Opening the bedroom of
her parents, she cried, "Good-night, mother! Good-night, father!"
Then she climbed up to her little attic, which had been her father's
favorite room, and which, when she was with him, he had called a
little spot of Eden. There stood his writing-table, and above it the
bookcase, which held her most precious treasures, her father's
library. From the window the Rhine could be seen meandering along
the smooth green meadows, finally loosing itself between the distant
hills.
Her father had left her this blessed little spot, and hither she
fled when her heavy day's work was over. There of an evening she
stood, gazing thoughtfully out into the darkening twilight, and
there daily she greeted the rising sun, repeating aloud her morning
prayer. Then with eager hands she took from the book-case one of the
large folios. From these books Anna Sophia drew all her knowledge.
And when, during the long winter evenings, the village girls were
busy spinning, she would tell them the stories she had read, no hand
was idle, no eye drooping. She was looked upon as the guardian angel
of the village; she knew some remedy, some alleviation for every
illness, every pain.
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