《安徒生童话英文版》第85章

　　' Every word she said pierced my heart like a knife; but I knewshe was right, and the thought pressed heavily upon me. I kissed herhand, and wept bitter tears, and I wept still more when I went to myroom, and threw myself on the bed. I passed through a dreadfulnight; God knows what I suffered, and how I struggled. The followingSunday I went to the house of God to pray for light to direct my path.It seemed like a providence that as I stepped out of church Ericcame towards me; and then there remained not a doubt in my mind. Wewere suited to each other in rank and circumstances. He was, eventhen, a man of good means. I went up to him, and took his hand, andsaid, 'Do you still feel the same for me?' 'Yes; ever and always,'said he. 'Will you, then, marry a maiden who honors and esteems you,although she cannot offer you her love? but that may come.' 'Yes, itwill come,' said he; and we joined our hands together, and I went hometo my mistress. The gold ring which her son had given me I wore nextto my heart. I could not place it on my finger during the daytime, butonly in the evening, when I went to bed. I kissed the ring till mylips almost bled, and then I gave it to my mistress, and told her thatthe banns were to be put up for me and the glovemaker the followingweek. Then my mistress threw her arms round me, and kissed me. She didnot say that I was 'good for nothing;' very likely I was better thenthan I am now; but the misfortunes of this world, were unknown to methen. At Michaelmas we were married, and for the first year everythingwent well with us. We had a journeyman and an apprentice, and you wereour servant, Martha."

　　"Ah, yes, and you were a dear, good mistress," said Martha, "Ishall never forget how kind you and your husband were to me."

　　"Yes, those were happy years when you were with us, although wehad no children at first. The student I never met again. Yet I saw himonce, although he did not see me. He came to his mother's funeral. Isaw him, looking pale as death, and deeply troubled, standing at hergrave; for she was his mother. Sometime after, when his father died,he was in foreign lands, and did not come home. I know that he nevermarried, I believe he became a lawyer. He had forgotten me, and evenhad we met he would not have known me, for I have lost all my goodlooks, and perhaps that is all for the best." And then she spoke ofthe dark days of trial, when misfortune had fallen upon them.

　　"We had five hundred dollars," she said, "and there was a house inthe street to be sold for two hundred, so we thought it would be worthour while to pull it down and build a new one in its place; so itwas bought. The builder and carpenter made an estimate that the newhouse would cost ten hundred and twenty dollars to build. Eric hadcredit, so he borrowed the money in the chief town. But the captain,who was bringing it to him, was shipwrecked, and the money lost.Just about this time, my dear sweet boy, who lies sleeping there,was born, and my husband was attacked with a severe lingering illness.For three quarters of a year I was obliged to dress and undress him.We were backward in our payments, we borrowed more money, and all thatwe had was lost and sold, and then my husband died. Since then Ihave worked, toiled, and striven for the sake of the child. I havescrubbed and washed both coarse and fine linen, but I have not beenable to make myself better off; and it was God's will. In His own timeHe will take me to Himself, but I know He will never forsake myboy." Then she fell asleep. In the morning she felt much refreshed,and strong enough, as she thought, to go on with her work. But as soonas she stepped into the cold water, a sudden faintness seized her; sheclutched at the air convulsively with her hand, took one step forward,and fell. Her head rested on dry land, but her feet were in the water;her wooden shoes, which were only tied on by a wisp of straw, werecarried away by the stream, and thus she was found by Martha whenshe came to bring her some coffee.

　　In the meantime a messenger had been sent to her house by themayor, to say that she must come to him immediately, as he hadsomething to tell her. It was too late; a surgeon had been sent for toopen a vein in her arm, but the poor woman was dead.

　　"She has drunk herself to death," said the cruel mayor. In theletter, containing the news of his brother's death, it was stated thathe had left in his will a legacy of six hundred dollars to theglovemaker's widow, who had been his mother's maid, to be paid withdiscretion, in large or small sums to the widow or her child.

　　"There was something between my brother and her, I remember," saidthe mayor; "it is a good thing that she is out of the way, for now theboy will have the whole. I will place him with honest people tobring him up, that he may become a respectable working man." And theblessing of God rested upon these words. The mayor sent for the boy tocome to him, and promised to take care of him, but most cruellyadded that it was a good thing that his mother was dead, for "shewas good for nothing." They carried her to the churchyard, thechurchyard in which the poor were buried. Martha strewed sand on thegrave and planted a rose-tree upon it, and the boy stood by her side.

　　"Oh, my poor mother!"