Taciturn and wasting away with anxiety, he withdrew from the members of his family even when at home, repelling his wife curtly and impatiently when, yielding to the impulse of her heart, she approached him with encouraging words.

Night brought him no sleep, and he left his couch before morning dawned, to pace restlessly to and fro, or gaze at Bessie, who to him alone still tried to show recognition by a faint smile.
When Maria returned home, she instantly went to the child and found Doctor Bontius with her.

The physician shook his head at her appearance, and said the delicate little creature's life would soon be over.

Her stomach had been injured during the first months of want; now it refused to do its office, and to hope for recovery would be folly.
"She must live, she must not die!" cried Maria, frantic with grief and yet full of hope, like a true mother, who cannot grasp the thought that she is condemned to lose her child, even when the little heart is already ceasing to beat and the bright eyes are growing dim and closing.
"Bessie, Bessie, look at me! Bessie, take this nice milk.

Only a few drops! Bessie, Bessie, you must not die." Peter had entered the room unobserved and heard the last words.