“Do you think, Martha, that my mother can see the golden sky as well from inside as we see it from the outside?” asked the child, pointing to the sunset.
“Yes, I am quite sure of that, Cornelli,” Martha eagerly answered. “If our dear Lord lets his dwelling glow so beautifully from outside, just think how wonderful it must be inside where the blessed are in their happiness!”
“Why are they so glad?” Cornelli wanted to know.
“Oh, because they are freed from all sorrow and pain. They are also glad because they know that every pain or sorrow their loved ones on earth have to bear is only a means to bring their prayers to Him who alone can guide them to Heaven.”
“Did my mother pray to Him, too?” asked Cornelli again.
“Yes, yes, Cornelli, you can be sure of that,” Martha reassured her. “Your mother was a good, pious lady. Everybody should pray to be able to go where she is.”
The two now reached the post office and gave their message to the innkeeper and postmaster. When twilight had come and the evening bell had long ago rung, they wandered back along the pleasant valley road between green meadows.
II
Up in the Top Story
One bright morning in May, a portly gentleman, leaning heavily on a gold-headed cane, was walking up the narrow city street. The houses here were so high that the upper windows could scarcely be seen from below. A steep rise in the street caused the gentleman to stop from time to time to get his breath. Scrutinizing the house numbers, he said to himself several times: “Not yet, not yet.” Then, climbing up still higher, he at last reached a house beside whose open door six bells were hanging.
The gentleman now began to study the names under the bells, meanwhile gravely shaking his head, for he did not seem to find the name he was seeking.
“Oh dear, at last! and the highest one up, too,” he sighed, while he entered the house. Now the real climbing began. At first the steps, though rather high, were white and neat. But after a while they became dark and narrow, and in the end the way led over worn, uneven steps to a narrow door. The only standing room was on the last small step.
“Is this a cage?” said the climber to himself, breathing hard and holding fast to the railing. The thin and creaking steps seemed to him extremely unsafe. After he had pulled the bell-rope, the door opened, and a lady dressed in black stood before him.
“Oh, is it you, kind guardian?” she exclaimed with astonishment. “I am so sorry that you had to come up these winding steps,” she added, for she noticed that the stout gentleman had to wipe his face after the great exertion. “I should have been very glad to go down to you, if you had let me know that you were here.” The lady meanwhile had led the gentleman into the room and asked him to seat himself.
“As your guardian I simply had to come once to see you,” he declared, seating himself on an old sofa and still leaning with both hands on the golden knob of his cane. “I have to tell you, my dear Mrs. Halm, that I am sorry you moved to town. You should have followed my advice and lived in a small house in the country. It would have been so much more practical for you than to live in this garret lodging where you have no conveniences whatever. I am quite sure that the country air would have been much better for both you and the children.”
“I could not think about conveniences for myself, when my husband died, and I had to leave the parsonage, Mr. Schaller,” replied the lady, with a faint smile. “The country air would naturally have been much better for my children, especially for my older boy. But he had to come to town on account of school, and I could not possibly have sent him away from me, delicate as he is. Besides—”
“There are boarding places in town where such boys are well taken care of,” the visitor interrupted. “What other reasons did you have?”
“My girls, too, are old enough to learn something which they can make use of later on,” continued the lady. “You know that this is necessary and that it is very hard to get such opportunities in the country. I hope I have persuaded you that coming to town with the children was not a foolish undertaking. I am extremely glad that you have given me an opportunity to explain why I did not follow your advice.”
“What are your daughters going to learn?” the gentleman asked abruptly.
“Nika, the elder, paints quite well,” replied the lady, “and Agnes has a decided talent for music. If both girls are earnest in their studies, they hope later on to be able to teach; indeed, they are very anxious to do so.”
“These arts do not bring good returns, even after years and years of study,” said the gentleman. “It would be much more sensible for the sisters to busy themselves with dressmaking. They could quickly begin a business in which they might help each other and make some money. This would really help both you and your son a great deal. If your boy is going to study, it will be a long time before he can be independent.”
The parson’s widow looked sadly in front of her without saying a word.
“Please do not misunderstand me. I am only speaking in your and your children’s interest,” the gentleman began again. “I am very sorry not to have met your daughters, for they would soon have agreed with me, if they had heard my reasons. Nowadays young people understand quite well what it means to make one’s way easily and advantageously. You can be sure of that.”
“My
