Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the little "brown book."
Ere the child consented to go to bed she opened the little "brown book," which was a German Bible, and read aloud, slowly but distinctly, the last verse of the Fourth Psalm: "Ich liege und schlafe ganz mit Frieden; denn allein Du, Herr, hilfst mir, dass ich sicher wohne" ("I will both lay me down in peace, and sleep: for thou, Lord, only makest me dwell in safety"). Then she knelt down, and prayed in simple words her evening prayer, asking God to let father come home, and to bless the kind people who had given her a shelter, for Christ's sake.
Elsie and Wilhelm looked at each other with amazement. Alas! there was no fear of God in that house. Elsie might cross herself when she spoke of spirits, but that was only as a superstitious sign that she had been told frightened them away.
Of Christ and His power to protect and save they knew nothing. Roman Catholics by profession, they yet never darkened a church door, save perhaps when they took a child to be baptized; but they only thought of that ordinance as a protection to their child from the evil one. God's holy Word was to them a sealed book. True, all the wood-cutters were not like them, but still a spirit of ignorance and indifference as regarded religion reigned amongst them; and if now and then a priest sought their dwelling, his words (such as they were) fell on dull ears. Things seen and temporal engrossed all their thoughts. The daily work, the daily bread, and the nightly sleep—these filled their hearts and excluded God. So it was not to be wondered at that little Frida's reading and prayer were an astonishment to them.
"What think you of that, Elsie?" said Wilhelm. "The child spoke as if she were addressing some one in the room."
"Ay, ay," answered his wife. "It was gruesome to hear her. She made me look up to see if there was really any one there; and she wasn't speaking to our Lady either. Art sure she is a child of earth at all, Wilhelm?"
"Ay, she's that; and the question is, wife, What shall we do with her? Suppose the father never turns up, shall we keep her, or give her over to them that have the charge of wanderers and such like?"
Here Hans sprang forward. "Nay, father, nay! Do not send her away. She is so pretty, and looks like the picture of an angel. I saw one in the church where little Annchen was baptized. Oh, keep her, father!—Mutter, do not send the little maid back into the forest!"
But Elsie's woman's heart had no thought of so doing. "No, no, my lad," she said. "Never fear; we'll keep the child till some one comes to take her away that has a right to her. Who knows but mayhap she'll bring a blessing on our house; for often I think we don't remember the Virgin and the saints as we ought. My mother did, I know;" and as she spoke great tears rolled down her cheeks.
The child's prayer had touched a chord of memory, and recalled the days of her childhood, when she had lived with parents who at least reverenced the Lord, though they had not been taught to worship Him aright.