Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1856-02-14

Kleine, drawing her daughter into her arms,
and have said thou shalt go with him, as thy
mother went with Gottfried but not to love us
the less Greta, my child
mo, no, no. heard the rapid, breathless
murmur, as Greta clung to her mothers breast
and then she disongaged herself hastily, hur-
ried away through the waning sunshine, and
disappeared from me like many another dream.
l sat in the shadow chill and gray, shrunk
back into myself once more. did not move
l did not speak-my heart grew dumb, and the
life grew stagnant in my veins. Madame Kleine
sat down beside me, and wiped u tear out of
either eye but even in my shock of fear and
eagerness, knew the mothers triumph in her
moved face
My poor little dove it is very far, this Eng
land, for her first fight to be; and the house
will be sad, Greta, without thy voice and thy
song. Yet il would be wrong to grudge her to
a good fate, Monsieur William-you think so
with ME
The fate is-!' My throat wasdry; could
hardly say the words.
He would marry Greta, your young coun-
tryman-he says there is none like her in all
Bavarla-nor even in his England, said Mad
anne Kleine, again wiping off tho afectionate
tear which softened her smile. He would car.
ry her to his castle, and make great lady of
my little one ; would do right to keep her
back, Monsieur William for she is in his
heart, and he in hers are they not like each
other, so good and so gay, and SO innocent, the
sweet young souls And he will bring my child
to Wurtzburg every year to see her mother. 1
will weep when they go away, do you tell me;
but then Immediately will smile again, think
ing how my pretty one may como back-and
with the weeping and smiling we will never be
apart. My friend, you are pleased you per-
ceive!
Il do not perceive that he is worthy of Greta,'
said, almost with sob what do you know
of him, he is almost a stranger''
Hush, you are hard to be satisfied, said the
mother, laying her hand on my arm, with a
) smile. He says he has younger brother,
; though, who will be richer and greater than he
) this is because Monsieur Arthur's father married
another lady second time, and she has great
wealth, and her child is her heir. l do not
know your English law, but think it strange
the younger should be richer than the elder
that is not how it is when Greta reads to me out
of your English books-there the elder has all
and why is it that. Monsieur Arthurs little
brother will be richer than he
shook off her arm mpatiently. Il cannot
tell-what is it to me how rich he is! He
|. might be king, and not worthy of Greta-
Will he make her as happy as she has been!
wiz she be ,ceN with him--well-well9 do
: not ask if he is rich this is what ask!'
: MY good friend, said Madame Kleine, we
. never are so happy as we have been; notwith-
u standing we must have our own fate and our
own house, and not be always little Greta, the
l. light Of the eyes at home. That is my phi
= - losophy. I will long for Greta many times,
and Greta will weary her fond little heart think
8 ing of me; yet Greta, too, must pass into the
u - monday as I did, and have her own course, and
her own life, though the child faints at the be-
0 ginning Do not the mothers think so in En-
u inland and if do not grudge Greta away from
l. me, why should you!'
rose up before her, dark and sullen; anger
! could not exist toward Greta. but could have
- poured out flood of vehement bitterness upon
- her mother. Greta is more precious to me
than the light, and she will never come into nv
heart again. said in passionate undertone
=. which Madam Klene bent forward to hear 'Tc
you it is little, for you have many another thing
to give you pleasure am stranger, and have
! but her-have but the dream of her had takou
to my heart-and even that you steal away
from me-.
,s said nothing more. remember that Mad
. anne Kleine rose with deep concern and sympa.
~ thy in her face, and that with only repelline
" gesture waving her off, turned and went away
went away, unhesitatingly and stealthily tt
n, the bridge, bent over the balusrade, and looked
n, down upon the little river. My brow burned
at with no fever, there was no frenzy in my soul
Dis and alas-alas-alas-alas, was all the plaint
- my heart made into the quiet night This wore
e, came to me again and again, like the echo O
dirge Unconsciousy said it within myself
he unconsciously repeated it aloud. No one hat
II, deceived memo one had done me wrong. wa
ed only sad-very sad-left alone in the night.
Nnt oft f1l - Isl.
i'd al went to it, making strong effort, be
nd cause Gottfried told me Greta had nearly giyel
ne her engagement up on her mothers report 0
how much it moved me. Greta S sweet maidenl
nv heart could find no triumph in breaking another
n but she did not know how much less shoul
,lf have felt her complete indifference to me than
If did the wistlul, almost tender look of pity wit
as which her eyes sought me out when she entere
as the room. The same sweet inquiring look
no was, which first made my soul yearn and fain
er for the sympathy of hers, though blended in
now was a conscious shrinking, timid awe
id which perhaps increased its power, During th
at ceremony itself, managed to steal out of th
room, and the house-not with the fierce impa
ne tiencc of jealousy, but with a certain strange
he unspeakabe sadness and acquiescence in m
se fate did not go far away did not llurr
Ter out with the strong impulse of violent haste an
motion on me as had done in the other disaI
Sc, pointments ofmy life. only strayed the lengt
m of Greta's arbor, and sat down there under til
,h- leaves to look out upon the pure daylight an
en- the calm air around. The light lay clea
th and full upon the vineyards of the Steir
ad berg, the Maine went by with hush of mul
od mnring sound. leaned INV head nnnn m