Neither she nor her husband understood how to economize or save, andthe riches brought no blessing with them, because they had not askedfor it.
  Years passed; and for many summers the heath was covered withbloom; in winter the snow rested upon it, and the rough winds blewacross the ridge under which stood Ib's sheltered home. One spring daythe sun shone brightly, and he was guiding the plough across hisfield. The ploughshare struck against something which he fancied was afirestone, and then he saw glittering in the earth a splinter ofshining metal which the plough had cut from something which gleamedbrightly in the furrow. He searched, and found a large golden armletof superior workmanship, and it was evident that the plough haddisturbed a Hun's grave. He searched further, and found morevaluable treasures, which Ib showed to the clergyman, who explainedtheir value to him. Then he went to the magistrate, who informed thepresident of the museum of the discovery, and advised Ib to take thetreasures himself to the president.
  "You have found in the earth the best thing you could find,"said the magistrate.
  "The best thing," thought Ib; "the very best thing for me,- andfound in the earth! Well, if it really is so, then the gypsy woman wasright in her prophecy."
  So Ib went in the ferry-boat from Aarhus to Copenhagen. To him whohad only sailed once or twice on the river near his own home, thisseemed like a voyage on the ocean; and at length he arrived atCopenhagen. The value of the gold he had found was paid to him; it wasa large sum- six hundred dollars. Then Ib of the heath went out, andwandered about in the great city.
  On the evening before the day he had settled to return with thecaptain of the passage-boat, Ib lost himself in the streets, andtook quite a different turning to the one he wished to follow. Hewandered on till he found himself in a poor street of the suburbcalled Christian's Haven. Not a creature could be seen. At last a verylittle girl came out of one of the wretched-looking houses, and Ibasked her to tell him the way to the street he wanted; she looked uptimidly at him, and began to cry bitterly. He asked her what was thematter; but what she said he could not understand. So he went alongthe street with her; and as they passed under a lamp, the light fellon the little girl's face. A strange sensation came over Ib, as hecaught sight of it. The living, breathing embodiment of LittleChristina stood before him, just as he remembered her in the days ofher childhood. He followed the child to the wretched house, andascended the narrow, crazy staircase which led to a little garret inthe roof. The air in the room was heavy and stifling, no light wasburning, and from one corner came sounds of moaning and sighing. Itwas the mother of the child who lay there on a miserable bed. With thehelp of a match, Ib struck a light, and approached her.
  "Can I be of any service to you?" he asked. "This little girlbrought me up here; but I am a stranger in this city. Are there noneighbors or any one whom I can call?"
  Then he raised the head of the sick woman, and smoothed herpillow. He started as he did so. It was Christina of the heath! No onehad mentioned her name to Ib for years; it would have disturbed hispeace of mind, especially as the reports respecting her were not good.The wealth which her husband had inherited from his parents had madehim proud and arrogant. He had given up his certain appointment, andtravelled for six months in foreign lands, and, on his return, hadlived in great style, and got into terrible debt. For a time he hadtrembled on the high pedestal on which he had placed himself, tillat last he toppled over, and ruin came. His numerous merry companions,and the visitors at his table, said it served him right, for he hadkept house like a madman. One morning his corpse was found in thecanal. The cold hand of death had already touched the heart ofChristina. Her youngest child, looked for in the midst ofprosperity, had sunk into the grave when only a few weeks old; andat last Christina herself became sick unto death, and lay, forsakenand dying, in a miserable room, amid poverty she might have borne inher younger days, but which was now more painful to her from theluxuries to which she had lately been accustomed. It was her eldestchild, also a Little Christina, whom Ib had followed to her home,where she suffered hunger and poverty with her mother.
  It makes me unhappy to think that I shall die, and leave this poorchild," sighed she. "Oh, what will become of her?"