And so for years the lives of all these persons had run on, until the
time was approaching when Greif and Hilda were to be married, and great
changes were to be made at Sigmundskron. Greif had come home for the
last time but one, and his next return would be final. During months
and years the baroness and her daughter had been slowly preparing for
the great event. The most unheard-of economies had been imagined and
carried out in the attempt to give Hilda a little outfit for her
wedding, just enough to hide the desperate poverty in which they had
lived. Many a long winter's evening had the two ladies spun the fine
flax by the smouldering fire; many a long day had Hilda and Berbel
spent at the primitive loom in the sunny room of the south tower;
through many a summer's noon had the long breadths of fine linen lain
bleaching on the clean grey stone of the ramparts, watered by the
faithful servant's careful hand. Endless had been the thought expended
before cutting into each piece of the precious material; endless the
labour lavished upon the fine embroideries by Hilda herself, upon the
minute stitching by her brave-hearted mother. But the work had
progressed well, and the finished garments that lay amidst bundles of
sweet-smelling dried herbs in the great old press would have done
credit to the spinning and weaving and handiwork of skilled craftsmen.
It was fortunate that there had been time for it all, else Hilda would
have made but a poor figure on the great day.

As for Berbel she believed that the forest itself had helped them, when
she saw all that had been accomplished and remembered how she had
bought the flax pound by pound at the market. Though a great share in
the joint success was due to her own patient industry, the result
seemed so fine as compared with the humble beginnings that she was much
inclined to thank the Heinzelmannchen and their 'brownies' for the most