sed excitement and uncouth
gestures--

"Storm is coming!--wide--dark, deep! See how the sky stoops with the
hidden snow!"

He pointed to the north, and there, low on the horizon, was a lurid red
gleam like a smouldering fire, while just above it a greenish blackness
of cloud hung heavy and motionless. Towards the central part of the
heaven two or three stars shone with frosty brightness, and through a
few fleecy ribbons of greyish mist limmered the uncertain promise of a
faint moon.

Gueldmar smiled slightly. "Storm coming?" he answered almost gaily. "That
is well! Storm and I are old friends, my lad! Good night!"

Once more he touched his horned steeds, and with a jingle-jangle of
musical bells and a scudding, slippery hissing across the hard snow, the
sledge sped off with fairy-like rapidity, and in a few moments its one
little guiding lantern disappeared in the darkness like a suddenly
extinguished candle.

The Lapp stood pondering and gazing after it, with the _bonde's_ money
in his palm, till the cold began to penetrate even his thick
skin-clothing and his fat little body, well anointed with whale-oil
though it was,--and becoming speedily conscious of this, he scampered
with extraordinary agility, considering the dimensions of his
snow-shoes, into the hut where he had his dwelling, relating to all who
choose to hear, the news of old Lovisa Elsland's death, and the account
of his brief interview with the dreaded but generous pagan.

Ulrika, watching by the corpse of her aged friend, was soon joined by
others bent on sharing her vigil, and the house was presently filled
with woman's religious wailings and prayers for the departed. To all the
curious inquiries that were made concerning the cause of Lovisa's desire
to see the _bonde_ before she died, Ulrika vouchsafed no reply,--and the
villagers, who stood somewhat in awe of her as a woman of singular
godliness and discreet reputation, soon refrained from asking any more
questions. An ambitious young Lutheran preacher came, and, addressing
himself to all assembled, loudly extolled the superhuman virtues of the
dead "Mother of the village," as Lovisa had been called,--amid the
hysterical weeping and moaning of the mourners, he begged them to look
upon her "venerated face" and observe "the smile of God's own peace
engraven there,"--and amid all his eloquence, and the shrieking
excitement of his fanatical hearers, Ulrika alone was silent.

She sat stern and abso