“When I told Jonathan how very ill my wife was, he gave me very little if any hope, but said he would prepare a soothing draught for her.  I was full of anxiety and in great haste to get back, as was also the other man; and when at last Thomas, Jonathan’s servant, brought the two bottles of medicine, I seized mine eagerly, as I had a long way to go; and as I left, Brother Jonathan said to me:  ’They are opium-drops; give her fifteen when you get home, and if she does not get easy, then two hours after repeat the dose.’”

“I sprang on my horse and hurried away.  Jonathan’s words seemed to ring in my ears:  ‘I have scarcely any hope of saving her.’  Ah, Carmen, they were to me like words of deliverance.  I had borne for so long the fearfully heavy yoke which had been laid upon me that at times it seemed beyond human endurance; for this woman’s soul was almost more repulsive than her body.  At last I reached home.  It was twelve o’clock.  My wife was suffering as much as ever; she complained incessantly of the increasing pain, and I at once prepared the drops for her.  She groaned; then I began to count the drops:  one, two, three, four—­and then the thought came into my mind:  ’Scarcely any more hope.’  My hand trembled; a mist seemed to gather before my eyes.  The drops fell, faster; I counted on:  thirteen, fourteen, fifteen; a few drops more had fallen unawares into the spoon; then followed one more, and again one more—­twenty-five, twenty-six.  I pushed the vial away from me.  ‘Where are the drops?  Give them to me!’ she cried with sinking voice.  She snatched the spoon from my hand, and I turned away my head.  My good angel had forsaken me.”

Mauer groaned and hid his face in his hands.  Carmen held her breath; she dared not speak, or raise her eyes to look at her father; she could not even think.

“The patient,” resumed Mauer, after a short pause, “became quieter; her breathing was scarcely audible.  Did she sleep?  From my heart I prayed:  ‘God of mercy, let her sleep and not die—­not now!’ But I did not dare to look at or listen to her.  I threw myself on a couch, and, in the horror that filled my soul, buried my head in the cushions.  Time passed on; the clock ticked as usual, I know not whether for minutes or hours.  Then I heard the ring of horse’s hoofs before the door.  I got up to let the visitor in, for the servants were in bed.  It was only three o’clock in the morning.  To my surprise, in walked Brother Jonathan.  ‘How is she?’ he inquired hastily; and I answered softly, ‘She sleeps.’

“He approached the side of the bed, and drawing the lamp near, so as to observe her closely, said:  ’Yes, never to wake again.  I was sure nothing could save her!’