From a Swedish Homestead

ys managed opportunely to come down the hillside when they were baking or washing. She was a nice, clever old woman, and she and I

aight on until you come to a gate; there you must turn to the left; then you must go straight on until

s obliged to speak in this way in order to be obeyed; it was the only chance she had. Wh

er alive. And those whom no one loves have no right to live. She could not exactly say how she knew it was so, but it was as clear as daylight. She knew it from the feeling that the same moment she heard that they did not care about her an iron hand seemed to have crushed her heart as if

through, but by cutting its roots and leaving it standing in the ground to die by itself. There the tree stands, and cannot understand why it no longer gets nourishment and support. It struggles an

the midst of the wild forest. The door was locked, but as soon as Ingrid had got out

at her adopted mother was so hard to her that she would not go back to the Parsonage. But every time she came the old woman had talked her over and quieted her. She had made her some terrible coffee from roasted peas and chicory

rid this time. But the old woman was down at the Parsonage to the funeral feast, for the Pastor's wife had not forgo

ble, and the cat, and the coffee-kettle, although she did not feel comforted or cheered, she felt that here was a place

herself on the wooden seat, and lay the

rid would come out and play to him. He had taken the violin out long ago. As it was such a long time before she came, he bega

d been before she fell ill. She would no doubt be ill again. It was

she closed her eyes the violin assumed the student's voice. She also heard what he said; he spoke with her adopted mother and defended her. He spoke just as nicely as he had done to Mr. and Mrs. Blomgren. Ingrid needed love so much, he said. That was what she had missed. That was why she

adopted mother had loved her, she would have seen what Ingrid was worth. But a

little now and then; time after time she thought she was lying in her grave, and then it w

ing it is you wh

ught you knew that. I take you out of the grave; I carry

al times she rose up to do it, but could not. As soon as she fell back upon the settle she began to d

not you,' sh

ave been thinking about me every day for all these years; so you can un

and that it was he. But this was such infinite bliss that she again awoke. Love seemed to fi

life?' she said, half aloud. 'Wh

id bird had settled on her shoulder, and she was afraid of frightening it

fternoon and evening. At that time of the year it was not dark until after ten

hink about. Who could have closed the door? who had spread Anna Stina's great shawl over her? and who had placed a piece of dry bread beside her on the seat? Had he, the Goat, done all this for her? For a moment she thought she saw dream and reality standing side by side, trying wh