ean board here.

At the twilight, Hyldreda did not steal out as usual to talk with her
lover beneath the rose-porch. She went and hid herself out of his sight,
under the branches of the great elder-tree, which to her had always a
strange charm, perhaps because it was the spot of all others where she
was forbidden to stay. However, this day Hyldreda began to feel herself
to be no longer a child, but a woman whose will was free.

She sat under the dreamy darkness of the heavy foliage. Its faint sickly
odor overpowered her like a spell. Even the white bunches of elder
flowers seemed to grow alive in the twilight, and to change into faces,
looking at her whithersoever she turned. She shut her eyes, and tried to
summon back the phantom of the golden chariot, and especially of the
king-like man who sat inside. Scarce had she seen him clearly, but she
felt he looked a king. If wishing could bring to her so glorious a
fortune, she would almost like to have, in addition to the splendors of
rich dress and grand palaces, such a noble-looking man for her lord and
husband.

And the poor maiden was rudely awakened from her dream, by feeling on
her delicate shoulders the two heavy hands of Esbern Lynge.

Haughtily she took them off. Alas! he, loving her so much, had ever been
lightly loved in return! to-day he was not loved at all. He came at an
ill time, for the moment his hand put aside the elder branches, all the
dazzling fancies of his betrothed vanished in air. He came, too, with an
ill-wooing, for he implored her to trifle no more, but to fulfill her
mother's hope and his, and enter as mistress at the little blacksmith's
forge. She, who had just been dreaming of a palace home! Not a word she
answered at first, and then cold, cruel words, worse than silence. So
Esbern, who, though a lover, was a manly-hearted youth, and thought it
shame to be mocked by a girl's light tongue, left her there and went
away, not angry, but very sorrowful.

Little Resa came to summon her sister. But Hyldreda trembled before the
gathering storm, for widow Kalm, though a tender mother, was one who
well knew how to rule. Her loud, severe voice already warned the girl of
the reproof that was coming. To avoid it only for a little, until her
own proud spirit was calmed. Hyldreda told Resa she would not come in
until after she had taken a little walk down the moonlight road. As she
passed from under the elder-tree, she heard a voice, like her mother's,