Aunt Rosamond had never been able to exert the slightest influence over the girl's independent character.
As soon as Anna Maria was confirmed, she hung the bunch of keys at her belt, and took up the reins of housekeeping with an energy and circumspection that aroused the admiration of all, and especially of the old aunt, who was particularly struck by it, since she herself was a tender, weak type of woman, to whom such energy in one of her own sex could but seem incomprehensible.
Anna Maria spun on quietly as all these thoughts succeeded each other behind the wrinkled brow of her companion. She could sit and spin thus whole evenings, without saying a word; she was quite different from other girls! She did not allow a bird or a flower in her room, nor did she ever wear a flower or a ribbon as an ornament. And yet one could scarcely imagine a more high-bred appearance than hers. Whether she were walking, in her house dress, through kitchen and cellar, or receiving guests in the drawing-room, as happened two or three times a year, she lost nothing in comparison with other ladies and girls; on the contrary, she had a certain superiority to them, and Aunt Rosamond would sometimes say to herself: "The others are like geese beside her!"—"Yes, what may happen here yet?" she asked herself with a sigh.
"A letter for the Fräulein!" A youth of perhaps twenty-five years, dressed in simple dark livery, handed Anna Maria a letter.
"From Klaus!" she cried joyfully, but held the letter in her hand without opening it, and fixed her eyes upon the firm, resolute face of the servant.
"Well, Gottlieb, what is the matter with you?" she asked. "You look as if your wheat had been utterly ruined."
"Gracious Fräulein," the youth replied, with hesitation yet firmly, "the master will have to look about for some one else—I am going away at New Year."
"Have you gone mad?" cried Anna Maria, frowning. "What is it here that you object to?" She had risen and stepped up to the youth. "As for the rest," she continued, "I can imagine why you have such folly in your head. Because I have sent away Marieken Märtens, do you wish to go too? Very well, I will not keep you; you may go; there are plenty of people who would take your place. But if your father knew it he would turn in his grave. Do you know how long your father served at Bütze?"
"Fifty-eight years, Fräulein," replied the young fellow at once.
"Fifty-eight years! And his son runs away from the service in which his father grew old and gray, after a frivolous girl! Very well, you shall have your way; but mind, any one who once goes away from here—never returns. You may go."