“But how shall I enter?” called out Rosebud.
“Feel for the bolt. You can easily slip the bolt,” said Bertha.
The bolt yielded readily, the door flew open, and Rosebud felt herself embraced with kisses and with tears of joy.
For all the dim light, Rosebud could easily perceive how beautiful was her new friend. And she stood gazing, like one entranced, at her dark, flashing eyes, her black, braided hair, and her rosy red cheeks. Upon her head was a small velvet cap of scarlet, and the facings of her dark velvet jacket were of the same color. She was but little taller than Rosebud, but was straight and well formed, and the long, dark braids of hair hung below her waist. A small plume, fastened to the little cap by a cluster of jewels, drooped gracefully at one side. Her face wore a merry look in spite of her troubles, and when she smiled—O, Rosebud thought nothing could be more beautiful than her smile!
“This is my dear little maid,” said she,—“my faithful, loving little maid, who will never desert me.”
The little maid now came forward, and was, so Rosebud thought, almost as charming as her mistress. She was certainly as ready to escape, and in any way Bertha might choose.
It was arranged that Rosebud should leave them, and return to the hut, lest some one should come out in search of her. Late in the afternoon Bertha and her little maid would venture forth, taking care to lock the door behind them, and leave the great brass key in its place. They would remain concealed in the wood until evening, and would then proceed with all haste to the shore, where Rosebud promised to meet them and guide them to a boat.
That night there was no sleep for Rosebud. The moment that granny left the hut with her lantern, she arose and stepped out softly upon the sands. The stars were out, but the moon had not yet risen,—which, for those who wished to remain hid, was all the better. Rosebud walked timidly down to the water’s edge, her little heart beating quickly, for she knew that Bertha and her little maid were then on their way to the shore. She sat down upon the rocks to wait. The time seemed long. Had harm befallen them? Perhaps they were lost in the woods, or had met with robbers, or granny had found them.
But as Rosebud sat there upon the rocks, listening to the dash of the waves, fearing she knew not what, though hoping all would be well, she heard footsteps near, and at the same moment a low, sweet voice singing,—