CHAPTER XIV.

They remained at the parsonage several days, for when it was announced that Magnhild was going with Roennaug to America the good people were so startled that it was thought best to grant them time to become accustomed to the idea. Magnhild wished for her own sake, too, to pass a little time with them.

One day the ladies were all taking a walk along the road. Roennaug and Miss Roland had little Harry between them, so they made but slow progress. From sheer solicitude for the child they all went quite out of the way of a large carriage which was overtaking them.

"Magnhild!" was called from the carriage, at the moment those walking had fully turned their faces toward it.

Magnhild looked up; a lady in black was smiling at her. Magnhild sprang directly toward her; the coachman stopped his horses. It was Fru Bang.

The lady drew Magnhild up to her and kissed her. A stout military man by the lady's side bowed.

The lady was thin. She wore a mourning suit of the latest style. Jet beads, strewed all over the costume, sparkled with every movement; from the jaunty hat, with waving plume, flowed a black veil which was wound about the neck. As from out the depths of night she gazed, with her glowing eyes, which acquired, in this setting, an especially fascinating radiance. Melancholy resignation seemed to command, as it were, the countenance, to hold sway over every nerve, to control the smile about the mouth, to languish in these eyes.

"Yes, I am changed," said she, languidly.

Magnhild turned from the lady to the stout officer. The lady's eyes followed.

"Do you not recognize Bang? Or did you not see him?"

His size had increased tenfold, the flesh resembling heavy layers of padding; he occupied at least two thirds of the carriage, crowding his wife, for one shoulder and arm covered hers. He looked good-natured and quite contented. But when one looked from his plump, heavy face and body back to the lady, she appeared spiritualized--aye, to the very finger-tips of the hand from which she was now drawing the glove.

Steadfastly following Magnhild's eyes, she stroked back from Magnhild's brow a lock of hair which had crept forward, and then let her hand pass slowly, softly over her cheek.

"You are in mourning?" asked Magnhild.

"The whole land should be in mourning, my child!" And after a pause, came a whispered, "He is dead!"

"You must remember that there is no time to lose if we would reach the steamer," said Bang.

The lady did not look up at her husband's words; she was busy with the lock she had just stroked back. Bang gave the coachman a sign, the carriage was set in motion.

"I am going to America," whispered Magnhild, as she descended from the carriage step.

The lady gazed after her a moment, then she seemed to grasp in its full extent what it implied that Skarlie's wife was going far, far away--what suppositions might be therewith connected and what consequences. For her face resumed somewhat of its old brightness, her frame regained its elasticity: at once she was on her feet, had turned completely round, and was waving her handkerchief. With what charming grace she did it!

Her husband would not permit the carriage to halt again. He contented himself with following his wife's example by waving one hand. The movement must have been accompanied by an admonition to sit down, for the lady disappeared forthwith.

The plume in her hat waved over his shoulder. More could not be seen; she must have let herself glide back into her place.

DUST.