was served. An incident
had meanwhile occurred which suppressed all emotion, of whatever nature
it might be. It was that the bridegroom suddenly appeared, looking like
a shaggy beast, carrying a fur cape, fur boots, a short coat, a hood,
fur gloves, and a muff. He let them fall in front of Magnhild, saying
with dry earnestness,--

"All these I lay at your feet!"

There burst forth a peal of laughter in which even Magnhild was forced
to join. The whole bridal party gathered about the things which were
spread over the carpet, and every one was loud in praise. It was
evidently not displeasing to Magnhild either, in the face of a winter
journey,--for which she had been promised the loan of a variety of
wraps,--to have such presents lavished upon her.

In a few moments more Magnhild was attired in her blue dress, and she
was enough of a child or rather woman to be diverted by the change.
Shortly afterwards the new traveling wraps were donned, piece by piece,
amid the liveliest interest of all, which reached its height when
Magnhild was drawn before the mirror to see for herself how she looked.
The horse had been driven round, and Skarlie just now came into the
room, also dressed for traveling, and wearing a dog-skin coat, deer-skin
shoes and leggings, and a flat fur cap. He was nearly as broad as he was
long, and in order to raise a laugh, he limped up to the mirror, and,
with dry humor in his face, took his stand beside Magnhild. There
followed a burst of laughter, in which even Magnhild herself joined--but
only to become at once entirely mute again. Her silence still hung over
the parting. Not until the parsonage was left behind did she become
again dissolved in tears.

Her eyes wandered listlessly over the snow-covered heap of ruins on the
site of her childhood's home; it seemed as though there were that within
herself which was shrouded in snow and desolation.

The weather was cold. The valley grew narrower, the road led through a
dense wood. One solitary star was visible.

Skarlie had been cutting figures in the snow with his whip; he now
pointed the latter toward the star and began to hum, finally to sing.
The melody he had chosen was that of one of the ballads of the Scottish
highlands. Like a melancholy bird, it flitted from one snow-laden
fir-tree to another. Magnhild inquired its meaning, and this proved to
be in harmony with a journey through the depths of a forest. Skarlie
talked further about Scotland, it