easier it is for two to bear a burden.

"I pressed her hand, beseechingly. 'Anna Maria, my dear child!' I
whispered. Then she roused herself as out of a confused dream, and
pushed the hair from her forehead.

"'Susanna?' she asked; 'Susanna got off with a fright. I led her over to
the castle myself, and Stuermer's old servant carried Isa; they are safe.
As soon as the old woman can be moved I shall have her brought here, of
course; to-day it was impossible. The excitement might be bad for
Susanna, too, for such a passionate outburst of grief I never dreamed
of. She loves the old creature more than I ever mistrusted, and her cry:
"Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!" was repeated
till she broke down from exhaustion.'

"I listened as if stunned. 'Anna Maria,' I said, 'I must go over
to-morrow.'

"She nodded. 'If it is possible--for I should be glad to avoid it."

"'It must be possible, Anna Maria. Go and rest, we are both tired; sleep
well.'

"Wall, there I lay, and no sleep came to my eyes. Klaus and Susanna,
Anna Maria and Stuermer, revolved in wildest confusion in my brain. I
started up out of my dozing, for I thought I heard Susanna's voice:
'Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!' And I dreamed
that I cried in anger to her: 'Ungrateful one, have you not more than a
thousand others--have you not the heart of the best and truest of men?'
And I awoke again with a cry, for I had seen Stuermer hurry into the
burning house, and seen it fall on him; and Anna Maria stood by, pale
and calm, with disordered locks of fair hair over her white forehead;
her eyes looked fixedly and gloomily on that ruin, but she could neither
weep nor speak."

CHAPTER XII.

"It was a fearful night! I was almost astonished to see the bright
sunshine streaming in my window, and the blue sky, the next morning.
Brockelmann helped me dress, for my shoulder was still painful.

"Some trouble oppressed the old woman; it was always to be observed that
when anything weighed on her heart she used to smooth her hands over the
hem of her apron, and therewith take aim at the person on whom she had
designs. For a little while I watched it to-day, but when, after tying
my shoes, she remained sitting on the deal floor, stroking her
dazzlingly white apron, and seeking for a way to begin her speech,
evidently a difficulty to her, I said: 'Well, speak out, Brockelmann;
what is it?'

"But instead of an answer she t