The following night she slipped away to the bird again, whom she found now quite revived, but yet so very weak, that he could only open his eyes now and then, to look at Ellise, who lighted up his face with a little piece of tinder. “I thank you a thousand times, you lovely little child,” said the sick swallow, “I am now so thoroughly warmed through, that I shall soon gain my strength again, and shall be able to fly out in the warm sunshine.” “Oh! it is a great deal too cold out there,” returned Ellise, “it snows and freezes so hard! only just stay now in your warm bed, and I will take such care of you!” She brought the bird some water to drink out of a leaf, and then he related to her how he had so hurt his wing against a thorny bush that he could not fly away to the warm countries with his comrades, and at last had fallen exhausted to the ground, where all consciousness left him. The little swallow remained here the whole winter, and Ellise attended to him, and became every day more and more fond of him; yet she said nothing at all about it to the mole or the field-mouse, for she knew well enough already that neither of them could bear the poor bird. As soon, however, as the summer came, and the warm sunbeams penetrated the earth, the swallow said good-bye to Ellise, who had now opened the hole in the ground, through which the mole let the light fall in. The sun shone so kindly, that the swallow turned and asked Ellise, his dear little nurse, whether she would not fly away with him. She could sit very nicely upon the swallow’s back, and then they would go away together to the green forest. But Ellise thought it would grieve the good field-mouse if she went away secretly, and therefore she was obliged to refuse the bird’s kind offer. “Then, once more farewell, you kind, good maiden,” said the swallow, and therewith he flew out into the sunshine. Ellise looked sorrowfully after him, and the tears rushed into her eyes, for she was very fond of the good bird. “Quivit! quivit!” sang the swallow, and away he flew to the forest. And now Ellise was very mournful, for she hardly ever left her dark hole. The corn grew up far above her head, and formed quite a thick wood round the house of the field-mouse. “Now you can spend the summer in working at your wedding-clothes,” said the field-mouse, for the neighbor, the wearisome mole, had at last really proposed for Ellise. “I will give you every thing you want, that you may have all things comfortable about you, when you are the mole’s wife.”