ould
see from his face how anxious he was. He would give me no opinion as to
the child's chances of recovery, from which I guessed that he had not
much hope. But when I expressed my fear he cut me very short.

"The truth is, you know nothing about it; no more do I, for that matter.
It is enough to try any man, much less a father, to hear his perpetual
moans--not that he is conscious of pain, poor little worm; but if she
stops for a moment in her perpetual carrying him backwards and forwards,
he plains so piteously it is enough to--enough to make a man bless the
Lord who never led him into the pit of matrimony. To see the father up
there, following her as she walks up and down the room, the child's head
over her shoulder, and Mueller trying to make the heavy eyes recognize
the old familiar ways of play, and the chirruping sounds which he can
scarce make for crying----I shall be here to-morrow early, though before
that either life or death will have come without the old doctor's help."

All night long I dreamt my feverish dream--of the vineyard--the carts,
which held little coffins instead of baskets of grapes--of the pastor's
daughter, who would pull the dying child out of Thekla's arms; it was
a bad, weary night! I slept long into the morning; the broad daylight
filled my room, and yet no one had been near to waken me! Did that mean
life or death? I got up and dressed as fast as I could; for I was aching
all over with the fatigue of the day before. Out into the sitting-room;
the table was laid for breakfast, but no one was there. I passed into
the house beyond, up the stairs, blindly seeking for the room where I
might know whether it was life or death. At the door of a room I found
Lottchen crying; at the sight of me in that unwonted place she started,
and began some kind of apology, broken both by tears and smiles, as she
told me that the doctor said the danger was over--past, and that Max was
sleeping a gentle peaceful slumber in Thekla's arms--arms that had held
him all through the livelong night.

"Look at him, sir; only go in softly; it is a pleasure to see the child
to-day; tread softly, sir."

She opened the chamber-door. I could see Thekla sitting, propped up by
cushions and stools, holding her heavy burden, and bending over him with
a look of tenderest love. Not far off stood the Fraeulein, all disordered
and tearful, stirring or seasoning some hot soup, while the master stood
by her impatient. As soon as it