eet again on earth, but they had a common Father in heaven
above, in whose presence they trusted one day to be united.

Karin was, of course, on the steps of the inn to receive her charge. It
was not unusual for Karin to wear sometimes a black dress, and Elsa, in
her pleasure at the meeting and her eagerness to tell her late
experiences, did not notice anything particularly serious in the face of
the maid. When, however, they were alone together, she looked up
suddenly, and saw that Karin's eyes were full of tears as she was
struggling to speak of what had befallen her.

"What is it? what is the matter?" asked Elsa affrightedly.

"My mother is dead! I have lost my mother!" said Karin simply.

Elsa cast her arms around Karin's neck in an unusual fit of
demonstrative affection, and wept with her. "O Karin, what will you do?
How you must have loved her! How sorry you must be! I have thought a
great deal about a mother since I have been away. I have always missed
something, and felt that I was different from other little girls, but I
did not really understand what it was. I have had everything I wanted,
and papa has been so kind, and you too, Karin, but there was something.
Where I have been the children did so love their mamma, and she made it
so charming for them, and she had such a sweet way with them;" and here
the little girl sobbed, more, it must be owned, from thinking of what
she had missed in her life than from sympathy for Karin, and yet they
were drawn nearer together than ever before.

The stir of the arrival of Possessionaten Bilberg and his daughter had
passed away from about the inn, and stillness reigned around on every
side, on the wide meadows in front, and on the long, low, rocky ridge
beyond them. Possessionaten Bilberg was smoking a cigar in the wide
porch, and quietly thinking. Elsa had flown down to tell him of Karin's
trouble, and now he greeted the trusted maid almost with respect as she
came to him to ask some questions about their approaching departure.

He got up stiffly and took Karin by the hand, as he said simply, "I am
sorry to hear that you have had trouble. Your mother was old, I
daresay," he added, as he dropped her hand.

"Yes, old and feeble," was the reply.

Karin waited a moment, and then began to speak of the journey.

"Yes; it will be this evening," he said, and his face wore a most
peculiar expression, as if some struggle was going on within him.

At last he began: "I have