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    top of which rich sheaves of oats
    invite them to a magnificent meal; even the poorest day-labourer, if he
    himself possesses no corn, asks and receives from the peasant a bundle
    of corn, raises it aloft, and makes the birds rejoice beside his empty
    barn.

    Susanna had much to care for in the Christmas week, and was often up
    late at night: in part, on account of her own business; in part, on
    account of some Christmas gifts with which she wished to surprise
    several persons around her. And this certainly was the cause of her
    somewhat oversleeping herself on the morning of Christmas-eve. She was
    awoke by a twittering of birds before her window, and her conscience
    reproached her with having, amid the business of the foregoing day,
    quite forgotten the little birds, to which she was accustomed to throw
    out upon the snow, corn and bread crumbs; and they were now come to
    remind her of it. Ah! were but all remembrances like to the twittering
    of birds! With real remorse for her forgetfulness Susanna hastened to
    dress herself, and to draw aside the window-curtain. And behold!
    outside, before her window, stood a tall slender fir-tree, in whose
    green top, cut in the form of a garland, was stuck a great bunch of
    gold-yellow oats, around which great flocks of sparrows and bulfinches
    swarmed, picking and chirping. Susanna blushed, and thought "Harald!"
    The people in the house answered with smiles to Susanna's questions, the
    Steward had, indeed, planted the tree. The Steward, however, himself
    appeared as if he were quite a stranger to the whole affair, betrayed
    astonishment at the tree with the sheaf of oats, and could not conceive
    how it had come there.

    "It must," said he, "have shot forth of itself during the night;" and
    this could only be proved from the wonderful strength of the excellent
    Norwegian earth--every morsel of which is pulverised primary rock. Such
    a soil only can bring forth such a miraculous growth.

    In the forenoon, Harald went with Susanna into the farm-yard, where she
    with her own hands divided oats among the cows; bread among the sheep;
    and among the little poultry corn in abundant measure. In the community
    of hens was there with this a great difference of character observable.
    Some snatched greedily, whilst they drove the others away by force;
    others, on the contrary, kept at a modest distance, and picked up well
    pleased the corn which good fortune had bestowed upon them; others,
    again, seemed to enjoy for others more than for themselves. Of this
    noble nature was one young cock in particular, with a high comb, and a
    rich cape of changeful gold-coloured feathers, and of a peculiarly proud
    and lofty bearing; he gave up his portion to the hens, so that he had
    scarcely a single grain for himself; regarding, however, the while, with
    a noble chanticleer-demeanour the crowd which pecked and cackled at his
    feet. On account of this beautiful behaviour, he was called the Knight,
    by Susanna, which name he always preserved after that time. Among the
    geese, she perceived with vexation that the grey one was still more
    oppressed and pecked at by his white tyrant than ever. Harald proposed
    to kill the grey one; but Susanna declared warmly, that if either of the
    rivals were sacrificed it must be the white one.

    In a house where there are no children, where neither family nor friends
    assemble, where the mistress sits with her trouble in darkness, there
    can Christmas bring no great joy. But Susanna had made preparations to
    diffuse pleasure, and the thoughts of it had through the whole week,
    amid her manifold occupations, illumined her heart; and, besides, she
    was of that kind that her life would have been dark had it not been that
    the prospect of always making somebody happy had glimmered like a star
    over her path. Larina, Karina, and Petro tasted on this day of the
    fruits of Susanna's night-watching; and when it was evening, and Susanna
    had arranged the Christmas-table in the hall, and had seen it adorned
    with lut-fish,[3] and roast meat, and sweet groats, cakes and butter,
    tarts and apples, and lighted with four candles; when the farm-people
    assembled round the table with eyes that flashed with delight and
    appetite; when the oldest among them struck up a hymn of thanksgiving,
    and all the rest joined in with folded hands and solemn voices--then
    seemed it to Susanna as if she were no longer in a foreign land: and
    after she had joined in with the hymn of the people, she seated herself
    at the table as the most joyous, cordial hostess; clinked her glass with
    those of men and maid servants; animated even the most colossal passion
    for eating, and placed the nicest things before the weak and the timid.

    Mrs. Astrid had told Susanna that she would remain alone in her chamber
    this evening, and only take a glass of milk. Susanna wished, however, to
    decoy her into enjoyment by a little surprise; and had laid the
    following little plot against her peace. At the time when the glass of
    milk was to be carried in to her, instead of this a very pretty boy,
    dressed to represent an angel, according to Susanna's idea of one, with
    a crown of light upon his head, should softly enter her room and beckon
    her out. So beautiful and bright a messenger the lady would find it
    impossible to withstand, and he would then conduct her out into the
    great hall, where, in a grove of fir-trees, a table was covered with the
    sweetest groats, and the most delicious of tarts, and behind the
    fir-trees the people of the house were to be assembled, and to strike up
    a song to a well-known air of the country, in praise of their lady, and
    full of good wishes for her future life.

    Harald, to whom Susanna had imparted her scheme, shook his head over it,
    at first, doubtfully, but afterwards fell into it, and lent a helping
    hand to its accomplishment, as well by obtaining the fir-trees, as by
    fitting out the angel. Susanna was quite charmed with her beautiful
    little messenger, and followed silently and softly at his heels, as with
    some anxiety about his own head and its glittering crown he tripped
    lightly to Mrs. Astrid's chamber.

    Harald softly opened the door for the boy. From thence they saw the lady
    sitting in an easy-chair in her room, her head bowed upon her hands. The
    lamp upon the table cast a faint light upon her black-appareled figure.
    The audible movement at the door roused her; she looked up, and stared
    for some time with a wild glance at the apparition which met her there.
    Then she arose hastily, pressed her hands to her breast, uttered a faint
    cry of horror, and sank lifeless to the floor. Susanna pushed her angel
    violently aside, and rushed to her mistress, who with indescribable
    feelings of anguish she raised in her arms and carried to bed. Harald,
    on the contrary, busied himself with the poor angel, who with his crown
    had lost his balance, and while the hot tallow ran down over brow and
    cheeks broke out into the most deplorable tones of lamentation.

    Susanna soon succeeded in recalling her mistress to life; but for a long
    time her mind seemed to be confused, and she spoke unintelligible
    unconnected sentences, of which Susanna only understood the words,
    "Apparition--unfortunate child--death!" Susanna concluded therefore that
    the fabricated angel had frightened her, and exclaimed with tears, "Ah,
    it was only Hans Guttormson's little fellow that I had dressed up as an
    angel in order to give you pleasure!"

    Susanna saw now right well how little fortunate had been this thought;
    but Mrs. Astrid listened with great eagerness to Susanna's explanation
    respecting the apparition which had shook her so much, and at length her
    convulsive state passed off in a flood of tears. Susanna beside herself
    for grief, that instead of joy she had occasioned trouble to her lady,
    kissed, with tears, her dress, hands, feet, amid heartfelt prayers for
    forgiveness.

    Mrs. Astrid answered mildly, but with excitement: "Thou meant it well,
    Susanna. Thou couldst not know how thou wouldst grieve me. But--think no
    more about it; never more attempt to give me pleasure. I can never more
    be joyful, never more happy! There lies a stone upon my breast which
    never can be raised, until the stone shall be laid on my grave. But go
    now, Susanna, it is necessary for me to be alone. I shall soon be
    better."

    Susanna prayed that she might bring her a glass of milk, and Mrs. Astrid
    consented; but when she had brought it in she was obliged again to
    withdraw, her heart full of anguish. When she came out to Harald she
    poured out to him all her pain over the unfortunate project, and related
    to him the deep agitation of mind, and the dark, despairing words of her
    lady.

    At this Harald became pale and thoughtful, and Susanna at that was still
    more depressed. To be sure she had yet a little mine of pleasures
    remaining, on whose explosion she had very much pleased herself, but
    this in the disturbed state of mind produced but little effect. It is
    true that Harald smiled, and exclaimed, "The cross!" when a waistcoat
    made its appearance out of a wheaten loaf; it is true that he thanked
    Susanna and pressed her hand, but he had evidently so little pleasure in
    her present, his thoughts were so plainly directed to something else,
    that now every gleam of pleasure vanished for Susanna from the Christmas
    joy. When she was alone in her chamber, and saw from her window how a
    little beam of light proceeded from every cottage in the valley, and she
    thought how within them were assembled in confidential circles, parents,
    children, brothers and sisters, and friends, then felt she painfully
    that she was lonesome in a strange land; and as she remembered how
    formerly on this evening she made her little Hulda happy, and how
    fortunate her projects had always been, she took out a handkerchief
    which had been worn on the neck of the little beloved sister, and
    covered it with hot tears and kisses. Great part of the night she passed
    on the threshold of her lady's door, listening full of anguish to the
    never-ceasing footsteps within. But with the exception of several deep
    sighs, Susanna heard no expression of pain which might justify her in
    breaking in upon the solitude of her mistress.

    We will now turn ourselves to a somewhat more lively picture.

    There exists in Norway a pleasant custom, which is called Tura-jul, or
    Christmas-turns. In Christmas week, namely, people go out to visit one
    another by turns, and then in the hospitable houses is there feasting,
    sporting, and dancing. That is called "the Christmas-turns."

    And the "turns" extended also to the remote-lying solitary Heimdal. The
    pastor of the mother parish, the friendly and hospitable pastor,
    Middelberg, had sent an invitation to friends and acquaintances in the
    whole neighbourhood, which included also the inhabitants of Semb, to a
    feast at the parsonage, on the second day of Christmas.

    Mrs. Astrid excused herself, but besought Harald and Susanna to drive
    there. It had frozen a few days before, and had freshly snowed, so that
    the sledging was excellent, and Harald now again in good humour seemed
    disposed to make a little festival of driving Susanna to the parsonage
    in a small sledge with jingling bells.

    Mrs. Astrid had regained her accustomed manner and appearance, and thus
    Susanna was easy as to all consequences of her unfortunate scheme on
    Christmas-eve, and could give herself up with a free mind to the
    agreeable impressions which the winter-drive offered. And these were
    manifold and rich to a person who was so little used to pleasure of any
    kind as Susanna, and who, besides this, was of a fresh, open spirit. The
    air was so clear, the snow was so dazzling, mountain and woods so
    splendid, the horse so spirited, and Harald drove so indescribably well,
    the most difficult places being to him mere play-work, that Susanna
    exclaimed every now and then, "Oh, how beautiful! Oh, how divine!"

    With all this, Harald was uncommonly polite and entertaining. Attentive
    in the extreme that Susanna sate comfortably, was warm about the feet,
    and so on, laid himself out at the same time to make her acquainted with
    all wonders and beauties of the district; besides which he related much
    that was interesting of the peculiarities of the neighbourhood, of its
    woods, mountains, and kinds of stones, spoke of the primeval mountains
    and transition-formations, of that which had existed before the Flood,
    and of that which had been formed after it, so that Susanna was
    astonished at his great learning, and a feeling of reverence for him was
    excited in her mind. It is true that she forgot this for one while, in a
    quarrel which suddenly arose between them respecting the sun, which,
    according to Harald's assertion, must appear brighter in Norway than in
    Sweden, which Susanna contended against most vehemently, and assured him
    of exactly the opposite; and about the strata of air, of which Susanna
    asserted that they lay in Norway different to Sweden; upon the whole,
    however, the drive was harmonious, and in the highest degree
    advantageous to Harald's appearance. By his driving, his politeness, and
    his learning, he had attained to something quite grand and extraordinary
    in Susanna's eyes.

    When, after a drive of about six miles, they approached the
    parsonage-house, they saw from all sides the little sledges issuing from
    the passes of the valleys, and then hastening forward in the same
    direction as themselves across the fields of snow. Steaming breath came
    from the nostrils of the snorting horses, and merrily jingled the bells
    in the clear air. Susanna was enraptured.

    No less was she enraptured by the cordiality with which she saw herself
    received at the parsonage--she, a foreign serving-maiden--by foreign,
    wealthy, and respectable people. Susanna was, besides this, very curious
    to see bow things looked, and how they went on, in a respectable
    parsonage in Norway; and it was therefore very agreeable to her, when
    the kind Madame Middelberg invited her to see the house, and allowed her
    to be conducted by her eldest daughter, Thea Middelberg, everywhere,
    from the cellar even to the garret. Susanna, after this, felt great
    esteem for the arrangements in the parsonage-house; thought that she
    could learn various things from it; other things, however, she thought
    would have been better according to her Swedish method. Returned to the
    company, Susanna found much to notice and much to reflect upon. For the
    rest, she was through the whole of this day in a sort of mental
    excitement. It seemed to her, as if she saw the picture of comfort and
    happiness of which she had sometimes dreamed, here realised. It seemed
    to her, that life amid these grand natural scenes and simple manners
    must be beautiful. The relationship between parents and children,
    between masters and servants, appeared so cordial, so patriarchal. She
    heard the servants in the house of the clergyman call him and his wife,
    father and mother; she saw the eldest daughter of the house assist in
    waiting on the guests, and that so joyously and easily, that one saw
    that she did it from her heart; saw a frank satisfaction upon all faces,
    a freedom from care, and a simplicity in the behaviour of all; and all
    this made Susanna feel quite light at heart, whilst it called forth a
    certain tearful glance in her eye.

    "Have you pleasure in flowers?" inquired the friendly Thea Middelberg;
    and when Susanna declared that she had, she broke off the most beautiful
    rose which bloomed in the window and gave to her.

    But the greatest pleasure to Susanna was in the two youngest children of
    the house, and she thought that the heartful "mora mi" (my mother), was
    the most harmonious sound which she had ever heard. And in that Susanna
    was right also, for more lovely words than these "mora mi," spoken by
    affectionate childish lips, are not in the earth. The little Mina, a
    child about Hulda's age, and full of life and animation, was in
    particular dear to Susanna, who only wished that the little romp would
    have given to herself a longer rest upon her knee. Susanna herself won
    quite unwittingly the perfect favour of the hostess, by starting up at
    table at a critical moment when the dinner was being served, and with a
    light and firm hand saving the things from danger. After this she
    continued to give a helpful hand where it was needful. This pleased
    much, and they noticed the young Swede with ever kinder eyes; she knew
    it, and thought all the more on those who thought of her.

    Towards the end of the substantial and savoury dinner, skål was drunk
    and songs were sung. Susanna's glass must clink with her neighbours,
    right and left, straight before her and crosswise, and animated by the
    general spirit, she joined in with the beautiful people's song, "The
    old sea-girded Norway," and seemed to have forgotten all spirit of
    opposition to Norway and Norwegians. And how heartily did not she unite
    in the last skål which was proposed by the host, with beaming and
    tearful eyes, "To all those who love us!" and she thought on her little
    Hulda.

    But now we must go on to that which made this day a remarkable one for
    Susanna.

    After dinner and coffee were over, the company divided, as is customary
    in Norway. The ladies remained sitting on the sofa and in armed chairs
    round about, and talked over the occurrences in the neighbourhood,
    domestic affairs, and the now happily-concluded Christmas business, and
    "yes, indeed!" "yes, indeed!" was often heard among them.

    The young girls grouped themselves together in the window, and there was
    heard talk of "dress" and "ornament," "heavens, how pretty!" and jest
    and small-talk.

    In the next room sate the gentlemen together with pipes and politics.

    Susanna was near to the open door of this room, and as she felt but
    little interest in the subjects that were spoken of in her
    neighbourhood, she could not avoid listening to that which was said by
    the gentlemen within the room, for she heard how there a coarse voice
    was abusing Sweden and the Swedes in the most defamatory manner.
    Susanna's blood boiled, and involuntarily she clenched her fist.

    "Oh, heavens!" sighed she, "that I were but a man!"

    The patriotic burgomaster's daughter burned with desire to fall upon
    those who dared to despise her fatherland. She could not hear this
    coolly, and almost fearing her own anger she was about to rise and take
    another place, but she restrained herself, for she heard a grave, manly
    voice raised in defence of that foreign calumniated country. And truly
    it was refreshing for Susanna to hear Sweden defended with as much
    intelligence as zeal; truly it was a joy to her to hear the assertions
    of the coarser voice repelled by the other less noisy, but more powerful
    voice, and at length to hear it declaim, as master of the field, the
    following lines, which were addressed to his native land on the occasion
    of the death of Gustavus Adolphus the Great:

    At once is dimmed thy glory's ray;
    Thy flowery garland fades away.
    Bowed mother! But thy brightness splendid
    Shall never more be ended.
    The grateful world on thee her love will cast,
    Who mother of Gustavus wast![4]

    Yes, truly was all this a feeling of delight for Susanna; but the voice
    which spoke so beautifully--the voice which defended Sweden--the voice
    which called forth the feeling of delight, this voice operated more than
    all the rest on Susanna, for it was that of--Harald. Susanna could not
    trust her ears, she called her eyes to their assistance, and then, as
    she could no longer doubt that the noble defender of her country was
    Harald, she was so surprised and so joyful that in the overflowing of
    her feelings she might almost have done something foolish, had not at
    that very moment one of the elderly ladies of the party come to her, and
    led her into a quieter corner of the room, in order to be able there
    quietly to question her of all that she wished to know. This lady
    belonged to that class (scattered in every country of the world) which
    has a resemblance to the parasite growth, inasmuch as it grows and
    flourishes by the nourishment which it seeks from the plants on which it
    fixes itself. As this lady wore a brown dress, and had brown ribbons in
    her cap, we find it very appropriate to call her Madame Brun. Susanna
    must now give Madame Brun an account of her family, her home, all her
    connexions, why she was come into Norway, how she liked living there,
    and so on. In all this Susanna was tolerably open-hearted; but when the
    discourse was turned upon her present situation, and her lady, she
    became more reserved. On this subject, however, Madame Brun was less
    disposed to question than to relate herself.

    "I knew Mrs. Astrid," said she, "in our younger days, very well. She was
    a very handsome lady, but always rather proud. However, I did not mind
    that, and we were right good friends. People told me that I ought to pay
    a visit to Semb, but--I don't know--I have never seen her since she has
    been so strange. My God, dear friend, how can you live with her? She
    must be so horribly gloomy and anxious!"

    Susanna replied by a warm burst of praise of her lady, and said, "that
    she was always sorrowful, and appeared to be unhappy, but that this only
    bound her to her all the more."

    "Unhappy!" began Madame Brun again. "Yes, if that were all--but alas!"

    Susanna asked in astonishment what she meant.

    Madame Brun answered, "I say and think nothing bad of her, and always
    defend her, but in any case there is something odd about her. Could you
    really believe that there are people wicked enough to speak----to
    suspect----a murder?"

    Susanna could neither think nor speak--she only stared at the speaker.

    "Yes, yes," continued Madame Brun, fluently; "so people say! To be

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