Greta

“ Greta ran to the door, for she thought the old witch was about to strike her; but the black cat, who was sitting on the floor near by where Greta had put it, said: “Don’t you dare touch this girl; she has saved my life, and from this hour you are in my power, for a mortal has held me in her arms.
“If you would live call the good fairy that has been looking for me all these years. I shall find her, anyway, but it will save time if you use your magic power, and you will regret it if you do not obey me.” ”

“ The white fell rose sheer up to the grim, gray crags that hung in shaggy, snowy masses over the black seams of the ravines; and the moon's light rested on them for an instant. Without thought or aim he began to climb. The ascent was perilous at any hour to any foot save that of a mountaineer. The exertion and the watchfulness banished the vision, and his liberated mind turned to Greta. What was life itself now without Greta's love? Nothing but a succession of days. She was the savior of his outcast state ”

“ She was a Transvaal Dutch girl with old French blood in her, a vivacious, sparkling Gallic champagne mingling with the Dopper in her dainty blue veins. Nothing could be prettier than Greta in a good temper, unless it might be Greta in a rage. She was in a good temper now, as, tossing back her superb golden hair plait, as thick as a child's arm, and nearly four feet long, she drew a smeary envelope from the front of her black alpaca school-dress, and, delicately withdrawing the epistle enclosed, yielded the envelope for the inspection of the Red Class. ”

“ The finger-tips of Greta's right hand were pressed close against her cheek. Hugh Ritson took a step nearer.
"Greta," he said, and his voice fell to a broken whisper, "there are some men to whom love is a passing breath, a gentle gale that beats on the face and sports in the hair, and then is gone. To me it is a wound, a deep, corrosive, inward wound that yearns and burns." ”

“ Hans and Greta looked at each other. “Wilt thou?” asked the husband, in an uncertain voice.
“Never,” answered Greta, quickly. “Oh, if thou only knowest how happy I am, that at last I may be old! And, also, it would be impossible on account of our children and grandchildren. No, gracious forest-sprite, a thousand thanks for your good deed, but we remain as we are. Is it not so, Hans?”
“Yes,” nodded Hans, “we remain old. If thou couldst but know, Greta, how well your gray hair becomes you.” ”

“ At all hazards Paul meant to marry Greta. And after all, what did this question of honor amount to? It was a mere phantasm. What did it matter to Greta whether he were high or basely born? Should he love her less or more? Would he be less or more worthy of her love? ”

“ That was said long ago, Greta, and how true it is!" He went on quickly, in a tone of dull irritation: "All other love is no better than lust. Greta, I understand you. It is not for a rude man like my brother to do so." Then in an eager voice he said: "Dearest, I bring you a love undreamed of among these country boors." ”

“ She read little, knew nothing of music, and her chief pleasure seemed the care of her flowers and her beautiful needlework, for some French nuns had taught her embroidery and lace-making. Olivia, who was intellectual and well read, and who thought deeply on most subjects, had soon reached the limits of Greta's knowledge, but happily there is culture of the heart as well as of the head.
Greta had plenty of sweet, womanly virtues. She was patient by nature and capable of much long-suffering and endurance. ”

“ He had distinguished his sisters’ voices.
He leaned against the trunk of a tree and listened.
“Does he leave you in peace now?” one of the lovers asked, in a whisper.
“He has too much to do with his machine just now,” Greta’s voice replied; “even his unpalatable sermons he spares us.”
“You have never heeded them, anyhow!”
Greta giggled. “In spite of all his dignity he is only a stupid boy, and he understands nothing about love; as long as I can remember he has hung about Elsbeth Douglas; but do you suppose he has ever once dared raise his eyes to her? ”

“ But most heartbreaking of all is it to visit Greta's father. To be in the room which she filled with her grace and beauty, where my love mourns like a tortured animal for every step I tread, where the air still trembles with her death sigh, where the old man sits staring like blind folk with his empty eyes at the calamity he has wrought. What can he and I say to one another that will bring comfort ? He hardly listens to the reasonable remarks with which I greet his self-reproach and his bewildered words about Greta's accident being the revenge of the angry spirit of the mill. ”

“ The German Bible was a help in the worst of Greta’s troubles. Her great-grandmother must have been a good woman. But some time she would go away and then try to earn money to help her mother and the children.
Now Greta Klein was a pretty girl. Had she been dressed as well as Jean Gordon she might have looked not unlike the impulsive Jean. But her large, dark brown eyes had a sad look in them and her face was worn; for while the hard work she had been forced to do had given her a certain strength, there had been enough of it to amount to over-work, which is not good for growing girls. ”

“ Love was dragging him one way, and love the other. Honor said yes, and honor said no. His heart's first thought was to tell Greta everything, to keep nothing back from her whose heart's last thought was his. But the secret of his birth must lie as a dead and speechless thing within him.
If it was not the act of an honorable man to let Greta marry him in ignorance of his birth, there was only one escape from the dishonor—not to let her marry him at all. ”

“ When from the wood I reached the crest of the hill, I saw Greta standing near the mill between the wings, just as I saw her that first day I came to Rough-Hill. I thought to myself, ' Then the work- men have not come yet ; but it was perhaps too early.' And I thought further that Greta had probably gone up to the mill to say good-bye. She did not see me ; she gazed out over the fjord. ”

“ She was on the threshold; a force of which she knew nothing held her there.
"Greta, I am not so bad a man as perhaps I seem; I am a riddle that you may not read. The time is near when I shall trouble the world no more, and it will be but a poor wounded name I shall leave behind me, will it not? Greta, would it be a mockery to ask you to forgive me?"
"There are others who have more to forgive," said Greta. "One of them is waiting for you at this moment; and, poor girl! her heart is broken."
Hugh Ritson bent his head slightly, and Greta pulled the door after her. ”

“ Greta hastened toward the pit-brow. The clank of the iron chain in the gear told that the cage in the shaft was working.
It was a year and a half since her life had first been overshadowed by a disaster more black and terrible than death itself, and never for an instant had the clouds been lifted until three days ago. Then, in a moment, the light had pierced through the empty sky, and a way had been wrought for her out of the labyrinth of misery. But even that passage for life and hope and love seemed now to be closed by the grim countenance of doom. ”

“ TO-DAY Greta was laid to rest in the grave- XXXIX yard. In the small church of the Institution the service took place. All the old women sat round and wept tears of real sorrow for Greta, be- cause she, who had brought youth and beauty into their withered hearts, was taken from us in the midst of her youthful joy. On her coffin they had laid wreaths made by their own trembling hands, wreaths of ivy and moss, adorned with immortelles and simple farewell inscriptions in black and white beads. ”

“ Greta, dearest, I said there has been little in my life to sweeten it. Yet I am a man made to love and to be loved. My love for you has been mute for months; but it can be mute no longer. Perhaps I have had my own impediment, apart from our love for Paul. ”

“ Over the rose-bush Miss Naylor peered down at her; and though she was obliged to stand on tiptoe this did not altogether destroy her dignity.
“I am surprised at you, Greta; I am surprised at Christian, more surprised at Christian. The world seems upside down.”
Greta, a sunbeam entangled in her hair, regarded her with inscrutable, innocent eyes. ”

“ The gurgle of a half-frozen waterfall came from the distant Ghyll. Save for these sounds and the dull thud of Greta's step on the snow-covered road, all around was still.
How fast the snow fell now. Yet Greta heeded it not at all. Her mind was busy with many thoughts. She was thinking of Paul as Parson Christian's great book had pictured him—Paul as a child, a little, darling babe, not yet able to walk. Could it be possible that Paul, her Paul, had once been that? Of course, to think like this was foolishness. Every one must have been young at some time. ”

“ While she was looking at one of the hangings in a far corner of the room, Anna grabbed her arm.
"There they go, Greta. Don't you want to follow them?"
Then Greta remembered that Princess Ingrid was here in the castle. How could she have forgotten? She and Anna and Tante Elsie left the Knights' Hall and entered the long series of drawing-rooms that filled one wing of Frederiksborg. Greta scarcely looked at the paintings that hung on every wall. She wanted to see a real live princess, not a painted lady in a golden frame. ”

“ After that we shall make our entrance at Rough-Hill as husband and wife, and shall move into the upper story of the miller's house, which has been empty and unoccupied ever since Greta's mother died. It will be in May, the beech-trees will just be out, the air full of fragrance, and in the wood, on Rough- Hill, the nightingale will be singing his songs of love.
The days pass quickly, while Greta and I are living our great happiness, dreaming of the still greater which awaits us in the spring. In the morning we generally go for a long walk. ”

“ Paul had forced up Greta's face with gentle violence, and now he held her at arm's length, surveying her with bewildered looks.
Parson Christian twisted about in his chair. He had not been so much immersed in wars and rumors of wars as to be quite ignorant of what was going on around him. "Greta is but in badly case," he said, pretending to laugh. "She has fettled things in the house over and over again, and she has if't and haffled over everything. She's been longing, surely." The deep voice had a touch of tremor in it this time, and the twinkling old eyes looked hazy. ”

“ Greta said.
"It is true," said Jean-Pierre, crossing his heart with his finger.
"Ridiculous."
"Greta, I tell no lie when I say that I have been in love only with horses. Nothing has ever come between us," he said, patting his beast's neck affectionately.
"Frenchmen," she said with a dismissing wave of her gloved hand. "Such talkers." Had he noticed? She took a breath, reminding herself to keep her left hand on the saddle. ”

“ Martha's chum, Greta, had come in then, asking her to go for a swim. Emily liked Greta, with reservations and allowances, thinking her too pretty to be judged severely. She had dazzling eyes: light-blue eyes when she wore light blue; dark-blue eyes when she wore dark blue; gray eyes when she had on a gray suit; and when she pulled that wicked little mauve hat down over her forehead, her eyes were purple as dark pansies. One had to forgive that girl for somewhat too deliberately flashing those glances into male consciousness, Emily argued. But Greta didn't—quite tell the very truth—always. ”

“ Mercy took the little one from Greta's arms and cried over it, and laughed over it, and then cried and laughed again. "Mamma and Ralphie shall play together in the garden, darling, and Ralphie shall see the horses—and the flowers—and the birdies—and mamma—yes, mamma shall see Ralphie. Oh, Mrs. Ritson, how selfish I am!—how can I ever repay you?"
The tears were trickling down Greta's cheeks. "It is I who am selfish, Mercy," she said, and kissed the sightless orbs. "Your dear eyes shall give me back my poor husband." ”

“ They are old songs, sweetly sentimental, gaily gentle songs from our mothers' and grandmothers' days, that Greta sings. The old people are listening; these songs make strings long since untouched vibrate within them, and gradually all the old lips are moving, and the frilled caps are keeping time to Greta's song. The songs about love's joy and love's pain are those that find the most responsive echo. For every kiss on rosy lips happy smiles pass over the wrinkled faces, but, when pale cheeks are bathed in tears, tears also fill a hundred old eyes. ”

“ When all was done, and the old charcoal-burner had gone out on the hills, Greta picked up the little fellow in her arms and went to Mercy's room. Mercy was alert to every sound, and in an instant was sitting up in bed. Her face beamed, her parted lips smiled, her delicate fingers plucked nervously at the counterpane.
"How brightsome it is to-day, Greta," she said. "I'm sure the sun must be shining." ”

“ She hurried home from school even faster than the day before. Chouse had to run, run, run to keep up with her bicycle. He barked and barked, as if he wanted to say, "Greta, don't go so fast." But Greta kept right on going. Nothing could stop her. She rode right up to the barn door and ran inside. Maybe the kittens had come back. But no, the bed of straw was empty.
Then Greta remembered that she had not looked in the garden. Maybe the kittens were out there playing, and the Nisser hadn't taken them at all. Joyously she ran across the courtyard, with Chouse close at her heels. ”