“But not to-day, doctor; and the young lady won’t stay in yonder room any longer.  You ordered her to go to sleep yourself, and Sister Gonzaga says she won’t close her eyes so long as she is next door to the corpse.”

“Then Van Hout’s men ought to have carried her on her bed into the old lady’s beautiful sitting-room.”

“That’s sealed, and so are all the other handsome chambers on this story.  The men were obliging and tried to find scrub-women, but the poor things are afraid of the plague.”

“Such rumors grow like wire-grass,” cried the doctor.  Nobody sows it, yet who can uproot it when it is once here?”

“Neither you nor I,” replied the priest.  “The young lady must be brought into this room at once; but it looked neglected, so I’ve just set it to rights.  It will do the invalid good, and the exercise can’t hurt me.”  With these words Father Damianus rose, and seeing Maria, said: 

“You have brought a new nurse?  That’s right.  I need not praise Sister Gonzaga, for you know her; but I assure you Fraulein Henrica won’t allow her to remain with her long, and I shall leave this house as soon as the funeral is over.”

“You have done your duty; but what does this news about the Sister mean?” cried the physician angrily.  “I’d rather have your old Gonzaga with her burnt fingers than—­what has happened?”

The priest approached and, hastily casting a side glance at the burgomaster’s wife, exclaimed: 

“She speaks through her nose, and Fraulein Henrica said just now it made her ache to hear her talk; I must keep her away.”

Doctor Bontius reflected a moment, and then said:  “There are eyes that cannot endure a glare of light, and perhaps certain tones may seem unbearable to irritated ears.  Fran Van der Werff, you have been kept waiting a long time, please follow me.”

It had grown dark.  The curtains of the sick-room were lowered and a small lamp, burning behind a screen, shed but a feeble light.

The doctor approached the bed, felt Henrica’s pulse, said a few words in a low tone to prepare her for her visitor, and then took the lamp to see how the invalid looked.

Maria now beheld a pale face with regular outline, whose dark eyes, in their size and lustre, formed a striking contrast to the emaciated cheeks and sunken features of the sick girl.

After old Sister Gonzaga had restored the lamp to its former place, the physician said: 

“Excellent!  Now, Sister, go and change the bandage on your arm and lie down.”  Then he beckoned Maria to approach.

Henrica’s face made a strange impression upon the burgomaster’s wife.  She thought her beautiful, but the large eyes and firmly-shut lips seemed peculiar, rather than attractive.  Yet she instantly obeyed the physician’s summons, approached the bed, said kindly that she had been glad to come to stay with her a short time, and asked what she desired.