The woman went to the foot of the bed, but when she looked at Marianne's face she said quietly, "I beg your pardon, sir, but she is dead."
"Dead!" said the minister, rising hastily from his chair. "It is most extraordinary!" He took up his hat, said good-bye, and left the room.
The woman took Marianne's hands and folded them decently across her breast; she then put her arms under the bedclothes and straightened the legs, so that the corpse should not stiffen with the knees bent. The mouth was slightly open. She shut it, but the chin fell again. Torpander could see what the woman was looking for, and handed her his silk handkerchief. How rejoiced he was that he had not used it! The woman regarded the handkerchief suspiciously, but when she saw that it was perfectly clean, she folded it neatly and tied it round Marianne's head.
Torpander stood gazing at the little weary face, bound round with his lovely silk handkerchief, and he felt at length as if he had some part in her. He had received her last look, her last smile, and as a reward she had accepted his first and last gift. After all, his courtship had had the best ending he could possibly have hoped for. He bent his head, and wept silently in Abraham Lincoln's portrait.
Begmand came upstairs, and sat gazing at the body. Since the fire he had not been altogether himself.
"Shall I go to Zacharias the carpenter, and order the coffin?" asked the woman. But as she did not get any answer, she went off and ordered the coffin on her
