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Updated: June 7, 2025
As we passed I started to speak to Alice Herbert, but, turning her head, she gave me not even a blink of recognition. At first I did not understand; then I laughed. "Who is that?" Mrs. Beck's voice was awed. "Ain't they grand? Do you know them?" "No." I put my hands in the pockets of my long coat. "I used to know one of them, the feeble-minded one.
For my part, I'd rather sleep in your little crib than have those great gruff-looking figures staring at me by the firelight, and shaking their heads with every wind on a winter's night." And the valet took a pinch of snuff as he drew Beck's attention to the faded tapestry on the walls.
As she entered the narrow gateway of Saint Beck's, and walked round its chilly cloisters, to the Lodge door, she tried not to remember that she had ever thought of life as any thing different from this, or had ever planned an existence of boundless enjoyment, freedom, and beauty, travel in foreign countries, seeing of mountains, cities, pictures, palaces, hearing of grand music, and mingling in brilliant society a phantasmagoria of delight which had visited her fancy once was it only her fancy? and vanished in a moment, as completely as the shadows projected on the wall.
The Little Colonel followed her mother to the dining-room, but paused on the threshold as she saw her throw herself into Mom Beck's arms and burst out crying. "Oh, Becky!" she sobbed, "what is going to become of us? The doctor says we must have a professional nurse, and we must go away from here soon. There are only a few dollars left in my purse, and I don't know what we'll do when they are gone.
There went a tradition that Madame Beck's house had in old days been a convent.
"We all have our burden, and often it is very hard to bear," rejoined Elizabeth. She understood very well what Fru Beck's words had meant, and looked at her compassionately; but she avoided answering directly to what she thought had been blurted out unintentionally, and said "You have a son. That should be a great happiness, Fru Beck, and much to live for."
Afterward Seth played "Bonny Doon," and "Nelly was a Lady," and "Johnny Comes Marching Home," and "Annie Laurie," and half a dozen other songs, and everybody sang, but, to Betty's delight, Mary Beck's voice led all the rest. The moon was high in the sky when the guests went away.
Her precocious, intelligent face was beaming with circumspection and the desire to help. She did not ask permission, but set to work where need was. If Pelle was away at Beck's workshop, he always found his room clean and tidy in the evening. If he had work at home, she would bring coffee for the two of them during the morning.
He looked at the large clumsy writing and spelt out "Forgive me that I cannot be your wife, for my heart is given to another. Elizabeth Raklev." He sat down on the bench and read it over again, while she bent over him, looking now at the writing, and now at his face. "What do you find there, Salvé?" she asked. "Why could I not be Beck's wife?"
"Sho! you don't say so? Why, Paul Beck's over fifty." "Mr. Beck won't think I'm interfering with him, will he?" asked Philip. "Of course, he can't. We'd a had him if he was well. We can't be expected to put off the party because he's sick. That wouldn't be reasonable, now, would it?" "I should think not." Just then Philip became sensible that a light wagon was approaching, driven by a young lady.
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