and she ran back to the house.

'Even at the north pole,' said Arwed, proceeding forward, 'the s.e.x indulge in amorous intrigues, and promote those of others when they have none of their own.' He came to the bushes, and was not a little astonished when, instead of Christine, he beheld a Finnish peasant girl, who sat angling on the bank with her back towards him. But the disguise was soon betrayed by the beauteous golden locks of the girl, and the deep reverie into which she had fallen,--and he silently approached through the bushes, that he might surprise his fair cousin.

The latter discovered by the slight movements of the foliage that some one was approaching; but, pretending not to have remarked it, she sang in her sweetest tones a Finnish song, in keeping with her a.s.sumed character. The words were as follows:

Oh! if the dear and only loved Might by some magic art appear, Though on his mouth the wolfs blood hung, My lips should kiss its beauty clear!

Though round his hand a serpent's coil Envious, had twined its venom'd ring, Would not all-powerful love defy The danger of the reptile's sting!

Why lacks the wind a fervent soul Like that which glows within my breast?

Why lives not language in its sigh?

Then could it speed my fond request!

Then, truant, then the whisp'ring breeze Thy thoughts might interchange with mine; And, faithful carrier, swiftly bear The throbbings of this heart to thine!

'Poor maiden!' sighed Arwed with fearful misgivings. 'G.o.d grant that the man thy heart has chosen, drip only with the blood of the wolf, that the serpents of h.e.l.l be not coiled around the hand which thou wouldst press so tenderly in thine!'

Meanwhile Christine, having ended her song, listened a moment, and then turning towards the thicket, exclaimed, 'tease me no longer, Mac Donalbain, it is you--I hear your breathing.'

'The lover hears acutely, but not always rightly,' said Arwed advancing. 'It is only the breathing of your insignificant kinsman.'

'My G.o.d, what have I done!' shrieked the terrified Christine, covering her face with her hands.

'Lost the secret,' answered Arwed 'that you once promised to confide to me. I am indebted to accident for what I now know, and not to your confidence.'

'Can that be any excuse for your betraying me?' asked Christine, grasping his hand and searching deeply into his soul with her beautiful blue eyes.

'Do I look like a betrayer?' asked Arwed, indignantly withdrawing his hand. 'The knowledge of what I only conjectured till now, at least authorises me to exercise the fraternal right which you have conceded to me, and earnestly to warn you against this Scot, who, by the mildest judgment, is only an adventurer. Even if the garb in which you have to-day so strangely clothed yourself did actually belong to you, you could not hope to derive any especial honor from such a connection; the countess Gyllenstierna degrades her rank and reputation when she throws herself away upon a suspected vagabond.'

'Then cast I from me both rank and reputation,' cried the maiden, with the defiance of desperation, 'and retain the garb which brings me nearer to him, and in which I am allowed to love him.'

'Has it gone so far with you, cousin? Then indeed must this masquerade have some secret object, and you were at least willing to try, how it would become you against the time when it may be adopted for life.

There is too much meaning in this, and I should but discharge the duty of a guest and kinsman by informing your father of the affair.'

Christine gave the youth a piercing glance, and sprung upon a rock which jutted out far over the stream. 'Give me your word of honor, Arwed,' cried she from her place of refuge, 'that you will remain silent to every one upon this matter, or I will instantly throw myself into the stream.'

'What madness!' cried Arwed, advancing to take her from her dangerous situation.

'Back!' screamed she wildly. 'The first step you take toward me shall plunge me in a cold and watery grave. By my mother's ashes, I will keep my word! In any event life has henceforth no joy for me.'

'Well, come down!' cried Arwed, angrily; 'by my honor I will be silent.'

'Thanks, thanks!' said Christine descending; 'you are a Gyllenstierna and will keep your word. And now, nothing more upon this unpleasant subject. Let us return to our companions. My disguise is a jest I played off upon you. Do you understand me, Arwed?'

'Perfectly!' answered the latter; and, troubled by the cloud hanging over the maiden's fate, as well as vexed that he had taken upon himself the thankless office of confidant, he gave his arm to the beauteous Finlander, and they proceeded back to the house in moody silence.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

At ten o'clock in the evening, which, however, was no evening there, the whole party found themselves a.s.sembled in the church of Tornea. The governor was standing near the altar in earnest contemplation of a suspended tablet which narrated in golden letters how Charles XI had observed the midnight sun from the tower of that church, in the year 1694. At the same time the pastor of the church, a venerable old man, was calling the attention of Christine to a medal which had been struck upon that occasion. Looking over her shoulder Arwed read the inscription: _Soli inocciduo sol obvius alter_,--and asked if this metaphor were not too much in the oriental style for Charles XI.

'Charles XI,' answered Megret, approaching the group, 'left to his son a throne well supported at home and respected abroad; with a full treasury, and many flourishing provinces, besides the hereditary states. How happy would it have been for Sweden had his son been willing to rest contented with the glory of having preserved his paternal inheritance.'

The uncle and nephew simultaneously turned towards the speaker, with n.o.ble indignation, to defend the character of their adored king against his foreign traducer;--but before they could find words, the pastor, accustomed to speak in that house, and stirred by the occasion, took the answer upon himself. 'The judgment,' cried he, in his deep, resounding voice, 'which you have pa.s.sed upon our immortal king is as unjust as it is harsh. You forget that his first wars were purely defensive; that even his victories, which rendered Sweden ill.u.s.trious in the eyes of all Europe, involved him in circ.u.mstances which at last brought misfortunes upon his head. You judge him by the situation in which he left his realm when G.o.d removed him from it in the bloom of manhood, and entirely overlook what he would have accomplished for Sweden had he been allowed time for the fulfilment of his designs for her prosperity. It is a sad truth that the country now finds itself on the brink of misery; but far be it from us to complain of our immortal king, on that account. Let us rather curse the murderous villain whose bullet ended that great man's life before Frederickshall! Him, him alone, has the kingdom to thank for its calamities; and may all the tears and blood which have flowed since that black night, and which must flow hereafter, be poured into the balance of his sins, until he may sink down to the regions of everlasting torment, overborne by their weight!'

'So you are one of those,' said Megret, with embarra.s.sed mockery, 'who, from your pa.s.sion for the romantic and marvellous, will have it that no man of consequence can die except by a.s.sa.s.sination! In consequence of the rashness with which the king exposed himself to the fire of the enemy, it would rather have been matter of astonishment had he escaped alive. The b.a.l.l.s flew so thick, that the agency of a.s.sa.s.sins was not necessary to account for his death.'

'I have my convictions!' cried the pastor, in the heat of his indignation, 'and those convictions are neither to be sneered nor subtilized away! G.o.d, however, who proves the heart and the reins, must pa.s.s judgment upon the concealed guilt, and punish the murderer according to his deserts--here, through the worm that never dies, and there, in the fire that is never quenched! Amen.'

'You are pale, colonel!' cried Arwed, suddenly giving Megret a searching look. 'Are you ill?'

'I was heated when I entered the church,' answered Megret in a faint voice, placing his hand upon his forehead; 'and this place seems to me to be very cold. I feel as though suffering from an ague fit, which however a few moments in the open air will dissipate.'

He retired with uncertain steps. All followed him with looks of surprise and inquiry, and a long pause ensued.

'Is it now your excellency's pleasure,' said the pastor to the governor, 'to ascend the church tower and thence, like Charles XI, observe the circular course of the day-star?'

'I thank you, sir pastor,' answered the governor. 'I have already looked me out a place upon the level ground, where we can better enjoy the beauties of nature together with this rare spectacle, than from so high a point of view, and you will do me a pleasure by accompanying us.'

The pastor accepted the invitation. The party left the church, and, without encountering Megret on their way, entered a boat in readiness for the occasion, and were conveyed to a small island which appeared to swim in the stream, opposite the town of Tornea. A solitary house, surrounded by some small huts, and a wind-mill, stood near the landing-place. The travelers, ascending, laid themselves upon the bank, their faces turned towards the sun, and silently enjoyed the view, at once attractive and awful, there presented to them.

The still, clear waters of the Tornea and Munio, upon which white fishing sails were gliding here and there, blushed in the rays of the evening sun, and were adorned on either side by high bushy banks. In the middle ground, the city, with its spires, was sweetly reflected in the peaceful waters. The back ground was closed by bare and sterile heights which were linked into each other like a chain, and concealed the opening through which the united streams rolled on in their course toward the sea.

At the edge of the horizon, behind the city, shone the nocturnal sun with rays that with difficulty dissipated the vapors collected by the evening air, as the forerunners of a night, which, on this occasion, was not permitted to make its appearance. The illumination had something dismal about it, for the magnificent sphere seemed to have lost the substance of its splendor as at the time of an annular eclipse, and threw, but a pale light upon land and water. The silence of death prevailed over the face of all nature. The mills upon the height behind Tornea, as well as that upon the island, were standing still,--the bewildered birds had flown to their roosts,--and the whole less resembled an actual world, than a landscape in a magic gla.s.s, lighted by a magic sun, which lacked the powerful life of nature.

Meanwhile Tornea's church bell tolled the midnight hour.

'Great and wonderful are the works of the Lord!' suddenly exclaimed the devout pastor; 'and he, who considers them aright, has great pleasure therein.'

'I also adore the great Creator in the exhibition of his terrors,' said Arwed. 'But I must acknowledge that the silent, friendly, and dusky star-lit night of my own Upland, is dearer to me than this wonderful day. A sun which seems always to approach its setting, and yet never sets, but remains mournfully suspended between life and death, is in truth no joyous sight.'

'An image of my poor native country!' said the governor, soliloquising.

'And of my fate!' whispered Christine, almost inaudibly, as she leaned her weeping face upon Arwed's shoulder.

At this moment a row-boat from Tornea approached the island. Megret sprang out of it. 'Despatches from Umea!' cried he. 'The courier appeared to come in great haste; wherefore I took it upon myself to bring them directly to you.'

'You bring me nothing good,' said the governor, forebodingly, as he hastily opened the letter. 'As I conjectured! Let us start! We must this night commence our homeward journey.'

'In heaven's name, father, what is the matter?' asked Christine, in sympathy with her father's alarm.

'The Danes have invaded Bahuslehn,' answered the governor; 'the Russians have landed in Upland. Unless G.o.d perform miracles in our favor, Sweden is lost. Let us hence to Umea.'

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

As Arwed entered the castle of Gyllensten he was met by old Brodin, who, with a face highly expressive of sorrow and condolence, bowed to him in silence.