Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Paths of Life
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who would right the wrong, the path of the light-footed
and the quick-eyed, and of the living, courageous
heart?
Midnight had passed before the Countess reached
Ekeby shore. She had fallen often, and had sprung
over wide clefts; she had run swiftly over places
where the water filled at once the traces of her
footsteps; she had stumbled, she had crept carefully
over dangerous places. It had been a dreary way,
and she wept as she went onward. She was wet and
tired, and out there on the ice, the darkness,
lonelines, and desolation had frightened her. At last,
before she reached the shore, she was obliged to
wade through water a foot deep, and when she
reached it she had no heart for anything but to sit
down upon a stone and cry from weariness and
helplessness.
Dreary are the paths that the children of men
tread, and sometimes the fairies fall beside their
flower baskets, just when they have reached the
way which they should strew with roses.
But this young and delicately nurtured little lady
was a loving heroine. She had never trod any such
path in her own bright fatherland. She might well
sit by the shores of that fearful lake, wet, tired,
unhappy as she was, and think of the flower-edged
paths of her southern home. Oh, but it was no longer
a question of north and south to her! She was fairly
in the stream of life. She was not weeping for her
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