iden to make arrangements for the wedding.

"This thwart[2] is not secure," said the son, and stood up to
straighten the seat on which he was sitting.

At the same moment the board he was standing on slipped from under
him; he threw out his arms, uttered a shriek, and fell overboard.

"Take hold-of the oar!" shouted the father, springing to his feet, and
holding out the oar.

But when the son had made a couple of efforts he grew stiff.

"Wait a moment!" cried the father, and began to row toward his son.

Then the son rolled over on his back, gave his father one long look,
and sank.

Thord could scarcely believe it; he held the boat still, and stared at
the spot where his son had gone down, as though he must surely come to
the surface again. There rose some bubbles, then some more, and
finally one large one that burst; and the lake lay there as smooth and
bright as a mirror again.

For three days and three nights people saw the father rowing round and
round the spot, without taking either food or sleep; he was dragging
the lake for the body of his son. And toward morning of the third day
he found it, and carried it in his arms up over the hills to his
gard[3].

It might have been about a year from that day, when the priest, late
one autumn evening, heard some one in the passage outside of the door,
carefully trying to find the latch. The priest opened the door, and in
walked a tall, thin man, with bowed form and white hair. The priest
looked long at him before he recognized him. It was Thord.

"Are you out walking so late?" said the priest, and stood still in
front of him.

"Ah, yes! it is late," said Thord, and took a seat.

The priest sat down also, as though waiting. A long, long silence
followed. At last Thord said,--

"I have something with me that I should like to give to the poor; I
want it to be invested as a legacy in my son's name."

He rose, laid some money on the table, and sat down again. The priest
counted it.

"It is a great deal of money," said he.

"It is half the price of my gard. I sold it to-day."

The priest sat long in silence. At last he asked, but gently,--

"What do you propose to do now, Thord?"

"Something better."

They sat there for a while, Thord with downcast eyes, the priest with
his eyes fixed on Thord. Presently the priest said, slowly and
softly,--

"I think your son has at last brought you a true blessing."

"Yes, I think so myself," said Thord, looking up,