"I asked the folks down at Falla to let me take these to you," she explained. "I told them that come what might it was better for you to have them again than to have you lose all interest in life."

"The dear little girl, the great Empress, isn't she wonderful!" Jan said to himself. No sooner had he come to a realization of his sin and promised to atone for it, than she again granted him her grace and her favour.

He had such a marvellous feeling of lightness, as if a great weight had been lifted from him. The firmament had raised itself and let in air, at the same time drawing away the excessive heat. He was able to sit up now and fumble for the imperial regalia.

"Now you can have them for good and all," said Katrina. "There'll be no one to come and take them away from you, for Lars Gunnarson is dead."

THE EMPEROR'S CONSORT

Katrina of Ruffluck Croft came into the kitchen at Loevdala Manor with some spun wool. Lady Liljecrona herself received the yarn, weighed it, paid for it, and commended the old woman for her excellent work.

"It's fortunate for you, Katrina, that you are such a good worker," said Lady Liljecrona. "I dare say you have to earn the living for both yourself and the husband nowadays."

Katrina drew herself up a bit and two pink spots came into her face, just over the sharp cheekbones.

"Jan does his best," she retorted, "but he has never had the strength of a common labourer."

"At any rate, he doesn't seem to be working now," said Lady Liljecrona. "I have heard that he only runs about from place to place, showing his stars and singing."

Lady Liljecrona was a serious-minded and dutiful woman who liked industrious and capable folk like Katrina of Ruffluck. She had sympathy for her and wanted to show it. But Katrina continued to stand up for her husband.

"He is old and has had much sorrow these last years. He has need of a little freedom, after a lifetime of hard toil."

"It's well you can take your misfortune so calmly," observed Lady Liljecrona somewhat sharply. "But I really think that you, with your good sense, should try to take out of Jan the ridiculous nonsense that has got into his head. You see, if this is allowed to go on it will end in his being shut up in a madhouse."

Now Katrina squared her shoulders and looked highly indignant.

"Jan is not crazy," she said. "But Our Lord has placed a shade before his eyes so he'll not have to see what he couldn't bear seeing. And for that one can only feel thankful."

Lady Liljecrona did not wish to appear contentious. She thought it only right and proper for a wife to stand by her husband.

"Then, Katrina, everything is all right as it is," she said pleasantly. "And don't forget that here you will find work enough to keep you going the year around."

And then Lady Liljecrona saw the stern, set old face in front of her soften and relax: all that had been bound in and held back gave way—grief and solicitude and love came breaking through, and the eyes overflowed.

"My only happiness is to work for him," said the old woman. "He has become so wonderful with the years that he's something more than just human. But for that I suppose they'll come and take him away from me."



BOOK FOUR

THE WELCOME GREETING

She had come! The little girl had come! It is hard to find words to describe so great an event.

She did not arrive till late in the autumn, when the passenger boats that ply Lake Loeven had discontinued their trips for the season and navigation was kept up by only two small freight steamers. But on either of these she had not cared to travel—or perhaps she had not even known about them. She had come by wagon from the railway station to the Ashdales.

So after all Jan of Ruffluck did not have the pleasure of welcoming his daughter at the Borg pier, where for fifteen years he had awaited her coming. Yes, it was all of fifteen years that she had been away. For seventeen years she had been the light and life of his home, and for almost as long a time had he missed her.

It happened that Jan did not even have the good fortune to be at home to welcome Glory Goldie when she came. He had just stepped over to Falla to chat a while with the old mistress, who had now moved out of the big farmhouse and was living in an attic room in one of the cottages on the estate. She was one of many lonely old people on whom the Emperor of Portugallia peeped in occasionally, to speak a word of cheer so as to keep them in good spirits.

It was only Katrina who stood at the door and received the little girl on her homecoming. She had been sitting at the spinning wheel all day and had just stopped to rest for a moment, when she heard the rattle of a team down the road. It so seldom happened that any one drove through the Ashdales that she stepped to the door to listen. Then she discovered that it was not a common cart that was coming, but a spring wagon. All at once her hands began to tremble. They had a way of doing that now whenever she became frightened or perturbed. Otherwise, she was well and strong despite her two and seventy years. She was only fearful lest this trembling of the hands should increase so that she would no longer be able to earn the bread for herself and Jan, as she had done thus far.

By this time Katrina had practically abandoned all hope of ever seeing the daughter again, and that day she had not even been in her thought. But instantly she heard the rumble of wagon wheels she knew for a certainty who was coming. She went over to the chest of drawers to take out a fresh apron, but her hands shook so hard that she could not insert the key into the keyhole. Now it was impossible for her to better her attire, therefore she had to go meet her daughter just as she was.

The little girl did not come in any golden chariot, she was not even seated in the wagon, but came afoot. The road to the Ashdales was as rocky then as at the time when Eric of Falla and his wife had driven her to the parsonage, to have her christened, and now she and the driver tramped on either side of the wagon steadying a couple of large trunks that stood on end behind the seat, to prevent them being jolted into the ditch. She arrived with no more pomp and state than this, and more was perhaps not called for either.

Katrina had just got the outer door open when the wagon stopped in front of the gate. She should have gone and opened the gate, of course, but she did not do so. She felt all at once such a sinking at the heart that she was unable to take a step.

She knew it was Glory Goldie who had come, although the person who now pushed the gate open looked like a grand lady. On her head was a large hat trimmed with plumes and flowers and she wore a smart coat and skirt of fine cloth; but all the same it was the little girl of Ruffluck Croft!

Glory Goldie, hurrying into the yard in advance of the team, rushed up to her mother with outstretched hand. But Katrina shut her eyes and stood still. So many bitter thoughts arose in her at that moment! She felt that she could never forgive the daughter for being alive and coming back so sound of wind and limb, after letting her parents wait in vain for her all these years. She almost wished the daughter had never bothered to come home.

Katrina must have looked as if ready to drop, for Glory Goldie quickly threw her arms around her and almost carried her into the house.

"Mother dear, you mustn't be so frightened! Don't you know me?"

Katrina opened her eyes and regarded the daughter scrutinizingly. She was a sensible person, was Katrina, and of course she did not expect that one whom she had not seen in fifteen years should look exactly as she had looked when leaving home. Nevertheless, she was horrified at what she beheld.

The person standing before her appeared much older than her years; for she was only two and thirty. But it was not because Glory Goldie had turned gray at the temples and her forehead was covered with a mass of wrinkles that Katrina was shocked, but because she had grown ugly. She had acquired an unnatural leaden hue and there was something heavy and gross about her mouth. The whites of her eyes had become gray and bloodshot, and the skin under her eyes hung in sacks.

Katrina had sunk down on a chair. She sat with her hands tightly clasped round her knees to keep them from shaking. She was thinking of the radiant young girl of seventeen in the red dress; for thus had she lived in Katrina's memory up to the present moment. She wondered whether she could ever be happy over Glory Goldie's return.

"You should have written," she said. "You should at least have sent us a greeting, so that we could have known you were still in the land of the living."

"Yes, I know," said the daughter. Her voice, at least, had not failed her; it sounded as confident and cheery as of old. "I went wrong in the beginning—but perhaps you've heard about it?"

"Yes; that much we know," sighed Katrina.

"That was why I stopped writing," said Glory Goldie, with a little laugh. There was something strong and sturdy about the girl then, as formerly. She was not one of those who torture themselves with remorse and self-condemnation. "Don't think any more of that, mother," she added, as Katrina did not speak. "I've been doing real well lately. For a time I kept a restaurant and now, I'll have you know, I'm head stewardess on a steamer that runs between Malmoe and Luebeck, and this fall I have fitted up a home for myself at Malmoe. Sometimes I felt that I ought to write to you, but finding it rather hard to start in again, I decided to put it off until I was prepared to take you and father to live with me. Then, after I'd got everything fixed fine for you, I thought it would be ever so much nicer to come for you myself than to write."

"And you haven't heard anything about us?" asked Katrina. All that Glory Goldie had told her mother should have gladdened her, but instead it only made her feel the more depressed.

"No," replied the daughter, then added, as if in self-justification: "I knew, of course, that you'd find help if things got too bad." At the same time she noticed how Katrina's hands shook for all they were being held tightly clasped. She understood then that the old folks were worse off than she had supposed, and tried to explain her conduct. "I didn't care to send home small sums, as others do, but wanted to save until I had enough money to provide a good home for you."

"We haven't needed money," said Katrina. "It would have been enough for us if you had only written."

Glory Goldie tried to rouse her mother from her slough of despond, as she had often done in the old days. So she said: "Mother, you don't want to spoil this moment for me, do you? Why, I'm back with you again! Come, now, and we'll take in my boxes and unpack them. I've brought provisions along. We'll have a fine dinner all ready by the time father comes home." She went out to help the driver take the luggage down from the wagon, but Katrina did not follow her.

Glory Goldie had not asked how her father was getting on. She supposed, of course, that he was still working at Falla. Katrina knew she would have to tell the daughter of the father's condition, but kept putting it off. Anyway, the little girl had brought a freshening breeze into the hut and the mother felt loath to put a sudden end to her delight at being home again.

While Glory Goldie was helping unload the wagon, half a dozen children came to the gate and looked in; they did not speak; they only pointed at her and laughed—then ran away. But in a moment or two they came back. This time they had with them a little faded and shrivelled old man, who strutted along, his head thrown back and his feet striking the ground with the measured tread of a soldier on parade.

"What a curious looking figure!" Glory Goldie remarked to the driver as the old man and the youngsters crowded in through the gate. She had not the faintest suspicion as to who the man was, but she could not help noticing a person who was so fantastically arrayed. On his head was a green leather cap, topped with a bushy feather; round his neck he wore a chain of gilt paper stars and crosses that hung far down on his chest. It looked as though he had on a gold necklace.

The youngsters, unable to hold in any longer, shouted "Empress, Empress!" at the top of their voices. The old man strode on as if the laughing and shrieking children were his guard of honour.

When they were almost at the door of the hut Glory Goldie gave a wild shriek, and fled into the house.

"Who is that man?" she asked her mother in a frightened voice. "Is it father? Has he gone mad?"

"Yes," said Katrina, the tears coming into her eyes.

"Is it because of me?"

"Our Lord let it happen out of compassion. He saw that his burden was too heavy for him."

There was no time to explain further, for now Jan stood in the doorway, and behind him was the gang of youngsters, who wanted to see how this meeting, which they had so often heard him picture, would be in reality.

The Emperor of Portugallia did not go straight up to his daughter but stopped just inside the door and delivered his speech of welcome.

"Welcome, welcome, O queen of the Sun! O rich and beautiful Glory Goldie!"

The words were delivered with that stilted loftiness which dignitaries are wont to assume on great occasions. All the same, there were tears of joy in Jan's eyes and he had hard work to keep his voice steady.

After the well-learned greeting had been recited the Emperor rapped three times on the floor with his imperial stick for silence and attention, whereupon he began to sing in a thin, squeaky voice.

Glory Goldie had drawn close to Katrina. It was as if she wished to hide herself, to crawl out of sight behind her mother. Up to this she had kept silence, but when Jan started to sing she cried out in terror and tried to stop him. Then Katrina gripped her tightly by the arm.

"Leave him alone!" she said. "He has been comforted by the hope of singing this song to you ever since you first became lost to us."

Then Glory Goldie held her peace and let Jan continue:

"The Empress's father, for his part, Feels so happy in his heart. Austria, Portugal, Metz, Japan, Read the newspapers, if you can. Boom, boom, boom, and roll. Boom, boom."

But Glory Goldie could stand no more. Rushing forward she quickly hustled the youngsters out of the house, and banged the door on them. Then turning round upon her father she stamped her foot at him. Now she was angry in earnest.

"For heaven's sake, shut up!" she cried. "Do you want to make a laughing-stock of me by calling me an empress?"

Jan looked a little hurt, but he was over it in a twinkling. She was the Great Empress, to be sure. All that she did was right; all that she said was to him as honey and balsam. In the supreme happiness of the moment he had quite forgotten to look for the crown of gold and the field marshals in golden armour. If she wished to appear poor and humble when she came, that was her own affair. It was joy enough for him that she had come back.

THE FLIGHT

One morning, just a week from the day of Glory Goldie's homecoming, she and her mother stood at the Borg pier, ready to depart for good and all. Old Katrina was wearing a bonnet for the first time in her life, and a fine cloth coat. She was going to Malmoe with her daughter to become a fine city dame. Never more would she have to toil for her bread. She was to sit on a sofa the whole day, with her hands folded, and be free from worry and care for the remainder of her life.

But despite all the promised ease and comfort, Katrina had never felt so wretchedly unhappy as then, when standing there on the pier. Glory Goldie, seeing that her mother looked troubled, asked her if she was afraid of the water, and tried to assure her there was no danger, although it was so windy that one could hardly keep one's footing on the pier. Glory Goldie was accustomed to seafaring and knew what she was talking about.

"These are no waves," she said to her mother. "I see of course that there are a few little whitecaps on the water, but I wouldn't be afraid to row across the lake in our old punt."

Glory Goldie, who did not seem to mind the gale, remained on the pier. But Katrina, to keep from being blown to pieces, went into the freight shed and crept into a dark corner behind a couple of packing cases. There she intended to remain until the boat arrived, as she had no desire to meet any of the parish folk before leaving. At the same time she knew in her heart that what she was doing was not right, since she was ashamed to be seen by people. She had one consolation at least; she was not going away with Glory Goldie because of any desire for ease and comfort, but only because her hands were failing her. What else could she do when her fingers were becoming so useless that she could not spin any more?

Then who should come into the shed but Sexton Blackie!

Katrina prayed God he would not see her and come up and ask her where she was going. For how would she ever be able to tell him she was leaving husband and home and everything!

She had tried to bring about some arrangement whereby Jan and she could stay on at the croft. If the daughter had only been willing to send them a little money—say about ten rix-dollars a month— they could have managed fairly well. But Glory would not hear of this; she had declared that not a penny would she give them unless Katrina went along with her.

Katrina knew of course it was not from meanness that Glory Goldie had said no to this. The girl had been to the trouble of fitting up a home for her parents and had looked forward to a time when she could prove to them how much she thought of them, and how hard she had worked for them, and now she wanted to have with her one parent, at least, to compensate her for all her bother. Jan had been uppermost in her thought when she was preparing the home, for she had been especially fond of her father in the old days. Now, however, she felt it would be impossible to have him with her.

Herein lay the whole difficulty: Glory Goldie had taken a violent dislike to her father. She could not abide him now. Never had he been allowed to talk with her of Portugallia or of her riches and power; why, she could hardly bear the sight of him decked out in his royal trumpery. All the same Jan was as pleased with her as ever he had been, and always wanted to be near her, though she only ran away from him. Katrina was sure that it was to escape seeing her crazy father that the girl had not remained at home longer than a week.

Presently Glory Goldie, too, came into the freight shed. She was not afraid of Sexton Blackie. Not she! She went right up to him and began to chat. She told him in the very first breath that she was returning to her own home and was taking her mother back with her.

Then Sexton Blackie naturally wanted to know how the father felt about this, and Glory Goldie informed him as calmly as though she were speaking of a stranger that she had arranged for her father to board with Lisa, the daughter-in-law of Ol' Bengtsa. Lisa had built her a fine new house after the old man's death, and she had a spare room that Jan could occupy.

Sexton Blackie had a countenance that revealed no more of his thought than he wanted to reveal. And now, as he listened to Glory Goldie, his face was quite impassive. Just the same Katrina knew what he, who was like a father to the whole parish, was thinking. "Why should an old man who has a wife and daughter living be obliged to live with strangers? Lisa is a good woman, but she can never have the patience with Jan that his own folks had." That was what he thought. And he was right about it, too!

Katrina suddenly looked down at her hands. After all, perhaps she was deceiving herself in laying the blame on them. The real reason for her desertion of Jan was this: the daughter had the stronger will and she seemed unable to oppose her.

All this time Glory Goldie stood talking to the sexton. Now she was telling him of their being compelled to steal away from home so that Jan should not know of their leaving.

This had been the most dreadful part of it to Katrina. Glory Goldie had sent Jan on an errand to the store away up in Bro parish and as soon as he was gone they had packed up their belongings and left. Katrina had felt like a criminal in sneaking away from the house in that way, but Glory Goldie had insisted it was the only thing to do. For had Jan known of where they were going he would have cast himself in front of the wagon, to be trampled and run over. And now, on his return, Lisa would be at the house to receive him and of course she would try her best to console him; but still it hurt to think of how hard he would take it when he learned that his daughter had left him.

Sexton Blackie had listened quietly to Glory Goldie, without putting in a word. Katrina had begun to wonder whether he was pleased with what he had learned, when he suddenly took the girl's hand in his and said with great gravity:

"Inasmuch as I am your old teacher, Glory Goldie, I shall speak plainly to you. You want to run away from a duty, but that does not say that you will succeed. I have seen others try to do the same thing, but it has invariably resulted in their undoing."

When Katrina heard this she rose and drew a breath of relief. Those were the very words she herself had been wanting to say to her daughter.

Glory Goldie answered in all meekness that she did not know what else she could have done. She certainly could not take an insane man along to a strange city, nor could she remain in Svartsjoe, and Jan had himself to thank for that. When she went past a house the youngsters came running out shouting "Empress, Empress" at her, and last Sunday at church the people in their eager curiosity to see her had crowded round her and all but knocked her down.

"I understand that such things are very trying," said the sexton. "But between you and your father there has been an uncommonly close bond of sympathy, and you musn't think it can be so easily severed."

Then the sexton and Glory Goldie went outside. Katrina followed immediately. She had altered her mind now and wanted to talk to the sexton, but stopped a moment to glance up toward the hill. She had the feeling that Jan would soon be there.

"Are you afraid father will come?" asked Glory Goldie, leaving the sexton and going over to her mother.

"Afraid!" cried Katrina. "I only hope to God he gets here before I'm gone!" Then, summoning all her courage, she went on: "I feel that I have done something wicked for which I shall suffer as long as I live."

"You think that only because you've had to live in gloom and misery so many years," said Glory Goldie. "You'll feel differently once we're away from here. Anyhow, it isn't likely that father will come when he doesn't even know we've left the house."

"Don't be too sure of that!" returned Katrina. "Jan has a way of knowing all that is necessary for him to know. It has been like that with him since the day you left us, and this power of sensing things has increased with the years. When the poor man lost his reason Our Lord gave him a new light to be guided by."

Then Katrina gave Glory Goldie a brief account of the fate of Lars Gunnarson and of other happenings of more recent date, to prove to her that Jan was clairvoyant, as folks call it. Glory Goldie listened with marked attention. Before Katrina had tried to tell her of Jan's kindness toward many poor old people, but to that she had not cared to listen. This, on the contrary, seemed to impress the girl so much that Katrina began to hope the daughter's opinion of Jan would change and that she, too, would turn back.

But Katrina was not allowed to cling to this hope long! In a moment Glory Goldie cried out in a jubilant voice:

"Here's the boat, mother! So after all it has turned out well for us, and now we'll soon be off."

When Katrina saw the boat at the pier her old eyes filled up. She had intended to ask Sexton Blackie to say a good word for Jan and herself to Glory Goldie, but now there was no time. She saw no way of escaping the journey.

The boat was evidently late, for she seemed to be in a great hurry to get away again. There was not even time to put out the gangplank. A couple of hapless passengers who had to come ashore here were almost thrown onto the pier by the sailors. Glory Goldie seized her mother by the arm and dragged her over to the boat, where a man lifted her on board. The old woman wept and wanted to turn back, but no pity was shown her.

The instant Katrina was on deck Glory Goldie put her arm around her, to steady her.

"Come, let's go over to the other side of the boat," she said.

But it was too late. Old Katrina had just caught sight of a man running down the hill toward the pier. And she knew who it was, too!

"It's Jan!" she cried. "Oh, what will he do now!"

Jan did not stop until he reached the very edge of the pier; but there he stood—a frail and pathetic figure. He saw Glory Goldie on the outgoing boat and greater anguish and despair than were depicted on his face could hardly be imagined. But the sight of him was all Katrina needed to give her the strength to defy her daughter.

"You can go if you want to," she said. "But I shall get off at the next landing and go home again."

"Do as you like, mother," sighed Glory Goldie wearily, perceiving that here was something which she could not combat. And perhaps she, too, may have felt that their treatment of the father was outrageous.

No time was granted them for amends. Jan did not want to lose his whole life's happiness a second time, so with a bound he leaped from the pier into the lake.

Perhaps he intended to swim out to the boat. Or maybe he just felt that he could not endure living any longer.

Loud shrieks went up from the pier. Instantly a boat was sent out, and the little freight steamer lay by and put out her skiff.

But Jan sank at once and never rose to the surface. The imperial stick and the green leather cap lay floating on the waves, but the Emperor himself had disappeared so quietly, so beyond all tracing, that if these souvenirs of him had not remained on top of the water, one would hardly have believed him gone.

HELD!

It seemed extraordinary to many that Glory Goldie of Ruffluck should have to stand at the Borg pier day after day, watching for one who never came.

Glory Goldie did not stand there waiting on fine light summer days either! She was on the pier in bleak and stormy November and in dark and cold December. Nor did she have any sweet and solacing dreams about travellers from a far country who would step ashore here in pomp and state. She had eyes and thoughts only for a boat that was being rowed back and forth on the lake, just beyond the pier, dragging for the body of a drowned man.

In the beginning she had thought that the one for whom she waited would be found immediately the dragging was begun. But such was not the case. Day after day a couple of patient old fishermen worked with grappling hooks and dragnets, without finding a trace of the body.

There were said to be two deep holes at the bottom of the lake, close to the Borg pier, and some folks thought Jan had gone down into one of them. Others maintained there was a strong under-tow here at the point which ran farther in, toward Big Church Inlet, and that he had been carried over there. Then Glory Goldie had the draglines lengthened, so that they would reach down to the lowest depths of the lake, and she ordered every foot of Big Church Inlet dragged; yet she did not succeed in bringing her father back into the light of day.

On the morning following the tragic end of her father Glory Goldie ordered a coffin made. When it was ready she had it brought down to the pier, that she might lay the dead man in it the moment he was found. Night and day it had to stand out there. She would not even have it put into the freight shed. The guard locked the shed whenever he left the pier, and the coffin had to be at hand always so that Jan would not be compelled to wait for it.

The old Emperor used to have kind friends around him at the pier, to enliven his long waiting hours. But Glory Goldie nearly always tramped there alone. She spoke to no one, and folks were glad to leave her in peace, for they felt that there was something uncanny about her which had been the cause of her father's death.

In December navigation closed. Then Glory Goldie had the pier all to herself. No one disturbed her. The fishermen who were conducting the search on the lake wanted to quit now. But that put Glory Goldie in despair. She felt that her only hope of salvation lay in the finding of her father. She told the men they must go on with the search while the lake was still unfrozen, that they must search for him down by Nygard Point; by Storvik Point—they must search the length and breadth of all Lake Loeven.

For each day that passed Glory Goldie became more desperately determined to find the body. She had taken lodgings in a cotter's but at Borg. In the beginning she remained indoors at least some moments during the day, but after a time her mind became prey to such intense fear that she could scarcely eat or sleep. Now she paced the pier all the while—not only during the short hours of daylight but all through the long, dark evenings, until bedtime.

The first two days after Jan's death Katrina had stayed on the pier with Glory Goldie, and watched for his return. Then she went back to Ruffluck. It was not from any feeling of indifference that she stopped coming to the pier, it was simply that she could not stand being with her daughter and hearing her speak of Jan. For Glory Goldie did not disguise her real sentiments. Katrina knew it was not from any sense of pity or remorse that Glory Goldie was so determined her father's body should rest in consecrated soil, but she was afraid, unreasonably afraid while the one for whose death she was responsible still lay unburied at the bottom of the lake. She felt that if she could only get her father interred in churchyard mould he would not be such a menace to her. But so long as he remained where he was she must live in constant terror of him and of the punishment he would mete out to her.

Glory Goldie stood on the Borg pier looking down at the lake, which was now gray and turgid. Her gaze did not penetrate beneath the surface of the water, yet she seemed to see the whole wide expanse of lake bottom underneath.

Down there sat he, the Emperor of Portugallia, his hands clasped round his knees, his eyes fixed on the gray-green water—in constant expectation that she would come to him. His imperial regalia had been discarded, for the stick and cap had never gone down into the depths with him, and the paper stars had of course been dissolved by the water. He sat there now in his old threadbare coat with two empty hands. But there was no longer anything pretentious or ludicrous about him; now he was only powerful and awe-inspiring.

It was not without reason he had called himself an emperor. So great had been his power in life that the enemy whose evil deeds he hated had been overthrown, while his friends had received help and protection. This power he still possessed. It had not gone from him even in death.

Only two persons had ever wronged him. One of them had already met his doom. The other one was herself—his daughter who had first driven him out of his mind and had afterward caused his death. Her he bided down there in the deep. His love for her was over. Now he awaited her not to render her praise and homage, but to drag her down into the realms of death, as punishment for her heartless treatment of him.

Glory Goldie had a weird temptation: she wanted to remove the heavy coffin lid and slide the coffin into the lake, as a boat, and then to get inside and push away from shore, and afterward stretch herself out on the bed of sawdust at the bottom of the coffin.

She wondered whether she would sink instantly or whether she would drift a while, until the lashing waves filled her bark and drew it under. She also thought that she might not sink at all but would be carried out to sea only to be cast ashore at one of the elm-edged points. She felt strangely tempted to put herself to the test. She would lie perfectly still the whole time, she said to herself, and use neither hand nor foot to propel the coffin. She would put herself wholly at the mercy of her judge; he might draw her down or let her escape as he willed.

If she were thus to seek his indulgence perhaps his great love would again speak to her; perhaps he would then take pity on her and grant her grace. But her fear was too great. She no longer dared trust in his love, and therefore she was afraid to put the black coffin out on the lake.

An old friend and schoolmate of Glory Goldie sought her out at this time. It was August Daer Nol of Praesterud, who was still living under the parental roof.

August Daer Nol was a quiet and sensible man whom it did her good to talk with. He advised her to go away and take up her old occupation. It was not well for her to haunt the desolate pier, watching for the return of a dead man, he said. Glory Goldie answered that she would not dare leave until her father had been laid in consecrated ground. But August would not hear of this. The first time he talked with her nothing was decided, but when he came again she promised to follow his advice. They parted with the understanding that he was to come for her the following day and take her to the railway station in his own carriage.

Had he done so possibly all would have gone smoothly. But he was prevented from coming himself and sent a hired man with the team. All the same Glory Goldie got into the carriage and drove off. On the way to the station she talked with the driver about her father and encouraged him to relate stories of her father's clairvoyance, the ones Katrina had told her on the pier and still others.

When she had listened a while she begged the driver to turn back. She had become so alarmed that she was afraid to go any farther. He was too powerful, was the old Emperor of Portugallia! She knew how the dead that have not been buried in churchyard mould haunt and pursue their enemies. Her father would have to be brought up out of the water and laid in his coffin. God's Holy Word must be read over him, else she would never know a moment's peace.

JAN'S LAST WORDS

Along toward Christmas time Glory Goldie received word that her mother lay at the point of death. Then at last she tore herself away from the pier.

She went home on foot, this being the best way to get to the Ashdales—taking the old familiar road across Loby, then on through the big forest and over Snipa Ridge. When going past the old Hindrickson homestead she saw a big, broad-shouldered man, with a strong, grave-looking visage, standing at the roadside mending a picket fence. The man gave her a stiff nod as she went by. He stood still for a moment, looking after her, then hastened to overtake her.

"This must be Glory Goldie of Ruffluck," he said as he came up with her. "I'd like to have a word with you. I'm Linnart, son of Bjoern Hindrickson," he added, seeing that she did not know who he was.

"I'm terribly pressed for time now," Glory Goldie told him. "So perhaps you'd better wait till another day. I've just learned that my mother is dying."

Linnart Hindrickson then asked if he might walk with her part of the way. He said that he had thought of going down to the pier to see her and now he did not want to miss this good opportunity of speaking with her, as it was very necessary that she should hear what he had to say.

Glory Goldie made no further objections. She perceived, however, that the man had some difficulty in stating his business and concluded it was something of an unpleasant nature. He hemmed and hawed a while, as if trying to find the right words; presently he said, with apparent effort:

"I don't believe you know, Glory Goldie, that I was the last person who talked with your father—the Emperor, as we used to call him."

"No, I did not know of this," answered the girl, at the same time quickening her steps. She was thinking to herself that this conversation was something she would rather have escaped.

"One day last autumn," Linnart continued, "while I was out in the yard hitching up a horse to drive over to the village shop, I saw the Emperor come running down the road; he seemed in a great hurry, but when he espied me he stopped and asked if I had seen the Empress drive by. I couldn't deny that I had. Then he burst out crying. He had been on his way to Broby, he said, but such a strange feeling of uneasiness had suddenly come over him that he had to turn back, and when he reached home he found the hut deserted. Katrina was also gone. He felt certain his wife and daughter were leaving by the boat and he didn't know how he should ever be able to get down to the Borg pier before they were gone."

Glory Goldie stood stock still. "You let him ride with you, of course?" she said.

"Oh, yes," replied Linn art. "Jan once did me a good turn and I wanted to repay it. Perhaps I did wrong in giving him a lift?"

"No, indeed!" said Glory Goldie. "It was I who did wrong in attempting to leave him."

"He wept like a child the whole time he sat in the wagon. I didn't know what to do to comfort him, but at last I said, 'Don't cry like that, Jan! We'll surely overtake her. Besides, these little freight steamers that run in the autumn are never on time.' No sooner had I said that than he laid his hand on my arm and asked me if I thought they would be harsh and cruel toward the Empress—those who had carried her off."

"Those who had carried me off!" repeated Glory Goldie in astonishment.

"I was as much astonished at that as you are," Linnart declared, "and I asked him what he meant. Well, he meant those who had lain in wait for the Empress while she was at home—all the enemies of whom Glory Goldie had been so afraid that she had not dared to put on her gold crown or so much as mention Portugallia, and who had finally overpowered her and carried her into captivity."

"So that was it!"

"Yes, just that. You understand of course that your father did not weep because he had been deserted and left alone, but because he thought you were in peril." It had been a little hard for Linnart to come out with the last few words; they wanted to stick in his throat. Perhaps he was thinking of old Bjoern Hindrickson and himself, for there was that in his own life which had taught him the true worth of a love that never fails you.

But Glory Goldie did not yet understand. She had thought of her father only with aversion and dread since her return and muttered something about his being a madman.

Linnart heard what she said, and it hurt him. "I'm not so sure that Jan was mad!" he retorted. "I told him that I hadn't seen any gaolers around Glory Goldie. 'My good Linnart,' he then said, 'didn't you notice how closely they guarded her when she drove by? They were Pride and Hardness, Lust and Vice, all the enemies she has to battle against back there in her Empire.'"

Glory Goldie stopped a moment and turned toward Linnart. "Well?" was all she said.

"I replied that these enemies I, too, had seen," returned Linnart Hindrickson curtly.

The girl gave a short laugh.

"But instantly I regretted having said that," pursued the man. "For then Jan cried out in despair: 'Oh, pray to God, my dear Linnart, that I may be able to save the little girl from all evil! It doesn't matter what becomes of me, just so she is helped.'"

Glory Goldie did not speak, but walked on hurriedly. Something had begun to pull and tear at her heart strings—something she was trying to force back. She knew that if that which lay hidden within should burst its bonds and come to the surface, she would break down completely.

"And those were Jan's last words," said Linnart. "It wasn't long after that before he proved that he meant what he said. Don't think for a moment that Jan jumped into the lake to get away from his own sorrow; it was only to rescue Glory Goldie from her enemies that he plunged in after the boat."

Glory Goldie tramped on, faster and faster. Her father's great love from first to last now stood revealed to her. But she could not bear the thought of it and wanted to put it behind her.

"We keep pretty well posted in this parish as to one another's doings," Linnart continued. "There was much ill feeling against you at first, after the Emperor was drowned. I for my part considered you unworthy to receive his farewell message. But we all feel differently now; we like your staying down at the pier to watch for him."

Then Glory Goldie stopped short. Her cheeks burned and her eyes flashed with indignation. "I stay down there only because I'm afraid of him," she said.

"You have never wanted to appear better than you are. We know that. But we understand perhaps better than you yourself do what lies back of this waiting. We have also had parents and we haven't always treated them right, either."

Glory Goldie was so furious that she wanted to say something dreadful to make Linnart hush, but somehow she couldn't. All she could do was to run away from him.

Linnart Hindrickson made no attempt to follow her further. He had said what he wanted to say and he was not displeased with that morning's work.

THE PASSING OF KATRINA

Katrina lay on the bed in the little but at Ruffluck Croft, the pallor of death on her face, her eyes closed. It looked as if the end had already come. But the instant Glory Goldie reached her bedside and stood patting her hand, she opened her eyes and began to speak.

"Jan wants me with him," she said, with great effort. "He doesn't hold it against me that I deserted him."

Glory Goldie started. Now she knew why her mother was dying; she who had been faithful a lifetime was grieving herself to death for having failed Jan at the last.

"Why should you have to fret your heart out over that, when I was the one who forced you to leave him?" said Glory Goldie.

"Just the same the memory of it has been so painful," replied Katrina. "But now all is well again between Jan and me." Then she closed her eyes and lay very still, and into her thin, wan face came a faint light of happiness. Soon she began to speak again, for there were things which had to be said; she could not find peace until they were said.

"Don't be so angry with Jan for running after you! He meant only well by you. Things have never been right with you since you and he first parted, and he knew it, too, nor with him either. You both went wrong, each in your own way."

Glory Goldie had felt that her mother would say something of this sort, and had steeled herself beforehand. But her mother's words moved her more than she realized, and she tried to say something comforting. "I shall think of father as he was in the old days. You remember what good friends we always were at that time."

Katrina seemed to be satisfied with the response, for she settled back to rest once more. Apparently she had not intended to say anything further. Then, all at once, she looked up at her daughter and gave her a smile that bespoke rare tenderness and affection.

"I'm so glad, Glory Goldie, that you have grown beautiful again," she said.

For that smile and those words all Glory Goldie's self-control gave way; she fell upon her knees beside the low bedstead, and wept. It was the first time since her homecoming that she had shed real tears.

"Mother, I don't know how you can feel toward me as you do!" cried the girl. "It's all my fault that you are dying, and I'm to blame for father's death, too."

Katrina, smiling all the while, moved her hands in a little caress.

"You are so good, mother," said Glory Goldie through her sobs. "You are so good to me!"

Katrina gripped hard her daughter's hand and raised herself in bed, to give her final testimony.

"All, that is good in me I have learned from Jan," she declared After which she sank back on her pillow and said nothing more that was clear or sensible. The death struggle had begun, and the next morning she passed away.

But all through the final agony Glory Goldie lay weeping on the floor beside her mother's bed; she wept away her anguish; her fever-dreams; her burden of guilt. There was no end to her tears.

THE BURIAL OF THE EMPEROR

It was on the Sunday before Christmas they were to bury Katrina of Ruffluck. Usually on that particular Sabbath the church attendance is very poor, as most people like to put off their church-going until the great Holy Day services.

When the few mourners from the Ashdales drove into the pine grove between the church and the town hall, they were astonished. For such crowds of people as were assembled there that Sunday were rarely seen even when the Dean of Bro came to Svartsjoe once a year, to preach, or at a church election.

It went without saying that it was not for the purpose of following old Katrina to her grave that every one to a man turned out. Something else must have brought them there. Possibly some great personage was expected at the church, or maybe some clergyman other than the regular pastor was going to preach, thought the Ashdales folk, who lived in such an out-of-the-way corner that much could happen in the parish without their ever hearing of it.

The mourners drove up to the cleared space behind the town hall, where they stepped down from the wagons. Here, as in the grove, they found throngs of people, but otherwise they saw nothing out of the ordinary. Their astonishment increased, but they felt loath to question any one as to what was going on; for persons who drive in a funeral procession are expected to keep to themselves and not to enter into conversation with those who have no part in the mourning.

The coffin was removed from the hearse and placed upon two black trestles which had been set up just outside the town hall, where the body and those who had come with it were to remain until the bells began to toll and the pastor and the sexton were ready to go with them to the churchyard.

It was a stormy day. Rain came down in lashing showers and beat against the coffin. One thing was certain: it could never be said that fine weather had brought all these people out.

But that day nobody seemed to mind the rain and wind. People stood quietly and patiently under the open sky without seeking the shelter of either the church or the town hall.

The six pall-bearers and others who had gathered around Katrina noticed that there were two trestles there besides those on which her coffin rested. Then there was to be another burial that day. This they had not known of before. Yet no funeral procession could be seen approaching. It was already so late that it should have been at the church by that time.

When it was about ten minutes of ten o'clock and time to be moving toward the churchyard, the Ashdales folk noticed that every one withdrew in the direction of the Daer Nol home, which was only two minutes' walk from the church. They saw then what they had not observed before, that the path leading from the town hall to the house of Daer Nol was strewn with spruce twigs and that a spruce tree had been placed at either side of the gate. Then it was from there a body was to be taken. They wondered why nothing had been said about a death in a family of such prominence. Besides, there were no sheets put up at the windows, as there should be in a house of mourning.

Then, in a moment, the front doors opened and a funeral party emerged. First came August Daer Nol, carrying a creped mace. Behind him walked the six pall-bearers with the casket. And now all the people who had been standing outside the church fell into line behind this funeral party. Then it was in order to do honour to this person they had come.

The coffin was carried down to the town hall and placed beside the one already there. August Daer Nol arranged the trestles so that the two coffins would rest side by side. The second coffin was not so new and shiny as Katrina's. It looked as if it had been washed by many rains, and had seen rough handling, for it was both scratched and broken at the edges.

All the folk from the Ashdales suddenly caught their breath. For then they knew it was not a Daer Nol that lay in this coffin! And they also knew that it was not for the sake of some stranger of exalted rank that so many people had come out to church. Instantly every one looked at Glory Goldie, to see whether she understood. It was plain she did.

Glory Goldie, pale and heart-broken, had been standing all the while by her mother's coffin, and as she recognized the one that had been brought from the Daer Nol home she was beside herself with joy as one becomes when gaining something for which one has long been striving. However, she immediately controlled her emotion. Then, smiling wistfully, she lightly stroked the lid of Katrina's coffin.

"Now it has turned out as well for you as ever you could have wished," she seemed to be saying to her dead mother.

August Daer Nol then stepped up to Glory Goldie and took her by the hand. "No doubt this arrangement is satisfactory to you," he said. "We found him only last Friday. I thought it would be easier for you this way."

Glory Goldie stammered a few words, but her lips quavered so that she could hardly be understood. "Thanks. It's all right. I know he has come to mother, and not to me."

"He has come to you both, be assured of that, Glory Goldie!" said August Daer Nol.

The old mistress of Falla, who was now well on toward eighty and bowed down by the weight of many sorrows, had come to the funeral out of regard for Katrina, who for many years had been her faithful servant and friend. She had brought with her the imperial cap and stick, which had been returned to her after Jan's death. She intended to place them in the grave with Katrina, thinking the old woman would like to have with her some reminder of Jan.

Presently Glory Goldie turned to the old mistress of Falla and asked her for the imperial regalia, and then she stood the long stick up against Jan's coffin and set the cap on top of the stick. Every one understood that she was sorry now that she had not wanted Jan to deck himself out in these emblems of royalty and was trying to make what slight amends she could. There is so little that one can do for the dead!

Instantly the stick was placed there the bells in the church tower began ringing and the pastor, the sexton, and the verger came out from the vestry and took their places at the head of the funeral procession.

The rain came in showers that day, but it happened, luckily, that there was a let-up while the people formed into line—menfolk first, then womenfolk—to follow the two old peasants to their grave. Those who lined up looked a little surprised at their being there, for they did not feel any grief, nor did they care especially to honour either of the dead. It was simply this: when the news was spread throughout the parish that Jan of Ruffluck had come back just in time to be buried with Katrina they had all felt that there was something singularly touching and miraculous about this, which made them want to come and see the old couple reunited in death. And of course no one dreamed that the same thought would occur to so many others. They felt that this was almost too much of a demonstration for a couple of poor and lowly cotters. People glanced at one another rather shamefacedly; but now that they were there, there was nothing to do but go along to the churchyard. Then, as it occurred to them that this was just what the Emperor of Portugallia would have liked, they smiled to themselves.

Two mace-bearers (for there was also one from the Ashdales) walked in front of the coffins, and the whole parish marched in the funeral procession. It could not have been better had the Emperor himself arranged for it. And they were not altogether certain that the whole thing was not his doing. He had become so wonderful after his death, had the old Emperor. He must have had a purpose in letting his daughter wait for him; a purpose in rising up out of the deep at just the right time—as sure as fate!

When they had all come up to the wide grave and the coffins had been lowered into it, the sexton sang "My every step leads to the grave."

Sexton Blackie was now an old man. His singing reminded Glory Goldie of that of another old man, to whom she had not wanted to listen. And the recollection of this brought with it bitter anguish; she pressed her hands to her heart and closed her eyes, so as not to betray her sufferings.

And while she stood thus she saw before her her father as he had been in her childhood, when he and she were such good friends and comrades. She recognized his face as she had seen it one Sunday morning after a blizzard, when the road was knee-deep with snow and he had to carry her to church. She saw him again as he appeared the Sunday she went to church in the red dress. No one had ever looked kinder or happier than Jan did then. But after that day there had been no more happiness for him, and she had never been quite contented either.

She strove to hold this face before her eyes. It did her good. There rose up in her such a strong wave of tenderness as she looked at it! That face only wished her well. It was not something to be feared. This was just the old kind-hearted Jan of Ruffluck. He would never sit in judgment upon her; he would not bring misfortune and suffering upon his only child.

Glory Goldie had found peace. She had come into a world of love now that she could see her father as he was. She wondered how she could ever have imagined that he hated her; he, who only wanted to forgive! Wherever she was or wherever she went he would be there to protect her; he had no thought or wish but that.

Again she felt the great tenderness well up in her heart like a mighty wave-filling her whole being. Then she knew that all was well again between her father and her; that he and she were one, as in the old days. Now that she loved him, there was nothing to be atoned.

Glory Goldie awoke as from a dream. While she had stood looking into her father's kindly face the pastor had performed the burial service. Now he was addressing a few remarks to the people; he thanked them, one and all, for coming to this funeral. It was no great or distinguished man that had just been laid to rest, he said, but he was perhaps one who had borne the richest and warmest heart in these regions.

When the pastor said this the people again glanced at one another. And now every one looked pleased and satisfied. The parson was right: it was because of Jan's great heart they had come to the funeral.

Then the pastor spoke a few words to Glory Goldie. He said that she had received greater love from her parents than had any one he knew of, and that such love could only turn to blessing.

At this everybody looked over at Glory Goldie, and they all marvelled at what they saw. The pastor's saying had already come true. For there, at the grave of her parents, stood Glory Goldie Sunnycastle, who had been named by the Sun itself, shining like one transfigured! She was as beautiful now as on that Sunday when she came to church in the red dress, if not more beautiful.

THE END