on her couch, but for a long time
sleep would not come. The singing of the lady downstairs had made her
very, very sad; this voice had never before touched her so deeply as it
had done this evening, and she still heard the sound of weeping and
rejoicing in confusion. So Marianne heard the old clock on the wall
strike eleven, then twelve, and yet she could not go to sleep. Now it
seemed to her as if she heard a gentle knocking below in the house. Who
could want anything of her so late in the night? She must be mistaken,
she said to herself. But no, she now heard it quite plainly, somebody
was knocking somewhere. She quickly dressed herself and hastened down to
the kitchen. She opened the front door--no one was there. But the
knocking came again and now Marianne thought that it came from the
sleeping room of her boarders. Softly she opened the door of the room.
Within the pale lady sat on her bed, but she was much paler than usual,
so that Marianne stepped quickly into the room, and much frightened, she
exclaimed: "Dear me! What is the matter? Oh how bad you do look!"

"Yes, I feel very ill, my good Marianne," the lady answered with her
friendly voice. "I am so sorry that I frightened you so in the middle of
the night; but I had no rest, I was obliged to call you. I have a few
things to tell you and it might have been too late."

"Dear, dear! what do you mean?" lamented Marianne. "I will get the
doctor at once from Lower Wood,--he is the nearest."

"No, Marianne, I thank you, I know my condition," said the sick woman
soothingly, "it is a cramp in my heart, which often comes and this time
more terribly than usual, and so, my good Marianne, I wanted to tell you
that if I am no longer here tomorrow, will you give this," (and she gave
a small paper to Marianne), "to him who has to prepare for my last
resting-place. It is the only thing that I leave, and which I have saved
for a long time, so that I need not be buried in a pauper's grave. That
must not be, for my father's sake," she added, very softly.

"Dear, dear Lord!" Marianne lamented, "grant that it may not be that! Do
think of the dear little boy! Dear Mrs. Dorn, do not take it amiss, I
have never before asked anything at all, but if you leave nothing, what
have I to do with the dear boy? Has he no relatives? Has he no father?"

The mother looked at the sleeping Erick, who, with his golden curls
encircling his rosy face, lay there so peacefully and so carefree. She