he came out of the house, looking radiant as the morning
itself,--her luxuriant hair was thrown back over her shoulders, and fell
loosely about her in thick curls, simply confined by a knot of blue
ribbon. She carried a large osier basket, capacious, and gracefully
shaped.

"Now, Sigurd," she called sweetly, "I am ready! Where shall we go?"

Sigurd hastened to her side, happy and smiling.

"Across there," he said, pointing toward the direction of Bosekop.
"There is a stream under the trees that laughs to itself all day--you
know it, mistress? And the poppies are in the field as you go--and by
the banks there are the heart's-ease flowers--we cannot have too many of
_them_! Shall we go?"

"Wherever you like, dear," answered Thelma tenderly, looking down from
her stately height on the poor stunted creature at her side, who held
her dress as though he were a child clinging to her as his sole means of
guidance. "All the land is pleasant to-day."

They left the farm and its boundaries. A few men were at work on one of
Gueldmar's fields, and these looked up,--half in awe, half in fear,--as
Thelma and her fantastic servitor passed along.

"'Tis a fine wench!" said one man, resting on his spade, and following
with his eyes the erect, graceful figure of his employer's daughter.

"Maybe, maybe!" said another gruffly; "but a fine wench is a snare of
the devil! Do ye mind what Lovisa Elsland told us?"

"Ay, ay," answered the first speaker, "Lovisa knows,--Lovisa is the
wisest woman we have in these parts--that's true! The girl's a witch,
for sure!"

And they resumed their work in gloomy silence. Not one of them would
have willingly labored on Olaf Gueldmar's land, had not the wages he
offered been above the usual rate of hire,--and times were bad in
Norway. But otherwise, the superstitious fear of him was so great that
his fields might have gone untilled and his crops ungathered,--however,
as matters stood, none of them could deny that he was a good paymaster,
and just in his dealings with those whom he employed.

Thelma and Sigurd took their way in silence across a perfumed stretch of
meadow-land,--the one naturally fertile spot in that somewhat barren
district. Plenty of flowers blossomed at their feet, but they did not
pause to gather these, for Sigurd was anxious to get to the stream where
the purple pansies grew. They soon reached it--it was a silvery clear
ribbon of water that unrolled itself in bright folds, throug