shine; but his hand
trembled, and the alchymic glass fell clattering to the ground, and
broke into a thousand pieces; and the last bubble of his happiness had
burst! Hu-uh-ush! rushing away!--and I rushed away from the
gold-maker's house.

"Late in autumn, when the days are short, and the mist comes and
strews cold drops upon the berries and leafless branches, I came back
in fresh spirits, rushed through the air, swept the sky clear, and
snapped the dry twigs--which is certainly no great labour, but yet it
must be done. Then there was another kind of sweeping clean at
Waldemar Daa's, in the mansion of Borreby. His enemy, Owe Rainel, of
Basnaes, was there with the mortgage of the house and everything it
contained in his pocket. I drummed against the broken window-panes,
beat against the old rotten doors, and whistled through cracks and
rifts--huh-sh! Mr. Owe Rainel did not like staying there. Ida and Anna
Dorothea wept bitterly; Joanna stood pale and proud, and bit her thumb
till it bled--but what could that avail? Owe Rainel offered to allow
Waldemar Daa to remain in the mansion till the end of his life, but no
thanks were given him for his offer. I listened to hear what occurred.
I saw the ruined gentleman lift his head and throw it back prouder
than ever, and I rushed against the house and the old lime trees with
such force, that one of the thickest branches broke, one that was not
decayed; and the branch remained lying at the entrance as a broom
when any one wanted to sweep the place out: and a grand sweeping out
there was--I thought it would be so.

[Illustration: LEAVING THE OLD HOME.]

"It was hard on that day to preserve one's composure; but their will
was as hard as their fortune.

"There was nothing they could call their own except the clothes they
wore: yes, there was one thing more--the alchymist's glass, a new one
that had lately been bought, and filled with what had been gathered up
from the ground of the treasure which promised so much but never kept
its promise. Waldemar Daa hid the glass in his bosom, and taking his
stick in his hand, the once rich gentleman passed with his daughters
out of the house of Borreby. I blew cold upon his heated cheeks, I
stroked his grey beard and his long white hair, and I sang as well as
I could,--'Huh-sh! gone away! gone away!' And that was the end of the
wealth and splendour.

"Ida walked on one side of the old man, and Anna Dorothea on the
other. Joanna turned rou