th the wet worms crawling about my hair!"
ERIC MACKAY.

Long hours passed, and the next day dawned, if the dim twilight that
glimmered faintly across the Altenfjord could be called a dawn. The
snow-fall had ceased,--the wind had sunk--there was a frost-bound,
monotonous calm. The picturesque dwelling of the _bonde_ was white in
every part, and fringed with long icicles,--icicles drooped from its
sheltering porch and gabled windows--the deserted dove-cote on the roof
was a miniature ice-palace, curiously festooned with thin threads and
crested pinnacles of frozen snow. Within the house there was
silence,--the silence of approaching desolation. In the room where
Thelma used to sit and spin, a blazing fire of pine sparkled on the
walls, casting ruddy outward flashes through the frost-covered
lattice-windows,--and here, towards the obscure noon, Olaf Gueldmar awoke
from his long trance of insensibility. He found himself at home,
stretched on his own bed, and looked about him vacantly. In the earnest
and watchful countenance that bent above his pillow, he slowly
recognized his friend, companion, and servant, Valdemar Svensen, and
though returning consciousness brought with it throbs of agonizing pain,
he strove to smile, and feebly stretched out his hand. Valdemar grasped
it--kissed it--and in spite of his efforts to restrain his emotion, a
sigh, that was almost a groan, escaped him. The _bonde_ smiled
again,--then lay quiet for a few moments as though endeavoring to
collect his thought. Presently he spoke--his voice was faint yet
distinct.

"What has happened, Valdemar?" he asked. "How is it that the strength
has departed from me?"

Svensen dropped on his knees by the bedside. "An accident, my Lord
Olaf," he began falteringly.

Gueldmar's eyes suddenly lightened. "Ah, I remember!" he said. "The rush
down the valley--I remember all!" He paused, then added gently, "And so
the end has come, Valdemar!"

Svensen uttered a passionate exclamation of distress.

"Let not my lord say so!" he murmured appealingly, with the air of a
subject entreating favor from a king. "Or, if it must be, let me also
travel with thee wherever thou goest!"

Olaf Gueldmar's gaze rested on him with a musing tenderness.

"'Tis a far journey," he said simply. "And thou art not summoned." He
raised his arm to test its force--for one second it was uplifted,--then
it fell powerless at his side.