called the girl into her bedroom one evening, and said, "My dear
Stineli, I can very well understand that you cannot forget your friend
Rico, but you must try to remember that it is God's will that he should
be taken away; and that, as it is so, it is also the best thing for
Rico, as we must try to think."

At these words Stineli began to weep as her grandmother had never seen
her do before; and she sobbed and sobbed, saying, "The good God did not
do it: I did it, grandmother; and therefore I feel as if I should die of
anxiety. It was I who proposed to Rico to go to find the lake, and now
he has fallen into a ravine, and is dead; it has hurt him dreadfully,
and it is all my fault." Then the poor child cried and sobbed pitifully.
It seemed to the grandmother as if a heavy weight were lifted from her
heart as she heard these words of Stineli's. She had given up Rico as
lost; and had in secret believed that the child had fled from the unkind
treatment he had received at home, and was lying somewhere in the water,
or was lost in the woods. Now a new hope arose in her heart.

She succeeded in quieting Stineli enough to persuade her to relate the
whole story about the lake, of which the grandmother was in total
ignorance: how Rico had always been talking about this lake, and how he
had longed to go to find it, and how, at last, Stineli had suggested the
way for him to do so. It really seemed most likely that Rico had started
to find the lake, but her father's mention of the ravines had destroyed
all hope in Stineli.

The good old woman took her granddaughter by the hand, and drew her
towards her, saying, "Now, Stineli, I have something to explain to you.
Do you remember what the old song says,--the one we sang with Rico on
the last evening we were together?--