since she had been in
the forest, it seemed ages and ages ago. She hardly knew herself; the
light seemed to be shining into her eyes as with a will and purpose,
perhaps to obliterate something, some old dream or memory, or to impart
some new power--the power of seeing the unseen. And this very thought,
this fear of some possible loss, brought the fading memory back, and she
pressed her hands against her throbbing temples as if to bind and chain
it there forever; and it was he to whom her thought returned. She heard
his voice, saw him beckoning to her to follow him, and she rose to obey,
but her limbs were as petrified, and the stone on which she was sitting
held her with the power of a hundred strong arms. The sunshine smote
upon her eyelids, and his name was blotted out from her life; there was
nothing but emptiness all around her. Gradually the forest drew nearer
and nearer, the water bubbled and rippled, and the huge, bare-stemmed
pines stretched their long gnarled arms toward her. The birches waved
their heads with a wistful nod, and the profile of the rock grew into a
face with a long, hooked nose, and a mouth half open as if to speak.
And the word that trembled on his lips was, "Come." She felt no fear nor
reluctance, but rose to obey. Then and not until then she saw an old man
standing at her side; his face was the face of the rock, his white beard
flowed to his girdle, and his mouth was half open, but no word came from
his lips. There was something in the wistful look of his eye which she
knew so well, which she had seen so often, although she could not
tell when or where. The old man extended his hand; Aasa took it, and
fearlessly or rather spontaneously followed. They approached the steep,
rocky wall; as they drew near, a wild, fierce laugh rang through the
forest. The features of the old man were twisted as it were into a grin;
so also were the features of the rock; but the laugh blew like a mighty
blast through the forest.

Aasa clung to the old man's hand and followed him--she knew not whither.

At home in the large sitting-room at Kvaerk sat Lage, brooding over the
wreck of his hopes and his happiness. Aasa had gone to the woods again
the very first day after Vigfusson's departure. What would be the end of
all this? It was already late in the evening, and she had not returned.
The father cast anxious glances toward the door, every time he heard the
latch moving. At last, when it was near midnight, he rous