;^ 
 
 kM' -.■ Ji
 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 THE / 
 
 V. / ' 
 
 BILLOW AND THE ROCK. 
 
 A T A L E. 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRIET MARTINEAU. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 CHARLES KNIGHT & CO., LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 184e'.
 
 London : Printed by W. Clowes and Soks, Stamford Street.
 
 
 > 
 
 
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Shaptek 
 
 I. Lord and Lady Carse 
 
 II. The Turbulent 
 II L The Wrong Journey 
 IV. Newspapers 
 
 V. Cross-Koads and Short Seas 
 VI. The Steadfest 
 
 VII. The Roving of the Restless 
 V^III. The Waiting of the Wise 
 
 IX. The Cove . 
 X. Which Refoge?' 
 XI. Folding the Flock 
 
 XII. The Steward on his Rounds 
 
 XIII. Tnie Solitude 
 
 XIV. Helsa's News 
 XV. Annie's News 
 
 XVI. Timely Evasion 
 LVII. The Lamp bums 
 
 VIII. Openings . 
 XIX. Free at Last! 
 
 Page 
 9 
 
 19 
 
 27 
 
 36 
 
 45 
 
 57 
 
 €8 
 
 80 
 
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 102 
 
 lU 
 
 131 
 
 141 
 
 155 
 
 166 
 
 174 
 
 181 
 
 191 
 
 208 
 
 305208
 
 «
 
 THE 
 
 BILLOW AND THE liOCK. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LORD AND LADY CAESE. 
 
 Scotland was a strange and uncomfoiiable coun- 
 tiy to live in a liandred yeai's ago. Strange beyond 
 iiieasjire its state of society appears to us when we 
 consider, not only that it was called a Christian 
 country, but that the people had shown that they 
 really did care very much for their religion, and 
 were bent upon worshipping God according to 
 their conscience and true belief. While earnest in 
 tlieir religion, their state of society was yet very 
 wicked : a thing which usually happens when a 
 whole people are passing from one way of living 
 and being governed to another. Scotland had not 
 long been united with England. "While the wisest 
 of the nation saw that the only hope for the country 
 was in being governed by tlie same king and par- 
 liament as the English, many of the most powerful 
 men wished not to be governed at all, but to ba 
 altogether despotic over their dependents and neigh- 
 bours, and to have their own v/ay in everytliing. 
 These lords and gentlemen did such violent thinga 
 as are never heard of now in civilized countries ; 
 
 B
 
 10 LORD AND LADY CAKSE. 
 
 and when theii* inferiors had any strong desire or 
 passion, they followed the example of the great 
 men, so that travelling was dangerous ; citizens 
 did not feel themselves safe in their own houses if 
 they had reason to believe they had enemies ; few 
 had any trust in the protection of the law ; and 
 stories of fighting and murder were familiar to 
 children living in the heart of cities. 
 
 Children, however, had less liberty then than in 
 our time. The more self-will there was in arrown 
 people, the more strictly were the children kept in 
 order, not only because the uppermost idea of 
 eveiy one in authority was that he would be obeyed, 
 but because it would not do to let little people see 
 the mischief that was going on abroad. So, while 
 boys had their hair powdered, and wore long coats 
 and waistcoats, and little knee-breeches, and girls 
 were laced tight in stays all stiff with whalebone, 
 they were trained to manners more formal than 
 are ever seen now. 
 
 One autumn afternoon, a party was expected at 
 the house of Lord Carse in Edinburgh ; a hand- 
 some house in a very odd situation according to 
 our modern notions. It was at the bottom of a 
 narrow lane of houses — that sort of lane called a 
 Wynd in Scotch cities. It had a court-yard in 
 front. It was necessary to have a court-yard to a 
 g66u house in a street too narrow for carriages. 
 Visitors must come in sedan-chairs, and there 
 must be some place, aside from the street, where 
 the chairs and chairmen could wait for the guests. 
 This old fashioned house had sitting-rooms on the 
 ground-floor, and on the sills of the windows were 
 flower-pots, in which on this occasion some asters 
 and other autumn flowers were growing.
 
 tOUD AJsD LADY CARSE. ll 
 
 "Within the largest sitting-room Mas collected a 
 formal group, awaiting the arrival of visitors. 
 Lord Carse's sister, Lady Rachel Ballino, was 
 there, surrounded by her nephews and nieces. As 
 they came in, one after another, dressed for com- 
 pany, and made their bow or curtsey at the door, 
 their aunt gave them pennission to sit down till 
 the arrival of the first guest, after which time it 
 would be a matter of course that they should stand. 
 Miss Janet and her brothers sat down on their low 
 stools, at some distance from each other ; but little 
 Miss Flora had no notion of submitting to their 
 restraints at her early age, and she scrambled up 
 the window-seat to look abroad as far as she could, 
 which was through the high iron gates to the tall 
 houses on the other side the "\Yynd. 
 
 Lady Eachel saw the boys and Janet looking at 
 each other with smiles, and this turned her atten- 
 tion to the child in the window, who was nodding 
 her little curly head very energetically to some- 
 body outside. 
 
 " Come down, Flora," said her aunt. 
 
 But Flora was too busy, nodding, to hear that 
 she was spoken to. 
 
 '* Flora, come down. Why are you nodding in 
 that way ?" 
 
 " Lady nods," said Flora, 
 
 Lady Rachel rose deliberately from her seat, and 
 approached the window, turning pale as she went. 
 After a single glance into the court-yard, she sank 
 on a chair, and desired her nephew Orme to ring 
 the bell twice. Orme, who saw that something 
 was the matter, rang so vigorously as to bring the 
 butler in immediately. 
 
 " John, you see," said the pale lips of Lady 
 
 b2
 
 12 rOKD AXr> LADY CAKSE. 
 
 Ivaclie], while she pointed, with a trembling finger, 
 to the court-yard, 
 
 '• Yes, my Lady, the doors are fastened." 
 
 '• And Lord Carse not Ijonie yet ?" 
 
 " IS^o, my Lady. I think perhaps he is some- 
 where near, and cannot get home." 
 
 John looked irresolutely towards the child in 
 the window. Once more Flora was desired to 
 come down ; and once more she only replied, 
 
 " Lady nods at me." 
 
 Janet was going towards the window to enforce 
 lier aunt's orders ; but she was desired to keep her 
 seat ; and John quickly took up Miss Flora in his 
 arms, and set her down at her aunt's knee. The 
 child cried, and struggled, said she would see the 
 lady, and must infallibly have been dismissed to the 
 nui'sery, but that her eye v.as caught, and her mind 
 presently engaged by Lady Eachel's painted fan, on 
 vhich there was a burning mountain, and a blue 
 sea, and a shepherdess and her lamb — all very gay. 
 Flora was allowed to have tlie fan in her own 
 hands — a very rare favour. But presently she left 
 off telling her aunt w])at she saw upon it, dropped 
 it, and clapped her hands, saying, as she looked at 
 the M'indow, " Lady nods at me." 
 
 " It is Mama," cried the elder ones, starting to 
 their feet, as the lady thrust her face through the 
 flowers, and close to the window-pane. 
 
 '' Go to the nurseiy, children," said Lady Rachel, 
 making an effort to rise. " I will send for you 
 presently." The elder ones appeared glad to es- 
 cape ; and they carried with them the struggling 
 Flora. 
 
 Lady Rachel threw up the sash, crossed her 
 arms, and said, in the most formal manner,
 
 LOKD AND LADY CAESE. 13 
 
 " What do 3'ou want, Lady Curse ?" 
 
 *' I want my children." 
 
 " You cannot have thera, as you well know. It 
 is too late. I pity you ; but it is too late." 
 
 " I will see my children. I will come home and 
 live. I will make that tyrant repent setting up 
 any one in niy place at home. I have it in my 
 povv-er to ruin him. I . . ." 
 
 " Abstain from threats," said Lady Rachel, 
 shutting- the window, and fastening the sash. 
 
 Lady Carse doubled her fist, as if about to 
 dash in a pane ; but the iron gates behind her 
 creaked on their hinges, and she turned her head. 
 A chair was entering, on each side of which 
 walked a footman, Avhose livery Lady Carse mcU 
 knew. Her handsome face, red before, was now more 
 flushed. She put her mouth close to the window^ 
 and said, " If it had been anybody but Lovat you 
 Avould not have been rid of me this evening. I 
 would have stood among the chairmen till mid- 
 night, for the chance of getting in. Be sure I 
 shall, to-morrow, or some day. But now, I am off." 
 
 She darted past the chair, her face turned away, 
 just as Lord Lovat was issuing from it. 
 
 " IIo ! ho ! " cried he, in a loud and mocking 
 tone. " Ho there ! my Lady Carse ! A v.ord 
 with you !" But she ran up the Wynd as fast as 
 she could go. 
 
 '' You should not look so white upon it," Lord 
 Lovat observed to Lady Eachel, as soon as the 
 door was shut. " Why do you let her see her 
 power over you ?" 
 
 " God knows !" replied Lady Eachel. " But it 
 is not her threats alone that make us nervous. It 
 is the being incessantly subject . . ."
 
 14 LORD AND LADY CARSE. * 
 
 She cleared her throat ; but she could not go on. 
 
 Lord Lovat swore that he would not submit to 
 be tormented by a virago in this way. If Lady 
 Carse were his wife ... 
 
 " AVell ! what would you do ?" asked Lady 
 Rachel. 
 
 " 1 would get rid of her. I tell your brother 
 so. I would get rid of lier in one way, if she 
 threatened to get rid of me in another. She may 
 have learned from her father how to put her ene- 
 mies out of the way." 
 
 Lady Rachel grew paler than ever. Lord Lovat 
 went on. 
 
 " Her father carried pistols in the streets of Edin- 
 burgh ; and so may she. Her father was hanged for 
 it ; and it is my belief that she would have no ob- 
 jection to that end, if she could have her revenge 
 first. Ay ! you wonder why I say such things to 
 you, frightened as you are already. I do it that 
 you may not infuse any weakness into your brother's 
 purposes, if he should tiiink fit to rid the town of 
 her one of these days. Come, come ! I did not 
 say rid the world of her." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! no ! " 
 
 " There are places, you know, where trouble- 
 some people have no means of doing mischief. I 
 could point out such a place presently, if I were 
 asked — a place where she might be as safe as under 
 lock and key, without the trouble and risk of con- 
 fining her, and having to consider the law." 
 
 *' You do not mean a prison, then." 
 
 " No. She has not yet done anything to make 
 it easy to put her in prison for life ; and anything 
 short of that would be more risk than comfort. If 
 Carse gives me authority, I will dispose of her
 
 LORD AND LADY CARSE. 15 
 
 where she can be free to rove like the wild goats. 
 If she should take a fancy to jump down a preci- 
 pice, or drown herself, that is her own affair, you 
 know." 
 
 The door opened for the entrance of company. 
 Lord Lovat whispered once more, 
 
 " Only this. If Carse thinks of giving? the case 
 into my hands, don't you oppose it. I will not 
 touch her life, I swear to you." 
 
 Lady Rachel knew, like the rest of the world, 
 that Lord Lovat's swearing went for no more than 
 any of his other engagements. Though she would 
 have given all she had in the world to be freed 
 from the terror of Lady Carse, and to hope that 
 tlie chikh-en might forget tlieir unhappy motlier, 
 she shrank from the idea of putting any person 
 into the hands of the hard, and mocking, and 
 plotting Lord Lovat. As for the legality of doing 
 anything at all to Lady Carse while she did not 
 herself break the law, that was a consideration 
 which no more occurred to Lady Rachel than to 
 the violent Lord Lovat himself. 
 
 Lady Rachel was exerting herself to entertain 
 her guests, and had sent for the children, when, to 
 her inexplicable relief, the butler brought her the 
 news that Lord Carse and his son Willie were 
 home, and woidd appear with all speed. They 
 had been detained two hours in a tavern, John 
 said. 
 
 " In a tavern ?" 
 
 " Yes, my Lady. Could not get out. Did not 
 wish to collect more people, to cause a mob. It is 
 all right now, my Lady." 
 
 When Lord Carse entered, he made formal apo- 
 logies to his guests first, and his sister afterwards,
 
 16 LOUD AND rADY CAKSE. 
 
 for his late appearance. He had been delaj-ed by 
 an affair of importance on his way home. His 
 rigid countenance was somewhat paler than usual, 
 and his manner more dictatoriah His hard and 
 unwavering voice was heard all the evening, 
 prosing and explaining. The only tokens of feel- 
 ing were when he spoke to his eldest son Willie, 
 who was spiritless, and, as the close observer saw, 
 tearfid ; and when he took little Flora in his arms, 
 and stroked her shining hair, and asked her if she 
 had been walking with her nurse. 
 
 Flora did not answer. She was anxiously 
 Avatching Lady Rachel's countenance. Her papii 
 bade her look at him and answer his question. 
 She did so, after glancing at her aunt, and saying 
 eagerly, in a loud whisper, 
 
 '•' I am not going to say anything about the lady 
 that came to the window, and nodded at me." 
 
 It did not mend the matter that her sister and 
 brothers all said at once, in a loud whisper, 
 '' Hush ! Flora." 
 
 Her father sat her down hastily. Lord Carse's 
 domestic troubles were pretty well known through- 
 cut Edinburgh ; and the company settled it in 
 their own minds that there had been a scene this 
 afternoon. 
 
 V\'hen. they were gone, Lord Carse gave his 
 sister his advice not to instruct any very young 
 child in any part to be acted. He a;;sured her that 
 very young children have not the discretion of 
 grown people, and gave it as liis opinion that when 
 the simplicity, which is extremely agreeable by the 
 domestic fireside, becomes troublesome or dangerous 
 in society, the child is better disposed of in the 
 nursery.
 
 LOKD AND LADY CAESE. 17 
 
 Lady Eacliel meekly submitted ; only observing 
 
 Avliat a sinijular and painful case was tliat of these 
 
 children, who had to be so early trained to avoid 
 
 the very mention of their mother. She believed 
 
 lier brother to be the most religious man she had 
 
 ever known ; yet she now heard him mutter oaths 
 
 so terrible that tb.ey made her blood run cold. 
 
 " Brotlier ! my dear brotlier," she expostulated. 
 
 " I'll tell you wl'.at she has done," he said, from 
 
 behind his set teeth. "She has taken a lodging 
 
 in this very Wynd, directly opposite my gates. 
 
 Kot a child, not a servant, not a dog or cat can 
 
 leave my house without coming under her eye. 
 
 She will be speaking to the children out of her 
 
 vindow." 
 
 " She will be nodding at Flora from the court- 
 yard as often as you are out," cried Lady Rachel. 
 " And if she should shoot you from her window, 
 brother." 
 
 " She hints that she will ; and there are many 
 things more unlikely, considering (as she herself 
 says) whose daughter she is. — But, no," he con- 
 tinued, seeing the dreadful alarm into which his 
 sister was thrown. " This will not be her method 
 of revenge. There is another that pleases her 
 better, because she suspects that I dread it more. — 
 You know what I mean?" 
 
 " Political secrets ?" Lady Eachel whispered — 
 not in Flora's kind of whisper, but quite into her 
 brother's ear. 
 
 He nodded assent, and then he gravely informed 
 her that his acquaintance, Duncan Forbes, had sent 
 a particular request to see him in the morning. 
 He should go, he said. It would not do to refuse 
 vaiting on the President of the Court of Session, 
 
 B 3
 
 18 LORD A^D LADY CARSE. 
 
 as he was known to be in Edinburgh. But ho 
 wished he was a hundred miles off, if he was to hear 
 a Hanoverian lecture from a man so good natured, 
 and so dignified by his office, that he must always 
 have his own way. 
 
 Lady Eachel went to bed very miserable this 
 night. She wished that Lady Carse and King 
 George, and all the House of Brunswick had never 
 existed ; or that Prince Charlie, or some of the 
 exiled royal family, would come over at once and 
 take possession of the kingdom, that her brother 
 and his friends might no longer be compelled to 
 live in a state of suspicion and dread — every day 
 planning to bring in a new king, and every day 
 olSliged to appear satisfied with the one they had ; 
 their secret, or some part of it, being all the while 
 at the mercy of a violent woman who hated them 
 all.
 
 ( 19 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE TURBULENT. 
 
 When Lord Carse issued from his own house the 
 next moi'ning to visit the President, he had his 
 daughter Janet by his side, and John behind him. 
 He took Janet in the hope that her presence, while 
 it would be no impediment to any properly legal 
 business, would secure him from any political con- 
 versation being introduced ; and there was no need 
 of any apology for her visit, as the President usu- 
 ally asked why he had not the pleasure of seeing 
 her, if her father went alone. Duncan Forbes's 
 good nature to all young people was known to 
 everybody; but he declared himself an admirer of 
 Janet above all others ; and Janet never felt her- 
 self of so much consequence as in the President's 
 house. John went as an escort to his young lady 
 on her return. 
 
 Janet felt her father's arm twitch as they issued 
 from their gates ; and, looking up to see why, she 
 saw that his face was twitching too. She did not 
 know how near her mother was, nor that her father 
 and John had their ears on the stretch for a hail 
 from the voice they dreaded above all others in the 
 world. But nothing was seen or heard of Lady 
 Carse ; and when they turned out of the TVynd 
 Lord Carse resumed his xisual air and step of 
 formal importance ; and Janet held up her head, 
 and tried to take steps as long as his.
 
 20 THE TUKBULEXT. 
 
 All was rii>ht about her o:oin":to the President's. 
 He kissed her forehead, and praised her father for 
 bringing her, and picked out for her the prettiest 
 flowers I'rom a bouquet before he sat down to busi- 
 ness ; and then lie rose again, and provided her 
 with a portfolio of prints to amuse herself witii ; 
 and even then he did not forget her, but glanced 
 aside several times, to explain the subject of some 
 print, or to draw her attention to some beauty iu 
 the one she was looking at. 
 
 " My dear Lord," said he, " I have taken a 
 liberty with your time ; but 1 want your opinion 
 on a scheme I have drawn out at len'j^th for Go- 
 vernment, for preventing and punishing the use of 
 tea among the common people." 
 
 '• Very good, very good 1" observed Lord Carse, 
 greatly relieved about the reasons for his being 
 sent for. " It is high time, if our agriculture is 
 to be preserved, that the use of malt should be pro- 
 moted to the utmost by those in power." 
 
 ' " I am sure of it," said the President. " Things 
 have got to such a pass, that ia towns the meanest 
 people have tea at the morning's meal, to the dis- 
 continuance of the ale which ought to be their 
 diet ; and poor women drink this drug also in the 
 afternoons, to the exclusion of the twopenny." 
 
 " It is very bad ; very unpatriotic ; very im- 
 moral," declared Lord Carse. " Such people must 
 be dealt with outright." 
 
 The President put on his spectacles, and opened 
 his papers to explain his plan — that plan, which it 
 now appears almost incredible should have come 
 from a man so wise, so liberal, so kind-hearted as 
 Duncan Forbes. He showed how he would draw the 
 line between those who ought and those who ought
 
 THE TURBULENT. 21 
 
 not to be permitted to drink tea ; liow each was to be 
 described, and how, when any one was suspected of 
 taking tea when he ought to drink beer, he was to 
 tell on oath what his income was, that it might be 
 judged whetlier he could pay the extremely high 
 duty on tea which the plan would impose. Houses 
 miglit be visited, and cupboards and cellars searclied, 
 at all hours, in cases of suspicion. 
 
 " These provisions are pretty severe," the Pre- 
 sident himself observed. "But . . ." 
 
 " But not more than is necessary," declared Lord 
 Carse. " I should say they are too mild. If our 
 agriculture is not supported, if the malt-tax falls 
 off, what is to become of us ?" 
 
 And he sighed deeply. 
 
 " If we find this sclieme work well as far as it 
 goes," observed the President, cheerfully, " we can 
 easily gender it as much more stringent as occasion 
 may require. And now, what can Miss Janet tell 
 us on tliis subject ? Can she give information of 
 any tea being drunk in the nursery at home ?" 
 
 " Oh ! to be ^re," said Janet. " Nurse often 
 lets me have some with her ; and Katie nils Flora's 
 doll's teapot out of her own, almost every after- 
 noon." 
 
 " Bless my soul !" cried Lord Carse, starting 
 from his seat in consternation. " Mv servants 
 drink tea in my house ! Ofi' they shall go — every 
 one of them who does it. 
 
 " ! papa ! No — pray papa ! " implored Janet. 
 " They will say I sent them away. O ! I wish 
 nobody had asked me anything about it." 
 
 " It was my doing," said the President. " My 
 dear Lord, I make it my request that your servants 
 may be forgiven."
 
 22 THE TURBULENT.. 
 
 Lord Curse bowed his acquiescence; but he 
 shook his head, and looked very gloomy about 
 such a tiling happening in his house. The Presi- 
 dent agreed with him that it must not happen 
 again, on pain of instant dismissal. 
 
 The President next invited Janet to the draw- 
 ing-room to see a grey j)arrot, brought hither 
 since her last visit — a very entertaining com- 
 panion in the evenings, the President declared. 
 He told Lord Carse that he would be back in three 
 minutes ; and so he was — with a lady on his arm ; 
 and that lady was — Lady Carse. 
 
 She was not flushed now, nor angry, nor for- 
 ward. She was quiet and lady-like, while in the 
 house of one of the most gentlemanly men of his 
 time. If her husband had looked at her, he would 
 have seen her so much like the woman he wooed 
 and once dearly loved, that he might liave some- 
 what changed his feelings towards her. But he 
 went abruptlj' to the window when he discovered 
 who she was ; and nothing could make him turn 
 his head. Perhaps he was aware how pale he was, 
 and desired that she should not see it. 
 
 The President placed the lady in a chair, and 
 then approached Lord Carse, and laid his hand on 
 his shoulder, saying, 
 
 " You will forgive me when you know my rea- 
 sons. I want you to join me in prevailing on this 
 good lady to give up a design which I think im- 
 prudent — I will say, wrong." 
 
 It was surprising ; but Lady Carse for once bore 
 quietly with somebody thinking her wrong. What- 
 e\ er she might feel, she said nothing. The Presi- 
 dent went on. 
 
 "Lady Carse . . ."
 
 THE TURBUI.EKT. 2S 
 
 He felt, as his Iiand lay on his friend's shoulder, 
 that he winced, as if the very name stung him. 
 
 " Lady Carse," continued the President, " can- 
 not be deterred by any account that can be given 
 her of the perils and hardships of a journey to 
 London. She declares her intention of q-oino-." 
 
 " I am no baby ; I am no coward," declared 
 the lady. " The coach would not have been set 
 up, and it would not continue to go once a fort- 
 night if the journey were not practicable ; and 
 where others go I can go." 
 
 " Of the dangers of the road, I tell this good 
 lady," resumed the President, " she can judge as 
 well as you or I, my Lord. But of the perils of 
 the rest of her errand she must, I think, admit that 
 we may be better judges." 
 
 " How can you let your Hanoverian prejudices 
 seduce you into countenancing such a devil as that 
 woman, and believing a word that she says?" mut- 
 tered Lord Carse, in a hoarse voice. 
 
 " Why, my good friend," replied the President, 
 " it does so vex my very heart every day to see how 
 the ladies, whom I would fain hoHour for their dis- 
 cretion as much as I admire them for t! eir other 
 virtues, are wild on behalf of the Pretender, or 
 eager for a desperate and treasonable war, that you 
 must not wonder if I take pleasure in meetini;' 
 with one who is loyal to her riochtful sovereisrn. 
 Loyal, 1 must suppose, at home, and in a quiet 
 way ; for she knows that I do not approve of her 
 journey to London to see the minister." 
 
 " The minister !" faltered out Lord Carse. 
 
 He heard, or fancied he heard his wife laughing 
 behind him. 
 
 " Come, now, my friends," said the President,
 
 24 THE TUKBULEXT. 
 
 ■with a good-humoured seriousness, " let me tell 
 you that the position of either of you is no joke. It 
 is too serious for any lightness and for any passion. 
 I do not want to hear a word about your grievances. 
 I see quite enougli. I see a lady driven from home, 
 deprived of her children, and tormenting herself 
 ■with thoughts of revenge because she has no other 
 object. I see a gentleman who has been cruelly 
 put to shame in his own house and in the public 
 street, worn with anxiety about his innocent daugh- 
 ters, and with natural fears — inevitable fears, of the 
 mischief that may be done to his character and 
 fortunes by an ill use of the confidence he once 
 gave to the wife of his bosom." 
 
 There was a suppressed groan from Lord Carse, 
 and something like a titter from the lady. The 
 President went on even more gravely. 
 
 " I know how easy it is for people to make each 
 other wretched, and especially for you two to ruin 
 each other. If I could but persuade you to sit 
 down with me to a quiet discussion of a plan for 
 living together or apart, abstaining from mutual 
 injury ..." 
 
 Lord Carse dissented audibly from their living 
 together, and the lady from living apart. 
 
 ''Why," remonstrated the President, "things 
 cannot be worse than they are now. You make 
 life a hell . . ." 
 
 " I am sure it is to me !" sighed Lord Carse. 
 
 '• It is not yet so to me," said the lady. " L . ." 
 
 "It is not!" thundered her husband, turning 
 suddenly round upon her. " Then I w ill take care 
 it shall be." 
 
 " For God's sake, hush !" exclaimed the Presi- 
 dent, shocked to the soul.
 
 THE TUKBULEXT. 25 
 
 " Do your worst," said tlie lady, risiiio:. " "We 
 Avill try which has the most power. You know 
 what ruin is." 
 
 ••Stop a moment," said the President. "I 
 don 't exactly like to have this quiet house of mine 
 made .a hell of. I cannot have you part on tliese 
 terms." 
 
 But the lady had curtseyed and was gone. 
 For a minute or two nothing- was said. Then a 
 sort of scream was heard from upstairs. 
 •' My Janet !" cried Lord Carse. 
 " I will 2:0 and see," said the President. " Janet 
 is my especial pet, you know. 
 
 lie immediately returned, smiling, and said, 
 " There is nothing amiss with Janet. Come and 
 see." 
 
 Janet was on her mother's lap, her arms thrown 
 round her neck, while the mother's tears streamed 
 over them both. " Can you resist this ?" the 
 President asked of Lord Carse. " Can you keep 
 them apart after this?" 
 
 " I can," he replied. " I will not permit her 
 the devilish pleasure she wants — of making my 
 own children my enemies." 
 
 He was going to take Janet by force : but the 
 President interfered, and said authoritatively to 
 Lady Carse that she had better go : her time was 
 not yet come. She must wait ; and his advice was 
 to wait patiently and harmlessly. 
 
 It could not have been believed how insfanta- 
 ncouslv a woman in such emotion could recover 
 herself. 
 
 She put Janet off her knee. In an instant there 
 were no more traces of tears, and her face was- 
 composed, and her manner hard.
 
 26 THE TURBULENT. 
 
 *' Good bye, my dear," she said to the veeping 
 Janet. " Don't cry so, my dear. Keep your 
 tears ; for you will have something more to cry for 
 soon. I am going home, to pack my trunk for 
 London. Have my friends any commands for 
 London?" 
 
 And she looked round steadily upon the three 
 faces. 
 
 The President was extremely grave when their 
 eyes met ; but even his eye sank under hers. He 
 offered his arm to conduct her down stairs, and 
 took leave of her at the gate with a silent bow. 
 
 He met Lord Carse and Janet coming down 
 stairs, and begged them to stay a-while, dreading 
 perliaps a street encounter. But Lord Carse was 
 bent on being gone immediately — had not another 
 moment to spare.
 
 ( 27 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE WRONG JOURNEY. 
 
 Lady Cause and her maid Bessie — an elderly 
 woman who had served her from her youth up, 
 bearing with her temper for tlie sake of that family 
 attachment wliich exists so strongly in Scotland, — 
 were busy packing trunks this afternoon, when 
 they were told that a gentleman must speak with 
 Lady Carse below stairs, 
 
 " There will be no peace till we are off," ob- 
 served the lady to lier maid. In answer to which 
 Bessie only sighed deeply. 
 
 " I want you to attend me down stairs," ob- 
 served the lady. " But this provoking nonsense of 
 yours, this crying about going a journey, has made 
 you not fit to be seen. If any friend of my lord's 
 saw your red eyes, he would go and say that my 
 own maid was on my lord's side. I must go down 
 alone." 
 
 " Pray, Madam, let me attend you. The gen- 
 tleman will not think of looking at me : and I will 
 stand with my back to the light, and the room is 
 dark." 
 
 " No ; your very voice is full of tears. Stay 
 where you are." 
 
 Lady Carse sailed into the room very grandly, 
 not knowing whom she was to see. Nor was she 
 any wiser when she did see him. He was muffled 
 up, and wore a shawl tied over his mouth, and
 
 28 THE WROXG JOLUXEY. 
 
 kept liis hat on ; so that little space was left be- 
 tween hat, periwig, antl comforter. He apologiseii 
 for wearing his hat, and for keeping the lady stand- 
 ing — his business was short : — in the first place to 
 show her Lord Carse's ring, wliich she would im- 
 mediately recognise .... 
 
 She glanced at the ring, and knew it at once. 
 
 " On the warrant of this ring," continued the 
 gentleman, " I come from your husband to require 
 from you what you cannot refuse, — either as a wife, 
 or consistently with your safety. You hold a do- 
 cument, — a letter from your husband, written to 
 you in conjugal confidence five years ago, from 
 London, — a letter. . ." 
 
 " You need not describe it further," said the 
 lady, "It is my chief treasure, and not likely to 
 escape my recollection. It is a- letter from Lord 
 Carse, con.taining treasonable expressions relating 
 to the royal family." 
 
 " About the treason we might differ, Madam ; 
 but my business is, not to argue that, but to re- 
 quire of you to deliver up that paper to me, on 
 this warrant," again producing the ring. 
 
 The lady laugiied, and asked whether the gentle- 
 man was a fool or took her to be one, tliat he 
 asked her to give up what she had just told liini 
 was the greatest treasure she had in the world, — 
 her sure means of revenge upon her enemies. 
 
 " You will not?" asked the gentleman. 
 
 " I will not." 
 
 " Then hear what you have to expect, Madanr. 
 Hear it, and then fake time to consider once more," 
 
 '• I have no time to spare," she replied, " I start 
 for London early in the morning ; and my prepara- 
 tions are not complete,"
 
 THE WROXG jour>:ey. 29 
 
 *' You must hear me, however," said the gentle- 
 man. " If you do not yiehl, your Inisband m ill 
 iiiunediately and irrevocably put you to open 
 shame." 
 
 " Pie cannot," she replied. "I have no shame. 
 I have the advantaare of" him there." 
 
 " You have, however, personal liberty at present. 
 You have that to lose, — and life, Madam. You 
 have that to lose." 
 
 Lady Carse caught at the table, and leaned on 
 it to support lierself. It was not from fear about 
 her liberty or life ; but because there was a cruel 
 tone in the utterance of the last words, which told 
 her that it was Lord Lo\at who was threatening 
 her ; and she teas afraid of him. 
 
 " I have shaken you now," ssid he. " Come : 
 give me the letter." 
 
 '• It is not fear that shakes me," she replied. 
 " It is disgust. The disgust that some feel at rep- 
 tiles I feel at you, my Lord Lovat." 
 
 She quickly turned and left tlie room. When 
 he followed, she had her foot on the stairs. lie 
 said aloud, 
 
 " You will repent, IMadam. You will repent." 
 
 " That is my own affair." 
 
 "True, Madam: most true. I charge you to 
 remember that you have yourself said that it is your 
 own affair, if you find you have cause to repent." 
 
 Lady Carse stood on the stairs till her visiter 
 had closed the house-door behind him, struggled 
 up to her chamber, and fainted on the tlu'eshold. 
 
 *•' Tills journey will never do, Madam," said 
 Bessie, as her mistress revived. 
 
 " It is the very thing for me," protested tlie 
 lady. " In twelve hours more, Me sliall have left
 
 30 THE WRONG JOURNEY. 
 
 this town and my enemies behind us ; and then I 
 shall be happy." 
 
 Bessie sighed. Her mistress often talked of 
 being happy ; but nobody had ever yet seen her so. 
 
 " This fainting is nothing," said Lady Carse, 
 rising from the bed. *' It is only that my soul 
 sickens when Lord Lovat comes near ; and the vi- 
 sitor below was Lord Lovat." 
 
 " Mercy on us !" exclaimed Bessie. " What 
 
 next?" 
 
 " Why, that we must get this lock turned," said 
 her lady, kneeling on the lid of a trunk. " Xow, 
 try again. Tliere it is! Give me the key. Get 
 me a cup of tea, and then to bed with you ! I have 
 a letter to write. Call me at four, to a minute. 
 Plave you ordered two chairs, to save all risk ?" 
 
 " Yes, Madam ; and the landlord will see your 
 things to the coach-office to-night." 
 
 Lady Carse had sealed her letter, and v as wind- 
 ing up her watch, with her eyes fixed on the decay- 
 ing fire, when she was startled by a knock at tlie 
 house-door. Every body else was in bed. In a 
 vague fear, she hastened to her chamber, and held 
 the door in her hand, and listened while the land- 
 lord went down. There were two voices besides 
 his ; and there was a noise as of something heavy 
 brought into the hall. When this was done, and 
 the bolts and bars were again fastened, slie went 
 to the stairhead, and saw the landlord coming up 
 with a letter in his hand. The letter was for her. 
 It was heavy. Her trunks had come back from 
 the coach-office. The London coach was gone. 
 
 The letter contained the money paid for the fare 
 of Lady Carse and her maid to London, and ex- 
 plained that a person of importance having occa-
 
 THE WRONG JOURNEY. 31 
 
 sion to go to London, with attendants, and it being- 
 necessary to use haste, the coach was compelled to 
 start six hours earlier than usual ; and Lady Carse 
 would have the first choice of places next time ; — 
 that is in a fortnight. 
 
 Bessie had never seen her mistress in such a 
 rage as now : and poor Bessie was never to see it 
 again. At the first news, she was off her guard, 
 and thanked Heaven that this dangerous journey 
 was put off for a fortnight ; and much might happen 
 in that time. Her mistress turned round upon her, 
 said it was not put off, — she avouM go on horse- 
 back alone, — she would go on foot,— she would 
 crawl on her knees, sooner than give up. Bessie 
 was silent, well knowing that none of these ways 
 would or could be tried, and thankful that there 
 was only this one coach to England. Enraged at 
 her silence, her mistress declared that no one who 
 was afraid to go to London Avas a proper servant 
 for her, and turned her off upon the spot. She 
 paid her wages to the weeping Bessie, and with the 
 first light of morning, sent her from the house, 
 herself closing the door behind her. She then 
 went to bed, drawing the curtains close round it, 
 remaining there all the next day, and refusing 
 food. 
 
 In the evening, she wearily rose, and slowly 
 dressed herself, — for the first time in her life with- 
 out help. She was fretted and humbled at the 
 little difficulties of her toilet, and secretly wished, 
 many times, that Bessie would come back and offer 
 her services, though she was resolved to appear not 
 to accept thera without a very humble apology 
 from Bessie for her fears about London. At last, 
 she was ready to go down to tea, dressed in a
 
 32 THE Vv'ROXG JOURKEY. 
 
 M-rapping-gown and slippers. When lialfway down, 
 she hearcL a step beliind her, and looked round. A 
 Highlander was just two stairs above her: another 
 appeared at the foot of the flight ; and more were iu- 
 thehall. She knew the livery. It was Lovat's tartan. 
 
 They dragged her down stairs, and into her par- 
 lour, where siie struggled so violently that she fell 
 against the heavy table, and knocked out two teeth. 
 They fastened down her arms by swathing her witli 
 a plaid, tied a cloth over her mouth, threw anotlier 
 over her head, and carried her to the door. In the 
 street -was a sedan-chair ; and in the chair was a 
 mau who took her upon his knees, and held her 
 flist. Still she struggled so desperately, that tlie 
 chair roclced from side to side, and would liave been 
 thrown over ; but that there were plenty of atten- 
 dants running along by the side of it, who kept it 
 upright. 
 
 This did not last very long. When they had got 
 out of the streets, the chair stopped. The cloth 
 was removed from her head ; and she saw that they 
 were on tlie Linlithgow road, that some horsemen 
 were waiting, one of wliom was on a very stout 
 horse, which bore a pillion behind the saddle. To 
 this person she was formally introduced, and told 
 that he was Mr. Forster of Corsebonny. She k new- 
 Mr. Forster to be a gentleman of character ; and 
 that therefore her personal safety was secure in his 
 hands. But her good opinion of him determined 
 lier to complain and ap])eal to him in a way which 
 she believed no gentleman could resist. She did 
 not think of making any outcry. The party was 
 large ; the road was unfrequented at night ; and slie 
 dreaded being gagged. She tiierefore only spoke, — 
 and that as calmlv as she could.
 
 THE WKO^^G JOURNEV. 33 
 
 "Wliatdoes this mean, Mr. Forster? "Where 
 are you carrying me ?" 
 
 " I know little of Lord Carse's purposes, Ma- 
 dam ; and less of the meaning of them probably 
 than yourself." 
 
 " My Lord Carse ! Then I shall soon be among 
 the dead. He will go through life with murder on 
 his soul." 
 
 " You wrong him, Madam. Your life is very 
 
 safe." 
 
 " No. I will not live to be the sport of ray hus- 
 band's mercy. I tell you, Sir, Lwill not live." 
 
 " Let me advise you to be silent, Madam. What- 
 ever we have to say will be better said at the end 
 of our stage, where I hope you will enjoy good 
 rest, imder my word that you shall not be mo- 
 lested." 
 
 But the lady would not be silent. She declared 
 very peremptorily her determination to destroy 
 herself on the first opportunity ; and no one who 
 knew her temper could dispute the probability of 
 her doing that, or any other act of passion. From 
 bewailing herself, she went on to say things of her 
 husband and Lord Lovat, and of her purposes in 
 regard to them, which Mr. Forster felt that he and 
 others ought not, for her own sake, to hear. He 
 quickened his pace ; but she complained of cramp 
 in her side. He then halted, — whispered to two 
 men who watched for his orders, — and had the poor 
 lady again silenced by the cloth being tied over her 
 mouth. She tried to drop off; but that only caused 
 the strap which bound her to the rider to be 
 buckled tighter. She found herself treated like a 
 wayward child. When she could no longer make 
 opposition, the pace of the party was quickened ; 
 
 c
 
 34 THE AVROXG JOURXEY. 
 
 and it was not more than two hours past midnight 
 wlien tliey reached a country-house wiiicli she knew 
 to belong to an Edinburgh lawyer, a friend of her 
 husband's. 
 
 Servants were up, — fires were burning, — supper 
 vas on the table. The lady was shown to a com- 
 fortable bed-room. 
 
 From thence she refused to come down. Mr. 
 Forster and another gentleman of the party there- 
 fore visited her to explain as much as they thought 
 proper of Lord Carse's plans, and of their own me- 
 thod of proceeding. 
 
 They told her that Lord Carse found himself 
 compelled, for family reasons, to sequestrate her. 
 For her life and safety there was no fear ; but she 
 Avas to live where she could have that personal 
 liberty of which no one wished to deprive her, 
 Avithout opportunity of intercourse with her family. 
 " And where can that be ?" she asked. " AVho 
 will undertake to say that I shall live, in the first 
 place ; and that my children shall not hear from 
 me, in the next ?" 
 
 " Where your abode is to be, we do not know," 
 replied Mr. Forster. " Perhaps it is not yet settled. 
 As for your life, ]\ladam, I have engaged to trans- 
 fer you alive and safe, as far as lies in liuniau 
 power." 
 
 " Transfer me ! To whom ?" 
 " To another friend of your husband's, who will 
 take equal care of you. I am sorry for your 
 threats of violence on yourself They compel me 
 to do what I should not otherwise iiave thought 
 of; — to forbid your being alone, even in this your 
 own room." 
 
 " You do not mean . . . ."
 
 THE "WROXG JOURXEY. 35 
 
 " I mean that you are not to be left un^vatclied 
 for a single instant. There is a woman in the 
 house,— the housekeeper. She and her liusband 
 will enter this room when I leave it ; and I advisQ 
 }-ou to say nothing to them against this arrange- 
 ment." 
 
 '•• They shall have no peace with me." 
 
 " I am sorry for it. It will be a bad prepara- 
 tion for your further journey. You Mould do 
 better to lie down and rest, — for which ample time 
 shall be allowed." 
 
 The people in charge of the house were sum- 
 moned, and ordered, in the lady's hearing, to watcli 
 her rest, and on no account to leave the room till 
 desired to do so. A table was set out in one corner, 
 with meat and bread, wine and ale. But the un- 
 happy lady v>ould not attempt either to eat or 
 sleep. She sat by the fire, faint, weary and gloomy. 
 She listened to the sounds from below till the 
 whole party had supped, and lain do^n for the 
 night. Then she watched her guards,— the woman 
 knitting, and the man reading his Bible. At last, 
 she could hold up no longer. Her head sank on 
 her breast ; and she was scarcely conscious of being 
 gently lifted, laid upon the bed, and covered up 
 warm with cloak and plaid. 
 
 c 2
 
 ( 36 ) 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 Lady Carse did not awake till the afternoon of the 
 next day ; and then she saw the housekeeper 
 sitting knitting on the same chair, and looking as if 
 she had never stirred since she took lier place there 
 in the middle of the night. The man was not 
 there. 
 
 The woman cheerfully invited the lady to rise 
 and refresh herself, and come to the fire, and then 
 go down and dine. But Lady Carse's spirit was 
 awake as soon as her eyes were. She said she 
 would never rise — never eat again. The woman 
 begged her to think better of it, or she should be 
 obliged to call her husband to resume his watch, and 
 to let Mr. Forster know of her refusal to take food. 
 To this the poor lady answered only by burying 
 her face in the coverings, and remaining silent and 
 motionless, for all the woman could say. 
 
 In a little while, up came Mr. Forster, with 
 three Highlanders. They lifted her, as if she liad 
 been a child, placed her in an easy chair by the 
 fireside, held back her head, and poured down her 
 throat a basin full of strong broth. 
 
 " It grieves me, Madam," said Mr. Forster, " to 
 be compelled to treat you thus — like a wayward 
 child. But I am answerable for your life. You 
 will be fed in this way as often as you decline ne- 
 cessary food."
 
 KEWSPAPERS. 
 
 37 
 
 " I defy you still," she cried. 
 " Indeed !" said he, with a perplexed look. She 
 had been searched by the housekeeper in her sleep ; 
 and it was certain that no weapon and no drug was 
 about her person. She presently lay back in the 
 chair, as if wishing to sleep, throwing a shawl over 
 her head ; and all withdrew except the housekeeper 
 and her husband. 
 
 In a little while some movement was perceived 
 under the shawl, and then there was a suppressed 
 choking sound. The desperate woman was swal- 
 lowing her hair, in order to vomit up the nourish- 
 ment she had taken— as another lady in desperate 
 circumstances once did to get rid of poison. The 
 housekeeper was ordered to cut off her hair, and 
 Mr. Forster then rather rejoiced in this proof that 
 she carried no means of destroying her life. 
 
 As soon as it was quite dark she Avas compelled 
 to take more food, and then wrapped up warmly 
 for a night-ride. Mr. Forster invited her to pro- 
 mise that she would not speak, that he might be 
 spai-ed the necessity of bandaging her mouth. But 
 she declared her intention of speaking on every 
 possible occasion ; and she was therefore effectually 
 prevented from opening her mouth at all. 
 
 On they rode through the night, stopping to dis- 
 mount only twice ; and then it was not at any 
 house, but at mere sheepfolds, M'here a fire was 
 kindled by some of the party, and where they 
 drank whisky, and laughed and talked in the 
 warmth and glow of the fire, as if the poor lady 
 had not been present. Between her internal pas- 
 sion, her need of more food than she would take, 
 the strangeness of the scene, with the sparkling 
 cold stars overhead, and the heat and glow of the 
 
 305 

 
 38 NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 fire under the wall — amidst these distracting influ- 
 ences the lady felt confused and ill, and would 
 have been "lad now to have been free to converse 
 quietly, and to accept the mercy Mr. Forster had 
 been ready to sliow her. He was as watchful as 
 ever, sat next her as she lay on the ground, said 
 at last that they had not much further to go, and 
 felt her pulse. As the grey light of morning- 
 strengthened, he went slower and slower, and en- 
 couraged her to lean upon liini, which her weak- 
 ness compelled her to do. He sent forward the 
 factor of the estate they were now entering upon, 
 desiring liim to see tliat every tiling was warm and 
 comfortable. 
 
 AViien the building they were approaching came 
 in view, the poor hidy wondered how it could ever 
 be made warm and comfortable. It was a little 
 old tower, the top of which was in ruins, and the 
 rest as dreary-looking as possible. Cold and bare 
 it stood on a \\aste hill-side. It would have looked 
 like a mere grey pillar set down on the scanty pas- 
 ture, but for a square patch beliind, which was 
 walled in by a hard ugly wall of stones. A thin 
 grey smoke arose from it, showing that some one 
 was within ; and dogs began to l)ark as the party 
 drew near. 
 
 One woman was here as at the last resting-place. 
 She showed the way by the narrow winding stair, 
 up ^\ hicli Lady Carse «as carried like a corpse, 
 and laid on a little bed in a very small room, whose 
 single window was boarded up, leaving only a 
 square of glass at tlie top to admit the light. 
 
 Mr. Forster stood by the bedside, and said firmly, 
 
 " Now, Lady Carse, listen to me for a moment, 
 and then von will be left with such freedom as this
 
 NEWSPAPERS. 39 
 
 room and tliis woman's attendance can afford you. 
 You are so exhausted, that we have changed onr 
 plan of travel. You will remain here, in this 
 room, till you have so recruited yourself by food 
 and rest as to be able to proceed to a place wliere 
 all restraint will be withdrawn. Wiien you think 
 yourself able to proceed, and declare your willing- 
 ness to do so, I, or a friend of mine, will be at your 
 service— at your call at any hour. Till then, this 
 room is your abode ; and till then I bid you fare- 
 well." 
 
 He unfastened the bandage, and was gone before 
 she could speak to hiui. Svhat she wanted to say 
 was, that on such terms she would never leave this 
 room again. Siie desired the woman to tell him 
 so ; but the woman said she had orders to carry no 
 messages. 
 
 Wliere there is no help and no hope, any force 
 of mere temper is sure to give way, as jMr. Forster 
 well knew. Injured people who have done no 
 wrong, and who bear no anger against their ene- 
 mies, have an inward strength and liberty of mind 
 which enable them to bear on firmly, and to be im- 
 moveable in their righteous purposes ; so that, as 
 has been shown by many examples, they will be 
 torn limb from limb sooner than yield. Lady 
 Carse was an injured person — most deeply injured, 
 but she was not innocent. She had a purpose ; but 
 it was a vindictive one ; and her sovd was all tossed 
 svith passion, instead of being settled in patience. 
 vSo her intentions of starving herself — of making 
 Mr. Forster miserable by killing herself tlirough 
 want of sleep and food, gave way ; and then she 
 was in a rage with herself for having given v^ay. 
 When all was still in the tower, and the silent
 
 40 KEVvSPAPERS. 
 
 woman who attended her knitted on for hours to- 
 gether, as if she were a machine ; and there was 
 nothing to be seen from the boarded window ; and 
 the smouldering peats in the fire-place looked as if 
 they were asleep, Lady Carse could not always 
 keep awake, and, once asleep, she did not wake for 
 many hours. 
 
 When, at length, she started up and looked 
 around her, she was alone, and the room was lighted 
 only by a flickering blaze from the fire-place. This 
 dancins: lisfht fell on a little low round table, on 
 which was a plate w ith some slices of mutton-ham, 
 some oat-cake, three or four eggs, and a pitcher. 
 She was ravenously hungry, and she was alone. 
 She thouofht she would take somethino' — so little as 
 to save her pride, and not to show tliat she had 
 yielded. But, once yielding, this was impossible. 
 She ate, and ate, till all was gone — even the eggs ; 
 and it would have been the same if they had been 
 raw. The pitcher contained ale, and siie emptied 
 it. When she had done, she could have died with 
 shame. She was just thinking of setting her dress 
 on fire, when she heard the woman's step on the 
 stair. She threw herself on the bed, and pretended 
 to be asleep. Presently she was so, and she had 
 another long nap. When she Avoke the table had 
 nothing on it but the woman's knitting ; the 
 woman was putting peats on the fire, and she made 
 no remark, then or afterwards, on tlie disappear- 
 ance of the food. From that day forward food 
 was laid out while the lady slept ; and when she 
 awoke, she foimd herself alone to eat it. It was 
 served without knife or fork, with only bone 
 spoons. It would have been intolerable shame to 
 her if she had known that she was watched, through
 
 NEAVSPAPERS. 41 
 
 a little hole in the door, as a precaution ag-ainst 
 any attempt on her life. 
 
 But her intentions of this kind too gave way. 
 She was well aware that, though not free to go 
 where she liked, she could, any day, find herself in 
 the open air, with liberty to converse, except on 
 certain subjects ; and that she might presently be 
 in some abode — she did not know what — where she 
 could have full personal liberty, and her present 
 confinement being her own choice made it much 
 less dignified, and this caused her to waver about 
 throwing'] off life and captivity together. The 
 moment never came when she was disposed to try. 
 
 At the end of a week she felt great curiosity to 
 know whether Mr. Forster was at the tower all this 
 time, waiting her pleasure. She would not inquire, 
 lest she should be suspected of the truth — that she 
 was beginning to wish to see him. She tried one 
 or two distant questions on her attendant, but the 
 woman knew nothing. There seemed to be no 
 sort of question that she could answer. 
 
 In a few days more the desire for some conver- 
 sation with somebody became very pressing, and 
 Lady Carse was not in the habit of denying herself 
 anything she wished for. Still, her pride pulled 
 the other way. The plan she thought of was to 
 sit apparently musing or asleep by the fire while 
 her attendant swept the floor of her room, and sud- 
 denly to run down stairs while the door was open. 
 This she did one day when she was pretty sure she 
 had heard an unusual sound of horses' feet below. 
 If Mr. Forster should be going without her seeing 
 him, it would be dreadful. If he should have 
 arrived after an absence, this would afford a pretext 
 for renewing intercourse with him. So she watched 
 
 c3
 
 42 IS-EWSPAPERS. 
 
 her moment, sprang to the door, and was down the 
 stair before her attendant could utter a cry of 
 earning to those below. 
 
 Lady Carse stood on the last stair, gazing into 
 the little kitchen, which occupied the ground-floor 
 of the tower. Two or three people turned and 
 gazed at her, as 'startled perhaps as herself; and 
 she icas startled, for one of them was Lord Lovat. 
 
 Mr. Forster recovered himself, bowed, and said 
 that perhaps she found herself able to travel ; in 
 which case, he was at her service. 
 
 " O dear, no ! " she said. She had no intention 
 whatever of travelling further. She had heard au 
 arrival of horsemen, and had merely come down to 
 know if there was any news from Edinburgh. 
 
 Lord Lovat bowed, said he had just arrived from 
 town, and would be liappy to wait on her up-stairs 
 with any tidings that she might inquire for. 
 
 " By no means," she said, haughtily. She would 
 wait for tidings rather than learn them from Lord 
 Lovat. She turned, and went up stairs again, 
 stung by hearing Lord Lovat's hateful laugh be- 
 hind her as she went. 
 
 As she sat by the fire, devouring her shame and 
 wrath, her attendaftt came up with a handful of 
 newspapers, and Lord Lovat's compliments, and 
 he had sent her the latest Edinburgh news to read, 
 as she did not w^ish to hear it from him. She 
 snatclied the jiapers, meaning to thrust them into 
 the fire, in token of contempt for the sender ; but 
 a longino;' to read them came over her, and she miyht 
 convey sufficient contempt by throwing them on 
 the bed — and this she accordingly did. 
 
 She watched them, however, as a cat does a 
 mouse. The M'oman seemed to have no intention
 
 KEWSFAPERS. 
 
 43 
 
 of going down any more to-day. Whether tlie lady 
 was watched, and her impatience detected, through 
 the hole in the door, or whether humanity suggested 
 that the unliappy creature should be permitted an 
 hour of solitude on such an occasion, the woman 
 was called down, and did not immediately return. 
 
 How impatiently, then, were the papers seized ! 
 How unsettled was the eye which ran over the 
 columns, while the mind was too feverish to com- 
 prehend what it read ! In a little while, however, 
 the ordinary method of newspaper reading esta- 
 blished itself; and she went on from one item to 
 another with more amusement than anxiety. In 
 this mood, and with the utmost suddenness, she 
 eame upon the announcement, in large letters, of 
 " the Funeral of Lady Carse !" It was even soj 
 In one paper was a paragraph intimating the threat- 
 ening illness of Lady Carse ; in the next, the an- 
 nouncement of her death; in the third, a full 
 account of her funeral, as taking place from her 
 husband's house. 
 
 Her fate was now clear. She was lost to the 
 world for ever ! In the midst of the agony of this 
 doom she could yet be stung by the thought that 
 this was the cause of Lord Lovat's complaisance in 
 sending her the newspapers; that here Avas the 
 reason of the only indulgence which had been 
 permitted her! 
 
 As for the rest, her mind made short work of it. 
 Her object must now be to confound her foes— -to 
 prove to the world that she was not dead and buried. 
 From this place she could not do this. Here there 
 was no scope and no hope. In travelling, and in 
 her future residence, there miglit be a thousand 
 opportunities. She could not stay here another
 
 44 KEWSPAPERS. 
 
 hour ; and so she sent word to Mr. Forster. His 
 reply was, that lie should be happy to escort her 
 that night. From the stair-head she told him that 
 she could not wait till night. He declared it im- 
 possible to make provision for her comfort along 
 the road withouf a few hours' notice by a horseman 
 sent forward. The messenger was already saddling 
 his horse ; and by nine in the evening the rest of the 
 party would follow. 
 
 At nine the lady was on her pillion; but now 
 comfortably clad in a country dress — homely, but 
 warm. It was dark : but^ie was informed that the 
 party thoroughly knew their road ; and that in four 
 or five days they should have the benefit of the 
 young moon. 
 
 So, after four or five days, they were to be still 
 travelling ! Where could they be carrying her ?
 
 ( 45 ) 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 Where they were carrying her was more than Lady 
 Carse herself could discover. To the day of her 
 death she never knew what country she had tra- 
 versed during the dreary and fatiguing week which 
 ensued. She saw Stirling Castle standing up on 
 its mighty rock against the dim sky ; and she knew 
 that before dawn they had entered the Highlands. 
 But beyond this she was wholly ignorant. In those 
 days there Avere no milestones on the road she tra- 
 velled. The party went near no town, stopped at 
 no inn, and never permitted her an opportunity of 
 speaking to any one out of their own number. 
 They always halted before daylight at some solitary 
 house — left open for them, but uninhabited — or at 
 some cowshed, where they shook down straw for 
 her bed, made a fire, and cooked their food ; and 
 at niglilt they always remounted, and rode for many 
 hours, through a wild country, where the most 
 hopeful of captives could not dream of rescue. 
 Sometimes they carried torches while ascending a 
 narrow ravine, where a winter torrent dashed down 
 the steep rocks and whirled away below, and where 
 the lady unawares showed her desire to live by 
 clinging faster to the horseman behind whom she 
 rode. Sometimes she saw the whole starry hemi- 
 sphere resting like a dome on a vast moorland, the 
 stars rising from the horizon here and sinking
 
 46 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 lliere, as at sea. Tlie party rarely passed any 
 faimsteads or other dwellings ; and when they did, 
 pileiice was commanded, and the riders turned their 
 horses on the grass or soft earth, in order to appear 
 as little as possible like a cavalcade to any wakeful 
 ears. Once, on sucli an occasion, Lady Carse 
 screamed aloud ; but this only caused her to be 
 carried at a gallop, which instantly silenced her, 
 and tlien to be gagged for the rest of tlie night. 
 She would have promised to make no such attempt 
 again, such a liorror had she now of the muffle 
 which Ijandaged her mouth, but nobody asked her 
 to promise. On tlie contrary, she heard one man 
 say to another, tliat the lady miglit scream all 
 night long nov/, if she liked ; nobody but the 
 eagles would answer her, now she was among the 
 Erasers. 
 
 Among the Frasers ! Then she was on Lord 
 Lovat's estates. Here there was no hope for her ; 
 and all her anxiety was to get on, though every 
 step removed her further from her friends, and 
 from the protection of law. But this was ex- 
 actly the place where she was to stop for a consi- 
 derable time. 
 
 Having arrived at a solitary house among moor- 
 land hills, Mr. Forster told her that she would live 
 here till the days should be longer, and the wea- 
 tlier warm enough for a more comfortable prose- 
 cution of her further journey. He would advise 
 her to take exercise in the garden, small as it was,^ 
 and to be cheerful, and preserve her healtli, in ex- 
 pectation of the summer, when she would reach a 
 place where all restrictions on her personal liberty 
 would cease. He woulil now bid her farewell. 
 
 " You are going back to Edinburgh," said she,
 
 CROSS EOADS AXD SHORT SEAS. 47 
 
 rising from her seat by the fire, " You will see 
 Lortf Carse. Tell him, that though he has buried 
 liis wife, he has not got rid of her. She will haiuit 
 him — she will shame liim — she will ruin him yet." 
 
 " I see now," observed a voice behind her 
 
 She turned and perceived Lord Lovat, who ad- 
 dressed himself to Mr, Forster, saying, 
 
 " I see now that it is best to let such people 
 live. If she were dead, we cannot say but that she 
 might haunt him ; though I myself have no great 
 belief of it. As it is, slie is safe out of liis v,'ay — 
 at any rate, till she dies first. I see now that his 
 method is the right one." 
 
 " Why, I don't know, my lord," replied Lady 
 Carse. " You should consider how little trouble 
 it would have cost to put me out of the way in my 
 grave ; aftd how much trouble I am costing you 
 now. It is some comfort to me to think of the 
 annoyance and risk, and fatigue and expense, I am 
 causing you all." 
 
 " You mistake the thing. Madam. We rejoice 
 in these things, as incurred for the sake of some 
 people over the water. It gratifies our loyalty— 
 our loyalty. Madam, is a sentiment which exalts 
 and endears the meanest services, even that of se- 
 questrating a spy, an informer." 
 
 " Come, come, Lovat, it is time we were off," said 
 Mr. Forster, who was at once ashamed of his com- 
 panion's brutality, and alarmed at its effect upon 
 the lady. She looked as if she would die on the spot. 
 She had not been aware till now how her pride had 
 been gratified by the sense of her own importance, 
 caused by so many gentlemen of consequence 
 entering into her husband's plot against her liberty. 
 She was now rudely told that it was all for their
 
 48 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 own sakes. She was controlled not as a dignified 
 and powerful person, but as a mischievous in- 
 former. She rallied quickly — not only through 
 pride, but from the thought that power is power, 
 Whencesoever derived, and that she might yet make 
 Lord Lovat feel this. She curtseyed to the gentle- 
 men, saying, 
 
 " It is your turn now to jeer. Gentlemen ; and 
 to board up windows, and the like. The day may 
 come when I shall sit at a window to see your 
 heads fall." 
 
 " Time will show," said Lord Lovat, wath a 
 smile, and an elegant bow. And they left her 
 alone. 
 
 They no longer feared to leave her alone. Her 
 temper was well known to them ; and her purposes 
 of ultimate revenge, once clearly announced, were 
 a guarantee that she would, if possible, live to exe- 
 cute them. She would make no attempts upon her 
 life henceforward. 
 
 "Weeks and months passed on. The snow came, 
 and lay long, and melted away. Beyond the gar- 
 den wall she saw sprinklings of young grass among 
 the dark heather ; and now the bleat of a lamb, 
 and now the scudding brood of the moor-fowl, 
 told her that spring was come. Long lines of wild 
 geese in the upper air, winging steadily north- 
 wards, indicated the advancing season. The whins 
 w ithin view burst into blossom ; and the morn- 
 ino- breeze which dried the dews wafted their fra- 
 grance. Then the brooding mists drew off under 
 the increasing warmth of the sun ; and the lady 
 discovered that there was a lake within view — a 
 wide expanse, Minding away among mountains till 
 ' it was lost behind their promontories. She strained
 
 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 49 
 
 her eyes to see vessels on this lake, and now and 
 then she did perceive a little sail hoisted, or a 
 black speck, which must be a row-boat traversing 
 the waters when they were sheeny in the declining 
 sun. These things, and the lengthening and warmth 
 of the days, quickened her impatience to be re- 
 moved. She often asked the people of the house 
 whether no news and no messengers had come ; but 
 they did not improve in their knowledge of the 
 English tongue any more than she did in that of 
 the Gaelic, and she could obtain no satisfaction. 
 In the sunny mornings she lay on the little turf- 
 plat in the garden, or walked restlessly among the 
 cabbage-beds (being allowed to go no further), or 
 shook the locked gate desperately, till some one 
 came out to warn her to let it alone. In the June 
 niglits she stood at her window, only one small 
 pane of which would open, watching the mists 
 shifting and curling in the moonlight, or the sheet 
 lightning which now and then revealed the lake in 
 the bosom of the mountains, or appeared to lay 
 open the whole sky. But June passed away, and 
 there was no change. July came and went — the 
 sun was visibly shortening his daily journey, and 
 leaving an hour of actual darkness in the middle 
 of the night : and still there was no prospect of a 
 further journey. She began to doubt Mr. Forster 
 as much as she hated Lord Lovat, and to say to 
 herself that his promises of further personal liberty 
 in the summer were mere coaxing words, uttered 
 to secure a quiet retreat from her presence. If she 
 could see him, for only five minutes, how she would 
 tell him her mind ! 
 
 She never again saw Mr. Forster : but, one night 
 in August, while she was at the window, and just
 
 50 CROSS ROADS AXD SHORT SEAS. 
 
 growing sleepy, she was summoned by the woman 
 of the liouse to dress lierself for a night ride. Slie 
 prepared lierself eagerly enough, and was off pre- 
 sently, without knowing anything of the horsemeu 
 who escorted her. 
 
 It was with a gleam of pleasure that she saw that 
 they were approaching the lake she had so often 
 gazed at from afar: and her heart grew lighter 
 still when she found that she was to traverse it. 
 She began to talk, in her new exliilaration ; and 
 she did not leave off, though nobody replied. But 
 her exclamations about the sunrise, the clearness 
 of the water, and the leaping of the fish, died away 
 when she looked from face to face of those about 
 her, and found them all strange and very stern. 
 At last, the dip of the oars was the only sound ; 
 but it was a pleasant and sootliing one. All went 
 well this day. After landing, the party proceeded 
 westwards— as they did nightly for nearly a week. 
 It mattered little that they did not enter a house in 
 all that time. Tiie weather was so fine, that a 
 shecpfohl, or a grassy nook of the moorland, served 
 all needful j)urposes of a resting-place by day. 
 
 On the six-li night, a surprise, and a terrible 
 surprise, awaited the poor lady. Her heart mis- 
 gave her wheirthe niglit-wind brought the sound of 
 the sea to her ears — the sur<2:ini>- sea which tosses 
 and roars in the rocky inlets of the western coast 
 of Scotland. Bnt her dismav was dreadful when 
 she discovered that tliere was a vessel below, on 
 board which she was to be carried without delay. 
 On the instant, dreadful visions arose before her 
 ima'T'i nation, of her beino^ carried to a forei'^n 
 
 CD ^ C? O 
 
 shore, to be delivered into the liands of the Stuarts, 
 to be pucislied as a traitor and spy ; and of tliose
 
 CKOSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 51 
 
 far ofF plantations and dismal colonies where people 
 troublesome to their families were said, to be sent, 
 to be chained to servile labour with criminals and 
 slaves. She wept bitterly : she clasped her hands 
 —she threw herself at the feet of the conductor of 
 the party— she appealed to them all, telling them 
 to do what they would with her, if only they would 
 not carry her to sea. Most of them looked at one 
 another, and made no reply— not understanding 
 lier lano-uage. The conductor told her to fear no- 
 thing, as she was in the hands of the Macdonalds, 
 who°had orders from Sir Alexander Macdonald of 
 Skye to provide for her safety. He promised that the 
 voyage would not be a long one ; and that as soon 
 as the sloop should have left the loch she should 
 be told where she was going. With tliat, he lifted 
 her lightly, stepped into a boat, and was rowed to 
 the sloop, where she was received by the owner, 
 and half a dozen other Macdonalds. For some 
 hours they waited for a wind ; and sorely did the 
 master wish it would come ; for the lady lost not 
 a glimpse of an opportunity of pleading her cause, 
 explaining tliat she was stolen from Edinburgh, 
 against the laws. He told her she had better be 
 quiet, as nothing could be done. Sir Alexander 
 Macdonald was in the aftair. He, for one, would 
 never keep her or any one against their will, un- 
 less Sir Alexander Macdonald were in it : but no- 
 thing could be done. He saw, however, that some 
 impression was made on one person, who visited 
 the sloop on business, one William Tplney, who 
 had connexions at Inverness from having once 
 been a merchant there, and who was now a tenant 
 of the Macleods in a neighbouring island. This 
 man was evidently touched ; and the Macdonalds
 
 52 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 held a consultation in consequence, the result of 
 which was that William Tolney was induced to be 
 silent on what he had seen and heard. But for 
 many a weary year after did Lady Carse turn with 
 hope to the image of the stranger who had listened 
 to lier on board the sloop, taken the address of lier 
 lawyer, and said that in his opinion something 
 must be done. 
 
 In the evening the wind rose, and the sloop 
 moved down the loch. With a heavy heart the 
 lady next morning watched the vanishing of the 
 last of Glengarry's seats, on a green platform be- 
 tween the grey and bald mountains ; then the last 
 fishing hamlet on the shores ; and, finally, a flock 
 of herons come abroad to the remotest point of the 
 shore from their roosting-places in the tall trees 
 that sheltered Glengarry's abode. After that all 
 was wretchedness. For many days she was on the 
 tossing sea — the sloop now scudding before the 
 wind, now heaving" on the troubled waters, now 
 creeping along between desolate-looking islands, 
 now apparently lost amidst the boundless ocean. 
 At length, soon after sunrise, one bright morning, 
 the sail was taken in, and the vessel lay before the 
 entrance of a hai'bour which looked like the mouth 
 of a small river. At noon the sun beat hot on the 
 deck of the sloop. In tlie afternoon the lady im- 
 patiently asked what they were waiting for — if this 
 really was, as she was told, their place of destina- 
 tion. The wind was not contrary ; what were they 
 waiting for ? 
 
 " No, Madam ; the wind is fair. But it is a 
 curious circumstance about this harbour that it 
 can be entered safely only at night. It is one of 
 the most dangerous harbours in all the isles."
 
 CROSS ROADS AKD SHORT SEAS. 53 
 
 " And you dare to enter it at night ? What do 
 you mean ? " 
 
 '• I will show you, Madam, when night comes." 
 Lady Carse suspected that the delay was on her 
 account ; that she was not to land by daylight, lest 
 too much sympathy should be excited by her among 
 the inliabitants. Her indignation at this stimu- 
 lated her to observe all she could of the appear- 
 ance of the island, in case of opportunity occurring 
 to turn to the account of an escape any knowledge 
 she might obtain. On the rocky ledges which 
 stretched out into the sea lay basking several seals ; 
 and all about them, and on every higher ledge, 
 were myriads of puffins. Hundreds of puffins and 
 fulmars were in the air, and skimming the waters. 
 The fulmars poised themselves on their long wings ; 
 the fat little puffins poffled about in the water, and 
 made a great commotion where everything else 
 was quiet. From these lower ridges of rock vast 
 masses arose, black and solemn, some perpendi- 
 cular, some with a slope too steep and smooth to 
 permit a moment's dream of climbing them. Even 
 on this warm day of August the clouds had not 
 risen above the highest peaks ; and they threw a 
 gloom over the interior of the small island, while 
 the skirting rocks and sea were glittering in the 
 sunshine. Even the scanty herbage of the slopes 
 at the top of the rocks looked almost a bright 
 green where the sun fell upon it ; and especially 
 where it descended so far as to come into contrast 
 with the blackness of the yawning caverns with 
 which the rocky wall was here and there perforated. 
 The lady perceived no dwellings ; but jNIac- 
 donald, who observed her searching gaze, pointed 
 his glass and invited her to look through it. At
 
 54 CKOSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 first she saw nothing but a dim confusion of grey- 
 rocks and dull grass ; but at length she made out 
 a grey cottage, with a roof of turf, and a peat- 
 stack beside it. 
 
 " I see one dwelling," said the lady. 
 
 " You see it," observed Macdonuld, satisfied, 
 and resuming his gla^s. Then, observing the lady 
 was not satisfied, he added, 
 
 " There are more dwellings, but they are be- 
 hind yonder ridge, out of sight. That is where 
 my place is." 
 
 Lady Carse did not at present discern where the 
 dangerous sympathy witli her case was to come 
 fi-oni. But there was no saying how many dwell- 
 ings there might be behind that ridge. She once 
 more insisted on landing by daylight; and was 
 once more told that it was out of the question. 
 She resolved to keep as wide awake as her suspi- 
 cions, in order to see what was to be done with 
 her. She was anxiouslj' on the watch in the dark- 
 ness an hour before midnight, when JIacdonald 
 said to her, 
 
 " Now for it, Madam ! I will presently show 
 vou somethinG;- curious." 
 
 The sloop began to move under the soft breath- 
 ing night wind ; and in a few minutes Macdonald 
 asked her if she saw anytliing before her, a little to 
 the right? At first she did not ; but was presently 
 told, that a tiny spark, too minute to be noticed by 
 any but those who were looking for it, was a guid- 
 ing light. 
 
 " Where is it ? " asked the lady. " Why have 
 not you a more effectual light ? " 
 
 '• "We are tliankful enough to have any : and it 
 server our tiun."
 
 CROSS EOADS AND SHORT SEAS. 55 
 
 " ! I suppose it is a smuggler's signal ; and it 
 Avould not do to make it more conspicuous." 
 
 '' No, Madam. It is far from being a smug- 
 gler's signal. There is a woman, Annie Fleming, 
 living in the grey house I showed you, an honest 
 and pious soul, who keeps up that light for all that 
 want it." 
 
 " Wliy ? Who employs her ? " 
 
 '• She does it of her own liking. Some have 
 heard tell, but I don't know it for true, tliat wlieu 
 she and her husband were young she saw him 
 drown, from his boat having run foul in the liar- 
 bour that she overlooks ; and that from that day to 
 this she has had a light up there every night. I 
 can say that I never miss it when I come home ; 
 and I always enter by night, trusting to it as the 
 best landmark in this difficult harbour." 
 
 " And do the other inhabitants trust to it, and 
 come in by night ? " 
 
 Macdonald answered, that his was the only 
 boat on the island ; but he believed that all who 
 liad business on the sea between this and Skye 
 knew that light, and made use of it, on occasion, in 
 dangerous weather. And now he must not talk, 
 but see to his vessel. 
 
 This the only boat on the island ! He must 
 mean the only sloop. There must be fishing-boats. 
 There must and should be, the lady resolved ; for 
 she would get back to the mainland. She would 
 not spend her days here, beyond the westerly Skye, 
 where she had just learned that this island lay. 
 
 The anxious business of entering the harbour 
 was accomplished by slow degrees, under the guid- 
 ance of the spark on the hill-side. At dawn the 
 little vessel was moored to a natural pier of rock ;
 
 56 CROSS ROADS AND SHORT SEAS. 
 
 and the lady was asked whether she would proceed 
 to Macdonald's house immediately, or take some 
 hours' rest first. 
 
 Here ended her fears of being secluded from po- 
 pular sympathy. She was weary of the sea and the 
 vessel, and made all haste to leave them. 
 
 Her choice lay between walking and being car- 
 ried by Highlanders. She chose to walk ; and with 
 some fatigue, and no little internal indignation, she 
 traversed a mile and a half of rocky and moorland 
 Avays, then arriving at a sordid and dreary looking 
 farmhouse standing alone in a wild place, to which 
 Macdonald proudly introduced her as Sir Alexan- 
 der's estate on this island, of which he Mas the 
 tenant.
 
 ( 57 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 It was a serene evening M^hen, the day after her 
 landing, Lady Carse approached widow Fleming's 
 abode. The sun was going down in a clear sky ; 
 and when, turning from the dazzling western sea, 
 the eye wandered eastwards, the view was such as 
 could not but transport a heart at ease. The tide 
 was low, and long shadows from the rocks lay upon 
 flie yellow sands, and darkened, near the shore, the 
 translucent sea. At the entrance of the black ca- 
 verns, the spray leaped up on the advance of every 
 ^ave, — not in threatening, but as if at play. Far 
 away over the lilac and green waters arose the 
 craggy peaks of Skye, their projections and hol- 
 loA\^1[n the softest light and shadow. As the sea- 
 birds rose from tlieir rest upon the billows, oppo- 
 site the sun, diamond drops fell from their wings. 
 Nearer at hand there was little beauty but what a 
 brilliant sunset sheds over every scene. There 
 were shadows from the cottage over the dull green 
 sward, and from the two or three goats wliich 
 mo\ed about on the ledges and slopes of the upper 
 rocks. The cottage itself was more lowly and 
 much more odd than the lady had conceived, from 
 anything she had yet seen or heard of. Its walls 
 were six feet thick, and roofed from the inside, 
 leaving a sort of platform all round, which was 
 overgrown with coarse herbage. The outer and
 
 58 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 inner surfaces of the wall were of stones, and the 
 middle part was filled in with earth ; so that grass 
 miglit well grow on the top. The roof was of thatch 
 — part straw, part sods, tied down to cross-poles 
 by ropes of twisted heather. The walls did not 
 rise more than five feet from the ground ; and no- 
 thing could be easier tlian for the goats to leap up, 
 when tempted to graze there. A kid was now 
 ■amusing itself on one corner. As Ladj^ Carse 
 walked round, she was startled at seeing a woman 
 sitting on the opposite corner. Her back was to 
 the sun — her gaze fixed on the sea, and her fingers 
 were busy knitting. The lady had some doubts 
 at first about its being the widow, as this woman 
 wore a bright cotton handkerchief tied over her 
 head : but a glance at the face, when it was turned 
 towards her, assured her that it was Annie Fleming 
 herself. 
 
 " No, do not come down," said the lady. "Let 
 me come up beside you. I see the May." 
 
 And she stept up by means of the projecting 
 stones of the wall, and threw herself down beside 
 the quiet knitter. 
 
 " What are you making? Mittens? And Avhat 
 of? What sort of wool is this ?" 
 
 " It is goats' liair." 
 
 " Tiresome work ! " the lady observed. " Wool 
 is bad enough ; but these short lengths of hair ! 
 I should never have patience." 
 
 The widow replied tliat she had time in these 
 summer evenings ; and she was glad to take the 
 chance of selling a few pairs when Macdonald went 
 to the main, once or twice a year. 
 
 " How do they sell ? What do you get for 
 them?" .
 
 THE STEADFAST. 59 
 
 *' I get oil to last me for some time." 
 
 " And what else ? " 
 
 " Now and then I may -want sometliing else ; 
 but I get chieHy oil— as what I want most." 
 
 The widow saw that Lady Carse was not attend- 
 ing to what she said, and was merely making an 
 opening for what she herself wanted to ntter : so 
 Annie said no more of her work and its payment, 
 but waited. 
 
 " Tiiis is a dreadful place," the lady burst out. 
 " Nobody can live here." 
 
 " I have heard that there are kindlier plsfces to 
 live in," the widow replied. " This island must 
 appear rather bare to people who come from the 
 south,— as I partly remember myself." 
 
 "Where did you come from? Do j-ou know 
 where I come from ? Do you know who I am ? " 
 cried the lady. 
 
 " I came from Dumfries. I have not heard 
 where you lived, my Lady. I was told by Mac- 
 donald that you came by Sir Alexander Mac- 
 donald's orders, to live here henceforward." 
 
 '•' I will not live here henceforward. I would 
 sooner die." 
 
 The widow looked surprised. _ In answer to that 
 look. Lady Carse said, 
 
 - "Ah! you do not know who I am, nor what 
 brought me here, or you would see that I cannot 
 live here, and why I would rather die. — Why do 
 not you speak ? Why do you not ask me what I 
 have suffered ? " 
 
 " I sliould not tliink of it, my Lady. Those who 
 have suffered are slow to speak of their heart-pain, 
 and would be ashamed before God to say how 
 much oftener they would rather have died." 
 
 d2
 
 60 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 '• I must speak, liowever, and I will," declared 
 Lady Carse. " You know I must ; and j'ou are 
 tlie only person in the island that I can speak to. — 
 I want to live with you. I must. I know you 
 are a good woman. I know you are kind. If you 
 are kind to mere strangers that come in boats, and 
 keep a light to save them from shipwreck, you 
 will not be cruel to me — the most ill-used creature 
 — tlie most wretched — the most . . , ." 
 
 She hid her Ijice on her knees, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Take courage, my Lady," said Annie. '• If 
 you have not strength enough for your troubles 
 to-day, it only shows that there is more to come." 
 
 '• 1 do not want strength," said the lady. '• You 
 do not know me. I am not wanting in strenq-tli. 
 What I want — what I nuist have, is justice." 
 
 '• Well — that is what we are all most sure of, 
 when God's day comes," said Annie. '"• That we 
 are quite sure of. And we may surely hope for 
 patience till then, if we really wish it. So 1 trust 
 vou will be comforted, my Ladj'." 
 
 '• I cannot stay here, however. There are no 
 people here. There is nobody that I can endure at 
 Macdonald's, and there are none others but la- 
 bourers ; and they speak only Gaelic. And it is a 
 wretched place. They have not even bread.— Mrs. 
 Fleming. I must come and live with you." 
 
 " I have no bread, my Lady. I have nothing so 
 good as they have at jNIacdonald's." 
 
 •• You have a kind heart. Kever mind the 
 bread now. We will see about tliat. 1 don't care 
 how I live ; but I want to stay with you. I want 
 never to go back to Macdonald's." 
 
 The widow stepped down to the ground, and 
 beckoned to the lady to follow her into the house.
 
 THE STEADFAST. 61 
 
 It was a poor place as could be seen : — one room, 
 with a glazed Avindow looking towards tlie harbour, 
 a fire-place and a bed opposite the window ; — a 
 rickety old bedstead, with an exhausted flock bed 
 and a rug upon it ; and fi'om one end of the apart- 
 ment, a small dim s])ace partitioned off, in which 
 was a still less comfortable lied, laid on trestles 
 made of drift-wood. 
 
 '" Who sleeps here? " 
 
 " My son, wlien he is at home. lie is absent 
 now. my Lady : and you see, this is the only place ; 
 — no place for you, my Lady." 
 
 Lady Carse shrank back impatiently. She then 
 turned and said, 
 
 •• I might have this larger room, and you the 
 other. I shall find means of paying you. . . ." 
 
 •* Impossible, Madam," the widow replied. •' I 
 am obliged to occupy this room." 
 
 *' For to-night, at least, you will let me have it. 
 I cannot go back to Macdonald's to-night. I will 
 not go back at all : and you cannot turn me out 
 to-night. I have other reasons besides tliose I 
 mentioned. I must be in si^-ht of tiie harbour. 
 It is my only hope." 
 
 '' You can stay here, if you will, Madam : and 
 you can have that bed. But I can never leave 
 this room between dark and light. I have yonder 
 lamp to attend to." 
 
 '• ! I will attend to the lamp." 
 
 The widow smiled, and observed that she hoped 
 the lady would have better sleep than she could 
 enjoy if she had the lamp to A\'atch ; and that Mas 
 a business which slie could not commit to another 
 hand. — In the course of the argument, the laly 
 discovered that it would indeed be a serious matter
 
 62 THE STEADFAST 
 
 to let out both fire and lamp, as there was no 
 tinder-box on the island, and no wood, except in 
 the season of storms, when some was drifted up 
 wet. 
 
 " I should like to live with you, and help you 
 to keep up your lamp," said the lady. " If we 
 could only manage a room for me .... Not that I 
 mean to stay in this island ! I will not submit to 
 that. But while I am waiting to get away, I 
 should like to spend my time with you. You have 
 a heart. You would feel for me." 
 
 " I do feel for you, Madam. This must be a 
 terrible place for you, just to-day, — and for many 
 days to come. But O ! my Lady, if you want peace 
 of mind, this is the place ! It is a blessing that 
 may be had anywhere, I know\ One would tliink 
 it shone down from llie sky or breathed out from 
 the air, — it is so sure to be wherever the sky bends 
 over, or the air wraps us round. But of all places, 
 tliis is tlie one for peace of mind." 
 
 " This .'—this dreary island ! " 
 
 " TJiis quiet island. Look out now, and see if 
 you can call it dreary. Why, Madam, there can 
 hardly be a brighter glory, or a more cheerful 
 glow among the sons of God about the throne, than 
 there is at this moment over sea and shore, and 
 near at hand up to the very stone of my threshold. 
 Madam, I could never think this island drearj'." 
 
 " It is not always sunset, nor always summer- 
 time," said Lady Carse, who could not deny nor 
 wholly resist the beauty of tlie scene. 
 
 '• Other beauty comes by night and in the win- 
 ter," observed the widow, " and at times a gran- 
 deur which is better than the beauty. If the soft- 
 ness of this sunshine nourishes our peace of mind,
 
 THE STEADFAST. 63 
 
 yet more does the might of the storms. The beauty- 
 might 1)6 God's messenger. The might is God 
 himself." 
 
 " You speak as if you did not fear God," said 
 the lady, with the light inexperience of one to 
 Avhom such subjects were not familiar. 
 1 - " As a sinner, I fear him, Madam. But as his 
 child. . . .AYhy, Madam, what else have we in all 
 the universe ? And having him, what more do we 
 want?" . 
 
 " He has made us full of wants," said the lady. 
 " I, for one, am all bereaved, and very, very 
 wretched. — But do not let us talk of that now. 
 One who is alone in this place, and knows and 
 needs nothing beyond, cannot enter into my sor- 
 rows at once. It will take long to make you con- 
 ceive such misery as mine. But it will be a com- 
 fort to me to open my heart to you. And I must 
 live within view of the harbour. I must see every 
 boat that comes. They say you do." 
 
 '• I do. They are few ; but I see them all." 
 
 " And you save a good many by the spark in 
 your window." 
 
 " It has pleased God to save some, it is thought, 
 who would have perished as some perished before 
 them. He set me that task, in a solemn way, 
 many years ago ; and any mercy that has grown 
 out of it is His, — Do you see any vessel on the sea, 
 Madam ? I always look abroad the last thing be- 
 fore the sun goes down. My eyes can hardly 
 be much older than yours; but they are much 
 worn." 
 
 " How have you so used your eyes ? Is it that 
 Lair-knitting ? " 
 
 " That is not good. But it is more^the sharp
 
 64 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 winds, and the night-watching, and the shine of the 
 sea in the day." 
 
 *' I must live with you. I will watch for you, 
 night and day. You think I cannot. You think 
 I shall tire. Why, you are not weary of it." 
 
 " O no ! I shall never be weary of it." 
 
 " Much less should I. You want only to keep 
 up your lamp. I want to get away. All the in- 
 terests of my life lie beyond this sea ; and do you 
 think I shall tire of watching for the opportunity ? 
 — I will watch through this very night. You shall 
 go to bed, and sleep securely, and I will keep your 
 lamp. And to-morrow we will arrange something. 
 Why should I not have a room, — a cottage built 
 at the end of yours ? I will." 
 
 " If you could find any one to build it," sug- 
 gested the widow. 
 
 " Somebody built Macdonald's, I suppose. And 
 yours." 
 
 " Macdonald's is very old ; — built, it is thouglit, 
 at the same time with the chapel, which has been 
 in ruins these hundred years. My husband built 
 ours, — with me to help him ; — and also his brother, 
 who died before it was finished." 
 
 " Where is your son ? " inquired the lady, 
 he will undertake to work for me, I will 
 done. Where is vour son ? And what 
 business ? " 
 
 *•' I do not know exactly where he is." 
 
 " AYell, but is he on the island ? " 
 
 " I believe so. He comes and goes according 
 to his business. In the early summer he seeks 
 eggs all over the island ; and, somewhat later, the 
 eider-down. When he can get nothing better he 
 brings the birds themselves." 
 
 a 
 
 If 
 
 get 
 
 it 
 
 is 
 
 lis
 
 THE STEADFAST. 65 
 
 '' What do you do Avitli them? " 
 
 " We keep the feathers, and also the skins. The 
 skins are warm to cover the feet with, when made 
 into socks. If the birds are not very old. we 
 salt them for winter food : and at worst, 1 get 
 some oil from them. But I get most oil from the 
 young seals, and from the livers of the fish he 
 catches at times." 
 
 " Fish ! then he has a boat ! Does he go out 
 in a boat to fish ? " 
 
 '' I can hardly say that he has a boat," replied 
 tlie mother, with an extraordinary calmness of 
 manner that told of internal eftbrt. Oar caverns 
 run very deep into the rocks ; and the ledges run 
 out far into the sea. Rollo has made a kind of 
 raft of the drift-wood he found : and on this he 
 crosses the water in the caverns, and passes from 
 ledge to ledge, fishing as he goes. Tliis is our 
 only Avay of getting fish, except when a chance 
 boat comes into the harbour." 
 
 '■ Could that raft go out on a calm day.— on 
 a very smooth sea, — to meet any boat at a dis- 
 tance ? " 
 
 " Impossible ! Madam. I think it too danger- 
 ous in our smallest coves to be med without sin. 
 It is against my judgment that Rollo ever goes 
 round the end of a ledge, which he has been seen 
 
 to do." 
 
 '• But it is impossible to get a boat ? Have you 
 
 never had a boat ? " 
 
 " We once had a boat. Madam : and it was 
 
 lost." 
 
 Even the selfish Lady Carse reproached herself 
 for her question. It struck her now that boat and 
 husband had been lost together; for IMacdonald 
 
 R 3
 
 66 THE STEADFAST. 
 
 had told her that Annie Fleming had seen her hus- 
 band drown. 
 
 " I wish I knew where Eollo is," she said, to 
 break the silence. " I think something might be 
 done. I think I could find a way. Do not you 
 wish you knew where he was? " 
 
 " No, Madam." 
 
 "Well! perhaps you might be uneasy about 
 him if you did. But which way did he go ? " 
 
 The widow pointed nortliwards, where huge 
 masses of rock appeared tumbled one upon another, 
 and into the sea, at the base of a precipice two hun- 
 dred feet high. She further told, in reply to a 
 question, that Rollo went forth yesterday, without 
 saying where he was going ; and there were caves 
 among the rocks she had pointed out, where Rollo 
 might possibly be fishing. 
 
 Lady Carse found it vexatious that darkness was 
 coming on. She had a purpose ; but the sun did 
 not set the later, nor promise to rise the earlier, on 
 that account. — When the widow set before her 
 some oaten bread and dried fish, she ate, without 
 perceiving that none was left for her hostess. And 
 when the widow lighted the iron lamp and set it in 
 the window, the lady made only faint pretences of 
 .;a wish to sit up and watch it. She also said no- 
 thing of occupying the meaner bed. She was per- 
 suaded that her first duty was to obtain some good 
 rest, preparatory to going forth to seek Rollo, and 
 induce him to take her on liis raft to some place 
 whence she might escape to the mainland. So 
 she lay down on the widow's bed, and slept soundly, 
 — her hungry hostess sitting by the smouldering 
 peats in the rude fire-place, — now and then smiling 
 jat the idea of her guest's late zeal about watching
 
 THE STEADFAST. 67 
 
 the lamp for her, in order to give her a good 
 night's rest. Wlien daylight came, she retired to 
 her son's bed, and had just dropped asleep when 
 Lady Carse roused her, to ask for some breakfast 
 to take -svith her, as she did not know when she 
 should be back from her expedition. Again the 
 widow smiled, as she said that there was nothing 
 in the house. At this time of the year there were 
 no stores ; and a 'good appetite at night left no- 
 thing for the morning. 
 
 " O dear ! " said the lady. *' Well : I dare say 
 your sitting up made you hungry enough to finish 
 everything while I was asleep. No doubt it must. 
 But what to do I know not. I will not go back to 
 Macdonald's, if I starve for it. Perhaps I may 
 meet some fisherman, or somebody. I will try. — 
 Good morning. I shall come back : but I will 
 not put you long out of your ways. I will get a 
 cottage built at the end of yours, as soon as pos- 
 sible." The door closed behind her, and once 
 more the widow smiled, as she composed herself to 
 rest on her own bed. She had already returned 
 thanks for the blessings with which the new day 
 had opened ; and especially that to one so loAvly 
 as herself was permitted the honour and privilege, 
 — so unlooked for and unthought of, — of dispensing 
 hospitalit}'.
 
 ( 68 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 
 
 The lad}^ began walking at a great rate, being in 
 a vast hurry to find Rollo. She descended to the 
 shore, knowing that if she kept on the heights she 
 should arrive at precipices which would forbid all 
 access to the caves below. The tide was going 
 down ; and as soon as she reached the sands of a 
 little cove she was pleased to see a good many shell- 
 tish. Her first thought was that she woukfcollect 
 some, and carry tiiem uj) for Annie Fleming's 
 breakfaiit: but she immediately remembered ' that 
 this would add to her fatigues, and consume her 
 precious time ; and she gave up the thought, and 
 began picking up cockles for herself— large blue 
 cockles, which she thought would afford her an ex- 
 cellent breakfast, if only she could meet Mith some 
 fresh bread and butter, in some nook of the island. 
 She turned up her skirt — the skirt of the country- 
 AA Oman's gown which she wore — and made a bag of 
 it for her cockles, rejoicing for the moment that it 
 was not one of her own silks. Then she remem- 
 bered that she had seen at the widow's a light and 
 strong frail basket made of the sea-bent which grew 
 in the sands. Tiiis basket would be useful to her : 
 so she would, after all, go up — carry some cockles 
 for Annie, and borrow the basket. She did so, 
 and came away again Mithout awakening the 
 widow.
 
 THE ROVING OP THE RESTLESS. 69 
 
 At first, Lady Carse thought that Annie was 
 right, and that the island was not so dreary, after 
 all. The morning breeze was fresh and strengtli- 
 ening ; the waves ran up gaily upon the sands, and 
 leaped against the projecting rocks, and fell back 
 with a merry splash. And the precipices were so 
 fine, she longed for her sketch-book. And the 
 romance of her youth began to revive within her. 
 Here was a whole day for roving. She would 
 somehow make a fire in a cave, and cook for her- 
 self. She was sure she could live among these 
 caves ; and if she was missing for a considerable 
 time, the Macdonalds would think she had escaped, 
 or was drowned ; and she could slip away at last, 
 when some vessel put into the harbour. She 
 stopped and looked round ; but on all the vast 
 stretch of waters, there was no vessel to be seen 
 but the sloop in harbour ; while on shore there was 
 no human being visible, nor any trace of habitation. 
 The solitude rather pressed on her heart : but she 
 hastened on, and rounded the point which would 
 shut out from her the land view, and prevent her 
 being seen by any one from Macdonald's. She 
 had no fear of her return being cut off by the tide. 
 She had the whole day before her, and could climb 
 the rocks to a safe height at any time. 
 
 These were caves indeed ! At sight of them her 
 heart was in a sort of tumult very different from 
 any it had experienced for long. She eagerly en- 
 tered tli8 first, and drew deep breath as tlie tliunder 
 of the waters and the echoes together almost con- 
 founded her senses. At the lowest tides there was 
 some depth of water below, in a winding central 
 channel. In the evening how black that channel 
 must be ! how solemn the whole place ! Now tlie
 
 70 THE KOVING Ot'TlflE RESTLESS. 
 
 low sun was shining in, lighting up every point, 
 and disclosing all the hollows, and just catching a 
 ripple now and then, which, in its turn, made a 
 ripple of light on the roof. And, far in, there was 
 an opening, a gaping chink in the side of the cave, 
 which gave admission to a second rocky cliamber. 
 
 Lady Carse was bent on reaching this opening; 
 and did so, at last. She could not cross the clear 
 deep water in the channel below her. It was just 
 too wide for a safe leap. But she found a footing 
 over the rocks which confined it ; and on she went 
 — now ascending, now descending almost to the 
 water — amidst dancing lights, and rising and falling 
 echoes : on she went, her lieart throbbing, her spi* 
 rits cheered — her whole soul full of a joy which 
 she had not experienced for long. She stepped 
 over the little chasm to which the waters narrowed 
 at last, and, reaching the opening, thrust herself 
 through it. 
 
 Slie seemed to have left light and sound behind 
 her. Dim, cool, and almost silent was the cavern 
 she now stood in. Its floor was thickly strewn 
 with fine sand, conveying the sensation that her 
 own footsteps were not to be heard. Black pillars 
 of rock rose from a still pool which lay in her way, 
 and which she jDerceived only just in time to pre- 
 vent her stepping into it. These pillars and other 
 dark masses of rock sprang up and up till her eye 
 lost them in the darkness ; and if there was a roof, 
 she could not see it. A drip from above made a 
 plash about once in a minute in the pool ; and the 
 murmur from without was so subdued — appeared 
 to be so swallowed up in vastness and gloom — that 
 the minute drop was loud in comparison. Lady 
 Carse lay down on tlie soft sand, to rest, and listen,
 
 THE SOVIJSTG OJF THE KESTXESS. 171 
 
 and tliink— to ponder plans of hiding and escape. 
 All her meditations brought her round to the same 
 point : that three things were necessary to any plan 
 of escape— a supply of food, a boat, and an accom- 
 plice. She arose, chilled and hungry, determined 
 to try whether she could not meet with one or all 
 of these this very day. 
 
 As she slowly proceeded round the pool, she be- 
 came aware that it was not so perfectly still as 
 hitherto ; and a gurgle of waters grew upon the 
 ear. It was only that the tide was coming up, and 
 that the pool was being fed by such influx as could 
 take place through a few crannies. She perceived 
 that these crannies had let in a glimmering of light 
 which was now sensibly darkened. She had no 
 fear — only the delicious awe which thrills through 
 the spirit on its admission to the extreme privacies 
 of nature. There was some light, and safe oppor- 
 tunity of return by the way she had come. She 
 would not go back till she had tried whether she 
 could get on. 
 
 On she went — more than once in almost total^ 
 darkness — more than once slipping on a piece of 
 wet and weedy rock where she expected to tread on 
 thick sand — more than once growing irritable at 
 little difficulties, as hungry people of better tempers 
 than hers are apt to do in strange places. A sur- 
 prise awaited her at last. She had fancied she per- 
 ceived a glimmer of light before her ; and the sud- 
 denly found herself at the top of a steep bank of 
 sand, at the bottom of which there was an opening 
 r— a very low arch— to the outer air. While she 
 was sliding down this bank, she heard a voice out- 
 side. She was certain of it. Presently there was 
 a laugh, and the voice^ again. If she had found
 
 72 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 
 
 Rollo, there was somebody else too ; and if Rollo 
 ivas not here, there was the more to hope some- 
 thing- from. 
 
 Now the question was whether she could get 
 through the arch. She pushed her basket tlirough 
 first, and then her own head ; and she saw what 
 made lier lie still for some little time. The arch 
 Oldened upon a cove, deep and narrow, between pro- 
 jecting rocks. A small raft rose and fell on the 
 surface of the water ; and on the raft stood a man, 
 steadying himself with his legs wide apart, while 
 he held a rope with both hands, and gazed intently 
 upwards. The raft was in a manner anchored ; 
 tied with ropes to masses of rock on each side of 
 the cove ; but it still pitched so much that Lady 
 Carse thought the situation of the man very perilous ; 
 and she, therefore, made no noise, lest she should 
 startle him. She little dreamed how safe Avas his 
 situation compared with that of the comrade he was 
 watchino:. 
 
 In a short time the man changed his occupation. 
 He relaxed his liold of the rope, fastened it to a 
 corner of the raft, gazed about him like a man of 
 leisure, and then once more looked upwards, holding 
 out his arms as if to catch something good. And 
 immediately a shower of sea-birds began to fall : 
 now one, now three, now one again ; down they 
 came, head foremost, dead as a stone. Two fell 
 into the water ; but he fished them up with a stick 
 with a noose of hair at the end, and flung them on 
 the heap in the middle of the raft. 
 
 Wiien the shower began to slacken. Lady Carse 
 thought it the time to make herself heard. She 
 put her head and shoulders through the low arch, and 
 asked the man if he thought she could get through.
 
 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. ( •> 
 
 His start at the voice, his bewildered look dow u the 
 face of the rock, and the scared expression of lii-- 
 countenance when he discovered the face that peeped 
 out at the bottom, amused Lady Carse extremely. 
 She did not remember how unlike lier fair com- 
 plexion and her liair were to those of the women uf 
 these islands, nor that a stranger was in this place 
 more rare than a ghost. And as for the man— 
 what could he suppose but that the handsome face 
 tliat he saw peeping out, laughing, from the base of 
 the precipice was that of some rock spirit, sent per- 
 haps for mischief However, in course of time, tlie 
 parties came to an explanation : that is, of all that 
 the lady said, the man cauglit one word — Mac- 
 donald ; and he saw that she had a basket of cockles, 
 and knew the basket to be of island manufacture. 
 Moreover, he found, when he ventured to help her 
 out, that her hand was of flesh and blood, tiiouuh 
 he had never before seen one so slender and m hite. 
 When she stood upriglit on the margin of the 
 creek, what a scene it was ! Clear as the unduhit- 
 ing waters were, no bottom was visible. Tlieir 
 darkness and depth sent a chill through her frame. 
 Overhead, the projecting rocks nearly shut out the 
 sky, while the little strip that remained was dark- 
 ened by a cloud of fluttering and screaming^ sea- 
 birds. The cause of their commotion was pointed 
 out to her. A man whom she could scarcely have 
 distinguished but for the red cap on his head \\n^ 
 on the face of the precipice: now appearing still, 
 now moving, she could not tell how, for the rociv 
 appeared to her as smooth up there as the wall of a 
 house. But it was not so : there were ledges : and 
 on one of these he stood, plundering the nests of the 
 sea- fowl which were screaming round his head.
 
 74 THE ROVING OF THE KE3T1,ESS. 
 
 " EoUo ?" the lady asked, as she turned away, 
 her brain reeling at the sight she had seen. 
 
 " Rollo," replied the man, now entirely satisfied. 
 No spirit would want to be told who any one was. 
 
 And now Kollo was to descend. His comrade 
 again stepped upon the raft, pushed out to the 
 middle of tlie cliaiinel, secured the raft, grasped the 
 rope, and steadied himself. Lady Carse thought 
 she could not look : but she glanced up now and 
 then, when there was a call from above, or a ques- 
 tion from below ; or when there was a flinof of the 
 rope, or a pause in the proceedings. When Rollo 
 at last slid down upon the raft, hauled it to shore, 
 and jumped on the rock beside her, he was as care- 
 less as a hedger coming home to breakfast, while 
 she was trembling in every limb. 
 
 And Rollo was thinking more of his breakfast 
 than of the way he had earned it, or of the presence 
 of a stranger. He was a stout, and now hungry, 
 lad of eighteen, to whom any precipice was no more 
 startling than a ladder is to a builder. And, as his 
 mother had taught him to speak English, and he 
 had on that account been employed to communicate 
 with such strangers as had now and then come to 
 the island during Macdonald's absence, he was little 
 embarrassed by the apparition of the lady. He was 
 chiefly occupied with his ponchful of eggs, there 
 being more than he had expected to find so late in 
 the sccison. It was all very well, he said, for their 
 provision to-day ; but it was a sign that somebody 
 knew this cove as well as themselves, and that it was 
 no longer a property to*liimself and his comrade. 
 
 " How so?" inquired the lady. "How can you 
 possibly tell by the eggs that any one has been 
 here ? "
 
 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 75 
 
 Rollo glanced at his comrade, in a sort of droll 
 assurance that it could be no ghost from the grave, 
 no ghostly inhabitant of a cave, who could require 
 to have such a matter explained. He then, conde- 
 scendingly, told her that, when the eggs of the eider- 
 duck are taken, she lays more ; and this twice over, 
 before giving up in despair. Of course, this puts 
 off the season of hatching ; and when, therefore, 
 eggs are found fresh so late in the season, it is 
 pretty plain that some one has been there to take 
 those earlier laid. Rollo seemed pleased that the 
 lady could comprehend this, when it was explained 
 to her. He gave her an encouraging nod, and be- 
 gan to scramble onward over the rocks, his com- 
 panion being already some paces in advance of him. 
 The lady followed, with her basket, as veil as she 
 could ; but she soon found herself alone, and in not 
 the most amiable mood at being thus neglected. 
 She had not yet leai-ned that slie "vras in a place 
 where women are accustomed to shift for them- 
 selves, and precedence is not thought of, except by 
 the fireside, with aged people or a minister of the 
 Gospel in presence. 
 
 She smoothed her brow, however, when she re- 
 gained sight of the young men. They were on 
 their knees, in the entrance of a cavern, carefully 
 managing a smouldering peat so as to obtain a fire. 
 It was ticklish work ; for the peat had been left to 
 itself rather too long ; and chips and shavings were 
 things never seen in these parts. A wisp of dry 
 grass, or a few fibres of heather, were made to serve 
 instead ; and it was not easy to create with these 
 heat enough to kindle fresh peats. At last, how- 
 ever, it was done ; and eggs were poked in, here 
 and there, to roast. The cockles must be roasted,
 
 76 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 
 
 too ; and two or three little mouse-coloured birds, 
 the young of the eider-duck, were broiled as soon 
 as plucked. So much for t lie eating-. As for the 
 di'inking, there was nothing but pure Avhisky, unless 
 the lady could drink sea-water. Thirsty as she was, 
 she thought of the drip in the cave ; but, besides 
 that it Avas far to go, and scanty when obtained, she 
 remembered all the slime she had seen, and that 
 she did not know whence that drip came. 80 she 
 gulped down two or thi-ee mouthfuls of whi.sky, and 
 was surprised to find how little she disliked it, and 
 how well it agreed with her after her Avalk. 
 
 As soon as Kollo could attend to her, she told 
 him where she had spent the night — how she had 
 resolved to live with his mother, and in sight of the 
 harbour — and how she wanted tw o or more rooms 
 built for her at the end of the widow's cottage, un- 
 less, indeed, she could get a boat built instead, to 
 take her over to the main, for which slie would 
 engage to pay hereafter whatever should be asked. 
 Kollo told his companion this ; and they botli 
 laughed so at tlie idea of the boat, that the lady 
 rose in great anger, and walked away. Eollo 
 attended her, and pointed to his raft, saying that 
 there was no other such craft as even that in tlie 
 island ; and people did not think of boats, even in 
 their dreams, though he could fancy that any lady 
 in the south might, for he had heard that boats 
 were common in the south. But, he went on to 
 say, if !<he could not have a boat, slie migiit have a 
 house. 
 
 " AVill you help to build it ?" asked the lady. 
 *' "Will your companion — will all the people you 
 know help me to build it ?" 
 
 •• Why, yes," Kollo replied. '' "We shall have
 
 THE KOVING OF THE RESTLESS. (7 
 
 to build some sort of a cottage for the minister that 
 is coming — for the minister and his wife ; and we 
 
 mav as veil " ^^ 
 
 '"^ Minister ! Is there a minister coming ? cried 
 tiie ladj\ " O ! thank God, wliose servant lie is ! 
 Thank God for sending me deliverance, as he surely 
 will by these means I" 
 
 She had sunk on her knees. Rollo patted her 
 on the shoulder, and said the folk were certainly 
 coming. 
 
 What to make of Eollo she did not know, lie 
 treated her as if she were a child. He used a coax- 
 ing way of talking, explained to her the plainest 
 tilings before her ey&s, and patted her on the 
 shoulder ! Slie drew away, looking very haughtily 
 at him : but he only nodded. 
 
 " Why ^^•as I not told before that the minister 
 and his wife Avere coming ? Macdonald did not tell 
 me. Your mother did not tell me." 
 
 " They do not know it yet. They seldom know 
 things till I tell them ; and 1 did not want to be 
 kept\t home to build a house till I had got some 
 business of my own done." 
 
 He would not tell how he had obtained his in- 
 formation ; but explained that it was the custom for 
 a minister to live for some time on each of the out- 
 lying islands where there were too few people to 
 retam a constant pastor. This island was too little 
 inhabited to have had a muiister on its shores since 
 the chapel had gone to ruin, a hundred years before 
 — but the time was at hand at last. There had 
 been a disappointment in some arrangements in the 
 nearest neighbour islet ; and Mr. Kuthven and his 
 wife were appointed to reside here for a year or 
 morcj as might appear desirable, liollo considered
 
 78 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 
 
 this great news. Cliildren and betrothed persons 
 would be brought hither to be baptized and married 
 — arriving perliaps more than once in the course of 
 the year ; and it would be strange if the minister 
 were not, in that time, to be sent for in a boat to 
 bury somebody. Or, perhaps, a funeral or two 
 might come to the old chapel. Some traffic there 
 must be ; and that would make it a great year for 
 RolJo. And, to begin with, there would be the 
 house to build ; and he might be sent for materials. 
 He should like that, though he did not much fancy 
 the trouble of tlie building. 
 
 After a moment's thought, the lady asked him 
 if he could not keep the secret of the minister's 
 coming till the last possible hour. She Mould re- 
 ward liim well if he would get the house built as 
 for her. Seeing how precious was the opportunity, 
 she gave Eollo her confidence, showed him how it 
 would tend to satisfy Macdonald if she appeared 
 to be settling herself quietly in the island ; whereas, 
 if he knew of the approach of vessels with strangers, 
 he would probably imprison her, or carry her away 
 to some yet wilder and more remote speck in the 
 ocean. — Kollo saw something of her reasons, and 
 said patronizingly, 
 
 '' Wliy, you talk like an island w^oman now. 
 You miglit almost have lived here, by the way you 
 understand things." 
 
 Yet better did he apprehend her promises of 
 vast rewards, if he would do exactly as she wished. 
 Tliere was an air about her which enabled him to 
 fancy i er some queen or other powerful personage: 
 and as it happened to suit him to keep tlie secret 
 till the last moment, he promised, for liimself and 
 . his comrade, to be discreet, and obey orders.
 
 THE ROVING OF THE RESTLESS. 79 
 
 This settled, the lady turned homewards, with 
 a basket full of eggs and fish and young birds, and 
 news for the widow that her son was safe, and not 
 far off, and about to come home to try his hand at 
 building a house.
 
 ( 80 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 'J'lii: house proceeded well. Macdonald had no 
 express orders about it ; but he had express orders 
 to keep Lady Carse on tlie island, and, if possible, 
 in II cpiiet and orderly state of manners. When he 
 .-a\v how completely engrossed she was in the build- 
 ing- of this dwelling-, and what a close friendship 
 she appeared to have formed with Annie Fleming, 
 he believed that slie was a woman of a giddy mind 
 and strong self-will, who might be managed by 
 humouring. If he could assist her in providing 
 herself with a succession of new objects, he hoped 
 that she might be kept from mischief and misery, 
 as a child is by a change of toj's. He would try 
 this method, and trust to his chief's repaying him 
 any expenses incurred for the strange lady's sake. 
 So lie granted the use of his ponies and his people, 
 — novs- a man or two, — and now their wives, to 
 bring stones and earth and ; turf, and to twist 
 heather bands. Once or twice he came himself, 
 and lant a strong hand to raise a corner-stone, and 
 Jielp to lay the hearthstone. Tiie house consisted 
 of t«o rooms, divided by a passage. If Lady 
 Oarse had chosen to admit the idea of remaining 
 after the arrival of the Ruthvens, she would have 
 added a third room : but she had resolved that she 
 would leave the island in the vessel which brought 
 them, or in the next that their arrival would bring :
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 81 
 
 and she would not dwell for an instant on any 
 doubt of accomplishing- her purpose. 
 
 So the thick walls rose, and the low roof was on, 
 and the.thatch well bound down, and secured more- 
 over with heavy stones, before the autumn storms 
 arrived. And before the hard rains came down, 
 all Macdonald's ponies were one evening seen ap- 
 proaching in a string, laden with peat, — a present 
 to the lady. In the course of the day there was 
 stacked, at the end of her cottage, enough to last 
 for some months. When the widow came out to 
 see it and wish her joy, — for a good stack of well 
 dried peat was the richest of all possessions in that 
 region, — the lady smiled as cheerfully as Annie ; 
 not at the peat, however, but at the thought that 
 she should see little or none of it burn. She in- 
 tended to dispose of her winter evenings far other- 
 wise. 
 
 As for the widow, she was thankful now that 
 she had never thought her situation dreary. If, 
 in her former solitude, when her boy was absent, 
 she had murmured at that solitude, her present 
 feelings would have been a rebuke to her. She 
 was not happy now ; — so far from it, that her for- 
 mer life appeared, in comparison with it, as happy 
 as she could desire. Perhaps it had been too 
 peaceful, she thought: and she might need some 
 exercise of patience. — It was a great advantage, 
 certainly, for both herself and Rollo, to hear the 
 things the lady could tell of ways of living in other 
 places, and to learn such a variety of knowledge 
 from a person so much better informed tlian them- 
 selves. But then, this knowledge appeared to be 
 all so unsanctified ! It did not make the poor lady 
 herself strong in heart and peaceful in spirit. It 
 
 E
 
 82 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 was wonderful, and very stirring to the mind, to 
 learn how wise people were who lived in cities, 
 and what great ability was required to conduct the 
 affairs of life where men were gathered togetlier in 
 numbers: but then, these wonders did not seem 
 to impress those who lived in the midst of them. 
 There was no sign that they were watching and 
 praising God's hand working among the faculties 
 of men, as more retired people do in much meaner 
 things, — in the warmth which the eider-duck gives 
 to her eggs by wrapping them in down from her 
 own breast, and the punctuality with which the 
 lierring-shoals pass by in May and October, mak- 
 ing the sea glitter with life and light as tiiey go. 
 She feared that when people lived out of sigiit of 
 green pastures and still waters,— and she looked at 
 the moment upon the down on which tiie goats 
 were browsing, and the fresh-water pool where the 
 dragon-fly hovered for a few hot days in summer, 
 — when men lived out of sight of green pastures 
 and still waters, she feared tiiat they became per- 
 plexed in a sort of Babel, where the call of the 
 shepherd was too gentle to be heard. At least, it 
 appeared thus from the effect upon Rollo of the 
 lady's conversation. She had always feared for 
 him the effect of seeing the world, as she remem- 
 bered the world ; — of his seeing it before he had 
 better learned to see God everywhere, and to be 
 humble accordingly : and the conversation he now 
 heard was to him much like being on the mainland, 
 ■ — and even in a town. It had not made him more 
 humble, or more kind, or more helpful ; — except 
 indeed to ihe lady ; there was nothing he would 
 not do to help her. 
 
 And here Annie sighed and smiled at once, as
 
 THE WAITING OF THE AVISE. 83 
 
 the thought struck her that while she was mourn- 
 ing over other people's corruption, she was herself 
 no° untouclied. She detected herself admitting 
 some dislike to the lady because she so occupied 
 Rollo that he had left off supplying his motlier 
 with fishes' livers and seal-fat for oil. The best 
 season had passed : — she had spoken to him several 
 times not to lose the six-weeks-old seals ; but he 
 had not attended to it ; and now her stock of oil 
 was very low ; and the long winter-nights were 
 before her. She must speak to Macdonald to pro- 
 cure her some oil. But very strictly must she 
 speak to herself about this new trouble of discon- 
 tent. Did she not know that He who appointed 
 her dwelling-place on that height, and who marked 
 her for her life's task by that touch on her heart- 
 strings the night she saw her husband drown, would 
 suppfy the means? If her light was to be set on 
 the hill, for men to see from the tossing billows 
 and be saved, it would be taken care of that, as of 
 old, the widow's cruise of oil did not ftiil. — What 
 she had to look to was that the lamp of her soul 
 did not grow dim and go out. IIow lately was 
 she thanking God for the new opportunities aftbrded 
 her by the arrival of this stranger ! and now she 
 was shrinking from these very opportunities, and 
 finding fault with everybody before herself! 
 . There was some little truth in this, and it was 
 very natural ; for this kind of trial was new to 
 Annie. But she never yielded to it again :— not 
 even when the trial was such as few would have 
 been able to bear. 
 
 As the dark blustering month of November ad- 
 vanced, the widow's rheumatism came on, more 
 severely than ever before. She had given up her
 
 84 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 bed to Lady Carse, and, when Rollo was at home, 
 slept on the floor, on some ashes covered with a 
 blanket ; the only materials for a bed which she had 
 been able to command, as Rollo had been too busy 
 to get seal-skins, or to go to any distance for 
 heather while it was soft. She had caught cold 
 repeatedly, and was likely to have a bad winter 
 with her rheumatism, however soon the lady might 
 get into her own house, and yield up the widow's 
 bed. One gusty afternoon, when the wet fogs 
 were driving past, Annie waited long for the lady 
 and Rollo to come in to the evening meal. She 
 could not think what detained them next door in 
 such weather ; for it was no weather for working, 
 — besides that, it was getting dark. Slie could not, 
 with her stiff and painful limbs, go out of doors : 
 and when she perceived that her smallest lamp was 
 gone, she satisfied herself that they had some par- 
 ticular work to finish for which they needed light, 
 and would come in when it was done. 
 
 But it grew dark, and the wind continued to 
 rise ; and they did not appear. They did not 
 mean to appear this night. Macdonald had 
 been informed, at last, from his chief, of the in- 
 tended arrival of the minister and his lady ; had 
 been very angry at the long concealment of the 
 news, and would now. Lady Carse apprehended, 
 keep a careful watch over her, and probably con- 
 fine her till the expected boats had come and gone. 
 So she and her accomplices had at once repaired 
 to the cave, — a cave which Rollo was sure none of 
 Macdonald's people had discovered, — where for 
 some time past Rollo and his comrade had stored 
 dried fish, such small parcels of oatmeal as they 
 could obtain, and plenty of peat for fuel. There
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 85 
 
 they were now sitting at supper, over a good fire, 
 kindled in a deep sand which wouhl afFord a warm 
 and soft bed ;— there they were at supper, wlule 
 the widow was waiting for them, ni pain and 
 anxiety,— and at last in cold and dreariness. 
 
 When the fire was low, she rose painfully from 
 her seat, to feed it, and to trim and light the lamp. 
 Alas! there were no peats in the corner. She 
 knew there were plenty at midday: but Lady 
 Carse had, at the last moment, bethought herself 
 that the fuel in the cave might be damp, and had 
 carried off those in the corner, desiring Rollo to 
 brino- in more from the stack to dry ; and this 
 Rollo had neglected to do. The fire would be 
 quite out in an hour. — Annie saw that she must 
 attempt to get out to the stack. She did attempt 
 it : but the stormy blast and the thick cold drizzle 
 so drove against her that she could not stand it, 
 and could only with diflftculty shut the door. She 
 turned to her lamp, to light it while the fire w^as 
 yet alive. There was but little oil in it. She 
 reached out her hand for the oilcan. It was not 
 there. Eollo had considered that the lady would 
 want light in the cave : Lady Carse had considered 
 that the widow might for one night make a good 
 fire serve her purposes ; and so the oilcan was 
 gone to the same place with the peats. 
 
 Annie sank down on her seat, almost subdued. 
 Not quite subdued, however, even by this threat 
 of the baffling of the great object of her life. Not 
 quite subdued, for her heart and her ear were yet 
 open to the voices of nature. The scream of a 
 sea-bird reached her, as the creature was swept by 
 on the blast. 
 
 " That is for me," she said to herself, the blood
 
 86 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 returning to her stricken heart and pale cheek. 
 " How God sends his creatures to teach us at the 
 moment when we need His voice ! I have seen 
 the cormorant sitting in his hole in wintry weather, 
 ■ — sitting tliere for days together, hungry and cold, 
 trying now and then to get out, and driven back 
 by sucli a blast as lie cannot meet, — by such a 
 blast as tliis. And then he sits on patiently, and 
 moves no more till the wind lulls and the sky 
 clears. And if his wing is weak at first, it soon 
 strengthens. The blast drives me back to-night ; 
 but I, who have thoughts to rest upon, may well 
 bear what a winged creature can. That screamer 
 was sent to me. I wonder what has become of it. 
 I hope it is not swept quite away." 
 
 But it would not do to sit thinking wliile the 
 fire was just out, and the lamp likely to burn only 
 an hour. Slie lighted the lamp with difficulty, — 
 with a beating heart and trembling hands, lest the 
 last available spark should go out first. But the 
 wick caught ; and the lamp was placed in the 
 window, sending, as it seemed to Annie, a gleam 
 through the night of her own mind, as well as 
 through that of the stormy air. It quickened her 
 invention and her liopes. 
 
 " There is an hour yet," thought she. " I am 
 sure it will burn an hour ; and something may be 
 sent by that time." 
 
 She took off lier cotton handkerchief, tore off 
 the hem, and ravelled out the cotton as quickly as 
 she could, and twisted it into a wick which she 
 thought she could fix by a skewer across a tin cup 
 from wliich Rollo drank his whisky when at home. 
 She brought down from the chimney and looked 
 over rapidly all the oily parts of the fish, and every
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 87 
 
 fatty portion of the dried meat hung up in the 
 smoke for winter use ; and these she made a despe- 
 rate endeavour to melt in the flame of her lamp. 
 She wrung out a few drops,— barely enough to 
 soak her wick. This would not burn hve minutes. 
 She persevered to the last moment,— saying to 
 
 herself, . t 
 
 " Not once for these seventeen years since 1 sau 
 my husband drown, has there been a dark night 
 between this window and the sea. Not once has 
 my spark been put out: and I will not think it 
 now. God can kindle fire where he pleases. _ I 
 have heard tell that people in foreign countries 
 have seen a lightning-shaft dart down into a forest, 
 and make a tree blaze up like a torch. God has 
 
 his own ways." , -i ,i <. 
 
 All the while her hands wrought so busily that 
 she scarcely felt their aching in the cold of the 
 „i„.ht —But now her new wick was wanted, tor 
 the old was going out.-It blazed up, but she saw 
 it must soon be gone. She broke up her old stool, 
 all shattered as it was already. Some splinters she 
 stuck one after another into the lamp ; and then 
 she burned the larger pieces in the hearth saying 
 to herself incessantly, as if for support, God has 
 
 his own ways." 
 
 But the rising and foiling flame became more 
 and more uncertain ; and at last, very suddenly, 
 it went quite out. There was not, m another 
 minute, a spark left. 
 
 For a wliile there was silence in the cottage, 
 now dark for the first time since Annie was a 
 widow. She crept to her cold bed; and there, 
 under cover of the strange darkness, she she(i a 
 few tears. But soon she said to herself, " God
 
 88 THE M^\ITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 has his own ways of kindling our spirits as well as 
 the flame of a lamp. Perhaps by humbling me, or 
 by changing my duty when I became too fond of 
 it, he may warm my heart to new trust in him. 
 His will be done ! But he will let me pray that 
 there may be none in the harbour this night who 
 may drown, or be buffeted in the storm because 
 He is pleased to darken my light." 
 
 Before she had quite calmed her heart with this 
 prayer, there was noise at a little distance, and red 
 gleams on the fitful mists which drove past the 
 w indow : and then followed a loud knocking at 
 her door. 
 
 It was Macdonald with his people, come to see 
 whether the lady was safe. He looked perplexed 
 and uneasy when Annie told him that she could 
 not think that the lady could be otherwise than 
 safe, now she knew the places about the island so 
 well, and was so fearless. It often happened that 
 she was absent for a night and day ; and no doubt 
 the storm had this night detained her and her 
 companions in some sheltered place, — some place 
 where, slie liad reason to believe, they had fire and 
 light. — As for herself, wlien Annie saw the torch 
 that Macdonald carried, her eyes glistened in the 
 blaze, and she said once more in the depth of her 
 mind, 
 
 " Surely God has his own ways." 
 
 Macdonald was very wrathful when he learned 
 by questioning Annie how it was that her house 
 was dark. As he hastily kindled the peats he 
 brought in from the stack, lie muttered that it 
 seemed (o have pleased God to afflict the island 
 again with a witch, after all the pains that were 
 taken twenty years before, as he well remembered,
 
 THE WAltING OF THE WISE. 89 
 
 to'clear the place of one. This woman must be a 
 witch .... 
 
 " Nay," said Annie. " I take her to be sent to 
 us for ^ood. Let us wait and learn." 
 
 "Good? What good?" 
 
 " It is through her, you see, that I find how 
 kind a neiglibour you are, at need," replied Annie ; 
 not adding aloud what she was thinking of, — how 
 this night had proved that God brings help at the 
 least likely moments. 
 
 " She is a witch," Macdonald persisted. " No 
 power short of tliat could have quenched your 
 lamp, and drawn away your only son from honour- 
 ing his parent to be a slave to a stranger." 
 
 As Annie could not at the moment speak, Mac- 
 donald went on raising a flame meantime by flap- 
 ping the end of his plaid : 
 
 " It is the chapel, I know. Things have never 
 gone well for any length of time here since the 
 chapel fell completely down, and the bleat of the 
 kid came out fiom where the psalm ought to sound. 
 We must apply ourselves to build up the chapel ; 
 and, as there is a minister coming, we may hope 
 to be released from witclies and every kind of 
 
 curse," 
 
 " There will be little room for any kind of 
 curse," thought Annie, " when the minister lias 
 taught us to ' be kindly afl'ectioned one to another,' 
 and not to make our little island more stormy with 
 passions than it ever is with tempests of wind and 
 hail." 
 
 " There, now ! there is a good fire for you," 
 said Macdonald, rising from his knees : " and I 
 won't ask you, Annie, what was in your mind as 
 the blaze made your eyes shine. I won't ask you, 
 
 E 3
 
 90 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 because you might tell me that I am in'need'of 
 the minister, to make me merciful to a banished 
 lady. — Ah ! your smile shows that that is what yon 
 were thinking of. But I can tell you this ; — she 
 is a wicked woman. Her father committed mur- 
 der ; and she is qnile able and willing to do the 
 same thing. So I must go and find her, and take 
 care that her foot is set in no boat but mine." 
 
 " Yours ? " 
 
 " Yes. I must carry her out of the way of all 
 boats but mine. This island was chosen for such 
 a purpose, and now. ..." 
 
 '' And now," said Annie, " if the lady is af- 
 flicted with such hardness of heart, is it not cruel 
 to take her away from God's word and Avorsliip, 
 just wlien there is a minister coming? O! Mac- 
 donald, what would you do to one who should 
 carry away your poor sick little Malcolm to St. 
 Kilda, just when your watching eye caught sight 
 of an eastward sail, and you knew it was the phy- 
 sician coming; — sent, moreover, for Malcolm's 
 sake? "What would you think then, Macdonald ? " 
 
 " I should think that if Sir Alexander was in it, 
 there could be nothing done, and there ought to 
 be nothing said. And Sir Alexander is in this. 
 So I must go." 
 
 While Macdonald and his people were beating 
 about among the caves, as morning drew on, Lady 
 Carse and Hollo slipped up to the house, partly to 
 secure a few more comforts that they had a mind 
 for, and partly to obtain a wide view over the sea, 
 and a certainty whether any boats were in sight. 
 
 " Have you brought up my oilcan, Eollo ? " 
 asked his mother. " If not, you must go for it, 
 and never a^ain touch it without mv leave."
 
 THE WAITIXG OF THE WISE. 91 
 
 " I took it," said Lady Carse ; " and I cannot 
 spare it." 
 
 " It cannot be spared from this room, my Lad\-. 
 It never left this room before but by my order ; 
 and it never must again." 
 
 " It shall never leave the place where it now 
 is," declared Lady Carse, reddening. " I threw 
 myself on yonr hospitality, and you grudge me 
 light in the night, — you who are housed in a cot- 
 tage of your own, with a fire and everything com- 
 fortable about you : — that is, every comfort tliat a 
 poor woman like you knows how to value. You 
 think yourself very religious, I am aware ; and I 
 rather believe you think yourself charitable too ; 
 and you grudge me your oilcan when there is no 
 one thing on earth you can do for me but lend it." 
 
 ''' Your way of thinking is natural, mj' Lady, 
 till you better know me and my duty. But to-day 
 I must say that the oilcan is mine, and I cannot 
 lend it. You will please desire Rollo to bring it 
 to me." 
 
 " I know well enough about you and your duty, 
 as you call it. I know yonr particularity about a 
 fancy of your own. I know well enough how ob- 
 stinate you are about it, — and how selfish, — tliat 
 j'ou would sacrifice me to your \\lnm about your 
 duty, and your husband, and all that set of notions. 
 And I know more : — I know what it is to have a 
 husband, and that you ought to be thankful that 
 yours was gone before he could play the tyrant 
 over you. You pretend to speak with authority 
 because this cottage is yours, and your precious 
 oilcan, and your rotten old bedstead. But besides 
 that I can teach you many things, you may be 
 assured I can pay you for more oil than I shall
 
 92 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 
 
 burn to the end of my days, and for more sleeps 
 than I hope ever to have on your old bed. You 
 need not fear but that I shall pay for everything ; 
 — pay more money than you ever saw in your 
 life." 
 
 " Money will not do, Madam. I must have my 
 oilcan. — Rollo will fetch it. — And you v/ill lie 
 down, my Lady ; — lie down and rest on my old 
 bed, without thinking of money or of anything but 
 ease to your head and your weary heart. Lie 
 down in safety heroy Madam ; for your head and 
 your heart are aching sadly." 
 
 " Wliat do you know about my head and heart 
 aching? " 
 
 " By more signs than one. When any one is 
 hunted like the deer upon the hills. ..." 
 
 Lady Carse groaned. 
 
 " That is only for a while, however," said Annie 
 tenderly. " When there is peace of mind, there 
 is no one to hunt us, — no one to hurt us. We 
 abide, — here or anywhere ; — for the shadow of the 
 Almighty is everywhere. No one can hunt us 
 from it, nor hurt us within it. And I assure you, 
 my Lady, this is the place of all places for peace 
 of mind." 
 
 " I hurt you just now, however," said the lady ; 
 " and I left you little peace of mind last night." 
 
 " If so, it must be my own fault," said Annie, 
 cheerfully. " But never mind that ! I never have 
 any troubles now hardly ; and you, Madam, have 
 so many, and such sad ones ! " 
 
 " That is true," said Lady Carse, as burning 
 tears forced their way. " You never knew — you 
 cannot conceive — such misery as mine." 
 
 Annie kissed the hand which was wet with those
 
 THE WAITING OF THE WISE. 93 
 
 scalding tears, and laid her own hand on the head 
 whicli was shaken on the pillow with sobs. 
 
 After a time, the lady murmured out, 
 
 " This seems very childish : but it is so long, — 
 so long since any one,... since I met with any 
 tenderness, — any affection from any one ! " 
 
 " Is tiiat it ? " said tlie widow, cheerfully. 
 " Well, — this is a poor place enough ; and we are 
 no companions for anybody beyond ourselves : but 
 what you speak of is ours to give. That you may 
 always depend on liere." 
 
 " In spite of anything I may say or do ? You 
 see how hasty I am at times. AVill you love me 
 and caress me, through anything I may say or 
 do?" 
 
 " No doubt," replied Annie, smiling. " It will 
 be the happiest way if you constrain us to love 
 and cherish you as your due. But if not, these 
 are charities tliat God has put into every hand that 
 is reached out to him, that the very humblest and 
 poorest may have tlie best of alms to give." 
 
 "Alms!" sighed the lady. She shook off the 
 kind hand that was upon her aching brow, for the 
 tliought struck upon her heart that she was a desti- 
 tute begarar for those smallest offices of kindness 
 and courtesy which she had not affections or tem- 
 per to reciprocate or claim.
 
 ( 9i ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX, 
 
 THE COVE. 
 
 TiOLT.o brought word that Macdonald and his 
 peo])le had left the eastern caves, and were now 
 exploring the large northern one called Asdrafil. 
 It was time the lady was returning to her hiding- 
 place. 
 
 " O dear ! " exclaimed she. " IViaj' I not rest 
 \inder a roof for one night? "Will Macdonald 
 come here again so soon ? " 
 
 The widow had little doubt he would. He 
 would be popping in at all times of the day or 
 night till he could learn where his prisoner was. 
 Slie could not advise the lady to stay here, if she 
 wished to remain on the island till the minister 
 came. 
 
 " I must," said Lady Carse. " But I dread that 
 cave. I hate it, with its echoes that startle one 
 everj^ moment, and the rough walls that look so 
 strangely in the red light of the fire. I hate it. 
 But," she continued impetuously, " no matter ! I 
 hate this place " (looking round with disgust). 
 " I hate every place that I ever was in. I wish I 
 was dead. I wish I had never been born. Now 
 don't look at me so piteously. I won't be pitied. 
 I can't bear to be pitied : and do you think I will 
 let you pity me? No, indeed, I may have my own 
 troubles. God knows I have troubles enough. 
 But I would not change places with you — no, no.
 
 THE COVE. 95 
 
 for all else that God or man could give me. Now 
 what are you smiling' at? Woman, do you mean 
 to insult my misfortunes? lam brought low in- 
 deed, if I am to be smiled at by a hag in a desert, 
 
 — I who once O ! I see ; you don't choose to 
 
 yield rae the small respect of listening to what I 
 say." 
 
 Annie was now looking round her cottage to see 
 what she could send down to render the lady more 
 comfortable in her retreat. She tried to absorb 
 her own attention in this business till Lady Carse 
 should have exhausted her anger and become silent. 
 But Lady Carse once again seized the oilcan. 
 
 " Pardon me, Madam," said Annie, " I cannot 
 spare that, as you liuow. Hollo is carryijig some 
 things that I hope may make you comfortable. If 
 you see anytliing else that you wish for, you shall 
 have it — anything but my lamp and my oil." 
 
 " The oil is the only thing I want ; and a small 
 matter it is for me, who had dozens of wax-lights 
 burning in my house at Edinburgh, and will have 
 dozens more before 1 die." 
 
 " Your fire must serve you, Madam. I give 
 you what 1 have to bestow. My liglit is not mine 
 to give : it belongs to wanderers on the sea. You 
 cannot think, Madam, of taking what belongs, as 
 1 may say, neitlier to you nor me." 
 
 Lady Carse had that in her countenance at this 
 moment which alarmed the widow for her light ; 
 and she therefore desired her son, witli authority, 
 to relieve tlie lady of the oilcan, and trim the 
 lamp ready for night. 
 
 Lady Carse, setting her teeth, and looking as 
 malicious as an ill-bred cur, said, that if the light 
 belonged to nobody here, nobody else should have
 
 96 THK COVE. 
 
 the benefit of it ; and attempted to empty the oil 
 upon the hearth. This was more than Rollo was 
 disposed to permit. He seized her arm with no 
 gentle grasp, and saved all the oil but a few drops 
 which blazed among the peats. He moreover told 
 the lady, with an air of superiority, that he had 
 almost begun to think she had as much wit as the 
 islanders ; but that he now saw his mistake ; and 
 she must manage her own affairs. He should stay 
 with his mother to-night. 
 
 It was his mother wlio, rebuking his incivility, 
 desired him to attend upon the lady. It was his 
 mother who, when Lady Carse burst away from 
 them, and said that she would be followed by 
 nobody, awoke in Rollo something of the feeling 
 which she herself entertained. 
 
 " Carry down these things," she said. " It is 
 too true, as she isays, that every place is hateful 
 to her ; and tliat is the more reason why we should 
 do wliat we can to make some comfort in the place 
 she is in." 
 
 " But she says such things to you, mother ! I 
 don't want to hear any more such things." 
 
 " Wlien people are in torment, Rollo, tliey do 
 not know what they say. And she has much to 
 torment her, poor lady ! Now go ; and let us try 
 to hide her from Macdonald. If she and the mi- 
 nister can have speech of each other, I trust she 
 may become more settled in mind. You know 
 God has made his creatures to differ one from an- 
 other. There are some that sit all the more still 
 in storms ; and there are others that are sadly be- 
 wildered in tempests : but, if one ray of God's 
 sun is sent to them, it is like a charm. They stop 
 and watch it ; and when it spreads about them, it
 
 THE COVE. 97 
 
 seems to change their nature : they lie down and 
 bask in it, and find content. It may be so with 
 this lady, if the minister gives her a glimpse of 
 light from above." 
 
 '' She shall not be carried off, if David and I 
 can hide her," declared Rollo. " One of us must 
 watch the Macdonalds, while the other entertains 
 the lady." 
 
 " While she entertains you, you mean," said 
 Annie, smiling. " She has many wonderful things 
 to tell to such as we are." 
 
 " Not more than we have to tell her. Why, 
 mother, she knows no more " 
 
 " Well, well," said his mother, smiling; "you 
 cannot do wrong in amusing her to the best of your 
 ability, till she can see the minister, and hear bet- 
 ter things. So go, my son." 
 
 Eollo trimmed the lamp ; saw that his mother 
 was provided with fuel and water, and departed ; 
 leaving her maternal heart cheered, so that her 
 almost bare cottage was like a palace to her. She 
 was singing when Macdonald put his head in, as 
 lie said, to bid her good night, but in fact to see 
 if Lady Carse had come home. 
 
 David and Rollo acted in turn as scouts; and 
 from their report it appeared that, though the mi- 
 nister's boat had not shown itself, there was a 
 blockade of the eastern caves. The lady's retreat 
 was certainly suspected to be somewhere in this 
 part of the shore ; for some of Macdonald's people 
 were always in sight. Now and then, a man, or a 
 couple of women, came prying along the rocks ; 
 and once two men took shelter in a cave which 
 adjoined that in which the trembling lady was sit- 
 ting, afraid to move, and almost to breathe, lest
 
 98 THE COVE. 
 
 the echoes should betray her. The entrance to her 
 retreat was so curiously concealed by projections 
 of the rock, that she had notiiing to fear but from 
 sound. But she could not be sure of this ; and she 
 would have extinguished her fire by heaping sand 
 upon it, and have left herself in total darkness in 
 a labyrinth wluch was always sufficiently perplex- 
 ing, if Rollo had not held her hand. He stepped 
 cautiously through the sand to the nearest point 
 to the foe, listened awhile, and then smiled and 
 nodded to Lady Carse, and seemed wonderfully de- 
 lighted. Tliis excited her impatience so rnucli 
 that it seemed to her that the enemy would never 
 decamp. She was obliged to control herself; but 
 by tiie time she might speak she was very irrita- 
 ble. She told Rollo not to <2:rin and fidy^et in tiiat 
 manner, but to let her know his news. 
 
 " Great news ! " Rollo declared. The sloop 
 which was to brino- the minister and his wife was 
 to lie-to this very night, in a deep cove close at 
 hand ; and the reason for its coming here, instead 
 of into the harbour, was — tiie best of reasons for 
 the lady — that Macdonald had fears that the 
 Macleods who manned the vessel would be friendly 
 to his prisoner. So the minister and his party 
 were to be landed in the sloop's yawl ; and the 
 sloop was to be quietly brought into tlie cove after 
 dark, that the ladj^, supposed to be still on the 
 island, might not have any opportunity of getting 
 on board. 
 
 Tins did appear a most promising opportimity 
 of deliverance. Tlie sloop came round when ex- 
 jDected ; and, soon after she was moored, Rollo and 
 David went on their raff, and spoke from it to a 
 man who appeared to be in command, and who
 
 THE COVE. - 99 
 
 was, after some time, persuaded to tliink that he 
 could, for sufficient payment, go so far out of his 
 way as to laud a lady passenger on tlie main — the 
 lady being in anxiety about her family, and able to 
 pay handsomely for an early opportunity of join- 
 ing them. The negotiation was rather a long one, 
 as some of the points were difficult to arrange ; 
 and the master of the vessel appeared somewhat 
 careless about the whole matter. But at last Lady 
 Carse's anxious ear heard tlie slight splash of the 
 raft approaching through the water ; and then tlie 
 tall figures of the young men were dimly seen be- 
 tween her and the sky. Her tongue was so parched 
 that she could not speak the question which swelled 
 in lier heart. 
 
 " Come," said Rollo, aloud. " The master will 
 land you on the main. You had better get on 
 board now, before the sea roughens. Come, they 
 are looking out for you." 
 
 Lady Carse endeavoured to make haste ; but her 
 limbs would hardly support her. Her companions 
 lifted her upon the raft, and one held her steady 
 while the other paddled. Strong arms were ready 
 on board the sloop to hoist her up and carry her 
 to a heap of plaids, made into a sort of bed on 
 deck. In another moment she sprang up, saying 
 that she must speak to her companions one more 
 word. A sailor who stood over her held her back ; 
 but she declared tliat she must thank those wlio 
 had rendered her a great service. At the bidding 
 of some one who spoke in Gaelic, the sailor with- 
 drew his opposition, and she tottered to the side of 
 the vessel, called to Rollo, desired him to give her 
 love to his mother, and promised tliat he and 
 David should find that she was not ungrateful.
 
 100 THE COVE. 
 
 a 
 
 Eollo and his comrade leaped ashore with a 
 comfortable feeling that their business was all 
 achieved ; but yet with some little regret at losing 
 the excitements of their late employment, and of 
 the lady's presence and conversation. They talked 
 her over while eating their suppers, wondered what 
 rewards she would send, and how angry Macdonald 
 would be ; and they were about to lie down to 
 sleep, when the night air was rent by such a scream 
 as they had never heard. They ran out upon the 
 rocks, and there they heard from the sloop shriek 
 upon shriek. 
 
 " What is it ? " exclaimed David. " They are 
 murdering her ! " 
 
 " No,'' said Rollo, after a pause. " They may 
 be up to that, if this is a trick ; but they would 
 not do it here, nor so soon. They could do it more 
 safely between this and St. Kilda, with a rope and 
 heavy stone. No — they are not murdering her, 
 whoever they may be." 
 
 " What then ? Who are they ? " 
 
 " It may be a trick ; and that would put the 
 lady in a great passion — and when she is in a pas- 
 sion, let me tell you, not all the birds in the face 
 of this rock can make more noise. I am not sure, 
 but I think that is a passionate scream." 
 
 " I wish it would leave off," said David, turn- 
 ing away. " I don't like it." 
 
 " If you don't like it," said Eollo, '•' I should 
 hardly think she can. I must see about it. I think 
 it is a trick, and that she is in a passion." 
 
 It was a trick from beginning to end. It was 
 Macdonald's sloop ; and Macdonald himself was 
 on board, pi-epared to carry his prisoner to St. 
 Kilda. The conversation overheard by Rollo in
 
 THE COVE. ' 101 
 
 the cavern was a trick. A similar conversation 
 had been held that day in every cave known to 
 Macdonald along that part of the shore, in hopes 
 of some one version being overheard by the lady's 
 accomplices. She had fallen into the trap very 
 easily. 
 
 " And now," said Macdonald to a clansman, " I 
 have nearly done with the business. We have 
 only to land her in St. Kilda ; and then it will be 
 the Macleod's affair. I shall be glad to have done 
 with the M itch. I have no wish to carry people 
 anywhere against their wishes ; and I never 
 would, if Sir Alexander Macdonald were not in 
 it. But I shall have done with the business pre- 
 sently."
 
 ( 10-' ) 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHICH REFUGE i 
 
 Macdonald's self-congratulations were prema- 
 ture. He had more uneasiness to imdergo about 
 the lady than he had suffered yet. When her 
 screams of rage had sunk into sobs and moans, and 
 these again had been succeeded by silence, he had 
 left her undisturbed to cry herself to sleep. At 
 daylight he had gone to take a look, but she had, 
 as he supposed, mutiied herself up in the plaids 
 provided for her, so as to cover her head, and thus 
 conceal her face. But it soon after appeared that 
 these plaids had nothing vuider them — the lady 
 M'as not there. 
 
 No one had seen her move ; and it must have 
 been done in the thickest darkness of the niglit. 
 One man had heard a splash in the water alongside. 
 A cotton handkerchief, which she had worn on her 
 head, was foiuid floating. It was to be feared that 
 the lady had drowned herself. After searching 
 about in the neighbourhood all day, Macdonald de- 
 parted in his vessel, leaving a man to watch, in 
 case of the body being thrown up among the rocks. 
 He had now no doubt of her death ; and witli d. 
 heavy heart he went to confide this event — unfor- 
 tunate for him, whether so or not for any one else 
 — first to friends on the island, and next to his 
 chief. He met the minister on his landing, and 
 took the opportunity of whispering his news to
 
 WHICH REFUGE? 103 
 
 some of those who came down to greet the pastor, 
 to his own wife, and to Ainiie Fleming, desiring 
 them not to inform the pastor, without liis per- 
 mission, that such a person as Lady Carse had been 
 among them. Then he set sail for Skye, to tell 
 Sir Alexander, with what face he might, that the 
 poor lady would trouble them no more. It would 
 have been a vast relief to him to have anticipated 
 the way in which his chief would receive the news 
 — how he would say that a great perplexity was 
 thus solved — that no harm could ensue, as the lady 
 was buried so long ago at Edinburgh — and that he 
 had himself many times repented having gone into 
 the atlair, and that he never would, but for poli- 
 tical and party reasons, and that he was heartily 
 glad now to be quit of it, in any way — to say no- 
 thing of this being, after all, a happy event for 
 the wretched lady herself and all belonging to her. 
 
 Meantime, Lady Carse was not yet out of their 
 way. She had still voice to utter political secrets, 
 and temper all eager to punish her foes. She had 
 slipped away in the dark, thrown herself overboard 
 when she found Rollo below, got drenched with 
 sea-water and bruised against the rocks, but was 
 safe in hiding again. 
 
 Hollo's trouble was, that she laughed so heartily 
 and so incessantly for some time, that tiiere was 
 danger of her merriment betraying her. He told 
 her at last that he must try if she would leave off' 
 laughing when left to herself. If she could not, 
 slie Avould then, at any rate, cause no one but her- 
 self to be taken. He should go by a way of his 
 own to a point whence he could look out and see 
 what was doing at sea and ashore. 
 
 When he reappeared, it was with a face which
 
 104 WHICH REFUGE? 
 
 would have stopped any laughter on the side of the 
 lady, if the laughter had not stopped of itself long 
 before. She must not hope to escape by the mi- 
 nister's boat. Macdonald had so managed his plot 
 as to allure the lady into his boat just when she 
 should have been attempting to get on board the 
 other. It was too late now. 
 
 The lady Avould not be finally convinced of this 
 till, by Hollo's assistance, she had reached the spot 
 whence she could observe the facts for herself. 
 The knowledge that there was a watch set below, 
 who would not fail to take her alive, though his 
 affair was to pick up her dead body, kept her from 
 yielding to audible grief; but never had she been 
 more convulsed with passion. She pulled up the 
 heather by handfuls. She dashed her head against 
 the ground, till Eollo restrained her. 
 
 On the dun wintry sea a vessel wassailing north- 
 wards. It liad deposited the pastor and his lady, 
 and had actually passed and repassed the very shore 
 where she had been concealed. The long looked- 
 for vessel had come and gone. Another was sailing 
 eastwards, in the direction she longed to go. This 
 was Macdonald's ; and, seeing that it was going to 
 Skye or the main, she now bitterly lamented having 
 left it. She would not believe a word about the 
 intention to carrj- her to St. Kilda. She would 
 rather believe her own eyes, and passionately con- 
 demned herself for her haste in returning to this 
 dreary island. 
 
 Rollo next turned her attention to the little pro- 
 cession which appeared upon the hills, bringino- 
 the pastor and his wife to their new abode. °She 
 looked that way ; she saw the group ascending the 
 hill— a sight so unusual in this place, that Rollo
 
 WHICH REFUGE ? 105 
 
 was much excited about it ; but her eyes kept filling 
 ■with tears, and she was so heart-sick that she could 
 not bear any thoughts but of her own troubles. 
 She desired Rolio to leave her. She wanted to be 
 alone ; nobody had aiiy feeling for her ; people 
 might go and amuse themselves; all she wanted 
 was to live and die alone. 
 
 Rollo knew that she could not do that ; but he 
 wished to go where others were going — said to 
 himself that the lady would be the better for being 
 left to herself for a while, and left her accordino^ly. 
 He first asked her whether he should help her down 
 to her cave, but she made no answer ; so he walked 
 off, leaving her lying on the heather in a cold and 
 dreary place. 
 
 She did not feel the cold, and she was too dreary 
 witiiin to be sensible of the desolation without. 
 How deserted she felt as she saw Eollo walking 
 away, quickening his pace to a run when he reached 
 the down ! It might be said that she was without 
 a hope in heaven or on earth, but that passion 
 always hopes for its own gratification — always ex- 
 pects it, in defiance of all probability, and in oppo- 
 sition to all reason. This is one chief mode in 
 which the indulgence of any kind of passion is cor- 
 rupting. It injures the integrity of the faculties 
 and the truthfulness of the mind, inducing its vic- 
 tims to trust to chances instead of likelihood, and 
 to dwell upon extravagances till they become in- 
 capable of seeing things as they are. 
 
 So Lady Carse now presently forgot that she 
 was alone on a hill in a far island of the Hebrides, 
 with no means of getting away, and no chance of 
 letting any friend know that she was not buried 
 long ago — and her imagination was busy in London.
 
 106 WHICH REFUGE ? 
 
 She fancied Fierself there, and, if once there, how 
 she would accomplish her revenge ! She imagined 
 herself talking to the minister, and repeating to 
 him the things her husband had written and said 
 against himself and the royal family. She ima- 
 gined herself introduced to the king, and telling 
 into his anxious ear the tidings of the preparations 
 made for driving him from the throne and restoring 
 the exiled family. She imagined the list made out 
 of the traitors to be punished, at the top of which 
 she would put the names of her own foes — her hus- 
 band first, and Lord Lovat next. She imagined the 
 king's grateful command to her to accompany his 
 messengers to Scotland, that she might guide and 
 help them to seize the offenders. She clasped her 
 hands behind her head in a kind of rapture when 
 she pictured to herself the party stealing a march 
 upon her formal husband, presenting themselves 
 before him, and telling him what they came for — 
 marking, and showing him how they marked, his 
 deadly paleness, perhaps by making courteous in- 
 quiries about his health. She feasted her fancy on 
 scenes in the presence of her old acquaintance, 
 Duncan Forbes, when she would distress him by- 
 driving home her charges against the friends of his 
 youth, and by appeals to his loyalty which he 
 could not resist. She pictured to herself the trials 
 and the sentences — and then, the executions — her 
 slow driving through the streets in her coach, 
 in her full triumph — people pointing her out all 
 the way as the lady who was pretended to be dead 
 and buried, but who had come back, in favour with 
 the king, to avenge him and herself at once on 
 their common enemies. She wondered whether 
 Lord Lovat's cool assurance would give way at
 
 WHICH REFUGE? 107 
 
 svich a moment — she almost feared not — almost 
 shrank already from the idea of some Avounding 
 gibe — frowned and clenched her hands while fan- 
 cying what it would be, and then smiled at the 
 thought of how she would smile, and bow an 
 eternal farewell to the dying man, reaiinding liim 
 of her old promise to sit at a window and see his 
 head fall. 
 
 But the astonishment to all Edinburgh would be 
 when she should look on triumphantly to see her 
 husband die. He had played the widower in sight 
 of all Edinburgh, and now it would be seen how 
 great was the lie, and nobody could dispute that 
 the widowhood was hers. She hoped that he would 
 turn his prim figure and formal face her way, that 
 she might make him too an easy bow, showing how 
 she despised the hypocrite, and how completely he 
 had failed in breaking her spirit. She hoped she 
 should be in good looks at that time, not owning 
 the power of her enemies by looking worn and 
 haggard. She must consider her appearance a 
 little more than she had done lately, in view of this 
 future time. Her being somewhat weather-browned 
 would not matter ; it would be rather an advan- 
 tage, as testifying to her banishment ; but she must 
 be in comfortable plight, and for this purpose . . . 
 
 Here her meditations were cut short by the ap- 
 proach of some people. She heard a pony's feet 
 on the rock, and caught sight of a woman's head, 
 wrapped in a plaid, as the party mounted directed 
 towards her. It was too late for escape — and 
 there was no need. The woman on the pony was 
 Annie ; and nobody else w£is there but Rollo. 
 
 " The wonder is that you are not frozen," said 
 Rollo, " if you have been lying here all this time. 
 
 F 2
 
 108 WHICH KEFUGE ? 
 
 You look as red in the face, and as varm as if you 
 had been by the fire below, in the snug sand. And 
 that is where we must go now directly ; for Mother 
 cannot stand the cold up here. She would come, 
 as it happened she could have one of Macdonald's 
 ponies to-day. Well, I cannot but think how 
 you could keep yourself warm, unless you are a 
 witch, as Macdonakl says you are." 
 
 '■ It is the niotlier's heart in her, Rollo, that 
 keeps out the cold and the harm," said Annie. 
 '• It may be a wonder to you ; for how should you 
 know what it is to have liad a hope of seeing one's 
 children, to have dreamed of nothing else, waking 
 or sleeping, and then to find it nothing but a 
 dream. See her now, Kollo, as the cold comes 
 over her heart. The heart can live warm on its 
 own thoughts, when it is chilling to hear another 
 voice speak of them." 
 
 Lady Carse was now very pale. She had once 
 said, and then fully believed it, that she had no 
 shame. It Mas long since she had felt shame. 
 She felt it now, when it struck her fliat during all 
 her long reveries about her escape and her restora- 
 tion to the world, not one thought of her children 
 had entered into the imagery of her dream. Like 
 all people of strong passions, she had taken for 
 granted tliat there was something grand and fine 
 in the intensity of her feelings. Kow, for a mo- 
 ment, the clear mirror of Annie's mind was held 
 up before her own, and she saw herself as she was. 
 For one instant she perceived that she was worthy 
 of her husband's detestation. But she was not one 
 to tolerate painful and humbling ideas long. She 
 recurred to her unequalled wrongs, and was proud 
 and comforted. She walked down to her retrtat
 
 WHICH REFUGE ? 109 
 
 without looking behind her, leaving Rollo to tether 
 the pony, and help his mother down as he could. 
 
 AVhen Annie entered the cave, the drops Avere 
 standing on her face, so great had been the pain 
 to her rlieumatic limbs on descending to tlie shore. 
 
 " But," said she, as she sank down on the sand by 
 the smouldering fire, " I could not but come, when 
 I heard from Rollo that you were still breatlung 
 God's air." 
 
 " Do you mean that that was good news or bad ?" 
 
 *' O ! good ! Surely good news. At first, for a 
 moment after ]\[acdonald told me you were drowned 
 in the night, I felt thankful that your troubles were 
 over. But I soon saw it the rigiit way ; and when 
 Rollo whispered where you were . . .'' 
 
 " What do you mean by seeing it the right way ? 
 How do you know that your first feeling was not 
 the right one ? I am sure it was the kindest to 
 me. You think yourself religious, and so you 
 ought to be glad when an unhappy person is ' where 
 the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary 
 are at rest.' " 
 
 Annie did not reply. She was looking at ths 
 fire, and by its light it might be seen that tears 
 were gathering in her eyes. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the irritable lady, "you, and such 
 as you, who think you abide in the Scriptures so 
 that nothing can move you ; what becomes of you 
 when you are answered by Scripture ?" 
 
 " I do not feel myself answered," Annie quietly 
 replied. 
 
 " ! indeed ! " 
 
 " I feel what you said out of Scripture to be 
 quite true ; and that it is a great blessing that God 
 has set the quiet grave before our eyes for such as
 
 110 WHICH REFUGE? 
 
 can find no other rest. But I would not forget 
 that there is another and a better rest, without 
 waiting for the grave." 
 
 " You are so narrow, Annie ! You judge of 
 everybody by yourself! " 
 
 " That is a great danger, I know," Annie 
 agreed, " And I cannot speak from my own 
 knowledge of being troubled by the wicked. But 
 I have read and heard much of good men who 
 were buffeted by the wicked for the best part of 
 their lives, and at last got over being troubled by 
 it, and more than that." 
 
 " Ah ! gloried in it, no doubt. Every one is 
 proud of something ; and they were proud of that." 
 
 " Some such I fiear there may have often been, 
 Madam ; but I was not tliinking of those that 
 could fall into such a snare as being proud of the 
 ill-will of their brethren. I was thinking of some 
 who felt the ill opinion of their brethren to be very 
 humbling, and who humbled themselves to bear it. 
 Then in time they had comfort in forgiving their 
 enemies, and at last they grew fit for a sweeter 
 pleasure still which yet remained. Not that, as 
 I believe, they spoke of it, unless at moments 
 when the joy would speak for itself; but then it 
 has been known to burst forth from the lips of the 
 persecuted — from some as cruelly persecuted as 
 you. Madam, that of all the thrillings that God's 
 spirit makes in men's hearts, there is none so sweet 
 as the first stirrings of the love of enemies." 
 
 There was no answer, and Annie went on, 
 
 " I could believe that there is no love so alto- 
 gether good — at least for us here. It is as yearning 
 as that of a mother for her child, and as tender as that 
 of lovers ; and I should say, more holy than either,
 
 WHICH REFUGE 
 
 ? Ill 
 
 for tJieirs is natural to them in their mortal life, 
 though it may be the purest part of it ; the other 
 love is an instinct belonging to the immortal life, 
 a tongue of lire, sent down upon the head of a 
 chosen one here and there, gifting them with the 
 language of angels, to tell us on this side the grave 
 what we shall find beyond. One must see that to 
 such as these the wicked have ceased from troubling, 
 and their weariness has long sunk into rest without 
 help from death." 
 Lady Carse sighed. 
 
 " This was why I was glad. Madam, to hear that 
 death had not overtaken you yet. If you may 
 enter into a living rest which we may see, that will, 
 under God's blessing, be better than the blank rest 
 of going away from your enemies, when their old 
 wrongs may be still in your heart, making death a 
 stinging serpent instead of a guiding dove." 
 
 Some sweet old words here occurred to Lady 
 Carse, linked with a sweet old psalm tune— words 
 of longing to have wings like a dove, to flee away 
 and be at rest. She murmured these words ; and 
 they brought softening tears. 
 
 " You see. Madam," said Annie, " your nest is 
 made for you. You have been permitted to flee 
 away from your enemies ; now you are not to have 
 wings, for the sails of the vessels are out of sight, 
 and this makes it plain that here is to be your nest. 
 It is but a stormy place to abide in, to be sure ; but 
 if Christ be sought, he is here to command peace, 
 and the winds and the sea obey him." 
 
 " I cannot stay here," sobbed Lady Carse. " I 
 cannot give up my hopes and my efforts— the only 
 aim of my life." 
 
 " It is hard," said the widow, with starting tears.
 
 112 WHICH REFUGE? 
 
 " Tlie last thing that a mother can give up, — the 
 very last thing she can lay freely into God's hand 
 is her yearning for her children. But you will. . ." 
 
 " It is not my children that I most want. You 
 say falsely that they are the last to be given up. 
 There is . . ." 
 
 " ' Falsely ! ' " cried Rollo, springing to his feet. 
 *' ]\Iy mother speak falsely ! If you dare . . ." 
 
 " Gently, my boy," said Annie. " We have not 
 heard what the lady means." 
 
 " Be quiet, Rollo," said Lady Carse. " Your 
 mother speaks falsely as regards me ; but I do not 
 say that it is not after her own kind that she speaks. 
 If God gives me to see my children, I will thank 
 him devoutly ; but there is another thing that I 
 want more — revenge on all my enemies, and on my 
 husband first." 
 
 Rollo looked breathlessly at his mother. Her 
 face was calm ; but he could see in the dim red 
 light its expression of infinite sorrow. She asked 
 her son to help her to rise and go. 
 
 " I came," said she to Lady Carse, " to intreat 
 you to come among us, and rest in a spirit of sur- 
 render to God, on his clear showing that he chooses 
 this to be your abiding place ; and one reason for 
 my coming was to tell you that the minister has 
 Jirought his children, lest the sight of a child's 
 face should move you too suddenly. But I see 
 that your thoughts are on other things ; and that 
 your spirit of surrender has yet to be prayed for. 
 !Next Sabbatli, we are to have worship once more, 
 and . . ." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " In the old chapel, if it can be enclosed by that 
 time. If not, we must wait another week : but I
 
 WHICH REFUGE? 113 
 
 think it will be done. It needs but a word, Madam, 
 and the minister will ask all our prayers for one un- 
 der affliction. ..." 
 
 " By no means. I forbid you to speak of me, in 
 one way or another, to the minister or his wife. I 
 insist on my Avishes being observed in this." 
 
 " Certainly, Madam. It is not for us to interfere 
 with your plans." 
 
 '■' Then go ; go, both of you : and do not come 
 near me without my leave. I want to be alone — 
 I want to be at rest ; that is .... " 
 
 " Ay — at rest," said Annie, half aloud. She 
 was thinking that there would be prayers from one 
 heart at least in the chapel for peace to a troubled 
 spirit. 
 
 And she did not wait till the Sabbath to pray. 
 As, assisted by her son, she painfully ascended to 
 the heights, she saw the birds fly in and out, and 
 hover round on the face of the precipice, as at a 
 bidding she did not hear, she could not but silently 
 ask that God would send his dove to harbour in 
 the hollow of this rock with one who sorely neetled 
 a visitation of his peace. 
 
 F 3
 
 V 114 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 After the busiest week known in the island by 
 anybody living there, the Sabbath-day came in, 
 calm and mild. The winters, however stormy, 
 were never very severely cold in this sea-beateu 
 spot. It was seldom that ice was seen ; and it 
 never was more than half an inch thick. When, 
 as on this Sunday, the wind was lulled and the sky 
 was clear, the climate was as mild as in spring on 
 the mainland. As soon as the aspect of the sunrise 
 showed the experienced that the day would be fair, 
 busy hands moved into the old roofless chapel the 
 pulpit and benches which the pastor had brought 
 with him — the pulpit being a mere desk of un- 
 painted wood, and the benches of the roughest sort. 
 For these the interior space of the old building had 
 been cleared during the week ; the floor was trodden 
 hard and even ; the walls were so far repaired as to 
 make a complete enclosure ; and some rough stones 
 were placed as steps whereby to enter the burying- 
 ground. Some willing hands had done more — had 
 cleared the burying-ground of stones, so that the 
 graves, though sunk, and unmarked by any memo- 
 rial but a rough and broken headstone here and 
 there, could be distinguished by an eye interested 
 in searching out the dead of a century ago. An- 
 other week, if sufficiently fair, was to see the walls 
 finished and the roof on : and afterwards would be
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 115 
 
 discharged the pious task of inclosing the burying- 
 ground, and preparing room for those whom death 
 ■\voukl lay to rest in their own island. While the 
 minister remained here, no more of the dead would 
 be carried over the sea to some place where there 
 was a pastor to commit them to the grave. Room 
 was to be secured for the graves of the fifty people 
 who were now living on the island, and for their 
 children after them : and to all the inhabitants the 
 island appeared a better place when this arrange- 
 ment was made. 
 
 In the weak sunlight of that Sunday morning 
 appeared gay groups of people, all excited with the 
 great thought that they were going to the kirk. 
 They were wonderfully well-clad. How such 
 clothes could come out of such dwellings would 
 have been a marvel to any stranger. Festival days 
 were so rare that a holiday dress lasted for many 
 years. The women's cloth coats fitted at any age ; 
 and the caps with gay ribbons and bright cotton 
 handkerchiefs did not wear out. On this remark- 
 able day all wore their best ; and a pretty sight it 
 was to see the whole fifty people drawing towards 
 the chapel, as the pastor, his wife, and two children 
 issued from their lowly abode to meet the flock for 
 the first time. 
 
 Presently, the island might have appeared de- 
 serted. Far round as the eye could reach, not a 
 human being was visible outside the chapel. But 
 something was heard which told that the place was 
 not only inhabited but Christianized. The slow 
 psalm rose into the still air. Every one who could 
 speak could sing a psalm. It was a practice lov- 
 ingly kept up in every house. Some voices were 
 tremulous, and a few failed ; but this was from
 
 116 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 emotion. The strongest was Annie's; for hers 
 ■was the most practised. It was her wont to sing 
 some of the many psalms she knew on summer clays^, 
 when she sat at work on the platform of lier house, 
 and on winter nights, when Rollo was away. Now 
 that she wa-s once more joining in social worsliip, 
 her soul was joyful ; and slie sang strong and cleai' 
 — perhaps the more so for the thought of the one 
 absent person, pining in the cavern on the shore, or 
 looking from afar, in desolation of heart, at the little 
 throng who came privileged to worship. Perhaps 
 Annie's voice might unconsciously rise as if to reach 
 the lonely one, and invite her to come to tlie house 
 of God, and seek rest. However this might be, 
 Annie's tones so animated some hearts and strength- 
 ened some voices as that the psalm might be, 'and 
 was, heard a long way off. It reached an unwilling 
 ear, and drew forward reluctant steps. The links 
 of old association are, however, the strongest of 
 chains ; and no charm is so magical as that of reli- 
 gious emotion. Lady Carse was drawn nearer and 
 nearer, in hope of hearing another psalm, till the 
 solemn tones of prayer reached her ; and presently 
 she was crouching under the wall outside, weeping 
 like a sinner Avho dares not knock at the gate of 
 heaven. 
 
 Before the service was quite finished, angry voices 
 were heard from without, almost overpowering that 
 of tlie pastor, as he gave the blessing. One of Mac- 
 donald's people, who had stepped out to collect the 
 ponies for some of the women and children, had 
 seen the lady, and, after one start back as from tlie 
 ghost of a drowned woman, had laid hold of her 
 gown, and said she must stay where she could be 
 spoken with by Macdonald on his return from
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 1 1 7 
 
 Skye, She struggled to escape, and did break 
 away — not down the hill, but into tlie chapel. 
 
 The consternation there Mas inexpressible. The 
 people, supposing her drowned, took her for a ghost, 
 though there was no ghostly calm about her ; but 
 her eyes were swollen, her hair disordered, her lips 
 quivering with violent emotion. There was a so- 
 lemnity about her, too ; for extreme anguish is 
 always solemn, in proportion as it approaches to 
 despair. She rushed to the front of the pulpit^ 
 and held out her hands, exclaiming aloud to Mr, 
 Ituthven that she was the most persecuted and 
 tormented of human beings; that she appealed to 
 him against her persecutors ; and if he did not see 
 her righted, she warned him that he would be 
 damned deeper than hell. Mrs. Ruthven shud- 
 dered, and left her seat to place herself by her 
 husband. And now she encountered the poor 
 lady's gaze, and, moreover, had her own grasped 
 as it had never been before. 
 
 '' Are these children yours ?" she was asked. 
 
 " Yes," faultered Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 " Then you must help me to recover mine. Had 
 you ever " — and here she turned to tlie pastor— 
 " had you ever an enemy ?" Her voice turned 
 hoarse as she uttered the word. 
 
 " No — yes — O yes !" said he ! " I have had ene- 
 mies, as every man has." 
 
 " Then, as you wish them abased and tormented, 
 you must help me to abase and torment mine — my 
 husband, and Lord Lovat. ..." 
 
 " Lord Lovat !" repeated many wondering voices. 
 
 " And Sir Alexander Macdonald ; and his tenant 
 of this place ; and . . . . " 
 
 As Mr. Ruthven looked round him, perplexed
 
 118 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 and amazed, one of Macdonald's people went up to 
 him, and whispered into liis ear tiiat this lady had 
 come from some place above or below, for she was 
 drowned last week. Mr. Ruthven half-smiled. 
 
 '• I will know," cried the lady, " what that fel- 
 low said. I will hear what my enemies tell you 
 against me. My only hope is in you. I am stolen 
 from Edinburgh ; they pretended to bury me there 
 ... . Eh ? w hat ?" she cried, as another man whis- 
 pered something into the pastor's other ear. "Mad ! 
 There ! I heard it. I heard him say I was mad. 
 Did he not tell you I was mad ?" 
 
 " He did ; and one cannot, .really I cannot. . ." 
 
 As he looked round again in his perplexity, the 
 widow rose from her seat, and said — 
 
 " I know this lady ; my son and I know her 
 better than any one else in the island does ; and 
 we should say she is not mad." 
 
 " Not mad !" Mr. Ruthven said, with a mingling 
 of surprise in his tone which did not escape the jea- 
 lous ear of Lady Carse. 
 
 " Not mad. Sir ; but grievously oppressed. If 
 you could quietly hear the story, Sir, at a fitting 
 time. ..." 
 
 " Ay, ay ; that will be best," declared Mr. 
 Ruthven. 
 
 " Let me go home with you," said Lady Carse. 
 " I will go home with you ; and. ..." 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven exchanged a glance with her hus- 
 band, and then said, in an embarrassed way, while 
 giving a hand to each of the two children who were 
 clinging to her, that their house was very small, 
 extremely small indeed, with too little room for the 
 children, and none whatever left over. 
 
 " It is my house," exclaimed Lady Carse, impa-
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 119 
 
 tiently. " It was built with a view to you ; but it 
 was done under my orders, and I have a claim upon 
 it. And what ails the children?" she cried, in a 
 tone which made the younger cry aloud. " "What 
 are they afraid of?" 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure," said their mother, 
 helping them, however, to hide their faces in her 
 gown. "But " 
 
 Again Annie rose, and said " there could be no 
 difficulty about a place for the lady, if she would 
 be pleased to do as she did before — live in her cot- 
 tage. The two dwellings might almost be called 
 one ; and if the lady would go home m ith her 
 
 • • • • 
 
 Gratitude was showered on Annie from all the 
 parties. As the lady moved slowly towards the 
 widow's house, holding Annie's arm, and weeping 
 as she went, and followed by theRuthvens, the eyes 
 of all the Macdonalds gazed after her, in a sort of 
 doubt whether she were a witch, or a ghost, or really 
 and truly a woman. 
 
 As soon as ]\Iacdonald's sloop could be discerned 
 on its approach, the next day, Mr. Euthven went 
 down, and paced the shore while daylight lasted, 
 though assured that the vessel would not come up 
 till night. As soon as a signal could be made in 
 the morning for the yawl, he passed to the sloop, 
 where he had a conference with Macdonald ; the 
 consequence of which was, that as soon as he was 
 set ashore, the sloop again stood out to sea. 
 
 Mrs. Euthven and Lady Carse saw this, as they 
 stood hand in hand at the door of the new dwelling. 
 They kissed each other at the sight. They had 
 already kissed each other very often ; for they called 
 themselves dear and intimate friends who had now
 
 120 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 one great common object in life — to avenge Lady 
 Carse's wrongs. 
 
 " Well, what news ?" they both cried, as Mr. 
 Euthven came towards them, panting from the 
 haste with which he had ascended. 
 
 " The tenant is gone back," said he ; " he has 
 returned to Sir Alexander, to contradict his last 
 news — of your being drowned. By the M'ay, I 
 promised to contradict it, too — to the man who is 
 watching for the body every tide." 
 
 " O ! he must have lieard the facts from some of 
 •the people at the chapel." 
 
 "If he had, he would not believe them, Mac- 
 clonald says, on any other authority than Iijs. 
 Nor will he leave his post till he finds the body, 
 or...." 
 
 '• Or sees me," cried Lady Carse, laughing. 
 " Come, let us go and call to him, and tell him he 
 may leave off poking among the weeds. Come ; I 
 will show you the way." 
 
 And she ran on with the spirits and pace of a girl. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Ruthven looked at each other with 
 smiles ; and Mrs. Ruthven exclaimed, what a charm- 
 ing creature this was, and how shocking it was to 
 think of her cruel fate. Mr. Ruthven shook his 
 head, and declared that he regarded the conduct of 
 her persecutors with grave moral disapprobation. 
 Meantime Lady Carse looked back, beckoned to 
 them with her iiand, and stamped witli her foot, 
 because they were stopping to talk. 
 
 " AVhat a simple creature she is ! So childlike !" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 *' We must quicken our pace, my dear," replied 
 her husband. " It would not be right to detain the 
 lady when she wishes to proceed." "
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 121 
 
 But now Lady Carse was beckoning to somebody 
 else — to little Kate Ruthven, wlio, with her brother 
 Adarn, was peeping from the door of their new 
 home. 
 
 " Come, Katie," said her mother. " Don't you 
 see that Lady Carse calls you? Bring Adam, and 
 go with us." 
 
 Kate turned very red, but did not come. Lady 
 Carse came laughing^ back to fetch them ; but 
 they bolted into the liouse, and, when still pur- 
 sued, scrambled under a bed. When caught, they 
 screamed. 
 
 " "Well, to be sure," cried their mother, " What 
 behaviour wlien a lady asks you to go with her ! 
 I declare I am quite ashamed." 
 
 Papa now came up, and said — 
 
 " My dears, I do not approve such behaviour as 
 this." 
 
 Kate began to sob ; and Adam followed her ex- 
 ample. 
 
 " There now — do not cry," said papa. "I can- 
 not permit you to cry. You may go with Lady 
 Carse. Lady Carse is so kind as to wish you to go 
 with her. You will like to go with the lady. Why 
 do you not reply, my dears. You must reply when 
 spoken to. You will like to go with the lady. 
 Eh?" 
 
 " No," murmured Kate. 
 
 " No," whispered Adam. 
 
 " I am astonished," papa declared. " I never 
 saw them conduct themselves in this manner be- 
 fore. Did you, my dear?" 
 
 " No : but it is an accident, I dare say. Some- 
 thing has put them out." 
 
 " I must ascertain the cause, however," papa de-
 
 122 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 clared. " Such an incident must not pass uncor- 
 rected. Listen to me, my dears ; and answer me 
 when I ask you a question. Look at this lady." 
 
 Kate slowly lifted her eyes, and Adam then did 
 the same. They seemed on the verge of another 
 scream ; and this was not extraordinary ; for Lady 
 Carse was not laughing now, but very far from it. 
 There was something in her face that made the 
 children catch at mama's gown. 
 
 " Listen to me, my dears," papa went on ; " and 
 reply when I ask you a question. This good lady 
 is going to live with us. . . ." 
 
 A deeper plunge into the folds of mama's gown. 
 
 " And fiom this time forwards you must love 
 this lady. You love this lady now, my dears, don't 
 
 you ? » 
 
 After as long a pause as they dared make, the 
 children said " No." 
 
 " AVell ! I never heard " exclaimed mama. 
 
 ^' What can possess them ? " inquired papa. " My 
 dears, why do you not love the lady ? Eh ! 
 Kate?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Kate. 
 
 " You don't know ! — That is foolish, Adam. 
 Why do you not love this lady who is to live with 
 us ? Do not tell me that you don't know, for that 
 is foolish. Why do you not love the lady ? " 
 
 " Because I can't." 
 
 " Why, that is worse still. How perverse. ..." 
 he said, looking at the ladies — " how pervei'se is 
 the human heart ! My dear, you can, and you 
 must do what is right. You may love me and 
 your mama first ; and next you must love this lady. 
 Say you will try." » 
 
 " I '11 try," said Kate.
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 123 
 
 Adam whimpered a little longer ; but then he 
 also said " I '11 try." 
 
 " That is right. That is the least you can say 
 after your extraordinary behaviour. Now you 
 may go with the lady, as she is so kind as to wish 
 it." 
 
 Lady Carse moved off in silence ; and the chil- 
 dren, tightly grasping each other's hands, followed 
 as if going to a funeral. 
 
 "Jump, my dears," said papa, when they had 
 reached the down. "Jump about: you maybe 
 merry now." 
 
 Both looked as if they were immediately going 
 to cry. 
 
 " What now, Adam?" stooping down that the 
 child might speak confidentially to him, but say- 
 ing to Lady Carse as he did so, that it was neces- 
 sary sometimes to condescend to the weakness of 
 children. " Adam, tell me why you are not merry, 
 when I assure you you may." 
 
 " I can't," whispered Adam. 
 
 " You can't ! What a sudden fit of humility 
 this boy has got, that he can't do anything to-day. 
 Unless, however, it be true, well-grounded humi- 
 lity, I fear " 
 
 Mama now tried what she could do. She saw, 
 by Lady Carse's way of walking on by herself, that 
 she was displeased ; and, under the inspiration of 
 this grief, Mrs. Ruthven so strove to make her 
 children agreeable, by causing them to forget 
 everything disagreeable, that they were soon like 
 themselves again. Mama permitted them to look 
 for hens' eggs among the whins, because they had 
 heard that when she was a little girl she used to 
 look for them among bushes in a field. There was
 
 124 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 no occasion to tell them at such a critical moment 
 for tlieir spirits that it was mid-winter, or tliat 
 whins would be found rather priclvly by poultry, 
 or that there were no hens in the island but Mrs. 
 Macdonald's well-sheltered pets. They were told 
 that the first egg they found was to be presented to 
 Lady Carse ; and they themselves might divide the 
 next. 
 
 Their mother's hope, tliat if they did not find 
 hens' eggs, they might liglit upon something else, 
 was not disappointed. Perhaps she took care that 
 it should not. Adam found a barley-cake on the 
 sheltered side of a bush ; and it was' not long be- 
 fore Kate found one just as good. They were de- 
 sired to do with these what they would have done 
 Avith the eggs — present one to Lady Carse, and 
 divide the other. As they were very hungry, they 
 hastened to fulfil the condition of beginning' to eat. 
 Again grasping one another's hands, they walked 
 with desperate courage up to Lady Carse, and 
 held out a cake, M'ithout yet daring, however, to 
 look up. 
 
 " Well, what is that ? " she asked sharply. 
 
 " A barley-cake." 
 
 " Who bade you bring it to me ? " 
 
 " Mama." 
 
 " You would not have brought it if Mama had 
 not bid you ? " 
 
 " Ko." 
 
 " Allow me to suggest," observed papa, " that 
 they would not have ventured. It would be a 
 liberty unbecoming their years to " 
 
 " O nonsense ! " cried Lady Carse ; " I hate these 
 put up manners. Ko miss — no, young master — I 
 will not take your cake. I take gifts only from
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 125 
 
 those I love; and if you don't love me, I don't love 
 you — and so there is a Rowland for your Oliver." 
 
 The children did not know anything about Row- 
 lands and Olivers ; but they saw that the lady was 
 very angry — so angry that they took to their heels, 
 scampered away over the down, and never stopped 
 till they reached home, and had hidden themselves 
 under the bed. 
 
 They were not followed. Punishment for their 
 act of absconding was deferred till Lady Carse's 
 errand should be finished. When once down 
 among the rocks, Lady Carse was eager to show 
 her dear friends all the secrets of her late hiding. 
 As soon as Macdonald's watchman was convinced 
 by the lady that she was not drowned, and by the 
 minister that he might go home — as soon as he was 
 fairly out of sight, the wonders of the caves were 
 revealed to the pastor and his wife. The party 
 were so interested in the anecdotes belonging to 
 Lady Carse's season of retreat, that they did not 
 observe, sheltered as they were in eastern caves, 
 that a storm was coming up from the west — one of 
 the tempests which frequently rise from that quar- 
 ter in the winter season, and break over the 
 Western Islands. 
 
 The children were aware of it before their pa- 
 rents. When they found they were not followed, 
 they soon grew tired of whispering under the bed, 
 and came cautiously forth. 
 
 It was very dark — strangely dark — till a glare 
 of liglitning came which was worse than the dark- 
 ness. But the thunder was worse : it growled 
 fearfully, so as to make tliem hold their breath. 
 Tiie next clap made them cry. After that cry 
 came help.
 
 126 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 The widow heard the wail from next door, and 
 called to the children from her door ; and glad 
 enough were they to take refuge with a grown up 
 person who smiled and spoke cheerfully, in spite of 
 the thunder. 
 
 '* Are not you afraid of the thunder? " asked 
 Kate, nestling so close to the widow that she was 
 advised to take care lest the sharp bone knitting- 
 needles went into her eyes. " But are not you 
 afraid of the thunder?" 
 
 " O no ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because I am not afraid of anything." 
 
 " What, not of anything at all ? " 
 
 '• Not of anything at all : and there are many 
 things much more harmful than thunder." 
 
 " What things?" 
 
 '' The wind is perhaps the most terrible of all." 
 
 " How loud it is now ! " said Adam, shivering 
 as the rushing storm drowned his voice. When 
 the gust had passed, the widow said, 
 
 " It was not the wind that made all that noise. 
 It was a dash of hail. Ah ! if I do fear anything, 
 it is large hail — not because it will luirt me, but 
 because it may break my window, and let in the 
 wind to blow out my lamp." 
 
 " But why do not things hurt you ? If the 
 lightning was to kill you " 
 
 " That would not hurt me," said the widow, 
 smiling. " I do not call that being hurt, more 
 than dying in any other way that God pleases." 
 
 " But if it did not kill you quite, but hurt you — 
 hurt you very much indeed — burned you, or made 
 you blind ? " 
 
 " Then I should know that it was no hurt, but
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 127 
 
 in some way a blessing, because the lightning 
 comes from God. I always like to see it, because 
 
 There ! " she said, as a vivid flash illumined 
 
 the place. " Did you ever see anything so bright 
 as that ? How should we ever fancy the bright- 
 ness of God's throne, if he did not send us a single 
 ray, now and then, in this manner — one single ray, 
 which is as much as we can bear ? I dare say you 
 have heard it read in church how all things are 
 God's messengers, without any word being said 
 about their hurting us, — ' fire and hail :' here 
 they are ! " 
 
 When that gust was past, she went on, 
 
 " ' Snow and vapour, stormy winds fulfilling his 
 word.' Here we are in the midst of the fire and 
 the hail and the stormy winds. If we looked out, 
 perhaps we might see the ' snow and vapour.' " 
 
 The children did not seem to wish it. 
 
 " Then again," the widow went on, "we are told 
 that ' He causeth his wind to blow, and the waters 
 flow'.' I am sure I can show you that. I am 
 sure the sea must have risen much already, before 
 such a wind as this. Come ! " she continued, 
 wrapping her plaid roimd herself and the children ; 
 keep close to me and you will not be cold. The 
 cold has not come yet : and if we stand under the 
 sheltered side of the house we shall not be blow^n. 
 Hark ! there is the roar of the waves when the 
 thunder stops. Now we shall see how ' He causeth 
 his wind to blow and the waters flow." 
 
 She looked so cheerful and promised them sucli a 
 sight, that they did not like to beg to stay within. 
 Though the hail came pelting in gusts, there was 
 no rain at present to wet them. The wind almost 
 strangled them at the first moment ; but they were
 
 128 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 under the eastern gable of the cottage in an instant, 
 out of the force of the blast. 
 
 There tliey sat down, all huddled together ; and 
 there the children saw more than had been pro- 
 mised. 
 
 The tempest had not yet reached Skye; and 
 they could see, in the intervals of rolling clouds, 
 mountain-peaks glittering with snow. 
 
 '• There is the snow ! " said the widow. " And 
 see the vapours ! — the tumbling, rolling vapours 
 that we call steam-clouds ! Look how the light- 
 ning flash darts out of tliem ! and how the sea 
 seems swelling and boiling up to meet the vapours ! 
 A little way from the land, the wind catches the 
 spray and carries it up and away. If the wind was 
 now from the east, as it will be in spring, that 
 spray would wash over us, and drench us to the 
 skin in a minute." 
 
 " What, up here?" 
 
 " O yes, and higher still. There! Adam felt 
 some then." 
 
 And well he might. Tlie sea was now wrought 
 into such tumult that its waves rolled in upon the 
 rocks with tremendous force, causing the caverns 
 to resound with the thundering shock, and the very 
 summit of the precipices to vibrate. Every pro- 
 jection sent up columns of spray, the sprinklings 
 of which reached the heights^ bedewing the win- 
 dow of the cottage, and sending in the party under 
 the gable. 
 
 " There now," said the widow, when she had 
 fed her fire and sat down, " we have seen a fine 
 sight to-day ; and there will be more to-morrow." 
 
 " Shall we see it to-morrow?" 
 
 " O yes. If you like to come to me to-mor-
 
 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 129 
 
 row, I think I can promise to sliow you the shore 
 all black with weed thrown up by the storm. And 
 perhaps we may get some wood. These storms 
 often cast up wood — sometimes even thick logs. 
 We must not touch the logs ; they belong to Sir 
 Alexander Macdonald, but we may take the 
 smaller pieces, those of us who can get down be- 
 fore other people have taken them away. If the 
 minister is not aware of this, we must tell him : 
 and the weeds will be good to manure his kail- 
 bed, if he can find nothing better." 
 
 " Will you go to-morrow and pick up some 
 wood ? " 
 
 " If I can get down alone. But I cannot climb 
 up and down as I used to do. I will show you 
 something prettier than wood or weed that I picked 
 up, after one of these storms, when I was younger." 
 And she took out of her chest three shells, one 
 very large and handsome, which had been cast 
 upon the western shore some years before. Adam 
 thought this so beautiful that he begged to have 
 it ; but the widow could not give it away. She 
 told him she must keep it, for a particular reason ; 
 but he could see it whenever he liked to come to 
 her for the purpose. 
 
 But Adam thought he might pick up such an 
 one himself, if he could go to-morrow to the w^estern 
 shore ; and his friend could not say that this was 
 impossible. O ! then, would she not go and show 
 him the way ? Would she not try, if he and Kate 
 helped her with all their strength ? They were 
 very strong. If she would stand up they would 
 show her how strong they were. She stood up, 
 and they tried to carry her. Their faces were ex- 
 ceedingly red, and they were very near lifting up 
 
 G
 
 130 FOLDING THE FLOCK. 
 
 their friend, and she was laugliing, and wonderino- 
 whetlier they could carry her down the rocks in 
 that way, when the door burst open and Lady 
 Carse appeared. 
 
 " The children must come home," said she to 
 Annie. " They have no business here." 
 
 " I called them in, my Lady, when the thunder 
 frightened them." 
 
 " They should not have come. They should 
 have told you that they were under their parents* 
 displeasure." 
 
 All now looked grave enough. The children 
 stole away home, skilfully avoiding taking hold of 
 the lady's offered hands. She pulled the door after 
 her in no gentle manner. She did not much care 
 whether the children were fond of her ; but it Avas 
 somehow disagreeable to her that tliey should be 
 happy with her next-door neighbour.
 
 ( 131 ) 
 
 CHAPTER Xir. 
 
 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 The return of Macdonald's boat was a great event ; 
 and especially to the inhabitants of the hill-side 
 cottages. Macdonald was accompanied by Sir 
 Alexandei-'s steward, who brought some furniture 
 and finishings for the chapel and the minister's 
 dwelling, and, for the first time, a parcel for Lady 
 Carse. 
 
 When the package was brought up from the 
 shore, Lady Carse rushed in to tell Annie the 
 news, and to bid her come and see the unpacking. 
 
 The poor lady was sure that by means of JMr. 
 Johny, or through some other channel, tidings of 
 her existence and banishment had reached her 
 friends at Edinburgh, and that this parcel con- 
 tained some warrant of release. With raised co- 
 lour and sparkling eyes, she talked of her departure 
 the next morning ; of how it would be best to travel, 
 Avhen she once set foot on the main ; of how soon 
 she could reach Edinburgh, and whether it would 
 not be better to go first to London, to lay her own 
 case and the treason of her enemies before the 
 Prime Minister. Mrs. Ruthven agreed to all she 
 said. Mr. Ruthven walked to and fro before the 
 door, stopping at every turn to ofter his congratu- 
 lations. Annie looked anxious and eager. 
 
 When the package was deposited before the 
 door, and the glee of the party was at the highest, 
 
 G 2
 
 132 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 the children capered and shouted. Annie quietly 
 checked this, and kept them by her side : where- 
 upon Lady Carse smiled at Mrs. Ruthven, and 
 said she pitied people who were grave when good 
 fortune befell their friends, and who could not bear 
 even to let children sympathize in it. 
 
 " You mistake me. Madam," said Annie. " If 
 this package was from Edinburgh, I should feel 
 more like dancing myself than stopping the child- 
 ren's dancing : but I sadly fear this comes from no 
 further off than Skye. I know the Skye pack- 
 ages." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried Lady Carse. " I know 
 nobody in Skye. I hate croakers. Some people 
 take a pleasure in spoiling other people's plea- 
 sure." 
 
 " That is a temper that I do not approve of," 
 observed Mr. Ruthven. " This life is to some 
 such a vale of tears that I think it is ungrateful 
 not to pluck the few flowers of innocent pleasure 
 which grow by the wayside. I should think that 
 a Christian temper would be ready to assist the 
 enjoyment. Here, my good men. ..." 
 
 " What stupid fellows those men are ! " cried 
 Lady Carse. " They are actually going away 
 without helping us to uncord the package." 
 
 She called after them ; but in answer to her 
 scolding, the men only stared ; which made Lady 
 Carse tell them they were idiots. A word or two 
 from Annie in Gaelic brought them back directly, 
 and obtained from them what aid was needed. 
 
 " Shall 1 inquire, Madam," asked Annie, " any- 
 thing that you may wish to know ? " 
 
 " No," replied Lady Carse, sharply. " You 
 speak Gaelic, I think," she said to Mr. Ruthven.
 
 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 133 
 
 " Will you learn from the men all you can about 
 this package, and tell me every word they say ? " 
 
 Mr. Ruthven bowed, cleared his throat, and 
 began to examine the men. Lady Carse mean- 
 time said to Mrs. Ruthven, in Annie's hearing, 
 that she must wait, and restrain her impatience a 
 little while. There was no saying what might be 
 in the package, and they must be by themselves 
 when they opened it. 
 
 Mrs. Ruthven said she would send the children 
 away ; and Annie offered to take them home with 
 her. 
 
 " The children ! " exclaimed Lady Carse. " O ! 
 bless them ! what harm can they do ? Let them 
 stay, by all means. I hope there will be nobody 
 to spoil their pleasure." 
 
 Annie curtseyed, and withdrew to her own 
 house. As she simt the door, and then sank into 
 her chair, she thought how bad her rheumatic 
 pains were. Her heart was swelling a little too ; 
 but it soon subsided as she said to herself, 
 
 " A vale of tears indeed is this life — or rather 
 a waste and howling wilderness — to that poor lady 
 with her restless mind. God knows I would not 
 reckon hardly with her, or any one so far from 
 peace of mind. Nor can I wonder, when I pity 
 her so much, that others should also, and forget 
 other things when she is before their eyes. I did 
 think, when I heard the minister was coming. . . . 
 But I had no right to expect anything beyond tlie 
 blessing of the sabbath, and of burial, and the ordi- 
 nances. And O ! there is the comfort of the sab- 
 bath ! The Word is preached, and there is prayer 
 and praise now on sabbath-days, for a year to 
 come, — or perhaps as many years as I shall live.
 
 134 THE STEVVAKD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 If this was a place for peace of mind before, what 
 can trouble us now ? " 
 
 Tlie closing psalm of last sabbath had never 
 been out of her ears and her heart since. She now 
 began to sing it, softly at first, but louder as her 
 soul warmed to it. She was soon stopped hj a 
 louder sound, — a shrill cry from the next house ; 
 and presently Mrs. Ruthven rvished in to know 
 wliat she Avas to do. Lady Carse was hysterical. 
 The package had contained no news from her 
 friends, but had brought cruel disappointment. It 
 contained some clothing, a stone of sugar, a pound 
 of tea, six pecks of wheat, and an anker of spirits ; 
 and there was a slip of paper to say that the same 
 quantity of these stores would be brought yearly 
 by tlie steward when he came to collect the heather 
 rent. At this sentence of an abode of years in this 
 place, Lady Carse had given way to despair, — had 
 vowed she would choke the steward in his sacks of 
 feathers, that she might be tried for murder on the 
 main ; and then she had attempted to scatter the 
 wheat, and to empty out the spirits ; but that Mr. 
 Ruthven had held her hand, and told her that the 
 anker of spirits was in fact her purse, — her means 
 of purchasing from Macdonald and others her daily 
 meat and such service as she needed. But now 
 she was in hysterics, and they did not know what 
 to do next. Would Mrs. Fleming come ? 
 
 Annie thought the lady would rather not see 
 her ; told Mrs. Ruthven how to treat the patient, 
 and begged that the children might be sent to her, 
 if they were in the way. 
 
 The children were with Annie all the rest of the 
 day ; for their father and mother were exceedingly 
 busy writing letters, to go by the steward.
 
 THE STEWARD OX HIS ROUNDS. 13.5 
 
 In the evening the steward i)aid them a visit, in 
 his round back to the boat. He was very civil, 
 brought with him a girl, the handiest and conieliest, 
 he said, that he could engage among Macdonald's 
 people, to wait upon Lady Carse ; gave order for 
 the immediate erection of a sort of outhouse for 
 her stores, and desired her to say if there was any- 
 thing else that she was pressingly in want of. 
 She would not say a word to him of one kind or 
 another, but turned him over to the minister. But 
 the minister could not carry his own points. He 
 could not induce the steward to convey a single 
 letter of the several written that day. The steward 
 was sorry : had hoped it was understood that no 
 letter was to leave the island, — no written paper 
 of any kind, — while Lady Carse resided there. He 
 would not take these to Sir Alexander : he would 
 not ask him to yield this point even to the minister. 
 Sir Alexander's orders were positive ; and it was 
 clear that in these parts that settled the question. 
 
 While the argument was going on. Lady Carse 
 rose from her seat, and passed behind the steward, 
 to leave the room. She caught up the letters un- 
 perceived, and unperceived slipped them into the 
 steward's pocket : so that while he bowed himself 
 out, declining to touch the letters, he was actually 
 carrying them with him. 
 
 Helsa, Lady Carse's new maid, witnessed this 
 prank ; and, not daring to laugh at the moment, 
 made up for this by telling the story to her ac- 
 quaintance, the widow, when sent for the children 
 at night. 
 
 " That will never do," Annie declared. "Harm 
 may come of it, but no good." 
 
 And this set her thinking.
 
 136 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 The consequence of her meditation was that she 
 roused the family from their beds when even Lady 
 Carse had been an hour asleep. When Mr. Rutli- 
 ven found that there was neither fire nor illness in 
 the case, he declared to Annie his disapprobation 
 of untimely hours ; and said that if those who had 
 a lamp to keep burning became in time forgetful of 
 the difference between night and day, they should 
 remember that it was not so with others ; and that 
 the afflicted especially, who had griefs and agi- 
 tations during the day, should be permitted "to 
 enjoy undisturbed such rest as might be mercifully 
 sent them. 
 
 Annie listened respectfully to all this, and ac- 
 knowledged the truth of it. It Mas however a 
 hope that Lady Carse might possibly sleep here- 
 after under the same roof with her children, if 
 this night were not lost, which made her take 
 the liberty of rousing the minister at such an 
 hour. 
 
 She was confident that the steward would either 
 bring back the letters, as soon as he put his hand 
 upon them, or destroy them ; for such a thing was 
 never heard of as an order of Sir Alexander's 
 being disobeyed. She liad thought of a way of 
 sending a note, if the minister could write on a 
 small piece of paper what would alarm the lady's 
 friends. She had now and then, at long intervals, 
 a supply from a relation near Dumfries, of a par- 
 ticular kind of thread which she used to knit into 
 little socks and mittens for sale. This knirtinsf 
 was now too fine for her eyes : but the steward did 
 not know this ; and he would no doubt take her 
 order, as he had done before. She believed he 
 would come up to return the letters quite early in
 
 THE STEWARD OX HIS ROUNDS. 137 
 
 the morning. If she had a ball of thread ready, 
 he would take it as a pattern : and this ball might 
 contain a little note ; — a very small one indeed, if 
 the minister would write it. 
 
 " How would the receiver know there was a 
 note ? " asked Mr. Kuthven. 
 
 It might be years before the ball was used up, 
 Mrs. Ruthven observed : or it might come back as 
 it went. 
 
 " I thought," said Annie, " that I would give 
 the order in this way. I would say that I want 
 four pieces of the thread, all exactly the same 
 length as the one that goes. The steward will set 
 that down in his book ; and he always does what 
 we ask him very carefully. Then my relation 
 will unwind the ball to see what the length is, and 
 come upon the note ; and then . . . . " 
 
 " I see. I see it all," declared Mr, Ruthven. 
 " Do not you, my dear? " 
 
 " O yes ; I see. It will be delightful, will it 
 not, Lady Carse ? " 
 
 " That is as it may be," said Lady Carse. " It 
 is a plan which may work two ways." 
 
 " I do not see how it can work to any mischief," 
 Annie quietly declared. " I will leave you to 
 consider it. If you tliink well of the plan, I shall 
 be found ready with my thread. If the steward 
 returns, it will be very early, that he may not lose 
 the tide." 
 
 As might be expected, Annie's offer was ac- 
 cepted ; for even Lady Carse's prejudiced mind 
 could point out no risk, while the success might be 
 everything. There was something that touched 
 her feelings in the patient care with which the 
 widow sat, in the lamplight, w^inding the thread 
 
 G 3
 
 138 THE STEWARD ON HIS KOUNDS. 
 
 over and over the small slip of paper, so as to leave 
 no speck visible, and to make a tight and secure ball. 
 
 The slip of paper contained a request that the 
 reader would let Mr. Hope, advocate, Edinburgh, 
 know that Lady Carse was not dead, though pre- 
 tended to be buried, but stolen away from Edin- 
 burgh, and now confined to the after-mentioned 
 island of the Hebrides. Then followed Lady 
 Carse's signature and that of the minister, with the 
 date. 
 
 " It will do ! It will do ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Euthven. " O ! my dear, dear Lady Carse. . . ." 
 
 But Lady Carse turned av,ay, and paced the 
 room. 
 
 " I don't wonder, I am sure," declared Mrs. 
 Euthven, "I don't wonder that you walk up and 
 down. To think what may hang on this night. . . . 
 !Now, take my arm, — let me support you." 
 
 And she put her arm round the waist of her 
 dear friend. But Lady Carse shook her off, turned 
 weeping to Annie, and sobbed out, 
 
 " If you saAe me. . .If this is all sincere in you, 
 and ...." 
 
 " Sincere ! " exclaimed Annie, in such surprise 
 that she almost dropped the ball. 
 
 " O yes, yes ; it is all right, and you are an 
 angel to me. I. . . ." 
 
 " What an amiable creature she is ! " said Mrs, 
 Euthven to her husband, gazing on Lady Carse. 
 " What noble impulses she has ! " 
 
 " Very fine impulses," declared the minister. 
 " It is very affecting. I find myself much moved." 
 And he began pacing up and down. 
 
 " Sincere ! " Annie repeated to herself in the 
 same surprise.
 
 THE STEWARD OX HIS ROUNDS. 139 
 
 *' O dear ! " observed Mrs. Ruthven, in a Mliis- 
 per, which however the widow heard : '• how long 
 it takes for some people to know some otlier 
 people. There is Mrs. Fleming now all perplexed 
 about the dear creature ! AVhy, she knew her, — 
 I mean she had her with her, — before we ever saw 
 her ; and now we know her. . . .0 ! how well, how 
 tlioroughly we know her ! We know her to the 
 bottom of her heart." 
 
 " A most transparent being indeed ;" declared 
 Mr. Ruthven : " as guileless as a cliild." 
 
 " Call me a child, — you may," sobbed Lady 
 Carse. " None but children and such as I quarrel 
 with their best friends. She has been to me . . . . " 
 
 " You reproach yourself too severely, my dear 
 lady," declared the minister. " There are seasons 
 of inequality in us all.... Not that I intend to 
 justify. ..." 
 
 His wife did not wait for the end, but said, 
 
 " Quarrel, my dear soul? Quarrel with your 
 best friends ! You do such a thing ! Let us see 
 whether you ever quarrel with us ! And we ore 
 friends, are we not? You and we. Let us see 
 whether you ever quarrel with us ! Ah ! " 
 
 Annie had finished her work ; and she was gone 
 before the long kiss of the new friends Mas oA'er. 
 
 " It is only two days more to the sabbath," 
 thought she. Then she smiled and said, '• Any 
 one might call me a child, counting the days as if 
 I could not wait for my treat. But really I did 
 not know what the comfort of the sabbath would 
 be. The chapel is all weather-tight now, and 
 thank God for sendiui^' us a minister ! " 
 
 As all expected, up came the stewai'd ; very 
 early, and very angry. Nobody from the minis-
 
 140 THE STEWARD ON HIS ROUNDS. 
 
 ter's house cared to encounter him. He threw the 
 letters flown upon the threshold of the door, and 
 shouted out that his bringing them back was more 
 than the writer deserved. If he had read them, 
 and made mischief of their contents, nobody could, 
 under the circumstances, have blamed him. Here 
 they were, however, as a lesson to the family not 
 to lose their time, and waste their precious ink and 
 paper in writing letters that would never leave the 
 island. 
 
 As he was turning to go away, the widow opened 
 her door, and asked if he would excuse her for 
 troubling him with one little commission which 
 she had not thought of the day before. And she 
 produced the ball of thread. 
 
 Lady Carse was watching through a chink in a 
 slmtter. She saw the steward's countenance relax, 
 and heard his voice soften as he spoke to the 
 widow. She perceived that Annie had influence 
 with him, if she would use it faithfully and zeal- 
 ously. Next she observed the care with which he 
 wrote in his note-book Annie's directions about 
 her commission, and how he deposited the precious 
 ball in his securest pocket. She felt that this 
 chance of escape, though somewhat precarious, 
 was the best tliat had yet occurred. 
 • Before the steward was out of sight she opened 
 the shutter, though it creaked perilously, and kissed 
 her hand to the surprised Annie, who was watch- 
 ing her agent down the hill. Annie smiled, but 
 secured caution by immediately going in.
 
 ( 141 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 The season advanced, bringing the due tokens of 
 the approach of summer. The gales came from 
 the east instead of the west, and then subsided into 
 mild airs. The mists which had brooded over sea 
 and land melted awaj', and, as the days lengthened, 
 permitted the purple heights of the rocky St. Kilda 
 to be seen clear and sharp, as the sun went down 
 behind them. The weed which had blackened the 
 shore of the island at the end of winter was now 
 gone from the silver sands. Some of it was buried 
 in the minister's garden as manure. The minister 
 began to have hopes of his garden. He had done 
 his best to keep off the salt spray by building the 
 wall ten feet high ; and it was thought that just 
 under the wall a few cabbages might grow ; and in 
 one corner there was an experiment going forward 
 to raise onions. Kate and Adam told the Avidow, 
 from day to day, the hopes and fears of the house- 
 hold about this garden ; and it was then that she 
 knew that her son Rollo was now gardener, as he 
 had been head-builder of the wall. 
 
 From Eollo himself she heard less and less of 
 his proceedings and interests. Anxious as she was, 
 she abstained from questioning or reproving him on 
 the few occasions when he spent an hour with her. 
 She was aware of his high opinion of himself, and 
 of the point he made of managing his own affairs ;
 
 142 
 
 TRUE SOjLITUDE. 
 
 and she knew that there were those next door who 
 Avould certainly engross him if anything passed in 
 liis mother's liouse to make him reluctant to stav 
 there. She therefore mustered all her cheerfulness 
 when he appeared on the threshold, gave him her 
 confidence, made him as comfortable as she could, 
 and never asked him whence he had come, or how 
 long he would stay. She had a strong persuasion 
 ■that Rollo would discover in time who was his best 
 friend, and was supremely anxious tliat when that 
 time came there sliould be nothing to get over in 
 liis return to her — no remembrance of painful scenes 
 — no sting of reproach — no shame but such as he 
 must endure from his own heart. Strong as was 
 Jier confidence in the final issue, the time did seem 
 long to her yearning spirit, lonely as she was. 
 Many a niglit she listened to the melancholy song 
 of the throstle from the hill side, and watched the 
 znild twilight without thinking of sleep, till all was 
 silent; and was still awake when the lark beo^an its 
 .merry greeting to the dawn which was streakmg the 
 -east. Many a day she sat in the sun watching the 
 pathways by which she hoped her son might come 
 to her ; and then perhaps she would hear his laugh 
 from behind the high garden wall, and discover that 
 he haci been close at hand all day without having a 
 word to say to her. How many true and impressive 
 things passed through her mind that she tJiought 
 she would say to him ! But they all remained un- 
 said. When the opportunity came she saw it to be 
 her duty to serve hini by waiting and loving, feel- 
 ing and trusting that rebuke from God was the only 
 shock which would effectually reach this ca.se, and 
 reserving herself as tlie consoler of the sinner, when 
 that hour should arrive.
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 143 
 
 As for the other parties, they were far too busy 
 — far too much devoted to each other to have any 
 time to spare for her, or any thought, except when 
 the children were wished out of tlie way, or when 
 the much more ardent desire was indulged that her 
 house could be had for the residence of Lady Carse 
 and her maid. In spite of all the assurances given 
 to Lady Carse that her presence and friendship were 
 an unmixed blessing, the fact remained that the 
 household were sadly crowded in the new dwelling. 
 There was talk, at times, of getting more rooms 
 built : but then there entered in a vague hope that 
 the widow's house might be obtained, which would 
 be above everytliing pleasant and convenient. At 
 those times she was thought of, but more and more 
 as an obstruction — almost an intruder. Now and 
 then, when she startled them by some little act of 
 kindness, they remarlscd that she was a good crea- 
 ture, they believed, thougli they considered that 
 there was usually something dangerous about people 
 so very reserved and unsociable. 
 
 One day this reserved and unsociable person 
 volunteered a visit to her astonished neighbours. 
 She walked in, in the afternoon, looking rather 
 paler than usual, and somewhat exhausted. Mr. 
 Euthven was outside the door, smoking his pipe 
 after dinner. He came in with the widow, and 
 placed a stool for her. His wife was not in the 
 room. Lady Carse was lying on the settle, flushed 
 and apparently drowsy. She opened her eyes as 
 Annie and the minister entered, and then half-closed 
 them again, without stirring. 
 
 " Yes, I have been walking," said the widow, in 
 answer to Mr. Ruthven's observation. " But it is 
 not that that has tired me. I have been only as far
 
 144 TKUE SOX-ITUDE. 
 
 as Macdoiiald's. But, sir, 1 must go further to- 
 night, unless I can interest you to do what must be 
 done without loss of time." 
 
 The minister raised his eyebrows, and looked in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 " I have learned, sir, that from this house invita- 
 tions have been sent to smugglers to begin a trade 
 with this island ; and that it is about to begin ; and 
 that this has been done by corrupting my son. I 
 see well enough the object of this. I see that Lady 
 Carse hopes to escape to the main by a smuggling 
 vessel coming to this coast. I can enter into 
 this. I do not wonder at any effort the poor lady 
 makes . . . . " 
 
 " You insufferable woman !" cried Lady Carse, 
 starting up from her half-sleep with a glowing 
 face and a clenched hand. " Do you dare to pity 
 me?" ^ 
 
 " I do, madam : and I ask of you in return — I 
 implore you to pity me. This is the bitterest day 
 to me since that which made my boy fatherless. I 
 have this day discovered that my fatherless boy has 
 been corrupted by those who . . . . " 
 
 "• I do not approve of inuendo," declared Mr. 
 Ruthven. " I recommend you to name names." 
 
 " Certainly, Sir. My son has been made a 
 smuggler by the persuasion and management of 
 Lady Carse ; and, as I have reason to believe. Sir, 
 with your knowledge." 
 
 " Here is treachery !" cried Lady Carse. " We 
 must make our part good. I will.... I know 
 how...." 
 
 She was hastening out, when the minister stopped 
 her at the door. She made some resistance, and 
 Annie heard her say something about a pistol on
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 145 
 
 the top of the bed, and the wonder if her father's 
 daughter did not know how to use it. 
 
 Even in the midst of her own grief, Annie could 
 not but remark to herself how the lady's passions 
 seemed to grow more violent, instead of calming 
 down. 
 
 " You had better go, Mrs. Fleming," said Mr. 
 Euthven. " Make no disturbance here, but go ; 
 and I will come in and speak to you." 
 
 " How soon ?" Annie anxiously inquired. 
 
 " As soon as possible — immediately. Go now, 
 for Lady Carse is very angry." 
 
 " I will, Sir. But I owe it to you to tell you 
 that the adventure is put an end to. I have been 
 to Macdonald's, and told him, speaking as Rollo's 
 mother, of the danger my son was in : and Mac- 
 donald will take care tliat no smuggling-vessel 
 reaches this coast, to-night or in future." 
 
 " Go instantly," exclaimed Mr. Ruthven ; and, 
 seeing Lady Carse's countenance, Annie was glad 
 to hasten out of her reach. 
 
 The widow sat down on the threshold of her cot- 
 tage, awaiting the minister. Her heart throbbed. 
 A blessing might be in store at the end of this weary 
 day. Good might come out of evil. She might 
 now have an opportunity of appealing to her mini- 
 ster — of opening her heart to him about the cares 
 which she needed to share with him, and which 
 should have been his cares as pastor. She trusted 
 she should be enabled to speak freely and calmly. 
 She prayed that she might : but her body was 
 exhausted, so that she could not overcome to her 
 satisfaction the agitation of her mind. It did not 
 mend the matter that she was kept waiting very 
 long : and when Mr. Ruthven came out at his own
 
 146 TRUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 door, it was with some difficulty that Annie rose to 
 make respectful way for him. 
 
 '• Be seated," said Mr. Ruthven, in a tone of 
 severity. "I have much to say to you." 
 
 Both seated themselves. Mr. Ruthven cleared 
 his throat, and said — 
 
 " It is the most painful pax't of a pastor's duty to 
 administer reproof ; and more especially to members 
 of his flock whose years should have brought them 
 wisdom and self-control," 
 
 Annie clasped her hands on her knees, and looked 
 meekly in his face. 
 
 '• I should have hoped," Mr. Ruthven went on, 
 *' that a Christian woman of your standing, and one 
 who is blest, as you yourself have been known to 
 acknowledge, with a life of peace, would have had 
 compassion on a most suffering sister, and have 
 rather striven to alleviate her sorrows, and to soften 
 her occasional self-reproach for what she amiably 
 calls her infirmities of sensibility, than have wounded 
 and upbraided her, and treacherously cut off her 
 frail chance of release from a most unjust cap- 
 tivity." 
 
 " I ! — I wound and upbraid Lady Carse !" 
 
 " Now, do not compel me to remind you of what 
 you ought to know full well — the deceitfulness of 
 the human heart. Listen to me." 
 
 Again Annie looked gently in his face. 
 
 " I left that poor lady, already overwhelmed with 
 misfortune, prostrated anew by your attack of tliis 
 afternoon. I left her dissolved in tears — shaken by 
 agitation ; and I resolved that my first act of duty 
 should be to remonstrate privately — observe, I say 
 privately — against the heartlessness which could 
 pour in drops of bitterness, to make the already
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 147 
 
 brimming cup overflow. Now, what have you to 
 say?" 
 
 " I should wish to know, Sir, M'hat part of my 
 conduct it is that is wrong. If I knew this, I am 
 sure. ..." 
 
 " If you knew ! My good woman, this blindness 
 and self-satisfaction appear to show that this life of 
 peace, which you yourself acknowledge yours has 
 been, has gone somewhat too far — has not been 
 altogether blessed to you. If you are really so 
 satisfied with yourself as to be unable to see any 
 sin within you. ..." 
 
 " O Sir ! Do not think me impatient if I make 
 haste to say that I never harboured such a tliought. 
 It makes me sink with shame to think of my ever 
 having possibly such a thought. What I asked 
 for, Sir, was to know my sin towards Lady Carse, 
 that I might make reparation if I could, and .... 
 Will it please you, Sir, to tell me. ..." 
 
 " Tell me, rather, what sin you are conscious of; 
 and we shall then get at the bottom of this last 
 offence. Come, let me hear !" 
 
 Annie looked down, hesitated, blushed deeply, 
 and said she supposed it was owing to her not being- 
 accustomed to the blessing of having a pastor that 
 she found it so difficult to open her heart now tliat 
 the blessing was given for which she had so often 
 prayed. She would strive to overcome the diffi- 
 culty. After a pause she said her chief trouble 
 about her state of mind was that some of her trust 
 and peace seemed to have left her. 
 
 " Ah ! the moment it is put to the test !" said 
 Mr. Ruthven. 
 
 '• Just so, sir : that is what I said to myself. 
 As long as I lived alone, out of the sound of any
 
 148 TRUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 voice but Eollo's, I tliouglit my peace was settled, 
 and that I was only waiting for the better peace 
 which is to come hereafter. Then, when Rollo was 
 away, and my mind was searching doubtfully after 
 him, where he might be, and whether safe or killed, 
 I could always find rest, and say to myself that he 
 was in God's hand, to die now or to live to close 
 my eyes. But now, Sir, there is a sadness come 
 over me ; though I am obliged to your dear children 
 for many cheerful hours — I would not forget that. 
 But as for my own child, when I hear his voice 
 merry from behind your garden-wall, when I have 
 been longing for days to see his face — or when 
 your children tell me things that he has said, just 
 while my ear is pining for his voice, I find myself 
 less settled in mind than I was — much less settled. 
 Sir, tlian I think a Christian woman ought to be." 
 
 " And this indicates more than you tell me," 
 observed Mr. Ruthven. "What can you have 
 done to drive your son from his home and from his 
 mother's side? Some mistake there must be, to 
 say the very least — some fatal mistake, I will call 
 it, for I would not be severe — some awful mistake. 
 Eh ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so, Sir." And she smothered a sigh. 
 
 The minister then gave her, at some length, his 
 views on education, insisting much on the duty of 
 making young people happy at home ; ending with 
 saying that no young man could, he thought, expect 
 much comfort in the society of a mother who could 
 be so reckless of anybody's peace as she had shown 
 herself that afternoon. He hoped she would take 
 what he said in good part. It was not pleasant to 
 him to deal rebuke ; but he must not shrink from 
 it : and he rose to go.
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 149 
 
 " Certainly, Sir," said Annie, rising too, and 
 holding by the bed to steady herself. " But, Sir, 
 if you would please to tell me particularly what 
 you think I have done so wrong to-day. .. .Sir, 
 you would not have me let my sou be made a 
 smuggler?" 
 
 "You should. . . .Nothing can be clearer than 
 
 that you should I wonder you need to be told 
 
 that you should have spoken to me. Instead of 
 which, you went quietly and told Macdonald." 
 
 " I am sure, Sir, I thought you knew all about 
 
 it," 
 
 " What of that ? I am here at hand, to be your 
 adviser — not to be treated with disrespect. I leave 
 you now to think over what I have said. I trust 
 the result will be that you will make what repara- 
 tion you can to Lady Carse : though it is foolish 
 to talk of reparation ; for the mischief done is, I 
 fear, irreparable. I leave you to think of this. 
 Good evening !" 
 
 Annie thought of all that had passed ; and of a 
 few other things. She thought that while it was 
 clear that a pastor might take a wrong view of the 
 state of mind and conduct of one of his flock, it was 
 a privilege to know, at least, what view he took. 
 He w^as faithful, as far as plain speaking went : and 
 that was much. And then, it is so rarely that any 
 censure is uttered for which there is absolutely no 
 foundation, that it is usually profitable to receive 
 it. While feeling that " it is a small thing to be 
 judged of man's judgment," it may be a great thing 
 to know a man's unfavourable opinion of us. She 
 should soon recover from this conversation ; and 
 then, if she had obtained any wisdom from it, it 
 would be, after all, the marking blessing of this
 
 loO TRUE SOI.ITUDE. 
 
 day. She was not aware of another: that Mr. 
 Euthven had been somewhat touched by wJiat she 
 had said of Rollo — his eyes somewhat opened. 
 
 Once more her mind rested on the idea now be- 
 come so prominent with her. " The Sabbath is 
 coming round again," she thought. " It pleases 
 God to give us a complete blessing then. It is 
 His word that is spoken then — His judgment that 
 we are judged by. Nothing comes between us and 
 Him then. There is always the Sabbath now to 
 think of." 
 
 Tired as she was, or as she thought herself till 
 she found lierself enjoying the repose of the moon- 
 light shore, there was one more walk necessary 
 before Annie could try to sleep. 
 
 The sea was calm, and there M-as scarcely any 
 wind. If the smuggling- vessel had approached the 
 island in any part, it could hardly have got away 
 again. Siie had not seen it from her hill-side; 
 but she must be satisfied that it was not on the 
 northern shore. The western was safe enough, 
 from its being overlooked from Macdonald's farm. 
 Annie had just reached the longest and widest 
 stretcli of beach when the large moon rose out of 
 the still Maters. There was not even the slightest 
 veil of mist obscuring the horizon; and the fluctu- 
 ation of the water-line was distinct upon the clear 
 disk of the moon. The gush of quivering light 
 which instantaneously reached from the horizon to 
 her feet illumined Annie's heart no less than the 
 scene around her. The ripple of the little waves 
 which played upon the pebbles was music to her 
 ear. In a tranquil and hopeful spirit she thought 
 of her errand, and looked steadily over the whole 
 expanse of the sea, where, under the broad moon-
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE. 151 
 
 light, and a sky which had at this season no dark- 
 ness in it, there was certainly no vessel in sight. 
 
 Pursuing her walk northwards, she perceived a 
 small dark object lying on the silvery sands. When 
 she reached it, she found it was a little cask, which 
 the smell declared to contain rum. By the smell, 
 and the cask being light, it was clear that some of 
 the spirit had been spilled. Annie found a small 
 hole, beside wliich lay a quill. She feared that 
 this told too plainly of the neighbourhood of smug- 
 glers, and her heart sunk. She went on, and im- 
 mediately saw another dark object lying on the 
 beach— a person, as she thought. It was a woman, 
 in the common country clothing, sound asleep. 
 Annie hastened to wake her, thinking it unsafe to 
 sleep under the moon's rays. To her extreme sur- 
 prise she found it was Lady Carse. 
 
 She could imagine the lady to have come down 
 in hope of meeting a smuggling-vessel. She would 
 not have wondered to meet her wandering among 
 the coves ; but that on such an errand, at such a 
 time, she should be asleep, was surprising. 
 
 Annie tried gentle means to rouse her, which 
 would enable her to slip away as the lady awoke, 
 sparing her the pain of her presence. She rattled 
 the pebbles with her foot, coughed, and at last 
 sang — but all without causing the lady to stir. 
 Then the widow was alarmed, and stooped to look 
 closer. The sleeper breathed heavily, her head 
 was hot, and her breath told the secret of her 
 unseasonable drowsiness. Annie shrank back in 
 horror. At first she concluded that much of Lady 
 Carse's violent passion was now accounted for. 
 But she presently considered it more probable that 
 this was a single instance of intemperance, caused
 
 152 
 
 TRUE SOLITUDE, 
 
 by the temptation of finding a leaking cask of spirit 
 on the sands, just in a moment of disappointment, 
 and perhaps of great exhaustion. This thought 
 made Annie clear what to do. 
 
 She went back to the cask, made the hole larger 
 with a stone, and poured out all the rum upon the 
 sand. The cask was now so light that she could 
 easily roll it down to the margin of the tide, where 
 she left it, half-full of sea-water. Having thus 
 made all safe behind her, she proceeded to the 
 coves, where slie found, not any signs of a vessel, 
 but one of Macdonald's men on the watch. From 
 him she learned that Macdonald had gone out to 
 look for the smuggling-boat; had seen it, and 
 turned it back ; and that the smuggling-crew had 
 been obliged to throw overboard some of their 
 cargo, to lighten their vessel for flight. Mac- 
 donald thought they would hardly venture hither 
 again for some time to come. This was good 
 news ; but there was better : Rollo was not with 
 the smugglers. He was out fowling this afternoon. 
 Perhaps by this time he might be at home. 
 
 Annie's errand was finished ; and she might now 
 return and rest. Macdonald's man spoke of his 
 hopes of some goods being washed up by the next 
 tide. Annie told him nothing of the cask, nor of 
 what she had done with the rum. She commended 
 him to his watch, and left him. 
 
 Lady Carse was still sleeping, but less heavily. 
 She roused herself when spoken to, started up, and 
 looked about her, somewhat bewildered. 
 
 " I took the liberty, Madam, of speaking to you, 
 to waken you," said Annie ; " because the moon 
 is up, and was shining on your head, which is con- 
 sidered bad for the health."
 
 THUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 153 
 
 « Really;' said Lady Carse, " it is very odd. I 
 don't know liow I could think of falling asleep 
 here. I suppose I was very tired." 
 
 " You look so now, Madam. Better finish your 
 sleep at home. And first, if I may advise, you. will 
 throw some salt water on your head, and drink some 
 fresh at the spring, Avhen we come to it. The people 
 here say that bathing the head takes away the danger 
 from sleeping under the moon's rays." 
 
 Lady Carse had no objection to do this, as her 
 head was hot; and now Annie hoped that she 
 would escape detection by tlie Ruthvens, so that 
 she alone would know the secret. Both drank at 
 the spring, and after that it might be hoped that 
 there would be little more smell of spirits about 
 the one than the other. 
 
 When they passed the cask, now beginning to 
 float in the rising tide, Lady Carse started. It was 
 clear that she now remembered what had made her 
 sleep. " There is a cask !" said she, in her hurry. 
 " Yes : a cask of sea- water," Annie quietly ob- 
 served. " I emptied out the bad stuif that was in 
 it, and . . . . " 
 
 " You did ! What right had you ?" 
 " It was contraband," said Annie. " Macdonald 
 saw the cargo thrown over : nobody would have 
 claimed it, and plenty would have helped them- 
 selves to what is unfit for drink. So I poured it 
 out upon the sand." 
 
 " Very free and easy, I must say," observed 
 Lady Carse. 
 
 " Very," Annie agreed : " but less of a liberty 
 than some would have taken, if I had left it to 
 tempt them. I threw away only what is some 
 man's unlawful property. Others \\ould have 
 
 u
 
 154 TRUE SOLITUDE. 
 
 thrown away that which belongs to God, and is 
 very precious in his eyes — the human reason, which 
 he has made but a little lower than the glory of the 
 angels." 
 
 Lady Carse spoke no more — not even when they 
 reached their own doors. Whether she was moody 
 or conscience-stricken, Annie could not tell. All 
 the more anxious was she to do her part ; and she 
 went in to pray that the suffering lady might be 
 saved from this new peril — the most fearful of the 
 snares of her most perilous life. Annie did not 
 forget to pray that those who had driven the sufferer 
 to such an extremity as that she could not resist 
 even this means of forgetting her woes, might be 
 struck with such a sense of their cruelty as to save 
 their victim before it was too late.
 
 ( 155 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HELSA S NEWS. 
 
 One day when Annie was trimming her lamp, she 
 observed Helsa, Lady Carse's maid, watching- the 
 process earnestly from the door, where she was 
 looking in. " Come in, Helsa," said the widow, 
 in Gaelic, which was more familiar to the girl 
 than English. " Come in, if you have nothing 
 better to do than to see me trim my lamp." 
 
 " I am afraid about that lamp, and that is the 
 truth," replied Helsa. " I had charge of a lamp 
 at Macdonald's once, when my mother went to the 
 main for a week ; but then, if it went out, nobody 
 was much the worse. If this one goes out, and 
 anybody drowns in the harbour, and the blame is 
 mine, what shall I do ?" 
 
 " The blame yours ! " said the widow, looking 
 at her. 
 
 " Yes ; when you live at Macdonald's, and I 
 have to keep the lamp. I am not sure that I can 
 keep awake all the night when winter comes : but 
 they say I must." 
 
 Helsa was surprised to find that the widow knew 
 nothing of the plan that Lady Carse now talked of 
 more than anything else : that Annie was to go 
 and live at Macdonald's, that Lady Carse and her 
 maid might have the widow's house, where Helsa 
 was to do all the work in the day, and to keep the 
 lamp at night. The girl declared that the family 
 
 h2
 
 156 helsa's js-ews. 
 
 never sat at meals without talking of the approach- 
 ing time when they could all have more room and 
 do whatever they pleased. Adam had cried yester- 
 day about the widow going away ; but he had been 
 forbidden to cry about what would make Lady 
 Carse so much happier ; and when Kate had whis- 
 pered to him that Lady Carse would no longer 
 live in their house, Adam had presently dried lis 
 tears, and began to plan how he would meet the 
 widow sometimes on the western, sands, to pick up 
 the fine shells she had told him of. Plelsa went on 
 to say that she could have cried longer than the 
 boy, for she was afraid to think of being alone with 
 Lady Carse at times when . . ." 
 
 Annie interrupted her by saying, with a smile, 
 " You need not have any dread of living in this 
 house, Helsa. I have no thought of leavino- it. 
 There is some mistake." ° 
 
 Helsa was delighted with this assurance. But 
 she proved her point— that the mistake was not 
 hers— that such a plan was daily, almost hourlv, 
 spoken of next door as settled. She was going on 
 to tell how her mistress frightened her by her w^ys : 
 her being sleepy in the afternoons, unless she was 
 very merry or dreadfully passionate, and so low in 
 the mornings that she often did little but cry ; but 
 the widow checked this. While at Mrs. Ruthven's 
 house Helsa should make no complaints to anybody 
 else ; or, if she had serious complaints to make, it 
 should be to Macdonald. Helsa pleaded that Mac- 
 donald would then perhaps take away the anker 
 of spirits, as being at the bottom of the mischief; 
 and then Lady Carse would kill her. She had 
 once shown her a pistol ; but nobody could find 
 that pistol now. Helsa laughed, and looked as if
 
 HELSA S NEWS. 
 
 157 
 
 she could have told where it was. In a ir.oment, 
 however, she was grave enough, hearing herself 
 called by her mistress. 
 
 " I shall say I came to learn about the lamp," 
 said slie. " And that is true, you know." 
 
 " Why do not you speak English, both of you ?" 
 demanded Lady Carse from the door. "You both 
 speak English. I will have no mysteries. I will 
 know what you were saying." 
 
 Helsa faltered out tliat she came to see h.ow 
 widow Fleming managed her lamp. 
 
 " Was it about the lamp that you were talking? 
 I will know." 
 
 " If we had any objection, Madam, to your 
 knowing what we were saying," interposed Annie, 
 " we are by no means bound to tell. But yon are 
 quite welcome to it. I have been assuring Ilelsa 
 that there is some mistake about my leaving this 
 house. Here I have lived, and here I hope to 
 die." 
 
 " We must talk that matter over," declared 
 Lady Carse. " We are so crowded next door that 
 we can bear it no longer ; and I m?{st live in sight 
 of the harbour, you know." 
 
 And she went over all the old arguments, while 
 she sent Helsa to bring in Mr. Kuthven, tiiat he 
 might add his pastoral authority to her claims. 
 After having once declared herself immoveable, 
 Annie bore all in silence ; the pleas that her lamp 
 was so seldom wanted ; that it would be well 
 tended for her, while she could sleep all night, and 
 every night ; that it had become a passion with 
 Lady Carse to obtain this house, and that any one 
 was an enemy who denied her the only thing she 
 could enjoy. These pleas Annie listened to in
 
 158 hexsa's news. 
 
 silence, and then to reproaches on her selfishness, 
 her obstinacy, her malice and cruelt^^ When both 
 her visitors had exhausted their arguments, she 
 turned to Lady Carse, and intimated that now 
 they had all spoken their minds on this subject, she 
 wished to be alone in her own house. Then she 
 turned to Mr. Kuthven, and told him that what- 
 ever he had to say as her pastor, she should gladly 
 listen to . . . 
 
 " In some other place than this," he declared 
 with severity. " I have tried rebuke and remon- 
 strance here, beside your own hearth, with a perse- 
 verance M'hich I fear has lowered the dignity of 
 my oflfice. I have done. I enter this house no 
 more as your pastor." 
 
 Annie bowed her head, and remained standing 
 till they were gone ; then she sank down, melting 
 into tears. 
 
 "This then," and her heart swelled at the 
 thought. " This then is the end of my hope— the 
 brightest hope I ever had since my great earthly 
 hope was extinguished ! I thought I could bear 
 anything if there was only a pastor at hand. And 
 now . . . But there is my duty still! Nothing 
 can take that away. And I am forgetting that at 
 this very moment, when I have so little else left ! 
 cr>ung in this May when I want better eyes than 
 mine are now for watcliing the sea. I have shed 
 too many tears in my day ; more than a trusting 
 Christian woman should ; and now I must keep 
 my eyes dry, and my heart firm for my duty. 
 And I cannot see that I have done any wrong in 
 staying by the duty that God gave me, and the 
 house that I must do it in. With this house, and 
 God's house . . ." And her thoughts recurred, as
 
 HELSA S NEWS. 159 
 
 usual, to the blessing of the Sabbath. She should 
 still have a pastor in God's house, if not in her own. 
 And thus she cheered her heart while she bathed 
 her eyes that they might serve for her evening gaze 
 over the sea. 
 
 She was destined, however, to be overtaken by 
 dismay on the Sabbath, and in that holy house where 
 slie had supposed her peace could never be dis- 
 turbed. The pastor read and preached from the 
 passage in the ISth chapter of Matthew, which 
 enjoins remonstrance with sinners, first in private, 
 then in the presence of one or two witnesses, and 
 at last before the church. The passage was read 
 so emphatically that Annie's heart beat thick and 
 fast. But this did not prepare her for what fol- 
 lowed. In his sermon, the pastor explained that 
 though the Scriptural expression was " If thy 
 brother trespass," the exhortation was equally ap- 
 plicable to any Christian sister who should offend. 
 He declared that if any Christian sister was present 
 who was conscious of having trespassed on the 
 comfort and natural feelings of an afflicted and 
 persecuted personage whom they had the honour 
 to entertain among them, he besought the offend- 
 ing sister to inquire of herself whether she had not 
 been rebuked first alone, then in the presence of a 
 witness — alas ! in vain ; and whether therefore the 
 time was not come for a rebuke before the church. 
 He would, however, name no one, but leave yet 
 some place for repentance ; and so forth. 
 
 Annie's natural dismaj', terrible as it was, soon 
 yielded before the appeal to her conscience, which 
 the pastor supposed would appal her. She knew 
 that she was right ; and in this knowledge she 
 raised her bowed head, and listened more calmly
 
 160 helsa's ^'EWS. 
 
 tlian many others. If there had been any doubt 
 among the small congregation as to who was meant, 
 Lady Carse would liave dispersed it. She sat in 
 the front row, with the minister's family. Unable 
 to restrain her vindictive satisfaction, she started 
 up and pointed with her finger, and nodded at 
 Annie. The pitying calm gaze with wliich Annie 
 returned the insult went to many hearts, and even 
 to Mrs. Ruthven's so far as that she pulled the 
 lady by the skirt, and implored her to sit down. 
 
 There are many precious things which remain 
 always secrets to those who do not deserve to know 
 them. For instance, tyrants know nothing of the 
 animating and delicious reaction which they cause 
 in the souls of their victims. The cheerfulness, 
 sweetness, and joy of their victims has ever been, 
 and will ever be, a perplexity to oppressors. It 
 was so now to Mr, Ruthven, after an act of tyranny 
 perpetrated, as most acts of tyranny are, uniler a 
 mistaken, an ignorant and arrogant sense of duty. 
 Not only did the widow stand up with others for 
 the closing psalm — her voice was the firmest, 
 sweetest, clearest in the assembly — so sweet and 
 clear that it came back even upon her own ear 
 with a sort of surprise. As for others, all were 
 more or less moved. But their emotion had the 
 common effect of making them draw back from the 
 object of it. After the service, nobody spoke to 
 Annie. She heeded this but little, absorbed as she 
 was in thankfulness at finding that the privileges of 
 God's house were not disturbed — that her relation 
 to Him and her rights of worship were not touched 
 by any fallibility in his minister. As she reached 
 the entrance of the churchyard, Macdonald over- 
 took her, and made her use his arm for the descent
 
 helsa's news. 161 
 
 of the irregular steps. A few words from Helsa had 
 put him iu possession of the case. He desired the 
 widow not to think for a moment of leaving her 
 house. Everybody wished to do wliat could be 
 done to reconcile the stranger lady to her abode in 
 the island ; but there was a point beyond which 
 he was sure Sir Alexander would not permit en- 
 croachment. His advice was to serve and please 
 her in small affairs, and leave it to Sir Alexander 
 to deal with her in such an important one as her 
 having a house to herself Annie smiled, and said 
 this was exactly her plan. 
 
 That evening was, to the inhabitants of the 
 island, the most memorable one of the year — of the 
 generation — of the century. This was not fully 
 known at the time. The most memorable days 
 often appear just like other days till they are past ; 
 and though there was some excitement and bustle 
 this evening, no one on the island saw the full 
 meaning of what was before his eyes. 
 
 A little before sunset, the widow plainly saw a 
 larger vessel than often visited those seas approach- 
 ing from the south-west. It was larger than Mae- 
 donald's sloop. She was straining her eyes to see 
 whether it had two masts or three, when slie heard 
 the children's voices below. She called them up 
 to her platform for the help of their young eyes ; 
 but when they came, they could spare little atten- 
 tion for the distant vessel, so full were they of the 
 news that their mother had run down to the 
 harbour to try to speak to some sailors who had 
 landed from a boat which had come up the harbour 
 ■while everybody was at church. It was such a 
 pity that their father was gone, just at this time, 
 to visit a sick person at l^Iacdonakl's farm ! But 
 
 H 3
 
 162 helsa's news. 
 
 their mother went directly, as fast as she could run, 
 and Lady Carse and Helsa were to follow her as 
 soon as Helsa had put up a bundle. 
 
 To recall Mr. Ruthven was the first thing Annie 
 thought of. She did not venture to send the children 
 over for him, lest their hurry and excitement, or 
 any air of mystery, should give the alarm to Mac- 
 donald. She set out alone, doubtful as she was 
 how and how soon she could accomplish the walk, 
 and bitterly lamenting that her son was not within 
 call. With her best exertions, her progress was so 
 slow that she met the pastor a quarter of a mile 
 from Macdonald's house. 
 
 Breathless as she was, Mr. Ruthven would have 
 from her a full, true, and particular account of all 
 she knew, and many declarations that she did not 
 know as much again, before he would walk on. 
 At last, however, he did set forth quickly on the 
 shortest path to the harbour, while Annie turned 
 slowly homewards over the ridge. 
 
 She was on the hill side, not far from home, 
 when she saw the well-known group of neighbours 
 — the pastor's family — coming homewards, slowly 
 and with many delays. She heard loud angry 
 voices ; and when she approached, she saw tokens 
 of distress in them all. Mr. Ruthven was very 
 pale, and Helsa very red. Mrs. Ruthven was ia 
 tears, and Lady Carse's clothes and hair were drip- 
 ping wet. It was clear that she had been in the 
 water. 
 
 " Alas ! you have missed the boat ! " exclaimed 
 Annie. 
 
 Lady Carse had just lost the chance of escape, as 
 all believed ; and all were now quarrelling as to 
 whose fault it was. Mrs. Ruthven was turning
 
 helsa's news. 163 
 
 back from the shore, breathless from haste and 
 vexation, as Lady Carse and Helsa came down. 
 The boat, with several armed men in it, had pushed 
 off when Mrs. Ruthven appeared. They made no 
 reply to her signs, but lay on their oars at a little 
 distance from the beacli till Lady Carse and her 
 maid came down. After some delay, and many 
 signals of entreaty from the ladies, the boat again 
 approached ; and the man in command of it was 
 told that a lady of quality, wrongfully imprisoned 
 in this island, desired to be carried to the main ; 
 and that, once among her friends in Edinburgh, 
 she could give rewards for her escape to any 
 amount. There was a short consultation in the 
 boat, a laugh, and a decisive pull to shore. A 
 sailor jumped out, and seized the lady, to carry her 
 in. Whether it was the unaccountable sliout of 
 triumph that she set up, or something else that 
 startled the sailor, he hastily set down his burden 
 on the rock, looked her in the face, and then spoke 
 to his comrades in the boat. They laughed again, 
 but beckoned him on. He placed her in the boat, 
 but she stumbled, swayed over, caught at the side 
 of the boat as she went over, and very nearly upset 
 it. The men swore at her, declared her to be no 
 lady in distress, but a tipsy gipsy, laid her down 
 on the shore, and rowed away. Mr. Ruthven now 
 declared that he could do nothina; in such a case. 
 Lady Carse, now sobered from everything but 
 passion, protested that if he had had any sense or 
 presence of mind, he might have detained the 
 strangers till she could produce from her package 
 proof of her rank and quality. If the wranglers 
 could but have known who these strangers were,
 
 164 helsa's news. 
 
 and whence came the distant vessel to which their 
 boat belonged, all would have joined in thanlis- 
 giving for the lady's escape from their hands. 
 
 Annie had no more suspicion of the truth than 
 they. She could only attempt to calm them, and 
 make tlie best of matters by showing that possibly 
 all might not be over yet. It was now nearly dark. 
 If she could light two lamps for this once, it might 
 bring back the boat. If the people on board were 
 familiar with her light and its purpose, the sin- 
 gular circumstance of its being double might 
 attract their cviriosity ; if strangers, they might 
 attend to the signal from prudence. 
 
 Mr. Kuthven, being extremely cross, could see 
 nothing but nonsense in this plan. Lady Carse, 
 beiufj offended with Iier friends, thouorht it the 
 wisest and most promising scheme conceivable. 
 Mr. Ruthven woidd not hear of spending a night 
 down in the harbour, watching for a boat which 
 would never come. To ask such a thinsT^ of him 
 after his Sabbath day's services, and all for a wo- 
 man's freak, was such a thing as ... as he would 
 not describe. He could not tiiink of doing such 
 a thing. Lady Carse said he was no friend of hers 
 if he did not. While Mrs. Ruthven trembled and 
 wept, Annie said that if she could only learn 
 where Rollo was, all would be easy. Rollo would 
 watch in the harbour, she was sure. 
 
 ]Mr. Ruthven caug^ht at this suoffjestion for savins' 
 his night's rest, and went off to seek Hollo ; not so 
 rapidly however but that he heard the remark sent 
 after him by Lady Carse, that it was a pretty thing 
 for a man to stand up in his pulpit, where nobody 
 could answer him, and lecture people about Chris-
 
 helsa's news. 165 
 
 tian duty, and then to be outdone in the first trial 
 by the fiVst of his fiock. that came into comparison 
 with him. Annie could not bear to hear this. 
 She desired Hclsa to assist Lady Carse to bed, that 
 her clothes might be speedily dried, in readiness 
 for any sudden chance of escape.
 
 ( 166 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ANNIE S NEWS, 
 
 Dull and sad was the first meal at the Euthvens' 
 the next morning. Lady Carse could eat nothing, 
 having cried herself ill, and being in feverish ex 
 pection still of some news — she did not know what. 
 Mr. Ruthven found faidt with the children so in- 
 defatigably, that they gulped down their porridge 
 and slipped out under Helsa's arm as she opened 
 the door, and away to tlie next house, where tlie 
 voice of scolding was never heard. The pastor 
 next began wondering whether Rollo was still 
 playing the watchman in the harbour — tired and 
 hungry ; and he was proceeding to wonder how a 
 clever lad like Rollo could let himself be made 
 such a fool of by his mother, when Helsa cut short 
 tlie soliloquy by telling that Rollo was at home. 
 He had come up just now with the steward. 
 
 " The steward ! " cried Lady Carse, springing 
 to her feet. " I knew it ! I see it all ! " And 
 she wrung her hands. 
 
 " What is it ? my dear love, my precious friend, 
 — what 2* the matter? Compose yourself ! " said 
 Mrs. Ruthven, sootlungly. 
 
 But the lady would not hear of being soothed. 
 It was plain now that the distant vessel, the boat, 
 the sailors, were sent by her friends. If Mr. 
 Ruthven had only been quick enough to let them 
 know who she was, she should by this time have
 
 Annie's news. 167 
 
 been safe. How could they suppose that she was 
 Lady Carse, dressed as she was, agitated as she 
 was ! A word from Mr. Ruthven, the least readi- 
 ness on his part, would have saved her. And now 
 here was the steward come to baffle all. Sir 
 Alexander Macdonald had had eyes for lier deli- 
 verers, though her nearest friends had none. 
 Annie was her best friend, after all. It Mas 
 Annie's ball of thread, no doubt, that had roused 
 her friends, and made them send this vessel ; and 
 Annie alone had shown any sense last night. 
 
 Mr. Ruthven did not understand or approve of 
 very sudden conversions ; and this was really a 
 sudden conversion, after pointing at the widow 
 Fleming in church yesterday. He ought to state 
 too that he did not approve of pointing at indivi- 
 duals in church. He should be sorry that his 
 children should learn the habit ; and " 
 
 " You would ?" interrupted Lady Carse. " Then 
 take care I do not point at her next sabbath as the 
 only friend I have on this island." 
 
 " My dear creature ! " said Mrs. Ruthven, 
 " pray do not say such severe things : you will 
 break my heart. You do the greatest injustice to 
 our affection. Only let me show you ! If this 
 wicked steward prevents your escape now, I will 
 get away somehow, and tell your story to all the 
 world ; and they shall send another vessel for you ; 
 and I will come with it, and take you away. I 
 Avill indeed," 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said Lady Carse. 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said the pastor. 
 
 Lady Carse laughed at this accord. Mrs. Ruth- 
 ven cried. 
 
 " If you get away," said Lady Carse, more
 
 168 ax^-ie's kews. 
 
 gently, " you may be sure you will not leave me 
 behind." 
 
 " It is all nonsense, ilie whole of it, about this 
 vessel and the steward," Mr. Ruthven pronounced. 
 "The steward comes, as usual, for the feather- 
 rent." 
 
 " It is not the season for the feather-rent," de- 
 clared Lady Carse. 
 
 " The stev/ard comes when it suits his conveni- 
 ence," decided the pastor; " the season is a matter 
 of but secondary regard." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the lady. " I have 
 ■lived here longer than you; and I know that 
 he comes at the regular seasons, and at no otlier 
 4ime." 
 
 " O, here are the children,*' observed Mrs. 
 Ruthven ; hoping to break up the party. " My 
 dears, don't leave the room; I want you to stay 
 beside me. TJiere now, you may each carry your 
 own porridge-bowl into the kitchen, and then you 
 may come back for papa's and mine." 
 
 Mr. Ruthven stalked out into the garden, to find 
 fault witli his cabbages, if they were not growing 
 dutifully. Lady Carse stood by the window, fretted 
 at the thick seamy glass wliich prevented her see- 
 ing anything clearly. Mrs. Ruthven sat down to sew. 
 " Mama," said "Adam, presentlj^, " what is a 
 Pretender ? " 
 
 " A what, my dear? — a Pretender? I really 
 scarcely know. That is a question that you should 
 ask your papa. A Pretender ?" 
 
 " No, no, Adam. It is Adventurer. That was 
 what the steward said. I know it, because that is 
 the name of one of papa's books. I will show it 
 you."
 
 ankie's news. 16& 
 
 " I know that," said Adam. " But widow 
 Fleming called it Pretender, too." 
 
 "What's that?" cried Lady Carse, turning 
 hastily from the window. " What are you talking 
 about?" 
 
 The children looked at each other, as they 
 usually did M'hen somebody must answer the lady. 
 
 " What are you talking about? " 
 
 " The steward says the Pretender is come : and 
 we do not know what that means." 
 
 " The Pretender come ! " cried Mrs. Puthven, 
 letting fall her work. " What shall Ave do for 
 news? Run, my dears, and ask widow Fleming 
 all about it. I can't leave Lady Carse, you see." 
 
 The children declared they dared not go. Widow 
 Fleming was busy ; and she had sent them away. 
 
 " Then go and tell your father. Ask him to 
 come in." 
 
 Mr. Ruthven was shocked into his usual man- 
 ners when he saw Lady Carse unable to stand or 
 speak. His assurances that he did not believe her 
 in any personal danger, if the report were ever so 
 true, were thrown away. Her consternation was 
 about a different aspect of tlie matter. She at once 
 concluded that the cause of the Stuarts would be 
 triumphant. She saw in imagination all her ene- 
 mies victorious— her husband and Lord Lovat suc- 
 cessful in all their plottings, high in power and 
 glory ; while she, who could have given tnuely 
 futimation of their schemes — she who could have 
 saved the throne and kingdom— was confined to 
 this island like an eagle in a cage. For some time 
 she sat paralyzed by her emotions ; then she rose 
 and went in silence to Annie's dwelling. _ The 
 steward was just departing, and he seemed in the
 
 170 Annie's news. 
 
 more haste for the lady's appearance ; but Annie 
 stopped him — gravely desired him to remain while 
 she told the lady what it concerned her to know. 
 She then said, 
 
 " 1 learn from the steward, Madam, that it is 
 known throughout Edinburgh that you are still in 
 life, and that you are confined to some out-of the- 
 way place ; though, the steward believes, the real 
 place is not known." 
 
 " It is not known," the steward declared ; " and 
 it is anything but kind of you, in my opinion, 
 Mrs. Fleming, to delude Lady Carse with any 
 hope of escape. Her escape is, and will always be, 
 impossible." 
 
 " I think it my business," said Annie, "to inform 
 the lady of whatever I hear of her affairs. I think 
 she ought to have the comfort of knowing that her 
 friends are alarmed : and I am sure I have no 
 right to conceal it from her." 
 
 The steward walked away, while the lady stood 
 lost in reverie. One set of ideas had driven out 
 the other. She had forgotten all about the Jaco- 
 bite news, and she stood staring with wide-open 
 eyes, as the vision of her escape and triumph once 
 more intoxicated her imagination. 
 
 Annie gently drew her attention to the facts, 
 telling her that it was clear that the ball of thread 
 had done its duty well. The alarm had begun 
 with Mr. Hope, the advocate. He had demanded 
 that the coffin supposed to contain the remains of 
 Lady Carse should be taken up and searched. 
 When he appeared likely to obtain his demand, 
 Loi'd Carse had avoided the scandal of the pro- 
 ceeding by acknowledging tliat it had been a sham 
 funeral. Annie believed that now the lady had
 
 Annie's news. 171 
 
 only to wait as patiently as she could, in the rea- 
 sonable hope that her friends would not rest till 
 they had rescued her. 
 
 At this moment Lady Carse's quick sense was 
 caught by Adam's pulling the widow's gown and 
 asking in a whisper, " What is a Pretender? ' 
 and by Annie's soft reply, " Hush, my dear ! " 
 
 " Hush ! do you say ? " exclaimed Lady Carse, 
 with a start. " What do you mean by saying 
 <■ hush ' ? Is the Pretender come ? Answer me. 
 Has the Pretender landed in Scotland ? " 
 
 " He has not landed. Madam. He is in yonder 
 vessel. You had a great deliverance. Madam, in 
 not being taken away by his boat last night." 
 
 " Deliverance ! There is no deliverance for 
 me," said the lady, " Every hope is dashed. 
 Tliere is no kindness in holding out new hopes to 
 me. My enemies will not let me stay here now 
 my friends know where to find me. I shall be 
 carried to St. Kilda, or some other horrible place ; 
 or, if they have not time to take care of me while 
 they are setting up their new king, they will mur- 
 der me. O ! I shall never live to see Edinburgh 
 ao-ain : and my husband and Lovat will be lording 
 it* there, and laughing at me and my vain struggles 
 during all these years, while I lie helpless m my 
 grave, or tossing like a weed in these cruel seas. 
 If God will but grant my prayer, and let me haunt 
 
 them Stop, stop : do not go away." 
 
 " I must, Madam, if you talk so." 
 " Stop. I want to know about this Pretender. 
 Why did you not tell us sooner? Why not the 
 moment you knew ? " , • 4. 
 
 " I considered it was the steward s busmess to 
 tell what he thought proper : but I have no ob-
 
 172 aknie's news. 
 
 jection to give all the particulars. I know Iig 
 whom they call Prince Charlie is in yonder vessel, 
 whicli carries eighteen guns. It cannot hold many 
 soldiers ; and Sir Alexander does not believe that 
 he will be joined by any from his islands. Ho 
 is thought to have a good many officers with 
 him " 
 
 " How many ? " 
 
 *' Some say twenty ; some say forty. It is pretty 
 sure that Glengarry will join liim " 
 
 " Glengarry ! Then all is lost." 
 
 " Sir Alexander thinks not. He and Macleod 
 have written to the Ijord President, that not a man 
 from these islands will join." 
 
 '• They have written to Duncan Forbes ! Now, 
 if they were wise, they would send me to him. . . , 
 You need not look so surprised. He is a friend of 
 mine ; and glad enough he would be at this mo- 
 ment to know what I could tell him of the Edin- 
 burgh Jacobites. Where is the Lord President at 
 this time ? " 
 
 " In the north, I think, preparing against the 
 rising." 
 
 " Aye ; at his own place near Inverness. If I 
 
 could but get a letter to him Perhaps he 
 
 knows already that I am not dead. If I could see 
 Sir Alexander ! O ! there are so many ways open- 
 ing, if I had but the least help from any body to 
 use the opportunity ! Sir Alexander ought ta 
 know that I am a loyal subject of King George ; 
 and that my enemies are not." 
 
 " True," said Annie. " I will endeavour to 
 speak to the steward again before he sails, and 
 tell liim that." 
 
 " 1 will speak to him, myself. Ah ! I see your
 
 Annie's news. 173 
 
 unwillingness : but I have learnt — it would be 
 strange If I had not — to trust nobody with my 
 business. With Prince Charlie so near, there is 
 no saying who is a Jacobite, and who is not. I 
 will see the steward myself." 
 
 Annie knew that this would fail ; and so it did. 
 The steward's dispositions were not improved by 
 the lady's method of pleading. He told her that 
 Sir Alexander's loyalty to King George had no- 
 thing to do with his pledge that Lord Carse should 
 never more be troubled by her. He had pledged 
 his honour that she should cause no more disturb- 
 ance : and no political difficulties would make him 
 forfeit his word. The steward grew dogged during 
 the interview. 
 
 Did her friends in Edinburgh know that she 
 •was alive ? she demanded. " Perhaps so.'^ 
 
 Did they know where she was? " Perhaps so." 
 
 Then, should she be carried somewhere else? 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 To some M-retched, outlandish place — further in 
 the ocean ? " Perhaps so." 
 
 Would they murder her rather than yield her 
 up ? " Perhaps so." 
 
 The steward's heart smote him as he said this ; 
 but he forgave himself on the plea that the vixen 
 brought it all upon her herself. So, when she 
 asked the further question, 
 
 " Is there any chance for the Pretender ? — any 
 danger that he may succeed ? " the answer still 
 was 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 Mr. Ruthven, who was prowling about in search 
 of news, heard these last words ; and they produced 
 a great effect upon him.
 
 ( 174 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TIMELY EVASIOX. 
 
 Mk. Ruthven was walking up and down his gar- 
 den that afternoon, in a disturbed state of mind, 
 when liis wife came to him, and asked him what he 
 thought Lady Carse could be in want of. She was 
 searching among his books and boxes as if she 
 wanted something. He hastened in. 
 
 " Yes ;" Lady Carse replied, in answer to his 
 question. " I want that pistol that used to be kept 
 on the top of your bed. You need not look so 
 frightened. I am not going to shoot you, nor 
 anybody you ought to care for. 
 
 " I should like to understand, however," ob- 
 served the pastor. " It is unusual for ladies to 
 employ fire-arms, I believe, except in apprehen- 
 sion of the midnight thief: and I am not aware of 
 any danger from burglars in these islands." 
 
 " Why no," replied the lady. " "We have no 
 great temptation to offer to burglars ; and nothing 
 to lose worth the waste of powder and bullet." 
 
 " Then, if I may ask " 
 
 " O yes ; you may ask what I want the pistol 
 for. It strikes me that the boat from yonder ves- 
 sel may possibly be sent back for me yet. They 
 may think me a prize worth having, if the stupid 
 people carried my stoiy right. I would go with 
 them — I would go joyfully — for the chance of 
 shooting that young gentleman through the heiid."
 
 TIMELY EVASION. 175 
 
 " Young gentleman ! " repeated Mr. Ruthven, 
 aghast. 
 
 " Yes, the young Pretender. My father lost his 
 life for shooting a Lord President. His daughter 
 is the one to go beyond him, by getting rid of a 
 Prince Charlie. It would be a tale for history, 
 that he was disposed of among these islands by the 
 bravery of a woman. Why, you look so aghast," 
 she continued, turning from the husband to the 
 
 wife, " that Yes, yes. O, ho ! I have found 
 
 you out ! — ^you are Jacobites ! I see it in your 
 faces. I see it. There now, don't deny it. Jaco- 
 bites you are — and henceforth my enemies." 
 
 With stammering eagerness, both husband and 
 wife denied the charge. The fact was, they were 
 not Jacobites ; neither had they any sustaining 
 loyalty on the other side. They understood very 
 little of the matter, either way ; and dreaded, 
 above everything, being pressed to take any part. 
 They thought it very hard to have their lot cast 
 in precisely that corner of the empire where it was 
 first necessary to take some part before knowing 
 what the nation, or the majority, meant to do. 
 First, they prevented the lady's finding the pistol, 
 as the safest proceeding on the whole ; next, they 
 wished themselves a thousand miles off, so earnestly 
 and so often, that it occurred to them to consider 
 whether they could not accomplish a part of this 
 desire, and get a hundred miles away, or fifty, or 
 twenty — somewhere at least out of sight of the 
 Pretender's privateer. 
 
 In a few hours the privateer was out of sights 
 " Gone about north," the steward declared, " for sup- 
 plies :" as nobody was willing to give them any help 
 while under the shadow of Macdonald and Macleod,
 
 ^76 TIMELY EVASION. 
 
 In the evening, little Kate rushed into Annie's 
 cottage, silently threw lier arms about the widow's 
 neck, and almost strangled her with a tight hug. 
 Adam followed, and struggled to do the same. 
 When he Manted to speak, he began to cry ; and 
 grievously he cried, sobbing out, 
 
 " What will you do without me! You can't 
 see the boats at sea well now ; and soon, perhaps, 
 you will hardly be able to see them at all. And 
 I was to have helped you : and now what will 
 you do ? " 
 
 " And papa would not let us come sooner," said 
 the weeping Kate, " because we had to pack all 
 our things in such a hurry. He said we need not 
 come to you till he came to bid you good-bye. 
 But I made haste, and then I came." 
 
 " But, my dears, when are you going? where 
 are you going ? " 
 
 " O, we are going directly : the steward is in 
 such a hurry ! And papa says we are not to cry ; 
 and we are not to come back any more. And we 
 shall never get any of those beautiful shells on the 
 
 long sands, that you promised me ; and " 
 
 ^ Here Mr. Ruthven entered. He had no time to 
 sit down. He told the children that they must not 
 cry; but that they might kiss their friend, and 
 thank her for her kindness to them, and tell her 
 that they should never see her any more. There 
 was so much difficulty with the sobbing children 
 on this last point, that he gave it up for want of 
 time, threatening to see about making them more 
 obedient when he was settled on the mainland. 
 While they clung to Annie, and hid their faces in 
 her gown, he explained to her tliat his residence in 
 this island had not answered to his expectations;
 
 TIMELY EVASION. 177 
 
 that he did not find it a congenial sphere ; that he 
 was a man of peace, to whom neither domestic dis- 
 cord, nor the prospect of war and difficulty with- 
 out, were agreeable; and that he was, therefore, 
 taking advantage of the steward's vessel to remove 
 himself to some quiet retreat, where the pastoral 
 authority might be exercised without disturbance, 
 and a man like himself might be placed in a more 
 congenial sphere. He was then careful to explain 
 that, in speaking of domestic discord, he was far 
 from referring to Mrs. Euthven, wlio, he thought 
 he might say, however liable to tlie failings of hu- 
 manity, was not particularly open to blame on the 
 ground of conjugal obedience. She was, in fact, 
 an excellent wife ; and he should be grieved to cause 
 the most transient impression to the contrary. It 
 was, in truth, another person, a casual inmate of his 
 family, whom he had in his eye ; a lady who. ..." 
 
 " I understand. Sir. If you will allow me to 
 go home with you. ..." 
 
 " Permit me to conclude what I M'as saying, 
 Mrs. Fleming. That unhappy lady, in favour of 
 whose temper it is impossible to say anything, has 
 caused us equal uneasiness by another tendency of 
 late, a tendency to indulge. . . ." 
 
 But Annie did not, at such a moment, stand 
 upon ceremony. She was by this time leading the 
 children home, one in each hand. 
 
 " So you are really going away^ and imme- 
 diately," said she to Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 " Immediately," replied the heated, anxious 
 Mrs. Ruthven. 
 
 " Where is Lady Carse ? " 
 
 The question brought tears again into Mrs. 
 Ruthven's swollen eyes. 
 
 I
 
 178 TIMELY EVASION. 
 
 " I do not know. Mr. Ruthven wishes to be 
 gone before she retnrns from her walk." 
 
 " We leave her the entire house to herself," de- 
 clared the pastor, now entering. " Will you bear 
 our farewell message to her, and wish her joy from 
 us of being possessor of the whole house ; and 
 of...." 
 
 " Here she comes," said Annie, quietly. '' Lady 
 Carse," said she, " this is a remarkable day. Here 
 is another way opening for your deliverance — a 
 way which appears to me so clear that you have 
 only to be patient for a few weeks or months be- 
 fore your best wishes are fulfilled. Mrs. Ruthven 
 will now be able to do for you what she has so 
 often longed to do. She is going to the main — 
 perhaps to Edinburgh ; she will see Mr. Hope, and 
 others of your friends ; and tell your story. She 
 will...." 
 
 " She will not have anything of the sort to do," 
 interrupted Lady Carse. " I shall go and do it 
 myself. I told her, some time since, that wJien- 
 ever she quitted this island I would not be left be- 
 hind. I shall do my own business myself, if yon 
 please." 
 
 " That is well," interposed the pastor ; "because 
 I promised the steward, passed my solemn word to 
 him, as a condition of my departure, that it should 
 never become known througli me or mine that 
 Lady Carse had ever been seen by any of us. I 
 entirely approve of Lady Carse managing her own 
 affairs." 
 
 Annie found means to declare solemnly to Mrs. 
 Rutliven her conviction tliat no such promise could 
 be binding on her, and that it was her bounden 
 duty to spare no effort for the poor lady's release.
 
 TIMELY EVASION. 179 
 
 She was persuaded that Mrs. Ruthven thought and 
 felt witli her ; and that something effectual would 
 at last be done. 
 
 The children now most needed her consolations. 
 " Do not be afraid," she said cheerfully to them. 
 *' I shall never forget you. I shall think of you 
 every day. Whenever you see a sea-bird winging 
 over this way, send me your love : and when I^see 
 our birds go south, I will send my love to you." 
 
 " And whenever," said Helsa, " you see a light 
 over the sea, you will think of widow Fleming's 
 lamp ; won't you ? " 
 
 "And whenever," said Lady Carse, with a so- 
 lemnity which froze up the children's tears, and 
 made them look in her face, " whenever, in this 
 world or the next, you see a quiet angel keeping 
 watch over a sinful, unhappy mortal, you^ may 
 think of widow Fleming and me. AYill you ? "_ 
 
 The awe-struck children promised, with a sin- 
 cerity and warmth which touched Lady Carse with 
 a keen sense of humiliation ; not the less keen be- 
 cause she had brought it upon herself by a good 
 impulse. 
 
 The pastor and his flimily were presently gone ; 
 and without Lady Carse. The steward guarded 
 against that by bringing Macdonald to fasten her 
 into her house, and guard it, till the boat should 
 be out of reach. 
 
 Annie did not intrude upon her unhappy neigh- 
 bour for the first few hours. She thought it better 
 to wait till she was wished for. 
 
 " Our pastor gone!" thought she, as she sat 
 alone. " No more children's voices in this dwell- 
 inr>-! No more worship in the church on Sab- 
 baths ! Thus is our Father always giving and 
 
 I 2
 
 180 TIMELY EVASION. 
 
 taking away, that we may fix our expectations on 
 him alone. But he always leaves us enough. He 
 leaves us our duty and his Sabbaths, whether the 
 church be open or in ruins. And He has left 
 me also an afflicted neighbour to comfort and 
 strengthen. Now that she thinks she depends on 
 me alone, I may be the better able to lead her to 
 depend on Him." 
 
 And she was presently absorbed in meditating 
 how best to do this most needful work.
 
 ( 181 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV3I. 
 
 THE liAMP BURNS. 
 
 Annie had supposed that her life would be almost 
 as quiet an one as it used to be wlien the minister 
 and his family were gone. Lady Carse Avas her 
 neighbour, to be sure ; but every day showed more 
 and more that even to such restless beings as Lady 
 Carse, a time of quiet must come. Her health 
 and strength had been wasting for some months, 
 and now a change came over her visibly from 
 week to week. She rarely moved many yards 
 from the house, spending hours of fine weather in 
 lying on the grass looking over the sea ; and when 
 confined to the house by the cold, in dozing on 
 the settle. 
 
 This happened just when her prison was, as it 
 were, thrown open, or, at least, much less care- 
 fully guarded than ever before. Prince Charlie's 
 successes were so great as to engross all minds in 
 this region, and almost throughout the whole of 
 the kingdom. Wherever the Macdonalds and 
 Macleods had influence, there M-as activity, day 
 and night. Every man in either clan, every youth 
 capable of bearing arms, was raised and drilled, and 
 held in readiness to march, as soon as arms should 
 bo provided by the government. 
 
 Annie had many anxieties about Rollo, — many 
 ieelings of longing and dread to hear where he 
 was, and what he was doing. The first good news
 
 ^°2 THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 she had ^yas that of the whole population of Skye 
 and the neighbouring islands, not one man had 
 joined the Pretender. The news was carefully 
 spread, m order that it might produce its effect on 
 any waverers, that Sir Alexander Macdonald had 
 written to Lord President Forbes that not one 
 man under him or Macleod had joined the Pre- 
 tender's army ; and that he should soon be ready 
 to march a force of several hundred men, if arms 
 could be sent or provided for them against their 
 arrival at Inverness. Meantime, no day passed 
 without the men being collected in parties, and 
 exercised with batons, in the absence of fire-arms 
 Rollo came to the very first drill which took place 
 on the island ; and great was his mother's relief- 
 and great the satisfaction with which she made 
 haste to equip him, according to her small means, 
 for a march to Inverness. 
 
 Here was an object too for Lady Carse. She 
 fj etted sadly, but not quite idly, about her strength 
 failing just now wlien boats came to the island so 
 often that she might have had many chances of 
 escape if she could now have borne night watchino-, 
 and exposure to weather and fatigue. She com- 
 plained and wept much; but all the time she 
 \A orked as hard as Annie to prepare Eollo for mili- 
 tary service; for her very best chance now ap- 
 peared to be his seeing Lord President Forbes 
 and telling him her story. The widow quite 
 agreed m this ; and it became the most earnest de- 
 sire of the whole party,— Helsa's sympathies beino- 
 drawn jn,— that the summons to march might 
 arrive. Somebody was always looking over to- 
 wards Skye; and there was so much traffic on 
 tiiese seas at present, that some new excitement
 
 THE LAMP BURNS. 183 
 
 was perpetually arising. Now a meal- bark ar- 
 rived, telling of the capture of others by the 
 Prince's privateer: and next there was a seizure of 
 fish for the king's service. Now all eyes were en- 
 gaged, for days together, in watching the man-of- 
 war which hovered round the coasts to prevent the 
 rebels being reinforced by water, and arms being- 
 landed from foreign vessels : and then there were 
 rumours, and sometimes visions, of suspicious boats 
 skulking among the islands, or a strange sail being 
 visible on the horizon. Such excitements made 
 the island appear a new place, and ciianged entirely 
 the life of the inhabitants. The brave enjoyed all 
 this : the timid sickened at it ; and Lady Carse 
 wept over it as coming too late for her. 
 
 " The lady looks ill," the steward observed to 
 widow Fleming, one day Avhen, as often happened 
 now, he came without notice. " She is so shrunk, 
 she is not like the same person." 
 
 Annie told how she had lost strength and spirits 
 of late. She had not been down even to the har- 
 bour for two months. 
 
 " Ay, it is a change," said the steward. " I 
 was saying to Macdonald just now that we have 
 been rather careless of the lady of late, having had 
 our heads so full of other matters. I almost won- 
 dered that she had not slipped through our fingers 
 in the hurry and bustle : but I see now how that 
 is. However, Ma'cdonald will keep a somewhat 
 stricter watch ; for, as I told him, it concerns Sir 
 Alexander's honour all the more that she should 
 not get loose, now that those who committed her 
 to his charge are under suspicion about their poli- 
 tics. — Ah ! you see the secret is getting out now, 
 — the reason of her punishment. She wanted to
 
 184 THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 ruin them, no doubt, by telling what she knew ; 
 and they put her out of the way for safety." 
 
 " Is her husband with the Pretender then ? 
 And is Lord Lovat on that side? They are the 
 two she is the most angry with." 
 
 " Lord Carse is safe enough. He is a prudent 
 man. He could not get into favour with the king- 
 and the minister: — they knew too much harm of 
 him for that. So he has made himself a courtier 
 of the Prince of Wales. He has no idea of being- 
 thrust upon the dangers of rebellion while the 
 event is uncertain ; so he attaches himself in a use- 
 less way to tlie reigning family. And if Prince 
 Charlie should succeed, Lord Carse can easily show 
 that he never favoured King George or his minis- 
 ter, or did them any good. — As for Lovat, he is ill 
 and quiet at home." 
 
 " Which side is he on ? " 
 
 " He complains bitterly of his son being dis- 
 obedient to him, and put upon his disobedience by 
 his Jacobite acquaintance. If the young man 
 joins Prince Charlie, it is thought that his father 
 will stand by King George, that the family estates 
 may be safe whichever way the war ends. — Bless 
 me ! what a sigh ! One would think .... Come 
 now, what 's the matter ? " 
 
 " The wickedness of it ! " said Annie. 
 
 " O ! is that all ? Lovat's wickedness is no- 
 thing new ; and what better could you expect from 
 his son ? By the same rule, I have great expec- 
 tations of your son. As you are sound, he will be 
 sound too, and do his king and country good ser- 
 vice. You are both on the same side, and not like 
 the master of Lovat and his father." 
 
 " We have no estates to corrupt our minds,'*
 
 THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 185 
 
 observed Annie. " We have only our duty to 
 
 care for." , ^^ 
 
 " Ay, then, you are on the same side. 
 " RoUo is ready to march with the men of these 
 islands. I am on no side, Sir. I do not under- 
 stand the matter, and I have nothing to do with it. 
 There is no occasion for me to take any side." 
 
 " Why yes ; as it happens, there is, JMrs. Flem- 
 ins; : and that is one of the things that brought 
 me here to-day. Sir Alexander Macdonald desires 
 that you will oblige him by not burning your lamp 
 ill the night till the troubles are over." 
 
 " I am sorry that there is anything in which I 
 cannot oblige Sir Alexander Macdonald: but I 
 must burn my lamp." 
 
 " But hear: you do not know his reasons. 
 There are some suspicious vessels skulking about 
 anions' the islands ; and you ought to^ show them 
 no favour till they show what they are." 
 
 " You do not think. Sir, you cannot surely 
 think that anybody on this island is in danger from 
 the enemy. There is nothing to bring them here, 
 
 no arms, nor wealth of any kind ;— nothing that 
 
 it would be worth the trouble of coming to take." 
 " O no : you are all safe enough. No enemy 
 would lose their time here. But that is no reason 
 why you should give them help and comfort with 
 your beacon-light." 
 
 " You mean, Sir, that if a storm drives them 
 hither, or they lose their way, you would have 
 them perish. Yes ; that is what you mean, and 
 what I cannot do. I must burn my lamp." 
 
 " But, my good friend, consider what you are 
 doing. Consider the responsibility if you should 
 
 succour the king's enemies ! " , 
 
 i3
 
 186 THE LAMP BURXS. 
 
 "''" I did consider it well, Sir, some years ago, 
 and made up my mind. That Avas when the pi- 
 rates were on the coast." 
 
 " You don't mean that you would liave lighted 
 pirates to shore ? " 
 
 " I could not refuse to save them from drowninsr : 
 and He who set me my duty blessed the deed." 
 
 " I remember hearing something of that. But 
 if the pirates did no mischief, your neigiibours owe 
 j'ou nothing for that. You may thank the poverty 
 of the island." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Annie, smiling. " And if 
 
 so, I am sure we may thank God for the poverty 
 
 of the island which permits us to save men's lives, 
 
 instead of letting them drown. And now you see, 
 
 ir. . . . 
 
 " I see you are as wilful on this point as I heard 
 you were. I would not believe it, because I al- 
 ways thought you a superior woman. But now — • 
 I wish I could persuade you to see your duty 
 better, Mrs. Fleming." 
 
 " As my duty appears to me, Sir, it is to save 
 people's lives without regard to who they are, and 
 wliat their business is." 
 
 " If the Pretender should come. . . ." 
 
 " He would go as he came," said Annie, quietly. 
 " He would get nothing here that could hurt the 
 king, wliile the men of the island are gone to In- 
 verness." 
 
 " Well, to be sure, if you would succour and 
 comfort pirates, there is nobody whom you would 
 not help." 
 
 " That is true, Sir." 
 
 " But it is very dangerous, Mrs. Fleming. Do 
 you know the consequences of aiding the enemy ? "
 
 THE LAMP BURXS. 1S7 
 
 " I know the consequences of theve being- no 
 light above the liarbour," suid Annie, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 The steMard knew it was useless to say more. 
 He thought it better to put into her hand some 
 newspapers which contained a startling- account of 
 the progress of the rebels, embellished Avith many 
 terrifying- fictions of their barbarity, such as were 
 greedily received by the alarmists of tlie time. 
 
 " Here," said he. " You can look these over, 
 while I go to speak to Macdonald about removing 
 the lady to some remoter place while we have 
 only women on the island. Pray look o^ er these 
 papers, and then you will see what sort of people 
 you may chance to bring upon your neighbours, if 
 you persist in burning your lamp. But Sir Alex- 
 ander must put forth his authority, — even use 
 force, if necessary. What do you say to tliat ? " 
 
 " Some old words," said Annie, smiling, " given 
 to those who are brought before governors. It 
 shall be given me in that same hour what I shall 
 speak." 
 
 " I will look in for the papers as I return," said 
 the steward. " You are as wilful on your own 
 points as your neighbour. But you must give 
 ■way, as you preach that she ought. ..." 
 
 " I do not preach that. Sir, I assure you. I 
 wish, for her own peace, that slie could yield her- 
 self to God's disposal: but I would have her, in 
 the strength of law and justice, resist the oppres- 
 sion of man." 
 
 The steward smiled, nodded, and left Annie to 
 read the newspapers. 
 
 The time was short. Lady Carse was asleep; 
 but Annie awoke her. and left one paper with her
 
 1S8 THE LAMP BURNS. 
 
 while she went home to read the other. She was 
 absorbed in the narrative of the march of the 
 rebels southwards, and their intention of proceed- 
 ing to London, eating children, as the newspaper 
 said, after the manner of Highlanders, all the way 
 as they went, when Lady Carse burst in, trembling 
 from head to foot, and unable to speak. She 
 showed to Annie a short paragraph which told 
 that a vessel chartered by Mr. Hope, advocate of 
 Edinburgh, and bound to the Western Islands, 
 had put in to the Horseshoe harbour in Lorn, to 
 land a lady whom the captain refused to carry to 
 her destination, through a quarrel on the ground 
 of difference of political sentiment. The lady, 
 Avife of a minister of the kirk, had sought the aid 
 of the resident tenant to be escorted home through 
 the disturbed districts in Argj^le, while the vessel 
 proceeded on its way, — not unwatched, however, 
 as Mr. Hope's attachment to the house of Stuart 
 was no secret, &c. &c. 
 
 The widow was perplexed ; but Lady Carse 
 knew that Mr. Hope, her lawyer and her friend, 
 was a Jacobite, — the only fault he had, she de- 
 clared. She was persuaded that the lady was Mrs. 
 Euthven, and that the vessel was on its way to 
 rescue her, — might arrive at any hour of the day 
 or nifjht. 
 
 " But," said Annie, " this lady is loyal to King 
 George, and you reproached the Euthvens for 
 being on the other side." 
 
 " O ! I was wrong about her, no doubt. I de- 
 test him : but she is a good creature ; and I was 
 quite Avrong ever to suspect her." 
 
 " And you think your loyalty to the king would 
 do you no harm with Mr. Hope ? You think he
 
 THE LAMP BURNS. 189 
 
 would exert himself for you without thinkiurr yf 
 your politics ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you see what is before your eyes ? " 
 cried Lady Carse. " Is it not there, as plain as 
 black and white can make it ? " 
 
 The fact was so, though the lady's reasonino- 
 was not good. The vessel, with armed men in it, 
 was sent by Mr. Hope to rescue Lady Carse ; and 
 Mrs. Ruthven was to act as guide. In conse- 
 quence of a quarrel between the captain and her, 
 she Avas set ashore at the place where the littlig 
 town of Oban has since arisen ; and tlie vessel 
 sailed on, out of sight. It was an illegal proceed- 
 ing of Mr. Hope's, and resorted to only wlien his 
 attempts to obtain a warrant from the proper au- 
 thority to search for and liberate Lady Carse ^vere 
 frustrated by the influence of her husband and his 
 friends. 
 
 " He will be coming ! Burn tlie paper ! " cried 
 Lady Carse impatiently, looking from the door. 
 
 '• Better not. Indeed we had better not," said 
 Annie, quietly. " They have no suspicion, or 
 they would not have let us see the paper. They 
 do not know that Mr. Hope is your agent ; and 
 Mrs. Ruthven's name is not mentioned. If we do 
 not return both the papers, there will be suspicion ; 
 and you will be carried to St. Kilda. If we quietly 
 return both papers, the danger may pass." 
 
 " O ! burn it, and say it was accident. How 
 slow you are ! " 
 
 "' I cannot tell a lie," said Annie. " And the 
 steward would only get another copy of the paper, 
 and look over it carefully, — No, we have only to 
 give him back the papers, and thank him, without 
 agitation."
 
 190 THE LAMP BUKKS. 
 
 (I 
 
 I cannot do that," exclaimed Lady Carse. 
 " If you will not tell a lie in such a case, I shall 
 act one. I shall go and pretend to be asleep. I 
 could not contain myself to speak to that man, 
 with my deliverers almost within hearing, perhaps, 
 and that detestable St. Kilda within sight." 
 
 She commanded herself so far as to appear 
 asleep, when the steward looked in, on his return. 
 Annie remarked on tlie news of the rebels, and 
 saw him depart evidently unaware of the weighty 
 amture of Avhat he carried in his pocket.
 
 ( 1?1 ) .Hil 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 OPENINGS. 
 
 The autumn of this year is even now held in 
 memory in the island as the dearest ever known. 
 The men were all gone to Inverness, to act under 
 the orders of President Forbes in defending- the 
 king's cause ; and the women tliey left behind pined 
 for news which seldom or never came. As the days 
 grew short and dark, there was none of the activity 
 and mirth within doors which in northern climates 
 visually meet the advances of winter. In the cluster 
 of houses about Macdonald's farm, there was dulness 
 and silence in the evenings, and anxious thoughts 
 about fathers, Imsbands, and brothers, with dread 
 of the dayliglit which would bring round the per- 
 petual ineffectual watch for a boat on the waters, 
 bearing news of the brave companies of the Mac- 
 donalds and Macleods. Sir Alexander remained 
 in Skye, to watch against treason and danger there, 
 while Macleod had gone with the two companief. 
 Such a thing as murmuring against the chief was 
 never heard of; but there were few of the women 
 who did not silently think, now and then, that Sir 
 Alexander miglit let them have a little more news 
 — might consider their anxiety, and send a mes- 
 senger when he had tidinsrs from Inverness. This 
 was imjust to Sir Alexander, who was no better off 
 for news than themselves. The rebels were so far 
 successful that messengers could not carry letters
 
 192 OPENINGS. 
 
 vith any security by land or sea. It Mas only by 
 folding his notes so small as to admit of their being 
 hidden in corners of the dress that the president 
 could get them conveyed to the authorities at Edin- 
 burgh ; and his correspondence with the Govern- 
 ment was managed by sending messengers in open 
 boats to Berwick, whence the garrison officer 
 forwarded the despatches to London. In such a 
 state of things, the inhabitants of remote western 
 islands must bear suspense as well as they could. 
 
 No one bore it so well as the widow Fleming. 
 Her only son was in one of theabsent companies ; 
 she had no other near relation in the world ; and 
 she had on her hands a sinking and heart-sick 
 neighbour, whose pains of suspense were added 
 to her own. Yet Annie was the most cheerful 
 person now on the island. When Helsa was 
 fatigued and dispirited by her attendance on Lady 
 Carse, and was sent home for a day's holiday, she 
 always came back with alacrity, saying that after 
 all, the Macdonalds' side of the island was the 
 most dismal of the two. Nobody there cared to 
 sing, whereas Annie would always sing when asked, 
 and often was heard to do so when alone. And 
 she had such a store of tales about the old sea-kings, 
 and the heroes of these islands, and of Scottish his- 
 tory, that some of the younger women came night 
 after night to listen. As they knitted or spun, or 
 let fall their work, while their eyes were fixed on 
 Annie, they forgot the troubles of their own time, 
 and the blasts and rains through which they should 
 have to find their way home. 
 
 At the end of these evenings. Lady Carse often 
 declared herself growing better ; and she then went 
 to sleep on the imagination that she should soon be
 
 OPEKINGS. 
 
 193 
 
 restored to Edinburgli life by Mr. Hope's means, 
 and be happy at last. In the morning, she always 
 declared herself sinking, and fretted over the hard- 
 ship of dying just when her release was drawmg 
 near. Annie thought she was sinking, and never 
 contradicted her when she said so ; but yet she 
 tried to bring some of the cheerfulness of the even- 
 ings into the morning. She sympathised in the 
 pain of suspense, and of increasing weakness when 
 life was brightening; but she steadily spoke of 
 
 hope. 
 
 She was sincerely convinced that efforts which 
 could not fail were making for Lady Carse's re- 
 lease, and she thought it likely that the mother and 
 children would meet on earth, though it were only 
 to exchange a hope that they might meet in heaven. 
 Sincerely expecting some great and speedy change 
 in the poor lady's fortunes, she could dwell upon 
 the prospect from day to day with a sympathy 
 which did not disappoint even Lady Carse. Every 
 morning she rose with the feeling that great things 
 might happen before night ; and every night she 
 assured her eager neighbour that no doubt some- 
 body had been busy on her behalf during the day. 
 Whether Lady Carse owned it to herself or not, 
 this was certainly the least miserable winter she 
 had passed since she had left Edinburgh. 
 
 " I am better, I am sure," she joyfully declared 
 one night : " better in every way. How do I look ? 
 Tell me how I look." 
 
 " Sadly thin ; not so as to do justice to the good 
 food the steward sent you," said Annie, cheerfully. 
 " I should like to see these little hands not quite so 
 thin." 
 
 "Ah ! that is nothing. Everybody is thin and
 
 194 OPENINGS. 
 
 smoke-dried at the end of a stormy winter," de- 
 clared Lady Carse. " But I feel so much better ! 
 You say it is hope ; but you see how well I bear 
 suspense." 
 
 " I always have thought," said Annie, " that 
 nothing is so good for us all as happiness and 
 peace. Your happiness in hoping to see your chil- 
 dren soon, and in obtaining justice, has done you a 
 great deal of good ; and I trust there is much more 
 in store yet." 
 
 " O yes ; and when I get back to my friends 
 again, I shall be happier than I was. We learn 
 some things as we go on in life. I sometimes think 
 that I should in some respects act differently if I 
 had to live my life over again." 
 " We all feel that," said Annie. 
 " You know that feelino- ? Well, there have 
 been some things in myself which I rather wonder 
 at now ; some things that I would not do now. I 
 once struck my husband." 
 
 " Once ! " thought Annie in amazement. 
 " And I think I may have been too peremptory 
 with the children. There was nobody then to lead 
 me to consider such things as I do when I am with 
 you ; but I believe now that if I were at home 
 again ... I hope ... I think . . ." 
 
 " What will you do if it pleases God to restore 
 you to your home ?" 
 
 " Why, I have been told that they were afraid 
 of me at home. Heaven knows why ! for I should 
 have thought that pompous, ]ieartles.s, rigid, tyran- 
 nical wretch, my liusband, was the one to be afraid 
 of; and not a warm-hearted creature like me." 
 " Perhaps they -were afraid of him too," 
 *' yes, to be sure ; and that is why I am here.
 
 orEMNGS. 195 
 
 But tliey need not have cared for anything I say 
 under an impulse. They might have known that 
 I love people Avhen they do me justice. That, I 
 own, I cannot dispense with. I must have justice. 
 But if people give me my due, I am ready enough 
 to love them." 
 
 " And how will you do differently now, if you 
 
 get home ?" 
 
 " I think I would be more dignified tlian I some- 
 times have been. I woidd rely more upon myself. 
 I may have encouraged my enemies by letting 
 them see how they could wound my sensitive feel- 
 iuo-s. I sliould not ha\e been so ill-treated by the 
 whole world if I had not made some mistake of 
 that kind. I would rely more on myself, and let 
 them see that tliey could not touch my peace. 
 Would not that be right ?" 
 
 '• Certainly ; by your having a peace which they 
 eould not touch." 
 
 There was a short pause ; after M'hich Lady 
 Carse said, in no unamiable tone, 
 
 " I do not say these things by way of asking 
 your advice. I know my own feelings and circum- 
 stances, and the behaviour of my family to me, 
 better than you can do. I may be left to judge for 
 myself; but it is natural, when a summons may 
 come any day, to tell you what I think of the past; 
 and of how I shall act in the time to come." 
 
 " I quite understand that," said Annie. " And 
 I like to hear all you like to tell me without 
 judging or advising, unless you ask me." 
 
 " Well, I fairly own to you — and you may take 
 the confession for what it is worth — if I had to 
 live the last twenty years over again, I should in 
 some respects act differently. I now believe that
 
 196 OPENIKGS. 
 
 I have said and done some things that I had better 
 not. But I was driven to it. I have been most 
 cruelly treated." 
 
 " You have." 
 
 " And if they had only known how to treat me ! 
 Wliy, you are not afraid of me, are you ?" 
 
 " Not in the least." 
 
 " And you never were ?" 
 
 '' Never." 
 ^' Why, there now ! But you are a woman of 
 sense." 
 
 " I am not afraid of you, and never was," said 
 Annie, looking calmly in her face; "but I can 
 understand how some people might be." 
 
 " Not people of sense," exclaimed Lady Carse 
 quickly. 
 
 " Perhaps not ; but we do not expect all that we 
 have dealings Avith to be people of sense." 
 
 " No, indeed ! Nobody need ever look for sense 
 in Lord Carse, for one. Well ! I am so glad 
 you never were afraid of me ; and I am sure, more- 
 over, that you love me : you are so kind to me ! " 
 
 " I do," said Annie, smiling in reply to the 
 wistful gaze. 
 
 Lady Carse's eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Good night ! God bless you ! " said she. 
 
 " She says^" thought Annie, " that I may take 
 her confession for what it is worth. How little she 
 knows the worth of that confession ! — a confession 
 that any acquaintance she has would blush or mock 
 at, and that any pastor in Scotland would rebuke ! 
 but to one who knows her as I do, how precious it 
 is ! I like to be called to rejoice with the neigh- 
 bours when a child is born into the world : but it 
 is a greater thing to sit here alone and rejoice over
 
 OPENINGS. 197 
 
 the birth of a new soul in this poor lady. It is but 
 a feeble thing, this new-born soul — born so much 
 too late ; it is little better than blind and helpless, 
 and with hard struggles coming on before it has 
 strensrth to meet them. But still it is breathinor 
 with God's breath ; and it may come freely to 
 Christ. Christ always spoke to souls ; and what 
 were the years of man's life to him ? So I take it as 
 an invitation in such a case as this, when he says, 
 ' Suffer the little children to come unto me.' O ! 
 may the way be kept clear for this infant soul to 
 come to him ! " 
 
 Annie had all the kindly and cheerful instincts 
 which simple hearts have everywhere ; and among 
 them the wish to welcome the newly born with music. 
 With the same feeling which makes the people ot 
 many a heathen island and Christian country pour 
 out their music round the dwelling which is glad- 
 dened by a new birth, Annie now sang a cheerful 
 religious welcome to the young conscience which 
 she trusted must henceforth live and grow for ever. 
 Her voice was heard next door, just so as to be 
 favourable to rest. Without knowing the occasion 
 of the song, the lady reposed upon it ; and without 
 knowing it, Annie sang lier charge to sleep as she 
 had often done when Rollo was an infant on her 
 knee. 
 
 When at daylight she rose to put out her lamp, 
 and observe the weather, she saw what made her 
 dress quickly, instead of going to bed for her need- 
 ful morning hour of sleep. A boat was making 
 for the harbour through the difficulties of the 
 wintry sea. It rose and was borne on the long 
 swell so fast and so fearfully, that it appeared as if 
 nothing could save it from dashing on the ledges
 
 198 OPENINGS. 
 
 of projecting rock ; and then, before it reached 
 them, it sank out of sight, to be lifted up and borne 
 along as before. There were four rowers, a steers- 
 man, and two others, muffled in cloaks. Annie 
 watched them till the boat disappeared in the 
 windings of the harbour ; and she was out on the 
 hill-side, in the cold February wind, when she saw 
 the Avhole party ascending from the shore, and 
 takino- the road to Macdonald's. 
 
 Here was news ! There must be news. Better 
 not tell even Helsa till she had heard the news. 
 So the widow made wliat liaste she could by the 
 nearer road ; but her best haste could not compare 
 with the ordinary pace of tlie strangers. They had 
 arrived long before she reached Macdonald's gate. 
 
 She walked straight in : and as she did so, one of 
 the gentlemen who was standing before the fire 
 glanced at another who was walking up and down, 
 
 '' We need no sentinels here, my Lord," said the 
 latter, in reply to the glance. " There are none 
 but women and children on the island, and they 
 are all loyally disposed," 
 
 " This is Sir Alexander Macdonald," said the 
 hostess to Annie. And tlien she told tlie chief that 
 this was the widow Fleming, wlio had no doubt come 
 to obtain tidings of her son, who had gone with the 
 company under Macleod. 
 
 '• The Lord President will give you more exact 
 news of the company than I can," said Sir Alex- 
 ander. " I only know that my people are marched 
 to Aberdeen, to protect that city from the insolence 
 of the rebels." 
 
 'J'he President, who was sitting by the fire, 
 looked up kindly, and cheerfully told the widow 
 that he had good news to give of the company
 
 OPENINGS. 199 
 
 fiom these islands. They had not been in any 
 engagement, and were all in good health when they 
 marched for Aberdeen, a fortnight before. 
 
 " And are they all in their duty, my Lord?" 
 
 " You remind me, friend, that I ought to have 
 put that before my account of their iiealth and 
 safety. They are in their duty, being proof, so 
 far, against both threat and seduction from the 
 rebels." 
 
 "Thus far?" 
 
 '• AVhy, yes ; I used those words because their 
 loyalty to the king is likely to be tried to the ut- 
 most at the present time. The king's cause is iu 
 adversity, we will hope only for a short time. 
 The rebels Isave won a battle at Falkirk, and dis- 
 persed the king's troops ; and this gentleman, the 
 Earl of Loudon," pointing to the one who was 
 standing by the fire, " and I have had to run away 
 from my house at Culloden, and throw ourselves 
 on the hospitality of Sir Alexander Macdonald." 
 
 " And what will become of your house, my 
 lord?" 
 
 '• I have thrown my house and fortune into the 
 cause, as you have thrown something much more 
 important-r-your son. If you can wait God's dis- 
 posal cheerfully, much more should I. I cannot 
 bestow a thought on my house." 
 
 " Except," said Sir Alexander, " that you have 
 nothing else to think about here ; and nothing to 
 do but to think, for this day, at least. We must 
 remain here. So safe as it is, in comparison with any 
 part of Skye, or even Barra, I should recommend 
 your staying here till we have some assurance of 
 safety elsewhere." 
 
 " I will venture to ofter something for the Lord
 
 200 OPENINGS. 
 
 President to think of and to do," said the widow, 
 coming forward with an earnestness which fixed 
 everybody's attention at once, and made Sir Alex- 
 ander stop in his walk. He was about to command 
 silence on Annie's part, but a glance at her face 
 showed him that this would be useless. 
 
 " Let me first be sure that I am right," said 
 Annie. " Is the Lord President whom I speak to 
 named Duncan Forbes? And is he a friend of 
 Lord Carse ?" 
 
 " I am Duncan Forbes : and Lord Carse is an 
 acquaintance of mine." 
 
 " Has he ever told you that his unhappy wife is 
 not dead, as he pretended, but living in miserable 
 banishment on this island ?" 
 
 " On this island ! Nonsense 1 " cried Sir Alex- 
 ander. 
 
 When assured by the hostess and Annie that it 
 was so, he swore at his steward, his tenant, and 
 himself. On first hearing of the alarm being taken 
 by the lady's friends at Edinburgh, he had ordered 
 her removal to St. Kilda, and had supposed it 
 effected long ago. The troubles of the time, which 
 left no boat or men disposable, had caused the 
 delay ; and now, between his rage at any command 
 of his having been disregarded, and his sense of his 
 absurdity in bringing a friend of his prisoner to 
 her very door, he was perfectly exasperated. He 
 muttered curses as he strode up and down. 
 
 Meantime the Lord President was quietly pre- 
 paring himself for a walk. Everybody but Annie 
 entreated him to stay till he had breakfasted, and 
 warmed himself, Lord Loudon adding that the 
 lady would not fly away in tlie course of the next 
 hour if she had been detained so many years. It
 
 OPENINGS. 201 
 
 did not escape the President's observant eye that 
 these words struck Sir Alexander, and that he 
 made a movement towards the door. There being 
 a boat and rowers at hand, she might be found to 
 have flown within the hour, if he staid to break- 
 fast. 
 
 He approached Sir Alexander, and laid his hand 
 on his arm, saying — 
 
 " My good friend, I advise yo« to yield up this 
 affair into my hands as the first law-officer of Scot- 
 land. All chance of concealment of this lady's 
 case has been over for some time. Measures have 
 been taken for some months to compel you to re- 
 sign the charge which you surely cannot wish to 
 retain. ..." 
 
 Sir Alexander broke in with curses on himself 
 for having ever been persuaded into involving him- 
 self in such a business. 
 
 " By the desire, I presume, of Lord Carse, Lord 
 Lovat, Mr. Forster, and others, not now particu- 
 larly distinguished for their loyalty." 
 
 " That is the cursed part of it," muttered Sir 
 Alexander. " It was to further their Jacobite 
 plots that they put this vixen out of the way, be- 
 cause she had some secrets in her power ; and they 
 laid it all on her temper, which, they told me, 
 caused my Lord to go in fear of his reputation and 
 his life." 
 
 " There was truth in that, to my knowledge," 
 observed the President ; " and there were considera- 
 tions connected with the daught-ers : natural con- 
 siderations, though leading to unnatural cruelty." 
 
 *' Politics w«re at the bottom, for all that," said 
 the chief. " And now, as she has been my prisoner 
 for so long, I suppose they will throw the whole 
 
 K
 
 202 
 
 OPENINGS, 
 
 responsibility upon me. The rebel leaders hate 
 me for my loyalty as they hate the devil. They 
 hate me. ..." 
 
 " As they hate Lord Loudon and myself," inter- 
 posed the President, — " which they do, I take it, 
 much more bitterly than they ever did the devil. 
 But, Sir Alexander, let me point out to you that 
 your course in regard to this lady is now clear. If 
 the rebellion succeeds, let the leaders find that you 
 have taken out of their hands this weapon which 
 they might otherwise use for your destruction. 
 Let them find you acting with me in restoring the 
 lady to her rights. If, as I anticipate, the rebellion 
 is yet to fail, this is still your only safe course. It 
 w ill afford you the best chance of impunity— which 
 impunity, however, it is not for me to promise — for 
 the illegality and the guilt of your past conduct to 
 tlie victim. There is something in our friend's 
 countenance here," he continued, turning to the 
 widow, with a smile, " which I should like to un- 
 derstand. I fear I have not her good opinion, as 
 I could wish." 
 
 Annie told exactly what she was thinking : that 
 all this reasoning was wrong, because wasteful of 
 the right. Surely it was the shortest and clearest 
 thing to say that, late as it was, it was better for 
 Sir Alexander to begin doing right than persist in 
 the wrong. 
 
 " I quite agree with you," said the President : 
 " and if people generally were like you, we should 
 be saved most of the argumentation of our law 
 courts — if, indeed, we should need the courts at 
 all, or, perhaps, even any human law. Come, Sir ' 
 Alexander, let me beg your company to call on 
 Lady Carse. One needs the countenance of the
 
 OPENINGS. 203 
 
 chief, who is always and everywhere welcome in 
 his own territory, to excuse so early a visit." 
 
 Sir Alexander positively declined going. He 
 was, in truth, afraid of the lady's tongue in the 
 presence of a legal functionary, before whom he 
 could neither order nor threaten violence. 
 
 It was a great relief to Annie that he did not go. 
 She needed the opportunity of the wallc to prepare 
 the President to meet his old acquaintance, and to 
 speak wisely to her. 
 
 Even the President, with his habitual self-posses- 
 sion, could not conceal his embarrassment at the 
 change in Lady Carse. The light from the window 
 shone upon her face ; yet he glanced at the widow, 
 as in doubt whether tliis could be the right person, 
 before he made his complaints. In the midst of 
 her agitation at the meeting. Lady Carse said to 
 herself that the good man was losing his memory ; 
 and, indeed, it was time; for he must be above 
 sixty. She wondered whether it was a sign that 
 her husband might be losing his faculties too : but 
 she feared Duncan Forbes was a good deal the older 
 of the two. 
 
 It would have astonished those who did not know 
 Duncan Forbes to see him now. He was a fugitive 
 from the rebels, who might at the moment be burn- 
 ing his house, and impoverishing his tenants ; he 
 had been wandering in the mountains for many 
 days, and had spent the last night upon the sea ; 
 Ids clolhes were weather-stained, his periwig damp, 
 and his buckles rusted ; he was at the moment weary 
 and aching with cold and hunger ; he was in tlie 
 presence of a lady whom he had for years supposed 
 dead and buried ; and he was under the shock of 
 seeing a face once full of health and animation now 
 
 K 2
 
 204 
 
 OPENINGS. 
 
 not only wasted, but alive with misery in every fibre : 
 yet he sat on a bench in this island-dwelling— in his 
 eyes a hovel— with his gold-headed cane between his 
 knees, talking with all the courtesy, calmness, and 
 measured cheerfulness, which Edinburgh knew so 
 well. Nothing could be better for Lady Carse 
 than his manner. It actually took away the sense 
 of wonder at their meeting, and meeting thus. 
 While he had stood at the threshold, and she heard 
 whom she was to see, her brain had reeled, and her 
 countenance had become such as it might well dis- 
 may him to see ; but such was the influence of his 
 composure, and of the associations which his pre- 
 sence revived, that she soon appeared in Annie's 
 eyes a totally altered person. As the two sat at 
 breakfast, Annie saw before her the gentleman and 
 lady complete, in spite of every disguise of dress and 
 circumstance. 
 
 At the close of the meal, Annie slipped away to 
 her own house : but it was not long before she was 
 sent for, at the desire, not of Lady Carse, but of the 
 President. He wished her to hear what he had to 
 relate. He told of Mr. Hope's exertions in Edin- 
 burgh, and of his having at length ventured upon 
 an illegal proceeding for which only the disturbance 
 of the times could be pleaded in excuse. He had 
 sent out a vessel, containing a few armed men, and 
 Mrs. Ruthven, who had undertaken to act as guide 
 to Lady Carse's residence. It was understood that 
 the captain had set Mrs. Ruthven ashore in Lorn, 
 through some disagreement between them; and 
 that the vessel had proceeded as far as Barra, when 
 the captain was so certainly informed that the lady 
 had been removed to the mainland that he turned 
 back ; pleading, further, that there wa.s such evident
 
 OPENINGS. 205 
 
 want of sense in Mrs. Eutliven, and such contradic- 
 tory testimony between her and her husband, that 
 he doubted whether any portion of their story Mas 
 true. It was next believed that a commission of 
 inquiry would be sent to this and other islands : 
 but tliis could not take place till the public tran- 
 quillity should be in some degree restored. 
 
 " Before that, I shall be dead," sighed Lady 
 Carse, impatiently. 
 
 " There is no need now to wait for the commis- 
 sion," said the President. " Where I am, all vio- 
 lations of the law must cease. Your captivity is 
 now at an end, except in as far as you are subject 
 to ill health, or, like myself, to Avinter weather and 
 most wintry fortunes." 
 
 " The day is come, then," said Annie, through 
 shining tears. " You are now delivered out of the 
 hand of man, and have to wait only God's pleasure." 
 " What matters it," murmured Lady Carse, 
 " how you call my misfortunes ? Here I sit, a 
 shivering exile. ..." 
 
 "So far like myself," observed the President, 
 moving nearer the scanty fire. 
 
 " You have not been heart-sick for years under 
 insufferable wrongs," declared Lady Carse. " And 
 you have not the grave open at your feet while 
 everything you care for is beckoning to you to 
 come away. You . . . . " 
 
 " Pardon me, my old friend," said he, mildly. 
 , . " That is exactly my case. I am old : the grave 
 bis open at my feet ; and beyond it stands she who, 
 nthough early lost, has been the constant passion of 
 ^my life. Perhaps my heart may have pined under 
 b the privation of her society as sensibly as yours 
 Itunder afflictions more strange in the eyes of the
 
 206 OPENINGS. 
 
 world. But it is not wise — it does not give 
 strength, but impair it — thus to compare human 
 afflictions. I should prefer cheerfully encouraging 
 each other to wait for release ; I see little prospect 
 of any release this day for us exiles : so let me see 
 what ray memory is worth in my old age — let me 
 see what I can recal of our Janet. You know I 
 always consider Janet my own by favouritism ; and 
 she called me grandfather the last time we met, as 
 she used to do before she was able to spell so long 
 a word." 
 
 Pie told so much of Janet, that Lady Carse 
 changed her opinion about his loss of memory. 
 Again Annie stole home : and there did the Pre- 
 sident seek her, after a long conversation with her 
 neighbour. 
 
 " I wish to know," said he, " whether the great 
 change that I observe in this lady is recent." 
 
 " She is greatly changed within a few months," 
 replied the widow : " and I think she has sunk 
 within a few days. I see, Sir, that you look for 
 her release soon." 
 
 " If the change has been rapid of late," he re- 
 plied, " it is my opinion that she is dying." 
 
 " Is there anything that you would wish done?" 
 asked Annie. 
 
 " What can we do? I perceive that she is in 
 possession of what is perhaps the only aid her case 
 admits of— a friend who can at once soothe her 
 earthly life, and feed her heavenly one." 
 
 Annie bowed her head, and then said — 
 
 " You would not have me conceal her state from 
 herself, I think, Sir." 
 
 " I would not. I believe she is aware that I think 
 her very ill — decisively ill."
 
 OPENINGS. 207 
 
 " I hope she is. I have seen in her of late tliat 
 which makes me desire for her the happy knowledge 
 that she is going home to a place where she may 
 find more peace than near her enemies in a city of 
 the earth." Fancying that the Pi-esident shook his 
 head, Annie went on — 
 
 " I would not be presumptuous, Sir, for another 
 any more than for myself: but \\ hen a better life 
 is permitted to begin, ever so feebly, here, surely 
 God sends death, not to put it out, but to remove 
 it to a safer place." 
 
 The President smiled kindly, and walked away.
 
 S02 ( 208 i>i 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FREE AT LAST I 
 
 Sir Alexand-er and his guests remained on the 
 island only a few days ; but during that time the 
 President gave Lady Carse many Jiours of his so- 
 ciety. Full as his mind was of public and private 
 affairs— charged as he was Mith the defeiiee of Scot- 
 land against the treason of the Pretender and his 
 followers— grieved as he was by the heart-sorrows 
 which attend civil war — and now a fugitive, desti- 
 tute of means, and in peril of his life— he still had 
 cheerfulness and patience to minister to Lady 
 Carse. From his deliberate and courteous en- 
 trance, his air of leisure, his quiet humour in con- 
 versation, and his clear remembrance of small inci- 
 dents relating to the lady's family and acquaint- 
 ance, any one would have supposed that he had not 
 a care in the world. For the hour. Lady Carse 
 almost felt as if she had none. She declaretl her- 
 self getting quite well ; and she did strive, by a 
 self-command and prudence such as astonished even 
 Annie, to gain such ground as should enable her 
 to leave the island when the President did — that 
 is, as she and others supposed, when the spring 
 should flivour the sending an PZnglish army to con° 
 test the empire once more with the still successful 
 Pretender. 
 
 But, in four days, there was a sudden break-up. 
 A faithful boatman of Sir Alexander's came over
 
 FREE AT LAST ! 209 
 
 from Skye to give warning of danger. There 
 were no three men in Scotland so hated by the 
 rebels as the three gentlemen now on the island ; 
 and no expense or pains were to be spared in cap- 
 turing them. They must not remain, from any 
 mere hope of secrecy, in a place which contained 
 only women and children. They must go where 
 they could not only hide, but be guarded by fight- 
 ing men. It was decided to be off that very mo- 
 ment. The President desired one half-hour, that 
 he might see Lady Carse, and assure her of his 
 care and protection, and of release, as soon as he 
 could command the means. He entered as delibe- 
 rately as usual, and merely looked at his watch and 
 said that he had ten minutes, and no more. 
 -. " You must not go," said she. " "We cannot 
 'spare you. ! you need not fear any danger. 
 We have admirable hiding-places in our rock ; 
 where, to my knowledge, you can have good fires, 
 and a soft bed of warm sand. You are better here. 
 You must not go." 
 
 Of course, the President said he must, and civilly 
 stopped the remonstrance. Then she declared, 
 with a forced quietness, 
 
 " If you will go, I must go with you. Do not 
 say a word against it. I have your promise, and I 
 will hold you to it. O yes, I am fit to go — fitter 
 than to stay. If I stay, I shall die this night. If 
 I go, I shall live to keep a certain promise of mine 
 — to go and see my Lord Lovat's head fall. I will 
 not detain you ; we have five minutes of your ten 
 yet. I will be across the threshold before your 
 ten minutes are up. Helsa I Helsa, come with 
 me." 
 navo
 
 210 FREE AT LAST ! 
 
 " What is to be done? " asked the President of 
 Annie. " You knoAvher best. What if I com- 
 pel her to stay ? Would there be danger ? " 
 
 " I think she would probably die to-night, as 
 she says. If she could convince herself of her 
 weakness, that would be best. She cannot walk to 
 the shore. She cannot sit in an open boat in win- 
 ter weather." 
 
 " You are right. I will let her try. She may 
 endure conviction bj^ such means." 
 
 " I will go with you to help her home." 
 
 " That is well : but jou are feeble yourself." 
 
 " I am, Sir ; but I must try what I can do." 
 
 Lady Carse was over the threshold within the 
 ten minutes, followed by Helsa with a bundle of 
 clothes. She cast a glance of fiery triumph back 
 at the dwelling, and round the whole desolate 
 scene. For a few steps she walked firmly : then 
 she silently accepted the President's arm. Further 
 on, she was glad to have lielsa's on the other side. 
 
 " Let me advise you to return," said the Presi- 
 dent, pausing when the descent became steeper. 
 " By recruiting here till the spring, you. ..." 
 
 " I will recruit elsewhere, thank you. When I 
 once get into the boat I shall do very well. It is 
 only this steep descent, and the treacherous foot- 
 ing. ..." 
 
 She could not speak further. All her strength 
 was required to keep herself from falling between 
 her two supiwrters. 
 
 " You will not do better in the boat. You mis- 
 take your condition," said the President. " Plainly 
 — my conviction is, that if you proceed you will 
 die."
 
 FREE AT LAST ! 23ll^* 
 
 " I shall not. I will not. If I stay, I shall not 
 see another day. If I go, I may live to seventy. 
 You do not know me, my lord. You are not 
 entitled to speak of the power of my will." 
 
 The President and the widow exchanged glances, 
 and no further opposition was offered. 
 
 " We may as well spare your strength, how- 
 ever," said the President. " The boatmen shall 
 carry you — I will call them. O ! I see. You are 
 afraid I should give you the slip. But you may 
 release my skirts. Your servants will do us the 
 favour to go forward and send us help." 
 
 The boatmen looked gloomy about conveying 
 two women — one of them evidently very ill : and 
 Sir Alexander would have refused in any other 
 case whatever. But he had vowed to interfere no 
 more in Lady Carse's affairs, but to consider her 
 wholly the President's charge. 
 
 " I see your opinion in your face," said the Pre- 
 sident to him ; '' and I entirely agree with you. 
 But she is just about to die, at all events ; and if it 
 is an indulgence to her to die in the exercise of a 
 freedom from which she has been debarred so long, 
 I am not disposed to deny it to her. I assume the 
 responsibility." 
 
 " My doubt is about the men," observed [Sir 
 Alexander. " But I will do what I can." 
 
 He did what he could by showing an interest in 
 the embarkation of the lady. He laid the cloaks 
 and plaids for her in the bottom of the boat, and 
 spoke cheerfully to her — almost jokingly — of the 
 uncertainty of their destination. He lifted her in 
 himself, and placed Helsa beside her : and tlien his 
 men dared not show further unwillingness, but by 
 silence.
 
 212 FREE AT LAST ! 
 
 "Lady Carse raised herself, and beckoned to 
 Annie. Annie leaned over to her, and said, 
 
 *' Dear Lady Carse, you look very pale. It is 
 not too late to say you will come home witii me." 
 
 Lady Carse tried to laugh ; but it was no laugh, 
 but a convulsion. She struggled to say, 
 
 " I shall do very well presently — when I feel I 
 am free. It is only the last prison airs that poison 
 me. If we never meet again . . . . " 
 
 " We shall not meet in life, Lady Carse. I shall 
 pray for you." 
 
 " I know you will. And I. . . .1 wished to say 
 . . . .but I cannot. , . ." 
 
 " I know what you would say. Lie down and 
 rest. God be with you ! " 
 
 All appeared calm and right on board the boat, 
 as long as Annie could watch its course in the har- 
 bour. When it disappeared behind a headland she 
 returned home to look for it again. She saw it 
 soon, and for some time, for it coasted the island to 
 the northernmost point, for the chance of being un- 
 seen to the last possible moment. It was evidently 
 proceeding steadily on its course ; and Annie hoped 
 that the sense of freedom might be acting as a 
 restorative for the hour to the dying woman. Those 
 on board hoped the same ; for the lady, when she 
 had covered her face with a handkerchief, lay very 
 still. ,f,,:. 
 
 " She looks comfortable," whispered the Presi- 
 dent to Sir Alexander. " Can you suggest any- 
 thing more that we can do? " i? 
 
 " Better let her sleep while she can, my Lord. 
 She appears comfortable at present." 
 
 Three more hours passed without anything being 
 observable in Lady Carse but such slight move-
 
 FREE AT LAST ! 213 
 
 ments now and then as showed that she was not 
 asleep. She then drew the handkerchief from her 
 face, and looked up at Helsa, who exclaimed at the 
 change in the countenance. The President bent 
 over her, and caught her words — 
 
 " It is not your fault — but I am dying. But I 
 am sure I should have died on land, and before 
 this. And I have escaped ! Tell my husband so." 
 
 "I will. Shall I raise you ? " 
 
 " No ; take no notice. I cannot bear to be 
 pitied. I will not be pitied ; as this was my own 
 act. But it is hard . . . . " 
 
 " It is hard : but you have only to pass one 
 other threshold courageously, and then you are 
 free indeed. Man cannot harm you there," 
 
 " But, to-day, of all seasons. . . . ! " 
 
 " It is hard : but you have done with captivity. 
 No more captivity ! My dear Lady Carse, what 
 remains ! What is it you would have ? You would 
 not wish for vengeance ! No ! it is pain ! — you 
 are in pain. Shall I raise you ? " 
 
 " No, no : never mind the pain ! But I did 
 hope to see my husband again " 
 i5 " To forgive him. You mean, to forgive 
 him ? " 
 
 " No : I meant " 
 
 " But you mean it now ? He had something to 
 pardon in you." 
 
 " True. But I cannot. . . .Do not ask me." 
 
 " Then you hope that God will. I may tell 
 him that you hope that God will forgive him." 
 .1 " That is not my affair. Kiss my Janet for 
 me. 
 §1) " I will ; and all your children What? ' Is 
 
 -8V0XI-'
 
 214 FEEE AT LAST ! 
 
 it growing dark ? ' Yes, it is, to us as well as to 
 you. What is it that she says ? " he inquired of 
 Helsa, who had a younger and quicker ear. 
 
 " She says the widow is about lighting her lamp. 
 Yes, my Lady ; but we are too far off to see it," 
 
 " Is she wandering ? " asked the President, 
 
 " No, Sir : quite sensible, I think. Did you 
 speak, my Lady ? " 
 
 " My love , . ." 
 
 " To Annie, my Lady ? I will not forget." 
 
 She spoke no more. Sir Alexander contrived to 
 keep from the knowledge of the boatmen for some 
 hours that there was a corpse on board. When it 
 could be concealed no longer, they forgot their 
 fatigue in their superstition, and rowed, as for 
 their lives, to the nearest point of land. This hap- 
 pened, fortunately, to be within the territories of 
 Sir Alexander Macdonald. 
 
 In the early dawn the boat touched at Vaternish 
 Point, and there landed the body, which, with 
 Helsa for its attendant, was committed by Sir 
 Alexander to a clansman Avho was to summon a 
 distant minister, and see the remains interred in 
 the church at Trunban, where they now lie. 
 
 When the President returned to his estate at 
 Culloden, in the ensuing spring, on the final over- 
 throw of the Jacobite cause, his first use of the re- 
 established post was to write to Lord Carse, in 
 London, tidings of his wife's death, promising all 
 particulars if he found that his letter reached its 
 destination in safety. The reply he received was 
 this : — 
 
 " I most heartily thank you, my dear friend, for 
 the notice you have given me of the death of that
 
 FKEE AT LAST ! 215 
 
 person. It would be a ridiculous untruth to pre- 
 tend grief for it ; but as it brings to my mind a 
 train of various things for many years back, it 
 gives me concern. Her retaining wit and face- 
 tiousness to the last surprises me. These qualities 
 none found in her, no more than common sense or 
 g'ood nature, before she went to those parts ; and 
 of the reverse of all which if she had not been irre- 
 coverably possessed, in an extraordinary and insuf- 
 ferable degree, after many years' fruitless endea- 
 vours to reclaim her, she had never seen those parts. 
 I long' for the particulars of her death, which, you 
 are pleased to tell me, I am to have by next 
 post." 
 
 " Her's was a singular death, at last," observed 
 Lord Carse, when he put the President's second 
 letter into the hands of his sister. " I almost 
 wonder that they did not slip the body overboard, 
 rather than expose themselves to danger for the 
 sake of giving Christian burial to such a per- 
 son." 
 
 " Dust to dust," said Lady Eachel, thoughtfully. 
 " Those were the words said over her. I am glad 
 it was so, rather than that one more was added to 
 the tossing billows. For what was she but a bil- 
 low, driven by the winds and tossed ? " 
 
 When, some few years after, the steward ap- 
 proached the island on an autumn night, in honour 
 of Rollo's invitation to attend the funeral of the 
 widow Fleming, his eye unconsciously sought the 
 guiding light on the hill side. 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, recollecting himself, " it is 
 gone, and we shall see it no more. Rollo will live 
 on the main, and this side of the island will be
 
 216 FREE AT last! 
 
 deserted. Her light gone ! We should almost as 
 soon have thought of losing a star. And she her- 
 self gone ! We shall miss her, as if one of our 
 lofty old rocks had crumbled down into the sea. 
 She was truly, though one would not have dared 
 to tell her so, an anchorage to people feebler than 
 herself. She had a faith which made her spirit, 
 tender as it was, as firm as any rock." 
 
 THE END.
 
 ( 217 ) 
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to explain that in this tale 
 free use has been made of the history of Lady 
 "Grange, whose name and adventures are probably- 
 familiar to many of ray readers. 
 
 LDndoii : Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
 
 FEATS ON THE FIORD 
 
 A TALE OF NORWAY, 
 
 BY 
 
 HAERIET MAETINEAU. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHARLES KNIGHT & Co. LUDGATE STREET. 
 
 1846.
 
 LOi;DON : WILLIAU CLOV/ES A^D SONS, STAilPORD 3TEEET.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Chapteh 
 
 I. Erlingsen's ' At Home' 
 
 • • • 
 
 9 
 
 II. Oddo'sWalk 
 
 • • 
 
 34 
 
 III. Olaf and his News 
 
 • • 
 
 47 
 
 IV. Eoving here and roving 
 
 there 
 
 64 
 
 V. The Water Sprites' Doings 
 
 T.'S 
 
 VI. Spring . . 
 
 
 89 
 
 VII. Vogel Islet 
 
 
 lOG 
 
 VIII. A Summer Apartment 
 
 ' 
 
 113 
 
 IX. Hand's Report . 
 
 
 125 
 
 X. Seeking the Uplands 
 
 
 140 
 
 XI. Dairy-maids' Talk 
 
 
 155 
 
 XII. Peder Abroad . 
 
 
 162 
 
 XIII. Plot and Counterplot 
 
 
 178 
 
 XIV. Midnight 
 
 
 192 
 
 XV. Momitain Fare . 
 
 
 203 
 
 XVI. Old Tales and better Tidings 
 
 214 
 
 XVII. The Watch on the Hill 
 
 • « 
 
 222 
 
 XVIII. To Church 
 
 • • 
 
 229
 
 NOTICE FROM THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
 ' Feats on the Fiord,' which the Publishers 
 have received permission from Miss Martineau 
 to introduce into this Series, forms one of four 
 Volumes, bearing the general title of ' The 
 Playfellow.' Although written for young per- 
 sons, this volume is characterized as a book 
 that " will be read with delight through every 
 generation in a house." (^Quarterly Revieiv, 
 June, 1844.) This volume is especially intro- 
 duced here in the hope that it may form one 
 amongst other Tales describing Life in foreign 
 Lands. It is not intended by the present 
 publication to separate this book from the 
 Series of ' The Playfellow,' with the other 
 volumes of which it will continue to be sold in 
 the original form and larger type ; nor will the 
 other volumes of that series be included in 
 ' Knight's Weekly Volume.'
 
 FEATS ON THE FIORD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 erlixgsen's 'at home.' 
 
 Every one who has looked at the map of Nor- 
 way must have been struck witli the singular cha- 
 racter of its coast. On the map it looks so jagged, 
 such a strange mixture of land and sea, that it ap- 
 pears as if there must be a peipetual struggle be- 
 tween the two, — the sea striving to inundate the 
 land, and the land pushing itself out into the sea, 
 till it ends in their dividing the region between 
 them. On the spot, however, this coast is very- 
 sublime. The long straggling promontories are 
 mountainous, towering ridges of rock, springing 
 up in precipices from the water ; while tlie bays 
 between them, instead of being rounded Avitli 
 shelving sandy shores, on which the sea tumbles its 
 Avaves, as in bays of our coast, are, in fact, long 
 narrow valleys, filled with sea, instead of being laid 
 out in fields and meadows. The high rocky banks 
 shelter these deep bays (called fiords) from almost 
 every wind ; so that their waters are usually as 
 still as those of a lake. For days and weeks toge- 
 
 B
 
 10 erlingsen's 'at home.' 
 
 ther, they reflect each separate tree-top of the pine- 
 forests which clothe the mountain sides, the mirror 
 being broken only by the leap of some sportive 
 fish, or the oars of tlie boatman as he goes to 
 inspect the sea-fowl from islet to islet of the fiord, 
 or carries out his nets or liis rod to catch the sea- 
 trout or char, or cod, or herrings, which abound, 
 in their seasons, on the coast of Norway. 
 
 It is difficult to say whether these fiords are the 
 most beautiful in summer or in winter. In sum- 
 mer, they glitter with golden sunshine ; and purple 
 and green shadows from the mountain and forest 
 lie on them ; and these may be more lovely than 
 the faint light of the winter noons of those lati- 
 tudes, and the snowy pictures of frozen peaks which 
 then show themselves on the surface : but before 
 the day is half over, out come the stars, — the glo- 
 rious stars which shine like nothing that we have 
 ever seen. There, the planets cast a faint shadow, 
 as the young moon does Avith us ; and these planets 
 and the constellations of the sky, as they silently 
 glide over from peak to peak of these rocky passes, 
 are imaged on the waters so clearly that the fisher- 
 man, as he unmoors his boat for his evening task, 
 feels as if he were about to shoot forth his vessel 
 into another hcaAen, and to cleave his way among 
 the stars. 
 
 Still as everything is to the eye, sometimes for a 
 hundred miles together along these deep sea-valleys, 
 there is rarely silence. The ear is kept awake by 
 a thousand Aoices. In the summer, there are cata- 
 racts leaping from ledge to ledge of the rocks ; and 
 there is the bleating of the kids that browse there, 
 and the flap of the great eagle's wings, as it dashes 
 abroad from its evrie, and the cries of whole cloud;?
 
 erlingsen's ' at home,' 11 
 
 of sea-birds which inhabit the islets ; and all these 
 sounds are mingled and multiplied by the strong 
 echoes, till they become a din as loud as that of a 
 city. Even at night, when the flocks are in the 
 fold, and the birds at roost, and the echoes them- 
 selves seem to be asleep, there is occasionally a 
 sweet music heard, too soft for even the listening 
 ear to catch by day. Every breath of summer 
 wind that steals through the pine-forests wakes this 
 music as it goes. The stiff" spiny leaves of the fir 
 and pine vibrate with the breeze, like the strings of 
 a musical instrument, so that every breath of the 
 night-^^'ind, in a Norwegian forest, wakens a myriad 
 of tiny harps ; and this gentle and mournful music 
 may be heard in gushes the whole night through. 
 This music, of course, ceases when each tree be- 
 comes laden with snow ; but yet there is sound, in 
 the midst of the longest winter night. There is the 
 rumble of some avalanche, as, after a drifting 
 storm, a mass of snow too heavy to keep its place 
 slides and tumbles from the mountain peak. There 
 is also, now and then, a loud crack of the ice in the 
 nearest glacier; and, as many declare, there is a 
 crackling to be heard by those who listen when the 
 northern lights are shooting and blazing across the 
 sky. Nor is this all. Wherever there is a nook 
 between the rocks on the shore, where a man may 
 build a house, and clear a field or two ; — wherever 
 there is a platform beside the cataract where the 
 sawyer may plant his mill, and make a path from 
 it to join some great road, there is a human habi- 
 tation, and the sounds that belong to it. Thence, 
 in winter nights, come music and laughter, and 
 the tread of dancers, and the hum of many voices. 
 The Norv/egians are a social and hospitable people ; 
 
 B 2
 
 1 2 ERLINGSEN's ' AT HOME.* 
 
 and they hold their gay meetings, in defiance of 
 their arctic climate, through every season of the 
 year. 
 
 On a Januaiy night, a hundred years ago, there 
 was gi'eat merriment in tlie house of a farmer who 
 had fixed Ids abode within the arctic circle, in 
 Nordland, not far from the foot of Sulitelma, the 
 highest mountain in Norway. This dwelling, with 
 its few fields abovit it, was in a recess between the 
 rocks, on tlie shore of the fiord, about five miles 
 from Saltdalen, and two miles from the junction of 
 the Salten's Elv (river) with the fiord. It was but 
 little that Erlingsen's fields would produce, though 
 they were sheltered from the coldest winds, and 
 the summer sunshine was reflected from the rocks, 
 so as to make this little farm much more produc- 
 tive than any near which were in a more exposed 
 situation. A patch of rj'e was grown, and some 
 beans and oats ; and there was a strip of pasture, 
 and a garden in which might be seen turnips, 
 radishes, potatoes, lettuce and herbs, and even 
 some fruits, — a few raspberries, and a great many 
 cherries. There were three or four horses on th«^ 
 farm, five cows, and a small flock of goats. In 
 summer, the cattle and flock were driven up the 
 mountain, to feed on tlie pastures there ; and 
 during the seven months of winter, tliey were 
 housed and fed on the hay grown at home, and that 
 which was brought from the moiuitain, and on a 
 food which appears strange enough to us, but of 
 which cows in Norway are extremely fond — fish- 
 heads boiled into a thick soup with horse-dimg. 
 At one extremity of the little beach of white sand 
 which extended before the farmer's door was his 
 boat-house ; and on his boat he and his family de-
 
 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.* 13 
 
 peiided, no less than his cows, for a principal part 
 of their winter subsistence. Except a kid or a calf 
 now and then, no meat was killed on the farm. 
 Cod in winter, herrings in spring, trout and salmon 
 in summer, and salted fisli in winter, always 
 abounded. Reindeer meat was regularly purcliased 
 from the Lapps who travelled round among the 
 settlements for orders, or drove their fattened herds 
 from farm to farm. Besides this, there was the 
 resource of game. Erlingsen and his housemen 
 brought home from their sporting rambles, some- 
 times a young bear, sometimes Avild ducks, or the 
 noble cock-of-the-woods, as big as a turkey, or a 
 string of snipes, or golden plovers, or ptarmigan. 
 The eggs of sea-birds might be found in every cre- 
 vice of the islets in the tiord, in the right season ; 
 and they are excellent food. Once a year, too, 
 Erlingsen wrapped himself in furs, and drove him- 
 self in his sledge, followed by one of his housemen 
 on another and a larger, to the great winter fair at 
 Tronyem, where the Lapps repaired to sell their 
 frozen reindeer meat, their skin*;, and few articles 
 of manufacture, and where travelling Russian mer- 
 chants came with the productions of other climates, 
 and found eager customers in the inhabitants who 
 thronged to this fair, to make their purchases. 
 Here, in exchange for the salt fish, feathers, and 
 eider-down which had been prepared by tlie indus- 
 try of his family, Erlingsen obtained flax and wool 
 "wherewith to make clothing for the household, and 
 those luxuries which no Norwegian thinks of going 
 without, — corn-brandy, coffee, tobacco, sugar, and 
 spices. Large mould candles were also sold so 
 cheap by the Russians that it was worth while to 
 bring them home foi the use of the ^^•hole family, —
 
 14 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME. 
 
 even to burn in the stables and stalls, as the 
 supply of bears' fat was precarious, and the pine- 
 tree was too precious, so far north, to be split iip 
 into torches, while it even fell so short occasion- 
 ally, as to compel the family to burn peat, which 
 they did not like nearly so well as pine-logs. It 
 was Madame Erlingsen's business to calculate how 
 much of all these foreign articles would be required 
 for the use of her household for a whole year ; and, 
 trusting to her calculations, which were never 
 foimd to be wrong, her husband came home from the 
 winter fair heavily enough laden with good things. 
 
 Nor was it only Avhat A\as required for his own 
 everj'-day household that he brought. The quan- 
 tity of provisions, especially corn-brandy, tobacco, 
 coffee, and sugar, consumed in hospitality in !Kor- 
 way, is almost incredible ; and, retired as the 
 Erlingsens might appear to dwell, they were a,-; 
 hospitable, according to their opportunities, as any 
 inhabitant of Bergen or Christiania. They gave 
 feasts at Christmas, and on every occasion that they 
 could devise. The occasioji, on the particular 
 Januar}^ day mentioned above, was the betroth- 
 ment of one of the house-maidens to a young farm- 
 servant of the establishment. I do not mean that 
 tins festival was any thing like a marriage. It 
 was merely an engagement to be married ; but this 
 engagement is a much more formal and public 
 affair in jSror\\"ay (and indeed wherever the people 
 belong to the Lutheran church) than with us. 
 According to the rites of the Lutheran church, 
 there are two ceremonies, — one when a couple be- 
 come engaged, and another when they are married. 
 In Norway, this betrothment gives the couple a 
 certain dignity beyond that of the unengaged, and
 
 ERLINGSEk's ' AT HOME.' 15 
 
 more liberty of companionship, together '.vith cer- 
 tain rights in law. This makes up to them for 
 being obliged to wait so long as they often must 
 before they can marry. In a country, scattered 
 over M'ith farmers, like Norway, where there are 
 few money transactions, because people provide for 
 their own wants on their own little estates, servants 
 do not shift their places, and go from master to 
 master, as with us. A young man and woman 
 ha^e to wait long, — probably till some houseman 
 dies or removes, before they can settle ; and then 
 tliey are settled for life, — provided for till death, if 
 they choose to be commonly industrious and honest. 
 The story of this betrothment at Erlingsen's will 
 explain Avhat I have just said. 
 
 As Madame Erlingsen had two daughters grow- 
 ing up, and they were no less active than the girls 
 of a Norwegian hovisehold usually are, she had oc- 
 casion for only two maidens to assist in the business 
 of the dwelling and the dairy. 
 
 Of these two, the younger, Erica, was the maiden 
 betrothed to-day. No one perhaps rejoiced so 
 much at tlie event as her mistress, both for Erica's 
 sake, and on account of her own two young 
 daughters. Erica was not the best companion for 
 them ; and the sei'vants of a Norw egian faimer are 
 necessarily the companions of the daughters of the 
 house. There was nothing wrong in Eiica's con- 
 duct or temper towards the family. She had, 
 when confirmed,* borne so high a character that 
 
 * The rite of confirmation is thought much more of in 
 Norway than •« ith us. The preparation for it is longer and 
 more strict ; and the destiny of young people for life depends 
 much on how they pass through it. A person who has not 
 been confirmed is looked upon as one ■without a character
 
 16 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 
 
 many places were offered lier, and IMadame Er- 
 lingsen had thought herself \erj fortunate in ob- 
 taining her services. But, since then, Erica had 
 sustained a shock which hurt her spirits, and in- 
 creased a Aveakness which she owed to her mother. 
 Her mother, a widow, had brought up her cliild in 
 all the superstitions of the country, some of which 
 remain in full strength even to this day, and were 
 tlien very powerful ; and the poor woman's death 
 at last confirmed the lessons of her life. She 
 had stayed too long, one autumn day, at the 
 Erlingsen's ; and, being beniglited on her return, 
 and suddenly seized and bewildered by the cold, 
 had M'andered from the road, and was found frozen 
 to death in a recess of the forest which it was sur- 
 prising that she should have reached. Erica never 
 believed that she did reach this spot of her OAvn ac- 
 cord. IIa\ing had some fears before of tlie Wood- 
 Demon having been offended by one of the family, 
 Erica regarded this accident as a token of his ven- 
 geance. She said this when she first heard of her 
 mother's death ; and no reasonings from the zealous 
 pastor of the district, no soothing from her mis- 
 tress, could shake her persuasion. She listened 
 with submission, wiping away her quiet tears as 
 they discoursed ; but no one could ever get her to 
 say tliat she doubted whetlier there was a Wood 
 
 and -without knowledge ; -while those -who pass -well stand 
 high iu credit ; and, if they have to earn their living, are 
 sure of good situations. In the ne-wspapers in Nor-vvay you 
 may see among the advertisements, " A conjirmed shop-hoy 
 •wants a place." " Wanted, a confirmed girl -who can cook ;" 
 ■which means that their having been confirmed proves that 
 they are considered respectable, and not deficient in capacity 
 or knowledge.
 
 EHLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' iT 
 
 Demon, or that she was not afraid of what he 
 would do if offended. 
 
 Erlingsen and his wife always treated her super- 
 stition as a weakness ; and when she was not pre- 
 sent, they ridiculed it. Yet they saw that it had 
 its effect on their daughters. Erica most strictly 
 obeyed their wish that she should not talk about 
 the spirits of the region with Orga and Frolich ; 
 but the girls found plenty of people to tell them 
 what they could not learn from Erica. Besides 
 what everybody knows who lives in the rural dis- 
 tricts of Norway, — about Nipen, the spirit that is 
 ah\'ays so busy after everybody's affairs, — about the 
 Water-sprite, an acquaintance of every one who 
 lives beside a river or lake,— and about the Moun- 
 tain-Demon, familiar to all who lived so near Su- 
 litelma ; besides these common spirits, the girls 
 used to hear of a multitude of others from old 
 Peder, the blind houseman, and from all the farm- 
 people, down to Oddo, the herd-boy. Their pa- 
 rents hoped that this taste of theirs might die a^^•ay 
 if once Erica, with her sad, serious face and sub- 
 dued voice, were removed to a house of her own, 
 where they would see her supported by her hus- 
 band's unfearing mind, and occupied with domestic 
 business more entirely than in her mistress's house. 
 80 Madame Erlingsen ^^^as well pleased that Erica 
 was betrothed ; and she could only have been better 
 satisfied if she had been married at once. 
 
 For this marrying, however, the young people 
 must wait. There was no house, or houseman's 
 place, vacant for them at present. There was a 
 prospect, however. The old houseman Peder, who 
 had served Erlingsen's father and Erlingsen him- 
 self for fifty-eight years, could now no longer do 
 
 b3
 
 18 ERI^INGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 
 
 the weekly work on the farm which was his rent 
 for his house, field, and cow. He was blind and 
 old. His aged wife Ulla could not leave the 
 house ; and it was the most she could do to keep 
 the dwelling- in order, with occasional help from 
 one and another. Housemen who make this sort 
 of contract with farmers in Norway are never 
 turned out. They have their dwelling and field 
 for their own life and that of their wives. What 
 they do, when disabled, is to take in a deserving 
 young man, to do their work for the farmer, on 
 the understanding that he succeeds to the house- 
 man's place on the death of the old people. Peder 
 and Ulla had made this agreement with Erica's 
 lover, Rolf; and it was understood that his mar- 
 riage with Erica should take place whenever the 
 old people should die. 
 
 It M'as impossible for Erica herself to fear that 
 Nipen was offended, at the outset of this festival 
 day. If he had chosen to send a wind, the guests 
 could not have come ; for no human frame can en- 
 dure travelling in a wind in Nordland on a Janu- 
 ary day. Happily, the air was so calm that a flake 
 of snow, or a lock of eider-down, would have fallen 
 straight to the ground. At two o'clock, when the 
 short daylight was gone, the stars were shining so 
 brightly, that the company who came by the fiord 
 would be sure to have an easy voyage. Almost all 
 came by the fiord, for the only road from Erling- 
 sen's house led to so few habitations, and was so 
 narroAv, steep, and rocky, that an arrival by that 
 way was a rare event. The path was now, how- 
 ever, so smooth with frozen snow, that more than 
 one sledge attempted and performed the descent. 
 Erlingsen and some of his servants went out to the
 
 EBUNGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 19 
 
 porch, on hearing music from the water, and stood 
 with lighted pine-torches to receive their guests, 
 when, approaching from behind, they heard the 
 sound of the sleigh-bells, and found that company- 
 was arriving both by sea and lantl. 
 
 It was a pretty sight, — such an arrival. In 
 front, there was the head of a boat driving up upon 
 the white beach, and figure after figure leaping out 
 and hastening to be welcomed in the porch ; Avhile, 
 in the midst of the greeting, the quick and regular 
 beat of a horse's feet was heard on the frozen ground, 
 and the active little animal rushed into the light, 
 shaking his mane and jingling his bells, till sud- 
 denly checked by the driver, who stood upright at 
 the back of the sledge, Avhile the ladies reclined, so 
 wrapped in furs that nothing could be seen of them 
 till they had entered the house, and issued forth 
 from the room where they threw off their pelisses 
 and cloaks. Glad had the visitors been, whether 
 they came by land or water, to arrive in sight of 
 the lighted dwelling, whose windows looked like 
 rows of yellow stars, contrasting with the blue ones 
 overhead ; and more glad still were they to be 
 ushered into the great room, where all was so 
 light, so warm, so cheerful ! Warm it was, to the 
 farthest corner ; and too warm near the roaring 
 and crackling fires : for the fires were of pine- 
 wood. Rows upon rows of candles were fastened 
 against the walls, above the heads of the company ; 
 the floor was strewn with juniper twigs ; and the 
 spinning-wheels, the carding-boards, every token of 
 household labour was removed, except a loom, 
 which remained in one corner. In another corner 
 was a welcome sight, — a platform of rough boards, 
 two feet from the floor, and on it tM'o stools. This
 
 20 EKLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 
 
 was a token that there was to be dancing ; and in- 
 deed Oddo, the herd-boy, old Pcder's grandson, was 
 seen to have his clarionet in his belt, as he ran in 
 and out on the arrival of fresh parties. 
 
 Before four o'clock, the Avhole company, con- 
 sisting of about forty, had arrived. They walked 
 about the large room, sipping their strong coffee, 
 and helping one another to the good things on the 
 trays which were carried round, — the slices of 
 bread and butter, with anchovies, or shreds of 
 reindeer ham or tongue, or thin slices of salt 
 cheese. When these trays disappeared, and the 
 young women who had served them returned into 
 the room, Oddo was seen to reach the platform 
 with a hop, skip, and jump, followed by a dull- 
 looking young man with a violin. The oldest men 
 lighted their pipes, and sat down to talk, two or 
 tliree toe^ether. Others withdrew to a smaller 
 room, where card-tables were set out ; while the 
 younger men selected their partners, and handed 
 them forth for the gallopade. The dance was led 
 hj the blushing Erica, whose master was her jDart- 
 ner. It had never occurred to her that she was not 
 to take her usual place ; and she was greatly em- 
 barrassed ; not the less so that she knew that her 
 mistress was immediately behind, with Rolf for 
 her partner. Erica might, however, have led the 
 dance in any country in Europe. All the A\"omen 
 in Norway dance well ; being practised in it from 
 their infancy, as an exercise for which the leisure of 
 their long winter, and the roominess of their houses, 
 afford scope. Every woman present danced well ; 
 but none better than Erica. 
 
 " Veiy well !" " very pretty !" " very good !" 
 observed the pastor, M. Kollsen, as he sat, v/ith
 
 ERLINGSEX'S ' AT HOME.' 21 
 
 his pipe in his mouth, looking on. M. Kollsen 
 was a very young man ; but the men in Norway 
 smoke as invariably as the women dance. " Very 
 pretty indeed ! They only Avant double the num- 
 ber to make it as pretty a dance as any in Tron- 
 
 vsm. 
 
 " What would you have, sir?" asked old Peder, 
 who sat smoking at his elbow. " Are there not 
 eleven couple ? Oddo told me there were eleven 
 couple ; and I think I counted so many pairs of 
 feet as they passed." 
 
 "Let me see :— yes, you are right, Peaer. 
 There are eleven couples." 
 
 " And what would you have more, sir .'' In 
 
 this young man's father's time 
 
 " Rolf s father's ?" 
 
 "No, sir,— Erlingsen's. Ah! I forgot that 
 Erlingsen may not seem to you, or any stranger, to 
 be young ; but Ulla and I have been used to call 
 him so ; and I fear I always shall, as I shall neA-er 
 see the furrows in his face. It will be always 
 smooth and young to me. My Ulla says there is 
 nothing to be sorry for in that, and she does not 
 object to my thinking so of her face. But, as I 
 was saying, in the elder Erlingsen's time we 
 thought we did well Avhen we set up nme cou- 
 ples at Yule : and since then, the Holbergs and 
 Thores have each made out a new farm withm ten 
 miles ; and we are accustomed to be rather proud 
 of our eleven couples. Indeed I once knew it 
 twelve, when they got me to stand up with little 
 Henrica,— the pretty little girl whose grave lies 
 behind, just under the rock. But I suppose there 
 is no question but there are finer doings at Tron- 
 yem.'
 
 22 ERLINGSEX'S ' AT HOME.' 
 
 " Of course, — of course," said the young clergy- 
 man. '" But there are many youths in Tronyem 
 that would be glad of so pretty a partner as M. 
 Erlingsen has, — if she would not look so fright- 
 ened." 
 
 '• Pretty she is," said Peder. " As I remember 
 her complexion, it looks as if it was made by the 
 reflection of our snows in its own clearness. And 
 when you do get a full look into her eyes, how 
 like the summer sky they are, — as deep as the 
 heavens in a midsummer noon ! Did you say she 
 looks frightened, sir?" 
 
 " Yes. When does she not ? Some ghost from 
 the grave has scared her, I suppose ; or some spirit 
 that has no grave to lie still in, perl>aps. It is a 
 great fault in her that she has so little faith. I 
 never met with such a case. I liardly know how 
 to conduct it. I must begin with the people about 
 her, — abolish their superstitions, — and then there 
 may be a chance for her. Meanwhile I have but 
 a poor account to give to the bishop* of the reli- 
 gion of the district." 
 
 " Did you say, sir, that Erica wants faith? It 
 seems to me that I never knew any one who had so 
 much." 
 
 " You think so because there is no idea in this 
 region of what faith is. A prodigious work indeed 
 my bishop has given me to do. He himself cannot 
 be aware what it is, till I send him my report. 
 One might suppose that Christianity had never 
 been heard of here, by the absurd credulity one 
 meets with in the best liouses, — the multitude of 
 
 * A hundred years ago, Nordland was included in the 
 diocese of Tronyem.
 
 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 23 
 
 good and evil spirits one hears of at e\'ery turn. I 
 will blow them all to the winds presently. I will 
 root out every superstition in a circle of twenty 
 miles." 
 
 "You will, sir?" 
 
 " I will. Such is my duty as a Christian 
 pastor." 
 
 "Do you suppose you can, sir?" 
 
 " Certainly. No doubt of that. What sort of 
 pastor must he be who cannot vindicate his own 
 religion ?" 
 
 " These beliefs, sir, were among us long before 
 you were born ; and I fancy they will last till some 
 time after you are dead. And, what is more,— I 
 should not wonder if your bishop was to tell you 
 the same thing, when you send him your report 
 of us." 
 
 " I thought you had had more faith, Peder. I 
 thought you had been a better Christian." 
 
 " However that may be," said Peder, " I have 
 some knowledge of the people about us, having 
 lived nearly fourscore years in the parish ; and 
 perhaps, sir, as you are young, and from a distance, 
 you would allow me to say a word. May I ?" 
 
 " O, certainly." 
 
 But while M. Kollsen gave this permission, he 
 took his pipe from his mouth, and beat time with 
 it upon his knee, and with his foot vipon the ground, 
 to carry off his impatience at being instructed. 
 
 " My advice would be, sir, with all respect to 
 you," said Peder, " that you should lead the 
 people into everything that you think true and 
 good, and pass over quietly whatever old customs 
 and notions you do not understand or like. I 
 have so much belief in the religion you are to
 
 24 erlixgsen's ' at home.' 
 
 teach as to feel sure that whatever vt'ill not agree 
 with it will die off out of its way, if let alone. 
 But if religion is brought in to hurt the people's 
 feelings and notions, thaf^eligion will be tlie thing 
 to sutler." 
 
 " I must judge for myself about such matters, of 
 course," said M. Kollsen. He Avas meditating a 
 cliange of place, to escape further lecturing about 
 his duty, when Peder saved him the trouble of 
 leaving his comfortable seat by rising, and moving 
 away towards the fire. Peder's pipe was smoked 
 out, and he was going for more tobacco to the 
 place where tobacco was always to be found, — in a 
 little recess above the fireplace. He felt his way 
 carefully, that he might not interfere with the 
 dancers, or be jostled by them ; but he had not far 
 to go. One friend^egged to be sent for anything 
 he wanted ; another, with a quicker eye, brought 
 him tobacco ; and a third led him to liis seat again. 
 All looked with wonder at M. Kollsen, surprised 
 that he, Peder's companion at the moment, young 
 and blessed with eyesight, could let the blind old 
 man leave his seat for such a reason. M. Kollsen 
 whiffed away, however, quite unconscious of what 
 everybody was thinking. 
 
 " This waltz," said Peder, when the dancers 
 had begun again, " does not seem to go easily. 
 There is sometliing amiss. I think it is in the 
 music that tlie fault lies. My boy's clarionet goes 
 well enough ; no fear of Oddo's being out. Pray, 
 sir, who plays the violin at this moment ?" 
 
 " A fellow who looks as if he did not like his 
 business. He is frowning witli his red brows, as 
 if he would frown out the lights." 
 
 '• His red brows ! 0, then it is Hund. I was
 
 ERUNGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 25 
 
 thinking it m'OuH be hard upon him, poor fellow, if 
 he had to play to-night. Yet not so hard as if he 
 had to dance. It is weary work dancing with the 
 heels when the heart is too heavy to move. You 
 may have heard, sir, for every one knows it, that 
 Hund wanted to have young Rolf's place ; and, 
 some say. Erica herself. Is she dancing, sir, if I 
 may ask?" 
 
 "Yes, — with Rolf. What sort of a man is 
 E,olf, — with regard to these superstitions, I mean? 
 Is he as foolish as Erica,— always frightened about 
 something ?" 
 
 " No, indeed. It is to be Avished that Rolf was 
 not so light as he is, — so inconsiderate about these 
 matters. Rolf has his troubles and his faults ; but 
 they are not of that kind." 
 
 " Enough," said INI. Kollsen with a voice of 
 authority. " I rejoice to hear that he is superior 
 to the popular delusions. As to his troubles and 
 his faults, they may be left for me to discover, all 
 in good time." 
 
 " With all my heart, sir. They are nobody's 
 business but his own ; and, may be, Erica's. Rolf 
 has a good heart ; and I doubt not Ulla and I shall 
 have great comfort in him. He lives with us, sir, 
 from this night forwards. There is no fear that he 
 will wish us in our graves, though we stand be- 
 tween him and his marriage." 
 
 " That must be rather a painful consideration to 
 
 you." 
 
 " Not at all, sir, at present. Ulla and I were 
 all the happier, we think to this day, for having 
 had four such years as these young people have 
 before them, to know one another in, and grow 
 suitable in notions and habits, and study to please
 
 26 ERLIXGSEJV'S ' AT HOME.' 
 
 one another. By the time Rolf and Erica are 
 what we were, one or both of us will be under- 
 ground, and Rolf will have, I am certain, the plea- 
 sant feeling of having done his duty by us. It is 
 all as it should be, sir ; and I pray that they may 
 live to say, at our age, what Ulla and I can say of 
 tlie same season of our lives." 
 
 The pastor made no answer. He had not lieard 
 the' last few A\'ords ; for what Peder said of being 
 underground had plunged him into a reverie about 
 Peder's funeral sermon, which he should, of course, 
 have to preach. He was pondering how he should 
 at once do justice to Peder's virtues, and mark his 
 own disapprobation of the countenance Peder gave 
 to the superstitions of the region in which lie lived. 
 He must keep in view the love and respect in which 
 the old man was held by everybody ; and yet he 
 must bear witness against the great fault above- 
 mentioned. He composed two or three paragraphs 
 in his imagination, which he thought would do, 
 and then committed them to memorj^ He was 
 roused from this employment by a loud laugh from 
 the man whose funeral lie was meditating, and saw 
 that Peder was enjoying life, at present, as mucli 
 as the youngest, — with a glass of punch in his 
 hand, and a group of old men and women round 
 him, recalling the jests of fifty years ago. 
 
 '•How goes it, Rolf?" said his master, who, 
 having done his duty in the dancing-room, was now 
 making his way to the card-tables, in another 
 apartment, to §&e how his guests there were enter- 
 tained. Thinking that Rolf looked verj' absent, as 
 he stood, in the pause of the dance, in silence by 
 Erica's side, Erlingsen clapped him on the shoulder 
 and said, " How goes it ? Make your friends merry."
 
 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 27 
 
 Rolf bowed and smiled, and his master passed on. 
 
 " How goes it ?" repeated Rolf to Erica, as he 
 looked earnestly into her face. " Is all going on 
 well, Erica?" 
 
 " Certainly. I suppose so. Why not ?" she re- 
 plied. " If you see anything wrong, — anything 
 omitted, be sure and tell me. Madame Erliogsen 
 would be very soriy. Is there anything forgotten, 
 Rolf?" 
 
 '' I think you have forgotten what the day is : 
 that is all. Nobody that looked at you, love, 
 would fancy it to be your own day. You look 
 anything but merry. Hardly a smile from you to- 
 night ! And that is a great omission." 
 
 '• 0, Rolf, there is something so much better 
 than merriment !" 
 
 "Yes, love ; but where is it? not in your heart 
 to-night. Erica." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Rolf." 
 
 " You look as dull, — as sad, — you and Hund, 
 as n 
 
 " Hund !" repeated Erica, glancing around the 
 room for Hund, and not seeing him till her lover 
 reminded her that Hund was the musician. " Hund 
 does seem dull enough, to be sure," said she, 
 smiling ; " I hope I do not often look like that." 
 
 '•' I am more sorry for him than you are, I see," 
 said Rolf, brightening when he found how entirely 
 Hund had been absent from her thoughts. " I 
 am more sorry for Hund than j'^ou are : and v.ith 
 good reason, for I know what the happiness is that 
 he has missed, poor fellow ! But yet I think you 
 might feel a little more for him. It would show 
 that you know how to value love." 
 
 '• Indeed I am very sony for him ; but more for
 
 28 ERLIXGSEn's ' AT HOME. 
 
 his disappointment about the house than any other. 
 To-day once over, he will soon fix his love on 
 somebody else. Perhaps we shall be dancing on 
 his betrothment-day before the year is out." 
 
 " Then I hope his girl will look merrier than 
 you do to-night," muttered Rolf, with a sigh. " O 
 Erica ! I ^Yish you would trust me. I could take 
 care of you, and make you quite happy, if you 
 would only believe it. Ah ! I know what that 
 look means. I know you love me, and all that ; 
 
 but you are always tormenting yourself " 
 
 " I tliink I know one who is cleverer still at 
 tormenting himself," said Erica, with a smile. 
 " Come, Rolf, no more tormenting of ourselves or 
 one another ! Ko more of that after to-day ! 
 What is to-day worth, if it is not to put an end to 
 all doubts of one another ?" 
 
 '' But where is the use of that, if you still will 
 not believe that I can keep off all trouble from you 
 — that nothing in the universe shall touch you to 
 
 your hurt, while ■" 
 
 " O, hush ! hush !" said Erica, turning pale and 
 red at the presumption of this speech. " See, 
 they are waiting for us. One more round before 
 supper." 
 
 And in the whirl of the waltz she tried to forget 
 the last words Rolf had spoken ; but they rang in 
 lier ears : and before her eyes were images of 
 Kipen overhearing this defiance, — and the Water- 
 sprite planning vengeance in its palace under the 
 ice, — and the Mountain-Demon laughing in scorn, 
 till the echoes shouted again, — and the Wood- 
 Demon waiting only for summer to see how he 
 could beguile the rash lover. Erica finislied her 
 dance ; but when the company and the men of the
 
 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME,' 29 
 
 household were seated at the supper-table, and she 
 had to help her mistress and the young ladies to 
 wait upon them, she trembled so that she could 
 scarcely stand. It was so very wrong of Rolf to 
 be always defying the spirits ! 
 
 Long was the supper, and hearty was the mirth 
 round the table. People in Norway have univer- 
 sally a hearty appetite,— such an appetite as we 
 English have no idea of. Whether it is owing to 
 the'sharp climate, or to the activelife led by all,— 
 whatever may be the cause, such is the fact. This 
 night, piles offish disappeared first; and then joint 
 after joint of reindeer venison. The fine game of 
 the country was handed round, cut up ; and little 
 but the bones was left of a score of birds. Then 
 there were preserved fruits, and berries eaten with 
 thick cream;— almost every dish that could be 
 thought of made of the rich cream of the north. 
 Erica recovered herself as the great business M'ent 
 on ; and while her proud lover watched her, for- 
 o-etting his supper, he thought to iiimself that no 
 one of the fair attendants trod so lightly as Erica, 
 —no one carved so neatly,— no one handed the 
 dishes so gracefully, or was so quick at seeing to 
 whom the most respect and attention were owing. 
 Perhaps this last thought was suggested by Eolf's 
 perceiving that, either by her own hand or ano- 
 ther's, the hottest dishes and the nicest bits were 
 found, all supper-time, close to his elbow. Ma- 
 dame Erlingsen, he decided, with all her expe- 
 rience, did not do the duties of the table so well ; 
 and the young ladies, kind and good-tempered us 
 they were, would never, by any experience, become 
 so graceful as Erica. 
 
 At last appeared the final dish of the long feast,
 
 30 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 
 
 — the sweet cake, with which dinner and supper in 
 Norway usually conclude. While this was sliced 
 and handed round, Rolf observed that Erica looked 
 anxiously towards him. He took no notice, hoping 
 that she would come and speak to him, and that he 
 should thus be the gainer of a few of her sweet 
 words. She did come, and just said, 
 
 " The cake and ale are here, Rolf. "Will you 
 carry them ?" 
 
 " O, the treat for old Nipen. Yes, I will cany 
 them," replied Rolf, rising from his seat. 
 
 It is the custom in the country regions of Nor- 
 way to give the spirit Nipen a share at festival 
 times. His Christmas cake is richer than that 
 prepared for the guests ; and, before the feast is 
 finished, it is laid in some place out of doors, 
 where, as might be expected, it is never to be 
 found in the morning. Everj'body knew therefore 
 why Rolf rose from his seat, though some were 
 too far off to hear him say that he would carry out 
 the treat for old Nipen. 
 
 " Now, pray do not speak so,— do not call him 
 those names," said Erica, anxiously. " It is quite 
 as easy to speak so as not to offend him. Pray, 
 Rolf, to please me, do speak respectfully. And 
 promise me to play no tricks, but just set the things 
 down, and come straiglit in, and do not look be- 
 hind 3'ou. Promise me, Rolf" 
 
 Rolf did promise, but he was stopped by two 
 voices, calling upon him. Oddo, the herd-boy, 
 came running to claim the office of carrj-ing out 
 Nipen's cake ; and M. Kollsen, from his seat, de- 
 clared that he could not countenance any supersti- 
 tious observances,— would not indeed permit any so 
 gross as this in liis presence. He requested that
 
 ERLINGSEn's ' AT HOME.' 31 
 
 the company might have the benefit of the cake, 
 and made a speech in ridicule of all spirits and 
 fairies, so very bold and contemptuous that all pre- 
 sent who had to go home that night looked in con- 
 sternation at their host. If such language as M. 
 Kollsen's were allowed, they looked for nothing 
 less than to have their way beset by offended 
 spirits ; so that Erlingsen might hear in the morn- 
 ing of some being frozen, some being lost in the 
 fiord, and others tumbled from precipices. M. 
 Erlingsen made haste to speak. He did not use 
 any scraples with the young clergyman. He told 
 him that every one present would be happy at all 
 times to hear him speak on the matters belonging 
 to his office. He had discharged his oflRce in the 
 morning, in betrothing Eolf and Erica ; he was 
 no\v resting from his business, as a guest at that 
 table ; and he would, of course, allow that the di- 
 rection of the festivity rested with the host and 
 hostess, whose desire it was that every thing should 
 be done which was agreeable to the feelings and 
 habits of the greater number of the guests. 
 
 It was settled in a moment that Nipen should 
 have his cake ; which so shocked and annoyed M. 
 Kollsen that he declared he would not remain to 
 sanction anything so impious, and requested that 
 his boatmen might be called from their suppers, 
 and desired to have his boat ready immediately. 
 No entreaties would soften him : go he would. 
 
 It appeared, however, that he could not go. Not 
 a man would row him, after what he had just said 
 of Nipen. All were sure that a gust would blow 
 the boat over, the minute she was out of reach of 
 land ; or that a rock would spring up in deep 
 water, where no rock was before ; or that some
 
 32 ERL.lNGSE]\-'s ' AT HOaiE.' 
 
 strong- haud would grasp tlie boat from below, and 
 draw it down under the waters. A shudder went 
 round as these things were prophesied ; and, o£ 
 course, M. Kollsen's return home that night was 
 out of the question, unless he woidd row himself. 
 At first he declared he should do this ; but he m as 
 so earnestly entreated to attempt nothing so rash, 
 that he yielded the point, with a supercilious air 
 which perhaps concealed more satisfaction than he 
 chose to avow to himself. He insisted on retiring: 
 immediately, liowever, and was shown to his cham- 
 ber at once, by Erlingsen liimself, who found, on 
 his return, that the company were the better for 
 the pastor's absence, though unable to recover the 
 mirth which he had put to flight. Erica had been 
 shedding a few tears, in spite o£ strong efforts to 
 restrain them. Here was a bad omen already, — on 
 the very day of her betrothment ; and she saw that 
 Hund thought so ; for there was a gloomy satisfac- 
 tion in his eye, as he sat silently watching all that 
 passed. 
 
 She could not help being glad that Oddo re- 
 newed his request to be allowed to carry out 
 Nipen's cake and ale. She eagerly put the ale-can 
 into his hand, and the cake under his arm ; and 
 Oddo was going out, when his blind grandfather, 
 hearing that he was to be the messenger, observed 
 that he should be better pleased if it were some- 
 body else ; for Oddo, though a good boy, was in- 
 quisitive, and apt to get into mischief by looking 
 too closely into everything, having never a 
 thought of fear. Everyljody kneM- this to be true ; 
 thouQ:h Oddo himself declared that be A\as as 
 friglitened as anybody sometimes. Moreover, he 
 asked what there was to pry into, on the present
 
 ERLINGSEN's ' AT HOME. 33 
 
 occasion, in the middle of the night ; and appealed 
 to the company whether Nipen was not best pleased 
 to be served by the youngest of a party. This was 
 allowed ; and he was permitted to go, when Peder's 
 consent was obtained, his mistress going to the door 
 with him, and seeing him off, putting him in mmd 
 that the dancing could not begin again till he re- 
 tui-ned to take up his clarionet.
 
 ( 34 ) 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 ODDO S WALK. 
 
 The place where Nipen liked to find his offerings 
 was at the end of tlie barn, below the gallery 
 which ran round the outside of the building. 
 Tliere, in the summer, lay a plot of green grass ; 
 and, in the winter, a sheet of pure frozen snow. 
 Thither Oddo shuffled on, over the slippery sur- 
 face of tlie yard, and across the paddock, along the 
 lane made by the snow-plough between high banks 
 of snow ; and he took prodigious pains, between one 
 slip and another, not to spill the ale. He looked 
 more like a prowling cub than a boy, wrapped as 
 he was in his wolf-skin coat, and his fox-skin cap 
 doubled down over his ears. 
 
 As may be supposed from Oddo's declaring that 
 he was sometimes frightened, he was a brave boy. 
 A cowardly boy would not have said it. A cow- 
 ardly boy Mould not have offered to go at all. A 
 cowardly boy would, if he had been sent, have 
 wished that the house-door might be left open, that 
 he might see the cheerful yellow light from within : 
 whereas Oddo begged his mistress to shut the door, 
 that his grandfatlier miglit not be made to feel his 
 rheumatism by any drauglit, as he sat at table. A 
 cowardly boy would have run as fast as he could 
 perhaps slipping or falling, and spilling the ale ; 
 and when his errand was done, he would have fled
 
 ODDO'S WALK. 35 
 
 home, without looking behind him, fancj-ing every- 
 thing he saw and heard a spirit, or a wild beast. 
 Oddo did very differently from this. As usual, he 
 was too busy finding out how everything happened 
 to feel afraid, as a less inquisitive boy would. 
 
 The cake steamed up in the frosty air under his 
 nose, so warm and spicy and rich, that Odd(j began 
 to wonder what so very superior a cake could be 
 like. lie had never tasted any cake so ricli as 
 this ; nor had any one in the house tasted such : 
 for Nipen would be offended if his cake was not 
 richer than anybody's else. Oddo wondered more 
 and more how this would taste, till, before he had 
 crossed the yard, he wondered no longer. He 
 broke a piece off, and ate it ; and then Mowdered 
 whether Nipen would mind his cake being just a 
 little smaller than usual. After a few steps more, 
 the wonder was how far Nipen's charity would go ; 
 for the cake was now a great deal smaller ; and 
 Oddo next wondered whether anybody could stop 
 eating such a cake when it was once tasted. He 
 Mas surprised to see, when he came out into the 
 starliglit, at the end of the barn, how small a piece 
 was left. He stood listening whether Kipeii was 
 coming in a gust of wind ; and wlieu he heard no 
 breeze stirring, he looked about for a cloud where 
 Nipen might be. There was no cloud, as far as 
 he could see. The moon had set ; but the stars 
 were so bright as to throw a faint shadow from 
 Oddo's form upon the snow. There was no sign 
 of any spirit being angi-y at present : but Oddo 
 thouglit Nipen wovdd certainly be angry at finding 
 so very small a piece of cake. It might be better 
 to let the ale stand by itself; and Nipen would 
 perhaps suppose that Madame Erlingsen's stock of
 
 36 ODDO'S WALK. 
 
 groceries had fallen short ; — at least, that it was 
 in some way inconvenient to make the cake on the 
 present occasion. So, putting down his can upon 
 the snow, and holding the last fragment of the 
 cake between his teeth, he seized a birch pole 
 which hung down from the gallery, and by its 
 help climbed one of the posts, and got over the 
 rails into the gallerj', whence he could watch what 
 would happen. To remain on the very spot where 
 Nipen was expected was a little more than he wa.s 
 equal to ; but he thought he could stand in the 
 gallery, in the shadow of the broad eaves of the 
 barn, and wait for a little while. He was so very 
 curious to see Nipen, and to learn how it liked its 
 ale! 
 
 There he stood in the shadow, hearing nothing 
 but his own munching, though there was not much 
 of that ; for, as he came near the end, he took only 
 a little crumb at a time, to spin out the treat ; for 
 never was anything so good ! Then he had nothing 
 to do but listen ; but the ^A'aterfall was frozen up, 
 and the mill stood as still as if it was not made to 
 move. If the wheel should creak, it would be a sign 
 that Nipen was passing. 
 
 Presently he heard something. 
 
 " Music !" thought he : •' I never heard that it 
 liked music ; and I don't think it can know much 
 about music, for this is not at all sweet. There 
 again ! —that was a sort of screech. Oh, how stupid 
 I am !" thought he again. " So much for ray 
 head being full of Nipen ! It is only Hund, tuning 
 his violin, because they have all done supper. They 
 will be waiting for me. I wish this Nipen would 
 make haste. It can't be very hungrj': that iS 
 clear.''
 
 ODDO'S "SVALK. 37 
 
 He grew more and more impatient as the minutes 
 passed on, and he was aware that he was wanted in 
 the house. Once or twice he walked slowly away, 
 looking behind him, and then turned again, unwill- 
 ing to miss this opportunity of seeing Nipen. Then 
 he called the spirit,— actually begged it to appear. 
 His first call was almost a wliisper ; but he called 
 louder and louder, by degrees, till he was suddenly 
 stopped by hearing an answer. 
 
 The call he heard was soft and sweet. There 
 was nothing terrible in the sound itself; yet Oddo 
 grasped the rail of tlie gallery with all his strength 
 as he heard it. The strangest thing was, it was 
 not a single cry ; others followed it,— all soft and 
 sweet ; but Oddo thought that Nipen must have 
 many companions, and he had not prepared liimself 
 to see more spirits than one. As usual, however, 
 his curiosity grew more intense, from the little he 
 liad heard ; and he presently called again. Again 
 he was answered, by four or five voices in suc- 
 cession. 
 
 " Was ever anybody so stupid !" cried the boy, 
 now stamping with vexation. " It is the echo, after 
 all ! As if there was not always an echo here, 
 opposite the rock ! It is not Nipen at all. I will 
 just wait another minute, however." 
 
 He leaned in silence on his folded arms ; and had 
 not so waited for many seconds before he saw some- 
 thins: moving on the snow at a little distance. It 
 came nearer and nearer, and at last quite up to the 
 can of ale. 
 
 " I am glad I stayed," thought Oddo. " Kow 
 I can say I have seen Nipen. It is much less 
 terrible than I expected. Grandfather told me 
 that it sometimes came like an enormous elephant
 
 38 ODDO'S WAI.K. 
 
 or hippopotamus ; and never smaller than a large 
 bear. But this is no bigger than — let me see — 1 
 think it is most like a fox. I should like to make 
 it speak to me. They would think so much of 
 me at home, if I had talked with Nipen." 
 
 So he began gently, 
 
 " Is that Nipen ?"' 
 
 The thing moved its bushy tail, but did not 
 answer. 
 
 " There is no cake for you to-night, Nipen. I 
 hope tlie ale will do. Is the ale good, Nipen ?" 
 
 Off Avent the dark creature, without a word, as 
 quick as it could go. 
 
 " Is it offended?" thought Oddo : " or is it really 
 what it looks like, — a fox ? If it does not come 
 back, I will go down presently, and see whether it 
 has drunk the ale. If not, I shall think it is only 
 a fox." 
 
 He presently let himself down to the ground by 
 the way he had come up, and eagerly laid hold of 
 the ale-can. It would not stir. It was as fast on 
 the ground as if it was enchanted, which Oddo did 
 not doubt was the case ; and he started back, with 
 more fear than he had yet had. The cold he felt 
 on this exposed spot soon reminded him, however, 
 that the can was probably frozen to the snow, — 
 which it might well be after being brought warm 
 from the fire-side. It was so. The vessel had 
 sunk an inch into the snow, and Avas there fixed by 
 the frost. 
 
 None of the ale seemed to have been drunk ; 
 and so cold Avas Oddo by this time, that he longed 
 for a sup of it. He took first a sup, and then a 
 draught ; and then he remembered that tlie rest 
 would be entirely spoiled by the frost if it stood
 
 ODDO'S WALK. 39 
 
 another hour. This would be a pity, he thought ; 
 so he finished it, saying to liimself that he did not 
 believe Nipen would come that night. 
 
 At tliat very moment he heard a cry so dreadful 
 that it shot, like sudden pain, through every nerve 
 of his body. It was not a shout of anger : it was 
 sometliing between a shriek and a wail, — like what 
 he fancied would be the cry of a person in the act 
 of being murdered. That Kipen was here now, he 
 could not doubt ; and at length, Oddo fled. He 
 fled the faster, at first, for hearing the rustle of 
 wings ; but the curiosity of the boy even now got 
 the better of his terror, and he looked up at the 
 barn where the wings were rustling. There he 
 saw in tlie starlight the glitter of two enormous 
 round eyes, shining down upon him from tlie ridge 
 of the roof. But it struck him at once that he had 
 seen those eyes before. He checked his speed, 
 stopi^ed, went back a little, sprang up once more 
 into the gallery, hissed, waved his cap, and clapped 
 his liands, till the echoes were all awake again ; 
 and, as he had hoped, the great white owl spread 
 its wings, sprang off from the ridge, and sailed 
 away over the fiord. 
 
 Oddo tossed up his cap, cold as the night was, 
 so delighted was he to have scared away the bird 
 which had, for a moment, scared him. He hushed 
 his mirtii, however, when he perceived that lights 
 were wandering in the yard, and that there Mere 
 voices approaching. He saw that the household were 
 alarmed about him, and were coming forth to 
 search for him. Curious to see what they would 
 do, Oddo crouclied down in the darkest corner of 
 the gallery to watch and listen. 
 
 First came Rolf and his master, carrying torclies,
 
 40 ODDO'S WAUC. 
 
 with which they lighted up the whole expanse of 
 enow as they came. They looked round them, 
 without any fear, and Oddo heard Rolf say — 
 
 " If it were not for that cry, sir, I should think 
 nothing of it. But my fear is that some beast has 
 got him." 
 
 " Search first the place where the cake and ale 
 ought to be,'- said Erlingsen. " Till I see blood, 
 I shall hope the best." 
 
 " You M'ill not see that," said Hund, who fol- 
 lowed ; his gloomy countenance, now distorted by 
 fear, looking ghastly in the yellow light of the 
 torch he carried. " You will see no blood. Nipen 
 does not draw blood." 
 
 " Never tell me that any one that was not 
 wounded and torn could send out such a cry as 
 that," said Rolf. " Some wild brute seized him, 
 no doubt, at the very moment that Erica and I 
 were standing at the door listening." 
 
 Oddo repented of his prank when he saw, in the 
 flickering light behind the crowd of guests, who 
 seemed to hang together like a bunch of grapes, 
 the figures of his grandfather and Erica. The old 
 man had come out in the cold, for his sake ; and 
 Erica, who looked as white as the snow, had no 
 doubt come forth because the old man wanted a 
 guide. Oddo now wished himself out of the scrape. 
 Sorry as he was, he could not help being amused, 
 and keeping himself hidden a little longer, when 
 he saw Rolf discover the round hole in the snow 
 where the can had sunk, and heard the different 
 opinions of the company as to what this portended. 
 Most were convinced that his curiosity had been 
 his destruction, as they had always prophesied. 
 What could be clearer, by this hole, than (hat the
 
 ODDO'S WALK. 41 
 
 ale had stood there, and been carried off with the 
 cake ; and Oddo with it, because he chose to stay 
 and witness what is forbidden to mortals ? 
 
 " I wonder where he is now," said a shivering- 
 yoiith, the gayest dancer of the evening. 
 
 " O, there is no doubt about that ; — any one can 
 tell you that," replied the elderly and experienced 
 M. Holberg. " He is chained upon a wind, poor 
 fellow, like all Nipen's victims. He will have to 
 be shut up in a cave all the hot summer throug-h, 
 when it is pleasantest to be abroad ; and ^hen the 
 frost and snow come again, he will be driven out, 
 with a lash of Nipen's whip, and he must go flying, 
 wherever his wind flies, without resting, or stop- 
 ping to warm himself at any fire in the country. 
 Every winter now, when Erlingsen hears a. moan- 
 ing above his chimney, he may know it is poor 
 Oddo, foolish boy f" 
 
 " Foolish boy ! but one can't help pitying him," 
 said another. *' Chained astride upon the wind, 
 and never to be warm again !" 
 
 Oddo had thus far kept his laughter to himself; 
 but now he could contain himself no longer. He 
 laughed aloud — and then louder and louder as he 
 heard the echoes all laughing with him. The 
 faces below too were so very ridiculous ; — some 
 of the people staring up in the air, and others 
 at the rock where the echo came from ; some 
 having their mouths wide open, — others their eyes 
 starting, — and all looking unlike themselves in 
 the torchlight. His mirth was stopped by his 
 master. 
 
 " Come down, sir," cried Erlingsen, looking up 
 at the gallery. " Come down this moment. We 
 shall make you remember this night, as well per- 
 
 c3
 
 42 ODDO'S WALK. 
 
 haps as Nipen could do. Come down, and brin^^ 
 my can, and the ale and the cake. The more 
 pranks you play to-night, the more you will re- 
 pent it." 
 
 Most of the company thought Erlingsen very 
 bold to talk in this way ; but he was presently jus- 
 tified by Oddo's appearance on the balustrade. His 
 master seized him as he touched the ground, while 
 the others stood aloof. 
 
 " Where is my ale-can?" said Erlingsen. 
 
 " Here, sir ;" and Oddo held it uji dangling by 
 the handle. 
 
 " And the cake, — I bade you bring down the 
 cake with you." 
 
 " So I did, sir." 
 
 And to his master's look of inquiry, the boy 
 answered by pointing down his throat with one 
 finger, and laying the other hand upon his stomach. 
 " It is all here, sir." 
 
 " And the ale in the same place ?" 
 
 Oddo bowed, and Erlingsen turned away with- 
 out speaking. He could not have spoken without 
 laug-hino:. 
 
 " Bring this gentleman home," said Erlingsen 
 presently to Rolf; " and do not let him out of 
 your hands. Let no one ask him any questions 
 till he is in the house." Rolf grasped the boy's 
 arm, and Erlingsen went forward to relieve Peder, 
 though it was not very clear to him at the moment 
 whetlier such a grandchild was better safe or miss- 
 ing. The old man made no such question ; but 
 hastened back to the house, with many expressions 
 of thankso^ivino:. 
 
 As the search-party crowded in among the 
 women, and pushed all before them into the large
 
 ODDO'S WALK. 43 
 
 vanii room, M. Kollsen was seen standing- on the 
 stair-head, wrapped in the bear-skin coverlid. 
 
 " Is the boy there ?" he inquired. 
 
 Oddo showed himself. 
 
 " How much have you seen of Nipen, hey ?" 
 
 '' Nobody ever had a better sight of it, sir. It 
 was as plain as I see you now, and no farther off." 
 
 " Nonsense, — it is a lie," said M. Kollsen. 
 " Do not believe a word he says," advised the 
 pastor, speaking to the listeners. " There is the 
 folly of giving such an opportunity to a child of 
 making himself important. If he had had liis 
 share of the cake, with the rest of us at table, he 
 would have taken it quietly, and been thankful. 
 As it is, it will be harder work than ever to drive 
 out these wicked superstitions. — Go, get along !" 
 he cried to Oddo ; " I do not want to hear a word 
 you have got to say." 
 
 Oddo bowed, and proceeded to the gi-eat room, 
 where he took up his clarionet, as if it was a matter 
 of course that the dancing was to begin again 
 immediately. He blew upon his fingers, however, 
 observing that they were too stiff with cold to do 
 their duty well. And when he turned towards the 
 fire, every one made way for him, in a very differ- 
 ent manner from what they would have dreamed of 
 three hours before. Oddo had his curiosity gratified 
 as to how they would regard one who Mas believed 
 to have seen something supernatural. 
 
 Erlingsen saw that sometliing must be done on 
 the spot, to clear iip the affair. If his guests went 
 home without having heard the mysteries of the 
 night explained, the whole country would presently 
 be filled M-ith wild and superstitious stories. He. 
 requested Feder to examine the boy, as Oddo stood
 
 44 OUDO'S WALK. 
 
 more in awe of his grandfather than of any one 
 else ; and also because Peder was known to be so 
 firm a believer in Nipen, that his judgment would 
 be more readily received than that of an unbeliever. 
 When seriously questioned, Oddo had no wish to 
 say anything but the truth ; and he admitted the 
 whole, — that he had eaten the entire cake, drunk 
 all the ale, seen a fox and an owl, and heard 
 the echoes, in answer to himself. As he finished 
 his story, Hund, who was perhaps the most eager 
 listener of all, leaped thrice upon the floor, snap- 
 ping his fingers, as if in a passion of delight. He 
 met Erlingseti's eye, full of severity, and was quiet ; 
 but his countenance still glowed with exultation. 
 
 The rest of the company were greatly shocked 
 at these daring insults to Nipen : and none more so 
 than Peder. The old man's features worked with 
 emotion, as lie said in a low voice that he should 
 be very thankful if all the mischief that might fol- 
 low upon this adventure might be borne by the kin 
 of him who had provoked it. If it should fall upon 
 those who were innocent, never surely had boy been 
 so miserable as his poor lad would then be. Oddo's 
 eyes filled with tears, as he heard this ; and he 
 looked up at his master and mistress, as if to ask 
 whether they had no word of comfort to say. 
 
 " Neighbour," said Madame Erlingsen to Peder, 
 " is there any one here who does not believe that 
 God is over all, and that he protects the innocent ?" 
 
 *'Is there any one who does not feel," added 
 Erlingsen, " that the innocent should be gay, safe 
 as they are in the good-will of God and man ? 
 Come, neighbours, — to your dancing again ! You 
 have lost too much time ab-eady. Now Oddo, play 
 your best,— and you, Hund."
 
 ODDO S WALK. 
 
 45 
 
 '< I hope," said Oddo, '' that, if any mischief is 
 to come, it will fall upon me. AYe'll see how I 
 shall bear it." 
 
 " Mischief enough will befal you, boy,— never 
 doubt it," said his master, " as long as you trifle 
 with people's feelings as you have done to-night. 
 Go. Make up for it, all you can.' 
 
 The dancing M'as spiritless, and there was little 
 more it. The mirth of the meeting as destroyed. 
 The party broke up at three, instead of five or six ; 
 and it might have been earlier still, but for the un- 
 willingness of every family present to be the first to 
 go upon the lake, or to try the road. At last, all 
 understood one another's feelings by their own ; 
 and the whole company departed at once in two 
 bands, one by water and the other by land. Those 
 who went in sleighs took care that a heavy stone 
 was fastened by a rope to the back of each carri- 
 age, that its bobbing and dancing on the road might 
 keep off the wolves. Glad would they have been 
 of any contrivance by which they might as certainly 
 distance Nipen. Rolf then took a parting kiss from 
 Erica in the porch, pushed Oddo on before, and 
 followed with Peder. Erica watched them quite 
 to the door of their own house, and then came in, 
 and busied herself in making a clearance of some 
 of the confusion which the guests had left behind. ^^ 
 " Oddo could not get a word from you. Erica," 
 observed her mistress ; " not even a look in answer 
 to his ' good night.' " 
 
 "I could not, madam," answered Erica, tears 
 and sobs breaking forth. " AVlien I think of it all, 
 I am so shocked, — so ashamed !" 
 " How ashamed ?" 
 " Nipen has been so favourable to us to-day,
 
 46 ODDO'S WALK, 
 
 madam ! not a breath of wind stirring all the morn- 
 ing, so that nobody was disappointed of coming ! 
 And then to serve it in this way ! To rob it, and 
 mock it, and brave it as we have done ! — So un- 
 grateful ! — so very wrong !" 
 
 " We are very sorry for Oddo's trick, — your 
 master and I," said Madame Erlingsen ; " but we 
 are not in the least afraid of any further harm 
 happening. You know we do not believe that God 
 permits liis children to be at the mercy of evil or 
 capricious spirits. Indeed, Erica, we could not 
 love God as we should wish to love him, if we could 
 not trust in liim as a just and kind protector. Go to 
 rest now, Erica. You have done quite enough 
 since you left your bed. Go to rest now. Rest 
 your heart upon Him who lias blessed you exceed- 
 ingly this day. Whatever others do, do not you 
 be ungrateful to Him. Good sleep to you. Erica ! 
 Sleep off your troubles, that Rolf may see nothing 
 of them in the morning." 
 
 Erica smiled ; and when Orga and Frolich saw 
 the effect of what their mother had said, they too 
 went to rest without trembling at every one of the 
 noises with which a house built of wood is always 
 resounding.
 
 ( 47 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 When M. Kollsen appeared the next morning, 
 the household had so much of its usual air that no 
 stranger would have imagined how it had been 
 occupied the day before. The large room was fresh 
 strewn with evergreen sprigs ; the breakfast-table 
 stood at one end, where each took breakfast, stand- 
 ing, immediately on coming down stairs. At the 
 bottom of the room was a busy group. The shoe- 
 maker, who travelled this way twice a-year, had 
 appeared this morning, and was already engaged 
 upon the skins which had been tanned on the farm, 
 and kept in readiness for him. He was instructing 
 Oddo in the making of the tall boots of the country ; 
 and Oddo was so eager to have a pair in which he 
 might walk knee-deep in the snoAv when the frosts 
 should be over, that he gave all his attention to 
 the work. Peder was twisting strips of leather, 
 thin and narrow, into whips. Rolf and Hund were 
 silently intent upon a sort of work which the Nor- 
 Avegian peasant delights in, — carving wood. They 
 spoke only to answer Peder's questions about the 
 progress of the work. Peder loved to hear about 
 their carving, and to feel it ; for he had been re- 
 markable for his skill in the art, as long as his 
 sight lasted. 
 
 Erlingseri was reading the newspaper, which
 
 48 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 must go away in the pastor's pocket. Madame 
 was spinning ; and her daughters sat busily plying 
 their needles with Erica, in a corner of the apart- 
 ment. The three were putting the last stitches to 
 the piece of work which the pastor was also to 
 carry away with him, as his fee for his services of 
 yesterday. It was an eider-down coverlid, of 
 which Rolf had procured the down, from the islets 
 in the fiord frequented by the eider-duck, and 
 Erica had woven the cover, and quilted it, with 
 the assistance of her young ladies, in an elegant 
 pattern. The other house-maiden was in the cham- 
 bers, hanging out the bedding in an upper gallery 
 to air, as she did on all days of fair weather. 
 
 The whole party rose when M. Kollsen entered 
 the room, but presently resumed their employments, 
 except Madame Erlingsen, who conducted the 
 pastor to the breakfast-table, and helped him plen- 
 tifully to reindeer ham, bread and butter, and corn- 
 brandy, — the usual breakfast. M. Kollsen carried 
 nis plate, and ate, as he went round to converse 
 with each group. First, he talked politics a little 
 with his host, by the tire-side ; in the midst of 
 which conversation Erlingsen managed to intimate 
 that nothing would be heard of Nipen to-day, if 
 the subject was let alone by themselves : a liint 
 which the clergyman was willing to take, as he 
 supposed it meant in defei'ence to his views. Then 
 he complimented Madame Erlingsen on the excel- 
 lence of her ham, and helped himself again ; and 
 next drew near the girls. 
 
 Erica blushed, and was thinking how she should, 
 explain that she wished his acceptance of her work, 
 when Frolich saved her the awkwardness by 
 saying,
 
 OI<AF AKD HIS KEWS. 49 
 
 " We hope you will like this coverlid, for we 
 have made an entirely new pattern, on purpose for 
 it. Orga, you have the pattern. Do show M. 
 KoUsen how pretty it looks on paper." 
 
 M. Kollsen did not know much about such 
 things : but he admired as much as he could. 
 
 " That lily of the valley, see, is mamma's idea ; 
 and the barberry, answering to it, is mine. That 
 tree in the middle is all Erica's work, — entirely ; 
 but the squirrel upon it, we never should have 
 thought of It was papa who put that into our 
 heads! and it is the most original thing in the 
 whole pattern. Erica has worked it beautifully, 
 to be sure." 
 
 " I think we have said quite enough about it," 
 observed Erica, smiling and blushing. " I hope 
 M. Kollsen will accept it. The down is Kolf 's 
 present." 
 
 Rolf rose, and made his bow, and said he had 
 had pleasure in preparing his small offering. 
 
 "And I think," said'Erlingsen, "it is pretty 
 plain that my little girls have had pleasure in their 
 part of the work. It is my belief that they are 
 sorry it is so nearly done." 
 
 M. Kollsen graciously accepted the gift, — took 
 up the coverlid and weighed it in his hand, in order 
 to admire its lightness, compared with its handsome 
 size ; and then bent over the carvers, to see what 
 work was under their hands. 
 
 "A bell-collar, sir," said Hund, showing his 
 piece of wood. "lam making- a complete set for 
 our cows, against they go to the mountain, come 
 summer." 
 
 "A pulpit, sir," explained Rolf, showing his 
 work in liis turn.
 
 50 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 " A pulpit ! Really ! And who is to preach in it ?" 
 
 " You, sir, of course," replied Erlingsen. " Long 
 before you came, — from the time the new church 
 was begun, we meant it should have a handsome 
 pnl])it. Six of us, within a round of twenty miles, 
 undertook the six sides ; and Rolf has great hopes 
 of having the basement allotted to him afterwards. 
 The best workman is to do tlie basement ; and I 
 think Rolf bids fair to be the one. This is good 
 work, sir." 
 
 " P^xquisite," said the pastor. " I question 
 whether our native carvers may not be found equal 
 to any whose works we hear so much of in popish 
 churches, in other countries. And there is no 
 doubt of the superiority of their subjects. Look at 
 these elegant twining flowers, and that fine brood- 
 ing eagle ! How much better to copy the beautiful 
 M'orks of God that are before our eyes, than to 
 make durable pictures of the popish idolatries and 
 superstitions, which should all have been forgotten 
 as soon as possible ! I hope that none of the 
 impious idolatries which, I am ashamed to say, 
 still linger among us, will find their way into the 
 arts by which future generations will judge us." 
 
 The pastor stopped, on seeing that his hearers 
 looked at one another, as if conscious. A few words, 
 he judged, Avould be better than more ; and he went 
 on to Peder, passing by Oddo without a word of 
 notice. The party had indeed glanced consciously 
 at each other ; for it so happened that the very 
 prettiest piece Rolf had ever carved was a bowl on 
 which he had shown the Avater-sprite's hand (and 
 never was hand so delicate as the water-sprite's) 
 beckoning the heron to come and fish when the 
 river begins to flow.
 
 OliAF AND IIIS NEWS. 51 
 
 "WTien Erica heard M. Kollsen inquiring of 
 Peder about his old wife, slie started up from her 
 Avoriv, and said she must run and prepare Ulla for 
 the pastor's visit. Poor Ulla would think herself 
 forgotten this morning, it \Aas growing so late, and 
 nobody had been over to see her. 
 
 Ulla, however, was far from having any svich 
 thoughts. There sat tlie old woman, propped up 
 in bed, knitting as fast as fingers could move, and 
 singing, witli her soul in her song, though her 
 Aoice was weak and unsteady. She Avas covered 
 with an eider-down quilt, like the first lady in the 
 land ; but this luxury was a consequence of her 
 being old and ill, and having friends who cared for 
 her infirmities. Tliere was no other luxury. Her 
 window was glazed with thick flaky glass, through 
 which nothing could be seen distinctly. The shelf, 
 the table, tlie clothes' chest, were all of rough fir- 
 wood ; and the walls of the house were of logs, 
 well stufted with moss in all tlie crevices, to keep 
 out the cold. There are no dwellings so warm in 
 winter and cool in summer as well built log-houses ; 
 and this liouse had every thing essential to health 
 and comfort : but there was nothing more, unless 
 it was the green sprinkling of the flioor, and the 
 clean appearance of everything the room contained, 
 from Ulla's cap to the wooden platters on the shelf. 
 
 " I thought you would come," said Ulla. " I 
 knew you would come, and take my blessing on 
 your betrothment, and my wishes that you may 
 soon be seen with the golden crown.* I must not 
 say that I hope to see you crowned ; for we all 
 know, — and nobody so well as I, that it is I that 
 
 * Peasant brides in Norway wear, on their •vredding-day, 
 a coronet of paste-board, covered with gilt paper.
 
 52 OtAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 stand between you and your crown. I often think 
 of it, my dear ." 
 
 " Then I wish you would not, Ulla : you know 
 that." 
 
 " I do know it, my dear : and I would not be 
 for hastening God's appointments. Let all be in 
 his own time. And I know, by myself, how 
 happy you may be, — you and Rolf, — while Peder 
 and I are failing and dying. I only say that none 
 wish for your crowning more than we. — 0, Erica ! 
 you have a fine lot in having Rolf." 
 
 " Indeed I know it, Ulla." 
 
 " Do but look about you, dear, and see how he 
 keeps the house. And if you were to see him give 
 me my cup of coffee, and watch over Peder, you 
 Avould consider what he is likely to be to a pretty 
 young thing like you, when he is what he is to two 
 worn-out old creatures like us." 
 
 Erica did not need convincing about these 
 things ; but she liked to hear them. 
 
 " Where is he now ?" asked Ulla. '* I always 
 ask w here every body is, at this season ; people go 
 about staring at the snow, as if they had no eyes 
 to lose. That is the way my husband did. Do 
 make Rolf take care of his precious eyes, Erica. 
 Is he abroad to-day, my dear ?" 
 
 " By this time he is," replied Erica. " I left 
 him at work at the pulpit ." 
 
 " Aye ! trying his eyes with fine carving, as 
 Peder did !" 
 
 " But," continued Erica, " there was news this 
 morning of a lodgment of logs at the top of the 
 foss ;* and they were all going except Peder, to 
 
 * Waterfall. Pine-trunks felled in the forest are dra^rn 
 ovei" the frozen snow to the banks of a river, or to the top of
 
 OliAF AND HIS NEWS. 53 
 
 elide them down the gully to the fiord. The gully 
 is frozen so slippery, that the work will not take 
 long. They will make a raft of the logs in the 
 fiord ; and either Rolf or Hund will carry them 
 out to the islands when the tide ebbs." 
 
 " Will it be Rolf, do you think, or Hund, 
 dear?" 
 
 " I wish it may be Hund. If it be Rolf, I shall 
 go with him. O, Ulla ! I cannot lose sight of 
 him, after what happened last night. Did you 
 hear ? I do wish Oddo would grow wiser." 
 
 Ulla shook her head, and then nodded, to inti- 
 mate that they would not talk of Nipen. And 
 she began to speak of something else. 
 
 " How did Hund conduct himself yesterday ? I 
 heard my husband's account : but you know Peder 
 could say nothing of his looks. Did you mark his 
 countenance, dear ?" 
 
 " Indeed there was no helping it, — any more 
 than one can help watching a storm-cloud as it 
 comes up." 
 
 " So it was dark and wrathful, was it,— that ugly 
 face of his? "Well it might be, dear ;— well it might 
 be." 
 
 " The worst was, — worse than all his dark looks 
 together,— O, Ulla ! the worst was his leap and 
 cry of joy when he heard what Oddo had done, 
 and that Nipen was made our enemy. He looked 
 like an evil spirit when he fixed his eyes on me, 
 and snapped his fingers." 
 
 Ulla shook her head mournfully, and then asked 
 Erica to put another peat on the fire. 
 
 a M-aterfall, whence they may be either slid do-wn over the 
 ice, or left to be carried down by the floods, at the melting 
 of the snows in the spring.
 
 54 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 " I really sliould like to know," said Erica in a 
 low voice, when she resumed her seat on the bed, 
 — " I am sure you can tell me if you would, Mhat 
 is the real truth about Hund, — what it is that 
 weighs upon his heart." 
 
 " I will tell you," replied Ulla. " You are not 
 one that will go blabbing it, so that Hund shall 
 meet with taunts, and have his sore heart made 
 soi'er. I will tell you, ray dear, though there is 
 no one else but our mistress that I would tell : and 
 she, no doubt, knows it already. Hund was born 
 and reared a good way to the south, — not far from 
 Bergen. In mid-winter, four years since, his 
 master sent him on an errand of twenty miles, to 
 carry some provisions to a village in the upper 
 country. He did his errand ; and, so far, all was 
 well. The village people asked him, for charity, 
 to carry tliree orjihan children on his sledge some 
 miles on the way to Bergen, and to leave them at 
 a house he had to pass on his road, where they 
 would be taken care of till they could be fetched 
 from Bergen. Hund was an obliging young fel- 
 low then, and he made no objection. He took the 
 little things, and saw that the two elder were Avell 
 Avrapped up from the cold. The third he took 
 within his arms, and on Ids knee as he drove, clasp- 
 ing it warm against his breast. So those say who 
 saw them set off; and it is confirmed by one who 
 met the sledge on the road, and heard the children 
 prattling to Hund, and Hund laughing merrily at 
 their little talk. Before they had got half way, 
 however, a pack of hungry wolves burst out upon 
 them from a hollow to the riglit of the road. Tlie 
 brutes followed close at the back of the sledge, 
 and "
 
 OLAF AKD HIS NEWS. 55 
 
 " 0, stop !" cried Erica, " I know that story. 
 Is it possible that Hund is the man ? No need to 
 go on, Ulla." 
 
 But Ulla thought there was always need to finish 
 a story that she had begun ; and she proceeded. 
 
 " Closer and closer the wolves pressed, and it is 
 thought Hund saw one about to spring at his 
 throat. It was impossible for the horse to go 
 faster than it did, for it went like the wind ; but 
 so did the beasts. Hund snatched up one of the 
 children behind him, and thre\r it over the 
 back of the sledge ; and this stopped the pack for 
 a little. On galloped the horse; but the wolves 
 were soon crowding round again, with the blood 
 freezing on their muzzles. It was easier to throw 
 the second child than the first ; and Hund did it. 
 It was harder to give up the third, — the dumb in- 
 fant that nestled to his breast ; but Hund was in 
 mortal terror ; and a man beside himself with terror 
 has all the cruelty of a pack of wolves. Hund 
 flung away the infant, and just saved himself. No- 
 body at home questioned him, for nobody knew 
 about the orphans ; and he did not tell. But he 
 was unsettled, and looked wild ; and his talk, when- 
 ever he did speak, night or day, was of wolves, for 
 the three days that he remained after his return. 
 Then there was a questioning along the road, about 
 the orphan children ; and Hund heard of it, and 
 started off into the woods. By putting things to- 
 gether, — what Hund had dropped in his agony of 
 mind, and what had been seen and heard on the 
 road, the whole was made out, and the country 
 rose to find Hund. He was hunted like a bear, iu 
 the forest and on the mountain ; but he had got to 
 the coast in time, and Avas taken in a boat, it is
 
 56 OLAF AKD HIS NEWS. 
 
 thought, to Haramerfest. At any rate, he came 
 here as from the north, and wishes to pass for a 
 northern man." 
 
 " And does Erlingsen know all this?" 
 
 " Yes. The same person who told me told him. 
 Erlingsen thinks he must meet with mercy ; for 
 that none need mercy so much as the weak ; and 
 Hund's act was an act of weakness." 
 
 " Weakness !'' cried Erica, with disgust. 
 
 " He is a coward, my dear ; and death stared 
 him in the face." 
 
 " I have often wondered," said Erica, " where 
 on the face of the earth that wretch was wander- 
 ing : and it is Hund ! And he wanted to live in 
 
 this veiy house ," she continued, looking round 
 
 the room. 
 
 " And to marry you, dear. Erlingsen would 
 never have allowed that. But the thought has 
 plunged the poor fellow deeper, instead of saving 
 him, as he hoped. He now has envy and jealousy 
 at his heart, besides the remorse which he will carry 
 to his grave." 
 
 "And revenge?" said Erica, shuddering. "I 
 tell you he leaped for joy that Nipen was offended. 
 Here is some one coming," she exclaimed, starting 
 from her seat, as a shadow flitted over the thick win- 
 dow pane, and a hasty knock was heard at the door. 
 
 " You are a coward, if ever there Mas one," said 
 Ulla, smiling. " Hund never comes here ; so you 
 need not look so frightened. What is to be done, 
 if you look so at dinner, or the next time you meet 
 him ? It will be the ruin of some of us. Go, — 
 open the door, and do not keep the pastor waiting." 
 
 There was another knock before Erica could 
 reach the door, and Frolich burst in.
 
 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 57 
 
 *' Such news !" she cried, — " You never heard 
 such news." 
 
 " I wish there never was any news," exclaimed 
 Erica, ahnost pettishly. 
 
 " Good or bad ?" enquired Ulla. 
 
 " O, bad, — very bad," declared Frolich, who yet 
 looked as if she would rather have it than none. 
 " Here is company. Olaf, the drug-merchant, is 
 come. Father did not expect him these three 
 weeks." 
 
 " This is not bad news, but good," said Ulla. 
 " Who knows but he may bring me a cure ?" 
 
 " We will all beg him to cure you, dear Ulla," 
 said Frolich, stroking the old woman's white hair 
 smooth upon her forehead. " But he tells us 
 shocking things. There is a pirate vessel among 
 the islands. She was seen oft' Soroe, some time 
 ago ; but she is much nearer to us now. There 
 was a farm-house seen burning on Alten fiord, last 
 w^eek ; and as the family are all gone, and nothing 
 but ruins left, there is little doubt the pirates lit 
 the torch that did it. And the cod has been car- 
 ried oif from the beach, in the few places where 
 any has been caught yet." 
 
 '' They have not found out our fiord yet ?" en- 
 quired Ulla. 
 
 " 0, dear ! I hope not. But they may, any 
 day. And father says, the coast must be raised, 
 from Hammerfest to Tronyem, and a watch set till 
 this wicked vessel can be taken or driven away. 
 Pie was going to send a running message both 
 ways ; but here is something else to be done first." 
 
 "Another misfortune?" asked Erica, fahilly. 
 
 " No : they say it is a piece of very good fortune ; 
 — at least for those who like bears' feet for dinner- 
 
 D
 
 58 OliAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 Some body or other has lighted upon the great 
 bear that got away in the summer, and poked her 
 out of her den, on the fjelde. She is certainly 
 abroad with her Uvo last year's cubs ; and their 
 traces have been found just above, near the foss. 
 Olaf had heard of her being roused ; and Rolf and 
 Hund have found her traces. Oddo has come run- 
 ning home to tell us : and father says he must get 
 up a hunt before more snow falls, and we lose the 
 tracks, or the family may establish themselves 
 among us, and make away with our first calves." 
 
 " Does he expect to kill them all ?" 
 
 " I tell you, we are all to grow stout on bears' 
 feet. For my part, I like bears' feet best on the 
 other side of Tronyem." 
 
 " You will change your mind, Miss Frolich, 
 when you see them on the table," observed Ulla. 
 
 " That is just what father said. And he asked how 
 I thought Erica and Stiorna would like to have a 
 den in tlieir neighbourhood when they got up to the 
 mountain for the summer. O, it will be all right 
 wlien the hunt is well over, and all the bears dead. 
 Meantime, I thought they were at my heels as I 
 crossed the yard." 
 
 " And that made you burst in as you did. Did 
 Olaf say anything about coming to see me? Has 
 he plenty of medicines with him ?" 
 
 " O, certainly. That was the thing I came to 
 saj'. He is laying out liis medicines, while he 
 warms himself ; and then he is coming over, to see 
 what he can do for your poor head. He asked 
 about you, directly ; and he is frowning over his 
 drugs, as if he meant to let them know that they 
 must not trifle with you." 
 
 IT] la was highly pleased, and gave her directions
 
 OliAF AND HIS NEWS. 59 
 
 very briskly about the arrangement of the room. 
 If it had been the grandest apartment of a palace, 
 she could not have been more particular as to where 
 every thing should stand. When all was to her 
 mind, she begged Erica to step over, and inform 
 Olaf that she was ready. 
 
 When Erica opened the door, she instantly drew 
 back, and shut it again. 
 
 " What now ?" asked Frolich. " Are all the 
 bears in the porch ?" 
 
 " Olaf is there," replied Erica, in a whisper, 
 " talking with Hund." 
 
 " Hund wants a cure for the heart-ache," Fro- 
 lich whispered in return ; " or a charm to make 
 some girl betroth herself to him ;— a thing which 
 no girl will do, but under a charm : for I don't 
 believe Stiorna would when it came to the point, 
 though she likes to be attended to." 
 
 When Olaf entered, and Hund walked away, 
 Frolich ran home, and Erica stood by the window, 
 ready to receive the travelling doctor's opinion and 
 directions, if he should vouchsafe any. 
 
 " So I am not the first to consult you to-day," 
 said Ulla. " It is rather hard that I should not have 
 the best chance of luck, having been so long ill." 
 
 Olaf assured her that he would hear no com- 
 plaints from another till he had given her the first- 
 fruits of his wisdom in this district of his rounds. 
 Hund was only enquiring of him where the pirate- 
 schooner was, having slid down from the height, 
 as fast as his snow skaits would carry him, on 
 hearing the news from Oddo. He was also eager 
 to know whence these pirates came,— what nation 
 they were of, or whether a crew gathered from 
 many nations. Olaf had advised Hund to go 
 ^ d2
 
 60 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 
 
 and ask the pirates themselves all that he wanted 
 folknow; for there was no one else who could 
 satisfy him. Wlierenpon Ilund had smiled grimly, 
 and gone back to his wovk. 
 
 ' Erica observed that she had heard her master 
 say that it was foolish to boast that Norway need 
 not mind when Denmark went to war. because it 
 would be carried on far out of siarht and hearino:. 
 So far from this, Erlingsen had said, that Den- 
 mark never went to war but pirates came to ravage 
 the coast, from the North Cape to tlie Naze. 
 Was not this the ciise now ? Denmark had gone 
 to war ; and here Mere the pirates come to make 
 her poor partner suffer. 
 
 Olaf said this explained the matter ; and he 
 feared the business of the coast would suffer till a 
 time of peace. Meanwhile, he must mind liis 
 business. When he had heard all Ulla's com- 
 plaints, and ordered exactly wliat she wished.— 
 large doses of camphor and corn-brandy to keep 
 off" the night-fever and daily cough, he was ready 
 to hear whatever else Erica had to ask, for UUa 
 had hinted that Erica wanted advice. 
 '^'''" I do not mind Ulla hearing my words," said 
 Erica. " She knows my trouble." 
 
 " It is of the mind," observed Olaf, solemnly, 
 on discovering that Erica did not desire to have 
 her pulse felt, ' ' '^'^ 
 
 " Yesterday was I was " Erica b^^iW. 
 
 ?"*^She was betrothed yesterday," said Ulla, " to 
 thef man of her heart. Kolf is such a young 
 man ." 
 
 '' Olaf knoAvs Rolf," observed Erica. " An un- 
 foi-tunate thing happened, at the end of the day^ 
 Olaf. Nipen was insulted." And she told the story
 
 OLAF AKD HIS NEWS. g^ 
 
 pf Oddo's prank, and implored the doctor to say if 
 anything could be done to avert bad consequences. 
 
 " No doubt," replied Olaf. " Look here ! This 
 will preserve you from any particular evil that you 
 dread." And he took from the box he carried 
 under his arm a round piece of white paper, with a 
 hole in the middle, through which a string was to 
 be passed, to tie the charm round the neck. Erica 
 shook her head. Such a charm would be of no 
 use, as she did not know under what particular 
 shape of misfortune Nipen's displeasure would 
 show itself. Besides, she was certain that nothing 
 Mould make Rolf wear a charm ; and she disdained 
 to use any security which he might not share. 
 Olaf could not help her in any other way ; but 
 enquired with sympathy when the next festival 
 would take place. Then, all might be repaired by 
 handsome treatment of Kipen. Till then, he 
 advised Erica to wear his charm ; as her lover 
 could not be the worse for her being so far safe. 
 Erica blushed : she knew, but did not say, that 
 harm would be done which no charm could repair 
 if her lo^'er saw her trying to save herself from 
 dangers to which he remained exposed : and she 
 did not know what their betrothment was worth, if 
 it did not give them the privilege of suffering to- 
 gether. So she put back the charm into its place 
 in the box, and, with a sigh, rose to return to the 
 house. 
 
 In the porch she found Oddo, eating something 
 which caused him to make faces. Though it was 
 in the open air, thei'e was a strong smell of cam- 
 phor, and of something else less pleasant. 
 
 "What are you doing, Oddo?" asked Erica:
 
 62 OLAP AND HIS KEWS. 
 
 the question which Oddo was asked every day of 
 his life. 
 
 Oddo had observed Olafs practice among liis 
 patients of the household, and perceived that, for 
 all complaints, of body or mind, he gave the two 
 things, camphor and assafoetida, — sometimes to- 
 gether, and sometimes separately ; and always in 
 corn-brandy. Oddo could not refrain from trying 
 what these drugs were like ; so he helped himself 
 to some of each ; and, as he could get no corn- 
 brandy till dinner time, he was eating the medicines 
 without. Such was the cause of his wry faces. If 
 he had been any thing but a Norway boy, he would 
 have been the invalid of the house to-day, from the 
 quantity of rich cake he had eaten : but Oddo 
 seemed to share the privilege, common to Nor- 
 wegians, of being able to eat any thing, in any 
 quantity, Nvithout injury. His wry faces were from 
 no indigestion, but from the savour of assafoetida, 
 unrelieved by brandy. 
 
 Wooden dM'ellings resound so much as to be in- 
 aonvenient for those who have secrets to tell. In 
 the porch of Peder's house, Oddo had heard all 
 that passed within. It was good for him to have 
 done so. He became more sensible of the pain he 
 had given, and more anxious to repair it. 
 
 " Dear Erica," said he, " I want you to do a 
 very kind thing for me. Do get leave for me to 
 go with Rolf after the bears. If I get one stroke 
 at them,— if I can but wound one of them, I shall 
 have a paw for my share ; and I will lay it out for 
 Kipen. You will, will not you ?" 
 
 " It must be as Erlingsen chooses, Oddo : but I 
 fancy you will not be allowed to go just now. The
 
 OLAF AND HIS NEWS. 63 
 
 bears will think the doctor's physic-sledge is coming 
 through the woods, and they will be shy. Do 
 stand a little farther off. I cannot think how it is 
 that you are not choked." 
 
 " Suppose you go for an airing," said the doctor, 
 who now joined them. "If you must not go in 
 the way of the bears, there is a rein deer, " 
 
 " O, where ?" cried Oddo. 
 
 "I saw one, — all alone,— on the Salten heights. 
 If you run that way, with the wind behind you, 
 the deer will give you a good run ; — up Sulitelma, 
 if you like, and you will have got rid of the cam- 
 phor before you come back. And be sure you 
 bring me some Iceland moss, to pay me for what 
 you have been helping yourself to." 
 
 When Oddo had convinced himself that Olaf 
 really had seen a reindeer on the heights, three 
 miles off, he said to himself that if deer do not like 
 camphor, they are fond of salt ; and he was pre- 
 sently at the salt-box, and then quickly on his 
 way to the hills with his bait. He considered his 
 chance of training home the deer much more pro- 
 bable than that Erlingsen and his grandfather 
 would allow him to hunt the bears : and he doubt- 
 less judged rightly.
 
 se 
 
 
 tiSfft 
 
 «n. 
 
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 'f F>on+SrT9f)fI« 
 
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 ii 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 ROVING HERE AND ROVING THERE. 
 
 The establishment was now in a great hurry and 
 bustle for an hour ; after which time, it promised 
 to be unusually quiet. 
 
 M. Ivollsen began to be anxious to be on the 
 other side of the fiord. It was rather inconvenient ; 
 as the two men were wanted to go in different di- 
 rections, while their master took a third, to rouse 
 the farmers for the bear-hunt. The hunters were 
 all to arrive before niglit within a certain distance 
 of tlie thickets where the bears were noAV believed 
 to be. On calm nights, it was no great hardship 
 to spend the dark hours in the bivouac of the 
 country. Each party was to shelter itself under a 
 bank of snow, or in a pit dug out of it, an enor- 
 mous fire blazing in the midst, and brandy and 
 tobacco being plentifully distributed on such oc- 
 casions. Early in the morning the director of the 
 hunt was to go his rounds, and arrange the hunters 
 in a ring enclosing the hiding-place of the bears, 
 so that all miglit be prepared, and no waste made 
 of the few hours of daylight which the season 
 afforded. As soon as it was light enough to see 
 distinctly among the trees, or bushes, or holes of 
 the rocks where the bears might be couched, they 
 were to be driven from their retreat, and disposed 
 of as quickly as possible. Such was the plan, well
 
 ROVING HEllE AND ROVING THEKE, 65 
 
 understood in such cases throughout the country. 
 On the present occasion, it might be expected that 
 the peasantry wouhi be ready at the first summons, 
 as Olaf had told his story of the bears all along the 
 road. Yet, the more messengers and helpers the 
 better; and Erlingsen was rather vexed to see 
 Hund go with alacrity to unmoor the boat, and 
 offer officiously to row the pastor across the fiord. 
 His daughters knew Avhat he was thinking about ; 
 and, after a moment's consultation, Frolich asked 
 whether she and the maid Stiorna might not be 
 the rowers. 
 
 Nobody would have objected, if Hund had not. 
 The girls could row, though tliey could not hunt 
 bears ; and the weatlier was fair enough : but 
 Hund shook his head, and went on preparing the 
 boat. His master spoke to him ; but Hund was 
 not remarkable for giving vip his own way. He 
 would only say that there would be plenty of time 
 for both afiairs, and that he could follow the hunt 
 when he returned ; and across the lake he went. 
 
 Erlingsen and Rolf presently departed, accom- 
 panied by Olaf, who was glad of an escort for a 
 few miles, thougli nothing was further from his 
 intention than aroino; near the bears. The women 
 and Peder were thus left behind. 
 
 They occupied themselves, to keep away anxious 
 
 thoughts. One began some new nets, for the ap- 
 
 proacliing fisliing season ; another sat in the loom, 
 
 and the girls appealed to their mother, very fre- 
 
 .^.quently, about the beauties of a new quilting pat- 
 
 'jitern they were drawing. Old Peder sang to them, 
 
 yt,oo ; but Peder's songs ^^'ere rather melancholy, 
 
 i^and they had not the effect of cheering the party. 
 
 ijHour after hour thev looked for Hund. His n^ws 
 
 d3 "
 
 66 ROVIKG HERE AND ROVING THERE. 
 
 of his voyage, and the sending him after his master, 
 would be something to do and to think of; but 
 Hund did not come. Stiorna at last let fall that 
 she did not think he would come yet ; for that he 
 meant to catch some cod before his return. He 
 had taken tackle with him for that purpose, she 
 knew ; and she should not wonder if he did not 
 appear till the morning. 
 
 Every one was surprised, and Madame Erlingsen 
 highly displeased. At the time when her husband 
 would be wanting every strong arm tliat could 
 be mustered, his servant choose to be out fishing, 
 instead of obeying orders. The girls pronounced 
 him a coward ; and Peder observed that to a 
 coward, as well as a sluggard, there was ever a 
 lion in the path. Erica doubted whether this act of 
 disobedience arose from cowardice ; for there were 
 dangers in the fiord, — for such as went out as far 
 as the cod. She supposed Hund had heard 
 
 She stopped short, as a sudden flash of suspicion 
 crossed her mind. She had seen Hund inquiring 
 of Olaf about the pirates ; and his strange obsti- 
 nacy about this day's boating looked much as if he 
 meant to learn more. 
 
 " Danger in the fiord !" repeated Orga ; " O, you 
 mean tlie pirates. They are far enough from our 
 fiord, I suppose. If ever they do come, I wish 
 they would catch Hund, and carry him off. I am 
 sure we could spare them nothing they would be 
 so welcome to." 
 
 Madame Erlingsen saw that Erica was turning 
 red and white, and resolved to ask, on the first 
 good opportunity, what was in her mind about 
 Hund ; for no one was more disposed to distrust 
 and watch him than the lady herself.
 
 KOVING HERE AND ROVING THERE. 67 
 
 The first piece of amusement that occurred was 
 the return of Oddo, who passed the windows, fol- 
 lowed at a short distance by a wistful-looking deer, 
 which seemed afraid to come quite up to him, but 
 kept its branched head outstretched towards the salt 
 which Oddo displayed, dropping a few grains from 
 time to time. At the siglit, all crowded to the 
 windows but Frolich, avIio left the room on the in- 
 stant. Before the animal had passed the servants' 
 house (a separate dwelling in the yard), she ap- 
 peared in tlie gallery which ran round the outside 
 of it, cvnd showed to Oddo a cord which she held. 
 He nodded, and threw down some salt on the snow 
 immediately below Avhere she stood. The rein-deer 
 stooped its head, instead of looking out for ene- 
 mies above, and thus gave Frolich a good oppor- 
 tunity to throw her cord over its antlers. She had 
 previously wound one end round the balustrade of 
 the gallery, so that she had not with her single 
 strength to sustain the animal's struggles. 
 
 The poor animal struggled violently when it 
 found its head no longer at liberty, and, by throw- 
 ing out its legs, gave Oddo an opportunity to catch 
 and fasten it by the hind leg, so as to decide its 
 fate completely. It could now only start from side 
 to side, and threaten with its head when the house- 
 hold gathered round to congratulate Oddo and 
 Frolich on the success of their hunting. The 
 women durst only hastily stroke the palpitating 
 sides of the poor beast; but Peder, who had 
 handled many scores in his lifetime, boldly seized 
 its head, and felt its horns and the bones from 
 whence they grew, to ascertain its age.^ 
 
 " Do you fancy you have made a prize of a wild 
 deer, boy ?" he asked of his grandson.
 
 ^ 
 
 ROViNG HERE AND ROVING THERE. 
 
 " To be sure," said Oddo. 
 
 " I thought you had had more curiosity than to 
 take such a thing for granted, Oddo. See here ! 
 Is not this ear slit ?" 
 
 " Why, yes," Oddo admitted : " but it is not a 
 slit of tins year or last. It may have belonged to 
 the Lapps once upon a time ; but it has been Avild 
 for so long that it is all the same as if it had never 
 been in a fold. It will never be claimed." 
 
 " I am of j'our opinion there, boy. I wish you 
 joy of your sport." 
 
 " You may : for I doubt whether anybody will 
 do better to-day. Hund will not, for one, if it is 
 he who has gone out with tlie boat ; and I tliink I 
 cannot be mistaken in the handling of his oar." 
 
 '•' Have you seen him ? Where ? What is he 
 doing ?" asked one and another. 
 
 Before Oddo could answer, Madame Erlingsen 
 desired that he would go home with his grand- 
 father, and tell Ulla about the deer, while he 
 Avarmed himself. She did not wish her daughters 
 to hear what he might have to tell of Hund. Sti- 
 orna, too, was better out of the way. Oddo had 
 not half told the story of the deer to his grand- 
 mother, when his mistress and Erica entered. 
 
 ''Did not you see M. Kollsen iu the boat 
 with Hund ?" she enquired, 
 
 " No. Hund was quite alone, pulling with all 
 his might down the fiord. Tlie tide was Avith 
 him, so that he shot along like a fish." 
 
 "How do you know it was Hund that you 
 saw ?" •' 
 
 " Don't I know our boat ? And don't I know 
 his pull ? It is no more like Rolf's than Rolf's is 
 like master's."
 
 KOVING HERE AND ROVING THERE, 69) 
 
 •' Perhaps he was making for the best fishing- 
 ground as fast as he could." 
 
 " We shall see that by the fish he brings honie^"j 
 
 *' True. By supper-time we shall know." , j 
 
 " Hund will not be home by supper-time," said 
 Oddo decidedly. 
 
 '' Why not ? Come, say out what you mean." , 
 
 " Well : I will tell you what I saw. I watched , 
 him rowing as fast as his arm and the tide would 
 carry him. It was so plain that there was a plan 
 in his head, that I forgot the deer in watching, 
 hhn ; and I followed on from point to point, catch- 
 ing a sight now and then, till I had gone a good 
 stretch beyond Salten heights. I was just going 
 to turn back when I took one more look, and he 
 was then pulling in for the land." 
 
 " On the north shore or south ?" asked Peder. 
 
 " The north, — ^just at tlie narrow part of the 
 fiord, where one can see into the holes of the rocks ^ 
 opposite." 
 
 " The fiord takes a wide sweep below there,", 
 observed Peder. 
 
 " Yes ; and that was why he landed," replied 
 Oddo. " He was then but a little way from the, 
 fishing-ground, if he had wanted fish. But he 
 drove up the boat into a little cove, — a narrow 
 dark creek, where it will lie safe enough, I have no 
 doubt, till he comes back: if he means to come back." 
 " Why, where should he go ? What should he 
 do but come back?" asked Madame Erlingsen. 
 
 " lie is now gone over the ridge to the north. 
 I saw him moor the boat, and begin to climb ; and 
 I watched his dark figure on the white snow, 
 higher and higher, till it was a speck, and I could 
 not make it out."
 
 70 ROVING HERE AND ROVING THERE. 
 
 " That is the way you will lose your eyes," ex- 
 claimed Ulla. " How often have I warned you, — 
 and many others as giddy as you ? When you 
 have lost your eyes, you will think you had better 
 have minded my advice, and not have stared at 
 the snow after a runaway that is better there than 
 here." 
 
 " What do you think of this story, Peder ?" asked 
 his mistress. 
 
 " I think Ilund has taken the short cut over 
 the promontory, on business of his own at the 
 islands. He is not on any business of yours, de- 
 pend upon it, Madame." 
 
 " And what business can he have among the 
 islands ?" 
 
 " I could say that with more certainty if I knew 
 exactly where the pirate vessel is." 
 
 " Tliat is your idea, Erica," said her mistress. 
 " I saw what your thoughts were, an hour ago, be- 
 fore we knew all this." 
 
 " I was thinking then, Madame, that if Hund 
 was gone to join the pirates, Nipen would be very 
 ready to give them a wind just now. A baffling 
 wind would be our only defence ; and we cannot 
 expect that much from Nipen to-day." 
 
 " I will do anything in the world," cried Oddo, 
 eagerly. "Send me anywhere. Do think of some- 
 thing that I can do." 
 
 " What must be done, Peder ?" asked his mis- 
 tress. " There is quite enough to fear. Erica, 
 without a word of Nipen. Pirates on the coast, 
 and one farm-house seen burning already." 
 
 '• I will tell you what you must let me do, 
 Madame," said Erica. " Indeed you must not 
 oppose me. IMy mind is quite set upon going for
 
 ROVING HERE AND ROVING THERE. 71 
 
 the boat, — immediately, — this very minute. That 
 will give us time, — it will give us safety for this 
 night. Iluiid might bring seven or eight men 
 upon us over the promontory ; but if they find no 
 boat, I think they can hardly work up the wind- 
 ings of the fiord in their own vessel to-night ; — 
 unless, indeed," she added, ^ith a sigh, " they have 
 a most favourable wind." 
 
 "All this is true enough," said her mistress; 
 " but how will you go ? Will you swim ?" 
 
 " The raft, Madame." 
 
 " And there is the old skiflT on Thor islet," said 
 Oddo. "It is a rickety little thing, hardly big 
 enough for two ; but it will carry down Erica and 
 me, if we go before the tide turns." 
 
 " But how- will you get to Thor islet ?" enquired 
 Madam Erlingsen. " I wish the scheme were not 
 such a wild one. " 
 
 " A wild one must serve at such a time, Madame," 
 replied Erica. " Eolf had lashed several logs be- 
 fore he went. I am sure we can get over to the 
 islet. See, Madame, the fiord is as smooth as a pond." 
 
 " Let her go," said Peder. " She w ill never 
 repent." 
 
 " Then come back, I charge you, if you find 
 the least danger," said her mistress. " No one is 
 safer at the oar than you : but if there is a ripple 
 in the Avater, or a gust on the heights, or a cloud 
 in the sky, come back. Such is my command, 
 Erica." 
 
 " Wife," said Peder, " give her your pelisse. 
 That will save her seeing the girls before she goes. 
 And she shall have my cap, and then there is not 
 an eye along the fiord that can tell whether she is 
 man or woman."
 
 7i2 ROVING HERE AND ROVING THERE. 
 
 ^^' Ulla lent her deerskin pelisse willingly enough ; 
 but slie entreated that Oddo might be kept at home. 
 She folded lier arms about the boy Avith tears ; but 
 Peder decided the matter witli the words, 
 
 " Let him go. It is the least he can do to make 
 up for last niglit. — Equip, Oddo." 
 * Oddo equipped willingly enough. In two mi- 
 nutes, he and his companion looked like two walk- 
 ing bundles of fur. Oddo carried a frail basket, 
 containing rye bread, salt fish, and a flask of corn- 
 brandy : ft)r in Norway no one goes on the short- 
 est expedition without carrj'ing provisions. 
 
 " Surely it must be dusk by this time," said 
 Peder. 
 
 It Avas dusk : and this was well, as the pair 
 could steal down to the shore without being per- 
 ceived from the house. Madame Erlingsen gave 
 them lier blessing, saying, tliat if the enterprise 
 saved them from nothing Morse than Hund's com- 
 pany this night, it would be a great good. There 
 could be no more comfort in having Hund for an 
 inmate ; for some improper secret he certainly had. 
 Her hope was that, finding the boat gone, he would 
 never show himself ag-ain. 
 
 " One would think," continued the lady, when 
 she returned from watching Erica and Oddo dis- 
 appear in the dusk, — " one would think Erica had 
 never known fear. Iler step is as firm, and her 
 eye as clear, as if she had never trembled in the 
 course of her life." t mjuj 
 
 " She knows how to act to-night," said Peder ; 
 " and she is going into danger for her lover, instead 
 of waiting at home while her lover goes into danger 
 for her. A hundred pirates in the fiord would not 
 make hei tremble as she trembled last night.
 
 EOVING HERE AND ROVING THERK. 73 
 
 Eather a liundred pirates than Nipen angry, she 
 .avould say." 
 ♦ " There is her weakness," observed her mistress. 
 
 " Can we speak of weakness, after what we liave 
 just seen, — if I may say so, Madame ?" 
 
 " I think so," replied Madame Erlingsen. " I 
 think it a weakness in those who believe that a 
 just and tender Providence watches over us all, to 
 fear v/hat any power in the universe can do to 
 them." 
 
 " M. Kollsen does not make progress in teaching 
 the people what you say, Madame. lie only gets 
 distrusted by it." 
 
 " AVhen M. Kollsen has had more experience, 
 he will find that this is not a matter for displeasure. 
 lie will not succeed while he is displeased at what 
 his people think sacred. When he is an older 
 man, he will pity the innocent for what they suffer 
 from superstition ; and this pity will teach him how 
 to speak of Providence to such as our Erica. — But 
 here are my girls, coming to seek me. I must 
 meet them, to prevent their missing Erica." 
 
 " Get them to rest early, Madame." 
 
 " Certaiidy. And you will watch in this house, 
 Peder, and I at home." 
 
 " IVust me for hearing the oars at a furlong off, 
 Madame." 
 
 " That is more than I can promise," said the 
 lady ; " but the owl shall not be more awake 
 than I."
 
 ( 74 ) 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 
 
 Erica now profited by her lover's iacustry in 
 the morning. He had so far advanced with the 
 raft that, though no one would have thought of 
 taking it in its present state to the mouth of the 
 fiord for shipment, it would serve as a conveyance 
 in still water, for a short distance, safely enough. 
 
 And still indeed the waters were. As Erica 
 and Oddo were busily and silently employed in 
 tying moss round their oars, to muffle their sound, 
 the ripple of the tide upon the white sand could 
 scarcely be heard ; and it appeared to the eye as if 
 the lingering remains of the daylight brooded on 
 the fiord, unwilling to depart. The stars had, 
 however, been showing themselves for some time ; 
 and they might now be seen twinkling below almost 
 as clearly and steadily as o\erhead. As Erica and 
 Oddo put their little raft off from the shore, and 
 then waited, with their oars suspended, to observe 
 whether the tide carried them towards the islet 
 they must reach, it seemed as if some invisible 
 hand was pushing them forth, to shiver the bright 
 pavement of constellations as it lay. Star after 
 star was shivered, and its bright fragments danced 
 in their wake ; and those fragments reunited and 
 became a star again, as the waters closed over the
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 75 
 
 path of the raft, and subsided into perfect still 
 ness. 
 
 The tide favoured Erica's object. A few strokes 
 of tlie oar brought the raft to the right point for 
 landing on the islet. They stepped ashore, and 
 towed the raft along till they came to the skiff, and 
 tlien they fastened the raft witli the boat-hook which 
 had been fixed there for the skiff. Tliis done, Oddo 
 ran to turn over the little boat, and examine its 
 condition : but he found he coidd not move it. It 
 was frozen fast to the ground. It was scarcely 
 possible to get a firm hold of it, it was so slippery 
 with ice ; and all pulling and pushing of the two 
 together was in vain, tliough the boat was so light 
 that either of them could have lifted and carried it 
 in a time of thaw. 
 
 This circumstance caused a good deal of delay : 
 and, what was worse, it obliged them to make 
 some noise. They struck at the ice with sharp 
 stones ; but it was long before they could make 
 any visible impression ; and Erica proposed, again 
 and again, that they should proceed on the raft. 
 Odtlo was unwilling. The skiflf would go so in- 
 comparably faster, that it was worth spending some 
 time upon it : and the fears he had had of its leak- 
 ing were removed, now that he found what a sheet 
 of ice it was covered with, — ice which would not 
 melt to admit a drop of water while they were in 
 it. So he knocked and knocked away, wishing 
 that tlie echoes would be quiet for once, and then 
 laughing as he imagined the ghost-stories that would 
 spring up all round the fiord to-morrow, from the 
 noise he was then making. 
 
 Erica Morked hard too ; and one advantage of 
 their labour was that they were well warmed before
 
 T-^6 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 
 
 they put off again. Tlie boat's icy fastenii)gs were 
 all broken at last : and it was launched : but all 
 was not yet ready. The skiff had lain in a direction 
 east and west ; and its north side had so much 
 thicker a coating of ice than the other, that its 
 balance was destroyed. It hung- so low on one 
 side as to promise to upset with a touch. 
 
 " We must clear off more of the ice," said Erica. 
 " But how late it is growing !" 
 
 "No more knocking, 1 say," replied Oddo. 
 " There is a quieter way of trinnuing the boat." 
 
 He fastened a few stones to the gunwale on the 
 lighter side, and took in a few more for the purpose 
 of shifting tlie weight, if necessarj', while they 
 were on their May. 
 
 They did not leave cpiiet behind them, when tliey 
 departed. They had roused the multitude of eider- 
 ducks, and other sea-fowl, which thronged the islet, 
 and which now, being roused, began their night 
 feeding and flying, though at an earlier hour than 
 usual. When their discordant cries were left so 
 far behind as to be softened by distance, the flap- 
 ping of wings and swash of water, as the fowl 
 plunged in, still made the air busy all around. 
 
 The rowers were so occupied with the manage- 
 ment of their dangerous craft, that they had not 
 spoken since they left the islet. The skiff would 
 have been unmanageable by any maiden and boy in 
 our country ; but on the coast of Norway it is as 
 natural to persons of all ages and degrees to guide 
 a boat as to walk. Swiftly but cautiously they shot 
 through the water, till, at length, Oddo uttered a 
 most hideous croak. 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Erica, hastily 
 glancing round her.
 
 again 
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 77 
 
 9T Oddo laughed, and looked upwards as he croaked 
 
 j?igain. He was answered by a similar croak, and 
 
 a large raven was seen flying homewards over the 
 
 fiord for the night. Then tiie echoes all croaked, 
 
 till tlxe whole region seemed to be full of ravens. 
 
 "Are you sure you know the cove?" asked 
 Erica, who wished to put an end to this sound, 
 unwelcome to the superstitious. " Do not make 
 that bird croak so ; it will be quiet if you let 
 it alone. Are you sure you can find the cove 
 ?" 
 Quite sure. I wish I was as sure that Hund 
 would not find it again before me. Pull away." 
 
 " How much farther is it?" 
 
 " Farther than I like to think of. I doubt your 
 arm holding out. I wish Rolf was here." 
 
 Erica did not wish tlie same thing. She thought 
 that Rolf was, on the whole, safer waging war with 
 bears than with pirates ; especially if Hund was 
 among them. She pulled her oar cheerfully, ob- 
 serving that there was no fatigue at present ; an(^ 
 that, when they were once afloat in the heavier boaty 
 and had cleared the cove, there need be no huriy/I 
 — unless, indeed, they should see something of the 
 pirate schooner on the way : and of this she had 
 no expectation, as the booty that might be had 
 where the fishery was beginning was worth mor^'J 
 than anything that could be found higher up th^'^ 
 fiords : — to say nothing of the danger of running"' 
 up into tlie country so far as that getting away 
 again depended upon one particular wind. ^••■c ij 
 
 Yet Erica looked behind her after every fi^" 
 strokes of her oar ; and once, when she saw somS^^^ 
 thing, her start was felt like a start of the skiff" 
 itself. There avcis a fire glancing and gleaming ■
 
 78 THE water-sprites' doings. 
 
 and quivering over the water, some way down the 
 fiord. 
 
 " Some people night-fishing," observed Oddo. 
 " What sport they will have ! I wish I was with 
 them. How fast we go ! How you can row when 
 you choose ! I can see the man that is holding the 
 torch. Cannot you see his black figure ? And 
 the spearman, — see how he stands at the bow, — 
 now going to cast his spear ! I wish I was there." 
 
 " We must get farther away, — into the shadow 
 somewhere, — or wait," observed Erica. " I had 
 rather not wait, — it is growing so late. We might 
 creep along under that promontory, in the shadow, 
 if you would be quiet. I wonder whether you can 
 be silent in the sight of night-fishing." 
 
 " To be sure," said Oddo, disposed to be angry, 
 and only kept from it by the thought of last night. 
 He helped to bring the skiff into the shadow of the 
 overhanging rocks, and only spoke once more, to 
 whisper that the fishing-boat was drifting down 
 with the tide, and that he thought their cove lay 
 between them and the fishing-party. 
 
 It was so. As the skiff rounded the point of the 
 promontor)^, Oddo pointed out what appeared like 
 a mere dark cliasni in the high perpendicular wall 
 of rock that bounded the waters. This chasm still 
 looked so narrow, on approaching it, that Erica 
 hesitated to push her skiff into it, till certain that 
 there was no one there. Oddo, however, was so 
 clear that she might safely do this, so noiseless was 
 their rowing, and it was so plain that there was no 
 footing on the rocks by which he might enter to 
 explore, that in a sort of desperation, and seeing 
 nothing else to be done. Erica agreed. She wished 
 it had been summer, when either of them might
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS, 79 
 
 have learned what they wanted by swimming. This 
 was now out of the question ; and stealthily there- 
 fore she pulled her little craft into the deepest 
 shadow, and crept into the cove. 
 
 At a little distance from the entrance it widened ; 
 but it was a wonder to Erica that even Oddo's 
 eyes should have seen Hund moor his boat here 
 from the other side of the fiord ; though the fiord 
 was not more than a gunshot over in this part. 
 Oddo himself wondered, till he recalled how the 
 sun was shining doM'n into the chasm at the time. 
 By starlight, the outline of all that the cove con- 
 tained might be seen ; the outline of the boat, 
 among other things. There she lay ! But there 
 was something about her which was unpleasant 
 enough. There were three men in her. 
 
 What was to be done now ? Here was the very 
 worst danger that Erica had feared ;— worse than 
 finding the boat gone ; — worse than meeting it in 
 the wide fiord. What was to be done ? 
 
 There was nothing for it but to do nothing, — to 
 lie perfectly still in the shadow, ready, however, to 
 push out on the first movement of the boat to leave 
 the cove ; for, though the canoe might remain un- 
 noticed at present, it was impossible that anybody 
 could pass out of the cove without seeing her. In 
 such a case, there would be nothing for it but a 
 race, — a race for ^hich Erica and Oddo held them- 
 selves prepared, without any mutual explanation ; 
 for they dared not speak. The faintest whisper 
 would have crept over the smooth water to the 
 ears in the larger boat. 
 
 One thing was certain,— that something must 
 happen pxesently. It is impossible for the hardiest 
 men to sit inactive in a boat, for any length of
 
 80 THE water-sprites' doings. 
 
 time, in a January night in Norway. In the 
 cahnest niglits the cohl is only to be sustained by 
 means of the glow from strong exercise. It was 
 certain that these three men could not have been 
 long in their places, and that they would not sit 
 many moments more, without some change in tlieir 
 arrangements. 
 
 Tliey did not seem to be talking ; for Oddo, who 
 was the best listener in the world, could not dis- 
 cover that a sound issued from their boat. He 
 jancied they were drowsj^ ; and, being aware wliat 
 M ere the consequences of yielding to drowsiness in 
 severe cold, the boy began to entertain high hopes 
 of taking these three men prisoners. The whole 
 country would ring with such a feat, performed by 
 Erica and himself. 
 
 The men were, however, too much awake to be 
 made prisoners of at present. One was seen to 
 drink from a flask ; and the hoarse voice of another 
 was heard grumbling, as far as the listeners could 
 make out, at being kept waiting. The third then 
 rose to look about him ; and Erica trembled from 
 head to foot. He only looked upon the land, 
 however, declared he saw nothing of those he was 
 expecting, and began to warm himself as he stood, 
 by repeatedly clapjiing his arms across his breast, 
 in the way that hackney-coachmen and porters do 
 in England. Tliis was Hund. He could not have 
 been known by his figure ; for all persons look 
 alike in wolf-skin pelisses ; but the voice and the 
 action were his. Oddo saw how Erica shuddered. 
 He put his finger on his lips ; but Erica needed no 
 reminding of the necessity of quietness. 
 
 The other two men then rose ; and, after a con- 
 sultation, the words of whicli could not be heard,
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 81 
 
 all stepped ashore, one after another, and climbed 
 a rocky pathway. 
 
 " Now, now !" whispered Erica. " Now we can 
 get away." 
 
 " Not without the boat," said Oddo. " You 
 would not leave them the boat !" ''^ 
 
 " No, — not if— but they will be back in a mo- 
 ment. Tliey are only gone to hasten their com- 
 panions." 
 
 " I know it," said Oddo. " Now two strokes 
 forward !" 
 
 While she gave these two strokes, which brought 
 the skiff to the stern of the boat, Erica saw that 
 Oddo had taken out a knife, which gleamed in the 
 star-light. It was for cutting the thong by which 
 the boat was fastened to a birch pole, the other end 
 of which was hooked on shore. This was to save 
 his going ashore to unhook the pole. It was well 
 for him that boat-chains were not in tise, owing to 
 the scarcity of metal in that region. The clink of 
 a chain would certainly have been heard. 
 
 Quickly and silently he entered the boat and tied 
 the skiff to its stern ; and he and Erica took their 
 places where the men had sat one minute before. 
 They used their own muffled oars to turn the boat 
 round, till Oddo observed that the boat oars were 
 muffled too. Then voices were heard again. The 
 men were returning. Strongly did the tM'O com- 
 panions draw their strokes till a good breadth of 
 water lay between them and the shore ; and then 
 till they had again entered the deep shadow which 
 shrouded the mouth of the cove. Thei'e they 
 paused. 
 
 " In with you !" some loud voice said, as man 
 after man was seen in outline, coming down the 
 
 E
 
 82 THE water-sprites' doings. 
 
 pafh\va^^ " In with you ! We have losf (iiiie 
 enough already." 
 
 " Where is she? I can't see the boat," answered 
 the foremost man. 
 
 " You can't miss her," said one behind, " unless 
 the brandy has got into your eyes." 
 
 " So I should have said ; but I do miss her. It 
 is very incomprehensible to me." 
 
 Oddo sliook with stifled laughter as he partly 
 saw and partly overheard the perplexity of these 
 men. At last one gave a 'deep groan, and another 
 declared that the spirits of the fiord were against 
 them, and there was no doubt that their boat was 
 now lying twenty fathoms deep, at the bottom of 
 the creek ; drawn down by the strong hand of an 
 angry water-spirit. Oddo squeezed Erica's little 
 hand as he heard this. If it liad been light 
 enough, he would have seen that even she was 
 smiling-. 
 
 One of the men mourned their having no other 
 boat ; so tliat they must give up their plan. 
 Another said that if they had a dozen boats, he 
 would not set foot in one, after what had happened. 
 He should go straight back, the way he came, to 
 their own vessel. Another said he Mould not go 
 till he had looked abroad over the fiord, for some 
 cho.nce of seeing the boat. This lie pwsisted in, 
 though told by the rest that it was absurd to sup- 
 pose that the boat had loosed itself, and gone out 
 into the fiord, in the course of the two minutes 
 that they had been absent. He showed the frag- 
 ment of the cut thong, in proof of the boat not 
 having loosed itself, and set off for a point on the 
 heights which he said overlooked the fiord. One 
 or two went with him ; the rest returning up tin;
 
 THE water-sprites' DOINGS. 83 
 
 narrow pathway at some speed, — such speed tliat 
 Erica thought they were afraid of the hindnicst 
 being- caught by the same enemy that had taken 
 their boat. Oddo observed this too : and he 
 quickened their pace by setting up very loutl the 
 mournful cry with which he Mas accustomed to 
 call out to the plovers, on the mountain side, on 
 sporting days. No sound can be more melanclioly ; 
 and now, as it rang from the rocks, it was so un- 
 suitable to the place, and so terrible to the already 
 frightened men, that they ran on as fast as the 
 slipperiness of the rocks would allow, till they 
 were all out of sight over the ridge. 
 
 " Now for it, l)efore the other two come out 
 above us there !" said Oddo : and in another 
 minute, they were again in the fiord, keeping as 
 much in the shadow as they could, however, till 
 they must strike over to the islet. 
 
 " Thank God that we came !" exclaimed Erica. 
 " We shall never forget what we owe you, Oddo. 
 You shall see, by the care we take of your grand- 
 father and Ulla, that we do not forget what you 
 have done this night. If Nipen will only forgive, 
 for the sake of this ." 
 
 " We were just in the nick of time," observed 
 Oddo. " It was better than if we had been 
 earlier." 
 
 " I do not know," said Erica. " Here are their 
 brandy-bottles, and many things besides. I liad 
 rather not have had to bring these away." 
 
 '•' But if we had been earlier, they would not 
 have had their fright. That is the best part of it. 
 Depend upon it, some that have not said their 
 prayers for long will say them to-night." 
 
 '• That will be good. But I do not like carry- 
 
 E 2
 
 84 THE WATER-SPKITES DOINGS. 
 
 ing home these things that are not ours. If they 
 are seen at Erlingsen's, they may bring the pirates 
 down upon us. I would leave them on the islet, 
 but that the skiff has to be left there too ; and that 
 would explain our trick." 
 
 Erica would not consent to throw the property 
 overboard. This would be robbing those who had 
 not actually injured her, whatever their intentions 
 might have been. She thought that if the goods 
 were left upon some barren, uninhabited part of 
 the shore, the pirates would probably be the first to 
 find them : and that, if not, the rumour of such an 
 extraordinary fact, spread by the simple country 
 people, would be sure to reach them. So Oddo 
 carried on shore, at the first stretch of white beach 
 they came to, the brandy flasks, the bear-skins, the 
 .obacco-pouch, the muskets and powder-horns, and 
 the tinder-box. He scattered these about, just 
 above high-water mark, laughing to think how 
 report would tell of the sprites' care in placing all 
 these articles out of reach of injury from the 
 water. 
 
 Oddo did not want for light while doing this. 
 When he returned, he found Erica gazing up over 
 the towering precipices, at the Northern Lights, 
 which had now unfurled their broad yellow blaze. 
 She was glad that they had not appeared sooner, 
 to spoil the adventure of the night ; but she was 
 thankful to liave the way home thus illumined, 
 now that the business was done. She answered 
 with so much alacrity to Oddo's question whether 
 she was not very weary, that he ventured to say 
 two things which had before been upon his tongue, 
 without his having courage to utter them. 
 
 " You will not be so afraid of Nipen any more,"
 
 THE WATER-SPKITES' DOINGS. 85 
 
 observed he, glancing at her face, of which he 
 could see every feature by the quivering light. 
 " You see how well everything has turned out." 
 
 " O, hush ! It is too soon yet to speak so. It 
 is never right to speak so. There is no knowing 
 till next Christmas, nor even then, that Nipen for- 
 gives ; and the first twenty-four hours are not over 
 yet. Pray do not speak any more, Oddo." 
 
 '• "Well, not about that. But what was it exactly 
 that you thought Hund would do with this boat 
 and those people? — Did you think," he continued, 
 after a short pause, " that they would come up to 
 Erlingsen's to rob the place ?" 
 
 " Not for the object of robbing the place ; be- 
 cause there is very little that is worth their taking ; 
 far less than at the fishing-grounds. Not but they 
 might have robbed us, if they took a fancy to any- 
 thing we have. No : I thought, and I still think, 
 that they would have carried off Rolf, led on by 
 Hund " 
 
 " O, ho! carried off Rolf! So here is the 
 secret of your wonderful courage to-night, — you 
 who durst not look round at your own shadow last 
 night ! This is the secret of your not being tired, 
 — you who are out of breath with rowing a mile 
 sometimes !" 
 
 " That is in summer," pleaded Erica. " How- 
 ever, you have my secret, as you say, — a thing 
 which is no secret at home. We all think that 
 Hund bears such a grudge against Rolf, for having 
 got the houseman's place " 
 
 " And for nothing else?" 
 
 " That," continued Erica, " he would be glad 
 to— fo— " 
 
 " To get rid of Rolf, and be a housemauj and
 
 86 THE WATEK-SPRITES' DOINGS. 
 
 get betrothed instead of him. "Well : Hund is 
 baulked for this time. Eolf must look to himself 
 after to-day." 
 
 Erica sighed deeply. She did not believe that 
 Eolf would attend to his own safety : and the 
 future looked very dark, — all shrouded by her 
 fears. 
 
 By the time the skiff was deposited where it had 
 been found, both the rowers were so weary tliat 
 they gave up the idea of taking the raft in tow, as 
 for full security they ought to do. They doubted 
 whether they could get home, if they had more 
 A\ eight to draw than their own boat. It was well 
 that they left tiiis incumbrance behind : for there 
 was quite peril and difficulty enough without it ; and 
 Erica's sti-ength and spirits failed the more, the 
 farther the enemy was left behind. 
 
 A breath of wind seemed to bring a sudden 
 darkening of the friendly lights which had blazed 
 up higher and brighter, from their first appearance 
 till now. Both rowers looked down the fiord, and 
 uttered an exclamation at the same moment. 
 
 " See the fog!" cried Oddo, putting fresh strength 
 into liis oar. 
 
 " O Nipen ! Nipen !" mournfully exclaimed 
 Erica. " Here it is, Oddo, — the west wind !" 
 
 The west wind is, in winter, the great foe of the 
 fishermen of the fiords : it brings in the fog from 
 the sea ; and the fogs of the Arctic Circle are no 
 trifling enemy. If Nipen really had the charge of 
 the winds, he could not more emphatically show 
 his displeasure towards any unhappy boatman than 
 by overtaking him Avith the ^vest wind and fog. 
 
 " The wind must have just changed," said Oddo, 
 pulling exhausting strokes, as the fog marched to-
 
 THE "WATER-SPRITKS' DOINGS. 87 
 
 wards thcra over the water, like a solid and im- 
 measurably lofty -wall. " The wind must have gone 
 right round in a minute." 
 
 " To be sure, — since you said what yon did of 
 Kipen," replied Erica, bitterly. 
 
 Oddo made no answer ; but he did what he could. 
 Erica had to tell him not to wear himself out too 
 quickly, as there was no saying now how long they 
 should be on the water. 
 
 How long tliey had been on the water, how far 
 they had deviated from their right course, they 
 could not at all tell, when, at last, more by accident 
 than skill, they touched the shore near home, and 
 heard friendly voices, and saw the light of torches 
 through the thick air. The fog had wrapped them 
 round so that they could not even see the water, or 
 each other. They had rowed mechanically, some- 
 times touching the rock, sometimes grazing upon 
 the sand, but never knowing where they were till the 
 ringing of a bell, which they recognised as the farm 
 bell, roused hope in their hearts, and strengthened 
 them to throw off the fatal drowsiness caused by 
 cold and flitigue. They made towards the bell ; 
 and then heard Peder's sliouts, and next saw the 
 dull light of two torches which looked as if they 
 could not burn in the fog. The old man lent a 
 strong hand to pull up the boat upon the beach, 
 and to lift out the benumbed rowers ; and they 
 were presently revived by having their limbs chafed, 
 and by a strong dose of the universal medicine, — ■ 
 corn-brandy and camphor, — which in Norway,' 
 neither man nor woman, yoimg nor old, sick nor 
 well, thinks of refusing upon occasion. 
 
 AVhen Erica was in bed, warm beneatli an 
 eider-down coverlid, ber mistress bent over lier and 
 whispered,
 
 88 THE water-sprites' doings. 
 
 " You saw and heard Hund himself?" 
 
 " Hund himself, Madame." 
 
 " What shall we do if lie comes back before my 
 husband is home from the bear-hunt ?" 
 
 '♦ If he comes, it will be in fear and penitence, 
 thinking that all the powers are against him. 
 But O, Madame, let him never know how it really 
 was ! 
 
 " He must not know. Leave that to me, and go 
 to sleep now, Erica. You ought to rest well ; for 
 there is no saying what you and Oddo have saved 
 us from, I could not have asked such a service. 
 ]My husband and I must see how we can reward it." 
 And her kind and grateful mistress kissed Erica's 
 cheek, though Erica tried to explain that she was 
 thinking most of some one else, when she undertook 
 this expedition. 
 
 " Then let him thank you in his own way," re- 
 plied Madame Erlingsen. " Meantime, why should 
 not I thank you in mine ?" 
 
 Stiorna here opened her eyes for an instant. 
 "When she next did so her mistress was gone ; and 
 she told in the morning what an odd dream she had 
 had, of her mistress being in her room, and kissing 
 Erica. It was so distinct a dream that, if the thing 
 had not been so ridiculous, she could almost have 
 declared that she had seen it.
 
 ( 89 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Great was Stioriia's consternation at Hund's non- 
 appearance, the next day, seeing, as she did Avith 
 her own eyes, that tlie boat was safe in its proper 
 place. She had provided salt for his cod, and a 
 welcome for himself; and she watched in vain for 
 either. She saw too that no one wished him back. 
 He M'as rarely spoken of ; and then it was with dis- 
 like or fear : and when she wept over the idea of 
 his being drowned, or carried of by hostile spirits, 
 the only comfort offered her was that she need not 
 fear his being dead, or that he could not come back 
 if he chose. She ^vas indeed obliged to suppose, at 
 last, that it was his choice to keep away ; for amidst 
 the flying rumours that amused the inhabitants of 
 the district for the rest of the winter, — rumours of 
 the movements of the pirate-vessel, and of the pranks 
 of the spirits of the region, there were some such 
 clear notices of the appearance of Himd, — so many 
 eyes had seen him in one place or another, by land 
 and water, by day and night, that Stiorna could not 
 doubt of his being alive, and free to come home or 
 stay away as he pleased. She could not conceal 
 from herself that he had probably joined the pirates ; 
 and heartily as these pirates were feared through- 
 out the Nordland coasts, they were not more heartily 
 hated by aYiy than by the jealous Stiorna.
 
 90 SPRING. 
 
 Her salt was wanted as much as if Hund had 
 brought home a boat-full of cod ; and she might 
 liave given her welcome to the hunting-party. 
 Erlingsen and Rolf came home sooner than might 
 reasonably have been expected, and well laden with 
 bear's flesli. The whole family of bears had Ijeen 
 found and shot. The flesh of the cubs had been 
 divided among the hunters ; and Erlingsen was 
 complimented with the feet of the old bear, as it 
 was he who had I'oused the neighbours, and led the 
 hunt. Busy was every farm-house (and none so 
 busy as Erlingsen's) in salting some of the meat, 
 freezing some, and cooking a part for a feast on the 
 occasion. 
 
 Erlingsen kept a keen and constant look-out 
 upon the fiord, in the midst of all the occupations 
 and gaieties of the rest of the winter. His wife's 
 account of the adventures of the day of his absence 
 made him anxious : and he never went a mile out 
 of sight of home, so vivid in his imagination was 
 the vision of his house burning, and his family at 
 the mercy of pirates. Kothing happened, however, 
 to confirm his fears. The enemy were never heard 
 of in the fiord ; and the cod-fishers who came up, 
 before the softening of the snow, to sell some of 
 their produce in the interior of the country, gave 
 such accounts as seemed to show that the fishino:- 
 grounds were the object of the foreign thieves ; — 
 for foreign they Avere declared to be : — some said 
 Russian ; and others a mixture from hostile nations, 
 Tliis last information gave more impulse to the love 
 of country for which the Norwegians are remark- 
 able, than all tliat had been reported from the seat 
 of war. The Nordlanders always drank success to 
 their countr\''s arms, in the first glass of corn-
 
 SPRUNG. 91 
 
 brandy at dinner. Tliey paid their taxes cheerfully ; 
 and any newspaper that the clergyman put in cir- 
 culation was read till it fell to pieces: but tlie 
 neighbourhood of foreign pirates proved a niore 
 powerful stimulant still. The standing toast, Gam d 
 Norge (Old Norway), was drunk with such enthu- 
 siasm that the little cliildren shouted and defied the 
 enemy ; and the baby in its mother's lap clapped 
 its hands when every voice joined in tlie national 
 song For Norge. Hitherto the war had gone 
 forward upon the soil of another kingdom : it 
 seemed now as if a sprinkling of it, — a little of its 
 excitement and danger, — was brought to tlieir own 
 doors ; and vehement was tiie spirit that it roused ; 
 though some thefts of cod, brandy, and a little 
 money, were all that had really happened yet. 
 
 The interval of security gave Rolf a good op- 
 portunity to ridicule and complain of Erica's fears. 
 He laughed at the danger of an attack from Hund 
 and his comrades, as that danger was averted. He 
 lauglied at the west wind and fog sent by Nipen's 
 wrath, as Erica had reached home in spite of it. 
 He contended that, so far from Nipen being offended, 
 there was either no Nipen, or it was not angry, or 
 it was powerless ; for everything had gone well ; 
 and he always ended Avith pointing to the deer, — a 
 good thing led to the very door,— and to the result 
 of the bear-hunt, — a great event always in a Xord- 
 lander's life, and, in this instance, one of most for- 
 tunate issue. There was no saying how many of 
 the young of the farm-yard would live and flourish 
 this summer, on account of the timely destruction 
 of this family of bears. So Rolf worked away, 
 with a cheerful heart, as the days grew longer, — 
 now mending the boat, — now fishing, now plough-
 
 92 SPRING. 
 
 ing, — and then rolling logs into the melting streams, 
 to be carried down into the river, or into the fiord, 
 when the rush of waters should come from the 
 heights of Sulitelma. 
 
 Hai-d as Rolf worked, he did not toil like Oddo. 
 Between them, they had to supply Hund's place, — 
 to do his work. Nobody desired to see Hund back 
 again ; and Erlingsen would willingly have taken 
 another in his stead, to make his return impossible ; 
 but there was no one to he had. It was vTseless to 
 inquire till the fishing-season should be over : and 
 when that was over, the hay and harvest seasons 
 would follow so quickly, that it was scarcely likely 
 that any youth would offer himself till tlie first frosts 
 set in. It was Oddo's desire that the place should 
 remain vacant till he could show that he, young as 
 he was, was worth as much as Hund. If any one 
 was hired, he wished that it might be a herd-boy, 
 under him ; and strenuously did he toil, this spring, 
 to show that he was now beyond a mere herd-boy's 
 place. It was he who first fattened, and then 
 killed and skinned the rein-deer, — a more than 
 ordinary feat, as it was full two months past the 
 regular season. It was he who watched the making 
 of the first eider-duck's nest, and brought home the 
 first down. All the month of April, he never 
 failed in the double work of the farm-yard and 
 islet. He tended the cattle in the morning, and 
 turned out the goats, when the first patches of green 
 appeared from beneath the snow : and then he was 
 ofi' to the islet, or to some one of the breeding sta- 
 tions among the rocks, punctually stripping the 
 nests of the down, as the poor ducks renewed the 
 supply from their breast-s ; and as carefully staying 
 his hand, when he saw, by the yellow tinge of the
 
 STRING. 93 
 
 down, that the duck had no more to give, and the 
 drake had now supplied what was necessary for 
 hatching the eggs. Then he watched for the eggs ; 
 and never had Madame Erlingsen liad such a 
 quantity brought home ; though Oddo assured her 
 that he had left enough in the nests for every duck 
 to have her brood. Then he was ready to bring 
 home the goats again, long before sunset, — for, by 
 this time, the sun set late,— and to take his turn at 
 mending any fence that might have been injured 
 by the spring-floods : and then he never forgot to 
 wash and dress himself, and go in for his grand- 
 mother's blessing ; and after all, he was not too 
 tired to sit up as late as if he were a man,— even 
 till past nine sometimes,— spending the last hour of 
 the evening in working at the bell-collars which 
 Hund had left half done, and which must be finished 
 before the cattle went to the mountain ; or, if the 
 young ladies were disposed to dance, he was never 
 too tired to play the clarionet ; though it now and 
 then happened that the tune went rather oddly : 
 and when Orga and Frolich looked at liim, to see 
 what he was about, his eyes were shut, and his 
 fingers looked as if they were moving of their own 
 accord. If this happened, the young ladies would 
 finish their waltz at once, and thank him, and his 
 mistress would wish him good night ; and when he 
 was gone, his master would tell old Peder that that 
 grandson of his was a promising lad, and very dili- 
 gent ; and Peder would make a low bow, and say 
 it was greatly owing to Rolf's good example ; and 
 then Erica would blush, and be kinder than ever 
 to Oddo the next day. 
 
 So came on and passed away the spring of this 
 year at Erlingsen's farm. It soon passed ; for
 
 94 SPRING. 
 
 spring in Kordland lasts only a month. In tliat 
 short time had the snow first become soft, and then 
 dingy, and then vanished, except on the heights 
 and in places where it had drifted. The streams 
 had broken their long pause of silence, and now 
 leaped and rushed along, till every rock overhang- 
 ing both sides of the fiord was musical with falling 
 waters, and glittering with silver threads, — for the 
 cataracts looked no more tlian this in so vast a 
 scene. Every mill was going, after the long idle- 
 ness of winter : and about the bridges which spaimed 
 the falls were little groups of the peasants gathered, 
 mending such as had burst with the floods, or 
 strengthening such as did not seem secure enough 
 for tlie passage of the herds to the mountain. 
 
 Busy as the maidens were with the cows that M^ere 
 cahing, and with the care of the young kids, they 
 found leisure to pr)' into the promise of the spring. 
 In certain warm nooks, where the sunshine was 
 reflected from the surrounding rocks, they daily 
 watched for what else might appear, when once 
 the grass, of brilliant green, had shown itself from 
 beneath the snow. There they found the straw- 
 berry, and the wild raspberry, promising to carpet 
 the ground witli their \\ hite blossoms ; while in 
 one corner tlie lily of the valley began to push up 
 its pairs of leaves ; and from the crevices of the 
 rock, the barberry and the dwarf birch grew, every 
 twig showing swelling buds, or an early sprout. 
 
 While these cheerful pursuits went on out of 
 doors during the one busy month of spring, a slight 
 shade of sadness was thrown over the household 
 within by the decline of old Ulla. It was hardly 
 sadness ; it was little more than gravity ; for Ulla 
 herself was glad to go ; Peder knew that he should
 
 SPRING. 95 
 
 soon follow ; and every one else was reconciled to 
 one who had suftered so long going to her rest. 
 
 " The Avinter and I are going together, my 
 dear," said she one day, when Erica placed on her 
 pillow a green shoot of birch which she had taken 
 from out of the very mouth of a goat. " The hoary 
 winter and hoary I have lived out our time, and 
 Ave are departing together. I shall make way fnr 
 you young people, and give yon your turn, as he 
 is giving way to spring ; and let nobody pretend 
 to be sorry for it. Who pretends to be sorry when 
 winter is gone ?" 
 
 " But winter will come again, so soon and so cer- 
 tainly, Ulla," said Erica, mournfully : " and when 
 it is come again, we shall still miss you." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I Avill say nothing against that. 
 It is good for the living to miss tlie dead, as long 
 as they do not wish them back. As for me, Erica, 
 I feel as if I could not but miss you, go where I 
 may." 
 
 •' O, do not say that, Ulla." 
 
 " Why not say it if I feel it ? Who could be 
 displeased with me for grasping still at the hand 
 that has smoothed my bed so long, Avhen I am 
 going to some place that will be very good, no 
 doubt, but Avhere everything must be strange at 
 first ? He who gave you to me, to be my nurse, 
 will not think tlie worse of me for missing you, 
 wherever I may be." 
 
 " There will be little Ilenrica," observed Erica 
 
 " Ah, yes ! there is nothing I think of more than 
 that. That dear child died on my shoulder. Fain 
 would her mother have had her in her arms at the 
 last ; but she was in such extremity that to move 
 her would have been to end all at once ; and so
 
 96 srHixG. 
 
 she died away, \^ith her head on my shoulder. I 
 thought then it was a sign that I should be the 
 first to meet her asrain. But I shall take care and 
 not stand in the way of her mother's rights." 
 
 Here Ulla grew so earnest in imagining her 
 meeting w ith Henrica, still fancying her the depend- 
 ent little creature she had been on earth, that she 
 was impatient to be gone. Erica's idea was that 
 tliis child might now have become so wise and so 
 mighty in the wisdom of a better world, as to 
 be no such plaything as Ulla supposed ; but she 
 said nothing to spoil the old woman's pleasure. 
 
 When Peder came in, to sit beside his old com- 
 panion's bed, and sing her to sleep, she told him 
 that she hoped to be by when he opened his now 
 dark eyes upon the sweet light of a heavenly day ; 
 and, if she might, she would meantime make up 
 his dreams for him, and make him believe that he 
 saw the most glorious sights of old Norway, — more 
 glorious than are to be seen in any other part of 
 this lower world. There should be no end to the 
 gleaming lakes, and dim forests, and bright green 
 valleys, and silvery waterfalls that he should see in 
 his dreams, if she might have the making of them. 
 There was no end to the delightful things Ulla 
 looked forward to, and the kind things she hoped 
 to be able to do for those she left behind, when 
 once she should have quitted her present helpless 
 state : and she thought so much of these things, 
 that wlien M. KoUsen arrived, he found that in- 
 stead of her needing to be reconciled to death, she 
 was impatient to be gone. The first thing he 
 heard her say, when all was so dim before her 
 dying eyes, and so confused to her failing ears, 
 tliat she did not know the pastor had arrived, was
 
 SPRING. 97 
 
 that she was less uneasy now about Nipen's dis- 
 pleasure against the young people. Perhaps she 
 might be able to explain and prevent mischief: and 
 if not, the young people's marriage would soon be 
 taking place now, and then they might show such 
 attention to Nipen as would make the spirit, for- 
 give and forget. 
 
 " Hush, now, dear Ulla !" said Erica. " Here 
 is the pastor." 
 
 " Do not say ' hush !' " said M. Kollsen, sternly, 
 " Whatever is said of this kind I ought to hear, 
 that I may meet the delusion. I must have con- 
 versation with this poor woman, to prevent her very 
 last breath being poisoned with superstition. You 
 are a member of the Lutheran church, Ulla ?" 
 
 With humble pleasure, Ulla told of the satisfac- 
 tion whicli the bishop of Tronyem, of seventy yeara 
 ago, had expressed at her confirmation. It was 
 this which obtained her a good place, and Peder's 
 regard, and all the good that had happened in her 
 long life since. Yes : she was indeed a member 
 of the Lutheran church, she thanked God. 
 
 " And in what part of the Scriptures of our 
 
 church do you find mention of — of (I hate 
 
 tlie very names of these pretended spirits.) — Where 
 in the Scriptures are you bidden or permitted to 
 believe in spirits and demons of the wood and the 
 mountain ?" 
 
 Ulla declared that her learning in the Scriptures 
 was but small. She knew only what she liad been 
 taught, and a little that she had picked up : 
 but she remembered that the former bishop of 
 Tronyem himself had hung up an axe in the forest, 
 on Midsummer eve, for the wood-demon's use, if it 
 pleased.
 
 98 SPEING. 
 
 Peder observed, that we all believe so many 
 tilings that are not found mentioned in the Scrip- 
 ture, that jDerhaps it would be wisest and kindest, 
 by a dying bed, where moments were precious, to 
 speak of those high things which the Scriptures dis- 
 course of, and which all Christians believe. These 
 were the subjects for Ulla now : the others might 
 be reasoned of when she was in her grave. 
 
 The pastor was not quite satisfied with tliis -way 
 of attending the dying; but there was something 
 in tlie aged man's voice and manner quite irresis- 
 tible, as he sat calmly awaiting the departure of 
 the last companion of his own generation. M. Koll- 
 sen took out his Bible, and read what Ulla gladly 
 heard, till her husband knew by the slackened 
 clasp of her hand that she heard no longer. She 
 had become insensible, and before sunset had 
 departed. 
 
 Rolf had continued his kind offices to the old 
 couple with the utmost respect and propriety, to 
 the end refusing to go out of call during the last 
 few days of Ulla's decline : but he had observed, 
 with some anxiety, that there was certainly a shoal 
 of herrings in the fiord, and that it was high time 
 he was making use of the sunny days for his fish- 
 ing. In order to go about this duty without any 
 delay, when again at liberty, he had brought the 
 skitt up to the beach for repair, and had it nearly 
 ready for use by the day of the funeral. The 
 family boat was too large for his occasions, now 
 that Hund was not here to take an oar : and he 
 expected to do great things alone in the little 
 manageable skiff. < 
 
 When he had assisted Peder to lay Ulla's head' 
 in the grave, and guided hhn back to the house,
 
 SPRING. 1)9 
 
 Eolf drew Erica's arm T\'ithiu his own, and led her 
 a^ay as if for a walk. No one interfered with 
 them ; for the family knew that their hearts must 
 be very full, and that they must have much to say 
 to each other, now that the event had happened 
 whicli was to cause their marriage very soon. They 
 would now Avait no longer than to pay proper re- 
 spect to Ulla's memory, and to improve the house 
 and its furniture a little, so as to make it fit for the 
 bride. 
 
 Kolf would have led Erica to the beach ; but 
 she begged to go first to see the grave again, while 
 they knew that no one was there. The grave was 
 dug close by the little mound beneath which Hen- 
 rica lay. Henrica's was railed round, with a paling 
 which had been fresh painted, — a task which Er- 
 lingsen performed with his own hands every spring. 
 The forget-me-not, whicli the Nordlanders plant 
 upon the graves of those they love, overran tlie 
 hillock, and the white blossoms of the wild straw- 
 berry peeped out from under the thick grass ; so 
 that this grave looked a perfect contrast to that of 
 UUa, newly made and bare. The lovers looked 
 at this last with dissatisfaction. 
 
 " It shall be completely railed in before to- 
 morrow night," said Rolf. 
 
 " But cannot we dress it a little now? I could 
 transplant some flower-roots presently, and some 
 forget-me-not from Henrica's hillock, if we had 
 sods for the rest. Never mind spoiling any other 
 nook. The grass will soon grow again." 
 
 Rolf's spade was busy presently ; and Erica 
 planted and watered till the new grave, if it did 
 not compare with tlie child's, showed tokens of 
 ca'-e, and promise of beauty.
 
 100 SPRING. 
 
 " Now," said Rolf, when they had done, and put 
 away their tools, and sat down on the pine log 
 from which the pales were to be made, so that 
 their lengthening shadows fell across the new grave, 
 — '' Now, Ei'ica, you know what she who lies there 
 would like us to be settling. She herself said her 
 burial-day would soon be over ; and then would 
 come our wedding-day." 
 
 " When everything is ready," replied Erica, 
 " we will fix ; but not now. There is mucli to be 
 done ; — there are many uncertainties." 
 
 " Uncertainties ? What uncertainties ? I know 
 of none, — except indeed as to " 
 
 Rolf stopped to peel off, and pull to pieces, some 
 of the bark of the pine-trunk on which he -was 
 sitting. Erica looked wistfully at him ; he saw it, 
 and went on. 
 
 "It is often an uncertainty to me, Erica, after 
 all that has happened, whether you mean to marry 
 me at all. There are so many doubts, and so many 
 considerations, and so many fears ! I often think 
 we shall never be any nearer than we are." 
 
 " That is your sort of doubt and fear," said 
 Erica, smiling. "Wlio is there that entertains 
 worse ?" 
 
 "I do not want any rallying or joking. Erica. 
 I am quite serious." 
 
 " Seriously then, — are" we not nearer tlian we 
 were a year ago ? We are betrothed ; and I have 
 shown you that I do believe we are to be married, 
 if " 
 
 " Ay, there. ' If again." 
 
 "If it shall please the Powers above us not to 
 separate us, by death or otherwise." 
 
 " Death ! at our age ! And separation ! when
 
 SPRING. 101 
 
 we liave lived on the same farm foi years ! What 
 have we to do with death and separation ?" 
 
 Erica pointed to the child's grave, in rebuke of 
 his rash words. She then quietly observed that they 
 had enemies, — one deadly enemy not very far off, 
 if nothing were to be said of any but human foes. 
 — Rolf declared that he had rather have Hund 
 for a declared enemy than for a companion. Erica 
 understood this very well ; but she could not 
 forget that Hund wanted to be houseman in 
 Rolf's stead, and that he desired to prevent their 
 marriage. 
 
 " That is the very reason," said Rolf, " why 
 we should marry- as soon as we can. Why not 
 fix the day, and engage the pastor while he is 
 here ?" 
 
 " Because it would hurt Peder's feelings. There 
 will be no difficulty in sending for the pastor when 
 everything is ready. But now, Rolf, that all 
 may go well, do promise not to run into needless 
 dano-er." 
 
 ■' According to you," said Rolf, smiling, " one 
 can never get out of danger. Where is the use of 
 taking care, if all the powers of earth and air are 
 against us? You think me as helpless, under 
 Nipen's breath, as the poor infant that put out into 
 the fiord the other day in a tub." 
 
 " I am not speaking of Nipeu now, — (not be- 
 cause I do not think of it ;) — I am speaking of 
 Hund. Do promise me not to go more than four 
 miles down the fiord. After that, there is a long 
 stretch of precipices, without a single dwelling. 
 There is not a boat that could put off, — there is 
 not an eye or an ear that could bear witness what
 
 102 SPRING, 
 
 had become of you, if you and Hund should meet 
 there." 
 
 " If Hund and I should meet there, I would 
 bring him home, to settle what should become of 
 him." 
 
 " And all the pirates ? You would bring them 
 all in your right hand and row home with your 
 left ! For shame, Rolf, to be such a boaster ! 
 Promise me not to go beyond the four miles." 
 
 " Indeed I can only promise to go where the 
 shoal is. Four miles ! Suppose you say four 
 furlongs, love." 
 
 "I will engage to catch herrings within four 
 furlongs." 
 
 " Pray take me with you ; and then I will carry 
 you four times four miles down, and show you 
 what a shoal is. Eeally, love, I should like to 
 prove to you how safe the fiord is to one who 
 knows every nook and hiding-place from the 
 entrance up. If fighting would not do, I could 
 always hide." 
 
 " And would not Hund know where to look for 
 you ?" 
 
 " Not he. He was not brouglit up on the fiord, 
 to know its ways, and its holes and corners : and I 
 told him neither tliat nor anything else that I 
 could keep from him ; for I always mistrusted 
 Hund. — Now, I will tell you, love. I will pro- 
 mise you something, because I do not wish to hurt 
 you, as you sometimes hurt me with disregarding 
 what I say, — with being afraid, iti spite of all I 
 can do to makq you easy. I will promise you not 
 to go fartlier down, wliile alone, than Vogel islet, 
 vmless it is quite certain that Hund and the pirates
 
 SPRING. 103 
 
 are far enough off in another direction. I partly 
 think as you do, and as Erlingsen does, tliat they 
 meant to come for me the night you carried off 
 their boat : so I Avill be on tlie watcli, and go no 
 farther than where tliey cannot hurt me." 
 
 "Then why say Vogel islet? It is out of all 
 reasonable distance." 
 
 " Not to those who know the fiord as I do. I 
 have my reasons, Erica, for fixing that distance 
 and no other ; and that far I intend to go, whether 
 my friends think me able to take care of myself or 
 not." 
 
 " At least," pleaded Erica, " let me go with 
 
 yon." 
 
 " Not for tlie world, my love." And Erica 
 saw, by his look of horror at the idea of her going, 
 that he felt anytlung but secure from the pirates. 
 He took her hand, and kissed it again and again, 
 as he said that there was plenty for that little hand 
 to do at home, instead of pulling the oar in the 
 hot sun. " I sliall think of you all while I am 
 fislung," he went on. " I shall fancy you making 
 ready for the seater.* As you go towards Sulitelma 
 any day noAv, you may hear the voices of a thou- 
 sand waterfalls, calling upon the herdmen and 
 
 * Each Norway farm which is situated within a certain 
 distance of the mountains has a mountain pasture, to which 
 tlie herds and flocks are driven in early simimer, and where 
 they feed till the first frosts come on. The herdmen and 
 dairy-women live on the mountain, beside their cattle, during 
 this season, and enjoy the mode of life extremely. The 
 mountain pasture belonging to a farm is called its Seater. 
 The procession of herds and flocks, and herdmen and dairy 
 women Avith their utensils, all winding up the mountain, — 
 " going to the seater," is a pretty sight on an early summer's 
 day.
 
 101 SPUING. 
 
 maidens to come to the fresh pastures. How 
 happy we shall be, Erica, when we once get to 
 the seater !" 
 
 Erica sighed, and pressed her lover's hand as he 
 held hers. 
 
 " While I am fishing," he went on, " I shall 
 fancy our young mistresses, and Stiorna and you, 
 wasliing all your bowls in juniper-water, ready for 
 your dairy. I know how the young ladies will 
 contrive that all of my carving shall come under 
 your hand. And I shall be back with my fish before 
 you are gone, that I may walk beside your cart. 
 I know just how far you will ride. When we get 
 the first sight of the grass waving, as the wind 
 sweeps over it on the mountain side, you will 
 spring from the cart and walk with me all the rest 
 of the way." 
 
 "All this would be well," said Erica, "if it 
 were not for " 
 
 " For what, love ? For Kipen again ! If you 
 will not mind what I say about your silly fears, you 
 shall hear from the pastor how wicked tliey are. I 
 see him yonder, in the garden. I will call him " 
 
 " No, no ! I know all he has to say," declared 
 Erica. 
 
 But Rolf carried the case before M. Kollsen : 
 and M. Kollsen, glad of every opportunity of disr 
 coursing on this subject, came and took Rolf's 
 seat, and said all he could think of in contempt of 
 the spirits of the region, till Erica's blood ran cold 
 to hear him. It vas not kind of Rolf to expose 
 her to this : but Rolf had no fears himself, and 
 was not aware how much she suffered under what 
 the clergjTnan said. The lover stood by Matching, 
 and was so charmed with her gentle and submissive
 
 SPKING. 105 
 
 countenance and manner, wliile she could not own 
 herself convinced, that he almost admired her su- 
 I)erstition, and forgave her dovibts of liis being' 
 able to take care of himself wliile his deadly enemy 
 on earth might possibly be assisted by the offended 
 powers of the air.
 
 ( 106 ) 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 VOGEL ISLET. 
 
 Who was ever happier than Rolf, when abroad in 
 his skiff, mi one of the most glorious days of the 
 year ? He found his angling tolerably successful 
 near home ; but the farther he went, the more the 
 herrings abounded : and he therefore dropped 
 down the fiord Avith the tide, fishing as he receded, 
 till all home objects had di>appeared. First, the 
 farm-house, with its surrounding buildings, its 
 green paddock, and shining white beach, was 
 hidden behind the projecting rocks. Then Thor 
 islet appeared to join with the nearest shore, from 
 which its bushes of stunted birch seemed to spring. 
 Tlien, as the skiff dropped lower and lower down, 
 the interior mountains apjieared to rise above the 
 rocks which closed in the head of the fiord, and 
 the snowy peak of Sulitelma stood up clear amidst 
 the pale blue sky ; the glaciers on its sides catch- 
 ing the sunlight on different points, and glittering 
 so that the eye could scarcely endure to rest upon 
 the mountain. "\Yhen he came to the narrow part 
 of the fiord, near the creek which had been the 
 scene of Erica's exploit, Rolf laid aside his rod, 
 with the bright hook tliat herrings so much admire, 
 to guide his canoe through the currents caused by 
 the approach of the rocks and contraction of the 
 passage ; and he then wished he liad brought Erica
 
 VOGEL ISLET. 
 
 107 
 
 with him, so lovely was the scene. Every crevice 
 of the rocks, even where there seemed to be no 
 soil, was tufted with bushes, every twig of which 
 was bursting into the greenest leaf, while here and 
 there a clump of dark pines overhung some busy 
 cataract, which, itself overshadowed, sent forth its 
 little clouds of spray, dancing and glittering in 
 the sun-light. A pair of fishing eagles were 
 perched on a high ledge of rock, screaming to the 
 echoes, so that the dash of the currents was lost in 
 the din. Rolf did wish that Erica was here when 
 he thought how the colour would have mounted 
 into her cheek, and how her eye would have 
 sparkled at such a scene. 
 
 Lower down, it was scarcely less beautiful. 
 The waters spread out again, to a double width. 
 The rocks were, or appeared to be, lower ; and 
 now and then, in some space between rock and 
 rock, a strip of brilliant green meadow lay open 
 to the sunshine ; and there were large flocks of 
 fieldfares, flying round and round, to exercise the 
 newly-fledsred young. There were a few habita- 
 tions scattered along the margin of the fiord ; and 
 two or three boats might be seen far off, with di- 
 minutive figures of men drawing their nets. 
 
 "I am glad I brought my net too," thought 
 Bolf " My rod has done good duty ; but if I am 
 coming upon a shoal, I will cast my net, and be 
 home laden with fish, before they think.of looking 
 for me." 
 
 Happy would it have been if Rolf had cast his 
 net where others were content to fish, and had 
 given up all idea of going farther than was ne- 
 cessary : but his boat was still dropping down 
 towards the islet which he had fixed in his own 
 
 f2
 
 108 VOGEL ISLET. 
 
 mind as the limit of his trip ; and the long solitary 
 reach of the fiord wliieli now lay between him and 
 it was tempting- botli to the eye and the mind. It 
 is difficult to turn back from the first summer-day 
 trip, in countries where summer is less beautiful 
 than in Nordland ; and on went Rolf, beyond tlie 
 bounds of prudence, as many have done before him. 
 He soon found liimself in a still and somewhat 
 dreary region, where there was no motion but of 
 the sea-birds which were leading their broods 
 down the shores of the fiords, and of the air which 
 appeared to quiver before the eye, from the evapo- 
 ration caused by the lieat of the sun. More slowly 
 went the canoe here, as if to suit the quietness of 
 the scene, and leisurely and softly did Rolf cast 
 his net : and then steadily did he draw it in, so 
 rich in fish, that when they lay in the bottom of 
 the boat, tliey at once sank it deeper in the water 
 and checked its speed by their weight. 
 
 Rolf then rested awhile, and looked ahead for 
 Vogel islet, thinking that he could not now be very 
 far from it. There it lay looming in the heated at- 
 mosphere, spreading as if in the air, just above the 
 surface of the water, to which it appeared joined 
 in the middle by a dark stem, as if it grew like a 
 huge sea-flower. There is no end to the strange 
 appearances presented in northern climates by an 
 atmosphere so different from our own. Rolf gazed 
 and gazed, as the island grew more like itself oa 
 his approach ; and he Avas so occupied with it as 
 not to look about liim as he ought to have done, at 
 such a distance from home, "ple was roused at 
 length by a shout, and looked towards the point 
 from which it came ; and tliere, in a little harbour 
 of the fiord, a recess which noM- actually lav behind
 
 VOGEL ISLET, 109 
 
 Iiiin, — between him and home, — lay a vessel ; and 
 tliat vessel, lie knew by a second glance, was the 
 pirate-schuoner. 
 
 Of the schooner itself he had no fear ; for there 
 was so little wind that it could not have come out 
 in time to annoy him ; but there was the schooner's 
 boat, with five men in it, — four rowing and one 
 steering, — already in full pursuit of him. lie 
 knew, by the general air and native dress of the 
 man at the helm, that it was Ilund ; and he fancied 
 he heard ITund's malicious voice in the shout 
 which came rushing over the water from their boat 
 to his. How fast they seemed to be coming ! 
 How the spray fi'om their oars glittered in the sun ; 
 aud how their wake lengthened with every stroke ! 
 No spectator from the shore (if there had been 
 any) could have doubted that the boat was in pur- 
 suit of the skiff, and would snap it up presently. 
 Rolf saw that he had five determined foes, cfaining: 
 upon him every instant ; and yet he was not 
 alarmed. He had had his reasons for thinking 
 himself safe near Vogel islet : and, calculating for 
 a moment the time of the tide, he was quite at his 
 ease. As he took his oars, he smiled at the hot 
 haste of his pursuers, and at the thought of the 
 amazement they would feel when he slipped through 
 their fingers ; and then he began to row. 
 
 Eolf did not over-heat himself with too much 
 exertion. He permitted his foes to gain a little 
 upon him, though he might have preserved the dis- 
 tance for as long^ as his strength could have held 
 out against that of the four in the other boat. 
 They ceased their shouting when they saw how 
 quietly he took his danger. They really believed 
 that he was not a\vare of being their object, aud
 
 110 
 
 VOGEL ISLET, 
 
 hoped to seize him suddenly, before he had time to 
 resist. 
 
 When very near the islet, however, Eolf became 
 more active ; and his skiff disappeared beliind its 
 southern point while the enemy's boat was still two 
 furlongs off. The steersman looked for the re- 
 appearance of the canoe beyond the islet ; but he 
 looked in vain. He thought, and his companions 
 agreed witli him, that it was foolish of Eolf to land 
 upon the islet, where they could lay hands on him 
 in a moment ; but they could only suppose he had 
 done this, and prepared to do the same. They 
 rowed quite round the islet ; but, to their amaze- 
 ment, they could not only perceive no place to 
 land at, but there Avas no trace of the canoe. It 
 seemed to them as if those calm and clear waters 
 had swallowed up the skiff and Eolf, in a few 
 minutes after they had lost sight of him. Huiid 
 thought^ the case was accounted for, when he re- 
 called Nipen's displeasure. A thrill ran through 
 him as he said to himself that the spirits of the 
 region had joined with him against Eolf, and swal- 
 lowed up, almost before his eyes, the man he hated. 
 He put his hands before his face, for a moment, 
 while his comrades stared at him : then, thinking 
 he must be under a delusion, he gazed earnestly 
 over the waters, as far as he could see. They lay 
 calm and bright ; and there was certainly no kind 
 of vessel on their surface, for miles round. 
 
 The rowers wondered, questioned, uttered shouts, 
 spoke all together, and then looked at Hund in 
 silence, struck by his countenance ; and finished by 
 rowing two or three times round the islet, slowly, 
 and looking up its bare rocky sides, which rose 
 like walls from the water; but nothing could
 
 VOGEL ISLET. Ill 
 
 they see or hear. When tired of their fruitless 
 search they returned to the schooner, ready to 
 report to the master that the fiord was enchanted. 
 
 Meantime, Rolf had heard every plash of their 
 oars, and every tone of their voices, as they rowed 
 round liis place of refuge. He was not on the islet, 
 but in it. This was such an island as Swein, the 
 sea-king of former days, took refuge in ; and Rolf 
 was only following his example. Long before, he 
 had discovered a curious cleft in the rock, very 
 narrow, and all but invisible at high water, even if 
 a bush of dwarf ash and birch had not hung down 
 over it. Al high water, nothing lai'ger than a bird 
 could go in and out beneath the low arch ; but 
 there was a cavern within, whose sandy floor sloped 
 up to some distance above high-water mark. In 
 this cavern was Rolf. He had thrust his little skiff 
 between the walls of rock, crushing in its sides as 
 he did so. The bushes drooped behind him, hang- 
 ing naturally over the entrance, as before. Rolf 
 pulled up his broken vessel upon the little sandy 
 beach within the cave ; saved a pile of his fish, and 
 returned a good many to the water ; and then sat 
 down upon the sea-weeds to listen. There was no 
 liglit but a little wliich found its way through the 
 bushy screen, and up from the green water ; and 
 the sounds, — the tones of the pirates' voices, and 
 the splasli of the waters against the rocky walls of 
 his singular prison, — came deadened and changed 
 to his ear. Yet he heard enougli to be aware liow 
 long his enemies remained, and when they wei'e 
 really gone. 
 
 It was a prison indeed, as Rolf reflected when he 
 looked upon his broken skiff". He could not ima- 
 gine how he was to get away; for his friends would
 
 112 VOGEL ISLET. 
 
 certainly never think of conung to look for him 
 here : but he put off the consideration of tliis 
 point for the present, and turned aM'ay from the 
 ima!?e of Erica's distress when he should fail to 
 return. He amused himself now v.ith imagining 
 Hund's disappointment, and the reports which 
 Avould arise from it : and he found this so very en- 
 tertaining, that he laughed aloud : and then the 
 echo of his laughter sounded so very merry, that it 
 set him laughing again. This, in its turn, seemed 
 to rouse the eider-ducks tliat thronged the island ; 
 and their clatter and commotion was so great over- 
 head, that any spectator might have been excused 
 for believing that Vogel islet was indeed be- 
 witched.
 
 ( 113 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 A SUMMER APARTMENT, 
 
 '• IIuMFH ! How little did the rare old sea-king 
 think," said Rolf to himself, as he surveyed his 
 cave, — " how little did Swein think, when he 
 played this very trick, six hundred years ago, that 
 it Avould save a poor farm-servant from being mur- 
 dered, so many centuries after ! Many thanks to 
 my good grandmother for being so fond of that 
 story ! She taught it thoroughly to me before she 
 died : and that is the reason of my being safe at 
 this moment. I wish I had told the people at 
 home of my having found this cave : for, as it is, 
 they cannot but think me lost ; and how Erica will 
 bear it, I don't know. And yet, if I had told 
 them, Hund would have heard it ; or, at least, 
 Stiorna, and she would have managed to let him 
 know. Perhaps it is best as it is, if only I can get 
 back in time to save Erica's heart from breaking. 
 — But for her, I should not mind the rest being in 
 a fright for a day or two. They are a little apt to 
 foncy that the affairs of the farm go by nature, — 
 that the fields and the cattle take care of tliem- 
 selves. They treat me liberally enough ; but they 
 are not fully aware of the value of a man like me ; 
 and now they will learn. They will hardly know 
 how to make enough of me when I go back. — 
 Oddo will be the first to see me. 1 think, how- 
 
 F 3
 
 114 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 
 
 ever, I should let them hear my best song from a 
 distance. Let me see, — which song shall it be? 
 It must be one which will strike Peder ; for he 
 will be the first to hear, as Oddo always is to see. 
 Some of them will think it is a spirit mocking, and 
 some that it is my ghost: and my master and 
 madame will take it to be nothing but my own self. 
 And then, in the doubt among all these, my poor 
 Erica will faint away : and while they are throwing 
 water upon her face, and putting some camphorated 
 brandy into her mouth, I shall quietly step in 
 among them, and grasp Peder's arm, and pull 
 Oddo's hair, to show that it is I myself; and when 
 Erica opens her eyes, she shall see my face at its 
 very merriest ; so that she cannot possibly take me 
 for a sad and solemn ghost. And the next thing- 
 ,nll be " 
 
 He stopped Math a start, as his eye fell upon his 
 crashed boat, lying on its side, half in the water 
 and half out. 
 
 " Ah !" thought he, in a changed mood, — " this 
 is all very fine, — this planning how one pleasant 
 thing will follow upon another ; but I forgot the 
 first thing of all. I must learn first how I am to 
 get out." 
 
 He turned his boat about and about, and shook 
 his head over every bruise, hole, or crack that he 
 found, till he finished with a nod of decision that 
 nothing could be done with it.— He was a good 
 swimmer ; but the nearest point of the shore was 
 so far off that it would be all he could do to reach 
 it when the waters were in their most favourable 
 state. At present, they were so chilled with the 
 melted snows that were pouring doAvn from eveiy 
 steep along tlie fiord, that he doubted the safety of
 
 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 115 
 
 attempting to swim at all. What chance of release 
 had he then ? 
 
 If he could by any means climb upon the rocks, 
 in whose recesses he was now hidden, he might 
 possibly fall in with some fishing-boat v/hich would 
 fetclx liini off: but, betides that the pirates were 
 more likely to see him than anybody else, he be- 
 lieved there was no way by which he could climb 
 upon the islet. It had always been considered the 
 exclusive property of the aquatic birds with which 
 it swarmed, because its sides rose so abruptly from 
 the water, so like the smooth stone walls of a lofty 
 building, that there was no hold for foot or hand, 
 and the summit seemed unattainable by anything 
 that had not wings. Eolf remembered, however, 
 having heard Peder say that when he was young, 
 there might be seen hanging down one part of the 
 precipice the remains of a birchen ladder, which 
 must have been made and placed there by human 
 hands. Rolf determined that he Avould t^y the 
 point. He would wait till the tide was flowing in, 
 as the waters from the open sea were somewhat less 
 cliilled tlian v>hen returning from the head of the 
 fiord : — he would take the waters at their warmest, 
 and try and try again to make a footing upon the 
 islet. Meantime, he would not trouble himself with 
 thoughts of being a prisoner. 
 
 His cave was really a very pretty place. As its 
 opening fronted the Avest, he found that even here 
 there might be sunshine. The golden light M'hich 
 blesses the high and low places of the earth did not 
 disdam to cheer and adorn even this humble cham- 
 ber, which, at the bidding of nature, the waters 
 had patiently scooped out of the hard rock. Some 
 hours after darkness had settled down on the lands
 
 116 A SUMMER APARTMEXT. 
 
 of the tropics, and long after the stars had come 
 out in the skies over English heads, this cave was 
 at its brightest. As the sun drew to its setting, 
 near tlie middle of the Nordland summer night, it 
 levelled its golden rays through the cleft, and made 
 the place far more brilliant than at noon. The 
 projections of the rough rock caught the beam, 
 during the few minutes that it stayed, and shone with 
 a bright orange tint. The beach suddenly appeared 
 of a more dazzling white, and the waters of a 
 deeper green, while, by their motion, they cast 
 quivering circles of reflected light upon the roof, 
 which had before been invisible. Eolf took this 
 brief opportiuiity to survey his abode carefully. 
 He had supposed, from the pleasant freshness of the 
 air, that the cave was lofty ; and he now saw that 
 the roof (lid indeed spring up to a vast height. He 
 saw also tliat there Avas a great deal of drift-wood 
 accumulated ; and some of it thrown into such dis- 
 tant corners as to prove that the waves could dash 
 up to a much higher water-line, in stormy weather, 
 tlian he had supposed. No matter ! He hoped to 
 be gone before there were any more storms. Tired 
 and sleepy as he was, so near midnight, he made 
 an exertion, while there was plenty of light, to 
 clear away the sea-weeds from a space on the sand 
 where he must to-morrow make his fire, and broil 
 his fish. The smell of the smallest quantity of 
 burnt weed would be intolerable in so confined a 
 place : so he cleared away every sprout of it, and 
 laid some of the drift-wood on a spot above high- 
 water mark ; picking out the driest pieces of fire- 
 wood he could find for kindling a flame. 
 
 When this was done, he could have found in his 
 Iicart to pick up shells, — so various and beautiful
 
 A SUMMEll APAKTMENT. 117 
 
 Avere those which strewed the floor of liis cave : 
 but the sunbeam \vas rapidly climbing; the wall, 
 and would presently be gone : so lie let the shells 
 lie till tlie next niylit (if he sliould still be here), 
 and made haste to heap up a bed of fine dry sand 
 in a corner ; and here he lay down as the twilight 
 darkened, and thouglit lie liad never rested on so 
 soft a bed. He knew it was near high water ; and 
 he tried to keep awake, to ascertain how nearly the 
 tide filled up the entrance : but he was too weary, 
 and his couch was too comfortable for this. His 
 eyes closed in spite of him ; and he dreamed that 
 he was broad awake watching the height of the 
 tide. For this one night, he could rest Avithout 
 any very painful thoughts of poor Erica : for she 
 was prepared for his remaining out till the middle 
 of the next day, at least. 
 
 When he awoke in the morning, the scene was 
 marvellously changed from that on which he had 
 closed his eyes. His cave was so dim that he could 
 scarcely distinguish its wdiite floor from its rocky 
 sides. The water was low, and the cleft therefore 
 enlarged ; so that he saw at once that now w as tlie 
 time for making his fire, — now when there was the 
 freest access for the air. Yet he could not help 
 pausing to admire what he saw. He could see now 
 a long strip of the fiord,— a perspective of waters 
 and of shores, ending in a lofty peak still capped 
 with snow, and glittering in tlie sunlight. The 
 whole landscape was bathed in light, as warm as 
 noon ; for, though it was only six in the morning, 
 the sun had been up for several hours. As Rolf 
 gazed, and reckoned up the sum of what he saw,^ 
 — the many miles of water, and the long range of 
 rocks, he felt, for a moment, as if not yet secure
 
 [18 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 
 
 from Himd, — as if he must be easily visible while 
 he saw so much. But it was not so, and Rolf 
 .smiled at his own momentaiy fear when he re- 
 membered how, as a child, he had tried to count 
 the stars he could see at once through a hole 
 pricked by a needle in a piece of paper, and how, 
 for that matter, all that we ever see is through the 
 little circle of the pupil of the eye. He smiled 
 •when he considered that while, from his recess, he 
 could see the united navy of Norway and Denmark, 
 if anchored in the fiord, his enemy could not see 
 even his habitation, otherwise than by peeping 
 under the bushes which overhung the cleft ; and 
 this only at low water. So he began to sing, 
 while rubbing together, with all his might, the dry 
 sticks of fir with which his fire was to be kindled. 
 First they smoked ; and then, by a skilful breath 
 of air, they blazed, and set fire to the heap ; and 
 by the time the herrings were ready for broiling, 
 the cave was so filled with smoke tliat Rolf's 
 singing v^as turned to coughing. 
 
 Some of the smoke hung in soot on the roof and 
 Avails of the cave, curling up so well at first that 
 Rolf almost thought there must be some opening 
 in the lofty roof which served as a chimney. But 
 there was not : and some of the smoke came down 
 aguin, issuing at last from the mouth of the cave. 
 Rolf observed this ; and, seeing the danger of his 
 place of retreat being thus discovered, he made 
 haste to finish his cookery, resolving that, if he 
 Jiad to remain here for any length of time, he 
 would always make his fire in the night. He pre- 
 sently threw water over his burning brands, and 
 hoped that nothing had been seen of the process of 
 preparing his breakfast.
 
 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 119 
 
 The smoke had been seen, however, and by- 
 several people ; but in such a wslj as to lead to no 
 discoveiy of the cave. From the schooner, Hund 
 kept his eyes fixed on the islet, at every moment 
 he had to spare. Either he was the murderer of 
 his fellow-servant, or the islet was bewitched ; and 
 if Rolf was under the protection and favour of the 
 powers of the region, he, Hund, was out of favour, 
 and might expect bad consequences. "Whichever 
 might be the case, Hund ^vas very uneasy ; and he 
 could think of nothing but the islet, and look no 
 other way. His companions had at first joked him 
 about his luck in getting rid of his enemies ; but, 
 being themselves superstitious, they caught the 
 infection of his gravity, and watched the spot 
 almost as carefully as he. 
 
 As their vessel lay higher up in the fiord than 
 the islet, they were on the opposite side from the 
 crevice, and could not see from whence the smoke 
 issued. But they saw it in the form of a light 
 clovid hanging over the place. Hund's eyes were 
 fixed upon it, when one of his comrades touched 
 him on the shoulder. Hund started. 
 
 " You see there," said the man, pointing. 
 
 " To be sure I do. What else was I looking 
 at?" 
 
 " "Well, what is it ?" inquired the man. " Has 
 your friend got a visitor,— come a great Avay this 
 morning? They say the mountain-sprite travels 
 in mist. If so, it is now going. See, there it sails 
 off, — melts away. It is as like common smoke as 
 anything that ever I saw. What say you to taking 
 the boat, and trying again whether there is no 
 place where your friend might not land, and be now 
 making a fire among the birds' nests?"
 
 120 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 
 
 " Nonsense !" cried Huncl. " What became of 
 the skiff, then ?" 
 
 " True," said the man ; and, shaking his head, 
 he passed on, and spoke to the master. 
 
 In his own secret mind, the master of the 
 schooner did not quite like his present situation. 
 The little harbour was well sheltered and hidden 
 from tlie observation of the iidiabitants of the 
 upper part of the fiord: but, after hearing the 
 words dropped by his crew, the master did not 
 relish being stationed between the bewitched islet 
 and the head of the fiord, where all the residents 
 were, of course, enemies. He thought that it 
 would be wiser to have a foe only on the one hand, 
 and the open sea on the other, even at the sacrifice 
 of the best anchorage. As there was now a light 
 wind, enough to take his vessel down, he gave 
 orders accordingly. 
 
 Slowly, and at some distance, the schooner 
 passed the islet, and all on board crowded together 
 to see what they could see. None, — not even tlie 
 master with his glass,— saw anything remarkable: 
 but all heard something. There was a faint 
 muffled sound of knocks: — blows such as were 
 never heard in a mere haunt of sea-birds. It wa& 
 evident that tlie birds were disturbed by it. They 
 rose and fell, made sliort flights and came back 
 again, fluttered, and sometimes screamed so as to 
 overpower all other sounds. But if they were 
 quiet for a minute, the knock, knock, was heard 
 again, witli great regularity, and every knock Avent 
 to Hund's heart. 
 
 The fact was that, after breakfast, Rolf soon 
 became tired of having nothing to do. The water 
 was so very cold, that he deferred till noon the
 
 A SUMMER ArAllTMENT. 121 
 
 attempt to swim round the islet. He once more 
 examined his boat ; and, though the itijuries done 
 seemed irreparable, he thought he had better try 
 to mend his little craft tlian do nothing. After 
 collecting from the wood in the cave all the naiis 
 that happened to be sticking in it, and all the 
 pieces tliat were sound enough to patch a boat 
 with, he made a stone serve him for a hammer, 
 straightened his nails upon another stone, and 
 tried to fasten on a piece of wood over a liole. It 
 was discouraging work enough ; but it helped to 
 pass the hours till the restless waters should have 
 reached their highest mark in the cave ; when he 
 would know that it was noon, and time for his little 
 expedition. 
 
 He sighed as he threw down his awkward new 
 tools and pulled off his jacket, for his heart now 
 began to grow very heavy. It was about the tune 
 when Erica would be beginning to look for Ins 
 return ; and when or how he was ever to return he 
 became less able to imagine, the more he thought 
 about it. As he fancied Erica gazing down the 
 fiord from the gallery, or stealing out, hour after 
 hour, to look forth from tlie beach, and only to be 
 disappointed every time, till she would be obliged 
 to give him quite up, and yield to despair, Eolf 
 slied tears. It was the first time for some years,— 
 the first time since he had been a man ; and when 
 he saw liis own tears fall upon the sand, he was 
 ashamed. He blushed, as if he had not been all 
 alone, dashed away the drops, and threw hnnself 
 into the water. . 
 
 It was too cold by far for safe swimmmg. Ail 
 the snows of Sulitelma could hardly have made the 
 waters more chillv to the swimmer than they felt
 
 122 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 
 
 at the* first plunge. But Rolf would not retreat 
 for this reason. He thought of the sunshine out- 
 side, and of the free open view he should enjoy, 
 dived beneath the almost closed entrance, and came 
 up on tlie other side. The first thing he saw was 
 the schooner, now lying below his island ; and the 
 next thing was a small boat between him and it, 
 evidently making towards him. When convinced 
 that Ilund was one of the three men in it, he saw 
 that he must go back, or make haste to finish his 
 expedition. He made haste, swam round so close 
 as to touch the warm rock in many places, and 
 could not discover, any more than before, any trace 
 of a footing by which a man might climb to the 
 summit. There wtis a crevice or two, however, 
 from which vegetation hung, still left unsearched. 
 He could not search them now ; for he must make 
 haste home. 
 
 The boat was indeed so near when he had 
 reached the point he set out from, that he used 
 every effort to conceal himself ; and it seemed that 
 he could only have escaped by the eyes of his 
 enemies being fixed on the summit of the rock. 
 When once more in the cave, he rather enjoyed 
 hearing them come nearer and nearer, so that the 
 bushes whicli hung down between him and them 
 shook with the wind of their oars, and dipped into 
 the waves. He laughed silently ^hen he heard 
 one of them swear that he would not leave the spot 
 till he had seen something : upon which another 
 rebuked his presumption. Presently, a Aoice 
 which he knew to be Hund's, called upon his name, 
 at first gently, and then more and more loudly, as 
 if taking courage at not being answered. 
 
 " I will wait till he rounds the point," thought
 
 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 123 
 
 Rolf, " and then give him such an answer as may 
 send a guilty man away quicker that he came." 
 
 He waited till they were on the opposite side, so 
 that his voice might appear to come from the sum- 
 mit of the islet, and tlien began with the melan- 
 clioly sound used to lure the plover on the moors. 
 Tlie men in the boat instantly observed that this 
 was the same sound used when Erlingsen's boat 
 was spirited a\vay from them. It was rather sin- 
 gular that Rolf and Oddo should have used the 
 same sound ; but they probably chose it as the 
 most mournful they knew. Rolf, liowever, did 
 not stop there. He moaned louder and louder, till 
 the sound resembled the bellowing of a tormented 
 spirit enclosed in the rock : and the consequence 
 was, as he had said, that his enemies retreated faster 
 than they came. Never had they rowed more 
 vigorously than now, fetching a large circuit, to 
 keep at a safe distance from the spot, as they passed 
 westward. 
 
 For the next few days, Rolf kept a close watch 
 upon the proceedings of the pirates, and saw 
 enougli of their thievery to be able to lay informa- 
 tions against them, if ever he should again make 
 his way to a town or village, and see the face of a 
 magistrate. He was glad of the interest and occu- 
 pation thus afforded him, — of even this slight hope 
 of being useful ; for he saw no more probability 
 than on the first day, of release from his prison. 
 The worst of it was that the season for boating was 
 nearly at an end. The inhabitants were day by 
 day driving their cattle up the mountains, there to 
 remain for the summer ; and the heads of families 
 remained in the farm-houses, almost alone, and 
 little likely to put out so ftxr into tlie fiord as to
 
 124 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 
 
 pass near him. So poor Rolf could only catch fish 
 for his support, swim roiuid and round his prison, 
 and venture a little farther on daj^s when tlie 
 water felt rather less cold than usual. To drive 
 off thoughts of his poor distressed Erica, he some- 
 times hammered a little at his skiff ; but it was too 
 plain that no botching that he could perform in tlie 
 cave would render the broken craft safe to float in. . 
 
 One sunny day, M'hen the tide was flowing in 
 warmer than usual, Kolf amused himself with 
 more evolutions in bathing than he had hitherto 
 indulged in. He forgot his troubles and his foes in 
 diving, floating, and swinmiing. As he dashed 
 round a point of a rock, he saw something, and 
 was certain he was seen. Hund appeared at least 
 as much bewitched as the islet itself; for he could 
 not keep away from it. He seemed irresistibly 
 drawn to tlie scene of his guilt and terror. Here 
 he was now, with one other man, in the schooner's 
 smallest boat. Rolf had to determine in an instant 
 what to do ; for they were within a hundred yards, 
 and Hund's starting eyes showed that he saw what 
 he took for the ghost of his fellow-servant. Rolf 
 raised himself as higli as he could out of the water, 
 thi'owing his arms up alcove his head, fixed his 
 eyes on Hund, uttered a shrill ciy, and dived, 
 hoping to rise to the surface at some point out of 
 sight. Hund looked no more. After one shriek 
 of terror and remorse had burst from his white 
 lips, he sank his head upon his knee, and let his 
 comrade take all the trouble of rowing home ao-ain. 
 
 This vision decided Hund's proceedings. Half- 
 crazed with remorse, he left the pirates that night. 
 After long consideration where to go, he decided 
 upon returning to Erlingsen's. He did not know
 
 A SUMMER APARTMENT. 125 
 
 to what extent they suspected liim : he was pretty 
 sure that they held no proofs against liini. No- 
 where else could he be sure of honest work, — tlie 
 first object witli him now, in the midst of his re- 
 morse, lie felt irresistibly drawn towards poor 
 Erica, now tliat no rival was there ; and if, mixed 
 with all these considerations, there were some 
 thoughtsof the situation of houseman being vacant, 
 and needing much to be filled up, it is no wonder 
 that such a mingling of motives took place in a 
 mind so selfish as Hund's.
 
 ( 126 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 hund's report. 
 
 HuND performed his journey by niglit, — a jour- 
 ney perfectly unlike any that was ever performed 
 by night in England. He did not for a moment 
 think of going by the fiord, short and easy as it 
 would have been in comparison with the land road. 
 He would rather have mounted all the steeps and 
 crossed the snows of Sulitelma itself, many times 
 over, than have put himself in the way a second 
 time of such a vision as he had seen. Laboriously 
 and diligently, therefore, he overcame the diffi- 
 culties of the path, crossing ravines, Mading through 
 swamps, scaling rocks, leaping across watercourses, 
 and only now and then throwing himself down on 
 some tempting slope of grass, to wipe his brows, 
 and, where opportunity oflTered, to moisten his 
 parched throat with the wild strawberries which 
 were fast ripening in the sheltered nooks of the 
 hills. It was now so near midsummer, and the 
 nights were so fast melting into the days, that Hund 
 could at the latest scarcely see a star, though there 
 was not a fleece of cloud in the whole circle of the 
 heavens. AYhile yet the sun was sparkling on the 
 fiord, and glittering on every farm-house window 
 that fronted the west, all around was as still as if 
 the deepest darkness had settled down. The eagles 
 were at rest on their rocky ledge, a thousand feet 
 above the waters. The herons had left their stand
 
 hund's report. 127 
 
 on their several promontories of the fiord, and the 
 flapping of tlieir wings overhead was no more 
 heard. The raven was gone home ; the cattle 
 were all far away on the mountain pasture ; the 
 goats were hidden in tlie woods which yielded the 
 tender shoots on which they subsisted. The round 
 eyes of a white owl stared out upon him here and 
 there, from under the eaves of a farm-house ; and 
 tliese seemed to be the only eyes besides his own 
 that were open. Hund knew as he passed one 
 dwelling after another, — knew as well as if he had 
 looked in at the windows, — that the inhabitants 
 w^ere all asleep, even with the sunshine lying across 
 their very faces. 
 
 Every few minutes he observed how his shadow 
 lengthened, and he longed for the brief twilight 
 which would now soon be coming on. Now, his 
 shadow stretched quite across a narrow valley, as 
 he took breath on a ridge crossed by the soft breeze. 
 Then the shadow stood up against a precipice, taller 
 than the tallest pine upon the steep. Then the 
 yellow gleam grew fainter, the sparkles on the water 
 went out, and he saw the large pale circle of the 
 sun sink and sink into the waves, wliere the fiord 
 spread out wide to the south-west. Even the 
 weary spirit of this imhappy man seemed now to 
 be pervaded with some of the repose which ap- 
 peared to be shed down for the benefit of all that 
 lived. He walked on and on ; but he felt the grass 
 softer under his feet,— the air cooler upon his 
 brow ; and he began to comfort himself with 
 thinking that he had not murdered Rolf. He said 
 to himself that he had not laid a finger on him, and 
 that the skiff might have sunk exactly as it did, if 
 he had heen sitting at home, carving a bell-collar.
 
 128 hujjd's repoet. 
 
 There could be no doubt that the skifF had been 
 pulled down fathoms deep by a strong hand from 
 below ; and if the spirits were angry with Rolf, 
 that was no concern of Rolf's human enemies. 
 — Thus Hund strove to comfort himself; but it 
 would not do. The more he tried to put away the 
 thought, the more obstinately it returned, that he 
 had been speeding on his way to injure Rolf when 
 the strange disappearance took place ; and that he 
 had long hated and envied his fellow-servant, how- 
 ever marvellously he had been prevented from cap- 
 turing or slaying him. These thoughts had no 
 comfort in them ; but better came after a time. 
 
 He had to pass very near M. Kollsen's abode ; 
 and it crossed hU mind that it would be a great re- 
 lief to open his heart to a clergyman. He halted 
 for a minute, in sight of the house, but presently 
 went on, saying to himself that he could not say all 
 to J\r. Kollsen, and would therefore say nothing. 
 He should get a lecture against superstition, and 
 hear hard M'ords of the powers he dreaded ; and 
 there would be no consolation in tliis. It was 
 said that the Bisliop of Tronyem was coming round 
 this way soon, in his regular progress through liis 
 diocese, and everybody bore testimony to his 
 gentleness and mercy. ' It would be best to wait 
 for his coming. Then Hund began to calculate 
 how soon he would come ; for aching hearts are 
 impatient of relief; and the thought how near 
 midsummer was, made him look up into the sky,— 
 that beautiful index of the seasons in a northern 
 climate. There were a few extremely faint stars, 
 —a very few,— for only the brightest could now 
 sliow themselves in the sky where daylight lin- 
 gered so as never quite to depart. A paFe-greea
 
 hund's report. 129 
 
 hue remained where the sun had disappeared, and 
 a deep red glow was even now beginning to kindle 
 where he was soon to rise. Just here, Hund's ear 
 caught some tones of the soft harp music which the 
 winds make in their passage through a wood of 
 pines ; and there was a fragrance in the air from a 
 new thatch of birch-bark just laid upon a neigh- 
 bouring roof. This fragrance, that faint vibrating 
 music, and the soft veiled light, were soothing; 
 and wlien, besides, Hund pictured to himself his 
 mind relieved by a confession to the good bishop, 
 — perhaps cheered by words of pardon and of pro- 
 mise, tlie tears burst from his eyes, and the fever 
 of his spirit was allayed. 
 
 Then up came the sun again, and the new thatch 
 reeked in his beams, and the birds shook off sleep 
 and plumed themselves, and the peak of Sulitelma 
 blushed with the softest rose-colour, and the silvery 
 fish leaped out of the water, and the blossoms in the 
 gardens opened, though it was only an hour after 
 midnight. Every creature except man seemed 
 eager to make the most of the short summer sea- 
 son, — to waste none of its bright hours, Avhich 
 would be gone too soon : — every creature except 
 man ; but man must have rest, be the sun liigh or 
 sunk beneath the horizon : so that Hund *aw no 
 face, and heard no human voice, before he found 
 himself standing at the top of the steep rocky path- 
 way which led down to Erlingsen's abode. 
 
 Hund might have known that he should find 
 evervthinoc in a dififerent state from that in which 
 he had left the place : but yet he was rather sur- 
 prised at the aspect of the farm. The stable-doors 
 stood wide ; and there was no trace of milk-pails. 
 The hurdles of the fold were piled upon one another 
 
 G
 
 hund's report. 
 
 in a corner of the yard. It was plain that herd, 
 flock, and dairj^-women were gone to tlie mountain : 
 and, though Ilund dreaded meeting Erica, it struck 
 upon his heart to think that she ^^as not here. lie 
 felt now how nuich it was for her sake that he had 
 come back. 
 
 He half resolved to go avvay again : but from 
 the gallery of the house some snow-white sheets 
 were hanging to dry ; and this showed that some 
 neat and busy female hands were still here. Next, 
 his eye fell upon the boat which lay gently rocking 
 with the receding tide in its tiny cove ; and he re- 
 solved to lie down in it and rest, while considering 
 what to do next. He went down, stei^ping gently 
 over the pebbles of tlie beach, Jest his tread should 
 reach and waken any ear through the open win- 
 dows, lay dow n at the bottom of the boat, and, as 
 might have been expected, fell asleep as readily as 
 an infant in a cradle. 
 
 Of course he ^^ as discovered ; and, of course, 
 Oddo was the discoverer. Oddo was the first to 
 come forth, to water the one horse that remained 
 at the farm, and to give a turn and a shake to the 
 two or three little cocks of hay which had been 
 mown beliind the house. His quick eye noted the 
 deep marks of a man's feet in the sand and pebbles, 
 beloM' higli-water mark, proving that some one had 
 been on tlie premises during the niglit. He fol- 
 lowed these marks to the boat, where he was 
 amazed to find the enemy (as lie called Hund) fast 
 asleep. Oddo was in a great hurry to tell his 
 grandfather (Erlingsen being on the moiuitain) ; 
 but he thought it only proper caution to secure his 
 prize from escaping in his absence. 
 
 He summoned his companion, the dog ^^■hich had
 
 HUND S REPORT. 131 
 
 warnefl him of many dangers abroad, and helped 
 him faithfully -with his work at liome ; and nothino- 
 could be clearer to Skorro than that he was to 
 crouch on the thwarts of the boat, witli his nose 
 close to Ilund's face, and not to let Ilund stir till 
 Oddo came back. Then Oddo ran, and m akened his 
 grandflither, who made all haste to rise and dress. 
 Erica now lived in Peder's house. She had taken 
 her lover's place there, since his disappearance ; as 
 the old man must be taken care of, and the house 
 kept ; and her mistress thought the interest and 
 occupation good for her. Hearing Oddo's story, 
 she rushed out, and her voice was soon heard in 
 pcassionate entreaty, above the bark of the dog, 
 which was trying to prevent the prisoner from 
 rising-. 
 
 " Only tell me," Erica was heard to say, " only 
 tell me wheve and how he died. I know he is 
 dead,— I knew he would die ; from that terrible 
 night when we were betrothed. Tell me Avho did 
 
 i^ — ^*^^ I ^"^ sui'e you know. Was it Nipen? 
 
 Yes, it was Nipen, whether it was done by wind or 
 water, or human hands. But speak, and tell me 
 where he is. O, Hand, speak ! Say only where 
 
 his body is, and I Avill try I will try never 
 
 to speak to you again — never to " 
 
 Hund looked miserable ; he moved his lips ; but 
 no sound was heard mingling with Erica's rapid 
 speech. 
 
 Madame Erlingsen, who, A^'ith Orga, had by this 
 time reached the spot, laid her hand on Erica's 
 arm, to beg for a moment's silence, made Oddo call 
 his dog out of the boat, and then spoke, in a 
 severe tone, to Hund. 
 
 " Why do you shake your head, Hund, and 
 
 c 2
 
 132 hund's report. 
 
 speak no word ? Say what you know, for the sake 
 of those whom, we grievously suspect, you haA^e 
 deeply injured. Say what you know, Hund." 
 
 " What I say is, that I do not know," replied 
 Hund, in a hoarse and agitated voice. " I only 
 know that we live in an enchanted place, here by 
 this fiord, and that the spirits try to make us an- 
 swer for their doings. The very first night after I 
 went forth, this very boat Avas spirited away from 
 me, so that I could not come home. Nipen had a 
 spite against me there, — to make you all suspect 
 me. I declare to you that the boat was gone, in a 
 twinkling, by magic, and I heard the cry of the 
 spirit that took it." 
 
 " What was the cry like ?" asked Oddo, gravely. 
 
 " Where were you, that you were not s]Dirited 
 aAvay with the boat ?" asked his mistress. 
 
 " I was tumbled out upon the shore, I don't 
 know how," declared Hund : — " found myself 
 sprawling on a rock, while the creature's cries 
 brought my heart into my mouth as I lay." 
 
 " Alone ? — Were you alone ?" asked his mis- 
 tress. 
 
 " I had landed the pastor some hours before, 
 madame ; and I took nobody else with me, as 
 Stiorna can tell ; for she saw me go." 
 
 " Stiorna is at the mountain," observed madame, 
 coolly. 
 
 " But Hund," said Oddo, " hoAv did Nipen take 
 hold of you when it laid you sprawling on tlie 
 rock ? Neck and heels ? Or did it bid you go 
 and hearken whether the pirates were coming, and 
 wliip away the boat before you came back ? Are 
 you quite sure that you sprawled on the rock at all 
 before you ran a^vay from the horrible cry you
 
 hund's report 133 
 
 speak of? Our rocks are very slippery when Nipen 
 is at one's heels." 
 
 Hund stared at Oddo, and his voice was yet 
 hoarser when he said that he had long thought that 
 boy was a favourite with Nipen ; and he was sure 
 of it now. 
 
 Erica had thrown herself down on the sand 
 hiding her face on her hands, on the edge of the 
 boat, as if in despair of her misery being attended to, 
 — her questions answered. Old Peder stood beside 
 her, stroking her hair tenderly ; and he now spoke 
 the things she could not. 
 
 " Attend to me, Hund," said Peder, in the 
 grave quiet tone which every one regarded. 
 '•' Hear my words, and, for your own sake, answer 
 them. \ie suspect you of bemg in communication 
 M'ith the pirates yonder : we suspect that you went 
 to meet them when you refused to go hunting the 
 bears. We know that you have long felt ill-will 
 towards Rolf, — envy of him,^jealousy of him ; 
 and " 
 
 Here Erica looked up, pale as ashes, and said, 
 
 " Do not question him further. There is no 
 truth in his answers. He spoke falsehood even 
 now." 
 
 Peder saw how Hund shrank under this, and 
 thought the present the moment to get truth out of 
 him, if he ever could speak it. He therefore went 
 on to say — 
 
 " We suspect you of having done something to 
 keep your rival out of the way, in order that you 
 might obtain the house and situation, — and pei'haps 
 something else that you wish." 
 
 " Have you killed him ?" asked Erica, abruptly, 
 looking full in his face.
 
 134 HVND S RErOKT. 
 
 " No," returned Hund, firmly. From his man- 
 ner everybody believed this much. 
 
 " Do you know that anybody else has killed him?'" 
 " No." 
 
 " Do you know whether he is alive or dead ?" 
 To this Ilund could, in the confusion of his 
 ideas about Rolf's fate and condition, feirly say 
 " No:" as also to the question, " Do you know 
 wliere he is ?" 
 
 Then they all cried out, 
 " Tell us what you do know about him." 
 " Ay, there you come," said Ilund, resuming 
 some courage, and putting on the appearance of 
 more than he had. " You load me witli foul ac- 
 cusations ; and when you find yourselves all in tlie 
 wrong, you alter your tone, and put yourselves 
 under obligation to me for what I will tell. I will 
 treat you better than you treat me ; and I will tell 
 you plainly w!iy. I repent of my feelings towai'ds 
 my fellow-servant, now that evil has befallen him — " 
 ^" AYhat ? O what ?" cried Erica. 
 " He was seen fishing on the fiord, in that jioor 
 little worn-out skiff. I myself saw him. And 
 when I looked next for the skiff, it was gone, — it 
 had disappeared." 
 
 " And where were you?" 
 
 " Never mind where I was. I was not with 
 hinl, but about my own lousiness. And I tell you, 
 I no more laid a linger on him or his skiff' than any 
 one of you." 
 
 " Where was it ?" 
 '• Close by Yogel islet I" 
 
 Erica started, and, in one moment's flusli of 
 hope, told that Rolf had said, he should be safe at 
 any time near Yogel islet. Ilund caught at her
 
 hund's nEroRT. 135 
 
 words so eagerly as to make a favourable impres- 
 sion on all, who saw, what was indeed the truth, 
 that he would have been glad to know that Rolf 
 was alive. Their manner so changed towards Ilinid, 
 that if Stiorna had been there, she would Jiave 
 triumphed. But the more they considered the case, 
 the more improbable it seemed that Rolf sliould 
 have escaped drowning. 
 
 " Mother, what do you think ?" whispered tlie 
 gentle Orga. 
 
 " I think, my dear, that we shall never forgive 
 ourselves for letting Rolf go out in tliat old skitf." 
 
 " Then you think, — you feel quite sure, — mother, 
 that Nipen had nothing to do with it." 
 
 " I feel confident, my dear, that there is no such 
 being as Nipen." 
 
 " Even after all that has happened? — after this, 
 following upon Oddo's prank that night ?" 
 
 " Even so, Orga. We sutler by our own care- 
 lessness and folly, my love : and it makes us neitlier 
 wiser nor better to cliarge the consequences upon 
 evil spirits; — to charge our good God with per- 
 mitting revengeful beings to torment us, instead of 
 learning from liis chastisements to sin in the same 
 way no more." 
 
 " But, mother, if you are riglit, how very far 
 wi-ong all these others are !" 
 
 " It is but little, my child, that tlie wisest of us 
 know ; but there is a whole eternity before us, 
 every one, to grow \a ise in. Some," and she looked 
 towards Oddo, " may outgrow their mistakes here: 
 and others," looking at old Peder, " are travelling 
 fast towards a place where everybody is wiser than 
 years or education can make us here. Your father 
 and I do wish, for Frolich and you, that you should
 
 136 HUND S KErORT. 
 
 rest your reverence, your hopes and fears, on none 
 but the good God. Do ^ve not know that not 
 even a sparrow falleth to the ground witliout his 
 will ?" 
 
 " Poor Ei'ica would be less miserable if she 
 could think so," sighed Orga. " She will die soon, 
 if she goes on to suffer as she does. I wish the 
 good bishop w'ould come : for I do not think M. 
 Kollsen gives her any comfort. Look now ! what 
 can she have to say to Hund ?" 
 
 What Erica had to say to Hund was, 
 
 *' I believe some of the things you have told. I 
 believe that you did not lay hands on Eolf." 
 
 " Bless you ! Bless you for that !" interrupted 
 Hund, almost forgetting how far he really was 
 guilty in the satisfaction of hearing these words 
 from the lips that spoke them. 
 
 " Tell me then," proceeded Erica, " how you 
 believe he really perished. — Do you fully believe he 
 perished ?" 
 
 " I believe," whispered Hund, " that the strong 
 hand pulled him down down to the bottom.' 
 
 " I- knew it," said Erica, turning away. 
 
 " Erica, — one word," exclaimed Hund. *' I 
 
 must stay here 1 am verj' miserable, and I must 
 
 stay here, and work, and work till I get some com- 
 fort. But you must tell me how you think of me 
 — you must say that you do not hate nte." 
 
 " 1 do hate you," said Erica, with disgust, as 
 her suspicions of his wanting to fill Rolf's place 
 were renewed. " I mistrust you, Hund, more 
 deeply than I can tell." 
 
 " Will no penitence change your feelings, Erica ? 
 I tell you I am as miserable as you." 
 
 " That is false, like everj'tliing else that you
 
 hund's report. 137 
 
 say," cried Erica. " I wish you would go,— go 
 and seek Rolf under the waters — " 
 
 Hund shuddered at the thought, as it recalled 
 what he had seen and heard at the islet. Erica 
 saw this, and sternly repeated, 
 
 "Go and bring back Rolf from the deeps ; and 
 then I will cease to hate you. Ah ! I see the 
 despair in your face. Such despair never came 
 from any woman's words where there was not a bad 
 conscience to back them." 
 
 Hund felt that this was true, and made no reply. 
 
 As Erica slowly returned into Peder's house, 
 Oddo ran past, and was there before her. He 
 closed the door when she had entered, put his hand 
 within hers, and said, 
 
 " Did Rolf really tell you that he should be safe 
 anywhere near Vogel islet ?" 
 
 " Yes," sighed Erica, — " safe from the pirates. 
 That was his answer when I begged him not to go 
 so far down the fiord : but Rolf always had an 
 answer when one asked him not to go into danger. 
 You see how it ended ; — and he never would believe 
 in that danger." 
 
 " I shall never be happy again, if this is Nipen's 
 doing," said Oddo. " But, Erica, you went one 
 trip with me, and I know you are brave. Will 
 you go another? Will you go to the islet, and see 
 what Rolf could have meant about being safe 
 there?" 
 
 Erica brightened for a moment ; and perhaps 
 would have agreed to go : but Peder came in ; 
 and Peder said he knew the islet well, and that it 
 was universally considered that it was now inacces- 
 sible to human foot, and that that was the reason 
 why the fowl flourished there as tliey did in no 
 
 G 3
 
 138 HUND S REPORT. 
 
 other place. Erica must not be permitted to go 
 so far down among the haunts of tlie pirates. In- 
 stead of this, her mistress had just decided that, as 
 there were no present means of getting rid of 
 Hund, — as indeed his depressed state of spirits 
 seemeil to give him some title to be received again, 
 — and as Erica could not be expected to remain 
 just now in his presence, she should set off inune- 
 diately for the mountain, and request Erlingsen to 
 come home. This was only hastening her depar- 
 ture by two or three days. At the seater she Mould 
 find less to try her spirits than here : and, when 
 Erlingsen came, he would, if he thought proper, 
 have Hund carried before a magistrate ; and would, 
 at least, set such inquiries afloat through the whole 
 region as would bring to light anything that might 
 chance to be known of Rolf's fate. 
 
 Erica could not deny that this was the best plan 
 that could be pursued, thougli slie had no heart for 
 going to the seater, any more than for doing 
 anything else. Under Peder's urgency, however, 
 she made up her bundle of clothes, took in her 
 hand her lure,* with which to call home the 
 cattle in the evenings, bade her mistress farewell 
 privately, and stole away without Hund's know- 
 ledge, while Oddo was giving him meat and drink 
 
 * The lure is a -vrooden trumpet, nearly five feet long, 
 made of two hollow pieces of birch-wood, bound together 
 tlirougliout the whole length with slips of wilIow._ It is used 
 to call the cattle together on a wide pasture ; and is also car- 
 ried by travelling "parties, to save the risk of any one being 
 lost in the wilds. Its notes, which may be heard to a great 
 distance, are extremely harsh and discordant ; having none 
 of the musical tone of the Alp-horn— (the cow-horn used by 
 tiie Swiss for the same purposes}, — which sounds well at a 
 dlstane«.
 
 uuxd's SEroRT. 139 
 
 within the house. Old Peder ILstened to her part- 
 ing footsteps ; and her mistress w atched her up tlie 
 first liill, thinking to herself how unlike this was 
 to the usual cheerful departure to the mountain 
 dairies. Never, indeed, iiad a heavier heart bur- 
 denetl the footsteps of the wayfarer about to climb 
 the slopes of Sulitelma.
 
 ( 140 ) 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 
 
 Now that the great occasion was come, — that 
 brightest clay of the year, — the day of going to the 
 seater, how unlike was it to all that the lovers had 
 imagined and planned ! How unlike was the situ- 
 ation of the two ! There was Rolf cooped up in 
 a dim cave, his heart growing heavy as his ear 
 grew weary of the incessant dash and echo of the 
 waters ! And here was Erica on the free moun- 
 tain side, where all was silent except the occasional 
 rattle of a brook over the stones, and the hum of 
 a cloud of summer flies. The lovers were alike 
 in their unhappiness only : and hardly in this, so 
 much the most wretched of the two was Erica. 
 
 The sun was hot ; and her path occasionally lay 
 under rocks which reflected the heat upon the pas- 
 senger. She did not heed this, for the aching of 
 her heart. Then she had to pass through a swamp, 
 whence issued a host of mosquitoes, to annoy any 
 who intruded upon their domain. It just occurred 
 to Erica that Rolf made her pass this place on 
 horseback last year, Avell veiled, and completely 
 defended from these stinging tormentors : but she 
 did not heed them now. When, somewhat higher 
 up, she saw in the lofty distance a sunny slope of 
 long grass undulating in the wind, like the surface 
 of a lake, tears sprang into her eyes : for Rolf had
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 141 
 
 said that when they came in sight of the waving 
 pasture, she would alight, and walk the rest of the 
 way with him. Instead of this, and instead of the 
 gay procession from the farm, musical with the 
 singing of boys and girls, the lowing of the cow?, 
 and the bleating of the kids, all rejoicing together 
 at going to the mountain, hei'e she was alone, 
 carrying a widowed heart, and wandering with un- 
 willing steps farther and farther from the spot 
 where she had last seen Rolf. 
 
 She dashed the tears from her eyes, and looked 
 behind her, at the entrance of a ravine which would 
 hide fi'om her the fiord and the dwelling she had 
 left. Thor islet lay like a fragment of the leafy 
 forest cast into the blue waters : but Yogel islet 
 could not be seen. It was not too far down to be 
 seen from an elevation like this : but it was hidden 
 behind the promontories by which the fiord was 
 contracted. Erica could see wliat she next looked 
 for, — knowing, as slie did, precisely where to look. 
 vShe could see the two graves belonging to the 
 household, — the two hillocks which were railed in 
 behind the house : but she turned away sickening 
 at the thought that Rolf could not even have a 
 grave ; that that poor consolation was denied her. 
 She looked behind her no more ; but made her way 
 rapidly through the ravine ; the more rapidly 
 because she had seen a man ascending by the same 
 path at no great distance, and she had little incli- 
 nation to be joined by a party of v/andering Lap- 
 landers, seeking a fresh pasture for their reindeer ; 
 still less by any neighbour from the fiord, who 
 might think civility required that he should es- 
 cort her to the seater. This wayfarer was walk- 
 ing at a pace so much faster than hers, that he
 
 1-12 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 
 
 would soon pass ; and she would hide among the 
 rocks beside the tarn* at the head of the ravine till 
 lie had gone by. 
 
 It was refreshing to come out of the hot steep 
 ravine upon the grass at the upper end of it. Such 
 grass ! A line of pathway Mas trodden in it 
 straight upwards, by tliose who had before ascended 
 tlie mountain : but Erica left tliis patli,and turned 
 to the riglit, to seek the larn which there lay hidden 
 among the rocks. The herbage was knee-deep, 
 and gay witli flowers, — with wild geranium, pan- 
 sics, and especially with the yellow blossoms which 
 give its peculiar hue and flavour to the Gammel 
 cheese, and to the butter made in the mountain 
 dairies of Norway. Through this rich pasture 
 Erica waded till she reached the tarn which fed 
 the stream that gambolled down the ravine. The 
 death-cold unfathomed waters lay calm and still 
 under the shelter of the rocks which nearly sur- 
 rounded tliem. Even Adhere crags did not rise 
 abruptly from the water, huge blocks were scat- 
 tered ; masses which seemed to have lain so long- as 
 to have seen tlie springing herbage of a thousantl 
 summers. 
 
 In the shadow of one of these blocks, Erica sank 
 down into the grass. There she, and her bundle, 
 and her long lure were half-buried ; and this, at 
 last, felt something like rest. Here she would re- 
 main long enough to let tlie other wayiarer have a 
 good start up tlie mountain ; and by that time she 
 should be cool and tranquillized: — yes, tranquillized ; 
 for here she could seek that peace which never 
 failed when slie sought it as Christians may. 
 She hid her face in the fragrant grass, and did not 
 
 * Small lake upon a moimtain.
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 143 
 
 look up again till the grief of her soul was stilled. 
 — Then hor eye and her heart were open to the 
 beauty of the place which she had made her temple 
 of worship ; and she gazed around till she saw some- 
 thing that surprised her. A reindeer stood ou 
 tlie ridge, his whole form, from his bi^anching head 
 to his slender legs, being clearly marked against 
 the bright sky. He was not alone. lie was the 
 sentinel, set to watch on behalf of several com- 
 panions, — two or three being perched on ledges of 
 the rock, browsing, — one standing half buried in 
 the herbage of the pasture, and one on the margin 
 of the water, drinking as it would not have dreamed 
 of doing if the wind had not been in the wrong- 
 quarter for letting him know how near the hidden 
 Erica was. 
 
 This pretty sight was soon over. In a few mo- 
 ments, the whole company appeared to take flight 
 all at once, without her having stirred a muscle. 
 Away they went, with such speed and noiselessness 
 that they appeared not to touch the ground. From 
 point to point of the rock they sprang, and the last 
 branch}' head disappeared over the ridge, almost 
 before Erica could stand upright, to see all she 
 could of them. 
 
 She soon discovered the cause of their alarm. 
 She thought it could not have been herself; and 
 it was not. The traveller who, she had hoped, 
 was now some way up the mountain, was standing 
 on the ma,rgin of the tarn, immediately opposite to 
 her, so that the wind had carried the scent to the 
 herd. The traveller saw her at the same moment 
 tliat she perceived him ; but Erica did not discover 
 this, and sank down again into the grass, hoping so 
 to remain undisturbed. She could not thus ob-
 
 144 SEEKING THE UPI-ANDS. 
 
 serve what his proceedings were ; but her ear soon 
 informed her that he was close by. His feet were 
 rustling in the grass. 
 
 She sat up, and took her bundle and her lure, 
 believing now that she must accept the unwelcome 
 civility of an escort for the whole of the rest of the 
 way, and thinking that she might as well make 
 haste, and get it over. The man, however, seemed 
 in no hur^)^ Before she could rise, he took his 
 seat on the huge stone beside her, crossed his arms, 
 made no greeting, but looked her full in tlie face. 
 
 She did not know the face ; nor was it like any 
 that she had ever seen. Tliere was such long hair, 
 and so much beard, that the eyes seemed the only 
 feature which made any distinct impression. Erica's 
 heart now began to beat violently. Though wish- 
 ing to be alone, she had not dreamed of being 
 afraid till now : but now it occurred to her that 
 she was seeing the rarest of sights, — one not seen 
 twice in a century ; no other than the mountain- 
 demon. Sulitelma, as the highest mountain in 
 Norway, was thought to be his favourite haunt ; 
 and considering his strange appearance, and his 
 silence, it could hardly be other than himself. 
 
 The test would be whetlier he would speak first ; 
 a test which she resolved to try, though it was 
 rather difficult to meet and return the stare of such 
 a neighbour without speaking. She could not keep 
 this up for more than a minute : so she sprang to 
 her feet, rested her lure upon her shoulder, took 
 her bundle in her hand, and began to wade back 
 through the liigh grass to the pathway, almost ex- 
 pecting, when she thought of her mother's fate, to 
 be seized by a strong hand, and cast into the un- 
 fathomable tarn, whoso waters were said to well up
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 145 
 
 from the centre of the earth. Her companion, 
 however, merely Avalked by her side. As he did 
 not offer to carry lier bundle, he could be no coun- 
 tryman of hers. There Avas not a peasant in Nord- 
 land who would not have had more courtesy. 
 
 They walked quietly on till the tarn m as left some 
 way behind. Erica found she was not to die that 
 ■way. Presently after, she came in sight of a settle- 
 ment of Lapps — a cluster of low and dirty tents, 
 round which some tame reindeer were feeding. 
 Erica Avas not sorry to see these ; though no one 
 knew better than slie the helpless coAvardice of 
 these people ; and it Avas not easy to say Avhat as- 
 sistance they could afford against the mountain- 
 demon. Yet they AA'ere human beings, and avouM 
 appear in ansAver to a cry. She involuntarily 
 shifted her lure, to be ready to utter a call. The 
 stranger stopped to look at the distant tents, and 
 Erica AA-ent on, at the same pace. He presently 
 overtook her, and pointed toAA-ards the Lapps Avith 
 an inquiring look. Erica onlj' nodded. 
 
 " Why you no speak?" groAvled the stranger, in 
 broken language. 
 
 " Because I have nothing to say," declared Erica, 
 in the sudden vivacity inspired by the discovery 
 that this AA'as probably no demon. Her doubts 
 Avere rencAved, hoAA^ever, by the next question. 
 
 " Is the bishop coming ?" 
 
 NoAV, none Avere supposed to have a deeper in- 
 terest in the holy bishop's travels than the evil 
 spirits of any region through Avhich he Avas to pass. 
 
 " Yes, he is coming," replied Erica. " Are 
 you afraid of him ?" 
 
 The stran2:er burst into a loud laugh at her 
 question : and very like a mocking fiend he looked,
 
 146 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 
 
 as his thick beard parted to show his wide mouth, 
 Avith its two ranges of teeth. When he finished 
 laughing, he said " Ko, no — we no fear bishop." 
 
 "'We!'" repeated Erica to herself. "He 
 speaks for his tribe, as well as Iiimself." 
 
 " We no fear bishop," said tlie stranger, still 
 
 laughing. " You no fear ?" and he pointed 
 
 to the long stretch of patli, — tlie prodigious ascent 
 before tliem. 
 
 Erica said there was nothing to fear on the 
 mountain for those A^ho did their duty to the 
 powers, as it was her intention to do. Her first 
 Gammel cheese was to be for him wliose due it 
 was ; and it should be the best she could make. 
 
 This speech slie thouglit would suit, Avhatever 
 might be the nature of her companion. If it was 
 the demon, she could do no more to please hiui 
 than promise him his cheese. 
 
 Her companion seemed not to understand or 
 attend to what she said. He again asked if she 
 was not afraid to travel alone in so dreary a place, 
 adding that if his countrywomen Mere to be over- 
 taken by a stranger like him, on the wilds of a 
 mountain, they would scream and fly ; — all which 
 he acted very vividly, by way of making out his 
 imperfect speech, and trying her courage at the 
 same time. 
 
 When Erica saw that she had no demon for a 
 companion, but only a foreigner, she was so much 
 relieved as not to be afraid at all. She said that 
 nobody thought of being frightened in summer 
 time in her country. Winter was the time 
 for that. When the days were long, so that 
 travellers knew their May, and when every 
 body Mas abroad, so that you could not go far
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 147 
 
 without meeting a friend, there was notliiiig to 
 fear. 
 
 " You go abroad to meet friends, and leave your 
 enemy behind." 
 
 At the moment, he turned to look back. 
 Erica could not now help A\atcliing liini, and she 
 cast a glance homewards too. They were so high 
 up tlie mountain that the fiord and its shores were 
 in full view ; and more ; — for the river was seen 
 in its windings from the very skirts of tlie mountain 
 to the fiord, and the town of Saltdalen standing on 
 its banks. In short, the wliole landscape to the 
 vest lay before them, from SuHtelma to the point 
 of the horizon where the islands and rocks melted 
 into the sea. 
 
 The stranger had picked up an eagle's feather 
 in his walk ; and lie now pointed with it to the 
 tiny cove in wliich Erlingsen's farm might be seen, 
 looking no bigger than an infant's toy, and said, 
 
 " Do you leave an enemy there, or isHund now 
 j'our friend ?" 
 
 " Hund is nobody's friend, unless he happens to 
 be yours," Erica replied, perceiving at once that 
 her companion belonged to tlie pirates. " Ilund 
 is everybody's enemy ; and, above all, he is an 
 enemy to himself. He is a wretched man." 
 
 " The bishop will cure that," said the stranger. 
 " He is coward enough to call in the bishop to 
 cure all. When comes the bishop ?" 
 
 " Next week." 
 
 '•' What day, and ^hat hour?" 
 
 Erica did not choose to gratify so close a curi- 
 osity as this. She did not reply ; and while silent, 
 was not sorry to hear the distant sound of cattle- 
 bells ; — and Erlingsen's cattle-bells too. The
 
 148 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 
 
 stranger did not seem to notice the sound, even 
 though quickening his pace, to suit Erica's, who 
 pressed on faster when she believed protection was 
 at hand. And yet the next thing tlie stranger said 
 brought her to a full stop.— He said he thought a 
 part of Hund's business with the bishop v.ould be to 
 get him to disenchant the fiord, so that boats might 
 not be spirited away almost before men's eyes ; and 
 that a rower and his skiff might not sink like lead 
 one day, and the man may be heard the second 
 day, and seen the third, so that there was no satis- 
 factory knowledge as to whether he was really 
 dead. Erica stopped, and her eager looks made 
 the enquiry which her lips could not speak. Her 
 eagerness put her companion on his guard, and he 
 would explain no further than by saying that the 
 fiord was certainly enchanted, and th^t strange 
 tales were circulating all round its shores, — very 
 striking to a stranger ;— a stranger had nothing 
 more to do with the wonders of a country than to 
 listen to them. lie wanted to turn the conversa- 
 tion back to Hund. Having found out that he 
 was at Erlingsen's, he next tried to discover what 
 he had said and done since his arrival. Erica told 
 the little there was to tell,— that he seemed full of 
 sorrow and remorse. She told this in hope of a 
 further explanation about drowned men being seen 
 alive : but the stranger stopped when the bells 
 were heard again, and a woman's voice singing, 
 nearer still. He complimented Erica on her 
 courage, and turned to go back, the way he came. 
 " Stay," said Erica. " Do come to the dairy, 
 now you are so near." 
 
 The man walked away rapidly. 
 
 " My master is here close at hand,— he will be
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 149 
 
 glad to see a stranger," she said, following him, 
 with the feeling that her only chance of hearing 
 something of Kolf was departing. The stranger 
 did not turn, but only walked on faster, and with 
 longer strides, down the slope. 
 
 The only thing now to be done was to run for- 
 wards and send a messenger after him. Erica forgot 
 heat, weariness, and the safety of her property, and 
 ran on towards the singing voice. In five minutes 
 she found the singer, Frolich, lying along the 
 ground and picking cloud-berries, with which she 
 was filling her basket for supper. 
 
 "Where is Erlingsen? — quick — quick!" cried 
 Erica, 
 
 " My father ? You may just see him with your 
 good eyes, — up there." 
 
 And Frolich pointed to a patch of verdure on a 
 slope high vip the mountain, where the gazer mij^ht 
 just discern that there were hay-cocks standing, 
 and two or three moving figures beside them. 
 
 " Stiorna is there to-day, besides Jan. They 
 hope to finish this evening," said Frolich ; " and 
 so here I am, all alone : and I am glad you have 
 come, to help me to have a good supper ready for 
 them. Their hunger will beat all my berry- 
 gathering." 
 
 " You are alone ?" said Erica, discovering tliat 
 it was well that the pirate had turned back Avhen 
 he did. " You alone, and gathering berries, instead 
 of having an eye on the cattle ! Who has an eye on 
 the cattle ?" * 
 
 * It is a popular belief in Norway that there is a race of 
 fairies or magicians, living underground, who arc very cove- 
 tous of cattle ; and that to gi-atify their taste for large herds 
 and flocks, they help themselves with such as graze on the
 
 loO SEEKING THE UrLANDS, 
 
 " Whj^, no one," answered Frolich. " Come 
 now, do not tease me with biddinp: me remember 
 the Eishop of Tronyem's cattle. The underground 
 people have something' to do elsewhere to-day ; 
 they give no heed to us." 
 
 ^ '_' We must give heed to them, however," said 
 Erica. " Show me where tlie cattle are, and I will 
 collect them, and have an eye on them till supper 
 is ready." 
 
 " You shall do no such thing, Erica. You 
 shall lie down here and pick berries Avith me, and 
 tell me the news. That will rest you and me at 
 the same time ; for I am as tired of being alone, 
 as you can be of climbing the mountain.— But 
 •why are your hands empty ? Who is to lend you 
 clothes ? And wliat will tlie cows say to your leav- 
 ing your lure behind, when they know you like it 
 so much better than Stiorna's ?" 
 
 Erica explained that her bundle and lure were 
 lying on the grass, a little way below ; and Frolich 
 sprang to her feet, saying that she would fetch 
 them presently. Erica stopped her, and told her 
 she must not go : nobody sliould go but herself. 
 She could not answer to Erlingseu for letting one 
 
 mountains ; making dwarfs of tliem to enable them to enter 
 crevices of the ground, in order to descend to the subter- 
 ranean pastures. This practice may be defeated, as the 
 Norwegian herdsman believes, by his keeping his eye con- 
 stantly on the cattle. 
 
 A certain bishop of Tronyem lost his cattle by the herds- 
 men having looked away from them, beguiled by a spirit in 
 the shape of a noble elk. The herdsmen, looking towards 
 their charge again, saw them reduced to the size of mice, 
 just vanishing through a crevice in the hill-side. Hence 
 the Norwegian proverb used to warn any one to look after 
 his property, " Kememher the Bishop of Tronvem's cattle I"
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 151 
 
 of his children follow the steps of a pirate, who 
 might return at any moment. 
 
 Frolich had no longer any wisli to go. She 
 started off towards the sleeping shed, and never 
 stopped till slie had entered it, and driven a provision- 
 chest against the door, leaving Erica far behind. 
 
 Erica, indeed, was in no hurry to follow. Slie 
 returned for her bundle and lure ; and tlien, uneasy 
 about the cattle being left without an eye upon 
 them, and thus confided to tlie negligence of the 
 underground people, she proceeded to an eminence 
 where two or three of her cows were grazing, and 
 tliere sounded her lure. She put her Avhole 
 strength to it, in hope that otiiers, besides the 
 cattle, might appear in answer ; for she was really 
 anxious to see her master. 
 
 The peculiar and far from musical sounds did 
 spread wide over the pastures, and up the slopes, 
 and through the distant woods, so tliat tlie cattle 
 of another seater stood to listen, and her oM-n cows 
 began to move, — leaving the sweetest tufts of 
 grass, and rising up from their couches in the 
 richest herbage, to converge towards the point 
 whence she called. The far-off herdsman ob- 
 served to his fellow that tliere was a new call 
 among the pastures ; and Erlingsen, on the upland, 
 desired Jan and Stiorna to finish cocking the hay, 
 "and began his descent to his seater, to learn whether 
 Erica had brought any news from home. 
 
 Long before he could appear, Frolich stole out 
 trembling, and looking round her at ever}^ step. 
 When she saw Erica, she flew over tlie grass, and 
 threw herself down in it at Erica's feet. 
 
 " Where is he ?" she whispered. " Has he 
 come back ?"
 
 152 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 
 
 " I have not seen him. 1 dare say he is far off 
 by this time at the Black Tarn, where I met with 
 him." 
 
 " The Black Tarn ! And do you mean that— 
 no, you cannot mean that you came all the way 
 together from the Black Tarn liither. Did you run ? 
 Did you fly ? Did you shriek ? 0, what did you 
 do?— with a pirate at your he^s ! " 
 
 " By my side," said Erica. " We walked and 
 talked." 
 
 "With a pirate! But how did you know it 
 was a pirate ? Did he tell you so ?" 
 
 I' No : and at first I thought," and she sank her 
 voice into a reverential whisper, — "I thouo-ht 
 for some time it was the demon of this place. 
 When I found it Avas only a pirate, I did not 
 mind." 
 
 " Only a pirate ! Did not mind ! " exclaimed 
 Frolich. " You are the strangest girl ! You are 
 the most perverse creature ! You think nothing 
 of a pirate walking at your elbow for miles, and 
 you would make a slave of yourself and me about 
 these underground people, that my father laughs 
 at, and that nobody ever saw. — Ah ! you say no- 
 thing aloud ; but I know you are saying in your 
 own mind ' Remember the Bishop of Tronvem's 
 cattle.' " 
 
 " You want news," said Erica, avoiding, as usual, 
 all conversation about her superstitions. '• How 
 ^\iU. it please you that the bishop is coming ?" 
 
 _ " Very much, if we had any chance of seeing 
 him. Verj- much, whether we see him or not, if 
 he can give any help,— any advice . . . My poor 
 Erica, 1 do not like to ask ; but you have had no 
 good news, I fear."
 
 SEEKING THE UPLANDS. 153 
 
 Erica shook her head. 
 
 " I saw that in your face, in a moment. Do 
 not speak about it till you tell my father. He 
 may help you— I cannot : so do not tell me any 
 thing." 
 
 Erica was glad to take her at her word. She 
 kissed Frolich's hand, which lay on her knee, in 
 token of thanks, and then inquired whether any 
 gamniel cheese was made yet. 
 
 " No," said Frolich, inwardly sighing for news. 
 " We have the whey ; but not sweet cream enough 
 till after this evening's milkhig. So you are just 
 in time." 
 
 Erica was glad, as she could not otherwise have 
 been sure of the demon having his due. 
 
 " There is your father," said Erica. " Now do 
 go and gather more berries, Frolich. There are 
 not half enough ; and you cannot be afraid of the 
 pirate, with your father within call. Now, do go." 
 
 " You want me not to hear what you have to 
 tell my father," said Frolich, unwilling to depart. 
 
 " That is very true. I shall tell him nothing 
 till you are out of hearing. He can repeat to you 
 what he pleases afterwards : and he will indulge 
 you all the more for your giving him a good sup- 
 per." 
 
 " So he will : and I will fill his cup myself," 
 observed Frolich. " He says the corn-brandy is 
 uncommonly good : and I will fill his cup till it 
 will not hold another drop." 
 
 " You will not reach his heart that way, Frolich. 
 He knows to a drop what his quantity is ; and there 
 he stops." 
 
 " I know where there are some manyberries* 
 
 * The Molteboeer, or Manyben-ies, so calLxl f:oui its
 
 154 SEEKING THE UPI.AKDS. 
 
 ripe," saici Frolich ; " and he likes them above all 
 berries. They lie this Avay, at the edge of the 
 swamp, where the pirate will never think of 
 coming." 
 
 And off she went, as Erica rose from the grass 
 to curtsey to Erlingsen on his approach. 
 
 clustered appearance. It is a delicious fniit, amber-coloured 
 •when ripe, and growing in marshy ground-
 
 ( 155 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 dairy-maids' taxk. 
 
 It may be supposed that Erlingsen was anxious to 
 be at home, when he had heard Erica's story. He 
 was not to be detained by any promise of berries 
 and cream for supper. He put away the thought 
 even of his hay, yet unfinished on the upland, and 
 would liear nothing that Frolich had to say of his 
 fatigue at the end of a long working day. He 
 took some provision with him, drank off a glass of 
 corn-brandy, kissed Frolich, promised to send news, 
 and, if possible, more helping hands, and set off, at 
 a good pace, down the mountain. 
 
 The party he left behind was but a dull one. 
 "When Jan came in to supper, he became angry 
 that he was left to get in the hay alone. Even 
 Stiorna could not help him to-morrow ; for the 
 cheese-making had already been put off too long 
 Avhile waiting for Erica's arrival ; and it must now 
 be delayed no longer. It was true, some one was 
 to be sent from below ; but such an one could not 
 arrive before the next evening ; and Jan would 
 meanwhile have a long day alone, instead of having, 
 as hitherto, his master for a comrade. — Stiorna, for 
 her part, was offended at the wish, openly expressed 
 by all, that Hund might not be the person sent. 
 She was sure he was the only proper person, but 
 
 h2
 
 156 dairy-maids' talk. 
 
 she saw that he would meet with no welcome, 
 except from her. 
 
 Scarcely a word was spoken (though the moun- 
 tain-dairies have the reputation of being the 
 merriest places in the Avorld, till Erica and Frolicli 
 were about their cheese-making the next morning. 
 Erica had rather have kept the cattle : but Frolich 
 so earnestly begged that she would let Stiorna do 
 that, as she could not destroy the cattle in her ill- 
 humour, while she might easily spoil the cheese, 
 that Erica put away her knitting, tied on her apron, 
 tucked up her sleeves, and prepared for the great 
 work. 
 
 " There ! Let her go !" cried Frolich, looking 
 after Stiorna, as she walked away slowly, trailing 
 her lure after her. " She may knit all her ill- 
 humour into her stocking, if she likes, as Hund is 
 to wear it ; and that is better than putting it into 
 our cheese. Erica," said 'die kind-hearted girl, 
 " you are v/orth a hundred of her. What has she 
 to disturb her, in comparison with you ? — and yet 
 you do just wliat I ask you, and work at our Imfii- 
 ness, as if nothing was the matter. If you chose 
 to cry all day on (he two graves down there at 
 home, nobody could tliink it unreasonable." 
 >' Erica was washing the bowls and cheese-moulds 
 in juniper water at tliis moment ; and her tears 
 streamed down upon them at Frolich's kind words. 
 _((" We had better not talk about such tilings, 
 dear," said she, as soon as she could speak. 
 
 " Nay, now, I tliink it is the best thing we can 
 do, Erica. Plere, pour me this cream into tlie 
 Dan over the fire, and I will stir, while you strain 
 some more whey. My back is towards you, and I 
 
 a
 
 dairy-maids' talk. 157 
 
 cannot see you ; and you can cry as you like, ^vhile 
 I tell you all I think." 
 
 Erica found that this free leave to cry unseen 
 was a great help towards stopping her tears ; and 
 slie ceased weeping entirely while listening to all 
 that Frolich had to say in favour of Rolf being 
 still alive and safe. It was no great deal that 
 could be said : only that Hund's news was more 
 likely to be false than true, and that there was no 
 otlier evidence of any accident having liappened. 
 
 " My dear !" exclaimed Erica, " where is he 
 now, then, — why is he not here? O, Frolich! I 
 can hardly wonder tliat we are punished when I 
 think of our presumption. When Ave were talking 
 beside those graves on the day of Ulla's funeral, he 
 laughed at me for even speaking of death and 
 separation. ' "What ! at our age !' he said. ' Deatli 
 at our age, — and separation !' — and that with 
 Henrica's grave before our eyes !" 
 
 " Then perhaps this will prove to be a sliort and 
 gentle separation, to teach him to speak more lunn- 
 bly. There is no being in the universe that would 
 send death to punish light gay words, spoken from 
 a joyful heart. If there were, I and many otliers 
 shoidd have been in our graves long since. Why, 
 Erica ! this is even a worse reason than Hund's 
 word. — Now just tell me, Erica, would you believe 
 anything else that Hund said ?" 
 • " In a common way, perhaps not : but you can- 
 not think what a changed man he is, Frolich. He 
 is so humbled, so melancholy, so awe-struck, that 
 he is not like the same man." 
 
 " He may not be the better for that. He was 
 more frightened than anybody at the moment the 
 OAvl cried, on your betrothment night, when you
 
 158 DAIET-MAIDS' TALB. 
 
 fancied that Nipen had carried off Oddo. Yet 
 never did I see Hund more malicious than he was 
 half an hour afterwards. I doubt whether any such 
 fright Avould make a liar into a truthful man, in a 
 moment." 
 
 Erica now remembered and told the falsehood of 
 Hund about what he was doing when the boat 
 was spirited away : — a falsehood told in the very 
 midst of the humiliation and remorse she had de- 
 scribed. 
 
 " Why there now !" exclaimed Frolich, ceasing 
 her stirring for a moment to look round ; " what 
 a capital story that is ! and how few people know 
 it ! and how neatly you catch him in his fib ! And 
 why should not something like it be happening now 
 with Rolf? Rolf knows all the ins and outs of the 
 fiord : and if he has been playing bo-peep with his 
 enemies among the islands, and frightening Hund 
 (as he well knows how), is it not tlie most natural 
 thing in the world that Hund should come scam- 
 pering home, and get his place, and say that he is 
 lost, while waiting to see whether he is or not?— • 
 O dear !" she exclaimed after a pause, during 
 which Erica did not attempt to speak, " I know 
 what I wish." 
 
 " You wish something kind, dear, I am sure," 
 said Erica, Avith a deep sigh. 
 
 " "\Ye have so many, — so very many nice, useful 
 things, — we can go up the mountains and sail 
 away over the seas, — and look far abroad into the 
 sky, — I only wish we could do one little thing 
 more. I really think, having so many things, we 
 might have had just one little thing more given 
 us;— and that is wings. I grudge them to yonder 
 screaming eagles when I want them so much.''
 
 dairy-maids' talk. 159 
 
 " My dear child, what strange things you say !" 
 
 " I do so very much want to fly abroad, just for 
 once, over the fiord. If I could but look down 
 into eveiy nook and cove between Thor islet %nd 
 the sea, I would not be Ion"- in brin"-in2r you news. 
 If I did not see Eolf, I would tell you plainly. 
 Really, at such times, it seems very odd that we 
 have not wings." 
 
 " Perhaps the time may come, dear." 
 
 " I can never want them so much again." 
 
 " My dear, you cannot want them as I do, if I 
 dared to say such bold things as you do. You are 
 not weary of the world, Frolich." 
 
 " What ! this beautiful world? Are you weary 
 of it all, Erica ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear." 
 
 " What ! of the airy mountains, and the silent 
 forests, and the lonely lakes, and the blue glaciers, 
 with flowers fringing them ! Are you quite weaiy 
 of all these ?" 
 
 " 0, that I had wings like a dove ! Then woidd 
 I flee away, and be at rest." Erica hardly mur- 
 mured these Avords ; but Frolich caught them. 
 
 " Do you know," said she, softly, after a pause, 
 " I doubt whether we can find rest by going to 
 
 any place, in this world or out of it, unless if 
 
 . The truth is. Erica, I know my father and 
 
 mother think that people who are afraid of selfish 
 and revengeful spirits, such as demons and Kipen, 
 can never have any peace of mind. Eeally religi- 
 ous people have their way straight before them ; — 
 they liave only to do right, and God is their friend, 
 and they can bear everything, and need fear 
 nothing. But the people about us are always in a
 
 160 dairy-maids' talk, 
 
 fright about some selfish being or another not 
 being properly luimoured, and so being displeased. 
 I would not be in such bondage, Erica — no, not 
 for the wings I was longing for just now. I should 
 be freer if I were rooted like a tree, and without 
 superstition, than if I had the wings of an eagle, 
 with a belief in selfish demons." 
 
 " Let us talk of something else," said Erica, 
 who was at the very moment considering wliere 
 the mountain-demon would best like to have his 
 g-anunel cheese laid. " "What is the quality of 
 the cream, Frolich ? Is it as good as it ought to 
 be ?" 
 
 " Stiorna would say that the demon will smack 
 his lips over it. Come and taste." 
 
 " Do not speak so, dear." 
 
 " I was only quoting Stiorna ." .-- 
 
 *' What are you saying about me ?" iiiquired 
 Stiorna, appearing at the door. " Onlj- talking 
 about the cream and the cheese ? Are you sure of 
 that ? Bless me ! what a smell of the yellow 
 flowers ! It Avill be a prime cheese." 
 
 '• How can you leave the cattle, Stiorna ?" 
 cried Erica. " If they are all gone when you get 
 back ." 
 
 " Well, come, then, and see the sight. I get 
 scolded either way, always. You would have 
 scolded me finely to-night if I had not called you. 
 to see the sight. — " 
 
 "What sight?" 
 
 " Why, there is such a procession of boats on 
 the fiord, that you would suppose there were three 
 weddings happening at once." 
 
 " What can we do?" exclaimed Frolich, dole-
 
 dairy-maids' talk. 161 
 
 fully looking at the cream, which had reached such 
 a point as that the stirring could not cease for a 
 minute without risk of spoiling the cheese. 
 
 Erica took the long wooden spoon from Frolich's 
 hand, and bade her run and see where the bishop 
 (for no doubt it was the bishop) was going to land. 
 The cream should not spoil while she was absent. 
 
 Frolich bounded away over the grass, declaring 
 that if it Avas the bishop going to her father's, she 
 could not possibly stay on the mountain for all the 
 cheeses in Nordland. — Erica remained alone, pati- 
 ently stimng the cream, and hardly heeding the 
 heat of the fire, while planning how the bishop 
 would be told her story, and how he would examine 
 Hund, and perhaps be able to give some news of 
 the pirates, and certainly be ready with his advice. 
 Some degree of hope arose within her as she thought 
 of the esteem in which all Norway held the wisdom 
 and kindness of the bishop of Tronyem : and tlien 
 again she felt it hard to be absent durinsr the visit 
 of the only person to whom she looked for comfort. 
 
 Frolich returned after a long Avhile, to defer her 
 hopes a little. The boats had all drawn to shore 
 on the northern side of the fiord, where, no doubt, 
 the bishop had a visit to pay before proceeding to 
 Erlingseu's. The cheese-making miglit yet be 
 done in time, even if Frolich should be sent for 
 home, to see and be seen by the good bishop. 
 
 h3
 
 ( 162 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PEDER ABROAD. 
 
 The day after Erica's departure to the dairy, 
 Peder was sitting alone in liis house, weaving a 
 frail-basket. Sometimes he sighed to think how 
 empty and silent the house appeared to what he had 
 ever known it before. Ulla's wheel stood in the 
 corner, and was now never to be heard, any more 
 than her feeble, aged voice, which had sung ballads 
 to the last. Erica's light, active step was gone for 
 the present ; and would it ever again be as light 
 and active as it had been ? Kolf 's hearty laugh 
 was silent ; perhaps for ever. Oddo was an inmate 
 still, but Oddo was much altered of late : and Avho 
 could wonder? Though the boy was strangely 
 unbelieving about some things, he could not but feel 
 how wonders and misfortunes had crowded upon 
 one another since the night of his defiance of Nipen. 
 
 From the hour of Hund's return, the boy had 
 hardly been heard to speak. All these thoughts 
 were too melancholy for old Peder ; and, to break 
 the silence, he began to sing as he wove his basket. 
 
 He had nearly got through a ballad of a hun- 
 dred and five stanzas, when he heard a footstep on 
 the floor. 
 
 " Oddo, my boy," said he, " surely you are in 
 early. Can it be dinner time yet?" 
 
 " No, not this hour," replied Oddo, in a low
 
 PEDER ABROAD. 163 
 
 voice, which sank to a whisper as he said, " I have 
 left Hund laying the troughs to water the mea- 
 dow ;* and if he misses me I don't care. I could 
 not stay ; I could not help coining ; and if he kills 
 me for telling you, he may ; for tell you I must." 
 
 And Oddo went to close and fasten the door ; 
 and then he sat down on the ground, rested his 
 arms on his grandfather's knees, and told his story 
 in such a low tone that no " little bird" under the 
 eaves could " carry the matter." 
 
 " O grandfather, what a mind that fellow has ! 
 He will go ciazy with horror soon. I am not sure 
 that he is not crazy now." 
 
 " He has murdered Rolf, has he ?" 
 
 " I can't be sure : but the oddest thing is that 
 he mixes up wolves Mith his rambling talk. Kolf 
 can hardly have met with mischief from any wolf 
 at this season." 
 
 " No, boy ; not Eolf. But did not Hund speak 
 of orphan children, and how wolves have been 
 known to devour them when snow was on the 
 ground ?" 
 
 " Why, yes," said Oddo, surprised at such a 
 guess. 
 
 " There was a reason for Hund's talking so of 
 wolves, my dear. Tell me quick what he said of 
 Rolf; and what made him say anything to you, — 
 to an inquisitive boy like you." 
 
 * The strips of meadow -which lie betvreen high rocks in 
 Norway would be parched by the reflection of the loug sum- 
 mer sunsliiue, and unproductive, if the inhabitants did not 
 use great industry in the irrigation of their lauds. They 
 conduct water from the spring heads, by means of hollow 
 trunks of trees laid end to end, through which water flows in 
 the directions in which it is wanted, sometimes for au extent 
 of fifty miles from one spring.
 
 16*4 rJEDER ABROAD. 
 
 " He is like one bewitched that cannot hold his 
 tongvie. While I was bringing the troughs, one by- 
 one, for him to lay, where the meadow was driest, 
 he still kept muttering and muttering to himself. 
 As often as I came within six yards of him, I 
 heard him mutter, mutter. Then, when I helped 
 him to lay the troughs, he began to talk to me. I 
 was not in the mind to make him many answers ; 
 but on he went, just the same as if I had asked 
 him a hundred questions." 
 
 " It w^as such an opportunity for a curious boy, 
 that I wonder you did not." 
 
 " Perhaps I might, if he had stopped long 
 enough. But if he stopped for a moment to wipe 
 his brows (for he was all trembling Avith the heat), 
 he began again before I could well speak. lie 
 asked me whether I had ever heard that drowned 
 men could show their heads above water, and stare 
 with their eyes, and throw their arms about, a 
 ■whole day, — two days, after they were drowned." 
 
 " Ay ! Indeed ! Did he ask that ?" 
 
 " Yes, and several other things. He asked whe- 
 ther I had ever heard that the islets in the fiord 
 were so many prison houses.' 
 
 " And what did you say ?' 
 
 " I wanted him to explain : so I said they were 
 prison-houses to the eider-ducks when they were 
 sitting, for they never stir a yard from their nests. 
 But he did not heed a word I spoke. He went on 
 about drowned men being kept prisoners in the 
 islets, moaning because they can't get out. And 
 he says they will knock, knock, as if they could 
 cleave the thick hard rock." 
 
 " Wliat do you think of all this, my boy ?" 
 
 " "Why, when I said I had not heard a word of 

 
 PE0EK ABROAD. 165 
 
 any such thing, even from my grandmother or 
 Erica, he declared he liad heard the moans liimself, 
 — moaning and crying; but then he mixed up 
 something about the barking of Avolves that made 
 confusion in the story. Tliough he had been hot 
 just before, there he stood shivering, as if it was 
 winter, as he stood in the broiling sun. Then I 
 asked him if he had seen dead men s\\'im and stare, 
 as he said he had heard them moan and cry." 
 
 " And what did he say then ?" 
 
 " He started bolt upright, as if I had been pick- 
 ing his pocket. He was in a passion for a minute, 
 I know, if ever he was in his life. Then he tried 
 to laugh as he said what a lot of new stories, — 
 stories of spirits, such stories as people love, — he 
 should have to carry home to the north, whenever 
 he went back to his own place." 
 
 " In the north, — his own place in the north ! 
 He wanted to mislead you there, boy. Hund was 
 born some way to the south." 
 
 " No, was he really ? how is one to believe a 
 word he says, except when he speaks as if he was 
 in his sleep, — straight out from his conscience, I 
 suppose ? He began to talk about the bishop next, 
 wanting to know when I thought he would come, 
 and whether he was apt to hold private talk with 
 every sort of person at the houses he stayed at." 
 
 " How did you answer him ? You know no- 
 thing about the bishop's visits." r 
 
 " So I told him : but, to try him, I said I knew 
 one thing, — that a quantity of fresh fish would be 
 wanted when the bishop comes with his train : and 
 I asked him whether he would go fishing with me 
 as soon as w^e should heal: that the bishop was draw- 
 ing near."
 
 166 rEDEU ABROAD. 
 
 " He would not agree to that, I fancy." 
 '" He asked how far out I thought of goino-. 
 Of course, I said to Vogel islet, — at least as far as 
 Vogel islet. Do you know, grandfather, I thought 
 he would have knocked me down at the word. He 
 muttered something, I could not hear wliat, to get 
 oif. By that time we were laying the last trough. 
 I asked liim to go for some more ; and the minute 
 he was out of sight I scampered here. Now, what 
 sort of a mind do you think tliis fellow has?" 
 
 " Not an easy one, it is plain. It is too clear 
 also that he thinks Rolf is drowned." 
 "But do you think so, grandfather?" 
 " Do you think so, grandson ?" 
 " Not a bit of it. Depend upon it, Rolf is all 
 alive, if he is swimming and staring, and throwing 
 his arms -about in the water. I think I see him 
 now. And I will see him, if he is to be seen alive, 
 or dead." 
 
 " And pray, how ?" 
 
 " I ought to have said if you will help me. You 
 say sometimes, grandfather, that you can pull a 
 good stroke with the oar still : and I can steer as 
 well as our master himself: and the fiord never was 
 stiller than it is to-day. Think what it would be 
 to bring home Rolf, or some good news of him ! 
 "We would have a race up to the seater afterwards 
 to see who could be the first to tell Erica." 
 
 " Gently, gently, boy ! What is Rolf about not 
 to come home, if he is alive ?" 
 
 '• That we shall learn from him. Did you hear 
 that he told Erica he should go as far as Yogel 
 islet, dropping something about being safe there 
 from pirates and everything ?" 
 
 Peder really thought there was something in this.
 
 PEDER ABROAD. 167 
 
 He sent off Oddo to his vork in the little meadow, 
 and himself sought out Madame Erlingsen, who 
 having less belief in spirits and enchantments than 
 Peder, was in proportion more struck with the ne- 
 cessity of seeing whether there was any meaning 
 in Hund's revelations, lest Rolf should be perishing 
 for want of help. The storj^ of his disappearance 
 had spread through the whole region ; and there 
 was not a fisherman on the fiord who had not, by 
 this time, given an opinion as to how he Avas 
 drowned. But Madame was well aware that, if 
 he were only wrecked, there was no sign that he 
 could make that would not terrify the superstitious 
 minds of the neighbours, and make them keep aloof, 
 instead of helping him. In addition to all this, it 
 was doubtful whether his signals would be seen by 
 anybody, at a season when every one who could 
 be spared was gone up to the dairies. 
 
 As soon as Hund was gone out after dinner, the 
 old man and his grandson put off in the boat carry- 
 ing a note from Madame Erlingsen to her neigh- 
 bours along the fiord, requesting the assistance of 
 one or two ro\\'ers on an occasion which might prove 
 one of life and death. The neighbours were oblig- 
 ing. The Holbergs sent a stout farm-servant with 
 directions to call at a cousin's, lower down, for a 
 boatman ; so that the boat was soon in fast career 
 down the fiord, — Oddo full of expectation, and of 
 pride in commanding such an expedition ; and 
 Peder being relieved from all necessity of rowing 
 more than he liked. 
 
 Oddo had found occasionally the truth of a com- 
 mon proverb : — he had easily brought his master's 
 horses to the water but could not make them drink. 
 He now foimd that he had easily got rowers into
 
 '168 TEDER ABROAD. 
 
 the boat, but that it was impossible to make them 
 TOW, beyond a certain point. He had used as much 
 discretion as Peder himself about not revealing the 
 precise place of their destination : and when Yogel 
 islet came in sight, the two helpers at once gave 
 him hints to steer so as to keep as near the shore, 
 and as far from the island, as possible. Oddo 
 gravely steered for the island, notwithstanding. 
 When the men saw that this was his resolution, 
 they shipped their oars, and refused to strike an- 
 other stroke, unless one of them might steer. That 
 island had a bad reputation : it was bewitched or 
 haunted ; and in that direction the men would not 
 go. They were willing to do all they could to 
 oblige : they would row twenty miles without rest- 
 ing, with pleasure : but they would not brave 
 Kipen, nor any other demon, for any considera- 
 tion. 
 
 " How far off is it, Oddo ?" asked Peder. 
 
 " Two miles, grandfather. Can you and I 
 manage it by ourselves, think you ?" 
 
 " Ay, surely : if we can land these friends of 
 ours. They will wait ashore till we call for them 
 again." 
 
 " I will leave you my supper, if you will wait 
 for us here, on this head-land," said Oddo to the 
 men. 
 
 The men could make no other objection than that 
 they were certain the boat Avould never return. 
 They were very civil, — would not accept Oddo's 
 supi^er on any account, — would remain on the 
 watch, — wished their friends would be persuaded ; 
 and, when they found all persuasion in vain, de- 
 clared they would bear testimony to Erica, and, as 
 long as they should live, to the bravery of the old
 
 TEDER ABROAD. 165> 
 
 man and boy who thus threw a^^■ay their lives in 
 search of a comrade wlio had fallen a victim to 
 Nipen. 
 
 Amidst these friendly words, the old man and 
 his grandson put oft" once more alone, making 
 straight for the islet. Of the two Peder Avas the 
 greater hero, for he saw the most ground for fear. 
 
 " Promise me, Oddo," said he, " not to take 
 advantage of my not seeing. As sure as you ob- 
 serve anytliing strange, tell me exactly what you 
 see." 
 
 " I will, grandfatlier. There is nothing yet but 
 what is so beautiful that I could not, for tlie life 
 of me, find out anything to be afraid of. The 
 w^ater is as green as our best pasture, as it washes 
 up against the grey rock. And that grey rock is 
 all crested and tufted with green again, wherever 
 a bush can spring. It is all alive with sea-birds, 
 as white as snow, as they wheel above it in the 
 sun." 
 
 " 'Tis the very place," said Peder, putting new 
 strengtli into his old arm. Oddo rowed stoutly 
 too, for some way : and then he stopped to ask on 
 what side the remains of a bircli ladder used to 
 hang down, as Peder had often told him. 
 
 " On the north side : but there is no use in 
 looking for that, my boy. That birch ladder must 
 have rotted away, with frost and wet, long and 
 long ago." 
 
 " It is likely," said Oddo : " but, thinking that 
 some man must have put it there, I should like to 
 see whether it really is impossible for one with a 
 strong hand and light foot to mount this wall. I 
 brought our longest boat-hook, on purpose to try. 
 Where a ladder hung before, a foot must have
 
 170 PEDER ABROAD. 
 
 climbed : and if I mount, Kolf may have mountc<l 
 before me." 
 
 It chilled Peder's heart to remember the aspect 
 of the precipice which his boy talked of climbing : 
 but he said nothing, feeling that it would be in 
 vain. This forbearance touched Oddo's feelings. 
 
 " I will run into no folly, trust me," said he. 
 " I do not forget that yon depend on me for get- 
 ting home ; and that the truth, about Nipen and 
 such things, depends, for an age to come, on our 
 being seen at home again safe. But I have a 
 pretty clear notion that Rolf is somewhere on the 
 top there." 
 
 " Suppose you call him, then." 
 
 Oddo had much rather catch liim. He pictured 
 to himself the pride and pleasure of mastering the 
 ascent ; the delight of surprising Eolf asleep in his 
 solitude, and the fun of standing over him to waken 
 him, and witness his surprise. He could not give 
 up the attempt to scale the rock : but he would do 
 it very cautiously. 
 
 Slowly and watchfully they passed round the 
 islet, Oddo seeking with his eye any ledge of the 
 rock on which he might mount. Pulling off his 
 shoes, that his bare feet might have the better hold, 
 and stripping off almost all his clothes, for light- 
 ness in climbing and perhaps swimming, he clam- 
 bered up to more than one promising spot, and then, 
 finding that further progress was impossible, had to 
 come down again. At last, seeing a narrow chasm 
 filled with leafy shrubs, he determined to try how 
 high he could reach by means of these. He swung 
 himself up by means of a bush which grew down- 
 wards, having its roots firmly fixed in a crevice of 
 the rock. This gave him hold of another, which
 
 PEDER ABROAD. 171 
 
 brought him in reach of a third ; so that, making his 
 way like a squirrel or a monkey, he found himself 
 hanging at such a height, that it seemed easier to 
 go on than to turn back. For some time after 
 leaving his grandfather, he had spoken to him, as 
 an assurance of his safety. When too far off to 
 speak, lie had sung aloud, to save the old man from 
 fears ; and now that he did not feel at all sure 
 whether he should ever get up or down, he began 
 to whistle cheerily. He was pleased to hear it 
 answered from the boat. The thought of tlie old 
 man sitting there alone, and his return wholly de- 
 pending upon the safety of his companion, ani- 
 mated Oddo afresh to find a way up the rock. It 
 looked to him as like a wall as any other rock 
 about the islet. There was no footing where he 
 \vas looking ; — that was certain. So he advanced 
 farther into the chasm, where the rocks so nearly 
 met that a giant's arm might have touched the 
 opposite wall. Here there was promise of release 
 from his dangerous situation. At the end of a 
 ledge, he saw something like poles hanging on the 
 rock, — some work of human hands, certainly. 
 Having scrambled toAvards them, he found the re- 
 mains of a ladder, made of birch poles, fastened 
 together with thongs of leather. This ladder had 
 once, no doubt, hung from top to bottom of the 
 chasm ; and its lower part, now gone, was that 
 ladder of which Peder had often spoken as a proof 
 that men had been on the island. 
 
 With a careful hand, Oddo pulled at the lad- 
 der ; and it did not give way. He tugged harder, 
 and still it only shook. He must try it ; there 
 was nothins: else to be done. It was well for him 
 now that he was used to dangerous climbmg, — that
 
 172 PEDER ABROAD. 
 
 he had had adventures on the slipper^', cracked 
 glaciers of Sulitelma, and that being on a height, 
 with precipices below, was no new situation to him. 
 He climbed, trusting as little as possible to the 
 ladder, setting his foot in preference on any pro- 
 jection of the rock, or any root of the smallest 
 shrub. More tlian one pole cracked : more than 
 one fastening gave Avay, when he had barely time 
 to shift his weight upon a better support. He 
 heard his grandfather's voice calling, and he could 
 not answer. It disturbed him, now that his joints 
 were strained, his limbs trembling, and his mouth 
 parched so that his breath rattled as it came. 
 . He reached the top, however. He sprang from 
 the edge of the precipice, unable to look down, 
 threw himself on his lace, and panted and trembled, 
 as if he had never before climbed anything less safe 
 tlian a staircase. Never before, indeed, had he done 
 anything like this. The feat was performed, — the 
 islet Mas not to him inaccessible. This thought 
 gave him strength. He sprang to his feet again, 
 and whistled, loud and shrill. He could imagine 
 the comfort this must be to Peder ; and he v.histled 
 more and more merrily till lie found himself rested 
 enough to proceed on his search for Eolf He 
 went briskly on his way, not troubling himself 
 with any thoughts of how he was to get down 
 again. 
 
 Never had he seen a place so full of M^ater-birda 
 and their nests. Their nests strewed all the ground ; 
 and they themselves were strutting and waddling, 
 fluttering and vociferating, in every direction.. 
 They Avere perfectly tame, knowing nothing of 
 men, and having had no experience of disturbance. 
 The ducks that were leading their broods allowed'
 
 PEDER ABKOAD. 173 
 
 Oddo to stroke their feathers ; and the drakes looked 
 on, without taking any offence. 
 
 " If Rolf is here," thought Oddo, '< he has been 
 living on most amiable terms with liis neiglibours." 
 
 After an anxious thought or two of Nipen, — 
 after a glance or two round the sky and shores for 
 a sign of wind, — Oddo began in earnest his quest 
 of llolf. He called his name, — gently, — then 
 louder. 
 
 Tliere was some kind of answer. Some sound 
 of human voice he heard, he was certain ; but so 
 muiiled, so dull, that whence it came he could not 
 tell. It raight even be his gi-andfather, calling 
 from below. So he crossed to quite the verge 
 of tlie little island, wishing with all his heart thai 
 the birds would be quiet, and cease their civility 
 of all answering when he spoke. When quite out 
 of liearingof Peder, Oddo called again, with scarcely 
 a hope of any result, so plain was it to his eyes that 
 no one resided on the island. On its small summit 
 there was really no intermission of birds' nests;—-' 
 no space whei'e any one had lain down ; — no sign of 
 habitation, — no vestige of food, dress, or utensils. 
 With a saddened heart, therefore, Oddo called' 
 again ; and again he was sure there Avas an answer ; " 
 though whence and what he could not make out. 
 
 He then sang a part of a chant that he had 
 learned by Rolf singing it as he sat carving his 
 share of the new pulpit. He stopped in the middle, 
 and presently believed that he heard the air con-'' 
 tinned, though the voice seemed so indistinct, aiid^ 
 the music so much as if it came from underground^^ 
 that Oddo began to recall, with some doubt and fear/- 
 the stories of the enchantment of the place. It was' 
 not long before he heard a cry from tlie water
 
 174 PEDER ABROAD. 
 
 below. Looking over the precipice he saw what 
 made him draw back in terror : he saw the very 
 thing Hund had described,— the SAvimming and 
 staring head of Rolf, and the arms thrown up in 
 the air. Not having Hujid's conscience, however, 
 and having much more curiositj^, he looked again ; 
 and then a third time. 
 
 " Are you Rolf, really ?" asked he, at last. 
 
 "Yes: but who are you.— Oddo or the demon, 
 —up there where nobody can climb ? Who are 
 vou ?" 
 
 " I will show you. We will find each other 
 out," thought Oddo, with a determination to take 
 the leap, and ascertain the truth. 
 
 He leaped, and struck the water at a sufficient 
 distance from Rolf. When he came up again, 
 they approached each other, staring, and each with 
 some doubt as to whether the other was human or 
 a demon. 
 
 " Are you really alive, Rolf?" said the one. 
 
 " To be sure I am, Oddo," said the other : " but 
 v,rhat demon carried you to the top of that rock, that 
 no man ever climbed ?" 
 
 Oddo looked mysterious, suddenly resolving to 
 keep his secret for the present. 
 
 "Not that way," said Rolf. "I have not 
 the strength I had, and I can't swim round the 
 place now. I was just resting myself when I 
 heard you call, and came out to see. Follow me 
 home." 
 
 He turned, and beg-an to swim homewards. 
 Oddo had the strongest inclination to go with him, 
 to see what would be revealed : but tliere were two 
 objections. His grandfather must be growing 
 anxious ; and he was not perfectly sure yet whether
 
 PEDEU ABROAD. 175 
 
 his guide might not be Nipen in Kolf s likeness, 
 about to lead him to some hidden prison. 
 
 " Give me j^our hand, Rolf," said the boy, bravely. 
 
 It was a real, substantial, Avarm hand. 
 
 " I don't wonder you doubt," said Rolf, " I 
 can't look much like myself, — unshaven, and 
 shrunk, and haggard as my face must be." 
 
 Oddo was now quite satisfied ; and he told of 
 the boat and his grandfather. The boat was 
 scarcely farther off than the cave ; and poor Rolf 
 was almost in extremity for di-ink. The water 
 and brandy he brought with him had been 
 finished nearly two days, and he was suffering ex- 
 tremely from thirst. He thought he could reach 
 the boat, and Oddo led the way, bidding him not 
 mind his being without clotlies till they could 
 find him some. 
 
 Crlad was the old man to hear his boy's call 
 from the water : and his face lighted up with 
 wonder and pleasure when he heard that Rolf was 
 not far behind. He lent a hand to help him into 
 the boat, and asked no questions till he had given 
 him food and drink. He reproached himself for 
 having brought neither camphor nor assafoctida, 
 to administer with the corn-brandy. Here was 
 tlie brandy, however ; and some water, and fish, 
 and bread and cloud-berries. Great was the amaze- 
 ment of Peder and Oddo at Rolfs pushing aside 
 the brandj', and seizing the water. When he had 
 drained the last drop, he even preferred the cloud- 
 berries to the brandy. A transient doubt thence 
 occurred, whether this was Rolf, after all. Rolf 
 saw it in their faces, and lauglied : and when they had 
 heard his story of what he had suffered from thirst, 
 they were quite satisfied, and wondered no longer
 
 176 PEDER ABROAD. 
 
 He was all impatience to be gone. It tried him 
 more now to think how long it would be before 
 Erica could hear of liis preservation tlian to bear 
 all that liad gone before. Being without clothes, 
 however, it was necessary to visit the cave, and 
 bring away what was there. In truth, Oddo was 
 not sorry for this. His curiosity about the cave 
 was so great that he felt it impossible to go home 
 without seeing it ; and the advantage of holding 
 the secret knowledge of such a place was one 
 which he would not give up. lie seized an 
 oar, gave another to Rolf ; and they were presently 
 off the mouth of the cave. Peder sighed at their 
 having to leave him again : but he believed what 
 Rolf said of there being no danger, and of their 
 remaining close at hand. One or the other came 
 popping up beside the boat, every minute, with 
 clothes, or net, or lines, or brandy-flask, and iinally 
 with the oars of the poor broken skift"; being 
 obliged to leave the skiff itself beliind. Rolf did 
 not forget to bring away whole handsfal of 
 beautiful shells, which he had amused himself with 
 collecting for Erica. 
 
 At last, they entered the boat again ; and while 
 they were dressing, Oddo charmed his grandfather 
 with a description of the cave, — of the dark, sound- 
 ing walls, the lofty roof, and the green tide break- 
 ing on the white sands. It almost made the 
 listener cool to hear of these things : but, as Oddo 
 had remarked, the heat had abated. It was near 
 midnight, and the sun was going to set. Their 
 row to the shore would be in the cool twilight : 
 and then they should take in companions, Avho, 
 fresh from rest, would save them the trouble of 
 rowing home.
 
 PEDER ABROAD. 177! 
 
 rr-Wlienall were too tired to talk, and the oars 
 were dipping somewhat lazily, and the breeze had 
 died away, and the sea-birds Mere quiet, old Peder, 
 who appeared to his companions to be asleep, raised 
 his head, and said, 
 
 " I heard a sob. Are you crying, Oddo ?" 
 
 " Yes, grandfather." 
 
 " What is your grief, my boy ?" 
 
 " No grief, —anything but grief now. I have 
 felt more grief than you know of though, or any- 
 body. I did not know it fully myself till now." 
 
 " Right, my boy : and right to say it out too." 
 
 " I don't care now who knows how miserable I 
 have been. I did not believe, all the time, that Ni- 
 pen had anything to do with these misfortunes " 
 
 " Right, Oddo I" exclaimed Rolf, now. 
 
 " But I was not quite certain : and how could I 
 say a word against it when I was the one to pro- 
 voke Nipen ? Now Rolf is safe, and Erica will bo 
 happy again, and I shall not feel as if everybody's 
 eyes were upon me, and know that it is only out of 
 kindness that they do not reproach me as having 
 done all the mischief, I shall hold up my head 
 again now, — as some may think I have done all 
 along : but I did not, in my own eyes,— no, not 
 in my own eyes, for all these weary days that are 
 gone." 
 
 " "Well, they are gone now," said Rolf. " Let 
 them go by and be forgotten." 
 
 " Nay, — not forgotten," said Peder. " How is 
 my boy to learn if he forgets " 
 
 " Don't fear that for me, grandfather," said 
 Oddo, as the tears still streamed down his face. 
 " No fear of that. I shall not forget these last 
 days ; — no, not as long as I live." 
 
 I
 
 ( 178 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIIT. 
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT, 
 
 Tke comrades wLo were ^vaiting and watcliing 
 on the jjoint were duly amazed to see three heads 
 in the boat, on her return ; and duly delighted to 
 find that the third was Eolf, — alive, and no ghost. 
 They asked question npon question, and Rolf an- 
 swered some fully and truly, while he showed re- 
 serve upon others ; and at last when closely 
 pressed, he declared himself too much exhausted to 
 talk, and begged permission to lie down in the 
 bottom of the boat and sleep. Upon this a long 
 silence ensued. It lasted till the farndiouse was in 
 sight at which one of the rowers was to be landed. 
 Oddo then exclaimed, 
 
 " I wonder what we have all been thinking about. 
 We have not settled a single thing about what is 
 to be said and done ; and here we are almost 
 in sight of home, and Hund's cunning eyes." 
 
 "I have settled all about it," replied Rolf, 
 raising himself up from the bottom of the boat, 
 where they all thought he had been sleeping soundly. 
 " My mind," said he, " is quite clear. The first 
 thing I have decided upon is that I may rely on 
 the honour of our friends here. You have proved 
 yovir kindness, friends, in coming on this expedi- 
 tion, but for which I should liave died in my hole,
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 179 
 
 like a superannuated bear in its den. This is a 
 story that the whole country will hear of; and our 
 grandchildren will tell it, on winter nights, when 
 there is talk of the war that brought the pirates on 
 our coasts. Your names will go abroad witii the 
 story, comrades, and, on one condition, Avitli liigh 
 honour : and tliat condition is, that you say not a 
 ■word beyond the family you live in, for the next 
 few days, of the adventure of this night, or of your 
 having seen me. More depends on this than you 
 know of now ; more than I will tell, this day, to 
 any person but my master. My good old friend 
 there A\'ill help me to a meeting with my master, 
 without asking a question as to what I have to say 
 to him. Will you not, Peder?" 
 
 " Surely. I have no doubt you are right, " re- 
 plied Peder. 
 
 Tlie neighbours were rather sorry ; but tliey 
 could not object. They smiled at Oddo, and 
 nodded encouragement, when he implored Rolf to 
 fix a time when everything might be known, and 
 to answer just this, and just that little inquiry. 
 
 " Oddo," said his grandfather, " be a man among 
 us men. Show that your honour is more to you 
 than your cin-iosity." 
 
 " Thank you, grandfather, I will. I will ask 
 only one more question ; and that Eolf will thank 
 me for. Had we not better fix some place, far 
 away from Hund's eyes and thoughts, for my 
 master and Eolf to have their talk ; and then I 
 will guide my master " 
 
 " Guide your master," cried Rolf, laughing, 
 " when your master knew every rock and every 
 track in the country vears enough before you were 
 born ! " 
 
 I 2
 
 180 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 " You did not let me finish," said Oddo. " You 
 may want a messenger, — he or you ; and / know 
 every ti'ack in the country : and there is no one 
 swifter of foot or that can keep counsel better." 
 
 " That is true, Rolf," said Peder. " If the boy 
 is too curious to know everything, it is not for the 
 sake of telling it again. If you should happen to 
 want a messenger, it may be worth attending to 
 what he says." 
 
 " I have no objection to add that to my plan, if 
 Erlingsen pleases," said Rolf. " I must see Er- 
 lingsen ; but there is another person that I must 
 make haste to see, — that I would fly to, if I could. 
 What I wish is, that my master would meet me on 
 the road to where she is ; supposing Hund to re- 
 main at home." 
 
 He was told that there was no fear of Hund's 
 roving while the bishop was daily expected. Rolf 
 having been out of the way, the whole story of the 
 journey of the bishop of Tronyem had to be told 
 him. It made him thoughtful ; and he dropped a 
 word or two of satisfaction, as if it had thrown 
 new light upon what he was thinking of. 
 
 " All this," said he, " only makes me wish the 
 more to see Erlingsen immediately. I should say 
 the best way will be for you to set me ashore some 
 way short of home, and ask Erlingsen to meet me 
 at the Black Tarn. There cannot be a quieter 
 place ; and I shall be so far on my way to the seater." 
 
 " If you will just make a looking-glass of the 
 Black Tarn," said Oddo, " You will see that you 
 have no business to carry such a face as yours to 
 the seater. Erica will die of terror at you for the 
 mountain-demon, before you can persuade her it is 
 only you."
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 181 
 
 *' I was thinking," observed one of the rowers, 
 who relished the idea of going down to posterity in 
 a wonderful story, — " I was just thinking that your 
 wisest way will be to take a rest in my bed at 
 Holberg's, without anybody knowing, and shave 
 yourself with my razor, and dress in my Sunday 
 clothes, and so show yourself to your betrothed in 
 such a trim as that she will be glad to see you." 
 
 " Do so, Rolf," urged Peder. Every body said 
 " do so," and agreed that Erica would suffer far 
 less by remaining five or six hours longer in her 
 present state of mind, than by seeing her lover 
 look like a ghastly savage, or perhaps hearing that 
 he was lying by the road side, dying of his exer- 
 tions to reach her. Rolf tried to laugh at all this ; 
 but he could not contradict it. He would not hear 
 a word of any messenger being sent. He declared 
 that it would only torment her, as she would not 
 believe in his return till she saw him : and he 
 dropped something about every body being so 
 wanted at home that nobody ought to stray. 
 
 All took place as it was settled in the boat. 
 Before the people on Holberg's farm had come in 
 to breakfast, Rolf M'as snug in bed, with a large 
 pitcher of whey by the bedside, to quench his still 
 insatiable thirst. No one but the Holbergs knew 
 of his being there ; and he got away unseen in the 
 afternoon, rested, shaven, and dressed, so as to look 
 more like himself, though still haggard. Packing 
 his old clothes into a bundle, which he carried 
 with a stick over his shoulder, and laden with no- 
 thing else but a few rye-cakes, and a flask of the 
 everlasting corn-brandy, he set forth, thanking his 
 hosts very heartily for their care, and somewhat 
 mysteriously assuring them that they would hear
 
 182 PLOT ANB COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 something soon, and that meantime they had better 
 not have to be sought far from home. 
 
 As lie expected, he met no one whom he knew. 
 Nine-tenths of the neighbours were far away on 
 the seaters ; and of tlie small remainder, almost all 
 were attending the bishop on the opposite shore of 
 tlie lake. Rolf shook his head at every deserted 
 farm-house that he passed, thinking how the pirates 
 might ransack the dwellings if they sliould happen 
 to discover that few inhabitants remained in them 
 but those whose limbs were too old to climb the 
 mountain. He shook his head again when he 
 thought what consternation he might spread through 
 these dwellings by dropping at tlie doors the news 
 of how near the pirate schooner lay. It seemed to 
 be out of the people's minds now because it was 
 out of sight, and the bishop had become visible in- 
 stead. As for the security which some talked of 
 from there being so little worth taking in the 
 Isordland farm-houses,— this might be true if only 
 one house was to be attacked, and that one defended : 
 but half a dozen ruffians, coming ashore, to search 
 eight or ten undefended houses in a day, might 
 gather enough booty to pay them for their trouble. 
 Of money they would lind little or none ; but in 
 some families there were gold chains, crosses, and 
 ear-rings, which had come down from a remote 
 generation ; or silver goblets and tankards. There 
 were goats worth carrying away for their milk, 
 and spirited horses and their harness, to sell at a 
 distance. There were stores of the finest bed and 
 table linen in the world ; sacks of flour, cellars full 
 of ale, kegs of brandy, and a mass of tobacco m 
 every house. Fervently did Rolf wish, as he passed 
 by these comfortable dwellings, that the enemy.
 
 PLOT AND COUXTERPLOT. 183 
 
 would cast no eye or thought upon their comforts 
 till he should have given such information in the 
 proper quarters as should deprive them of the 
 power of doing mischief in this neighboxirhood. 
 
 Leaving the last of the farm-houses behind, he 
 ascended the ravine, and came out upon the expanse 
 of rich herbage which Erica had trodden but a 
 few days before. He thouglit, as she had done, of 
 his own description of their journeying together to 
 the seater, and of the delight with which she would 
 leap from the cart to walk with him, on the first 
 sight of the waving grass upon the upland. His 
 heart beat joyously at the thought, instead of 
 mourning like hers. He was transported with hap- 
 piness when he thought how near he was to her 
 now, and on the eve of a season of delight, — a few 
 balmy summer weeks upon the pastures, to be fol- 
 lowed by his marriage. This atiair of the pirates 
 once finished, Avas ever man so happy as he was 
 going to be ? The thought made him spring as 
 lightly through the tall grass that lay between him 
 and the Black Tarn as the reindeer from point to 
 point of the mountain steep. 
 
 The breeze blew in his face, refreshing him with 
 its coolness, and with the fragrance of the birch, 
 with which it was loaded. But it brought some- 
 thing else, — a transient sound which surprised 
 Rolf, — voices of men, who seemed, if he could 
 judge from so rapid a hint, to be talking angrily. 
 Pie began to consider whom, besides Oddo, Erling- 
 sen could have thought it safe or necessary to bring 
 with him, or whether it was somebody met with 
 by chance. At all events, it would be wisest not 
 to show himself, and to approach with all possible 
 caution. Cautiously therefore he drew near, keep-
 
 184 ri.OT AND COUNTERPLOT. 
 
 ing a vigilant watch all around, and ready to pop 
 down into the grass on any alarm. Being unable 
 to see any one near the tarn, he was convinced the 
 talkers must be seated under the crags on its mar- 
 gin ; and he therefore made a circuit, to get be- 
 hind the rocks, and then climbed a huge fragment, 
 which seemed to have been toppled doAvn from 
 some steep, and to have rolled to the brink of the 
 water. Two stunted pines grew out from the sum- 
 mit of this crag; and between these pines Rolf 
 placed himself, and looked down from thence. 
 
 Tm'O men sat on the ground in the shadow of the 
 rock. One was Hund, and the other must un- 
 doubtedly be one of the pirate crew. His dress, 
 arms, and broken language all showed him to be 
 so : and it was, in fact, the same man that Erica 
 had met near the same place ; though that she had 
 had such an adventure was the last thing her lover 
 dreamed of as he surveyed the man's figure from 
 above. 
 
 Tliis man appeared surly. Hund was extremely 
 agitated. 
 
 " It is very hard," said he, " when all I want is 
 to do no harm to anybody, — neither to my old 
 friends nor my new acquaintances, — that I cannot 
 be let alone. I have done too much mischief in 
 my life already. The demons have made sport of 
 me ; — it is their sport that I have as many lives to 
 answer for as any man of twice my age in Nord- 
 land ; and now that I would be harmless for the 
 rest of my days " 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself to talk about your 
 days," interrupted the pirate ; " they will be too 
 few to be worth speaking of, if you do not put 
 yourself under our orders again. You are a de-
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT. 185 
 
 serter, — and as a deserter you go back with me, 
 unless you choose to go as a comrade." 
 
 " And what miglit I expect that your orders 
 would be, if I went with you ?" 
 
 " You know very well that we want you for a 
 guide. That is all you are worth. In a fight, 
 you would only be in the way — unless indeed you 
 could contrive to get out of the way." 
 
 " Tlien you would not expect me to fight against 
 my master and his people ?" 
 
 " Nobody was ever so foolish as to expect you 
 to fight, more or less, I should think. No, your 
 business would be to pilot us to Erlingsen's, and 
 answer truly all our questiouo about their ways and 
 doings." 
 
 " Surprise them in their sleep !" muttered Hund. 
 " Wake them up with the light of their own burn- 
 ing roofs! And they would know me by that 
 light ! They would point me out to the bishop ; — 
 they would find time in their hurry to mark me for 
 the monster they might well think me !" 
 
 " Yes: you would be in the front, of course," 
 observed the pirate. " But there is one comfort 
 for you : — if you are so earnest to see the bishop 
 as you told me you were, my plan is the best. 
 When once we lock him down on board our 
 schooner, you can have him all to yourself. You 
 can confess your sins to him the whole day long ; 
 for nobody else will want a word witli either of 
 you. You can show him your enchanted island, 
 down in the fiord, and see if he can lay the ghost 
 for you." 
 
 Hund sprang to his feet in an agony of passion. 
 The well-armed pirate was up as soon as he. Rolf 
 
 i3
 
 186 PLOT AND COUNTEEPLOT. 
 
 drew back two paces, to be out of sight, if by- 
 chance they should look up, and armed himself 
 with a heavy stone. He heard the pirate say 
 
 '• You can try to run away, if you like : I shall 
 shoot you through the head before you have gone 
 five yards. And you may refuse to return with 
 me ; and then I shall know how to report of you 
 to my captain. I shall tell him that you are lying 
 at the bottom of this lake, — if it has a bottom, — 
 with a stone tied round your neck, like a drowned 
 wild cat. I hope you may chance to find your 
 enemy there, to make the place the pleasanter." 
 
 Rolf could not resist the impulse to send his 
 heavy stone into the middle of the tarn, to see the 
 effect upon the men below. He gave a good cast, 
 on the very instant ; and prodigious was the splash, 
 as the stone hit the water, precisely in the middle 
 of the little lake. The men did not see the cause 
 of the commotion that followed ; but, starting and 
 turning at the spla^^h, they saw the rings spreading 
 in the dark waters which had lain as still as the 
 heavens but a moment before. How could two 
 guilty, superstitious men doubt that the waters 
 were thrown into agitation by the pirate's last 
 words. Yet they glanced fearfully round the 
 whole landscape, far and near. They saw no 
 living thing but a haAvk which, startled from its 
 perch on a scathed pine, was wheeling round ia 
 the air in an unsteady flight. The pirate pointed 
 to the bird with one hand, while he laid the other 
 on the pistol in his belt. 
 
 " Yes," said Hund trembling, " the bird saw it. 
 Did you see it?" 
 
 "See what?"
 
 VLOT A^•D COUNTEKPLOT. 187 
 
 " The water-sprite, Uldra. Before you throw 
 me in to the water-sprite, we will see which is the 
 
 strongest. 
 
 And in desperation Hund, unarmed as he was, 
 threw himself upon the pirate, — sprang at his 
 throat,— and both wrestled with all their force. 
 Solf could not but look ; and he saw that the 
 pirate had drawn forth his pistol, and that all 
 would be over with Hund in a moment if he did 
 not interfere. He stood forward between the two 
 pine stems, on the ridge of the rock, and uttered 
 very loud the mournful cry which had so terrified 
 his enemies at Vogel islet. The combatants tiew 
 asunder, as if parted by a flash of lightning. Both 
 looked up to the point whence the sound had come; 
 and there they saw what they supposed to be Rolf's 
 spectre, pointing at them, and the eyes staring as 
 when looking up from the waters of the fiord. 
 How could these guilty and superstitious men 
 doubt that it was Rolf's spectre which, ^rising 
 through the centre of the tarn, had caused the late 
 comniotion in its waters? Away they fled,— at 
 first in difterent directions : but it amused Rolf to 
 observe that, rather than be alone, Hrnd turned to 
 follow^ the track of the tyrant wdio had just been 
 threatening and insulting him, and driving him to 
 struggle for his life. 
 
 " Ay," thought Rolf, " it is his conscience that 
 makes me so much more terrible to him than that 
 ruflnan. I never hurt a hair of his head ; and yet, 
 through his conscience, my face is worse than the 
 blasting lightning to his eyes.— When will all the 
 people hereabouts find out, as my mistress said 
 when I was a boy (apt, as boys are, to remember 
 the wise things that such a gentle mistress says)—
 
 188 PLOT AND C0UNTERP1.0T. 
 
 when will people find out that the demons and 
 sprites they live in fear of all come out of their 
 own heads and hearts? Here, in Hund's case, is 
 guilt shaping out visions whichever way he turns. 
 Not one of his ghost-stories is there, for months 
 past, but I am at the bottom of; and that only 
 through his consciousness of hating and wanting to 
 injure me. Then, in the opposite case, — of one as 
 innocent as the whitest flower in all this pasture, — 
 in my Erica's case, — the ghosts she sees are all 
 from passions that leave her heart pure, but be- 
 wilder her eyes. It is the fear that she was early 
 made subject to, and the grief that she feels for her 
 mother, that create demons and sprites for her. 
 The day may come, if I can make her happy 
 enough, when I may convince her that, for all 
 she now thinks, she never yet saw a token of any 
 evil spirit : — of any spirit but the Good One that 
 rules all things. What a sigh she will give, — 
 what a free breathing hers will be, the day when I 
 can show her, as plainly as I see myself, that it is 
 nothing but her own fears and griefs that have 
 crossed her path, and she never doubting that they 
 were demons and sprites! Heigh-ho! Where is 
 Erlingsen ? It is nothing short of cruel to keep 
 me waiting to-day, of all days ; and in this spot, of 
 all places,— almost within sight of the seater where 
 njy poor Erica sits pining, and seeing nothing of 
 the pastures, but only, with her mind's eye, the 
 sea-caves where she thinks these limbs are stretched, 
 cold and helpless, as in a grave. A pretty story I 
 shall have to tell her, if she will only believe it, of 
 another sort of sea-cave." 
 
 To pass the time, he took out the shells he had 
 collected for Erica, and admired them afresh, and
 
 PLOT AND COUNTERrLOT. 189 
 
 planned where she would place them, so as best to 
 adorn their sitting-room, when tliey were married. 
 Erlingsen arrived before he had been thus engaged 
 five minutes ; and indeed before he had been more 
 than a quarter of an hour altogether at the place 
 of meeting. 
 
 " My dear master!" exclaimed Rolf, on seeing 
 him coming, " have pity on Erica and me ; and 
 hear what I have to tell you, that I may be gone.'' 
 
 " You shall be gone at once, my good fellow ! 
 I will walk with you, and you shall tell your story 
 as we go." 
 
 Rolf shook his head, and objected that he could 
 not, in conscience, take Erlingsen a step further 
 from home than was necessary, as he was only too 
 much wanted there. 
 
 " Is that Oddo yonder?" he asked. " He said 
 you would bring him." 
 
 " Yes : he has grown trustworthy of late. We 
 have had fewer heads and hands among us than the 
 times require since Peder grew old and blind, and 
 you were missing, and Ilund had to be watched 
 instead of trusted. So we have been obliged to 
 make a man of Oddo, tliough he has the years of a 
 boy, and the curiosity of a woman. I brought him 
 now, thinking that a messenger might be Avanted, 
 to raise the country against the pirates : and I be- 
 lieve Oddo, in his present mood, will be as sure as 
 we know he can be swift." 
 
 " It is well we have a messenger. Where is the 
 bishop?" 
 
 " Just going to his boat, at this moment, I doubt 
 not," replied Erlingsen, measuring with his eye the 
 length of the shadows. " The bishop is to sup 
 with us this evening."
 
 ISO PLOT AND COUNTEIIPLOT. 
 
 " And how long to stay ?" 
 
 " Over to-morrow night, at the least. If many of 
 the neighbours should bring their business to him, 
 it may be longer. My little Frolich will be vexed 
 that he should come while she is absent. Indeed I 
 should not mucli wonder if she sets out homeward 
 when she hears the ne^'s you will carry, so that we 
 shall see her at breakfast." 
 
 " It is more likely," observed Rolf, " that we 
 shall see the bisliop up the mountain at breakfast. 
 Ah ! you stare : but you will find I am not out of 
 my wits when you hear wliat has come to my 
 knoAvledge since we parted, and especially within 
 this hour." 
 
 Erlingseji Avas indeed presently convinced that 
 it was the intention of the pirates to carry off the 
 bishop of Tronyem, in order that his ransom might 
 make up to them for the poverty of the coasts. 
 He heard besides such an ample detail of the plun- 
 dering practices whicli Eolf had witnessed from his 
 retreat as convinced him that the strangers, though 
 in great force, must be prevented by a vigorous 
 effort from doing further mischief. The first thing 
 to be done was to place the bishop in safety on the 
 mountain ; and the next was so to raise the country 
 as that these pirates should be certainly taken when 
 they should come within reach. 
 
 Oddo was called, and entrusted with the informa- 
 tion which had to be conveyed to the magistrate at 
 Saltdalen. He carried his master's tobacco-pouch 
 as a token, — this pouch, of Lapland make, being 
 well known to the magistrate as Erlingsen's. Oddo 
 was to tell him of the danger of the bishop, and to 
 request him to send to the spot whatever force» 
 could be mustered at Saltdalen ; and moreover to
 
 PLOT AST) COUNTERPLOT. 191 
 
 issue the budstick,* to raise tlie countn'. The 
 pirates having once entered the upper reach of tlie 
 fiord, mitfht thus be prevented from ever going 
 back again, and from annoying any more tlie 
 neighbourhood wliich they had so long infested. 
 
 Erlingsen promised to be wary on his return 
 homewards, so as not to fall in with the two whom 
 Eolf had put to flight. He said, however, that if 
 by chance he should cross their path, he did not 
 doubt he could also make them run, by acting the 
 ghost or demon, though he had not had Rolf's ad- 
 vantage of disappearing in the fiord before their 
 eyes. They were already terrified enough to fly 
 from anything that called itself a ghost. 
 
 The three then went on their several ways, — 
 Oddo speeding over the ridges like a sprite on a 
 night errand, and Rolf striding up the grassy slopes 
 like (what he Avas) a lover anxious to be beside his 
 betrothed, after a perilous absence. 
 
 * When it is desired to send a summons or otlier message 
 over a district in Korway -nliere the dwellings are scattered, 
 the budstick is sent round by running messengers. It is a 
 stick made hoUo-w, to hold the magistrate's order, and a 
 screw ^t one end to secure the paper in its place. Each 
 messenger runs a certain distance, and then delivers it to 
 another, who must carry it forward. If any one is absent;, 
 the budstick must be laid upon the " housefather's great 
 chair, by the fire-side ;" and if the house is locked, it must 
 be fastened outside the door, so as to be seen as soon as the 
 host returns. Upon great occasions, it was formerly found 
 that a M-hole region could be raised in a verj- short time. 
 The method is still ia use for appoiutraents on public 
 business.
 
 ( 192 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 This was the day when the first cheese of the sea- 
 son was found to be perfect and complete. Frolich, 
 Stiorna, and Erica examined it carefully, and pro- 
 nounced it a well-pressed, excellent gammel cheese, 
 such as they should not be ashamed to set before 
 the bishop, and therefore one which ought to 
 satisfy the demon. It now only remained to carry 
 it to its destination ; — to the ridge where the first 
 cheese of the season was always laid for the demon, 
 and where, it appeared, he regularly came for his 
 offering, as no vestige of the gift was ever to be 
 found the next morning, — only the round place in 
 the grass where it had lain, and the marks of some 
 feet which had trodden the herbage. • 
 
 •' Help me up with it upon_ my head, Stiorna," 
 said Erica. " If Frolich looks at it any longer, 
 she will grudge such a cheese going where it 
 ought. Is not that the thought that is in your 
 mind at this moment, Frolich, dear?" 
 
 " No. I do not grudge it," replied Frolich. 
 " My mother says it is right freely to give what- 
 ever the feelings of those who help us require." 
 
 " And you do thus freely give, — my mistress 
 and all who belong to her, without a sign of 
 grrudging," declared Erica. " But would you not
 
 MIDNIGHT. 193 
 
 be better pleased if the gift required was a buucli 
 of moss-ttowers, or a baslcet of cloud-berries ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so ; — yet, no ; I think not. Our good 
 cheeses are not wasted. They do not lie antl rot 
 in the sun and the mists. Somebody has the 
 benefit of them, whether it be the demon or not." 
 
 " Who else should it be ?" asked Stiorna. 
 " There is not a man, woman, or cliild, on any 
 seater in Sulitelma, Avho would touch a cheese laid 
 out for the mountain-demon." 
 
 " Perhaps not. I never watched to see what 
 happens when the gammel cheese is left alone. I 
 only say I do not grudge our cheese, as somebody 
 has it. I will carry it myself, in token of good- 
 will, if you will let me, Erica. Here, — shift it 
 upon my head." 
 
 Erica would not hear of this, and began to walk 
 away with her load, begging Stiorna to watch the 
 cattle, — not once to take her eye off them, till she 
 should return to assume her watch for the night 
 hours. 
 
 " I know why you will not let me carry the 
 cheese," said Frolich, smiling. " You are think- 
 ing of Oddo with the cake and ale. Nobody but 
 you must deposit offerings henceforward. You 
 are afraid I should eat up that cheese, almost as 
 heavy as myself. You think there would not be a 
 paring left for the demon, by the time I got to the 
 ridge." 
 
 " Not so," replied Erica. *' I think that he to 
 whom this cheese is destined had rather be served 
 by one who does not laugh at him. And it is a 
 safer plan for you, Frolich." 
 
 And off went Erica with her cheese. 
 
 The ridore on which she laid it Avould have
 
 194 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 tempted her at any other time to sit down. It 
 was green and soft witli mosses, and offered as 
 eomfoi'table a couch to one tired with the labours 
 of the day as any to be found at the farm. But 
 to-night it was to be haunted : so Erica mei-ely 
 staid to do her duty. She selected the softest tuft 
 of moss on which to lay the cheese, put her offer- 
 ing reverently down, and then diligently gathered 
 the brightest blossoms from the herbage around, and 
 strewed them over the cheese. She then walked 
 rapidly homewards, without once looking behind 
 her. If she had had the curiosity and courage to 
 watch for a little while, she would have seen her 
 offering carried oft' by an odd little figure, with 
 notliing very terrible in its appearance ; namely, a 
 Avoman about four feet high, with a flat face, and 
 eyes wide apart, wearing a reindeer garment like a 
 waggoner's frock, a red comforter about lier neck, 
 a red clotli cap on her head, a blue worsted sash, 
 and leather boots up to the knee : — in short, such 
 a Lapland girl as Erica would have given a rye- 
 cake to as charity, but would not have thought of 
 asking to sit down even in her master's kitchen ; — 
 for the Noi'wegian servants are very higliand saucy 
 towards tlie Lapps who wander to their doors. It 
 is not surprising that the Lapps who pitch their 
 tents on the mountain should like having a fine 
 g-ammel cheese for the trouble of picking it up : 
 and the company Avhose tents Erica had passed on 
 her way up to the seater kept a good look-out upon 
 all the dairy people round, and carried off every 
 cheese meant for the demon. While Erica was 
 gatliering and strewing the blossoms, this girl was 
 hidden near ; and, trusting to Erica's not looking 
 behind her, the rogue swept off the blossoms, and
 
 MIDNIGHT. 195 
 
 threw them at her, before she had gone ten yards, 
 trundled the cheese down the other side of the ritlge, 
 made a circuit, and was at tlie tents witli her prize 
 before supper time. Wliat would Erica have 
 thought if she had beheld tliis fruit of so many 
 niiikings and skinnnings, so much boiling and 
 pressing, devoured by greedy Lapps, in their dirty 
 tent ? 
 
 On her way homewards Erica remembered that 
 this was Midsummer Eve, — a season when her 
 mother was in her thoughts more than at any other 
 time; for Midsummer Eve is sacred in Isorway to 
 the wood-demon, whose victim she believed her 
 mother to have been. Every woodman sticks his 
 axe into a tree that night, tiiat the demon may, if 
 he pleases, begin the work of the year by felling- 
 trees, or making a faggot. Erica hastened to the 
 seater, to discover whether Erliiigsen had left his 
 axe behind, and whether Jan had one with him. 
 
 Jan had an axe, and, remembering his duty, 
 tliough tired and sleepy, was just going to the 
 nearest pine-grove with it when Erica reached 
 home. She seized Erlingsen's axe and went also, 
 and stuck it in a tree, just within the verge of the 
 grove, which was in that part a thicket, irom the 
 growth of underwood. This thicket was so near 
 the back of the dairy that the two were home in 
 five minutes. Yet they found Frolich almost as 
 impatient as if they had been gone an hour. She 
 asked whetlier their heathen worship was done at 
 last, so that all might go to bed ; or whether they 
 were to be kept awake till midnight by more mum- 
 mery ? 
 
 Erica replied by showing that Jan was already 
 gone to his loft over the shed, and begging leave to
 
 196 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 comb and curl Frolich's hair,* and see her to rest 
 at once. Stiorna was asleep ; and Erica herself 
 meant to watch the cattle this night. Tliey lay 
 couched in the grass, all near each other, and 
 within view, in the mild slanting sunshine : and 
 here she intended to sit, on the bench outside the 
 home-shed, and keep her eye on them till morning. 
 
 " You are thinking of the bishop of Tronyem's 
 cattle," said Frolich. 
 
 " I am, dear. This is Midsummer Eve, you 
 know, — when, as we think, all the spirits love to 
 be abroad." 
 
 " You will die before your time. Erica," said the 
 weary girl. " These spirits give you no rest of 
 body or mind. What a day's work we have done ! 
 And now you are going to watch till twelve, 
 one, two o'clock ! I could not keep awake," she 
 said, yawning, " if there was one demon at the 
 head of the bed, and another at the foot, and the 
 underground people running like mice all over the 
 floor." 
 
 " Then go and sleep, dear. I will fetch your 
 comb, if you will just keep an eye on the cattle for 
 the moment I am gone." 
 
 As Erica combed Frolich's long fair hair, and 
 admired its shine in the sunlight, and twisted it u > 
 behind, and curled it on each side, the weary girl 
 leaned her head against her, and dropped asleep. 
 When all was done, she just opened her eyes to 
 find her way to bed, and say 
 
 " You may as well go to bed comfortably ; for 
 5'ou will certainly drop asleep here, if you don't 
 there." 
 
 * Hair-brushes were unknown at tlie date of this stoiy.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 197 
 
 " Not with my pretty Spiel in sight. I would 
 not lose my white heifer for seven nights' sleep. 
 You will thank me when you find your cow, and 
 all the rest, safe in the morning. Good night, 
 dear." 
 
 And Erica closed the door after lier young mis- 
 tress, and sat down on the bench outside with her 
 face towards the sun, her lure by her side, and her 
 knitting in her hands. She was glad that the herd 
 lay so that by keeping her eye on them she could 
 watch that wonder of Midsummer night within the 
 Arctic Circle, the dipping of the sun below the 
 horizon, to appear again immediately. She had 
 never been far enough to the north to see the sun 
 complete its circle without disappearing at all ; 
 but she did not wish it. She thought the soften- 
 ing of the light which she was about to witness, 
 and the speedy renewing of day, more wonderful 
 and beautiful. 
 
 She sat, soothed by her employment and by the 
 tranquillity of the scene, and free from fear. She 
 had done her duty by the spirits of the mountain 
 and the wood ; and in case of the appearance of 
 any object that she did not like, she could slip into 
 the house in an instant. Her thoughts were there- 
 fore wholly Eolf's. She could endure now to con- 
 template a long life spent in doing honour to his 
 memory by the industrious discharge of duty. She 
 would watch over Peder, and receive his last 
 breath, — an office which should have been Rolf's. 
 She would see another houseman arrive, and take 
 possession of that house, and become betrotlied and 
 marry : and no one, — not even her watchful mis- 
 tress, should see a trace of repining in her coun- 
 tenance, or hear a tone of bitterness from her lips.
 
 198 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 It should be her part to see that others were happier 
 than she had been ; that no presumption or care- 
 lessness should bring on them the displeasure of 
 powerful beings. However weary her heart might 
 be, she would dance at every wedding, — of fellow- 
 servant or of young mistress. She would cloud 
 nobody's happiness, but would do all she could to 
 make Rolf's memory pleasant to those who had 
 known him, and wished him well. She thought 
 she could do all this in prospect of the day when 
 her grave should be dug beside those of Peder and 
 Ulla, and when her spirit should meet Rolf, and 
 learn at length how he had died, and be assured 
 that he had watched o^er her as faithfully as she 
 had remembered him. 
 
 As these thoughts passed through her mind, 
 maki g her future life appear shorter and less 
 dreary than she could have imagined possible a 
 few hours before, her fingers were busily at M'ork, 
 and her eyes rested on the lovely scene before her, 
 — the flowery pasture in which the dappled herd 
 were lying, while far, far beyond, a yellow glitter- 
 ing expanse of waters spread as if to receive the 
 sinking sun. From the elevation at which she 
 was, it appeared as if the ocean swelled up into the 
 very sky, so higli was the horizon line ; and between 
 lay a vast region of rock and river, hill and dale, 
 forest, fiord, and town, part in golden sunlight, 
 part in deep shadow, but all, though bright as the 
 skies could make it, silent as became the hour. 
 As Erica found that she could glance at the sun 
 itself Avithout losing sight of the cattle, which still 
 lay within her indirect vision, she carefully watched 
 the descent of the orb, anxious to observe precisely 
 when it should disappear, and how soon its golden
 
 MIDNIGHT. 199 
 
 spark ^voula kindle up again from the "vvaves. 
 When its lower rim was just touching the waters, 
 its circle seemed to be of an enormous size, and its 
 ■whole mass to be flaming. Its appearance was 
 very iinlike that of the comparatively small, com- 
 pact, brilliant luminary wliich rides the sky at 
 noon. Erica was just thinking so, wlien a rustle 
 ill the thicket, within the pine grove, made her in- 
 voluntarily turn her head in that direction. In- 
 stantly remembering that it was a common device 
 of the underground people for one of them to 
 make the watcher look away, in order that others 
 might drive off the cattle, she resumed her duty, 
 and gazed stedfastly at the lierd. They were safe 
 — neither rechiced to the size of mice, nor wander- 
 ing off, though she had let her eye glance away 
 from them. 
 
 The sky, however, did not look itself. There 
 were two suns in it. Now, Erica really did quite 
 forget the herd for some time, even her dear white 
 heifer, — while she stared bewildered at the spectacle 
 before lier eyes. There was one sun, the suia 
 slie had always known, — half sunk in the sea, 
 while above it hung another, round and complete, 
 somewhat less bright, perliaps, but as distinct and 
 plain before her eyes as any object in heaven or 
 earth had ever been. Her work dropped from her 
 hands, as she covered lier eyes for a moment. 
 She started to her feet, and then looked again. It 
 was still there, though tlie lower sun was almost 
 gone. As she stood gazing, she once more heard 
 the rustle in the wood. ThouQ:h it crossed her 
 mind that the wood-demon was doubtless there 
 making choice of his axe and liis tree, she could 
 not move, and liad not even a ■wish to take refuge
 
 200 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 in the house, so wonderful was this spectacle,— 
 the clearest instance of enchantment she had ever 
 seen. Was it meant for good, — a token that the 
 coming year was to be a doubly bright one ? If 
 not, how was she to understand it ? 
 
 " Erica !" cried a voice at this moment from 
 the wood, — a voice which thrilled her whole frame. 
 " My Erica !" 
 
 She not only looked towards the wood now, but 
 sprang forwards : but her eyes were so dazzled by 
 having gazed at the sun that she could see nothing. 
 
 'o & 
 
 Then she remembered how many forms the cunning 
 demon could assume, and she turned back thinking 
 how cruel it was to delude her with her lover's 
 voice, when instead of his form she should doubt- 
 less see some horrid monster ; most likely a hippo- 
 potamus, or, at best, an overgrown bear, showing 
 its long, sharp, white teeth, to terrify her. She 
 turned in haste, and laid her hand on the latch of 
 the door, glancing once more at the horizon. 
 
 There was now no sun at all. The burnish was 
 gone from every point of the landscape, and a mild 
 twilight reigned. 
 
 One good omen had vanished; but there was 
 still enchantment around ; for again she heard the 
 thrilling " Erica!" 
 
 There was no huge beast glaring through the 
 pine stems, and trampling down the thicket ; but, 
 instead, there was the figure of a man advancing 
 from the shadow into the pasture. 
 
 " Why do you take that form?" said the trem- 
 bling girl, sinking down on the bench, " I had 
 rather have seen you as a bear. Did you not find 
 the axe? I laid "it for you. Pray,— pray, come 
 no nearer."
 
 MIDNIGHT 201 
 
 *' I must, my love, to show j'ou that it is your 
 ©■vvn Rolf. Erica, do not let your superstition 
 come ibr ever between us." 
 
 She held out lier arms ; — slie could not rise, 
 though she strove to do so. Eolf sat beside lier, 
 — slie felt his kisses on her foreliead,— she felt his 
 heart beat, — she felt tliat not even a spirit could 
 assume the very tones of that voice. 
 
 " Do forgive me," she murmured ; but it is 
 Midsummer Eve ; and I felt so sure " 
 
 '* As sure of my being the demon as I am sure 
 there is no cruel spirit here, though it is Midsum- 
 mer Eve. Look, love ! see how tlie day smiles 
 upon us !" 
 
 And he pointed to where a golden star seemed 
 to kindle on the eih^e of the sea. It was the sun 
 again, rising after its few minutes of absence. 
 
 " I saw two just now," cried Erica, — " two suns. 
 "Where are we, really? And how is all this? 
 And where do you come fiom ?' 
 
 And she gazed, still wistfully, — doubtfully, in 
 her lover's face. 
 
 " I will show you," said he smiling. And Mhile 
 he still held her with one arm, lest, in some sudden 
 fancy, she should fly him as a gliost, he used the 
 other hand to empty his pockets of the beautiful 
 shells he had brought, tossing them into her lap. 
 
 "Did 5'ou ever see such, Erica? I have been 
 where they lie in heaps. Did you ever see such 
 beauties ?" 
 
 '• I never did, Eolf; you have been at the bot- 
 tom of the sea." 
 
 And once more she shrank from what she took for 
 the grasp of a drowned man. 
 
 " Kot to the bottom, love," replied he, still 
 
 K
 
 202 MIDNiGIIT. 
 
 clasping her hand. " Our fiord is deep ; perhaps 
 as deep as they say. I dived as deep as a man 
 may, to come up with tb.e breath in liis body ; but 
 I could never find the bottom. Did I not tell you 
 that I should go down as far as Vogel island ; and 
 that I should there be safe ?" 
 
 " Yes ! You did— you did !" 
 
 " Well ! I went to Vogel island ; and here I 
 am safe !" 
 
 " It is you ! We are together again !" she ex- 
 claimed, now in full belief. " Thank God ! Thank 
 God !" 
 
 As she wept upon his shoulder, he told her 
 where he had been, what perils he had met, how 
 he had been saved, and how he had arrived the 
 first moment he could ; and tlien he went on to de- 
 clare that their enemies would soon be disposed of, 
 that they would be married, that they would 
 take possession of Peder's house, and make him 
 comfortable, and would never be separated again as 
 long as they lived. 
 
 They did not heed the time, as they talked and 
 talked ; and Rolf was just telling how he had more 
 than once seen a double sun, without finding any 
 remarkable consequences follow, when Stiorna 
 came fortli Avith her milk-pails, just before four 
 o' clock. She started and dropped one of her pails, 
 wlien she saw M'ho was sitting on the bench ; and 
 Erica started no less at the thought of how com- 
 pletely she had forgotten the cattle and the under- 
 gi'ound people all this time. The herd was all 
 .safe, however, — every cow as large as life, and 
 looking exactly like itself: so that the good for- 
 tune of this IMidsummer Eve liad been perfect
 
 ( 203 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MOUNTAIN FARE. 
 
 The appearance of Stiorna reminded the lovers 
 that it was time to begin the business of the morn- 
 ing. They startled Stiorna with the news that a 
 large company was coming to breakfast. Being in 
 no very amiable temper towards happy lovers, she 
 refused after a moment's thought to believe what 
 they said, and sat down sulking to her task of 
 milking. So Rolf proceeded to rouse Jan ; and 
 Erica stepped to Frolich's bedside, and waked her 
 with a kiss. 
 
 " Erica ! No, can it be ?" said the active girl, 
 up in a moment. " You look too happy to be 
 Erica." 
 
 " Erica never was so happy before, dear ; tliat 
 is the reason. You were right, Frolich,— bless 
 your kind heart for it ! Rolf was not dead. He 
 is here." 
 
 Frolich gallopaded round the room, like one 
 crazy, before proceeding to dress. 
 
 " Whenever you like to stop," said Erica, 
 laughing, " I have some good news for you too." 
 
 " I am to go and see the bishop !" cried Frolicli, 
 clapping her hands, and whirling round on one 
 foot like an opera-dancer. 
 
 " Not so, Frolich." 
 
 " There now ! you promise me good news ; and 
 
 K 2
 
 204 MOUNTAIN FAKE. 
 
 then you won't let me go and see the bishop, "when 
 you know that is the only thing in the world I 
 want or wish for !'*^ 
 
 " Would it not be a great compliment to you, 
 and save you a great deal of trouble, if the bishop 
 Avere to come here to see you ?" 
 
 "Ah! that would be a pretty sight! i The 
 bishop of Tronyem over the ankles in the sodden, 
 trodden pasture, — sticking in the mud of Sulitelma ! 
 The bisliop of Tronyem sleeping upon hay in the 
 loft, and eating his dinner off a wooden platter ! 
 Tliat would be tlie most Avonderful sight that 
 Nordland ever saw." 
 
 " Prepare, tlien, to see the bishop of Tronyem 
 drink liis morning coffee out of a wooden bowl. 
 Meantime, I must go and grind his cofiee.— 
 Seriously, Frolich, you must make haste to dress 
 and help. The pirates want to carry off the bishop 
 for ransom. Erlingsen is raising the country. 
 Huud is coming here as a prisoner ; and the bishop, 
 and my mistress, and Orga, to be safe ; and if you 
 do not lielp me, I shall have nothing ready ; for 
 Stiorna does not like the news." 
 
 Kever had Frolicli dressed more quickly. She 
 thought it very hard that the bishop should see lier 
 when she had nothing but her dairy dress to wear ; 
 but she was ready all the sooner for tliis. Erica 
 consoled her with her belief that the bishop was 
 the last person who could be supposed to make a 
 point of a silk gown for a mountain maiden. // 
 
 A consultation about the arrangements was held! 
 before the door by the four wlio were in a good 
 humour ; for Stiorna remained aloof. This, like 
 otlier mountain dwellings, was a mere sleeping and 
 eating slied, only calculated far a bare shelter, at
 
 MmjNTAIH FARE. 203 
 
 night, at meals, and from occasional rain. There 
 was no apartment at the seater in which tlie bishop 
 could liold an audience, out of the way of the 
 cooking and other household transactions. It 
 could not be expected of him to sit on the bench 
 outside, or on the grass, like the people of the 
 establishment ; for, unaccustomed as he was to 
 spend his days in the open air, his eyes would be 
 blinded, and his face blistered, by the sun. The 
 young people cast their eyes on the pine-wood, as 
 the fittest summer parlour for him, if it could be 
 provided with seats. 
 
 Erica sprang forward, to prevent any one from 
 entering the wood till she should have seen what 
 state the place was in on this particular morning. 
 No trees had been felled, and no brandies cut since 
 the night before ; and the axes remained A>'here they 
 had been hung. The demon had not wanted them, it 
 seemed, and there was no fear of intruding upon 
 him now. So the two young men set to work to 
 raise a semicircular range of turf seats in the 
 pleasantest part of the shady grove. The central 
 seat, Avhich was raised above the rest, and had a 
 footstool, was well cushioned with dry and soft 
 moss ; and the rough bark was cut from the tnmk 
 of the tree against which it was built ; so that the 
 stem served as a comfortable back to the chair 
 Eolf tried the seat when finished ; and as he leaned 
 back, feasting his eyes on the vast sunny landscape 
 which was to be seen between the trees of the grove, 
 he declared that it was infinitely better to sit here 
 than in the bishop's stall in Tronyem cathedral. 
 
 *' Surely," said Erica, whom he had summoned 
 to see the Avork. "When God plants a lofty 
 mountain, overlooking the glorious sea, with the
 
 206 MOUNT.'ilN FARE. 
 
 heavens themselves for a roof, He makes a temple 
 with which no church built by men can compare. 
 I suppose men build cathedrals in cities because 
 they are not so happy as to have a mountain to 
 worship on." 
 
 " How I pity the countries that have no glori- 
 ous mountains !" cried Frolich ; " especially if few 
 of their people live in sight of the vast sea, or in 
 the heart of deep forests." 
 
 And, by one impulse, they all struck up the na- 
 tional air For Norge,—^ thanksgiving for their 
 home being planted in the midst of the northern seas. 
 All being done now for which a strong arm was 
 wanted, Eolf declared that he and Jan must be 
 o-one to the farm. Not a man could be spared from 
 the shores of the fiord, till the affairs of the pirates 
 should be settled. Erica ought to have expected 
 to hear this ; but her cheek grew white as it was 
 told. She spoke no word of objection, however, 
 seeing plainly what her lover's duty was. 
 
 She turned towards the dairy when he was gone, 
 instead of indulging herself Avith \vatching him 
 down the mountain. She was busy skunming bowl 
 after bowl of rich milk, when Frolich ran in to say 
 that Stiorna had dressed herself, and put up her 
 bundle, and was setting forth homewards, to see, 
 as she said, the truth of things there ;— which meant, 
 of course, to learn Hund's condition and prospects. 
 It was now necessary to tell her that she would 
 presently see Hund brought up to the seater a pri- 
 soner ; and that the farm was no place for any but 
 fio-hting-men this day. To save her feelings and 
 temper. Erica asked her to watch the herd, leadmg 
 them to a point whence she could soonest see the 
 expected company mounting the uplands.
 
 MOUNTAIJi FARE. 207 
 
 Frolich shook her head often and mournfully 
 over the breakfast. I'he skill and diligent hands 
 of two people could not, up in the clouds here, 
 cover the long table in a way which appeared af 
 all creditable to Nordland eyes. Do what they 
 would, it was only bread, cheese, butter, berries, 
 and cream ; and then berries and cream, butter, 
 cheese, and bread. They garnished with moss, 
 leaves, and flowers ; they disposed their few bowls 
 and platters to the best advantage, — taking some 
 from the dairy which could ill be spared. It 
 was still but a poor apology for a feast ; and Fro- 
 lich looked so ready to cry as to make Erica laugh. 
 
 Presently, however, there were voices heard 
 from the hill aboAC. Some traveller who had met 
 the budstick had reported the proceedings below, 
 and the news had spread to a northern seater. 
 The men had gone down to the fiord ; and here 
 were the women with above a gallon of straw- 
 berries, fresh gathered, and a score of plovers' eggs. 
 —Next appeared a pony, coming westward over 
 the pasture, laden with panniers containing a tender 
 kid, a packet of spices, a jar of preserved cherries, 
 and a few of the present season, early ripe ; and a 
 stone bottle of ant-vinegar.* — Frolich's spirits rose 
 hio-her and higher, as more people came from be- 
 low, sent by Rolf on his way down. A deputation 
 of Lapps came from the tents, bringing reindeer 
 venison, and half of a fine gammel cheese. Before 
 Erica had had time to pour out a glass of corn- 
 brandy for each of this dwarfish party, in token of 
 
 * Ants abound in Norway, both in the forests and on the 
 mountains. Some, of a large kind, are boiled for the sake 
 of the (formic) acid they contain ; and the water -n-hen 
 strained is used for vinegar. It is as good as weak vinegar.
 
 208 MOUNTAIN FARE. 
 
 Wlanks, and because it is consiaered" unlucky to 
 send away Lapps without a treat, other mountaia 
 dwellers came "with offerings of tydder, roer, rjqoer, 
 and jei'per ;* so that the dresser was loaded ^^•ith 
 game enough to feed half a hundred hungry men. 
 ^'•'Some of these willing neighbours stayed to help. 
 One went to pick more cloud-berries on the edge 
 of the nearest bog. Another rode off, on the pony, 
 to beg a supply of sugar from a house where it 
 was Icnown to abound. Two or three more cleared 
 a space for a fire behind a thicket, and prepared to 
 broil the venison, and stew the kid, while otiiers 
 sat doAvn to pluck the game. The Lapps, as being 
 dirty and despised, were got rid of as soon as 
 jDOssible. 
 
 Erica and Frolich returned to their breakfast- 
 table, to make the new arrangements now ne- 
 cessary, and place the fruit and spices. Erica 
 closely examined the piece of gammel cheese 
 brought by tlie Lapps, and then, with glowing 
 cheeks, called Frolich to her. 
 
 " What now ?" .said Frolich. " Have you found 
 a way of telling fortunes with the hard cheese, as 
 some pi'etend to do with the soft curds ?" 
 
 '• Look here," said Erica. " What stamp is 
 this ? The cheese has been scraped, — almost pared, 
 you see : but they have left one little corner. And 
 whose stamp is there ?' 
 
 *i"'Ours," said Frolich, coolly. "This is the' 
 cheese you laid out on the ridge last night." 
 
 " I believe it. I see it," exclaimed Erica. 
 
 * Tydder and roer are the cock and hen of the wild bird 
 called in Scotland the capercailzie. Tlie ryper is the ptar- 
 migan. The jerper is of the grouse species. — (Lloyd's Field 
 Sports of the North of Europe.)
 
 MOUNTAIN FARE. 209 
 
 "Now, dear Erica, do not let us have the old 
 story of j'our being friglitened about what the 
 (Jemon will say and do. Nobody but you will be 
 surprised that the Lapps help tliemselves with good 
 things that lie strewing the ground. You know I 
 gave you a hint, just twelve hours since, of what 
 would become of this same cheese." 
 
 " You did," admitted Erica. To Frolich's de- 
 light and surprise, she appeared too busy, — or was 
 rather, perhaps, too happy, — to lament this mis- 
 chance, as she would formerly have done. Possibly 
 she comforted herself with thinking, that if the 
 demon had set its heart upon tlie cheese, it might 
 have been beforehand witli the Lapps. She con- 
 tented herself with setting apart the dish till her 
 mistress should decide what ought to be done with 
 it. Just when a youth from the highest pasture 
 on Sulitelma had come running and panting, to 
 present Frolich with a handful of fringed pinks and 
 blue gentian, plucked from the very edge of the 
 glacier, so that their colours were reflected in the 
 ice, Stiorna appeared, in haste, to tell that a party 
 on horseback and on foot Avere winding out of the 
 ravine, and coming straight up over the pasture. — 
 All was now certainty ; and great was tlie bustle, 
 to put out of sight all unseemly tokens of prepa- 
 ration. In the midst of the hurry, Frolich found 
 time to twist someof her pretty flowers into her pretty 
 liair ; so that it might easily chance tliat the bishop 
 would not miss her silk gown. — When, however, 
 were vuifashionable motliers known to forget the 
 interests of their daughters ? Madame Erlingseu 
 never did : and she now engaged one of the bishop's 
 followers to ride forward with a certain bundle 
 which Orga liad carried on her lap. The man dis- 
 
 K 3
 
 210 MOUNTAIN FARE. 
 
 charged his errand so readily that, on the arrival 
 of the train, Frolich was seen so dressed, walking 
 "in silk attire," as to appear to all eyes as the 
 daughter of the hostess. 
 
 The bishop's reputation preceded him, as is usual 
 in such cases. 
 
 "Where is he now?" "How far off is he?" 
 " Why does he not come?" asked one and another 
 of the expectant people, of those who first appeared 
 before the seater. 
 
 " He is at the tents, speaking to the Lapps." 
 
 " Speaking to the Lapps ! impossible ! What 
 Lapp would ever dream of being spoken to by a 
 bishop of Tronyem ?" 
 
 " He is with them, however. When I left him, 
 he was just stooping to enter one of their tents." 
 
 "Now you must be joking. The Lapps are 
 loAV people enough in the open pasture ; but in 
 their tents, — pah !" 
 
 He did not go in without a reason. There was 
 a sick child in the tent, who could not come out to 
 him. The mother wished him to see and pronounce 
 upon the charms she was employing for her child's 
 benefit, and he himself chose to be satisfied whether 
 any medical knowledge which he possessed could 
 avail to restore the sick. Nothing was more cer- 
 tain than that the bishop of Tronj^em was in a 
 Lapland tent. The fact was confirmed by M. 
 Kollsen,who next appeared, musing as he rode, 
 with countenance of extreme gravity (to say the 
 least of it). He would fain have denied that his 
 bishop was smiling upon Lapps who wore charms ; 
 but he could not. He muttered that it was very 
 extraordinary. 
 
 " Quite as much so," whispered Erica to Frolich,
 
 MOUNTAIN FAKE. 211 
 
 " as that the Holiest should be found in the house 
 of a publican." 
 
 " AVhat is that?" inquired the vigilant M. Koll- 
 sen. " What was your remark ?" 
 
 Erica blushed deeply ; but Frolich readily de- 
 clared what it was that she had said ; and in return 
 M. Kollsen remarked on the evil of ignorant per- 
 sons applying Scripture according to their own 
 narrow notions. 
 
 "Two— four — eight horses," observed a lierds- 
 man. " I tliink the neighbours should each take 
 one or two ; or here will soon be an end of Erling- 
 sen's new hay. This lot of pasture will never feed 
 eight horses, besides his own and the herd." 
 
 " Better than having them carried off by the 
 pirates," said a neighbour. "But I will run 
 home and send a load of grass." 
 
 In such an amiable mood did the bishop find all 
 who were awaiting him at his place of refuge. On 
 their part, they were persuaded that he deserved 
 all their love, even if he had some low notions 
 about the Lapps. 
 
 As the bishop's horse, followed by those which 
 bore the ladies, readied the liouse door, all present 
 Ciied, 
 
 " Welcome to the mountain !" " Welcome to 
 Sulitelma !" 
 
 The bishop observed that, often as he had wished 
 to look abroad from Sulitelma, and to see with his 
 own eyes what life at the seaters was like, he should 
 have gi-own old without the desire being gratified, 
 but for the design of the enemy upon him. It was 
 all he could do to go the rounds of his diocese, 
 from station to station below, without thinking ol 
 journeys of pleasure. Yet here he was on Sulitelma !
 
 ^V2 MOUNTAIN FARE. 
 
 When he and M. Kollsen and the ladies had dis- 
 mounted, and were entering tlie house to breakfast, 
 the gazers found leisure to observe the hindmost of 
 the train of riders. It was Hund, with liis feet 
 tied under his liorse, and the bridle held by a man 
 on each side. He had seen and heard too much 
 of the prepai-ations against the enemy to be allowed 
 to remain below, or at large anywhere, till the 
 attack sliould be over. He could not dismount till 
 some one untied his legs ; and no one would 
 do that till a safe place_ could be found, in whicli to 
 confine liim. It was an awkward situation enough, 
 sitting there bound before every body's eyes ; and 
 not the less for Stiorna's leaning her head against 
 the horse, and crying at seeing him so treated : 
 and yet Hund had often been seen, on small occa- 
 sions, to look far more black and miserable. His 
 face now was almost cheerful. Stiorna praised tliis 
 as a sign of bravery ; but the truth was, the party 
 had been met by Rolf and Jan, going down the 
 mountain. It was no longer possible to take Rolf 
 for a gliost : and though Hund was as far as pos- 
 sible from understanding the matter, he was un- 
 speakably relieved to find that he had not the death 
 of his rival to answer for. It made his counte- 
 nance almost gay to think of this, even while stared 
 at by men, women, and children, as a prisoner. 
 
 " What is it ?" whimpered Stiorna, — " what are 
 you a prisoner for, Hund ?" 
 
 " Ask them that know," said Hund. " I thought 
 at first that it was on Rolf's account; and now 
 that they see with tlieir own eyes that Rolf is 
 safe, they best know what they have to bring against 
 me." 
 
 '•It is no secret," said Madame Erlingsen.
 
 MOUNTAIN FARE. 213 
 
 " ITtind Avas seen with the pirates, acting M-ith and 
 assisting- them, when tliey committed various acts 
 of thievery on the shores of the fiord. If the 
 pirates are taken, Hund will be tried with them for 
 robberies at Thore's, Kyril's, Tank's, and other 
 places along the shore, about which information has 
 been given by a witness." 
 
 " Thore's, Kyril's, and Tank's !" repeated Ilund 
 to himself; '• then there must be magic in the case. 
 I could have sworn that not an eye on earth wit- 
 nessed the doings there. If Kolf turns out to be 
 the witness, I shall be certain that he has the 
 powers of the region to help him." 
 
 So little is robbery to be dreaded at the seaters, 
 that there really was no place where Hund could 
 be fastened in ; — no lock upon any door ; — not a 
 window from which he might not escape. The 
 zealous neighbours therefore, whose interest it was 
 to detain him, offered to take it in turn to be beside 
 him, his right arm tied to the left of another mani^ 
 And thus it was settled. 
 
 After breakfast, notice was given that the party 
 who had travelled all night vdshed to repose for a 
 few hours. All others therefore withdrew to 
 secure quiet, some within the pine-wood ; others to 
 the nearest breezy hill, to gossip and sport ; while 
 some few took the opportunity of going home, to 
 see after their cattle, or other domestic affairs, in- 
 tending to return in the afternoon.
 
 ( 214 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 
 
 When the bishop came forth iii the afternoon to 
 take his seat in the shade of the wood, tliose who 
 were there assembled were singing For Norge. 
 Instead of permitting them to stop, on account of 
 Ills arrival, he joined in the song ; and solely be- 
 cause his heart was in it. Seldom had he witnessed 
 such a scene as this : and as he looked around him, 
 and saw deep shades and sunny uplands, blue gla- 
 ciers above, green pastures and glittering waters 
 below ; and all around, herds on every hill-side, he 
 felt his love of old Norway, and his thankfulness 
 for being one of her sons, as warm as tliat of any 
 one of the singers in the wood. Out of the fulness 
 of his heart, the good bishop addressed his com- 
 panions on the goodness of God in creating such a 
 land, and placing them in it, with their happiness 
 so far in their own iiands as that little, worthy of 
 being called evil could befall them, except through 
 faults of their own. M. Kollsen, who had before 
 uttered his complaints of the superstition of his 
 flock, hoped that his bishop was now about to attack 
 the mischief vig^orouslv. 
 
 The bishop, however, only took his seat, — the 
 mossy seat prepared for him, — and declared himself 
 to be now at the service of any who wished to con- 
 sult or converse Avith him. Instead of thrusting
 
 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS, 215 
 
 his own opinions and reproofs upon them, as it M-as 
 M. Kollsen's wont to do, he waited for the people 
 to open their minds to him in their own way ; and 
 by this means, whatever he found occasion to say 
 had double influence from coming naturally. The 
 words dropped by him that day to the anxious 
 mother awaiting the confirmation of her child, — to 
 the young person preparing for that important 
 event, — to the bereaved, — to the penitent, — to the 
 thoughtless, — and to those who wondered why God 
 had given them so many rich blessings, — what the 
 good bishop said to all these was so fit and so wel- 
 come, that not a word was forgotten through long 
 years after ; and he Mas quoted half a century after 
 he had been in his grave, as old Ulla had quoted 
 the good bishop of Tronyem of her day. 
 
 In a few hours, many of the people were gone 
 for the present,— some being wanted at home, and 
 others for the expected affair on the fiord. The 
 bishop and M. Kollsen had thought themselves 
 alone in their shady retreat when they saw Erica 
 lingering near among the trees. With a kind 
 smile, the bishop beckoned to her, and bade her sit 
 down, and tell liim whether he had not been right 
 in promising, a while ago, that God would soothe 
 her sorrows with time, as is the plan of his kind 
 providence. He remembered well the story of the 
 death of her mother. Erica replied that not only 
 had her grief been soothed, but that she was now 
 so blessed that her heart was burdened with its 
 gratitude. She wished, — she needed to pour out 
 all that she felt ; but M. Kollsen was there ; and 
 she could not speak quite freely before him. He, 
 for his part, observed that, if she was now so happy, 
 she must have given up some of her superstitions ; 
 for certainly he had never known any one less
 
 Sl^ OiD TALES ATvD BETTER TIDINGS. 
 
 likely to enjoy peace than Erica, on all occasions 
 on which he had seen her, — so great was her dread 
 of evil spirits on every hand. 
 
 ■^lii I Avish," said Erica, with a sigh, — " I do wish 
 I knew Avhat to think about Nipen." 
 
 " Ay ! here it comes," observed M. Kollsen, 
 folding Iiis arms as if for an argument. 
 
 Encouraged by the bishop. Erica told the whole 
 story of tlie last few months, from the night of 
 Oddo's prank to that M-hich found her at the feet 
 of her friend ; — for she had cast herself down at 
 the bishop's feet, sitting as she had done in her 
 childliood, looking up in his face. 
 
 v-f'i You want to know what I tliink of all this?" 
 said the bishop, when she iiad done. " I tliink that 
 you could hardly help believing as you have be- 
 lieved, amidst these strange circumstances, and with 
 your mind full of the common accounts of Nipen. 
 Yet I do not believe there is any such spirit as 
 Nipen, or any demon in the forest, or on the moun- 
 tain. Did you ever hear what spirits every body 
 in this counti-y believed in before the blessed gospel 
 was brought to old Norway ?" 
 
 ■^<-' I have heard of Thor, — theft yonder islet was 
 named after ; and that, when there was a tempest, 
 with rolling thunder, such as we never liear in 
 this region,* the people used to say it Avas Thor 
 driving his chariot over the mountain-ridge." 
 
 " That was what people said of the thunder. 
 "What they said of fire and frost was that they were^'' 
 friants called Loke and Thrym, who dwelt in a" 
 dreadful tempestuous place, at the end of the earth,' 
 and came abroad to do " awful things among men. 
 
 eij'. 
 
 fi (Erica knew thunder onlv by report, as there is none so 
 for north as the part of Nordland ^vhere sh^Jiyed.^^jhi^j^^?^, 
 ceases at OG degrees of UUitude.
 
 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 2lX 
 
 The giant Frost drove liome his horses at night, — 
 the hail-clouds tliat sped through the air ; and 
 thei'e sat the giant on the frost winds, combing the 
 manes of his horses as they went. Fire was a cunning 
 demon that stole in where it was not ^\anted ; and 
 when once in, it devoured all that it chose, till it 
 rose into the sky at last in smoke. — Then there 
 was the giant -5Cgir, who brought in squalls from 
 the sea, and made whirlpools in the fiords." 
 
 " Why, that is like Nipen." 
 
 '*' Very like Nipen ; — perhaps the same. Then 
 there was the good god Balder (the white god), 
 who made everything bright and beautiful, and 
 ripened the fruits of the earth. This god Balder 
 was the sun. Then there were the tliree magical 
 women, the Fates, who made men's lives happy or 
 miserable. Did you ever hear how these giants 
 and Fates were worshipped before Jehovah and 
 Christ were known in this land ?" 
 
 " I have heard Ulla sing many old songs about 
 these, and more ; and how Thor and two companions 
 as mighty as himself Avere traA'elling-, and entered 
 a curious house for the night ; and wandered about 
 in the great house, being frightened at a strange 
 loud noise outside : and how they found in the 
 morning that this house was the mitten of a giant 
 infinitely greater than themselves ; and that Avliat 
 they had taken for a separate chamber in the great 
 house was the thumb of his mitten ; and that the 
 strange noise was the snoring of this giant Skrymir, 
 who was asleep close by, after having pulled off hia 
 mittens." 
 
 " That is one of the many tales belonging to the 
 old religion of this country. And how did this 
 old religion arise? — Why, the people saw grand 
 spectacles every day, and heard wonders A\hich-
 
 218 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 
 
 ever way ihey turned ; and they supposed that the 
 whole universe was alive. The sun as it travelled 
 they thoug-ht was alive, and kind and good to men. 
 The tempest they thought \vas alive, and angry 
 with men. The fire and frost they thought were 
 alive, pleased to make sport with men." 
 
 " As people who ought to know better," ob- 
 served M. Kollsen, " now think the wind is alive, 
 and call it ISTipen, or the mist of the lake and river, 
 which they call the sprite Uldra." 
 
 " It is true," said the bishop, " that we now 
 have better kno\vledge, and see that the earth, and 
 all that is in it, is made and moved by One Good 
 Spirit, who, instead of sporting with men, or being 
 angry with them, rules all tilings for their good. 
 But I am not surprised that some of the old stories 
 remain, and are believed in still,— and by good and 
 dutiful Christians too. The mother sings the old 
 songs over tlie cradle ; and the child hears tell of 
 sprites and demons before it hears of the good God 
 who ' sends forth tlie snow and rain, the hail and 
 vapour, and the stormy -winds fulfilling his word.' 
 And when the child is grown to be a man or 
 woman, the northern lights shooting over the sky, 
 and the sighing of the winds in the pine-forest, 
 bring back those old songs and old thoughts about 
 demons and sprites ; and the stoutest man trembles. 
 I do not wonder ; nor do I blame any man or 
 woman for this ; though I wish they Avere as happy 
 as the weakest infant, or the most worn-out old man, 
 who has learned from the gentle Jesus to fear no- 
 thing at any time, because his Father was with him." 
 "But what is to be done?" asked M. Kollsen. 
 " The time vrill come," said the bishop, " when 
 the mother will sing to her babe of the gentle 
 Jesus ; and tell her growing child of how he loved
 
 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 219 
 
 to be alone with liis Father in the waste and Iiowl- 
 ing wilderness ; and bade his disciples not be afraid 
 when there was a tempest on tlie wide lake. Then, 
 when the child grows up to be a man, if he finds 
 himself alone on tlie mountain or in the forest, he 
 will think of Jesus, and fear no demon ; and if a 
 west wind and fog should overtake a woman in her 
 boat on the fiord," he continued, looking with a 
 smile at Erica, " she will never think of Nipen, 
 but rather that she hears her Saviour saying, ' Why- 
 are ye afraid, O ye of little faith ?' " 
 
 Erica hid her face, ashamed under the good 
 man's smile. 
 
 " In our towns," continued he, " much of this 
 blessed change is already wrought. No one in my 
 city of Tronyem now fears the angry and cunning 
 fire-giant Loke ; but every citizen closes his eyes 
 in peace, when he hears the midnight cry of the 
 watch, ' Except the Lord keepeth the city, the 
 watchman waketh but in vain.'* In the wilds of 
 the country, every man's faith will hereafter be his 
 watchman, crying out upon all that happens, ' It 
 is the Lord's hand : let him do what sefemeth to him 
 good !' This might have been said, Erica, as it 
 appears to me, at every turn of your story, where 
 you and your friends were not in fault." 
 
 He went on to remark on the story she had told 
 him ; and she was really surprised to find tliat there 
 was not the slightest reason to suppose that any 
 spirit had been employed to vex and alarm her. 
 The fog and the pirates had overtaken and fright- 
 ened many in the fiord with wliom Nipen had no 
 quarrel. Rolf's imprisonment, and all the sorrows 
 that belonged to it, had been owing to Ids own 
 imprudence. The appearance of a double smi the 
 * The watchman's call in the towns of Nor\vay.
 
 220 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 
 
 i\l'I .eoKiaiT naxT.u 
 
 night before %vas notliing uncommon, and was 
 known to take place when the atmosphere was in a 
 particular state. She herself had seen that no 
 wood-demon had touched the axes ia this very- 
 grove, last night ; and tliat it was no mountain 
 tprite, but a Laplander, who had taken up the first 
 gammel cheese. She had also witnessed how ab- 
 surdly mistaken Hund had been about the boat 
 having been spirited away, and Vogel island being 
 enchanted, and Rolfs ghost being allowed to haunt 
 him. Here was a case before her very eyes of the 
 way in which people with superstitious minds may 
 misunderstand m hat happens to themselves. 
 
 " O !" exclaimed Erica, dropping her hands 
 from before her glowing face, " if I dared but 
 think there were no bad spirits, — if I dared only 
 hope that everything that happens is done by God's 
 own hand, I could bear everything ! I would never 
 be afraid again !" 
 
 " It is what I believe," said the bishop. Laying 
 his hand on her head, he continued, ■,!.,...■, 
 
 "We know that the very hairs of your head- are- 
 all numbered. I see that you are weary of your 
 fears, — that you have long been heavy laden with 
 anxiety. It is you then that he invites to trust him 
 when he says by the lips of Jesus, ' Come ye that 
 areweaiy and heavy-laden, andl will give you rest.' " 
 
 " Eest, — rest is what I have wanted," said Erica, 
 while her tears flowed gently ; " but Peder and 
 Ulla did not believe as you do, and could not ex- 
 plain things ; and " 
 
 " You should have asked me," said M, Kollsen ; 
 " I could have explained everything." 
 
 " Perhaps so, sir : but — but, M. Kollsen, you 
 always seemed angry ; and you said you despised 
 lis for believing anything that you did not : and it
 
 OLD TALES AND BETTER TIDINGS. 221 
 
 is the most difficult tiling in the world to ask ques- 
 tions which oye knows will be despised." 
 
 M. Kollseii {^lanced in the bishop's face, to see 
 how he took this, and how lie meant to support the 
 pastor's authority. The bishop looked sad, and said 
 nothinof. 
 
 " And then," continued Erica, " tliere Mere 
 otliers who laughed : — even Rolf himself laughed : 
 and what one fears becomes only tlie more terrible 
 when it is laughed at." 
 
 " Very true," said the bishop. " When Jesus sat 
 on tlie well in Samaria, and taught how the true 
 worship was come, he neither frowned on the 
 woman who inquired, nor despised her, nor made 
 light of htr superstition about a sacred mountain." 
 
 There was a long silence, which was broken at last 
 by Erica asking the bishop whether lie could not , 
 console poor Hund, who wanted comfort more than f 
 she had ever done. The bishop replied tliat the 
 demons who most tormented poor Hund were not 
 abroad on the earth or in the air, but within his 
 breast: — his remorse, his envy, his covetousness, 
 his fear. He meant, however, not to lose sight of 
 poor Hund, either in the prison to which he was to 
 travel to-morrow, or after he should come out of it. 
 Here Frolich appeared running to ask whether 
 those who were in the grove would not like to look ^ 
 forth from the ridge, and see what good the bud- 
 stick had done, and how many parties were on their -j 
 way, from all quarters, to the farm. ^ ,. 
 
 M. Kollseu was glad to rise and escape from 
 what he thought a schooling ; and the bishop him- 
 self M'as as interested in what was going on as if 
 the farm had been his home. He was actually j^ 
 
 the first at the ridge. . , % „„ 
 
 o lot 8U
 
 ( 222 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE WATCH ON THE HILL. 
 
 This part of the mountain was a singularly 
 favourable situation for seeing what was doing on 
 the spot on which every one's attention was fixed 
 this day. While the people on the fiord could not 
 see what was going forward at Saltdalen, nor those 
 at Saltdalen what were the movements at the farm, 
 the watchers on the ridge could observe the pro- 
 ceedings at all the three points. The opportunity 
 was much improved by the bishop having a glass ; 
 — a glass of a quality so rare at that time, that 
 there would probably have been some talk of magic 
 and charms, if it had been seen in Olaf 's hands, 
 instead of the bishop's. 
 
 By means of this glass, the bishop, M. Kollsen, 
 or Madame Erlingsen announced, from time to 
 time, what was doing, as the evening advanced ; — - 
 how parties of two or three were leaving Saltdalen, 
 creeping towards the farm under cover of rising 
 grounds, rocks, and pine-woods ; how small com- 
 panies, well armed, were hidden in every place of 
 concealment near Erlingsen's ; and how there 
 seemed to be a great number of women about the 
 place. This was puzzling. Who these women 
 could be, and why they should choose to resort to 
 the farm when its female inhabitants had left it for 
 safety, it was difficult at first to imagine. But the
 
 o 
 
 THE WATCH ON THE HILL. 223 
 
 truth soon occurred to Frolich. . . .No doubt some 
 one had remembered how strange and suspicious it 
 would appear to the pirates, wlio supposed the 
 bishop to be at the farm, that there should be no 
 women in the company assembled to meet him. 
 No doubt, these people in blue, white, and green 
 petticoats, who were striding about the yards, and 
 looking forth from the galleries, Avere men dressed 
 in their wives' clothes, or in such as Eriingsen 
 furnished from the family chests. This disguise 
 was as good as an ambush, while it also served to 
 give the place the festive appearance looked for by 
 the enemy. It was found afterwards that Oddo 
 had acted as lady's-maid, fitting the gowns to the 
 shortest men, and dressing up their heads, so as 
 best to hide the shaggy hair. Great numbers were 
 certainly assembled before night ; yet still a little 
 group might be seen now and then, winding down 
 from some recess of the wide-spreading mountain, 
 making circuits by the ravines and water-courses, 
 so as to avoid crossing the upland slopes, which 
 the pirates might be surveying by means of such 
 a glass as the bishop's. 
 
 The bishop was of opinion that scarcely a blow 
 would be struck, so great was the country force 
 compared with that of the pirates. He believed that 
 the enemy would be overpowered and disarmed, 
 ahnost without a struggle. Erica, who could not 
 but tremble with fear as well as expectation, 
 blessed his words in her heart : and so, in truth, 
 did every woman present. 
 
 No one thought of going to rest, though Madame 
 Eriingsen urged it upon those over whom she had 
 influence. Finding that Erica had sat up to watch 
 the cattle the night before, she compelled her to
 
 224 THE WATCH ON THE HILL. 
 
 go and lie down : but no compulsion could make 
 her sleep ; and Orga and Frolich did the best they 
 could for her, by running to her with news of any 
 fresh appearance below. Just after midniglit they 
 brouglit her word that the bishop had ordered every 
 one hut M. Kollsen away from the ridge. The 
 schooner liad peeped out from behind the promon- 
 tory, and was stealing up with a soft west wind. 
 
 " A Avest Avind !" exclaimed Erica. " Any 
 fog?" 
 
 " No, not a flake of mist. Neither you nor any 
 one will say that Nipen is favourable to the enemy 
 to-night, Erica." 
 
 " You Avill hear me say less of Nipen hence- 
 forward," said Erica. 
 
 " That is wise for to-night, at least. Here is 
 the west wind ; but only to waft the enemy into 
 our hands. But have you really left off believing 
 in Nipen, and the wliole race of sprites?" 
 
 These words jarred on Erica's yet timid feelings. 
 She replied that she must take time for thouglit, as 
 she had much to think about : but the bishop had 
 to-day spoken Mords wliich she believed would, 
 when well considered, lift a heavy load from her 
 heart. 
 
 The girls kindly left this impression undisturbed, 
 and went on to describe how the schooner was 
 working up, and why the bishop thought tliat the 
 people at the farm were aware of everj' inch of her 
 progress. 
 
 Erica sprang from the bed, and joined the group 
 who were sitting on the grass, awaiting the sunrise, 
 and eagerly listening for every word from their 
 watchman, the bishop. He told when lie sav/ two 
 boats full of men put off from the schooner, and
 
 THE WATCH ON THE HILL. 225 
 
 creep towards Erlingsen's cove under the sliadow 
 
 ■of the rocks. He told how the country-people im- 
 
 '.niediately gathered beliind the barn and the house, 
 
 ''and every outbuikling ; and at length, when the 
 
 boats touched the shore, he said, 
 
 " Now come and look yourselves. They are too 
 busy now to be observing us." 
 
 Then how eyes were strained, and what silence 
 there was, broken only by an occasional exclama- 
 tion, as it became certain that the decisive moment 
 was come ! The glass passed rapidly from hand to 
 hand ; but it revealed little. There was smoke, 
 covering a struggling crowd : and such gazers as 
 had a husband, a father, or a lover there, could look 
 no longer. The bishop himself did not attempt to 
 comfort them, at a moment when he knew it would 
 be in vain. 
 
 In the midst of all this, some one observed two 
 boats appearing from behind the prom.ontory, and 
 making directly and rapidly for the schooner ; and 
 presently there was a little smoke there too ; only a 
 puff or two ; and then all Avas quiet till slie began 
 to hang out her sails, which had been taken in, and 
 to glide over the waters in the direction of a small 
 sandy beach, on which she ran straight up, till she 
 was evidently fast grounded. 
 
 " Excellent !" exclaimed M. Kollsen. " How 
 admirably they are conducting the whole affkir ! 
 The retreat of these fellows is completely cut off, — 
 their vessel taken, and driven ashore, Avhile they 
 are busy elsewhere. 
 
 " That is Oddo's doings," observed Orga, quietly. 
 
 " Oddo's doings ! How do you know ? Are 
 you serioiis ? Can you see ? Or did you hear ?" 
 
 " I was by when Oddo told his plan to my
 
 226 THE AVATCH ON THE HILL. 
 
 father, and begged to be allowed to take the 
 schooner. My father laughed so that I thought 
 Oddo would be for going over to the enemy." 
 
 " No fear of that," said Erica. " Oddo has a 
 brave, faitliful heart." 
 
 " And," said his mistress, " a conscience and 
 temper which will keep him meek and patient till 
 he has atoned for mischief that he thinks he has 
 done." 
 
 " I must see more of this boy," observed the 
 bishop. " Did your father grant liis request ?" he 
 inquired of Orga. 
 
 " At last he did. Oddo said that a young boy 
 could do little good in the fight at the farm ; but 
 that he might lead a party to attack the schooner, 
 in the absence of almost all her crew. He said it 
 Avas no more than a boy might do, with half a 
 dozen lads to help him ; for he had reason to feel 
 sure tliat only just hands enough to manage her 
 would be left on board : and those the weakest 
 of the pirate-party. My father said there were 
 men to spare ; and he put twelve, well armed, 
 under Oddo's orders." 
 
 " Who would submit to be under Oddo's com- 
 mand ?" asked Frolich, laugliing at the idea. 
 
 " Twice twelve, if he had wanted so many," 
 replied Orga. " Between the goodness of the joke 
 and their zeal, there were volunteers in plenty, 
 ■ — my father told me, as he was putting me on my 
 horse." 
 
 In a very few minutes, all signs of fighting were 
 over at the farm. But there was a fire. The barn 
 was seen to smoke and then to flame. It was plain 
 that the neighbours were at liberty to attend to the 
 fire, and had no fighting on their hands. They
 
 THE WATCH ON THE HILL. 227 
 
 were seen to form a line from the burning barn to 
 the brink of the water, and to hand buckets 
 till the fire Avas out. The barn had been nearly- 
 empty ; and the fire did not spread farther; so 
 that Madame Erlingsen herself did not spend one 
 grudging thought on this small sacrifice, in return 
 for their deliverance from the enemy, who, she had 
 feared, would ransack her dwelling, and fire it over 
 her children's heads. She was satisfied and thank- 
 ful, if indeed the pirates were taken. 
 
 At the bishop's question about who Avould go 
 down. the mountain for news, each of Ilund's guards 
 begged to be the man. Tlie swiftest of foot was 
 chosen ; and off he went, — not without a barley- 
 cake and brandy-flask, — at a pace Avhich promised 
 speedy tidings. 
 
 As Madame Erlingsen hoped in her heart, he 
 met a messenger despatched by her husband ; so 
 tliat all who had lain down to sleep, — all but her- 
 self, that is, — were greeted by good news as they 
 appeared at the breakfast-table. The pirates were 
 all taken, and on their way, bound, to Saltdalen, 
 there to be examined by the magistrate, and, no 
 doubt, thence transferred to the jail at Tronyem. 
 Ilund was to follow immediately, either to take 
 his trial with them, or to appear as evidence against 
 them. 
 
 One of the pirates was wounded, and tw^o of the 
 country people ; but not a life was lost ; and Er- 
 lingsen, Rolf, Peder, and Oddo were all safe and 
 unhurt. ^ 
 
 Oddo was superintending the unlading of the 
 sdiooner, and was appointed by the magistrate, at 
 his master's desire, head-guard of the property, as 
 it lay on the beach, till the necessary evidence of 
 
 L 2
 
 228 TUE WATCH ON THE HIEL. 
 
 its having been stolen by the pirates was taken, and 
 the owners could be permitted to identify and 
 resume their property. Oddo M'as certainly the 
 greatest man concerned in the affair, after Erling- 
 sen. And like a really great man, Oddo's head 
 was not turned with his importance, but intent on 
 the perfect discharge of his ofKce. When it was 
 finished, and he returned to his home, he found he 
 cared more for the pressure of his grandfather's 
 hand upon his head, as the old man blessed his 
 boy, than for all the praises of the whole country 
 round.
 
 ( 229 ) 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 TO CHURCH. 
 
 An idea occurred to everybody but one, within the 
 next few hours, which occasioned some consultation. 
 Everybody but Erica felt and said that it would 
 be a great honour and i^rivilege, but one not un- 
 deserved by the district, for the bishop of Tron- 
 yem to marry Rolf and Erica before he left Nord- 
 land. The bishop wished to make some acknow- 
 ledgment for the zealous protection and hospitality 
 which had been afforded him ; and he soon found 
 that no act would be so generally acceptable as his 
 blessing the union of these yovmg people. He 
 spoke to Madame Erlingsen about it : and her only 
 doubt was whether it was not too soon after the 
 burial of old Ulla. If Peder, however, should not 
 object on this ground, no one else had a right to 
 do so. 
 
 So far from objecting, Peder shed tears of plea- 
 sure at the thought. He was sure Ulla would be 
 delighted, if she knew ;■. — would feel it an honour 
 to herself that her place should be filled by one 
 whose marriage-crown should be blessed by the 
 bishop himself. Erica Avas startled, and had several 
 good reasons to give why there should be no hurry : 
 but she w^as brought round to see that Rolf could 
 go to Tronyem,. to give his evidence against the 
 pirates, even better after his marriage than before,
 
 230 TO CHURCH. 
 
 because he would leave Peder in a condition of 
 greater comfort : and slie even smiled to herself as 
 she thouglit how rapidly she might improve the 
 appearance of the house during his absence, so that 
 he should delight in it on his return. When the 
 bishop assured her that she should not be hurried 
 into her marriage within two days, but that he 
 \vould appoint a day and hour when lie should be 
 at the distant church, to confirm the young people 
 resident lower down the fiord, she gratefully con- 
 sented, w'ondering at the interest so high and 
 revered a man seemed to feel in her lot. AYhen it 
 was once settled that the weddincr was to be next 
 week, she gave hearty aid to the preparations, as 
 freely and openly as if she was not herself to be the 
 briile. 
 
 The bishop embarked immediately on descending 
 the mountain. His considerate eye saw, at a glance, 
 that there was necessarily much confusion at the 
 farm, and that his further presence would be an 
 inconvenience. So lie bade his host and the neigh- 
 bours farewell for a short time, desiring them not 
 to fail to meet him again at the church, on his 
 summons. 
 
 The kindness of the neighbours did not cease 
 ^yhen danger from the enemy Avas over. Some 
 offered boats for the wedding procession ; several 
 sent gilt paper to adorn the bridal crown which 
 Orga and Frolich were making ; and some yielded 
 a more important assistance still. They put trusty 
 persons into the seater, and over the herd, for two 
 days ; so that all Erlingsen's household might be 
 at the wedding. Stiorna preferred making butter, 
 and gazing southwards, to attending the wedding 
 of Hund's rival ; but every one else was giad to
 
 TO CHURCH. 231 
 
 go. Nobody would have thought of urging Peder's 
 presence; but he chose to do his part— (a part 
 which no one could discharge so well), — singing 
 bridal songs in the leading boat. 
 
 The summons arrived quite as soon as it could 
 have been looked for ; and the next day there was 
 as pretty a boat-procession on the still waters of 
 the fiord as had ever before glided over its surface. 
 Within the memory of man, no bride had been 
 prettier, — no crown more glittering, — no bride- 
 groom more happy ; — no chanting was ever more 
 soothing than old Peder's, — no clarionet better 
 played than Oddo's, — no bridesmaids more gay and 
 kindly than Orga and Frolich. The neighbours 
 were hearty in their cheers as tlie boats put oft'; 
 and the cheers were repeated from every settlement 
 in the coves and on the heiglits of the fiord, and 
 v^•ere again taken up by the eciioes, till the summer 
 air seemed to be full of gladness. Tlie birds of 
 the islands, and the leaping fish, might perliaps 
 wonder as the train of bov.-ery boats floated down ; 
 — for every boat was dressed v,' itli green boughs 
 and garlands of flowers ; — but the matter w&s un- 
 derstood and rejoiced in by all others. 
 
 To conclude, the bishop was punctual, and kindly 
 in his welcome of Erica to the altar. He Avas also 
 graciously pleased with Rolfs explanation that he 
 had not ventured to bring a gift for so great a 
 dignitary ; but that he lioped the bishop A\ould 
 approve of his giving his humble offering to the 
 church instead. The six sides of the new pulpit 
 were nearly finished now ; and Rolf desired to take 
 upon himself the carving of the basement, as his 
 marriage-fee. As the bishop smiled approbation, 
 M. Kollsen bowed acquiescence ; and Rolf found
 
 232 TO CHURCH. 
 
 himself in prospect of indoor work for some time 
 to come. 
 
 Erica carried home in her heart, and kept there 
 for ever, certain words of the bishop's address, 
 which he uttered with his eye kindly fixed upon 
 hers. " Go, and abide under the shadow of the 
 Almighty. So shall you not be afraid for the 
 terror by night, nor for the arrow that flieth by day, 
 nor for tlie pestilence that walketh in darkness ; 
 nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. 
 When you shall have made the Lord your habita- 
 tion, you shall not fear that evil may befall you, 
 or that any plague shall come nigh your dwelling. 
 Go : and peace be on your house !" 
 
 THE END. 
 
 London : Printed by William Clowes and Sons, Stamford Street.
 
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