Christine's eyes wore an anxious, terrified expression. "I was taken ill just afterwards," she answered, in a weak voice. "But please, Fräulein, say nothing about it now: I hear Jakob coming; he is too anxious, and I am a great deal better." Her husband entered. Johanna was startled by his gloomy, haggard looks. "The gracious Fruleen!" he cried, and tore off his hat. Johanna thought she detected a shade of reproach in his tone. "I did not know that Christine was ill, or I should have come long ago," she said. "Why did you not send me word? I should have been so glad to do something for her." "Thanks, gracious Fruleen," he replied; "she has wanted for nothing. The Klausenburg doctor has been here every day, and she has had plenty of medicine,--there, little one, is a fresh bottleful,--and she shall have whatever she wants to eat and drink, if I have to run miles for it." He laughed, and ran his fingers through his bushy red hair, so that it stood out all over his head. Christine looked at him beseechingly. "Yes, yes, Fräulein," she said, "he has tended me as if I were a princess. He is on his feet day and night." "That's the part you tell!" he interrupted her; "but that it is all my fault----" "Jakob, what did you promise me?" the sick woman implored him, lifting her clasped hands. "That I would not speak evil of any one," he answered, gloomily, "and I won't. But I may tell of what I have done myself. Yes, gracious Fruleen, it is my fault, the fault of my bad temper, that the poor little thing is lying there, disappointed of her pleasure in soon having a child again. And when I see her, as patient as a lamb----But if she dies----" He raised his sound arm and shook his clinched fist. "If she dies----God in heaven!" With this cry he sank back into a chair, covered his face with his hands, and sobbed aloud. Christine half arose. "Let me! let me!" she begged, trying to resist Johanna's efforts to detain her. "See now, I always do her harm," he said, gently putting her back among the pillows. "Be good, child, and reasonable for both of us. I cannot be, for I have nothing but you; and whoever takes you from me, whether it be a man or God Almighty----" She pressed her hand upon his lips. "Hush, hush!" she said, "do not blaspheme. I am better. We shall stay with each other for a while yet. Let us pray for it; try to, for my sake." He turned away. "Whatever you please for your sake, but I cannot pray any more." "He will learn how to again," Johanna interposed. "But now, Christine, you must not worry,--for Jakob's sake you must not. To lie still and be nursed is all you have to do. I am sorry I must go now, but I will come soon again, and send to you meanwhile--Jakob will let me send you something to strengthen you."