[!-- H2 anchor --] CHAPTER XXXIII.

"The body is the storm;
The soul the star beyond it, in the deep
Of Nature's calm. And, yonder, on the steep,
The Sun of Faith, quiescent, round, and warm!"

Late on that same night, the pious Ulrika was engaged in prayer. Prayer with her was a sort of fanatical wrestling of the body as well as of the soul,—she was never contented unless by means of groans and contortions she could manage to work up by degrees into a condition of hysteria resembling a mild epileptic attack, in which state alone she considered herself worthy to approach the Deity. On this occasion she had some difficulty to attain the desired result—her soul, as she herself expressed it, was "dry"—and her thoughts wandered,—though she pinched her neck and arms with the hard resoluteness of a sworn flagellant, and groaned, "Lord, have mercy on me a sinner!" with indefatigable earnestness. She was considerably startled in the midst of these energetic devotions by a sudden jangling of sledge—bells, and aloud knocking—a knocking which threatened to break down the door of the small and humble house she inhabited. Hastily donning the coarse gown and bodice she had recently taken off in order to administer chastisement to her own flesh more thoroughly, she unfastened her bolts and bars, and, lifting the latch, was confronted by Valdemar Svensen, who, nearly breathless with swift driving through the snow-storm, cried out in quick gasps—

"Come with me—come! She is dying!"

"God help the man!" exclaimed Ulrika startled. "Who is dying?"

"She—the Fröken Thelma—Lady Errington—she is all alone up there," and he pointed distractedly in the direction from whence he had come. "I can get no one in Bosekop,—the women are cowards all,—all afraid to go near her," and he wrung his hands in passionate distress.

Ulrika pulled a thick shawl from the nail where it hung and wrapped it round her.

"I am ready," she said, and without more delay, stepped into the waiting sledge, while Valdemar, with an exclamation of gratitude and relief, took his place beside her. "But how is it?" she asked, as the reindeer started off at full speed, "how is it that the bonde's daughter is again at the Altenfjord?"

"I know not!" answered Svensen despairingly. "I would have given my life not to have told her of her father's death."