"Thou art still the old Otto," said Rosalie.

They went into her little room, where the crucifix, and before it a
small vase of flowers, adorned the table. Above the cross hung a
garland of withered heather.

"Two years ago didst thou give me that, Otto!" said Rosalie. "There
were no more flowers, there was nothing green but the heath, and
thou twinedst a garland of it for me. Afterward I would not take it
down from the crucifix."

They were interrupted by a visit. It was from the old preacher.



CHAPTER XV

"His coal was coarse, its fashion old;
He asked no dress of greater worth
Than that which kept from storm and cold
The Baptist when he preached on earth."
C. J. BORE.

Not alone of Otto's affairs, but also of "the city yonder," as the
preacher called Copenhagen, would he speak. Only once a week came
the "Viborg Collector" to hint, and the Copenhagen papers were a
whole month going their round. "One would willingly advance with
the time," said he. Yesterday, at the interment, he had not found
it seemly to gratify his desire of hearing dear Otto talk about the