"Well, time went on, and the night grew darker, and I knew how troubled you would be, and yet I knew not what to do. I left the child for a bit, and looked here and there in the Forest; but all was dark, and though I called long and loud no answer came. So I returned, took the child in my arms (for she is but a light weight), and with my tools thrown over my shoulder, and the violin and bag in my hand, I made my way home. The child cried awhile, saying she must wait for fader, then fell sound asleep in my arms. Now, wife, would it not be well to undress her, and give her some food ere she sleeps again, for she must be hungry?"
CHAPTER II.
THE WOOD-CUTTER'S HUT.
"Jesus, tender Shepherd, hear me;
Bless Thy little lamb to-night."
INDEED you are right, Wilhelm," said his wife. "No doubt the poor little maid must be hungry, only I had not the heart to waken her.—See, Hans, there is some goat's milk in the corner yonder. Get it heated, whilst I cut a bit of this bread, coarse though it be. 'Tis all we have to give her; but such as it is, she is right welcome to it, poor little lamb."
As she spoke she moved quietly to the bed where the child lay asleep. As she woke she uttered the cry, "Fader, dear fader!" then raised herself and looked around. Evidently the story of the day flashed upon her, and she turned eagerly to the wood-cutter, asking if "fader" had come yet.
On being told that he had not, she said no more, but her eyes filled with tears. She took the bread and milk without resistance, though she looked at the black bread as if it were repugnant to her. Then she let herself be undressed by Elsie, directing her to open the bag, and taking from it a nightdress of fine calico, a brush and comb, also a large sponge, a couple of fine towels, a change of underclothing, two pairs of stockings, and one black dress, finer than the one she wore.
