After a pause of a few moments, Richard continued: "There is an excellent painting of the Prodigal's Return. It is by Führich. The artist has chosen the moment when the father is embracing his long-lost son, now kneeling at his feet; the son, however, dares not venture to embrace his father; bent down towards the earth, he folds his hands upon his breast in humble, silent gratitude."
Johanna seemed to think that she might as well abandon all attempts to change our views of religious matters. She arose from her seat and, pressing the Bible to her bosom, left the room without uttering another word.
"Come into the garden with me," said my wife to Richard. I was left alone with Annette. Great tears were rolling down her cheeks. After a little while she said that now she was at last really converted, but not in the way that the church would wish her to be. She could at last understand that the best consolation and the most elevating reflection, in time of sorrow, is to consider individual suffering a part of a great whole, and as a phase of the soul-experience of advancing humanity.
She regretted that Bertha had not been with us. She felt sure, also, that her husband would have been a delighted listener. He had always felt attracted to Richard, although he had never become intimate with him.
She hurried home in order, as I fancy, to write out for her husband's benefit her impressions of what she had just heard.
Johanna left us that very day. She said that she now felt as a stranger in our home, and consoled herself with the thought that she could feel at home in the house of a Father whom we, alas! did not know.
We were neither anxious nor able to prevent her departure. And why should I not confess it?--we felt more at our ease without her.
CHAPTER VII.
As far as she could, Bertha led a self-contained and secluded life. She frankly admitted that she was not in the mood to worry about her lost brother; her heart was filled with thoughts of her husband, the father of her children.
When haymaking began on the mountain meadows, Bertha would go out and assist in scattering the newly mown grass. She hoped that physical exercise would enable her again to enjoy the refreshing sleep of her childhood, and was quite happy when, in the morning, she found herself able to tell us that she had passed a night in dreamless sleep.