One night after she had gone to her room she heard her son leave the house
with hasty steps. It had become a regular thing now. She had often said to
herself, "Ah! how much longer will this go on?" but she tried hard to
believe that it would soon come to an end, and her son would resume his
former orderly and happy mode of life. But this evening she was so
anxious that she could not stay in her bedroom. She went down into the
garden.

The moon peeped out from between the flying clouds, and shone peacefully
down upon the trees and the neat flower-beds. Gertrude seated herself upon
a small bench under the apple tree, and gazed about the garden, all
illuminated by the moonbeams. She had planted it all and cared for it with
her own hands. She had done this as she did everything, carefully and with
great painstaking, and it was all for her son's sake. His should be the
pleasure and the profit of all. Why could he not be happy in it now? Why
was she so worried about him? Dietrich was walking in steep and dangerous
paths; that she was sure of, but he knew the straight road and would not
his steps turn back to it again? Her thoughts went back to the days when
her little Dieterli loved good and orderly conduct; it could not be that
he had lost his love for it, that he did not still feel that in the right
conduct of life lies inward and outward blessing. She recalled the evening
of the day when her husband was borne from the house to his burial. She
had taken the children by the hand and, stupefied with pain, was about to
put them to bed, but Dieterli objected, saying,

"No, mother, no; it is not good to go to bed before you say your prayers."

Did her boy ever pray now? "Oh, Dieterli, my son, you are wandering away,
but you know the way home," she said to herself, and she folded her hands
in prayer, for her habit was to lay all her troubles before God, her
Supporter and Comforter.

At this moment, she heard through the stillness loud shouts and cries,
first at a distance, then nearer and nearer, until they grew into a wild
tumult. Then many of the voices seemed to scatter in different directions
while some sounded as if approaching the garden. A vague fear seized
Gertrude. Three fellows shouting and calling, passed on the other side of
the hedge; she recognized one of the voices.

"Jost," she cried feebly, "Jost, what is it? where is Dietrich?"

There was no answer; Jost did not or would not, hear. He ran faster than
be