but her father's, if everything between
her and his son was over.

She probably heard the words, but made no answer, and hastened as fast
as her feet would carry her to her mother's bed.

The old physician was holding the gasping woman in his arms, and Eva
knelt beside the high bedstead sobbing, as she covered the dry, burning
hand with kisses.

When Ernst Ortlieb entered the chamber of his beloved wife a cold chill
ran down his back, for the odour of musk, which he had already inhaled
beside many a deathbed, reached him.

It had come to this! The end which he had so long delayed by tender love
and care was approaching. The flower which had adorned his youth and,
spite of its broken stem, had grown still dearer and was treasured
beyond everything else that bloomed in his garden, would be torn from
him.

This time no friendly potion had helped her to sleep through the noise
of the thunderstorm. Soon after the attack of convulsions the agitated,
feeble sufferer had started up in terror at the first loud peal of
thunder. Fright followed fright, and when the leech came voluntarily to
enquire for her, he found a dying woman.

The bleeding restored her to consciousness for a short time, and she
evidently recognised her husband and her children. To the former
she gave a grateful, tender glance of love, to Els an affectionate,
confidential gesture, but Eva, her pride and joy, whom the past night
had rendered a child of sorrow, claimed her attention most fully.

Her kind, gentle eyes rested a long time upon her: then she looked
toward her husband as if beseeching him to cherish this child with
special tenderness in his heart; and when he returned the glance with
another, in which all the wealth of his great and loyal love shone
through his tears, her fever-flushed features brightened. Memories of
the spring of her love seemed to irradiate her last moments and, as her
eyes again rested on Eva, her lips once more smiled with the bewitching
expression, once her husband's delight, which had long deserted them.

It seemed during this time as if she had forgotten the faithful nurse
who for years had willingly sacrificed the pleasures of her days and the
sleep of her nights, to lavish upon the child of her anxiety all that
her mother-heart still contained, which was naught save love.

Els doubtless noticed it, but with no bitter or sorrowful thoughts. She
and the beloved dying woman understood one another. Each knew what she