then Helga bowed her head thoughtfully and seriously， and looked at the circling ostrich， as with timid fear and simple pleasure it glanced at its own GREat shadow on the sunlit walls. And the story of the ostrich sunk deeply into the heart and mind of Helga： a life of happiness， both in the present and in the future， seemed secure for her， and what was yet to come might be the best of all， God willing.

　　Early in the spring， when the storks were again about to journey northward， beautiful Helga took off her golden bracelets， scratched her name on them， and beckoned to the stork-father. He came to her， and she placed the golden circlet round his neck， and begged him to deliver it safely to the Viking's wife， so that she might know that her foster-daughter still lived， was happy， and had not forgotten her.

　　“It is rather heavy to carry，” thought stork-papa， when he had it on his neck； “but gold and honor are not to be flung into the street. The stork brings good fortune—they'll be obliged to acknowledge that at last.”

　　“You lay gold， and I lay eggs，” said stork-mamma； “with you it is only once in a way， I lay eggs every year But no one appreciates what we do； I call it very mortifying.”

　　“But then we have a consciousness of our own worth， mother，” replied stork-papa.

　　“What good will that do you？” retorted stork-mamma； “it will neither bring you a fair wind， nor a good meal.”

　　“the little nightingale， who is singing yonder in the tamarind grove， will soon be going north， too.” Helga said she had often heard her singing on the wild moor， so she determined to send a message by her. While flying in the swan's plumage she had learnt the bird language； she had often conversed with the stork and the swallow， and she knew that the nightingale would understand. So she begged the nightingale to fly to the beechwood， on the peninsula of Jutland， where a mound of stone and twigs had been raised to form the grave， and she begged the nightingale to persuade all the other little birds to build their nests round the place， so that evermore should resound over that grave music and song. And the nightingale flew away， and time flew away also.

　　In the autumn， an eagle， standing upon a pyramid， saw a stately train of richly laden camels， and men attired in armor on foaming Arabian steeds， whose glossy skins shone like silver， their nostrils were pink， and their thick， flowing manes hung almost to their slender legs. A royal prince of Arabia， handsome as a prince should be， and accompanied by distinguished guests， was on his way to the stately house， on the roof of which the storks' empty nests might be seen. They were away now in the far north， but expected to return very soon. And， indeed， they returned on a day that was rich in joy and gladness.

　　A marriage was being celebrated， in which the beautiful Helga， glittering in silk and jewels， was the bride， and the bridegroom the young Arab prince. Bride and bridegroom sat at the upper end of the table， between the bride's mother and grandfather. But her gaze was not on the bridegroom， with his manly， sunburnt face， round which curled a black beard， and whose dark fiery eyes were fixed upon her； but away from him， at a twinkling star， that shone down upon her from the sky. Then was heard the sound of rushing wings beating the air. The storks were coming home； and the old stork pair， although tired with the journey and requiring rest， did not fail to fly down at once to the balustrades of the verandah， for they knew already what feast was being celebrated. They had heard of it on the borders of the land， and also that Helga had caused their figures to be represented on the walls， for they belonged to her history.

　　“I call that very sensible and pretty，” said stork-papa.

　　“Yes， but it is very little，” said mamma stork； “they could not possibly have done less.”

　　But， when Helga saw them， she rose and went out into the verandah to stroke the backs of the storks. The old stork pair bowed their heads， and curved their necks， and even the youngest among the young ones felt honored by this reception.

　　Helga continued to gaze upon the glittering star， which seemed to glow brighter and purer in its light； then between herself and the star floated a form， purer than the air， and visible through it. It floated quite near to her， and she saw that it was the dead Christian priest， who also was coming to her wedding feast—coming from the heavenly kingdom.

　　“the glory and brightness， yonder， outshines all that is known on earth，” said he.

　　then Helga the fair prayed more gently， and more earnestly， than she had ever prayed in her life before， that she might be permitted to gaze， if only for a single moment， at the glory and brightness of the heavenly kingdom. Then she felt herself lifted up， as it were， above the earth， through a sea of sound and thought； not only around her， but within her， was there light and song， such as words cannot express.

　　“Now we must return；” he said； “you will be missed.”

　　“Only one more look，” she begged； “but one short moment more.”

　　“We must return to earth； the guests will have all departed. Only one more look！—the last！”

　　then Helga stood again in the verandah. But the marriage lamps in the festive hall had been all extinguished， and the torches outside had vanished. The storks were gone； not a guest could be seen； no bridegroom—all in those few short moments seemed to have died. Then a GREat dread fell upon her. She stepped from the verandah through the empty hall into the next chamber， where slept strange warriors. She opened a side door， which once led into her own apartment， but now， as she passed through， she found herself suddenly in a garden which she had never before seen here， the sky blushed red， it was the dawn of morning. Three minutes only in heaven， and a whole night on earth had passed away！ Then she saw the storks， and called to them in their own language.

　　then stork-papa turned his head towards here， listened to her words， and drew near. “You speak our language，” said he， “what do you wish？ Why do you appear，—you—a strange woman？”

　　“It is I—it is Helga！ Dost thou not know me？ Three minutes ago we were speaking together yonder in the verandah.”

　　“That is a mistake，” said the stork， “you must have dreamed all this.”

　　“No， no，” she exclaimed. then she reminded him of the Viking's castle， of the GREat lake， and of the journey across the ocean.

　　then stork-papa winked his eyes， and said， “Why that's an old story which happened in the time of my grandfather. There certainly was a princess of that kind here in Egypt once， who came from the Danish land， but she vanished on the evening of her wedding day， many hundred years ago， and never came back. You may read about it yourself yonder， on a monument in the garden. There you will find swans and storks sculptured， and on the top is a figure of the princess Helga， in marble.”

　　And so it was； Helga understood it all now， and sank on her knees. the sun burst forth in all its glory， and， as in olden times， the form of the frog vanished in his beams， and the beautiful form stood forth in all its loveliness； so now， bathed in light， rose a beautiful form， purer， clearer than air—a ray of brightness—from the Source of light Himself. The body crumbled into dust， and a faded lotus-flower lay on the spot on which Helga had stood.

　　“Now that is a new ending to the story，” said stork-papa； “I really never expected it would end in this way， but it seems a very good ending.”

　　“And what will the young ones say to it， I wonder？” said stork-mamma.

　　“Ah， that is a very important question，” replied the stork.