The mother, who was a sensible woman, and a widow, had good sense enough and energy enough for two. The White Angel did not appear again, and Louisa married the peasant—and she kept on turning the spindle.
One day her husband, who was a hard-working man, had over-exerted himself and was taken ill. In the meanwhile Louisa had seen her handsome gentleman again.
“White Angel,” she said, “he loves me still. He has sworn he would marry me if I were a widow.” She dared not say more. The husband recovered from his illness. The White Angel still turned a deaf ear to her wishes. She lost all hope of ever becoming a baroness.
Later her husband became more successful, so that his work alone supplied all their wants. Two beautiful children had come to gladden their lives, and now, when Louisa worked at the spindle, it felt quite soft in her fingers.
One evening, when she was only half asleep, the white figure appeared once more, and a gentle voice whispered in her ear this story:
“A little fish was merrily swimming about in the water and looking seriously at a pretty blackcap which first circled around and around in the air, and then alighted on a branch of a willow which grew close to the bank of the river.
“‘Oh,’ said the little fish, ‘how happy that bird is! It can rise up to the heavens and go high up to the sun to warm itself in its rays. Why cannot I do the same?’
“The blackcap, who was looking down at the fish, thought to himself:
“‘Oh! how happy that fish is! The element in which it lives furnishes it at the same time with food; it has nothing to do but to glide along. How I should like to sport in the fresh, transparent water!’”