their guests went
to dinner she was called in to the countess, and very kindly spoken
to. She was told she should see her dear boy after dinner, and after
dinner she was sent for again.

How much he had grown! How tall and thin! But he had the same charming
eyes, and the same angelic mouth. He looked at her, but he did not say
a word. It was evident that he did not remember her. He turned away,
and was going, but she caught his hand and carried it to her lips.
"Ah! well, that will do!" he said, and hastily left the room--he, the
darling of her soul--he on whom her thoughts had centred for so many
years--he whom she had loved the best--her greatest earthly pride!

Anne Lisbeth left the castle, and turned into the open high road. She
was very sad--he had been so cold and distant to her. He had not a
word, not a thought for her who, by day and by night, had so cherished
_him_ in her heart.

At that moment a large black raven flew across the road before her,
screeching harshly.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "what do you want, bird of ill omen that you
are?"

She passed by the grave-digger's house; his wife was standing in the
doorway, and they spoke to each other.

"You are looking very well," said the grave-digger's wife. "You are
stout and hearty. The world goes well with you apparently."

"Pretty well," replied Anne Lisbeth.

"The little vessel has been lost," said the grave-digger's wife. "Lars
the skipper, and the boy, are both drowned; so there is an end of that
matter. I had hoped, though, that the boy might by and by have helped
me with a shilling now and then. He never cost you anything, Anne
Lisbeth."

"Drowned are they?" exclaimed Anne Lisbeth; and she did not say
another word on the subject--she was so distressed that her nursling,
the young count, did not care to speak to her--she who loved him so
much, and had taken such a long journey to see him--a journey that had
cost her some money too. The pleasure she had received was not great,
but she was not going to admit this. She would not say one word to the
grave-digger's wife to lead her to think that she was no longer a
person of consequence at the count's. The raven screeched again just
over her head.

"That horrid noise!" said Anne Lisbeth; "it has quite startled me
to-day."

She had brought some coffee-beans and chicory with her; it would be a
kindness to the grave-digger's wife to make her a present of these;
and, when she did so, it was agreed that