“Rosa’s brother had engaged with people in Antwerp, to collect provisions in the country round, and ship them to England. Trade was to make him rich it was said, for every week he sent two carts to Antwerp. In the beginning, all went well; but a bankrupt in Antwerp reduced all the gain to nothing, for poor Tirt Meulinck, who was bound for him; scarcely could he pay half his debts. Through grief on this account he is dead. God be merciful to his soul! “Rosa, after this, lived at Nand Flinck’s, the shopkeeper, in a little room. The same year, the son Karl—who had been away as a recruit—came home with bad eyes, and—fourteen days after—the poor young man became blind. Rosa, who was sorry for him, and only listened to her own heart’s suggestions, attended him during his illness, and led him by the hand, in order to amuse him a little. Alas! she herself took the same complaint, and from that time she has never seen the light of day. Nand Flinck is dead, and his children are scattered about. Blind Karl lives at a farm-house near Lierre. Then came Rosa to live with us, and we told her how gladly we saw her with us, and how willingly we would work all our lives for her. She accepted our invitation. Six years are now flown, and God knows that she has never received from us a cross word: for she is herself all affection and kindness. If it be a question of doing something for her, the children are ready to fight which shall get to do it first.” “And yet she begs,” said the traveler. “Yes, good sir,” said the wife, with a certain pride; “but that is her own fault. Do not imagine that we have forgotten what Rosa has done for us: and had we suffered hunger, and must have taken the yoke upon us, we would never have obliged her to beg. What think you then of us? Six months we kept her back from it; but beyond that point we could not prevail. As our family was increasing, Rosa, the good soul, thought she would become a burden to us, and wished on the contrary to help us. It was impossible to hinder her from it: she became sick of sorrow. When we saw that—after the half-year—we gave way to her desire. For a poor blind person it is, nevertheless, no shame. At the same time, though we are poor, we do not make a gain of what she earns by begging. She will, ever and anon, compel us to take part with her; we cannot always be at strife with her, poor thing! but we give it her double back again. Without her knowing it, she is better clad than we are, and the food we set before her is better than our own. There always stands at the fire a separate little pan for her. See here: to her potatoes, she has a couple of eggs and melted butter. Of the remainder of her gains, I believe, from what I can learn by her words, that she is laying up a little hoard till our children are grown up. Her love deserves our gratitude, but we cannot oppose her will.”