[Illustration]

The strange lady was at the cottage several weeks, and the children
soon learned to love her dearly. She was fond of rambling about with
them, and was seldom to be found within the house when the weather was
fair. She never went near the road, but preferred the oak wood, and
sometimes when the children were amusing themselves she would sit for
hours absorbed in deep thought or singing to herself in a sad and
dreamy way.

At other times she would interest herself in the children, and tell
them of things in the world outside the forest. She praised Carl's
pictures, and showed him how to work in his colors so as to more
effectively bring out the perspective, and tried to educate his taste,
as far as she could, by describing the pictures of the great masters.
She often said afterwards that she could never have lived through
those dark days but for the comfort she found in the children.

Carl saw that she was sorrowful, and he understood that her sadness
was not because of the plain fare and the way of living at the
forester's cottage, which he knew must seem rough indeed to her, but
because of some great grief. What this grief was he could not guess,
for the children had been told nothing about the beautiful lady,
except that her name was Lady Clarice. She never complained, but the
boy's wistful eyes would follow her as she moved among the trees, and
his heart would swell with pity; and how he would long to do something
to prove to her how he loved her!

The forester told Carl that the cavalier was with the army. But he did