the water-sprite's hand (and never was hand so delicate as the
water-sprite's) beckoning the heron to come and fish when the river
begins to flow.

When Erica heard M. Kollsen inquiring of Peder about his old wife, she
started up from her work, and said she must run and prepare Ulla for the
pastor's visit. Poor Ulla would think herself forgotten this morning,
it was growing so late, and nobody had been over to see her.

Ulla, however, was far from having any such thoughts. There sat the old
woman, propped up in bed, knitting as fast as fingers could move, and
singing, with her soul in her song, though her voice was weak and
unsteady. She was covered with an eider-down quilt, like the first lady
in the land; but this luxury was a consequence of her being old and ill,
and having friends who cared for her infirmities. There was no other
luxury. Her window was glazed with thick flaky glass, through which
nothing could be seen distinctly. The shelf, the table, the
clothes-chest, were all of rough fir-wood; and the walls of the house
were of logs, well stuffed with moss in all the crevices, to keep out
the cold. There are no dwellings so warm in winter and cool in summer
as well-built log-houses; and this house had everything essential to
health and comfort: but there was nothing more, unless it was the green
sprinkling of the floor, and the clean appearance of everything the room
contained, from Ulla's cap to the wooden platters on the shelf.

"I thought you would come," said Ulla. "I knew you would come, and take
my blessing on your betrothment, and my wishes that you may soon be seen
with the golden crown [Note 1]. I must not say that I hope to see you
crowned, for we all know,--and nobody so well as I,--that it is I that
stand between you and your crown. I often think of it, my dear--"

"Then I wish you would not, Ulla: you know that."

"I do know it, my dear, and I would not be for hastening God's
appointments. Let all be in His own time. And I know, by myself, how
happy you may be,--you and Rolf,--while Peder and I are failing and
dying. I only say that none wish for your crowning more than we. O,
Erica! you have a fine lot in having Rolf."

"Indeed, I know it, Ulla."

"Do but look about you, dear, and see how he keeps the house. And if
you were to see him give me my cup of coffee, and watch over Peder, you
would consider what he is likely to be to a pretty young thing like you,
when he is what he