The district doctor now came in, and Hardy's attention was occupied. He told him what he had seen of the accident, and the symptoms of injury internally. The doctor was used to cases either more or less grave of a similar character, and he showed much cool professional skill. "I will remain here," e said to Hardy, "until sent for. The case is hopeless, and all that can be done is to watch by him." When the doctor left, Hardy decided to remain, as Nils Rasmussen's wife and family were incapable of being of the slightest use. He sent Garth to his lodgings, with orders to come to Rasmussen's at six the next morning. Meanwhile Hardy had been expected at the parsonage, and it grew later and later. "He is stopping with the Jensens," said the Pastor, "No, he is not!" burst out Kirstin; "he is at Rasmussen's. He sent that man of his here a while since for a pair of sheets and a bottle of the best brandy to take to Rasmussen's, and you can see the writing he sent by his servant." The Pastor took the scrap of paper and read it aloud. "It is that bold, bad hussey, Karen Rasmussen!" said Kirstin. "How can you know that?" said Froken Helga. "Know it!" exclaimed Kirstin; "I am sure of it. No man can be so good as the Englishman appears to be." The Pastor and his family retired to rest with a shock of grief and pain. "He must leave at once," thought the Pastor. Shortly after six the next morning, Garth fetched one of Rasmussen's neighbours, whom he sent with the following note to the pastor, written on a similar scrap of paper as his unfortunate communication of the previous evening, and torn from his note-book. "Dear Herr Pastor, "Nils Rasmussen, the workman at Jorgensens, is sinking fast. You have, of course, heard of the accident? The district doctor at once saw the case was beyond all hope. Will you come immediately? "Yours faithfully, "John Hardy." As the Pastor left his house, he met one after another of Nils Rasmussen's neighbours coming for him. He heard of John Hardy's assistance and care, and that he had been the whole night acting as nurse, as the family were incapable. As the Pastor entered, he met Hardy. "It is too late, Herr Pastor," said the latter; "the man is dead. But go in and speak to the wife, and I will wait for you. Here is twenty kroner, which you can give her; the expenses of the funeral I will bear, and I can arrange that she shall receive ten kroner weekly, through the post-office, until they can help themselves." In half an hour the Pastor came out, and he said, "Hardy, I thank you for your attention to this poor man. You have done nothing more than what was right you should do, and what any one else should have done; but you have done your duty with a kindliness that does you honour." Hardy said nothing, the horror of watching a man dying in agony for a whole night had unstrung his steady nerves. On reaching the parsonage, he went to his room, and, wearied out, at last fell asleep.