Evidently this young relation of hers was the light of the old lady's eyes, for her features lost their stern, rather masculine expression, and her whole face softened whenever she looked at her.
Some of the men interrupted their walk from time to time to loiter near the fires, or talk to the sportsmen as they came in, or drew near to Orsolya, as subjects approach a sovereign; and Orsolya talked composedly with each one, too well accustomed to deference and homage even to notice them.
"Dear child," said the old lady, as soon as they were left to themselves again, "how many spindles does this make? I'll tell you what, if you spin enough we will put the yarn on a loom and weave it into shirting."
The girl raised her beautiful eyes to the old lady's face, saying in good Magyar, though with a somewhat peculiar accent, "I think Mr. Bokor might set up the loom now, dear mother; I have such a number ready."
"I only hope we shall be able to make it do, my child," said Orsolya, leaning towards the girl, and stroking the raven hair which floated over her shoulders. "Good man!" she went on, smiling, "not but that he can be as obstinate as anyone now and then! and he has made the shuttle the size of a boat!"
The girl laughed a little as she answered, "We will help him, good mother," and she drew the old lady's hand to her lips, and kissed it as if she could not let it go.
"Yes," she went on slowly, "necessity is a great teacher; it teaches one all things, except how to forget!"
"Oh, my dear, and who would wish it to teach one that! There are some things which we cannot, and ought not to forget, and it is best so, yes, best, even when the past has been a sad one."
She stroked and caressed the girl in silence for a few moments, and then went on, "But you know, dear child, that life on this sad earth is not everything. God is good, oh, so good! Why did He create all that we see? Only because He is good. He, the Almighty, what need had He of any created thing? It is true that life brings us much pain and anguish at times, but then this is but the beginning of our real life. There is another, beyond the blue sky, beyond the stars, which you can no more realise now than a blind man can realise a view, or a deaf man beautiful music. We shall find there all that we have loved and lost here. God does not bring people together and make them love and care for one another only that death may separate them at last."
"No, don't forget anything, dearest child," Orsolya went on, with infinite love in her tone, as the girl laid her head in her old friend's lap. "Keep all whom you have loved, and honoured, and lost, warm in your heart."