felt easier after this, and again sat still and
waited. She saw the stranger's dinner carried up to him; she ate a
little herself and fell asleep,--she had scarcely had any sleep the
previous night.

She awoke; there was yet no sounds of music above. Again she fell
asleep, and dreamed that the distance between the mountain peaks had
been spanned by a bridge. She told herself that this was the bridge at
Cologne, a lithograph of which hung on the wall near the bed-chamber.
Nevertheless it extended across the valley from one lofty mountain to
the other, supported by trestle-work from the depths below. The longer
she gazed the finer, more richly-colored the bridge became; for lo! it
was woven of rainbow threads, and was transparent and radiant, all the
way up to the straight line from crest to crest. But crosswise above
this, the distance was spanned by another bridge. Both bridges began now
to vibrate in slow two-fourths time, and immediately the entire valley
was transformed into a sea of light, in which there was an intermingled
play of all the prismatic hues; but the bridges had vanished. Nor were
the mountains any longer visible, and the dissolving colors filled all
conceivable space. How great was this? How far could she see? She grew
positively alarmed at the infinity of space about her and awoke;--there
was music overhead. In front of the house stood a crowd of people,
silently gazing at the upper window.

Magnhild did not stir. The tones flowed forth with extreme richness;
there was a bright, gentle grace over the music. Magnhild sat listening
until it seemed as though these melodious tones were being showered down
upon head, hands, and lap. A benediction was being bestowed upon her
humble home, the world of tears within was filled with light. She pushed
her chair farther back into the corner, and as she sat there she felt
that she had been found out by the all-bountiful Providence who had
ordered her destiny. The music was the result of a knowledge she did not
possess, but it appealed to a passion awakened by it within her soul.
She stretched out her arms, drew them in again, and burst into tears.

Long after the music had ceased,--the crowd was gone, the musician
still,--Magnhild sat motionless. Life had meaning; she, too, might gain
access to a rich world of beauty. As there was now song within, so one
day there should be singing around about her. When she came to undress
for the night she required both sittin