ng materials, and drew down the lid. She could not at first
find the ink, so looked for it in drawers and pigeonholes. While
searching, she came upon a small casket which she remembered well.
It was her mother's--she had received it from her husband as a
wedding present. When Gunhild was a little girl her mother had
often shown it to her. The casket was enamelled in white, with a
garland of hand-painted flowers. On the inside of the lid was a
picture of a shepherd piping to a flock of white lambs. Gunhild now
opened the box to take a last peep at the shepherd.

In this casket Gunhild's mother had always kept her most
cherished keepsakes-the worn-down wedding ring which had
belonged to her mother, the old-fashioned watch which had been
her father's, and her own gold earrings. But when Gunhild
opened the box, she found that all these things had been taken
out, and in their place lay a letter. It was a letter that she
herself had written. A year or two before, she had made a trip to
Mora by boat across Lake Siljan. The boat had capsized. Some of her
fellow-passengers were drowned, and her parents had been told that
she, too, had perished. It flashed upon Gunhild that her mother
must have been made so happy on receiving a letter from her
daughter telling of her safety, that she had taken everything else
out of the casket, and placed the letter there as her most
priceless treasure.

Gunhild turned as pale as death; her heart was being wrung. "Now I
know that I'm killing my mother," she said, She no longer thought
of writing anything, but hurried away. She got up into the cart,
taking no notice of the many questions as to whether she had seen
her parents. During the remainder of the drive she sat motionless,
with her hands in her lap, and staring straight ahead. "I'm killing
my mother," she was saying to herself. "I know that I'm killing my
mother. I know that mother will die. I can never be happy again. I
may go to the Holy Land, but I am killing my own mother."

***

When the long line of carts and wagons had passed through the
village, it turned in on a forest road. Here the Jerusalem-farers
noticed for the first time that they were being shadowed by two
persons whom they did not seem to know. While still in the village,
they had been so engrossed in their leave-takings that they had not
seen the strange vehicle in which the two unknown people sat; but
in the wood their attention was drawn to it.

Sometimes it woul