The Stone-maiden stirred and opened her eyes. She raised her hands, breathed gently, and lifting her head, gazed at the old Priest and the boy with wistful brown eyes, like those of the figure Atven had met in the forest.
"Where is my father? Where am I?" she asked, in a low soft voice, as she rose up from the rock, and shook out the folds of her long dress.
Father Johannes took her hand, and gently repeated the old legend; while the Stone-maiden listened with wide-open eyes.
"I remember it all now," she said, as the puzzled look faded from her face. "We had but just landed when the thick cloud came down, and a shower of stones fell upon us. My father was smitten down with all his followers, and I only was left weeping upon the shore. A cold air seemed to breathe upon me, and I fell asleep."
She spoke slowly, in the old Norse tongue, but Father Johannes had studied it, and understood her without much questioning.
"Where was your mother?" he asked kindly, as Atven with smiles of delight, seized her other hand.
"My mother died just before we set sail, and my father would not leave me lonely," answered the Stone-maiden sadly.
"But we will all love you now," cried Atven. "I will grow tall and strong to work for you, and you shall never be unhappy any more!"
The Stone-maiden smiled, as she stood on the threshold of her new life. She looked up trustingly at her two friends, and the old Priest of Asgard, bending down, laid his hand upon her head with a gentle blessing.