Now before sunrise, whilst it was yet early, he was awakened by the voice of the hermit crying, "My son, my dear son!" and he jumped up, saying, "My Father!"
But as he spoke the hermit passed him. And as he passed he turned, and the boy saw that his eyes were open. And the hermit fixed them long and tenderly on him.
Then the boy cried, "Ah, tell me, my Father, dost thou see?"
And he answered, "I see now!" and so passed on down the walk.
And as he went through the garden, in the still dawn, the boy trembled, for the hermit's footsteps gave no sound. And he passed beyond the rosemary bush, and came not again.
And when the day wore on, and the hermit did not return, the boy went into his cell.
Without, the sunshine dried the dew from paths on which the hermit's feet had left no prints, and cherished the spring flowers bursting into bloom. But within, the hermit's dead body lay stretched upon his pallet, and the Trinity Flower was in his hand.
THE KYRKEGRIM TURNED PREACHER.
A LEGEND.
It is said that in Norway every church has its own Niss, or Brownie.