When again he recovered consciousness, he was lying out in a
piercing wind that chilled his limbs. No one was by him; on the
left he saw his burning house; around him grazed, bellowed,
bleated, and neighed his stock; the sheep huddled together in a
terrified flock; the furniture recklessly scattered: but, on
looking around more carefully, he discovered somebody sitting on a
knoll near him, weeping. It was his wife. He called her name. She
started.

"The Lord Jesus be thanked that you live," she exclaimed, coming
forward and seating herself, or rather falling down before him: "O
God! O God! now we have enough of that railroad!"

"The railroad?" he asked: but ere he spoke, it had flashed through
his mind how it was; for, of course, the cause of the fire was the
falling of sparks from the locomotive among the shavings by the
new side-wall. He remained sitting, silent and thoughtful; his
wife dared say no more, but was trying to find clothes for him:
the things with which she had covered him, as he lay unconscious,
having fallen off. He received her attentions in silence, but as
she crouched down to cover his feet, he laid a hand upon her head.
She hid her face in his lap, and wept aloud. At last he had
noticed her. Lars understood, and said:

"You are the only friend I have."

Although to hear these words had cost the house, no matter, they
made her happy; she gathered courage and said, rising and looking
submissively at him: