he piano almost whispered. But the sunshine,
playing on the embroidered furniture and the embroidered covers, blended
with the music a harmony from afar.

When they had finished singing, one of the girls told that a lady
traveling that way had taught them the hymn, and the other, that her
part had been arranged by the Froeken. Without uttering a word, without
even changing her position, Magnhild held out her hand, which was
clasped by the young lady nearest her.

At this moment voices were heard out of doors. The priest was
approaching, accompanied by several men. As they stopped at the
door-steps, Roennaug entered the sitting-room. Soon a tramping of many
feet was heard on the steps; the group at the piano rose, Magnhild
crossed the floor to where Roennaug stood. First the dog, then the
priest, entered in solemn procession, and slowly following them came
dropping in, one by one, six or seven of the farmers of the little
mountain parish, heavy, toil-worn men, all of them. Magnhild pressed
close up to Roennaug, who also drew back a little, so that they two stood
in front of the gauze-covered mirror. The priest said good-morning,
first to Mrs. Randon, then to Magnhild, and asked how they were. Then
the men went round the room, one by one, and shook hands with every one
present.

"Call mother," said the priest to one of his daughters, and cleared his
throat.

The mistress of the house soon appeared, and again man after man stepped
forward, shook hands, and returned to his place. The priest wiped his
face, stationed himself in front of the frightened Magnhild, bowed, and
said:--

"Dear Magnhild, there is no cause for alarm! The representatives of our
little parish chanced to assemble to-day in the school-house, and as I
happened to mention that you were making a journey and had stopped at
the parsonage on your way, some one said: 'It is due to her exertions
that the poor-rates of this parish are so small.' Several others
expressed the same sentiments. And then I told them that this should be
said to your face; they all agreed with me. I do not suppose thanks have
ever been offered to you, my dear child, either here or down at the
Point, where the results of your work are even greater than here and
have spread to the parishes on both sides of the fjord.

"Dear child, God's ways are inscrutable. As long as we can discern them
in our own little destinies we are happy, but when we fail to see them
we become very unhappy