and laid one hand upon the one to either side of her Thus she had
sat in the past, with her hands clasped in those of her parents. The
Rhine flowed on as melodiously as before in the dim distance, the
trees were as green, the flowers and blossoms as sweet, the sky as
blue. There was no change; all around her was as in former days,
except these empty chairs. But Anna had only to close her eyes to
see the beloved forms of her departed parents, to feel the pressure
of their hands, and to hear them addressing her, in tones which love
alone could have uttered, love alone understood. Then saying aloud,
"Good-morning, mother! Good-morning, father!" she rose, with closed
eyes, from her seat, and hastened from the arbor with the pleasant
thought that she was followed by the loving gaze of her parents. She
did not turn once, for then she would have seen that the arbor was
empty, and she wished to preserve the sweet delusion to be the
brighter and happier at her day's work. When, during the day, she
saw the burgher's wife surrounded by her blooming daughters, she
would say to herself, "I also have a father and mother at home, and
they await me!" Then, when her day's work was finished, she hastened
with a flying step to her home, whose solemn stillness resounded for
her with the dear-loved voices of the past. Opening the bedroom of
her parents, she cried, "Good-night, mother! Good-night, father!"
Then she climbed up to her little attic, which had been her father's
favorite room, and which, when she was with him, he had called a
little spot of Eden. There stood his writing-table, and above it the
bookcase, which held her most precious treasures, her father's
library. From the window the Rhine could be seen meandering along
the smooth green meadows, finally loosing itself between the distant
hills.

Her father had left her this blessed little spot, and hither she