The events of that
frightful Easter Monday morning did indeed almost kill her; but the
effects, though severe, were not lasting; and by the time the last of
Ermentrude's snow-wreath had vanished, she was sunning her babes at
the window, happier than she had ever thought to be--above all, in
the possession of both the children. A nurse had been captured for
the little Baron from the village on the hillside; but the woman had
fretted, the child had pined, and had been given back to his mother
to save his life; and ever since both had thriven perfectly under her
sole care, so that there was very nearly joy in that room.
Outside it, there was more bitterness than ever. The grandmother had
softened for a few moments at the birth of the children, with
satisfaction at obtaining twice as much as she had hoped; but the
frustration of her vengeance upon Kasimir of Adlerstein Wildschloss
had renewed all her hatred, and she had no scruple in abusing "the
burgher-woman" to the whole household for her artful desire to
captivate another nobleman.
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