ng beside him.

"The time grows very short," he said imperatively. "Prepare everything
quickly--go! Fear not--I shall live to see thee return--and to bless
thee for thy faithful service."

As he uttered these words he smiled;--and with one wistful, yearning
look at him, Valdemar obediently and instantly departed. He left the
house, carrying with him a huge pile of dry brushwood, and with the air
of a man strung up to prompt action, rapidly descended the sloping path,
thick with hardened snow, that led downwards to the Fjord. On reaching
the shore, he looked anxiously about him. There was nothing in sight but
the distant, twinkling lights of Bosekop--the Fjord itself was like a
black pool,--so still that even the faintest murmur of its rippling
against the _bonde's_ own private pier could be heard,--the tide was
full up.

Out of the reach of the encroaching waters, high and dry on the beach,
was Gueldmar's brig, the _Valkyrie_, transformed by the fingers of the
frost into a white ship, fantastically draped with threads of frozen
snow and pendent icicles. She was placed on a descending plank, to which
she was attached by a chain and rope pulley,--so that at any time of the
weather or tide she could be moved glidingly downwards into deep
water--and this was what Valdemar occupied himself in doing. It was a
hard task. The chains were stiff with the frost,--but, after some
patient and arduous striving, they yielded to his efforts, and, with
slow clank and much creaking complaint, the vessel slid reluctantly down
and plunged forward, afloat at last. Holding her ropes, Valdemar sprang
to the extreme edge of the pier and fastened her there, and then getting
on board, he untied and began to hoist the sails. This was a matter of
the greatest difficulty, but it was gradually and successfully
accomplished; and a strange sight the _Valkyrie_ then presented, resting
nearly motionless on the black Fjord,--her stretched and frosted canvas
looking like sheeted pearl fringed with silver,--her masts white with
encrusted snow, and topped with pointed icicles. Leaving her for a
moment, Valdemar quickly returned, carrying the pile of dry brushwood he
had brought,--he descended with this into the hold of the ship, and
returned without it. Glancing once more nervously about him, he jumped
from the deck to the pier--thence to the shore--and as he did so a long
dark wave rolled up and broke at his feet. The capricious wind had
suddenly arisen