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"Go now," he sobbed, completely broken down. She let go the hand. The rabbi had seized the candle, but she had already passed him, and glided through the dark hall. The door was left open. The rabbi locked it again. Veile returned to her home, as she had escaped, unnoticed. The narrow street was deserted, as desolate as death.
The rich brother would contribute nothing, and his brother said that if he were so rich he would build the church himself. The next night he dreamt that on a bridge at Veile, called the southern bridge, he would hear of something to his advantage. He went to Veile, and walked up and down it all day. At last an officer passed and repassed him, and asked him what he wanted.
Hundreds of instances were given to prove that this was nothing new in the gasse. Despite this explanation, it is remarkable that the people did not believe that the young woman was dumb. The most thought that her power of speech had been paralyzed by some awful fright, but that with time it would be restored. Under this supposition they called her "Veile the Silent."
He would not go back or let any man assist him, sitting down where he was and waiting until one of the men brought him word that the hill was stormed. Colonel Veile planted the standard of the First Cavalry on the hill, and General Sumner rode up. He was fighting his division in great form, and was always himself in the thick of the fire.
The most of them were excellent young men, and any mother might have been proud in having her own daughter sought by such. Even then Veile did not undo her penance. Those busy times of intercourse which keep mothers engaged in presenting the superiorities of their daughters in the best light were not allowed her. The choice of one of the most favored suitors was made.
Curious glances were cast through the lattice-work of the women's gallery above upon the dense throng. Veile occupied one of the foremost seats. She could see everything that took place below. Her face was extremely pale. All eyes were turned towards her the mother, who was permitted to see such a day for her son! But Veile did not appear to notice what was happening before her.
I who write this am Peter Kurt, and I was the steward of my master Ebbe while he dwelt in his own castle of Nebbegaard. We lived alone, with a handful of servants sometimes as few as three in the castle which stands between the sandhills and the woods, as you sail into Veile Fiord.
"Excellent!" said Helga, using a Danish expression. "But it will be a long day for my father." "We should get to Horsens at six, and we can telegraph to the hotel to be ready to receive us at that time," said Hardy. "But the next day is only nineteen English miles to Veile, and would be less fatiguing." "I like to be tired, Hardy, by outdoor exercise," said Pastor Lindal.
"We want you to send our heavy luggage to the station for Esbjerg, and a telegram to Silkeborg to order dinner at five and beds, and leave here at midday. The next day we can get to Horsens, and then to Veile, or farther. I have taken out the different places and distances by Mansa's map, which you can check. Here is also the English guide-book for Jutland.
Suddenly he neared the young woman, who seemed to lie there scarcely breathing. He stopped in front of her. Had any one seen the face of the rabbi at this moment the expression on it would have filled him with terror. There was a marvelous tranquillity overlying it, the tranquillity of a struggle for life or death. "Listen to me now, Veile," he began, slowly. "I will talk with you."
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