comes, don't weep for me; for through you I've enjoyed all the happiness
a mother's heart can have in this world."

She knelt down, scooped up some water with her hand, and sprinkled it
over Hansei's and also over Walpurga's face.

They rowed on in silence. The grandmother laid her head on a roll of
bedding and closed her eyes. Her face wore a strange expression. After a
while she opened her eyes again, and casting a glance full of happiness
on her children, she said:

"Sing and be merry. Sing the song that father and I so often sang
together; that one verse, the good one."

Hansei and Walpurga plied the oars while they sang:--

"Ah, blissful is the tender tie
That binds me, love, to thee;
And swiftly speed the hours by,
When thou art near to me."

They repeated the verse again, although at times the joyous shouting of
the child and the neighing of the foal bade fair to interrupt it.

* * * * *

As they drew near the house, they could hear the neighing of the white
foal.

"That's a good beginning," cried Hansei.

The grandmother placed the child on the ground, and got her hymn-book
out of the chest. Pressing the book against her breast with both hands,
she went into the house, being the first to enter. Hansei, who was
standing near the stable, took a piece of chalk from his pocket and
wrote the letters C.M.B., and the date, on the stable door. Then he too
went into the house,--his wife, Irma, and the child following him.

Before going into the sitting-room the grandmother knocked thrice at the
door. When she had entered she placed the open hymn-book upon the open
window-sill, so that the sun might read in it. There were no tables or
chairs in the room.

Hansei shook hands with his wife and said, "God be with you,
freeholder's wife."

From that moment Walpurga was known as the "freeholder's wife," and was
never called by any other name.

And now they showed Irma her room. The view extended over meadow and
brook and the neighboring forest. She examined the room. There was
naught but a green Dutch oven and bare walls, and she had brought
nothing with her. In her paternal mansion, and at the castle, there were
chairs and tables, horses and carriages; but here--None of these
follow the dead.

Irma knelt by the window and gazed out over meadow and forest, where the
sun was now shining.

How was it yesterday--was it only yesterday when you saw the s