From day to day the parents' hearts alternated between hope and fear. Katharine's anxious eyes sought to read the physician's face, dreading to put her question into words.
There was no lack of sympathy. All the friends of the family,—indeed, all Wittenberg, shared in their sorrow.
For two weeks, Katharine had scarcely slept, watching her child with the strength of self-forgetting love. But at last nature demanded her right. She sank exhausted upon her bed, and while sleep brought a few blessed hours of unconsciousness, her spirit was soothed with a lovely dream-vision. She saw her little daughter, radiant with light, floating upon a cloud, and two fair youths coming to lead the maiden to the marriage feast.
In the morning she related her dream to her husband, and added: "Nothing is impossible with God. I take my dream to be a happy omen."
Melanchthon, who was present, smiled sadly, and when Katharine had left the room, he said: "Do you read the vision thus, dear Martin? I would not take from your wife her hope, but knowing that you have already yielded the dear child to the Lord, I will tell you, what I take its meaning to be. The fair youths are the blessed angels, who will lead the maiden into the heavenly kingdom, to the true bridegroom."
Luther bowed his head and clasped his hands. After awhile he said: "I love her very dearly, and would fain keep her, if it is our Lord's will; but if it pleases Thee, dear Father, to take her, I will gladly know her to be with Thee."
After Melanchthon had gone, Luther returned to the sickroom, and seated himself beside the bed. The child's eyes were breaking, and her skin was almost transparent.
"Magdalena, my little daughter," said her father, with quivering lips, "you are content to stay with your father here,—and also content to go to the Father above?"
Softly, faintly, came the answer: "Yes, dear father, as God pleases."
The mother was kneeling upon the floor, weeping,—her face buried in her hands,—she could not witness the child's death.