She was very pretty. When she was sixteen, and only just betrothed to Kaspar Weyland, people said she was like the "Lorelei," the maiden who sits on a rock in the Rhine and sings songs to enchant the boatmen, all the time combing her golden hair and gazing in a jewelled mirror.
And she was so good to old Hans, and never cross with Bettina, and always the meals were hot and ready, and the house clean and quiet. About the doorway grew a vine and October had brought the frost and turned it crimson. It fell all about her like a frame as she stood there, so gentle and smiling. It was foggy still, but there was a light in the sky before which the mist must soon vanish. When they reached the gate Hans turned for a last "Auf wiedersehen" to his Annchen.
"Till we meet again" it means, and little did old
Hans think as he waved his hand to his daughter that never in all the world was he ever to hear his golden-haired Anna again. How could he? What could happen? She was never so well in all her life, and he and Bettina would return to dinner. So gaily he and the little girl entered the forest and presently, through the fog, they saw a great red ball of a sun which grew brighter and brighter.
As for Frau Weyland, she returned to her work. There was much to do with two children to wash and dress, a house to clean, chickens to feed, cream cheese to make, and dinner to prepare for the family.
The daylight showed Hans to be tall and strong with broad shoulders and the walk of a soldier. His grey hair was drawn back and tied in a queue, and on one ruddy cheek was a scar from a sabre cut. Hans was very proud of this, because he had won it in one of the battles of the Great Frederick. His eyes were like his daughter's and like Bettina's, very blue, and very big, and gleaming with gentleness. But in Hans' eyes there was something different. At once were they merry and full of dreams as if he could joke and yet be, also, very melancholy.
As for Bettina, she was a little fairy of a girl who tripped along and seemed barely to touch the ground. Her hair was golden and hung in two tight little braids to her waist. Her dress was of red and made very high under her arms and clinging about her little ankles. Her head was quite bare, and a deep little wicker basket was strapped on her back in which to bring home some pine cones or scrub oak leaves for the goat.
"I'm a wood gatherer, grandfather," she pretended, and tripped along behind him.
She loved her grandfather. He told such nice stories and never was cross like her grandfather Weyland, who always said children should be seen, not heard, and in an entirely different tone from the pleasant one he used with grown people.
"I love the forest, grandfather." Bettina's eyes sparkled.