ssimilating them which was fairly bewildering. And if
purity of soul and loving singleness of purpose be a proof of noble
blood, she was surely one of nature's noblewomen.

In the course of the summer, Fern had made several attempts to
convince old Tharald that the glacier was actually advancing. He
willingly admitted that there was a possibility that it might change
its mind and begin to recede before any mischief was done, but he held
it to be very hazardous to stake one's life on so slim a chance. The
old man, however, remained impervious to argument, although he no
longer lost his temper when the subject was broached. His ancestors
had lived there on the farm century after century, he said, and the
glacier had done them no harm. He didn't see why he should be treated
any worse by the Almighty than they had been; he had always acted with
tolerable fairness toward everybody, and had nothing to blame himself
for.

It was perhaps the third time when Tharald had thus protested his
blamelessness, that his guest, feeling that reasoning was unavailing,
let drop some rather commonplace remark about the culpability of all
men before God.

Tharald suddenly flared up, and brought down his fist with a blow on
the table.

"Somebody has been bearing tales to you, young man," he cried. "Have
you been listening to parish talk?"

"That matters little," answered Fern, coolly. "No one is so blameless
that he can claim exemption from misfortune as his just desert."

"Aha, so they have told you that the farm is not mine," continued his
host, while his gray eyes glimmered uneasily under his bushy brows.
"They have told you that silly nursery tale of the planting of the
fern and the sweet-brier, and of Ulf, who sought his death in the
glacier. They have told you that I stole the bride of my brother Arne,
and that he fled from me over the sea,--and you have believed it all."

At the sound of the name Arne, a flash darted through Maurice's mind;
he sprang up, stood for a moment tottering, and then fell back into
the chair. Dim memories of his childhood rose up within him; he
remembered how his father, who was otherwise so brave and frank and
strong, had recoiled from speaking of that part of his life which
preceded his coming to the New World. And now, he grasped with
intuitive eagerness at this straw, but felt still a vague fear of
penetrating into the secret which his father had wished to hide from
him. He raised his head slowly,