Why did not Tony come, as he had said he would? Why was the old farmer so gloomy? Why did the goat-herd refuse to take the daily bunch of violets, in return for which she might have hoped for some message from Tony? These were questions on which her life's happiness depended, and yet there was no one there to answer them. She sighed deeply. There had been a gentle knocking at the door, which Vreneli, lost in her sad thoughts, had not noticed; but at her loud sigh the door opened, and a figure of mysterious aspect stood on the threshold. Long silvery hair flowed down over the shoulders, and from the serious yet kindly eyes spoke a majesty which diadem and purple robes would not have been enough to give. Vreneli let fall the milk bowl in her astonishment, and she bowed low as to a mighty prince; then she wiped the low bench before the fire, the only seat which the simple cottage offered, and asked her strange guest to be seated. The old man nodded pleasantly, and sat down at the fire, leant his head on both hands, so that his silvery locks flowed almost to the ground, and directed his earnest gaze so searchingly on Vreneli that it seemed to her as if he could see into her very soul. "Why art thou so sad to-day, Vreneli?" he said at last very gently. Vreneli started. How did this stranger, who seemed to come from some distant land--how could he know her name? She looked at him, half in reverence and half in fear. "Come, Vreneli, wilt thou not tell me?" said the old man, and his eye rested almost with love upon her face. [Illustration: KING LAURIN IN VRENELI'S COTTAGE.] "I am an orphan," she faltered out at last, "and sometimes a painful feeling of loneliness comes over me." "And is that all, Vreneli?" asked the old man; "canst thou not confide in one who means well towards thee, and who has both the power and the desire to help thee? Dost thou think thyself unknown to me? Did I not see thee on the mountain side beneath the cross? Did I not hear the young man's oath, and see how love and hope had driven sorrow from thy heart? From that hour I have been thy friend. Dost thou think that thy care and watchfulness could have kept the dangers of the mountains far from thy roof and from thy herds? When thou wast asleep on thy couch of moss, and fair dreams led thy soul to golden meadows, I kept watch up there upon the rock, and warned the elements to leave thee and thy charge unhurt; I directed the course of the avalanches, and the flight of the snow-storm, so that they turned aside, and only softest breezes and the gentle starlight ever touched thy brow. Dost thou still mistrust me, Vreneli?" Vreneli had clasped her hands and drawn nearer to her venerable friend.