the reindeer, more anxious for their safety than his own--the poor
beasts were fatigued, and the blinding snow confused them, but they
struggled on patiently, encouraged by their master's voice and the
consciousness that they were nearing home. The storm increased in
fury--and a fierce gust of frozen sleet struck the sledge like a strong
hammer-stroke as it advanced through the rapidly deepening
snow-drifts--its guiding lantern was extinguished. Gueldmar did not stop
to relight it--he knew he was approaching his farm, and he trusted to
the instinct and sagacity of his steeds.

There was indeed but a short distance to go,--the narrow wooded defile
opened out on two roads, one leading direct to Bosekop--the other, steep
and tortuous, winding down to the shore of the Fjord--this latter passed
the _bonde's_ gate. Once out of the shadow of the pines, the way would
be more distinctly seen,--the very reindeer seemed to be conscious of
this, for they trotted more steadily, shaking their bells in even and
rhythmical measure. As they neared the end of the long dark vista, a
sudden bright blue glare quivered and sprang wave-like across the
snow--a fantastic storm-aurora that flashed and played among the
feathery falling flakes of white till they looked like knots and
closters of sparkling jewels. The extreme point of the close defile was
reached at last, and here the landscape opened up wide, rocky and
desolate--a weird picture,--with the heavy clouds above repeatedly
stabbed through and through by the needle-pointed beams of the aurora
borealis,--and the blank whiteness of the ground below. Just as the
heads of the reindeer were turned into the homeward road, half of the
aurora suddenly faded, leaving the other half still beating out its
azure brilliance against the horizon. At the same instant, with abrupt
swiftness, a dark shadow,--so dark as to seem almost palpable,--descended
and fell directly in front of the advancing sledge--a sort of mist that
appeared to block the way.

Gueldmar leaned forward and gazed with eager, straining eyes into that
drooping gloom--a shadow?--a mere vapor, with the Northern Lights
glimmering through its murky folds? Ah no--no! For him it was something
very different,--a heavenly phantasm, beautiful and grand, with solemn
meaning! He saw a Maiden, majestically tall, of earnest visage and
imperial mien,--her long black hair streamed loose upon the wind--in one
hand she held a shining shield--in the