essing Ulrika, "why do you not make her rest at home and keep warm?
She is so old and feeble!"

"Feeble!" shrieked Lovisa; "feeble!" And she seemed choking with
passion. "If I had my fingers at your throat, you should then see if I
am feeble! I--" Ulrika pulled her by the arm, and whispered something
which had the effect of calming her a little. "Well," she said, "you
speak then! I can wait!"

Ulrika cleared her husky voice, and fixed her dull eyes on the girl's
radiant countenance.

"You must go away," she said coldly and briefly; "You and your father,
and this creature," and she pointed contemptuously to the staring
Sigurd. "Do you understand? You must leave the Alten Fjord. The people
are tired of you--tired of bad harvests, ill-luck, sickness, and
continued poverty. You are the cause of all our miseries,--and we have
resolved you shall not stay among us. Go quickly,--take the blight and
pestilence of your presence elsewhere! Go! or if you will not--"

"We shall burn, burn, burn, and utterly destroy!" interrupted Lovisa,
with a sort of eldritch shriek. "The strong pine rafters of Olaf
Gueldmar's dwelling shall be kindled into flame to light the hills with
crimson, far and near! Not a plank shall be spared!--not a vestige of
his pride be left--"

"Stop!" said Thelma quietly. "What do you mean? You must both be very
mad or very wicked! You want us to go away--you threaten to set fire to
our home--why? We have done you no harm. Tell me, poor soul!" and she
turned with queenly forbearance to Lovisa, "is it for Britta's sake that
you would burn the house she lives in? That is not wise! You cursed me
the other day,--and why? What have I done that you should hate me?"

The old woman regarded her with steadfast, cruel eyes.

"You are your mother's child!" she said. "I hated her--I hate you! You
are a witch!--the village knows it--Mr. Dyceworthy knows it! Mr.
Dyceworthy says we shall be justified in the Lord's sight for wreaking
evil upon you! Evil, evil be on those of evil deeds!"

"Then shall the evil fall on Mr. Dyceworthy," said the girl calmly. "He
is wicked in himself,--and doubly wicked to encourage _you_ in
wickedness. He is ignorant and false--why do you believe in such a man?"

"He is a saint--a saint!" cried Lovisa wildly. "And shall the daughter
of Satan withstand his power?" And she clapped her hands in a sort of
fierce ecstasy.

Thelma glanced at her pityingly and smiled. "A saint! Poor thing, how
li