"He must be very poor!" she thought, "to live so high"; and yet the place was wide and handsome, and had a look of riches.

Her heart beat so fast, she felt suffocated; her limbs shook, her eyes had a red blood-like mist floating before them; but she thanked God each step she climbed; a moment, and she would look upon the only face she loved.
"He will be glad; oh, I am sure he will be glad!" she said to herself, as a fear that had never before come near her touched her for a moment--if he should not care?
But even then, what did it matter?
Since he was ill she should be there to watch him night and day; and when he was well again, if he should wish her to go away--one could always die.
"But he will be glad--oh, I know he will be glad!" she said to the rosebuds that she carried to him.

"And if God will only let me save his life, what else do I want more ?" His name was written on a door before her.

The handle of a bell hung down; she pulled it timidly.

The door unclosed; she saw no one, and went through.