Bettina went slowly. It was very strange that her grandfather never came back to fetch her. They were kind to her and she loved them, but she wanted her grandfather. Would she never see Thuringia again, nor Willy, nor her godmother, nor her brothers? The tears filled her eyes and the sobs came.
Poor little Bettina!
She lived in sad, cruel times, and she was to be a woman before she ever again met even one of them, or walked in the forest paths of Thuringia, or saw the spire of St. Michael's rising high above the red roofs of Jena.
CHAPTER XI
THE MOTHER OF HER PEOPLE
One morning, soon after the news of Eylau, the Major told the children that an English ship had arrived in the harbour.
"Mother, mother," they cried, "may we go and see it?"
Poor Madame von Stork, who was almost ill from worry over Franz and Wolfgang, rejoiced at the thought of a morning free from noise and questions.
"Yes, yes," she agreed very quickly. "Put on your wraps and furs, and Pauline and Marianne shall take you."