Only A Girl

CHAPTER

I. "Only a Girl"

II. The Story of the Ugly Duckling

III. Atonement

IV. The Sad Survivors

V. Undeceived

VI. Soul-Murder

VII. Departure


PART II.

I. "Only a Woman"

II. The Swan

III. The Village School

IV. The Guardian

V. Fruitless Pretensions

VI. Emancipation of the Flesh

VII. Emancipation of the Spirit

VIII. "When Women hold the Reins"

IX. Vox Populi, Vox Dei

X. Nowhere at Home

XI. Inharmonious Contrasts


PART III.

I. The Strength of Weakness

II. The Weakness of Strength

III. Silver-armed Käthchen

IV. Battle

V. Science and Faith

VI. Sentenced

VII. The Orphan

VIII. Blossoms on the Border of the Grave

IX. It is Morning again

X. Return

XI. "Give us this Day Our Daily Bread"

XII. The Third Power






ONLY A GIRL;

OR

A PHYSICIAN FOR THE SOUL.




CHAPTER I.

"ONLY A GIRL."


In a level, well-wooded country in Northern Germany, not far from an
insignificant village, stood a distillery, such as is frequently to be
found upon the estates of the North German nobility, and in connection
with it an extensive manufactory,--the estate comprising, besides, a
kitchen-garden overgrown with weeds, a few fruit-trees overshadowing
the decaying remains of rustic seats long fallen to ruin, and a
dwelling-house, well built, indeed, but as neglected and dirty as its
guardian the lean, hungry mastiff, whose empty plate and dusty jug
testified to the length of time since the poor creature had had any
refreshment in the oppressive heat of this July day. No one who looked
upon this picture could doubt that the interior of the house must
correspond with its cheerless outside, and that the gentle, beneficent
hand was wanting there that keeps a house neat and orderly, cares for
the garden, and attends to the wants of even a dumb brute. Where such a
hand is wanting, there is neither order nor culture, no love of the
beautiful, nor sometimes even of the good,--too often, indeed, no joy,
no happiness. There was no one in the court-yard or garden; nothing was
stirring but a couple of cheeping chickens that were peeping around the
corner of the dog's kennel, in hopes of stray crumbs from his last
meal. They came on cautiously, their little heads turning curiously
from side to side, in fear lest the dog should make his appearance; but
he kept in his kennel, his head resting upon his paws, and his
bloodshot eyes blinking over the distant landscape. The hungry fowls,
grown bolder, pecked and scratched around his plate, but vainly: there
was nothing to be found but dry sand.

Beside the well stood a churn, and a bench upon which lay a roll of
fresh butter, which, neglected and forgotten, was melting beneath the
sun's hot rays, and dripping down upon the weeds around. Perhaps the
starving dog was suddenly struck by the thought how grateful this waste
would be to him were it only within his domain; for he started up and
ran out as far as he could from his kennel, dragging his rattling chain
behind him, as if to prove its length, then stood still, and finally
bethought himself and crept back with drooping head beneath his roof.
Outside of a window, upon the ground floor, stood a couple of dried
cactus-plants, and several bottles of distilled herbs; the cork of one
of them was gone, and its contents filled with flies and beetles.
Everything, far and near, betrayed neglect and dirt; but the excuse of
poverty was evidently wanting. The extensive stables and accommodations
for cattle, the huge out-houses and far-stretching fields of grain
testified to the wealth of the proprietor of the estate. A comfortable
rolling-chair standing in the court-yard, its leathern cushions rotting
in the sun, seemed to indicate the presence of an invalid or a cripple.
Only the lowest and uppermost stories of the house appeared to be
inhabited; the windows of the middle floor were all closed, and so
thickly festooned with cobwebs that they could not have been opened for
a long time. It seemed as if the swallows wee the only creatures who
could find comfort in such an inhospitable mansion; their nests were
everywhere to be seen.