-by!" And she nodded her head
encouragingly. "By-and-by! There'll be plenty of time for singing
presently," and she laid her in bed, tucking her up warmly as though she
were a very little child, and feeling strongly inclined to kiss her.

"Ah, but I should like to tell you, even if I must not sing--" and
Thelma gazed up anxiously from her pillow--"only my head is so heavy,
and full of strange noises--I do not know whether I can remember it."

"Don't try to remember it," and Ulrika stroked the soft cheek, with a
curious yearning sensation of love tugging at her tough heartstrings.
"Try to sleep--that will be better for you!" And she took from the fire
a warm, nourishing drink she had prepared, and gave it to her. She was
surprised at the eagerness with which the poor girl seized it.

"Lord help us, I believe she is light-headed for want of food!" she
thought.

Such indeed was the fact,--Thelma had been several days on her journey
from Hull, and during that time had eaten so little that her strength
had entirely given way. The provisions on board the Black Polly were
extremely limited, and consisted of nothing but dried fish, hard bread,
and weak tea, without milk or sugar,--and in her condition of health,
her system had rebelled against this daily untempting bill of fare.
Ulrika's simple but sustaining beverage seemed more than delicious to
her palate,--she drained it to the last drop, and, as she returned the
cup, a feint color came back to her cheeks and lips.

"Thank you," she said feebly. "You are very good to me! And now I do
quite know what I wished to say. It was long ago--there was a queen,
named Thelma, and some one--a great warrior, loved her and found her
fair. But presently he grew tired of her face--and raised an army
against her, and took her throne by force, and crowned himself king of
all her land. And the song says that Queen Thelma wandered on the
mountains all alone till she died--it was a sad song--but I forget--the
end."

And her voice trailed off into broken murmurs, her eyes closed, and she
slept. Ulrika watched her musingly and tenderly--wondering what secret
trouble weighed on the girl's mind. When Valdemar Svensen presently
looked in, she made him a warning sign--and, hushing his footsteps, he
went away again. She followed him out into the kitchen, where he had
deposited his load of pine-wood, and began to talk to him in low tones.
He listened,--the expression of grief and fear deepened on