One night, immediately after the Whitsuntide holidays, she again could not sleep. “Read me something from those learned books,” she said; “they bore one so nicely. Perhaps they will send me to sleep.” And he did as she asked him; but when he had been reading almost an hour, he saw that she was gazing at him with big, feverish eyes, and was further than ever from sleep. “So with that you want to make gold?” she asked. “Yes, mother,” he answered, confusedly, for the return of fever made him anxious. “How will you do it?” “You will see in good time,” he answered, as usual. But this time she would not be put off. “Tell me, my boy,” she pleaded, “tell me now.... Who knows what may happen?... I should like at least to have that little bit of comfort before I fall asleep forever.” “Mother!” he cried, terrified. “Be still, my boy,” she said; “what does it matter? But tell me, tell me!” she pleaded with growing anxiety, as if in the next moment it might already be too late. With bated breath and confused words he spoke of the plans which he had in his head: how he wanted to reawaken “Black Susy” to life, so that the moor could be utilized to its innermost depths; but in the middle of his speech, anxiety overcame him; he fell sobbing on his knees before the bed with his face on her breast. She bade him look up, and said: “It was not right of me to make you anxious. If God so wills it, all may turn out differently yet. What you tell me has given me great joy. I know that if you take anything in hand, you do not soon let it drop. I only wish I could live to see it.” So, gently, imperceptibly, she restored his courage; as to herself, she had nothing left to hope for. Another night when, overtired, he had fallen asleep in his chair, she called his name. “What do you want, mother?” he asked, starting up. “Nothing,” she said. “Forgive me, I ought to have let you sleep. But who knows how long we shall still be able to talk together? I should like to make the most of the time.” This time he was too much overcome with sleep to understand the meaning of her words. He sat down closer to her and took her hand, but his eyes closed again directly. She thought he was awake and began to speak. “I was once a very merry young creature, not very different from your sisters.... My heart was nearly ready to burst with joy, and my eyes always gazed into the distance, as if from there something unspeakably beautiful would come--a prince, or something of that sort. Once, too, I began to love--with that other kind of love, that great heavenly love which comes upon one like fate. But he would not have me; he was fair and slender and had a blemish on his chin. I always longed to kiss the spot, but could never do it. He saw my love well enough, and, one day, when he was especially daring, he took me in his arms and fondled me, and then let me go again. But I was happy; it made me glad that he had once held me in his arms.”