"Get up, little girl!" cried a kind voice. "This will not do, for you to lie here and freeze."Gretel slowly raised her head. She was so sleepy that it seemed nothing strange to her that Hilda van Gleck should be leaning over her, looking with kind, beautiful eyes into her face. She had often dreamed it before.
But she had never dreamed that Hilda was shaking her roughly, almost dragging her by main force; never dreamed that she heard her saying, "Gretel! Gretel Brinker! You MUST wake!"This was real. Gretel looked up. Still the lovely delicate young lady was shaking, rubbing, fairly pounding her. It must be a dream. No, there was the cottage--and the stork's nest and the meester's coach by the canal. She could see them now quite plainly. Her hands were tingling, her feet throbbing. Hilda was forcing her to walk.
At last Gretel began to feel like herself again.
"I have been asleep," she faltered, rubbing her eyes with both hands and looking very much ashamed.
"Yes, indeed, entirely too much asleep"--laughed Hilda, whose lips were very pale--"but you are well enough now. Lean upon me, Gretel. There, keep moving, you will soon be warm enough to go by the fire. Now let me take you into the cottage.""Oh, no! no! no! jufvrouw, not in there! The meester is there.
He sent me away!"
Hilda was puzzled, but she wisely forebore to ask at present for an explanation. "Very well, Gretel, try to walk faster. I saw you upon the mound, some time ago, but I thought you were playing. That is right, keep moving."All this time the kindhearted girl had been forcing Gretel to walk up and down, supporting her with one arm and, with the other, striving as well as she could to take off her own warm sacque.
Suddenly Gretel suspected her intention.
"Oh, jufvrouw! jufvrouw!" she cried imploringly. "PLEASE never think of such a thing as THAT. Oh! please keep it on, I am burning all over, jufvrouw! I really am burning. Not burning exactly, but pins and needles pricking all over me. Oh, jufvrouw, don't!"The poor child's dismay was so genuine that Hilda hastened to reassure her.
"Very well, Gretel, move your arms then--so. Why, your cheeks are as pink as roses, already. I think the meester would let you in now, he certainly would. Is your father so very ill?""Ah, jufvrouw," cried Gretel, weeping afresh, "he is dying, Ithink. There are two meesters in with him at this moment, and the mother has scarcely spoken today. Can you hear him moan, jufvrouw?" she added with sudden terror. "The air buzzes so Icannot hear. He may be dead! Oh, I do wish I could hear him!"Hilda listened. The cottage was very near, but not a sound could be heard.
Something told her that Gretel was right. She ran to the window.
"You cannot see there, my lady," sobbed Gretel eagerly. "The mother has oiled paper hanging inside. But at the other one, in the south end of the cottage, you can look in where the paper is torn."Hilda, in her anxiety, ran around, past the corner where the low roof was fringed with its loosened thatch.
A sudden thought checked her.
"It is not right for me to peep into another's house in this way," she said to herself. Then, softly calling to Gretel, she added in a whisper, "You may look--perhaps he is only sleeping."Gretel tried to walk briskly toward the spot, but her limbs were trembling. Hilda hastened to her support.
"You are sick, yourself, I fear," she said kindly.
"No, not sick, jufvrouw, but my heart cries all the time now, even when my eyes are as dry as yours. Why, jufvrouw, your eyes are not dry! Are you crying for US? Oh, jufvrouw, if God sees you! Oh! I know father will get better now." And the little creature, even while reaching to look through the tiny window, kissed Hilda's hand again and again.
The sash was sadly patched and broken; a torn piece of paper hung halfway down across it. Gretel's face was pressed to the window.
"Can you see anything?" whispered Hilda at last.
"Yes--the father lies very still, his head is bandaged, and all their eyes are fastened upon him. Oh, jufvrouw!" almost screamed Gretel, as she started back and, by a quick, dexterous movement shook off her heavy wooden shoes. "I MUST go in to my mother! Will you come with me?""Not now, the bell is ringing. I shall come again soon.
Good-bye!"
Gretel scarcely heard the words. She remembered for many a day afterward the bright, pitying smile on Hilda's face as she turned away.
The AwakeningAn angel could not have entered the cottage more noiselessly.
Gretel, not daring to look at anyone, slid softly to her mother's side.
The room was very still. She could hear the old doctor breathe.
She could almost hear the sparks as they fell into the ashes on the hearth. The mother's hand was very cold, but a burning spot glowed on her cheek, and her eyes were like a deer's--so bright, so sad, so eager.
At last there was a movement upon the bed, very slight, but enough to cause them all to start. Dr. Boekman leaned eagerly forward.
Another movement. The large hands, so white and soft for a poor man's hand, twitched, then raised itself steadily toward the forehead.
It felt the bandage, not in a restless, crazy way but with a questioning movement that caused even Dr. Boekman to hold his breath.
"Steady! Steady!" said a voice that sounded very strange to Gretel. "Shift that mat higher, boys! Now throw on the clay.
The waters are rising fast; no time to--"Dame Brinker sprang forward like a young panther.
She seized his hands and, leaning over him, cried, "Raff! Raff, boy, speak to me!""Is it you, Meitje?" he asked faintly. "I have been asleep, hurt, I think. Where is little Hans?""Here I am, Father!" shouted Hans, half mad with joy. But the doctor held him back.
"He knows us!" screamed Dame Brinker. "Great God! He knows us!
Gretel! Gretel! Come, see your father!"In vain Dr. Boekman commanded "Silence!" and tried to force them from the bedside. He could not keep them off.
