Little Agnes, on her side, thought it had been no very easy matter to bring dame Margaret to the antiquary, and she had gone through trouble and [{405}] terror enough "until the Christ-child sent my uncle."
He pressed the little one to his heart, but she seized him fast by the hand, and coaxingly begging him, said: "Now uncle, you never will go away; you will stay with us?"
"How could I leave you so soon, my dear ones, just as I have found you again? No, no, we will never separate; we will always remain together," cried the uncle. "You must go with me to Peinegg, sister, where I am head-forester; it is a beautiful and splendid place there, and I have everything in abundance."
"With you and my children I would go to the ends of the earth," said she cheerfully.
Then Ernest, upon a hint from his mother, brought out the bottle of wine and the biscuit, and offered them to his uncle. A slight meal, prepared in haste by dame Margaret, seasoned with cheerful conversation, enlivened the evening, to which Ernest and his mother had looked forward only a few hours before with such pain and anxiety. Joy and deep satisfaction lighted every countenance, but the mother said with deep feeling: "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."
"Amen," responded the uncle, devoutly raising his eyes to heaven. Ernest and Agnes wept tears of joy and gratitude.
X.
It was not long before their mother was entirely recovered and accompanied her beloved brother to Peinegg, where he arranged everything in a manner to make her life agreeable. It may easily be imagined that the Bible was not forgotten. Every Christmas evening was passed with far more festivity and joy than the evening which united again the long separated. At the end of two years Ernest celebrated his first mass at Peinegg. The good apothecary was invited to be present, and esteemed this day as the happiest of his life. Sixteen years after, Ernest was established as parish priest at Peinegg, where he still exercises his holy office with extraordinary zeal.