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Georg Ebers
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 64 pages of information about Barbara Blomberg Volume 08.

After a few brief words of greeting, Barbara left the old woman, resolving not to enter the house soon again.

In passing the chapel she could and would not resist its strong power of attraction.  With bowed head she entered the quiet little sanctuary, repeated a paternoster, and prayed fervently to the Mother of God to restore the clearness of her voice once more.  While doing so, she imagined that the gracious intercessor gazed down upon her sometimes compassionately, sometimes reproachfully, and, in the consciousness of her guilt, she raised her hands, imploring forgiveness, to the friendly, familiar figure.

How tenderly the Christ-child nestled to the pure, exalted mother!  Heaven intended to bestow a similar exquisite gift upon her also, and already insolent hands were outstretched to tear it from her.  True, she was determined to defend herself bravely, yet her best friend advised her to yield without resistance to this unprecedented demand.

What should she do?

With her brow pressed against the priedieu, she strove to attain calm reflection in the presence of the powerful and gracious Queen of Heaven.  If she yielded the child to its cruel father, she would thereby surrender to him the only happiness to which she still possessed a claim; if she succeeded in keeping it for herself, she would deprive it of the favour of the mighty sovereign, who possessed the power to bestow upon it everything which the human heart craves.  Should she persist in resistance or yield to the person to whom she had already sacrificed so much the great blessing which had the ability to console her for every other loss, even the most cruel?

Then her refractory heart again rebelled.  This was too much; Heaven itself could not require it of her, the divine Mother who, before her eyes, was pressing her child so tenderly to her bosom, least of all.  Hers, too, would be a gift of God, and, while repeating this to herself, it seemed as though a voice cried out:  “It is the Lord himself who intends to confide this child to you, and if you give it up you deprive it of its mother and rob it—­you have learned that yourself—­of its best possession.  What was given to you to cherish tenderly, you can not confide to another without angering him who bestowed the guerdon upon you.”

Just at that moment she thought of the star, her lover’s first memento, with which she had parted from weakness, though with a good intention.

The misfortune which she was now enduring had grown out of this lamentable yielding.  No!  She would not, ought not to allow herself to be robbed of her precious hope.  One glance at the Mother and Child put an end to any further consideration.

Comforted and strengthened, she went her way homeward, scarcely noticing that Peter Schlumperger and his sister, whom she met, looked away from her with evident purpose.

CHAPTER VI.

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