Neducha’s letter. His hand trembled; he shook all over with anxiety, and began to read eagerly. And as he read, his eye brightened with joy. Upright old Mathew made his peace with him—even begged his pardon for having been so foolish as to let himself be deceived by the lying gossip. But Cvok should not have forgotten, he said, that he was a priest, and should not have taken the infant into his house.
“Heavens!” cried Cvok; “my dear good Mathew. How glad I am that all is cleared up between us, and that I have my old place in his heart!”
Soon after dinner the messenger came back from the post with Jenny’s letter enclosing the money-order. Naninka sat down opposite the priest, when he had opened it, and listened while he read it aloud. And it was long and wonderful to listen to; for besides the fifty florin banknote, there were exactly eight closely written pages in it.
Jenny was a governess in a rich commoner’s family in the south of Bohemia. She was much more contented there than she had ever been with the baroness at Labutín, and wanted nothing except little Pepíc̓ek.
“That I can easily believe,” observed Miss Naninka wiping her tearful eyes with her apron.
Pepíc̓ek, indeed, was the chief theme of the letter, and from the many traces of tears, it was to be seen how heavy the mother’s heart was at being obliged to be separated from her child. Her thoughts all turned to him, as flowers shut up in a room turn to the light and sun.
“If I could only see him for five minutes, or even for one minute, to kiss him all over,” Jenny wrote, “it would give me strength for a whole year of long bitter troubles.”
