He walked to the door, opened it, and called down the passage: “Kata!”
The old woman who had first shown Alma in, answered his call, and Ketill charged her briefly to show her mistress upstairs; she was unwell, and would go to bed at once.
Old Kata led her mistress to the bedroom above. She could not overcome the awkwardness caused by the impossibility of speech, but did her best to make up for it by kindly looks and gestures.
She would have withdrawn again at once, but Alma held her back, made her sit down on a chair by the bed, and tried to talk to her, repeating little phrases again and again till they were understood. Kata seemed willing enough, and did her best to understand; she would have liked to explain that she and all the others had already taken to their new mistress, and were anxious to do all they could for her. It was a marvel to Kata that a fine lady could be so natural and sweet and condescending. All that she had seen before of that sort had been proud and stiff and disdainful towards humble folk.
She tried to relate a dream she had had the night before about a burning light washed up by the waves, on the shore just below. Old Kata was a poor enough creature to look at, but by no means poor in spirit. She had her own world of visions and dreams, and was mistress there. And she would not speak to all and sundry of her dreams; but folk knew she had the gift, and could see what she would and learn what she pleased.
Kata was sure that the light she had seen was the fylgje, the attendant spirit, of the young Danish lady. Kata always saw a person’s fylgje before she encountered the person in reality, and she had rarely seen so beautiful a fylgje as this. For what could be more beautiful than a burning light? A burning light in the darkness. And she was accustomed also to interpret and say what such things meant. But here she could not. A burning light in the darkness—what could that mean? Something good, something beautiful it must be. And the person it followed must be a good and lovable soul.
Later that evening, the servants sat talking things over together before going to bed. They spoke of their Danish mistress, and gathered round old Kata, who, of course, had first claim to speak with authority here.
“Anyway, she’s a good heart,” said one of the men.
“And not too proud to take humble folks’ hand—as she did my very own.”