It was enough for her to see her uncle still,
and feel that his tenderness was with her, and around her. But at
last he drew his rein. "And now, my little one, the daughter of my
heart, I must bid thee farewell," he said.
Christina could not be restrained from springing from her mule, and
kneeling on the grass to receive his blessing, her face hidden in her
hands, that her father might not see her tears.
"The good God bless thee, my child," said Gottfried, who seldom
invoked the saints; "bless thee, and bring thee back in His own good
time. Thou hast been a good child to us; be so to thine own father.
Do thy work, and come back to us again."
The tears rained down his cheeks, as Christina's head lay on his
bosom, and then with a last kiss he lifted her again on her mule,
mounted his horse, and turned back to the city, with his servant.
Hugh was merciful enough to let his daughter gaze long after the
retreating figure ere he summoned her on. All day they rode, at
first through meadow lands and then through more broken, open ground,
where at mid-day they halted, and dined upon the plentiful fare with
which the housemother had provided them, over which Hugh smacked his
lips, and owned that they did live well in the old town! Could
Christina make such sausages?
"Not as well as my aunt.
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