, and followed it
to the opposite shore with singing and loud huzzas.

But Susanna did not feel herself truly calm and happy till in Mrs.
Astrid's quiet room she had bowed her forehead on her knee, and had felt
her maternal hands laid in blessing upon her head. Her heart was so full
of gratitude it seemed ready to burst.

"I have then a mother!" she exclaimed, as she embraced Mrs. Astrid's
knees, and looked up to her with the warmest and most child-like
affection;--"Ah! I am too happy, far too happy! God has given me, the
poor solitary one, a home and a mother----"

"And a husband, too! Forget him not, I beseech! He too will be
included!" said Harald, as he gently embraced Susanna, and also bent his
knee before the maternal friend.

Mrs. Astrid clasped them both warmly in her arms, and said, with a
still, inward voice, as she went with them to the window, whence was
seen the beautiful dale in all its whole extent: We begin to-day
together a new life, and we will together endeavour to make it happy. At
this moment when I stand, surrounded by you, my children, and looking
forward as it were into a beautiful future, I seem to myself so well to
understand how that may be. We have not here the treasures of art; we
have not the life of the great world, with its varying scenes to enliven
and entertain us; but our lives need not therefore be heavy and
earth-bound. We have Heaven, and we have--Nature! We will call down the
former into our hearts and into our home, and we will inquire of the
latter concerning its silent wonders, and through their contemplation
elevate our spirits. By the flame of our quiet hearth we will sometimes
contemplate the movements of the great world-drama, in order thereafter
with the greater joy to return to our own little scene, and consider how
we can best, each of us play out our part. "And I promise you
beforehand," continued Mrs. Astrid, assuming a playful tone, "that mine
shall not be, to make so long a speech as now."

But both Harald and Susanna joined in assuring Mrs. Astrid that she
could not possibly speak too long.

"Well, well," said she kindly; "if you will sometimes listen to the old
woman's preachings, she, on the other hand, will often be a child with
you, and learn with you, and of you. I am at this moment equally curious
about nature, and long to make a closer acquaintance with her. The
thought of it throws a kind of vernal splendour over my autumn."

"And assuredly," said Har