"I'll try never to lose the way, papa," said Dora eagerly, "and ask God every day: 'Am I doing right?'"
Tenderly stroking his child's head, the father remained silent, but in his eyes lay such a light that she felt herself surrounded by a loving care.
The sun sank behind the trees and father and child happily walked home.
[CHAPTER II]
LONG, LONG DAYS
A few days after this lovely evening, Dora sat at her father's bedside, her head prostrate beside his. She was sobbing bitterly, for he lay quite still with a smile on his white face. Dora could not fully comprehend what had happened yet, and all she knew was that he had joined her mother in heaven.
That morning when her father had not come as usual to her bedside to wake her, she had gone to his room instead. She found him lying motionless on his bed, and, thinking him asleep, she had kept very quiet.
When the housekeeper, who came in with breakfast, had cast a glance in his direction, Dora heard her exclaim, "Oh God, he is dead! I must quickly fetch your aunt." With this she had run away.
This word had fallen on Dora like a thunderbolt, and she had laid her head on the pillow beside her father, where she stayed a long while, sobbing bitterly. Then Dora heard the door open and her aunt came in. Lifting her head, she used all her strength to control her sorrow, for she knew that a wild outburst of grief was coming. She was dreadfully afraid of this and most anxious not to contribute to it further. She wept quietly, pressing her head into her arms in order not to let her sobs escape. The aunt loudly moaned and cried, wailing that this dreadful misfortune should just have happened and saying she saw no help for any of them.
What should be seen to first, she wondered. In the open drawer of the table beside her brother's bed several papers lay about, which the aunt folded up in order to lock away. Among them was a letter addressed to her. Opening it she read: