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Her doll Sophy lay in the doll's bed asleep,
and little Ida said to her, "You must really get up Sophy, and be
content to lie in the drawer to-night; the poor flowers are ill, and
they must lie in your bed, then perhaps they will get well again."
So she took the doll out, who looked quite cross, and said not a
single word, for she was angry at being turned out of her bed. Ida
placed the flowers in the doll's bed, and drew the quilt over them.
Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she made some
tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get up
the next morning.
Then she told them to lie quite still and be good, while she made some
tea for them, so that they might be quite well and able to get up
the next morning. And she drew the curtains close round the little
bed, so that the sun might not shine in their eyes. During the whole
evening she could not help thinking of what the student had told
her. And before she went to bed herself, she was obliged to peep
behind the curtains into the garden where all her mother's beautiful
flowers grew, hyacinths and tulips, and many others.
Then she
whispered to them quite softly, "I know you are going to a ball
to-night." But the flowers appeared as if they did not understand, and
not a leaf moved; still Ida felt quite sure she knew all about it. She
lay awake a long time after she was in bed, thinking how pretty it
must be to see all the beautiful flowers dancing in the king's garden.
"I wonder if my flowers have really been there," she said to
herself, and then she fell asleep. In the night she awoke; she had
been dreaming of the flowers and of the student, as well as of the
tiresome lawyer who found fault with him.
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It had chimed for
weddings and for christenings; it had tolled for funerals, and to give
the alarm in case of fire. With every event in the life of man the
bell had made its voice heard. His mother also told him how the
chiming of that old bell had once filled her heart with joy and
confidence, and that in the midst of the sweet tones her child had
been given to her. And the boy gazed on the large, old bell with the
deepest interest. He bowed his head over it and kissed it, old, thrown
away, and cracked as it was, and standing there amidst the grass and
nettles.
He bowed his head over it and kissed it, old, thrown
away, and cracked as it was, and standing there amidst the grass and
nettles. The boy never forgot what his mother told him, and the
tones of the old bell reverberated in his heart till he reached
manhood. In such sweet remembrance was the old bell cherished by the
boy, who grew up in poverty to be tall and slender, with a freckled
complexion and hair almost red; but his eyes were clear and blue as
the deep sea, and what was his career to be? His career was to be
good, and his future life enviable.
We find him taking high honors
at the military school in the division commanded by the member of a
family high in position, and this was an honor, that is to say, good
luck. He wore gaiters, stiff collars, and powdered hair, and by this
he was recognized; and, indeed, he might be known by the word of
command- "March! halt! front!"
The old church bell had long been quite forgotten, and no one
imagined it would ever again be sent to the melting furnace to make it
as it was before.
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Her part
had come true. And for him the nut had contained only black earth. The
gypsy woman had said it was the best for him. Perhaps it was, and this
also would be fulfilled. He understood the gypsy woman's meaning
now. The black earth- the dark grave- was the best thing for him now.
Again years passed away; not many, but they seemed long years to
Ib. The old innkeeper and his wife died one after the other; and the
whole of their property, many thousand dollars, was inherited by their
son.
Christina could have the golden carriage now, and plenty of
fine clothes. During the two long years which followed, no letter came
from Christina to her father; and when at last her father received one
from her, it did not speak of prosperity or happiness. Poor Christina!
Neither she nor her husband understood how to economize or save, and
the riches brought no blessing with them, because they had not asked
for it.
Years passed; and for many summers the heath was covered with
bloom; in winter the snow rested upon it, and the rough winds blew
across the ridge under which stood Ib's sheltered home.
Years passed; and for many summers the heath was covered with
bloom; in winter the snow rested upon it, and the rough winds blew
across the ridge under which stood Ib's sheltered home. One spring day
the sun shone brightly, and he was guiding the plough across his
field. The ploughshare struck against something which he fancied was a
firestone, and then he saw glittering in the earth a splinter of
shining metal which the plough had cut from something which gleamed
brightly in the furrow.
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