othing; now the game is spoiled. Think all I had
won this evening! But it is lost now."

"I will gladly ask Uncle's pardon, if you like, Maurits." And she
really meant it. She was honestly sorry to have hurt Uncle.

"That is of course the only right thing to do; but one can ask
nothing of any one as ridiculously shy as you are."

She had not answered, but had gone straight to the smoking-room,
which was almost empty. Uncle had thrown himself down in an
arm-chair.

"Why will you not dance with me?" she had asked.

Uncle Theodore's eyes were closed. He opened them and looked long
at her. It was a look full of pain that she met. It made her
understand how a prisoner must feel when he thinks of his chains.
It made her sorry for Uncle. It seemed as if he had needed her much
more than Maurits, for Maurits needed no one. He was very well as
he was. So she laid her hand on Uncle Theodore's arm quite gently
and caressingly.

Instantly new life awoke in his eyes. He began to stroke her hair
with his big hand. "Little mother," he had said.

Then "it" came over her while he stroked her hair. It came
stealing, it came creeping, it came rushing, as when elves pass
through dark woods.

III

One evening thin, soft clouds are floating in the sky; one evening
all is still and mild; one evening the air is filled with fine
white down from the aspens and poplars.

It is quite late, and no one is up except Uncle Theodore, who is
walking in the garden and is considering how he can separate the
young man and the young woman.

For never, never in the world shall it come to pass that Maurits
leaves his house with her at his side while Uncle Theodore stands
on the steps and wishes them a pleasant journey.

Is it a possibility to let her go at all, since she has filled the
house for three days with merry chirping, since she in her quiet
way has accustomed them to be cared for and petted by her, since
they have all grown used to seeing that soft, supple little
creature roving about everywhere. Uncle Theodore says to himself
that it is not possible. He cannot live without her.

Just then he strikes against a dandelion which has gone to seed,
and, like men's resolutions and men's promises, the white ball of
down is scattered, its white floss flies out and is dispersed.

The night is not cold as the nights generally are in that part of
the country. The warmth is kept in by the grey cloud blanket. The
winds show themselves mercifu