A careful glance, by daylight, around the humble apartment, revealed
to Gotleib that Anna worked with her delicate, white, lady-looking
hands, for the support of her dying mother. A table, placed by the
window, was covered with artificial flowers of exquisite
workmanship, and, while he yet lingered in the chamber, Bettina, the
maid, entered from the street door, with a basket filled with the
same flowers--looked at Anna, and shook her head mournfully. The
young girl's lips quivered, and she pressed the tears back when she
saw no purchaser had been found for her labour. Gotleib saw and felt
with the most intense sympathy all that was passing. He lingered yet
longer--he made encouraging remarks to the sick mother, and, at
length, ventured to approach the table, and gazed with admiration on
the beautiful flowers, while his brain was busy in devising how he
was to make them the medium of conveying aid to the suffering mother
and daughter. He turned to the faithful Bettina, who clung to those
whom she served in their hard poverty--he told her that if she would
follow him he would find a purchaser for the pretty flowers. Anna
cast upon him a look of tearful smiling gratitude, and her simple,
"I thank you," as she held out her hand to him, bound him as with a
magnetic chain to her being.
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