rothed as she bounded on before, with
little Resa in her hand?

"Is Esbern coming?" said the mother's voice within.

"I know not--I did not look," answered Hyldreda, with a girlish
willfulness. "I saw only the sun shining on the river, and the oak-wood
waving in the breeze."

"Look down the road, child; the time passes. Go quickly."

"She is gone already," said Resa, laughing merrily. "She is standing
under the great elder-tree to wait for Esbern Lynge."

"Call her back--call her back!" cried the mother, anxiously. "To stand
beneath an elder-tree, and this night will be St. John's Eve! On Sunday,
too, and she a Sunday child! Call her quickly, Resa."

The little child lifted up her voice, "Hyld--"

"Not her name--utter not her name!" And the widow Kalm went on muttering
to herself, "Perhaps the Hyldemoer[15] will not have heard. Alas the
day! when my child was born under an elder-tree, and I, poor desolate
mother! was terrified into giving my babe that name. Great Hyldemoer, be
propitiated! Holy Virgin!" and the widow's prayer became a curious
mingling of superstition and piety, "Blessed Mary! let not the elves
have power over my child! Have I not kept her heart from evil? does not
the holy cross lie on her pure breast day and night? Do I not lead her
every Sunday, winter and summer, in storm, sunshine, or snow, to the
chapel in the valley? And this day I will say for her a double prayer."

The mother's counted beads had scarce come to an end when Hyldreda stood
by her side, and, following the light-footed damsel, came Esbern Lynge.

"Child, why didst thou linger under the tree?" said the widow. "It does
not become a young maiden to stand flaunting outside her door. Who wert
thou watching so eagerly?"

"Not thee, Esbern," laughed the girl, shaking her head at her betrothed,
who interposed with a happy conscious face; "I was looking at a grand
train that wound along the road, and thinking how pleasant it would be
to dress on a Sunday like the lady of the castle, and recline idly
behind four prancing horses instead of trudging on in these clumsy
shoes."

The mother frowned, and Esbern Lynge looked sorrowful.

"I wish I could give her all she longs for," sighed the young man, as
they proceeded on their way, his duteous arm supporting the widow, while
Hyldreda and Resa went bounding onward before them; "She is as beautiful
as a queen--I would that I could make her one."

"Wish rather, Esbern, that Heaven may m