tively pressed the hand he held more tightly; for he
was not sure but that he was standing on the boundary of dream-land,
and some elfin maiden had reached him her hand to lure him into her
mountain, where he should live with her forever. But the illusion was of
brief duration; for Aasa's thoughts had taken a widely different course;
it was but seldom she had found herself under the necessity of making a
decision; and now it evidently devolved upon her to find the stranger
a place of rest for the night; so instead of an elf-maid's kiss and a
silver palace, he soon found himself huddled into a dark little alcove
in the wall, where he was told to go to sleep, while Aasa wandered over
to the empty cow-stables, and threw herself down in the hay by the side
of two sleeping milkmaids.

III.

There was not a little astonishment manifested among the servant-maids
at Kvaerk the next morning, when the huge, gaunt figure of a man was
seen to launch forth from Aasa's alcove, and the strangest of all was,
that Aasa herself appeared to be as much astonished as the rest. And
there they stood, all gazing at the bewildered traveler, who indeed was
no less startled than they, and as utterly unable to account for his
own sudden apparition. After a long pause, he summoned all his courage,
fixed his eyes intently on the group of the girls, and with a few rapid
steps advanced toward Aasa, whom he seized by the hand and asked, "Are
you not my maiden of yester-eve?"

She met his gaze firmly, and laid her hand on her forehead as if to
clear her thoughts; as the memory of the night flashed through her mind,
a bright smile lit up her features, and she answered, "You are the man
who gathers song. Forgive me, I was not sure but it was all a dream; for
I dream so much."

Then one of the maids ran out to call Lage Ulfson, who had gone to the
stables to harness the horses; and he came and greeted the unknown man,
and thanked him for last meeting, as is the wont of Norse peasants,
although they had never seen each other until that morning. But when the
stranger had eaten two meals in Lage's house, Lage asked him his name
and his father's occupation; for old Norwegian hospitality forbids the
host to learn the guest's name before he has slept and eaten under his
roof. It was that same afternoon, when they sat together smoking their
pipes under the huge old pine in the yard,--it was then Lage inquired
about the young man's name and family; and