The commotion of the day and the driving
lulled the old woman into deep sleep, and Uli, with tense muscles, held
in the wildly racing Blackie to a moderately fast pace; Freneli was
alone in the wide world. As far off in the distant sky the stars floated
in the limitless space of the unfathomable blue ocean, each by itself in
its solitary course, so she felt herself again to be the poor, solitary,
forsaken girl in the great turmoil of the universe. When she had left
aunt and uncle, when they were dead, she would have no one left on
earth; no house for a refuge in time of sickness; no one to tell her
troubles to; no eye to laugh and weep with her; no person that would
weep when she should die; yes, perhaps no one who would escort her
coffin to that narrow, cold resting-place that they would some day have
to assign her. She was alone; solitary and forsaken she was to wander
through the turmoil of the world to her lonely grave; perhaps a long
journey through many, many lonely years, more bowed, more discouraged
and powerless from year to year--an old, withered, despised creature, to
whom scarce any would give refuge, even though begged for it in the name
of the Lord. New sorrow quivered in her heart, lamentations were about
to well up. Why did the good Father, who was called Love, let such poor
children, who had nobody in the world, live, to be cast out in
childhood, seduced in their prime, despised in old age? But then she
began to feel that she was sinning against God, who had given her more
than many had, who had preserved her innocence to this day, and had so
formed and developed her that an abundant living seemed secured to her
if God preserved her health.
Pages:
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341