e was with him, he had called a little spot of Eden. There stood his
writing-table, and above it the bookcase, which held her most precious
treasures, her father's library. From the window the Rhine could be
seen meandering along the smooth green meadows, finally loosing itself
between the distant hills.

Her father had left her this blessed little spot, and hither she fled
when her heavy day's work was over. There of an evening she stood,
gazing thoughtfully out into the darkening twilight, and there daily she
greeted the rising sun, repeating aloud her morning prayer. Then with
eager hands she took from the book-case one of the large folios. From
these books Anna Sophia drew all her knowledge. And when, during the
long winter evenings, the village girls were busy spinning, she would
tell them the stories she had read, no hand was idle, no eye drooping.
She was looked upon as the guardian angel of the village; she knew some
remedy, some alleviation for every illness, every pain. In a sick-room,
she was all that a nurse should be, kind, loving, patient, and gentle.
She was beloved by all, and all the village boys sought to gain her
hand. For a long time she would listen to none of them, and flew in
terror from those who broached the subject.

How the youngest son of the old shepherd Buschman had finally won her
heart, she did not herself know. It is true, he was the handsomest,
best-made boy in the village, but it was not for this that she loved
him; for she had known him long ago, and had been perfectly indifferent
to him, until within the last few weeks. Why was it? Because he loved
her so dearly, and had told her he would die if she did not listen to
him. Many others had done and said the same thing, but it had never
moved her sensibilities, nor had their threats terrified her. What,
then, had won her cold, proud heart?

The old shepherd had been the occasion of their frequently meeting each
other. For some weeks she had been in the habit, when her day's work was
over, of reading to him the daily paper, which the good-hearted burgher
always sent to the old man, who had six sons in the king's army; he had
given his country six soldiers.

Keeling by his side upon the meadow, Anna Sophia would first read to
him, and then talk over the events of the war, and prophesy many a
glorious victory. And then, Charles Henry, who worked on the same farm
with Anna, joined them, speaking enthusiastically of the great, heroic
kin