ver
stood by it had heard from some one or other how a botanist in
government pay, making a collection of the plants and flowers of the
valley and the mountains round about, had found flowers on that grave
that did not grow anywhere else in the neighbourhood. And the
peasants, who as a rule cared little about what they called "weeds,"
took pride in these particular ones--a pride mixed with curiosity and
even awe. Some of the flowers were remarkably beautiful. But as the
bridal pair passed the grave, Endrid, who was holding Randi's hand,
felt that she shivered; immediately she began to cry again, walked
crying into the church, and was led crying to her place. No bride
within the memory of man had made such an entrance into that church.

She felt as she sat there that all this was helping to confirm the
report that she had been sold. The thought of the shame she was
bringing on her parents made her turn cold, and for a little she was
able to stop crying. But at the altar she was moved again by some word
of the priest's, and immediately the thought of all she had gone
through that day came over her; and for the moment she had the feeling
that never, no, never again, could she look people in the face, and
least of all her own father and mother.

Things got no better as the day went on. She was not able to sit with
the guests at the dinner-table; in the evening she was half coaxed,
half forced to appear at supper, but she spoiled every one's pleasure,
and had to be taken away to bed. The wedding festivities, that were to
have gone on for several days, ended that evening. It was given out
that the bride was ill.

Though neither those who said this nor those who heard it believed it,
it was only too true. She was really ill, and she did not soon
recover. One consequence of this was that their first child was
sickly. The parents were not the less devoted to it from understanding
that they themselves were to a certain extent the cause of its
suffering. They never left that child. They never went to church, for
they had got shy of people. For two years God gave them the joy of the
child, and then He took it from them.

The first thought that struck them after this blow was that they had
been too fond of their child. That was why they had lost it. So, when
another came, it seemed as if neither of them dared to show their love
for it. But this little one, though it too was sickly at first, grew
stronger, and was so sweet and b