“Yes, doctor,” answered Hersebom, gravely.

“If he is not our son by birth, he is in love and affection,” said Katrina, with moist eyes and trembling hands.  “Between him, and Otto, and Vanda, we have made no difference—­we have never thought of him only as our own child.”

“These sentiments do you both honor,” said the doctor, moved by the emotion of the brave woman.  “But I beg of you, my friends, relate to me the history of this child.  I have come to hear it, and I assure you that I wish him well.”

The fisherman appeared to hesitate a moment.  Then seeing that the doctor was waiting impatiently for him to speak, he concluded to gratify him.

“You have been told the truth,” he said, regretfully; “the child is not our son.  Twelve years ago I was fishing near the island at the entrance of the fiord, near the open sea.  You know it is surrounded by a sand bank, and that cod-fish are plentiful there.  After a good day’s work, I drew in my lines, and was going to hoist my sail, when something white moving upon the water, about a mile off, attracted my attention.  The sea was calm, and there was nothing pressing to hurry me home, so I had the curiosity to go and see what this white object was.  In ten minutes I had reached it.  It was a little wicker cradle, enveloped in a woolen cloth, and strongly tied to a buoy.  I drew it toward me; an emotion which I could not understand seized me; I beheld a sleeping infant, about seven or eight months old, whose little fists were tightly clinched.  He looked a little pale and cold, but did not appear to have suffered much from his adventurous voyage, if one might judge by his lusty screams when he awoke, as he did immediately, when he no longer felt himself rocked by the waves.  Our little Otto was over two years old, and I knew how to manage such little rogues.  I rolled up a bit of rag, dipped it in some eau de vie and water that I had with me, and gave it to him to suck.  This quieted him at once, and he seemed to enjoy the cordial.  But I knew that he would not be quiet long, therefore I made all haste to return to Noroe.  I had untied the cradle and placed it in the boat at my feet; and while I attended to my sail, I watched the poor little one, and asked myself where it could possibly have come from.  Doubtless from some shipwrecked vessel.  A fierce tempest had been raging during the night, and there had been many disasters.  But by what means had this infant escaped the fate of those who had had the charge of him?  How had they thought of tying him to the buoy?  How many hours had he been floating on the waves?  Where were his father and mother, those who loved him?  But all these questions had to remain unanswered, the poor baby was unable to give us any information.  In half an hour I was at home, and gave my new possession to Katrina.  We had a cow then, and she was immediately pressed into service as a nurse for the infant.  He was so pretty, so smiling, so rosy, when he had been fed and warmed before the fire, that we fell in love with him at once; just the same as if he had been our own.  And then, you see, we took care of him; we brought him up, and we have never made any difference between him and our own two children.  Is it not true, wife?” added Mr. Hersebom, turning toward Katrina.