The son turned his horse, and said smiling, “Mother, it must really be the last.”
“Yes, and the best. Ask the young girl about the poor in the place, and then go round and hear what the poor have to say of her. A farmer’s daughter cannot be good for much who has not, at least, one poor person on hand to whom she can do good. Inquire about this. And now, my son, ride on, and God go with you!”
As he rode away, his mother repeated a prayer in his behalf, and turning again into the court, she said, “I should have told him to inquire after the Josenhans children, and learn what has become of them.” Who can tell the hidden and secret ways the spirit wanders; the streams that draw us from our accustomed paths, or deep beneath them. A long-forgotten song, a dancing-tune suddenly occurs to our memory, we cannot sing it aloud, because the whole is not perfect in our recollection, but it moves us inwardly, as though we heard it sung. What is it that thus suddenly awakes this forgotten melody?
Why did the mother, just then, think of these children, who had so long vanished from her memory? Was it the devout sensibility of the moment, which awoke the remembrance of another long past emotion, and the circumstances connected with it? Who can comprehend the invisible elements that hover around, and connect man with man, thought with thought?
When the mother came back into the court, the farmer said jokingly,—“You have no doubt given him the best instructions how he may select the best wife, but that I have provided for. I have written to Raven Zacky, who will show him the best houses. He must not bring one who comes empty handed.”
“Money will not make her good,” said the mother.
“I know as much as that,” said the farmer, “but why should she not have money and goodness also?”
His wife was silent, but after a while she said, “So, you have sent him to Raven Zacky. It was with Raven Zacky the Josenhans boy was placed.” This name recalled her former thoughts to her, and now first was she conscious of recollections to which she frequently recurred in the course of the events which followed.
“I know nothing of what you are saying. What is that child to you?” asked the farmer. “Why do you not say that I have acted wisely?”
“Yes, yes, you have been prudent,” said his wife. But the old man was not satisfied with this tardy applause, and went out grumbling.