struck by death—one year it would be an old man, another year a child in the cradle, a third year a brave sailor, whose frail barque would be lost in a storm.
In the year 1656, the Black Virgin was once more awaiting a victim; the year was drawing to a close—it was already in the latter half of December—but not one of the good people of Liedsmarken was missing as yet. One of the inhabitants, however, was ill, and it was upon him, no doubt, that the Black Virgin's choice had fallen. He had only a few days more to live, for it was the twenty-third day of December, and it was certain that little Axel would not see the first of January.
Poor little Axel! He was lying in bed, his head buried in the pillow, his white hands—you could almost see through them—wandering over the rough bed-clothes. The fire was crackling in the room; outside the snow was falling, spreading its white mantle over the dark ground, and little Axel, who knew the legend, was saying to himself that the Virgin of the rock had marked him, and that he would soon go to sleep under the white snow.
Axel was an orphan under the care of his sister Frida, a handsome, stout-hearted young woman. Night and day she sat at his bedside, holding his hand and telling him all sorts of wonderful stories; despair in her heart and tears in her eyes, yet she tried to smile and to sing, in the hope of bringing a gleam of pleasure into the boy's eyes.
Frida's resources being insufficient to meet expenses, her affianced husband, Robert, assisted her; and Frida, looking upon this help as quite natural, had accepted it; for she loved Robert, and her love was returned. Their marriage had been a settled matter for months. Every evening, after a hard day's fishing, Robert came to see Frida; but when he pressed her to fix the wedding-day she shook her head and, without replying, looked at Axel.
"Christian was talking to Frida."
That evening—the 23rd of December—when Robert entered the cottage, Frida and Axel were not alone; their neighbour, an old fisherman named Christian, was talking to Frida in a low voice while Axel slept. Robert sat down silently by the side of Frida, and listened to the old man.
"Yes," said Christian, "I am quite sure that it is possible to cure Axel; people in a worse state than this poor child have been restored to health. As to the Black Virgin—well, she is not so bad as people say, and it is possible to turn her from her purpose if you choose a favourable moment."
"Alas!" said Frida, "how can I believe in so much happiness? Everything tells us that dear little Axel is doomed. My mother left him to my care, and this is all I have been able to do for him! Is it not cruel, Christian? Look how pale he is! Hark
