ager for vengeance,' indignantly rejoined
Swedenborg, 'that the fate of Sweden aids you. Your country is at this
moment the prey of her two bitterest enemies, and Ulrika may soon be a
queen without a realm.'

'I had already heard of the threatened invasions of the Danes and
Russians,' answered Arwed; 'but I did not apprehend such disastrous
results.'

'They have already entered,' rejoined Swedenborg. 'Bahuslehn is as good
as conquered. Stroemstadt and Marstrand have already surrendered to the
Danes; Carlsten has by this time fallen; and the Russians are raging
like wild beasts in the eastern part of the kingdom. Norrkoeping,
Nykoeping, and many other cities, hundreds of noblemen's seats, and
thousands of hamlets, are already in ashes. Heaps of slaughtered
animals infect the atmosphere; the youths of our land are borne by
Russian ships to ignominious slavery; and, while we are speaking,
general Lascy is moving with a strong army directly upon Stockholm.'

Arwed's blue eyes flashed. His heroic form became more erect. He
involuntarily grasped the hilt of his sword, and moved towards the
door.

'Whither would you go?' Swedendorg asked, in a kindly tone.

'To the garden, into the free air!' quickly answered Arwed. 'It is
becoming too warm for me here. Besides, I need solitude, that I may be
able to form a proper determination.'

'I know it,' said Swedenborg. 'You will resolve as becomes you, and so,
farewell. The Lord be with your sword!'

'We shall see each other again before I go,' said Arwed.

'I must travel still further to-day,' answered Swedenborg. 'I am now
going to the Nasaalpe lead mines. I must afterwards visit the iron and
copper mines in Tornea-Lappmark, and in a month I must be on my way
back.'

'Possibly we may meet in Stockholm,' said Arwed, forgetting his
banishment, 'and heaven grant it may be under better auspices!'

'_Quo fata trahunt, retrahuntque sequamur!_' cried Swedenborg with
unction, and the youth hastened out.

'A noble spirit!' said Swedenborg, looking with complacency at his
retreating form. 'It lay prostrate, sickened with love's pain and
bitter hate; and behold, with only two drops of that steel-tincture,
and his country's need, its strength revives, and labors, and throws
off the _materiam peccantem_, and his heart is as pure, and fresh, and
strong, as ever it was. Hail to the physician of the soul, who finds
the seat of the disease; but thrice hail to the patient whose good
dis