r rather
disguising, the sorrow-stricken wearer.

CHAPTER XIV.

The grandmother was out of doors, arranging a bed in the covered wagon.
She told her brother to drive carefully, and not crack his whip so
often; for Uncle Peter, known as the little pitchman, was so elated at
the idea of having a whip and two horses under his charge, that he
cracked his whip incessantly.

"The stranger's puttings on airs, I think. Who is she, anyhow?" asked
the little pitchman, taking the thong between his teeth, as if he could
only thus prevent himself from cracking the whip.

"A poor, sick creature," said Beate. It went hard with her to say this,
and yet it was not a lie.

Hansei had gone on with the large team. And now the women, too, agreed
that it was time to start. Irma now saw Walpurga's child for the first
time, and, as soon as it caught Irma's eye, it shouted and wanted to go
to her.

"Oh! that's lovely," exclaimed Walpurga and her mother at the same
time. "She's always so shy."

Irma took the child in her arms and hugged and kissed it. She felt as
if again embracing the childlike purity which, in herself, had withered
and died. Her expression changed from one of joy to that of sadness,
and the grandmother said:

"You've a good, honest heart; children feel and know that. But now
you'd better give the child to Walpurga and get into the wagon."

A bed had been prepared for Irma. The grandmother got up into the wagon
and, taking the child in her arms, sat down beside Irma. Walpurga and
Gundel sat in front, looking about them. The uncle walked beside the
horses, and would, now and then, cast a sorrowful look at the whip that
he was not allowed to crack. No one spoke a word; but the child laughed
and prattled and wanted Irma to play with her.

"Go to sleep now," said the grandmother, and in a soft voice she sang
both child and Irma to sleep.

"Who's that coming down the hill?" suddenly asked Walpurga of the
uncle.

"The one's a forester, and the other must be a nobleman's servant."

Walpurga was alarmed. When the horsemen drew near, she recognized Baum.
Swift as thought she slipped into the wagon and left Gundel sitting
alone in front.

The horsemen drew nearer, and at last halted by the wagon. The child
awoke and cried, and thus awakened Irma. A thin curtain was all that
separated her from him. The horse that Baum rode distended its
nostrils, threw its head back, and reared so t