"Mad," said my father, with a heavy sigh. "His trouble has turned his
brain. But he will think better of it."
At that moment the nurse came hurrying in and whispered something in his
ear. My father's face turned deadly pale. He clutched at the table to
support himself, then staggered from the room. My mother was dying!
It was some days afterwards, I do not know exactly how long, that my
father took me by the hand and led me upstairs into the big room which
had been my mother's bedroom. There she lay, dead in her coffin, with
flowers in her hand. Along the wall of the room were arranged three
little white beds, and on each of the beds lay one of my brothers. They
all looked as though they were asleep, and they all had flowers in their
hands. My father told me to kiss them, because I should not see them any
more, and I did so, though I was very frightened. I did not know why.
Then he took me in his arms and kissed me.
"The Lord hath given," he said, "and the Lord hath taken away; blessed
be the name of the Lord."
I cried very much, and he took me downstairs, and after that I have only
a confused memory of men dressed in black carrying heavy burdens towards
the grey churchyard!
Next comes a vision of a great ship and wide tossing waters.
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