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A curious little white flower called "Ladies'-Tress" grew there in great abundance, and he often brought bunches of it to her. "Perhaps it is not for me this time," thought Carlen, and the tears came into her eyes. After a time Wilhelm ceased gathering the flowers, and seated himself on his favorite rock, the same one where John and Carlen had sat the night before.
To-morrow must go in the field Carlen and the mütter; it must. The wheat get fast too dry; it is more as two men can do." John bit his lips. He was aghast. Never had he seen his mother and sister at work in the fields. John had been born in America; and he was American, not German, in his feeling about this. Without due consideration he answered,
"Would a man hang himself if he knew he were innocent?" said everybody. "All the more if he knew he could never prove himself innocent," said John and Carlen. But no one else thought so. And how could the truth ever be known in this world? Wilhelm was buried in a corner of the meadow field he had so loved.
"I won't, then!" he exclaimed. "I know I won't. If ever I have a son grown, I'll treat him like a son grown, not like a baby." "May I be there to see!" said Carlen, merrily, "And you remember free The words I said to thee. "Hold the candle here for me, will you, that's a good boy. While we have talked, my yarn has tangled."
"He meant to do it, den," said the old man. "Yes," said John. "Maybe Carlen vould not haf him, you tink?" "No," said John, hastily; "that is not possible." "I tought she luf him, an' he vould stay an' be her mann," sighed the disappointed father. "Now all dat is no more." "It will kill her," cried John. "No!" said the father. "Vimmins does not die so as dat. She feel pad maybe von year, maybe two.
"What do you know about him?" said John. Carlen made no reply. Her silence irritated John more than any words could have done; and losing self-control, losing sight of prudence, he poured out on her a torrent of angry accusation and scornful reproach. She stood still, her eyes fixed on the ground. Even in his hot wrath, John noticed this unwonted downcast look, and taunted her with it.
Carlen was crying bitterly; the letter was just ended, when Alf came into the room asking bewilderedly what it was all about. The name Wilhelm meant nothing to him.
It must be as you say, that all whom he loves are in the grave. Poor boy! poor boy! it is now that one must be to him mother and father and brother." "And sister too," said Carlen, warmly. "I will be his sister." "And I not his brother till he gets a civiller tongue in his head," said John. "It is not to be brother I haf him brought," interrupted the old man.
It was a hard thing to promise. "For my sake, brother," said the girl. "I have spoken to no one else but you. I would die before any one else should know; even my mother." John could not resist this. "Yes," he said; "I will try. It will be hard; but I will try my best, Carlen. I will have a talk with Wilhelm to-morrow."
Since the days when he and Carlen had fished from their edges, with bent pins and yarn, for minnows, he had loved the place: they had spent happy hours enough there to count up into days; and not the least among the innumerable annoyances and irritations of which he had been anxious in regard to Wilhelm was the fact that he too had perceived the charm of the field, and chosen it for his own melancholy retreat.
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