s. The sound did not come from frogs or ravens; she saw no sign of
any such creatures. "A grave, dig me a grave!" was repeated quite
loud. Yes, it was the spectre of her child, the child that lay in the
ocean, and whose spirit could have no rest until it was carried to the
churchyard, and until a grave had been dug for it in consecrated
ground. Thither she would go, and there she would dig; and she went on
in the direction of the church, and the weight on her heart seemed to
grow lighter, and even to vanish altogether; but when she turned to go
home by the shortest way, it returned. "Hold fast! hold fast!" and the
words came quite clear, though they were like the croak of a frog or
the wail of a bird, "A grave! dig me a grave!"

The mist was cold and damp; her hands and face were cold and damp with
horror; a heavy weight again seized her and clung to her, and in her
mind a great space opened for thoughts that had never before been
there.

Here in the North the beech wood often buds in a single night, and in
the morning sunlight it appears in its full glory of youthful green;
and thus in a single instant can the consciousness unfold itself of
the sin that has been contained in the thoughts, words, and works of
our past life. It springs up and unfolds itself in a single second
when once the conscience is awakened; and God wakens it when we least
expect it. Then we find no excuse for ourselves--the deed is there,
and bears witness against us; the thoughts seem to become words, and
to sound far out into the world. We are horrified at the thought of
what we have carried within us, and have not stifled over what we have
sown in our thoughtlessness and pride. The heart hides within itself
all the virtues and likewise all the vices, and they grow even in the
shallowest ground.

Anne Lisbeth now experienced all the thoughts we have clothed in
words. She was overpowered by them, and sank down, and crept along for
some distance on the ground. "A grave! dig me a grave!" it sounded
again in her ears; and she would gladly have buried herself if in the
grave there had been forgetfulness of every deed. It was the first
hour of her awakening; full of anguish and horror. Superstition
alternately made her shudder with cold and made her blood burn with
the heat of fever. Many things of which she had never liked to speak
came into her mind. Silent as the cloud shadows in the bright
moonshine, a spectral apparition flitted by her: she had