It was the first hour of her awakening， full of anguish and horror. Superstition made heralternately shudder with cold or burn with the heat of fever. Many things， of which she hadfeared even to speak， came into her mind. Silently， as the cloud-shadows in the moonshine，a spectral apparition flitted by her; she had heard of it before. Close by her galloped foursnorting steeds， with fire FLASHing from their eyes and nostrils. They dragged a burningcoach， and within it sat the wicked lord of the manor， who had ruled there a hundred yearsbefore. The legend says that every night， at twelve o'clock， he drove into his castleyard andout again. He was not as pale as dead men are， but black as a coal. He nodded， and pointedto Anne Lisbeth， crying out， “Hold fast! hold fast! and then you may ride again in anobleman's carriage， and forget your child.”
She gathered herself up， and hastened to the churchyard; but black crosses and blackravens danced before her eyes， and she could not distinguish one from the other. The ravenscroaked as the raven had done which she saw in the daytime， but now she understood whatthey said. “I am the raven-mother; I am the raven-mother，” each raven croaked， and AnneLisbeth felt that the name also applied to her; and she fancied she should be transformedinto a black bird， and have to cry as they cried， if she did not dig the grave. And she threwherself upon the earth， and with her hands dug a grave in the hard ground， so that theblood ran from her fingers. “A grave! dig me a grave!” still sounded in her ears; she wasfearful that the cock might crow， and the first red streak appear in the east， before she hadfinished her work; and then she would be lost. And the cock crowed， and the day dawned inthe east， and the grave was only half dug. An icy hand passed over her head and face， anddown towards her heart. “Only half a grave，” a voice wailed， and fled away. Yes， it fled awayover the sea; it was the ocean spectre; and， exhausted and overpowered， Anne Lisbethsunk to the ground， and her senses left her.
It was a bright day when she came to herself， and two men were raising her up; but shewas not lying in the churchyard， but on the sea-shore， where she had dug a deep hole in thesand， and cut her hand with a piece of broken glass， whose sharp stern was stuck in a littleblock of painted wood. Anne Lisbeth was in a fever. Conscience had roused the memories ofsuperstitions， and had so acted upon her mind， that she fancied she had only half a soul，and that her child had taken the other half down into the sea. Never would she be able to clingto the mercy of Heaven till she had recovered this other half which was now held fast in thedeep water.
Anne Lisbeth returned to her home， but she was no longer the woman she had been. Herthoughts were like a confused， tangled skein; only one thread， only one thought wasclear to her， namely that she must carry the spectre of the sea-shore to the churchyard， anddig a grave for him there; that by so doing she might win back her soul. Many a night she wasmissed from her home， and was always found on the sea-shore waiting for the spectre.
In this way a whole year passed; and then one night she vanished again， and was not tobe found. The whole of the next day was spent in a useless search after her.
Towards evening， when the clerk entered the church to toll the vesper bell， he saw by thealtar Anne Lisbeth， who had spent the whole day there. Her powers of body were almostexhausted， but her eyes FLASHed brightly， and on her cheeks was a rosy flush. The lastrays of the setting sun shone upon her， and gleamed over the altar upon the shining claspsof the Bible， which lay open at the words of the prophet Joel， “Rend your hearts and notyour garments， and turn unto the Lord.”
“That was just a chance，” people said; but do things happen by chance? In the face ofAnne Lisbeth， lighted up by the evening sun， could be seen peace and rest. She said she washappy now， for she had conquered. The spectre of the shore， her own child， had come toher the night before， and had said to her， “Thou hast dug me only half a grave： but thouhast now， for a year and a day， buried me altogether in thy heart， and it is there a mothercan best hide her child!” And then he gave her back her lost soul， and brought her into thechurch. “Now I am in the house of God，” she said， “and in that house we are happy.”
When the sun set， Anne Lisbeth's soul had risen to that region where there is no morepain; and Anne Lisbeth's troubles were at an end.