There is a tradition that once when she had slapped Paula’s pretty face, the odd child rubbed her cheek and said, with the droll calmness that rarely deserted her, “When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off your rings first.”

The governess—­the cemetery.

During the time we lived in the Thiergarten my mother’s hand scarcely ever touched my face except in a caress.  Every memory of her is bright and beautiful.  I distinctly remember how merrily she jested and played with us, and from my earliest recollections her beloved face always greets me cheerily.  Yet she had moved to the Thiergarten with a heart oppressed by the deepest sorrow.

I know from the woman who accompanied her there as the governess of the two eldest children, and became a faithful friend, how deeply she needed consolation, how completely her feelings harmonized with the widow’s weeds she wore, and in which she is said to have been so beautiful.

The name of this rare woman was Bernhardine Kron.  A native of Mecklenburg, she united to rich and wide culture the sterling character, warmth of feeling, and fidelity of this sturdy and sympathetic branch of the German nation.  She soon became deeply attached to the young widow, to whose children she was to devote her best powers, and, in after years, her eyes often grew dim when she spoke of the time during which she shared our mother’s grief and helped her in her work of education.

Both liked to recall in later days the quiet evenings when, after the rest of the household had retired, they read alone or discussed what stirred their hearts.  Each gave the other what she could.  The German governess went through our classic authors with her employer, and my mother read to her the works of Racine and Corneille, and urged her to speak French and English with her; for, like many natives of Holland, her mastery of both languages was as thorough as if she had grown up in Paris or London.  The necessity of studying and sharing her own rich intellectual possessions continued to be a marked trait in my mother’s character until late in life, and how much cause for gratitude we all have for the share she gave us of her own knowledge and experience!

Fraulein Kron always deeply appreciated the intellectual development she owed to her employer, while the latter never forgot the comfort and support bestowed by the faithful governess in the most sorrowful days of her life.  When I first became conscious of my surroundings, these days were over; but in saying that my first recollections of my mother were bright and cheerful, I forgot the hours devoted to my father’s memory.  She rarely brought them to our notice; a certain chaste reserve, even later in life, prevented her showing her deepest grief to others.  She always strove to cope with her sorest trials alone.  Her sunny nature shrank from diffusing shadow and darkness around her.