Page:The grandmother; a story of country life in Bohemia.pdf/355

Rh mother coughed severely; she could no longer walk to the village to "God's dear church." Her hands withered more and more, her hair was like snow, her voice grew weaker and weaker.

One day, Mrs. Proshek sent letters in all directions urging the children to come home. Grandmother had taken to her bed, she could no longer hold the spindle. From the gamekeeper's, from the mill, from the village, messengers came several times a day to ask how Grandmother was; she was no better. Adelka often prayed with her; she was obliged to tell her every morning, every evening, how the trees were growing in the orchard, how the vegetables were thriving in the garden, how the poultry was doing, how Spotty was; she had to reckon in how many days Mr. Beyer would probably be with them. "Perhaps John will come with him," Grandmother would add. Her memory began to fail. She often called Barunka instead of Adelka, and when the latter reminded her that Barunka was not at home, recollecting herself she would say, sighing deeply: "No, no, she is not at home, I shall not see her again. Is she happy?" And yet she saw them all again.

Mr. Proshek came, and with him Willie and Johanna; her son Caspar came, and from the Riesengebirge mountains came Mr. Beyer, bringing with him his sturdy apprentice, John; Orel came from the school of forestry, where the Princess, discovering his talents, had placed him. Grandmother counted him, too, among her grandchildren, for she had observed the growing attachment between him and Adelka, and approved of it, knowing his nobleness of character. All gathered around Grand-