at," said Harald, "is because you saw here good corn for
the first time."

Of the Norwegian weights, Susanna said, "I never know what I am about
with your absurd, nasty Norwegian weights."

"They are heavier than the Swedish," replied Harald.

Whenever Susanna became right vehement and right angry, then--it is
shocking to say it--Harald laughed with his whole heart, and at times a
faint smile brightened also Mrs. Astrid's pale face, but it resembled
the gleam of sunshine which breaks forth in a dark November sky, only to
be immediately concealed behind clouds.

Susanna never thought in the least, on these occasions, of putting the
bridle on the Barbra temper. She considered it as a holy duty to defend
the fatherland in this manner.

But the spirit of contention did not always reign between Harald and
Susanna. At intervals the spirit of peace also turned towards them,
although as a timid dove, which is always ready soon to fly away hence.
When Susanna spoke, as she often did, of that which lived in the inmost
of her heart; of her love to her little sister, and the recollections of
their being together; of her longings to see her again, and to be able
to live for her as a mother for her child,--then listened Harald ever
silently and attentively. No jeering smile nor word came to disturb
these pure images in Susanna's soul. And how limningly did Susanna
describe the little Hulda's beauty; the little white child, as soft as
cotton-wool, the pious blue eyes, the white little teeth, which glanced
out whenever she laughed like bright sunshine, which then lay spread
over her whole countenance; and the golden locks which hung so
beautifully over forehead and shoulders, the little pretty hands, and
temper and heart lively, good, affectionate! Oh! she was in short an
angel of God! The little chamber, which Susanna inhabited with her
little Hulda, and which she herself had changed from an unused
lumber-room into a pretty chamber, and whose walls she herself painted,
she painted now from memory yet once more for Harald; and the bed of the
little Hulda was surrounded with a light-blue muslin curtain, and how a
sunbeam stole into the chamber in the morning, in order to shine on the
pillow of the child, and to kiss her little curly head. How roguish was
the little one when Susanna came in late at night to go to bed, and cast
her first glance on the bed in which her darling lay. But she saw her
not, for Hulda drew her little head u