sudden, of our case.
Better had we done to trust her than to hide it all this while, for she
turned to Ebbe, who stood at her shoulder, and "Is not this the feast of
Yule?" she asked. My master bent his head, but without answering.

"Ah!" she cried to him. "Now I know what I have longed to know, that
your love is less than mine, for you can love yet be doubtful of
miracles; while to me, now that I have loved, no miracle can be aught
but small." She bowed herself over me. "Art dying, old friend?
Look up and learn that God, being Love, deserts not lovers."

Then she stooped and gathered, as I thought, a handful of snow from the
deck; but lo! when she pressed it to my lips, and I tasted, it was
heavenly manna.

And looking up past her face I saw the ribbons of the North Lights fade
in a great and wide sunlight, bathing the deck and my frozen limbs.
Nor did they feel it only, but on the wind came the noise of bergs
rending, springs breaking, birds singing, many and curious. And with
that, as I am a sinful man, I gazed up into green leaves; for either we
had sailed into Paradise or the timbers of the _White Wolf_ were
swelling with sap and pushing forth bough upon bough. Yea, and there
were roses at the mast's foot, and my fingers, as I stretched them,
dabbled in mosses. While I lay there, breathing softly, as one who
dreams and fears to awake, I heard her voice talking among the noises of
birds and brooks, and by the scent it seemed to be in a garden; but
whether it spake to me or to Ebbe I knew not, nor cared. "The Lord is
my Shepherd, and guides me," it said, "wherefore I lack nothing.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me by comfortable
streams: He reviveth my soul. Yea, though I walk through the valley of
the shadow of death, I will fear no harm: Thy rod and Thy staff they
comfort me." But, a little after, I knew that the voice spake to my
master, for it said: "Let us go forth into the field, O beloved: let us
lodge in the villages: let us get up betimes to the vineyard and see if
the vine have budded, if its blossom be open, the pomegranates in
flower. Even there will I give thee my love." Then looking again I saw
that the two had gone from me and left me alone.

But, blessed be God, they took not away the vision, and now I know
certainly that it is no cheat. For here sit I, dipping my pen into the
unfrozen ink, and, when a word will not come, looking up into the broad
branches and