he come to be amongst the shipload of "wild-men" in the misty
ages when Thor yet walked the earth? Had she a father and mother who
loved her, and perhaps brothers and sisters--and how long had she been
sleeping so quietly in the arms of the great rock?

It was a strange cradle, with only the sea to sing her lullaby, and
wash her lovingly, like a tender mother!

Atven hurried on; and as he peered before him with sun-dazzled eyes,
he thought he saw a figure flitting in and out between the brown tree
stems.

It was a small, light figure, with a strange kind of loose dress, and
long floating hair of a beautiful gold colour. It glided along so
rapidly that Atven had some difficulty in keeping pace with it.

Every now and again it seemed to be beckoning to him with one little
hand; and at last as he ran faster and faster, it suddenly turned its
head, and he saw the face of a beautiful young woman. Her brown eyes
were soft and clear, and her cheeks tinted with a colour so delicate,
it reminded Atven of the little pink shells he sometimes found after a
storm upon the sea-shore.

"Atven! Atven!" she murmured, "You have found my child. Give her life!
Give her life!"

"Tell me what I am to do!" cried Atven, and stretched out his hands
towards the beautiful young woman; but at that moment she reached the
shore, and gliding between the boulders, disappeared amongst their
dark shadows.

Atven threw himself down beside the rock on which the Stone-maiden lay
sleeping. He grieved for her so much that tears rolled slowly down his
cheeks, and as they touched the stone, the great boulder shook and
crumbled, and a shudder passed over the figure of the Stone-maiden.
She seemed to Atven to sigh gently, and half open her eyes; but in a
moment they closed again; the rock settled into its place, and
everything was motionless.

"To-morrow! To-morrow!" he said to himself, "When Father Johannes
comes, he will help me."

Early next morning the old Priest knocked at the door of the
fisherman's hut. He had started at daybreak, for he knew that Atven
would be anxiously awaiting him.

They went down together to the shore; and when Father Johannes saw the
figure of the sleeping child, he took out of his bark basket, a little
jar of water from the Church Well, and sprinkled it over her.

The Stone-maiden stirred and opened her eyes. She raised her hands,
breathed gently, and lifting her head, gazed at the old Priest and the
boy with wistful