she even speak to
him. Nothing would she take from his hand, or from the hands of his
friends! Nor would she ever stoop to take aught from her aunt, or
from Ziska. They had triumphed over her. She knew not how. They had
triumphed over her, but the triumph should be very bitter to them--
very bitter, if there was any touch of humanity left among them.

Later in the day there came to be something of motion in the house. Her
father was worse in health, was going fast, and the doctor was again
there. And in these moments Souchey was with her, busy in the dying
man's room; and there were gentle kind words spoken between him and
Nina--as would be natural between such persons at such a time. He knew
that he had been a traitor, and the thought of his treachery was heavy
at his heart; but he perceived that no immediate punishment was to come
upon him, and it was some solace to him that he could be sedulous and
gentle and tender. And Nina, though she knew that the man had given his
aid in destroying her, bore with him not only without a hard word, but
almost without a severe thought. What did it matter what such a one as
Souchey could do?

In the middle watches of that night the old man died, and Nina was
alone in the world. Souchey, indeed, was with her in the house, and
took from her all painful charge of the bed at which now her care could
no longer be of use. And early in the morning, while it was yet dark,
Lotta came down, and spoke words to her, of which she remembered
nothing. And then she knew that her aunt Sophie was there, and that
some offers were made to her at which she only shook her head. "Of
course you will come up to us," aunt Sophie said. And she made many
more suggestions, in answer to all of which Nina only shook her head.
Then her aunt and Nina, with Lotta's aid, fixed upon some plan--Nina
hardly knew what--as to the morrow. She did not care to know what it
was that they fixed. They were going to leave her alone for this day,
and the day would be very long. She told herself that it would be long
enough for her.

The day was very long. When her aunt had left her she saw no one but
Souchey and an old woman who was busy in the bedroom which was now
closed. She had stood at the foot of the bed with her aunt, but after
that she did not return to the chamber. It was not only her father who,
for her, was now lying dead. She had loved her father well, but with a
love infinitely greater she had loved another; and t