DELAYING IS NOT FORGETTING
THERE was an old mansion surrounded by a marshy ditch with a drawbridge which was but seldom let down:- not all guests are good people. Under the roof were loopholes to shoot through, and to pour down boiling water or even molten lead on the enemy, should he approach. Inside the house the rooms were very high and had ceilings of beams, and that was very useful considering the great deal of smoke which rose up from the chimney fire where the large, damp logs of wood smouldered. On the walls hung pictures of knights in armour and proud ladies in gorgeous dresses; the most stately of all walked about alive. She was called Meta Mogen; she was the mistress of the house, to her belonged the castle. Towards the evening robbers came; they killed three of her people and also the yard-dog, and attached Mrs. Meta to the kennel by the chain, while they themselves made good cheer in the hall and drank the wine and the good ale out of her cellar. Mrs. Meta was now on the chain, she could not even bark. But lo！ the servant of one of the robbers secretly approached her; they must not see it, otherwise they would have killed him. "Mrs. Meta Mogen," said the fellow, "do you still remember how my father, when your husband was still alive, had to ride on the wooden horse? You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to ride until his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as I steal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of his feet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretended not to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. My father has told me this, and I have not forgotten it！ Now I will free you, Mrs. Meta Mogen！" Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rain and wind to obtain the assistance of friends. "Thus the small service done to the old man was richly rewarded！" said Meta Mogen. "Delaying is not forgetting," said the fellow. The robbers were hanged. There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belong to Mrs. Meta Mogen, it belonged to another old noble family. We are now in the present time. The sun is shining on the gilt knob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on the water, and wild swans are swimming round them. In the garden grow roses; the mistress of the house is herself the finest rose petal, she beams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wide world, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting！ Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in the field. Therein lives a poor paralysed girl; the window of her little room looks northward, the sun does not enter here. The girl can only see a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. But to-day the sun shines here- the warm, beautiful sun of God is within the little room; it comes from the south through the new window, where formerly the wall was. The paralysed girl sits in the warm sunshine and can see the wood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, and only through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion. "The word was so easy, the deed so small," she said, "the joy it afforded me was infinitely great and sweet！" And therefore she does many a good deed, thinks of all in the humble cottages and in the rich mansions, where there are also afflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forget it. Delayed is not forgotten！ An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busy traffic. There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, we remain in the kitchen, where it is warm and light, clean and tidy; the copper utensils are shining, the table as if polished with beeswax; the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a single servant has done, and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to go to church; she wears a bow on her cap, a black bow, that signifies mourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother, neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day she was engaged to a poor fellow; they loved each other dearly. One day he came to her and said: "We both have nothing！ The rich widow over the way in the basement has made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in my heart; what do you advise me to do?" "I advise you to do what you think will turn out to your happiness," said the girl. "Be kind and good to her, but remember this; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again." Years passed; then one day she met the old friend and sweetheart in the street; he looked ill and miserable, and she could not help asking him, "How are you?" "Rich and prospering in every respect," he said; "the woman is brave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle, it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now until we meet before God！" A week has passed; this morning his death was in the newspaper, that is the reason of the girl's mourning！ Her old sweetheart is dead and has left a wife and three step-children, as the paper says; it sounds as if there is a crack, but the metal is pure. The black bow signifies mourning, the girl's face points to the same in a still higher degree; it is preserved in the heart and will never be forgotten. Delaying is not forgetting！ These are three stories you see, three leaves on the same stalk. Do you wish for some more trefoil leaves? In the little heartbook are many more of them. Delaying is not forgetting！
隐存着并不就是被忘却
有一座古老的庄园。庄园外面有一条泥泞的护庄沟，上面有一座吊桥。吊桥吊起的时候比放下的时候多，来访的人并不都是好人。屋檐下面有许多洞眼，可以朝外放枪。要是敌人靠得太近，还可以从这些洞里往外泼开水，是啊，甚至倒融化了的铅。屋里木顶很高，这对于因壁炉烧大块的湿木头而冒出的那些烟是很好的出路。墙上挂着身穿铠甲的男人和衣着臃肿、傲气十足的妇人的画像。这些女人中最高贵的一位现在还活着，住在这里，她的名字叫麦特·莫恩斯。她是这座庄园的主人。
一天傍晚，强盗来了。他们杀死了她家的三口人，连看庄园的狗也被杀了。接着他们用拴狗的链子把麦特夫人拴在狗窝里，他们自己则坐在大厅里，喝着从她的地窖里搬来的葡萄酒和上等啤酒。
麦特夫人被狗链子拴着，她连像狗那样吠也不行。接着强盗里的一个小孩子来了，他蹑手蹑脚一点声音都没有。他不能让人察觉，一被发觉他们便会杀死他。
“麦特·莫恩斯夫人！”小男孩说道，“你记得你丈夫在世的时候，我的父亲被捆在木马①上吗？那时你为他求情，但是没有用；他必须骑在上面，骑成残废。但是你悄悄地走来，就像我现在悄悄地溜来一样；你亲手在他的脚下摆上了一小块石头，让他能够休息。没有人看见，或者他们装作没看见。你是那位年轻仁慈的夫人。我父亲对我说过，我把这事隐存着，但并不曾忘却！现在我来解救你，麦特·莫恩斯夫人！”接着他们从马厩牵来马，在风雨中骑马跑了，他们得到了人们友好的帮助。
“我对那位老人做的一点善事却得到了这样好的回报！”麦特·莫恩斯夫人说道。
“隐存不是被遗忘！”男孩说道。
强盗后来被处以绞刑。
有一座古老的庄园，它也还在那里。它不是麦特·莫恩斯夫人的。它属于另外一个高贵的家族。
这是我们的时代。太阳照在金光闪闪的塔尖上，一座座郁郁葱葱的小岛像花环似地浮在水上，小岛的四周有野天鹅在游弋。园子里生长着玫瑰，庄园的女主人便是最美的玫瑰花；她在欢乐中，在善行的欢乐中闪闪发光，不是在广阔的世界里，而是在心中。它隐存在那里，但不等于被忘却。现在她从庄园走向田野里一所孤单的小房子。房里住着一个可怜的、瘫痪的女孩子。她房间里的窗是朝北面开的，阳光不能射进来，她只能看到被那条很高的沟堤隔断的一小片田野。但是今天屋子里有阳光了，上帝那温暖可爱的阳光射进来了。这阳光是从南墙上新开的窗子里射进来的。以前那边只是一道墙。
瘫痪的姑娘坐在温暖的阳光里，看着树林和海滩。世界变得宽阔起来，十分可爱，这一切都是庄园里的那位夫人的一句话带来的。
“讲一句话是轻而易举的，做的事是那么微不足道！”她说道。“我得到的快乐却无边无垠，十分幸福。”
因为如此，她作了许多许多的善事，她心中装着贫寒家庭和有痛苦的富裕家庭的每一个人。善行隐存着，但是没有被上帝忘却。
有一座古老的宅子，它在那座热闹的大城市里。宅子里有厅有堂。我们不进厅堂去，我们留在厨房里。那儿暖和、明亮，清洁而整齐；铜器都闪闪发光，桌子就像是打了蜡一样亮，洗碗盆就像是刚刨光的砧板。这都是一个女佣收拾的，她甚至还有时间将自己打扮整齐，就像要去教堂一般。她的帽子上打了一个蝴蝶结——一个黑色的结子，这是表示哀悼的。可是并没有要她照顾的人，她没有父亲也没有母亲，没有亲戚也没有恋人。她是一个贫苦的女孩子。她曾经订过婚，是和一个贫苦的男佣；他们真诚地相爱着。有一天他来找她。“我们两人什么东西都没有！”他说道。“那边那个住在地下室的有钱的寡妇对我说了许多热情的话，她将让我富裕起来。但是只有你在我的心中。你说我该怎么办？”
“你所相信的，便是你的幸福！”姑娘说道。“和善地、亲切地对待她。可是请记住，从我们分手的那一刻起，我们就不能常见面了。
——两年过去了。一天她在街上遇见了昔日的朋友和恋人，他看上去一副可怜的病态。于是她不得不管，必须问一句：“你到底怎么了？”
“怎么说都算得上很富裕很好！”他说道。“那妇人很能干很善良，但你在我的心中。我斗争得很厉害，一切很快便会结束！我们去上帝那儿之前，再也见不到了。”
过了一个星期。晨报上说他去世了。所以姑娘便戴上了表示哀悼的结子。她从报纸上读到，他死后留下了那位妻子和前夫的三个孩子。钟声浑浊不清，可是铸钟的铜是很纯净的。
她的黑蝴蝶结表示哀悼。姑娘的脸显得更加哀伤。“它隐存在心中，永不被忘却！”
是啊，瞧，这里有三个故事，一根秆上的三片花瓣。你还希望有更多的花瓣吗？心的书里有许多；它们被隐藏起来，并不是被遗忘。