when she heard her sister-in-law reproach Melchior and
curse the day in which she had entered a family that had such a stain
upon it, then the heart of the poor unfortunate bled deeply. She, the
angel of peace, to be the disgrace of such a dragon! This was too much
to bear.

It was the sad fate of poor Vefela that a phalanx of bad or weak men
and women, clad in the dismal garb of gloomy passions, lined the path
on which her journey through life had been cast. This prevented her
from recognising those bright exceptions who do not press forward
hastily, because their unostentatious dignity holds them back, and
because they have a right to suppose that they will be detected without
it.

As Vefela sat weeping on the kitchen-hearth one day, Wendel came in and
said, "'Mustn't cry: don't you mind how I told you there were plenty of
good farmers' boys in the world, though they don't know how to make
bows and shambles?"

Vefela looked up with tearful eyes, astonished at the speech. But she
said nothing, and after a while Wendel went on:--

"Yes, look at me: what I say is as true as if the parson said it in the
pulpit." He took Vefela's hand and said, "To make it short, I know all
about it: but you are better than a hundred others for all that; and,
if you will say the word, we shall be man and wife in a fortnight; and
your child shall be my child."

Vefela quickly drew away her hand and covered her eyes. Then, rising,
she said, with a burning blush, "Do you know that I am as poor as a
beggar? You didn't know that, did you?"

Wendel stood still a while, anger and pity contending for the mastery
within him. He was ashamed of Vefela's words for her sake and for his
own. At last he said, "Yes, I know it all. If you were rich yet, I
would never have opened my mouth. My mother has a little lot, and I
have saved a little money: we can both work and live honestly."

Vefela looked up to heaven with folded hands, and then said, "Forgive
me, Wendel: I didn't mean to speak so wickedly. I am not so bad; but
the whole world seems so wicked to me. Forgive me, Wendel."

"Well, do you say the word?" he inquired.

Vefela shook her head, and Wendel, stamping the ground, asked, "Why
not?"

"I can't talk much," said Vefela, breathing hard; "but, forgive me, I
can't. God will reward your good heart for this: but now please don't
let us speak another word about it."

Wendel went out and gave Melchior warning against next Martinmas.

At