idden in every nook and corner of
our mountains and forests, and in our nation's heart. I am one of the
miners who have come to dig it out before time and oblivion shall
have buried every trace of it, and there shall not be even the
will-o'-the-wisp of a legend to hover over the spot, and keep alive the
sad fact of our loss and our blamable negligence."

Here the young man paused; his eyes gleamed, his pale cheeks flushed,
and there was a warmth and an enthusiasm in his words which alarmed
Lage, while on Aasa it worked like the most potent charm of the ancient
mystic runes; she hardly comprehended more than half of the speaker's
meaning, but his fire and eloquence were on this account none the less
powerful.

"If that is your object," remarked Lage, "I think you have hit upon the
right place in coming here. You will be able to pick up many an odd bit
of a story from the servants and others hereabouts, and you are welcome
to stay here with us as long as you choose."

Lage could not but attribute to Vigfusson the merit of having kept Aasa
at home a whole day, and that in the month of midsummer. And while he
sat there listening to their conversation, while he contemplated the
delight that beamed from his daughter's countenance and, as he thought,
the really intelligent expression of her eyes, could he conceal from
himself the paternal hopes that swelled his heart? She was all that was
left him, the life or the death of his mighty race. And here was one who
was likely to understand her, and to whom she seemed willing to yield
all the affection of her warm but wayward heart. Thus ran Lage Ulfson's
reflections; and at night he had a little consultation with Elsie, his
wife, who, it is needless to add, was no less sanguine than he.

"And then Aasa will make an excellent housewife, you know," observed
Elsie. "I will speak to the girl about it to-morrow."

"No, for Heaven's sake, Elsie!" exclaimed Lage, "don't you know your
daughter better than that? Promise me, Elsie, that you will not say a
single word; it would be a cruel thing, Elsie, to mention anything to
her. She is not like other girls, you know."

"Very well, Lage, I shall not say a single word. Alas, you are right,
she is not like other girls." And Elsie again sighed at her husband's
sad ignorance of a woman's nature, and at the still sadder fact of her
daughter's inferiority to the accepted standard of womanhood.

IV.

Trond Vigfusson must have made a