ger speak, but her large eyes moved
several times from him to the window, and he thought that she was asking
for something. Torpander went to the window, which was a new one Tom
Robson had had made, and laid his hand on the fastening. She smiled
again, and as he opened the window, he could see a look of thankfulness
pass over her features. The midday sun, which was shining over the hill
at the back of the house and falling obliquely on the window, threw a
ray of light for a short distance into the room. Away in the town the
bells were tolling for a funeral, and their sound, which was re-echoed
from the hill, was soft and subdued in its tone.

Marianne turned towards the light; her eyes were shining brilliantly,
and a delicate shade of red mantled her cheeks. Torpander thought he had
never seen her look so lovely.

When Pastor Martens entered the room, he was as much struck by the
appearance of the dying woman as Torpander had been, but in quite a
different manner. It was impossible she could be so near death; and he
could not help feeling annoyed with Martin, who had thus exaggerated his
sister's danger, and had perhaps been the cause of his arriving too late
at Consul Garman's death-bed. The extraordinary figure dressed in the
long light-brown coat, which kept ever and anon bowing to him, did not
tend to calm his feelings, and it is possible that something of his
annoyance showed itself in the words which he now addressed to Marianne.

The clergyman was standing by the bed in such a position as to shield
the light of the window from Marianne, who was gazing at him with her
large eyes. He did not wish to be severe, but it was well known that the
woman at whose death-bed he was standing, was fallen. At the close of
such a life, it was only his duty to speak of sin and its bitter
consequences. Marianne's eyes began to wander uneasily as she turned
them, now on the clergyman, and now on Torpander. At length she made an
effort, and turned her face in the other direction.

The pastor did not intend to finish his discourse without holding out a
hope of reconciliation with God, even after such a life of sin; but
while he continued speaking about repentance and forgiveness, the
neighbour, who had been at her dinner, entered the room.

The woman went to the foot of the bed, but when she looked at Marianne's
face she said quietly, "I beg your pardon, sir, but she is dead."

"Dead!" said the minister, rising hastily from his