; and one said to the other: "See how she loved him!"

She started up in a confused manner, but quieted herself again when
she found that they alluded to her husband.

Several women who had small children at home now left, as the streets
were empty; but the majority of the company preferred to remain in
the house all night, in order to watch and pray with poor Skipper
Worse, and to be at hand in case of need.

From time to time one would go across the yard to listen at the door
of Madame Torvestad's apartments, and they were comforted by hearing
the voice of the old dyer, which proved that Madame Torvestad had
come to herself again.

At midnight coffee was brought into the room, and they took it in
turns to go in and drink a cup, in order to keep awake.

In the room of the dying man some sat reading good books, or one of
them would offer up a prayer for the sufferer, that the Lord might
soon release him and mitigate the pangs of death.

Jacob Worse had been lying perfectly still for a couple of hours, and
they could not tell whether he was conscious. Sarah sat by the
bedside, and took his hand in hers. It was the first time she had
shown anything like spontaneous affection; but it was now too late,
he was too far gone to observe it.

As the night drew on, the tempest abated, and the reading and prayers
lessened. All had undergone so much mental fatigue, that weariness
asserted itself, now that the storm was on the wane, and the sick man
was lying calm and still.

One and then another fell into a doze; Sivert Jespersen also closed
his eyes, but not in sleep. He was busied with calculations.

The reading now ceased, and all was perfectly silent. Suddenly they
all sprang up, for yonder, from his death-bed Jacob Worse cried out:

"Lauritz, you young scamp, go aloft and clear the dogvane!"

They hastened to his bedside, bringing lights; pale and terrified,
they gazed on the dying man, thinking it was the devil himself who
spoke through him.

Sarah had cast herself down by the bedside in prayer.

Jacob Worse was completely changed; his glazed eyes were half open,
and the look of pain had departed from his face; he seemed to be the
self-possessed Skipper Worse of old days. The thick white hair was
arranged in seemly order, and his hands lay upon the coverlet as if
he had finished something.

At this, the last moment, the devil had relaxed his hold; and whilst
the malady wrestled for the last time with the stro