When we passed the woods that belonged to Uncle Linker and me, Ludwig was delighted to find how nicely they had been kept.
He then inquired about Martella, and when I said that she had a strange aversion to America, and disliked to hear it mentioned, he replied:
"Do you not believe, father, that she has an unexplained, and perhaps sad, past, which is in some way associated with America?" I was startled;--the case seemed to present new and puzzling difficulties.
Ludwig was pleased with the meadow-valley where he had arranged the trench with sluices. In very good seasons, there were four crops; but one was always sure of at least three. The value of the meadow-farmer's property had in this way been doubled.
Down by the saw-mill, we met Carl, who was just using the windlass to drag a large beam from the wagon.
He turned around as we approached and saluted us, and Ludwig's wife said, "What a handsome fellow! He is just as I have imagined all your countrymen to be."
We alighted, and walked up the hill and on towards the village.
When Ludwig saw the churchyard, he removed his hat from his head, remained standing for a moment in silence, and then walked on briskly.
At the steps of the house he extended his hand to his wife and said, "Welcome to the house of my parents!"
Martella was standing on the piazza: she stood there immovable, holding herself by the railing.