e was compelled to watch beside her, hold
her hand, and listen until morning as she moaned, whined and prayed,
sometimes cursing herself and sometimes the treacherous world. She,
Henrica, had come to the house strong and well, but so much disgust and
anger, such constant struggling to control herself had robbed her of her
health.

The young girl had written until midnight. The letters became more and
more irregular and indistinct, the lines more crooked, and with the last
words: "My head, my poor head! You will see that I am losing my senses. I
beseech you, I beseech you, my dear, stern father, take me home. I have
again heard something about Anna--" her eyes grew dim, her pen dropped
from her hand, and she fell back in the chair unconscious.

There she lay, until the last laugh and sound of rattling glass had died
away below, and her aunt's guests had left the house.

Denise, the cameriera, noticed the light in the room, entered, and after
vainly endeavoring to rouse Henrica, called her mistress.

The latter followed the maid, muttering as she ascended the stairs:

"Fallen asleep, found the time hang heavy--that's all! She might have
been lively and laughed with us! Stupid race! 'Men of butter,' King
Philip says. That wild Lamperi was really impertinent to-night, and the
abbe said things--things--"

The old lady's large eyes were sparkling vinously, and her fan waved
rapidly to and fro to cool the flush on her cheeks.

She now stood opposite to Henrica, called her, shook her and sprinkled
her with perfumed water from the large shell, set in gold, which hung as
an essence bottle from her belt. When her niece only muttered incoherent
words, she ordered the maid to bring her medicine-chest.

Denise had gone and Fraulein Van Hoogstraten now perceived Henrica's
letter, raised it close to her eyes, read page after page with increasing
indignation, and at last tossed it on the floor and tried to shake her
niece awake; but in vain.

Meantime Belotti had been informed of Henrica's serious illness and, as
he liked the young girl, sent for a physician on his own responsibility,
and instead of the family priest summoned Father Damianus. Then he went
to the sick girl's chamber.

Even before he crossed the threshold, the old lady in the utmost
excitement, exclaimed:

"Belotti, what do you say now, Belotti? Sickness in the house, perhaps
contagious sickness, perhaps the plague."

"It seems to be only a fever," replied t