She covered her face with her hands, for the first time utterly breaking down. “Oh! is there no hope?” she sobbed. “No hope at all?” “Remember how much he is spared,” said the doctor gently. “He will not suffer. He will not suffer at all any more.” And so it proved; for while many went and came, and while the bad news of the bankruptcy caused Herr Grönvold to pace the room like one distracted, and while Sigrid and Swanhild kept their sad watch, Herr Falck lay in painless quiet—his face so calm that, had it not been for an occasional tremor passing through the paralyzed limbs, they would almost have thought he was already dead. The hours passed on. At length little Swanhild, who had crouched down on the floor with her head in Sigrid’s lap, became conscious of a sort of stir in the room. She looked up and saw that the doctor was bending over her father. “It is over,” he said, in a hushed voice as he stood up and glanced toward the two girls. And Swanhild, who had never seen any one die, but had read in books of death struggles and death agonies, was filled with a great wonder. “It was so quiet,” she said, afterward to her sister. “I never knew people died like that; I don’t think I shall ever feel afraid about dying again. But oh, Sigrid!” and the child broke into a passion of tears, “we have got to go on living all alone—all alone!” Sigrid’s breast heaved. Alas! the poor child little knew all the troubles that were before them; as far as possible she must try to shield her from the knowledge. “We three must love each other very much, darling,” she said, folding her arms about Swanhild. “We must try and be everything to each other.” The words made her think of Frithiof, and with a sick longing for his presence she went downstairs again to speak to her uncle, and to arrange as to how the news should be sent to England. Herr Grönvold had never quite appreciated his brother-in-law, and this had always made a barrier between him and his nephew and nieces. He was the only relation, however, to whom Sigrid could turn, and she knew that he was her father’s executor, and must be consulted about all the arrangements. Had not she and Frithiof celebrated their twenty-first birthday just a week ago, Herr Grönvold would have been their guardian, and naturally he would still expect to have the chief voice in the family counsels. She found him in the sitting-room. He was still pale and agitated. She knew only too well that although he would not say a word against her dead father, yet in his heart he would always blame him, and that the family disgrace would be more keenly felt by him than by any one. The sight of him entirely checked her tears; she sat down and began to talk to him quite calmly. All her feeling of youth and helplessness was gone now—she felt old, strangely old; her voice sounded like the voice of some one else—it seemed to have grown cold and hard. “What must we do about telling Frithiof, uncle?” she said.