ts with the flowers. When she watered them, she felt acutely
how much she suffered. When she dried their leaves, she longed for
pleasant words and kindly eyes. When she removed dead twigs and
superfluous shoots, when she re-potted them, she often cried with
longing; the thought that there was no one to care for her overcame
her.

Five years were gone, then, when one day it was reported through the
whole town that Aksel Aaroe had become a rich man. His old friend was
dead and had left him a large annuity. It was also said that he had
been a second time treated for dypsomania. The previous treatment had
not been successful, but he was now cured. One could see how popular
Aaroe was, for there was hardly anybody who was not pleased.

On Wednesday the 16th of March, 1892, at four o'clock in the
afternoon, Ella sat at work near her flowers; from there she could see
the hotel. At the corner window in the second story stood the man of
whom she was thinking--stood and looked down at her.

She got up and he bowed twice. She remained standing as he crossed the
market-place. He wore a dark fur cap, and his fair beard hung down
over his black silk waistcoat. His face was rather pale, but there was
a brighter expression in his eyes. He knocked, she could not speak or
move, but when he opened the door and came into the room, she sank
into a chair and wept. He came slowly forward, took a chair and sat
down near her. "You must not be frightened because I came straight to
you, it is such a pleasure to see you again." Ah! how they sounded in
this house, those few words full of consideration and confidence. He
had acquired a foreign accent, but the voice, the voice! And he did
not misconstrue her weakness, but tried to help her. By degrees she
became her old self, confiding, bright, timid.

"It was so entirely unexpected," she said.

"All that has occurred in the meantime rushes in on one," he added
courteously.

Not much more was said. He was preparing to leave, when his
brother-in-law entered. Aaroe looked at her boys out on the snow-heap,
he looked at her flowers, her piano, her music, then asked if he might
come again. He had been there hardly five minutes, but an impression
rested on her mind somewhat as the magnificent fair beard rested on
the silk waistcoat. The room was hallowed, the piano, the music, the
chair on which he had sat, even the carpet on which he had walked--in
his very walk there was consideration for her. She