brightly during Harald's stories. Silently ascended the
pillars of smoke from the cottages in the dale, where she was at home,
knew each child and each cow, knew the cares and the joys which dwelt
there, and where she had first learned rightly to comprehend Harald's
good-heartedness--always Harald--always did she find his image as the
heart in all these reminiscences. But now--- now should she soon leave
all this, all that was beautiful and dear!

They arrived now in Semb, and were greeted by Alfiero with barkings of
clamorous delight.--Susanna, with a tear in her eye, greeted and nodded
to all beloved acquaintances, both people and animals.

The windows in Mrs. Astrid's room stood open, and through them were seen
charming prospects over the dale, with its azure stream, its green
heights and slopes, and the peaceful spire of its church in the
background. She herself stood, as in astonishment, at the beauty of the
grove, and her eyes flashed as she exclaimed--

"See, Susanna! Is not our dale beautiful? And will it not be beautiful
to live here, to make men happy, and be happy oneself?"

Susanna answered with a hasty Yes, and left the room. She felt herself
ready to choke, and yet once more arose Barbra in her, and spoke thus--

"Beautiful? Yes, for her. She thinks not of me; troubles herself not the
least about me! Nor Harald neither! The poor maid-servant, whom they had
need of in the mountain journey is superfluous in the dale. She may go;
they are happy now; they are sufficient to themselves. Whether I live or
die, or suffer, it is indifferent to them. Good, I will therefore no
longer trouble them. I will go, go far, far from here. I will trouble
myself no farther about them; I will forget them as they forget me."

But tears notwithstanding rolled involuntarily over Susanna's cheeks,
and the Barbra wrath ran away with them, and Sanna resumed--

"Yes, I will go: but I will bless them wherever I go. May they find a
maid equally faithful, equally devoted! May they never miss Susanna! And
then, my little Hulda, then my darling and sole joy, soon will I come to
thee. I will take thee into my arms, and carry thee to some still
corner, where undisturbed I may labour for thee. A bit of bread and a
quiet home, I shall find sufficient for us both. And when my heart
aches, I will clasp thee to me, thou little soft child, and thank God
that I have yet some one on earth whom I can love, and who loves me!"

Just as Susanna