time of an annular
eclipse, and threw, but a pale light upon land and water. The silence
of death prevailed over the face of all nature. The mills upon the
height behind Tornea, as well as that upon the island, were standing
still,--the bewildered birds had flown to their roosts,--and the whole
less resembled an actual world, than a landscape in a magic glass,
lighted by a magic sun, which lacked the powerful life of nature.
Meanwhile Tornea's church bell tolled the midnight hour.

'Great and wonderful are the works of the Lord!' suddenly exclaimed the
devout pastor; 'and he, who considers them aright, has great pleasure
therein.'

'I also adore the great Creator in the exhibition of his terrors,' said
Arwed. 'But I must acknowledge that the silent, friendly, and dusky
star-lit night of my own Upland, is dearer to me than this wonderful
day. A sun which seems always to approach its setting, and yet never
sets, but remains mournfully suspended between life and death, is in
truth no joyous sight.'

'An image of my poor native country!' said the governor, soliloquising.

'And of my fate!' whispered Christine, almost inaudibly, as she leaned
her weeping face upon Arwed's shoulder.

At this moment a row-boat from Tornea approached the island. Megret
sprang out of it. 'Despatches from Umea!' cried he. 'The courier
appeared to come in great haste; wherefore I took it upon myself to
bring them directly to you.'

'You bring me nothing good,' said the governor, forebodingly, as he
hastily opened the letter. 'As I conjectured! Let us start! We must
this night commence our homeward journey.'

'In heaven's name, father, what is the matter?' asked Christine, in
sympathy with her father's alarm.

'The Danes have invaded Bahuslehn,' answered the governor; 'the
Russians have landed in Upland. Unless God perform miracles in our
favor, Sweden is lost. Let us hence to Umea.'

CHAPTER XXXVII.

As Arwed entered the castle of Gyllensten he was met by old Brodin,
who, with a face highly expressive of sorrow and condolence, bowed to
him in silence.

'What do you bring me, old honesty?' asked Arwed, with alarm' 'Not sad
news, I hope? How does my father?'

'The lord counsellor's excellency,' answered Brodin, 'is as well as
could be desired, and sends his kind regards to you. I am charged with
an important commission, for the execution of which I must beg a
private audience.'

'It concerns Georg