You prayed for him, but it was no good, he was to rideuntil his limbs were paralysed; but you stole down to him, as Isteal now to you, you yourself put little stones under each of hisfeet that he might have support, nobody saw it, or they pretendednot to see it, for you were then the young gracious mistress. Myfather has told me this, and I have not forgotten it! Now I willfree you, Mrs. Meta Mogen!"
  Then they pulled the horses out of the stable and rode off in rainand wind to obtain the assistance of friends.
  "Thus the small service done to the old man was richlyrewarded!" said Meta Mogen.
  "Delaying is not forgetting," said the fellow.
  The robbers were hanged.
  There was an old mansion, it is still there; it did not belongto Mrs. Meta Mogen, it belonged to another old noble family.
  We are now in the present time. The sun is shining on the giltknob of the tower, little wooded islands lie like bouquets on thewater, and wild swans are swimming round them. In the garden growroses; the mistress of the house is herself the finest rose petal, shebeams with joy, the joy of good deeds: however, not done in the wideworld, but in her heart, and what is preserved there is not forgotten.Delaying is not forgetting!
  Now she goes from the mansion to a little peasant hut in thefield. Therein lives a poor paralysed girl; the window of her littleroom looks northward, the sun does not enter here. The girl can onlysee a small piece of field which is surrounded by a high fence. Butto-day the sun shines here- the warm, beautiful sun of God is withinthe little room; it comes from the south through the new window, whereformerly the wall was.
  The paralysed girl sits in the warm sunshine and can see thewood and the lake; the world had become so large, so beautiful, andonly through a single word from the kind mistress of the mansion.
  "The word was so easy, the deed so small," she said, "the joy itafforded me was infinitely great and sweet!"
  And therefore she does many a good deed, thinks of all in thehumble cottages and in the rich mansions, where there are alsoafflicted ones. It is concealed and hidden, but God does not forgetit. Delayed is not forgotten!
  An old house stood there; it was in the large town with its busytraffic. There are rooms and halls in it, but we do not enter them, weremain in the kitchen, where it is warm and light, clean and tidy; thecopper utensils are shining, the table as if polished with beeswax;the sink looks like a freshly scoured meatboard. All this a singleservant has done, and yet she has time to spare as if she wished to goto church; she wears a bow on her cap, a black bow, that signifiesmourning. But she has no one to mourn, neither father nor mother,neither relations nor sweetheart. She is a poor girl. One day shewas engaged to a poor fellow; they loved each other dearly.
  One day he came to her and said:
  "We both have nothing! The rich widow over the way in the basementhas made advances to me; she will make me rich, but you are in myheart; what do you advise me to do?"
  "I advise you to do what you think will turn out to yourhappiness," said the girl. "Be kind and good to her, but rememberthis; from the hour we part we shall never see each other again."
  Years passed; then one day she met the old friend and sweetheartin the street; he looked ill and miserable, and she could not helpasking him, "How are you?"
  "Rich and prospering in every respect," he said; "the woman isbrave and good, but you are in my heart. I have fought the battle,it will soon be ended; we shall not see each other again now untilwe meet before God!"