"Not only is wisdom born with Joanna and Batavius, it will also die with

them; so they think," said Katharine indignantly, after one of Joanna's

periodical visitations.

A tear twinkled in madam's eyes; but she answered, "I shall not distress

myself overmuch. Always I have said, 'Joanna has a little soul. Only

what is for her own good can she love.'"

"It is Batavius; and a woman must love her husband, mother."

"That is the truth: first and best of all, she must love him, Katherine;

but not as the dog loves and fawns on his master, or the squaw bends

down to her brave. A good woman gives not up her own principles and

thoughts and ways. A good woman will remember the love of her father and

mother and brother and sister, her old home, her old friends; and

contempt she will not feel and show for the things of the past, which

often, for her, were far better than she was worthy of."

"There is one I love, mother, love with all my soul. For him I would

die. But for thee also I would die. Love thee, mother? I love thee and

my father better because I love him. My mother, fret thee not, nor think

that ever Joanna can really forget thee. If a daughter could forget her

good father and her good mother, then with the women who sit weeping in

the outer darkness, God would justly give her her portion. Such a

daughter could not be."

Lysbet sadly shook her head. "When I was a little girl, Katherine, I

read in a book about the old Romans, how a wicked daughter over the

bleeding corpse of her father drove her chariot. She wanted his crown

for her own husband; and over the warm, quivering body of her father she

drove. When I read that story, Katherine, my eyes I covered with my

hands. I thought such a wicked woman in the world could not be. Alas,

mijn kind! often since then I have seen daughters over the bleeding

hearts of their mothers and fathers drive; and frown and scold and be

much injured and offended if once, in their pain and sorrow, they cry

out."

"But this of me remember, mother: if I am not near thee, I shall be

loving thee, thinking of thee; telling my husband, and perhaps my little

children about thee,--how good thou art, how pretty, how wise. I will

order my house as thou hast taught me, and my own dear ones will love me

better because I love thee. If to my own mother I be not true, can my

husband be sure I will be true to him, if comes the temptation strong

enough? Sorry would I be if my heart only one love could hold, and ever

the last love the strong love."




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