ew its dim, flickering light on the girl's face, so that I could see
the dark fever-roses which had bloomed upon it during the night. Her
eyes were wide open, but she did not know me; she thought I was Isa.

"'Isa, I have sung, too; Isa, don't be angry; it was so beautiful in the
moonlight, and it did not hurt me at all.' And she began to sing:

"'Home have I come, my heart burns with pain--
Oh! that I only could wander again!'

"And then she passed her small hands over her white night-dress. 'Take
away the red flowers, Isa!'

"I laid a white cloth over it for her. Poor child! The swoon, the
laughing, the sweet singing, that was already fever.

"Old Reuter came into the room and stepped up to the bed. Anna Maria
stood behind him, the torment of expectation on her pale face, and from
outside, through the unlatched door, came the sound of heavy breathing;
that must be Klaus. The old gentleman felt Susanna's pulse long and
cautiously; he was not a man of many words, and one could scarcely find
out from him what one's disease was; but he turned at last to Anna
Maria:

"'A pitiful little lady, Fraeulein; the good God made her expressly for
a knick-knack table; wrapped in cotton, sent to the South, and treated
like a princess, without making any sort of exertion herself, something
might yet be made of her. But first'--he drew his watch from his pocket
and took hold of her hand again--'first we have enough to do here. Who
will undertake the nursing?'

"'Doctor, do you think that bodily exertion--I mean, very early rising
and domestic activity--could be the cause?' asked Anna Maria, with
faltering voice.

"'Up at four, and from the kitchen into the cold milk-cellar, and then
again in the glowing sun, at the bleaching place, and so alternately,
was it not?' asked the old gentleman. 'By all means the surest way to
completely prostrate a person of such a constitution; moreover, you
might have perceived it before, Fraeulein.'

"Anna Maria grew a shade paler. 'But day before yesterday she walked for
an hour in the heat, and sang a great deal,' I interposed, for I felt
sorry for Anna Maria. "'Then one thing has led to another,' declared the
old gentleman. 'Singing is poison--no more of that! Will you undertake
the nursing, Fraeulein Hegewitz?' he asked me.

"'No, I,' replied Anna Maria.

"'Isa! Isa!' called Susanna.

"'Where is she staying?' asked Anna Maria, while Dr. Reuter had gone out
to write a prescriptio