“God pity it! It is a little innocent child!”
The old man pressed hard upon the door, and drove out the ugly wind. Then he came to the fire, and saw his wife folding in her kind arms the most beautiful little child that even a poet could imagine. She was as white as a snow-flake, only the rose tinge upon her cheeks and her lips were like ripe cherries. Her hair was soft as silk, and lay in pretty waves of gold about her head, like the shining crown of a little princess.
The good people were greatly bewildered; but when they looked into the liquid blue eyes of the little one, it seemed like a deep fountain of happiness that was opened to them, and they were delighted beyond measure. As they had no children, this child seemed like a God’s gift, and they adopted her for their own.
Her little robes were of the finest material, daintily embroidered, but among them all there was nothing to tell her name or parentage, only a coral necklace with a golden clasp, engraved with the letters “G. S.”
“Was ever any thing so strange?” said the good-wife. “But she is our child now, and we will call her Golden Snow, for her hair is shining like gold, and her complexion fair as the driven snow.”
The poor fisher-folk had now something to love, and were never so happy in their lives.
The long winter gave place to the pleasant summer time, and the little child grew lovelier day by day, till in all the northern gold land there was not a maiden who could compare with her.
Good fortune had followed the fisherman. Ever since that stormy night he had never drawn in his net empty, and there had been always plenty in the larder. The old woman often said, “It all comes of Golden Snow--she is our luck child.”
As the years went by, she had taught the maiden all she knew herself, which was little enough, to be sure; but the child had other teachers. From the birds she received the gift of song, and learned the wonderful stories of the far southern lands.
The leaves of summer, and the evergreens of winter, whispered a thousand pleasant things in her ear, but it was the snow-flakes that she loved best of all. The old fisher-folk often heard them calling her as they flew about in the winter storm:--
“Golden Snow! Golden Snow! You are one of us. When the wild winds blow, Come out to us From the fire-light’s glow. You are our sister, Golden Snow.”