It was six o'clock in the evening before the minister put his head into the room--it was only now that he dared leave Josephine for a moment. He saw his mother sitting there with her spectacles and her old book of sermons, he drew nearer searching her face like a book; in it he read: "he lives!" She nodded as Sissel had done before and conveying the same meaning. He shuddered as he looked at the boy's deathly pale, worn-out face, and went away. The house was quite quiet. In the kitchen which lay some way off, they all spoke softly, the doors were well oiled and the carpets laid down in the passages. The minister came in on tiptoe every hour and received always the same answer; there was still life. Everybody came and went noiselessly as though spirits were moving about. In the spare room where Josephine lay, signs took the place of words. The night was if possible more silent; grandmother had gone away, but Sissel was there; fire was burning in the kitchen and a watch was kept in case there should be anything to fetch; the minister was up and awake and went about backwards and forwards. But toward three o'clock both he and the watch fell asleep. When grandmother came in at four o'clock, Sissel was asleep too; she sat down in her seat; there was not a sound of any kind till near seven o'clock. Grandmother looked after the stove and attended to the medicine--surely little Edward breathed more easily, or was she deceiving herself? A little before seven the door was opened slowly. She expected to see her son; but it was Josephine who came. Her large face under the disordered hair, and her wild eyes looked worse than ever in the dim light, she alarmed the old woman, who for long had been afraid for her mind. But Josephine stood still by the door, she heard Sissel's steady breathing but not the boy's; she dared not go further in. The old grandmother saw this and nodded encouragingly. A few steps forward and the mother saw her boy--fearfully pale and without a sign of life. But grandmother nodded again, so she ventured further forward. The curtains were still drawn, so she did not see well; but then she thought he breathed. She knelt down ... was he breathing easier, or ...? She was so sure in her belief that he was doomed to death, that she could not hear what she really did hear. She listened in the greatest anxiety, wondering, considering, holding her own breath the while, and only when she was quite sure that his breathing was easier, did she herself unconsciously breathe strongly and rapidly full in the boy's face. The warm whiff awoke him, he opened his eyes and looked at his mother, trying to collect his thoughts. Yes, it was mother who had come back again. His eyes grew more lively, and brighter than she had seen them for weeks past, they gazed at her until her own filled with tears. Not a word did he say, nor moved a limb from fear of the old pain; and to her it seemed as though his spirit would fly away if he moved or if she