more than one impatient girl of the south, or even of Denmark or
Holland, would already have known all! But Hulda was in a sort of a
dream, and dreams terminate only when God chooses to end them, and how
often one regrets them, so bitter is the reality.

"Is it really a letter from Ole that your brother has sent you, my
daughter?" inquired Dame Hansen.

"Yes; I recognize the handwriting."

"Well, are you going to wait until to-morrow to read it?"

Hulda took one more look at the envelope, then, after slowly breaking
the seal, she drew out the carefully written letter, which read as
follows:

"Saint-Pierre-Miquelon, March 17th, 1862.

"My Dearest Hulda,--You will hear, with pleasure, that our
fishing venture has prospered, and that it will be concluded
in a few days. Yes; we are nearing the end of the season, and
after a year's absence how glad I shall be to return to Dal
and find myself in the midst of the only friends I have in the
world--yours and mine.

"My share in the profits of the expedition amounts to quite
a handsome sum, which will start us in housekeeping. Messrs.
Help Bros., the owners of the ship, have been informed that
the 'Viking' will probably return by the 15th or 20th of May;
so you may expect to see me at that time; that is to say, in a