Though I was very eager to hear all the particulars of what had caused poor Cecilia's sad situation, yet a presentiment that some great calamity had happened, and a feeling of respect for the old woman's grief, restrained me from at once asking what I wished, yet dreaded to

hear.

"Is your husband not at home ?" was my first inquiry.

My husband!" she exclaimed. "Our Lord has taken him long since-alas! It is now three years, come Michaelmas next, that I have been a widow. But, pray eat something-it is homely fare-but don't spare it."

"Many thanks,” said I. "But tell me about yourselves. So your poor husband is gone-that must have been a sad loss—a sad grief to you." "Ah, yes!" she replied, with tears in her eyes; "but that was not the

only one. Did you see my daughter?"

"Yes," I answered; "she seemed to me a little strange."
"She is quite deranged," she exclaimed, bursting into tears.

"She

has to be watched constantly, and I am obliged to keep a woman to look after her. To be sure she spins a little-but she has scarcely time to do anything, for she has to be after poor Cecil at every hour of the day, when her thoughts fall upon Esben."

"Where is Esben ?" I asked.

"In God's kingdom," she answered, solemnly. 66 So you did not ask her about him? Oh, Lord, have mercy on us! He came to a dreadful end, nobody ever heard of such a frightful thing. But pray make yourself at home-you can eat and drink while you are listening. Aye, aye, sad things have happened since you were here. And times are also very hard-business is extremely dull, and we have to employ strangers now to carry it on."

When I saw that her regret for past comforts mingled with her sorrow for present evils, and that neither were too great to prevent her relating her misfortunes, I took courage and asked her about them. She gave me a history, which, with the permission of my readers, I will repeat in the narrator's own simple and homely style. After having drawn a chair to the table, and taken up her knitting, she began :

"Kjeld Esbensen and ourselves have been neighbours since my first arrival here. Kjeld's Esben and our Cecil became good friends before any one knew anything about it. My husband was not pleased, nor I neither, for Esben had nothing, and his father but little. We always thought that the girl would have had more pride or more prudence than to dream of throwing herself away on such a raw lad. It is true he travelled about with a little pack, and made a few shillings; but how far would these go ? He came as a suitor to Cecilia, but her father said no, which was not surprising, and thereupon Esben set off to Holstein. observed that Cecil lost her spirits, but we did not think much of that— 'She is sure to forget him,' said my good man, when the right one

comes.'

6

We

"It was not long before Mads Egelund-I don't know if you ever saw him-he lives a few miles from this-he came and offered himself with an unencumbered property, and three thousand dollars a-year. That was something worth having. Michel immediately said yes; but Cecil, God help her! said no. So her father was very angry, and

led her a sad life. I always thought he was too hard upon her, but the worthy man would take no advice; he knew what was best, and he, and the father of Mads, went to the clergyman to publish the banns. All went well for two Sundays, but on the third one, when he said, 'If any you know cause or just impediment why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it,' Cecil rose abruptly and cried out, 'I do; the banns for Esben and myself have been published three times in Paradise.'

of

"I tried to hush her, but it was too late; every soul in church had heard her, and had turned to stare at our seat. We were put to dreadful shame and mortification! I did not then imagine she was out of her mind; but when the clergyman had left the pulpit, she began again, and raved about Esben and Paradise, her wedding and her weddingdress, till we were obliged to take her out of church. My good Michel scolded her well, and declared that it was all a trick; but, God help us! there was no trick in it. It was all sad reality-she was insane then, and she is insane now."

Here the speaker let the stocking she was knitting drop on her lap; took the woollen clue from her left shoulder, turned it round and round, and looked at it in all directions, but it was evident that her thoughts were not with it. After seeming to forget everything around her for a few minutes she took up her knitting-needles, and, along with her work, resumed her sad tale.

"All her talk was about her being dead, and having got to Paradise, where she was to be married to Esben, as soon as he also was dead; and she remained in this state day and night. My good Michel, of blessed memory, then perceived how it was with her. It is God's doing,' said he, and none can read His will.' But he took it to heart for all that; and as to me, many were the hours that I lay awake in my bed and wept, while everybody else was sleeping. Sometimes I could not help saying, that it would have been better if the young people had married. "That may still come about,' said my husband. But that never was to be.

"For the first two months or so she was very ungovernable, and we tried severity with her; afterwards she became quiet, spoke little, but sighed and wept a great deal. She could not be induced to occupy herself in any way, for she always said, 'In Heaven every day is a holiday.'

"Full half-a-year passed in this way, and it was more than double that time since Esben had gone to the south, yet none of us had heard anything of him, either for good or for evil. However, one day, when we were sitting here-my good man, Cecil and myself—who should walk in but Esben! He had just arrived, had not yet even been to his own home, and had no idea what had happened, until he cast his eyes upon the girl, and then he could not fail to see that all was not right there.

"You have tarried long,' said she; everything has been ready for the bridal a year and a day. But, tell me, are you living or dead?' "Good Heavens, Cecil!' cried he, 'you can surely see that I am living.'

"That is a pity,' said she, for then you cannot enter the gates of Paradise. Strive to die as soon as possible, for Mads Egelund is watching to see if he can't come first.'

"This is a sad condition,' said he.

Oh, Michel! Michel! you have done terrible wrong to us. I am now worth my five thousand dollars, too; and my mother's brother in Holstein has lately died unmarried —I am to be his heir.'

"What's that you say?' exclaimed my husband. 'It is a pity we did not know all this some time ago. But have patience; the girl will recover now.'

"Esben shook his head, but went up to my daughter, and taking her hand, said,

"Cecil, speak sensibly now-we are both living; and if you will only be reasonable, your parents will give their consent to our marriage.' "But she snatched her hand from him, and putting both her arms behind her back, she shrieked,

666

Away from me! What have I to do with you? You are a mortal man, and I am one of God's angels.'

66

Thereupon he turned away, and began to weep bitterly.

"God forgive you, Michel Krænsen!' at last he said; 'God forgive for the evil you have done to us two miserable beings!'

you

66 6

'Nay, take comfort,' said my good man, all may yet go well. Sleep here to-night, and let us see how she behaves in the morning.'

"It was towards evening, and a dreadful storm of thunder and lightning came on, the most fearful I ever witnessed in my life-one might have thought the last day was at hand. So Esben consented to stay with us, and by-and-by, when the storm had abated, we all went to bed; but through the wall I could hear Esben sighing, and almost sobbing. I fancied, too, that I heard him praying to our Heavenly Father: at length, I fell asleep.

"It might have been an hour or two past midnight when I awoke. All was still around. The storm was over, and the clear moonlight shone in calmly at the windows. I lay reflecting on the calamity that had befallen us-little did I think of that which I am now going to relate. It struck me, after a time, that Cecil was very quiet. Her little room was close to ours; I listened, but could not, as usual, hear her breathe; Esben, too, seemed to be extremely still. I felt a sort of foreboding that all was not right; therefore, leaving my bed, I crept softly to Cecilia's. I looked in-I felt for her-but there she was not. I then became very uneasy, hurried to the kitchen, struck a light, and went to the room which Esben occupied. Oh, horror of horrors! what did I behold there! She was sitting on Esben's bed, and had laid her head upon his breast, but when I came closer I saw that he was as white as a corpse, and that the lower part of his face, and the sheets, were red with blood. I screamed, and sank to the ground, but Cecil beckoned to me with one hand, while she patted his cheek with the other.

"Hush, hush!' she exclaimed, half aloud, my dearest love is now sleeping the sweet sleep. As soon as you have buried his body, angels will carry his soul to Paradise, and there we shall hold our bridal, amidst joy and glory.'

She had cut his throat

"Alas! alas! merciful Father pardon her! -the bloody knife lay upon the floor beside the bed!"

Here the unfortunate widow hid her face with both her hands, and wept bitterly, while horror and distress filled my heart.

Nov.-VOL. XCVI. NO. CCCLXXXIII.

U

After a pause, she continued:"As you may believe, there were sad lamentations and great wretchedness both at our house and at Esben's; but what is done cannot be undone. When the dead body was carried to the parents, they thought at first that it had been brought from Holstein —and, oh, what a crying and a screeching there was! It was enough to bring the house down about their ears. No wonder, too, for Esben was a fine young man, well to do-and just when he had come into a fine property and so much money, that he must die in the flower of his youth, and by the hand of her he loved. My worthy Michel could never get over that; he never held up his head again. In the course of a short time he became seriously ill, and then our Lord took him from me.

"The self-same day that he was buried, Cecilia fell into a deep sleep, and slept for many, many hours on a stretch. When she awoke, her reason had returned. I was sitting by her bed, and praying that the Almighty would release her, when suddenly, as she lay there, she heaved a deep, deep sigh, and casting her eyes on me, said, 'Are you there? Where have I been? It seems to me that I have had a most extraordinary dream. I fancied I was in heaven, and Esben was there with me. Speak, mother; tell me, for God's sake, where is Esben? Have you heard nothing from him since he went to Holstein?' I hardly knew what I could answer, but I said, 'No, we have no news from him.' She sighed. 'Where is my father?' she then asked. your father,' I replied; God has taken him to himself.' weep. 'Ah, mother, let me see him!' she entreated. sible, my child,' I said, for he is in his grave.' she exclaimed. How long, then, have I slept?" By this exclamation I perceived that she had no idea of the state that she had been in. 'Why did you not wake me, mother?' she asked; 'had you nothing for me to do? Oh! how sweetly I have been sleeping, and what delightful dreams I have had. Esben came every evening and visited me; but it was rather odd that he had on a shining white dress, and a red necklace round his neck.'

6

All is well with She began to That is imposGod preserve me!'

At this part of her story the old woman fell into deep thought, and it was not until after she had heaved many heavy sighs, that she continued

her narration.

"My unfortunate child had recovered her reason, but God only knows if it was better for her. She was generally cheerful, but never got into high spirits; she spoke little, except when she was spoken to; worked very diligently, and was neither positively ill nor positively well in health. The news of her restoration to her senses spread rapidly in the neighbourhood, and, about three months after, came Mads Egelund a second time as her suitor. But she would have nothing to say to him whatsoever. When he was at length convinced that she could not endure him, he became much enraged, and did sad mischief. I, and all our neighbours, and every one who came here, agreed that we should never drop the slightest hint to Cecilia that she herself, during her insanity, had murdered the unfortunate Esben, and she imagined that he was either married, or had died in the south.

"One day that Mads was here, and was urging her vehemently to say 'Yes' to him, and that she declared she would rather die than marry him, he said plainly out, that he was, after all, too good for one who had cut

the throat of her first lover; and thereupon he maliciously poured forth all that had happened. I was in the kitchen, and only caught part of what he was saying. I instantly left what I was about, rushed in, and cried to him, Mads, Mads! for God's sake, what is that you are saying?' But it was too late; there she sate, as white as a plastered wall, and her eyes stood fixed in her head.

"What am I saying?' retorted Mads; I am saying nothing but the truth. It is better for her to know that, than to treat her like a fool, and let her be waiting for a dead man the whole of her life.'

"He left us; but her reason had fled again, never more to return in this mortal life. You see yourself in what state she is; at all hours, when she is not sleeping, she is singing that song, which she herself composed when Esben went to Holstein, and she fancies that she is spinning linen for her house when married. But she is quiet enough, Heaven be praised! and does not attempt to harm the meanest creature that lives; however, we dare not lose sight of her for a moment. May God take pity upon us, and soon call us both away!"

As she uttered these last words, the unfortunate girl entered with her keeper.

"No," said she, "to-day he is not to be seen-but we shall surely have him to-morrow. I must make haste, or I shall not have finished this linen." She placed herself hurriedly upon her low straw chair, and with her hands and feet in rapid, yet mimic action, she recommenced her mournful ditty.

These words, so often repeated,

The greatest sorrow that this world can give,
Is, far away from those one loves-to live,

always drew forth a heavy sigh; and as she sang them, her pale, but still lovely face, would sink on her breast, her hands and feet would become languidly still, but directly she would rouse herself up to her labour, commence another verse, and set the invisible wheel going again.

In deep thought, I wandered forth from the widow's house. My soul was as dark as the colour of the heath I trod on; my whole mind was occupied with Cecilia and her dreadful fate. In every airy phantom, far and near, that flitted before my eyes, I fancied I beheld the unfortunate maniac as she sat and seemed to spin, and rocked herself, and threw up and down her hands with untiring motion. In the wild birds' plaintive whistle-in the lonely heath lark's mournful song, I heard only that one sorrowful truth-the words, alas! deeply felt by thousands of saddened hearts

The greatest sorrow that this world can give,
Is, far away from those one loves-to live.