"
"I am glad, very glad; and now I must see my mother. Vesta is sick and
she will be glad to see any one from home."
Erwald's face was glowing; I turned to the father.
"Erwald is a good child," he said. "At first we felt vexed with him
and Vesta for leaving the church, and not a few times did we punish
them. But they were so good and patient that it troubled us; and now
their mother is a Protestant, and I never go to mass."
It was explained, the serene calm of the earnest blue eyes: Erwald was
a Christian.
Early in the morning our guide made his appearance. His countenance
sweet and pleasing as it was the night previous. He was accompanied by
a little woman in a black gown and bodice, with a high cap and the
whitest of kerchiefs--a mild sweet-faced woman, whom we knew at once
as his mother.
"You'll tell Vesta mother thinks of her all the time, and prays the
Father every hour to make her well again."
On my asking if she was not afraid to have her son go on so dangerous
a journey, she answered:
"Our Father will take care of him and bring him back to us."
The simple faith of the good woman struck me as greatly to be desired.
With all her simplicity she had the true Wisdom: and her good motherly
face went with me long after I left Erwald in Chamouni.
A few miles from Geneva, we entered Savoy. Here the scenery of the
Alps began to open before us. On the right the Arve was seen winding
through a cultivated and luxuriant valley; on both sides, hills and
rooks rose to a considerable elevation, and behind, the mountains of
the Jura range closed in grandeur the delightful view.
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