When Alma came to herself, she saw her husband bending over the little body, which they would not allow her to see. Ketill’s face showed neither tears nor sorrow.
And she thought to herself: I shall die now. And it will be laid in the earth by my side, with never a kindly look from any human being in this world.
With an effort she managed to raise herself on her elbow and glance down into the cradle where the little body lay. It was all uncovered, on a white sheet, so very small and grey, with little white finger-nails. The sight was like a hot steel in her heart. And with a cry she fell back, unconscious.
For several days Alma lay between life and death, and when at last the crisis was passed, she looked up to find old Kata by her side.
The old woman smiled encouragingly, but would not let her speak.
“Lie still, my dear; the worst is over now.”
A day or two later, when Alma was well enough to sit up in bed a little, she asked:
“How long have I been lying here, Kata?”
“This is the tenth day.”
“Have I been ill so long? And who has been watching besides you?”