Sister Carmen | Page 2

no pretension to ornament or style;
cleanliness seemed the only adornment sought for, and it certainly did
reign supreme. The women and girls wore small, close-fitting white
caps, the different-colored ribbons on them distinguishing the various
classes, and giving a very pleasing effect to the scene. The wives were
recognized by blue ribbons on their caps, and the widows by white,
while the older girls wore pink and the younger ones bright red.
Gradually all returned to their homes in the valley below, where lay the
thriving Moravian village.
One young girl, however, remained behind alone, lost in thought and
quite unconscious that her companions had already taken their way
homeward. Leaning against one of the large linden-trees, whose ancient
trunk completely screened her slim figure, she stood, looking
downward on the beautiful landscape which lay before her admiring

eyes. Mountain and valley, forest and field, were bathed in the golden
sunshine. Nothing was yet in bloom, but in every swelling bud there
seemed to lie a foreshadowing of coming glory.
"Sister Carmen, hast thou not noticed that thy companions have
returned with their elders, and that thou art left alone?" suddenly asked
a deep masculine voice at her side.
She involuntarily shrank back, as if from fear--was it because she was
alone, or was she only startled from her dreaming?--and looked timidly
at the speaker. He was a man well advanced in years; his hair partially
gray, but his complexion retaining much of its youthful freshness and
color; and there was some difficulty in determining his age. Although
his brow was thoughtful and his grave eyes habitually looked upward
with an expression of calm serenity and humble piety, yet the curve of
his mouth, around which there lurked a peculiar smile, contradicted the
idea of sanctity.
"Have they really left me, Brother Jonathan? I had entirely forgotten
how time was passing, in the tumult of joyful feelings which filled my
heart," said the girl with a sunny smile.
"It gladdens my heart, dear sister, to know it gives you such great joy to
celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord," he replied. "Truly it is a
blessed privilege to be able to lose one's self in the contemplation of
holy things, and, forgetting the cares of this present life, rejoice in the
hope of heaven, and be as one dead to every temporal joy."
"But I was not thinking at all of the life beyond the grave, only of this
present one. How beautiful it is, and what happiness to be able to enjoy
it!" she said candidly, as her youthful countenance lighted up with a
glowing expression of love of life and pleasure.
Hers was a singularly beautiful face, on which the man at her side
gazed with open admiration. The close-fitting cap, with its bright red
bow, indicated that the girl had not yet reached her eighteenth year.
Here and there peeped out little truant locks of the glossy black hair,
whose richness and abundance the close covering could not entirely

conceal or fetter. The broad, intellectual brow; the delicate, pencilled
lashes, from the shadow of which shone forth lustrous black eyes that
flashed with intelligence and spirit; the arched nose, with its slightly
dilated nostrils; pouting mouth, with full, cherry lips, all gave her
something of a proud expression, which was, however, softened by the
beaming smile which so often lighted it up. Although only a faint color
tinged her cheek, yet the clear, brunette complexion glowed with fresh,
warm, young life, and the slender, lithe form that leaned with such
childlike abandon against the old tree displayed the most exquisite
symmetry.
"Yes, this present life is certainly very pleasant, dear sister," he
resumed, approaching yet nearer to her; and he indeed seemed to find it
so as he contemplated this fair, blooming, delightful young creature.
"We do wisely to enjoy it, and use it as a means to prepare us for the
great hereafter, accomplishing that end all the more effectually when
we love the Lord, and, through Him, one another. Sister Carmen, did
you listen to the beautiful discourse on brotherly and sisterly love
which our honored presbyter gave us to-day?" and the speaker bent his
head so low that she felt his hot breath on her cheek, and his heavy
hand on her shoulder. But quickly turning aside and withdrawing from
his touch, she replied: "Yes, I heard it, and it is indeed a very good and
proper thing to love one another; but I think it is not always love which
is called so, or seems so;" and her mouth twitched with a repressed
smile, as if some secret thought amused her.
"Dear sister, how can you speak thus?" he said. "Men, it is true, are
weak, and often swerve from their duty; but we