She was still lying there when the sound of the bells told her that
the cattle were coming home; then she jumped up and began to work.
Beret saw as soon as she came that something had happened. Mildrid
asked such stupid questions and gave such absurd answers, and
altogether behaved in such an extraordinary way, that she several
times just stopped and stared at her. When it came to supper-time, and
Mildrid, instead of taking her place at the table, went and sat down
outside, saying that she had just had dinner, Beret was as intensely
on the alert as a dog who scents game at hand. She took her supper and
went to bed. The sisters slept in the same bed, and, as Mildrid did
not come, Beret got up softly once or twice to look if her sister were
still sitting out there, and if she were alone. Yes, she was there,
and alone.

Eleven o'clock, and then twelve, and then one, and still Mildrid sat
and Beret waked. She pretended to be asleep when Mildrid came at last,
and Mildrid moved softly, so softly; but her sister heard her sobbing,
and when she had got into bed she heard her say her usual evening
prayer so sadly, heard her whisper: "O God, help me, help me!" It made
Beret so unhappy that she could not get to sleep even now. She felt
her sister restlessly changing from one position to another; she saw
her at last giving it up, throwing aside the covering, and lying
open-eyed, with her hands below her head, staring into vacancy. She
saw and heard no more, for at last she fell asleep.

When she awoke next morning Mildrid's place was empty. Beret jumped
up; the sun was high in the sky; the cattle were away long ago. She
found her breakfast set ready, took it hurriedly, and went out and saw
Mildrid at work, but looking ill. Beret said that she was going to