's hand, regarded her with a new and amazed interest.
"Perhaps, if you had known what sort of a woman I am, you might not have
liked me to come near--_her_." And she motioned towards Thelma. "When I
was young--long ago--I loved--" she laughed bitterly. "It seems a
strange thing to say, does it not? Let it pass--the story of my love, my
sin and shame, need not be told here! But Sigurd was my child--born in
an evil hour--and I--I strove to kill him at his birth."

Thelma uttered a faint cry of horror. Ulrika turned an imploring gaze
upon her.

"Don't hate me!" she said, her voice trembling. "Don't, for God's sake,
hate me! You don't know what I have suffered! I was mad, I think, at the
time--I flung the child in the Fjord to drown;--your father, Olaf
Gueldmar, rescued him. I never knew that till long after;--for years the
crime I had committed weighed upon my soul,--I prayed and strove with
the Lord for pardon, but always, always felt that for me there, was no
forgiveness. Lovisa Elsland used to call me "murderess;" she was
right--I was one, or so I thought--till--till that day I met you, Froeken
Thelma, on the hills with Sigurd,--and the lad fought with me." She
shuddered,--and her eyes looked wild. "I recognized him--no matter how!
. . . he bore my mark upon him--he was my son,--_mine_!--the deformed,
crazy creature who yet had wit enough to love _you_--you, whom then I
hated--but now--"

She stopped and advanced a little closer to Thelma's bedside.

"Now, there is nothing I would not do for you, my dear!" she said very
gently. "But you will not need me any more. You understand what you have
done for me,--you and your father? You have saved me by saving
Sigurd,--saved _me_ from being weighed down to hell with the crime of
murder! And you made the boy happy while he lived. All the rest of my
days spent in your service could not pay back the worth of that good
deed. And most heartily do I thank the Lord that he has mercifully
permitted me to tend and comfort you in the hour of trouble--and,
moreover, that He has given me strength to speak and confess my sin and
unworthiness before you ere I depart. For now the trouble is past, I
must remove my shadow from your joy. God bless you!--and--try to think
as kindly as you can of me for--for Sigurd's sake!"

Stooping, she kissed Thelma's hand,--and, before any one had time to
speak a word, she left the room abruptly.

When, in a few minutes, Britta went to look after her, s