Suddenly the physician decided that it would be better if my wife would remain yet awhile among the surroundings she was accustomed to. He was a young and kind-hearted man, constantly endeavoring to improve himself by study; full of love for his calling, and beloved by all throughout the valley. His visits now became longer than they had been. He would, at times, acquaint me with the details of his own life, and tell me that, although he had lost his wife while quite young, he endeavored to console himself by the remembrance of the happy days he had passed in her society. I listened to his words without giving them further thought; but afterwards it became clear to me why he had spoken so impressively on the subject. The days passed on. I gradually accustomed myself to the thought of my wife's illness; but when out in the fields, I would suddenly become alarmed, and imagine that something terrible must have taken place at the house. I would hurry home and find that all was going on as usual. Back of my house, where the road makes a descent, the young teamsters would crack their whips quite loudly. I observed that this startled Gustava, and she overheard me telling Rothfuss to ask the young fellows not to make so great a noise. "Do not interfere with them," said she. "A man who saunters along the road and has an instrument that is capable of making a noise, finds pleasure in using it. Do not stop him." I had never, before that, seen Rothfuss in tears; but when he heard those words, he wept, and that evening he said to me, "The angels who look down from heaven to see what we human beings on earth are doing, must be just as she is. She is no longer human--she will not stay with us. Pardon me: I am a stupid fellow to be talking this way. You know I am a simpleton, and do not understand such things. She is right, though; stupid people must always make a noise, be it with their mouths or with their whips." He had, however, in the meanwhile persuaded the youths not to crack their whips. My wife was determined that Annette and Bertha should go to the springs without her; and, as she would listen to no refusal, they were obliged to comply with her desire. Several weeks had gone by, when, one evening, the physician told me that she could last but a few days longer. I cannot describe my feelings at that moment. Joseph telegraphed for the children. They came. Strangely enough, my wife was not surprised by their speedy return. She conversed with them as if they had not been away more than an hour. The physician said that perhaps there might still be a chance to save my wife by injecting another's blood into her veins, and that, at all events, the attempt should be made. Johanna immediately declared her readiness, and though her offer was well meant, the manner in which it was made jarred on my feelings. She said that, as a daughter, she had the first right; but, if they did not want her blood her child must be willing.