ideal of a man, and was enamoured of him, and to-day I hear that
he is married."

"No, I don't know as I believe just that," answered the cousin,
dropping her eyes; "but I suppose that then you had a pretty
vision, and have carried it along with you in silence--and with
faith."

"But it was something more than a vision; it was a letter--a love-
letter."

The cousin looked upon Ingeborg so inquiringly, so anxiously, that
words were unnecessary. Beside this the cousin knew, that when
Ingeborg was inclined to talk, she did so without being asked, and
if she wished to be silent, she was silent.

Ingeborg continued: "One time, I drove to town with sainted
father. Father was to go no further than to Noerrebro, and I had
an errand at Vestervold. So I stepped out and went through the
Love-path. As I came to the corner of the path, and the
Ladegaardsway, the wind blew so violently against me, that I could
hardly breathe; and something blew against my veil, fluttering
with wings like a humming-bird. I tried to drive it away, for it
blinded one of my eyes; but it blew back again. So I caught it and
was going to let it fly away over my head, but that moment I saw
it was written upon, and read it. It was a love-letter! A man
wrote that he sent this as in old times the Norwegian emigrants
let their high-seat pillars be carried by the sea, and where it
came he would one time come, and bring his faith to his destined--
Geb.'"