Then came the time when Milla's mother was given up by the doctors. Little Anna's energy was more than natural; she watched beside the sick-bed with her friend, she read, she sang, she prayed; for Fru Engel's life must and should be saved; the doctor could not save her, but prayer could--how confident she was, how enraptured! And then when Fru Engel died notwithstanding, she would literally have rejoiced to have given her life for Milla; it was so beautiful to her to see the rich heiress, surrounded with all the comforts of life, pleading on her knees to Jesus; and now, when the prayers had not availed, she still trusted--nay, in the midst of her sorrow she thanked God with her, entirely submissive to His will. Little Anna felt from the bottom of her heart that a bond had been twined between them which death alone could sever. Milla returned to school three weeks later than the others; she took a place next to Anna Rogne. They drove up together nearly every day, and they returned together in the carriage, for Milla was still living in the country, and Anna was almost always with her. Milla's return made a stir. Her mourning suited her to perfection; her pale face and subdued manner accorded with it like dull silver work on velvet. The quiet gentleness with which she accepted everything, even Nora's eager worship, gained her much considerate kindness. The first day or two seemed devoted to expressing sympathy with Milla. But there was a new face among them, a new figure there on the form in front of her, a new voice, fresh ways--and what was not less important to Milla--a new dress. Especially when the new hat and mantle were added to it, a more daring choice of colours was presented, a more delicate cut, richer details, than she had ever seen before. She knew who the new-comer was--the daughter of the chief custom-house officer Holm, from Bergen, the one with the brown face, large dark eyes, and curly white hair: a curiously shy man, who drank, drank so that it was only through forbearance that he retained his post; he had ten children! Tora was the eldest, and had been brought up, from her twelfth year, partly in England, partly in France, by an uncle who had been a shipbroker, first in the one country, then in the other; he had just died, leaving his adopted daughter a small annuity. Milla knew all this. Anna had also incidentally observed that Tora Holm was pretty. But this was not the right word. Where were Anna's eyes? Tora was a beauty, and her beauty was singular and "foreign." Anna had used her ears as little as her eyes, for there was but one opinion about it.