lds. On her way, Ebba, with
peculiar tenderness, pointed out various scenes of her childhood and
youth, the home of old servants, spots where she had been with Alete, and
made memorable by various little incidents.

Suddenly she ceased to speak--looked at the scenery with deep interest
glancing at the sea and the sky, and seemed absorbed in a melancholy
reminiscence.

Her father had listened to her with pleasure, and turned to ask why she
was silent. He was filled with delight. Had he been able, however, to
look into her mind, he would have seen a deep sentiment of sadness and
resignation, united with resignation and hopelessness.

In the silent meditation of the poor invalid there might be read a last
adieu to the blue wave, the green wood, the distant prospects which so
often had occupied her reverie. The warm summer breeze, which played in
her hair, the clear sky, the whole tapestry of nature she was about to
leave, instinct as it was with poetic fancy. By her half open lips, by
her wondering eye, she bade adieu to the scenes amid which she had lived,
to the flowers which smiled on her as a sister, and where birds sang
their matin lays as if she had been one of their kindred.

When he reached the parsonage, her father stopped to chat with the old
pastor. Ebba took Alete by the hand, and hurried her into the chamber.

"Dear sister," said she, "I wished to see you again."

"Again, Ebba--I hope you will, and for many a year."

"Yes--yes--but not here, in another world." She grew pale as she spoke.

"What an idea!" said Alete. "I was so agreeably surprised by your visit.
Have you come to distress me?"

As she spoke, Alete covered her face, now suffused with tears, with her
hands.

"Excuse me, Alete. I was wrong to give way so. Let us talk of something
else."

"Yes, yes," said Alete, smiling amid her tears. "Has anything been heard
of Ireneus?"

"Ireneus is--dead!" said Ebba sadly.

"Dead!" exclaimed Alete; "how so?"

"I know he is. I saw him last night."

"Ah, I have sometimes dreamed of a person's death, whom on the next
morning I met perfectly well."

"I tell you I saw him struck by a ball in the breast, the blood running
from the wound, looking staringly around, and smiling in the agonies of
death."

"Madness! my dear Ebba," said Alete, with a burst of strange unnatural
laughter, for in spite of herself she was impressed by the words of her
sister. "Come, Eric and his father expect us. Let us pas