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Updated: June 24, 2025
And, burying her golden head in her pillows, she broke into a passion of convulsive sobbing. Ulrika grew positively desperate at the sound, what was she to do? Everything seemed to go against her she was inclined to cry herself. She embraced the broken-hearted girl, and tried to soothe her, but in vain.
But you seem kind," here her swaying figure tottered, and Ulrika drew her more closely to herself "I think I know you you came with me in the train, did you not? Yes and the little baby smiled and slept in my arms nearly all the way." A violent shuddering seized her, and a quiver of agony passed over her face.
The friends, whose taste had led them to select this dilapidated dwelling as a place of conference, were two in number, both women, one of them no other than the minister's servant, the drear-faced Ulrika.
He could think of no reason for Thelma's unexpected appearance at the Altenfjord he had forgotten all about the letter that had come from her to her father, the letter which was still in the house, unopened. "Well, well! It is very strange!" Ulrika sighed resignedly. "But it is the Lord's will and we must do our best for her, that's all."
To all the curious inquiries that were made concerning the cause of Lovisa's desire to see the bonde before she died, Ulrika vouchsafed no reply, and the villagers, who stood somewhat in awe of her as a woman of singular godliness and discreet reputation, soon refrained from asking any more questions.
"The body is the storm; The soul the star beyond it, in the deep Of Nature's calm. And, yonder, on the steep, The Sun of Faith, quiescent, round, and warm!" Late on that same night, the pious Ulrika was engaged in prayer.
"She is," replied the woman with a sort of ferocity; "and, if I had my way, I would tell her so to her face, and see what would happen to her then!" "Tut, tut!" remarked Mr. Dyceworthy amiably. "The days of witchcraft are past. You show some little ignorance, Ulrika. You are not acquainted with the great advancement of recent learning."
"Good Lord, have mercy on her soul!" murmured Ulrika piously, as she closed the upward staring eyes, and crossed the withered hands. "Good devil, claim thine own!" said Gueldmar, with proudly lifted arm and quivering, disdainful lips. "Thou foolish woman! Thinkest thou thy Lord makes place for murderers in His heaven? If so, 'tis well I am not bound there!
So she fumed and fretted, and sat by the kitchen-fire, drinking hot tea and talking to Ulrika all the while straining her ears for the least sound or movement from the adjoining room. But none came there was the most perfect silence.
Any way, they thought very little about it, they had had excitement of another kind in the arrival of Ulrika from Talvig, bringing accounts of the godly Lovisa Elsland's death.
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