The poor child's dismay was so genuine that Hilda hastened to reassure her. "Very well, Gretel, move your arms then--so. Why, your cheeks are as pink as roses, already. I think the meester would let you in now--he certainly would--is your father so very ill?" "Ah, jufvrouw," cried Gretel, weeping afresh, "he is dying, I think. There are two meesters in with him at this moment, and the mother has scarce spoken to-day. Can you hear him moan, jufvrouw?" she added, with sudden terror; "the air buzzes so I cannot hear. He may be dead! oh, I do wish I could hear him!" Hilda listened. The cottage was very near, but not a sound could be heard. Something told her that Gretel was right. She ran to the window. "You cannot see there, my lady," sobbed Gretel eagerly; "the mother has oiled paper hanging inside. But at the other one, in the south end of the cottage, you can look in where the paper is torn." Hilda in her anxiety ran round, past the corner where the low roof was fringed with its loosened thatch. A sudden thought checked her. "It is not right for me to peep into another's house in this way," she said to herself--then softly calling to Gretel, she added, in a whisper, "You may look--perhaps he is only sleeping." Gretel tried to walk briskly toward the spot, but her limbs were trembling. Hilda hastened to her support. "You are sick, yourself, I fear," she said kindly. "No, not sick, jufvrouw--but my heart cries all the time now, even when my eyes are as dry as yours--why! Jufvrouw, your eyes are not dry! Are you crying for _us_! Oh, jufvrouw--if God sees you! Oh! I know father will get better now----" and the little creature, even while reaching to look through the tiny window, kissed Hilda's hand again and again. The sash was sadly patched and broken, a torn piece of paper hung half-way down across it. Gretel's face was pressed to the window. "Can you see anything?" whispered Hilda at last. "Yes--the father lies very still, his head is bandaged and all their eyes are fastened upon him. Oh, jufvrouw!" almost screamed Gretel, as she started back, and by a quick, dexterous movement shook off her heavy wooden shoes, "I _must_ go in to my mother! Will you come with me?" "Not now; the bell is ringing. I shall come again soon. Good-bye!" Gretel scarce heard the words. She remembered for many a day afterward the bright, pitying smile on Hilda's face, as she turned away. XXXIV THE AWAKENING An angel could not have entered the cottage more noiselessly. Gretel, not daring to look at any one, slid softly to her mother's side. The room was very still. She could hear the old doctor breathe. She could almost hear the sparks as they fell into the ashes on the hearth. The mother's hand was very cold but a burning spot glowed on her cheek; and her eyes were like a deer's--so bright, so sad, so eager. At last there was a movement upon the bed, very slight, but enough to cause them all to start; Dr. Boekman leaned eagerly forward.