CHAPTER XI

noronethatwouldgoonrequiringatfrequentintervalstoenfoldhercapaciouslydidnotmatteranymore,foritwasawarmthing,awarmhumanthing,hewasofferingher,andshehadbeenhalf-deadwithcold.Whatdiditmatterifsheherselfwasnotinlove?Itwasthedreamofaschoolgirltowanttobeinlove.Lifewasnotlikethat.Lifewasathingfulloffriendlinessandhappyaffectionandlove,anyhowonthewoman'sside,wasnotabitnecessary.TheBishopwouldhavebeensurprisedifhehadknownhownearlysheapproachedhisidealofwomanhood.Shewasgoingtobesogood,shesaidtoherselfandtoHerrDremmel,too,herheartfullofgratitudeandgladrelief—oh,sogood!Shewasnevergoingtobedejectedorbeatenoutofhopeandcourageagain.Shewouldworkoverthere,workhardatallsortsofhappythingsintheparish,andamongthepoorandsick,andshewouldhelpRobertinhisworkifhewouldlether,andifhewouldn'tthenshe'dhelphimwhenhehaddone—helphimtoplayandrest.Theywouldlaughtogetherandtalktogetherandwalktogether,andhewouldexplainhisexperimentstoherandteachhertounderstand.AndthefirstthingshewoulddowouldbetolearnGermanverythoroughly,soastobeabletowriteallhislettersforhim,andevenhissermonsifneedsbe,andsavehisprecioustime. "Those,"saidHerrDremmel,whointhelushmeadowsofdalliancehadforgottenthatwhathadfirstattractedhimtoherhadbeenacertainbrightbaldnessofbrain,"wouldbeprettylittlenonsensesermonsthesmallsnailwouldproduce." "You'llsee,"saidIngeborgconfidentlyandshesuddenlyflungoutherarmsandturnedherfaceuptothesunandthebluethroughthelittleleavesandallthelightandpromiseoftheworld,andstretchedherselfinanimmensecontentment."Oh,"shesighed,"isn'titallgood—isn'titallgood—" "Itis,"agreedHerrDremmel."Butitisnothingtohowgooditwillbepresently,whenwearesurroundedbyourdearchildren." "Children?"saidIngeborg. Shedroppedherarmsandlookedathim.Shehadnotthoughtofchildren. "Then,indeed,mylittlewifewillnotwishtowritelettersorcomposesermons." "Why?"sai