As he turned to go to the barn his head sank on his breast, his steps lagged.  He wore again the expression of gloomy thought.  A new fear arose in Carlen’s breast.  Was he mad?  Had the wild hilarity of his speech and demeanor in the evening been merely a new phase of disorder in an unsettled brain?  Even in this was a strange, sad comfort to Carlen.  She would rather have him mad, with alternations of insane joy and gloom, than know that he belonged to another.  Long after he had disappeared in the doorway at the foot of the stairs which led to his sleeping-place in the barn-loft, she remained kneeling at the window, watching to see if he came out again.  Then she crept into bed, and lay tossing, wakeful, and anxious till near dawn.  She had but just fallen asleep when she was aroused by cries.  It was John’s voice.  He was calling loudly at the window of their mother’s bedroom beneath her own.

“Father! father!  Get up, quick!  Come out to the barn!”

Then followed confused words she could not understand.  Leaning from her window she called:  “What is it, John?  What has happened?” But he was already too far on his way back to the barn to hear her.

A terrible presentiment shot into her mind of some ill to Wilhelm.  Vainly she wrestled with it.  Why need she think everything that happened must be connected with him?  It was not yet light; she could not have slept many minutes.  With trembling hands she dressed, and running swiftly down the stairs was at the door just as her father appeared there.

“What is it?  What is it, father?” she cried.  “What has happened?”

“Go back!” he said in an unsteady voice.  “It is nothing.  Go back to bed.  It is not for vimmins!”

Then Carlen was sure it was some ill to Wilhelm, and with a loud cry she darted to the barn, and flew up the stairway leading to his room.

John, hearing her steps, confronted her at the head of the stairs.

“Good God, Carlen!” he cried, “go back!  You must not come here.  Where is father?”

“I will come in!” she answered wildly, trying to force her way past him.  “I will come in.  You shall not keep me out.  What has happened to him?  Let me by!” And she wrestled in her brother’s strong arms with strength almost equal to his.

“Carlen!  You shall not come in!  You shall not see!” he cried.

“Shall not see!” she shrieked.  “Is he dead?”

“Yes, my sister, he is dead,” answered John, solemnly.  In the next instant he held Carlen’s unconscious form in his arms; and when Farmer Weitbreck, half dazed, reached the foot of the stairs, the first sight which met his eyes was his daughter, held in her brother’s arms, apparently lifeless, her head hanging over his shoulder.

“Haf she seen him?” he whispered.

“No!” said John.  “I only told her he was dead, to keep her from going in, and she fainted dead away.”

“Ach!” groaned the old man, “dis is hard on her.”