he hard snow--then a sudden slackening
of speed--the little metallic chimes rang slower and yet more slowly,
till with a decisive and melodious clash they stopped!

Ulrika's heart beat thickly--her face flushed--she advanced to Thelma's
bedside, hoping, fearing,--she knew not what. There was a tread of firm,
yet hurried, footsteps without--a murmur of subdued voices--a
half-suppressed exclamation of surprise and relief from Valdemar,--and
then the door of the room was hastily thrown open, and a man's tall
figure, draped in what seemed to be a garment of frozen snowflakes,
stood on the threshold. The noise startled Thelma--she opened her
beautiful, tired, blue eyes. Ah! what a divine rapture,--what a dazzling
wonder and joy flashed into them, giving them back their old lustre of
sunlight sparkling on azure sea! She sprang up in her bed and stretched
out her arms.

"Philip!" she cried sobbingly. "Philip! oh my darling! Try--try to love
me again! . . . just a little!--before I die!"

As she spoke she was clasped to his breast,--folded to his heart in that
strong, jealous, passionate embrace with which we who love, would fain
shield our nearest and dearest from even the shadow of evil--his lips
closed on hers,--and in the sacred stillness that followed, Ulrika
slipped from the room, leaving husband and wife alone together.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

"I have led her home, my love, my only friend;
There is none like her, none!
And never yet so warmly ran my blood,
And sweetly on and on,
Calming itself to the long-wished-for end,
Full to the banks, close on the promised good."
TENNYSON.

Britta was in the kitchen, dragging off her snow-wet cloak and fur
mufflers, and crying heartily all the while. The stalwart Svensen stood
looking at her in perplexity, now and then uttering a word of vague
sympathy and consolation, to which she paid not the slightest heed. The
poor girl was tired out, and half-numb with the piercing cold,--the
excitement which had kept her up for days and days, had yielded to the
nervous exhaustion, which was its natural result,--and she kept on
weeping without exactly knowing why she wept. Throughout the long and
fatiguing journey she had maintained unflinching energy and
perseverance,--undaunted by storm, sleet, and darkness, she had driven
steadily over long miles of trackless snow--her instinct had guided her
by th