end-positively at an end! The girl has heard some gossip about some dispute or other during the fire-all stupid talk; and so she has begged and prayed of her parents to consent to her breaking off her engagement. Now she is trying to become quite learned, and her parents are afraid of her becoming a blue-stocking, and therefore they intend to take her abroad for a time. But if one betrothal is at an end, there are no less than five others which are in progress! Young people are thrown so much together by these society-families, that it is really frightful, Miss Krusbjörn! In my time people did not so easily and freely get acquainted, and for that very reason modesty and good morals prevailed. My late husband, Miss Krusbjörn, never once gave me a kiss even during our betrothal, but only tickled my elbow. And therefore he had respect for me all his days. People did not formerly betroth themselves so hastily nor make such a merriment of it as they do now. A girl turned her tongue seven times in her mouth before she said Yes! She sate then at her sewing from morning till night, and danced minuets at balls. She did not leap and tear about in the waltz as she does now, Miss Krusbjörn. But, other times other manners! Now there are no less than two of the Dufvas, who it is said are to be married to the two brothers Orn; and Hertha Falk, also; but she ought to be actually betrothed with Lieutenant Nordin, because she has been his sick nurse all the summer. At least it is not becoming for people to have such familiar intercourse if they are not engaged to each other. And that I shall let my dear Hertha understand; and then I shall get to know how it stands with the betrothal. Well, well, papa Falk will have a word or two to say on that matter. But now I must above all things make out who is the gentleman who goes of an evening to Amalia Hård. He was with her twice last week.

"Now listen to me, Miss Krusbjörn; I have promised to have a coffee party on Sunday afternoon. One must see one's friends sometimes, and prepare for what one has to do; and one can always make out such a quantity of puzzling things when people are thus brought confidentially together. Let us now think how many biscuits and tea-cakes we shall require for about twentyfive or thirty persons. Things are dreadfully dear, Miss Krusbjörn, but still one must see one's friends. sometimes!"

After this visit on the outskirts of life, we will return to its innermost; we will talk about

LOVE.

-miracle of earth and heaven, Thou living breath of happiness,

Fresh breeze of the divinest bliss

To life's woe-stricken deserts given,

Thou heart that throbbest through creation,

Of gods and men, thou consolation.-TEGNER.

But we mean by this the high and glorious love which really deserves to be called.

The fresh breeze of divinest bliss

To life's woe-stricken deserts given.

We are not speaking of its many imitations, or of that dwarfish race to which people in a mistake give the name of loves, and who fly about shooting their arrows at random; butterflies which flutter from flower to flower; "Loke's fire," which kindles shavings, burns up quickly and soon goes out. The "house-warming" of which people talk in Norway, the child of habit and slug

gishness; the catch-fly which is viscous in the spring, but dries up during the heat of summer; ignes-fatui, which dance upon life's swampy fields, glimmer in the dark, but vanish, like vapour at sunrise; all these and many other symbols of love have their prototypes in life, yesterday as to-day; and we will let them live their little life, if they will only keep to the night, and not give themselves out for more than they really are, not set up any claim to the name of true love.

Love is not love,

Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove :

O, no; it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.*

True love loves the eternal in its object, and the nobler the object the more the sacred flame increases, feeding itself with esteem, approval, admiration, a divine and human joy over the good and the estimable in the beloved, sometimes also a divine compassion over his deficiencies, when at the same time the soul is noble and the desire only after good. Happy thou who lovest a noble object,—yes, even if thou art not beloved in return; thy whole life will be ennobled and enlarged thereby; thou thyself wilt grow by thy love, grow up in heaven, and there be united with thy beloved in the bosom of eternal love. If, however, thou lovest thus, and art thus loved in return by thy beloved!

Thus did Yngve and Hertha love each other with all their souls' best power. The more intimately they became acquainted, the more pure and inward was the joy which they experienced in each other; the more they felt

* Shakespeare's Sonnets.

themselves to be deeply united. But the serious character of their intercourse; the subjects which furnished them. with conversation and thought kept in long abeyance. the magical enchanting sentiment which the poet calls,

The heart which throbs through all creation,

which throughout all nature clothes in wonderful beauty object for object, which makes the sea luminous, gives fragrance to the flower, causes the birds to sing and adorn themselves with the most brilliant plumage, and which makes one human being see in his fellow human being, not an equal but a being of superhuman charm and superhuman power, whose mere step and voice make the pulses beat with wonderful joy, and whose silent presence even changes the whole existence to a festival.

Yngve and Hertha had begun a league of friendship of the most Spartan-like severity, which should exclude every weaker and commoner feeling. The inexpressible charm in each other's being, the grace, the fascination, awoke love which stole upon them like summer into the bosom of spring, as the sunbeam steals into the folded bud and opens it for a new life. If Hertha in her intercourse with Yngve had always continued to be the proud woman, whose words were keenly caustic, she would still have continued to be an object of esteem and also of admiration, but she would not have become dear to his inmost soul. The affectionate and womanly heart, however, which constituted the very essence of her being had, during her intercourse with him, more and more revealed itself. The upright and noble disposition, the clear insight into truth which she continually saw in Yngve, the manly gentleness which was the principal trait in his character, had operated upon her, as a calm bright day upon the tumultuous waves of the ocean agitated by the storm of the night. Unconsciously to herself, her mind and her language became more and

more gentle, her whole demeanour more beautiful and more agreeable, and not unfrequently did the bright, flashing glances express a deep though imprisoned warmth of feeling.

Yngve resigned himself with joy, and with the fulness of his whole heart, to the sentiment which so powerfully and so blessedly began to captivate his soul. Not so Hertha; she resisted the feeling which attracted her towards Yngve. The view which she took of woman's position and life, especially in the north, and the effect of her own peculiar circumstances, had made her suspicious and proud as regarded men in general, and caused her to oppose herself, as it were, to the impression which Yngve made upon her. He was, in fact, a man, and she had said in her heart, "I will not love; I will not give my soul and my happiness into the power of a man!" And this determination, together with the gloomy background of her own life, which caused her to regard love and its joys as a game for weak souls, a game too mean for the earnestness of human life, gave to her a calmness and a power of self-control much beyond what was in the power of Yngve. She said to herself, "I will be Yngve's friend; I will be to him as an elder sister, and love him as my brother!" But Yngve's amiable image became ever more and more an abiding light in her soul, and accompanied her even in her dreams.

One night it seemed to her that she was floating through space, striving to ascend upwards towards the home of the sun, but a weight as of lead lay upon her breast, she could not breathe, and felt herself sinking downwards towards a black, bottomless abyss, which yawned beneath her. But all at once the weight was lifted from her breast, she breathed more freely, and felt herself sustained as by a new power; more easily and more securely than before she floated upwards towards the world of light, to "Himla the lofty palace, fairer than the sun." At that