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But the letter was a beautiful one, and after these many years I
know that every word in it was prompted by true, unselfish love.
I cried over it and answered it as best I could, and then after
a while forgot about it and was happy as ever with my studies, my
music, and plenty of dances and parties to break the routine. Jacob
had gone away to America.
Before I was twenty years old I met one who was to have a great
influence on my life. He was a dashing cavalry officer, much older
than I, and a frequent visitor at our home. And here I must tell
that my own dear mother had died when I was fifteen years old, and
my brother and sister had come to live with us in Ribe. There was
house-room and heart-room for us all there. They were very good to
us, my uncle and aunt, and I loved them as if they were indeed my
parents. They spared no expense in our bringing up. Nothing they gave
their only son was too good for us. Our home was a very beautiful
and happy one.
[Illustration: Elizabeth's Home--"The Castle."]
It was in the summer of 1872 that I met Raymond.


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