I will not bend to the yoke ere I have seen and judged for myself."
The manly sound of the words gave a sweet sense of exultation to the
mother, even while she dreaded the proud spirit, and whispered, "God
direct thee, my son."
Certainly Ebbo, hitherto the most impetuous and least thoughtful of
the two lads, had a gravity and seriousness about him, that, but for
his naturally sweet temper, would have seemed sullen. His
aspirations for adventure had hitherto been more vehement than
Friedel's; but, when the time seemed at hand, his regrets at what he
might have to yield overpowered his hopes of the future. The fierce
haughtiness of the old Adlersteins could not brook the descent from
the crag, even while the keen, clear burgher wit that Ebbo inherited
from the other side of the house taught him that the position was
untenable, and that his isolated glory was but a poor mean thing
after all. And the struggle made him sad and moody.
Friedel, less proud, and with nothing to yield, was open to blithe
anticipations of what his fancy pictured as the home of all the
beauty, sacred or romantic, that he had glimpsed at through his
mother.
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