The grandfather, too, had his hours of care and watching. But day by day he was drawing nearer the dark river that rolled between him and heaven the golden. His earthly love seemed all centered in Gretchen. Karl he seldom saw except on Sundays, and then, in his rough manhood, though he was always kind to his father, he seemed a great way off with the harsh Elizabeth for his wife.
Only Golden Hair, knew and shared the old man's cares and sorrows. At night she slept in his bosom and always rested in his heart.
The two "Good-for-Nothings!"
Alike sufferers from the mistress's harshness, how they loved each other, though they dared not show it when the mistress was near. She was angry at such nonsense, as she termed their holy affection.
The winter after Gretchen was six years old, was very cold and stormy. The blue waters of the Rhine had grown black and sullen. In the cottage times were not improved. The baby was teething. The mistress was not well, and visited her accumulating ills upon the poor Good-for-Nothings.
She would not have allowed Gretchen to sing at all, but for the baby, of whom the little girl now had nearly the whole charge. And very thin and pale she looked, with the rich flush of her golden curls falling upon her white forehead, and her violet eyes large and languid; but her little hands were red and hard, poor little hands that had so much to do.
Child as she was, the woman was growing in her heart, and with tenderest care she watched the grandfather who had no one but her who understood his sensitive feebleness, and loved to care for him. Many times in the day, when the mistress was out of the room, she would put her little hand in his, and kiss him. Only the sick and sorrowful know how sweet was the pressure of that loving hand.
One day, in that miserable winter, the baby had been more troublesome than usual, the mistress more unkind and exacting, and the Two Good-for-Nothings more silent and depressed. Gretchen had been whipped because she did not sing; but how could she, when the grandfather's chair had been moved to be out of the way, into a corner far from the fire, and he was trembling with cold; and, more than this, Gretchen saw by his heavy eyes and pale face that he was ill—how much, poor child, she did not know.
After a time the baby slept, and the mistress left the room. Then Gretchen stole to the old man's side, and threw her arms round his neck, and begged him to draw near the fire.