily round, saw to her +amazement the figure of the young violinist from whom she had lately +taken lessons.</p> + +<p>"Fräulein Heinz," he said, as he caught sight of the fair young girl as +she stood, flowers in hand, "I rejoice to meet you, for I came in search +of you. Pupils of mine in the town of Baden-Baden, many miles from here, +where I often reside, are about to have an amateur concert, and they +have asked me to bring any pupil with me whom I may think capable of +assisting them. They are English milords, and are anxious to assist +local musical talent; and I have thought of you, Fräulein, as a +performer on the violin, and I went to-day to Miss Drechsler to ask her +to give you leave to go."</p> + +<p>"And what did she say?" asked the child eagerly. "How could I go so far +away?" And she stopped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> suddenly; but the glance she gave at her dress +told the young violinist the direction of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "Fräulein Drechsler will settle all that. She wishes you +to go, and says she will herself accompany you and also bring you back +to your friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh! then," said Frida, "I would like very much to go; but I must ask +Wilhelm and Elsie if they can spare me. But, Herr Müller, do you think I +can play well enough?"</p> + +<p>The violinist smiled as he thought how little the girl before him +realized the musical genius which she possessed, and which already, +young as she was, made her a performer of no ordinary skill.</p> + +<p>"Ah yes, Fräulein," he said, "I think you will do. But you know, as the +concert is not for a month yet, you can come to Dringenstadt and can +have a few more lessons ere then."</p> + +<p>"Come with me, then, and let me introduce you to my friends;" and she +led him up to the spot where Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans stood.</p> + +<p>They looked surprised, but when they heard her request they could not +refuse it. To have their little woodland child play at a concert seemed +to them an honour of no small magnitude. Hans in his eagerness pressed +to her side, saying, "O Frida, I am so glad, for you do play so +beautifully."</p> + +<p>"As for that matter, so do you, Hans," she replied, for the boy had the +musical talent so often found even in German peasants, and taught by +Frida could really play with taste on the violin.</p> + +<p>"O Herr Müller," she said, turning to him, "I wish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> some day you could +hear Hans play; I am sure you would like it. If only he could get +lessons! I know he would excel in it."</p> + +<p>"Is that so?" said the violinist; "then we must get that good Fräulein +Drechsler to have him down to Dringenstadt, and I will hear him play; +and then if we find there is real talent, I might recommend him to the +society for helping those who have a turn for music, but are not able to +pay for instruction."</p> + +<p>Hans's eyes danced with delight at the idea, but in the meantime he knew +his duty was to help his father as much as he could in his work as a +wood-cutter. "But then some day," he thought, "who knows but I might be +able to devote my time to music, and so it would all be brought about +through the kindness of little Frida."</p> + +<p>Frida was a happy girl when a few days after the violinist's visit to +the Forest she set out for Dringenstadt, to live for a month with +Fräulein Drechsler, and with her go on to Baden-Baden. A few more +lessons were got from Herr Müller, the selection of music she was to +perform gone through again and again, and all was ready to start the +next day.</p> + +<p>When Frida went to her room that evening, great was her amazement to see +laid out on her bed a prettily-made plain black delaine morning dress, +neatly finished off at neck and wrists with a pure white frill; and +beside it a simple white muslin one for evening wear, with a white silk +sash to match. These Miss Drechsler told her were a present from +herself. Frida's young heart was filled with gratitude to the kind +friend who was so thoughtful of her wants;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> and she wondered if a day +would ever come when she would be able in any way to repay the +kindnesses of the friends whom God had raised up for her.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Herr Müller had told the Stanfords, in whose house the +concert was to be held, about the young girl violinist whose services he +had secured. They were much interested in her, and were prepared to give +a hearty welcome, not to her only, but to her friend Miss Drechsler, +whom they had already met.</p> + +<p>Sir Richard Stanford, who was the head of an old family in the south of +England, had with his wife come abroad for the health of their young and +only daughter. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford were Christians, and +interested themselves in the natives of the place where they were +living, and themselves having highly-cultivated musical tastes, they +took pleasure in helping on any of the poorer people there in whom they +recognized the like talent.</p> + +<p>"Father," said his young daughter Adeline, as she lay one warm day on a +couch under a shady tree in the garden of their lovely villa at +Baden-Baden, "suppose we have a concert in our villa some evening; and +let us try and find out some good amateur performers, and also engage +two or three really good professionals to play, so that some of the +poorer players who have not opportunities of hearing them may do so, and +be benefited thereby."</p> + +<p>Anxious in any reasonable way to please their daughter, a girl not much +older than Frida, Sir Richard and Lady Stanford agreed to carry out her +suggestion; and calling their friend Herr Müller to their assistance, +the private concert was arranged for,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> and our friend the child of the +Black Forest invited to play at it.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The day fixed for the concert had come round, and Adeline Stanford, who +was more than usually well, flitted here and there, making preparations +for the evening. The concert-room had been beautifully decorated, and +the supper-table tastefully arranged. Very pretty did Ada (as she was +called) look. Her finely-cut features and graceful appearance all +proclaimed her high birth, and the innate purity and unselfishness of +her spirit were stamped on her face. Adeline Stanford was a truly +Christian girl whose great desire was to make those around her happy. +One thing she had often longed for was to have a companion of her own +age to live with her and be as a sister to her. Her parents often tried +to get such a one, but as yet difficulties had arisen which prevented +their doing so. The very morning of the concert, Ada had said, "O +mother, how pleasant it would be, when we are travelling about and +seeing so many beautiful places, to have some young girl with us who +would share our pleasure with us and help to cheer you and father when I +have one of my bad days and am fit for nothing." Then she added with a +smile, "Not that I would like it only for your sakes, but for my own as +well. It would be nice to have a sister companion to share my lessons +and duties with me, and bear with my grumbles when I am ill."</p> + +<p>Adeline's grumbles were so seldom heard that her parents could not help +smiling at her words, though they acknowledged that her wish was a +natural<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> one; but then, where was the suitable girl to be found?</p> + +<p>"Ah! here we are at last," said Miss Drechsler, as she and Frida drove +up to the door of the villa where the Stanfords lived. "How lovely it +all is!" said Frida, who had been in ecstasies ever since she arrived in +Baden.</p> + +<p>Everything was so new to her—not since her father's death had she been +in a large town; and her admiration as they drove along the streets +between the rows of beautiful trees was manifested by exclamations of +delight.</p> + +<p>Once or twice something in the appearance of the shops struck her as +familiar. "Surely," she said, "I have seen these before, but where I +cannot tell. Ah! look at that large toy-shop. I know I have been there, +and some one who was with me bought me a cart to play with. I think it +must have been mamma, for I recollect that the purse she had in her hand +was like one that I often got from her to play with. Oh, I am sure I +have lived here before with father and mother!"</p> + +<p>As they neared the villa, the "woodland child" became more silent, and +pressed closer to her friend's side.</p> + +<p>"Ah! here they come," exclaimed Adeline Stanford, as followed by her +father and mother she ran downstairs to welcome the strangers. Miss +Drechsler they had seen before, but the appearance of the girl from the +Black Forest struck them much. They had expected to see a peasant child +(for Herr Müller had told them nothing of her history nor spoken of +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> appearance), and when Frida had removed her hat and stood beside +them in the drawing-room, they were astonished to see no country child, +but a singularly beautiful, graceful girl, of refined appearance and +lady-like manners. Her slight shyness soon vanished through Ada's +unaffected pleasant ways, and erelong the two girls were talking to each +other with all the frankness of youth, and long ere the hour for the +concert came they were fast friends.</p> + +<p><a name="come" id="come"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 444px;"> +<img src="images/i063.jpg" width="444" height="600" alt="" title="Page 61" /> +<span class="caption">"Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage +together." <em>See page 61.</em></span> +</div> + +<p>Ada was herself a good pianist, and could play fairly well on the +violin, and she found that Herr Müller had arranged that she and the +girl from the Forest should perform together.</p> + +<p>"Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage together; we must +be sure we have it perfect."</p> + +<p>"Oh, how well you play!" she said when they had finished. "Has Herr +Müller been your only teacher?"</p> + +<p>"Latterly he has," was the answer; "but when I was quite little I was +well taught by my father."</p> + +<p>"Your father!" said Adeline; "does he play well? He cannot have had many +advantages if he has to work in the woods all day."</p> + +<p>"Work in the woods! why, he never did that." Then she added, "Oh! I see +you think Wilhelm Hörstel is my father; but that is not the case. My own +dear father is dead, and Wilhelm found me left alone in the Black +Forest."</p> + +<p>"Found in the Black Forest alone!" said Ada. Here was indeed a romance +to take the fancy of an imaginative, impulsive girl like Adeline +Stanford; and leaving Frida with her story unfinished, she darted off to +her parents to tell them what she had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> heard. They also were much +interested in her story, for they had been much astonished at the +appearance of the girl from the Forest; and telling Ada that she had +better go back to Frida, they turned to Miss Drechsler and asked her to +tell them all she knew of the child's history.</p> + +<p>She did so, mentioning also her brown Bible and the way in which God was +using its words amongst the wood-cutters in the Forest.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>The concert was over, but Sir Richard, Lady Stanford, and Miss Drechsler +lingered awhile (after the girls had gone to bed), talking over the +events of the evening.</p> + +<p>"How beautifully your young friend played!" said Lady Stanford; "her +musical talent is wonderful, but the girl herself is the greatest wonder +of all. She cannot be the child of common people, she is so like a lady +and so graceful. And, Miss Drechsler, can you tell us how she comes to +be possessed of such a lovely mosaic necklace as she wore to-night? +Perhaps it belongs to yourself, and you have lent it to her for the +occasion."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," was the answer; "it is not mine. It evidently belonged to +the child's mother, and was on her neck the night she was found in the +Forest."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Sir Richard, "it is just possible it may be the means of +leading to the discovery of the girl's parentage, for the pattern is an +uncommon one. She is a striking-looking child, and it is strange that +her face haunts me with the idea that I have seen it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> somewhere before; +but that is impossible, as the girl tells me she has never been in +England, and I can never have met her here."</p> + +<p>"It is curious," said Miss Drechsler; "but I also have the feeling that +I have seen some one whom she greatly resembles when I was in England +living in Gloucestershire with the Wardens."</p> + +<p>"'Tis strange," said Lady Stanford, "that you should see a likeness to +some one whom you have seen and yet cannot name, the more so that the +face is not a common one."</p> + +<p>"She is certainly a remarkable child," continued Miss Drechsler, "and a +really good one. She has a great love for her Bible, and I think tries +to live up to its precepts."</p> + +<p>That evening Sir Richard and his wife talked together of the possibility +of by-and-by taking Frida into their house as companion to Ada, +specially whilst they were travelling about; and perhaps afterwards +taking her with them to England and continuing her education there, so +that if her relations were not found she might when old enough obtain a +situation as governess, or in some way turn her musical talents to +account.</p> + +<p>The day after the concert, Frida returned with Miss Drechsler to +Dringenstadt, to remain a few days with her before returning to her +Forest home.</p> + +<p>As they were leaving the Stanfords, and Frida had just sprung into the +carriage which was to convey them to the station, a young man who had +been present at the concert, and was a friend of the Stanfords, came +forward and asked leave to shake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> hands with her, and congratulated her +on her violin-playing. He was a good-looking young man of perhaps +three-and-twenty years, with the easy manners of a well-born gentleman.</p> + +<p>After saying farewell, he turned into the house with the Stanfords, and +began to talk about the "fair violinist," as he termed her. "Remarkably +pretty girl," he said; "reminds me strongly of some one I have seen. +Surely she cannot be (as I overheard a young lady say last night) just a +wood-cutter's child."</p> + +<p>"No, she is not that," replied Sir Richard, and then he told the young +man something of her history, asking him if he had observed the strange +antique necklace which the girl wore.</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, "I did not. Could you describe it to me?" As Sir +Richard did so a close observer must have seen a look of pained surprise +cross the young man's face, and he visibly changed colour. "Curious," he +said as he rose hastily. "It would be interesting to know how it came +into her possession; perhaps it was stolen, who knows?" And so saying, +he shook hands and departed.</p> + +<p>Reginald Gower was the only child of an old English family of fallen +fortune. Rumour said he was of extravagant habits, but that he expected +some day to inherit a fine property and large fortune from a distant +relative.</p> + +<p>There were good traits in Reginald's character: he had a kind heart, and +was a most loving son to his widowed mother, who doted on him; but a +love of ease and a selfish regard to his own comfort marred his whole +character, and above all things an increasing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> disregard of God and the +Holy Scriptures was pervading more and more his whole life.</p> + +<p>As he walked away from Sir Richard's house, his thoughts were occupied +with the story he had just heard of the child found in the Black Forest. +He was quite aware of the fact that the girl's face forcibly reminded +him of the picture of a beautiful girl that hung in the drawing-room of +a manor-house near his own home in Gloucestershire. He knew that the +owner of that face had been disinherited (though the only child of the +house) on account of her marriage, which was contrary to the wishes of +her parents, and that now they did not know whether she were dead or +alive; though surely he had lately heard a report that, after years of +bitter indignation at her, they had softened, and were desirous of +finding out where she was, if still alive. And then what impressed him +most was the curious coincidence (he called it) that round the neck of +the girl in the picture was just such another mosaic necklace as the +Stanfords had described the one to be which the young violinist wore.</p> + +<p>Was it possible, he asked himself, that she could be the child of the +daughter of the manor of whom his mother had often told him? and if so, +ought he to tell them of his suspicions—the more so that he had heard +from his mother that the lady of the manor was failing in health, and +longing, as she had long done, to see and forgive her child? If he were +right in his surmises that this "woodland girl," as he had heard her +called, was the daughter of the child of the manor, then even if the +mother was dead, the young violinist would be received with open arms by +both the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> grand-parents, and would (and here arose the difficulty in the +young man's mind) inherit the estates and wealth which would have +devolved on her mother, all of which, but for the existence of this +woodland child, he, Reginald Gower, would have inherited as heir-at-law.</p> + +<p>"Well, there is no call on you to say anything about the matter, at all +events at present," whispered the evil spirit in the young man's heart. +"You may be mistaken. Why ruin your whole future prospects for a fancy? +Likenesses are so deceptive; and as to the necklace, pooh! that is +nonsense—there are hundreds of mosaic necklaces. Let the matter alone, +and go your way. 'Eat, drink, and be merry.'"</p> + +<p>All very well; but why just then of all times in the world did the words +of the Bible, taught him long ago by the mother he loved, come so +vividly to his remembrance—"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with +thy God;" and those words, heard more distinctly still, which his mother +had taught him to call "the royal law of love"—"As ye would that men +should do to you, do ye even so to them"?</p> + +<p>Good and bad spirits seemed fighting within him for the mastery; but +alas, alas! the selfish spirit so common to humanity won the day, and +Reginald Gower turned from the low, soft voice of the Holy Spirit +pleading within him, and resolutely determined to be silent regarding +his meeting with the child found in the Black Forest, and the strange +circumstance of her likeness to the picture and her possession of the +mosaic necklace.</p> + +<p>Once again the god of self, who has so many<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> votaries in this world, had +gained a great triumph, and the prince of this world got a more sure +seat in the heart of the young man. But all unknown to him there was one +"climbing for him the silver, shining stair that leads to God's great +treasure-house," and claiming for her fatherless boy "the priceless boon +of the new heart."</p> + +<p>Was such a prayer ever offered in vain or unanswered by Him who hath +said, "If ye ask anything according to my will, I will do it. Ask, and +ye shall receive"?</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Christmas, happy Christmas,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet herald of good-will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With holy songs of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">Brings holy gladness still."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">SUMMER had long passed, autumn tints had faded, and the fallen leaves +lay thick in the Forest.</p> + +<p>For days a strong wind had blown, bending the high trees under its +influence, and here and there rooting up the dark pines and laying them +low. Through the night of which we are going to write, a heavy fall of +snow had covered all around with a thick mantle of pure white. It +weighed down the branches of the trees in the Forest, and rested on the +piles of wood which lay ready cut to be carted off to be sold for fuel +in the neighbouring towns. The roll of wheels, as the heavily-laden +wagons passed, was heard no more. The song of the birds had ceased, +though the print of their claws was to be seen on the snow. All was +quiet. The silence of nature seemed to rest on the hearts of the +dwellers in the Forest. In vain Elsie heaped on the wood; still the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +stove gave out little heat. She busied herself in the little room, but a +weight seemed to be on her spirit, and she glanced from time to time +uneasily at Frida, who sat listlessly knitting beside the stove.</p> + +<p>"Art ill, Frida?" she said at last. "All this morning hast thou sat +there with that knitting on thy lap, and scarce worked a round at it. +And your violin—why, Frida, you have not played on it for weeks, and +even Hans notices it; and Wilhelm says to me no longer ago than this +morning, 'Why, wife, what ails our woodland child? The spirit has all +left her, and she looks white and tired-like.'"</p> + +<p>Frida, thus addressed, rose quickly from her seat, a blush, perchance of +shame, colouring her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"O Mutter," she said, "I know I am lazy; but it is not because I am ill, +only I keep thinking and wondering and—There! I know I'm wrong, only, +Elsie dear, Mutter Elsie, I do want to know if any of my own people are +alive, and where they live. I have felt like this ever since I was at +Baden-Baden; and I have not heard from Adeline Stanford for such a long +time, and I suppose, though she was so kind, she has forgotten me; and +Miss Drechsler has left Dringenstadt for months; and, O Mutter, forgive +me, and believe that I am not ungrateful for all that you and Wilhelm +and the kind people in the Dorf have done for me. Only, only—" And the +poor girl laid her head on Elsie's shoulder and cried long and bitterly.</p> + +<p>Elsie was much moved, she did so love the bright, fairy-like girl who +had been the means of letting in the light of the gospel to her dark +heart.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>"<em>Armes Kind</em>" (poor child), she said, soothing her as tenderly as she +would have done her own blind Anna, had she been alive and in trouble, +"I understand it all, dear." (And her kind woman heart had taken it all +in.) "It is just like the little bird taken from its mother's nest, and +put into a strange one, longing to be back amongst its like again, and +content nowhere else. But, Frida, dost thou not remember that we read in +the little brown book that our Lord hath said, 'Lo, I am with you +alway'? Isn't that enough for you? No place can be very desolate, can +it, if He be there?"</p> + +<p>In a moment after Elsie said these words, Frida raised her head and +dried her eyes.</p> + +<p>Had she been forgetting, she asked herself, whose young servant she was? +Was it right in a child of God to be discontented with her lot, and to +forget the high privilege that God had given her in allowing her to read +His Word to the poor people in the Forest?</p> + +<p>"I must throw off this discontented spirit," she said to herself; and +turning to Elsie she told her how sorry she was for the way in which she +had acted, adding, "But with God's help I will be better now."</p> + +<p>Frida was no perfect character, and, truth to tell, ever since her +return from Baden-Baden, a sense of the incongruity of her circumstances +had crept upon her. The tasteful surroundings, the cultured +conversation, the musical evenings, the refinement of all around, had +enchanted the young girl, and the humble lot and homely ways of her +Forest friends<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> had on her return to them stood out in striking +contrast. And, alas! for the time being she refused to see in all these +things the guiding hand of God. But after the day we have written of, +things went better. The girl strove to conquer her discontent, and in +God's strength she overcame, and her friends in the Forest had once more +the pleasure of seeing her bright smile and hearing her sweet voice in +song.</p> + +<p>Johann Schmidt had fallen asleep in Jesus with the words of Holy +Scripture on his lips, blessing the "wood-cutters' pet," as he called +her, for having, through the reading of God's Word, led him to Jesus. +But though sickness had left the Forest, the severe cold and deep snow +were very trying to the health of all the dwellers in it, and the winter +nights were long and dreary.</p> + +<p>One day in December, Wilhelm Hörstel had business in Dringenstadt, and +on his return home he gave Frida two letters which he had found lying at +the post-office for her. They proved, to Frida's great delight, to be +from her two friends Miss Drechsler and Adeline Stanford.</p> + +<p>Miss Drechsler's ran thus:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Frida</span>,—I have been thinking very specially of you and your +friends in the Forest, now that the cold winter days have come, and the +snow, I doubt not, is lying thick on the trees and ground. Knowing how +interested you are, dear, in all your kind friends there, I have thought +how nice it would be for you, if Elsie and Wilhelm consent, to have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +Christmas-tree for a few of your friends; and in order to carry this +out, I enclose a money order to the amount of £2, and leave it to you +and Elsie to spend it to the best of your power.</p> + +<p>"I am also going to write to Herr Steiger to send, addressed to you, ten +pounds of tea, which I trust you to give from me to each of the +householders—nine in number, I think—in the little Dorf, retaining one +for your friends the Hörstels. Will you, dear Frida, be my almoner and +do my business for me? I often think of and pray for you, and I know you +do not forget me. I fear I will not be able to return to Dringenstadt +till the month of May, as my sister is still very ill, and I feel I am +of use to her.—Your affectionate friend.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">M. Drechsler.</span>"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Oh, isn't it good? isn't it charming?" said Frida, jumping about the +room in her glee. "Mayn't we have the tree, Mutter? And will you not +some day soon come with me to Dringenstadt and choose the things for it? +Oh, I wish Hans were here, that I might tell him all about it! See, I +have not yet opened Adeline's letter; it is so long since I heard from +her. I wonder where they are living now. Oh, the letter is from Rome."</p> + +<p>Then in silence she read on. Elsie, who was watching her, saw that as +she read on her cheeks coloured and her eyes sparkled with some joyful +emotion.</p> + +<p>She rose suddenly, and going up to Elsie she said, "O Mutter, <em>was +denken Sie?</em> [what do you think?]. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford enclose +a few lines<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> saying they would like so much that I should, with your +consent, spend some months with them at Cannes in the Riviera, as a +companion to Adeline; and if you and Miss Drechsler agree to the plan, +that I would accompany friends of theirs from Baden-Baden who propose to +go to Cannes about the middle of January. And, Mutter," continued the +girl, "they say all my expenses will be paid, and that I shall have +Adeline's masters for music and languages, and be treated as if I were +their daughter."</p> + +<p>Elsie looked up with tears in her eyes. "Well, Frida dear," she said, +"it does seem a good thing for you, and right glad I am about it for +your sake; but, oh, we will miss you sorely. But there! the dear Lord +has told us in the book not to think only of ourselves, and I am sure +that He is directing your way. Of course I'll speak to Wilhelm about it, +for he has so much sense; but I don't believe he'll stand in your way."</p> + +<p>Frida, overcome with excitement, and almost bewildered with the prospect +before her, had yet a heart full of sorrow at the thought of leaving the +friends who had helped her in her time of need; and in broken words she +told Elsie so, clinging to her as she spoke.</p> + +<p>Matters were soon arranged. Elsie and Wilhelm heartily agreed that Frida +should accept Sir Richard and Lady Stanford's invitation. They only +waited till an answer could be got from Miss Drechsler regarding the +plan. And when that came, full of thankfulness for God's kindness in +thus guiding her path, a letter of acceptance was at once dispatched to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +Cannes, and the child of the Forest only remained with her friends till +the new year was a fortnight old.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, whilst snow lay thick around, Christmas-eve came on, +and Frida and Elsie were busy preparing the tree. Of the true Christmas +joy many in the Forest knew nothing, but in some hearts a glimmer at +least of its true meaning was dawning, and a few of the wood-cutters +loved to gather together and hear Frida read the story of the angelic +hosts on the plain of Bethlehem singing of peace and good-will to men, +because that night a Babe, who was Christ the Lord, was born in a +manger. How much they understood of the full significance of the story +we know not, but we <em>do</em> know God's word never returns to Him void.</p> + +<p>The tree was ready at last. Elsie, Frida, and Hans had worked busily at +it for days, Miss Drechsler's money had gone a long way, and now those +who had prepared it thought there never had been such a beautiful tree. +True, every child in the Forest had had on former occasions a tree of +their own at Christmas time—none so poor but some small twig was lit +up, though the lights might be few; but this one, ah, that was a +different matter—no such tree as this had ever been seen in the Forest +before.</p> + +<p>"Look, Hans," said Frida; "is not that doll like a little queen? And +only see that little wooden cart and horse; won't that delight some of +the children in the Dorf?—And, Mutter, we must hang up that warm hood +for Frau Schenk, poor woman; and now here are the warm cuffs for the +men, and a lovely pair for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> Wilhelm.—And, O Hans, we will not tell you +what <em>you</em> are to have; nor you either, Mutter. No, no, you will never +guess. I bought them myself."</p> + +<p>And so, amid chattering and laughing, the tree got on and was finished; +and all I am going to say about it is that for long years afterwards +that particular Christmas-tree was remembered and spoken of, and in far +other scenes—in crowded drawing-rooms filled with gaily-dressed +children and grown-up people—Frida's eyes would fill as she thought of +the joy that Christmas-tree had given to the dwellers in the Forest, +both young and old. Ere that memorable night ended, Frida and Hans, who +had prepared a surprise for every one, brought out their violins, and +sang together in German a Christmas carol; and as the assembled party +went quietly home through the snow-carpeted Forest, a holy influence +seemed around them, as if the song of the angels echoed through the air, +"Peace on earth, and goodwill to men."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span><a name="X" id="X"></a>CHAPTER X.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">HARCOURT MANOR.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock6"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Shall not long-suffering in thee be wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To mirror back His own?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His <em>gentleness</em> shall mellow every thought<br /></span> +<span class="i4 mb">And look and tone."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">THREE years and a half have passed since the Christmas-eve we have +written of, and the golden light of a summer day was falling on the +earth and touching the flowers in a lovely garden belonging to the old +manor-house of Harcourt, in the county of Gloucester in England.</p> + +<p>In the lawn-tennis court, which was near the garden, preparations were +making for a game. Young men in flannels and girls in light dresses were +passing to and fro arranging the racquets and tightening the nets, some +gathering the balls together and trying them ere the other players +should arrive. It was a pleasant scene. Birds twittered out and in the +ivy and rose covered walls of the old English manor-house, and the +blithe laughter of the young people blended with the melodious singing +of the choristers around.</p> + +<p>The company was assembling quickly, kind words<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> were passing amongst +friends, when there appeared on the scene an elderly lady of great +elegance and beauty, to whom all turned with respectful greeting, and a +hush came over all.</p> + +<p>Not that there was anything stern or severe in the lady's appearance to +cause the hush, for a look of calmness and great sweetness was in her +countenance, but through it there was also an appearance of sadness that +touched every heart, and although it would not silence any true young +joy, had certainly the effect of quieting anything boisterous or rude.</p> + +<p>The "gentle lady" of Harcourt Manor was the name Mrs. Willoughby had +gone by for some years. It was pretty well known that a deep sorrow had +fallen upon her whilst still in the prime of life; and those there were +who said they could recall a time when, instead of that look of calm +peace and chastened sorrow, there were visible on her face only haughty +pride and fiery temper.</p> + +<p>It was hard to believe that that had ever been the case; but if so, it +was but one of many instances in which God's declaration proved true, +that though "no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but +grievous, nevertheless <em>afterward</em> it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of +righteousness."</p> + +<p>Mr. Willoughby, a man older by some years than his wife, was a man who +had long been more feared than beloved; and the heavy trial, which had +affected him no less than his wife, had apparently hardened instead of +softening his whole nature, though a severe illness had greatly +mitigated, it was thought, some of his sternness.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>The party of which we are writing was given in honour of the return from +abroad of the heir of the manor, a distant relation of the Willoughbys, +Mr. Reginald Gower, whom we have written of before. For five years he +had been living abroad, and had returned only a month ago to the house +of his widowed mother, the Hon. Mrs. Gower of Lilyfield, a small though +pretty property adjoining Harcourt Manor.</p> + +<p>Just as Mrs. Willoughby entered the grounds, Reginald and his mother did +so also, although by a different way, and a few minutes passed ere they +met.</p> + +<p>The young man walked eagerly up to the hostess, a smile of real pleasure +lighting up his handsome face at the sight of the lady he really loved, +and who had from his boyish days been a kind friend to him. But as he +greeted her, the look of sadness on her countenance struck him, and some +secret thought sent a pang through him, and for the moment blanched his +cheek. Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had it in his power, +by the utterance of a few words, to dispel that look of deep sadness +from the face of one of the dearest friends, next to his mother, whom he +possessed?</p> + +<p>"Very glad to see you back again, Reginald," said Mrs. Willoughby. "But +surely the southern skies have blanched rather than bronzed your cheeks. +You were not wont to be so pale, Reggie. Ay, there you are more like +your old self" (as a flush of colour spread over his face once more). +"We hope you have come to stay awhile in your own country, for your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +dear mother has been worrying about your long absence.—Is it not so, +Laura?" she said, addressing herself to Mrs. Gower, who now stood beside +them.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," was the reply; "I am thankful to have my boy home again. +Lilyfield is a dull place without him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby; "it is a dreary home that has no child in +it." And as she spoke she turned her face away, that no one might see +that her eyes were full of tears.</p> + +<p>But Reginald had caught sight of them, and turned away suddenly, saying, +"Farewell for the present;" and raising his cap to the two ladies, he +went off to join the players in the tennis-court, to all outward +appearance one of the brightest and most light-hearted there.</p> + +<p>But he played badly that day, and exclamations from his friends were +heard from time to time such as, "Why, Reginald, have you forgotten how +to play tennis?" "Oh, look out, Gower; you are spoiling the game! It was +a shame to miss that ball."</p> + +<p>Thus admonished, Reginald drew himself together, collected his thoughts, +concentrated his attention on the game, and played well. But no sooner +was the game over than once again there rose before his eyes the face +and figure of the beautiful foundling of the Black Forest, with her +strange story and her extraordinary likeness not only to the picture of +the young girl in the drawing-room of the manor, but also to his gentle +friend Mrs. Willoughby.</p> + +<p>Oh, if only he had never met the young violinist; if he could blot out +the remembrance of her and be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> once more the light-hearted man he had +been ere he heard her story from Sir Richard Stanford!</p> + +<p>He had been so sure of his sense of honour, his pure morality, his good +principles, his high-toned soul ("True," he said to himself, "I never +set up to be one of your righteous-overmuch sort of people, nor a saint +like my noble mother and my friend Mrs. Willoughby") that he staggered +as he thought of what he was now by the part he was acting. Dishonest, +cruel, unjust—he, Reginald Gower; was it possible? Ah! his +self-righteousness, his boasted uprightness, had both been put to the +test and found wanting.</p> + +<p>"Well, Reggie, had you a pleasant time at the manor to-day?" said his +mother to him as they sat together at their late dinner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was well enough," was the reply; but it was not spoken in his +usual hearty tone, and his mother observed it, and also the unsatisfied +look which crossed his face, and she wondered what had vexed him.</p> + +<p>A silence succeeded, broken at last by Reginald.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, "what is it that has deepened that look of sadness in +Mrs. Willoughby's face since I last saw her? And tell me, is the story +about their daughter being disinherited true? And is it certain that she +is dead, and that no child (for I think it is said she married) survives +her? If that were the case, and the child should turn up and be +received, it would be awkward for me and my prospects, mother."</p> + +<p>"Reginald," Mrs. Gower replied, for she had heard his words with +astonishment, "if I thought that there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> was the least chance that either +Mrs. Willoughby's daughter or any child of hers were alive, I would +rejoice with all my heart, and do all I could to bring about a +reconciliation, even though it were to leave you, my loved son, a +penniless beggar. And so I am sure would you."</p> + +<p>A flush of crimson rose to Reginald's brow at these words. Then his +mother believed him to be all that he had thought himself, and little +suspected what he really was. But then, supposing he divulged his +secret, what about debts which he had contracted, and extravagant habits +which he had formed? No! he would begin and save, retrench his expenses, +and if possible get these debts paid off; and then he might see his way +to speak of the girl in the Black Forest, if she was still to be found.</p> + +<p>So once more Reginald Gower silenced the voice of conscience with, "At a +more convenient time," and abruptly changing the subject, began to speak +of his foreign experiences, of the beauty of Italian skies, art, and +scenery; and the conversation about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter passed +from his mother's mind, and she became absorbed in her son's +descriptions of the places he had visited. And as she looked at his +handsome animated face, was it any wonder that with a mother's +partiality she thought how favoured she was in the possession of such a +child? Only—and here she sighed—ah, if only she were sure that this +cherished son were a true follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and that +the Word of God, so precious to her own soul, were indeed a light to his +feet and a lamp to his path!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>That evening another couple were seated also at their dinner-table, and +a different conversation was being held. The master of Harcourt Manor +sat at the foot of the table, opposite his gentle wife; but a troubled +look was on his face, brought there very much by the thought that he +noticed an extra shade both of weariness and sadness on the face of his +wife. What could he do to dissipate it? he was asking himself. Anything, +except speak the word which he was well aware would have the desired +effect, and, were she still alive, restore to her mother's arms the +child for whom she pined; but not yet was the strong self-will so broken +down that those words could be spoken by him, not yet had he so felt the +need of forgiveness for his own soul that he could forgive as he hoped +to be forgiven.</p> + +<p>Did not his duty as a parent, and his duty towards other parents of his +own rank in life, call upon him to make a strong stand, and visit with +his righteous indignation such a sin as that of his only child and +heiress marrying a man, however good, upright, and highly educated he +might be, who yet was beneath her in station (although he denied that +fact), and unable to keep her in the comfort and luxury to which she had +been accustomed?</p> + +<p>"No, no, <em>noblesse oblige</em>;" and rather than forgive such a sin, he +would blight his own life and break the heart of the wife he adored. +Such was the state of mind in which the master of Harcourt Manor had +remained since the sad night when his only child had gone off to be +married at a neighbouring church to the young musician Heinz. But some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +months before Reginald Gower's return from abroad, during a severe +illness which had brought him to the borderland, Mr. Willoughby was +aroused to a dawning sense of his own sinfulness and need of pardon, +which had, almost unconsciously to himself, a softening effect on his +mind.</p> + +<p>His wife was the first to break the silence at the dinner-table. "Has +not Reginald Gower grown more manly and older-looking since we saw him +last?" she said, addressing her husband.</p> + +<p>A shade came over his face as he answered somewhat testily, "Oh, I think +he looks well enough! Of course five years must have made him look +older. But Reginald never was the favourite with me that he is with you, +wife; a self-indulgent lad he always seems to me to be."</p> + +<p>"Well, but surely, husband" (once she always called him father, but that +was years ago now), "he is a good son, and kind to his mother."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I am glad to hear it. But surely we have some more +interesting subject to discuss than Reginald Gower."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Willoughby sighed. Well she knew that many a time she had a +conflict in her own heart to think well of the lad who was to succeed to +the beautiful estates that by right belonged to their own child.</p> + +<p>Dinner over, she sought the quiet of her own boudoir, a room specially +endeared to her by the many sweet memories of the hours that she and her +loved daughter had spent together there.</p> + +<p>The day had been a trying one to Mrs. Willoughby. Not often nowadays had +they parties at Harcourt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> Manor, and she was tired in mind and body, and +glad to be a few minutes alone with her God. She sat for a few minutes +lost in thought; then rising she opened a drawer, and took from it the +case which contained the miniature of a beautiful girl, on which she +gazed long and lovingly. The likeness was that of the daughter she had +loved so dearly, and of whose very existence she was now in doubt. Oh to +see or hear of her once more! Poor mother, how her heart yearned for her +loved one! Only one could comfort her, and that was the God she had +learned to love. She put down the picture and opened a little brown +book, the very <em>fac-simile</em> of the one which little Frida possessed, and +which God had used and blessed in the Black Forest. Turning to the +Hundred and third Psalm, she read the words, well underlined, "Like as a +father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." +Then turning to the Gospel of Matthew, she read Christ's own blessed +word of invitation and promise, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and +are heavy laden, and <em>I</em> will give you rest." Ah, how many weary, +burdened souls have these words helped since they were spoken and then +under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost written for the comfort of weary +ones in all ages! Ere she closed the book, Mrs. Willoughby read the +fourth verse of the Thirty-seventh Psalm: "Delight thyself in the Lord, +and he shall give thee the desire of thine heart." Then kneeling down +she poured out, as she so often did, the sorrows of her heart to her +heavenly Father, and rose quieted in spirit.</p> + +<p>Ere she put away the little brown book she looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> at it thoughtfully, +recalling the day, not long before her daughter had left her, when they +had together bought two Bibles exactly alike as regarded binding, but +the one was in German, the other in English. The German Bible she had +given to her daughter, who presented the English one to her mother. On +the fly-leaf of the one she held in her hand were written the words, "To +my much-loved mother, from Hilda." Ah, where was that daughter now? And +if she still possessed the little brown German Bible, had she learned to +love and prize its words as her mother had done her English Bible? Then +carefully locking up her treasured book and portraits, she went +downstairs, to wait in solitary grandeur for her husband's coming into +the drawing-room.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">IN THE RIVIERA.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"My God, I thank Thee who hast made<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The earth so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So full of splendour and of joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Beauty, and light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So many glorious things are here,<br /></span> +<span class="i4 mb">Noble and right."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">MORE than four years had elapsed since Frida had left her home in the +Black Forest. April sunshine was lighting up the grey olive woods and +glistening on the dark-green glossy leaves of the orange-trees at +Cannes, and playing on the deep-blue waters of the Mediterranean there.</p> + +<p>Some of these beams fell also round the heads of two young girls as they +sat under the shade of a palm tree in a lovely garden there belonging to +the Villa des Rosiers, where they were living. A lovely scene was before +their eyes. In front of them, like gems in the deep-blue sea, were the +isles of St. Marguerite and St. Honorat, and to the west were the +beautiful Estrelle Mountains. Around them bloomed masses of lovely +roses, and the little yellow and white noisettes climbed up the various +tall trees in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> garden, and flung their wealth of flowers in festoons +down to the ground.</p> + +<p>The two girls gazed in silence for some minutes at the lovely scene. +Then the youngest of the two, a dark-eyed, golden-haired girl, said, +addressing her companion, "Is it not lovely, Adeline? The whole of +nature seems to be rejoicing."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," answered her companion. "And I am sure I owe much to the +glorious sunshine, for, by God's blessing, it has been the means of +restoring my health. I am quite well now, and the doctor says I may +safely winter in England next season. Won't it be delightful, Frida, to +be back in dear old England once more?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! you forget, Adeline, that I do not know the land of your birth, +though I quite believe it was my mother's birthplace as well, and +perhaps my own also. I do often long to see it, and fancy if I were once +there I might meet with some of my own people. But then again, how could +I, on a mere chance, make up my mind to leave my kind friends in the +Forest entirely? It is long since I have heard of them. Do you know that +I left my little Bible with them? I had taught Elsie and Hans to read +it, and they promised to go on reading it aloud as I used to do to the +wood-cutters on Sunday evenings. It is wonderful how God's Word has been +blessed to souls in the Forest. And, Adeline, have I told you how kind +your friend Herr Müller has been about Hans? He got him to go twice a +week to Dringenstadt, and has been teaching him to play on the violin. +He says he has real talent, and if only he had the means to obtain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> a +good musical education, would become a really celebrated performer."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Frida," replied her friend; "I know more about all that than you +do. Herr Müller has been most kind, and taken much trouble with Hans; +but it is my own dear, kind father who pays him for so doing, and tells +no one, for he says we should 'not let our left hand know what our right +hand doeth.'"</p> + +<p>A silence succeeded, broken only by the noise of the small waves of the +tideless Mediterranean at their feet.</p> + +<p>Then Frida spoke, a look of firm resolution on her face. "Adeline," she +said, "your father and mother are the kindest of people, and God will +reward them. This morning they told me that they mean to leave this +place in a couple of weeks, and return by slow stages to England; and +they asked me to accompany you there, and remain with you as your friend +and companion as long as I liked. Oh, it was a kind offer, kindly put; +but, Adeline, I have refused it."</p> + +<p>"Refused it, Frida! what do you mean?" said her friend, starting up. +"You don't mean to say you are not coming home with us! Are you going +back to live with those people in the little hut in the Forest, after +all your education and your love of refined surroundings? Frida, it is +not possible; it would be black ingratitude!"</p> + +<p>"O Adeline, hush! do not pain me by such words. Listen to me, dear, for +one moment, and do not make it more difficult for me to do the right +thing. Your parents have given their consent to my plan, and even said +they think it is the right plan for me."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>"Well, let me hear," said Adeline, in a displeased tone, "what it is you +propose to do. Is it your intention really to go back to the Forest and +live there?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that, Adeline. I have thought it all over some time ago, +and only waited till your parents spoke to me of going to England to +tell them what I thought was my duty to do. And this is what has been +settled. If you still wish it, as your parents do, I shall remain here +till you leave, and accompany you back to Baden-Baden, where your +parents tell me they intend going for a week or so. From there I propose +returning to my friends in the Forest, not to live there any more, but +for a few days' visit to see them who are so dear to me. After that I +shall live with Miss Drechsler. Her sister is dead, and has left her a +good deal of money, and she is now going to settle in Dringenstadt, and +have a paid companion to reside with her. And, Adeline, that situation +she has offered to me."</p> + +<p>"Well, Frida," interrupted her friend, "did not I wish you to be my +companion? and would not my parents have given you any sum you +required?"</p> + +<p>"O Adeline dear, hush, I pray of you, and let me finish my story. You +<em>know</em> that it is not a question of money; but you are so well, dear, +that you do not really <em>need</em> me. You have your parents and friends. +Miss Drechsler is alone, and I can never forget all she has done for me. +Then I am young, and cannot consent to remain in dependence even on such +dear friends as you are. I intend giving lessons in violin-playing at +Dringenstadt and its neighbourhood. Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> Drechsler writes she can +secure me two or three pupils at once, and she is sure I will soon get +more, as the new villas near Dringenstadt are now finished, and have +been taken by families. And then, Adeline, living there I shall be near +enough to the Forest to carry on the work which I believe God has called +me to, in reading to these poor people the words of life. And at Miss +Drechsler's I mean to live, as long as she requires me, <em>unless</em> I am +claimed by any of my own relations, which, as you know, is a most +unlikely event. I believe I am right in the decision I have come to. So +once again I pray of you, dear Adeline, not to dissuade me from my +purpose. You know how much I love you all, and how grateful I am to you. +Only think how ignorant I would have been had not your dear parents +taken me and got me educated, as if I had been their own child. Oh, I +can never, never forget all that you have done for me!"</p> + +<p>Adeline's warm heart was touched, and her good sense convinced her, in +spite of her dislike to the plan, that her friend was right. "Well, +Frida," she said, after a minute or two's silence, "if you feel it +really to be your duty, I can say no more. Only you must promise me that +you will come sometimes, say in the summer time, and visit us."</p> + +<p>Frida smiled. "That would be charming, Adeline; but we will not speak of +that at present. Only say you really think I am right in the matter. I +have not forgotten to ask God's guidance, and you know it is written in +the Word of God which we both love so well, 'In all thy ways acknowledge +him, and he shall direct thy paths.' But come; we must go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> now and get +ready, for we are to go to-day to the Cap d'Antibes."</p> + +<p>And in the delights of that lovely drive, and in strolling amongst the +rocks honeycombed till they look almost like lacework, the two friends +forgot the evils of the impending separation.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Frida was warmly remembered by her friends in the +Forest, and their joy when they heard that she was once more coming to +live near them was unbounded.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Elsie, as she bent her head over a sweet little year-old girl +whom she held on her lap, "now I shall be able to show her my little +Gretchen, and she will, I know, sing to her some of the sweet hymns she +used to sing to my little Annchen, and she will read to us again, +Wilhelm, out of the little brown book which I have taken great care of +for her."</p> + +<p>"Ay," put in Hans, "and Mütterchen, she will bring her violin, and she +and I will play together some of the music you and father love; and she +will, I know, be glad to hear that through Sir Richard Stanford and Herr +Müller I am to become a pupil in the Conservatorium of Leipsic. I can +hardly believe it is true."</p> + +<p>"Ay, my son, thou art a lucky one, and ye owe it all to Frida herself. +Was it not she who told Sir Richard about your love of music, and got +Herr Müller to promise to hear you play? Ah! under the good God we owe +much to the 'woodland child.'"</p> + +<p>And so it fell out that after a few more happy weeks spent at Cannes and +Grasse, Frida found herself once more an inmate of Miss Drechsler's +pretty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> little house at Dringenstadt, and able every now and then to +visit and help her friends in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mütterchen," she said as she threw herself into Elsie's arms, "here +I am again your foundling child, come to live near you, and so glad to +see you all once more.—And Hans, why, Hans, you look a man now; and oh, +I am so pleased you are to go to Leipsic! You must bring down your +violin now and then to Miss Drechsler's, and let us play together. I am +sure you will be a great musician some day, Hans."</p> + +<p>The young man (for such he now was) looked much gratified at his +friend's hopeful words, and said, "If I do turn that, I shall owe it all +to you, Frida."</p> + +<p>But the girl interrupted his speech by saying, "Now, Mutter, let me see +little Gretchen;" and next minute she was stooping over the bed where +lay the sleeping child—the very bed whence the spirit of the blind +child whom she had loved so dearly had taken its flight to the heavenly +land.</p> + +<p>"What a darling she looks, Elsie! Oh, I am glad God has sent you this +little treasure! She will cheer you when Hans has gone away and her +father is all day in the Forest."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Elsie, "she is indeed a gift from God; and you, Frida, must +teach her, as you taught her parents and Anna, the 'way of life.' And O +Frida, thou must go down to the Dorf, for all the people there are so +eager to see thee once more. And now that thou hast grown a young lady, +they all wonder if thou still beest like the woodland child, and wilt +care about the like of them, or if perchance thou hast forgotten them."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>"Forgotten them! O Elsie, how could they think so? Could I ever forget +how they and you gave of their little pittance to maintain the child +found in the Black Forest, and how you all lavished kindness on her who +had neither father nor mother to care for her? I must go at once and ask +them what I have done that they should have thought so badly of me even +for a minute. Don't you know, Mutter, that I have given up the going to +England to live with Miss Drechsler at Dringenstadt, in order that I may +often see my dear friends in the Forest; and that shall be my life-work, +unless"—and here the girl looked sad—"any of my own friends find me +out and claim me."</p> + +<p>"Hast had any clue to them, Frida?" asked Elsie.</p> + +<p>"Alas, no!" said the girl, "none whatever; and yet I have seen a great +number of people during these few years. And I have always worn my +necklace, which, being such a peculiar one, might have attracted +attention and led to the discovery of my parentage; but except one +Englishman, whom I met at the Stanfords', who said I reminded him of +some one whom he had seen, there has been nothing to lead me to suppose +that any one thought of me except as a friend of the Stanfords. But, +Elsie, though I am not discontented, still at times there is the old +yearning for my own people. But God knows best, and I am not going to +waste my life in useless longings. I have got five pupils in +Dringenstadt already, and several more applications, and next week I +begin my life-work as a teacher of the violin.—Don't you envy me, +Hans?"</p> + +<p>"That is what I do, Fräulein Frida," said Hans. Somehow as he looked at +the fair young lady the old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> familiar name of Frida seemed too familiar +to use. Frida turned quickly round on him as he uttered the word +"Fräulein."</p> + +<p>"Why, Hans—for I will not call thee Herr—to whom did you speak? There +is no Fräulein here—just your old sister playmate Frida; never let me +hear you address me again by such a title. Art thou not my brother Hans, +the son of my dear friends Elsie and Wilhelm?" and a merry laugh +scattered Hans's new-born shyness.</p> + +<p>And to the end of their lives Frida and Hans remained as brother and +sister, each rejoicing in the success of the other in life; and in after +years they had many a laugh over the day that Hans began to think that +he must call his sister friend, the companion of his childhood, his +instructor in much that was good, by the stiff title of Fräulein Frida.</p> + +<p>Ere Frida left the hut that day, they all knelt together and thanked God +for past mercies, and it was Elsie's voice that in faltering accents +prayed that Frida might still be used in the Forest to lead many to the +knowledge of Christ Jesus through the reading of the Word of God.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"There are lonely hearts to cherish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the days are going by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are weary souls who perish<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the days are going by.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">If a smile we can renew,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">As our journey we pursue,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Oh, the good we all may do<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">While the days are passing by!"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">THE London season was at its height, but though the pure sunshine was +glistening on mountain-top and green meadow, and beginning to tinge the +corn-fields with a golden tint in country places, where peace and +quietness seemed to reign, and leafy greenery called on every one who +loved nature to come and enjoy it in its summer flush of beauty, yet the +great city was still filled not only by those who could not leave its +crowded streets, but by hundreds who lingered there in the mere pursuit +of pleasure, for whom the beauties of nature had no charm.</p> + +<p>On one peculiarly fine day a group of people were gathered together in +the drawing-room of a splendid mansion in one of the West End crescents.</p> + +<p>There was evidently going to be a riding party, for horses held by +grooms stood at the door, and two at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> least of the ladies in the +drawing-room wore riding habits.</p> + +<p>In conversation with one of these—a pretty fair-haired girl of some +twenty years—stood Reginald Gower. "Will your sister ride to-day, do +you know?" he was asking, in somewhat anxious tones.</p> + +<p>"Gertie? No, I think not; she has a particular engagement this morning. +I don't exactly know what it is, but she will not be one of the party. +So, Mr. Gower, you and Arthur Barton will have to put up with only the +company of myself and Cousin Mary."</p> + +<p>Ere the young man could reply, the door opened, and a girl dressed in a +dark summer serge and light straw hat entered. She carried a small +leather bag in her hand, and was greeted with exclamations of dismay +from more than one of the party.</p> + +<p>"Are you going slumming to-day, Gertie? What a shame! And the sun so +bright, and yet a cool air—just the most delightful sort of day for a +ride; and we are going to call on your favourite aunt Mary."</p> + +<p>"Give her my love then," replied Gertie, "and tell her I hope to ride +over one of those days and see her. No, I cannot possibly go with you +to-day, as I have an engagement elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"An engagement in the slums! Who ever heard of such a thing?" said her +sister and cousin together.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to disappoint you, Lily dear, and my cousin also; but I had +promised two or three poor people to see them to-day before I knew +anything of this riding party, and I am sure I am right not to +disappoint them.—And, Mr. Gower, I know your mother at least would not +think I was wrong."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>"That is true, Miss Warden. My mother thinks far more about giving +pleasure to the poor than she does about the wishes of the rich. But +could you not defer this slumming business till to-morrow, and give us +the pleasure of your company to-day?"</p> + +<p>But she shook her head, and assuring them they would get on very well +without her, she turned to leave the room, saying as she did so, "O +Lily, do find out if it is true that Aunt Mary's old governess, Miss +Drechsler, of whom we have all heard so much, is coming to visit her +soon, and is bringing with her the young violinist who lives with her, +and who people say was a child found in the Black Forest. I do so want +to know all about her. We must try and get her to come here some +evening, and ask Dr. Heinz, who plays so well upon the violin, to meet +her; and you also, Mr. Gower, for I know you dearly love music."</p> + +<p>Had Lily not turned quickly away just then, she would have noticed the +uneasy, startled look which crossed Reginald Gower's face at her words. +Was this woodland child, he asked himself, to be always crossing his +path?</p> + +<p>He had hoped he had heard the last of her long ago, and some years had +elapsed since he had seen her. The circumstance of the likeness to the +picture in Harcourt Manor, and the coincidence of the necklace, had +<em>almost</em> (but as he had not yet quite killed his conscience), not +<em>altogether</em>, escaped his memory; and still, as at times he marked the +increasing sadness on Mrs. Willoughby's countenance, he felt a sharp +pang of remorse; and since he had known and begun to care<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> for Gertie +Warden, her devoted Christian life and clear, truthful spirit were +making him more conscious than ever of his own selfishness and sin.</p> + +<p>True, he had no reason to suppose that she cared for him in any way +except as the son of his mother, whom she dearly loved, but his vanity +whispered that perhaps in time she might do so; and if that came to +pass, and he found that his love was returned, <em>then</em> he would tell her +all, and consult with her as to what course he should follow.</p> + +<p>Lately, however, he had become uneasy at the many references which Lily +Warden made to a Dr. Heinz, who seemed to be often about the house, and +of whom both sisters spoke in high terms as a Christian man and pleasant +friend. What if he should gain the affection of Gertie? Heinz! something +in the name haunted him. Surely he had heard it before, and in +connection with the young violinist. And now was it possible that that +beautiful girl was really coming amongst them, and that his own mother +might meet her any day? for she was often at the house, not only of the +Wardens, but also of their aunt Mary, with whom the girl was coming to +stay.</p> + +<p>No wonder that during the ride Lily Warden thought Mr. Gower strangely +preoccupied and silent. She attributed it all to his disappointment at +her sister's absence, and felt vexed that such should be the case, as +well she knew that in the way he wished Gertie would never think of +Reginald Gower; but she felt sorry for him, and tried to cheer him up.</p> + +<p>Through that long ride, with summer sunshine and summer beauties around +him, Reginald saw only one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> face, and it was not that of Gertie Warden, +but that of the young girl whom he had heard play on the violin at the +house of the Stanfords at Baden-Baden.</p> + +<p>Oh, if he had only had courage then to write home and tell all that he +had heard about her! And in vivid colours there rose before his mind all +the disgrace that would attach to him when it became known that he knew +of the girl's existence and kept silence. The reason of his so doing +would be evident to many. And what, oh, what, he was asking himself, +would his loved, high-souled mother think of her son? Surely the words +of the Bible he heeded so little were true, "The way of transgressors is +hard," and his sin was finding him out.</p> + +<p>As soon as the first greetings were over, and the party were seated at +the lunch-table in Miss Warden's pretty cottage situated on the banks of +the Thames, Lily said, "O Aunt Mary, is it true what Gertie has +heard—that Miss Drechsler and a beautiful young violinist with a +romantic story are coming to visit you? Gertie is so anxious to know all +about her, for neither she nor any of us can believe that she can excel +Dr. Heinz in violin-playing; and, indeed, you know how beautifully +Gertie herself plays, and she often does so now with Dr. Heinz himself."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Lily dear, I am glad to say it is all true. I expect both Miss +Drechsler and her young <em>protégé</em> next week to visit me for a short +time, after which they propose to go to the Stanfords at Stanford Hall, +who take a great interest in the young violinist—in fact, I believe she +lived for three or four years with them, and was educated along with +their own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> daughter.—By the way, Mr. Gower, you must tell your mother +that her old friend Miss Drechsler is coming to me, and I hope she will +spend a day with me when she is here."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she will be delighted to do so, Miss Warden," replied the +young man; but even as he spoke his cheek blanched as he thought of all +that might come of his mother meeting the young violinist.</p> + +<p>Reginald rode back with his friends to their house, but could not be +induced to enter again, not even to hear how Gertie had got on with her +slumming. "Not to-day," he said; "I find I must go home. I don't doubt +your sister has been well employed—more usefully than we mere +pleasure-seekers have been," he added, in such a grave tone that Lily +turned her head to look at him, as she stood on the door-steps, and +inquire if he were quite well. "Quite so, thanks," he replied, in his +usual gay tone; "only sometimes one does think there is a resemblance +between the lives the butterflies live and ours. Confess it now," he +said laughingly; but Lily was in no thoughtful mood just then, so her +only reply was,—</p> + +<p>"Speak for yourself, Mr. Gower. I have plenty of useful things to do, +just as much so as making a guy of myself and going a-slumming, only I +am often too lazy to do them," and with a friendly nod she followed her +cousin into the house.</p> + +<p>Reginald rode slowly homeward, and, contrary to his usual custom, went +to his own room to try to collect his thoughts and make out in what form +he would deliver Miss Warden's message to his mother. It was very +evident to him that the meshes into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> which his own sins had brought him +were tightening around him. Turn which way he liked, there was no +escape. At least only one that he could see, and that was, that if the +secret came out, and the young violinist of the Black Forest were proved +to be the grandchild of the Willoughbys, he should keep silence as to +his ever having known anything of the matter.</p> + +<p>The more he thought of it, the more that seemed his wisest course; and +even if it should come out that he had heard her play, that would tell +nothing. Yet his conscience was ill at ease. Suppose he did so, what of +his own self-respect? Could he ever regain it? Fortune would be lost, +and all ease of mind gone for ever. Then again, if he told his story +now, it would only be because he knew that in any case it would be +disclosed, and shame would await him.</p> + +<p>How could he ever bear the reproaches of his kind friends the +Willoughbys, and more than all, the deep grief such a disclosure would +cause to his loved mother? In that hour Reginald Gower went through a +conflict of mind which left a mark on his character for life. But, alas! +once more evil won the day, and he resolved that not <em>yet</em> would he tell +all he knew; but some day <em>soon</em> he might. But once again, as he rose to +go downstairs, Bible words came into his mind: "<em>To-day</em>, while it is +called to-day, harden not your hearts."</p> + +<p>O happy mother, to have so carefully stored the young heart with the +precious words of God! Long they may be as the seed under ground, +apparently forgotten and useless, yet surely one day they will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> spring +up and bear fruit. True even in this application are the words of the +poet,—</p> + +<div class="poemblock10"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"The vase in which roses have once been distilled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You may break, you may shiver the vase if you will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the scent of the roses will cling to it still."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Well may we thank God for all mothers who carefully teach the words of +Holy Scripture to their children.</p> + +<p>That day Reginald delivered Miss Warden's message to his mother, but did +not mention the young girl who was to accompany her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I will be delighted to see Miss Drechsler again," said his mother. +"I liked her so much when she was governess at the Wardens'. We all did; +indeed, she was more companion than governess, and indeed was younger +than I was, and just about Mary Warden's own age. I remember well going +one day with Mrs. Willoughby's daughter, Hilda, to a musical party at +the Wardens', and how charmed Miss Drechsler was at the way Hilda played +the violin, which was not such a common thing then as it is now."</p> + +<p>"The violin?" queried Reginald. "Did Miss Willoughby play on the +violin?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes! she was very musical, and that was one of the great attractions +to her in the man she married. He, too, was a wonderful violinist—Herr +Heinz they called him. He was, I believe, a much-respected man and of +good family connections, but poor, and even taught music to gain a +livelihood."</p> + +<p>"Heinz!" Reginald was repeating to himself. Then he had heard that name +before first in connection<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> with the child of the Black Forest; but he +only said, "It is curious that I have lately heard that name from the +young Wardens, who speak a great deal of a Dr. Heinz. He also is a good +violinist. Can he be any relation, do you think, of the one you allude +to?"</p> + +<p>"Possibly he may; but the name is not at all an uncommon German one. By +the way, I heard a report (probably a false one) that Gertie Warden is +engaged to be married to a Dr. Heinz—a very good man, they say. Have +you heard anything of it?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard she was engaged, nor do I think it is likely; but I have +heard both her and her sister speak of this Dr. Heinz, and I know it is +only a Christian man that Gertie would marry."</p> + +<p>Having said so much, he quickly changed the subject and talked of +something else. The mother's eye, however, was quick to notice the shade +on his brow as he spoke, and she was confirmed in the opinion she had +formed for some time that the very idea of Gertie Warden's engagement +was a pain to him. As he rose to go out he turned to say, "Remember, +mother, that I have given you Miss Warden's message."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">IN THE SLUMS.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"In dens of guilt the baby played,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where sin and sin <em>alone</em> was made</span><br /> +<span class="i0 mb">The law which all around obeyed."</span><br /> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">THE summer sunshine, of which we have written as glistening among the +"leafy tide of greenery," and on the ripening corn-fields and +gaily-painted flowers in the country, was penetrating also the close +streets of one of the poorest parts of London, cheering some of the +hearts of the weary toiling ones there, into whose lives little sunshine +ever fell, and for a while, it may be, helping them to forget the misery +of their lot, or to some recalling happier days when they dwelt not in a +narrow, crowded street, but in a country village home, amidst grassy +meadows and leafy trees, feeling, as they thought of these things, +though they could not have put the feeling into words, what a poet gone +to his rest says so beautifully,—</p> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"That sorrow's crown of sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is remembering happier things."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">But the very light that cheered revealed more clearly the misery, dirt, +and poverty around.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>In one such street, where little pale-faced children, without the +merriment and laughter of childhood, played in a languid, unchildlike +way, sickness prevailed; for fever had broken out, and indoors suffering +ones tossed on beds, if they could be so called, of sickness.</p> + +<p>At the door of a small room in one of the houses stood a girl of some +ten or eleven years old, looking out anxiously as if in expectation of +some one, turning every now and then to address a word to her mother, +who lay in the small room on a bed in the corner.</p> + +<p>"He baint a-comin' yet," she said, "'cos I knows his step; but he'll be +'long soon—ye see if he don't! I knows as how he will, 'cos he's that +kind; so don't ye fret, mother—the doctor 'ill be here in no time. +There now! Susan Keats giv' me some tea for ye, and I'll get the water +from her and bring you some prime and 'ot—ye see if I don't!" So +saying, the child ran off and went into a room next door, and entering +begged for some "'ot water." "Ye see," she said, addressing a woman +poorly clad like herself, "she be a-frettin', mother is, for the doctor, +for she's badly, is mother, to-day, and she thinks mayhap he'll do her +good."</p> + +<p>When the child returned to her mother's room, she found Dr. Heinz (for +it was he) sitting by her mother's side and speaking kindly to her. He +turned round as the child entered. "Come along, Gussie," he said; +"that's right—been getting mother some tea. You'll need to tend her +well, for she's very poorly to-day."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay," muttered the woman, "that's true, that's true. Be kind to +Gussie, poor Gussie, when I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> gone, doctor. The young lady—Miss +Warden be her name—she said she'd look after her, she did."</p> + +<p>The doctor bent over the dying woman and said some comforting words, at +which the woman's face brightened. "God bless ye," she said, "for +promising that. Oh, but life's been weary, weary sin' I came 'ere—work, +work, and that not always to be 'ad. But it's true, sir, what ye told +me. He says even to the like o' me, 'Come unto me, and I will give you +rest;' and He's done it, I think. Ye'll come again, sir, won't ye?"</p> + +<p>After a few moments of prayer with the poor woman, and giving her some +medicine to allay her restlessness, Dr. Heinz left the room. From house +to house in the fever-stricken street he went, ministering alike to body +and soul, often feeling cast down and discouraged, overwhelmed at times +by the vice and poverty of all around. The gospel had never reached +these poor neglected ones. The very need of a Saviour was by the great +majority of them unfelt. Love many of them had never experienced. The +evil of sin they did not comprehend. Brought up from babyhood in the +midst of iniquity, they were strangers to the very meaning of +righteousness and virtue. No wonder that the heart of the doctor was +oppressed as he went out and in amongst them. Yet he felt assured that +by love they could be won to the God of love, and that only the simple +gospel of Jesus Christ dying in their room and stead, told in the power +of the Holy Ghost, could enlighten their dark souls and prove the true +lever to raise them from their sin and misery. And so, whilst +alleviating pain, he tried when possible to say a word from the +book—God's revealed will,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> which alone "maketh wise unto salvation." +More than once on the day we write of, as he went from house to house, +the vision of a young girl whom he had often met going about doing good +flitted before his eyes.</p> + +<p>Gertie Warden and Dr. Heinz had first met in one of those abodes of +wretchedness, where she stood by a bed of sickness trying to comfort and +help a dying woman.</p> + +<p>Only two years before that and Gertie was just ready to throw herself +into the vortex of the gay society in which the other members of her +family mingled; but ere she did so the voice of the Holy Ghost spake to +her as to so many others, and showed her how true life was only to be +found in Christ and lived in Him. Henceforth she lived no longer a life +of mere worldliness, but a life spent in the service of Him who had +loved her and given Himself for her; and then her greatest joy was found +in visiting the poor, the afflicted, the tried—ay, and often the +oppressed ones of earth.</p> + +<p>In her own family she found great opposition to her new mode of life; +but the Lord raised up a kind helpful friend to her in the person of the +gentle, sorely-tried Mrs. Willoughby of Harcourt Manor. To her Gertie +confided all her difficulties as regarded her district visiting (or, as +her sister called it, her slumming), and many a word of sympathy and +wise counsel she got from her friend.</p> + +<p>One day she spoke of Dr. Heinz.</p> + +<p>"You cannot think how much the people love him," she said, "and trust +him. 'Ah!' I heard a poor woman say the other day, 'if only all were +like him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> it's a better world it would be than it's now.' And do you +know," she went on, "he is actually interesting my father and Aunt Mary +in some of his poor patients. And he likes to come to our house +sometimes in the evenings and play on the violin along with us; and he +does play beautifully. I wish you knew him, dear Mrs. Willoughby, for I +know you would like him. But, dear friend, are you not well?"</p> + +<p>For at the name of Heinz a deadly faintness had overcome Mrs. +Willoughby. Was not that the name of her daughter's husband? and if he +should prove to be in any way related to him, might he not be able to +give some information regarding her loved one? But she composed herself, +and in answer to Gertie's question she replied,—</p> + +<p>"It is nothing, dear, only a passing weakness. I am all right now. Tell +me something more of this Dr. Heinz and the Christian work he is engaged +in. He must be a German, I fancy, from his name."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is," replied Gertie; "he was speaking to me lately about his +relations. He was born in Germany, and lived there till he was a boy of +seven years old. Then his parents died, and he came to this country with +an older brother who was a wonderful violinist, and he taught him to +play; but many years ago this brother married and returned to Germany, +leaving him here in the charge of some kind friends; and though at first +he heard from him from time to time, he has ceased to write to him for +some years, and he fears he is dead. He knows he had a child, for his +last letter mentioned her, but he knows nothing more."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>Again that terrible pallor overcame Mrs. Willoughby, but this time she +rose and said in an excited tone,—</p> + +<p>"I must see this Dr. Heinz. Could you bring him to see me, Gertie, and +soon? Say to him that I think, although I am not sure, that I knew a +relation of his some years ago."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Mrs. Willoughby; I will gladly ask him to come and see you. +Indeed, I was just going to ask if you would allow him to call—" Here +the girl hesitated a moment, then said, "You see, it was only last +night, but I am engaged to be married to Dr. Heinz, and do wish you to +know and love him for my sake."</p> + +<p>Love one of the name of Heinz! Could she do so, the gentle lady was +asking herself. What if he should prove to be the brother of the man who +had caused her such bitter sorrow? But at that moment there rose to her +remembrance the words of Scripture, said by Him who suffered from the +hand of man as never man suffered, "Forgive, as ye would be forgiven," +and who illustrated that forgiveness on the cross when He prayed for His +deadly enemies, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." +The momentary struggle was over. Mrs. Willoughby raised her head, and +said in a calm, quiet tone,—</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Gertie; and may your union be a very happy one. I should +like to see Dr. Heinz."</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass that ere many days had elapsed, Dr. Heinz was +ushered into Mrs. Willoughby's drawing-room in the London house which +they had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> taken for the season. He was hardly seated before she said,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh yes—there can be no mistake—you certainly are the brother of +the man who married my daughter. Tell me, oh tell me," she added, "what +you know of her and of him!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Heinz was strongly moved as he looked on the face of the agitated +mother.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" he said, "I grieve to say I can tell you nothing. I have not +heard for several years from my brother, and at times I fear he must be +dead. My poor brother, how I loved him! for, Mrs. Willoughby, a gentler +or more kind-hearted man never lived. You may be sure, however much your +daughter was to blame in marrying any one against her parents' wishes, +she found in my brother a truly loving, kind husband."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for that!" she replied. "But now tell me, was there a child? +Gertie spoke as if you knew there was one."</p> + +<p>"Certainly there was. In the last letter I had from my brother, he spoke +of the great comfort their little girl (who was the image of her mother) +was to them—his little Frida he called her, and at that time she was +three or four years old. Oh yes, there was a child. Would that I could +give you more particulars! but I cannot; only I must mention that he +said, 'I am far from strong, and my beloved wife is very delicate.'"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the mother, "she was never robust; and who knows what a life +of hardship she may have had to live! O Hilda, Hilda! Dr. Heinz, is +there no means by which we may find out their whereabouts?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> I have +lately had some advertisements put into various papers, praying them to +let us know where they are; but no answer has come, and now I am losing +all hope."</p> + +<p>"Would that I could comfort you!" he said; "but I also fear much that we +have lost the clue to their whereabouts. I will not cease to do all I +can to trace them; but, dear Mrs. Willoughby, we believe that there is +One who knows all, whose eyes are everywhere, and we can trust them to +Him. If I should in any way hear of our friends, you may be sure I shall +not be long of communicating with you. In the meantime it has been a +great pleasure to me to have made the acquaintance of one whom my dear +Gertrude has often spoken to me of as her kindest of friends."</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Heinz told of the work in which he was engaged amongst the +poor, sorrowful, and also too often sinful ones, in the East End of +London.</p> + +<p>Before Dr. Heinz left, Mrs. Willoughby showed him the little brown +English Bible which her daughter had given to her not long before her +marriage, and told him about the German one, which looked exactly the +same outwardly, which she had given to her daughter.</p> + +<p>"Strange," said Dr. Heinz, as he held the little brown book in his hand, +"that in the last letter I ever received from my brother, he told me of +the blessing which he had got through reading God's Word in a brown +Bible belonging to his wife, adding that she also had obtained blessing +through reading it."</p> + +<p>"Praise God!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "then my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> prayers have been +answered, that Hilda, like her mother, might be brought to the knowledge +of God. Now I know that if we meet no more on earth we shall meet one +day in heaven.—I thank Thee, O my God!"</p> + +<p>It was with a heart full of emotion that Dr. Heinz found himself leaving +Mrs. Willoughby's house. Oh, how he longed that he could hear tidings of +his brother and his wife, and so be able to convey comfort to the heart +of the sorrowful lady he had just left!</p> + +<p>As he was walking along, lost in thought, he came suddenly face to face +with Reginald Gower, whom he had lately met several times at the +Wardens', and to whom he suspected the news of his engagement to +Gertrude Warden would bring no pleasure; but from the greeting which +Reginald gave him he could not tell whether or not he knew of the +circumstance.</p> + +<p>He accosted him with the words: "What are you doing, doctor, in this +part of the town? I thought it was only in the narrow, dirty slums, and +not in the fashionable part of the west of London, that you were to be +found; and that it was only the sick and sorrowful, not the gay, merry +inhabitants of Belgravia that you visited."</p> + +<p>"Do you think then," replied Dr. Heinz, "that the sick, sad, and +sorrowful are only to be found in the narrow, dark streets of London? +What if I were to tell you that although there is not poverty, there are +sorrowful, sad, unsatisfied hearts to be found in as great numbers in +these fashionable squares and terraces as in the places you speak of; +and that the votaries of fashion, whom you style gay and merry,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> are too +often the most wretched of mankind, and that beneath the robes of silk +and satin of fashionable life there beats many a breaking heart? You see +that splendid square I have just left. Well, in one of the handsomest +houses there dwells one of the sweetest Christian ladies I have ever +met. She has everything that wealth and the love of friends can give +her, yet I believe she is slowly dying of a broken heart, longing to +know if a dearly-loved daughter, who made a marriage which her parents +did not approve of, years ago, is still alive; and no one can tell her +whether she or any child of hers still survives. I know all the +circumstances, and would give a great deal to be able to help her. He +would be a man to be envied who could go to that sweet mother, Mrs. +Willoughby, and say, I can tell you all about your daughter, or, if she +is not alive, of her child. O Reginald Gower, never say that there are +not sad hearts in the west part of London, though you may see only the +smiling face and dry eyes. You remember the words of the gifted +poetess,—</p> + +<div class="poemblock5"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">'Go weep with those who weep, you say,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye fools! I bid you pass them by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, weep with those whose hearts have bled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What time their eyes were dry.'<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">But I must go. Have you not a word of congratulation for me, Reginald?"</p> + +<p>"Why?" was the amazed reply; "and for what?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Dr. Heinz, somewhat taken aback, "do you not know that I am +engaged to be married to Gertrude Warden?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>"You are?" was the reply, with a look of amazement that Dr. Heinz could +not fail to notice; "well, I rather think you are a lucky fellow. +But"—and a look of deep sorrow crossed his face as he spoke—"I do +believe you are worthy of her. Tell her I said so. And would you mind +saying good-bye to her and her sister from me, as I may not be able to +see them before starting for America, which I shall probably do in a +week; and should you again see the Mrs. Willoughby you have been +speaking of, and whom I know well, please tell her I could not get to +say farewell to her, as my going off is a sudden idea. Good-bye, Dr. +Heinz. May you and Miss Gertrude Warden be as happy as you both deserve +to be;" and without another word he turned away.</p> + +<p>Dr. Heinz looked after him for a moment, then shook his head somewhat +sadly, saying to himself, "There goes a fine fellow, if only he had +learned of Him 'who pleased not himself.' Reginald is a spoiled +character, by reason of self-pleasing. I must ask Gertrude how he comes +to know Mrs. Willoughby, and why he is going off so suddenly to America, +although I may have my suspicions as to the reason for his so doing."</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE OLD NURSE.</span></h2> + +<p class="centerb">"It chanced, eternal God, that chance did guide."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 8px;"> +<img src="images/quote.png" width="8" height="7" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="cap">HOW are you getting on with your packing, Frida?" said Miss Drechsler, +as the girl, wearing a loose morning-dress, looked into the room where +her friend was sitting.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," was the answer; "I have nearly finished. When did you +say the man would come for the trunks?"</p> + +<p>"I expect him in about an hour. But see, here comes the post; look if +there is one for me from Miss Warden. I thought I would get one to tell +me if any of her friends would meet us at Dover."</p> + +<p>Frida ran off to meet the postman at the door, and returned in triumph, +bearing two letters in her hand.</p> + +<p>"One for you, auntie" (she always now addressed Miss Drechsler by that +name), "and one for myself. Mine is from Ada Stanford, and yours, I am +sure, is the one you are expecting."</p> + +<p>A few minutes of silence was broken by Frida exclaiming,—</p> + +<p>"O auntie, Ada has been very ill again, and is still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> very weak, and she +asks, as a great favour, that I would come to visit them before going to +the Wardens; and adds, 'If Miss Drechsler would accompany you, we would +be so delighted; but in any case,' she writes to me, 'you would not lose +your London visit, as my doctor wishes me to see a London physician as +soon as I can be moved, specially as to settling whether or not I should +go abroad again next winter. So in perhaps another month we may go to +London, and then you can either remain with us or join your friend at +Miss Warden's.'"</p> + +<p>"What do you think about it, auntie? Of course it is a great +disappointment to me not to go with you; but do I not owe it to the +Stanfords to go to them when I may be of use during Ada's +convalescence?"</p> + +<p>Miss Drechsler looked, as she felt, disappointed, she had anticipated so +much pleasure in having Frida with her in London; but after a few +minutes' thought she said, "You are right, Frida: you must, I fear, go +first to the Stanfords. We cannot forget all that they have done for +you, and as they seem to be so anxious for you to go there, I think you +must yield to their wishes; but I must go at once to Miss Warden, who is +expecting me. You had better write at once and tell them we hope to be +at Dover in four days. They live, as you know, not so far from there. I +think that the train will take you to the station, not above a couple of +miles from Stanford Hall, where I doubt not they will meet you; but I +must write at once and let Miss Warden know that you cannot accompany +me, and the reason why, though I hope that erelong, if convenient to +her, you may join me there. Ah, Frida!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> 'man's heart deviseth his way: +but God directeth his steps.'"</p> + +<p>And so it came to pass that Miss Drechsler arrived alone at Miss +Warden's, whilst Frida went to Stanford Hall.</p> + +<p>When it became known in the Forest that the woodland child, as they +still called her, was again about to leave them for some undefined time, +there was great lamentation.</p> + +<p>"How then are we to get on without you?" they said. "<em>Ach!</em> shall we +have to do without the reading of the book again? True, Hans Hörstel +reads it well enough; but what of that? He too has left us. <em>Ach!</em> it is +plain no one cares for the poor wood-cutters and charcoal-burners who +live in the Forest, and some grand English gentleman will be getting our +woodland child for a wife, and she will return to us no more."</p> + +<p>But Frida only laughed at these lamentations. "Why, what nonsense you +speak!" she said. "It is only for a little while that I am going away. I +hope to come back in about three months. And many of you can now read +the Bible for yourselves. And as to the grand gentleman, that is all +fancy; I want no grand gentleman for a husband. The only thing that +would detain me in England would be if any of my relations were to find +me out and claim me; but if that were to be the case, I am sure none of +my friends in the Forest would grudge their child to her own people, and +they may be assured she would never forget them, and would not be long +in revisiting them."</p> + +<p>"<em>Ach!</em> if the child were to find her own friends,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> her father or her +mother's people, that would be altogether a different matter," they said +simultaneously. "We would then say, 'Stay, woodland child, and be happy +with those who have a right to you; but oh, remember the poor +wood-cutters and workers in the Forest, who will weary for a sight of +the face of the fair girl found by one of them in the Black Forest.'"</p> + +<p>Very hearty was the welcome which awaited Frida at Stanford Hall. Ada +received her with open arms.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Frida, how glad I am to see you once again; and how good of you to +give up the pleasure of a month in London to come to see and comfort +us!—You will see how quickly I will get well now, mother.—And erelong, +Frida, we shall take you to London ourselves, and father will show you +all the wonders there."</p> + +<p>Frida answered merrily, but she felt much shocked to see how +delicate-looking Ada had become.</p> + +<p>The girls had much to tell each other of all that had happened since +last they met; and when dinner was over, and Frida went to see Ada as +she lay on her couch in her prettily-fitted-up boudoir, Ada roused +herself to have, as she said, "a right down delightful chat."</p> + +<p>"See, Frida, here is a charming easy-chair for you; please bring it +quite close to my couch, and now tell me all about your Forest friends. +How are Elsie and Wilhelm, and their little Gretchen and Hans? But, +indeed, I believe I know more about them than you do; for only two days +ago my father received a letter from Hans's music-teacher in Leipsic, +giving him unqualified praise, and predicting a successful musical +career for him."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>"Oh, I am glad!" said Frida. "How pleased his parents will be, and how +grateful to Sir Richard Stanford for all he has done for him!"</p> + +<p>And so in pleasant talk the evening of the first day of Frida's visit to +Stanford Hall drew to a close. As time passed on, Ada's health rapidly +improved, and together the girls went about the beautiful grounds +belonging to the Hall—Ada at first drawn in an invalid chair, and Frida +walking by her side. But by-and-by Ada was able to walk, and together +the girls visited in some of the cottages near the Hall—Frida finding +out that Ada in her English home was conveying comfort and blessing to +many weary souls by reading to them from her English Bible the words of +life, even as she had done from her German one in the huts of the +wood-cutters, carters, and charcoal-burners in the Black Forest.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard, Ada," said Lady Stanford one morning at breakfast, +"that the old woman who has lately come to the pretty picturesque +cottage at the Glen is very ill? I wish you and Frida would go and see +her, and take her some beef-tea and jelly which the housekeeper will +give you. I understand she requires nourishing food; and try and +discover if there is anything else she requires."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, mother," answered Ada; "we will go at once and see what can +be done for her.—That Glen is a lovely spot, Frida, and you have never +been there. What say you—shall we set off at once? The poor woman is +very old, and her memory is a good deal affected."</p> + +<p>"I shall be pleased to go, Ada; but I have a letter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> from Miss +Drechsler, received this morning, which I must answer by the first post. +She tells me that her friend Miss Warden is in great distress about the +illness of a friend of hers. She wishes to know how soon I can join her +in London; and now that you are so well, Ada, I really think I ought to +go."</p> + +<p>"Ah, well," said Ada with a laugh, "time enough to think of that, Frida. +We are not prepared to part with you yet; but seriously, mother talks of +carrying us all off to London by another fortnight, and that must +suffice you. But after you have written your letter we will set off to +the Glen."</p> + +<p>It was a lovely walk that the girls took that summer day through green +lanes and flowery meadows, till they came to a beautiful glen +overshadowed with trees in their fresh summer foliage of greenery, +through which the sunbeams found their way and touched with golden light +the green velvety moss and pretty little woodland flowers which so +richly carpeted the ground.</p> + +<p>"How beautiful it is here!" said Frida, "and yet how unlike the sombre +appearance of the trees in the dear Black Forest!"</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Ada, "that Forest, where I do believe your heart still is, +Frida, always seemed to me to be so gloomy and dark, so unlike our +lovely English woods with their 'leafy tide of greenery.'"</p> + +<p>As they spoke they neared the cottage where dwelt the old woman they +were going to see. It was thatch-covered and low, but up the walls grew +roses and ivy, which gave it a bower-like appearance.</p> + +<p>"She is a strange old woman," said Ada, "who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> has only lately come here, +and no one seems to know much about her. A grandchild of fourteen or +fifteen years old lives with and takes care of her. Her memory is much +impaired, but she often talks as if she had friends who if they knew +where she lived and how ill-off she was would help her; but when +questioned as to their name, she shakes her head and says she can't +remember it, but if she could only see the young lady she would know +her. They fancy the friends she speaks of must have been the family with +whom she lived as nurse, for her grandchild says she used often to speak +of having had the charge of a little girl to whom she was evidently much +attached. But here we are, Frida, and yonder is little Maggie standing +at the door."</p> + +<p>When they entered the room, Frida was amazed to see how small it was and +how dark; for the ivy, which from the outside looked so picturesque, +darkened the room considerably. Ada, who had seen the old woman before, +went forward to the bed where she lay and spoke some kind words to her. +The old woman seemed as if she hardly understood, and gave no answer.</p> + +<p>"Ah, madam," said the grandchild, "she knows nothing to-day, and when +she speaks it is only nonsense."</p> + +<p>Frida now came forward and laid her hand kindly on the poor woman, +addressing a few words of sympathy to her. The invalid raised her eyes +and looked around her, giving first of all a look of recognition to Ada, +and holding out her thin hand to her, but her eyes sought evidently to +distinguish the face of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> stranger who had last spoken. "She knows," +explained Maggie, "yours is a strange voice, and wishes to see you, +which she can't do, miss, for you are standing so much in the shade."</p> + +<p>Frida moved so that the glimmer of light which entered the little room +fell on her face. As she did so, and the old woman caught a glimpse of +her, a look of joy lit up the faded face, and she said in a distinct +voice: "'Bless the Lord, O my soul;' my dear has come to see me. Oh, but +I am glad! It's a long time since I saw you, Miss Hilda—a long, long +time. I thought you were dead, or you would never have forgotten your +old nurse you loved so dearly; but now you've come, my lamb, and old +nurse can die in peace." And seizing Frida's hand, the old woman lay +back as if at rest, and said no more.</p> + +<p>Frida was startled, and turning to her friend, said, "O Ada, whom does +she take me for? Can it be that she knew my mother, whose name was +Hilda, and that she takes me for her? Miss Drechsler says I am +strikingly like the picture I have of her. Perhaps she can tell me where +my mother lived, and if any of her relations are still alive;" and +bending over the bed, she said in a low tone, "Who was Hilda, and where +did she live? Perhaps she was my mother, but she is dead."</p> + +<p>The old woman muttered to herself, but looked up no more, "Dead, dead; +yes, every one I loved is dead. But not Miss Hilda; you are she, and you +have come to see your old nurse. But listen, Miss Hilda: there is the +master calling on us to go in, and you know we must not keep the master +waiting for even a minute;"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> and then the old woman spoke only of things +and people of whom no one in the room knew anything. But through all +Frida distinctly heard the words, "Oh, if only you had never played on +that instrument, then he would never have come to the house. O Miss +Hilda, why did you go away and break the heart of your mother, and old +nurse's also? Oh, woe's the day! oh, woe's the day!"</p> + +<p>"Was his name Heinz?" asked Frida in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, Heinz, Heinz. O Miss Hilda, Miss Hilda, why did you do it?" and +then the old woman burst out crying bitterly.</p> + +<p>"O miss, can you sing?" said Maggie, coming forward; "for nothing quiets +grandmother like singing."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can," replied Frida.—"And you, I am sure, Ada, will help me. I +know now the woman, whoever she is, knows all about my mother."</p> + +<p>Together the two young girls sang the hymn, "Jesus, Lover of my soul."</p> + +<p>As they sang the dying woman became quieter, her muttering ceased, and +presently she fell into a quiet sleep; the last words she uttered before +doing so were, "Jesus, Lover of my soul." Much moved in spirit, Frida +quitted the house; she felt as if now she stood on the verge of +discovering the name and relations of her mother. She and Ada hastened +their return home to confide to Lady Stanford all that had passed. She +was much interested, and, as Sir Richard entered the room just then, she +repeated the story to him. He listened eagerly, and said he would at +once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> find out all he could about the woman and her friends; and so +saying he left the house.</p> + +<p>He returned home cast down and discouraged. The woman had become quite +delirious, and the names of Hilda and Heinz were often on her lips, but +he could, of course, get nothing out of her. The grandchild could tell +nothing of her former life; she never remembered hearing where she had +been nurse, but her father, who was now in Canada, might know. Sir +Richard could write and ask him. She had his address, and sometimes got +letters from him. The doctor said he did not think that grandmother +would live over the night. The only thing that had quieted her was the +singing of the young lady whom she had called Miss Hilda, and who had +come to the cottage that day with Miss Stanford. Maybe if she could come +again and sing grandmother would be quieter.</p> + +<p>On hearing this Frida rose, and said if Lady Stanford would allow her, +she would go and remain all night with the old woman, who she felt sure +must have been her mother's nurse. She often, she said, watched a night +by dying beds in the Black Forest, and had comforted some on their +death-beds by reading to them portions of God's Word.</p> + +<p>The Stanfords could not refuse her request; and when Lady Stanford had +herself filled a basket with provisions for Frida herself and little +Maggie, the girl set off, accompanied by Sir Richard, who went with her +to the door of the cottage.</p> + +<p>Finding the poor woman still delirious, Frida took off her cloak and +bonnet and prepared to spend the night with her, and sitting down beside +the bed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> she once more began to sing some sweet gospel hymns. In low and +gentle tones she sang of Jesus and His love, and again the sufferer's +restlessness and moaning ceased, and she seemed soothed.</p> + +<p>Hours passed, and the early summer morn began to dawn, and still the old +woman lived on. Every now and then she muttered the name of Miss Hilda, +and once she seemed to be imploring her not to vex her mother; and more +than once she said the name of Heinz, and whenever she did so she became +more excited, and moaned out the words, "Woe's me! woe's me!" Frida +watched anxiously every word, in the hope that she might hear the name +of Hilda's mother or the place where they lived; but she watched in +vain. It was evident that though there was a look of returning +consciousness, life was fast ebbing. A glance upward seemed to indicate +that the dying woman's thoughts had turned heavenward. Frida opened her +Bible and read aloud the words of the "shepherd psalm," so precious to +many a dying soul, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow +of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me."</p> + +<p>To her amazement the sick woman repeated the words, "<em>thou</em> art with +me;" and as she finished the last word the soul fled, and Frida and +Maggie were alone with the dead. The story of Frida's birth was still +undisclosed, but God's word, as recorded in Holy Scripture, had again +brought peace to a dying soul. Neighbours came in, and Frida turned away +from the death-bed with a heart full of gratitude to the Lord that she +had been allowed with His own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> words to soothe and comfort the old +nurse, who she felt sure had tended and loved her own mother.</p> + +<p>When she returned to the Hall, the Stanfords were truly grieved to hear +that the old woman was dead, and that there had been no further +revelation regarding Frida's relations. Lady Stanford and Ada had just +persuaded Frida to go to bed and rest awhile after her night of +watching, when the door opened, and the butler came in bearing a +telegram to Miss Heinz. Frida opened it with trembling hands, saw it was +from Miss Drechsler, and read the words, "Come at once; you are needed +here."</p> + +<p>What could it mean? Was Miss Drechsler ill? It looked like it, for who +else would require her in London? Fatigue was forgotten; she could rest, +she said, in the train; she must go at once. In a couple of hours she +could start. Ada was disconsolate. Nevertheless, feeling the urgency of +the case, she assisted her friend to pack her boxes; and erelong Frida +was off, all unaware of what might be awaiting her in the great city. +But ere we can tell that, we must turn for a while to other scenes, and +write of others closely linked, although unknown to herself, with the +life and future of the child found in the Black Forest.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE.</span></h2> + +<p class="centerb">"Being convicted by their own conscience."</p> + + +<p class="cap2">THE day on which Reginald Gower met Dr. Heinz on the street, and sent +through him a farewell message to Gertrude Warden, found him a couple of +hours afterwards seated in his mother's boudoir, communicating to her +his suddenly-formed plan of starting in a few days for America.</p> + +<p>It was no easy thing to do. The bond between mother and son was a very +strong one, and her pleasure in having had him with her for some little +time had been great. Her look of pleasure when he entered the room made +it more difficult for him to break the news to her.</p> + +<p>"Earlier back to-day than usual, Reggie," she said, "but never too early +for your old mother. But is anything amiss?" she said in a voice of +alarm, as she noticed the grave look on his face. "Have you heard any +bad news, or are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother, it is neither of these things—there is nothing the matter; +only I fear, mother dear, that what I am going to say will vex you, but +you must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> not let it do so. I am not worth all the affection you lavish +on me. Mother, I have made up my mind to go to America, and to remain +there for some time. I cannot stop here any longer. I am tired—not of +my dear mother," he said, as he stooped over her and kissed her fondly, +"but of the idle life I lead here; and so I mean to go and try and get +work there, perhaps buy land if I can afford it, and see if I can make +anything of my life as a farmer. Nay, mother, do not look so sad," he +pleaded; "you do not know how hard it is for me to come to this +resolution, but I must go. I cannot continue to live on future prospects +of wealth that may—nay, perhaps ought never to be mine, but must act +the man—try and earn my own living."</p> + +<p>"Your own living, Reginald!" interposed his mother; "surely you have +enough of your own to live comfortably on even as a married man, and +your prospects of succeeding to Harcourt Manor are, I grieve to say for +one reason, almost certain. O Reginald, don't go and leave me so soon +again!"</p> + +<p>But the young man, usually so easily led, fatally so indeed, stood firm +now, and only answered, "Mother, it must be, and if you knew all you +would be the first to advise me to go. Mother, you will soon hear that +Gertie Warden is engaged to be married to a man worthy of her—a noble +Christian doctor of the name of Heinz; but don't think that that +circumstance is the reason of my leaving home. Fool though I have been +and still am, I was never fool enough to think I was worthy of gaining +the love of a high-principled girl like Gertie Warden. But, mother, your +unselfish,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> God-fearing life, and that of Gertie and Dr. Heinz, have led +me to see my own character as I never saw it before, and to wish to put +right what has been so long wrong, and which it seems to me I can do +best if I were away from home. Ask me no more, mother dear; some day I +will tell you all, but not now. Only, mother, I must tell you that the +words of the Bible which you love so well and have so early taught to me +have not been without their effect, at least in keeping my conscience +awake. And, mother, don't cease to pray for me that I may be helped to +do the right. Oh, do not, do not," he entreated, as his mother began to +urge him to remain, "say that, mother; say rather, 'God bless you,' and +let me go. Believe me, it is best for me to do so."</p> + +<p>At these words Mrs. Gower ceased speaking. If, indeed, her loved son was +striving to do the right thing, would she be the one to hold him back? +Ah no! she would surrender her will and trust him in the hands of her +faithful God. So with one glance upward for help and strength, she laid +her hand on his head and said, "Go then, my son, in peace; and may God +direct your way and help you to do the right thing, and may He watch +between us when we are separate the one from the other."</p> + +<p>Just as Reginald was leaving the room Miss Drechsler entered. She +greeted Mrs. Gower cordially, remembering her in old times; and she +recognized Reginald as the young man who had spoken to Frida the day +after the concert, though then she had not heard his name.</p> + +<p>As Reginald was saying good-bye, he heard his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> mother ask Miss Drechsler +where her friend the young violinist was. "I thought you would have +brought her to see me," she added. Her answer struck Reginald with +dismay.</p> + +<p>"Oh! she did not accompany me to London after all. A great friend of +hers was ill, and she had to go to her instead. It was a great +disappointment to me."</p> + +<p>Reginald went to his room feeling as if in a dream. Then it might never +come to pass, after all, that Frida's parentage would be found out; and +Satan suggested the thought that therefore he need not disclose all he +knew, but let things go on as they were.</p> + +<p>He hugged the idea, for not yet had he got the victory over evil; at all +events he thought he would still wait a bit, but he would certainly +carry out his intention of leaving the country for a while at least; and +two days after the time we write of, his mother sat in her own room with +a full heart after having parted from her only son. Well for her that +she knew the way to the mercy-seat, and could pour out her sorrow at the +feet of One who has said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I +will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me."</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE STORM.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock2"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"More things are wrought by prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">Than the world dreams of."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">AFTER Mrs. Willoughby's interview with Dr. Heinz of which we have +written, her thoughts turned more than ever to the daughter she loved so +well.</p> + +<p>It seemed certain from what Dr. Heinz had said that there had been a +child; and if so, even although, as she feared, her loved daughter were +dead, the child might still be alive, and probably the father also. The +difficulty now was to obtain the knowledge of their place of residence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Willoughby quite believed that if any news could be obtained of +either mother or child, Mr. Willoughby's heart was so much softened that +he would forgive and receive them thankfully. Once more advertisements +were inserted in various papers, and letters written to friends abroad, +imploring them to make every inquiry in their power.</p> + +<p>More than once Dr. Heinz called to see his new-made friend; but as Mr. +Willoughby had returned to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> Harcourt Manor, whither his wife was soon to +follow him, he never met him; and as Dr. Heinz was leaving town to take +a much-needed holiday in the west Highlands of Scotland, nothing more +could be done for the present to obtain information regarding the lost +ones. It thus happened that although Dr. Heinz was a frequent visitor at +Miss Warden's, he never met Miss Drechsler; but he heard from Gertie +that she had not been able to bring the young girl violinist with her.</p> + +<p>It was to Mrs. Willoughby that Mrs. Gower went for sympathy and +consolation at the time of her son's departure. Mrs. Willoughby heard of +his sudden departure with surprise and deep sorrow for her friend's +sake.</p> + +<p>"Reginald gone off again so soon!" she said. "Oh, I am sorry for you, +dear friend! And does he speak of remaining long away? Making his own +living, you say? Has he not enough to live comfortably on in the +meantime? And then, you know," and her eyes filled with tears as she +spoke, "his future prospects are very good, unless—"</p> + +<p>But here Mrs. Gower interrupted her. "Dear friend, from my heart I can +say, if only dear Hilda or any child of hers could be restored to you, +there is no one would more truly rejoice than I would; and I believe +Reginald would do so also." But even as she said these words a pang of +fear crossed her mind as to Reginald's feeling on the subject; but the +mother's belief in her child refused to see any evil in him, and she +added, "I am sure he would. But in any case the day of his succession as +heir-at-law to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> Harcourt Manor is, we trust, far off, and so perhaps it +is best for him that he should make his way in life for himself. I have +been able now to trust him in God's hands, who doeth all things well."</p> + +<p>From that visit Mrs. Gower returned to her home comforted and +strengthened. Alone she might be, yet, like her Saviour, "not alone, for +the Father was with her." And ere many days had elapsed she was able to +busy herself in making preparations for her return to her pleasant +country home, which she had only left at Reginald's special request that +for once they might spend the season together in London.</p> + +<p>One thing only she regretted—that she would be for some weeks separated +from her friend Mrs. Willoughby, who was not to return to Harcourt Manor +for some weeks.</p> + +<p>Ah! truly has it been said, "Man proposes, but God disposes." The very +day that Mrs. Gower started for her home, Mrs. Willoughby received a +telegram telling her that Mr. Willoughby was very ill at the Manor, and +that the doctor begged she would come at once; and so it turned out +that, unknown to each other, the friends were again near neighbours, and +Mrs. Willoughby in her turn was to receive help and comfort from her +friend Mrs. Gower.</p> + +<p>Long hours of suspense and anxiety followed the gentle lady's arrival at +her country home. It soon became evident that Mr. Willoughby's hours +were numbered, but his intellect remained clear. His eyes often rested +with great sadness on his wife, and as he thought of leaving her alone +and desolate, his prayer was that he might hear something definite +regarding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> the child ere he died. Could he but have obtained that boon, +he would have felt that that knowledge had been granted to him as a +pledge of God's forgiveness.</p> + +<p>Not always does our all-wise God grant us signs even as an answer to our +prayers. Still, He is a God who not only forgives as a king, royally, +but also blesses us richly and fully to show the greatness of His +forgiving power. And such a God He was to prove Himself in the case of +Mr. Willoughby.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>Whilst he lay on that bed of death, watched over and tended by loving +friends, Reginald Gower was tossing on a stormy sea, a fair emblem of +the conflict between good and evil, right and wrong, that was still +raging within his breast. But that night, when the waves of the Atlantic +were wellnigh overwhelming the vessel in which he sailed, when fear +dwelt in every heart, when the captain trod the deck with an anxious +gravity on his face, light broke on Reginald's heart. So his mother's +prayers were answered at last. The Holy Spirit worked on his heart, and +showed him as it were in a moment of time his selfishness and his sin; +and from the lips of the self-indulgent young man arose the cry never +uttered in vain, "God be merciful to me a sinner." And when the morning +light dawned, and it was seen they were nearing in safety the harbour +whither they were bound, Reginald Gower looked out on the sea, which was +fast quieting down, and gave thanks that the conflict in his soul was +ended, and that clear above the noise of the waters he heard the voice +of Him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> who, while He tarried here below, had said, "Peace, be still," +to the raging billows, say these same words to his soul.</p> + +<p>"Safe in port," rang out the captain's voice; and "Safe in port, through +the merits of my Saviour," echoed through the soul of the young man.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said to himself, "let house, lands, and fortune go. I will do +the just, right thing, which long ago I should have done—write to Mrs. +Willoughby, and tell all I know about the child found in the Black +Forest."</p> + +<p>At that resolution methinks a song of rejoicing was heard in heaven, +sung by angel voices as they proclaimed the glad news that once more +good had overcome evil—that the power of Christ had again conquered the +power of darkness—that in another heart the Saviour of the world had +seen of the travail of His soul and was satisfied.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>In the meantime, the events we have written of were transpiring in +Harcourt Manor. Mr. Willoughby still lay on a bed of sickness, from +which the doctor said he would never rise, although a slight rally made +it possible that life might yet be spared for a few days or even weeks.</p> + +<p>He was wonderfully patient, grieving only for the sorrow experienced by +his wife, and the sad thought that his own unforgiving spirit was in +great part the reason why now she would be left desolate without a child +to comfort her.</p> + +<p>Daily Mrs. Gower visited her friend, and often watched with her by the +bed of death.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>Dr. Heinz, at Mrs. Willoughby's request, came to see Mr. Willoughby, and +obtained from his lips a message of full forgiveness if either his +daughter, her husband, or any child should be found after his death; and +together they prayed that if it were God's will something might be heard +of the lost ones ere Mr. Willoughby entered into rest. "'Nevertheless,'" +added the dying man, "'not my will but thine be done.'"</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span><a name="XVII" id="XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">THE DISCOVERY.</span></h2> + +<p class="centerb">"All was ended now—the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow."</p> + + +<p class="cap2">ONE day shortly after Dr. Heinz's visit, Mrs. Gower came to Harcourt +Manor accompanied by Miss Drechsler, who had arrived from London the +night before to remain with her for a couple of days.</p> + +<p>"You will not likely see Mrs. Willoughby," she said as they neared the +manor-house, "as she seldom leaves her husband's room; but if you do not +object to waiting a few minutes in the drawing-room whilst I go to see +her, I would be so much obliged to you, as I am desirous of knowing how +Mr. Willoughby is to-day. He seemed so low when I last saw him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," answered Miss Drechsler. "Don't trouble about me; I can +easily wait. And don't hurry, please; I am sure to get some book to +while away the time."</p> + +<p>They parted in the hall, Mrs. Gower turning off to the sick-room, while +Miss Drechsler was ushered by the butler into the drawing-room. The room +was a very fine one, large and lofty. It had been little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> used for some +weeks, and the venetian blinds were down, obscuring the light and +shutting out the summer sunshine.</p> + +<p>At first Miss Drechsler could hardly distinguish anything in the room, +coming into it as she did from a blaze of light; but as her eyes became +accustomed to the gloom, she made out first one object and then another +clearly, and rising from the place where she had been seated, she began +to look around her, turning to the pictures, which she had heard were +considered very fine. She looked attentively at some of them. Then her +eyes rested on a full-sized portrait of a beautiful girl, and with a +start of astonishment Miss Drechsler uttered the word, "Frida! and with +her curious necklace on, too. What does it mean?" she queried.</p> + +<p>In a moment the whole truth flashed on her mind. That, she felt sure, +must be a picture of Frida's mother, and she must have been the missing +child of Harcourt Manor.</p> + +<p>She sat down a moment, feeling almost stunned by the discovery she had +made. What a secret she had to disclose! Oh, if Mrs. Gower would only +come back quickly, that she might share it with her! Oh, if Frida had +only been with her, and she could have presented her to her grandparents +as the child of their lost daughter!</p> + +<p>At last the door opened, and her friend appeared, but much agitated. +"Excuse me, dear Miss Drechsler, for having kept you so long waiting; +but I found Mr. Willoughby much worse, and I must ask you kindly to +allow me to remain here for a short time<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> longer. Perhaps you would like +to take a stroll about the beautiful grounds, and—"</p> + +<p>But Miss Drechsler could no longer keep silence. "O dear friend, do not +distress yourself about me! Listen to me for a moment. I have made such +a discovery. I know all about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter; but, alas, she +is dead! She died some years ago; but her only child, the very image of +that picture on the wall yonder, is living, and is now residing within a +few hours of London. She is my <em>protégé</em>, my dearly-loved young +violinist, Frida Heinz, the child I have told you of found in the Black +Forest!"</p> + +<p>"Is it possible?" replied Mrs. Gower. "What a discovery you have made! +thank God for it. Can she be got at once, I wonder, ere the spirit of +her grandfather passes away? Oh, this is indeed an answer to prayer! The +cry of the poor man's heart for days has been, 'Oh, if God has indeed +forgiven me, as I fully believe He has, I pray He may allow me to know +ere I go hence if my child, or any child of hers, is alive to come and +comfort my dear wife in the sorrow that is awaiting her!'"</p> + +<p>"A telegram must be sent at once to Stanford Hall, where she is now +living," said Miss Drechsler; "and another to Miss Warden, asking her to +send off Frida, after she arrives at her house, at once to Harcourt +Manor."</p> + +<p>And without loss of time the telegram was dispatched which summoned +Frida to London, and from thence to the manor-house.</p> + +<p>The first sense of surprise having passed, Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> Gower's thoughts +involuntarily turned to Reginald. How would he like this discovery? But +again the mother's partiality, which already had too often blinded her +to his faults, suggested the impossibility that he would receive the +news with aught but pleasure, though there might be a momentary feeling +of disappointment as regarded his future prospects. But now she must +return to the sick-room, and try to see her friend for a minute or two +alone, and tell her the glad tidings; also, if possible, let her hear +the particulars of the story from the lips of Miss Drechsler herself.</p> + +<p>It was no easy matter now, under any pretence, to get Mrs. Willoughby to +leave her husband's side even for a moment. The doctors had just told +her that at most her husband had not more than two days to live, perhaps +not so long, and every moment was precious; but Mrs. Grower's words, +spoken with calm deliberation, "Dear friend, you must see me in another +room for a few minutes about a matter of vital importance," had their +effect. And she rose, and after leaving a few orders with the nurse, and +telling her husband she would return immediately, she quietly followed +Mrs. Gower into another room.</p> + +<p>She listened as if in a dream to the story which Miss Drechsler told. +Incident after incident proved that the child found in the Forest was +indeed her grand-daughter; and as she heard that her own child, her +loved Hilda, was indeed dead, the mother's tears fell fast.</p> + +<p>The necklace which Frida still possessed, the same as that worn by the +girl in the picture, the small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> portrait which had been found in her bag +the night that Wilhelm Hörstel had discovered her in the Black Forest, +all confirmed the idea that she was indeed the grandchild of the Manor; +but it was not until Mrs. Willoughby heard the story of the "brown +German Bible" that she sobbed out the words, "Oh, thank God, thank God, +she is the child of my darling Hilda. Now, dear friend, this discovery +must be communicated by me to my husband, and he will know that his last +prayer for me has been granted."</p> + +<p>Mr. Willoughby was quite conscious, and evidently understood the fact +that at last a child of his daughter's had been found. As regarded the +death of the mother, he merely whispered the words, "I shall see her +soon;" then said, "I thank thee, O my Father, that Thou hast answered +prayer, and that now my sweet wife will not be left alone.—Give my fond +love to the girl, wife, for I feel my eyes shall not see her. That is my +punishment for so long cherishing an unforgiving spirit."</p> + +<p>And if God could act as a man, such might have been the case; but our +God is fully and for ever a promise-keeping God, and He has declared, +"If any man confess his sins, He is faithful and just to forgive him, +and to cleanse him from all iniquity." And so it came to pass that ere +the spirit of Mr. Willoughby passed away, he had pressed more than one +kiss on the lips of his grandchild, and whispered the words, "Full +forgiveness through Christ—what a God we have! Comfort your +grandmother, my child, and keep near to Jesus in your life. God bless +the kind friends who have protected and loved you when you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> were +homeless.—And now, Lord, let Thy servant depart in peace.—Farewell, +loved and faithful wife, who, by the reading to me God's word of life, +hast led my soul to Christ." One deep-drawn breath, and his spirit fled, +and his wife and grandchild were left alone to comfort each other.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<p>"And now, Frida, my loved child, come and tell me all about those +friends who were so kind to you in the Forest," said Mrs. Willoughby +some days after Mr. Willoughby's funeral. "Ah, how little we thought +that we had a grandchild living there, and that our darling Hilda was +dead! When I look upon you, Frida, it almost seems as if all these long +years of suffering had been a dream, and my daughter were again seated +beside me, work in hand, as we so often sat in the years that have gone. +You are wonderfully like her, and I believe that during the last four +hours of his life, when his mind was a little clouded, my dear husband +thought that Hilda really sat beside him, and that it was to her he said +the words, 'I fully forgive, as I hope to be forgiven.' But comfort +yourself, Frida; at the very last he knew all distinctly, and told us to +console each other.—But now tell me what I asked you to do, and also if +you ever met any one who recognized you as your mother's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," replied Frida. "Still, one or two people were struck with +my likeness to some one whom they had seen, but whose name they could +not recall. Miss Drechsler was one of those, and now she says she +wonders she did not remember that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> was Miss Willoughby, although she +had only seen her twice at the Wardens', and then amongst a number of +people. And then a young man, a Mr. Gower (the same name as your +friend), who had heard me play on the violin at the Stanfords' concert, +told them that he was much struck with my resemblance to a picture he +had seen. I wonder if he could be any relation to your Mrs. Gower?"</p> + +<p>"Was his name Reginald?" Mrs. Willoughby asked hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Sir Richard Stanford used to call him Reginald Gower; but I seldom +saw him. But, grandmother, is there anything the matter?" for as Frida +spoke, Mrs. Willoughby's face had blanched. Was it possible, she asked +herself, that Reginald Gower had known, or at least suspected, the +existence of this child, and for very evident reasons concealed it from +his friends? A terrible fear that it was so overcame her; for she liked +the lad, and tenderly loved his mother. She felt she must betray +herself, and so answered Frida's question by saying,—</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is nothing, dear, only a passing faintness; but I shall lie on +the sofa, and you shall finish your talk. Now tell me about the Forest."</p> + +<p>And Frida, well pleased to speak of the friends she loved so well, told +of her childhood's life in the Forest, and the kindness shown to her by +Elsie and Wilhelm, not forgetting to speak of Hans and the little blind +Anna so early called to glory. "And, O grandmother, all the wood-cutters +and charcoal-burners were so kind to me, and many amongst them learned +to love the words of this little book;" and as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> spoke she took from +her pocket the little brown German Bible, her mother's parting legacy to +her child. "It was no words of mine that opened their eyes (I was too +young to have said them); but I could read the Word of God to them, and +they did the deed."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Willoughby took the little book in her hands and pressed it to her +lips. "It was often in the hands of my darling Hilda, you say? and those +words in a foreign language became as precious to her as did the English +ones to her mother in the little Bible she gave her ere they parted? +Blessed book, God's own inspired revelation of Himself, which alone can +make us 'wise unto salvation.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Willoughby listened with great pleasure to Frida's tale, glancing +every now and again at the fair girl face, which was lit up as with +sunshine as she spoke of her happy days and dear friends in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"I must write to a friend in Dringenstadt," she said, "to go to the +Forest and tell them all the good news,—of how good God has been to me +in restoring me to my mother's friends, and in letting me know that a +brother of my father's was alive. But see, here comes the postman. I +must run and get the letters."</p> + +<p>In a minute she re-entered bearing a number of letters in her hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah! here are quite a budget," she said. "See, grandmother, there is one +for you bearing the New York mark, and another for myself from +Frankfort. Ah! that must be from the uncle you spoke of, Dr. Heinz. You +said he had gone there, did you not?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whilst Frida was talking thus, her grandmother had opened her American +letter, and saw that it was from Reginald Gower. "He has heard, of +course, of my dear husband's death, and writes to sympathize with me. +But no; he could hardly have heard of that event, nor of the discovery +of our grandchild, and replied to it. He must be writing about some +other subject."</p> + +<p>She then read as if in a dream the following words:—</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span>—if indeed I may still dare to address you thus—I write to +ask forgiveness for a sore wrong which I have done to you and Mr. +Willoughby. I confess with deep shame that for some years I have had a +suspicion, nay, almost a certainty, that a child of your daughter was +alive. Miss Drechsler, now living with Miss Warden, can tell you all. I +met the girl, who plays charmingly on the violin, at a concert in the +house of Sir Richard Stanford. Her face reminded me of a picture I had +seen somewhere, but at first I could not recall where, until the fact, +told me by the Stanfords, of a peculiar necklace which the girl +possessed, and which they described to me, brought to my remembrance the +picture of your daughter at Harcourt Manor with a <em>fac-simile</em> of the +necklace on. Added to this, I had heard that the girl had been found by +a wood-cutter in the Black Forest, and that of her birth and parentage +nothing was known. It is now with deep repentance that I confess to +having concealed these facts (though I had no doubt as to whose child +she was),<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> because I knew that by disclosing the secret my right to +succeed to the property of Harcourt Manor would be done away with. I +felt even then the shame and disgrace of so doing, and knew also the +trouble and grief I was causing to you, whom (although you may find it +difficult to believe) I really loved, and who had ever been such a kind +friend to me. I now see that it was a love of self-indulgence which led +me to commit so foul a sin. Conscience remonstrated, and the words of +the Bible, so early instilled into my mind by my mother, constantly +reproached me; but I turned from and stifled the voice of conscience, +and deliberately chose the evil way. All these years I have experienced +at times fits of the deepest remorse, but selfishness prevailed; and +when I heard that Frida Heinz was coming to England, and that probably +ere-long all might be disclosed, I resolved to leave my native land and +begin a better life here. Ere I left I had reason to believe that she +was unable to come to England, so even now I may be the first to reveal +the secret of her existence. I do not know if even yet I would have +gained strength to do this or not, had not God in His great mercy opened +my eyes, during a fearful storm at sea, when it seemed as if any moment +might be my last, to see what a sinner I was in His sight, and led me to +seek forgiveness through the merits of Christ for all my past sins. +<em>That</em> I believe I have obtained, and now I crave a like forgiveness +from you whom I have so cruelly wronged. Should you withhold it, I dare +not complain; but I have hopes that you, who are a follower of our Lord +Jesus Christ, will not do so. One more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> request, and I have done. +Comfort, I beg of you, my mother when she has to bear the bitter sorrow +of knowing how shamefully the son she loves so dearly has acted. By this +post I write also to her. I trust to prove to both of you by my future +life that my repentance is sincere.</p> + +<p class="right"> +<span class="smcap">Reginald Gower.</span>"</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Mrs. Willoughby's grief on reading this letter was profound. To think +that the lad whom she had loved, and whom in many ways she had +befriended, had acted such a base, selfish part, overwhelmed her; and +the thought that if he had communicated even his suspicions to her so +long ago the child would have been found, and probably have gladdened +her grandfather's life and heart for several years ere he was taken +hence, was bitter indeed. But not long could any unforgiving feeling +linger in her heart, and ere many hours were over she was able fully to +forgive.</p> + +<p>Of Mrs. Gower's feelings we can hardly write. The shame and grief she +experienced on reading the letter, which she received from her son by +the same post as that by which Mrs. Willoughby received hers, cannot be +expressed; but through it all there rang a joyful song, "This my son was +dead, and is alive again." The prayers—believing prayers—of long years +were answered, and the bond between mother and son was a doubly precious +one, united as they now were in Christ. It was for her friend she felt +so keenly, and to know how she had suffered at the hand of Reginald was +a deep grief to her. Could she, she queried, as she set out letter in +hand to Harcourt Manor—could she ever forgive him? That question<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> was +soon answered when she entered the room and met her friend. Ere then +Mrs. Willoughby had been alone with her God in prayer, and had sought +and obtained strength from her heart to say, "O Lord, as Thou hast +blotted out my transgressions as a thick cloud, and as a cloud my sins, +so help me to blot out from my remembrance the sorrow which Reginald has +caused to me, and entirely to forgive him." After two hours spent +together the two friends separated, being more closely bound together +than ever before; Mrs. Willoughby saying she would write to Reginald +that very night, and let him know that he had her forgiveness, and that +without his intervention God had restored her grandchild to her arms.</p> + +<p>In the meantime letters had reached Dr. Heinz telling that the search +for the missing ones was at an end. His short holiday was drawing to a +close, and erelong Frida was embraced by the brother of the father she +had loved so much and mourned so deeply.</p> + +<p>And ere another summer had gone she was present at her uncle's marriage +with Gertie Warden, and was one of the bridesmaids. And a few days after +that event it was agreed, with her grandmother's full consent—nay, at +her special request—that she should accompany them on their marriage +jaunt, and that that should include a visit to Miss Drechsler and a +sight of her friends in the Black Forest.</p> + +<p>Many were the presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby to Elsie, Wilhelm, and +others who had been kind to her grandchild in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"O grandmother," said Frida, as she was busy packing up the things, "do +you know that I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> just heard that my kind friend the German pastor +has returned to Dringenstadt and settled there. He was so very kind to +me when I was a little child, I should like to take him some small +special remembrance—a handsome writing-case, or something of that +kind."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Frida," was the answer. "You shall choose anything you think +suitable. I am glad you will have an opportunity of thanking him in +person for all his kindness to you, and, above all, for introducing you +to Miss Drechsler. And look here, Frida. As you say that Wilhelm and +Elsie can read, I have got two beautifully-printed German Bibles, one +for each of them, as a remembrance from Frida's grandmother, who, +through the reading of those precious words, has got blessing to her own +soul. See, I have written on the first page the words, 'Search the +scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they +which testify of me.'"</p> + +<p>It was settled that during Frida's absence Mrs. Gower should live at +Harcourt Manor, and together Mrs. Willoughby and she bid adieu to Frida +as she set off three days after the marriage to meet her uncle and his +bride at Dover, from whence they were to start for the Continent. Tears +were in Frida's eyes—tears of gratitude—as she thought of the goodness +of God in restoring her, a lonely orphan, to the care of kind relations +since she had crossed the Channel rather more than a year before.</p> + +<p>Frida endeared herself much to her uncle and his wife, and after a trip +with them for some weeks, they left her with regret at Miss Drechsler's, +promising to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> return soon and take her home with them after she had seen +her friends in the Forest.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Frida," said Miss Drechsler, when they were seated in the evening +in the pretty little drawing-room, "does it not seem like olden days? Do +you not remember the first time when Pastor Langen brought you here a +shy, trembling little child, and asked me to see you from time to time?"</p> + +<p>Ere Frida could reply, the door opened, and Pastor Langen entered, and +Miss Drechsler introduced him to his <em>protégé</em>.</p> + +<p>"Frida Heinz! Is it possible? I must indeed be getting <em>ein Alter</em> if +this be the little girl who was found in the Black Forest."</p> + +<p>He listened with interest whilst Miss Drechsler told him the history of +her past years, much of which was new to him, although he had heard of +Frida's gift as a violinist; but when she told of the wonderful way in +which her relations had been discovered, he could refrain himself no +longer, but exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"<em>Lobe Herrn</em>, He is good, very good, and answers prayer."</p> + +<p>And ere they parted the three knelt at the throne of grace and gave +thanks to God.</p> + +<p>On the next day it was settled that Frida should go to the Forest and +see her old friends, taking her grandmother's present with her.</p> + + + +<hr /> + +<h2><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><a name="XVIII" id="XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="sub">OLD SCENES.</span></h2> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"God's world is steeped in beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i2 mb">God's world is bathed in light."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + + +<p class="cap2">IT was in the leafy month of June that Frida found herself once more +treading the Forest paths. The smaller trees were clothed in their +bright, fresh, green lining—</p> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"Greenness shining, not a colour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But a tender, living light;"<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p class="noi">and to them the dark, gloomy pines acted as a noble background, and once +again the song of birds was heard, and the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the +forest streams.</p> + +<p>Memory was very busy at work as the girl—nay, woman now—trod those +familiar scenes. Yonder was the very tree under which Wilhelm found her, +a lonely little one, waiting in vain for the father she would see no +more on earth.</p> + +<p>There in the distance were the lonely huts of the wood-cutters who had +so lovingly cared for the orphan child. And as she drew nearer the hut +of the Hörstels,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> she recognized many a spot where she and Hans had +played together as happy children, to whom the sighing of the wind amid +the tall pines had seemed the most beautiful music in the world.</p> + +<p>As she recalled all these things, her heart filled with love to God, who +had cared for and protected her when her earthly friends had cast her +off. The language of her heart might have been expressed in the words of +the hymn so often sung in Scottish churches:—</p> + +<div class="poemblock"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="io">"When all Thy mercies, O my God!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My rising soul surveys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Transported with the view, I'm lost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wonder, love, and praise."<br /></span> +</div></div></div> + +<p>Words cannot depict the joy of Elsie and Wilhelm at the sight of their +dear woodland child. They had already heard of her having found her +English relations, and heartily they rejoiced at the good news, although +well they knew that they would seldom see the child they loved so well.</p> + +<p>Many were the questions asked on both sides. Frida, on her part, had to +describe Harcourt Manor and her gentle grandmother and her father's +brother, Dr. Heinz, and his beautiful bride. She told also of the +full-sized picture (which hung on the walls of Harcourt Manor) of her +mother, which had been the means of the discovery of her birth, from her +extraordinary likeness to it.</p> + +<p>When the many useful presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby were displayed, +the gratitude of those poor people knew no bounds, and even the little +girl looked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> delighted at the bright-coloured, warm frocks and cloaks +for winter wear which had been sent for her. Hans was by no means +forgotten: some useful books fell to his share when he returned home in +a few weeks from Leipsic for a short holiday.</p> + +<p>It was with difficulty that Frida tore herself away from those kind +friends, and went to the Dorf to see her friends there, and take them +the gifts she had brought for them also. It was late ere she reached +Dringenstadt, and there, seated by Miss Drechsler, related to her the +doings of the day.</p> + +<p>To Pastor Langen was entrusted a sum of money to be given to the +Hörstels, and also so much to be spent every Christmas amongst the +wood-cutters and charcoal-burners in the Dorf. The two Bibles Frida had +herself given to the Hörstels, who had been delighted with them.</p> + +<p>When, soon after that day, Dr. Heinz and his bride, accompanied by +Frida, visited the Forest, they received a hearty welcome. Many of the +wood-cutters recognized the resemblance Dr. Heinz bore to his brother +who had died in the cottage in the Forest.</p> + +<p>Many a story did Dr. Heinz hear of the woodland child and her brown +book.</p> + +<p>The marriage trip over, the Heinzes, accompanied by Frida, returned to +their homes—they to carry on their work of love in the dark places of +the great metropolis, taking with them not only comforts for the body, +but conveying to them the great and only treasures of the human mind, +the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. And to many and many a sin-sick, +weary soul the words of Holy Scripture spoken by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> the lips of those two +faithful ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ brought peace and rest and +comfort. And Frida, on her part, found plenty of work to do for the +Master in the cottages near Harcourt Manor, in which her grandmother +helped her largely.</p> + +<p>Three years had passed since Frida had become an inmate of her +grandmother's home, and they had gone for the winter to London in order +to be near Frida's relations the Heinzes, and at Frida's request Ada +Stanford, who was now much stronger, had come to pay her a visit. Many a +talk the two friends had about the past, recalling with pleasure the +places they had visited together and the people they had seen. The +beauties of Baden-Baden and the sunny Riviera were often dwelt on, and +together they loved to review God's wonderful love as regarded them +both. They spoke also of their visit to the dying woman in the Glen, +whom Frida had long before found out to have been a faithful nurse to +her mother, and for whose little grand-daughter Mrs. Willoughby had +provided since hearing from Frida of the old woman's death.</p> + +<p>Then one day the girls spoke of a musical party which was to take place +in Mrs. Willoughby's house that day, and in the arranging for which Ada +and Frida had busied themselves even as they had done years before in +Baden-Baden for the party at which Frida had played on the violin. A +large party assembled that night, and Dr. Heinz and Frida played +together; but the great musician of the night was a young German +violinist who had begun to attract general attention in the London +musical world. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> was no other than Hans Hörstel, the playmate of +Frida's childhood.</p> + +<p>Very cordial was the meeting between those two who had last seen each +other in such different circumstances.</p> + +<p>And Sir Richard Stanford, who was also present, felt he was well repaid +for what he had spent on young Hörstel's education by the result of it, +and by the high moral character which the young man bore.</p> + +<p>It was a happy night. Frida rejoiced in the musical success of the +companion of her early years, and together they spoke of the days of the +past, and of his parents, who had been as father and mother to her.</p> + +<p>Long after the rest of the company had gone, Hans, by Mrs. Willoughby's +invitation, remained on; and ere they parted they together gave thanks +for all God's kindness towards them.</p> + +<p>All hearts were full of gratitude, for Mrs. Gower was there rejoicing in +the news she had that day received from Reginald, that he was about to +be married to a niece of Sir Richard Stanford's, whom he had met whilst +visiting friends in New York; and she was one who would help in the work +for Christ which he carried on in the neighbourhood of his farm. He was +prospering as regarded worldly matters, and he hoped soon to take a run +home and introduce his bride to his loved mother and his kind friend +Mrs. Willoughby. He added, "I need hardly say that ere I asked Edith to +marry me I told her the whole story of my sin in concealing what I knew +of the birth of Frida Heinz; but she said, what God had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> evidently +forgiven, it became none to refuse to do so likewise."</p> + +<p>So after prayer was ended, it was from their hearts that all joined in +singing the doxology,—</p> + +<p class="center">"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!"</p> + +<p>And with this scene we end the story of the child found in the Black +Forest, and the way in which her brown German Bible was used there for +the glory of God.</p> + + +<h3 class="mt">THE END.</h3> + + +<h5>PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.</h5> + + + +<hr /> + +<div class="adblock"> +<h2>Nelson's "Royal" Libraries.</h2> + +<table summary="book list"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><h4>THE TWO SHILLING SERIES.</h4></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">RED DICKON.</td> +<td class="tdr2">Tom Bevan.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">LAST OF THE SEA KINGS.</td> +<td class="tdr2">David Ker.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN TAUNTON TOWN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN THE LAND OF THE MOOSE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Achilles Daunt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">TREFOIL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Margaret P. Macdonald.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">WENZEL'S INHERITANCE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Annie Lucas.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">VERA'S TRUST.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Evelyn Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">FOR THE FAITH.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Evelyn Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ALISON WALSH.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Constance Evelyn.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">BLIND LOYALTY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. L. Haverfield.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">DOROTHY ARDEN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> J. M. Callwell.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">FALLEN FORTUNES.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Evelyn Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">FOR HER SAKE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Gordon Roy.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">JACK MACKENZIE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Gordon Stables, M.D.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN PALACE AND FAUBOURG.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> C. J. G.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">ISABEL'S SECRET; or, A Sister's Love.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IVANHOE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Sir Walter Scott.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">KENILWORTH.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Sir Walter Scott.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">LEONIE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Annie Lucas.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">OLIVE ROSCOE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Evelyn Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">QUEECHY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Miss Wetherell.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. Charles.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">"SISTER."</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Evelyn Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE CITY AND THE CASTLE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Annie Lucas.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE CZAR.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Deborah Alcock.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE HEIRESS OF WYLMINGTON.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE SIGN OF THE RED CROSS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE SPANISH BROTHERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Deborah Alcock.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Harold Avery.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE UNCHARTED ISLAND.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Skelton Kuppord.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Miss Wetherell.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE BRITISH LEGION.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Herbert Hayens.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SALE'S SHARPSHOOTERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Harold Avery.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">A TRUSTY REBEL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. H. Clarke.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">BEGGARS OF THE SEA.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Tom Bevan.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">HAVELOK THE DANE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> C. W. Whistler.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><h4>THE EIGHTEENPENCE SERIES.</h4></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">TOM TUFTON'S TOLL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">NEW BROOM.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Charles Turley.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">STAR.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. L. B. Walford.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">A SON OF ODIN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> C. W. Whistler.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">PRESTER JOHN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> John Buchan.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SONS OF FREEDOM.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Fred Whishaw.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SONS OF THE VIKINGS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> John Gunn.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">STORY OF MADGE HILTON.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Agnes C. Maitland.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN LIONLAND.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> M. Douglas.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">MARGIE AT THE HARBOUR LIGHT.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. A. Rand.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ADA AND GERTY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Louisa M. Gray.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">AFAR IN THE FOREST.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> W. H. G. Kingston.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">A GOODLY HERITAGE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> K. M. Eady.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">BORIS THE BEAR HUNTER.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Fred Whishaw.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">"DARLING."</td> +<td class="tdr2"> M. H. Cornwall Legh.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">DULCIE'S LITTLE BROTHER.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ESTHER'S CHARGE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">EVER HEAVENWARD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. Prentiss.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">FOR THE QUEEN'S SAKE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">GUY POWER'S WATCHWORD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> J. T. Hopkins.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> W. H. G. Kingston.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">LIONEL HARCOURT, THE ETONIAN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> G. E. Wyatt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">MOLLY'S HEROINE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> "Fleur de Lys."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">NORSELAND TALES.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> H. H. Boyesen.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ON ANGELS' WINGS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Hon. Mrs. Greene.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ONE SUMMER BY THE SEA.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> J. M. Callwell.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">PARTNERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> H. F. Gethen.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ROBINETTA.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> L. E. Tiddeman.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SALOME.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. Marshall.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE LORD OF DYNEVOR.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE YOUNG HUGUENOTS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> "Fleur de Lys."</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE YOUNG RAJAH.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> W. H. G. Kingston.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">WINNING THE VICTORY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">TRUE TO THE LAST.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">WON IN WARFARE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> C. R. Kenyon.</td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td colspan="2"><h4>Nelson's "Royal" Shilling Library.</h4></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE KINSMEN OF BRITHRIC'S HAM.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> H. Elrington.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE WATCH TOWER.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> William A. Bryce.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">LITTLE FRIDA.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE GIRL WHO HELPED.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Annie Swan, etc.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE GOLD THREAD, & WEE DAVIE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Norman Macleod.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">FEATS ON THE FIORD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Harriet Martineau.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ACADEMY BOYS IN CAMP.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> S. F. Spear.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Miss Gaye.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ESTHER REID.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Pansy.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">TIMOTHY TATTERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> J. M. Callwell.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">AMPTHILL TOWERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> A. J. Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">IVY AND OAK.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">ARCHIE DIGBY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> G. E. Wyatt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">AS WE SWEEP THROUGH THE DEEP.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Dr. Gordon Stables.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">AT THE BLACK ROCKS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Edward Rand.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">AUNT SALLY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Constance Milman.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">CYRIL'S PROMISE. A Temperance Tale.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> W. J. Lacey.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">GEORGIE MERTON.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Florence Harrington.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Hon. Mrs. Greene.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">HUDSON BAY.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">JUBILEE HALL.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Hon. Mrs. Greene.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">LOST SQUIRE OF INGLEWOOD.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Dr. Jackson.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">MARK MARKSEN'S SECRET.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Jessie Armstrong.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">MARTIN RATTLER.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">RHODA'S REFORM.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> M. A. Paull.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">SHENAC. The Story of a Highland Family in Canada.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SIR AYLMER'S HEIR.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> E. Everett-Green.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Harold Avery.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE CORAL ISLAND.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE DOG CRUSOE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE GOLDEN HOUSE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Mrs. Woods Baker.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE GORILLA HUNTERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE ROBBER BARON.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> A. J. Foster.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Emily C. Hartley.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">UNGAVA.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">WORLD OF ICE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">YOUNG FUR TRADERS.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> R. M. Ballantyne.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">MARTIN'S INHERITANCE.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">OUR SEA-COAST HEROES.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Achilles Daunt.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">GIBRALTAR AND ITS SIEGES.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">THE SECRET CAVE.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> Emilie Searchfield.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2" colspan="2">LIZZIE HEPBURN.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tdl2">VANDRAD THE VIKING.</td> +<td class="tdr2"> J. Storer Clouston.</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr /> + +<h2>"THE" BOOKS FOR BOYS.</h2> + +<h4>AT TWO SHILLINGS. Coloured Plates.</h4> + +<h3>By R. M. BALLANTYNE.</h3> + +<p class="hang"><b>FREAKS ON THE FELL.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>ERLING THE BOLD.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>DEEP DOWN.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>WILD MAN OF THE WEST, THE.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>GOLDEN DREAM, THE.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>RED ERIC.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>LIGHTHOUSE, THE.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>FIGHTING THE FLAMES.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>CORAL ISLAND, THE.</b> The author of "Peter Pan" says of "The Coral Island": +"For the authorship of that book I would joyously swop all mine."</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER.</b> A tale of the prairies, with many adventures +among the Red Indians.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>GORILLA HUNTERS, THE.</b> A story of adventure in the wilds of Africa, +brimful of exciting incidents and alive with interest.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>HUDSON BAY.</b> A record of pioneering in the great lone land of the +Hudson's Bay Company.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>MARTIN RATTLER.</b> An excellent story of adventure in the forests of +Brazil.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>UNGAVA.</b> A tale of Eskimo land.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>WORLD OF ICE, THE.</b> A story of whaling in the Arctic regions.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>YOUNG FUR TRADERS, THE.</b> A tale of early life in the Hudson Bay +Territories.</p> + +<h3>By W. H. G. KINGSTON.</h3> + +<p class="center">"The best writer for boys who ever lived."</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>WITH AXE AND RIFLE.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>CAPTAIN MUGFORD.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>SNOW-SHOES AND CANOES.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>HEIR OF KILFINNAN, THE.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>BEN BURTON.</b></p> + +<p class="hang"><b>DICK CHEVELEY.</b> A stirring tale of a plucky boy who "ran away to sea."</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>IN THE EASTERN SEAS.</b> The scenes of this book are laid in the Malay +Archipelago.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>IN THE WILDS OF AFRICA.</b> The adventures of a shipwrecked party on the +coast of Africa.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>IN THE WILDS OF FLORIDA.</b> A bustling story of warfare between Red Men and +Palefaces.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>MY FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTHERN SEAS.</b> A tale of adventure at sea and in Cape +Colony, Ceylon, etc.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>OLD JACK.</b> An old sailor's account of his many and varied adventures.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>ON THE BANKS OF THE AMAZON.</b> A boy's journal of adventures in the wilds +of South America.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>SAVED FROM THE SEA.</b> The adventures of a young sailor and three +shipwrecked companions.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>SOUTH SEA WHALER, THE.</b> A story of mutiny and shipwreck in the South +Seas.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>TWICE LOST.</b> A story of shipwreck and travel in Australia.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>TWO SUPERCARGOES, THE.</b> An adventurous story full of "thrills."</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.</b> A young sailor's account of his adventures by +land and sea.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>WANDERERS, THE.</b> The adventures of a Pennsylvanian merchant and his +family.</p> + +<p class="hang"><b>YOUNG LLANERO, THE.</b> A thrilling narrative of war and adventure.</p> + +<hr class="hr2" /> + +<h5><span class="smcap">T. Nelson and Sons, Ltd.</span>, London, Edinburgh, and New York.</h5> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Frida, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + +***** This file should be named 31521-h.htm or 31521-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/5/2/31521/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Frida + A Tale of the Black Forest + +Author: Anonymous + +Release Date: March 6, 2010 [EBook #31521] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + + + + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms. +_See page 42._] + + + + +LITTLE FRIDA + +A TALE OF THE BLACK FOREST + + BY THE AUTHOR OF + "LITTLE HAZEL, THE KING'S MESSENGER" + "UNDER THE OLD OAKS; OR, WON BY LOVE" + ETC. ETC. + +THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, LTD. + +LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I. LOST IN THE WOODS 9 + + II. THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT 16 + + III. FRIDA'S FATHER 23 + + IV. THE PARSONAGE 29 + + V. THE WOODMEN'S PET 36 + + VI. ELSIE AND THE BROWN BIBLE 42 + + VII. IN DRINGENSTADT 46 + + VIII. THE VIOLIN-TEACHER AND THE CONCERT 54 + + IX. CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST 68 + + X. HARCOURT MANOR 76 + + XI. IN THE RIVIERA 86 + + XII. IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS 95 + + XIII. IN THE SLUMS 104 + + XIV. THE OLD NURSE 115 + + XV. THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE 127 + + XVI. THE STORM 131 + + XVII. THE DISCOVERY 137 + + XVIII. OLD SCENES 151 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + Looking anxiously at the babe in her arms _Frontispiece_ + + Ere the child consented to go to bed she + opened the little "brown book" 17 + + "Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last + passage together" 66 + + + + +LITTLE FRIDA. + +CHAPTER I. + +LOST IN THE WOODS. + + "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will + take me up." + + +"See, Hans, how dark it gets, and thy father not yet home! What keeps +him, thinkest thou? Supper has been ready for a couple of hours, and who +knows what he may meet with in the Forest if the black night fall!" and +the speaker, a comely German peasant woman, crossed herself as she +spoke. "I misdoubt me something is wrong. The saints preserve him!" + +The boy, who looked about ten years old, was gazing in the direction of +a path which led through the Forest, but, in answer to this appeal, +said, "Never fear, Muetterchen; father will be all right. He never loses +his way, and he whistles so loud as he walks that I am sure he will +frighten away all the bad--" + +But here his mother laid her hand on his mouth, saying, "Hush, Hans! +never mention them in the twilight; 'tis not safe. Just run to the +opening in the wood and look if ye see him coming; there is still light +enough for that. It will not take you five minutes to do so. And then +come back and tell me, for I must see to the pot now, and to the infant +in the cradle." + +The night, an October one, was cold, and the wind was rising and sighing +amongst the branches of the pine trees. Darker and darker gathered the +shades, as mother and son stood again at the door of their hut after +Hans had returned from his useless quest. No sign of his father had he +seen, and boy though he was, he knew too much of the dangers that attend +a wood-cutter's life in the Forest not to fear that some evil might have +befallen his father; but he had a brave young heart, and tried to +comfort his mother. + +"He'll be coming soon now, Muetterchen," he said; "and won't he laugh at +us for being so frightened?" + +But the heart of the wife was too full of fear to receive comfort just +then from her boy's words. + +"Nay, Hans," she said; "some evil has befallen him. He never tarries so +late. Thy father is not one to turn aside to his mates' houses and +gossip away his time as others do. It is always for home and children +that he sets out when his work is done. No, Hans; I know the path to the +place where he works, and I can follow it even in the dark. Stay here +and watch by the cradle of the little Annchen, whilst I go and see if I +can find thy father." + +"Nay, Muetterchen," entreated the boy; "thee must not go. And all alone +too! Father would never have let you do so had he been here. O Mutter, +stay here! Little Annchen will be waking and wanting you, and how could +I quiet her? O Muetterchen, go not!" and he clung to her, trying to hold +her back. + +Just as his mother, maddened with terror, was freeing herself from his +grasp, the sound of a footstep struck her ear, and mother and child +together exclaimed, "Ah, there he comes!" + +Sure enough through the wood a man's figure became visible, but he was +evidently heavily laden. He carried, besides his axe and saw, two large +bundles. What they were could not be distinguished in the darkness. + +With a cry of joyous welcome his wife sprang forward to meet her +husband, and Hans ran eagerly to help him to carry his burden; but to +their amazement he said, though in a kindly tone, "Elsie--Hans, keep off +from me till I am in the house." + +The lamp was lighted, and a cheerful blaze from the stove, the door of +which was open, illumined the little room into which the stalwart young +wood-cutter, Wilhelm Hoerstel, entered. + +Then, to the utter astonishment of his wife and son, he displayed his +bundle. Throwing back a large shawl which completely covered the one he +held in his arms, he revealed a sleeping child of some five or six years +old, who grasped tightly in her hand a small book. In his right hand he +held a violin and a small bag. + +Elsie gazed with surprise, not unmingled with fear. "What meaneth these +things, Wilhelm?" she said; "and from whence comes the child? _Ach_, how +wonderfully beautiful she is! Art sure she is a child of earth? or is +this the doing of some of the spirits of the wood?" + +At these words Wilhelm laughed. "Nay, wife, nay," he replied, and his +voice had a sad ring in it as he spoke. "This is no wood sprite, if such +there be, but a little maiden of flesh and blood. Let me rest, I pray +thee, and lay the little one on the bed; and whilst I take my supper I +will tell thee the tale." + +And Elsie, wise woman as she was, did as she was asked, and made ready +the simple meal, set it on the wooden bench which served as table, then +drew her husband's chair nearer the stove, and restraining her +curiosity, awaited his readiness to begin the tale. + +When food and heat had done their work, Wilhelm felt refreshed; and when +Elsie had cleared the table, and producing her knitting had seated +herself beside him, he began his story; whilst Hans, sitting on a low +stool at his feet, gazed with wondering eyes now on the child sleeping +on the bed, and then at his father's face. + +"Ay, wife," the wood-cutter began, speaking in the _Plattdeutsch_ used +by the dwellers in the Forest, "'tis a wonderful story I have to tell. +'Twas a big bit of work I had to finish to-day, first cutting and then +piling up the wood far in the Forest. I had worked hard, and was +wearying to be home with you and the children; but the last pile had to +be finished, and ere it was so the evening was darkening and the wind +was rising. So when the last log was laid I collected my things, and +putting on my blouse, set off at a quick pace for home. But remembering +I had a message to leave at the hut of Johann Schmidt, telling him to +meet me in the morning to fell a tree that had been marked for us by the +forester, I went round that way, which thou knowest leads deeper into +the Forest. Johann had just returned from his work, and after exchanging +a few words I turned homewards. + +"The road I took was not my usual one, but though it led through a very +dark part of the Forest, I thought it was a shorter way. As I got on I +was surprised to see how dark it was. Glimpses of light, it is true, +were visible, and the trees assumed strange shapes, and the Forest +streams glistened here and there as the rising moon touched them +with its beams. But the gathering clouds soon obscured the faint +moonlight.--You will laugh, Hans, when I tell you that despite what I +have so often said to you about not believing in the woodland spirits, +that even your good Muetterchen believes in, my heart beat quicker as now +one, now another of the gnarled trunks of the lower trees presented the +appearance of some human form; but I would not let my fear master me, so +only whistled the louder to keep up my courage, and pushed on my way. + +"The Forest grew darker and darker, and the wind began to make a wailing +sound in the tree-tops. A sudden fear came over me that I had missed my +way and was getting deeper into the Forest, and might not be able to +regain my homeward path till the morning dawned, when once more for a +few minutes the clouds parted and the moon shone out, feeble, no +doubt--for she is but in her first quarter--and her beams fell right +through an opening in the wood, and revealed the figure of a little +child seated at the foot of a fir tree. Alone in the Forest at that +time of night! My heart seemed to stand still, and I said to myself, +'Elsie is right after all. That can only be some spirit child, some +woodland being.' + +"A whisper in a little voice full of fear roused me and made me approach +the child. She looked up, ere she could see my face, and again repeated +the words in German (though not like what we speak here, but more the +language of the town, as I spoke it when I lived there as a boy), +'Father, father, I am glad you've come. I was feeling very frightened. +It is so dark here--so dark!' As I came nearer she gave a little cry of +disappointment, though not fear; and then I knew it was no woodland +sprite, but a living child who sat there alone at that hour in the +Forest. My heart went out to her, and kneeling down beside her I asked +her who she was, and how she came to be there so late at night. She +answered, in sweet childish accents, 'I am Frida Heinz, and fader and I +were walking through this big, big Forest, and by-and-by are going to +see England, where mother used to live long ago.' It was so pretty to +hear her talk, though I had difficulty in making out the meaning of her +words. 'But where then is your father?' I asked. I believe, wife, the +language I spoke was as difficult for her to understand as the words she +had spoken were to me, for she repeated them over as if wondering what +they meant. Then trying to recall the way I had spoken when a boy, which +I have never quite forgotten, I repeated my question. She understood, +and answered in her sweet babyish accents, 'Fader come back soon, he +told little Frida. He had lost the road, and he said I'se to wait here +till he came back, and laid his violin and his bag 'side me, and told me +to keep this little book, which he has taught me to read, 'cos he says +mother loved it so. Then he went away; and I've waited--oh so long, and +he's never come back, and I'se cold, so cold, and hungry, and I want my +own fader. O kind man, take Frida to him. And he's ill, so ill too! Last +night I heard the people in the place we slept in say he'd never live to +go through the Forest; but he would go, 'cos he wanted to take me 'cross +the sea.' Then the pretty little creature began to cry bitterly, and beg +me again to take her to father. I told her I would wait a bit with her, +and see if he came. For more than an hour I sat there beside her, trying +to warm and comfort her; for I tell you, Elsie, she seemed to creep into +my heart, and reminded me of our little one, who would have been about +her size had she been alive, though she was but three years old when she +died. + +"Well, time went on, and the night grew darker, and I knew how troubled +you would be, and yet I knew not what to do. I left the child for a bit, +and looked here and there in the Forest; but all was dark, and though I +called long and loud no answer came. So I returned, took the child in my +arms (for she is but a light weight), and with my tools thrown over my +shoulder, and the violin and bag in my hand, I made my way home. The +child cried awhile, saying she must wait for fader, then fell sound +asleep in my arms. Now, wife, would it not be well to undress her, and +give her some food ere she sleeps again, for she must be hungry?" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT. + + "Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me; + Bless Thy little lamb to-night." + + +"Indeed you are right, Wilhelm," said his wife. "No doubt the poor +little maid must be hungry, only I had not the heart to waken her.--See, +Hans, there is some goat's milk in the corner yonder. Get it heated, +whilst I cut a bit of this bread, coarse though it be. 'Tis all we have +to give her; but such as it is, she is right welcome to it, poor little +lamb." + +As she spoke she moved quietly to the bed where the child lay asleep. As +she woke she uttered the cry, "Fader, dear fader!" then raised herself +and looked around. Evidently the story of the day flashed upon her, and +she turned eagerly to the wood-cutter, asking if "fader" had come yet. + +On being told that he had not, she said no more, but her eyes filled +with tears. She took the bread and milk without resistance, though she +looked at the black bread as if it were repugnant to her. Then she let +herself be undressed by Elsie, directing her to open the bag, and +taking from it a nightdress of fine calico, a brush and comb, also a +large sponge, a couple of fine towels, a change of underclothing, two +pairs of stockings, and one black dress, finer than the one she wore. + +[Illustration: Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the +little "brown book."] + +Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the little "brown book," +which was a German Bible, and read aloud, slowly but distinctly, the +last verse of the Fourth Psalm: "Ich liege und schlafe ganz mit Frieden; +denn allein Du, Herr, hilfst mir, dass ich sicher wohne" ("I will both +lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in +safety"). Then she knelt down, and prayed in simple words her evening +prayer, asking God to let father come home, and to bless the kind people +who had given her a shelter, for Christ's sake. + +Elsie and Wilhelm looked at each other with amazement. Alas! there was +no fear of God in that house. Elsie might cross herself when she spoke +of spirits, but that was only as a superstitious sign that she had been +told frightened them away. + +Of Christ and His power to protect and save they knew nothing. Roman +Catholics by profession, they yet never darkened a church door, save +perhaps when they took a child to be baptized; but they only thought of +that ordinance as a protection to their child from the evil one. God's +holy Word was to them a sealed book. True, all the wood-cutters were not +like them, but still a spirit of ignorance and indifference as regarded +religion reigned amongst them; and if now and then a priest sought their +dwelling, his words (such as they were) fell on dull ears. Things seen +and temporal engrossed all their thoughts. The daily work, the daily +bread, and the nightly sleep--these filled their hearts and excluded +God. So it was not to be wondered at that little Frida's reading and +prayer were an astonishment to them. + +"What think you of that, Elsie?" said Wilhelm. "The child spoke as if +she were addressing some one in the room." + +"Ay, ay," answered his wife. "It was gruesome to hear her. She made me +look up to see if there was really any one there; and she wasn't +speaking to our Lady either. Art sure she is a child of earth at all, +Wilhelm?" + +"Ay, she's that; and the question is, wife, What shall we do with her? +Suppose the father never turns up, shall we keep her, or give her over +to them that have the charge of wanderers and such like?" + +Here Hans sprang forward. "Nay, father, nay! Do not send her away. She +is so pretty, and looks like the picture of an angel. I saw one in the +church where little Annchen was baptized. Oh, keep her, father!--Mutter, +do not send the little maid back into the forest!" + +But Elsie's woman's heart had no thought of so doing. "No, no, my lad," +she said. "Never fear; we'll keep the child till some one comes to take +her away that has a right to her. Who knows but mayhap she'll bring a +blessing on our house; for often I think we don't remember the Virgin +and the saints as we ought. My mother did, I know;" and as she spoke +great tears rolled down her cheeks. + +The child's prayer had touched a chord of memory, and recalled the days +of her childhood, when she had lived with parents who at least +reverenced the Lord, though they had not been taught to worship Him +aright. + +Wilhelm sat for a few minutes lost in thought. He was pondering the +question whether, supposing the child was left on his hands, he could +support her by doing extra work. It would be difficult, he knew; but if +Elsie were willing he'd try, for his kind heart recoiled from sending +the little child who clung to him so confidingly adrift amongst +strangers. No, he would not do so. + +After a while he turned to his wife, who had gone to the cradle where +lay their six-weeks-old baby, and was rocking it, as the child had cried +out in her sleep. + +"Elsie," he said, "I'll set off at break of day, and go amongst my +mates, and find out if they have seen or heard aught of the missing +gentleman.--Come, Hans," he said suddenly; "'tis time you were asleep." + +A few minutes later and Hans had tumbled into his low bed, and lay for a +short time thinking about Frida, and wondering who she had been speaking +to when she knelt down; but in the midst of his wondering he fell +asleep. + +Wilhelm, wearied with his day's work, was not long in following his +son's example, and was soon sound asleep; but no word of prayer rose +from his heart and lips to the loving Father in heaven, who had guarded +and kept him from the dangers of the day. + +Elsie was in no hurry to go to bed; her heart was full of many thoughts. +The child's prayer and the words out of the little book had strangely +moved her, and she was asking herself if there were indeed a God (as in +her childhood she had been taught to believe), what had she ever done to +please Him. + +Conscience said low, Nothing; but she tried to drown the thought, and +busied herself in cleaning the few dishes and putting the little room to +rights, then sat down for a few minutes beside the stove to think. + +Where could the father of the child be, she asked herself, and what +would be his feelings on returning to the place where he had left her +when he found she was no longer there? Could he have lost his way in the +great Forest? That was by no means unlikely; she had often heard of such +a thing as that happening. Then she wondered if there were any clue to +the child's friends or the place she was going to in the bag; and +rising, she took it up and opened it. + +Besides the articles we have already enumerated, she found a case full +of needles, some reels of cotton, a small book of German hymns, and a +double locket with chain attached to it. This Elsie succeeded in +opening, and on the one side was the picture of a singularly beautiful, +dark-eyed girl, on the verge of womanhood; and on the other a blue-eyed, +fair-haired young man, a few years older than the lady. Under the +pictures were engraved the words "Hilda" and "Friedrich." Elsie doubted +not that these were the likenesses of Frida's father and mother, for the +child bore a strong resemblance to both. She had the dark eyes of her +mother and the golden hair of her father, if such was the relationship +she bore to him. + +These pictures were the only clue to the child's parentage. No doubt she +wore a necklace quite unlike anything that Elsie had ever seen before; +but then, except in the shop windows, she had seen so few ornaments in +her life that she knew not whether it was a common one or not. + +She put the locket carefully back in its place, shut the bag, and +slipped across the room to take another glance at the sleeping child. +Very beautiful she looked as she lay, the fair, golden hair curling over +her head and falling round her neck. Her lips were slightly parted, and, +as if conscious of Elsie's approach, she muttered the word "fader." +Elsie patted her, and turned once more to the little cradle where lay +her infant. The child was awake and crying, and the mother stooped and +took her up, and sat down with her in her arms. A look of anxiety and +sadness crossed the mother's face when she observed that although she +flashed the little lamp in the baby's face her eyes never turned to the +light. + +For some time the terrible fear had been rising in her head that her +little Anna was blind. She had mentioned this to her husband, but he had +laughed at her, and said babies of that age never took much notice of +anything; but that was three weeks ago, and still, though the eyes +looked bright, and the child was intelligent, the eyes never followed +the light, nor looked up into the mother's face. + +The fear was now becoming certainty. Oh, if only she could make sure, +see some doctors, and find out if nothing could be done for her darling! + +A blind child! How could they support her, how provide for the wants of +one who could never help herself? + +Poor mother! her heart sank within her, for she knew nothing of the One +who has said, "Cast all your cares upon me, for I care for you." + +Now as she gazed at the child she became more than ever convinced that +that strange trial had fallen upon her. And to add to this new +difficulty, how could she undertake the charge and keeping of this +stranger so wonderfully brought to their door? + +Elsie, although no Christian, had a true, loving woman's heart beating +within her, and putting from her the very idea of sending away the lost +child, she said to herself, "The little that a child like that will take +will not add much to the day's expense; and even if it did, Elsie +Hoerstel is not the woman to cast out the forlorn child." Oh, the pity of +it that she did not know the words of Him who said, "Inasmuch as ye did +it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me;" and +again, "Whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth +me." But these words had never yet reached her ears, and as yet it was +only the instincts of a true God-created heart that led her to +compassionate and care for the child lost in the forest. + +Taking the babe in her arms, she slipped into bed and soon fell asleep. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +FRIDA'S FATHER. + + "And though we sorrow for the dead, + Let not our grief be loud, + That we may hear Thy loving voice + Within the light-lined cloud." + + +Early in the morning, ere wife or children were awake, and long before +the October sun had arisen, Wilhelm Hoerstel arose, and putting a hunch +of black bread and goat-milk cheese into his pocket, he shouldered his +axe and saw and went out into the Forest. + +The dawn was beginning to break, and there was light enough for the +practised eye of the wood-cutter to distinguish the path which he wished +to take through the Forest. + +Great stillness reigned around; even the twittering of the birds had +hardly begun--they were for the most part awaiting the rising of the +sun, though here and there an early bird might be heard chirping as it +flew off, no doubt in search of food. Even the frogs in the Forest ponds +had not yet resumed their croaking, and only the bubbling of a brooklet +or the falling of a tiny cascade from the rocks (which abound in some +parts of the Forest) was heard. The very silence which pervaded, calmed, +and to a Christian mind would have raised the thoughts Godward. But it +had no such influence on the heart, the kindly heart, of the young +wood-cutter as he walked on, bent only on reaching the small hamlet or +"Dorf" where stood the hut of the man with whom he sought to hold +counsel as to how a search could be instituted in the Forest for the +father of little Frida. + +As he reached the door, and just as the sun was rising above the +hill-tops, and throwing here and there its golden beams through the +autumn-tinted trees, he saw not one but several wood-cutters and +charcoal-burners going into the house of his friend Johann Schmidt. +Somewhat wondering he hastened his steps, and entered along with them, +putting as he did so the question, "_Was gibt's?_" (What is the matter?) +His friend, who came forward to greet him, answered the question by +saying, "Come and help us, Wilhelm; a strange thing has happened here +during the night. + +"Soon after Gretchen and I had fallen asleep, we were awakened by the +noise of some heavy weight falling at the door; and on going to see what +it was, there, to our amazement, lay a man, evidently in a faint. We got +him into our hut, and after a while he became conscious, looked around +him, and said 'Frida!' Gretchen tried to find out who it was he wished, +but could only make out it was a child whom he had left in the Forest; +but whether he was still delirious none could tell. He pressed his hand +on his heart and said he was very ill, and again muttering the word, +'Frida, Armseliger Frida,' he again fainted away. + +"We did what we could for him, and he rallied a little; and then an hour +ago, Gretchen stooping over him heard him say, 'Herr Jesu. Ob ich schon +wandelte im finstern Thal fuerchete ich kein Unglueck: denn Du bist bei +mir' ('Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will +fear no evil: for thou art with me'); and giving one deep breath his +spirit fled." + +As their mate said these words, exclamations of sorrow were heard +around. "_Ach_, poor man!" said one. "Thinkest thou the child he spoke +of can be in the Forest?" "And the words he said about fearing no evil, +what did they mean?" said another. "Well," said one who looked like a +chief man amongst them, "I believe he was _ein Ketzer_, and if that be +so we had better send to Dringenstadt, where there is a _ketzer Pfarrer_ +[heretic pastor], and get his advice. I heard the other day that a new +one had come whom they called Herr Langen." + +Then as a momentary pause came, Wilhelm Hoerstel stepped forward and told +the tale of the child he had found in the Forest the night before, who +called herself Frida. The men listened with amazement, but with one +breath they all declared she must be the child of whom the dead man had +spoken. + +"Ay," said Wilhelm, "and I am sure she is the child of a _Ketzer_ +[heretic]; for what think ye a child like that did ere she went to bed? +She prayed, and my wife says never a word said she to the Virgin, but +spoke just straight to God." + +"_Ach_, poor _Maedchen_!" said another of the men; "does she think the +Lord would listen to the prayer of a child like her? The blessed Virgin +have pity on her;" and as he spoke he crossed himself. + +"If these things be so," said the chief man, by name Jacob Heine, "then +it is plain one of us must go off to Dringenstadt, see the _Pfarrer_, +and settle about the funeral." + +His proposal was at once agreed to, and as he was overseer of the +wood-cutters, and could not leave his work, Johann Schmidt, in whose hut +the man had died, was chosen as the best man to go; whilst Wilhelm +should return to his home, and then take the child to see her dead +father. + +"Yes, bring the _Maedchen_" (little maid), said all, "and let us see her +also; seems as if she belongs to us all, found in the Forest as she +was." + +There was no time to be lost, for the sun was already well up, and the +men should have been at work long ago. + +So they dispersed, some going to their work deeper in the Forest, +Wilhelm retracing his way home, and Johann taking the path which led +through the wood to the little town of Dringenstadt. + +As Wilhelm approached his door, the little Frida darted to him, saying, +"Have you found my fader? Oh, take me to him! Frida must go to her +fader." Tears rose to the wood-cutter's eyes, as lifting the child in +his arms he entered the hut, and leaving Frida there with Hans, he +beckoned his wife to speak to him outside; and there he told her the +story of the man who had died in Johann's cottage. + +"Ah, then," said Elsie, "the little Frida is indeed an orphan, poor +lambie. How shall we tell her, Wilhelm? Her little heart will break. +Ever since she woke she has prattled on about him; ay" (and the woman's +voice lowered as she spoke), "and of a Father who she says lives in +heaven and cares both for her earthly father and herself. And, Wilhelm, +she's been reading aloud to Hans and me about the Virgin's Son of whom +my mother used to speak." + +"Well, never mind about all that, wife, but let us tell the child; for I +and my mates think she should be taken to see the body, and so make sure +that the man was really her father." + + * * * * * + +"Fader dead!" said the child, as she sat on Wilhelm's knee and heard the +sad story. "Dead! Shall Frida never see him again, nor walk with him, +nor talk with him? Oh! dear, dear fader, why did you die and leave Frida +all alone? I want you, I want you!" and the child burst into a flood of +tears. + +They let her cry on, those kind-hearted people--nay, they wept with her; +but after some minutes had passed, Wilhelm raised her head, and asked +her if she would not like to see her father once more, though he could +not speak to her now. + +"Yes, oh yes! take me to see him!" she exclaimed. "Oh, take me!" Then +looking eagerly up she said, "Perhaps Jesus can make him live again, +like he did Lazarus, you know. Can't he?" But alas! of the story of +Lazarus being raised from the dead these two people knew nothing; and +when they asked her what she meant, and she said her father had read to +her about it out of her little brown book, they only shook their heads, +and Wilhelm said, "I feared there was something wrong about that little +book. How could any one be raised from the dead?" + +Frida's passionate exclamations of love and grief when she saw the dead +body of the man who lay in Johann Schmidt's hut removed all doubt from +the minds of those who heard her as to the relationship between them; +and the manner in which the child turned from a crucifix which Gretchen +brought forward to her, thinking it would comfort her, convinced them +more firmly that the poor man had indeed been a heretic. + +No! father never prayed to that, nor would he let _her_ do so, she +said--just to Jesus, dear Jesus in heaven; and though several of those +who heard her words crossed themselves as she spoke, and prayed the +Virgin to forgive, all were much taken with and deeply sorry for the +orphan child; and when Wilhelm raised her in his arms to take her back +to his hut and to the care of Elsie, more than one of the inhabitants of +the Dorf brought some little gift from their small store to be taken +with him to help in the maintenance of the little one so strangely +brought among them. Ere they left the Dorf, Johann Schmidt had returned +from executing his message to Dringenstadt. He had seen the _Pfarrer_, +and he had promised to come along presently and arrange about the +funeral. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +THE PARSONAGE. + + "The Lord thy Shepherd is-- + Dread not nor be dismayed-- + To lead thee on through stormy paths, + By ways His hand hath made." + + +On the morning of the day that we have written of, the young Protestant +pastor of Dringenstadt was seated in a room of the small house which +went by the name of "Das Pfarrhaus." + +He was meditating more than studying just then. He felt his work there +an uphill one. Almost all the people in that little town were Roman +Catholics. His own flock was a little one indeed, and only that morning +he had received a letter telling him that it had been settled that no +regular ministry would be continued there, as funds were not +forthcoming, and the need in one sense seemed small. He had come there +only a few months before, knowing well that he might only be allowed to +remain a short time; but now that the order for his removal elsewhere +had come, he felt discouraged and sad. Was it right, he was asking +himself, to withdraw the true gospel light from the people, and to leave +the few, no doubt very few, who loved it to themselves? Karl Langen was +a true Christian, longing to lead souls to Jesus, and was much perplexed +by the order he had received. Suddenly a knock at the door roused him, +and the woman who took charge of his house on entering told him that a +man from the Forest wished to speak to him. Telling her to send him in +at once, he awaited his entry. + +Johann Schmidt was shown into the room, and told his sorrowful tale in a +quiet, manly way. + +The pastor was much moved, and repeated with amazement the words, "A +child lost in the Black Forest, and the father dead, you say? Certainly +I will come and see. But why, my friend, should you think the man was an +Evangelisch?" Then Johann told of the words he had repeated, of the +child's prayer and her little brown book. + +Suddenly a light seemed to dawn on the mind of the young pastor. "Oh!" +he said, "I believe you are right. I think I have seen both the father +and the child. Last Sunday there came into our church a gentleman and a +lovely little girl, just such a one as you describe the child you speak +of to be. I tried to speak to them after worship, but ere I could do so +they had gone. And no one could tell me who they were or whither they +had gone. I will now see the Buergermeister about the funeral, and make +arrangements regarding it. I think through some friends of mine I can +get money sufficient to pay all expenses." + +Johann thanked him warmly, and hastened back to tell what had been +agreed on, and then got off to his work. + +Late in the afternoon Pastor Langen took his way to the little hut in +the Black Forest. + +The Forest by the road he took was not well known to him, and the solemn +quiet which pervaded it struck him much and raised his thoughts to God. +It was as if he had entered the sanctuary and heard the voice of the +Lord speaking to him. It was, as a poet has expressed it, as if + + "Solemn and silent everywhere, + The trees with folded hands stood there, + Kneeling at their evening prayer." + +Only the slight murmuring of the breeze amongst the leaves, or the +flutter of a bird's wing as it flew from branch to branch, broke the +silence. All around him there was + + "A slumberous sound, a sound that brings + The feeling of a dream, + As when a bell no longer swings, + Faint the hollow echo rings + O'er meadow, lake, and stream." + +As he walked, he thought much of the child found in the Forest, and he +wondered how he could help her or find out to whom she belonged. Oh, if +only, he said to himself, he had been able to speak to the father the +day he had seen him, and learned something of his history! Johann had +told him that if no clue could be found to the child's relations, +Wilhelm Hoerstel had determined to bring her up; but Johann had added, +"We will not, poor though we be, let the whole expense of her upbringing +fall on the Hoerstels. No; we will go share for share, and she shall be +called the child of the wood-cutters." + +As he thought of these words, the young pastor prayed for the kind, +large-hearted men, asking that the knowledge of the loving Christ might +shine into their hearts and bring spiritual light into the darkness +which surrounded them. The afternoon had merged into evening ere he +entered the wood-cutters' Dorf. As he neared Johann's hut, Gretchen came +to the door, and he greeted her with the words, "The Lord be with you, +and bless you for your kindness to the poor man in the time of his +need." + +"Come in, sir," she said, "and see the corpse. Oh, but he's been a +fine-looking man, and he so young too. It was a sight to see his bit +child crying beside him and begging him to say one word to her--just one +word. Then she folded her hands, and looking up said, 'O kind Jesus, who +made Lazarus come to life, make dear fader live again.' Oh, 'twas +pitiful to see her! Who think you, sir, was the man she spoke of called +Lazarus? When I asked her she said it was all written in her little +brown book, which she would bring along and read to me some day, bless +the little creature." + +The pastor said some words about the story being told by the Lord Jesus, +and recorded in the Holy Scriptures. He did not offer her a Testament, +as he knew if the priest heard (as it was likely he would) of his having +been there, he would ask if they had been given a Bible, and so trouble +would follow. But he rejoiced that the little child had it in her heart +to read the words of life to the kind woman, and he breathed a prayer +that her little brown Bible might prove a blessing to those poor +wood-cutters. + +Pastor Langen at once recognized the features of the dead man as those +of the stranger whom he had seen with the lovely child in the little +church. He then made arrangements for the funeral the next day, and +departed. + + * * * * * + +On the morrow a number of wood-cutters met at the house of Johann +Schmidt to attend the funeral of the stranger gentleman. Wilhelm +Hoerstel, and his wife, Hans, and little Frida, were there also. The +child was crying softly, as if she realized that even the corpse of her +father was to be taken from her. + +Presently the young pastor entered, and the moment Frida saw him she +started forward, saying in her child language, "O sir, I've seen you +before, when fader and I heard you preach some days ago." All this was +said in the pure German language, which the people hardly followed at +all, but which was the same as the pastor himself spoke. He at once +recognized the child, and sought to obtain from her some information +regarding her father. She only said, as she had already done, that he +was going to England to see some friends of her mother's. When +questioned as to their name, she could not tell. All that she knew was +that they were relations of her mother's. Yes, her father loved his +Bible, and had given her such a nice little brown one which had belonged +to her mother. + +Could she speak any English, the pastor asked. + +"Yes, I can," said Frida. "Mother taught me a number of words, and I +can say 'Good-morning,' and 'How are you to-day?' Also mother taught me +to say the Lord's Prayer in English. But I do not know much English, for +father and mother always spoke German to each other." + +No more could be got from the child then, and the simple service was +gone on with; and when the small procession set off for Dringenstadt, +the kindly men took it by turns to carry the little maiden in their +arms, as the walk through the forest was a long one for a child. + +In the churchyard of the quiet little German town they laid the mortal +remains of Friedrich Heinz, to await the resurrection morning. + +Tears rose to the eyes of many onlookers as Frida threw herself, +sobbing, on the grave of her father. Wilhelm and Elsie strove in vain to +raise her, but when Pastor Langen drew near and whispered the words, +"Look up, Frida; thy father is not here, he is with Jesus," a smile of +joy played on the child's face, and rising she dried her tears, and +putting her hand into that of Elsie she prepared to leave the "God's +acre," and the little party set off for their home in the Black Forest. + +Darkness had fallen on all around ere they reached the Dorf, and strange +figures that the trees and bushes assumed appeared to the superstitious +mind of Elsie and some of the others as the embodiment of evil spirits, +and they wished themselves safe under the shelter of their little huts. + +That night the little stranger child mingled her tears with her prayers, +and to Elsie's amazement she heard her ask her Father in heaven to take +greater care of her now than ever, because she had no longer a father on +earth to do it. Little did the kneeling child imagine that that simple +prayer was used by the Holy Spirit to touch the heart of the +wood-cutter's wife. + +And from the lips of Elsie ere she fell asleep that night arose a cry to +the Father in heaven for help. True, it was but + + "As an infant crying in the night, + An infant crying for the light, + And with no language but a cry." + +But still there was a felt need, and a recognition that there was One +who could meet and satisfy it. + +At all events Elsie Hoerstel clasped her blind babe to her heart that +night, and fell asleep with a feeling of rest and peace to which she had +long been a stranger. + +Ah! God had a purpose for the little child and her brown Bible in that +little hut of which she as yet had no conception. Out of the mouths of +babes and sucklings He still perfects praise. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE WOODMEN'S PET. + + "Lord, make me like the gentle dew, + That other hearts may prove, + E'en through Thy feeblest messenger, + Thy ministry of love." + + +Pastor Langen, ere leaving Dringenstadt, visited the hut in the Black +Forest where Frida had found a home. + +His congregation, with two or three exceptions, was a poor one, and +his own means were small; yet he had contrived to collect a small +sum for Frida's maintenance, which he had put into the hands of the +Buergermeister, who undertook to pay the interest of it quarterly to the +Hoerstels on behalf of the child. True, the sum was small, but it was +sufficient to be a help; and a kind lady of the congregation, Fraeulein +Drechsler, said she would supply her from time to time with dress, and +when she could have her now and then with herself, instruct her in the +Protestant faith and the elements of education. Frida could already +read, and had begun to write, taught by her father. Every effort was +being made to discover if the child had any relations alive. The +Buergermeister had put advertisements in many papers, German and +English, but as yet no answer had come, and many of the wood-cutters +still held the opinion that the child was the offspring of some woodland +spirit. But in spite of any such belief, Frida had a warm welcome in +every hut in the Dorf, and a kindly word from every man and woman in it. + +The "woodland child" they called her, and as such cherished and +protected her. Many a "bite and sup" she got from them. Many a warm pair +of stockings, or a knitted petticoat done by skilful hands, did the +inmates of the Dorf present to her. They did what they could, these poor +people, for the orphan child, just out of the fullness of their kind +hearts, little thinking of the blessing that through her was to descend +on them. The day of Pastor Langen's visit to the hut, some time after +her father's funeral, Frida was playing beside the door, and on seeing +him coming up the path she rose from the spot where she was sitting and +ran eagerly to meet him. + +But though unseen by her, he had been standing near for some time +spell-bound by the music which, child though she was, she was bringing +out of her father's violin, in the playing of which she was amusing +herself. + +From a very early age her father, himself a skilled violinist, had +taught her to handle the bow, and had early discovered the wonderful +talent for music which she possessed. + +The day of which we write was the first one since her father's death +that Frida had played on the violin, so neither Wilhelm nor Elsie was +aware that she could do so at all. The pastor was approaching the +cottage when the sound of music reached his ears, and having a good +knowledge of that art himself, he stood still to listen. A few minutes +convinced him that though the playing was that of a child, still the +performer had the true soul of music, and only needed full instruction +to develop into a musician of no ordinary talent. As he drew nearer his +surprise was great to see that the player was none other than the +beautiful child found in the Black Forest. Attracted by the sound of +steps, Frida had turned round, and seeing her friend had, as we have +written, bounded off to meet him. Hearing that Elsie had taken her babe +and gone a message to the Dorf, he seated himself on a knoll with the +child and began to talk to her. + +"How old are you?" he asked her. + +"Seven years and more," she replied; "because I remember my birthday was +only a little while before Muetterchen (I always called her that) died, +and that that day she took the locket she used to wear off her neck and +gave it to me, telling me always to keep it." + +"And have you that locket still?" queried the pastor. + +"Yes; Elsie has it carefully put away. There is a picture of Muetterchen +on the one side, and of my father on the other." + +"And did your mother ever speak to you of your relations either in +Germany or England?" + +"Yes, she did sometimes. She spoke of grandmamma in England and +grandpapa also, and she said they lived in a beautiful house; but she +never told me their name, nor where their house was. Father, of course, +knew, for he said he was going to take me there, and he used to speak of +a brother of his whom he said he dearly loved." + +"But tell me," asked the pastor, "where did you live with your parents +in Germany?" + +"Oh, in a number of different places, but never long at the same place. +Father played at concerts just to make money, and we never remained long +anywhere--we were always moving about." + +"And your parents were Protestants?" + +"I don't know what that means," said the child. "But they were often +called 'Ketzers' by the people where he lodged. And they would not pray +to the Virgin Mary, as many did, but taught me to pray to God in the +name of Jesus Christ. And Muetterchen gave me a little 'brown Bible' for +my very own, which she said her mother had given to her. Oh, I must show +it to you, sir!" and, darting off, the child ran into the house, +returning with the treasured book in her hand. The pastor examined it +and read the inscription written on the fly-leaf--"To my dear Hilda, +from her loving mother, on her eighteenth birthday." That was all, but +he felt sure from the many underlined passages that the book had been +well studied. He found that Frida could read quite easily, and that she +had been instructed in Scripture truth. + +Ere he bade her farewell he asked her to promise him to read often from +her little Bible to Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans. "For who knows, little +Frida, that the Lord may not have chosen you to be a child missionary to +the wood-cutters, and to read to them out of His holy Word." + +Frida thought over these words, though she hardly took in their full +meaning; but she loved her Bible, and wished that the people who were so +kind to her loved it also. + +On his way home the pastor met Elsie with her babe in her arms, and told +her of his farewell visit to Frida, and of his delight with the child's +musical talent, and advised her to encourage her as much as possible to +play on the violin. + +Elsie's face brightened as he spoke, for she and her husband, like many +of the German peasants, dearly loved music. + +"O sir," she said, "have you heard her sing? It is just beautiful and +wonderful to hear her; she beats the very birds themselves." + +Thanking her once more for her care of the orphan child, and commending +her to God, the pastor went on his way, musing much on the future of the +gifted child, and wondering what could be done as regarded her +education. + +In the meantime Elsie went home, and entrusting her babe to the care of +Frida, who loved the little helpless infant, she made ready for her +husband's return from his work. Hans had gone that day to help his +father in the wood, which he loved much to do, so Elsie and Frida were +alone. + +"Mutter," said the child (for she had adopted Hans's way of addressing +Elsie), "the pastor was here to-day, and he played to me--oh so +beautifully--on my violin, it reminded me of father, and made me cry. O +Mutter, I wish some one could teach me to play on it as father did. You +see I was just beginning to learn a little how to do it, and I do love +it so;" and as she spoke, the child joined her hands together and looked +pleadingly at Elsie. + +"_Ach_, poor child," replied Elsie, "how canst thou be taught here?" + +And that night when Elsie repeated to Wilhelm Frida's desire for lessons +on the violin, the worthy couple grieved that they could do nothing to +gratify her wish. + +Day after day and week after week passed, and still no answer came to +any of the advertisements about the child; and save for her own sake +none of the dwellers in the wood wished it otherwise, for the "woodland +child," as they called her, had won her way into every heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ELSIE AND THE BROWN BIBLE. + + "Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path." + + +Frida, as time went on, was growing hardy and strong in the bracing +Forest air. Every kindness was lavished on her, and the child-spirit had +asserted itself, and though often tears would fill her eyes as something +or other reminded her vividly of the past, yet her merry laughter was +often heard as she played with Hans in the woods. Yet through all her +glee there was at times a seriousness of mind remarkable in one so +young, also a power of observation as regarded others not often +noticeable in one of her years. She had become warmly attached to the +kind people amongst whom her lot was cast, and especially so to Elsie. +Several times she had observed her looking anxiously at the babe in her +arms, taking her to the light and endeavouring to attract her attention +to the plaything which she held before her. Then when the babe, now some +months old, showed no signs of observing it, Frida would see a great +tear roll down Elsie's cheek, and once she heard her mutter the words, +"Blind! my baby's blind!" Was it possible? Frida asked herself; for the +child's eyes looked bright, and she felt sure she knew her, and had +often stretched out her little arms to be taken up by her. "No," she +repeated again, "she cannot be blind!" Poor little Frida knew not that +it was her voice that the baby recognized. Often she had sung her to +sleep when Elsie had left her in her charge. Already father and mother +had noted with joy the power that music had over their blind babe. One +day Frida summoned courage to say, "Mutter, dear Mutter, why are you sad +when you look at little Anna? I often notice you cry when you do so." + +At that question the full heart of the mother overflowed. "O Frida, +little Frida, the babe is blind! She will never see the light of day nor +the face of her father and mother. Wilhelm knows it now: we took her to +Dringenstadt last week, and the doctor examined her eyes and told us she +_ist blind geboren_ [born blind]. O my poor babe, my poor babe!" + +Frida slipped her hand into that of the poor mother, and said gently, "O +Mutter, Jesus can make the babe to see if we ask Him. He made so many +blind people to see when He was on earth, and He can do so still. Let me +read to you about it in my little brown book;" and the child brought her +Bible and read of Jesus healing the two blind men, and also of the one +in John ix. who said, "Whereas I was blind, now I see." + +Elsie listened eagerly, and said, "And it was Jesus the Virgin's Son who +did that, do you say? Read me more about Him." And the child read on, +how with one touch Jesus opened the eyes of the blind. She read also how +they brought the young children to Jesus, and He took them into His +arms and blessed them, and said to His disciples, "Suffer the little +children to come unto me, and forbid them not: for of such is the +kingdom of heaven." + +"Oh," said Elsie, "if only that Jesus were here now, I'd walk miles and +miles to take my Anna to Him; but, alas! He is not here now." + +Frida was a young child, and hardly knew how to answer the troubled +mother; but her faith was a simple one, so she answered, "No, Jesus is +not here now, but He is in heaven, and He answers us when we pray to +Him. Father once read to me the words in Matthew's Gospel--see, here +they are--'Ask, and it shall be given you.' Shall we ask Him now?" and +kneeling down she prayed in child language, "O Lord Jesus, who dost hear +and answer prayer, make little Anna to see as Thou didst the blind men +when Thou wert on earth, and oh, comfort poor Elsie!" + +As she rose from her knees, Elsie threw her arms round her, saying, "O +Frida, I do believe the God my mother believed in hath sent thee here to +be a blessing to us!" + +Often after that day Frida would read out of her brown Bible to Elsie +about Jesus, His life and His atoning death. And sometimes in the +evening, when Hans would sit cutting out various kinds of toys, for +which he had a great turn, and could easily dispose of them in the shops +at Dringenstadt, she would read to him also; and he loved to hear the +Old Testament stories of Moses and Jacob, Joseph, and Daniel in the +lion's den; also of David, the sweet psalmist of Israel, who had once +been a shepherd boy. They were all new to poor Hans, and from them he +learned something of the love God has to His children; but it was ever +of Jesus that Elsie loved to hear, and again and again she got the child +to read to her the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest." And erelong it was evident, +though she would scarcely have acknowledged it, that she was seeking not +only the rest but the "_Rest_-Giver." And we know that He who gave the +invitation has pledged His word that whosoever cometh to Him He will in +no wise cast out. + +All this while Wilhelm seemed to take no notice of the Bible readings. +Once or twice, when he had returned from his work, he had found Frida +reading to his wife and boy, and he had lingered for a minute or two at +the door to catch some of the words; but he made no remark, and +interrupted the reading by asking if supper were ready. But often later +in the evening he would ask the child to bring out her violin and play +to him, or to sing one of his favourite songs, after which she would +sing a hymn of praise; but as yet it was the sweetness of the singer's +voice and not the beauty of the words that he loved to listen to. But +notwithstanding, by the power of the Holy Ghost, the Bible was doing its +work--slowly, it may be, but surely; so true is it that God's word shall +not return to Him void. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IN DRINGENSTADT. + + "Sing them over again to me, + Wonderful words of love." + + +Three years had passed. Summer had come round again. Fresh green leaves +quivered on the trees of the Forest, though the pines still wore their +dark clothing. The song of the birds was heard, and the little brooks +murmured along their course with a joyful tinkling sound. + +In the Forest it was cool even at noontide, but in Dringenstadt the heat +was oppressive, and in spite of the sun-blinds the glare of light even +indoors was excessive. + +In a pleasant room, into which the sun only shone through a thick canopy +of green leaves, sat a lady with an open book in her hand. It was an +English one, and the dictionary by her side showed it was not in a +language she was altogether familiar with. The book evidently recalled +memories of the past. Every now and then she paused in her reading, and +the look which came into her eyes told that her thoughts had wandered +from the present surroundings to other places, and it might be other +days. + +Sitting beside her, engaged in doing a sum of arithmetic, was a +beautiful child of some ten years old, neatly though plainly dressed. +The lady's eyes rested on her from time to time, as if something in her +appearance, as well as the book she was reading, recalled other days and +scenes. + +"Frida," she said, for the child was none other than our little friend +found in the Forest, "have you no recollections of ever hearing your +mother speak of the home of her childhood, or of her companions there?" + +"No, dear Miss Drechsler, I do not remember her ever speaking of any +companions; but she told me about her mother and father, and that they +lived in a beautiful house in England, somewhere in the country; and +whenever she spoke of her mother she used to cry, and then she would +kiss me, and wish she could show me to her, for she knew she would love +me, and I am sure it was to her that my father was taking me when he +died. See, here is my little brown Bible which her mother gave to her +and she gave to me." + +Miss Drechsler took the Bible in her hand, and examined the writing, and +noted the name "Hilda;" but neither of them seemed to recall any special +person to her memory. + +"Strange," she said to herself; "and yet that child's face reminds me +vividly of some one whom I saw when I was in England some years ago, +when living as governess to the Hon. Evelyn Warden, and I always connect +it with some fine music which I heard at that time." + +Then changing the subject, she said abruptly, "Frida dear, bring your +violin and let me hear how far you are prepared for your master +to-morrow." + +Miss Drechsler, true to her promise to the German pastor, had kept a +look-out on the child known as "the wood-cutters' pet," who lived in the +little hut in the Black Forest. From the time Pastor Langen had left, +she had her often living with herself for days at a time at +Dringenstadt, and was conducting her education; but as she often had to +leave that town for months, Frida still had her home great part of the +year with the Hoerstels in the Forest. At the time we write of, Miss +Drechsler had returned to her little German home, and Frida, who was +once more living with her, was getting, at her expense, lessons in +violin-playing. She bid fair to become an expert in the art which she +dearly loved. She was much missed by the kind people in the Forest +amongst whom she had lived so long. Just as, at Miss Drechsler's +request, she had produced her violin and begun to play on it, a servant +opened the door and said that a man from the Forest was desirous of +seeing Fraeulein Heinz. The girl at once put down her instrument and ran +to the door, where she found her friend Wilhelm awaiting her. + +"Ah, Frida, canst come back with me to the Forest? There is sorrow +there. In one house Johann Schmidt lies nigh to death, caused by an +accident when felling a tree. He suffers much, and Gretchen is in sore +trouble. And the Volkmans have lost their little boy. You remember him, +Frida; he and our Hans used to play together. And our little Anna seems +pining away, and Elsie and all of them are crying out for you to come +back and comfort them with the words of your little book. Johann said +this morning, when his wife proposed sending for the priest, 'No, +Gretchen, no. I want no priest; but oh, I wish little Frida were here to +read to me from her brown book about Jesus Christ our great High Priest, +who takes away our sins, and is always praying for us.'" + +"Oh, I remember," interrupted Frida. "I read to him once about Jesus +ever living 'to make intercession for us.' Yes, Wilhelm, I'll come with +you. I know Miss Drechsler will say I should go, for she often tells me +I really belong to the kind people in the Forest." And so saying, she +ran off to tell her story to her friend. + +Miss Drechsler at once assented to her return to the Forest to give what +help she could to the people there, adding that she herself would come +up soon to visit them, and bring them any comforts necessary for them +such as could not be easily got by them. Ere they parted she and Frida +knelt together in prayer, and Miss Drechsler asked that God would use +the child as His messenger to the poor, sorrowing, suffering ones in the +Forest; after which she took Frida's Bible and put marks in at the +different passages which she thought would be suitable to the different +cases of the people that Wilhelm had spoken of. + +It was late in the afternoon ere Wilhelm and Frida reached the hut of +Johann Schmidt, where he left the child for a while, whilst he went on +to the Volkmans to tell them of Frida's return, and that she hoped to +see them the next day. Gretchen met the girl with a cry of delight. + +"_Ach!_ there she comes, our own little Fraeulein. What a pleasure it is +to see thee again, our woodland pet! And see, here is my Johann laid up +in bed, nearly killed by the falling of a tree." + +The sick man raised himself as he heard the child's voice saying as she +entered, in reply to Gretchen's words, "Oh, I am sorry, so sorry! Why +did you not tell me sooner?" And in another moment she was sitting +beside Johann, speaking kind, comforting words to him. He stroked her +hair fondly, and answered her questions as well as he could; but there +was a far-away look in his eyes as if his thoughts were in some region +distant from the one he was living in now. After a few minutes he asked +eagerly,-- + +"Have you the little brown book with you now?" + +"Yes, I have," was the reply. "Shall I read to you now, Johann? for +Wilhelm is to come for me soon." + +"Yes, read, read," he said; "for I am weary, so weary." + +Frida turned quickly to the eleventh chapter of Matthew, and read +distinctly in the German, which he could understand, and which she could +now speak also, the words, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are +heavy laden, and I will give you rest." + +He stopped her there. "Read that again," he said. She complied, and then +he turned to her, saying, "And Jesus, the Son of God, said that? Will He +give it to me, thinkest thou?" + +"Yes," she said, "He will; for He has promised to do it, and He never +breaks His word." + +"Well, if that be so, kneel down, pretty one, and ask Him to give it me, +for I need it sorely." + +Frida knelt, and in a few simple words besought the Saviour to give His +rest and peace to the suffering man. + +"Thanks, little Frida," he said as she rose. "I believe that prayer will +be answered." And shutting his eyes he fell quietly asleep, and Frida +slipped out of the room and joined Wilhelm in the Forest. + +"Is little Anna so very ill?" she queried as they walked. + +"I fear she is," was the answer the father gave, with tears in his eyes. +"The mother thinks so also; though the child, bless her, is so good and +patient we hardly know whether she suffers or not. She just lies still +mostly on her bed now, and sings to herself little bits of hymns, or +speaks about the land far away, which she says you told her about, and +where she says she is going to see Jesus. Then her mother begins to cry; +but she also speaks about that bright land. 'Deed it puzzles me to know +where they have learned so much about it, unless it be from your little +brown book. And the child has often asked where Frida is. 'I want to +hear her sing again,' she says." + +"O Wilhelm, why did you not come for me when she said that?" + +"Well, you see, I had promised the pastor that I would let you visit +Miss Drechsler as often as possible, and then you were getting on so +nicely with your violin that we felt as if we had no right to call you +back to us. But see, here we are, and there is Hans looking out for us." + +But Hans, instead of rushing to meet them as he usually did, ran back +hastily to his mother, calling out, "Here they come, here they come!" + +"Oh, I am glad!" she said.--"Anna, dear Anna, you will hear Frida's +voice again." + +The mother looked round with a smile, but moved not, for the dying child +lay in her arms. A moment longer, and Frida was beside her, her arms +round the blind child. + +"Annchen, dear Annchen, speak to me," she entreated--"just one word, to +say you know me. It is Frida come home, and she will not leave you +again, but will tell you stories out of the little brown book." + +A look of intelligence crossed the face of the blind child, and she +said,-- + +"Dear Frida, tell Annchen 'bout Jesus, and sing." + +Frida, choking back her sobs, opened her Bible and read the story that +little Anna loved, of Jesus taking the children in His arms and blessing +them; then sang a hymn of the joys of heaven, where He is seen face to +face, and where there is "no more pain, neither sorrow nor crying, +neither is there any more death," and where His redeemed ones _see_ His +face. + +The mother, almost blinded with tears, heard her child whisper, "'See +His face;' then Annchen will see Him too, won't she, Frida?" + +"Yes, Annchen. There your eyes will be open, and you will be blind no +more." + +As Frida said these words she heard one deep-drawn breath, one cry, +"Fader, Mutter, Jesus!" and the little one was gone into that land +where the first face she saw was that of her loving Saviour, whom +"having not seen she loved," and the beauties of that land which had +been afar off burst on her eyes, which were no longer blind. + +Poor father! poor mother! look up; your child sees now, and will await +your coming to the golden gates. + +Heartfelt tears were shed on earth by that death-bed, but there was a +song of great rejoicing in heaven over another ransomed soul entering +heaven, and also over another sinner entering the kingdom of God on +earth, as Wilhelm Hoerstel bent his knee by the bed where his dead child +lay, and in broken words asked the Saviour whom that child had gone to +see face to face to receive him as a poor sinner, and make him all he +ought to be. In after-years he would often say that it was the words +little Frida, the woodland child, had read and sung to his blind darling +that led him, as they had already led his wife, to the feet of Jesus. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE VIOLIN-TEACHER AND THE CONCERT. + + "There in an arched and lofty room + She stands in fair white dress, + Where grace and colour and sweet sound + Combine and cluster all around, + And rarest taste express." + + +Three years had passed since all that was mortal of the blind child was +laid to rest in the quiet God's acre near where the body of Frida's +father lay. After the funeral of little Anna, Frida at her own request +returned to the Forest with her friends, anxious to help and comfort +Elsie, who she knew would sorely miss the blind child, who had been such +a comfort and companion to her when both Wilhelm and Hans were busy at +work in the woods; but after remaining with them for a few months, she +again returned for a part of each year to Dringenstadt, and made rapid +progress under Miss Drechsler's tuition with her education, and +especially with her music. + +The third summer after little Anna's death, Frida was again spending +some weeks in the Forest. It was early summer when she returned there. +Birds and insects were busy in the Forest, and the wood-cutters were +hard at work loading the carts with the piles of wood which the +large-eyed, strong, patient-looking oxen conveyed to the town. Loud +sounded the crack of the carters' whips as they urged on the slow-paced +oxen. Often in those days Frida, accompanied by Elsie (who had now no +little child to detain her at home), would take Wilhelm's and Hans's +simple dinner with them to carry to them where they worked. + +One day Frida left Elsie talking to her husband and boy, and strolled a +little way further into the Forest, gathering the flowers that grew at +the foot of the trees, and admiring the soft, velvety moss that here and +there covered the ground, when suddenly she was startled by the sounds +of footsteps quite near her, and looking hastily round, saw to her +amazement the figure of the young violinist from whom she had lately +taken lessons. + +"Fraeulein Heinz," he said, as he caught sight of the fair young girl as +she stood, flowers in hand, "I rejoice to meet you, for I came in search +of you. Pupils of mine in the town of Baden-Baden, many miles from here, +where I often reside, are about to have an amateur concert, and they +have asked me to bring any pupil with me whom I may think capable of +assisting them. They are English milords, and are anxious to assist +local musical talent; and I have thought of you, Fraeulein, as a +performer on the violin, and I went to-day to Miss Drechsler to ask her +to give you leave to go." + +"And what did she say?" asked the child eagerly. "How could I go so far +away?" And she stopped suddenly; but the glance she gave at her dress +told the young violinist the direction of her thoughts. + +"Ah!" he said, "Fraeulein Drechsler will settle all that. She wishes you +to go, and says she will herself accompany you and also bring you back +to your friends." + +"Oh! then," said Frida, "I would like very much to go; but I must ask +Wilhelm and Elsie if they can spare me. But, Herr Mueller, do you think I +can play well enough?" + +The violinist smiled as he thought how little the girl before him +realized the musical genius which she possessed, and which already, +young as she was, made her a performer of no ordinary skill. + +"Ah yes, Fraeulein," he said, "I think you will do. But you know, as the +concert is not for a month yet, you can come to Dringenstadt and can +have a few more lessons ere then." + +"Come with me, then, and let me introduce you to my friends;" and she +led him up to the spot where Wilhelm, Elsie, and Hans stood. + +They looked surprised, but when they heard her request they could not +refuse it. To have their little woodland child play at a concert seemed +to them an honour of no small magnitude. Hans in his eagerness pressed +to her side, saying, "O Frida, I am so glad, for you do play so +beautifully." + +"As for that matter, so do you, Hans," she replied, for the boy had the +musical talent so often found even in German peasants, and taught by +Frida could really play with taste on the violin. + +"O Herr Mueller," she said, turning to him, "I wish some day you could +hear Hans play; I am sure you would like it. If only he could get +lessons! I know he would excel in it." + +"Is that so?" said the violinist; "then we must get that good Fraeulein +Drechsler to have him down to Dringenstadt, and I will hear him play; +and then if we find there is real talent, I might recommend him to the +society for helping those who have a turn for music, but are not able to +pay for instruction." + +Hans's eyes danced with delight at the idea, but in the meantime he knew +his duty was to help his father as much as he could in his work as a +wood-cutter. "But then some day," he thought, "who knows but I might be +able to devote my time to music, and so it would all be brought about +through the kindness of little Frida." + +Frida was a happy girl when a few days after the violinist's visit to +the Forest she set out for Dringenstadt, to live for a month with +Fraeulein Drechsler, and with her go on to Baden-Baden. A few more +lessons were got from Herr Mueller, the selection of music she was to +perform gone through again and again, and all was ready to start the +next day. + +When Frida went to her room that evening, great was her amazement to see +laid out on her bed a prettily-made plain black delaine morning dress, +neatly finished off at neck and wrists with a pure white frill; and +beside it a simple white muslin one for evening wear, with a white silk +sash to match. These Miss Drechsler told her were a present from +herself. Frida's young heart was filled with gratitude to the kind +friend who was so thoughtful of her wants; and she wondered if a day +would ever come when she would be able in any way to repay the +kindnesses of the friends whom God had raised up for her. + +In the meantime Herr Mueller had told the Stanfords, in whose house the +concert was to be held, about the young girl violinist whose services he +had secured. They were much interested in her, and were prepared to give +a hearty welcome, not to her only, but to her friend Miss Drechsler, +whom they had already met. + +Sir Richard Stanford, who was the head of an old family in the south of +England, had with his wife come abroad for the health of their young and +only daughter. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford were Christians, and +interested themselves in the natives of the place where they were +living, and themselves having highly-cultivated musical tastes, they +took pleasure in helping on any of the poorer people there in whom they +recognized the like talent. + +"Father," said his young daughter Adeline, as she lay one warm day on a +couch under a shady tree in the garden of their lovely villa at +Baden-Baden, "suppose we have a concert in our villa some evening; and +let us try and find out some good amateur performers, and also engage +two or three really good professionals to play, so that some of the +poorer players who have not opportunities of hearing them may do so, and +be benefited thereby." + +Anxious in any reasonable way to please their daughter, a girl not much +older than Frida, Sir Richard and Lady Stanford agreed to carry out her +suggestion; and calling their friend Herr Mueller to their assistance, +the private concert was arranged for, and our friend the child of the +Black Forest invited to play at it. + + * * * * * + +The day fixed for the concert had come round, and Adeline Stanford, who +was more than usually well, flitted here and there, making preparations +for the evening. The concert-room had been beautifully decorated, and +the supper-table tastefully arranged. Very pretty did Ada (as she was +called) look. Her finely-cut features and graceful appearance all +proclaimed her high birth, and the innate purity and unselfishness of +her spirit were stamped on her face. Adeline Stanford was a truly +Christian girl whose great desire was to make those around her happy. +One thing she had often longed for was to have a companion of her own +age to live with her and be as a sister to her. Her parents often tried +to get such a one, but as yet difficulties had arisen which prevented +their doing so. The very morning of the concert, Ada had said, "O +mother, how pleasant it would be, when we are travelling about and +seeing so many beautiful places, to have some young girl with us who +would share our pleasure with us and help to cheer you and father when I +have one of my bad days and am fit for nothing." Then she added with a +smile, "Not that I would like it only for your sakes, but for my own as +well. It would be nice to have a sister companion to share my lessons +and duties with me, and bear with my grumbles when I am ill." + +Adeline's grumbles were so seldom heard that her parents could not help +smiling at her words, though they acknowledged that her wish was a +natural one; but then, where was the suitable girl to be found? + +"Ah! here we are at last," said Miss Drechsler, as she and Frida drove +up to the door of the villa where the Stanfords lived. "How lovely it +all is!" said Frida, who had been in ecstasies ever since she arrived in +Baden. + +Everything was so new to her--not since her father's death had she been +in a large town; and her admiration as they drove along the streets +between the rows of beautiful trees was manifested by exclamations of +delight. + +Once or twice something in the appearance of the shops struck her as +familiar. "Surely," she said, "I have seen these before, but where I +cannot tell. Ah! look at that large toy-shop. I know I have been there, +and some one who was with me bought me a cart to play with. I think it +must have been mamma, for I recollect that the purse she had in her hand +was like one that I often got from her to play with. Oh, I am sure I +have lived here before with father and mother!" + +As they neared the villa, the "woodland child" became more silent, and +pressed closer to her friend's side. + +"Ah! here they come," exclaimed Adeline Stanford, as followed by her +father and mother she ran downstairs to welcome the strangers. Miss +Drechsler they had seen before, but the appearance of the girl from the +Black Forest struck them much. They had expected to see a peasant child +(for Herr Mueller had told them nothing of her history nor spoken of +her appearance), and when Frida had removed her hat and stood beside +them in the drawing-room, they were astonished to see no country child, +but a singularly beautiful, graceful girl, of refined appearance and +lady-like manners. Her slight shyness soon vanished through Ada's +unaffected pleasant ways, and erelong the two girls were talking to each +other with all the frankness of youth, and long ere the hour for the +concert came they were fast friends. + +[Illustration: "Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage +together." _See page 61._] + +Ada was herself a good pianist, and could play fairly well on the +violin, and she found that Herr Mueller had arranged that she and the +girl from the Forest should perform together. + +"Come, Frida," she said, "let us play the last passage together; we must +be sure we have it perfect." + +"Oh, how well you play!" she said when they had finished. "Has Herr +Mueller been your only teacher?" + +"Latterly he has," was the answer; "but when I was quite little I was +well taught by my father." + +"Your father!" said Adeline; "does he play well? He cannot have had many +advantages if he has to work in the woods all day." + +"Work in the woods! why, he never did that." Then she added, "Oh! I see +you think Wilhelm Hoerstel is my father; but that is not the case. My own +dear father is dead, and Wilhelm found me left alone in the Black +Forest." + +"Found in the Black Forest alone!" said Ada. Here was indeed a romance +to take the fancy of an imaginative, impulsive girl like Adeline +Stanford; and leaving Frida with her story unfinished, she darted off to +her parents to tell them what she had heard. They also were much +interested in her story, for they had been much astonished at the +appearance of the girl from the Forest; and telling Ada that she had +better go back to Frida, they turned to Miss Drechsler and asked her to +tell them all she knew of the child's history. + +She did so, mentioning also her brown Bible and the way in which God was +using its words amongst the wood-cutters in the Forest. + + * * * * * + +The concert was over, but Sir Richard, Lady Stanford, and Miss Drechsler +lingered awhile (after the girls had gone to bed), talking over the +events of the evening. + +"How beautifully your young friend played!" said Lady Stanford; "her +musical talent is wonderful, but the girl herself is the greatest wonder +of all. She cannot be the child of common people, she is so like a lady +and so graceful. And, Miss Drechsler, can you tell us how she comes to +be possessed of such a lovely mosaic necklace as she wore to-night? +Perhaps it belongs to yourself, and you have lent it to her for the +occasion." + +"No, indeed," was the answer; "it is not mine. It evidently belonged to +the child's mother, and was on her neck the night she was found in the +Forest." + +"Then," said Sir Richard, "it is just possible it may be the means of +leading to the discovery of the girl's parentage, for the pattern is an +uncommon one. She is a striking-looking child, and it is strange that +her face haunts me with the idea that I have seen it somewhere before; +but that is impossible, as the girl tells me she has never been in +England, and I can never have met her here." + +"It is curious," said Miss Drechsler; "but I also have the feeling that +I have seen some one whom she greatly resembles when I was in England +living in Gloucestershire with the Wardens." + +"'Tis strange," said Lady Stanford, "that you should see a likeness to +some one whom you have seen and yet cannot name, the more so that the +face is not a common one." + +"She is certainly a remarkable child," continued Miss Drechsler, "and a +really good one. She has a great love for her Bible, and I think tries +to live up to its precepts." + +That evening Sir Richard and his wife talked together of the possibility +of by-and-by taking Frida into their house as companion to Ada, +specially whilst they were travelling about; and perhaps afterwards +taking her with them to England and continuing her education there, so +that if her relations were not found she might when old enough obtain a +situation as governess, or in some way turn her musical talents to +account. + +The day after the concert, Frida returned with Miss Drechsler to +Dringenstadt, to remain a few days with her before returning to her +Forest home. + +As they were leaving the Stanfords, and Frida had just sprung into the +carriage which was to convey them to the station, a young man who had +been present at the concert, and was a friend of the Stanfords, came +forward and asked leave to shake hands with her, and congratulated her +on her violin-playing. He was a good-looking young man of perhaps +three-and-twenty years, with the easy manners of a well-born gentleman. + +After saying farewell, he turned into the house with the Stanfords, and +began to talk about the "fair violinist," as he termed her. "Remarkably +pretty girl," he said; "reminds me strongly of some one I have seen. +Surely she cannot be (as I overheard a young lady say last night) just a +wood-cutter's child." + +"No, she is not that," replied Sir Richard, and then he told the young +man something of her history, asking him if he had observed the strange +antique necklace which the girl wore. + +"No," he answered, "I did not. Could you describe it to me?" As Sir +Richard did so a close observer must have seen a look of pained surprise +cross the young man's face, and he visibly changed colour. "Curious," he +said as he rose hastily. "It would be interesting to know how it came +into her possession; perhaps it was stolen, who knows?" And so saying, +he shook hands and departed. + +Reginald Gower was the only child of an old English family of fallen +fortune. Rumour said he was of extravagant habits, but that he expected +some day to inherit a fine property and large fortune from a distant +relative. + +There were good traits in Reginald's character: he had a kind heart, and +was a most loving son to his widowed mother, who doted on him; but a +love of ease and a selfish regard to his own comfort marred his whole +character, and above all things an increasing disregard of God and the +Holy Scriptures was pervading more and more his whole life. + +As he walked away from Sir Richard's house, his thoughts were occupied +with the story he had just heard of the child found in the Black Forest. +He was quite aware of the fact that the girl's face forcibly reminded +him of the picture of a beautiful girl that hung in the drawing-room of +a manor-house near his own home in Gloucestershire. He knew that the +owner of that face had been disinherited (though the only child of the +house) on account of her marriage, which was contrary to the wishes of +her parents, and that now they did not know whether she were dead or +alive; though surely he had lately heard a report that, after years of +bitter indignation at her, they had softened, and were desirous of +finding out where she was, if still alive. And then what impressed him +most was the curious coincidence (he called it) that round the neck of +the girl in the picture was just such another mosaic necklace as the +Stanfords had described the one to be which the young violinist wore. + +Was it possible, he asked himself, that she could be the child of the +daughter of the manor of whom his mother had often told him? and if so, +ought he to tell them of his suspicions--the more so that he had heard +from his mother that the lady of the manor was failing in health, and +longing, as she had long done, to see and forgive her child? If he were +right in his surmises that this "woodland girl," as he had heard her +called, was the daughter of the child of the manor, then even if the +mother was dead, the young violinist would be received with open arms by +both the grand-parents, and would (and here arose the difficulty in the +young man's mind) inherit the estates and wealth which would have +devolved on her mother, all of which, but for the existence of this +woodland child, he, Reginald Gower, would have inherited as heir-at-law. + +"Well, there is no call on you to say anything about the matter, at all +events at present," whispered the evil spirit in the young man's heart. +"You may be mistaken. Why ruin your whole future prospects for a fancy? +Likenesses are so deceptive; and as to the necklace, pooh! that is +nonsense--there are hundreds of mosaic necklaces. Let the matter alone, +and go your way. 'Eat, drink, and be merry.'" + +All very well; but why just then of all times in the world did the words +of the Bible, taught him long ago by the mother he loved, come so +vividly to his remembrance--"Do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with +thy God;" and those words, heard more distinctly still, which his mother +had taught him to call "the royal law of love"--"As ye would that men +should do to you, do ye even so to them"? + +Good and bad spirits seemed fighting within him for the mastery; but +alas, alas! the selfish spirit so common to humanity won the day, and +Reginald Gower turned from the low, soft voice of the Holy Spirit +pleading within him, and resolutely determined to be silent regarding +his meeting with the child found in the Black Forest, and the strange +circumstance of her likeness to the picture and her possession of the +mosaic necklace. + +Once again the god of self, who has so many votaries in this world, had +gained a great triumph, and the prince of this world got a more sure +seat in the heart of the young man. But all unknown to him there was one +"climbing for him the silver, shining stair that leads to God's great +treasure-house," and claiming for her fatherless boy "the priceless boon +of the new heart." + +Was such a prayer ever offered in vain or unanswered by Him who hath +said, "If ye ask anything according to my will, I will do it. Ask, and +ye shall receive"? + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +CHRISTMAS IN THE FOREST. + + "Christmas, happy Christmas, + Sweet herald of good-will, + With holy songs of glory, + Brings holy gladness still." + + +Summer had long passed, autumn tints had faded, and the fallen leaves +lay thick in the Forest. + +For days a strong wind had blown, bending the high trees under its +influence, and here and there rooting up the dark pines and laying them +low. Through the night of which we are going to write, a heavy fall of +snow had covered all around with a thick mantle of pure white. It +weighed down the branches of the trees in the Forest, and rested on the +piles of wood which lay ready cut to be carted off to be sold for fuel +in the neighbouring towns. The roll of wheels, as the heavily-laden +wagons passed, was heard no more. The song of the birds had ceased, +though the print of their claws was to be seen on the snow. All was +quiet. The silence of nature seemed to rest on the hearts of the +dwellers in the Forest. In vain Elsie heaped on the wood; still the +stove gave out little heat. She busied herself in the little room, but a +weight seemed to be on her spirit, and she glanced from time to time +uneasily at Frida, who sat listlessly knitting beside the stove. + +"Art ill, Frida?" she said at last. "All this morning hast thou sat +there with that knitting on thy lap, and scarce worked a round at it. +And your violin--why, Frida, you have not played on it for weeks, and +even Hans notices it; and Wilhelm says to me no longer ago than this +morning, 'Why, wife, what ails our woodland child? The spirit has all +left her, and she looks white and tired-like.'" + +Frida, thus addressed, rose quickly from her seat, a blush, perchance of +shame, colouring her cheeks. + +"O Mutter," she said, "I know I am lazy; but it is not because I am ill, +only I keep thinking and wondering and--There! I know I'm wrong, only, +Elsie dear, Mutter Elsie, I do want to know if any of my own people are +alive, and where they live. I have felt like this ever since I was at +Baden-Baden; and I have not heard from Adeline Stanford for such a long +time, and I suppose, though she was so kind, she has forgotten me; and +Miss Drechsler has left Dringenstadt for months; and, O Mutter, forgive +me, and believe that I am not ungrateful for all that you and Wilhelm +and the kind people in the Dorf have done for me. Only, only--" And the +poor girl laid her head on Elsie's shoulder and cried long and bitterly. + +Elsie was much moved, she did so love the bright, fairy-like girl who +had been the means of letting in the light of the gospel to her dark +heart. + +"_Armes Kind_" (poor child), she said, soothing her as tenderly as she +would have done her own blind Anna, had she been alive and in trouble, +"I understand it all, dear." (And her kind woman heart had taken it all +in.) "It is just like the little bird taken from its mother's nest, and +put into a strange one, longing to be back amongst its like again, and +content nowhere else. But, Frida, dost thou not remember that we read in +the little brown book that our Lord hath said, 'Lo, I am with you +alway'? Isn't that enough for you? No place can be very desolate, can +it, if He be there?" + +In a moment after Elsie said these words, Frida raised her head and +dried her eyes. + +Had she been forgetting, she asked herself, whose young servant she was? +Was it right in a child of God to be discontented with her lot, and to +forget the high privilege that God had given her in allowing her to read +His Word to the poor people in the Forest? + +"I must throw off this discontented spirit," she said to herself; and +turning to Elsie she told her how sorry she was for the way in which she +had acted, adding, "But with God's help I will be better now." + +Frida was no perfect character, and, truth to tell, ever since her +return from Baden-Baden, a sense of the incongruity of her circumstances +had crept upon her. The tasteful surroundings, the cultured +conversation, the musical evenings, the refinement of all around, had +enchanted the young girl, and the humble lot and homely ways of her +Forest friends had on her return to them stood out in striking +contrast. And, alas! for the time being she refused to see in all these +things the guiding hand of God. But after the day we have written of, +things went better. The girl strove to conquer her discontent, and in +God's strength she overcame, and her friends in the Forest had once more +the pleasure of seeing her bright smile and hearing her sweet voice in +song. + +Johann Schmidt had fallen asleep in Jesus with the words of Holy +Scripture on his lips, blessing the "wood-cutters' pet," as he called +her, for having, through the reading of God's Word, led him to Jesus. +But though sickness had left the Forest, the severe cold and deep snow +were very trying to the health of all the dwellers in it, and the winter +nights were long and dreary. + +One day in December, Wilhelm Hoerstel had business in Dringenstadt, and +on his return home he gave Frida two letters which he had found lying at +the post-office for her. They proved, to Frida's great delight, to be +from her two friends Miss Drechsler and Adeline Stanford. + +Miss Drechsler's ran thus:-- + + "DEAR FRIDA,--I have been thinking very specially of you and + your friends in the Forest, now that the cold winter days have + come, and the snow, I doubt not, is lying thick on the trees and + ground. Knowing how interested you are, dear, in all your kind + friends there, I have thought how nice it would be for you, if + Elsie and Wilhelm consent, to have a Christmas-tree for a few + of your friends; and in order to carry this out, I enclose a + money order to the amount of L2, and leave it to you and Elsie + to spend it to the best of your power. + + "I am also going to write to Herr Steiger to send, addressed to + you, ten pounds of tea, which I trust you to give from me to + each of the householders--nine in number, I think--in the little + Dorf, retaining one for your friends the Hoerstels. Will you, + dear Frida, be my almoner and do my business for me? I often + think of and pray for you, and I know you do not forget me. I + fear I will not be able to return to Dringenstadt till the month + of May, as my sister is still very ill, and I feel I am of use + to her.--Your affectionate friend. M. DRECHSLER." + +"Oh, isn't it good? isn't it charming?" said Frida, jumping about the +room in her glee. "Mayn't we have the tree, Mutter? And will you not +some day soon come with me to Dringenstadt and choose the things for it? +Oh, I wish Hans were here, that I might tell him all about it! See, I +have not yet opened Adeline's letter; it is so long since I heard from +her. I wonder where they are living now. Oh, the letter is from Rome." + +Then in silence she read on. Elsie, who was watching her, saw that as +she read on her cheeks coloured and her eyes sparkled with some joyful +emotion. + +She rose suddenly, and going up to Elsie she said, "O Mutter, _was +denken Sie?_ [what do you think?]. Sir Richard and Lady Stanford enclose +a few lines saying they would like so much that I should, with your +consent, spend some months with them at Cannes in the Riviera, as a +companion to Adeline; and if you and Miss Drechsler agree to the plan, +that I would accompany friends of theirs from Baden-Baden who propose to +go to Cannes about the middle of January. And, Mutter," continued the +girl, "they say all my expenses will be paid, and that I shall have +Adeline's masters for music and languages, and be treated as if I were +their daughter." + +Elsie looked up with tears in her eyes. "Well, Frida dear," she said, +"it does seem a good thing for you, and right glad I am about it for +your sake; but, oh, we will miss you sorely. But there! the dear Lord +has told us in the book not to think only of ourselves, and I am sure +that He is directing your way. Of course I'll speak to Wilhelm about it, +for he has so much sense; but I don't believe he'll stand in your way." + +Frida, overcome with excitement, and almost bewildered with the prospect +before her, had yet a heart full of sorrow at the thought of leaving the +friends who had helped her in her time of need; and in broken words she +told Elsie so, clinging to her as she spoke. + +Matters were soon arranged. Elsie and Wilhelm heartily agreed that Frida +should accept Sir Richard and Lady Stanford's invitation. They only +waited till an answer could be got from Miss Drechsler regarding the +plan. And when that came, full of thankfulness for God's kindness in +thus guiding her path, a letter of acceptance was at once dispatched to +Cannes, and the child of the Forest only remained with her friends till +the new year was a fortnight old. + +In the meantime, whilst snow lay thick around, Christmas-eve came on, +and Frida and Elsie were busy preparing the tree. Of the true Christmas +joy many in the Forest knew nothing, but in some hearts a glimmer at +least of its true meaning was dawning, and a few of the wood-cutters +loved to gather together and hear Frida read the story of the angelic +hosts on the plain of Bethlehem singing of peace and good-will to men, +because that night a Babe, who was Christ the Lord, was born in a +manger. How much they understood of the full significance of the story +we know not, but we _do_ know God's word never returns to Him void. + +The tree was ready at last. Elsie, Frida, and Hans had worked busily at +it for days, Miss Drechsler's money had gone a long way, and now those +who had prepared it thought there never had been such a beautiful tree. +True, every child in the Forest had had on former occasions a tree of +their own at Christmas time--none so poor but some small twig was lit +up, though the lights might be few; but this one, ah, that was a +different matter--no such tree as this had ever been seen in the Forest +before. + +"Look, Hans," said Frida; "is not that doll like a little queen? And +only see that little wooden cart and horse; won't that delight some of +the children in the Dorf?--And, Mutter, we must hang up that warm hood +for Frau Schenk, poor woman; and now here are the warm cuffs for the +men, and a lovely pair for Wilhelm.--And, O Hans, we will not tell you +what _you_ are to have; nor you either, Mutter. No, no, you will never +guess. I bought them myself." + +And so, amid chattering and laughing, the tree got on and was finished; +and all I am going to say about it is that for long years afterwards +that particular Christmas-tree was remembered and spoken of, and in far +other scenes--in crowded drawing-rooms filled with gaily-dressed +children and grown-up people--Frida's eyes would fill as she thought of +the joy that Christmas-tree had given to the dwellers in the Forest, +both young and old. Ere that memorable night ended, Frida and Hans, who +had prepared a surprise for every one, brought out their violins, and +sang together in German a Christmas carol; and as the assembled party +went quietly home through the snow-carpeted Forest, a holy influence +seemed around them, as if the song of the angels echoed through the air, +"Peace on earth, and goodwill to men." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +HARCOURT MANOR. + + "Shall not long-suffering in thee be wrought + To mirror back His own? + His _gentleness_ shall mellow every thought + And look and tone." + + +Three years and a half have passed since the Christmas-eve we have +written of, and the golden light of a summer day was falling on the +earth and touching the flowers in a lovely garden belonging to the old +manor-house of Harcourt, in the county of Gloucester in England. + +In the lawn-tennis court, which was near the garden, preparations were +making for a game. Young men in flannels and girls in light dresses were +passing to and fro arranging the racquets and tightening the nets, some +gathering the balls together and trying them ere the other players +should arrive. It was a pleasant scene. Birds twittered out and in the +ivy and rose covered walls of the old English manor-house, and the +blithe laughter of the young people blended with the melodious singing +of the choristers around. + +The company was assembling quickly, kind words were passing amongst +friends, when there appeared on the scene an elderly lady of great +elegance and beauty, to whom all turned with respectful greeting, and a +hush came over all. + +Not that there was anything stern or severe in the lady's appearance to +cause the hush, for a look of calmness and great sweetness was in her +countenance, but through it there was also an appearance of sadness that +touched every heart, and although it would not silence any true young +joy, had certainly the effect of quieting anything boisterous or rude. + +The "gentle lady" of Harcourt Manor was the name Mrs. Willoughby had +gone by for some years. It was pretty well known that a deep sorrow had +fallen upon her whilst still in the prime of life; and those there were +who said they could recall a time when, instead of that look of calm +peace and chastened sorrow, there were visible on her face only haughty +pride and fiery temper. + +It was hard to believe that that had ever been the case; but if so, it +was but one of many instances in which God's declaration proved true, +that though "no chastening for the present seemeth to be joyous, but +grievous, nevertheless _afterward_ it yieldeth the peaceable fruit of +righteousness." + +Mr. Willoughby, a man older by some years than his wife, was a man who +had long been more feared than beloved; and the heavy trial, which had +affected him no less than his wife, had apparently hardened instead of +softening his whole nature, though a severe illness had greatly +mitigated, it was thought, some of his sternness. + +The party of which we are writing was given in honour of the return from +abroad of the heir of the manor, a distant relation of the Willoughbys, +Mr. Reginald Gower, whom we have written of before. For five years he +had been living abroad, and had returned only a month ago to the house +of his widowed mother, the Hon. Mrs. Gower of Lilyfield, a small though +pretty property adjoining Harcourt Manor. + +Just as Mrs. Willoughby entered the grounds, Reginald and his mother did +so also, although by a different way, and a few minutes passed ere they +met. + +The young man walked eagerly up to the hostess, a smile of real pleasure +lighting up his handsome face at the sight of the lady he really loved, +and who had from his boyish days been a kind friend to him. But as he +greeted her, the look of sadness on her countenance struck him, and some +secret thought sent a pang through him, and for the moment blanched his +cheek. Was it possible, he asked himself, that he had it in his power, +by the utterance of a few words, to dispel that look of deep sadness +from the face of one of the dearest friends, next to his mother, whom he +possessed? + +"Very glad to see you back again, Reginald," said Mrs. Willoughby. "But +surely the southern skies have blanched rather than bronzed your cheeks. +You were not wont to be so pale, Reggie. Ay, there you are more like +your old self" (as a flush of colour spread over his face once more). +"We hope you have come to stay awhile in your own country, for your +dear mother has been worrying about your long absence.--Is it not so, +Laura?" she said, addressing herself to Mrs. Gower, who now stood beside +them. + +"Yes, indeed," was the reply; "I am thankful to have my boy home again. +Lilyfield is a dull place without him." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Willoughby; "it is a dreary home that has no child in +it." And as she spoke she turned her face away, that no one might see +that her eyes were full of tears. + +But Reginald had caught sight of them, and turned away suddenly, saying, +"Farewell for the present;" and raising his cap to the two ladies, he +went off to join the players in the tennis-court, to all outward +appearance one of the brightest and most light-hearted there. + +But he played badly that day, and exclamations from his friends were +heard from time to time such as, "Why, Reginald, have you forgotten how +to play tennis?" "Oh, look out, Gower; you are spoiling the game! It was +a shame to miss that ball." + +Thus admonished, Reginald drew himself together, collected his thoughts, +concentrated his attention on the game, and played well. But no sooner +was the game over than once again there rose before his eyes the face +and figure of the beautiful foundling of the Black Forest, with her +strange story and her extraordinary likeness not only to the picture of +the young girl in the drawing-room of the manor, but also to his gentle +friend Mrs. Willoughby. + +Oh, if only he had never met the young violinist; if he could blot out +the remembrance of her and be once more the light-hearted man he had +been ere he heard her story from Sir Richard Stanford! + +He had been so sure of his sense of honour, his pure morality, his good +principles, his high-toned soul ("True," he said to himself, "I never +set up to be one of your righteous-overmuch sort of people, nor a saint +like my noble mother and my friend Mrs. Willoughby") that he staggered +as he thought of what he was now by the part he was acting. Dishonest, +cruel, unjust--he, Reginald Gower; was it possible? Ah! his +self-righteousness, his boasted uprightness, had both been put to the +test and found wanting. + +"Well, Reggie, had you a pleasant time at the manor to-day?" said his +mother to him as they sat together at their late dinner. + +"Oh, it was well enough," was the reply; but it was not spoken in his +usual hearty tone, and his mother observed it, and also the unsatisfied +look which crossed his face, and she wondered what had vexed him. + +A silence succeeded, broken at last by Reginald. + +"Mother," he said, "what is it that has deepened that look of sadness in +Mrs. Willoughby's face since I last saw her? And tell me, is the story +about their daughter being disinherited true? And is it certain that she +is dead, and that no child (for I think it is said she married) survives +her? If that were the case, and the child should turn up and be +received, it would be awkward for me and my prospects, mother." + +"Reginald," Mrs. Gower replied, for she had heard his words with +astonishment, "if I thought that there was the least chance that either +Mrs. Willoughby's daughter or any child of hers were alive, I would +rejoice with all my heart, and do all I could to bring about a +reconciliation, even though it were to leave you, my loved son, a +penniless beggar. And so I am sure would you." + +A flush of crimson rose to Reginald's brow at these words. Then his +mother believed him to be all that he had thought himself, and little +suspected what he really was. But then, supposing he divulged his +secret, what about debts which he had contracted, and extravagant habits +which he had formed? No! he would begin and save, retrench his expenses, +and if possible get these debts paid off; and then he might see his way +to speak of the girl in the Black Forest, if she was still to be found. + +So once more Reginald Gower silenced the voice of conscience with, "At a +more convenient time," and abruptly changing the subject, began to speak +of his foreign experiences, of the beauty of Italian skies, art, and +scenery; and the conversation about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter passed +from his mother's mind, and she became absorbed in her son's +descriptions of the places he had visited. And as she looked at his +handsome animated face, was it any wonder that with a mother's +partiality she thought how favoured she was in the possession of such a +child? Only--and here she sighed--ah, if only she were sure that this +cherished son were a true follower of the Lord Jesus Christ, and that +the Word of God, so precious to her own soul, were indeed a light to his +feet and a lamp to his path! + +That evening another couple were seated also at their dinner-table, and +a different conversation was being held. The master of Harcourt Manor +sat at the foot of the table, opposite his gentle wife; but a troubled +look was on his face, brought there very much by the thought that he +noticed an extra shade both of weariness and sadness on the face of his +wife. What could he do to dissipate it? he was asking himself. Anything, +except speak the word which he was well aware would have the desired +effect, and, were she still alive, restore to her mother's arms the +child for whom she pined; but not yet was the strong self-will so broken +down that those words could be spoken by him, not yet had he so felt the +need of forgiveness for his own soul that he could forgive as he hoped +to be forgiven. + +Did not his duty as a parent, and his duty towards other parents of his +own rank in life, call upon him to make a strong stand, and visit with +his righteous indignation such a sin as that of his only child and +heiress marrying a man, however good, upright, and highly educated he +might be, who yet was beneath her in station (although he denied that +fact), and unable to keep her in the comfort and luxury to which she had +been accustomed? + +"No, no, _noblesse oblige_;" and rather than forgive such a sin, he +would blight his own life and break the heart of the wife he adored. +Such was the state of mind in which the master of Harcourt Manor had +remained since the sad night when his only child had gone off to be +married at a neighbouring church to the young musician Heinz. But some +months before Reginald Gower's return from abroad, during a severe +illness which had brought him to the borderland, Mr. Willoughby was +aroused to a dawning sense of his own sinfulness and need of pardon, +which had, almost unconsciously to himself, a softening effect on his +mind. + +His wife was the first to break the silence at the dinner-table. "Has +not Reginald Gower grown more manly and older-looking since we saw him +last?" she said, addressing her husband. + +A shade came over his face as he answered somewhat testily, "Oh, I think +he looks well enough! Of course five years must have made him look +older. But Reginald never was the favourite with me that he is with you, +wife; a self-indulgent lad he always seems to me to be." + +"Well, but surely, husband" (once she always called him father, but that +was years ago now), "he is a good son, and kind to his mother." + +"Well, well, I am glad to hear it. But surely we have some more +interesting subject to discuss than Reginald Gower." + +Mrs. Willoughby sighed. Well she knew that many a time she had a +conflict in her own heart to think well of the lad who was to succeed to +the beautiful estates that by right belonged to their own child. + +Dinner over, she sought the quiet of her own boudoir, a room specially +endeared to her by the many sweet memories of the hours that she and her +loved daughter had spent together there. + +The day had been a trying one to Mrs. Willoughby. Not often nowadays had +they parties at Harcourt Manor, and she was tired in mind and body, and +glad to be a few minutes alone with her God. She sat for a few minutes +lost in thought; then rising she opened a drawer, and took from it the +case which contained the miniature of a beautiful girl, on which she +gazed long and lovingly. The likeness was that of the daughter she had +loved so dearly, and of whose very existence she was now in doubt. Oh to +see or hear of her once more! Poor mother, how her heart yearned for her +loved one! Only one could comfort her, and that was the God she had +learned to love. She put down the picture and opened a little brown +book, the very _fac-simile_ of the one which little Frida possessed, and +which God had used and blessed in the Black Forest. Turning to the +Hundred and third Psalm, she read the words, well underlined, "Like as a +father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him." +Then turning to the Gospel of Matthew, she read Christ's own blessed +word of invitation and promise, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and +are heavy laden, and _I_ will give you rest." Ah, how many weary, +burdened souls have these words helped since they were spoken and then +under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost written for the comfort of weary +ones in all ages! Ere she closed the book, Mrs. Willoughby read the +fourth verse of the Thirty-seventh Psalm: "Delight thyself in the Lord, +and he shall give thee the desire of thine heart." Then kneeling down +she poured out, as she so often did, the sorrows of her heart to her +heavenly Father, and rose quieted in spirit. + +Ere she put away the little brown book she looked at it thoughtfully, +recalling the day, not long before her daughter had left her, when they +had together bought two Bibles exactly alike as regarded binding, but +the one was in German, the other in English. The German Bible she had +given to her daughter, who presented the English one to her mother. On +the fly-leaf of the one she held in her hand were written the words, "To +my much-loved mother, from Hilda." Ah, where was that daughter now? And +if she still possessed the little brown German Bible, had she learned to +love and prize its words as her mother had done her English Bible? Then +carefully locking up her treasured book and portraits, she went +downstairs, to wait in solitary grandeur for her husband's coming into +the drawing-room. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +IN THE RIVIERA. + + "My God, I thank Thee who hast made + The earth so bright, + So full of splendour and of joy, + Beauty, and light; + So many glorious things are here, + Noble and right." + + +More than four years had elapsed since Frida had left her home in the +Black Forest. April sunshine was lighting up the grey olive woods and +glistening on the dark-green glossy leaves of the orange-trees at +Cannes, and playing on the deep-blue waters of the Mediterranean there. + +Some of these beams fell also round the heads of two young girls as they +sat under the shade of a palm tree in a lovely garden there belonging to +the Villa des Rosiers, where they were living. A lovely scene was before +their eyes. In front of them, like gems in the deep-blue sea, were the +isles of St. Marguerite and St. Honorat, and to the west were the +beautiful Estrelle Mountains. Around them bloomed masses of lovely +roses, and the little yellow and white noisettes climbed up the various +tall trees in the garden, and flung their wealth of flowers in festoons +down to the ground. + +The two girls gazed in silence for some minutes at the lovely scene. +Then the youngest of the two, a dark-eyed, golden-haired girl, said, +addressing her companion, "Is it not lovely, Adeline? The whole of +nature seems to be rejoicing." + +"Yes, indeed," answered her companion. "And I am sure I owe much to the +glorious sunshine, for, by God's blessing, it has been the means of +restoring my health. I am quite well now, and the doctor says I may +safely winter in England next season. Won't it be delightful, Frida, to +be back in dear old England once more?" + +"Ah! you forget, Adeline, that I do not know the land of your birth, +though I quite believe it was my mother's birthplace as well, and +perhaps my own also. I do often long to see it, and fancy if I were once +there I might meet with some of my own people. But then again, how could +I, on a mere chance, make up my mind to leave my kind friends in the +Forest entirely? It is long since I have heard of them. Do you know that +I left my little Bible with them? I had taught Elsie and Hans to read +it, and they promised to go on reading it aloud as I used to do to the +wood-cutters on Sunday evenings. It is wonderful how God's Word has been +blessed to souls in the Forest. And, Adeline, have I told you how kind +your friend Herr Mueller has been about Hans? He got him to go twice a +week to Dringenstadt, and has been teaching him to play on the violin. +He says he has real talent, and if only he had the means to obtain a +good musical education, would become a really celebrated performer." + +"Yes, Frida," replied her friend; "I know more about all that than you +do. Herr Mueller has been most kind, and taken much trouble with Hans; +but it is my own dear, kind father who pays him for so doing, and tells +no one, for he says we should 'not let our left hand know what our right +hand doeth.'" + +A silence succeeded, broken only by the noise of the small waves of the +tideless Mediterranean at their feet. + +Then Frida spoke, a look of firm resolution on her face. "Adeline," she +said, "your father and mother are the kindest of people, and God will +reward them. This morning they told me that they mean to leave this +place in a couple of weeks, and return by slow stages to England; and +they asked me to accompany you there, and remain with you as your friend +and companion as long as I liked. Oh, it was a kind offer, kindly put; +but, Adeline, I have refused it." + +"Refused it, Frida! what do you mean?" said her friend, starting up. +"You don't mean to say you are not coming home with us! Are you going +back to live with those people in the little hut in the Forest, after +all your education and your love of refined surroundings? Frida, it is +not possible; it would be black ingratitude!" + +"O Adeline, hush! do not pain me by such words. Listen to me, dear, for +one moment, and do not make it more difficult for me to do the right +thing. Your parents have given their consent to my plan, and even said +they think it is the right plan for me." + +"Well, let me hear," said Adeline, in a displeased tone, "what it is you +propose to do. Is it your intention really to go back to the Forest and +live there?" + +"Not exactly that, Adeline. I have thought it all over some time ago, +and only waited till your parents spoke to me of going to England to +tell them what I thought was my duty to do. And this is what has been +settled. If you still wish it, as your parents do, I shall remain here +till you leave, and accompany you back to Baden-Baden, where your +parents tell me they intend going for a week or so. From there I propose +returning to my friends in the Forest, not to live there any more, but +for a few days' visit to see them who are so dear to me. After that I +shall live with Miss Drechsler. Her sister is dead, and has left her a +good deal of money, and she is now going to settle in Dringenstadt, and +have a paid companion to reside with her. And, Adeline, that situation +she has offered to me." + +"Well, Frida," interrupted her friend, "did not I wish you to be my +companion? and would not my parents have given you any sum you +required?" + +"O Adeline dear, hush, I pray of you, and let me finish my story. You +_know_ that it is not a question of money; but you are so well, dear, +that you do not really _need_ me. You have your parents and friends. +Miss Drechsler is alone, and I can never forget all she has done for me. +Then I am young, and cannot consent to remain in dependence even on such +dear friends as you are. I intend giving lessons in violin-playing at +Dringenstadt and its neighbourhood. Miss Drechsler writes she can +secure me two or three pupils at once, and she is sure I will soon get +more, as the new villas near Dringenstadt are now finished, and have +been taken by families. And then, Adeline, living there I shall be near +enough to the Forest to carry on the work which I believe God has called +me to, in reading to these poor people the words of life. And at Miss +Drechsler's I mean to live, as long as she requires me, _unless_ I am +claimed by any of my own relations, which, as you know, is a most +unlikely event. I believe I am right in the decision I have come to. So +once again I pray of you, dear Adeline, not to dissuade me from my +purpose. You know how much I love you all, and how grateful I am to you. +Only think how ignorant I would have been had not your dear parents +taken me and got me educated, as if I had been their own child. Oh, I +can never, never forget all that you have done for me!" + +Adeline's warm heart was touched, and her good sense convinced her, in +spite of her dislike to the plan, that her friend was right. "Well, +Frida," she said, after a minute or two's silence, "if you feel it +really to be your duty, I can say no more. Only you must promise me that +you will come sometimes, say in the summer time, and visit us." + +Frida smiled. "That would be charming, Adeline; but we will not speak of +that at present. Only say you really think I am right in the matter. I +have not forgotten to ask God's guidance, and you know it is written in +the Word of God which we both love so well, 'In all thy ways acknowledge +him, and he shall direct thy paths.' But come; we must go now and get +ready, for we are to go to-day to the Cap d'Antibes." + +And in the delights of that lovely drive, and in strolling amongst the +rocks honeycombed till they look almost like lacework, the two friends +forgot the evils of the impending separation. + +In the meantime Frida was warmly remembered by her friends in the +Forest, and their joy when they heard that she was once more coming to +live near them was unbounded. + +"Ah," said Elsie, as she bent her head over a sweet little year-old girl +whom she held on her lap, "now I shall be able to show her my little +Gretchen, and she will, I know, sing to her some of the sweet hymns she +used to sing to my little Annchen, and she will read to us again, +Wilhelm, out of the little brown book which I have taken great care of +for her." + +"Ay," put in Hans, "and Muetterchen, she will bring her violin, and she +and I will play together some of the music you and father love; and she +will, I know, be glad to hear that through Sir Richard Stanford and Herr +Mueller I am to become a pupil in the Conservatorium of Leipsic. I can +hardly believe it is true." + +"Ay, my son, thou art a lucky one, and ye owe it all to Frida herself. +Was it not she who told Sir Richard about your love of music, and got +Herr Mueller to promise to hear you play? Ah! under the good God we owe +much to the 'woodland child.'" + +And so it fell out that after a few more happy weeks spent at Cannes and +Grasse, Frida found herself once more an inmate of Miss Drechsler's +pretty little house at Dringenstadt, and able every now and then to +visit and help her friends in the Forest. + +"Ah, Muetterchen," she said as she threw herself into Elsie's arms, "here +I am again your foundling child, come to live near you, and so glad to +see you all once more.--And Hans, why, Hans, you look a man now; and oh, +I am so pleased you are to go to Leipsic! You must bring down your +violin now and then to Miss Drechsler's, and let us play together. I am +sure you will be a great musician some day, Hans." + +The young man (for such he now was) looked much gratified at his +friend's hopeful words, and said, "If I do turn that, I shall owe it all +to you, Frida." + +But the girl interrupted his speech by saying, "Now, Mutter, let me see +little Gretchen;" and next minute she was stooping over the bed where +lay the sleeping child--the very bed whence the spirit of the blind +child whom she had loved so dearly had taken its flight to the heavenly +land. + +"What a darling she looks, Elsie! Oh, I am glad God has sent you this +little treasure! She will cheer you when Hans has gone away and her +father is all day in the Forest." + +"Yes," said Elsie, "she is indeed a gift from God; and you, Frida, must +teach her, as you taught her parents and Anna, the 'way of life.' And O +Frida, thou must go down to the Dorf, for all the people there are so +eager to see thee once more. And now that thou hast grown a young lady, +they all wonder if thou still beest like the woodland child, and wilt +care about the like of them, or if perchance thou hast forgotten them." + +"Forgotten them! O Elsie, how could they think so? Could I ever forget +how they and you gave of their little pittance to maintain the child +found in the Black Forest, and how you all lavished kindness on her who +had neither father nor mother to care for her? I must go at once and ask +them what I have done that they should have thought so badly of me even +for a minute. Don't you know, Mutter, that I have given up the going to +England to live with Miss Drechsler at Dringenstadt, in order that I may +often see my dear friends in the Forest; and that shall be my life-work, +unless"--and here the girl looked sad--"any of my own friends find me +out and claim me." + +"Hast had any clue to them, Frida?" asked Elsie. + +"Alas, no!" said the girl, "none whatever; and yet I have seen a great +number of people during these few years. And I have always worn my +necklace, which, being such a peculiar one, might have attracted +attention and led to the discovery of my parentage; but except one +Englishman, whom I met at the Stanfords', who said I reminded him of +some one whom he had seen, there has been nothing to lead me to suppose +that any one thought of me except as a friend of the Stanfords. But, +Elsie, though I am not discontented, still at times there is the old +yearning for my own people. But God knows best, and I am not going to +waste my life in useless longings. I have got five pupils in +Dringenstadt already, and several more applications, and next week I +begin my life-work as a teacher of the violin.--Don't you envy me, +Hans?" + +"That is what I do, Fraeulein Frida," said Hans. Somehow as he looked at +the fair young lady the old familiar name of Frida seemed too familiar +to use. Frida turned quickly round on him as he uttered the word +"Fraeulein." + +"Why, Hans--for I will not call thee Herr--to whom did you speak? There +is no Fraeulein here--just your old sister playmate Frida; never let me +hear you address me again by such a title. Art thou not my brother Hans, +the son of my dear friends Elsie and Wilhelm?" and a merry laugh +scattered Hans's new-born shyness. + +And to the end of their lives Frida and Hans remained as brother and +sister, each rejoicing in the success of the other in life; and in after +years they had many a laugh over the day that Hans began to think that +he must call his sister friend, the companion of his childhood, his +instructor in much that was good, by the stiff title of Fraeulein Frida. + +Ere Frida left the hut that day, they all knelt together and thanked God +for past mercies, and it was Elsie's voice that in faltering accents +prayed that Frida might still be used in the Forest to lead many to the +knowledge of Christ Jesus through the reading of the Word of God. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +IN THE GREAT METROPOLIS. + + "There are lonely hearts to cherish + While the days are going by, + There are weary souls who perish + While the days are going by. + If a smile we can renew, + As our journey we pursue, + Oh, the good we all may do + While the days are passing by!" + + +The London season was at its height, but though the pure sunshine was +glistening on mountain-top and green meadow, and beginning to tinge the +corn-fields with a golden tint in country places, where peace and +quietness seemed to reign, and leafy greenery called on every one who +loved nature to come and enjoy it in its summer flush of beauty, yet the +great city was still filled not only by those who could not leave its +crowded streets, but by hundreds who lingered there in the mere pursuit +of pleasure, for whom the beauties of nature had no charm. + +On one peculiarly fine day a group of people were gathered together in +the drawing-room of a splendid mansion in one of the West End crescents. + +There was evidently going to be a riding party, for horses held by +grooms stood at the door, and two at least of the ladies in the +drawing-room wore riding habits. + +In conversation with one of these--a pretty fair-haired girl of some +twenty years--stood Reginald Gower. "Will your sister ride to-day, do +you know?" he was asking, in somewhat anxious tones. + +"Gertie? No, I think not; she has a particular engagement this morning. +I don't exactly know what it is, but she will not be one of the party. +So, Mr. Gower, you and Arthur Barton will have to put up with only the +company of myself and Cousin Mary." + +Ere the young man could reply, the door opened, and a girl dressed in a +dark summer serge and light straw hat entered. She carried a small +leather bag in her hand, and was greeted with exclamations of dismay +from more than one of the party. + +"Are you going slumming to-day, Gertie? What a shame! And the sun so +bright, and yet a cool air--just the most delightful sort of day for a +ride; and we are going to call on your favourite aunt Mary." + +"Give her my love then," replied Gertie, "and tell her I hope to ride +over one of those days and see her. No, I cannot possibly go with you +to-day, as I have an engagement elsewhere." + +"An engagement in the slums! Who ever heard of such a thing?" said her +sister and cousin together. + +"I am sorry to disappoint you, Lily dear, and my cousin also; but I had +promised two or three poor people to see them to-day before I knew +anything of this riding party, and I am sure I am right not to +disappoint them.--And, Mr. Gower, I know your mother at least would not +think I was wrong." + +"That is true, Miss Warden. My mother thinks far more about giving +pleasure to the poor than she does about the wishes of the rich. But +could you not defer this slumming business till to-morrow, and give us +the pleasure of your company to-day?" + +But she shook her head, and assuring them they would get on very well +without her, she turned to leave the room, saying as she did so, "O +Lily, do find out if it is true that Aunt Mary's old governess, Miss +Drechsler, of whom we have all heard so much, is coming to visit her +soon, and is bringing with her the young violinist who lives with her, +and who people say was a child found in the Black Forest. I do so want +to know all about her. We must try and get her to come here some +evening, and ask Dr. Heinz, who plays so well upon the violin, to meet +her; and you also, Mr. Gower, for I know you dearly love music." + +Had Lily not turned quickly away just then, she would have noticed the +uneasy, startled look which crossed Reginald Gower's face at her words. +Was this woodland child, he asked himself, to be always crossing his +path? + +He had hoped he had heard the last of her long ago, and some years had +elapsed since he had seen her. The circumstance of the likeness to the +picture in Harcourt Manor, and the coincidence of the necklace, had +_almost_ (but as he had not yet quite killed his conscience), not +_altogether_, escaped his memory; and still, as at times he marked the +increasing sadness on Mrs. Willoughby's countenance, he felt a sharp +pang of remorse; and since he had known and begun to care for Gertie +Warden, her devoted Christian life and clear, truthful spirit were +making him more conscious than ever of his own selfishness and sin. + +True, he had no reason to suppose that she cared for him in any way +except as the son of his mother, whom she dearly loved, but his vanity +whispered that perhaps in time she might do so; and if that came to +pass, and he found that his love was returned, _then_ he would tell her +all, and consult with her as to what course he should follow. + +Lately, however, he had become uneasy at the many references which Lily +Warden made to a Dr. Heinz, who seemed to be often about the house, and +of whom both sisters spoke in high terms as a Christian man and pleasant +friend. What if he should gain the affection of Gertie? Heinz! something +in the name haunted him. Surely he had heard it before, and in +connection with the young violinist. And now was it possible that that +beautiful girl was really coming amongst them, and that his own mother +might meet her any day? for she was often at the house, not only of the +Wardens, but also of their aunt Mary, with whom the girl was coming to +stay. + +No wonder that during the ride Lily Warden thought Mr. Gower strangely +preoccupied and silent. She attributed it all to his disappointment at +her sister's absence, and felt vexed that such should be the case, as +well she knew that in the way he wished Gertie would never think of +Reginald Gower; but she felt sorry for him, and tried to cheer him up. + +Through that long ride, with summer sunshine and summer beauties around +him, Reginald saw only one face, and it was not that of Gertie Warden, +but that of the young girl whom he had heard play on the violin at the +house of the Stanfords at Baden-Baden. + +Oh, if he had only had courage then to write home and tell all that he +had heard about her! And in vivid colours there rose before his mind all +the disgrace that would attach to him when it became known that he knew +of the girl's existence and kept silence. The reason of his so doing +would be evident to many. And what, oh, what, he was asking himself, +would his loved, high-souled mother think of her son? Surely the words +of the Bible he heeded so little were true, "The way of transgressors is +hard," and his sin was finding him out. + +As soon as the first greetings were over, and the party were seated at +the lunch-table in Miss Warden's pretty cottage situated on the banks of +the Thames, Lily said, "O Aunt Mary, is it true what Gertie has +heard--that Miss Drechsler and a beautiful young violinist with a +romantic story are coming to visit you? Gertie is so anxious to know all +about her, for neither she nor any of us can believe that she can excel +Dr. Heinz in violin-playing; and, indeed, you know how beautifully +Gertie herself plays, and she often does so now with Dr. Heinz himself." + +"Yes, Lily dear, I am glad to say it is all true. I expect both Miss +Drechsler and her young _protege_ next week to visit me for a short +time, after which they propose to go to the Stanfords at Stanford Hall, +who take a great interest in the young violinist--in fact, I believe she +lived for three or four years with them, and was educated along with +their own daughter.--By the way, Mr. Gower, you must tell your mother +that her old friend Miss Drechsler is coming to me, and I hope she will +spend a day with me when she is here." + +"I am sure she will be delighted to do so, Miss Warden," replied the +young man; but even as he spoke his cheek blanched as he thought of all +that might come of his mother meeting the young violinist. + +Reginald rode back with his friends to their house, but could not be +induced to enter again, not even to hear how Gertie had got on with her +slumming. "Not to-day," he said; "I find I must go home. I don't doubt +your sister has been well employed--more usefully than we mere +pleasure-seekers have been," he added, in such a grave tone that Lily +turned her head to look at him, as she stood on the door-steps, and +inquire if he were quite well. "Quite so, thanks," he replied, in his +usual gay tone; "only sometimes one does think there is a resemblance +between the lives the butterflies live and ours. Confess it now," he +said laughingly; but Lily was in no thoughtful mood just then, so her +only reply was,-- + +"Speak for yourself, Mr. Gower. I have plenty of useful things to do, +just as much so as making a guy of myself and going a-slumming, only I +am often too lazy to do them," and with a friendly nod she followed her +cousin into the house. + +Reginald rode slowly homeward, and, contrary to his usual custom, went +to his own room to try to collect his thoughts and make out in what form +he would deliver Miss Warden's message to his mother. It was very +evident to him that the meshes into which his own sins had brought him +were tightening around him. Turn which way he liked, there was no +escape. At least only one that he could see, and that was, that if the +secret came out, and the young violinist of the Black Forest were proved +to be the grandchild of the Willoughbys, he should keep silence as to +his ever having known anything of the matter. + +The more he thought of it, the more that seemed his wisest course; and +even if it should come out that he had heard her play, that would tell +nothing. Yet his conscience was ill at ease. Suppose he did so, what of +his own self-respect? Could he ever regain it? Fortune would be lost, +and all ease of mind gone for ever. Then again, if he told his story +now, it would only be because he knew that in any case it would be +disclosed, and shame would await him. + +How could he ever bear the reproaches of his kind friends the +Willoughbys, and more than all, the deep grief such a disclosure would +cause to his loved mother? In that hour Reginald Gower went through a +conflict of mind which left a mark on his character for life. But, alas! +once more evil won the day, and he resolved that not _yet_ would he tell +all he knew; but some day _soon_ he might. But once again, as he rose to +go downstairs, Bible words came into his mind: "_To-day_, while it is +called to-day, harden not your hearts." + +O happy mother, to have so carefully stored the young heart with the +precious words of God! Long they may be as the seed under ground, +apparently forgotten and useless, yet surely one day they will spring +up and bear fruit. True even in this application are the words of the +poet,-- + + "The vase in which roses have once been distilled + You may break, you may shiver the vase if you will, + But the scent of the roses will cling to it still." + +Well may we thank God for all mothers who carefully teach the words of +Holy Scripture to their children. + +That day Reginald delivered Miss Warden's message to his mother, but did +not mention the young girl who was to accompany her. + +"Oh, I will be delighted to see Miss Drechsler again," said his mother. +"I liked her so much when she was governess at the Wardens'. We all did; +indeed, she was more companion than governess, and indeed was younger +than I was, and just about Mary Warden's own age. I remember well going +one day with Mrs. Willoughby's daughter, Hilda, to a musical party at +the Wardens', and how charmed Miss Drechsler was at the way Hilda played +the violin, which was not such a common thing then as it is now." + +"The violin?" queried Reginald. "Did Miss Willoughby play on the +violin?" + +"Oh yes! she was very musical, and that was one of the great attractions +to her in the man she married. He, too, was a wonderful violinist--Herr +Heinz they called him. He was, I believe, a much-respected man and of +good family connections, but poor, and even taught music to gain a +livelihood." + +"Heinz!" Reginald was repeating to himself. Then he had heard that name +before first in connection with the child of the Black Forest; but he +only said, "It is curious that I have lately heard that name from the +young Wardens, who speak a great deal of a Dr. Heinz. He also is a good +violinist. Can he be any relation, do you think, of the one you allude +to?" + +"Possibly he may; but the name is not at all an uncommon German one. By +the way, I heard a report (probably a false one) that Gertie Warden is +engaged to be married to a Dr. Heinz--a very good man, they say. Have +you heard anything of it?" + +"I never heard she was engaged, nor do I think it is likely; but I have +heard both her and her sister speak of this Dr. Heinz, and I know it is +only a Christian man that Gertie would marry." + +Having said so much, he quickly changed the subject and talked of +something else. The mother's eye, however, was quick to notice the shade +on his brow as he spoke, and she was confirmed in the opinion she had +formed for some time that the very idea of Gertie Warden's engagement +was a pain to him. As he rose to go out he turned to say, "Remember, +mother, that I have given you Miss Warden's message." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN THE SLUMS. + + "In dens of guilt the baby played, + Where sin and sin _alone_ was made + The law which all around obeyed." + + +The summer sunshine, of which we have written as glistening among the +"leafy tide of greenery," and on the ripening corn-fields and +gaily-painted flowers in the country, was penetrating also the close +streets of one of the poorest parts of London, cheering some of the +hearts of the weary toiling ones there, into whose lives little sunshine +ever fell, and for a while, it may be, helping them to forget the misery +of their lot, or to some recalling happier days when they dwelt not in a +narrow, crowded street, but in a country village home, amidst grassy +meadows and leafy trees, feeling, as they thought of these things, +though they could not have put the feeling into words, what a poet gone +to his rest says so beautifully,-- + + "That sorrow's crown of sorrow + Is remembering happier things." + +But the very light that cheered revealed more clearly the misery, dirt, +and poverty around. + +In one such street, where little pale-faced children, without the +merriment and laughter of childhood, played in a languid, unchildlike +way, sickness prevailed; for fever had broken out, and indoors suffering +ones tossed on beds, if they could be so called, of sickness. + +At the door of a small room in one of the houses stood a girl of some +ten or eleven years old, looking out anxiously as if in expectation of +some one, turning every now and then to address a word to her mother, +who lay in the small room on a bed in the corner. + +"He baint a-comin' yet," she said, "'cos I knows his step; but he'll be +'long soon--ye see if he don't! I knows as how he will, 'cos he's that +kind; so don't ye fret, mother--the doctor 'ill be here in no time. +There now! Susan Keats giv' me some tea for ye, and I'll get the water +from her and bring you some prime and 'ot--ye see if I don't!" So +saying, the child ran off and went into a room next door, and entering +begged for some "'ot water." "Ye see," she said, addressing a woman +poorly clad like herself, "she be a-frettin', mother is, for the doctor, +for she's badly, is mother, to-day, and she thinks mayhap he'll do her +good." + +When the child returned to her mother's room, she found Dr. Heinz (for +it was he) sitting by her mother's side and speaking kindly to her. He +turned round as the child entered. "Come along, Gussie," he said; +"that's right--been getting mother some tea. You'll need to tend her +well, for she's very poorly to-day." + +"Ay, ay," muttered the woman, "that's true, that's true. Be kind to +Gussie, poor Gussie, when I am gone, doctor. The young lady--Miss +Warden be her name--she said she'd look after her, she did." + +The doctor bent over the dying woman and said some comforting words, at +which the woman's face brightened. "God bless ye," she said, "for +promising that. Oh, but life's been weary, weary sin' I came 'ere--work, +work, and that not always to be 'ad. But it's true, sir, what ye told +me. He says even to the like o' me, 'Come unto me, and I will give you +rest;' and He's done it, I think. Ye'll come again, sir, won't ye?" + +After a few moments of prayer with the poor woman, and giving her some +medicine to allay her restlessness, Dr. Heinz left the room. From house +to house in the fever-stricken street he went, ministering alike to body +and soul, often feeling cast down and discouraged, overwhelmed at times +by the vice and poverty of all around. The gospel had never reached +these poor neglected ones. The very need of a Saviour was by the great +majority of them unfelt. Love many of them had never experienced. The +evil of sin they did not comprehend. Brought up from babyhood in the +midst of iniquity, they were strangers to the very meaning of +righteousness and virtue. No wonder that the heart of the doctor was +oppressed as he went out and in amongst them. Yet he felt assured that +by love they could be won to the God of love, and that only the simple +gospel of Jesus Christ dying in their room and stead, told in the power +of the Holy Ghost, could enlighten their dark souls and prove the true +lever to raise them from their sin and misery. And so, whilst +alleviating pain, he tried when possible to say a word from the +book--God's revealed will, which alone "maketh wise unto salvation." +More than once on the day we write of, as he went from house to house, +the vision of a young girl whom he had often met going about doing good +flitted before his eyes. + +Gertie Warden and Dr. Heinz had first met in one of those abodes of +wretchedness, where she stood by a bed of sickness trying to comfort and +help a dying woman. + +Only two years before that and Gertie was just ready to throw herself +into the vortex of the gay society in which the other members of her +family mingled; but ere she did so the voice of the Holy Ghost spake to +her as to so many others, and showed her how true life was only to be +found in Christ and lived in Him. Henceforth she lived no longer a life +of mere worldliness, but a life spent in the service of Him who had +loved her and given Himself for her; and then her greatest joy was found +in visiting the poor, the afflicted, the tried--ay, and often the +oppressed ones of earth. + +In her own family she found great opposition to her new mode of life; +but the Lord raised up a kind helpful friend to her in the person of the +gentle, sorely-tried Mrs. Willoughby of Harcourt Manor. To her Gertie +confided all her difficulties as regarded her district visiting (or, as +her sister called it, her slumming), and many a word of sympathy and +wise counsel she got from her friend. + +One day she spoke of Dr. Heinz. + +"You cannot think how much the people love him," she said, "and trust +him. 'Ah!' I heard a poor woman say the other day, 'if only all were +like him, it's a better world it would be than it's now.' And do you +know," she went on, "he is actually interesting my father and Aunt Mary +in some of his poor patients. And he likes to come to our house +sometimes in the evenings and play on the violin along with us; and he +does play beautifully. I wish you knew him, dear Mrs. Willoughby, for I +know you would like him. But, dear friend, are you not well?" + +For at the name of Heinz a deadly faintness had overcome Mrs. +Willoughby. Was not that the name of her daughter's husband? and if he +should prove to be in any way related to him, might he not be able to +give some information regarding her loved one? But she composed herself, +and in answer to Gertie's question she replied,-- + +"It is nothing, dear, only a passing weakness. I am all right now. Tell +me something more of this Dr. Heinz and the Christian work he is engaged +in. He must be a German, I fancy, from his name." + +"Yes, he is," replied Gertie; "he was speaking to me lately about his +relations. He was born in Germany, and lived there till he was a boy of +seven years old. Then his parents died, and he came to this country with +an older brother who was a wonderful violinist, and he taught him to +play; but many years ago this brother married and returned to Germany, +leaving him here in the charge of some kind friends; and though at first +he heard from him from time to time, he has ceased to write to him for +some years, and he fears he is dead. He knows he had a child, for his +last letter mentioned her, but he knows nothing more." + +Again that terrible pallor overcame Mrs. Willoughby, but this time she +rose and said in an excited tone,-- + +"I must see this Dr. Heinz. Could you bring him to see me, Gertie, and +soon? Say to him that I think, although I am not sure, that I knew a +relation of his some years ago." + +"Oh yes, Mrs. Willoughby; I will gladly ask him to come and see you. +Indeed, I was just going to ask if you would allow him to call--" Here +the girl hesitated a moment, then said, "You see, it was only last +night, but I am engaged to be married to Dr. Heinz, and do wish you to +know and love him for my sake." + +Love one of the name of Heinz! Could she do so, the gentle lady was +asking herself. What if he should prove to be the brother of the man who +had caused her such bitter sorrow? But at that moment there rose to her +remembrance the words of Scripture, said by Him who suffered from the +hand of man as never man suffered, "Forgive, as ye would be forgiven," +and who illustrated that forgiveness on the cross when He prayed for His +deadly enemies, "Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." +The momentary struggle was over. Mrs. Willoughby raised her head, and +said in a calm, quiet tone,-- + +"God bless you, Gertie; and may your union be a very happy one. I should +like to see Dr. Heinz." + +And so it came to pass that ere many days had elapsed, Dr. Heinz was +ushered into Mrs. Willoughby's drawing-room in the London house which +they had taken for the season. He was hardly seated before she said,-- + +"Yes, oh yes--there can be no mistake--you certainly are the brother of +the man who married my daughter. Tell me, oh tell me," she added, "what +you know of her and of him!" + +Dr. Heinz was strongly moved as he looked on the face of the agitated +mother. + +"Alas!" he said, "I grieve to say I can tell you nothing. I have not +heard for several years from my brother, and at times I fear he must be +dead. My poor brother, how I loved him! for, Mrs. Willoughby, a gentler +or more kind-hearted man never lived. You may be sure, however much your +daughter was to blame in marrying any one against her parents' wishes, +she found in my brother a truly loving, kind husband." + +"Thank God for that!" she replied. "But now tell me, was there a child? +Gertie spoke as if you knew there was one." + +"Certainly there was. In the last letter I had from my brother, he spoke +of the great comfort their little girl (who was the image of her mother) +was to them--his little Frida he called her, and at that time she was +three or four years old. Oh yes, there was a child. Would that I could +give you more particulars! but I cannot; only I must mention that he +said, 'I am far from strong, and my beloved wife is very delicate.'" + +"Ah," said the mother, "she was never robust; and who knows what a life +of hardship she may have had to live! O Hilda, Hilda! Dr. Heinz, is +there no means by which we may find out their whereabouts? I have +lately had some advertisements put into various papers, praying them to +let us know where they are; but no answer has come, and now I am losing +all hope." + +"Would that I could comfort you!" he said; "but I also fear much that we +have lost the clue to their whereabouts. I will not cease to do all I +can to trace them; but, dear Mrs. Willoughby, we believe that there is +One who knows all, whose eyes are everywhere, and we can trust them to +Him. If I should in any way hear of our friends, you may be sure I shall +not be long of communicating with you. In the meantime it has been a +great pleasure to me to have made the acquaintance of one whom my dear +Gertrude has often spoken to me of as her kindest of friends." + +Then Dr. Heinz told of the work in which he was engaged amongst the +poor, sorrowful, and also too often sinful ones, in the East End of +London. + +Before Dr. Heinz left, Mrs. Willoughby showed him the little brown +English Bible which her daughter had given to her not long before her +marriage, and told him about the German one, which looked exactly the +same outwardly, which she had given to her daughter. + +"Strange," said Dr. Heinz, as he held the little brown book in his hand, +"that in the last letter I ever received from my brother, he told me of +the blessing which he had got through reading God's Word in a brown +Bible belonging to his wife, adding that she also had obtained blessing +through reading it." + +"Praise God!" said Mrs. Willoughby; "then my prayers have been +answered, that Hilda, like her mother, might be brought to the knowledge +of God. Now I know that if we meet no more on earth we shall meet one +day in heaven.--I thank Thee, O my God!" + +It was with a heart full of emotion that Dr. Heinz found himself leaving +Mrs. Willoughby's house. Oh, how he longed that he could hear tidings of +his brother and his wife, and so be able to convey comfort to the heart +of the sorrowful lady he had just left! + +As he was walking along, lost in thought, he came suddenly face to face +with Reginald Gower, whom he had lately met several times at the +Wardens', and to whom he suspected the news of his engagement to +Gertrude Warden would bring no pleasure; but from the greeting which +Reginald gave him he could not tell whether or not he knew of the +circumstance. + +He accosted him with the words: "What are you doing, doctor, in this +part of the town? I thought it was only in the narrow, dirty slums, and +not in the fashionable part of the west of London, that you were to be +found; and that it was only the sick and sorrowful, not the gay, merry +inhabitants of Belgravia that you visited." + +"Do you think then," replied Dr. Heinz, "that the sick, sad, and +sorrowful are only to be found in the narrow, dark streets of London? +What if I were to tell you that although there is not poverty, there are +sorrowful, sad, unsatisfied hearts to be found in as great numbers in +these fashionable squares and terraces as in the places you speak of; +and that the votaries of fashion, whom you style gay and merry, are too +often the most wretched of mankind, and that beneath the robes of silk +and satin of fashionable life there beats many a breaking heart? You see +that splendid square I have just left. Well, in one of the handsomest +houses there dwells one of the sweetest Christian ladies I have ever +met. She has everything that wealth and the love of friends can give +her, yet I believe she is slowly dying of a broken heart, longing to +know if a dearly-loved daughter, who made a marriage which her parents +did not approve of, years ago, is still alive; and no one can tell her +whether she or any child of hers still survives. I know all the +circumstances, and would give a great deal to be able to help her. He +would be a man to be envied who could go to that sweet mother, Mrs. +Willoughby, and say, I can tell you all about your daughter, or, if she +is not alive, of her child. O Reginald Gower, never say that there are +not sad hearts in the west part of London, though you may see only the +smiling face and dry eyes. You remember the words of the gifted +poetess,-- + + 'Go weep with those who weep, you say, + Ye fools! I bid you pass them by, + Go, weep with those whose hearts have bled + What time their eyes were dry.' + +But I must go. Have you not a word of congratulation for me, Reginald?" + +"Why?" was the amazed reply; "and for what?" + +"Oh," said Dr. Heinz, somewhat taken aback, "do you not know that I am +engaged to be married to Gertrude Warden?" + +"You are?" was the reply, with a look of amazement that Dr. Heinz could +not fail to notice; "well, I rather think you are a lucky fellow. +But"--and a look of deep sorrow crossed his face as he spoke--"I do +believe you are worthy of her. Tell her I said so. And would you mind +saying good-bye to her and her sister from me, as I may not be able to +see them before starting for America, which I shall probably do in a +week; and should you again see the Mrs. Willoughby you have been +speaking of, and whom I know well, please tell her I could not get to +say farewell to her, as my going off is a sudden idea. Good-bye, Dr. +Heinz. May you and Miss Gertrude Warden be as happy as you both deserve +to be;" and without another word he turned away. + +Dr. Heinz looked after him for a moment, then shook his head somewhat +sadly, saying to himself, "There goes a fine fellow, if only he had +learned of Him 'who pleased not himself.' Reginald is a spoiled +character, by reason of self-pleasing. I must ask Gertrude how he comes +to know Mrs. Willoughby, and why he is going off so suddenly to America, +although I may have my suspicions as to the reason for his so doing." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE OLD NURSE. + + "It chanced, eternal God, that chance did guide." + + +"How are you getting on with your packing, Frida?" said Miss Drechsler, +as the girl, wearing a loose morning-dress, looked into the room where +her friend was sitting. + +"Oh, very well," was the answer; "I have nearly finished. When did you +say the man would come for the trunks?" + +"I expect him in about an hour. But see, here comes the post; look if +there is one for me from Miss Warden. I thought I would get one to tell +me if any of her friends would meet us at Dover." + +Frida ran off to meet the postman at the door, and returned in triumph, +bearing two letters in her hand. + +"One for you, auntie" (she always now addressed Miss Drechsler by that +name), "and one for myself. Mine is from Ada Stanford, and yours, I am +sure, is the one you are expecting." + +A few minutes of silence was broken by Frida exclaiming,-- + +"O auntie, Ada has been very ill again, and is still very weak, and she +asks, as a great favour, that I would come to visit them before going to +the Wardens; and adds, 'If Miss Drechsler would accompany you, we would +be so delighted; but in any case,' she writes to me, 'you would not lose +your London visit, as my doctor wishes me to see a London physician as +soon as I can be moved, specially as to settling whether or not I should +go abroad again next winter. So in perhaps another month we may go to +London, and then you can either remain with us or join your friend at +Miss Warden's.'" + +"What do you think about it, auntie? Of course it is a great +disappointment to me not to go with you; but do I not owe it to the +Stanfords to go to them when I may be of use during Ada's +convalescence?" + +Miss Drechsler looked, as she felt, disappointed, she had anticipated so +much pleasure in having Frida with her in London; but after a few +minutes' thought she said, "You are right, Frida: you must, I fear, go +first to the Stanfords. We cannot forget all that they have done for +you, and as they seem to be so anxious for you to go there, I think you +must yield to their wishes; but I must go at once to Miss Warden, who is +expecting me. You had better write at once and tell them we hope to be +at Dover in four days. They live, as you know, not so far from there. I +think that the train will take you to the station, not above a couple of +miles from Stanford Hall, where I doubt not they will meet you; but I +must write at once and let Miss Warden know that you cannot accompany +me, and the reason why, though I hope that erelong, if convenient to +her, you may join me there. Ah, Frida! 'man's heart deviseth his way: +but God directeth his steps.'" + +And so it came to pass that Miss Drechsler arrived alone at Miss +Warden's, whilst Frida went to Stanford Hall. + +When it became known in the Forest that the woodland child, as they +still called her, was again about to leave them for some undefined time, +there was great lamentation. + +"How then are we to get on without you?" they said. "_Ach!_ shall we +have to do without the reading of the book again? True, Hans Hoerstel +reads it well enough; but what of that? He too has left us. _Ach!_ it is +plain no one cares for the poor wood-cutters and charcoal-burners who +live in the Forest, and some grand English gentleman will be getting our +woodland child for a wife, and she will return to us no more." + +But Frida only laughed at these lamentations. "Why, what nonsense you +speak!" she said. "It is only for a little while that I am going away. I +hope to come back in about three months. And many of you can now read +the Bible for yourselves. And as to the grand gentleman, that is all +fancy; I want no grand gentleman for a husband. The only thing that +would detain me in England would be if any of my relations were to find +me out and claim me; but if that were to be the case, I am sure none of +my friends in the Forest would grudge their child to her own people, and +they may be assured she would never forget them, and would not be long +in revisiting them." + +"_Ach!_ if the child were to find her own friends, her father or her +mother's people, that would be altogether a different matter," they said +simultaneously. "We would then say, 'Stay, woodland child, and be happy +with those who have a right to you; but oh, remember the poor +wood-cutters and workers in the Forest, who will weary for a sight of +the face of the fair girl found by one of them in the Black Forest.'" + +Very hearty was the welcome which awaited Frida at Stanford Hall. Ada +received her with open arms. + +"Ah, Frida, how glad I am to see you once again; and how good of you to +give up the pleasure of a month in London to come to see and comfort +us!--You will see how quickly I will get well now, mother.--And erelong, +Frida, we shall take you to London ourselves, and father will show you +all the wonders there." + +Frida answered merrily, but she felt much shocked to see how +delicate-looking Ada had become. + +The girls had much to tell each other of all that had happened since +last they met; and when dinner was over, and Frida went to see Ada as +she lay on her couch in her prettily-fitted-up boudoir, Ada roused +herself to have, as she said, "a right down delightful chat." + +"See, Frida, here is a charming easy-chair for you; please bring it +quite close to my couch, and now tell me all about your Forest friends. +How are Elsie and Wilhelm, and their little Gretchen and Hans? But, +indeed, I believe I know more about them than you do; for only two days +ago my father received a letter from Hans's music-teacher in Leipsic, +giving him unqualified praise, and predicting a successful musical +career for him." + +"Oh, I am glad!" said Frida. "How pleased his parents will be, and how +grateful to Sir Richard Stanford for all he has done for him!" + +And so in pleasant talk the evening of the first day of Frida's visit to +Stanford Hall drew to a close. As time passed on, Ada's health rapidly +improved, and together the girls went about the beautiful grounds +belonging to the Hall--Ada at first drawn in an invalid chair, and Frida +walking by her side. But by-and-by Ada was able to walk, and together +the girls visited in some of the cottages near the Hall--Frida finding +out that Ada in her English home was conveying comfort and blessing to +many weary souls by reading to them from her English Bible the words of +life, even as she had done from her German one in the huts of the +wood-cutters, carters, and charcoal-burners in the Black Forest. + +"Have you heard, Ada," said Lady Stanford one morning at breakfast, +"that the old woman who has lately come to the pretty picturesque +cottage at the Glen is very ill? I wish you and Frida would go and see +her, and take her some beef-tea and jelly which the housekeeper will +give you. I understand she requires nourishing food; and try and +discover if there is anything else she requires." + +"Certainly, mother," answered Ada; "we will go at once and see what can +be done for her.--That Glen is a lovely spot, Frida, and you have never +been there. What say you--shall we set off at once? The poor woman is +very old, and her memory is a good deal affected." + +"I shall be pleased to go, Ada; but I have a letter from Miss +Drechsler, received this morning, which I must answer by the first post. +She tells me that her friend Miss Warden is in great distress about the +illness of a friend of hers. She wishes to know how soon I can join her +in London; and now that you are so well, Ada, I really think I ought to +go." + +"Ah, well," said Ada with a laugh, "time enough to think of that, Frida. +We are not prepared to part with you yet; but seriously, mother talks of +carrying us all off to London by another fortnight, and that must +suffice you. But after you have written your letter we will set off to +the Glen." + +It was a lovely walk that the girls took that summer day through green +lanes and flowery meadows, till they came to a beautiful glen +overshadowed with trees in their fresh summer foliage of greenery, +through which the sunbeams found their way and touched with golden light +the green velvety moss and pretty little woodland flowers which so +richly carpeted the ground. + +"How beautiful it is here!" said Frida, "and yet how unlike the sombre +appearance of the trees in the dear Black Forest!" + +"Ah," said Ada, "that Forest, where I do believe your heart still is, +Frida, always seemed to me to be so gloomy and dark, so unlike our +lovely English woods with their 'leafy tide of greenery.'" + +As they spoke they neared the cottage where dwelt the old woman they +were going to see. It was thatch-covered and low, but up the walls grew +roses and ivy, which gave it a bower-like appearance. + +"She is a strange old woman," said Ada, "who has only lately come here, +and no one seems to know much about her. A grandchild of fourteen or +fifteen years old lives with and takes care of her. Her memory is much +impaired, but she often talks as if she had friends who if they knew +where she lived and how ill-off she was would help her; but when +questioned as to their name, she shakes her head and says she can't +remember it, but if she could only see the young lady she would know +her. They fancy the friends she speaks of must have been the family with +whom she lived as nurse, for her grandchild says she used often to speak +of having had the charge of a little girl to whom she was evidently much +attached. But here we are, Frida, and yonder is little Maggie standing +at the door." + +When they entered the room, Frida was amazed to see how small it was and +how dark; for the ivy, which from the outside looked so picturesque, +darkened the room considerably. Ada, who had seen the old woman before, +went forward to the bed where she lay and spoke some kind words to her. +The old woman seemed as if she hardly understood, and gave no answer. + +"Ah, madam," said the grandchild, "she knows nothing to-day, and when +she speaks it is only nonsense." + +Frida now came forward and laid her hand kindly on the poor woman, +addressing a few words of sympathy to her. The invalid raised her eyes +and looked around her, giving first of all a look of recognition to Ada, +and holding out her thin hand to her, but her eyes sought evidently to +distinguish the face of the stranger who had last spoken. "She knows," +explained Maggie, "yours is a strange voice, and wishes to see you, +which she can't do, miss, for you are standing so much in the shade." + +Frida moved so that the glimmer of light which entered the little room +fell on her face. As she did so, and the old woman caught a glimpse of +her, a look of joy lit up the faded face, and she said in a distinct +voice: "'Bless the Lord, O my soul;' my dear has come to see me. Oh, but +I am glad! It's a long time since I saw you, Miss Hilda--a long, long +time. I thought you were dead, or you would never have forgotten your +old nurse you loved so dearly; but now you've come, my lamb, and old +nurse can die in peace." And seizing Frida's hand, the old woman lay +back as if at rest, and said no more. + +Frida was startled, and turning to her friend, said, "O Ada, whom does +she take me for? Can it be that she knew my mother, whose name was +Hilda, and that she takes me for her? Miss Drechsler says I am +strikingly like the picture I have of her. Perhaps she can tell me where +my mother lived, and if any of her relations are still alive;" and +bending over the bed, she said in a low tone, "Who was Hilda, and where +did she live? Perhaps she was my mother, but she is dead." + +The old woman muttered to herself, but looked up no more, "Dead, dead; +yes, every one I loved is dead. But not Miss Hilda; you are she, and you +have come to see your old nurse. But listen, Miss Hilda: there is the +master calling on us to go in, and you know we must not keep the master +waiting for even a minute;" and then the old woman spoke only of things +and people of whom no one in the room knew anything. But through all +Frida distinctly heard the words, "Oh, if only you had never played on +that instrument, then he would never have come to the house. O Miss +Hilda, why did you go away and break the heart of your mother, and old +nurse's also? Oh, woe's the day! oh, woe's the day!" + +"Was his name Heinz?" asked Frida in a trembling voice. + +"Oh yes, Heinz, Heinz. O Miss Hilda, Miss Hilda, why did you do it?" and +then the old woman burst out crying bitterly. + +"O miss, can you sing?" said Maggie, coming forward; "for nothing quiets +grandmother like singing." + +"Yes, I can," replied Frida.--"And you, I am sure, Ada, will help me. I +know now the woman, whoever she is, knows all about my mother." + +Together the two young girls sang the hymn, "Jesus, Lover of my soul." + +As they sang the dying woman became quieter, her muttering ceased, and +presently she fell into a quiet sleep; the last words she uttered before +doing so were, "Jesus, Lover of my soul." Much moved in spirit, Frida +quitted the house; she felt as if now she stood on the verge of +discovering the name and relations of her mother. She and Ada hastened +their return home to confide to Lady Stanford all that had passed. She +was much interested, and, as Sir Richard entered the room just then, she +repeated the story to him. He listened eagerly, and said he would at +once find out all he could about the woman and her friends; and so +saying he left the house. + +He returned home cast down and discouraged. The woman had become quite +delirious, and the names of Hilda and Heinz were often on her lips, but +he could, of course, get nothing out of her. The grandchild could tell +nothing of her former life; she never remembered hearing where she had +been nurse, but her father, who was now in Canada, might know. Sir +Richard could write and ask him. She had his address, and sometimes got +letters from him. The doctor said he did not think that grandmother +would live over the night. The only thing that had quieted her was the +singing of the young lady whom she had called Miss Hilda, and who had +come to the cottage that day with Miss Stanford. Maybe if she could come +again and sing grandmother would be quieter. + +On hearing this Frida rose, and said if Lady Stanford would allow her, +she would go and remain all night with the old woman, who she felt sure +must have been her mother's nurse. She often, she said, watched a night +by dying beds in the Black Forest, and had comforted some on their +death-beds by reading to them portions of God's Word. + +The Stanfords could not refuse her request; and when Lady Stanford had +herself filled a basket with provisions for Frida herself and little +Maggie, the girl set off, accompanied by Sir Richard, who went with her +to the door of the cottage. + +Finding the poor woman still delirious, Frida took off her cloak and +bonnet and prepared to spend the night with her, and sitting down beside +the bed she once more began to sing some sweet gospel hymns. In low and +gentle tones she sang of Jesus and His love, and again the sufferer's +restlessness and moaning ceased, and she seemed soothed. + +Hours passed, and the early summer morn began to dawn, and still the old +woman lived on. Every now and then she muttered the name of Miss Hilda, +and once she seemed to be imploring her not to vex her mother; and more +than once she said the name of Heinz, and whenever she did so she became +more excited, and moaned out the words, "Woe's me! woe's me!" Frida +watched anxiously every word, in the hope that she might hear the name +of Hilda's mother or the place where they lived; but she watched in +vain. It was evident that though there was a look of returning +consciousness, life was fast ebbing. A glance upward seemed to indicate +that the dying woman's thoughts had turned heavenward. Frida opened her +Bible and read aloud the words of the "shepherd psalm," so precious to +many a dying soul, "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow +of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me." + +To her amazement the sick woman repeated the words, "_thou_ art with +me;" and as she finished the last word the soul fled, and Frida and +Maggie were alone with the dead. The story of Frida's birth was still +undisclosed, but God's word, as recorded in Holy Scripture, had again +brought peace to a dying soul. Neighbours came in, and Frida turned away +from the death-bed with a heart full of gratitude to the Lord that she +had been allowed with His own words to soothe and comfort the old +nurse, who she felt sure had tended and loved her own mother. + +When she returned to the Hall, the Stanfords were truly grieved to hear +that the old woman was dead, and that there had been no further +revelation regarding Frida's relations. Lady Stanford and Ada had just +persuaded Frida to go to bed and rest awhile after her night of +watching, when the door opened, and the butler came in bearing a +telegram to Miss Heinz. Frida opened it with trembling hands, saw it was +from Miss Drechsler, and read the words, "Come at once; you are needed +here." + +What could it mean? Was Miss Drechsler ill? It looked like it, for who +else would require her in London? Fatigue was forgotten; she could rest, +she said, in the train; she must go at once. In a couple of hours she +could start. Ada was disconsolate. Nevertheless, feeling the urgency of +the case, she assisted her friend to pack her boxes; and erelong Frida +was off, all unaware of what might be awaiting her in the great city. +But ere we can tell that, we must turn for a while to other scenes, and +write of others closely linked, although unknown to herself, with the +life and future of the child found in the Black Forest. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE POWER OF CONSCIENCE. + + "Being convicted by their own conscience." + + +The day on which Reginald Gower met Dr. Heinz on the street, and sent +through him a farewell message to Gertrude Warden, found him a couple of +hours afterwards seated in his mother's boudoir, communicating to her +his suddenly-formed plan of starting in a few days for America. + +It was no easy thing to do. The bond between mother and son was a very +strong one, and her pleasure in having had him with her for some little +time had been great. Her look of pleasure when he entered the room made +it more difficult for him to break the news to her. + +"Earlier back to-day than usual, Reggie," she said, "but never too early +for your old mother. But is anything amiss?" she said in a voice of +alarm, as she noticed the grave look on his face. "Have you heard any +bad news, or are you ill?" + +"No, mother, it is neither of these things--there is nothing the matter; +only I fear, mother dear, that what I am going to say will vex you, but +you must not let it do so. I am not worth all the affection you lavish +on me. Mother, I have made up my mind to go to America, and to remain +there for some time. I cannot stop here any longer. I am tired--not of +my dear mother," he said, as he stooped over her and kissed her fondly, +"but of the idle life I lead here; and so I mean to go and try and get +work there, perhaps buy land if I can afford it, and see if I can make +anything of my life as a farmer. Nay, mother, do not look so sad," he +pleaded; "you do not know how hard it is for me to come to this +resolution, but I must go. I cannot continue to live on future prospects +of wealth that may--nay, perhaps ought never to be mine, but must act +the man--try and earn my own living." + +"Your own living, Reginald!" interposed his mother; "surely you have +enough of your own to live comfortably on even as a married man, and +your prospects of succeeding to Harcourt Manor are, I grieve to say for +one reason, almost certain. O Reginald, don't go and leave me so soon +again!" + +But the young man, usually so easily led, fatally so indeed, stood firm +now, and only answered, "Mother, it must be, and if you knew all you +would be the first to advise me to go. Mother, you will soon hear that +Gertie Warden is engaged to be married to a man worthy of her--a noble +Christian doctor of the name of Heinz; but don't think that that +circumstance is the reason of my leaving home. Fool though I have been +and still am, I was never fool enough to think I was worthy of gaining +the love of a high-principled girl like Gertie Warden. But, mother, your +unselfish, God-fearing life, and that of Gertie and Dr. Heinz, have led +me to see my own character as I never saw it before, and to wish to put +right what has been so long wrong, and which it seems to me I can do +best if I were away from home. Ask me no more, mother dear; some day I +will tell you all, but not now. Only, mother, I must tell you that the +words of the Bible which you love so well and have so early taught to me +have not been without their effect, at least in keeping my conscience +awake. And, mother, don't cease to pray for me that I may be helped to +do the right. Oh, do not, do not," he entreated, as his mother began to +urge him to remain, "say that, mother; say rather, 'God bless you,' and +let me go. Believe me, it is best for me to do so." + +At these words Mrs. Gower ceased speaking. If, indeed, her loved son was +striving to do the right thing, would she be the one to hold him back? +Ah no! she would surrender her will and trust him in the hands of her +faithful God. So with one glance upward for help and strength, she laid +her hand on his head and said, "Go then, my son, in peace; and may God +direct your way and help you to do the right thing, and may He watch +between us when we are separate the one from the other." + +Just as Reginald was leaving the room Miss Drechsler entered. She +greeted Mrs. Gower cordially, remembering her in old times; and she +recognized Reginald as the young man who had spoken to Frida the day +after the concert, though then she had not heard his name. + +As Reginald was saying good-bye, he heard his mother ask Miss Drechsler +where her friend the young violinist was. "I thought you would have +brought her to see me," she added. Her answer struck Reginald with +dismay. + +"Oh! she did not accompany me to London after all. A great friend of +hers was ill, and she had to go to her instead. It was a great +disappointment to me." + +Reginald went to his room feeling as if in a dream. Then it might never +come to pass, after all, that Frida's parentage would be found out; and +Satan suggested the thought that therefore he need not disclose all he +knew, but let things go on as they were. + +He hugged the idea, for not yet had he got the victory over evil; at all +events he thought he would still wait a bit, but he would certainly +carry out his intention of leaving the country for a while at least; and +two days after the time we write of, his mother sat in her own room with +a full heart after having parted from her only son. Well for her that +she knew the way to the mercy-seat, and could pour out her sorrow at the +feet of One who has said, "Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I +will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE STORM. + + "More things are wrought by prayer + Than the world dreams of." + + +After Mrs. Willoughby's interview with Dr. Heinz of which we have +written, her thoughts turned more than ever to the daughter she loved so +well. + +It seemed certain from what Dr. Heinz had said that there had been a +child; and if so, even although, as she feared, her loved daughter were +dead, the child might still be alive, and probably the father also. The +difficulty now was to obtain the knowledge of their place of residence. + +Mrs. Willoughby quite believed that if any news could be obtained of +either mother or child, Mr. Willoughby's heart was so much softened that +he would forgive and receive them thankfully. Once more advertisements +were inserted in various papers, and letters written to friends abroad, +imploring them to make every inquiry in their power. + +More than once Dr. Heinz called to see his new-made friend; but as Mr. +Willoughby had returned to Harcourt Manor, whither his wife was soon to +follow him, he never met him; and as Dr. Heinz was leaving town to take +a much-needed holiday in the west Highlands of Scotland, nothing more +could be done for the present to obtain information regarding the lost +ones. It thus happened that although Dr. Heinz was a frequent visitor at +Miss Warden's, he never met Miss Drechsler; but he heard from Gertie +that she had not been able to bring the young girl violinist with her. + +It was to Mrs. Willoughby that Mrs. Gower went for sympathy and +consolation at the time of her son's departure. Mrs. Willoughby heard of +his sudden departure with surprise and deep sorrow for her friend's +sake. + +"Reginald gone off again so soon!" she said. "Oh, I am sorry for you, +dear friend! And does he speak of remaining long away? Making his own +living, you say? Has he not enough to live comfortably on in the +meantime? And then, you know," and her eyes filled with tears as she +spoke, "his future prospects are very good, unless--" + +But here Mrs. Gower interrupted her. "Dear friend, from my heart I can +say, if only dear Hilda or any child of hers could be restored to you, +there is no one would more truly rejoice than I would; and I believe +Reginald would do so also." But even as she said these words a pang of +fear crossed her mind as to Reginald's feeling on the subject; but the +mother's belief in her child refused to see any evil in him, and she +added, "I am sure he would. But in any case the day of his succession as +heir-at-law to Harcourt Manor is, we trust, far off, and so perhaps it +is best for him that he should make his way in life for himself. I have +been able now to trust him in God's hands, who doeth all things well." + +From that visit Mrs. Gower returned to her home comforted and +strengthened. Alone she might be, yet, like her Saviour, "not alone, for +the Father was with her." And ere many days had elapsed she was able to +busy herself in making preparations for her return to her pleasant +country home, which she had only left at Reginald's special request that +for once they might spend the season together in London. + +One thing only she regretted--that she would be for some weeks separated +from her friend Mrs. Willoughby, who was not to return to Harcourt Manor +for some weeks. + +Ah! truly has it been said, "Man proposes, but God disposes." The very +day that Mrs. Gower started for her home, Mrs. Willoughby received a +telegram telling her that Mr. Willoughby was very ill at the Manor, and +that the doctor begged she would come at once; and so it turned out +that, unknown to each other, the friends were again near neighbours, and +Mrs. Willoughby in her turn was to receive help and comfort from her +friend Mrs. Gower. + +Long hours of suspense and anxiety followed the gentle lady's arrival at +her country home. It soon became evident that Mr. Willoughby's hours +were numbered, but his intellect remained clear. His eyes often rested +with great sadness on his wife, and as he thought of leaving her alone +and desolate, his prayer was that he might hear something definite +regarding the child ere he died. Could he but have obtained that boon, +he would have felt that that knowledge had been granted to him as a +pledge of God's forgiveness. + +Not always does our all-wise God grant us signs even as an answer to our +prayers. Still, He is a God who not only forgives as a king, royally, +but also blesses us richly and fully to show the greatness of His +forgiving power. And such a God He was to prove Himself in the case of +Mr. Willoughby. + + * * * * * + +Whilst he lay on that bed of death, watched over and tended by loving +friends, Reginald Gower was tossing on a stormy sea, a fair emblem of +the conflict between good and evil, right and wrong, that was still +raging within his breast. But that night, when the waves of the Atlantic +were wellnigh overwhelming the vessel in which he sailed, when fear +dwelt in every heart, when the captain trod the deck with an anxious +gravity on his face, light broke on Reginald's heart. So his mother's +prayers were answered at last. The Holy Spirit worked on his heart, and +showed him as it were in a moment of time his selfishness and his sin; +and from the lips of the self-indulgent young man arose the cry never +uttered in vain, "God be merciful to me a sinner." And when the morning +light dawned, and it was seen they were nearing in safety the harbour +whither they were bound, Reginald Gower looked out on the sea, which was +fast quieting down, and gave thanks that the conflict in his soul was +ended, and that clear above the noise of the waters he heard the voice +of Him who, while He tarried here below, had said, "Peace, be still," +to the raging billows, say these same words to his soul. + +"Safe in port," rang out the captain's voice; and "Safe in port, through +the merits of my Saviour," echoed through the soul of the young man. + +"Now," he said to himself, "let house, lands, and fortune go. I will do +the just, right thing, which long ago I should have done--write to Mrs. +Willoughby, and tell all I know about the child found in the Black +Forest." + +At that resolution methinks a song of rejoicing was heard in heaven, +sung by angel voices as they proclaimed the glad news that once more +good had overcome evil--that the power of Christ had again conquered the +power of darkness--that in another heart the Saviour of the world had +seen of the travail of His soul and was satisfied. + + * * * * * + +In the meantime, the events we have written of were transpiring in +Harcourt Manor. Mr. Willoughby still lay on a bed of sickness, from +which the doctor said he would never rise, although a slight rally made +it possible that life might yet be spared for a few days or even weeks. + +He was wonderfully patient, grieving only for the sorrow experienced by +his wife, and the sad thought that his own unforgiving spirit was in +great part the reason why now she would be left desolate without a child +to comfort her. + +Daily Mrs. Gower visited her friend, and often watched with her by the +bed of death. + +Dr. Heinz, at Mrs. Willoughby's request, came to see Mr. Willoughby, and +obtained from his lips a message of full forgiveness if either his +daughter, her husband, or any child should be found after his death; and +together they prayed that if it were God's will something might be heard +of the lost ones ere Mr. Willoughby entered into rest. "'Nevertheless,'" +added the dying man, "'not my will but thine be done.'" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE DISCOVERY. + + "All was ended now--the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow." + + +One day shortly after Dr. Heinz's visit, Mrs. Gower came to Harcourt +Manor accompanied by Miss Drechsler, who had arrived from London the +night before to remain with her for a couple of days. + +"You will not likely see Mrs. Willoughby," she said as they neared the +manor-house, "as she seldom leaves her husband's room; but if you do not +object to waiting a few minutes in the drawing-room whilst I go to see +her, I would be so much obliged to you, as I am desirous of knowing how +Mr. Willoughby is to-day. He seemed so low when I last saw him." + +"Oh, certainly," answered Miss Drechsler. "Don't trouble about me; I can +easily wait. And don't hurry, please; I am sure to get some book to +while away the time." + +They parted in the hall, Mrs. Gower turning off to the sick-room, while +Miss Drechsler was ushered by the butler into the drawing-room. The room +was a very fine one, large and lofty. It had been little used for some +weeks, and the venetian blinds were down, obscuring the light and +shutting out the summer sunshine. + +At first Miss Drechsler could hardly distinguish anything in the room, +coming into it as she did from a blaze of light; but as her eyes became +accustomed to the gloom, she made out first one object and then another +clearly, and rising from the place where she had been seated, she began +to look around her, turning to the pictures, which she had heard were +considered very fine. She looked attentively at some of them. Then her +eyes rested on a full-sized portrait of a beautiful girl, and with a +start of astonishment Miss Drechsler uttered the word, "Frida! and with +her curious necklace on, too. What does it mean?" she queried. + +In a moment the whole truth flashed on her mind. That, she felt sure, +must be a picture of Frida's mother, and she must have been the missing +child of Harcourt Manor. + +She sat down a moment, feeling almost stunned by the discovery she had +made. What a secret she had to disclose! Oh, if Mrs. Gower would only +come back quickly, that she might share it with her! Oh, if Frida had +only been with her, and she could have presented her to her grandparents +as the child of their lost daughter! + +At last the door opened, and her friend appeared, but much agitated. +"Excuse me, dear Miss Drechsler, for having kept you so long waiting; +but I found Mr. Willoughby much worse, and I must ask you kindly to +allow me to remain here for a short time longer. Perhaps you would like +to take a stroll about the beautiful grounds, and--" + +But Miss Drechsler could no longer keep silence. "O dear friend, do not +distress yourself about me! Listen to me for a moment. I have made such +a discovery. I know all about Mrs. Willoughby's daughter; but, alas, she +is dead! She died some years ago; but her only child, the very image of +that picture on the wall yonder, is living, and is now residing within a +few hours of London. She is my _protege_, my dearly-loved young +violinist, Frida Heinz, the child I have told you of found in the Black +Forest!" + +"Is it possible?" replied Mrs. Gower. "What a discovery you have made! +thank God for it. Can she be got at once, I wonder, ere the spirit of +her grandfather passes away? Oh, this is indeed an answer to prayer! The +cry of the poor man's heart for days has been, 'Oh, if God has indeed +forgiven me, as I fully believe He has, I pray He may allow me to know +ere I go hence if my child, or any child of hers, is alive to come and +comfort my dear wife in the sorrow that is awaiting her!'" + +"A telegram must be sent at once to Stanford Hall, where she is now +living," said Miss Drechsler; "and another to Miss Warden, asking her to +send off Frida, after she arrives at her house, at once to Harcourt +Manor." + +And without loss of time the telegram was dispatched which summoned +Frida to London, and from thence to the manor-house. + +The first sense of surprise having passed, Mrs. Gower's thoughts +involuntarily turned to Reginald. How would he like this discovery? But +again the mother's partiality, which already had too often blinded her +to his faults, suggested the impossibility that he would receive the +news with aught but pleasure, though there might be a momentary feeling +of disappointment as regarded his future prospects. But now she must +return to the sick-room, and try to see her friend for a minute or two +alone, and tell her the glad tidings; also, if possible, let her hear +the particulars of the story from the lips of Miss Drechsler herself. + +It was no easy matter now, under any pretence, to get Mrs. Willoughby to +leave her husband's side even for a moment. The doctors had just told +her that at most her husband had not more than two days to live, perhaps +not so long, and every moment was precious; but Mrs. Grower's words, +spoken with calm deliberation, "Dear friend, you must see me in another +room for a few minutes about a matter of vital importance," had their +effect. And she rose, and after leaving a few orders with the nurse, and +telling her husband she would return immediately, she quietly followed +Mrs. Gower into another room. + +She listened as if in a dream to the story which Miss Drechsler told. +Incident after incident proved that the child found in the Forest was +indeed her grand-daughter; and as she heard that her own child, her +loved Hilda, was indeed dead, the mother's tears fell fast. + +The necklace which Frida still possessed, the same as that worn by the +girl in the picture, the small portrait which had been found in her bag +the night that Wilhelm Hoerstel had discovered her in the Black Forest, +all confirmed the idea that she was indeed the grandchild of the Manor; +but it was not until Mrs. Willoughby heard the story of the "brown +German Bible" that she sobbed out the words, "Oh, thank God, thank God, +she is the child of my darling Hilda. Now, dear friend, this discovery +must be communicated by me to my husband, and he will know that his last +prayer for me has been granted." + +Mr. Willoughby was quite conscious, and evidently understood the fact +that at last a child of his daughter's had been found. As regarded the +death of the mother, he merely whispered the words, "I shall see her +soon;" then said, "I thank thee, O my Father, that Thou hast answered +prayer, and that now my sweet wife will not be left alone.--Give my fond +love to the girl, wife, for I feel my eyes shall not see her. That is my +punishment for so long cherishing an unforgiving spirit." + +And if God could act as a man, such might have been the case; but our +God is fully and for ever a promise-keeping God, and He has declared, +"If any man confess his sins, He is faithful and just to forgive him, +and to cleanse him from all iniquity." And so it came to pass that ere +the spirit of Mr. Willoughby passed away, he had pressed more than one +kiss on the lips of his grandchild, and whispered the words, "Full +forgiveness through Christ--what a God we have! Comfort your +grandmother, my child, and keep near to Jesus in your life. God bless +the kind friends who have protected and loved you when you were +homeless.--And now, Lord, let Thy servant depart in peace.--Farewell, +loved and faithful wife, who, by the reading to me God's word of life, +hast led my soul to Christ." One deep-drawn breath, and his spirit fled, +and his wife and grandchild were left alone to comfort each other. + + * * * * * + +"And now, Frida, my loved child, come and tell me all about those +friends who were so kind to you in the Forest," said Mrs. Willoughby +some days after Mr. Willoughby's funeral. "Ah, how little we thought +that we had a grandchild living there, and that our darling Hilda was +dead! When I look upon you, Frida, it almost seems as if all these long +years of suffering had been a dream, and my daughter were again seated +beside me, work in hand, as we so often sat in the years that have gone. +You are wonderfully like her, and I believe that during the last four +hours of his life, when his mind was a little clouded, my dear husband +thought that Hilda really sat beside him, and that it was to her he said +the words, 'I fully forgive, as I hope to be forgiven.' But comfort +yourself, Frida; at the very last he knew all distinctly, and told us to +console each other.--But now tell me what I asked you to do, and also if +you ever met any one who recognized you as your mother's daughter." + +"Not exactly," replied Frida. "Still, one or two people were struck with +my likeness to some one whom they had seen, but whose name they could +not recall. Miss Drechsler was one of those, and now she says she +wonders she did not remember that it was Miss Willoughby, although she +had only seen her twice at the Wardens', and then amongst a number of +people. And then a young man, a Mr. Gower (the same name as your +friend), who had heard me play on the violin at the Stanfords' concert, +told them that he was much struck with my resemblance to a picture he +had seen. I wonder if he could be any relation to your Mrs. Gower?" + +"Was his name Reginald?" Mrs. Willoughby asked hurriedly. + +"Yes. Sir Richard Stanford used to call him Reginald Gower; but I seldom +saw him. But, grandmother, is there anything the matter?" for as Frida +spoke, Mrs. Willoughby's face had blanched. Was it possible, she asked +herself, that Reginald Gower had known, or at least suspected, the +existence of this child, and for very evident reasons concealed it from +his friends? A terrible fear that it was so overcame her; for she liked +the lad, and tenderly loved his mother. She felt she must betray +herself, and so answered Frida's question by saying,-- + +"Oh, it is nothing, dear, only a passing faintness; but I shall lie on +the sofa, and you shall finish your talk. Now tell me about the Forest." + +And Frida, well pleased to speak of the friends she loved so well, told +of her childhood's life in the Forest, and the kindness shown to her by +Elsie and Wilhelm, not forgetting to speak of Hans and the little blind +Anna so early called to glory. "And, O grandmother, all the wood-cutters +and charcoal-burners were so kind to me, and many amongst them learned +to love the words of this little book;" and as she spoke she took from +her pocket the little brown German Bible, her mother's parting legacy to +her child. "It was no words of mine that opened their eyes (I was too +young to have said them); but I could read the Word of God to them, and +they did the deed." + +Mrs. Willoughby took the little book in her hands and pressed it to her +lips. "It was often in the hands of my darling Hilda, you say? and those +words in a foreign language became as precious to her as did the English +ones to her mother in the little Bible she gave her ere they parted? +Blessed book, God's own inspired revelation of Himself, which alone can +make us 'wise unto salvation.'" + +Mrs. Willoughby listened with great pleasure to Frida's tale, glancing +every now and again at the fair girl face, which was lit up as with +sunshine as she spoke of her happy days and dear friends in the Forest. + +"I must write to a friend in Dringenstadt," she said, "to go to the +Forest and tell them all the good news,--of how good God has been to me +in restoring me to my mother's friends, and in letting me know that a +brother of my father's was alive. But see, here comes the postman. I +must run and get the letters." + +In a minute she re-entered bearing a number of letters in her hand. + +"Ah! here are quite a budget," she said. "See, grandmother, there is one +for you bearing the New York mark, and another for myself from +Frankfort. Ah! that must be from the uncle you spoke of, Dr. Heinz. You +said he had gone there, did you not?" + +Whilst Frida was talking thus, her grandmother had opened her American +letter, and saw that it was from Reginald Gower. "He has heard, of +course, of my dear husband's death, and writes to sympathize with me. +But no; he could hardly have heard of that event, nor of the discovery +of our grandchild, and replied to it. He must be writing about some +other subject." + +She then read as if in a dream the following words:-- + + "DEAR FRIEND--if indeed I may still dare to address you thus--I + write to ask forgiveness for a sore wrong which I have done to + you and Mr. Willoughby. I confess with deep shame that for some + years I have had a suspicion, nay, almost a certainty, that a + child of your daughter was alive. Miss Drechsler, now living + with Miss Warden, can tell you all. I met the girl, who plays + charmingly on the violin, at a concert in the house of Sir + Richard Stanford. Her face reminded me of a picture I had seen + somewhere, but at first I could not recall where, until the + fact, told me by the Stanfords, of a peculiar necklace which the + girl possessed, and which they described to me, brought to my + remembrance the picture of your daughter at Harcourt Manor with + a _fac-simile_ of the necklace on. Added to this, I had heard + that the girl had been found by a wood-cutter in the Black + Forest, and that of her birth and parentage nothing was known. + It is now with deep repentance that I confess to having + concealed these facts (though I had no doubt as to whose child + she was), because I knew that by disclosing the secret my right + to succeed to the property of Harcourt Manor would be done away + with. I felt even then the shame and disgrace of so doing, and + knew also the trouble and grief I was causing to you, whom + (although you may find it difficult to believe) I really loved, + and who had ever been such a kind friend to me. I now see that + it was a love of self-indulgence which led me to commit so foul + a sin. Conscience remonstrated, and the words of the Bible, so + early instilled into my mind by my mother, constantly reproached + me; but I turned from and stifled the voice of conscience, and + deliberately chose the evil way. All these years I have + experienced at times fits of the deepest remorse, but + selfishness prevailed; and when I heard that Frida Heinz was + coming to England, and that probably ere-long all might be + disclosed, I resolved to leave my native land and begin a better + life here. Ere I left I had reason to believe that she was + unable to come to England, so even now I may be the first to + reveal the secret of her existence. I do not know if even yet I + would have gained strength to do this or not, had not God in His + great mercy opened my eyes, during a fearful storm at sea, when + it seemed as if any moment might be my last, to see what a + sinner I was in His sight, and led me to seek forgiveness + through the merits of Christ for all my past sins. _That_ I + believe I have obtained, and now I crave a like forgiveness from + you whom I have so cruelly wronged. Should you withhold it, I + dare not complain; but I have hopes that you, who are a follower + of our Lord Jesus Christ, will not do so. One more request, and + I have done. Comfort, I beg of you, my mother when she has to + bear the bitter sorrow of knowing how shamefully the son she + loves so dearly has acted. By this post I write also to her. I + trust to prove to both of you by my future life that my + repentance is sincere. REGINALD GOWER." + +Mrs. Willoughby's grief on reading this letter was profound. To think +that the lad whom she had loved, and whom in many ways she had +befriended, had acted such a base, selfish part, overwhelmed her; and +the thought that if he had communicated even his suspicions to her so +long ago the child would have been found, and probably have gladdened +her grandfather's life and heart for several years ere he was taken +hence, was bitter indeed. But not long could any unforgiving feeling +linger in her heart, and ere many hours were over she was able fully to +forgive. + +Of Mrs. Gower's feelings we can hardly write. The shame and grief she +experienced on reading the letter, which she received from her son by +the same post as that by which Mrs. Willoughby received hers, cannot be +expressed; but through it all there rang a joyful song, "This my son was +dead, and is alive again." The prayers--believing prayers--of long years +were answered, and the bond between mother and son was a doubly precious +one, united as they now were in Christ. It was for her friend she felt +so keenly, and to know how she had suffered at the hand of Reginald was +a deep grief to her. Could she, she queried, as she set out letter in +hand to Harcourt Manor--could she ever forgive him? That question was +soon answered when she entered the room and met her friend. Ere then +Mrs. Willoughby had been alone with her God in prayer, and had sought +and obtained strength from her heart to say, "O Lord, as Thou hast +blotted out my transgressions as a thick cloud, and as a cloud my sins, +so help me to blot out from my remembrance the sorrow which Reginald has +caused to me, and entirely to forgive him." After two hours spent +together the two friends separated, being more closely bound together +than ever before; Mrs. Willoughby saying she would write to Reginald +that very night, and let him know that he had her forgiveness, and that +without his intervention God had restored her grandchild to her arms. + +In the meantime letters had reached Dr. Heinz telling that the search +for the missing ones was at an end. His short holiday was drawing to a +close, and erelong Frida was embraced by the brother of the father she +had loved so much and mourned so deeply. + +And ere another summer had gone she was present at her uncle's marriage +with Gertie Warden, and was one of the bridesmaids. And a few days after +that event it was agreed, with her grandmother's full consent--nay, at +her special request--that she should accompany them on their marriage +jaunt, and that that should include a visit to Miss Drechsler and a +sight of her friends in the Black Forest. + +Many were the presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby to Elsie, Wilhelm, and +others who had been kind to her grandchild in the Forest. + +"O grandmother," said Frida, as she was busy packing up the things, "do +you know that I have just heard that my kind friend the German pastor +has returned to Dringenstadt and settled there. He was so very kind to +me when I was a little child, I should like to take him some small +special remembrance--a handsome writing-case, or something of that +kind." + +"Certainly, Frida," was the answer. "You shall choose anything you think +suitable. I am glad you will have an opportunity of thanking him in +person for all his kindness to you, and, above all, for introducing you +to Miss Drechsler. And look here, Frida. As you say that Wilhelm and +Elsie can read, I have got two beautifully-printed German Bibles, one +for each of them, as a remembrance from Frida's grandmother, who, +through the reading of those precious words, has got blessing to her own +soul. See, I have written on the first page the words, 'Search the +scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they +which testify of me.'" + +It was settled that during Frida's absence Mrs. Gower should live at +Harcourt Manor, and together Mrs. Willoughby and she bid adieu to Frida +as she set off three days after the marriage to meet her uncle and his +bride at Dover, from whence they were to start for the Continent. Tears +were in Frida's eyes--tears of gratitude--as she thought of the goodness +of God in restoring her, a lonely orphan, to the care of kind relations +since she had crossed the Channel rather more than a year before. + +Frida endeared herself much to her uncle and his wife, and after a trip +with them for some weeks, they left her with regret at Miss Drechsler's, +promising to return soon and take her home with them after she had seen +her friends in the Forest. + +"Ah, Frida," said Miss Drechsler, when they were seated in the evening +in the pretty little drawing-room, "does it not seem like olden days? Do +you not remember the first time when Pastor Langen brought you here a +shy, trembling little child, and asked me to see you from time to time?" + +Ere Frida could reply, the door opened, and Pastor Langen entered, and +Miss Drechsler introduced him to his _protege_. + +"Frida Heinz! Is it possible? I must indeed be getting _ein Alter_ if +this be the little girl who was found in the Black Forest." + +He listened with interest whilst Miss Drechsler told him the history of +her past years, much of which was new to him, although he had heard of +Frida's gift as a violinist; but when she told of the wonderful way in +which her relations had been discovered, he could refrain himself no +longer, but exclaimed,-- + +"_Lobe Herrn_, He is good, very good, and answers prayer." + +And ere they parted the three knelt at the throne of grace and gave +thanks to God. + +On the next day it was settled that Frida should go to the Forest and +see her old friends, taking her grandmother's present with her. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +OLD SCENES. + + "God's world is steeped in beauty, + God's world is bathed in light." + + +It was in the leafy month of June that Frida found herself once more +treading the Forest paths. The smaller trees were clothed in their +bright, fresh, green lining-- + + "Greenness shining, not a colour, + But a tender, living light;" + +and to them the dark, gloomy pines acted as a noble background, and once +again the song of birds was heard, and the gentle tinkle, tinkle of the +forest streams. + +Memory was very busy at work as the girl--nay, woman now--trod those +familiar scenes. Yonder was the very tree under which Wilhelm found her, +a lonely little one, waiting in vain for the father she would see no +more on earth. + +There in the distance were the lonely huts of the wood-cutters who had +so lovingly cared for the orphan child. And as she drew nearer the hut +of the Hoerstels, she recognized many a spot where she and Hans had +played together as happy children, to whom the sighing of the wind amid +the tall pines had seemed the most beautiful music in the world. + +As she recalled all these things, her heart filled with love to God, who +had cared for and protected her when her earthly friends had cast her +off. The language of her heart might have been expressed in the words of +the hymn so often sung in Scottish churches:-- + + "When all Thy mercies, O my God! + My rising soul surveys, + Transported with the view, I'm lost + In wonder, love, and praise." + +Words cannot depict the joy of Elsie and Wilhelm at the sight of their +dear woodland child. They had already heard of her having found her +English relations, and heartily they rejoiced at the good news, although +well they knew that they would seldom see the child they loved so well. + +Many were the questions asked on both sides. Frida, on her part, had to +describe Harcourt Manor and her gentle grandmother and her father's +brother, Dr. Heinz, and his beautiful bride. She told also of the +full-sized picture (which hung on the walls of Harcourt Manor) of her +mother, which had been the means of the discovery of her birth, from her +extraordinary likeness to it. + +When the many useful presents sent by Mrs. Willoughby were displayed, +the gratitude of those poor people knew no bounds, and even the little +girl looked delighted at the bright-coloured, warm frocks and cloaks +for winter wear which had been sent for her. Hans was by no means +forgotten: some useful books fell to his share when he returned home in +a few weeks from Leipsic for a short holiday. + +It was with difficulty that Frida tore herself away from those kind +friends, and went to the Dorf to see her friends there, and take them +the gifts she had brought for them also. It was late ere she reached +Dringenstadt, and there, seated by Miss Drechsler, related to her the +doings of the day. + +To Pastor Langen was entrusted a sum of money to be given to the +Hoerstels, and also so much to be spent every Christmas amongst the +wood-cutters and charcoal-burners in the Dorf. The two Bibles Frida had +herself given to the Hoerstels, who had been delighted with them. + +When, soon after that day, Dr. Heinz and his bride, accompanied by +Frida, visited the Forest, they received a hearty welcome. Many of the +wood-cutters recognized the resemblance Dr. Heinz bore to his brother +who had died in the cottage in the Forest. + +Many a story did Dr. Heinz hear of the woodland child and her brown +book. + +The marriage trip over, the Heinzes, accompanied by Frida, returned to +their homes--they to carry on their work of love in the dark places of +the great metropolis, taking with them not only comforts for the body, +but conveying to them the great and only treasures of the human mind, +the gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ. And to many and many a sin-sick, +weary soul the words of Holy Scripture spoken by the lips of those two +faithful ambassadors of the Lord Jesus Christ brought peace and rest and +comfort. And Frida, on her part, found plenty of work to do for the +Master in the cottages near Harcourt Manor, in which her grandmother +helped her largely. + +Three years had passed since Frida had become an inmate of her +grandmother's home, and they had gone for the winter to London in order +to be near Frida's relations the Heinzes, and at Frida's request Ada +Stanford, who was now much stronger, had come to pay her a visit. Many a +talk the two friends had about the past, recalling with pleasure the +places they had visited together and the people they had seen. The +beauties of Baden-Baden and the sunny Riviera were often dwelt on, and +together they loved to review God's wonderful love as regarded them +both. They spoke also of their visit to the dying woman in the Glen, +whom Frida had long before found out to have been a faithful nurse to +her mother, and for whose little grand-daughter Mrs. Willoughby had +provided since hearing from Frida of the old woman's death. + +Then one day the girls spoke of a musical party which was to take place +in Mrs. Willoughby's house that day, and in the arranging for which Ada +and Frida had busied themselves even as they had done years before in +Baden-Baden for the party at which Frida had played on the violin. A +large party assembled that night, and Dr. Heinz and Frida played +together; but the great musician of the night was a young German +violinist who had begun to attract general attention in the London +musical world. He was no other than Hans Hoerstel, the playmate of +Frida's childhood. + +Very cordial was the meeting between those two who had last seen each +other in such different circumstances. + +And Sir Richard Stanford, who was also present, felt he was well repaid +for what he had spent on young Hoerstel's education by the result of it, +and by the high moral character which the young man bore. + +It was a happy night. Frida rejoiced in the musical success of the +companion of her early years, and together they spoke of the days of the +past, and of his parents, who had been as father and mother to her. + +Long after the rest of the company had gone, Hans, by Mrs. Willoughby's +invitation, remained on; and ere they parted they together gave thanks +for all God's kindness towards them. + +All hearts were full of gratitude, for Mrs. Gower was there rejoicing in +the news she had that day received from Reginald, that he was about to +be married to a niece of Sir Richard Stanford's, whom he had met whilst +visiting friends in New York; and she was one who would help in the work +for Christ which he carried on in the neighbourhood of his farm. He was +prospering as regarded worldly matters, and he hoped soon to take a run +home and introduce his bride to his loved mother and his kind friend +Mrs. Willoughby. He added, "I need hardly say that ere I asked Edith to +marry me I told her the whole story of my sin in concealing what I knew +of the birth of Frida Heinz; but she said, what God had evidently +forgiven, it became none to refuse to do so likewise." + +So after prayer was ended, it was from their hearts that all joined in +singing the doxology,-- + + "Praise God, from whom all blessings flow!" + +And with this scene we end the story of the child found in the Black +Forest, and the way in which her brown German Bible was used there for +the glory of God. + + +THE END. + + +PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN. + + + + +Nelson's "Royal" Libraries. + + +THE TWO SHILLING SERIES. + + RED DICKON. Tom Bevan. + LAST OF THE SEA KINGS. David Ker. + IN TAUNTON TOWN. E. Everett-Green. + IN THE LAND OF THE MOOSE. Achilles Daunt. + TREFOIL. Margaret P. Macdonald. + WENZEL'S INHERITANCE. Annie Lucas. + VERA'S TRUST. Evelyn Everett-Green. + FOR THE FAITH. Evelyn Everett-Green. + ALISON WALSH. Constance Evelyn. + BLIND LOYALTY. E. L. Haverfield. + DOROTHY ARDEN. J. M. Callwell. + FALLEN FORTUNES. Evelyn Everett-Green. + FOR HER SAKE. Gordon Roy. + JACK MACKENZIE. Gordon Stables, M.D. + IN PALACE AND FAUBOURG. C. J. G. + ISABEL'S SECRET; or, A Sister's Love. + IVANHOE. Sir Walter Scott. + KENILWORTH. Sir Walter Scott. + LEONIE. Annie Lucas. + OLIVE ROSCOE. Evelyn Everett-Green. + QUEECHY. Miss Wetherell. + SCHONBERG-COTTA FAMILY. Mrs. Charles. + "SISTER." Evelyn Everett-Green. + THE CITY AND THE CASTLE. Annie Lucas. + THE CZAR. Deborah Alcock. + THE HEIRESS OF WYLMINGTON. E. Everett-Green. + THE SIGN OF THE RED CROSS. E. Everett-Green. + THE SPANISH BROTHERS. Deborah Alcock. + THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE. Harold Avery. + THE UNCHARTED ISLAND. Skelton Kuppord. + THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. Miss Wetherell. + THE BRITISH LEGION. Herbert Hayens. + THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. + SALE'S SHARPSHOOTERS. Harold Avery. + A TRUSTY REBEL. Mrs. H. Clarke. + BEGGARS OF THE SEA. Tom Bevan. + HAVELOK THE DANE. C. W. Whistler. + + +THE EIGHTEENPENCE SERIES. + + TOM TUFTON'S TOLL. E. Everett-Green. + NEW BROOM. Charles Turley. + STAR. Mrs. L. B. Walford. + A SON OF ODIN. C. W. Whistler. + PRESTER JOHN. John Buchan. + SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD. E. Everett-Green. + SONS OF FREEDOM. Fred Whishaw. + SONS OF THE VIKINGS. John Gunn. + STORY OF MADGE HILTON. Agnes C. Maitland. + IN LIONLAND. M. Douglas. + MARGIE AT THE HARBOUR LIGHT. E. A. Rand. + ADA AND GERTY. Louisa M. Gray. + AFAR IN THE FOREST. W. H. G. Kingston. + A GOODLY HERITAGE. K. M. Eady. + BORIS THE BEAR HUNTER. Fred Whishaw. + "DARLING." M. H. Cornwall Legh. + DULCIE'S LITTLE BROTHER. E. Everett-Green. + ESTHER'S CHARGE. E. Everett-Green. + EVER HEAVENWARD. Mrs. Prentiss. + FOR THE QUEEN'S SAKE. E. Everett-Green. + GUY POWER'S WATCHWORD. J. T. Hopkins. + IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. W. H. G. Kingston. + IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES. E. Everett-Green. + LIONEL HARCOURT, THE ETONIAN. G. E. Wyatt. + MOLLY'S HEROINE. "Fleur de Lys." + NORSELAND TALES. H. H. Boyesen. + ON ANGELS' WINGS. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + ONE SUMMER BY THE SEA. J. M. Callwell. + PARTNERS. H. F. Gethen. + ROBINETTA. L. E. Tiddeman. + SALOME. Mrs. Marshall. + THE LORD OF DYNEVOR. E. Everett-Green. + THE YOUNG HUGUENOTS. "Fleur de Lys." + THE YOUNG RAJAH. W. H. G. Kingston. + WINNING THE VICTORY. E. Everett-Green. + TRUE TO THE LAST. E. Everett-Green. + WON IN WARFARE. C. R. Kenyon. + + +Nelson's "Royal" Shilling Library. + + THE KINSMEN OF BRITHRIC'S HAM. H. Elrington. + THE WATCH TOWER. William A. Bryce. + LITTLE FRIDA. + THE GIRL WHO HELPED. Annie Swan, etc. + THE GOLD THREAD, & WEE DAVIE. Norman Macleod. + FEATS ON THE FIORD. Harriet Martineau. + ACADEMY BOYS IN CAMP. S. F. Spear. + ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Miss Gaye. + ESTHER REID. Pansy. + TIMOTHY TATTERS. J. M. Callwell. + AMPTHILL TOWERS. A. J. Foster. + IVY AND OAK. + ARCHIE DIGBY. G. E. Wyatt. + AS WE SWEEP THROUGH THE DEEP. Dr. Gordon Stables. + AT THE BLACK ROCKS. Edward Rand. + AUNT SALLY. Constance Milman. + CYRIL'S PROMISE. A Temperance Tale. W. J. Lacey. + GEORGIE MERTON. Florence Harrington. + GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + HUDSON BAY. R. M. Ballantyne. + JUBILEE HALL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. + LOST SQUIRE OF INGLEWOOD. Dr. Jackson. + MARK MARKSEN'S SECRET. Jessie Armstrong. + MARTIN RATTLER. R. M. Ballantyne. + RHODA'S REFORM. M. A. Paull. + SHENAC. The Story of a Highland Family in Canada. + SIR AYLMER'S HEIR. E. Everett-Green. + SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. Harold Avery. + THE CORAL ISLAND. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE DOG CRUSOE. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE GOLDEN HOUSE. Mrs. Woods Baker. + THE GORILLA HUNTERS. R. M. Ballantyne. + THE ROBBER BARON. A. J. Foster. + THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. Emily C. Hartley. + UNGAVA. R. M. Ballantyne. + WORLD OF ICE. R. M. Ballantyne. + YOUNG FUR TRADERS. R. M. Ballantyne. + MARTIN'S INHERITANCE. + OUR SEA-COAST HEROES. Achilles Daunt. + GIBRALTAR AND ITS SIEGES. + THE SECRET CAVE. Emilie Searchfield. + LIZZIE HEPBURN. + VANDRAD THE VIKING. J. Storer Clouston. + + + + +"THE" BOOKS FOR BOYS. + +AT TWO SHILLINGS. Coloured Plates. + + +By R. M. BALLANTYNE. + + =FREAKS ON THE FELL.= + + =ERLING THE BOLD.= + + =DEEP DOWN.= + + =WILD MAN OF THE WEST, THE.= + + =GOLDEN DREAM, THE.= + + =RED ERIC.= + + =LIGHTHOUSE, THE.= + + =FIGHTING THE FLAMES.= + + =CORAL ISLAND, THE.= The author of "Peter Pan" says of "The Coral + Island": "For the authorship of that book I would joyously swop + all mine." + + =DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER.= A tale of the prairies, with many + adventures among the Red Indians. + + =GORILLA HUNTERS, THE.= A story of adventure in the wilds of + Africa, brimful of exciting incidents and alive with interest. + + =HUDSON BAY.= A record of pioneering in the great lone land of the + Hudson's Bay Company. + + =MARTIN RATTLER.= An excellent story of adventure in the forests + of Brazil. + + =UNGAVA.= A tale of Eskimo land. + + =WORLD OF ICE, THE.= A story of whaling in the Arctic regions. + + =YOUNG FUR TRADERS, THE.= A tale of early life in the Hudson Bay + Territories. + + +By W. H. G. KINGSTON. + + "The best writer for boys who ever lived." + + =WITH AXE AND RIFLE.= + + =CAPTAIN MUGFORD.= + + =SNOW-SHOES AND CANOES.= + + =HEIR OF KILFINNAN, THE.= + + =BEN BURTON.= + + =DICK CHEVELEY.= A stirring tale of a plucky boy who "ran away to + sea." + + =IN THE EASTERN SEAS.= The scenes of this book are laid in the + Malay Archipelago. + + =IN THE WILDS OF AFRICA.= The adventures of a shipwrecked party on + the coast of Africa. + + =IN THE WILDS OF FLORIDA.= A bustling story of warfare between Red + Men and Palefaces. + + =MY FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTHERN SEAS.= A tale of adventure at sea and + in Cape Colony, Ceylon, etc. + + =OLD JACK.= An old sailor's account of his many and varied + adventures. + + =ON THE BANKS OF THE AMAZON.= A boy's journal of adventures in the + wilds of South America. + + =SAVED FROM THE SEA.= The adventures of a young sailor and three + shipwrecked companions. + + =SOUTH SEA WHALER, THE.= A story of mutiny and shipwreck in the + South Seas. + + =TWICE LOST.= A story of shipwreck and travel in Australia. + + =TWO SUPERCARGOES, THE.= An adventurous story full of "thrills." + + =VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD.= A young sailor's account of his + adventures by land and sea. + + =WANDERERS, THE.= The adventures of a Pennsylvanian merchant and + his family. + + =YOUNG LLANERO, THE.= A thrilling narrative of war and adventure. + + +T. NELSON AND SONS, LTD., London, Edinburgh, and New York. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Frida, by Anonymous + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE FRIDA *** + +***** This file should be named 31521.txt or 31521.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/5/2/31521/ + +Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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