ould be told her story, and how he would
examine Hund, and perhaps be able to give some news of the pirates, and
certainly be ready with his advice. Some degree of hope arose within
her as she thought of the esteem in which all Norway held the wisdom and
kindness of the bishop of Tronyem: and then again she felt it hard to be
absent during the visit of the only person to whom she looked for
comfort.

Frolich returned after a long while, to defer her hopes a little. The
boats had all drawn to shore on the northern side of the fiord, where,
no doubt, the bishop had a visit to pay before proceeding to
Erlingsen's. The cheese-making might yet be done in time, even if
Frolich should be sent for home, to see and be seen by the good bishop.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

PEDER ABROAD.

The day after Erica's departure to the dairy, Peder was sitting alone in
his house, weaving a frail-basket. Sometimes he sighed to think how
empty and silent the house appeared to what he had ever known it before.
Ulla's wheel stood in the corner, and was now never to be heard, any
more than her feeble, aged voice, which had sung ballads to the last.
Erica's light, active step was gone for the present, and would it ever
again be as light and active as it had been? Rolf's hearty laugh was
silent; perhaps for ever. Oddo was an inmate still, but Oddo was much
altered of late, and who could wonder? Though the boy was strangely
unbelieving about some things, he could not but feel how wonders and
misfortunes had crowded upon one another since the night of his defiance
of Nipen.

From the hour of Hund's return, the boy had hardly been heard to speak.
All these thoughts were too melancholy for old Peder, and, to break the
silence, he began to sing as he wove his basket.

He had nearly got through a ballad of a hundred and five stanzas, when
he heard a footstep on the floor.

"Oddo, my boy," said he, "surely you are in early. Can it be
dinner-time yet?"

"No, not this hour," replied Oddo, in a low voice, which sank to a
whisper as he said, "I have left Hund laying the troughs to water the
meadow, and if he misses me, I don't care. I could not stay;--I could
not help coming;--and if he kills me for telling you, he may, for tell
you I must."

And Oddo went to close and fasten the door, and then he sat down on the
ground, rested his arms on his grandfather's knees, and told his story
in such a low tone that no "little bird" under the eaves could