Alone with the coffin where the armour lay upon the white cross, Ebbo
threw himself on his knees, and laid his head upon it, murmuring,
"Ah, Friedel! Friedel! Would that we had changed places! Thou
wouldst brook it better. At least thou didst never know what it is
to be lonely."
"Herr Baron!" said a little voice.
His first movement was impatient. Thekla was apt to pursue him
wherever he did not want her; but here he had least expected her, for
she had a great fear of that coffin, and could hardly be brought to
the chapel at prayer times, when she generally occupied herself with
fancies that the empty helmet glared at her. But now Ebbo saw her
standing as near as she durst, with a sweet wistfulness in her eyes,
such as he had never seen there before.
"What is it, Thekla?" he said. "Art sent to call me?"
"No; only I saw that you stayed here all alone," she said, clasping
her hands.
"Must I not be alone, child?" he said, bitterly. "Here lies my
brother. My mother has her husband again!"
"But you have me!" cried Thekla; and, as he looked up between
amusement and melancholy, he met such a loving eager little face,
that he could not help holding out his arms, and letting her cling to
him.
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