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not to be afraid, they said. It was only the cavaliers
they were after. They had come to rescue her.
But the stream pouring from the building met
another procession entering the yard. The corpse
of a woman no longer lay in the most desolate place
in the forest—a woman who had thrown herself
over the high precipice, and died from the fall. A
child had found her, and some of the seekers who
still remained in the forest had lifted her upon their
shoulders and brought her here.
More beautiful in death than in life was she. She
lay looking very lovely with her long dark hair, and
it was a splendid figure now that it rested in
everlasting peace.
Lifted high on men’s shoulders, she was carried
through the crowd, and silence followed in her
wake. Bowed heads greeted the majesty of death.
“She has died quite recently,” the men whispered.
“She had wandered about till to-day. We
think she must have tried to escape the searchers
and stumbled över the precipice.”
But if that was the Nygård girl, who was the
woman they had carried out of Ekeby?
The procession from the forest met the
procession from the house; the bonfires lighted up all
the courtyard; the people could see both the young
women and recognized them. The other one was
the young Countess from Borg.
Ah, what was the meaning of this? Was this a new
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