ed in such an exhausted and miserable condition that she began
to cry when she saw the house. There can have been few sadder walks than
hers up to it. Even the dog's joyful antics when he reached firm ground
could not distract her. She went straight to her own room to wash and
change her dress, requesting that her father and Mrs. Dawes should be
told of her arrival. Little Nanna went with her, to help her. The child
played with the dog whenever she had an unoccupied moment; this annoyed
Mary, but she said nothing.

She looked utterly worn-out, and it was only too evident that she had
wept. But perhaps this was fortunate. Her father would understand at
once that all was not well. If he were only able to bear it! She would
tell him that she had had a long, fatiguing journey, and that Joergen did
not consider the means at their disposal sufficient for people in their
position to marry upon. They must wait and see what Uncle Klaus would
do.

If she cried--and she was sure to cry, so tired and heart-broken was
she--it would prepare him for what was to follow. Oh, if he were only
able to bear it!

But what else could she do? If she did not go to him at once he would
suspect mischief, and feel alarmed, and that would be quite as bad for
him.

She trembled as she stood at his door. Not only from anxiety for
him--no, also because she must not throw herself down beside him, tell
him everything, and weep till she could weep no more. How dreadful it
all was!

But life is sometimes merciful!

Anders had not been told of his daughter's arrival, because he was
asleep. The nurse had waited in the passage to let Mary know this when
she came out of her room. Why did the woman not knock at the door and
tell her? Simply because it was not natural to her to act thus. However,
when Mary did come out, she was no longer in the passage, but half way
downstairs. One of the servants was carrying up the invalid's dinner.
The nurse, distressed at being unable to do this herself as usual, had
thought that she would at least take it from her on the stairs.

Whilst she was doing this, Mary opened the door of her father's room.
She stood still in the doorway, because the nurse, who had hastened up
again, was whispering: "He is asleep, Miss Krog."

But the dog, understanding nothing, was in the room already, already had
his paws on the edge of the bed and his face close to the face of the
sick man, who was awaking--who awoke, with this black a