How she must have loved her indeed, for that love to break down her stubborn will, sweeping away in an all-devouring flood the barriers of prejudice and pride, leaving nothing but tenderness and the desire to help. Ingeborg could no longer contain her agitation; she rose and stood by the window, gazing out at the driving storm. Though but five in the afternoon it was quite dark and the whirling flakes of snow made wavering circles in the halo of light about the street lamps. In the garden a gaunt tree, stripped of its leaves, raised black limbs skyward, and below, an even blanket of white shaded off into the night. This late snow storm belying the earlier promise of spring seemed of evil portent to the watching girl. To her anxious eyes all the world outside seemed like a great white desert, she sought in vain for some sign of life, of human companionship, but there were no passers-by in the quiet street. Suddenly two dim black masses appeared, coming from different directions; they stopped simultaneously at the garden gate and resolved themselves into three figures whom Ingeborg recognized as the doctor, the solicitor and the maid who had been sent to fetch him. She watched them struggle up the garden path till they reached the door-step and the muffled sound of the bell rang through the house, then hastened to the bedside. "Auntie! Auntie! he has come! Herr Hendriksen is here!" There was no answer, the heavy breathing had begun again. Ingeborg was helplessly watching the flapping of the cheeks, the puff of the lips at each breath, when the doctor entered; he advanced to the bed and stood frowning, his lips pushed out. "Can't we wake her, Doctor?" asked Ingeborg eagerly. "She was awake just a little while ago, and had me send for Herr Hendriksen,--she wants to set things right again for Ragna, in case--in case--Oh, Doctor, it is most important!" she joined her hands beseechingly, "after what she said I don't think she can die in peace, unless she has done it!" The doctor shook his head. He knew the story of Ragna's marriage and subsequent estrangement from her aunt; she was a favourite of his, and he wished with all his heart to help her cause, but there was nothing to be done. "What a pity you did not get her to sign a statement then! Who can tell if she will come out of this coma again? She may, but I doubt it--see, the pulse has failed steadily since this morning, it is barely a thread!" "Oh, Doctor!" said Ingeborg, tears in her eyes, "can nothing be done? Nothing? Think of all that it means!" "There is always the possibility of a return to consciousness. Have Herr Hendriksen draw up a will or a codicil or whatever the thing is, according to your aunt's expressed wishes, and if she comes to, she may be able to sign it. I can try a hypodermic of caffeine," he added to himself, "but I'm afraid it's no use. Run down to Hendriksen and let him get the will ready in any case, I shall stop here."