A thrill of emotion seized the wanderer at sight of it all; one glance let loose a flood of memories and thoughts of things long since forgotten.
All seemed as before. He looked at the stream, and followed the line of its course with his eye. The mills stared at one another from bank to bank, as they had always done since the beginning of time. But the mills themselves had changed. The old wooden structures were gone, and in place of them stood modern stone-walled buildings.
A lightning thought came into his mind: was there anything that was unchanged, though the setting seemed as it had been? What might not have happened in the little place during those years?
The wanderer felt uneasy at the thought. Here he was—but who could say what he would find here, now he had come?
Slowly, with heavy steps, he took his way down towards the village.
And ever as he neared it, his uneasiness increased.
* * * * *
He came to a turn in the way. From just beyond came the tinkle of a bell, and, as he rounded the bend, he saw a flock of sheep grazing, and a fair-haired lad watching the flock.
The sight gladdened his heart—the sheep and the shepherd lad at least were as he had hoped to find them.
"Good-day!" he said heartily. "And whose lad are you, little man?"
"Just Stina's boy," answered the young herdsman easily, from his seat by the wayside.