When they had finished singing, one of the girls told that a lady traveling that way had taught them the hymn, and the other, that her part had been arranged by the Fröken. Without uttering a word, without even changing her position, Magnhild held out her hand, which was clasped by the young lady nearest her.
At this moment voices were heard out of doors. The priest was approaching, accompanied by several men. As they stopped at the door-steps, Rönnaug entered the sitting-room. Soon a tramping of many feet was heard on the steps; the group at the piano rose, Magnhild crossed the floor to where Rönnaug stood. First the dog, then the priest, entered in solemn procession, and slowly following them came dropping in, one by one, six or seven of the farmers of the little mountain parish, heavy, toil-worn men, all of them. Magnhild pressed close up to Rönnaug, who also drew back a little, so that they two stood in front of the gauze-covered mirror. The priest said good-morning, first to Mrs. Randon, then to Magnhild, and asked how they were. Then the men went round the room, one by one, and shook hands with every one present.
"Call mother," said the priest to one of his daughters, and cleared his throat.
The mistress of the house soon appeared, and again man after man stepped forward, shook hands, and returned to his place. The priest wiped his face, stationed himself in front of the frightened Magnhild, bowed, and said:—
"Dear Magnhild, there is no cause for alarm! The representatives of our little parish chanced to assemble to-day in the school-house, and as I happened to mention that you were making a journey and had stopped at the parsonage on your way, some one said: 'It is due to her exertions that the poor-rates of this parish are so small.' Several others expressed the same sentiments. And then I told them that this should be said to your face; they all agreed with me. I do not suppose thanks have ever been offered to you, my dear child, either here or down at the Point, where the results of your work are even greater than here and have spread to the parishes on both sides of the fjord.
"Dear child, God's ways are inscrutable. As long as we can discern them in our own little destinies we are happy, but when we fail to see them we become very unhappy." (Here Magnhild burst into tears.)
"When you were carried downward by the landslide, with your sled in your little hand, you were saved in order that you might become a blessing to many.
"Do not scorn the gratitude of this humble parish: it is a prayer for you to the Almighty. You know what He has said: 'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.' May you realize this!"
The priest now turned toward his wife, and in the same solemn tone said,—
"Have refreshments handed to these men!"