And the feeble light of the little lamp burned dimly in the quiet
room,--more and more feebly it burned, until it slowly flickered and
went out, and the cottage stood a dark object in the bright moonlight.
The next morning the neighbor from the nearest house stopped, as usual,
on her way to the fountain, to look through the window of the cottage to
see if all was well within. She saw that the sick woman was sleeping on
the pillow, with her head against the window-sill, and that Wiseli stood
weeping by her side. This seemed so strange, that she put her head a
little way into the room, and asked, "What is the matter, Wiseli? Is
your mother worse?" The child sobbed dreadfully, and could scarcely say,
"I do not know what ails my mother."
The poor child had a strong suspicion of what it all meant, but she
could not realize that her mother was lost to her. For she was still
there, but asleep,--asleep for all the rest of her daughter's life on
earth,--and could not hear how sadly the child called to her. The
neighbor stepped to the window and looked at the sleeping head upon the
pillow; then she started back in alarm. "Run quickly, Wiseli; run and
fetch your cousin Gotti. He must come at once. You have no other
relation, and somebody must look after things here. Run as fast as you
can: I will wait here until you come back.
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