Gretchen ran up to the pasture, where it was quiet, and where very few people ever came. When she reached the stone wall she sat down under the shade of the alders and thought over the whole matter about Renti,—how he seemed to be going from bad to worse and how hopeless everything seemed. The tears that she had held back so long began to flow down her cheeks, and while the birds in the alder tree were singing their merriest songs she sat underneath and wept as though her heart would break.
Presently she heard some one approaching; she dried her tears and kept very quiet. Looking down over the meadow, she saw the pastor coming toward her. On Sunday afternoons he often took this walk up the hill to enjoy the fine view one got from there over the surrounding country.
Seeing Gretchen sitting all alone on the stone wall, he stopped in surprise and spoke to her. She arose at once and gave him her hand. He looked at her in silence for a moment; then, patting her shoulder in a friendly way, he said: "Gretchen, Gretchen, what is the matter with your bright eyes? Don't you hear the birds singing and giving thanks for this beautiful Sunday?"
"Yes, Herr Pastor, I hear them."
"And can you not be happy with them?"
"No, I cannot," she said in a voice that was almost a sob.
"Are you in trouble, Gretchen? Come, tell me about it. Can't you?"
Gretchen for a moment made no reply; then she said in a low voice, "No."
"I think I understand," said the pastor sympathetically. "Sometimes things will happen that we don't care to talk about,—some little difference with brothers, or some misunderstanding at home. It frets and grieves us, because we see no way of ever straightening it out and being happy again; but, Gretchen, don't you remember the lines you recited in Sunday school a week ago?"