"I shall never forget how kind you have been, Apollonie," she said heartily. "I shall come to see you as soon as I am allowed to go. I hope that we shall see each other very often."

"Oh, yes, I hope so! Please ask Mrs. Rector to let you come to me as often as possible," said Apollonie before leaving.

Leonore now told the children that Apollonie had very vividly described to her the lovely home of her parents and the wonderful life in the castle. She had said frankly that she would never desire such a fine home, if only Salo and she could call a little house their own, so the good-hearted Apollonie had suggested that they might live with her. She could easily let them have the whole cottage with the exception of a tiny chamber. She could wait on them, and what more could they desire?

Leonore had felt that this would be better than anything she had dreamed of, as she could come over to Mrs. Maxa and her children as often as she pleased. How happy Salo would be if she wrote him about it.

"Yes, you can," Mazli declared. "Her house is a lovely place to live in.

Loneli is there, who does everything one wants her to, and Apollonie always cooks what one likes best."

Kurt made a little enigmatical remark to Mazli about her greed, but before she could have it explained to her, the mother turned to Leonore.

"I do not want you to be deluded by this thought, dear child," she said, "for that might only bring you disappointment. As soon as you are well, you can walk to Apollonie's cottage and then you will see what a tiny place it is. The great obstacle of Salo's studies would not be put aside in that way, either, for he could not join you there for years."

"Oh, I was thinking all the time how lovely it would be to live with Apollonie! It would be so wonderful--I could live with her there and Salo could come to us in the holidays till he is through with his studies.

Then we could both settle here in the neighborhood."

Leonore had been counting on this new scheme and she looked up at Mrs.

Maxa as if she longed for her consent. As Mrs. Maxa did not have the heart to shatter the child's hopes completely, she decided to let the matter rest for the present. As soon as they could visit Apollonie, Leonore could judge for herself how impossible the plan was.

Leonore's eyes were usually very sad, but occasionally she would look quite merry, and it was so that she appeared that evening when the children were surrounding her on all sides. When each had to tell her so much and tried to be nearest her, she experienced the feeling that she had come to a family to which she really belonged. Each of the children had founded a special relation with Leonore. Bruno saw himself as her protector and adviser, and as her brother's close friend he meant to keep an active watch over her. Mea, whose thoughts had been completely absorbed for days in her new friend, brought her all the warmth of a heart which craved friendship pa.s.sionately. Kurt had made it his duty to cheer up the rather melancholy child as much as was in his power. Lippo, still filled a little with his post of sentinel, always came close to her as if he still needed to watch over her. Mazli was of the firm opinion that she had to entertain the guest, so she would relate fragments of funny things she knew, pa.s.sing from one to another. In this way Leonore got to hear of the Knippel family. The time pa.s.sed so quickly that loud laments were heard when the mother announced that it was time for Leonore to retire. She did not want her strength to be overtaxed on her first day out of bed.

"We shall have many more days after this when we can be together," she added. "Let us be glad of that."

"There might not be so many, for I feel quite well already," Leonore said with a sigh.

Mrs. Maxa smiled.

"We must thank G.o.d for that. But you need to get strong, and I hope that you may find the needed recreation and change here." Then she accompanied the two girls up to their room at the top of the house. As Mea was to be Leonore's sole nurse from now on, Mrs. Maxa wanted to rea.s.sure herself that nothing was missing. It was in Mea's nature to endow every new friend with marvellous qualities. Her imagination was always as active as her heart, which she gave unreservedly on such occasions.

Unfortunately Mea suffered many disappointments in that way, because on nearer acquaintance her friends very seldom came up to her expectations.

She always tried hard to hold on to the original image, even if it did not in the least coincide with what her friends proved to be in reality and this brought on numberless fights with Kurt, who, with his usual shrewdness, could not help revealing to her the real state of affairs.

This always disillusioned her finally, for it was hard to deny his proofs. Whenever another girl woke a pa.s.sionate love in her, she was bound to expect something unusual from her.

A week had pa.s.sed since Leonore had spent her first day as convalescent among the family. As Mea had the privilege of being in the closest, most intimate contact with her new friend in the late evening hours, she was in a state of perfect bliss. Every moment of the day that she was home she tried to be at Leonore's side and in her walks to and from school there existed for her no other subject of conversation than Leonore.

It was quite unusual that Kurt had not produced a rhyme about her great devotion. He had not once said: "Things will be different after a while." Brother and sister this time were entirely of one opinion about her: it even seemed as if Kurt himself had caught a touch of the friendship fever, as he used to call Mea's great devotion.

Apparently Bruno was of the same opinion, too. In all his free hours he used to sit in a corner of the room with his books, paying no attention to anything else, but since Leonore had come he always joined the merry group and generally had something to relate or to show for Leonore's entertainment. This he did in a quiet, gentler manner, such that it seemed as if he would hardly have behaved otherwise.

Lippo felt so comfortable in Leonore's presence that he always kept as close to her as possible. Even when he told his experiences at great length, she never became impatient, but encouraged him to go on when his brothers and sisters made sarcastic remarks about him.

From time to time he would confidentially say to her: "Just stay with us always, Leonore. You are at home here now, even if you have no home anywhere else." This was uttered in a spirit of utter conviction, as the little boy had heard it from her own lips and was sure that this would be the best for them all.

Leonore blushed a deep scarlet at these words, as if Lippo had p.r.o.nounced a thought she did not dare to foster in her own heart. Once his mother had noticed this, so she told Lippo one evening, not to say this again.

As it was impossible to keep Leonore, it was much better not to speak of it, as it only gave her pain. As this was a firm command, Lippo obeyed faithfully. He kept on, however, showing Leonore that he loved to be with her.

Mazli's love for Leonore showed itself more than anything in a wish to lend her a helping; hand in many things which the little girl felt her lovely friend stood in need of. She had seen quite plainly that Leonore often became very sad when everyone else about her was laughing and she herself had been quite bright a moment before. But Mazli knew how she was going to help. She meant to tell Apollonie how to fit up her cottage for Leonore and Salo, who, she hoped, would spend his holidays there, too. She meant to superintend these preparations herself and to have it all fixed as daintily as possible.

By this time Mea's new friend was adored by the whole family, and they showed it by doing all in their power for her. They had agreed that she differed absolutely from Mea's former friends. They could not a.n.a.lyze wherein lay the charm which pervaded her whole personality. The children had never known anybody who was so polite towards everyone, including Kathy, who only spoke affectionate, tender words, and always seemed so grateful when others were kind to her. This spirit was something new and extremely delightful. They had to admit to themselves that they wished everybody would act in such a way, as this would do away forever with the fights and altercations that had always arisen between them, and for which they were afterwards always sorry. The only thing they would have been glad to change in Leonore were her sudden fits of gloom, which affected them all. Leonore tried very hard to fight these depressing thoughts, but they went so deep that she seldom succeeded. Their mother consoled them by saying that Leonore would get stronger as soon as she could take walks with them in the woods and meadows, and that feelings which now weighed on her would then seem lighter.

A few days later the children, including Leonore, came back with rosy cheeks and glowing eyes from their first walk to the surrounding hills.

The fresh mountain breeze had exhilarated them so much that the feeling of well-being was laughing from their young faces. Even Leonore's cheeks, that were usually so pale, were faintly tinged with a rosy hue.

The mother stepped out of the garden into the road in order to welcome the children.

"Oh," she cried out joyfully. "This first walk has been splendid.

Leonore looks like a fresh apple-blossom."

Taking her hand with great tenderness between her own, she gazed at her very closely in order to rejoice over the rosy color on the child's delicate face. That moment a beggar-woman approached, holding by each hand a little girl. The children's clothes were so ragged that their little bodies were scarcely covered.

Looking at Mrs. Maxa, the beggar-woman said, "Yes, yes, children can make one happy enough when one has a home. You are a fortunate lady to have a good roof for your own. It would be better for two such homeless ones as these not to exist! They are sure to remain homeless all their lives, and that is the saddest thing of all."

With that she stretched out her hand, for Mrs. Maxa was looking at her intently. Leonore had quickly taken off her shawl and jacket.

"May I give it to them?" she asked Mrs. Maxa in a low voice.

The beggar-woman had already noticed the girl's gesture and stretched out her hands in her direction.

"I am glad, young lady, that you have pity for these homeless ones, even if you do not know what that means. G.o.d bless you!"

Leonore looked imploringly into Mrs. Maxa's face. The latter nodded, as it was too late now to explain to Leonore what action would have been better. She made up her mind to do it afterwards for similar occasions.

With many words the poor woman thanked her for the gift. She was very anxious to kiss the young lady's hand for the two garments, but Leonore had immediately run away. Mea followed and found Leonore, who had been so merry on the walk, sitting in her sofa-corner, crying bitterly with her head between her hands.

"What is the matter, Leonore? Why do you cry so terribly?" Mea, asked, quite frightened.

She could not answer at once. The mother and the other children had come in, too, and now they all surrounded the sobbing girl in great amazement and sympathy.

"That is the way I am," she said at last, sobbing aloud, "I am homeless like them. Anyone who is homeless has to remain so always, and it is terrible. That is what the woman said, and I believe her. How should one find a home if one can't look for one?"

Leonore had never before broken out into such pa.s.sionate grief. Mrs.

Maxa looked at her very sorrowfully.

"She is a real Wallerstatten at the bottom of her heart," she said to herself. "That will mean more struggles for her than I thought."

At a sign from her the children plainly understood that she asked them to go into the garden for a little while. Sitting down beside Leonore, she took her hand between her own and waited till the violent outbreak had ceased.

Then she said tenderly: "Oh, Leonore, don't you remember what you told me once when you were ill and I was sitting on your bed? You told me that you found a song among your mother's music which always comforted you when you seemed to lose courage and confidence in G.o.d. You said that it always made you feel that He was not forgetting you and your brother, and that he is looking after you in whatever way is best for you, even if you can't recognize it now. Have you forgotten this? Can you tell me your favorite verse in it?"

"Oh, yes, I can," said Leonore, "it is the verse:

G.o.d, who disposest all things well, I want but what thou givest me, Oh how can we thine acts foretell, When Thou art far more wise than we?

"Yes, I always feel better when I think of that," Leonore added after a time in a totally changed voice. "It makes me happy because I know that G.o.d can do for us what Salo and I can't do for ourselves. But when everything stays the same for so long and there is no prospect of any change, it is so hard to keep this faith. If we can't do anything for ourselves, it seems as if everything would have to be that way. The woman said that if anybody is homeless once, he has to remain that way for the rest of his life."

"No, no, Leonore," Mrs. Maxa answered, "you must not take a chance word seriously. The poor woman only said it because she saw no immediate help for her children. It is not true at all. Of course you can't look ahead into your future, but you can ask G.o.d to give you full confidence in Him.

Then you can leave it all to Him, and the sense of His protection will make you calmer. It will also keep you from making uncertain plans, which might only bring fresh disappointments."

Leonore had attentively followed every word Mrs. Maxa had uttered.

Looking thoughtfully in front of her for a moment, she said, "Aunt Maxa"--this was the mode of address she had long ago been granted--"don't you want me to think of Apollonie's cottage either? Shall we have a disappointment, if I hope that we can find a home there?"