cried the laundress, turning pale as death.
  "Yes, certainly," replied Martha; "but why do you take it somuch to heart? I suppose you knew him years ago, when you were inservice there?"
  "Is he dead?" she exclaimed. "Oh, he was such a kind, good-heartedman, there are not many like him," and the tears rolled down hercheeks as she spoke. Then she cried, "Oh, dear me; I feel quite ill:everything is going round me, I cannot bear it. Is the bottleempty?" and she leaned against the plank.
  "Dear me, you are ill indeed," said the other woman. "Come,cheer up; perhaps it will pass off. No, indeed, I see you are reallyill; the best thing for me to do is to lead you home."
  "But my washing yonder?"
  "I will take care of that. Come, give me your arm. The boy canstay here and take care of the linen, and I'll come back and finishthe washing; it is but a trifle."
  The limbs of the laundress shook under her, and she said, "Ihave stood too long in the cold water, and I have had nothing to eatthe whole day since the morning. O kind Heaven, help me to get home; Iam in a burning fever. Oh, my poor child," and she burst into tears.And he, poor boy, wept also, as he sat alone by the river, near to andwatching the damp linen.
  The two women walked very slowly. The laundress slipped andtottered through the lane, and round the corner, into the street wherethe mayor lived; and just as she reached the front of his house, shesank down upon the pavement. Many persons came round her, and LameMartha ran into the house for help. The mayor and his guests came tothe window.
  "Oh, it is the laundress," said he; "she has had a little drop toomuch. She is good for nothing. It is a sad thing for her pretty littleson. I like the boy very well; but the mother is good for nothing."
  After a while the laundress recovered herself, and they led her toher poor dwelling, and put her to bed. Kind Martha warmed a mug ofbeer for her, with butter and sugar- she considered this the bestmedicine- and then hastened to the river, washed and rinsed, badlyenough, to be sure, but she did her best. Then she drew the linenashore, wet as it was, and laid it in a basket. Before evening, shewas sitting in the poor little room with the laundress. The mayor'scook had given her some roasted potatoes and a beautiful piece offat for the sick woman. Martha and the boy enjoyed these good thingsvery much; but the sick woman could only say that the smell was verynourishing, she thought. By-and-by the boy was put to bed, in the samebed as the one in which his mother lay; but he slept at her feet,covered with an old quilt made of blue and white patchwork. Thelaundress felt a little better by this time. The warm beer hadstrengthened her, and the smell of the good food had been pleasantto her.
  "Many thanks, you good soul," she said to Martha. "Now the boyis asleep, I will tell you all. He is soon asleep. How gentle andsweet he looks as he lies there with his eyes closed! He does not knowhow his mother has suffered; and Heaven grant he never may know it.I was in service at the counsellor's, the father of the mayor, andit happened that the youngest of his sons, the student, came home. Iwas a young wild girl then, but honest; that I can declare in thesight of Heaven. The student was merry and gay, brave andaffectionate; every drop of blood in him was good and honorable; abetter man never lived on earth. He was the son of the house, and Iwas only a maid; but he loved me truly and honorably, and he toldhis mother of it. She was to him as an angel upon earth; she was sowise and loving. He went to travel, and before he started he placeda gold ring on my finger; and as soon as he was out of the house, mymistress sent for me. Gently and earnestly she drew me to her, andspake as if an angel were speaking. She showed me clearly, in spiritand in truth, the difference there was between him and me. 'He ispleased now,' she said, 'with your pretty face; but good looks donot last long. You have not been educated like he has. You are notequals in mind and rank, and therein lies the misfortune. I esteem thepoor,' she added. 'In the sight of God, they may occupy a higher placethan many of the rich; but here upon earth we must beware ofentering upon a false track, lest we are overturned in our plans, likea carriage that travels by a dangerous road. I know a worthy man, anartisan, who wishes to marry you. I mean Eric, the glovemaker. He is awidower, without children, and in a good position. Will you think itover?