In Chapter 15 of Emily of New Moon,

Teddy lent me Hans Andersons stories. I love them–only I always think of a different end for the Ice Maiden and save Rudy.

In Chapter 1 of Emily Climbs, Emily writes in her journal of her longing for a silk dress

“Speaking of silk dresses, Aunt Janey Milburn, at Derry Pond–she isn’t any relation really, but everybody calls her that–has made a vow that she will never wear a silk dress until the whole heathen world is converted to Christianity. That is very fine. I wish I could be as good as that, but I couldn’t–I love silk too much. It is so rich and sheeny. I would like to dress in it all the time, and if I could afford to I would–though I suppose every time I thought of dear old Aunt Janey and the unconverted heathen I would feel conscience-stricken. However, it will be years, if ever, before I can afford to buy even one silk dress, and meanwhile I give some of my egg money every month to missions. (I have five hens of my own now, all descended from the gray pullet Perry gave me on my twelfth birthday.) If ever I can buy that one silk dress I know what it is going to be like. Not black or brown or navy blue–sensible, serviceable colours, such as New Moon Murrays always wear–oh, dear, no! It is to be of shot silk, blue in one light, silver in others, like a twilight sky, glimpsed through a frosted window-pane–with a bit of lace-foam here and there, like those little feathers of snow clinging to my window-pane. Teddy says he will paint me in it and call it ‘The Ice Maiden,’ and Aunt Laura smiles and says, sweetly and condescendingly, in a way I hate even in dear Aunt Laura,

“‘What use would such a dress be to you, Emily?’

“It mightn’t be of any use, but I would feel in it as if it were a part of me–that it grew on me and wasn’t just bought and put on. I want one dress like that in my life-time. And a silk petticoat underneath it–and silk stockings!

In Emily’s Quest, ch. 17, 2, Emily infuriates her unexpected lover, Mark Greaves:

Mr. Greaves suddenly seized the crystal goblet and dashed it violently against the stove.

Emily uttered a faint shriek - partly of real horror - partly of dismay. Aunt Elizabeth’s treasured goblet.

“That was merely a defence reaction,” said Mr. Greaves, glaring at her. “I had to do that - or kill you. Ice-maiden! Chill vestal! Cold as your northern snows! Farewell.”

He did not slam the door as he went out. He merely shut it gently and irrevocably, so that Emily might realise what she had lost. When she saw that he was really out of the garden and marching indignantly down the lane as if he were crushing something beneath his feet, she permitted herself the relief of a long breath - the first she had dared to draw since his entrance.

The Ice Maiden
Hans Christian Andersen

The Ice Maiden can be read online here.
Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairytales and Stories can be read online here.