ell afford to leave to its
freedom the ancient little nation that lives on a great rock of the
frozen seas. In view of this certainty, I have to organize some
native forces of defence, both on land and sea. One small colony of
Danish colonists who took the side of the Danish powers has had to be
put down by force, and I have removed the political prisoners from
the jail of Reykjavik, where they did no good, to the sulphur mines
at Krisuvik, where they are opening an industry that should enrich
the State. So you see that my hands are full of anxious labor, and
that my presence here seems necessary now. But if, as sanguine minds
predict, all comes out well in the end, and Denmark leaves us to
ourselves, or the powers of Europe rise against Denmark, and Iceland
remains a free nation, I will not forget that my true home is in the
dear island of the Irish Sea, and that good souls are there who
remember me and would welcome me, and that one of them was my dear
little playfellow long ago.

"And now, dear Greeba, you know what has happened to me since we
parted on that sweet night at the gate of Lague, but I know nothing
of all that has occurred to you. My neglect has been well punished by
my ignorance and my many fears.

"How is your father? Is the dear man well, and happy and prosperous?
He must be so, or surely there is no Providence dispensing justice in
this world.

"Are you well? To me the years have sent a tawny beard and a woeful
lantern jaw. Have they changed you greatly? Yet how can you answer
such a question? Only say that you are well, and have been always
well, and I will know the rest, dear Greeba--that the four years past
have only done what the preceding eight years did, in ripening the
bloom of the sweetest womanhood, in softening the dark light of the
most glorious eyes, and in smoothing the dimples of the loveliest
face that ever the sun of heaven shone upon.

"But, thinking of this, and trying to summon up a vision of you as
you must be now, it serves me right that I am tortured by fears I
dare not utter. What have you been doing all this time? Have you made
any new friends? I have made many, yet none that seem to have got as
close to me as the old ones are. One old friend, the oldest I can
remember, though young enough yet for beauty and sweet grace, is
still the closest to my heart. Do you know whom I mean? Greeba, do
you remember your promise? You could hardly speak to make it. I had
forgotten my ma