"It is important then?"
"I should judge so."
"Hand it here," said Dame Hansen, in a tone that betrayed keen anxiety.
"Here it is, clean and not wrinkled in the least. But the letter is not for you."
Dame Hansen seemed to breathe more freely.
"Then who is it for?" she asked.
"For your daughter."
"For me!" cried Hulda. "It is a letter from Ole! I am sure it is—a letter that came by way of Christiania. My brother did not want me to be kept waiting."
Hulda had snatched the letter from the boy's hand, and now taking it to the table upon which her mother had deposited the candle, she examined the address.