It is probable that old Dorthe's outpourings would not have come to an end for some time, had not Fru Marta made a sign to her servants, at which they carried off the old woman without any ceremony, and in spite of her strenuous resistance, to one of the small rooms on the lower floor, where she was left to herself to further reflect upon the high lineage of her young lady.
But Fru Marta took the astonished Regina, half by force, half voluntarily, by the arm, and led her to the allotted room near her own, with a view over the town. Here the stern old lady left her for the present, yet not without adding the following admonitions at the door:
"I can tell you, my young friend, to obey is better than to weep; the bird that sings too early in the morning is in the claws of the hawk before evening. Follow the laws of the country you are in. It is now seven o'clock. At eight supper is served, at nine you go to bed, and at four in the morning you get up, and if you don't know how to card and spin, I will give you some sewing, so that time shall not hang heavy on your hands. Then we will talk together, and when your waiting woman learns to hold her tongue you may have her back again. Good night; don't forget to say your prayers; a psalm Prayer Book lies on the dressing-table."
With these words Fru Marta shut the door, and Lady Regina was alone. Solitary, imprisoned, in a foreign land, left to the mercy of a hard keeper ... her thoughts were of the most depressing kind. Lady Regina fell on her knees, and prayed to the saints, not from the heretic Prayer Book, but with the rosary of rubies which her uncle, the bishop, had formerly given her as sponsor. What did she pray for? Only Heaven and the black walls of Korsholm know that; but a sympathetic heart can imagine her petitions. She prayed for the saints' assistance; for the victory of her faith and the downfall of the heretics; she prayed also that the saints might convert King Gustaf Adolf to the only saving Church; that he, another Saul, might become another Paul. Finally she prayed for freedom and protection ... the hours fled; her supper was brought in, and still she continued her supplications.
At last Lady Regina arose and looked out of the little window. There lay a landscape in the sunset glow; it was not Franconia, with its luxuriant vineyards; it was not the rushing Main; the town yonder was not rich Würzburg, with its rows of cloisters and high turret spires. It was poor, pale Finland, with an arm of its sea; it was young little Vasa, with its church, Mustasaari, the oldest in East Bothnia; one could plainly see the reflection of the sun on the small Gothic windows, of stained glass belonging to Catholic times, and it seemed to Regina as if she saw the transfigured saints looking out from their former temple. And at this moment, had not the eye of the setting sun itself such a beatific look, as it serenely gazed down upon the world's strife! All was silent and still—the evening glow, the landscape's pretty verdure, the newly mown fields with their rows of sheaves, the small red houses with their shining windows—all conduced to devotion and peace.
Suddenly, Lady Regina heard in the distance a mild, plaintive song, simple and unaffected, as if proceeding from nature's own heart, on a lonely evening, with a setting sun on the shore of a silent sea, when all sweet memories awaken in a longing breast. At first she did not listen, but it came nearer ... now it was obstructed by a cottage wall, now by a group of hanging birches; now it was heard again, high, clear, and free; and finally one could distinguish the words.
CHAPTER VI.
THE LOVE OF THE NORTH AND THE SOUTH.
When the lonely singer approached one could gradually understand the import of the song. It was a gentle heart, which sang in uneven but impressive numbers, its longings and its sorrows on the shore in the glow of a beautiful August evening far off in the north country.