“Ah, yes, I know that. I am not envious of these riches, but rather that your child has you and so many friends to thank for all these, and for all she has received from them. Such garments, the gift of a mother, must keep one doubly warm.”
Amelia showed her benevolence towards Barefoot, by going with her to the door of the court-yard, and treating her with as much respect as though she had eight horses in the stall.
All was lively confusion, when Amrie came again upon the dancing-ground. She remained at first, standing timidly upon the platform. Where now were the troops of children, who formerly enjoyed here a foretaste of the joys that awaited them in after-life. Ah! indeed, all that is now forbidden by the High States Government. The Church and School Commission have banished the children. They dare not turn in the waltz, as they did in Amrie’s childhood. This is also a quiet sword thrust from the green-cloth.
Over the now empty floor, where a guest occasionally passed, walked up and down a solitary policeman. When he saw Amrie coming, as it were, beaming with light and joy, he went up to her, and said,—
“Good-evening, Amrie! so you are here also?”
Amrie trembled, and turned pale as death. Had she done any thing wrong? Had she gone into the stable with a bare lighted candle? She examined her whole life as far as she could remember, and yet he was as familiar as though she were already a transported criminal. She stood trembling as though her guilt were manifest. At last she said,—“Thank you, I know nothing about it, or why we are so intimate. Do you want any thing?”
“Oh, ho! How proud we are! I shall not eat you! Will you give me a plain answer. Why are you so angry?”
“I am not angry. I would not hurt anybody. I am only a stupid girl.”
“Do not pretend to be so innocent.”
“How do you know any thing about me?”