Mary clung to her reason as if she were grasping it with her hands. She must not, must not give way--must not scream, must not think. _She_ had not killed him! She must listen to and remember what the others said, must give her consent to what they were proposing, which was to send for her father's sister. When she witnessed that sister's grief, she felt that she must not give way to her own. She must not, must not! "Help me, help me," she cried, "that I may not go mad!" And, turning to the doctor, she said: "_I_ did not kill him, did I?" The doctor ordered her to bed, prescribed cold compresses, and remained beside her. He, too, impressed on her the necessity of self-control. Not till little Nanna brought the dog to her next morning, and the animal insisted on being taken into her arms, was she able to shed tears. During the course of the day she improved a little. Her grief was alleviated by the heartfelt sympathy, often expressed in the most moving terms, which was conveyed to her by the numberless telegrams that arrived in town and were telephoned from there. All this sympathy for herself, admiration for her father, and intense desire to comfort and strengthen her, helped her greatly. From the incautious manner in which one of these telegrams was transmitted she learned that Mrs. Dawes, too, was dead. They had not dared to tell her. But the great and general sympathy helped her to bear this also. Now she understood how it was so great and general. Every one but herself knew that she had lost both, that she was alone in the world. The message which touched her most came from Paris, and was as follows: "My beloved Mary,--Can it comfort you in your great sorrow to know that there is a resting-place here for you, and that I am at your service--to travel with you, to come to you, to do whatever you wish!--Yours unalterably, ALICE." She knew who had sent Alice intimation. Jörgen, too, telegraphed. "If I could be of the slightest service or comfort to you I would come at once. I am broken-hearted." The same touching, reverential sympathy was shown on the occasion of the funeral, which was hastened on Mary's account, and took place three days after the deaths. Amongst the countless wreaths, the most beautiful of all was Alice's. It was taken up to Mary--she wished to see it. The whole house was fragrant with flowers on that winter day, their sweet breath a message of love to those who slept there. Mary did not go downstairs; she refused to see the coffins, or the flowers, or any of the preparations that had been made for the entertainment of friends who came from a distance. More people came than the house could hold, and at the chapel there was a still larger gathering. The clergyman asked if he might go upstairs and see Miss Krog. Mary sent him her best thanks, but declined the visit.