Gradually a feeling as if he were jealous because of her silence grew in him and he took her hand secretly under cover of the tablecloth; it did not start but closed confidingly round his. Had a feeling of loneliness taken hold of her as she watched her father growing older and weaker day by day? Hauke did not think of putting this question to himself but he ceased to breathe now as he drew the gold ring from his pocket. "Will you leave it there?" he asked, trembling as he slipped it onto the third finger of her slender hand. The pastor's wife was sitting opposite them at the table; suddenly she laid down her fork and turned to her neighbor: "Good gracious, look at that girl!" she exclaimed, "she's pale as death!" But the blood was already coming back into Elke's face. "Can you wait, Hauke?" she asked softly. The prudent Friesian stopped to think for a moment. "For what?" he said then. "You know well; I don't need to tell you." "You are right," he said; "yes, Elke, I can wait--if only the time's within reason!" "Oh God, I'm afraid it's near! Don't speak like that, Hauke, you are talking of my father's death!" She laid the other hand on her breast: "Till then," she said, "I will wear the ring here; never fear, you will never get it back as long as I live." Then they both smiled and his hand pressed hers so that at any other time the girl would have screamed aloud. During this time the pastor's wife had been looking steadily at Elke's eyes which now burned as with dark fire beneath the lace edging of her little gold-brocaded cap. But the increasing noise at the table had prevented the older woman from understanding anything that was said; she did not turn to her neighbor again either, for budding marriages--and that is what this looked like to her--even if it were only because of the fee that budded for her husband at the same time, she was not in the habit of disturbing. Elke's premonition had come true. One morning after Easter the dikegrave Tede Volkerts had been found dead in his bed; his countenance bore witness to a peaceful end. He had often spoken in the previous months of being tired of life and had had no appetite for his favorite dish, a roast joint, or even for a young duck. And now there was a great funeral in the village. In the burying ground about the church on the upland, lying towards the west, was a lot surrounded by an iron fence. In it the broad, blue grave-stone had been lifted up and was now leaning against a weeping ash. A figure of Death with a very full and prominent set of teeth had been chiseled on the stone and below stood in large letters: Dat is de Dot, de allens fritt, Nimmt Kunst un Wetenschop di mit; De kloke Mann is nu vergån Gott gäw em selik Uperstån. This is Death who eats up all, Art and science go at his call; The clever man has left us forlorn God raise him on resurrection morn!