“He back again?  No, I’m too old and too tired for that.  They ought to give him a good beating if they can catch him; it would serve him right.”

Dietrich stepped up to the door himself.

“It is not for me, doctor,” said he humbly, “it is for my mother; she is very ill indeed.  For God’s sake, doctor, come and help her!”

“That’s another thing altogether; she is a brave woman, who has been doing your work for you,” said the voice from within the room.  Pretty soon the doctor came out, and when Dietrich described his mother’s condition, he took some medicines with him and started out.

“I have no horse to use to-night; mine has done a hard day’s work and must have his rest.  We shall have to go up the hill afoot.”

As they crossed the open space in front of the house, he continued,

“I remember once how on this very spot once a little boy stood up in front of me, and when I asked him if he would like some day to take care of a horse, answered, ‘No, I want a horse of my own.’  I thought he had a good purpose in view if he would only pursue it the right way.  But it does not do to want to begin by being a gentleman.  First come work, and service for us all, then mastership may follow.  Whoever tries to begin at the end, will end at the beginning; which is not a good nor an agreeable method.  Am I right or wrong, Dietrich?”

“You are right, doctor.  If one could only look ahead!” answered Dietrich.

“Yes, that would help; but as we cannot, we must trust those who are our friends, and who have gone before us in the right way, and can show us the road; like that noble woman to whom we are now going.”

When they entered Gertrude’s room they found her asleep.  The doctor sat down by the bedside, watched her awhile, and felt her pulse from time to time.  Then he arose and turning to Veronica, he said,

“I can do no good here; take care of her; she deserves all you can do, but the lamp of life burns low, and will soon go out altogether.  She has had a hard lot; trouble wears faster than years.”

With these words the doctor went to the door.  He did not even glance towards Dietrich, who threw himself on his knees by the bedside of his dying mother, sobbing out: 

“O God in Heaven, do not let her die!  Let her come back!  Let her have a little comfort in this world!  Punish me as I deserve, but oh! let my mother live!”

Gertrude opened her eyes.  She grasped the hand of her sobbing son, which lay upon hers, and held it tightly clasped; while she whispered softly: 

“Yes, my Dieterli, pray, pray; if you can pray, all will come right again.”

She closed her eyes and never spoke again.  The hand that held Dietrich’s grew cold.  Veronica, who had been standing behind Dietrich weeping silently approached the bedside, took Gertrude’s other hand in hers, and said between her sobs: 

“Sleep well, dear, good mother!  Yes, for you ’tomorrow will be fine’;” and she left the room.