ome, we shall be
late at church, and mother will scold." But the elder sister stood
motionless. "How strange thine eyes look; what dost thou see, Hyldreda."

"Look--what is there!"

"Nothing, but a cloud of dust that the wind sweeps forward. Stand back,
sister, or it will blind thee."

Still Hyldreda bent forward with admiring eyes, muttering, "Oh! the
grand golden chariot, with its four beautiful white horses! And therein
sits a man--surely it is the king! and the lady beside him is the queen.
See, she turns--"

Hyldreda paused, dumb with wonder, for despite the gorgeous show of
jeweled attire, she recognized that face. It was the same she had looked
at an hour before in the little cracked mirror. The lady in the carriage
was the exact counterpart of herself!

The pageant came and vanished. Little Resa turned round and wiped her
eyes--she, innocent child, had seen nothing but a cloud of dust. Her
elder sister answered not her questionings, but remained silent,
oppressed by a nameless awe. It passed not, even when the chapel was
reached, and Hyldreda knelt to pray. Above the sound of the hymn she
heard the ravishing music of the leaves in the oak wood, and instead of
the priest she seemed to behold the two dazzling forms which had sat
side by side in the golden chariot.

When service was ended, and all went homewards, she lingered under the
trees where the vision, or reality, whichever it was, had met her sight,
half longing for its reappearance. But her mother whispered something to
Esbern, and they hurried Hyldreda away.

She laid aside her Sunday mantle, the scarlet woof which to spin, weave,
and fashion, had cost her a world of pains. How coarse and ugly it
seemed! She threw it contemptuously aside, and thought how beautiful
looked the purple-robed lady, who was so like herself.

"And why should I not be as fair as she? I should, if I were only
dressed as fine. Heaven might as well have made me a lady, instead of a
poor peasant girl."

These repinings entered the young heart hitherto so pure and happy. They
haunted her even when she rejoined her mother, Resa, and Esbern Lynge.
She prepared the noonday meal, but her step was heavy and her hand
unwilling. The fare seemed coarse, the cottage looked dark and poor. She
wondered what sort of a palace home was that owned by the beautiful
lady; and whether the king, if king the stranger were, presided at his
banquet table as awkwardly as did Esbern Lynge at the m