Part 78 (1/2)

Walpurga also lay down, but the mother remained awake, watching the child.

Hansei slept but a short time. He looked pleased when he saw his wife lying on the ground, sleeping by his side. He motioned to the mother that she should not awaken Walpurga. The child was placed in the basket beside its mother, who slept on quietly, while Hansei and the grandmother were at work further down the hillside. The sun was already sinking when Walpurga awoke. She felt something touching her which thrilled her strangely. She opened her eyes, and they met those of her child. Its hands were stroking her cheeks. The child had crept out of its basket and had crawled up to her. Walpurga kept perfectly still.

She scarcely ventured to breathe, and closed her eyes, lest she should frighten the child away. ”Mother,” cried the child. She still restrained herself, though she felt as if her heart must burst.

”Mother! Mother!” it cried, more eagerly than before; and now she raised herself and embraced the child, and it let her do with it as she liked. Her heart overflowing with happiness, she sank on her knees and held her little, laughing child on high.

She sprang to her feet, held the child up with both her hands, and, hurrying to her people, exclaimed: ”Hansei! mother! the child's mine!”

and the little one held her tightly in its arms.

”Moderate yourself!” said her mother. ”You'll spoil the child if you show that you care for it so much. That's enough, Burgei,” said she to the little one. ”Put it down, Walpurga, and come help us.”

Walpurga followed her mother's advice, but could not help looking toward the child. It did not turn toward her. It was playing with the dog, who had made good friends with it. Presently it tumbled down from the pile of hay. Walpurga shrieked; but the mother exclaimed, ”let it alone!” The child lifted its head, laughed, crawled over to the grandmother, and then looked over at its mother.

The hay was dry. Hansei hurried off to fetch his cow team, as he was anxious to get the load home betimes. The wagon could not come nearer than the road, and so they were obliged to carry the hay down the hill and to pile it up in heaps. Walpurga said that she had slept enough and had been idle for a long while, and allowed her mother to help her but little.

Hansei returned. They loaded the wagon. Grandmother, Walpurga and child sat on top of the load of hay, and Hansei, at last, got up, too.

Evening had set in. The lake began to a.s.sume a darker hue, and it was only here and there that a streak of light played upon its surface.

”And now the people may say whatever they please,” said Walpurga, ”here, we're far above them all.”

The mother and Hansei looked at each other, and their glance meant: ”How wonderful it is that Walpurga should have such strange thoughts about everything.”

It was soon quiet in the little cottage by the lake. Its tired but happy inmates were sleeping, and the whole house was fragrant with the odor of the new-mown hay.

CHAPTER VII.

The folks in the cottage slept on peacefully, knowing nothing of the whirlwind of dust, the dark clouds that overcast the sky, the mighty storm, or the violent rain that followed. When Hansei put his head out of the window next morning, it was still raining. He turned to Walpurga and said: ”Do you see? I was right, yesterday. The weather's changed.

Thank G.o.d! our hay's under cover.”

”Yes,” replied Walpurga. ”What a day it was. It was all suns.h.i.+ne.”

It rained all day. A sharp wind was blowing, the waves of the lake rose on high and lashed themselves against the sh.o.r.e.

”How good it is to have a roof over one's head,” said Walpurga. Hansei again looked at his wife with surprise. Walpurga discovered everything anew. But now she was happy, for her child clung to her. It called her ”mother,” and called the grandmother ”mamma.”

Walpurga, with the child on her arm, was standing at the stable door and throwing bread-crumbs to the finches, who could find no food that day. The birds picked up the crumbs and flew away to their nests with them.

”They've got young ones at home, too,” said she. Suddenly, she interrupted herself and said: ”Burgei, we've been in the sun together, now we'll go into the rain together.” She ran out into the warm rain with her child and then back again into the stable. She dried herself and the child and said: ”There! wasn't it lovely? and now it's raining on our meadow and fresh gra.s.s will grow, and my child must grow too, and when we gather the aftermath, you'll be able to run alone.”

Walpurga felt so happy that the child had become attached to her that she hardly knew what to do for joy. The child, too, was happier than it had ever been before. The young mother could play with it far better than the grandmother could. Her laugh was so bright, and she would count its little fingers and renew all those wondrous, childish plays which overflowering maternal love invented.

Walpurga did not care to eat anything all that day. She merely tasted a spoonful of the broth before giving it to her child. It rained incessantly. Hansei was out in the shed, chopping wood. Suddenly, he came into the room and said: ”How careless we were yesterday. They all know that you brought home so much money with you, and we went off and left the house alone. Have you looked to see if it's still here?”

Walpurga was filled with alarm, but speedily satisfied herself that all was still there.

”It must be put in a safe place before long. At all events, one of us must always stay at home, now,” said Hansei, and returned to his work.