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+Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Bridal March; One Day
+
+Author: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
+Translator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2006 [EBook #18110]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRIDAL MARCH; ONE DAY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Clare Boothby, Charlene Taylor and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Front matter listing the novels of BJÖRNSTJERNE
+BJÖRNSON moved to end of book]
+
+
+
+                            THE BRIDAL MARCH
+
+                                    &
+
+                                 ONE DAY
+
+                                    BY
+
+                           BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON
+
+                  (_Translated from the Norwegian_)
+
+
+
+LONDON
+WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+1896
+
+
+
+
+_BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE_
+
+
+[The Bridal March _(Brude-Slaatten) was written in
+Christiania in 1872. It was originally published in the second volume
+of the first popular edition of Björnson's collected tales, issued in
+Copenhagen in that year. In November 1873, a small edition was
+published in separate form, and this was followed by an illustrated
+issue, of which a second edition appeared in 1877._ The Bridal March
+_was originally composed as the text to four designs by the Norwegian
+painter, Tidemand. It was dedicated to Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+One Day _(En Dag) was originally issued in the Norwegian
+Magazine "Nyt Tidsscrift," late in 1893; and was republished in a
+volume of short stories during the following year._
+
+                                                             _E. G._]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDAL MARCH
+
+
+There lived last century, in one of the high-lying inland valleys of
+Norway, a fiddler, who has become in some degree a legendary
+personage. Of the tunes and marches ascribed to him, some are said to
+have been inspired by the Trolls, one he heard from the devil himself,
+another he made to save his life, &c., &c. But the most famous of all
+is a Bridal March; and _its_ story does not end with the story of his
+life.
+
+Fiddler Ole Haugen was a poor cottar high among the mountains. He had
+a daughter, Aslaug, who had inherited his cleverness. Though she could
+not play his fiddle, there was music in everything she did--in her
+talk, her singing, her walk, her dancing.
+
+At the great farm of Tingvold, down in the valley, a young man had
+come home from his travels. He was the third son of the rich peasant
+owner, but his two elder brothers had been drowned in a flood, so the
+farm was to come to him. He met Aslaug at a wedding and fell in love
+with her. In those days it was an unheard-of thing that a well-to-do
+peasant of old family should court a girl of Aslaug's class. But this
+young fellow had been long away, and he let his parents know that he
+had made enough out in the world to live upon, and that if he could
+not have what he wanted at home, he would let the farm go. It was
+prophesied that this indifference to the claims of family and property
+would bring its own punishment. Some said that Ole Haugen had brought
+it about, by means only darkly hinted at.
+
+So much is certain, that while the conflict between the young man and
+his parents was going on, Haugen was in the best of spirits. When the
+battle was over, he said that he had already made them a Bridal March,
+one that would never go out of the family of Tingvold--but woe to the
+girl, he added, whom it did not play to church as happy a bride as the
+cottar's daughter, Aslaug Haugen! And here again people talked of the
+influence of some mysterious evil power.
+
+So runs the story. It is a fact that to this day the people of that
+mountain district have a peculiar gift of music and song, which then
+must have been greater still. Such a thing is not kept up without some
+one caring for and adding to the original treasure, and Ole Haugen was
+the man who did it in his time.
+
+Tradition goes on to tell that just as Ole Haugen's Bridal March was
+the merriest ever heard, so the bridal pair that it played to church,
+that were met by it again as they came from the altar, and that drove
+home with its strain in their ears, were the happiest couple that had
+ever been seen. And though the race of Tingvold had always been a
+handsome race, and after this were handsomer than ever, it is
+maintained that none, before or after, could equal this particular
+couple.
+
+With Ole Haugen legend ends, and now history begins. Ole's bridal
+march kept its place in the house of Tingvold. It was sung, and
+hummed, and whistled, and fiddled, in the house and in the stable, in
+the field and on the mountain-side. The only child born of the
+marriage, little Astrid, was rocked and sung to sleep with it by
+mother, by father, and by servants, and it was one of the first things
+she herself learned. There was music in the race, and this bright
+little one had her full share of it, and soon could hum her parent's
+triumphal march, the talisman of her family, in quite a masterly way.
+
+It was hardly to be wondered at that when she grew up, she too wished
+to choose her lover. Many came to woo, but at the age of twenty-three
+the rich and gifted girl was still single. The reason came out at
+last. In the house lived a quick-witted youth, whom Aslaug had taken
+in out of pity. He went by the name of the tramp or gipsy, though he
+was neither. But Aslaug was ready enough to call him so when she
+heard that Astrid and he were betrothed. They had pledged faith to
+each other in all secrecy out on the hill pastures, and had sung the
+bridal march together, she on the height, he answering from below.
+
+The lad was sent away at once. No one could now show more pride of
+race than Aslaug, the poor cottar's daughter. Astrid's father called
+to mind what was prophesied when he broke the tradition of his family.
+Had it now come to a husband being taken in from the wayside? Where
+would it end? And the neighbours said much the same.
+
+"The tramp," Knut by name, soon became well known to every one, as he
+took to dealing in cattle on his own account. He was the first in that
+part of the country to do it to any extent, and his enterprise had
+begun to benefit the whole district, raising prices, and bringing in
+capital. But he was apt to bring drinking bouts, and often fighting,
+in his train; and this was all that people talked of as yet; they had
+not begun to understand his capabilities as a business man.
+
+Astrid was determined, and she was twenty-three, and her parents came
+to see that either the farm must go out of the family or Knut must
+come into it; through their own marriage they had lost the moral
+authority that might have stood them in good stead now. So Astrid had
+her way. One fine day the handsome, merry Knut drove with her to
+church. The strains of the family bridal march, her grandfather's
+masterpiece, were wafted back over the great procession, and the two
+seemed to be sitting humming it quietly, and very happy they looked.
+And every one wondered how the parents looked so happy too, for they
+had opposed the marriage long and obstinately.
+
+After the wedding Knut took over the farm, and the old people retired
+on their allowance. It was such a liberal one that people could not
+understand how Knut and Astrid were able to afford it; for though the
+farm was the largest in the district, it was not well-cultivated. But
+this was not all. Three times the number of workpeople were taken on,
+and everything was started in a new way, with an outlay unheard of in
+these parts. Certain ruin was foretold. But "the tramp"--for his
+nickname had stuck to him--was as merry as ever, and seemed to have
+infected Astrid with his humour. The quiet, gentle girl became the
+lively, buxom wife. Her parents were satisfied. At last people began
+to understand that Knut had brought to Tingvold what no one had had
+there before, working capital! And along with it he had brought the
+experience gained in trading, and a gift of handling commodities and
+money, and of keeping servants willing and happy.
+
+In twelve years one would hardly have known Tingvold again. House and
+outbuildings were different; there were three times as many
+workpeople, they were three times as well off, and Knut himself, in
+his broadcloth coat, sat in the evenings and smoked his meerschaum
+pipe and drank his glass of toddy with the Captain and the Pastor and
+the Bailiff. To Astrid he was the cleverest and best man in the world,
+and she was fond of telling how in his young days he had fought and
+drunk just to get himself talked about, and to frighten her; "for he
+was so cunning!"
+
+She followed him in everything except in leaving off peasant dress and
+customs; to these she always kept. Knut did not interfere with other
+people's ways, so this caused no trouble between them. He lived with
+his "set," and his wife saw to their entertainment, which was,
+however, modest enough, for he was too prudent a man to make
+unnecessary show or outlay of any kind. Some said that he gained more
+by the card-playing, and by the popularity this mode of life won for
+him, than all he laid out upon it, but this was probably pure
+malevolence.
+
+They had several children, but the only one whose history concerns us
+is the eldest son, Endrid, who was to inherit the farm and carry on
+the honour of the house. He had all the good looks of his race, but
+not much in the way of brains, as is often the case with children of
+specially active-minded parents. His father soon observed this, and
+tried to make up for it by giving him a very good education. A tutor
+was brought into the house for the children, and when Endrid grew up
+he was sent to one of the agricultural training schools that were now
+beginning to flourish in Norway, and after that to finish off in town.
+He came home again a quiet young fellow, with a rather over-burdened
+brain and fewer town ways than his father had hoped for. But Endrid
+was a slow-witted youth.
+
+The Pastor and the Captain, both with large families of daughters, had
+their eye on him. But if this was the reason of the increased
+attention they paid to Knut, they made a great mistake; the idea of a
+marriage between his son and a poor pastor's or captain's daughter,
+with no training to fit her for a rich farmer's wife, was so
+ridiculous to him that he did not even think it necessary to warn
+Endrid. And indeed no warning was needed, for the lad saw as well as
+his father that, though there was no need for his bringing more wealth
+into the family through his marriage, it would be of advantage if he
+could again connect it with one of equal birth and position. But, as
+ill-luck would have it, he was but an awkward wooer. The worst of it
+was that he began to get the name of being a fortune-hunter; and when
+once a young man gets this reputation, the peasants fight shy of him.
+Endrid soon noticed this himself; for though he was not particularly
+quick, to make up for it he was very sensitive. He saw that it did not
+improve his position that he was dressed like a townsman, and "had
+learning," as the country people said. The boy was sound at heart, and
+the result of the slights he met with was that by degrees he left off
+his town dress and town speech, and began to work on his father's
+great farm as a simple labourer. His father understood--he had begun
+to understand before the lad did--and he told his wife to take no
+notice. So they said nothing about marriage, nor about the change in
+Endrid's ways; only his father was more and more friendly to him, and
+consulted him in everything connected with the farm and with his
+other trade, and at last gave the management of the farm altogether
+into his hands. And of this they never needed to repent.
+
+So the time passed till Endrid was thirty-one. He had been steadily
+adding to his father's wealth and to his own experience and
+independence; but had never made the smallest attempt at courtship;
+had not looked at a girl, either in their own district or elsewhere.
+And now his parents were beginning to fear that he had given up
+thoughts of it altogether. But this was not the case.
+
+On a neighbouring farm lived in good circumstances another
+well-descended peasant family, that had at different times
+intermarried with the race of Tingvold. A girl was growing up there
+whom Endrid had been fond of since she was a little child; no doubt he
+had quietly set his heart on her, for only six months after her
+confirmation he spoke. She was seventeen then and he thirty-one.
+Randi, that was the girl's name, did not know at first what to answer;
+she consulted her parents, but they said she must decide for herself.
+He was a good man, and from a worldly point of view she could not make
+a better match, but the difference in their ages was great, and she
+must know herself if she had the courage to undertake the new duties
+and cares that would come upon her as mistress of the large farm. The
+girl felt that her parents would rather have her say Yes than No, but
+she was really afraid. She went to his mother, whom she had always
+liked, and found to her surprise that she knew nothing. But the mother
+was so delighted with the idea that with all her might she urged Randi
+to accept him. "I'll help you," she said. "Father will want no
+allowance from the farm. He has all he needs, and he doesn't wish his
+children to be longing for his death. Things will be divided at once,
+and the little that we keep to live on will be divided too when we are
+gone. So you see there will be no trouble with us." Yes, Randi knew
+all along that Knut and Astrid were kind and nice. "And the boy," said
+Astrid, "is good and thoughtful about everything." Yes, Randi had
+felt that too; she was not afraid but that she would get on with
+him--if she were only capable enough herself!
+
+A few days later everything was settled. Endrid was happy, and so were
+his parents; for this was a much respected family that he was marrying
+into, and the girl was both nice-looking and clever; there was not a
+better match for him in the district. The parents on both sides
+consulted together, and settled that the wedding should be just before
+harvest, as there was nothing to wait for.
+
+The neighbourhood generally did not look on the engagement in the same
+light as the parties concerned. It was said that the pretty young girl
+had "sold herself." She was so young that she hardly knew what
+marriage was, and the sly Knut had pushed forward his son before any
+other lovers had the chance. Something of this came to Randi's ears,
+but Endrid was so loving to her, and in such a quiet, almost humble
+way, that she would not break off with him; only it made her a little
+cool. Both his and her parents heard what was said, but took no
+notice.
+
+Perhaps just because of this talk they determined to hold the wedding
+in great style, and this, for the same reason, was not unacceptable to
+Randi. Knut's friends, the Pastor, the Captain, and the Bailiff, with
+their large families, were to be among the guests, and some of them
+were to accompany the pair to church. On their account Knut wanted to
+dispense with the fiddlers--it was too old-fashioned and peasant-like.
+But Astrid insisted that they must be played to church and home again
+with the Bridal March of her race. It had made her and her husband so
+happy; they could not but wish to hear it again on their dear
+children's great festival day. There was not much sentiment about
+Knut; but he let his wife have her way. The bride's parents got a hint
+that they might engage the fiddlers, who were asked to play the old
+March, the family Bridal March, that had lain quiet now for a time,
+because this generation had worked without song.
+
+But alas! on the wedding day the rain poured hard. The players had to
+wrap up their fiddles as soon as they had played the bridal party away
+from the farm, and they did not take them out again till they came
+within sound of the church-bells. Then a boy had to stand up at the
+back of the cart and hold an umbrella over them, and below it they sat
+huddled together and sawed away. The March did not sound like itself
+in such weather, naturally enough, nor was it a very merry-looking
+bridal procession that followed. The bridegroom sat with the high
+bridegroom's hat between his legs and a sou'-wester on his head; he
+had on a great fur coat, and he held an umbrella over the bride, who,
+with one shawl on the top of another, to protect the bridal crown and
+the rest of her finery, looked more like a wet hayrick than a human
+being. On they came, carriage after carriage, the men dripping, the
+women hidden away under their wrappings. It looked like a sort of
+bewitched procession, in which one could not recognise a single face;
+for there was not a face to be seen, nothing but huddled-up heaps of
+wool or fur. A laugh broke out among the specially large crowd
+gathered at the church on account of the great wedding. At first it
+was stifled, but it grew louder with each carriage that drove up. At
+the large house where the procession was to alight and the dresses
+were to be arranged a little for going into church, a hay-cart had
+been drawn out of the way, into the corner formed by the porch.
+Mounted on it stood a pedlar, a joking fellow, Aslak by name. Just as
+the bride was lifted down he called: "Devil take me if Ole Haugen's
+Bridal March is any good to-day!"
+
+He said no more, but that was plenty. The crowd laughed, and though
+many of them tried not to let it be seen that they were laughing, it
+was clearly felt what all were thinking and trying to hide.
+
+When they took off the bride's shawls they saw that she was as white
+as a sheet. She began to cry, tried to laugh, cried again--and then
+all at once the feeling came over her that she could not go into the
+church. Amidst great excitement she was laid on a bed in a quiet room,
+for such a violent fit of crying had seized her that they were much
+alarmed. Her good parents stood beside the bed, and when she begged
+them to let her go back, they said that she might do just as she
+liked. Then her eyes fell on Endrid. Any one so utterly miserable and
+helpless she had never seen before; and beside him stood his mother,
+silent and motionless, with the tears running down her face and her
+eyes fixed on Randi's. Then Randi raised herself on her elbow and
+looked straight in front of her for a little, still sobbing after the
+fit of crying. "No, no,!" she said, "I'm going to church." Once more
+she lay back and cried for a little, and then she got up. She said
+that she would have no more music, so the fiddlers were dismissed--and
+the story did not lose in their telling when they got among the crowd.
+
+It was a mournful bridal procession that now moved on towards the
+church. The rain allowed of the bride and bridegroom hiding their
+faces from the curiosity of the onlookers till they got inside; but
+they felt that they were running the gauntlet, and they felt too that
+their own friends were annoyed at being laughed at as part of such a
+foolish procession.
+
+The grave of the famous fiddler, Ole Haugen, lay close by the
+church-door. Without saying much about it, the family had always
+tended it, and a new head-board had been put up when the old one had
+rotted away below. The upper part of it was in the shape of a wheel,
+as Ole himself had desired. The grave was in a sunny spot, and was
+thickly overgrown with wild flowers. Every churchgoer that had ever
+stood by it had heard from some one or other how a botanist in
+government pay, making a collection of the plants and flowers of the
+valley and the mountains round about, had found flowers on that grave
+that did not grow anywhere else in the neighbourhood. And the
+peasants, who as a rule cared little about what they called "weeds,"
+took pride in these particular ones--a pride mixed with curiosity and
+even awe. Some of the flowers were remarkably beautiful. But as the
+bridal pair passed the grave, Endrid, who was holding Randi's hand,
+felt that she shivered; immediately she began to cry again, walked
+crying into the church, and was led crying to her place. No bride
+within the memory of man had made such an entrance into that church.
+
+She felt as she sat there that all this was helping to confirm the
+report that she had been sold. The thought of the shame she was
+bringing on her parents made her turn cold, and for a little she was
+able to stop crying. But at the altar she was moved again by some word
+of the priest's, and immediately the thought of all she had gone
+through that day came over her; and for the moment she had the feeling
+that never, no, never again, could she look people in the face, and
+least of all her own father and mother.
+
+Things got no better as the day went on. She was not able to sit with
+the guests at the dinner-table; in the evening she was half coaxed,
+half forced to appear at supper, but she spoiled every one's pleasure,
+and had to be taken away to bed. The wedding festivities, that were to
+have gone on for several days, ended that evening. It was given out
+that the bride was ill.
+
+Though neither those who said this nor those who heard it believed it,
+it was only too true. She was really ill, and she did not soon
+recover. One consequence of this was that their first child was
+sickly. The parents were not the less devoted to it from understanding
+that they themselves were to a certain extent the cause of its
+suffering. They never left that child. They never went to church, for
+they had got shy of people. For two years God gave them the joy of the
+child, and then He took it from them.
+
+The first thought that struck them after this blow was that they had
+been too fond of their child. That was why they had lost it. So, when
+another came, it seemed as if neither of them dared to show their love
+for it. But this little one, though it too was sickly at first, grew
+stronger, and was so sweet and bright that they could not restrain
+their feelings. A new, pure happiness had come to them; they could
+almost forget all that had happened. When this child was two years
+old, God took it too.
+
+Some people seem to be chosen out by sorrow. They are the very people
+that seem to us to need it least, but at the same time they are those
+that are best fitted to bear trials and yet to keep their faith. These
+two had early sought God together; after this they lived as it were in
+His presence. The life at Tingvold had long been a quiet one; now the
+house was like a church before the priest comes in. The work went on
+perfectly steadily, but at intervals during the day Endrid and Randi
+worshipped together, communing with those "on the other side." It made
+no change in their habits that Randi, soon after their last loss, had
+a little daughter. The children that were dead were boys, and this
+made them not care so much for a girl. Besides they did not know if
+they were to be allowed to keep her. But the health and happiness
+that the mother had enjoyed up to the time of the death of the last
+little boy, had benefited this child, who soon showed herself to be a
+bright little girl, with her mother's pretty face. The two lonely
+people again felt the temptation to be hopeful and happy in their
+child; but the fateful two years were not over, and they dared not. As
+the time drew near, they felt as if they had only been allowed a
+respite.
+
+Knut and Astrid kept a good deal to themselves. The way in which the
+young people had taken things did not allow of much sympathy or
+consolation being offered them. Besides, Knut was too lively and
+worldly-minded to sit long in a house of mourning or to be always
+coming in upon a prayer meeting. He moved to a small farm that he had
+bought and let, but now took back into his own hands. There he
+arranged everything so comfortably and nicely for his dear Astrid,
+that people whose intention it was to go to Tingvold, rather stayed
+and laughed with him than went on to cry with his children.
+
+One day when Astrid was in her daughter-in-law's house, she noticed
+how little Mildrid went about quite alone; it seemed as if her mother
+hardly dared to touch her. When the father came in, she saw the same
+mournful sort of reserve towards his own, only child. She concealed
+her thoughts, but when she got home to her own dear Knut, she told him
+how things stood at Tingvold, and added: "Our place is there now.
+Little Mildrid needs some one that dares to love her; pretty, sweet
+little child that she is!" Knut was infected by her eagerness, and the
+two old people packed up and went home.
+
+Mildrid was now much with her grandparents, and they taught her
+parents to love her. When she was five years old her mother had
+another daughter, who was called Beret; and after this Mildrid lived
+almost altogether with the old people. The anxious parents began once
+more to feel as if there might yet be pleasure for them in life, and a
+change in the popular feeling towards them helped them.
+
+After the loss of the second child, though there were often the
+traces of tears on their faces, no one had ever seen them weep--their
+grief was silent. There was no changing of servants at Tingvold, that
+was one result of the peaceful, God-fearing life there; nothing but
+praise of master and mistress was ever heard. They themselves knew
+this, and it gave them a feeling of comfort and security. Relations
+and friends began to visit them again; and went on doing so, even
+though the Tingvold people made no return.
+
+But they had not been at church since their wedding-day! They partook
+of the Communion at home, and held worship there. But when the second
+girl was born, they were so desirous to be her godparents themselves
+that they made up their minds to venture. They stood together at their
+children's graves; they passed Ole Haugen's without word or movement;
+the whole congregation showed them respect. But they continued to keep
+themselves very much to themselves, and a pious peace rested over
+their house.
+
+One day in her grandmother's house little Mildrid was heard singing
+the Bridal March. Old Astrid stopped her work in a fright, and asked
+her where in the world she had learned that. The child answered: "From
+you, grandmother." Knut, who was sitting in the house, laughed
+heartily, for he knew that Astrid had a habit of humming it when she
+sat at work. But they both said to little Mildrid that she must never
+sing it when her parents were within hearing. Like a child, she asked
+"Why?" But to this question she got no answer. One evening she heard
+the new herd-boy singing it as he was cutting wood. She told her
+grandmother, who had heard it too. All grandmother said was: "He'll
+not grow old here!"--and sure enough he had to go next day. No reason
+was given; he got his wages and was sent about his business. Mildrid
+was so excited about this, that grandmother had to try to tell her the
+story of the Bridal March. The little eight year old girl understood
+it well enough, and what she did not understand then became clear to
+her later. It had an influence on her child-life, and especially on
+her conduct towards her parents, that nothing else had or could have
+had.
+
+She had always noticed that they liked quietness. It was no hardship
+to her to please them in this; they were so gentle, and talked so much
+and so sweetly to her of the children's great Friend in heaven, that
+it cast a sort of charm over the whole house. The story of the Bridal
+March affected her deeply, and gave her an understanding of all that
+they had gone through. She carefully avoided recalling to them any
+painful memories, and showed them the tenderest affection, sharing
+with them their love of God, their truthfulness, their quietness,
+their industry. And she taught Beret to do the same.
+
+In their grandfather's house the life that had to be suppressed at
+home got leave to expand. Here there was singing and dancing and play
+and story-telling. So the sisters' young days passed between devotion
+to their melancholy parents in the quiet house, and the glad life they
+were allowed to take part in at their grandfather's. The families
+lived in perfect understanding. It was the parents who told them to go
+to the old people and enjoy themselves, and the old people who told
+them to go back again, "and be sure to be good girls."
+
+When a girl between the age of twelve and sixteen takes a sister
+between seven and eleven into her full confidence, the confidence is
+rewarded by great devotion. But the little one is apt to become too
+old for her years. This happened with Beret, while Mildrid only gained
+by being forbearing and kind and sympathetic--and she made her parents
+and grandparents happy.
+
+There is no more to tell till Mildrid was in her fifteenth year; then
+old Knut died, suddenly and easily. There seemed almost no time
+between the day when he sat joking in the chimney-corner and the day
+when he lay in his coffin.
+
+After this, grandmother's greatest pleasure was to have Mildrid
+sitting on a stool at her feet, as she had done ever since she was a
+little child, and to tell her stories about Knut, or else to get her
+to hum the Bridal March. As Astrid sat listening to it, she saw Knut's
+handsome dark head as she used to see it in her young days; she
+followed him out to the mountain-side, where he blew the March on his
+herd-boy's horn, she drove to church by his side--all his brightness
+and cleverness lived again for her!
+
+But in Mildrid's soul a new feeling began to stir. Whilst she sat and
+sang for grandmother, she asked herself: "Will it ever be played for
+me?" The thought grew upon her, the March spoke to her of such radiant
+happiness. She saw a bride's crown glittering in its sunshine, and a
+long, bright future beyond that. Sixteen--and she asked herself:
+"Shall I, shall I ever have some one sitting beside me, with the
+Bridal March shining in his eyes? Only think, if father and mother
+were one day to drive with me in such a procession, with the people
+greeting us on every side, on to the house where mother was jeered at
+that day, past Ole Haugen's flower-covered grave, up to the altar, in
+a glory of happiness! Think what it would be if I could give father
+and mother that consolation!" And the child's heart swelled, imagining
+all this to herself, swelled with pride and with devotion to those
+dear parents who had suffered so much.
+
+These were the first thoughts that she did not confide to Beret. Soon
+there were more. Beret, who was now eleven, noticed that she was left
+more to herself, but did not understand that she was being gradually
+shut out from Mildrid's confidence, till she saw another taken into
+her place. This was Inga, from the neighbouring farm, a girl of
+eighteen, their own cousin, newly betrothed. When Mildrid and Inga
+walked about in the fields, whispering and laughing, with their arms
+round each other, as girls love to go, poor Beret would throw herself
+down and cry with jealousy.
+
+The time came on for Mildrid to be confirmed; she made acquaintance
+with other young people of her own age, and some of them began to come
+up to Tingvold on Sundays. Mildrid saw them either out of doors or in
+her grandmother's room. Tingvold had always been a forbidden, and
+consequently mysteriously attractive place to the young people. But
+even now, only those with a certain quietness and seriousness of
+disposition went there, for it could not be denied that there was
+something subdued about Mildrid, that did not attract every one.
+
+At this particular time there was a great deal of music and singing
+among the youth of the district. For some reason or other there are
+such periods, and these periods have their leaders. One of the leaders
+now was, curiously enough, again of the race of Haugen.
+
+Amongst a people where once on a time, even though it were hundreds of
+years ago, almost every man and woman sought and found expression for
+their intensest feelings and experiences in song, and were able
+themselves to make the verses that gave them relief--amongst such a
+people the art can never quite die out. Here and there, even though it
+does not make itself heard, it must exist, ready on occasion to be
+awakened to new life. But in this district songs had been made and
+sung from time immemorial. It was by no mere chance that Ole Haugen
+was born here, and here became what he was. Now it was his grandson in
+whom the gift had reappeared.
+
+Ole's son had been so much younger than the daughter who had married
+into the Tingvold family, that the latter, already a married woman,
+had stood godmother to her little brother. After a life full of
+changes, this son, as an old man, had come into possession of his
+father's home and little bit of land far up on the mountain-side; and,
+strangely enough, not till then did he marry. He had several children,
+among them a boy called Hans, who seemed to have inherited his
+grandfather's gifts--not exactly in the way of fiddle-playing, though
+he did play--but he sang the old songs beautifully and made new ones
+himself. People's appreciation of his songs was not a little added to
+by the fact that so few knew himself; there were not many that had
+even seen him. His old father had been a hunter, and while the boys
+were quite small, the old man took them out to the hillside and taught
+them to load and aim a gun. They always remembered how pleased he was
+when they were able to earn enough with their shooting to pay for
+their own powder and shot. He did not live long after this, and soon
+after his death their mother died too, and the children were left to
+take care of themselves, which they managed to do. The boys hunted and
+the girls looked after the little hill farm. People turned to look at
+them when they once in a way showed themselves in the valley; they
+were so seldom there. It was a long, bad road down. In winter they
+occasionally came to sell or send off the produce of their hunting; in
+summer they were busy with the strangers. Their little holding was the
+highest lying in the district, and it became famed for having that
+pure mountain air which cures people suffering from their lungs or
+nerves, better than any yet discovered medicine; every year they had
+as many summer visitors, from town, and even from abroad, as they
+could accommodate. They added several rooms to their house, and still
+it was always full. So these brothers and sisters, from being poor,
+very poor, came to be quite well-to-do. Intercourse with so many
+strangers had made them a little different from the other country
+people--they even knew something of foreign languages. Hans was now
+twenty-seven. Some years before he had bought up his brothers' and
+sisters' shares, so that the whole place belonged to him.
+
+Not one of the family had ever set foot in the house of their
+relations at Tingvold. Endrid and Randi Tingvold, though they had
+doubtless never put the feeling into words, could just as little bear
+to hear the name of Haugen as to hear the Bridal March. These
+children's poor father had been made to feel this, and in consequence,
+Hans had forbidden his brothers and sisters ever to go to the house.
+But the girls at Tingvold, who loved music, longed to make
+acquaintance with Hans, and when they and their girl friends were
+together, they talked more about the family at Haugen than about
+anything else. Hans's songs and tunes were sung and danced to, and
+they were for ever planning how they could manage to meet the young
+farmer of Haugen.
+
+After this happy time of young companionship came Mildrid's
+confirmation. Just before it there was a quiet pause, and after it
+came another. Mildrid, now about seventeen, spent the autumn almost
+alone with her parents. In spring, or rather summer, she was, like all
+the other girls after their confirmation, to go to the soeter in
+charge of cattle. She was delighted at the thought of this, especially
+as her friend Inga was to be at the next soeter.
+
+At last her longing for the time to come grew so strong that she had
+no peace at home, and Beret, who was to accompany her, grew restless
+too. When they got settled in the soeter Beret was quite absorbed in
+the new, strange life, but Mildrid was still restless. She had her
+busy times with the cattle and the milk, but there were long idle
+hours that she did not know how to dispose of. Some days she spent
+them with Inga, listening to her stories of her lover, but often she
+had no inclination to go there. She was glad when Inga came to her,
+and affectionate, as if she wanted to make up for her faithlessness.
+She seldom talked to Beret, and often when Beret talked to her,
+answered nothing but Yes or No. When Inga came, Beret took herself
+off, and when Mildrid went to see Inga, Beret went crying away after
+the cows, and had the herd-boys for company. Mildrid felt that there
+was something wrong in all this, but with the best will she could not
+set it right.
+
+She was sitting one day near the soeter, herding the goats and
+sheep, because one of the herd-boys had played truant and she had to
+do his work. It was a warm midday; she was sitting in the shade of a
+hillock overgrown with birch and underwood; she had thrown off her
+jacket and taken her knitting in her hand, and was expecting Inga.
+Something rustled behind her. "There she comes," thought Mildrid, and
+looked up.
+
+But there was more noise than Inga was likely to make, and such a
+breaking and cracking among the bushes. Mildrid turned pale, got up,
+and saw something hairy and a pair of eyes below it--it must be a
+bear's head! She wanted to scream, but no voice would come; she wanted
+to run, but could not stir. The thing raised itself up--it was a tall,
+broad-shouldered man with a fur cap, a gun in his hand. He stopped
+short among the bushes and looked at her sharply for a second or two,
+then took a step forward, a jump, and stood in the field beside her.
+Something moved at her feet, and she gave a little cry; it was his
+dog, that she had not seen before.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said; "I thought it was a bear breaking through the
+bushes, and I got such a fright!" And she tried to laugh.
+
+"Well, it might almost have been that," said he, speaking in a very
+quiet voice; "Kvas and I were on the track of a bear; but now we have
+lost it; and if I have a 'Vardöger,'[1] it is certainly a bear."
+
+He smiled. She looked at him. Who can he be? Tall, broad-shouldered,
+wiry; his eyes restless, so that she could not see them rightly;
+besides, she was standing quite close to him, just where he had
+suddenly appeared before her with his dog and his gun.
+
+She felt the inclination to say, "Go away!" but instead she drew back
+a few steps, and asked: "Who are you?" She was really frightened.
+
+"Hans Haugen," answered the man rather absently; for he was paying
+attention to the dog, which seemed to have found the track of the bear
+again. He was just going to add, "Good-bye!" but when he looked at her
+she was blushing; cheeks, neck, and bosom crimson.
+
+"What's the matter?" said he, astonished.
+
+She did not know what to do or where to go, whether to run away or to
+sit down.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Hans in his turn.
+
+Once again she turned crimson, for to tell him her name was to tell
+him everything.
+
+"Who are you?" he repeated, as if it were the most natural question in
+the world, and deserved an answer.
+
+And she could not refuse the answer, though she felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed of her parents, who had neglected their own
+kindred. The name had to be said. "Mildrid Tingvold," she whispered,
+and burst into tears.
+
+It was true enough; the Tingvold people had given him little reason to
+care for them. Of his own free will he would scarcely have spoken to
+one of them. But he had never foreseen anything like this, and he
+looked at the girl in amazement. He seemed to remember some story of
+her mother having cried like that in church on her wedding-day.
+"Perhaps it's in the family," he thought, and turned to go. "Forgive
+me for having frightened you," he said, and took his way up the
+hillside after his dog.
+
+By the time she ventured to look up he had just reached the top of the
+ridge, and there he turned to look at her. It was only for an instant,
+for at that moment the dog barked on the other side. Hans gave a
+start, held his gun in readiness, and hurried on. Mildrid was still
+gazing at the place where he had stood, when a shot startled her.
+Could that be the bear? Could it have been so near her?
+
+Off she went, climbing where he had just climbed, till she stood where
+he had stood, shading her eyes with her hand, and--sure enough, there
+he was, half hidden by a bush, on his knees beside a huge bear! Before
+she knew what she was doing, she was down beside him. He gave her a
+smile of welcome, and explained to her, in his low voice, how it had
+happened that they had lost the track and the dog had not scented the
+animal till they were almost upon it. By this time she had forgotten
+her tears and her bashfulness, and he had drawn his knife to skin the
+bear on the spot. The flesh was of no value at this time; he meant to
+bury the carcass and take only the skin. So she held, and he skinned;
+then she ran down to the soeter for an axe and a spade; and although
+she still felt afraid of the bear, and it had a bad smell, she kept on
+helping him till all was finished. By this time it was long past
+twelve o'clock, and he invited himself to dinner at the soeter. He
+washed himself and the skin, no small piece of work, and then came in
+and sat beside her while she finished preparing the food.
+
+He chatted about one thing and another, easily and pleasantly, in the
+low voice that seems to become natural to people who are much alone.
+Mildrid gave the shortest answers possible, and when it came to
+sitting opposite him at the table, she could neither speak nor eat,
+and there was often silence between them. When she had finished he
+turned round his chair and filled and lit his pipe. He too was quieter
+now, and presently he got up. "I must be going," he said, holding out
+his hand, "it's a long way home from here." Then added, in a still
+lower voice: "Do you sit every day where you were to-day?" He held her
+hand for a moment, expecting an answer; but she dared not look up,
+much less speak. Then she felt him press her hand quickly. "Good-bye,
+then, and thank you!" he said in a louder tone, and before she could
+collect herself, she saw him, with the bearskin over his shoulder, the
+gun in his hand, and the dog at his side, striding away over the
+heather. There was a dip in the hills just there, and she saw him
+clear against the sky; his light, firm step taking him quickly away.
+She watched till he was out of sight, then came outside and sat down,
+still looking in the same direction.
+
+Not till now was she aware that her heart was beating so violently
+that she had to press her hands over it. In a minute or two she lay
+down on the grass, leaning her head on her arm, and began to go
+carefully over every event of the day. She saw him start up among the
+bushes and stand before her, strong and active, looking restlessly
+round. She felt over again the bewilderment and the fright, and her
+tears of shame. She saw him against the sun, on the height; she heard
+the shot, and was again on her knees before him, helping him with the
+skinning of the bear. She heard once more every word that he said, in
+that low voice that sounded so friendly, and that touched her heart as
+she thought of it; she listened to it as he sat beside the hearth
+while she was cooking, and then at table with her. She felt that she
+had no longer dared to look into his face, so that at last she had
+made him feel awkward too; for he had grown silent. Then she heard him
+speak once again, as he took her hand; and she felt his clasp--felt it
+still, through her whole body. She saw him go away over the
+heather--away, away!
+
+Would he ever come back? Impossible, after the way she had behaved.
+How strong, and brave, and self-reliant was everything she had seen of
+him, and how stupid and miserable all that he had seen of her, from
+her first scream of fright when the dog touched her, to her blush of
+shame and her tears; from the clumsy help she gave him, to her
+slowness in preparing the food. And to think that when he looked at
+her she was not able to speak; not even to say No, when he asked her
+if she sat under the hill every day--for she didn't sit there every
+day! Might not her silence then have seemed like an invitation to him
+to come and see? Might not her whole miserable helplessness have been
+misunderstood in the same way? What shame she felt now! She was hot
+all over with it, and she buried her burning face deeper and deeper in
+the grass. Then she called up the whole picture once more; all his
+excellences and her shortcomings; and again the shame of it all
+overwhelmed her.
+
+She was still lying there when the sound of the bells told her that
+the cattle were coming home; then she jumped up and began to work.
+Beret saw as soon as she came that something had happened. Mildrid
+asked such stupid questions and gave such absurd answers, and
+altogether behaved in such an extraordinary way, that she several
+times just stopped and stared at her. When it came to supper-time, and
+Mildrid, instead of taking her place at the table, went and sat down
+outside, saying that she had just had dinner, Beret was as intensely
+on the alert as a dog who scents game at hand. She took her supper and
+went to bed. The sisters slept in the same bed, and, as Mildrid did
+not come, Beret got up softly once or twice to look if her sister were
+still sitting out there, and if she were alone. Yes, she was there,
+and alone.
+
+Eleven o'clock, and then twelve, and then one, and still Mildrid sat
+and Beret waked. She pretended to be asleep when Mildrid came at last,
+and Mildrid moved softly, so softly; but her sister heard her sobbing,
+and when she had got into bed she heard her say her usual evening
+prayer so sadly, heard her whisper: "O God, help me, help me!" It made
+Beret so unhappy that she could not get to sleep even now. She felt
+her sister restlessly changing from one position to another; she saw
+her at last giving it up, throwing aside the covering, and lying
+open-eyed, with her hands below her head, staring into vacancy. She
+saw and heard no more, for at last she fell asleep.
+
+When she awoke next morning Mildrid's place was empty. Beret jumped
+up; the sun was high in the sky; the cattle were away long ago. She
+found her breakfast set ready, took it hurriedly, and went out and saw
+Mildrid at work, but looking ill. Beret said that she was going to
+hurry after the cattle. Mildrid said nothing in answer, but gave her a
+glance as though of thanks. The younger girl stood a minute thinking,
+and then went off.
+
+Mildrid looked round; yes, she was alone. She hastily put away the
+dishes, leaving everything else as it was. Then she washed herself and
+changed her dress, took her knitting, and set off up the hill.
+
+She had not the new strength of the new day, for she had hardly slept
+or eaten anything for twenty-four hours. She walked in a dream, and
+knew nothing clearly till she was at the place where she had sat
+yesterday.
+
+Hardly had she seated herself when she thought: "If he were to come
+and find me here, he would believe--" She started up mechanically.
+There was his dog on the hillside. It stood still and looked at her,
+then rushed down to her, wagging its tail. Her heart stopped beating.
+There--there he stood, with his gun gleaming in the sun, just as he
+had stood yesterday. To-day he had come another way. He smiled to her,
+ran down, and stood before her. She had given a little scream and sunk
+down on the grass again. It was more than she could do to stand up;
+she let her knitting drop, and put her hands up to her face. He did
+not say a word. He lay down on the grass in front of her, and looked
+up at her, the dog at his side with its eyes fixed on him. She felt
+that though she was turning her head away, he could see her hot blush,
+her eyes, her whole face. She heard him breathing quickly; she thought
+she felt his breath on her hand. She did not want him to speak, and
+yet his silence was dreadful. She knew that he must understand why she
+was sitting there; and greater shame than this no one had ever felt.
+But it was not right of him, either, to have come, and still worse of
+him to be lying there.
+
+Then she felt him take one of her hands and hold it tight, then the
+other, so that she had to turn a little that way; he drew her gently,
+but strongly and firmly towards him with eye and hand, till she was at
+his side, her head fallen on his shoulder. She felt him stroke her
+hair with one hand, but she dared not look up. Presently she broke
+into passionate weeping at the thought of her shameful behaviour.
+
+"Yes, you may cry," said he, "but I will laugh; what has happened to
+us two is matter both for laughter and for tears."
+
+His voice shook. And now he bent over her and whispered that the
+farther away he went from her yesterday the nearer he seemed to be to
+her. The feeling overmastered him so, that when he reached his little
+shooting cabin, where he had a German officer with him this summer,
+recruiting after the war, he left the guest to take care of himself,
+and wandered farther up the mountain. He spent the night on the
+heights, sometimes sitting, sometimes wandering about. He went home to
+breakfast, but away again immediately. He was twenty-eight now, no
+longer a boy, and he felt that either this girl must be his or it
+would go badly with him. He wandered to the place where they had met
+yesterday; he did not expect that she would be there again; but when
+he saw her, he felt that he must make the venture; and when he came to
+see that she was feeling just as he was--"Why, then"--and he raised
+her head gently. And she had stopped crying, and his eyes shone so
+that she had to look into them, and then she turned red and put her
+head down again.
+
+He went on talking in his low, half-whispering voice. The sun shone
+through the tree-tops, the birches trembled in the breeze, the birds
+mingled their song with the sound of a little stream rippling over its
+stony bed.
+
+How long the two sat there together, neither of them knew. At last
+the dog startled them. He had made several excursions, and each time
+had come back and lain down beside them again; but now he ran barking
+down the hill. They both jumped up and stood for a minute listening.
+But nothing appeared. Then they looked at each other again, and Hans
+lifted her up in his arms. She had not been lifted like this since she
+was a child, and there was something about it that made her feel
+helpless. When he looked up beaming into her face, she bent and put
+her arms round his neck--he was now her strength, her future, her
+happiness, her life itself--she resisted no longer.
+
+Nothing was said. He held her tight; she clung to him. He carried her
+to the place where she had sat at first, and sat down there with her
+on his knee. She did not unloose her arms, she only bent her head
+close down to his so as to hide her face from him. He was just going
+to force her to let him look into it, when some one right in front of
+them called in a voice of astonishment: "Mildrid!"
+
+It was Inga, who had come up after the dog. Mildrid sprang to her
+feet, looked at her friend for an instant, then went up to her, put
+one arm round her neck, and laid her head on her shoulder. Inga put
+her arm round Mildrid's waist. "Who is he?" she whispered, and Mildrid
+felt her tremble, but said nothing. Inga knew who he was--knew him
+quite well--but could not believe her own eyes. Then Hans came slowly
+forward, "I thought you knew me," he said quietly; "I am Hans Haugen."
+When she heard his voice, Mildrid lifted her head. How good and true
+he looked as he stood there! He held out his hand; she went forward
+and took it, and looked at her friend with a flush of mingled shame
+and joy.
+
+Then Hans took his gun and said good-bye, whispering to Mildrid: "You
+may be sure I'll come soon again!"
+
+The girls walked with him as far as the soeter, and watched him, as
+Mildrid had done yesterday, striding away over the heather in the
+sunlight. They stood as long as they could see him; Mildrid, who was
+leaning on Inga, would not let her go; Inga felt that she did not want
+her to move or speak. From time to time one or the other whispered:
+"He's looking back!" When he was out of sight Mildrid turned round to
+Inga and said: "Don't ask me anything. I can't tell you about it!" She
+held her tight for a second, and then they walked towards the
+soeter-house. Mildrid remembered now how she had left all her work
+undone. Inga helped her with it. They spoke very little, and only
+about the work. Just once Mildrid stopped, and whispered: "Isn't he
+handsome?"
+
+She set out some dinner, but could eat little herself, though she felt
+the need both of food and sleep. Inga left as soon as she could, for
+she saw that Mildrid would rather be alone. Then Mildrid lay down on
+her bed. She was lying, half asleep already, thinking over the events
+of the morning, and trying to remember the nicest things that Hans
+had said, when it suddenly occurred to her to ask herself what she had
+answered. Then it flashed upon her that during their whole meeting she
+had not spoken, not said a single word!
+
+She sat up in bed and said to herself: "He could not have gone far
+till this must have struck him too--and what can he have thought? He
+must take me for a creature without a will, going about in a dream.
+How can he go on caring for me? Yesterday it was not till he had gone
+away from me that he found out he cared for me at all--what will he
+find out to-day?" she asked herself with a shiver of dread. She got
+up, went out, and sat down where she had sat so long yesterday.
+
+All her life Mildrid had been accustomed to take herself to account
+for her behaviour; circumstances had obliged her to walk carefully.
+Now, thinking over what had happened these last two days, it struck
+her forcibly that she had behaved without tact, without thought,
+almost without modesty. She had never read or heard about anything
+happening like this; she looked at it from the peasant's point of
+view, and none take these matters more strictly than they. It is
+seemly to control one's feelings--it is honourable to be slow to show
+them. She, who had done this all her life, and consequently been
+respected by every one, had in one day given herself to a man she had
+never seen before! Why, he himself must be the first to despise her!
+It showed how bad things were, that she dared not tell what had
+happened, not even to Inga!
+
+With the first sound of the cow-bells in the distance came Beret, to
+find her sister sitting on the bench in front of the soeter-house,
+looking half dead. Beret stood in front of her till she was forced to
+raise her head and look at her. Mildrid's eyes were red with crying,
+and her whole expression was one of suffering. But it changed to
+surprise when she saw Beret's face, which was scarlet with excitement.
+
+"Whatever is the matter with you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Nothing!" answered Beret, standing staring fixedly at Mildrid, who
+at last looked away, and got up to go and attend to the cows.
+
+The sisters did not meet again till supper, when they sat opposite to
+each other. Mildrid was not able to eat more then a few mouthfuls. She
+sat and looked absently at the others, oftenest at Beret, who ate on
+steadily, gulping down her food like a hungry dog.
+
+"Have you had nothing to eat to-day?" asked Mildrid.
+
+"No!" answered Beret, and ate on. Presently Mildrid spoke again: "Have
+you not been with the herds then?"
+
+"No!" answered her sister and both of the boys. Before them Mildrid
+would not ask more, and afterwards her own morbid reflections took
+possession of her again, and along with them the feeling that she was
+no fit person to be in charge of Beret. This was one more added to the
+reproaches she made to herself all that long summer evening and far
+into the night.
+
+There she sat, on the bench by the door, till the blood-red clouds
+changed gradually to cold grey, no peace and no desire for sleep
+coming to her. The poor child had never before been in real distress.
+Oh, how she prayed! She stopped and she began again; she repeated
+prayers that she had learned, and she made up petitions of her own. At
+last, utterly exhausted, she went to bed.
+
+There she tried once more to collect her thoughts for a final struggle
+with the terrible question, Should she give him up or not? But she had
+no strength left; she could only say over and over again: "Help me, O
+God! help me!" She went on like this for a long time, sometimes saying
+it in to herself, sometimes out loud. All at once she got such a
+fright that she gave a loud scream. Beret was kneeling up in bed
+looking at her; her sparkling eyes, hot face, and short breathing
+showing a terrible state of excitement.
+
+"Who is he?" she whispered, almost threateningly. Mildrid, crushed by
+her self-torture, and worn out in soul and body, could not answer;
+she began to cry.
+
+"Who is he?" repeated the other, closer to her face; "you needn't try
+to hide it any longer; I was watching you to-day the whole time!"
+
+Mildrid held up her arms as if to defend herself, but Beret beat them
+back, looked straight into her eyes, and again repeated, "Who is he, I
+say?"
+
+"Beret, Beret!" moaned Mildrid; "have I ever been anything but kind to
+you since you were a little child. Why are you so cruel to me now that
+I am in trouble?"
+
+Then Beret, moved by her tears, let go her arms; but her short hard
+breathing still betrayed her excitement. "Is it Hans Haugen?" she
+whispered.
+
+There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then Mildrid whispered
+back: "Yes"--and began to cry again.
+
+Beret drew down her arms once more; she wanted to see her face. "Why
+did you not tell me about it, Mildrid?" she asked, with the same
+fierce eagerness.
+
+"Beret, I didn't know it myself. I never saw him till yesterday. And
+as soon as I saw him I loved him, and let him see it, and that is what
+is making me so unhappy, so unhappy that I feel as if I must die of
+it!"
+
+"You never saw him before yesterday?" screamed Beret, so astonished
+that she could hardly believe it.
+
+"Never in my life!" replied Mildrid. "Isn't it shameful, Beret?"
+
+But Beret threw her arms round her sister's neck, and kissed her over
+and over again.
+
+"Dear, sweet Mildrid, I'm so glad!" she whispered, now radiant with
+joy. "I'm so glad, so glad!" and she kissed her once more. "And you'll
+see how I can keep a secret, Mildrid!" She hugged her to her breast,
+but sat up again, and said sorrowfully: "And you thought I couldn't do
+it; O Mildrid! not even when it was about you!"
+
+And now it was Beret's turn to cry. "Why have you put me away? Why
+have you taken Inga instead of me? You've made me so dreadfully
+unhappy, Mildrid! O Mildrid, you don't know how I love you!" and she
+clung to her. Then Mildrid kissed her, and told her that she had done
+it without thinking what she was doing, but that now she would never
+again put her aside, and would tell her everything, because she was so
+good and true and faithful.
+
+The sisters lay for a little with their arms round each other; then
+Beret sat up again; she wanted to look into her sister's face in the
+light of the summer night, that was gradually taking a tinge of red
+from the coming dawn. Then she burst out with: "Mildrid, how handsome
+he is! How did he come? How did you see him first? What did he say? Do
+tell me about it!"
+
+And Mildrid now poured out to her sister all that a few hours ago it
+had seemed to her she could never tell to anybody. She was sometimes
+interrupted by Beret's throwing her arms round her and hugging her,
+but she went on again with all the more pleasure. It seemed to her
+like a strange legend of the woods. They laughed and they cried. Sleep
+had gone from them both. The sun found them still entranced by this
+wonderful tale--Mildrid lying down or resting on one elbow and
+talking, Beret kneeling beside her, her mouth half open, her eyes
+sparkling, from time to time giving a little cry of delight.
+
+They got up together and did their work together, and when they had
+finished, and for the sake of appearances taken a little breakfast,
+they prepared for the meeting with Hans. He was sure to come soon!
+They dressed themselves out in their best, and went up to Mildrid's
+place on the hill. Beret showed where she had lain hidden yesterday.
+The dog had found her out, she said, and paid her several visits. The
+weather was fine to-day too, though there were some clouds in the sky.
+The girls found plenty to say to each other, till it was about the
+time when Hans might be expected. Beret ran once or twice up to the
+top of the hill, to see if he were in sight, but there was no sign of
+him. Then they began to grow impatient, and at last Mildrid got so
+excited that Beret was frightened. She tried to soothe her by
+reminding her that Hans was not his own master; that he had left the
+German gentleman two whole days to fish and shoot alone, and prepare
+food for himself; and that he would hardly dare to leave him a third.
+And Mildrid acknowledged that this might be so.
+
+"What do you think father and mother will say to all this?" asked
+Beret, just to divert Mildrid's thoughts. She repented the moment the
+words were uttered. Mildrid turned pale and stared at Beret, who
+stared back at her. Beret wondered if her sister had never thought of
+this till now, and said so. Yes; she had thought of it, but as of
+something very far off. The fear of what Hans Haugen might think of
+her, the shame of her own weakness and stupidity, had so occupied her
+mind that they had left no room for anything else. But now things
+suddenly changed round, and she could think of nothing but her
+parents.
+
+Beret again tried to comfort her. Whenever father and mother saw
+Hans, they would feel that Mildrid was right--they would never make
+her unhappy who had given them their greatest happiness. Grandmother
+would help her. No one could say a word against Hans Haugen, and _he_
+would never give her up! Mildrid heard all this, but did not take it
+in, for she was thinking of something else, and to get time to think
+it out rightly, she asked Beret to go and prepare the dinner. And
+Beret walked slowly away, looking back several times.
+
+Mildrid wanted to be left alone a little to make up her mind whether
+she should go at once and tell her parents. It seemed a terrible
+matter to her in her excited, exhausted state. She felt now that it
+would be a sin if she saw Hans again without their knowledge. She had
+done very wrong in engaging herself to him without having their
+consent; but she had been in a manner surprised into that; it had come
+about almost without her will. Her duty now, though, was clearly to go
+and tell them.
+
+She rose to her feet, with a new light in her eyes. She would do what
+was right. Before Hans stood there again, her parents should know all.
+"That's it!" she said, aloud, as if some one were there, and then
+hurried down to the soeter to tell Beret. But Beret was nowhere to
+be seen. "Beret! Beret!" shouted Mildrid, but only the echoes gave
+answer. Excited Mildrid was already, but now she got frightened too.
+Beret's great eyes, as she asked: "What do you think father and mother
+will say to this?" seemed to grow ever greater and more threatening.
+Surely _she_ could never have gone off to tell them? Yet it would be
+just like her hasty way to think she would settle the thing at once,
+and bring comfort to her sister. To be sure that was it! And if Beret
+reached home before her, father and mother would get a wrong idea of
+everything!
+
+Off Mildrid went, down the road that led to the valley. She walked
+unconsciously faster and faster, carried away by ever-increasing
+excitement; till her head began to turn and her breathing to get
+oppressed. She had to sit down for a rest. Sitting did not seem to
+help her, so she stretched herself out, resting her head on her arm,
+and lay there, feeling forsaken, helpless, almost betrayed--by
+affection it was true--but still betrayed.
+
+In a few moments she was asleep! For two days and nights she had
+hardly slept or eaten; and she had no idea of the effect this had had
+on her mind and body--the child who till now had eaten and slept so
+regularly and peacefully in her quiet home. How was it possible that
+she could understand anything at all of what had happened to her? All
+that she had been able to give to her affectionate but melancholy
+parents out of her heart's rich store of love, was a kind of watchful
+care; in her grandmother's brighter home longings for something more
+had often come over her, but there was nothing even there to satisfy
+them. So now when love's full spring burst upon her, she stood amidst
+its rain of blossoms frightened and ashamed.
+
+Tormented by her innocent conscience, the poor tired child had run a
+race with herself till she fell--now she slept, caressed by the pure
+mountain breeze.
+
+Beret had not gone home, but away to fetch Hans Haugen. She had far to
+go, and most of the way was unknown to her. It went first by the edge
+of a wood, and then higher over bare flats, not quite safe from wild
+animals, which she knew had been seen there lately. But she went on,
+for Hans really must come. If he did not, she was sure things would go
+badly with Mildrid; she seemed so changed to-day.
+
+In spite of her anxiety about Mildrid, Beret's heart was light, and
+she stepped merrily on, her thoughts running all the time on this
+wonderful adventure. She could think of no one better or grander than
+Hans Haugen, and none but the very best was good enough for Mildrid.
+There was nothing whatever to be surprised at in Mildrid's giving
+herself up to him at once; just as little as in his at once falling in
+love with her. If father and mother could not be brought to
+understand this, they must just be left to do as they chose, and the
+two must fight their own battle as her great-grandparents had done,
+and her grandparents too--and she began to sing the old Bridal March.
+Its joyful tones sounded far over the bare heights and seemed to die
+away among the clouds.
+
+When she got right on the top of the hill she was crossing, she stood
+and shouted "Hurrah!" From here she could see only the last strip of
+cultivated land on the farther side of their valley; and on this side
+the upper margin of the forest, above it stretches of heather, and
+where she stood, nothing but boulders and flat rocks. She flew from
+stone to stone in the light air. She knew that Hans's hut lay in the
+direction of the snow mountain whose top stood out above all the
+others, and presently she thought that she must be getting near it. To
+get a better look around she climbed up on to an enormous stone, and
+from the top of it she saw a mountain lake just below. Whether it was
+a rock or a hut she saw by the water's edge she could not be sure; one
+minute it looked like a hut, the next like a big stone. But she knew
+that his cabin lay by a mountain lake. Yes, that must be it, for there
+came a boat rowing round the point. Two men were in the boat--they
+must be Hans and the German officer. Down she jumped and off again.
+But what had looked so near was really far off, and she ran and ran,
+excited by the thought of meeting Hans Haugen.
+
+Hans sat quietly in his boat with the German, ignorant of all the
+disturbance he had caused. _He_ had never known what it was to be
+frightened; nor had he ever till now known the feeling of being in
+love. As soon as he did feel it, it was intolerable to him until he
+had settled the matter. Now it was settled, and he was sitting there
+setting words to the Bridal March!
+
+He was not much of a poet, but he made out something about their ride
+to church, and the refrain of every verse told of their meeting in the
+wood. He whistled and fished and felt very happy; and the German
+fished away quietly and left him in peace.
+
+A halloo sounded from the shore, and both he and the bearded German
+looked up and saw a girl waving. They exchanged a few words and rowed
+ashore. Hans jumped out and tied up the boat, and they lifted out the
+guns, coats, fish, and fishing tackle; the German went away towards
+the cabin, but Hans with his load came up to Beret, who was standing
+on a stone a little way off.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked gently.
+
+"Beret, Mildrid's sister," she answered, blushing, and he blushed too.
+But the next moment he turned pale.
+
+"Is there anything the matter?"
+
+"No! just that you must come. She can't bear to be left alone just
+now."
+
+He stood a minute and looked at her, then turned and went towards the
+hut. The German was standing outside, hanging up his fishing tackle;
+Hans hung up his, and they spoke together, and then went in. Ever
+since Beret's halloo, two dogs, shut up in the cabin, had been
+barking with all their might. When the men opened the door they burst
+out, but were at once sternly called back. It was some time before
+Hans came out again. He had changed his clothes, and had his gun and
+dog with him. The German gentleman came to the door, and they shook
+hands as if saying good-bye for a considerable time. Hans came up
+quickly to Beret.
+
+"Can you walk fast?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I can."
+
+And off they went, she running, the dog far ahead.
+
+Beret's message had entirely changed the current of Hans's thoughts.
+It had never occurred to him before that Mildrid might not have the
+same happy, sure feeling about their engagement that he had. But now
+he saw how natural it was that she should be uneasy about her parents;
+and how natural, too, that she should feel alarmed by the hurried rush
+in which everything had come about. He understood it so well now that
+he was perfectly astonished at himself for not having thought of it
+before--and on he strode.
+
+Even on him the suddenness of the meeting with Mildrid, and the
+violence of their feelings, had at first made a strange impression;
+what must she, a child, knowing nothing but the quiet reserve of her
+parents' house, have felt, thus launched suddenly on the stormy sea of
+passion!--and on he strode.
+
+While he was marching along, lost in these reflections, Beret was
+trotting at his side, always, when she could, with her face turned
+towards his. Now and then he had caught a glimpse of her big eyes and
+flaming cheeks; but his thoughts were like a veil over his sight; he
+saw her indistinctly, and then suddenly not at all. He turned round;
+she was a good way behind, toiling after him as hard as she could. She
+had been too proud to say that she could not keep up with him any
+longer. He stood and waited till she made up to him, breathless, with
+tears in her eyes. "Ah! I'm walking too fast," and he held out his
+hand. She was panting so that she could not answer. "Let us sit down a
+little," he said, drawing her to him; "come!" and he made her sit
+close to him. If possible she got redder than before, and did not look
+at him; and she drew breath so painfully that it seemed as if she were
+almost choking. "I'm so thirsty!" was the first thing she managed to
+say. They rose and he looked round, but there was no stream near. "We
+must wait till we get a little farther on," he said; "and anyhow it
+wouldn't be good for you to drink just now."
+
+So they sat down again, she on a stone in front of him.
+
+"I ran the whole way," she said, as if to excuse herself--and
+presently added, "and I have had no dinner," and after another
+pause--"and I didn't sleep last night."
+
+Instead of expressing any sympathy with her, he asked sharply: "Then I
+suppose Mildrid did not sleep last night either? And she has not
+eaten, I saw that myself, not for"--he thought a little--"not for ever
+so long."
+
+He rose. "Can you go on now?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+He took her hand, and they set off again at a tremendous pace. Soon he
+saw that she could not keep it up, so he took off his coat, gave it to
+her to hold, and lifted her up and carried her. She did not want him
+to do it, but he just went easily off with her, and Beret held on by
+his neckerchief, for she dared not touch him. Soon she said that she
+had got her breath and could run quite well again, so he put her down,
+took his coat and hung it over his gun--and off they went! When they
+came to a stream they stopped and rested a little before she took a
+drink. As she got up he gave her a friendly smile, and said: "You're a
+good little one."
+
+Evening was coming on when they reached the soeter. They looked in
+vain for Mildrid, both there and at her place on the hillside. Their
+calls died away in the distance, and when Hans noticed the dog
+standing snuffing at something they felt quite alarmed. They ran to
+look--it was her little shawl. At once Hans set the dog to seek the
+owner of the shawl. He sprang off, and they after him, across the hill
+and down on the other side, towards Tingvold. Could she have gone
+home? Beret told of her own thoughtless question and its consequences,
+and Hans said he saw it all. Beret began to cry.
+
+"Shall we go after her or not?" said Hans.
+
+"Yes, yes!" urged Beret, half distracted. But first they would have to
+go to the next soeter, and ask their neighbours to send some one to
+attend to the cows for them. While they were still talking about this,
+and at the same time following the dog, they saw him stop and look
+back, wagging his tail. They ran to him, and there lay Mildrid!
+
+She was lying with her head on her arm, her face half buried in the
+heather. They stepped up gently; the dog licked her hands and cheek,
+and she stretched herself and changed her position, but slept on. "Let
+her sleep!" whispered Hans; "and you go and put in the cows. I hear
+the bells." As Beret was running off he went after her. "Bring some
+food with you when you come back," he whispered. Then he sat down a
+little way from Mildrid, made the dog lie down beside him, and sat and
+held him to keep him from barking.
+
+It was a cloudy evening. The near heights and the mountain-tops were
+grey; it was very quiet; there was not even a bird to be seen. He sat
+or lay, with his hand on the dog. He had soon settled what to arrange
+with Mildrid when she awoke. There was no cloud in their future; he
+lay quietly looking up into the sky. He knew that their meeting was a
+miracle. God Himself had told him that they were to go through life
+together.
+
+He fell to working away at the Bridal March again, and the words that
+came to him now expressed the quiet happiness of the hour.
+
+It was about eight o'clock when Beret came back, bringing food with
+her. Mildrid was still sleeping. Beret set down what she was carrying,
+looked at them both for a minute, and then went and sat down a little
+way from them. Nearly an hour passed, Beret getting up from time to
+time to keep herself from falling asleep. Soon after nine Mildrid
+awoke. She turned several times, at last opened her eyes, saw where
+she was lying, sat up, and noticed the others. She was still
+bewildered with sleep, so that she did not take in rightly where she
+was or what she saw, till Hans rose and came smiling towards her. Then
+she held out her hands to him.
+
+He sat down beside her:
+
+"You've had a sleep now, Mildrid?"
+
+"Yes, I've slept now."
+
+"And you're hungry?"
+
+"Yes, I'm hungry----" and Beret came forward with the food. She looked
+at it and then at them. "Have I slept long?" she asked.
+
+"Well, it's almost nine o'clock; look at the sun!"
+
+Not till now did she begin to remember everything.
+
+"Have you sat here long?"
+
+"No, not very long--but you must eat!" She began to do so. "You were
+on your way down to the valley?" asked Hans gently, with his head
+nearer hers. She blushed and whispered, "Yes."
+
+"To-morrow, when you've really had a good sleep and rest, we'll go
+down together."
+
+Her eyes looked into his, first in surprise, then as if she were
+thanking him, but she said nothing.
+
+After this she seemed to revive; she asked Beret where _she_ had been,
+and Beret told that she had gone to fetch Hans, and he told all the
+rest. Mildrid ate and listened, and yielded gradually once again to
+the old fascination. She laughed when Hans told her how the dog had
+found her, and had licked her face without wakening her. He was at
+this moment greedily watching every bite she took, and she began to
+share with him.
+
+As soon as she had finished, they went slowly towards the soeter--and
+Beret was soon in bed. The two sat on the bench outside the door.
+Small rain was beginning to fall, but the broad eaves kept them from
+feeling it. The mist closed round the soeter, and shut them in in
+a sort of magic circle. It was neither day nor night, but dark rather
+than light. Each softly spoken word brought more confidence into their
+talk. Now for the first time they were really speaking to each other.
+He asked her so humbly to forgive him for not having remembered that
+she must feel differently from him, and that she had parents who must
+be consulted. She confessed her fear, and then she told him that he
+was the first real, strong, self-reliant man she had ever known, and
+that this, and other things she had heard about him, had--she would
+not go on.
+
+But in their trembling happiness everything spoke, to the slightest
+breath they drew. That wonderful intercourse began of soul with soul,
+which in most cases precedes and prepares for the first embrace, but
+with these two came after it. The first timid questions came through
+the darkness, the first timid answers found their way back. The words
+fell softly, like spirit sounds on the night air. At last Mildrid took
+courage to ask hesitatingly if her behaviour had not sometimes struck
+him as very strange. He assured her that he had never thought it so,
+never once. Had he not noticed that she had not said one word all the
+time they were together yesterday? No, he had not noticed that. Had he
+not wondered at her going off down to her parents? No, he had thought
+it only right of her. Had he not thought (for a long time she would
+not say this, but at last the words came, in a whisper, with her face
+turned away), had he not thought that she had let things go too
+quickly? No, he had only thought how beautifully everything had
+happened. But what had he thought of the way she had cried at their
+first meeting? Well, at the time it had puzzled him, but now he
+understood it, quite well--and he was glad she was like that.
+
+All these answers made her so happy that she felt she wanted to be
+alone. And as if he had guessed this, he got up quietly and said that
+now she must go to bed. She rose. He nodded and went off slowly
+towards the shed where he was to sleep; she hurried in, undressed,
+and when she had got into bed she folded her hands and thanked God.
+Oh, how she thanked Him! Thanked Him for Hans's love, and patience,
+and kindness--she had not words enough! Thanked Him for all, all,
+everything--even for the suffering of the last two days--for had it
+not made the joy all the greater? Thanked Him for their having been
+alone up there at this time, and prayed Him to be with her to-morrow
+when she went down to her parents, then turned her thoughts again to
+Hans, and gave thanks for him once more, oh, how gratefully!
+
+When she came out of the soeter-house in the morning, Beret was
+still sleeping. Hans was standing in the yard. He had been punishing
+the dog for rousing a ptarmigan, and it was now lying fawning on him.
+When he saw Mildrid he let the dog out of disgrace; it jumped up on
+him and her, barked and caressed them, and was like a living
+expression of their own bright morning happiness. Hans helped Mildrid
+and the boys with the morning work. By the time they had done it all
+and were ready to sit down to breakfast, Beret was up and ready too.
+Every time Hans looked at her she turned red, and when Mildrid after
+breakfast stood playing with his watch chain while she spoke to him,
+Beret hurried out, and was hardly to be found when it was time for the
+two to go.
+
+"Mildrid," said Hans, coming close to her and walking slowly, when
+they had got on a little way, "I have been thinking about something
+that I didn't say to you yesterday." His voice sounded so serious that
+she looked up into his face. He went on slowly, without looking at
+her; "I want to ask you if--God granting that we get each other--if
+you will go home with me after the wedding and live at Haugen."
+
+She turned red, and presently answered evasively:
+
+"What will father and mother say to that?"
+
+He walked on without answering for a minute, and then said:
+
+"I did not think that mattered so much, if we two were agreed about
+it."
+
+This was the first time he had said a thing that hurt her. She made
+no reply. He seemed to be waiting for one, and when none came, added
+gently:
+
+"I wanted us two to be alone together, to get accustomed to each
+other."
+
+Now she began to understand him better, but she could not answer. He
+walked on as before, not looking at her, and now quite silent. She
+felt uneasy, stole a glance at him, and saw that he had turned quite
+pale.
+
+"Hans!" she cried, and stood still without being conscious of doing
+it. Hans stopped too, looked quickly at her, and then down at his gun,
+which he was resting on the ground and turning in his hand.
+
+"Can you not go with me to my home?" His voice was very low, but all
+at once he looked her straight in the face.
+
+"Yes, I can!" she answered quickly. Her eyes looked calmly into his,
+but a faint blush came over her cheeks. He changed his gun into his
+left hand, and held out the right to her.
+
+"Thank you!" he whispered, holding hers in a firm clasp; Then they
+went on.
+
+She was brooding over one thought all the time, and at last could not
+keep it in: "You don't know my father and mother."
+
+He went on a little before he answered: "No, but when you come and
+live at Haugen, I'll have time then to get to know them."
+
+"They are so good!" added Mildrid.
+
+"So I have heard from every one." He said this decidedly, but coldly.
+
+Before she had time to think or say anything more, he began to tell
+about _his_ home, his brothers and sisters, and their industry,
+affectionateness, and cheerfulness; about the poverty they had raised
+themselves from; about the tourists who came and all the work they
+gave; about the house, and especially about the new one he would now
+build for her and himself. She was to be the mistress of the whole
+place--but they would help her in everything; they would all try to
+make her life happy, he not least. As he talked they walked on
+faster; he spoke warmly, came closer to her, and at last they walked
+hand in hand.
+
+It could not be denied that his love for his home and his family made
+a strong impression on her, and there was a great attraction in the
+newness of it all; but behind this feeling lay one of wrong-doing
+towards her parents, her dear, kind parents. So she began again:
+"Hans! mother is getting old now, and father is older; they have had a
+great deal of trouble--they need help; they've worked so hard,
+and--" she either would not or could not say more.
+
+He walked slower and looked at her, smiling. "Mildrid, you mean that
+they have settled to give you the farm?"
+
+She blushed, but did not answer.
+
+"Well, then--we'll let that alone till the time comes. When they want
+us to take their places, it's for them to ask us to do it." He said
+this very gently and tenderly, but she felt what it meant. Thoughtful
+of others, as she always was, and accustomed to consider their
+feelings before her own, she yielded in this too. But very soon they
+came to where they could see Tingvold in the valley below them. She
+looked down at it, and then at him, as if it could speak for itself.
+
+The big sunny fields on the hill slope, with the wood encircling and
+sheltering them, the house and farm buildings a little in the shadow,
+but big and fine--it all looked so beautiful. The valley, with its
+rushing, winding river, stretched away down beyond, with farm after
+farm in the bottom and on its slopes on both sides--but none, not
+one to equal Tingvold--none so fertile or so pleasant to the eye, none
+so snugly sheltered, and yet commanding the whole valley. When she saw
+that Hans was struck by the sight, she reddened with joy.
+
+"Yes," he said, in answer to her unspoken question--"yes, it is true;
+Tingvold is a fine place; it would be hard to find its equal."
+
+He smiled and bent down to her. "But I care more for you, Mildrid,
+than for Tingvold; and perhaps--you care more for me than for
+Tingvold?"
+
+When he took it this way she could say no more. He looked so happy
+too; he sat down, and she beside him.
+
+"Now I'm going to sing something for you," he whispered.
+
+She felt glad. "I've never heard you sing," she said.
+
+"No, I know you have not; and though people talk about my singing, you
+must not think it's anything very great. There's only this about it,
+that it comes upon me sometimes, and then I _must_ sing."
+
+He sat thinking for a good while, and then he sang her the song that
+he had made for their own wedding to the tune of her race's Bridal
+March. Quite softly he sang it, but with such exultation as she had
+never heard in any voice before. She looked down on her home, the
+house she was to drive away from on that day; followed the road with
+her eyes down to the bridge across the river, and along on the other
+side right up to the church, which lay on a height, among birch-trees,
+with a group of houses near it. It was not a very clear day, but the
+subdued light over the landscape was in sympathy with the subdued
+picture in her mind. How many hundred times had she not driven that
+road in fancy, only she never knew with whom! The words and the tune
+entranced her; the peculiar warm, soft voice seemed to touch the very
+depths of her being; her eyes were full, but she was not crying; nor
+was she laughing. She was sitting with her hand on his, now looking at
+him, now over the valley, when she saw smoke beginning to rise from
+the chimney of her home; the fire was being lit for making the dinner.
+This was an omen; she turned to Hans and pointed. He had finished his
+song now, and they sat still and looked.
+
+Very soon they were on their way down through the birch wood, and Hans
+was having trouble with the dog, to make him keep quiet. Mildrid's
+heart began to throb. Hans arranged with her that he would stay
+behind, but near the house; it was better that she should go in first
+alone. He carried her over one or two marshy places, and he felt that
+her hands were cold. "Don't think of what you're to say," he
+whispered; "just wait and see how things come." She gave no sound in
+answer, nor did she look at him.
+
+They came out of the wood--the last part had been big dark fir-trees,
+among which they had walked slowly, he quietly telling her about her
+great-grandfather's wooing of his father's sister, Aslaug; an old,
+strange story, which she only half heard, but which all the same
+helped her--came out of the wood into the open fields and meadows; and
+he became quiet too. Now she turned to him, and her look expressed
+such a great dread of what was before her that it made him feel
+wretched. He found no words of encouragement; the matter concerned him
+too nearly. They walked on a little farther, side by side, some bushes
+between them and the house concealing them from its inhabitants. When
+they got so near that he thought she must now go on alone, he
+whistled softly to the dog, and she took this as the sign that they
+must part. She stopped and looked utterly unhappy and forlorn; he
+whispered to her: "I'll be praying for you here, Mildrid--and I'll
+come when you need me." She gave him a kind of distracted look of
+thanks; she was really unable either to think or to see clearly. Then
+she walked on.
+
+As soon as she came out from the bushes she saw right into the big
+room of the main building--right through it--for it had windows at
+both ends, one looking up towards the wood and one down the valley.
+Hans had seated himself behind the nearest bush, with the dog at his
+side, and he too could see everything in the room; at this moment
+there was no one in it. Mildrid looked back once when she came to the
+barn, and he nodded to her. Then she went round the end of the barn,
+into the yard.
+
+Everything stood in its old, accustomed order, and it was very quiet.
+Some hens were walking on the barn-steps. The wooden framework for
+the stacks had been brought out and set up against the storehouse wall
+since she was there last; that was the only change she saw. She turned
+to the right to go first into grandmother's house, her fear tempting
+her to take this little respite before meeting her parents; when, just
+between the two houses, at the wood-block, she came on her father,
+fitting a handle to an axe. He was in his knitted jersey with the
+braces over it, bareheaded, his thin long hair blowing in the breeze
+that was beginning to come up from the valley. He looked well, and
+almost cheerful at his work, and she took courage at the sight. He did
+not notice her, she had come so quietly and cautiously over the
+flagstones.
+
+"Good morning!" she said in a low voice.
+
+He looked at her in surprise for a moment.
+
+"Is that you, Mildrid? Is there anything the matter?" he added
+hastily, examining her face.
+
+"No," she said, and blushed a little. But he kept his eyes on hers,
+and she did not dare to look up.
+
+Then he put down the axe, saying:
+
+"Let us go in to mother!"
+
+On the way he asked one or two questions about things up at the
+soeter, and got satisfactory answers.
+
+"Now Hans sees us going in," thought Mildrid, as they passed a gap
+between the barn and some of the smaller outhouses.
+
+When they got into the living-room, her father went to the door
+leading into the kitchen, opened it, and called:
+
+"Come here, mother! Mildrid has come down."
+
+"Why, Mildrid, has anything gone wrong?" was answered from the
+kitchen.
+
+"No," replied Mildrid from behind her father, and then coming to the
+door herself, she went into the kitchen and stood beside her mother,
+who was sitting by the hearth paring potatoes and putting them in the
+pot.
+
+Her mother now looked as inquiringly at her as her father had done,
+with the same effect. Then Randi set away the potato dish, went to
+the outer door and spoke to some one there, came back again, took off
+her kitchen apron and washed her hands, and they went together into
+the room.
+
+Mildrid knew her parents, and knew that these preparations meant that
+they expected something unusual. She had had little courage before,
+but now it grew less. Her father took his raised seat close to the
+farthest away window, the one that looked down the valley. Her mother
+sat on the same bench, but nearer the kitchen. Mildrid seated herself
+on the opposite one, in front of the table. Hans could see her there;
+and he could see her father, right in the face, but her mother he
+could hardly see.
+
+Her mother asked, as her father had done before, about things at the
+soeter; got the same information and a little more; for she asked
+more particularly. It was evident that both sides were making this
+subject last as long as possible, but it was soon exhausted. In the
+pause that came, both parents looked at Mildrid. She avoided the look,
+and asked what news there was of the neighbours. This subject was
+also drawn out as long as possible, but it came to an end too. The
+same silence, the same expectant eyes turned on the daughter. There
+was nothing left for her to ask about, and she began to rub her hand
+back and forwards on the bench.
+
+"Have you been in at grandmother's?" asked her mother, who was
+beginning to get frightened.
+
+No, she had not been there. This meant then that their daughter had
+something particular to say to _them_, and it could not with any
+seemliness be put off longer.
+
+"There is something that I must tell you," she got out at last, with
+changing colour and downcast eyes.
+
+Her father and mother exchanged troubled looks. Mildrid raised her
+head and looked at them with great imploring eyes.
+
+"What is it, my child?" asked her mother anxiously.
+
+"I am betrothed," said Mildrid; hung her head again, and burst into
+tears.
+
+No more stunning blow could have fallen on the quiet circle. The
+parents sat looking at each other, pale and silent. The steady, gentle
+Mildrid, for whose careful ways and whose obedience they had so often
+thanked God, had, without asking their advice, without their
+knowledge, taken life's most important step, a step that was also
+decisive for _their_ past and future. Mildrid felt each thought along
+with them, and fear stopped her crying.
+
+Her father asked gently and slowly: "To whom, my child?"
+
+After a silence came the whispered answer: "To Hans Haugen."
+
+No name or event connected with Haugen had been mentioned in that room
+for more than twenty years. In her parents' opinion nothing but evil
+had come to Tingvold from there. Mildrid again knew their thoughts:
+she sat motionless, awaiting her sentence.
+
+Her father spoke again mildly and slowly: "We don't know the man,
+neither I nor your mother--and we didn't know that you knew him."
+
+"And I didn't know him either," said Mildrid.
+
+The astonished parents looked at each other. "How did it happen then?"
+It was her mother who asked this.
+
+"That is what I don't know myself," said Mildrid.
+
+"But, my child, surely you're mistress of your own actions?"
+
+Mildrid did not answer.
+
+"We thought," added her father gently, "that we could be quite sure of
+_you_."
+
+Mildrid did not answer.
+
+"But how did it happen?" repeated her mother more impatiently; "you
+must know that!"
+
+"No, I don't know it--I only know that I could not help it--no, I
+couldn't!" She was sitting holding on to the bench with both hands.
+
+"God forgive and help you! Whatever came over you?"
+
+Mildrid gave no answer.
+
+Her father calmed their rising excitement by saying in a gentle,
+friendly voice: "Why did you not speak to one of us, my child?"
+
+And her mother controlled herself, and said quietly: "You know how
+much we think of our children, we who have lived such a lonely life;
+and--yes, we may say it, especially of you, Mildrid; for you have been
+so much to us."
+
+Mildrid felt as if she did not know where she was.
+
+"Yes, we did not think you would desert us like this."
+
+It was her father who spoke last. Though the words came gently, they
+did not hurt the less.
+
+"I will not desert you!" she stammered.
+
+"You must not say that," he answered, more gravely than before, "for
+you have done it already."
+
+Mildrid felt that this was true, and at the same time that it was not
+true, but she could not put her feeling into words.
+
+Her mother went on: "Of what good has it all been, the love that we
+have shown our children, and the fear of God that we have taught them?
+In the first temptation--" for her daughter's sake she could say no
+more.
+
+But Mildrid could bear it no longer. She threw her arms over the
+table, laid her head on them, her face towards her father, and sobbed.
+
+Neither father nor mother was capable of adding by another reproachful
+word to the remorse she seemed to feel. So there was silence.
+
+It might have lasted long--but Hans Haugen saw from where he sat that
+she was in need of help. His hunter's eye had caught every look, seen
+the movement of their lips, seen her silent struggle; now he saw her
+throw herself on the table, and he jumped up, and soon his light foot
+was heard in the passage. He knocked; they all looked up, but no one
+said, "Come in!" Mildrid half rose, blushing through her tears; the
+door opened, and Hans with his gun and dog stood there, pale but quite
+composed. He turned and shut the door, while the dog, wagging its
+tail, went up to Mildrid. Hans had been too preoccupied to notice that
+it had followed him in.
+
+"Good morning!" said he. Mildrid fell back on her seat, drew a long
+breath, and looked at him with relief in her eyes; her fear, her bad
+conscience--all gone! _She was right, yes; she was right_--let come
+now whatever it pleased God to send!
+
+No one had answered Hans's greeting, nor had he been asked to come
+forward.
+
+"I am Hans Haugen," he said quietly; lowered his gun and stood holding
+it. After the parents had exchanged looks once or twice, he went on,
+but with a struggle: "I came down with Mildrid, for if she has done
+wrong, it was my fault."
+
+Something had to be said. The mother looked at the father, and at last
+he said that all this had happened without their knowing anything of
+it, and that Mildrid could give them no explanation of how it had come
+about. Hans answered that neither could he. "I am not a boy," he said,
+"for I am twenty-eight; but yet it came this way, that I, who never
+cared for any one before, could think of nothing else in the world
+from the time I saw her. If she had said No--well, I can't tell--but I
+shouldn't have been good for much after that."
+
+The quiet, straightforward way he said this made a good impression.
+Mildrid trembled; for she felt that this gave things a different look.
+Hans had his cap on, for in their district it was not the custom for a
+passer-by to take off his hat when he came in; but now he took it off
+unconsciously, hung it on the barrel of his gun, and crossed his hands
+over it. There was something about his whole appearance and behaviour
+that claimed consideration.
+
+"Mildrid is so young," said her mother; "none of us had thought of
+anything like this beginning with her already."
+
+"That is true enough, but to make up I am so much older," he answered;
+"and the housekeeping at home, in my house, is no great affair; it
+will not task her too hard--and I have plenty of help."
+
+The parents looked at each other, at Mildrid, at him. "Do you mean her
+to go home with you?" the father asked incredulously, almost
+ironically.
+
+"Yes," said Hans; "it is not the farm that I am coming after." He
+reddened, and so did Mildrid.
+
+If the farm had sunk into the ground the parents could not have been
+more astonished than they were at hearing it thus despised, and
+Mildrid's silence showed that she agreed with Hans. There was
+something in this resolution of the young people, unintentional on
+their part, that, as it were, took away from the parents the right of
+decision; they felt themselves humbled.
+
+"And it was you who said that you would not forsake us," said her
+mother in quiet reproach, that went to Mildrid's heart. But Hans came
+to her assistance:
+
+"Every child that marries has to leave its parents."
+
+He smiled, and added in a friendly way: "But it's not a long journey
+to Haugen from here--just a little over four miles."
+
+Words are idle things at a time like this; thoughts take their own way
+in spite of them. The parents felt themselves deserted, almost
+deceived by the young ones. They knew that there was no fault to be
+found with the way of living at Haugen; the tourists had given the
+place a good name; from time to time it had been noticed in the
+newspapers; but Haugen was Haugen, and that their dearest child should
+wish to carry their race back to Haugen was more than they could bear!
+In such circumstances most people would likely have been angry, but
+what these two desired was to get quietly away from what pained them.
+They exchanged a look of understanding, and the father said mildly:
+
+"This is too much for us all at once; we can't well give our answer
+yet."
+
+"No," continued the mother; "we were not expecting such great
+news--nor to get it like this."
+
+Hans stood quiet for a minute before he said:
+
+"It is true enough that Mildrid should first have asked her parents'
+leave. But remember that neither of us knew what was happening till it
+was too late. For that is really the truth. Then we could do no more
+than come at once, both of us, and that we have done. You must not be
+too hard on us."
+
+This left really nothing more to be said about their behaviour, and
+Hans's quiet manner made his words sound all the more trustworthy.
+Altogether Endrid felt that he was not holding his own against him,
+and the little confidence he had in himself made him the more desirous
+to get away.
+
+"We do not know you," he said, and looked at his wife. "We must be
+allowed to think it over."
+
+"Yes, that will certainly be best," went on Randi; "we ought to know
+something about the man we are to give our child to."
+
+Mildrid felt the offence there was in these words, but looked
+imploringly at Hans.
+
+"That is true," answered Hans, beginning to turn his gun under the one
+hand; "although I don't believe there are many men in the district
+much better known than I am. But perhaps some one has spoken ill of
+me?" He looked up to them.
+
+Mildrid sat there feeling ashamed on her parents' account, and they
+themselves felt that they had perhaps awakened a false suspicion, and
+this they had no desire to do. So both said at once:
+
+"No, we have heard nothing bad of you."
+
+And the mother hastened to add that it was really the case that they
+hardly knew anything about him, for they had so seldom asked about the
+Haugen people. She meant no harm at all by saying this, and not till
+the words had passed her lips, did she notice that she had expressed
+herself unfortunately, and she could see that both her husband and
+Mildrid felt the same. It was a little time before the answer came:
+
+"If the family of Tingvold have never asked after the Haugen people,
+the fault is not ours; we have been poor people till these last
+years."
+
+In these few words lay a reproach that was felt by all three to be
+deserved, and that thoroughly. But never till now had it occurred to
+either husband or wife that they had been in this case neglecting a
+duty; never till now had they reflected that their poor relations at
+Haugen should not have been made to suffer for misfortunes of which
+they had been in no way the cause. They stole an awkward glance at
+each other, and sat still, feeling real shame. Hans had spoken
+quietly, though Randi's words must have been very irritating to him.
+This made both the old people feel that he was a fine fellow, and that
+they had two wrongs to make good again. Thus it came about that Endrid
+said:
+
+"Let us take time and think things over; can't you stay here and have
+dinner with us? Then we can talk a little."
+
+And Randi added: "Come away here and sit down."
+
+Both of them rose.
+
+Hans set away the gun with his cap on it, and went forward to the
+bench on which Mildrid was sitting, whereupon she at once got up, she
+did not know why. Her mother said she had things to see to in the
+kitchen, and went out. Her father was preparing to go too; but Mildrid
+did not wish to be alone with Hans as long as her parents withheld
+their consent, so she went towards the other door, and they presently
+saw her crossing the yard to her grandmother's house. As Endrid could
+not leave Hans alone, he turned and sat down again.
+
+The two men talked together about indifferent matters--first it was
+about the hunting, about the Haugen brothers' arrangements in the
+little summer huts they had high up on the mountains, about the
+profits they made by this sort of thing, &c. &c. From this they came
+to Haugen itself, and the tourists, and the farm management; and from
+all he heard Endrid got the impression of there being prosperity there
+now, and plenty of life. Randi came backwards and forwards, making
+preparations for the dinner, and often listened to what was being
+said; and it was easy to see that the two old people, at first so shy
+of Hans, became by degrees a little surer of him; for the questions
+began to be more personal.
+
+They did not fail to observe his good manners at the dinner-table. He
+sat with his back to the wall, opposite Mildrid and her mother; the
+father sat at the end of the table on his high seat. The farm people
+had dined earlier, in the kitchen, where indeed all in the house
+generally took their meals together. They were making the difference
+to-day because they were unwilling that Hans should be seen. Mildrid
+felt at table that her mother looked at her whenever Hans smiled. He
+had one of those serious faces that grow very pleasant when they
+smile. One or two such things Mildrid added together in her mind, and
+brought them to the sum she wanted to arrive at. Only she did not feel
+herself so sure, but that the strain in the room was too great for
+her, and she was glad enough to escape from it by going after dinner
+again to her grandmother's.
+
+The men took a walk about the farm, but they neither went where the
+people were working, nor where grandmother could see them. Afterwards
+they came and sat in the room again, and now mother had finished her
+work and could sit with them. By degrees the conversation naturally
+became more confidential, and in course of time (but this was not till
+towards evening) Randi ventured to ask Hans how it had all come about
+between him and Mildrid; Mildrid herself had been able to give no
+account of it. Possibly it was principally out of feminine curiosity
+that the mother asked, but the question was a very welcome one to
+Hans.
+
+He described everything minutely, and with such evident happiness,
+that the old people were almost at once carried away by his story. And
+when he came to yesterday--to the forced march Beret had made in
+search of him because Mildrid was plunged in anguish of mind on her
+parents' account--and then came to Mildrid herself, and told of her
+ever-increasing remorse because her parents knew nothing; told of her
+flight down to them, and how, worn-out in soul and body, she had had
+to sit down and rest and had fallen asleep, alone and unhappy--then
+the old people felt that they recognised their child again. And the
+mother especially began to feel that she had perhaps been too hard
+with her.
+
+While the young man was telling about Mildrid, he was telling too,
+without being aware of it, about himself; for his love to Mildrid
+showed clearly in every word, and made her parents glad. He felt this
+himself at last, and was glad too--and the old couple, unaccustomed to
+such quiet self-reliance and strength, felt real happiness. This went
+on increasing, till the mother at last, without thinking, said
+smilingly:
+
+"I suppose you've arranged everything right up to the wedding, you
+two--before asking either of us?"
+
+The father laughed too, and Hans answered, just as it occurred to him
+at the moment, by softly singing a single line of the Wedding March,
+
+  "Play away! speed us on! we're in haste, I and you!"
+
+and laughed; but was modest enough at once to turn to something else.
+He happened accidentally to look at Randi, and saw that she was quite
+pale. He felt in an instant that he had made a mistake in recalling
+that tune to her. Endrid looked apprehensively at his wife, whose
+emotion grew till it became so strong that she could not stay in the
+room; she got up and went out.
+
+"I know I have done something wrong," said Hans anxiously.
+
+Endrid made no reply. Hans, feeling very unhappy, got up to go after
+Randi and excuse himself, but sat down again, declaring that he had
+meant no harm at all.
+
+"No, you could hardly be expected to understand rightly about that,"
+said Endrid.
+
+"Can't _you_ go after her and put it right again!"
+
+He had already such confidence in this man that he dared ask him
+anything.
+
+But Endrid said: "No; rather leave her alone just now; I know her."
+
+Hans, who a few minutes before had felt himself at the very goal of
+his desires, now felt himself cast into the depths of despair, and
+would not be cheered up, though Endrid strove patiently to do it. The
+dog helped by coming forward to them; for Endrid went on asking
+questions about him, and afterwards told with real pleasure about a
+dog he himself had had, and had taken much interest in, as is
+generally the way with people leading a lonely life.
+
+Randi had gone out and sat down on the doorstep. The thought of her
+daughter's marriage and the sound of the Bridal March together had
+stirred up old memories too painfully. _She_ had not, like her
+daughter, given herself willingly to a man she loved! The shame of her
+wedding-day had been deserved; and that shame, and the trouble, and
+the loss of their children--all the suffering and struggle of years
+came over her again.
+
+And so all her Bible-reading and all her praying had been of no avail!
+She sat there in the most violent agitation! Her grief that she could
+thus be overcome caused her in despair to begin the bitterest
+self-accusation. Again she felt the scorn of the crowd at her foolish
+bridal procession; again she loathed herself for her own
+weakness--that she could not stop her crying then, nor her thinking
+of it now--that with her want of self-control she had cast undeserved
+suspicion on her parents, destroyed her own health and through this
+caused the death of the children she bore, and lastly that with all
+this she had embittered the life of a loving husband, and feigned a
+piety that was not real, as her present behaviour clearly showed!
+
+How dreadful that she still felt it in this way--that she had got no
+farther!
+
+Then it burst upon her--both her crying in church and the consuming
+bitterness that had spoiled the early years of her married life had
+been _wounded vanity_. It was wounded vanity that was weeping now; and
+that might at any moment separate her from God, her happiness in this
+world and the world to come!
+
+So worthless, so worthless did she feel herself that she dared not
+look up to God; for oh! how great were her shortcomings towards Him!
+But why, she began to wonder, why had she succumbed just now--at the
+moment when her daughter, in all true-heartedness and overflowing
+happiness, had given herself to the man she loved? Why at this moment
+arouse all the ugly memories and thoughts that lay dormant in her
+mind? Was she envious of Mildrid; envious of her own daughter? No,
+_that_ she knew she was not--and she began to recover herself.
+
+What a grand thought it was that her daughter was perhaps going to
+atone for _her_ fault! Could children do that? Yes, as surely as they
+themselves were a work of ours, they could--but we must help too, with
+repentance, with gratitude! And before Randi knew what was happening,
+she could pray again, bowing in deep humility and contrition before
+the Lord, who had once more shown her what she was without Him. She
+prayed for grace as one that prays for life; for she felt that it was
+life that was coming to her again! Now her account was blotted out; it
+was just the last settling of it that had unnerved her.
+
+She rose and looked up through streaming tears; she knew that things
+had come right now; there was One who had lifted the burden of pain
+from her!
+
+Had she not had the same feeling often before? No, never a feeling
+like this--not till now was the victory won. And she went forward
+knowing that she had gained the mastery over herself. Something was
+broken that till now had bound her--she felt with every movement that
+she was free both in soul and body. And if, after God, she had her
+daughter to thank for this, that daughter should in return be helped
+to enjoy her own happiness to the full.
+
+By this time she was in the passage of grandmother's house; but no one
+in the house recognised her step. She took hold of the latch and
+opened the door like a different person. "Mildrid, come here!" she
+said; and Mildrid and her grandmother looked at each other, for that
+was not mother. Mildrid ran to her. What could be happening? Her
+mother took her by the arm, shut the door behind her, so that they
+were alone, then threw her arms round her neck, and wept and wept,
+embracing her with a vehemence and happiness which Mildrid, uplifted
+by her love, could return right heartily.
+
+"God for ever bless and recompense you!" whispered the mother.
+
+The two sitting in the other house saw them coming across the yard,
+hand in hand, walking so fast that they felt sure something had
+happened. The door opened and both came forward. But instead of giving
+her to Hans, or saying anything to him or Endrid, the mother just put
+her arms once more round her daughter, and repeated with a fresh burst
+of emotion: "God for ever bless and reward you!"
+
+Soon they were all sitting in grandmother's room. The old woman was
+very happy. She knew quite well who Hans Haugen was--the young people
+had often spoken about him; and she at once understood that this union
+wiped out, as it were, much that was painful in the life of her son
+and his wife. Besides, Hans's good looks rejoiced the cheery old
+woman's heart. They all stayed with her, and the day ended with
+father, after a psalm, reading from a prayer-book a portion beginning:
+"The Lord has been in our house!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I shall only tell of two days in their life after this, and in each of
+these days only of a few minutes.
+
+The first is the young people's wedding-day. Inga, Mildrid's cousin,
+herself a married woman now, had come to deck out the bride. This was
+done in the store-house. The old chest which held the family's bridal
+silver ornaments--crown, girdle, stomacher, brooches, rings--was drawn
+from its place. Grandmother had the key of it, and came to open it,
+Beret acting as her assistant. Mildrid had put on her wedding-dress
+and all the ornaments that belonged to herself, before this grandeur
+(well polished by Beret and grandmother the week before) came to
+light, glittering and heavy. One after another each ornament was
+tried. Beret held the mirror in front of the bride. Grandmother told
+how many of her family had worn these silver things on their
+wedding-day, the happiest of them all her own mother, Aslaug Haugen.
+
+Presently they heard the Bridal March played outside; they all
+stopped, listened, and then hurried to the door to see what it meant.
+The first person they saw was Endrid, the bride's father. He had seen
+Hans Haugen with his brothers and sisters coming driving up the road
+to the farm. It was not often that any idea out of the common came to
+Endrid, but on this occasion it did occur to him that these guests
+ought to be received with the March of their race. He called out the
+fiddlers and started them; he was standing beside them himself, and
+some others had joined him, when Hans and his good brothers and
+sisters, in two carriages, drove into the yard. It was easily seen
+that this reception touched them.
+
+An hour later the March of course struck up again. This was when the
+bride and bridegroom, and after them the bride's parents, came out,
+with the players going before them, to get into the carriages. At some
+great moments in our lives all the omens are propitious; to-day the
+bridal party drove away from Tingvold in glorious spring weather. The
+crowd at the church was so great that no one remembered having seen
+the like of it, on any occasion. And in this gathering each person
+knew the story of the family, and its connection with the Bridal March
+which was sounding exultantly in the sunshine over the heads of bride
+and bridegroom.
+
+And because they were all thinking of the one thing, the pastor took a
+text for his address that allowed him to explain how our children are
+our life's crown, bearing clear witness to our honour, our
+development, our work.
+
+On the way back from the altar Hans stopped just outside the
+church-door; he said something; the bride, in her superhuman
+happiness, did not hear it; but she felt what it was. He wished her to
+look at Ole Haugen's grave, how richly clad in flowers it lay to-day.
+She looked, and they passed out almost touching his headstone; the
+parents following them.
+
+The other incident in their life that must be recalled is the visit of
+Endrid and Randi as grandparents. Hans had carried out his
+determination that they were to live at Haugen, although he had to
+promise that he would take Tingvold when the old people either could
+or would no longer manage it, and when the old grandmother was dead.
+But in their whole visit there is only one single thing that concerns
+us here, and that is that Randi, after a kind reception and good
+entertainment, when she was sitting with her daughter's child on her
+knee, began rocking it and crooning something--and what she crooned
+was the Bridal March. Her daughter clasped her hands in wonder and
+delight, but controlled herself at once and kept silence; Hans offered
+Endrid more to drink, which he declined; but this was on both sides
+only an excuse for exchanging a look.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: The old superstition that every man is followed by a
+"Vardöger" (an invisible animal, resembling him in character) is still
+common among the peasants.]
+
+
+
+
+ONE DAY
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Ella was generally known as the girl with the plait. But, thick as the
+plait was, if it had belonged to any one less shapely, less blonde,
+less sprightly, hardly any one would have noticed it; the merry life
+which it led behind her would have passed unobserved, and that,
+although it was the thickest plait which any one in the little town
+had ever boasted. Perhaps it looked even thicker than it really was,
+because Ella herself was little. It is not necessary to give its exact
+length, but it reached below her waist; a long way below it. Its
+colour was doubtful but inclined a little to red, though people in the
+town generally called it light, and we will accept their dictum
+without going into the question of half-tones. Her face was noticeable
+for its white skin, pretty shape, and classic profile; she had a
+small, full mouth, and eyes of unusual frankness, a trim little
+figure, but with rather short legs, so that in order to get over the
+ground as fast as it was her nature to do, her feet had to move very
+quickly. She was quick, indeed, in everything which she undertook, and
+that no doubt was why the plait was busier than plaits are wont to be.
+
+Her mother was the widow of a government official, had a small fortune
+besides her pension, and lived in her own little house opposite the
+hotel close by the market. She was an unassuming woman, whose husband
+had influenced her in everything; he had been her pride, her light,
+and when she lost him, the object of her life was gone; she became
+absorbed in religion; but, as she was not dictatorial, she allowed her
+only child--who much resembled her father--to follow her own
+inclinations. The mother associated with no one except an elder
+sister, who owned a large farm near the town, but Ella was allowed to
+bring in her companions from school, boating, skating, and
+snow-shoeing; this, however, made no difference, for there was an
+instinctive prudence in her choice of friends; her liveliness was
+tempered by her mother's society and the quietness of the house. So
+that she was active and expeditious without being noisy, frank enough,
+but with self-command and heedfulness.
+
+All the more strange, then, was an incident which occurred when she
+was between fourteen and fifteen. She had gone with a few friends to a
+concert which the Choral Society of the town, and one or two amateurs,
+were giving in aid of the Christmas charities. At this concert, Aksel
+Aarö sang Möhring's "Sleep in Peace." As every one knows, a subdued
+chorus carries the song forward; a flood of moonlight seemed to
+envelop it, and through it swept Aksel Aarö's voice. His voice was a
+clear, full, deep baritone, from which every one derived great
+pleasure. He could have drawn it out, without break or flaw, from
+here to Vienna. But within this voice Ella heard another, a
+simultaneous sound of weakness or pain, which she never doubted that
+everybody could hear. There was an emotion in its depths, an affecting
+confidence, which went to her heart; it seemed to say, "Sorrow, sorrow
+is the portion of my life; I cannot help myself, I am lost." Before
+she herself knew it, she was weeping bitterly. Anything more
+impressive than this voice she had never experienced. With every note
+her agitation increased, and she lost all control over herself.
+
+Aarö was of moderate height, and slender, with a fair, silky beard,
+which hung down over his chest; his head was small, his eyes large and
+melancholy, with something in their depths which, like the voice,
+seemed to say "Sorrow, sorrow." This melancholy in the eyes she had
+noticed before, but had not fully understood it until now, when she
+heard his voice. Her tears would flow. But this would not do. She
+glanced quickly round; no one else was crying. She set her teeth, she
+pressed her arms against her sides, and her knees together till they
+ached and trembled. Why in the world should this happen to her and to
+no one else? She put her handkerchief to her lips, and forced herself
+to think of the beam of light which she had seen flash out from the
+lighthouse and disappear again, leaving the sea ghostly in the
+darkness. But no! her thoughts would return; they would not be
+controlled. Nothing could check the first sob, it would break out.
+Before all the astonished eyes she rose, left her seat, slipped
+quietly from the room and got away. No one came with her; no one dared
+to be seen near her.
+
+You who read this, do you realise how dreadful it was? Have you been
+to such a--I had nearly written _silent_--concert, in a Norwegian
+coast town of somewhat pietist savour? Hardly any men are present.
+Either music is not to the masculine taste in the coast towns, or they
+are in some other part of the club, at billiards, or cards, or in the
+restaurant drinking punch, or reading the papers. Two or three perhaps
+have come up for a moment, and stand near the door, stand like those
+to whom the house belongs, and who wish to have a look at the
+strangers; or there really are one or two men sitting on the benches,
+squeezed in among the many coloured dresses, or else a few specimens
+are seen round the walls, like forgotten overcoats.
+
+No! those who gather at the concerts are from the harems of the place;
+their elder inhabitants come to dream again, amidst beautiful words
+and touching music, of what they once persuaded themselves that they
+were, and what they had once believed was awaiting them. It is a
+harmless passing amusement. In the main they are better understood up
+above than here below, so that if a whiff of the kitchen or a few
+household worries do find their way into the dreams, it does not
+disturb them. The younger denizens of the harems dream that they _are_
+what the elders once believed themselves, and that _they_ will attain
+at least to something of what the eldest have never reached. _They_
+had gained some information about life. In one thing old and young
+resemble each other; they are practical and prosperous by descent.
+They never allow their thoughts to stray very far. They know quite
+well that the glow which they feel as they listen to the words and
+music of great minds is not to be taken too seriously; it is only
+"What one always feels, you know."
+
+When, therefore, one among them took this really seriously and began
+to cry about it, good gracious! In private it was called "foolery," in
+public "scandalous."
+
+Ella had made a spectacle of herself. Her own dismay was immeasurable.
+No girl that she knew was less given to tears than herself; that she
+was certain of. She had as great a dread as any one of being looked
+at, or talked about. What in the world was it then? She was fond of
+music, certainly; she played herself, but she did not believe that she
+had any remarkable gift. Why, then, should she especially have been
+overcome by his song? What must he think of the silly girl? This
+thought troubled her most, and on this point she dare not confide in
+any one. Most people concluded that she had been ill, and she actually
+did keep indoors for a few days, and looked pale when she reappeared.
+Her friends teased her about it, but she let the matter drop.
+
+In the winter there were several children's dances, one of which was
+at "Andresen's at the corner," and Ella was there. Just at the
+conclusion of the second quadrille, she heard whispered "Aksel Aarö,
+Aksel Aarö!" and there he stood at the door, with three other young
+fellows behind him. The hostess was his elder sister. The four had
+come up from a card party to look on.
+
+Ella felt a thrill of delight, and at the same time her knees
+threatened to give way under her. She could neither see, nor
+understand clearly, but she felt great eyes on her. She was engrossed
+in a fold of her dress which did not hang properly, when he stood
+before her and said, "What a beautiful plait you have." His voice
+seemed to sprinkle it with gold-dust. He put out his hand as though he
+were going to touch it, but instead of doing so he stroked his beard.
+When he noticed her extreme timidity, he turned away. Several times
+during the evening she felt conscious of his presence; but he did not
+come up to her again.
+
+The other men took part in the dancing, but Aarö did not dance. There
+was something about him which she thought specially charming; a
+reserved air of distinction, a polish in his address, a deference of
+that quiet kind which alone could have appealed to her. His walk gave
+the impression that he kept half his strength in reserve, and this was
+the same in everything. He was tall, but not broad-shouldered; the
+small, somewhat narrow head, set on a rather long neck. She had never
+before noticed the way in which he turned his head. She felt now that
+there could be something, yes, almost musical about it.
+
+The room, and all that passed in it, seemed to float in light, but
+suddenly this light was gone. A little later she heard some one say,
+"Where is Aksel Aarö? Has he left?"
+
+Aarö was not at home for very long that winter. He had already spent
+two years at Havre, from which place he had recently returned; he was
+now going for a couple of years to Hull. Before this, music had been a
+favourite pursuit with Ella; she had especially loved and studied
+harmony, but from this time forward she devoted herself to melody. All
+music had given her pleasure and she had made some progress in it; but
+now it became speech to her. She herself spoke in it or another spoke
+to her. Now, whoever she was with, there was always one as well, she
+was never alone now, not in the street, not at home; of this the plait
+was the sacred symbol.
+
+In the course of the spring Fru Holmbo met Ella in the street as she
+was coming from the pastor's house with her prayer-book in her hand.
+
+"Are you going to be confirmed?" asked Fru Holmbo.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I have a message for you; can you guess from whom?"
+
+Now, Fru Holmbo was a friend of Aksel Aarö's sister and very intimate
+with the family. Ella blushed and could not answer.
+
+"I see that you know who it is from," said Fru Holmbo, and Ella
+blushed more than ever.
+
+With a rather superior smile--and the prettiest lady in the town had a
+superabundance of them--she said, "Aksel Aarö is not fond of writing.
+We have only just received his first letter since he left; but in it
+he writes that when we see 'the girl with the plait,' we are to
+remember him to her.' She cried at Möhring's song; other people might
+have done so too,'" he wrote.
+
+The tears sprang to Ella's eyes.
+
+"No, no," said Fru Holmbo consolingly, "there is no harm in that."
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Two years later, in the course of the winter, Ella was coming quickly
+up from the ice with her skates in her hand. She wore her new
+tight-fitting jacket for the first time; in fact, it was principally
+this jacket which had tempted her out. The plait hung jauntily down
+from under her grey cap. It was longer and thicker than ever; it
+throve wonderfully.
+
+As usual, she went round by "Andresen's at the corner." To see the
+house was enough. Just as her eyes rested on it, Aksel Aarö appeared
+in the doorway. He came slowly down the steps. He was at home again!
+His fair beard lay on the dark fur of his coat, a fur cap covered his
+low forehead and came down almost to his eyes; those large, attractive
+eyes. They looked at one another; they had to meet and pass; he
+smiled as he raised his cap, and she--stood still and curtseyed, like
+a schoolgirl in a short frock. For two years she had not dropped a
+curtsey, or done otherwise than bow like a grown-up person. Short
+people are most particular about this privilege; but to him, before
+whom she specially wished to appear grown-up, she had stood still and
+curtseyed as when he had last seen her. Occupied by this mishap she
+rushed into another. She said to herself, "Do not look round, keep
+yourself stiff, do not look round; do you hear?" But at the corner,
+just as she was turning away from him, she did look back for all that,
+and saw him do the same. From that moment there were no other people,
+no houses, no time or place. She did not know how she got home, or why
+she lay crying on her bed, with her face in the pillow.
+
+A fortnight later, there was a large party at the club, in honour of
+Aksel Aarö. Every one wished to be there, every one wished to bid
+their popular friend welcome home. He had been greatly missed. They
+had heard from Hull how indispensable he had by degrees become in
+society there. If his voice had had a greater compass--it did not
+comprise a large range of notes--he would have obtained an engagement
+at Her Majesty's Theatre; so it was said over there. At this ball, the
+Choral Society--his old Choral Society--would again sing with him.
+
+Ella was there; she came too early--only four people before her. She
+trembled with expectancy in the empty rooms and passages, but more
+especially in the hall where she had made "a spectacle of herself."
+She wore a red ball-dress, without any ornaments or flowers; this was
+by her mother's wish. She feared that she had betrayed herself by
+coming so early, and remained alone in a side room; she did not appear
+until the rooms had been fully lighted, and the perfume, the buzz of
+voices, and the tuning of instruments lured her in. Ella was so short,
+that when she came into the crowd, she had not seen Aksel Aarö when
+she heard several whispers of "There he is," and some one added, "He
+is coming towards us." It was Fru Holmbo for whom he was looking, and
+to whom he bowed; but just behind her stood Ella. When she felt that
+she was discovered, the bud blushed rosier than its calyx. He left Fru
+Holmbo at once.
+
+"Good evening," he said very softly, holding out his hand, which Ella
+took without looking up. "Good evening," he said again, still more
+softly, and drew nearer.
+
+She was aware of a gentle pressure and had to raise her eyes. They
+conveyed a bashful message half confident, half timid. It was a rapid
+glance, by which no one was enlightened or scandalised. He looked down
+at her, while he stroked his beard, but either because he had nothing
+more to say--he was not talkative--or that he could not say what he
+wished; he became absolutely silent. In the quiet way which was
+peculiar to him he turned and left her. He was on at once by his
+friends, and for the rest of the evening she only saw him now and
+again, and always at a distance.
+
+He did not dance, but she did. Everybody said how "sweet" she was (it
+was said with all respect); and that evening she really did beam with
+happiness. In whatever part of the room Aksel Aarö chanced to be, she
+felt conscious of his presence, felt a secret delight in whirling past
+him. His eyes followed her, his nearness made all and everything
+resplendent.
+
+Standing in the doorway was a heavy, sturdy fellow, who had
+constituted himself the critic of the assemblage. He appeared to be
+between thirty and forty; nearer the latter; he had a weather-beaten,
+coarsely-moulded, but spirited face, black hair, and hazel eyes; his
+figure approached the gigantic. Every one in the room knew him;
+Hjalmar Olsen, the fearless commander of one of the largest steamers.
+
+He scanned the dancers as they passed him, but gave the palm to the
+little one in the red dress; she was the pleasantest to look at: not
+only was she a fine girl, but her buoyant happiness seemed to infect
+him. When Aksel Aarö approached, Hjalmar Olsen received a share of the
+love glances which streamed from her eyes. She danced every dance.
+Hjalmar Olsen was tall enough to catch glimpses of her in all parts of
+the room. She also noticed him; he soon became a lighthouse in her
+voyage, but a lighthouse which interested itself in the ships. Thus he
+now felt that she was in danger so near to Peter Klausson's waistcoat.
+He knew Peter Klausson.
+
+Her tiny feet tripped a waltz, while the plait kept up an accompanying
+polka. Certainly Peter Klausson did press her too close to his
+waistcoat!
+
+Olsen therefore sought her out as soon as the waltz was over, but it
+was not so easy to secure a dance; a waltz was the first one for which
+she was free, and she gave him that. Just as this was arranged, every
+one pressed towards the platform, on which the Choral Society now
+appeared. Ella felt herself hopelessly little when they all rushed
+forward and packed themselves together. Hjalmar Olsen, who saw her
+vain attempts to obtain a peep, offered to lift her up on to the bench
+which ran along the wall, by which they were standing. She dare not
+agree to this, but he saw that others were mounting the bench, and
+before she could prevent it, she was up there too. Almost at the same
+moment Aksel Aarö came in among his companions and was received with
+the most energetic hand-clapping by all his friends--men as well as
+women. He bowed politely though somewhat coldly, but the expressions
+of welcome did not cease until his companions drew back a little,
+while he came forward. First of all, the Society gave one of its older
+songs. He kept his voice on a level with the others, which was
+considered in very good taste. After this the conductor took his seat
+at the piano, to accompany a song which Aarö wished to give alone. The
+song was a composition of Selmer and much in fashion at the capital.
+It could be sung by men as well as women, only in the last verse _her_
+had to be substituted for _his_. Here it had never been heard before.
+
+During the first song Aarö had searched the room with his eyes, and,
+from the moment when he discovered where Ella stood, he had kept them
+fixed there. Now he placed himself near the piano, and during the song
+he continued to look in her direction. As he sang, his melancholy eyes
+lighted up; his figure grew plastic.
+
+  I sing to one, to only one
+    Of all the listening throng;
+  To one alone is fully known
+    The meaning of my song.
+  Lend power, ye listeners, to each word.
+    But for that only one
+  Who in me woke sweet music's chord
+    My song had ne'er been sung.
+
+  Though deviously the path may run,
+    Passing through all hearts here,
+  Yet still is it the only one
+    Which to one heart is near.
+  Strengthen, oh, loving hearts, my song,
+    So that it still may swell
+  Through all love's choir; the only one
+    That in her heart may dwell.
+
+His voice was captivating; no one had ever listened to such a
+love-message. This time many beside Ella had tears in their eyes.
+When the song ended, they all remained waiting for some moments, as
+though expecting another verse; and there was a short silence, but
+then applause broke forth such as had never been heard. They wanted to
+have the song again, but no one had yet known Aksel Aarö to sing
+anything twice running; so they relinquished the idea.
+
+Ella had never heard the song; neither words nor music. When, with his
+eyes turned in her direction, he had begun to sing, she felt as though
+she should fall; such unheard-of boldness she had never imagined. That
+he, otherwise so considerate, should sing this across to her, so that
+all could hear! White as the wall against which she leaned for
+support, she suffered such anguish of mind, that she looked round for
+help. Immediately behind her, on the same bench, stood Fru Holmbo,
+magnetised, beautiful as a statue. She no more saw Ella's distress
+than she did the clock in the market-place. This absolute indifference
+calmed her, she recovered her self-possession. The neighbourhood of
+the others, which had been so terrible to her, was of no consequence,
+so long as they did not perceive anything. She could listen now
+without distress. More covertly, more charmingly, he could not have
+spoken, notwithstanding that every one heard it. If only he had not
+looked at her! If only she had been able to hide herself!
+
+As soon as the last notes ceased, she jumped down from the bench.
+Among all the shoulders her shyness returned--her happy dream, her
+secret in its bridal attire. What was it that had happened? What would
+happen next? All round her were sparkling eyes, applauding voices,
+clapping hands--was it not as though they lighted torches in his
+honour, paid him homage--was not all this in her honour as well?
+
+Dancing began again at once, and off she went. Off as though all were
+done for her, or as though she were the "only one!" Her partners
+tried, one after another, to talk to her, but in vain. She only
+laughed, laughed in their faces, as though they were mad, and she
+alone understood the state of the case.
+
+She danced, beamed, laughed, from one partner to another. So when
+Olsen got his waltz it was as though he were received with a score of
+fresh bouquets and a "Long live Hjalmar Olsen!" He was more than
+flattered. When she laid her white arm on his black coat he felt that
+at the bottom he was as unworthy as Peter Klausson. He certainly would
+not sully her, he held her punctiliously away from him. When he
+fancied that she was laughing, and wished to see the little creature's
+merry face, down there near his waistcoat, and in the endeavour to do
+so, thought that he had been indiscreet, Hjalmar Olsen felt ashamed of
+himself, and danced on with his eyes staring straight before him, like
+a sleep-walker. He danced on in a dream of self-satisfaction and
+transport. Ella tried now and then to touch the floor; she wished to
+have at least some certainty that she was keeping time. Impossible! He
+took charge at once, of himself, her dance and his, her time and his,
+she never got near the floor without an effort, all the rest was an
+aerial flight. He could hear her laughing and was pleased that she
+was enjoying it, but he did not look at her. Those with whom he came
+into collision were less pleased, which was _their_ affair. He was
+greatly put out when the music ceased; they were only just getting
+into swing, but he was obliged to put her down at the compulsory
+stopping-place.
+
+Shortly afterwards there was some more singing, first by the Society
+alone, then they and Aarö together sang Grieg's "Landfall." Finally,
+Aarö sang to a piano accompaniment. This time Ella had hidden herself
+among those at the back, but as they constantly pressed forward she
+remained standing alone. This exactly suited her; she saw him, but he
+did not see her, nor even look towards the place where she was
+standing.
+
+She had never heard this song, did not even know that it existed,
+although when the first words were heard it was evident that it was
+known to the others. Of course she knew that each word and note were
+his, but as he had before chosen a story which would only reach the
+one to whom he wished to sing, she did not doubt that it was the same
+now. The first words, "My young love's veiled," could there be a truer
+picture of concealed love? Once more it was for her! That the veil
+should be lifted but for him and dropped as soon as any one else could
+see. Was not that as it must be between them? That love's secrecy is
+like a sacred place, that in it is hidden earth's highest happiness.
+She trembled as she recognised it. The music swept the words over her
+like ice-cold water, this perfect comprehension made her shiver, with
+fear and joy at the same time. No one saw her, that was her safeguard.
+She dreaded every fresh word before it came, and each one again made
+her shiver. With her arms pressed against her breast, her head bowed
+over her hands, she stood and trembled as though waves surged over
+her. And when the second verse came with the line, "The greatest joy
+this world can give," and especially when it was repeated, her tears
+would well forth, as they had done once before. She checked them with
+all her might, but remembering how little it had helped her then, her
+powers of resistance gave way, she was almost sobbing when the very
+word was used in the song. The coincidence was too superb, it swept
+all emotion aside, she could have laughed aloud instead. She was sure
+of everything, everything now. It thus happened that the last line in
+its literal sense, in its jubilant sympathy, came to her like a flash
+of lightning, like the stab of a knife. The song ran thus:
+
+  My young love's veiled to all but me,
+  No eyes save mine those eyes may see,
+    Which, while to others all unknown,
+    Command, melt, beam for me alone.
+  Down falls the veil, would others see.
+
+  In every good, where two are one,
+  A twofold holiness doth reign;
+    The greatest joy this world can give
+    Is when earth's long desires shall live,
+  When two as soul to soul are born again.
+
+  Why must my love then veiled be?
+  Why sobs she piteous, silently,
+    As though her heart must break for love?
+    Because that veil from pain is wove,
+  And all our joy in yearning need we see.
+
+Startling, deafening applause! They must, they would have the song
+again, this time Aarö's haughty opposition should be useless; but he
+would not give way, and at last some of the audience gave up the
+attempt, though others continued insistent.
+
+During this interval several ladies escaped out of the crowd: they
+passed near Ella.
+
+"Did you see Fru Holmbo, how she hid herself and cried?"
+
+"Yes, but did you see her during the first song? Up on the bench? It
+was to her that he was singing the whole time."
+
+Not long afterwards--it might have been about two in the morning--a
+little cloaked figure flew along the streets. By her hood and wraps
+the watchman judged that she must be one of the ladies from the ball.
+They generally had some one with them, but the ball was not over yet.
+Something had evidently happened; she was going so quickly too.
+
+It was Ella. She passed near the deserted Town Hall, which was now
+used as a warehouse. The outer walls still remained, but the beautiful
+interior wood-work had been sold and removed. That is how it is with
+me, thought Ella. She flew along as fast as she could, onward to
+sleepless nights and joyless days.
+
+In the course of the morning Aksel Aarö was carried home by his
+companions, dead drunk. By some it was maintained that he had
+swallowed a tumbler of whisky in the belief that it was beer; others
+said that he was a "bout drinker." He had long been so but had
+concealed it. Those are called "bout-drinkers" who at long intervals
+seem impelled to drink. His father had been so before him.
+
+A few days later Aksel Aarö went quietly off to America.
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Another of those who had been at the ball, steamed about the same time
+across the Atlantic. This was Hjalmar Olsen.
+
+His ship experienced a continuous northwesterly gale, and the harder
+it blew, the more grog he drank; but as he did so he was astonished to
+find that a memory of the ball constantly rose before him--the little
+rosy red one; the girl with the plait. Hjalmar Olsen was of opinion
+that he had conducted himself in a very gentleman-like manner towards
+her. At first this did not very much occupy his thoughts; he had been
+twice engaged already, and each time it had been broken off. If he
+engaged himself a third time he must marry at once. He had formed this
+determination often before, but he did not really think very
+seriously about it.
+
+A steamer is not many days between ports, and at each there is plenty
+of amusement. He went to New York, from there to New Orleans, thence
+to Brazil and back, once again to Brazil, finally returning direct to
+England and Norway. But often during the voyage, and especially over a
+glass of punch, he recalled the girl with the plait. How she had
+looked at him. It did him good only to think of it. He was not very
+fond of letter-writing, or perhaps he would have written to her. But
+when he arrived at Christiania, and heard from a friend that her
+mother was dying, he thought at once: "I shall certainly go and see
+her; she will think it very good of me, if I do so just now."
+
+Two days later he was sitting before her in the parlour of the little
+house near the hotel and market-place. His large hands, black with
+hair and sunburn, stroked his knees as he stooped smilingly forward
+and asked if she would have him.
+
+She sat lower than he did; her full figure and plump arms were set
+off by a brown dress, which he stared down on when he did not look
+into her pale face. She felt each movement of his eyes. She had come
+from the other room, and from thoughts of death; she heard a little
+cuckoo clock upstairs announce that it was seven o'clock, and the
+little thing reminded her of all that was now past. One thing with
+another made her turn from him with tears in her eyes as she said, "I
+cannot possibly think of such things how." She rose and walked towards
+her flowers in the window.
+
+He was obliged to rise also. "Perhaps she will answer me presently,"
+he thought; and this belief gave him words, awkward perhaps, but
+fairly plain.
+
+She only shook her head and did not look up.
+
+He walked off in a rage, and when he turned and looked at the house
+again--the little doll's house--he longed to throw it bodily into the
+sea.
+
+He spent the evening, while waiting for the steamer to Christiania,
+with Peter Klausson and a few friends, and it was not long before
+they discovered on what errand he had been, and how he had sped. They
+knew, too, how he had fared on former occasions. The amount which
+Hjalmar Olsen drank was in proportion to his chagrin; and the next
+morning he awoke on board the steamer in a deplorable condition.
+
+Not long afterwards Ella received a well-written letter of excuse, in
+which he explained that his coming at that time had been well meant,
+and that it was only when he was there that he realised how foolish it
+had been. She must not be vexed with him for it. In the course of a
+month she again received a letter. He hoped that she had forgiven him;
+he for his part could not forget her. There was nothing more added.
+Ella was pleased with both the letters. They were well expressed and
+they showed constancy; but it never occurred to her for a moment that
+this indirect offer could be received in any other way than before.
+
+She had gone to Christiania in order to perfect herself in the piano
+and in book-keeping. She added the latter because she had always had a
+turn for arithmetic. She felt altogether unsettled. Her mother was
+dead; she had inherited the house and a small fortune, and she wanted
+to try and help herself. She did not associate with any one in the
+strange town. She was used to dreaming and making plans without a
+confidant.
+
+From Aksel Aarö came wonderful tidings. After he had sung before a
+large party in New York a wealthy old man had invited him to come and
+see him, and since then they had lived together like father and son.
+So the story ran in the town long before there came a letter from Aarö
+himself; but when it arrived, it entirely confirmed the rumour. It was
+after this that Ella received a third letter from Hjalmar Olsen. He
+asked in respectful terms if she would take it amiss if he were to pay
+her a visit when he came home: he knew where she was living. Before
+she had arrived at a conclusion as to how she should answer, a
+paragraph appeared in all the Norwegian papers, copied from the
+American ones, giving an account of how Hjalmar Olsen, in the teeth of
+a gale, and at the risk of his own ship, had saved the passengers and
+crew of an ocean steamer, the propeller of which had been injured off
+the American coast. Two steamers had passed without daring to render
+assistance, the weather was so terrific. Olsen had remained by the
+vessel for twenty-four hours. It was a wonderful deed which he had
+done. In New York, and subsequently when he arrived in Liverpool, he
+had been fêted at the Sailors' Clubs, and been presented with medals
+and addresses. When he arrived in Christiania, he was received with
+the highest honours. Big and burly as he was, he easily obtained the
+homage of the populace: they always love large print.
+
+In the midst of all this he sought out Ella. She had hidden herself
+away; she had but a poor opinion of herself since her discomfiture. In
+her imagination he had assumed almost unnatural proportions, and when
+he came and took her out with him, she felt as though she had once
+more exchanged the close atmosphere of the house for free air and
+sunshine. She even felt something of her old self-confidence. His
+feelings for her were the same; that she noticed at once, as she
+studied him. He knew the forms of society, and could pay attention and
+render homage with dignity; he refrained from any premature speech.
+She had heard that he was prone to take a glass too much, but she saw
+nothing in that. A handsome fellow, a man such as one seldom sees, a
+little weather-beaten perhaps, but most sailors are the same.
+Something undefined in his eyes frightened her, as did his greediness
+at table. Sometimes she was startled at the vehemence of his opinions.
+If only she had been at home, and could have made inquiries
+beforehand! But he was to leave very soon, and had said jestingly that
+the next time that he proposed, he would be betrothed and married all
+at once. This plain-speaking and precipitation pleased her, not less
+than his energy and authoritative manner, although she felt
+frightened--frightened, and at the same time flattered, that so much
+energy and authoritativeness should bow before her, and that at a time
+when all paid court to him.
+
+Then an idea, which she thought very sensible, occurred to her. She
+would, in the event of an offer, impose two conditions: she must
+retain the control of her own property, and never be forced to
+accompany him on his voyages. In case his energy and tone of authority
+should chance to become intractable a limit was thus set, and she
+would, from the outset, make him comprehend that, little as she was,
+she knew how to protect both herself and her possessions.
+
+When the offer came--it was made in a box at the theatre--she had not
+courage sufficient to make her stipulation. His expression filled her
+with horror--for the first time. She often thought of it afterwards.
+Instead of acting upon this intuitive perception, she began to
+speculate on what would happen if she were again to say No! She had
+accepted his friendship although she knew what was coming. The
+conditions, the conditions--they should settle it! If he accepted
+them, it should be as he wished, and then there could be no possible
+danger. So she wrote and propounded them.
+
+He came the next day and asked for the necessary papers, so that he
+could himself arrange both about the property and the contract. He
+evidently looked upon it as a matter of business, and seemed
+thoroughly pleased.
+
+Three days later they were married. It was an imposing ceremony, and
+there was a large concourse; it had been announced in all the papers.
+
+Demonstrations of admiration and respect followed, much parade and
+many speeches, mingled with witticisms over his size and her
+smallness. This lasted from five in the evening till after midnight,
+in rather mixed company. As time wore on, and the champagne
+continually flowed, many of the guests became boisterous and somewhat
+intrusive, and among them the bridegroom.
+
+The next morning, at seven o'clock, Ella sat dressed and alone, in a
+room next to their bedroom, the door of which stood open. From it she
+could hear her husband's snores. She sat there still and deadly pale,
+without tears and without feeling. She divided the occurrences into
+two--what had happened and what had been said; what had been said and
+what had happened: she did not know which was the worst. This man's
+longing had been inflamed by deadly hate. From the time that she had
+said No! he had made it the object of his life to force her to say
+Yes! He told her that she should pay for having nearly made him
+ridiculous a third time. She should pay for it all--she, who had dared
+to make insulting conditions. He would break the neck of her
+conditions like a shrimp. Let her try to refuse to go on board with
+him, or attempt to control anything herself.
+
+Then that which had happened. A fly caught in a spider's web, that was
+what she thought of.
+
+But had she not experienced such a feeling once before? O God, the
+night of the ball! She had a vague feeling that that night had
+fore-doomed her to this; but she could not make it clear to herself.
+On the other hand, she asked herself if what we fail in has not a
+greater influence on our lives than that which we succeed in.
+
+Three or four hours after this, Hjalmar Olsen sat at the
+breakfast-table; he was dull and silent, but perfectly polite, as
+though nothing had happened. Perhaps he had been too drunk to be quite
+accountable, or it might be that his politeness was calculated with
+the hope of inducing her to come with him and visit his ship. He asked
+her to do so, as he left the table, but neither promises nor threats
+could induce her to go on board even for the shortest time. Her terror
+saved her.
+
+Some months later an announcement appeared in the papers that she
+wished to take pupils both for the piano and book-keeping. She was
+once more living in her own little house in her native town. She was
+at this time enciente.
+
+One day an old friend of Aksel Aarö's came to see her; he was to
+remember Aarö very kindly to her, and to congratulate her on her
+marriage. She controlled her rising emotion, and asked quietly how he
+was getting on. Most wonderfully; he was still living with the same
+old man, to whom, by degrees, he had entirely devoted himself. This
+was the very thing for Aarö: it suited him to devote himself
+completely to one person. He had gone through a course of treatment
+for his inherited failing and believed himself to be cured.
+
+"And how is Fru Holmbo?" asked Ella. She was frightened when she had
+said it, but she felt an intense bitterness which would break out. She
+had noticed how thin and pale Fru Holmbo looked--she evidently missed
+Aarö, and that was too much!
+
+The friend smiled: "Oh! have you heard that silly rumour? No, Aksel
+Aarö was only the medium between her and the man to whom she was
+secretly attached. The two friends had lived together abroad. Some
+months ago there had been a talk about a business journey to
+Copenhagen, and Fru Holmbo went there also. But there had undoubtedly
+been something between them for a long time."
+
+That night Ella wept for a long time before she fell asleep. She lay
+and stroked her plait, which she had drawn on to her bosom. She had
+often thought of cutting it off, but it was still there.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+In the course of the two first years of her marriage she had two
+children. Whenever she was alone, she divided her time between them
+and her teaching. Her husband hardly contributed anything to the
+household, except during the brief periods that he passed at home, and
+then the money was squandered in the extravagant life which he led
+with his companions. During these visits the "young ones" were sent
+off to their aunt. "One could not take four steps without going
+through the walls of this wretched little house," he said. At these
+times she also gave up the lessons; she had no time for anything
+except to wait on him.
+
+Every one realised that she could not be happy, but no one suspected
+that her whole life was one of dread--dread of the telegram which
+would announce his coming, if only for a few days, dread of what might
+happen when he came. When he was there she never attempted to oppose
+him, but displayed to him, and every one else, those frank eyes and
+quick, but quiet, ways which enabled her to come and go without being
+noticed. When he was gone, she would suddenly collapse, and, worn out
+with the strain of days and nights, be obliged to take to her bed.
+
+Each time that he came home he kept less guard over himself, and was
+more careless as regarded others. Had she known that men who have
+expended their strength as he had done are as a rule worn out at
+forty--and many such are to be found in the coast-towns--she would
+have understood that these very things were signs of failure. He had
+advanced far along the road. To her he only appeared more and more
+disgusting. He was but little at home, which helped her. She had
+determined that she and her boys should live in the best manner, and
+this again was a help to her; but more than all was her constant
+employment and the regard which every one felt for her. After five
+years of marriage she looked as charming as ever, and appeared as
+cheerful and lively; she was accustomed to conceal her feelings.
+
+Her children were now--the elder four, the second three years old.
+They were rarely seen anywhere but in the market-place, on the
+snow-heaps in winter and on the sand-heaps in summer, or else they
+were in the country with their aunt whom they had adopted as
+"grandmother."
+
+Next to the care of the little boys, flowers were Ella's greatest
+delight. She had a great many, which made the house appear smaller
+than it really was. She could play with the boys, but she could share
+her thoughts with the flowers. When she watered them, she felt acutely
+how much she suffered. When she dried their leaves, she longed for
+pleasant words and kindly eyes. When she removed dead twigs and
+superfluous shoots, when she re-potted them, she often cried with
+longing; the thought that there was no one to care for her overcame
+her.
+
+Five years were gone, then, when one day it was reported through the
+whole town that Aksel Aarö had become a rich man. His old friend was
+dead and had left him a large annuity. It was also said that he had
+been a second time treated for dypsomania. The previous treatment had
+not been successful, but he was now cured. One could see how popular
+Aarö was, for there was hardly anybody who was not pleased.
+
+On Wednesday the 16th of March, 1892, at four o'clock in the
+afternoon, Ella sat at work near her flowers; from there she could see
+the hotel. At the corner window in the second story stood the man of
+whom she was thinking--stood and looked down at her.
+
+She got up and he bowed twice. She remained standing as he crossed the
+market-place. He wore a dark fur cap, and his fair beard hung down
+over his black silk waistcoat. His face was rather pale, but there was
+a brighter expression in his eyes. He knocked, she could not speak or
+move, but when he opened the door and came into the room, she sank
+into a chair and wept. He came slowly forward, took a chair and sat
+down near her. "You must not be frightened because I came straight to
+you, it is such a pleasure to see you again." Ah! how they sounded in
+this house, those few words full of consideration and confidence. He
+had acquired a foreign accent, but the voice, the voice! And he did
+not misconstrue her weakness, but tried to help her. By degrees she
+became her old self, confiding, bright, timid.
+
+"It was so entirely unexpected," she said.
+
+"All that has occurred in the meantime rushes in on one," he added
+courteously.
+
+Not much more was said. He was preparing to leave, when his
+brother-in-law entered. Aarö looked at her boys out on the snow-heap,
+he looked at her flowers, her piano, her music, then asked if he might
+come again. He had been there hardly five minutes, but an impression
+rested on her mind somewhat as the magnificent fair beard rested on
+the silk waistcoat. The room was hallowed, the piano, the music, the
+chair on which he had sat, even the carpet on which he had walked--in
+his very walk there was consideration for her. She felt that all that
+he had said and done showed sympathy for her fate. She could do
+nothing more that day, she hardly slept during the night, but the
+change which had taken place in her was nothing less than the bringing
+of something into the daylight again from five years ago, from six
+years indeed, as one brings flowers out of the cellar, where they have
+been put for their winter sleep, up into the spring-time again. As
+this thought passed through her mind, she made the same gesture at
+least twenty times, she laid both hands on her breast, one over the
+other, as though to control it: it must not speak too loudly.
+
+The next day their conversation flowed more freely. The children were
+called in. After looking at them for a while, he said: "You have
+something real there."
+
+In a little time they were such good friends, he and the boys, that he
+was down on all-fours playing horses with them, and did some quite
+new tricks which they thought extremely amusing; he then invited them
+to come for a drive the next day. After a thaw, there had been an
+unusually heavy fall of snow; the town was white and the state of the
+roads perfect.
+
+Before he left Ella offered to brush him; the carpet had not been as
+well swept as it should have been. He took the clothes-brush from her
+and used it himself, but he had unfortunately lain on his back as
+well, so she was obliged to help him. She brushed his coat lightly and
+deftly, but she was never satisfied, nor was he yet properly brushed
+in front. He had to do it over again: she stood and looked on. When he
+had finished she took the brush into the kitchen.
+
+"How funny that you should still wear your plait," said he, as she
+went out. She remained away for some time, and came in again by
+another door. He had gone. The children said that some one had come
+across for him.
+
+The next morning the little boys had their drive. They did not return
+until late in the afternoon. They had been to Baadshaug, a
+watering-place with an hotel and an excellent restaurant, to which
+people were very fond of making excursions during the winter. His
+sister's youngest boy was with them, and while all three went back
+with the horses to "Andresen's at the corner," Aarö remained standing
+in the passage. Never had Ella seen him so cheerful. His eyes
+sparkled, and he talked from the time he came to the time he left. He
+talked about the Norwegian winter which he had never realised before;
+how could that have been? For many years he had had in his
+_répertoire_ a song in praise of winter, the old winter song which she
+knew as well: "Summer sleeps in winter's arms"--yes, she knew it--and
+he only now realised how true it was. The influence of winter on
+people's lives must be immense; why it was nearly half their lives;
+what health and beauty and what power of imagination it must give. He
+began to describe what he had seen in the woods that day. He did not
+use many words, but he gave a clear picture; he talked till he became
+quite excited, and looked at her the whole time with a rapturous
+expression.
+
+It was but for a few moments. He stood there muffled in furs: but when
+he had gone it seemed to her that she had never truly seen him before.
+He was an enthusiast then--an enthusiast whose depths never revealed
+themselves. Was his singing a message from this enthusiasm? Was this
+why his voice carried everybody away with it into another region? That
+melancholy father of his, when a craving for drink seized him, would
+shut himself up with his violin, and play and play till he became
+helpless. Had the son, too, this dislike of companionship, this
+delight in his own enthusiasm? God be praised, Aksel Aarö was saved!
+Was it not from the depths of his enthusiasm that he had looked at
+her? This forced itself upon her for the first time; she had been
+occupied before by the change in him, but now it forced itself upon
+her--hotly, with a thrill of fear and joy. A message of gladness
+which still quivered with doubt. Was the decisive moment of her life
+approaching? She felt that she coloured. She could not remain quiet;
+she went to the window to look for him; then paced the room, trying to
+discover what she might believe. All his words, his looks, his
+gestures, since he had first come there, rose before her. But he had
+been reserved, almost niggardly, with them. But that was just their
+charm. His eyes had now interpreted them, and those eyes enveloped
+her; she gave herself absolutely up to them.
+
+Her servant brought in a letter; it was a Christmas card, in an
+envelope without a direction, from Aksel Aarö--one of the usual
+Christmas cards, representing a number of young people in snow-shoes.
+Below was printed:
+
+  Winter white,
+  Has roses red.
+
+On the other side, in a clear round hand, "In the woods to-day I could
+not but think of you. A. A.." That was all.
+
+"That is like him, he says nothing more. When he passes a shop-window
+in which he sees such a card, he thinks of me; and not only does he
+think of me but he sends me his thoughts." Or was she mistaken. Ella
+was diffident; surely this could not be misconstrued. The Christmas
+card--was it not a harbinger? The two young couples on it and the
+words--surely he meant something by that. His enraptured eyes again
+rose before her; they seemed not only to envelop her, but to caress
+her. She thought neither of past nor future; she lived only in the
+present. She lay wide awake that night looking at the moonlight. Now,
+now, now, was whispered. Had she but clung to the dream of her life,
+even when the reality had seemed so cruel, she would have held her
+own; because she had been uncertain about it, all had become
+uncertain. But the greater the suffering had been, the greater,
+perhaps, would be the bliss. She fell asleep in the soft white light,
+which she took with her into her dreams. She woke among light, bright
+clouds, which gathered round the glittering thought of what might be
+awaiting her to-day. He had not said a word. This bashfulness was what
+she loved the best of anything in him. It was just that which was the
+surest pledge. It would be to-day.
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+She took a long time over her bath, an almost longer time in doing her
+hair; out of the chest of drawers, which she had used as a child, and
+which still stood in its old place--out of its lowest drawer she took
+her finest underlinen. She had never worn it but once--on her
+wedding-day--before the desecration, never since. But to-day--Now,
+now, now! Not one garment which she put on had ever been touched by
+any one but herself. She wished to be what she had been in her dreams.
+
+She went to the children, who were awake but not dressed.
+
+"Listen, boys! To-day Tea shall take you to see grandmother."
+
+Great delight, shared by Tea, for this meant a holiday.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she heard behind her, as she ran down to the kitchen
+to get a cup of coffee, and then she was off. First she must get some
+flowers, then put off her lessons. For now, now, now!
+
+Out in the street she remembered that it was too early to get
+anything, so she went for a walk, beyond the town, the freshest, the
+brightest, that she had ever taken. She came back again just as Fru
+Holmbo was opening her shop. As Ella entered the "flower-woman" was
+holding an expensive bouquet in her hand, ready to be sent out.
+
+"I will have that!" cried Ella, shutting the door behind her.
+
+"You!" said Fru Holmbo a little doubtfully; the bouquet was a very
+expensive one.
+
+"Yes, I must have it;" Ella's little green purse was ready. The
+bouquet had been ordered for the best house in the town, and Fru
+Holmbo said so.
+
+"That does not matter," answered Ella. Such genuine admiration of a
+bouquet had never been seen--and Ella got it.
+
+From there she went to "Andresen's at the corner." One of the shopmen
+took lessons in book-keeping from her. She wished to put him off, and
+asked him to tell the whole of the large class. She asked him this
+with kindling eyes, and he gladly promised to do so. The daintiest red
+shawl was hanging just before her. She must have it to wear over her
+head to-day when she drove out; for that she would drive to-day there
+was no doubt. Andresen himself came up, just as she was asking about
+the shawl. He caught a glimpse of her bouquet, under the paper. "Those
+are lovely roses," he said. She took one out at once, and gave it to
+him. From the rose he looked at her; she laughed and asked if he would
+take a little off the price of the shawl; she had not quite enough
+money left.
+
+"How much have you?" he asked.
+
+"Just half a krone too little," she replied.
+
+He himself wrapped up the shawl for her. In the street she met
+Cecilie Monrad, whose sister studied music with Ella; she was thus
+saved a walk to the other end of the town to put her off. "Everything
+favours me to-day," she thought.
+
+"Did you see about those two who committed suicide together at
+Copenhagen?" asked Cecilie.
+
+"Yes, she had." Fröken Monrad thought that it was horrible.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why the man was married!"
+
+"True enough," answered Ella, "but they loved each other." Her eyes
+glowed; Cecilie lowered hers and blushed. Ella took her hand and
+pressed it. "I tumbled into a love-story there," she thought, and
+flew, rather than walked, up to the villas, where most of her pupils
+lived. On a roof she saw two starlings; the first that year. The thaw
+of a few days back had deceived them. Not that the starlings were
+dispirited. No, they loved! "Mamma, mamma," she seemed to hear at the
+same moment. It was certainly her boys; she had thought of them when
+she saw the starlings. She was so occupied with this that she walked
+right across to the side of the road and trod on a piece of board,
+which tilted up and nearly threw her down; but under the board Spring
+reigned. They had come with the thaw, they were certainly dandelions!
+However ugly they may be in the summer, the first ones are always
+welcome. She stooped down and gathered the flowers; she put them with
+the roses. The dandelions looked very shabby there, but they were the
+first this year, and found to-day!
+
+After this she was absolutely boisterous. She skipped down the hills
+when her errand was finished. She greeted friends and mere
+acquaintance alike, and when she again saw Cecilie she put down the
+flowers, made a snowball, and threw it at her back.
+
+When she got home she wrapped the children well up and put them into
+the sledge with Tea. "Mamma, mamma!" they shouted and pointed up
+towards the hotel. There stood Aksel Aarö. He bowed to her.
+
+Soon afterwards he came across. "You are quite alone," he said as he
+entered.
+
+"Yes." She was arranging the flowers and did not look up for she was
+trembling.
+
+"Is it a birthday to-day?" he asked.
+
+"Do you mean because of the flowers?"
+
+"Yes. What lovely roses, and those in the glass--dandelions?"
+
+"The first this year," she answered.
+
+He did not look at them. He stood and fidgeted, as though he were
+thinking of something.
+
+"May I sing to you?" He said at last.
+
+"Yes, indeed." She left the flowers, in order to open the piano and
+screw down the music-stool, and then drew quietly back.
+
+After a long and subdued prelude, he began with the "Sunset Song," by
+Ole Olsen, very softly, as he had spoken and moved ever since he came
+in. Never had he sung more beautifully; he had greatly improved, but
+the voice was the same, nay, there was even more despair and
+suffering in it than when she had heard it for the first time.
+"Sorrow, sorrow, oh, I am lost!" She heard it again plainly. At the
+end of the first verse, she sat bending forward, and weeping bitterly.
+She had not even tried to control herself. He heard her and turned
+round, a moment afterwards she felt him approach her, it even seemed
+to her that he kissed her plait, certainly he had bent down over her,
+for she could feel his breath. But she did not raise her head, she
+dare not.
+
+He walked across the room, returned and then walked back again. Her
+agitation subsided, she sat immovable and waited.
+
+"May I be allowed to take you for a drive to-day?" she heard him say.
+
+She had known the whole morning that they would go for a drive
+together, so she was not surprised. Just as _that_ had now been
+fulfilled, so would the other be--everything. She looked up through
+her tears and smiled. He smiled too.
+
+"I will go and see about the horses," he said, and as she did not
+answer he left her.
+
+She went back to the flowers. So she had not been able to give them to
+him. She would throw away the dandelions. As she took them out of the
+glass, she recalled the words, "You have something real there." They
+had certainly not been said about the dandelions, but they had often
+since recurred to her. Was it strange that they should do so now? She
+let the dandelions remain.
+
+Aarö stayed away a long time, more than an hour, but when he returned
+he was very cheerful. He was in a smart ladies' sledge, in the
+handsome furs which he had worn the day before; the most valuable ones
+that she had ever seen. He saluted with his whip, and talked and
+laughed with every one, old and young, who gathered round him while
+Ella put on her things. That was soon done; she had not many wraps,
+nor did she need them.
+
+He got down when she appeared, came forward, muffled her up and drove
+off at a trot. As they went he stooped over her and whispered, "How
+good of you to come with me." His voice was very genial, but there was
+something quite different about his breath. As soon as the handsome
+horses had slackened speed, he stooped forward again.
+
+"I have telephoned to Baadshaug to order lunch, it will be ready when
+we get there; you do not mind?"
+
+She turned, so as to raise her head towards him, their faces almost
+met.
+
+"I forgot to thank you for the card yesterday."
+
+He coloured. "I repented afterwards," he said, "but at the moment, I
+could not but think of you; how you suit it out here." Now _she_
+coloured and drew back. Then she heard close by her: "You must not be
+angry, it always happens that when we wish to repair a blunder, we
+make another."
+
+She would have liked to have seen his eyes, as he said this, but she
+dare not look at him. At all events it was more than he had said up to
+the present time. His words fell softly on her ears. Before to-day
+she had almost misinterpreted his reserve, but how beautiful it made
+everything. She worshipped it.
+
+"In a little time we shall come to the woods, then we will stop and
+look round us," he said.
+
+"_There_," she thought.
+
+He drove on at a quick trot. How happy she was! The sunlight sparkled
+on the snow, the air was warm, she had to loosen the shawl over her
+head, and he helped her to do so. Again she became aware of his
+breath, there was something, not tobacco, more delicate, pleasanter,
+but what was it? It seemed to harmonise with him. She felt very happy,
+with an overflow of joy in the scene through which they were driving
+and which continually increased in beauty.
+
+On one side of the road were the mountains, the white mountains, which
+took a warm tint from the sunlight. In front of the mountains were
+lower hills, partly covered by woods, and among these lay scattered
+farms. The farms were soon passed and then came woods, nothing but
+woods. On the other side of the road they had the sea for the whole
+way, but between them and it were flat expanses, probably marshes. The
+sea looked steel-grey against the snow. It spoke of another part of
+life, of eternal unrest; protest after protest against the snow idyl.
+
+During the thaw, tree-trunks, branches, and fences had become wet. The
+first snow which fell, being itself wet, had stuck to them. But when
+all this froze together, and there was another overwhelming fall,
+outlines were formed over the frozen surface, such as one rarely sees
+the like of. The weight of the first soft snow had caused it to slip
+down, but it had been arrested here and there by each inequality, and
+there it had collected, or else it had slid under the branches, or
+down on both sides of the fences; when this had been augmented both by
+drift and fall, the most whimsical animal forms were produced--white
+cats, white hares clawed the tree-trunks with bent backs and heads
+and fore-quarters outstretched, or sat under the branches, or on the
+hedges. White beasts were there, some appeared the size of martens,
+but occasionally they seemed as large as lynxes or even tigers;
+besides these there were numberless small animals, white mice, and
+squirrels, here, there, and everywhere. Again there were, besides, all
+sorts of oddities, mountebanks who hung by their heels, clowns and
+goblins on the tops of the fences, dwarfs with big sacks on their
+backs; an old hat or a nightcap: an animal without a head, another
+with a neck of preposterous length, an enormous mitten, an overturned
+water-can. In some places the blackened foliage remained uncovered,
+and formed arabesques against the drifts; in others, masses of snow
+lay on the branches of the fir-trees with green above and beneath,
+forming wonderful contrasts of colour. Aarö drew up and they both got
+out of the sledge.
+
+Now they gained a whole series of fresh impressions. Right in front of
+them stood an old pine-tree, half prostrated in the struggle of life;
+but was he not dreaming, here in the winter, the loveliest of all
+dreams, that he was young again? In the joyous growth of this
+snow-white glory he had forgotten all pain and decay, forgotten the
+moss on his bark, the rottenness of his roots was concealed. A rickety
+gate had been taken from its place and was propped against the fence,
+broken and useless. The artist hand of winter had sought it out too,
+and glorified it, and it was now an architectural masterpiece. The
+slanting black gate-posts were a couple of young dandies, with hats on
+one side and jaunty air. The old, grey, mossy rails--one could not
+imagine Paradise within a more beautiful enclosure. Their blemishes
+had in this resurrection become their greatest beauty. Their knots and
+crannies were the chief building ground for the snow, each hole filled
+up by a donation of heavenly crystals from the clouds. Their
+disfiguring splinters were now covered and kissed, shrouded and
+decorated; all blemishes were obliterated in the universal whiteness.
+A tumbledown moss-grown hut by the roadside--now more extravagantly
+adorned than the richest bride in the world, covered over from
+heaven's own lap in such abundance that the white snow wreaths hung
+half a yard beyond the roof; in some places folded back with
+consummate art. The grey-black wall under the snow wreaths looked like
+an old Persian fabric. It seemed ready to appear in a Shakespearean
+drama. The background of mountains and hills gleamed in the sunlight.
+
+In the midst of all this Ella seemed to hear two little cries of
+"Mamma, mamma!" When she looked round for her companion he was sitting
+on the sledge, quite overcome, while tears flowed down his cheeks.
+
+They drove on again, but slowly. "I remember this muddy road," said
+he; his voice sounded very sad. "The trees shaded it so that it was
+hardly ever dry, but now it is beautiful."
+
+She turned and raised her head towards him. "Ah! sing a little," she
+said.
+
+He did not answer at once, and she regretted that she had asked him;
+at length he said:
+
+"I was thinking of it, but I became so agitated; do not speak for a
+moment and then perhaps I can--the old winter song, that is to say."
+
+She understood that he could not do so until he completely realised
+it. These silent enthusiasts were indeed fastidious about what was
+genuine. Most things were not genuine enough for them. That is why
+they are so prone to intoxicate themselves; they wish to get away, to
+form a world for themselves. Yes, now he sang:
+
+  In winter's arms doth summer sleep
+    By winter covered calm she lay,
+    "Still!" he cried to the river's play,
+  To farm, and field and mountain steep.
+    Silence reigns o'er hill and dale,
+    No sound at home save ringing flail.
+
+  All that summer loved to see
+    Till she returns sleeps safely on.
+    In needed rest, the summer gone,
+  Sleep water, meadow-grass and tree,
+    Hid like the kernel in the nut
+    The earth lies crumbling round each root.
+
+  All the ills which summer knew,
+    Pest and blight for life and fruit
+    Winter's hosts have put to rout.
+  In peace she shall awake again
+    Purified by winds and snows,
+    Peace shall greet her as she goes.
+
+  A lovely dream has winter strown
+    On the sleeping mountain height;
+    Star high, pale in northern light,
+  From sight to sight it bears her on
+    Through the long, long hours of night,
+    Till she wakes shall be her flight.
+
+  He who we say brings naught but pain
+    Lives but for that he ne'er shall see.
+    He who is called a murderer, he
+  Preserves each year our land again,
+    Then hides himself by crag and hill
+    Till evening's breeze again blows chill.
+
+All the little sleigh-bells accompanied the song, like the twitter of
+sparrows. His voice echoed through the trees, the religious service of
+a human soul in the white halls.
+
+One day, felt Ella, paid for a thousand. One day may do what the
+winter song relates. It may rock a weary summer, destroy its germs of
+ill, renew the earth, make the nerves strong, and the darkest time
+bright. In it are collected all our long dreams. What might she not
+have become, poor little thing that she was, if she had had many such
+days? What would she not then have become, for her children.
+
+They now drew near to a long building with two wings; the whole built
+of wood. In the courtyard a number of sledges were standing. There
+were a great many people here then! A stableman took their horses; the
+waiter who was to attend to them, a German, was quickly at hand, and a
+bareheaded jovial man joined them as well--it was Peter Klausson. He
+seemed to have been expecting them, and wished to relieve Ella of her
+wraps, but he smelt of cognac or something of the sort, and to get rid
+of him she inquired for the room in which they were to lunch. They
+were shown into a warm cosy apartment where the table was laid. Aarö
+helped her off with her things.
+
+"I could not endure Peter Klausson's breath," she said, at which Aarö
+smiled.
+
+"In America we have a remedy for that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"One takes something which scents the breath."
+
+A moment later he asked her to excuse him. He had to arrange a few
+things. She was thus alone until some one knocked at the door. It was
+Peter Klausson again. He saw her astonishment and smiled.
+
+"We are to lunch together," he said.
+
+"Are we?" she replied.
+
+She looked at the table; it was laid for five.
+
+"Have you heard lately from your husband?"
+
+"No."
+
+A long pause. Was Peter Klausson fit company for Aksel Aarö? Her
+husband's boon companion! Aarö, who will have nothing but what is
+genuine. But as she thought this, she had to admit that Peter
+Klausson's impulsive nature was perfectly truthful, which indeed it
+was. The waiter came in with a basket of wine, but did not shut the
+door after him until he had lifted in some more from outside:
+champagne in ice.
+
+"Shall we want so much wine?" asked Ella.
+
+"Oh, it's all right," answered Peter Klausson, evidently delighted.
+
+"But Aarö does not drink wine!"
+
+"Aarö? When he asked me to come here to-day--I chanced to look in on
+him--we had some first-rate cognac together."
+
+Ella turned to the window, for she felt that she had grown pale.
+
+Very soon Aarö came in, so courteous and stately that Peter Klausson
+felt compelled to take his hands out of his pockets. He hardly dared
+to speak. Aarö said that he had invited the Holmbos, but they had just
+sent an excuse. They three must make the best of each other's society.
+He led Ella to the table.
+
+It was soon evident that Aarö was the most delightful and accomplished
+of hosts. He spoke English to the waiter, and directed him by frequent
+signs, covered his blunders, and smoothed away every little
+difficulty, in such a way that it was hardly noticed. All the time he
+kept up a constant flow of conversation, narrating small anecdotes
+from his experiences of society, but he never poured out wine for
+himself, and when he raised his glass his hand shook. Ella had fancied
+before that this was the case--it was torture to her now.
+
+Oysters were served for the first course; she relished them
+thoroughly, for she was very hungry; but as the meal proceeded, she
+became each moment less able to enjoy it. At last her throat seemed to
+contract, she felt more inclined to cry than to eat and drink.
+
+At first the reason was not clear to her. She only felt that this was
+absolutely different from what she had dreamed of. This glorious day
+was to be a disappointment. At first she thought--this will end some
+time, and we shall go comfortably home again. But by degrees, as his
+spirits rose, she became merely the guest of a society man. As such
+she was shown all imaginable attention--indeed, the two gentlemen
+joined in making much of her, till she could have cried.
+
+After luncheon she was ceremoniously conducted on Aarö's arm into
+another room which was also in readiness for them; comfortable, well
+furnished, and with a piano.
+
+Coffee was served at once with liqueur, and not long afterwards the
+two men asked to be excused; they wanted to smoke, they would not be
+long. They went, and left her alone. This was scarcely polite, and now
+she first realised that it was not the day only, but Aarö, who had
+become different from what she had believed him. The great darkness
+which had overwhelmed her on the night of the ball again menaced her;
+she fought against it; she got up and paced the room; she longed to be
+out of doors, as though she could find him again there, such as she
+had imagined him. She looked for the luncheon-room, put on her red
+shawl, and had just come out on to the broad space before the
+building, when the waiter came up to her and said something in English
+which she could not at first understand. Indeed, she was too much
+occupied with her own thoughts to be able suddenly to change
+languages.
+
+The waiter told her that one of her companions was ill, and the other
+not to be found. Even when she understood the words, she did not
+realise what was the matter, but followed mechanically. As she went
+she remembered that Aarö's tongue had not been quite obedient when,
+after the liqueur, he had asked permission to go and smoke; surely he
+had not had a stroke.
+
+They passed the smoking-room, which seemed to be full--at all events
+of smoke and laughter. The door of a little room by the side of it was
+opened; there lay Aksel Aarö on a bed. He must have slunk in there
+alone, perhaps to drink more; indeed, he had taken a short thick
+bottle in with him, which still stood on a table by the bed, on which
+he lay fully dressed with closed eyes and without sense or feeling.
+
+"Tip, tip, Peté!" he said to her, and repeated it with outstretched
+finger, "Tip, tip, Peté!" He spoke in a falsetto voice. Did he mean
+Peter? Did he take her for a man? Behind him on a pillow lay something
+hairy; it was a _toupet_; she now saw that he was bald on the crown.
+"Tip, tip, Peté!" she heard as she rushed out.
+
+Few people have felt smaller than Ella as she trudged along the
+country road, back to the town as fast as her short legs could carry
+her, in thin shoes and winter attire. The heavy cloak which she had
+worn for driving was unfastened, she carried the shawl in her hand,
+but still the perspiration streamed off her; the idea was upon her
+that it was her dreams which were falling from her.
+
+At first she only thought of Aksel Aarö, the unhappy lost one!
+To-morrow or the next day he would leave the country; she knew this
+from past experience, and this time it would be for ever.
+
+But as she thought how terrible it was, the _toupet_ on the pillow
+seemed to ask: "Was Aksel Aarö so very genuine?" "Yes, yes, how could
+he help it if he became bald so early." "H'm," answered the _toupet_;
+"he could have confessed to it."
+
+She struggled on; luckily she did not meet any one, nor was she
+overtaken by any of those who had been at Baadshaug. She must look
+very comical, perspiring and tearful, with unfastened cloak, in thin
+shoes and with a shawl in her hand. Several times she slackened her
+pace, but the disturbance of her feelings was too great, and it was
+her nature to struggle forward.
+
+But through all her feverish haste the great question forced itself
+upon her: "Would you not wish now, Ella, to relinquish all your
+dreams, since time after time things go so badly?" She sobbed
+violently and answered: "Not for worlds. No! for these dreams are the
+best things that I have. They have given me the power to measure
+others so that I can never exalt anything which is base. No! I have
+woven them round my children as well, so that I have a thousand times
+more pleasure in them. They and the flowers are all that I have." And
+she sobbed and pressed on.
+
+"But now you will have no dream, Ella!"
+
+At first she did not know what to reply to this, it seemed but too
+true, too terribly true, and the _toupet_ showed itself again.
+
+It was here that Aarö had sung the old winter song, and as the tinkle
+of the sledge-bells had accompanied it, so now her tears were
+unceasingly accompanied by two little voices: "Mamma, mamma!" It was
+not strange, for it was towards the children that she was hurrying,
+but now they seemed to demand that she should dream about them. No,
+no! "You have something real there," Aarö's voice seemed to say. She
+remembered his saying it, she remembered his sadness as he did so. Had
+he really thought of himself and her, or of the children and her? Had
+he compared his own weakness with their health, with their future? Her
+thoughts wandered far away from the boys, and she was once more
+immersed in all his words and looks, trying by them to solve this
+enigma. But these, with the yearning and pain, came back as they had
+never done before. Her whole life was over; her dream was of too long
+standing, too strong, too clear, the roots could not be pulled up; it
+was impossible. Were they not round everything which, next day, she
+should see, or touch, or use? As a last stroke she remembered that
+the boys were not at home; she would come to an empty house.
+
+But she resisted still; for when she got home and had bathed and gone
+to bed, and again the moonlight shone in on her and reminded her of
+her thoughts the night before, she turned away and cried aloud like a
+child. None could enter, none could hear her; her heart was young, as
+though she were but seventeen; it could not, it would not give up!
+
+What was it, in fact, that she had wished for to-day? She did not
+know--no, she did not! She only knew that her happiness was
+_there_--and so she had let it remain. Now she was disappointed and
+deluded in a way that certainly few had been.
+
+She could not bear to desecrate him further. Then the winter song
+swept past in his voice, sweet, full, sorrowful, as if it wished to
+make all clear to her; and, tractable as a child, she composed herself
+and listened. What did it say? That her dreams united two summers,
+the one which had been and the one which was slowly struggling up
+anew. Thanks be to the dreams which had awakened it. It said, too,
+that the dreams were something in themselves often of greater truth
+than reality itself. She had felt this when she was tending her
+flowers.
+
+In her uneasy tossing in her bed, her plait had come close to her
+hand. Sadly she drew it forward; he had kissed it again to-day. And so
+she lay on her side, and took it between her hands, and cried.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she heard whispered, and thus she slept.
+
+
+
+
+
+  _THE NOVELS OF BJÖRNSTJERNE BJÖRNSON_
+
+  _Edited by EDMUND GOSSE_
+
+  _Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. net_
+
+  _Synnövé Solbakken_
+  _Arne_
+  _A Happy Boy_
+  _The Fisher Lass_
+  _The Bridal March, & One Day_
+  _Magnhild, & Dust_
+  _Captain Mansana, & Mother's Hands_
+  _Absalom's Hair, & A Painful Memory_
+
+_LONDON_
+
+_WILLIAM HEINEMANN_
+
+_21 Bedford Street, W. C._
+
+
+
+_Printed by_ Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. _London and Edinburgh_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Bridal March &amp; One Day By Bj&ouml;rnstjerne Bj&ouml;rnson
+    </title>
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+
+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Bridal March; One Day
+
+Author: Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
+Translator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2006 [EBook #18110]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRIDAL MARCH; ONE DAY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Clare Boothby, Charlene Taylor and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<p>[Transcriber's note: Front matter listing the novels of BJ&Ouml;RNSTJERNE
+BJ&Ouml;RNSON moved to end of book]</p>
+
+
+<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. -->
+<p>
+<a href="#BIBLIOGRAPHICAL_NOTE"><b>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_BRIDAL_MARCH"><b>THE BRIDAL MARCH</b></a><br />
+<a href="#ONE_DAY"><b>ONE DAY</b></a><br />
+<a href="#THE_NOVELS_OF_BJORNSTJERNE_BJORNSON"><b>THE NOVELS OF BJ&Ouml;RNSTJERNE BJ&Ouml;RNSON</b></a><br />
+</p>
+<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. -->
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2>THE BRIDAL MARCH</h2>
+
+<h3>&amp;</h3>
+
+<h2>ONE DAY</h2>
+
+<h3>BY</h3>
+
+<h2>BJ&Ouml;RNSTJERNE BJ&Ouml;RNSON</h2>
+
+<h3>(<i>Translated from the Norwegian</i>)</h3>
+
+<h4>LONDON</h4>
+<h4>WILLIAM HEINEMANN</h4>
+<h4>1896</h4>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="BIBLIOGRAPHICAL_NOTE" id="BIBLIOGRAPHICAL_NOTE"></a><i>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</i></h2>
+
+
+<p>[<span class="smcap">The Bridal March</span> <i>(Brude-Slaatten) was written in
+Christiania in 1872. It was originally published in the second volume
+of the first popular edition of Bj&ouml;rnson's collected tales, issued in
+Copenhagen in that year. In November 1873, a small edition was
+published in separate form, and this was followed by an illustrated
+issue, of which a second edition appeared in 1877.</i> The Bridal March
+<i>was originally composed as the text to four designs by the Norwegian
+painter, Tidemand. It was dedicated to Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">One Day</span> <i>(En Dag) was originally issued in the Norwegian
+Magazine "Nyt Tidsscrift," late in 1893; and was republished in a
+volume of short stories during the following year.</i></p>
+
+
+<p><i>E. G.</i>]</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="THE_BRIDAL_MARCH" id="THE_BRIDAL_MARCH"></a>THE BRIDAL MARCH</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class="smcap">There</span> lived last century, in one of the high-lying inland
+valleys of Norway, a fiddler, who has become in some degree a
+legendary personage. Of the tunes and marches ascribed to him, some
+are said to have been inspired by the Trolls, one he heard from the
+devil himself, another he made to save his life, &amp;c., &amp;c. But the most
+famous of all is a Bridal March; and <i>its</i> story does not end with the
+story of his life.</p>
+
+<p>Fiddler Ole Haugen was a poor cottar high among the mountains. He had
+a daughter, Aslaug, who had inherited his cleverness. Though she could
+not play his fiddle, there was music in everything she did&mdash;in her
+talk, her singing, her walk, her dancing.</p>
+
+<p>At the great farm of Tingvold, down in the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>valley, a young man had
+come home from his travels. He was the third son of the rich peasant
+owner, but his two elder brothers had been drowned in a flood, so the
+farm was to come to him. He met Aslaug at a wedding and fell in love
+with her. In those days it was an unheard-of thing that a well-to-do
+peasant of old family should court a girl of Aslaug's class. But this
+young fellow had been long away, and he let his parents know that he
+had made enough out in the world to live upon, and that if he could
+not have what he wanted at home, he would let the farm go. It was
+prophesied that this indifference to the claims of family and property
+would bring its own punishment. Some said that Ole Haugen had brought
+it about, by means only darkly hinted at.</p>
+
+<p>So much is certain, that while the conflict between the young man and
+his parents was going on, Haugen was in the best of spirits. When the
+battle was over, he said that he had already made them a Bridal March,
+one that would never go out of the family of Tingvold&mdash;but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>woe to the
+girl, he added, whom it did not play to church as happy a bride as the
+cottar's daughter, Aslaug Haugen! And here again people talked of the
+influence of some mysterious evil power.</p>
+
+<p>So runs the story. It is a fact that to this day the people of that
+mountain district have a peculiar gift of music and song, which then
+must have been greater still. Such a thing is not kept up without some
+one caring for and adding to the original treasure, and Ole Haugen was
+the man who did it in his time.</p>
+
+<p>Tradition goes on to tell that just as Ole Haugen's Bridal March was
+the merriest ever heard, so the bridal pair that it played to church,
+that were met by it again as they came from the altar, and that drove
+home with its strain in their ears, were the happiest couple that had
+ever been seen. And though the race of Tingvold had always been a
+handsome race, and after this were handsomer than ever, it is
+maintained that none, before or after, could equal this particular
+couple.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>With Ole Haugen legend ends, and now history begins. Ole's bridal
+march kept its place in the house of Tingvold. It was sung, and
+hummed, and whistled, and fiddled, in the house and in the stable, in
+the field and on the mountain-side. The only child born of the
+marriage, little Astrid, was rocked and sung to sleep with it by
+mother, by father, and by servants, and it was one of the first things
+she herself learned. There was music in the race, and this bright
+little one had her full share of it, and soon could hum her parent's
+triumphal march, the talisman of her family, in quite a masterly way.</p>
+
+<p>It was hardly to be wondered at that when she grew up, she too wished
+to choose her lover. Many came to woo, but at the age of twenty-three
+the rich and gifted girl was still single. The reason came out at
+last. In the house lived a quick-witted youth, whom Aslaug had taken
+in out of pity. He went by the name of the tramp or gipsy, though he
+was neither. But Aslaug was ready enough to call him so <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>when she
+heard that Astrid and he were betrothed. They had pledged faith to
+each other in all secrecy out on the hill pastures, and had sung the
+bridal march together, she on the height, he answering from below.</p>
+
+<p>The lad was sent away at once. No one could now show more pride of
+race than Aslaug, the poor cottar's daughter. Astrid's father called
+to mind what was prophesied when he broke the tradition of his family.
+Had it now come to a husband being taken in from the wayside? Where
+would it end? And the neighbours said much the same.</p>
+
+<p>"The tramp," Knut by name, soon became well known to every one, as he
+took to dealing in cattle on his own account. He was the first in that
+part of the country to do it to any extent, and his enterprise had
+begun to benefit the whole district, raising prices, and bringing in
+capital. But he was apt to bring drinking bouts, and often fighting,
+in his train; and this was all that people talked of as yet; they had
+not begun to understand his capabilities as a business man.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>Astrid was determined, and she was twenty-three, and her parents came
+to see that either the farm must go out of the family or Knut must
+come into it; through their own marriage they had lost the moral
+authority that might have stood them in good stead now. So Astrid had
+her way. One fine day the handsome, merry Knut drove with her to
+church. The strains of the family bridal march, her grandfather's
+masterpiece, were wafted back over the great procession, and the two
+seemed to be sitting humming it quietly, and very happy they looked.
+And every one wondered how the parents looked so happy too, for they
+had opposed the marriage long and obstinately.</p>
+
+<p>After the wedding Knut took over the farm, and the old people retired
+on their allowance. It was such a liberal one that people could not
+understand how Knut and Astrid were able to afford it; for though the
+farm was the largest in the district, it was not well-cultivated. But
+this was not all. Three times the number of workpeople were taken on,
+and everything was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>started in a new way, with an outlay unheard of in
+these parts. Certain ruin was foretold. But "the tramp"&mdash;for his
+nickname had stuck to him&mdash;was as merry as ever, and seemed to have
+infected Astrid with his humour. The quiet, gentle girl became the
+lively, buxom wife. Her parents were satisfied. At last people began
+to understand that Knut had brought to Tingvold what no one had had
+there before, working capital! And along with it he had brought the
+experience gained in trading, and a gift of handling commodities and
+money, and of keeping servants willing and happy.</p>
+
+<p>In twelve years one would hardly have known Tingvold again. House and
+outbuildings were different; there were three times as many
+workpeople, they were three times as well off, and Knut himself, in
+his broadcloth coat, sat in the evenings and smoked his meerschaum
+pipe and drank his glass of toddy with the Captain and the Pastor and
+the Bailiff. To Astrid he was the cleverest and best man in the world,
+and she was fond of telling how in his young days <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>he had fought and
+drunk just to get himself talked about, and to frighten her; "for he
+was so cunning!"</p>
+
+<p>She followed him in everything except in leaving off peasant dress and
+customs; to these she always kept. Knut did not interfere with other
+people's ways, so this caused no trouble between them. He lived with
+his "set," and his wife saw to their entertainment, which was,
+however, modest enough, for he was too prudent a man to make
+unnecessary show or outlay of any kind. Some said that he gained more
+by the card-playing, and by the popularity this mode of life won for
+him, than all he laid out upon it, but this was probably pure
+malevolence.</p>
+
+<p>They had several children, but the only one whose history concerns us
+is the eldest son, Endrid, who was to inherit the farm and carry on
+the honour of the house. He had all the good looks of his race, but
+not much in the way of brains, as is often the case with children of
+specially active-minded parents. His father soon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>observed this, and
+tried to make up for it by giving him a very good education. A tutor
+was brought into the house for the children, and when Endrid grew up
+he was sent to one of the agricultural training schools that were now
+beginning to flourish in Norway, and after that to finish off in town.
+He came home again a quiet young fellow, with a rather over-burdened
+brain and fewer town ways than his father had hoped for. But Endrid
+was a slow-witted youth.</p>
+
+<p>The Pastor and the Captain, both with large families of daughters, had
+their eye on him. But if this was the reason of the increased
+attention they paid to Knut, they made a great mistake; the idea of a
+marriage between his son and a poor pastor's or captain's daughter,
+with no training to fit her for a rich farmer's wife, was so
+ridiculous to him that he did not even think it necessary to warn
+Endrid. And indeed no warning was needed, for the lad saw as well as
+his father that, though there was no need for his bringing more wealth
+into the family through <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>his marriage, it would be of advantage if he
+could again connect it with one of equal birth and position. But, as
+ill-luck would have it, he was but an awkward wooer. The worst of it
+was that he began to get the name of being a fortune-hunter; and when
+once a young man gets this reputation, the peasants fight shy of him.
+Endrid soon noticed this himself; for though he was not particularly
+quick, to make up for it he was very sensitive. He saw that it did not
+improve his position that he was dressed like a townsman, and "had
+learning," as the country people said. The boy was sound at heart, and
+the result of the slights he met with was that by degrees he left off
+his town dress and town speech, and began to work on his father's
+great farm as a simple labourer. His father understood&mdash;he had begun
+to understand before the lad did&mdash;and he told his wife to take no
+notice. So they said nothing about marriage, nor about the change in
+Endrid's ways; only his father was more and more friendly to him, and
+consulted him in everything connected with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>farm and with his
+other trade, and at last gave the management of the farm altogether
+into his hands. And of this they never needed to repent.</p>
+
+<p>So the time passed till Endrid was thirty-one. He had been steadily
+adding to his father's wealth and to his own experience and
+independence; but had never made the smallest attempt at courtship;
+had not looked at a girl, either in their own district or elsewhere.
+And now his parents were beginning to fear that he had given up
+thoughts of it altogether. But this was not the case.</p>
+
+<p>On a neighbouring farm lived in good circumstances another
+well-descended peasant family, that had at different times
+intermarried with the race of Tingvold. A girl was growing up there
+whom Endrid had been fond of since she was a little child; no doubt he
+had quietly set his heart on her, for only six months after her
+confirmation he spoke. She was seventeen then and he thirty-one.
+Randi, that was the girl's name, did not know at first what to answer;
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>she consulted her parents, but they said she must decide for herself.
+He was a good man, and from a worldly point of view she could not make
+a better match, but the difference in their ages was great, and she
+must know herself if she had the courage to undertake the new duties
+and cares that would come upon her as mistress of the large farm. The
+girl felt that her parents would rather have her say Yes than No, but
+she was really afraid. She went to his mother, whom she had always
+liked, and found to her surprise that she knew nothing. But the mother
+was so delighted with the idea that with all her might she urged Randi
+to accept him. "I'll help you," she said. "Father will want no
+allowance from the farm. He has all he needs, and he doesn't wish his
+children to be longing for his death. Things will be divided at once,
+and the little that we keep to live on will be divided too when we are
+gone. So you see there will be no trouble with us." Yes, Randi knew
+all along that Knut and Astrid were kind and nice. "And the boy," said
+Astrid, "is good <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>and thoughtful about everything." Yes, Randi had
+felt that too; she was not afraid but that she would get on with
+him&mdash;if she were only capable enough herself!</p>
+
+<p>A few days later everything was settled. Endrid was happy, and so were
+his parents; for this was a much respected family that he was marrying
+into, and the girl was both nice-looking and clever; there was not a
+better match for him in the district. The parents on both sides
+consulted together, and settled that the wedding should be just before
+harvest, as there was nothing to wait for.</p>
+
+<p>The neighbourhood generally did not look on the engagement in the same
+light as the parties concerned. It was said that the pretty young girl
+had "sold herself." She was so young that she hardly knew what
+marriage was, and the sly Knut had pushed forward his son before any
+other lovers had the chance. Something of this came to Randi's ears,
+but Endrid was so loving to her, and in such a quiet, almost humble
+way, that she would not break off with him; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>only it made her a little
+cool. Both his and her parents heard what was said, but took no
+notice.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps just because of this talk they determined to hold the wedding
+in great style, and this, for the same reason, was not unacceptable to
+Randi. Knut's friends, the Pastor, the Captain, and the Bailiff, with
+their large families, were to be among the guests, and some of them
+were to accompany the pair to church. On their account Knut wanted to
+dispense with the fiddlers&mdash;it was too old-fashioned and peasant-like.
+But Astrid insisted that they must be played to church and home again
+with the Bridal March of her race. It had made her and her husband so
+happy; they could not but wish to hear it again on their dear
+children's great festival day. There was not much sentiment about
+Knut; but he let his wife have her way. The bride's parents got a hint
+that they might engage the fiddlers, who were asked to play the old
+March, the family Bridal March, that had lain quiet now for a time,
+because this generation had worked without song.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>But alas! on the wedding day the rain poured hard. The players had to
+wrap up their fiddles as soon as they had played the bridal party away
+from the farm, and they did not take them out again till they came
+within sound of the church-bells. Then a boy had to stand up at the
+back of the cart and hold an umbrella over them, and below it they sat
+huddled together and sawed away. The March did not sound like itself
+in such weather, naturally enough, nor was it a very merry-looking
+bridal procession that followed. The bridegroom sat with the high
+bridegroom's hat between his legs and a sou'-wester on his head; he
+had on a great fur coat, and he held an umbrella over the bride, who,
+with one shawl on the top of another, to protect the bridal crown and
+the rest of her finery, looked more like a wet hayrick than a human
+being. On they came, carriage after carriage, the men dripping, the
+women hidden away under their wrappings. It looked like a sort of
+bewitched procession, in which one could not recognise a single face;
+for there was not a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>face to be seen, nothing but huddled-up heaps of
+wool or fur. A laugh broke out among the specially large crowd
+gathered at the church on account of the great wedding. At first it
+was stifled, but it grew louder with each carriage that drove up. At
+the large house where the procession was to alight and the dresses
+were to be arranged a little for going into church, a hay-cart had
+been drawn out of the way, into the corner formed by the porch.
+Mounted on it stood a pedlar, a joking fellow, Aslak by name. Just as
+the bride was lifted down he called: "Devil take me if Ole Haugen's
+Bridal March is any good to-day!"</p>
+
+<p>He said no more, but that was plenty. The crowd laughed, and though
+many of them tried not to let it be seen that they were laughing, it
+was clearly felt what all were thinking and trying to hide.</p>
+
+<p>When they took off the bride's shawls they saw that she was as white
+as a sheet. She began to cry, tried to laugh, cried again&mdash;and then
+all at once the feeling came over her that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>she could not go into the
+church. Amidst great excitement she was laid on a bed in a quiet room,
+for such a violent fit of crying had seized her that they were much
+alarmed. Her good parents stood beside the bed, and when she begged
+them to let her go back, they said that she might do just as she
+liked. Then her eyes fell on Endrid. Any one so utterly miserable and
+helpless she had never seen before; and beside him stood his mother,
+silent and motionless, with the tears running down her face and her
+eyes fixed on Randi's. Then Randi raised herself on her elbow and
+looked straight in front of her for a little, still sobbing after the
+fit of crying. "No, no,!" she said, "I'm going to church." Once more
+she lay back and cried for a little, and then she got up. She said
+that she would have no more music, so the fiddlers were dismissed&mdash;and
+the story did not lose in their telling when they got among the crowd.</p>
+
+<p>It was a mournful bridal procession that now moved on towards the
+church. The rain allowed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>of the bride and bridegroom hiding their
+faces from the curiosity of the onlookers till they got inside; but
+they felt that they were running the gauntlet, and they felt too that
+their own friends were annoyed at being laughed at as part of such a
+foolish procession.</p>
+
+<p>The grave of the famous fiddler, Ole Haugen, lay close by the
+church-door. Without saying much about it, the family had always
+tended it, and a new head-board had been put up when the old one had
+rotted away below. The upper part of it was in the shape of a wheel,
+as Ole himself had desired. The grave was in a sunny spot, and was
+thickly overgrown with wild flowers. Every churchgoer that had ever
+stood by it had heard from some one or other how a botanist in
+government pay, making a collection of the plants and flowers of the
+valley and the mountains round about, had found flowers on that grave
+that did not grow anywhere else in the neighbourhood. And the
+peasants, who as a rule cared little about what they called "weeds,"
+took pride in these particular ones&mdash;a pride <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>mixed with curiosity and
+even awe. Some of the flowers were remarkably beautiful. But as the
+bridal pair passed the grave, Endrid, who was holding Randi's hand,
+felt that she shivered; immediately she began to cry again, walked
+crying into the church, and was led crying to her place. No bride
+within the memory of man had made such an entrance into that church.</p>
+
+<p>She felt as she sat there that all this was helping to confirm the
+report that she had been sold. The thought of the shame she was
+bringing on her parents made her turn cold, and for a little she was
+able to stop crying. But at the altar she was moved again by some word
+of the priest's, and immediately the thought of all she had gone
+through that day came over her; and for the moment she had the feeling
+that never, no, never again, could she look people in the face, and
+least of all her own father and mother.</p>
+
+<p>Things got no better as the day went on. She was not able to sit with
+the guests at the dinner-table; in the evening she was half <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>coaxed,
+half forced to appear at supper, but she spoiled every one's pleasure,
+and had to be taken away to bed. The wedding festivities, that were to
+have gone on for several days, ended that evening. It was given out
+that the bride was ill.</p>
+
+<p>Though neither those who said this nor those who heard it believed it,
+it was only too true. She was really ill, and she did not soon
+recover. One consequence of this was that their first child was
+sickly. The parents were not the less devoted to it from understanding
+that they themselves were to a certain extent the cause of its
+suffering. They never left that child. They never went to church, for
+they had got shy of people. For two years God gave them the joy of the
+child, and then He took it from them.</p>
+
+<p>The first thought that struck them after this blow was that they had
+been too fond of their child. That was why they had lost it. So, when
+another came, it seemed as if neither of them dared to show their love
+for it. But <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>this little one, though it too was sickly at first, grew
+stronger, and was so sweet and bright that they could not restrain
+their feelings. A new, pure happiness had come to them; they could
+almost forget all that had happened. When this child was two years
+old, God took it too.</p>
+
+<p>Some people seem to be chosen out by sorrow. They are the very people
+that seem to us to need it least, but at the same time they are those
+that are best fitted to bear trials and yet to keep their faith. These
+two had early sought God together; after this they lived as it were in
+His presence. The life at Tingvold had long been a quiet one; now the
+house was like a church before the priest comes in. The work went on
+perfectly steadily, but at intervals during the day Endrid and Randi
+worshipped together, communing with those "on the other side." It made
+no change in their habits that Randi, soon after their last loss, had
+a little daughter. The children that were dead were boys, and this
+made them not care so much for a girl. Besides they did not know if
+they were to be allowed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>keep her. But the health and happiness
+that the mother had enjoyed up to the time of the death of the last
+little boy, had benefited this child, who soon showed herself to be a
+bright little girl, with her mother's pretty face. The two lonely
+people again felt the temptation to be hopeful and happy in their
+child; but the fateful two years were not over, and they dared not. As
+the time drew near, they felt as if they had only been allowed a
+respite.</p>
+
+<p>Knut and Astrid kept a good deal to themselves. The way in which the
+young people had taken things did not allow of much sympathy or
+consolation being offered them. Besides, Knut was too lively and
+worldly-minded to sit long in a house of mourning or to be always
+coming in upon a prayer meeting. He moved to a small farm that he had
+bought and let, but now took back into his own hands. There he
+arranged everything so comfortably and nicely for his dear Astrid,
+that people whose intention it was to go to Tingvold, rather stayed
+and laughed with him than went on to cry with his children.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>One day when Astrid was in her daughter-in-law's house, she noticed
+how little Mildrid went about quite alone; it seemed as if her mother
+hardly dared to touch her. When the father came in, she saw the same
+mournful sort of reserve towards his own, only child. She concealed
+her thoughts, but when she got home to her own dear Knut, she told him
+how things stood at Tingvold, and added: "Our place is there now.
+Little Mildrid needs some one that dares to love her; pretty, sweet
+little child that she is!" Knut was infected by her eagerness, and the
+two old people packed up and went home.</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid was now much with her grandparents, and they taught her
+parents to love her. When she was five years old her mother had
+another daughter, who was called Beret; and after this Mildrid lived
+almost altogether with the old people. The anxious parents began once
+more to feel as if there might yet be pleasure for them in life, and a
+change in the popular feeling towards them helped them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p><p>After the loss of the second child, though there were often the
+traces of tears on their faces, no one had ever seen them weep&mdash;their
+grief was silent. There was no changing of servants at Tingvold, that
+was one result of the peaceful, God-fearing life there; nothing but
+praise of master and mistress was ever heard. They themselves knew
+this, and it gave them a feeling of comfort and security. Relations
+and friends began to visit them again; and went on doing so, even
+though the Tingvold people made no return.</p>
+
+<p>But they had not been at church since their wedding-day! They partook
+of the Communion at home, and held worship there. But when the second
+girl was born, they were so desirous to be her godparents themselves
+that they made up their minds to venture. They stood together at their
+children's graves; they passed Ole Haugen's without word or movement;
+the whole congregation showed them respect. But they continued to keep
+themselves very much to themselves, and a pious peace rested over
+their house.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>One day in her grandmother's house little Mildrid was heard singing
+the Bridal March. Old Astrid stopped her work in a fright, and asked
+her where in the world she had learned that. The child answered: "From
+you, grandmother." Knut, who was sitting in the house, laughed
+heartily, for he knew that Astrid had a habit of humming it when she
+sat at work. But they both said to little Mildrid that she must never
+sing it when her parents were within hearing. Like a child, she asked
+"Why?" But to this question she got no answer. One evening she heard
+the new herd-boy singing it as he was cutting wood. She told her
+grandmother, who had heard it too. All grandmother said was: "He'll
+not grow old here!"&mdash;and sure enough he had to go next day. No reason
+was given; he got his wages and was sent about his business. Mildrid
+was so excited about this, that grandmother had to try to tell her the
+story of the Bridal March. The little eight year old girl understood
+it well enough, and what she did not understand then became clear to
+her later. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>It had an influence on her child-life, and especially on
+her conduct towards her parents, that nothing else had or could have
+had.</p>
+
+<p>She had always noticed that they liked quietness. It was no hardship
+to her to please them in this; they were so gentle, and talked so much
+and so sweetly to her of the children's great Friend in heaven, that
+it cast a sort of charm over the whole house. The story of the Bridal
+March affected her deeply, and gave her an understanding of all that
+they had gone through. She carefully avoided recalling to them any
+painful memories, and showed them the tenderest affection, sharing
+with them their love of God, their truthfulness, their quietness,
+their industry. And she taught Beret to do the same.</p>
+
+<p>In their grandfather's house the life that had to be suppressed at
+home got leave to expand. Here there was singing and dancing and play
+and story-telling. So the sisters' young days passed between devotion
+to their melancholy parents in the quiet house, and the glad life they
+were allowed to take part in at their grandfather's. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>The families
+lived in perfect understanding. It was the parents who told them to go
+to the old people and enjoy themselves, and the old people who told
+them to go back again, "and be sure to be good girls."</p>
+
+<p>When a girl between the age of twelve and sixteen takes a sister
+between seven and eleven into her full confidence, the confidence is
+rewarded by great devotion. But the little one is apt to become too
+old for her years. This happened with Beret, while Mildrid only gained
+by being forbearing and kind and sympathetic&mdash;and she made her parents
+and grandparents happy.</p>
+
+<p>There is no more to tell till Mildrid was in her fifteenth year; then
+old Knut died, suddenly and easily. There seemed almost no time
+between the day when he sat joking in the chimney-corner and the day
+when he lay in his coffin.</p>
+
+<p>After this, grandmother's greatest pleasure was to have Mildrid
+sitting on a stool at her feet, as she had done ever since she was a
+little <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>child, and to tell her stories about Knut, or else to get her
+to hum the Bridal March. As Astrid sat listening to it, she saw Knut's
+handsome dark head as she used to see it in her young days; she
+followed him out to the mountain-side, where he blew the March on his
+herd-boy's horn, she drove to church by his side&mdash;all his brightness
+and cleverness lived again for her!</p>
+
+<p>But in Mildrid's soul a new feeling began to stir. Whilst she sat and
+sang for grandmother, she asked herself: "Will it ever be played for
+me?" The thought grew upon her, the March spoke to her of such radiant
+happiness. She saw a bride's crown glittering in its sunshine, and a
+long, bright future beyond that. Sixteen&mdash;and she asked herself:
+"Shall I, shall I ever have some one sitting beside me, with the
+Bridal March shining in his eyes? Only think, if father and mother
+were one day to drive with me in such a procession, with the people
+greeting us on every side, on to the house where mother was jeered at
+that day, past Ole Haugen's flower-covered grave, up to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>the altar, in
+a glory of happiness! Think what it would be if I could give father
+and mother that consolation!" And the child's heart swelled, imagining
+all this to herself, swelled with pride and with devotion to those
+dear parents who had suffered so much.</p>
+
+<p>These were the first thoughts that she did not confide to Beret. Soon
+there were more. Beret, who was now eleven, noticed that she was left
+more to herself, but did not understand that she was being gradually
+shut out from Mildrid's confidence, till she saw another taken into
+her place. This was Inga, from the neighbouring farm, a girl of
+eighteen, their own cousin, newly betrothed. When Mildrid and Inga
+walked about in the fields, whispering and laughing, with their arms
+round each other, as girls love to go, poor Beret would throw herself
+down and cry with jealousy.</p>
+
+<p>The time came on for Mildrid to be confirmed; she made acquaintance
+with other young people of her own age, and some of them began to come
+up to Tingvold on Sundays. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>Mildrid saw them either out of doors or in
+her grandmother's room. Tingvold had always been a forbidden, and
+consequently mysteriously attractive place to the young people. But
+even now, only those with a certain quietness and seriousness of
+disposition went there, for it could not be denied that there was
+something subdued about Mildrid, that did not attract every one.</p>
+
+<p>At this particular time there was a great deal of music and singing
+among the youth of the district. For some reason or other there are
+such periods, and these periods have their leaders. One of the leaders
+now was, curiously enough, again of the race of Haugen.</p>
+
+<p>Amongst a people where once on a time, even though it were hundreds of
+years ago, almost every man and woman sought and found expression for
+their intensest feelings and experiences in song, and were able
+themselves to make the verses that gave them relief&mdash;amongst such a
+people the art can never quite die out. Here and there, even though it
+does not make itself <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>heard, it must exist, ready on occasion to be
+awakened to new life. But in this district songs had been made and
+sung from time immemorial. It was by no mere chance that Ole Haugen
+was born here, and here became what he was. Now it was his grandson in
+whom the gift had reappeared.</p>
+
+<p>Ole's son had been so much younger than the daughter who had married
+into the Tingvold family, that the latter, already a married woman,
+had stood godmother to her little brother. After a life full of
+changes, this son, as an old man, had come into possession of his
+father's home and little bit of land far up on the mountain-side; and,
+strangely enough, not till then did he marry. He had several children,
+among them a boy called Hans, who seemed to have inherited his
+grandfather's gifts&mdash;not exactly in the way of fiddle-playing, though
+he did play&mdash;but he sang the old songs beautifully and made new ones
+himself. People's appreciation of his songs was not a little added to
+by the fact that so few knew himself; there were not many that had
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>even seen him. His old father had been a hunter, and while the boys
+were quite small, the old man took them out to the hillside and taught
+them to load and aim a gun. They always remembered how pleased he was
+when they were able to earn enough with their shooting to pay for
+their own powder and shot. He did not live long after this, and soon
+after his death their mother died too, and the children were left to
+take care of themselves, which they managed to do. The boys hunted and
+the girls looked after the little hill farm. People turned to look at
+them when they once in a way showed themselves in the valley; they
+were so seldom there. It was a long, bad road down. In winter they
+occasionally came to sell or send off the produce of their hunting; in
+summer they were busy with the strangers. Their little holding was the
+highest lying in the district, and it became famed for having that
+pure mountain air which cures people suffering from their lungs or
+nerves, better than any yet discovered medicine; every year they had
+as many summer visitors, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>from town, and even from abroad, as they
+could accommodate. They added several rooms to their house, and still
+it was always full. So these brothers and sisters, from being poor,
+very poor, came to be quite well-to-do. Intercourse with so many
+strangers had made them a little different from the other country
+people&mdash;they even knew something of foreign languages. Hans was now
+twenty-seven. Some years before he had bought up his brothers' and
+sisters' shares, so that the whole place belonged to him.</p>
+
+<p>Not one of the family had ever set foot in the house of their
+relations at Tingvold. Endrid and Randi Tingvold, though they had
+doubtless never put the feeling into words, could just as little bear
+to hear the name of Haugen as to hear the Bridal March. These
+children's poor father had been made to feel this, and in consequence,
+Hans had forbidden his brothers and sisters ever to go to the house.
+But the girls at Tingvold, who loved music, longed to make
+acquaintance with Hans, and when they and their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>girl friends were
+together, they talked more about the family at Haugen than about
+anything else. Hans's songs and tunes were sung and danced to, and
+they were for ever planning how they could manage to meet the young
+farmer of Haugen.</p>
+
+<p>After this happy time of young companionship came Mildrid's
+confirmation. Just before it there was a quiet pause, and after it
+came another. Mildrid, now about seventeen, spent the autumn almost
+alone with her parents. In spring, or rather summer, she was, like all
+the other girls after their confirmation, to go to the s&oelig;ter in
+charge of cattle. She was delighted at the thought of this, especially
+as her friend Inga was to be at the next s&oelig;ter.</p>
+
+<p>At last her longing for the time to come grew so strong that she had
+no peace at home, and Beret, who was to accompany her, grew restless
+too. When they got settled in the s&oelig;ter Beret was quite absorbed in
+the new, strange life, but Mildrid was still restless. She had her
+busy times with the cattle and the milk, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>there were long idle
+hours that she did not know how to dispose of. Some days she spent
+them with Inga, listening to her stories of her lover, but often she
+had no inclination to go there. She was glad when Inga came to her,
+and affectionate, as if she wanted to make up for her faithlessness.
+She seldom talked to Beret, and often when Beret talked to her,
+answered nothing but Yes or No. When Inga came, Beret took herself
+off, and when Mildrid went to see Inga, Beret went crying away after
+the cows, and had the herd-boys for company. Mildrid felt that there
+was something wrong in all this, but with the best will she could not
+set it right.</p>
+
+<p>She was sitting one day near the s&oelig;ter, herding the goats and
+sheep, because one of the herd-boys had played truant and she had to
+do his work. It was a warm midday; she was sitting in the shade of a
+hillock overgrown with birch and underwood; she had thrown off her
+jacket and taken her knitting in her hand, and was expecting Inga.
+Something rustled behind <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>her. "There she comes," thought Mildrid, and
+looked up.</p>
+
+<p>But there was more noise than Inga was likely to make, and such a
+breaking and cracking among the bushes. Mildrid turned pale, got up,
+and saw something hairy and a pair of eyes below it&mdash;it must be a
+bear's head! She wanted to scream, but no voice would come; she wanted
+to run, but could not stir. The thing raised itself up&mdash;it was a tall,
+broad-shouldered man with a fur cap, a gun in his hand. He stopped
+short among the bushes and looked at her sharply for a second or two,
+then took a step forward, a jump, and stood in the field beside her.
+Something moved at her feet, and she gave a little cry; it was his
+dog, that she had not seen before.</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, dear!" she said; "I thought it was a bear breaking through the
+bushes, and I got such a fright!" And she tried to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it might almost have been that," said he, speaking in a very
+quiet voice; "Kvas and I were on the track of a bear; but now we have
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>lost it; and if I have a 'Vard&ouml;ger,'<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> it is certainly a bear."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled. She looked at him. Who can he be? Tall, broad-shouldered,
+wiry; his eyes restless, so that she could not see them rightly;
+besides, she was standing quite close to him, just where he had
+suddenly appeared before her with his dog and his gun.</p>
+
+<p>She felt the inclination to say, "Go away!" but instead she drew back
+a few steps, and asked: "Who are you?" She was really frightened.</p>
+
+<p>"Hans Haugen," answered the man rather absently; for he was paying
+attention to the dog, which seemed to have found the track of the bear
+again. He was just going to add, "Good-bye!" but when he looked at her
+she was blushing; cheeks, neck, and bosom crimson.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" said he, astonished.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>She did not know what to do or where to go, whether to run away or to
+sit down.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" asked Hans in his turn.</p>
+
+<p>Once again she turned crimson, for to tell him her name was to tell
+him everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he repeated, as if it were the most natural question in
+the world, and deserved an answer.</p>
+
+<p>And she could not refuse the answer, though she felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed of her parents, who had neglected their own
+kindred. The name had to be said. "Mildrid Tingvold," she whispered,
+and burst into tears.</p>
+
+<p>It was true enough; the Tingvold people had given him little reason to
+care for them. Of his own free will he would scarcely have spoken to
+one of them. But he had never foreseen anything like this, and he
+looked at the girl in amazement. He seemed to remember some story of
+her mother having cried like that in church on her wedding-day.
+"Perhaps it's in the family," he thought, and turned to go. "Forgive
+me for having frightened you," he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>said, and took his way up the
+hillside after his dog.</p>
+
+<p>By the time she ventured to look up he had just reached the top of the
+ridge, and there he turned to look at her. It was only for an instant,
+for at that moment the dog barked on the other side. Hans gave a
+start, held his gun in readiness, and hurried on. Mildrid was still
+gazing at the place where he had stood, when a shot startled her.
+Could that be the bear? Could it have been so near her?</p>
+
+<p>Off she went, climbing where he had just climbed, till she stood where
+he had stood, shading her eyes with her hand, and&mdash;sure enough, there
+he was, half hidden by a bush, on his knees beside a huge bear! Before
+she knew what she was doing, she was down beside him. He gave her a
+smile of welcome, and explained to her, in his low voice, how it had
+happened that they had lost the track and the dog had not scented the
+animal till they were almost upon it. By this time she had forgotten
+her tears and her bashfulness, and he had drawn his knife <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>to skin the
+bear on the spot. The flesh was of no value at this time; he meant to
+bury the carcass and take only the skin. So she held, and he skinned;
+then she ran down to the s&oelig;ter for an axe and a spade; and although
+she still felt afraid of the bear, and it had a bad smell, she kept on
+helping him till all was finished. By this time it was long past
+twelve o'clock, and he invited himself to dinner at the s&oelig;ter. He
+washed himself and the skin, no small piece of work, and then came in
+and sat beside her while she finished preparing the food.</p>
+
+<p>He chatted about one thing and another, easily and pleasantly, in the
+low voice that seems to become natural to people who are much alone.
+Mildrid gave the shortest answers possible, and when it came to
+sitting opposite him at the table, she could neither speak nor eat,
+and there was often silence between them. When she had finished he
+turned round his chair and filled and lit his pipe. He too was quieter
+now, and presently he got up. "I must be going," he said, holding out
+his hand, "it's a long way home <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>from here." Then added, in a still
+lower voice: "Do you sit every day where you were to-day?" He held her
+hand for a moment, expecting an answer; but she dared not look up,
+much less speak. Then she felt him press her hand quickly. "Good-bye,
+then, and thank you!" he said in a louder tone, and before she could
+collect herself, she saw him, with the bearskin over his shoulder, the
+gun in his hand, and the dog at his side, striding away over the
+heather. There was a dip in the hills just there, and she saw him
+clear against the sky; his light, firm step taking him quickly away.
+She watched till he was out of sight, then came outside and sat down,
+still looking in the same direction.</p>
+
+<p>Not till now was she aware that her heart was beating so violently
+that she had to press her hands over it. In a minute or two she lay
+down on the grass, leaning her head on her arm, and began to go
+carefully over every event of the day. She saw him start up among the
+bushes and stand before her, strong and active, looking restlessly
+round. She felt over again <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>the bewilderment and the fright, and her
+tears of shame. She saw him against the sun, on the height; she heard
+the shot, and was again on her knees before him, helping him with the
+skinning of the bear. She heard once more every word that he said, in
+that low voice that sounded so friendly, and that touched her heart as
+she thought of it; she listened to it as he sat beside the hearth
+while she was cooking, and then at table with her. She felt that she
+had no longer dared to look into his face, so that at last she had
+made him feel awkward too; for he had grown silent. Then she heard him
+speak once again, as he took her hand; and she felt his clasp&mdash;felt it
+still, through her whole body. She saw him go away over the
+heather&mdash;away, away!</p>
+
+<p>Would he ever come back? Impossible, after the way she had behaved.
+How strong, and brave, and self-reliant was everything she had seen of
+him, and how stupid and miserable all that he had seen of her, from
+her first scream of fright when the dog touched her, to her blush of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>shame and her tears; from the clumsy help she gave him, to her
+slowness in preparing the food. And to think that when he looked at
+her she was not able to speak; not even to say No, when he asked her
+if she sat under the hill every day&mdash;for she didn't sit there every
+day! Might not her silence then have seemed like an invitation to him
+to come and see? Might not her whole miserable helplessness have been
+misunderstood in the same way? What shame she felt now! She was hot
+all over with it, and she buried her burning face deeper and deeper in
+the grass. Then she called up the whole picture once more; all his
+excellences and her shortcomings; and again the shame of it all
+overwhelmed her.</p>
+
+<p>She was still lying there when the sound of the bells told her that
+the cattle were coming home; then she jumped up and began to work.
+Beret saw as soon as she came that something had happened. Mildrid
+asked such stupid questions and gave such absurd answers, and
+altogether behaved in such an extraordinary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>way, that she several
+times just stopped and stared at her. When it came to supper-time, and
+Mildrid, instead of taking her place at the table, went and sat down
+outside, saying that she had just had dinner, Beret was as intensely
+on the alert as a dog who scents game at hand. She took her supper and
+went to bed. The sisters slept in the same bed, and, as Mildrid did
+not come, Beret got up softly once or twice to look if her sister were
+still sitting out there, and if she were alone. Yes, she was there,
+and alone.</p>
+
+<p>Eleven o'clock, and then twelve, and then one, and still Mildrid sat
+and Beret waked. She pretended to be asleep when Mildrid came at last,
+and Mildrid moved softly, so softly; but her sister heard her sobbing,
+and when she had got into bed she heard her say her usual evening
+prayer so sadly, heard her whisper: "O God, help me, help me!" It made
+Beret so unhappy that she could not get to sleep even now. She felt
+her sister restlessly changing from one position to another; she saw
+her at last giving <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>it up, throwing aside the covering, and lying
+open-eyed, with her hands below her head, staring into vacancy. She
+saw and heard no more, for at last she fell asleep.</p>
+
+<p>When she awoke next morning Mildrid's place was empty. Beret jumped
+up; the sun was high in the sky; the cattle were away long ago. She
+found her breakfast set ready, took it hurriedly, and went out and saw
+Mildrid at work, but looking ill. Beret said that she was going to
+hurry after the cattle. Mildrid said nothing in answer, but gave her a
+glance as though of thanks. The younger girl stood a minute thinking,
+and then went off.</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid looked round; yes, she was alone. She hastily put away the
+dishes, leaving everything else as it was. Then she washed herself and
+changed her dress, took her knitting, and set off up the hill.</p>
+
+<p>She had not the new strength of the new day, for she had hardly slept
+or eaten anything for twenty-four hours. She walked in a dream, and
+knew nothing clearly till she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>was at the place where she had sat
+yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>Hardly had she seated herself when she thought: "If he were to come
+and find me here, he would believe&mdash;" She started up mechanically.
+There was his dog on the hillside. It stood still and looked at her,
+then rushed down to her, wagging its tail. Her heart stopped beating.
+There&mdash;there he stood, with his gun gleaming in the sun, just as he
+had stood yesterday. To-day he had come another way. He smiled to her,
+ran down, and stood before her. She had given a little scream and sunk
+down on the grass again. It was more than she could do to stand up;
+she let her knitting drop, and put her hands up to her face. He did
+not say a word. He lay down on the grass in front of her, and looked
+up at her, the dog at his side with its eyes fixed on him. She felt
+that though she was turning her head away, he could see her hot blush,
+her eyes, her whole face. She heard him breathing quickly; she thought
+she felt his breath on her hand. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>She did not want him to speak, and
+yet his silence was dreadful. She knew that he must understand why she
+was sitting there; and greater shame than this no one had ever felt.
+But it was not right of him, either, to have come, and still worse of
+him to be lying there.</p>
+
+<p>Then she felt him take one of her hands and hold it tight, then the
+other, so that she had to turn a little that way; he drew her gently,
+but strongly and firmly towards him with eye and hand, till she was at
+his side, her head fallen on his shoulder. She felt him stroke her
+hair with one hand, but she dared not look up. Presently she broke
+into passionate weeping at the thought of her shameful behaviour.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, you may cry," said he, "but I will laugh; what has happened to
+us two is matter both for laughter and for tears."</p>
+
+<p>His voice shook. And now he bent over her and whispered that the
+farther away he went from her yesterday the nearer he seemed to be to
+her. The feeling overmastered him so, that when he reached his little
+shooting cabin, where <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>he had a German officer with him this summer,
+recruiting after the war, he left the guest to take care of himself,
+and wandered farther up the mountain. He spent the night on the
+heights, sometimes sitting, sometimes wandering about. He went home to
+breakfast, but away again immediately. He was twenty-eight now, no
+longer a boy, and he felt that either this girl must be his or it
+would go badly with him. He wandered to the place where they had met
+yesterday; he did not expect that she would be there again; but when
+he saw her, he felt that he must make the venture; and when he came to
+see that she was feeling just as he was&mdash;"Why, then"&mdash;and he raised
+her head gently. And she had stopped crying, and his eyes shone so
+that she had to look into them, and then she turned red and put her
+head down again.</p>
+
+<p>He went on talking in his low, half-whispering voice. The sun shone
+through the tree-tops, the birches trembled in the breeze, the birds
+mingled their song with the sound of a little stream rippling over its
+stony bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p><p>How long the two sat there together, neither of them knew. At last
+the dog startled them. He had made several excursions, and each time
+had come back and lain down beside them again; but now he ran barking
+down the hill. They both jumped up and stood for a minute listening.
+But nothing appeared. Then they looked at each other again, and Hans
+lifted her up in his arms. She had not been lifted like this since she
+was a child, and there was something about it that made her feel
+helpless. When he looked up beaming into her face, she bent and put
+her arms round his neck&mdash;he was now her strength, her future, her
+happiness, her life itself&mdash;she resisted no longer.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing was said. He held her tight; she clung to him. He carried her
+to the place where she had sat at first, and sat down there with her
+on his knee. She did not unloose her arms, she only bent her head
+close down to his so as to hide her face from him. He was just going
+to force her to let him look into it, when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>some one right in front of
+them called in a voice of astonishment: "Mildrid!"</p>
+
+<p>It was Inga, who had come up after the dog. Mildrid sprang to her
+feet, looked at her friend for an instant, then went up to her, put
+one arm round her neck, and laid her head on her shoulder. Inga put
+her arm round Mildrid's waist. "Who is he?" she whispered, and Mildrid
+felt her tremble, but said nothing. Inga knew who he was&mdash;knew him
+quite well&mdash;but could not believe her own eyes. Then Hans came slowly
+forward, "I thought you knew me," he said quietly; "I am Hans Haugen."
+When she heard his voice, Mildrid lifted her head. How good and true
+he looked as he stood there! He held out his hand; she went forward
+and took it, and looked at her friend with a flush of mingled shame
+and joy.</p>
+
+<p>Then Hans took his gun and said good-bye, whispering to Mildrid: "You
+may be sure I'll come soon again!"</p>
+
+<p>The girls walked with him as far as the s&oelig;ter, and watched him, as
+Mildrid had done <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>yesterday, striding away over the heather in the
+sunlight. They stood as long as they could see him; Mildrid, who was
+leaning on Inga, would not let her go; Inga felt that she did not want
+her to move or speak. From time to time one or the other whispered:
+"He's looking back!" When he was out of sight Mildrid turned round to
+Inga and said: "Don't ask me anything. I can't tell you about it!" She
+held her tight for a second, and then they walked towards the
+s&oelig;ter-house. Mildrid remembered now how she had left all her work
+undone. Inga helped her with it. They spoke very little, and only
+about the work. Just once Mildrid stopped, and whispered: "Isn't he
+handsome?"</p>
+
+<p>She set out some dinner, but could eat little herself, though she felt
+the need both of food and sleep. Inga left as soon as she could, for
+she saw that Mildrid would rather be alone. Then Mildrid lay down on
+her bed. She was lying, half asleep already, thinking over the events
+of the morning, and trying to remember <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>the nicest things that Hans
+had said, when it suddenly occurred to her to ask herself what she had
+answered. Then it flashed upon her that during their whole meeting she
+had not spoken, not said a single word!</p>
+
+<p>She sat up in bed and said to herself: "He could not have gone far
+till this must have struck him too&mdash;and what can he have thought? He
+must take me for a creature without a will, going about in a dream.
+How can he go on caring for me? Yesterday it was not till he had gone
+away from me that he found out he cared for me at all&mdash;what will he
+find out to-day?" she asked herself with a shiver of dread. She got
+up, went out, and sat down where she had sat so long yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>All her life Mildrid had been accustomed to take herself to account
+for her behaviour; circumstances had obliged her to walk carefully.
+Now, thinking over what had happened these last two days, it struck
+her forcibly that she had behaved without tact, without thought,
+almost without modesty. She had never read or heard <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>about anything
+happening like this; she looked at it from the peasant's point of
+view, and none take these matters more strictly than they. It is
+seemly to control one's feelings&mdash;it is honourable to be slow to show
+them. She, who had done this all her life, and consequently been
+respected by every one, had in one day given herself to a man she had
+never seen before! Why, he himself must be the first to despise her!
+It showed how bad things were, that she dared not tell what had
+happened, not even to Inga!</p>
+
+<p>With the first sound of the cow-bells in the distance came Beret, to
+find her sister sitting on the bench in front of the s&oelig;ter-house,
+looking half dead. Beret stood in front of her till she was forced to
+raise her head and look at her. Mildrid's eyes were red with crying,
+and her whole expression was one of suffering. But it changed to
+surprise when she saw Beret's face, which was scarlet with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Whatever is the matter with you?" she exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>"Nothing!" answered Beret, standing staring fixedly at Mildrid, who
+at last looked away, and got up to go and attend to the cows.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters did not meet again till supper, when they sat opposite to
+each other. Mildrid was not able to eat more then a few mouthfuls. She
+sat and looked absently at the others, oftenest at Beret, who ate on
+steadily, gulping down her food like a hungry dog.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you had nothing to eat to-day?" asked Mildrid.</p>
+
+<p>"No!" answered Beret, and ate on. Presently Mildrid spoke again: "Have
+you not been with the herds then?"</p>
+
+<p>"No!" answered her sister and both of the boys. Before them Mildrid
+would not ask more, and afterwards her own morbid reflections took
+possession of her again, and along with them the feeling that she was
+no fit person to be in charge of Beret. This was one more added to the
+reproaches she made to herself all that long summer evening and far
+into the night.</p>
+
+<p>There she sat, on the bench by the door, till <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>the blood-red clouds
+changed gradually to cold grey, no peace and no desire for sleep
+coming to her. The poor child had never before been in real distress.
+Oh, how she prayed! She stopped and she began again; she repeated
+prayers that she had learned, and she made up petitions of her own. At
+last, utterly exhausted, she went to bed.</p>
+
+<p>There she tried once more to collect her thoughts for a final struggle
+with the terrible question, Should she give him up or not? But she had
+no strength left; she could only say over and over again: "Help me, O
+God! help me!" She went on like this for a long time, sometimes saying
+it in to herself, sometimes out loud. All at once she got such a
+fright that she gave a loud scream. Beret was kneeling up in bed
+looking at her; her sparkling eyes, hot face, and short breathing
+showing a terrible state of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?" she whispered, almost threateningly. Mildrid, crushed by
+her self-torture, and worn <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>out in soul and body, could not answer;
+she began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Who is he?" repeated the other, closer to her face; "you needn't try
+to hide it any longer; I was watching you to-day the whole time!"</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid held up her arms as if to defend herself, but Beret beat them
+back, looked straight into her eyes, and again repeated, "Who is he, I
+say?"</p>
+
+<p>"Beret, Beret!" moaned Mildrid; "have I ever been anything but kind to
+you since you were a little child. Why are you so cruel to me now that
+I am in trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>Then Beret, moved by her tears, let go her arms; but her short hard
+breathing still betrayed her excitement. "Is it Hans Haugen?" she
+whispered.</p>
+
+<p>There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then Mildrid whispered
+back: "Yes"&mdash;and began to cry again.</p>
+
+<p>Beret drew down her arms once more; she wanted to see her face. "Why
+did you not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>tell me about it, Mildrid?" she asked, with the same
+fierce eagerness.</p>
+
+<p>"Beret, I didn't know it myself. I never saw him till yesterday. And
+as soon as I saw him I loved him, and let him see it, and that is what
+is making me so unhappy, so unhappy that I feel as if I must die of
+it!"</p>
+
+<p>"You never saw him before yesterday?" screamed Beret, so astonished
+that she could hardly believe it.</p>
+
+<p>"Never in my life!" replied Mildrid. "Isn't it shameful, Beret?"</p>
+
+<p>But Beret threw her arms round her sister's neck, and kissed her over
+and over again.</p>
+
+<p>"Dear, sweet Mildrid, I'm so glad!" she whispered, now radiant with
+joy. "I'm so glad, so glad!" and she kissed her once more. "And you'll
+see how I can keep a secret, Mildrid!" She hugged her to her breast,
+but sat up again, and said sorrowfully: "And you thought I couldn't do
+it; O Mildrid! not even when it was about you!"</p>
+
+<p>And now it was Beret's turn to cry. "Why <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>have you put me away? Why
+have you taken Inga instead of me? You've made me so dreadfully
+unhappy, Mildrid! O Mildrid, you don't know how I love you!" and she
+clung to her. Then Mildrid kissed her, and told her that she had done
+it without thinking what she was doing, but that now she would never
+again put her aside, and would tell her everything, because she was so
+good and true and faithful.</p>
+
+<p>The sisters lay for a little with their arms round each other; then
+Beret sat up again; she wanted to look into her sister's face in the
+light of the summer night, that was gradually taking a tinge of red
+from the coming dawn. Then she burst out with: "Mildrid, how handsome
+he is! How did he come? How did you see him first? What did he say? Do
+tell me about it!"</p>
+
+<p>And Mildrid now poured out to her sister all that a few hours ago it
+had seemed to her she could never tell to anybody. She was sometimes
+interrupted by Beret's throwing her arms round her and hugging her,
+but she went on again with all the more pleasure. It seemed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>her
+like a strange legend of the woods. They laughed and they cried. Sleep
+had gone from them both. The sun found them still entranced by this
+wonderful tale&mdash;Mildrid lying down or resting on one elbow and
+talking, Beret kneeling beside her, her mouth half open, her eyes
+sparkling, from time to time giving a little cry of delight.</p>
+
+<p>They got up together and did their work together, and when they had
+finished, and for the sake of appearances taken a little breakfast,
+they prepared for the meeting with Hans. He was sure to come soon!
+They dressed themselves out in their best, and went up to Mildrid's
+place on the hill. Beret showed where she had lain hidden yesterday.
+The dog had found her out, she said, and paid her several visits. The
+weather was fine to-day too, though there were some clouds in the sky.
+The girls found plenty to say to each other, till it was about the
+time when Hans might be expected. Beret ran once or twice up to the
+top of the hill, to see if he were in sight, but there was no sign of
+him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>Then they began to grow impatient, and at last Mildrid got so
+excited that Beret was frightened. She tried to soothe her by
+reminding her that Hans was not his own master; that he had left the
+German gentleman two whole days to fish and shoot alone, and prepare
+food for himself; and that he would hardly dare to leave him a third.
+And Mildrid acknowledged that this might be so.</p>
+
+<p>"What do you think father and mother will say to all this?" asked
+Beret, just to divert Mildrid's thoughts. She repented the moment the
+words were uttered. Mildrid turned pale and stared at Beret, who
+stared back at her. Beret wondered if her sister had never thought of
+this till now, and said so. Yes; she had thought of it, but as of
+something very far off. The fear of what Hans Haugen might think of
+her, the shame of her own weakness and stupidity, had so occupied her
+mind that they had left no room for anything else. But now things
+suddenly changed round, and she could think of nothing but her
+parents.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>Beret again tried to comfort her. Whenever father and mother saw
+Hans, they would feel that Mildrid was right&mdash;they would never make
+her unhappy who had given them their greatest happiness. Grandmother
+would help her. No one could say a word against Hans Haugen, and <i>he</i>
+would never give her up! Mildrid heard all this, but did not take it
+in, for she was thinking of something else, and to get time to think
+it out rightly, she asked Beret to go and prepare the dinner. And
+Beret walked slowly away, looking back several times.</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid wanted to be left alone a little to make up her mind whether
+she should go at once and tell her parents. It seemed a terrible
+matter to her in her excited, exhausted state. She felt now that it
+would be a sin if she saw Hans again without their knowledge. She had
+done very wrong in engaging herself to him without having their
+consent; but she had been in a manner surprised into that; it had come
+about almost without her will. Her duty now, though, was clearly to go
+and tell them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>She rose to her feet, with a new light in her eyes. She would do what
+was right. Before Hans stood there again, her parents should know all.
+"That's it!" she said, aloud, as if some one were there, and then
+hurried down to the s&oelig;ter to tell Beret. But Beret was nowhere to
+be seen. "Beret! Beret!" shouted Mildrid, but only the echoes gave
+answer. Excited Mildrid was already, but now she got frightened too.
+Beret's great eyes, as she asked: "What do you think father and mother
+will say to this?" seemed to grow ever greater and more threatening.
+Surely <i>she</i> could never have gone off to tell them? Yet it would be
+just like her hasty way to think she would settle the thing at once,
+and bring comfort to her sister. To be sure that was it! And if Beret
+reached home before her, father and mother would get a wrong idea of
+everything!</p>
+
+<p>Off Mildrid went, down the road that led to the valley. She walked
+unconsciously faster and faster, carried away by ever-increasing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>excitement; till her head began to turn and her breathing to get
+oppressed. She had to sit down for a rest. Sitting did not seem to
+help her, so she stretched herself out, resting her head on her arm,
+and lay there, feeling forsaken, helpless, almost betrayed&mdash;by
+affection it was true&mdash;but still betrayed.</p>
+
+<p>In a few moments she was asleep! For two days and nights she had
+hardly slept or eaten; and she had no idea of the effect this had had
+on her mind and body&mdash;the child who till now had eaten and slept so
+regularly and peacefully in her quiet home. How was it possible that
+she could understand anything at all of what had happened to her? All
+that she had been able to give to her affectionate but melancholy
+parents out of her heart's rich store of love, was a kind of watchful
+care; in her grandmother's brighter home longings for something more
+had often come over her, but there was nothing even there to satisfy
+them. So now when love's full spring burst upon her, she stood amidst
+its rain of blossoms frightened and ashamed.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p><p>Tormented by her innocent conscience, the poor tired child had run a
+race with herself till she fell&mdash;now she slept, caressed by the pure
+mountain breeze.</p>
+
+<p>Beret had not gone home, but away to fetch Hans Haugen. She had far to
+go, and most of the way was unknown to her. It went first by the edge
+of a wood, and then higher over bare flats, not quite safe from wild
+animals, which she knew had been seen there lately. But she went on,
+for Hans really must come. If he did not, she was sure things would go
+badly with Mildrid; she seemed so changed to-day.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of her anxiety about Mildrid, Beret's heart was light, and
+she stepped merrily on, her thoughts running all the time on this
+wonderful adventure. She could think of no one better or grander than
+Hans Haugen, and none but the very best was good enough for Mildrid.
+There was nothing whatever to be surprised at in Mildrid's giving
+herself up to him at once; just as little as in his at once falling in
+love <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>with her. If father and mother could not be brought to
+understand this, they must just be left to do as they chose, and the
+two must fight their own battle as her great-grandparents had done,
+and her grandparents too&mdash;and she began to sing the old Bridal March.
+Its joyful tones sounded far over the bare heights and seemed to die
+away among the clouds.</p>
+
+<p>When she got right on the top of the hill she was crossing, she stood
+and shouted "Hurrah!" From here she could see only the last strip of
+cultivated land on the farther side of their valley; and on this side
+the upper margin of the forest, above it stretches of heather, and
+where she stood, nothing but boulders and flat rocks. She flew from
+stone to stone in the light air. She knew that Hans's hut lay in the
+direction of the snow mountain whose top stood out above all the
+others, and presently she thought that she must be getting near it. To
+get a better look around she climbed up on to an enormous stone, and
+from the top of it she saw a mountain lake just below. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>Whether it was
+a rock or a hut she saw by the water's edge she could not be sure; one
+minute it looked like a hut, the next like a big stone. But she knew
+that his cabin lay by a mountain lake. Yes, that must be it, for there
+came a boat rowing round the point. Two men were in the boat&mdash;they
+must be Hans and the German officer. Down she jumped and off again.
+But what had looked so near was really far off, and she ran and ran,
+excited by the thought of meeting Hans Haugen.</p>
+
+<p>Hans sat quietly in his boat with the German, ignorant of all the
+disturbance he had caused. <i>He</i> had never known what it was to be
+frightened; nor had he ever till now known the feeling of being in
+love. As soon as he did feel it, it was intolerable to him until he
+had settled the matter. Now it was settled, and he was sitting there
+setting words to the Bridal March!</p>
+
+<p>He was not much of a poet, but he made out something about their ride
+to church, and the refrain of every verse told of their meeting in the
+wood. He whistled and fished and felt very <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>happy; and the German
+fished away quietly and left him in peace.</p>
+
+<p>A halloo sounded from the shore, and both he and the bearded German
+looked up and saw a girl waving. They exchanged a few words and rowed
+ashore. Hans jumped out and tied up the boat, and they lifted out the
+guns, coats, fish, and fishing tackle; the German went away towards
+the cabin, but Hans with his load came up to Beret, who was standing
+on a stone a little way off.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you?" he asked gently.</p>
+
+<p>"Beret, Mildrid's sister," she answered, blushing, and he blushed too.
+But the next moment he turned pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Is there anything the matter?"</p>
+
+<p>"No! just that you must come. She can't bear to be left alone just
+now."</p>
+
+<p>He stood a minute and looked at her, then turned and went towards the
+hut. The German was standing outside, hanging up his fishing tackle;
+Hans hung up his, and they spoke together, and then went in. Ever
+since Beret's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>halloo, two dogs, shut up in the cabin, had been
+barking with all their might. When the men opened the door they burst
+out, but were at once sternly called back. It was some time before
+Hans came out again. He had changed his clothes, and had his gun and
+dog with him. The German gentleman came to the door, and they shook
+hands as if saying good-bye for a considerable time. Hans came up
+quickly to Beret.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you walk fast?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I can."</p>
+
+<p>And off they went, she running, the dog far ahead.</p>
+
+<p>Beret's message had entirely changed the current of Hans's thoughts.
+It had never occurred to him before that Mildrid might not have the
+same happy, sure feeling about their engagement that he had. But now
+he saw how natural it was that she should be uneasy about her parents;
+and how natural, too, that she should feel alarmed by the hurried rush
+in which everything had come about. He understood it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>so well now that
+he was perfectly astonished at himself for not having thought of it
+before&mdash;and on he strode.</p>
+
+<p>Even on him the suddenness of the meeting with Mildrid, and the
+violence of their feelings, had at first made a strange impression;
+what must she, a child, knowing nothing but the quiet reserve of her
+parents' house, have felt, thus launched suddenly on the stormy sea of
+passion!&mdash;and on he strode.</p>
+
+<p>While he was marching along, lost in these reflections, Beret was
+trotting at his side, always, when she could, with her face turned
+towards his. Now and then he had caught a glimpse of her big eyes and
+flaming cheeks; but his thoughts were like a veil over his sight; he
+saw her indistinctly, and then suddenly not at all. He turned round;
+she was a good way behind, toiling after him as hard as she could. She
+had been too proud to say that she could not keep up with him any
+longer. He stood and waited till she made up to him, breathless, with
+tears in her eyes. "Ah! I'm walking too fast," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>and he held out his
+hand. She was panting so that she could not answer. "Let us sit down a
+little," he said, drawing her to him; "come!" and he made her sit
+close to him. If possible she got redder than before, and did not look
+at him; and she drew breath so painfully that it seemed as if she were
+almost choking. "I'm so thirsty!" was the first thing she managed to
+say. They rose and he looked round, but there was no stream near. "We
+must wait till we get a little farther on," he said; "and anyhow it
+wouldn't be good for you to drink just now."</p>
+
+<p>So they sat down again, she on a stone in front of him.</p>
+
+<p>"I ran the whole way," she said, as if to excuse herself&mdash;and
+presently added, "and I have had no dinner," and after another
+pause&mdash;"and I didn't sleep last night."</p>
+
+<p>Instead of expressing any sympathy with her, he asked sharply: "Then I
+suppose Mildrid did not sleep last night either? And she has not
+eaten, I saw that myself, not for"&mdash;he thought a little&mdash;"not for ever
+so long."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>He rose. "Can you go on now?"</p>
+
+<p>"I think so."</p>
+
+<p>He took her hand, and they set off again at a tremendous pace. Soon he
+saw that she could not keep it up, so he took off his coat, gave it to
+her to hold, and lifted her up and carried her. She did not want him
+to do it, but he just went easily off with her, and Beret held on by
+his neckerchief, for she dared not touch him. Soon she said that she
+had got her breath and could run quite well again, so he put her down,
+took his coat and hung it over his gun&mdash;and off they went! When they
+came to a stream they stopped and rested a little before she took a
+drink. As she got up he gave her a friendly smile, and said: "You're a
+good little one."</p>
+
+<p>Evening was coming on when they reached the s&oelig;ter. They looked in
+vain for Mildrid, both there and at her place on the hillside. Their
+calls died away in the distance, and when Hans noticed the dog
+standing snuffing at something they felt quite alarmed. They ran to
+look&mdash;it was her little shawl. At once Hans set the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>dog to seek the
+owner of the shawl. He sprang off, and they after him, across the hill
+and down on the other side, towards Tingvold. Could she have gone
+home? Beret told of her own thoughtless question and its consequences,
+and Hans said he saw it all. Beret began to cry.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we go after her or not?" said Hans.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes!" urged Beret, half distracted. But first they would have to
+go to the next s&oelig;ter, and ask their neighbours to send some one to
+attend to the cows for them. While they were still talking about this,
+and at the same time following the dog, they saw him stop and look
+back, wagging his tail. They ran to him, and there lay Mildrid!</p>
+
+<p>She was lying with her head on her arm, her face half buried in the
+heather. They stepped up gently; the dog licked her hands and cheek,
+and she stretched herself and changed her position, but slept on. "Let
+her sleep!" whispered Hans; "and you go and put in the cows. I hear
+the bells." As Beret was running off he went after her. "Bring some
+food with you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>when you come back," he whispered. Then he sat down a
+little way from Mildrid, made the dog lie down beside him, and sat and
+held him to keep him from barking.</p>
+
+<p>It was a cloudy evening. The near heights and the mountain-tops were
+grey; it was very quiet; there was not even a bird to be seen. He sat
+or lay, with his hand on the dog. He had soon settled what to arrange
+with Mildrid when she awoke. There was no cloud in their future; he
+lay quietly looking up into the sky. He knew that their meeting was a
+miracle. God Himself had told him that they were to go through life
+together.</p>
+
+<p>He fell to working away at the Bridal March again, and the words that
+came to him now expressed the quiet happiness of the hour.</p>
+
+<p>It was about eight o'clock when Beret came back, bringing food with
+her. Mildrid was still sleeping. Beret set down what she was carrying,
+looked at them both for a minute, and then went and sat down a little
+way from them. Nearly an hour passed, Beret getting up from <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>time to
+time to keep herself from falling asleep. Soon after nine Mildrid
+awoke. She turned several times, at last opened her eyes, saw where
+she was lying, sat up, and noticed the others. She was still
+bewildered with sleep, so that she did not take in rightly where she
+was or what she saw, till Hans rose and came smiling towards her. Then
+she held out her hands to him.</p>
+
+<p>He sat down beside her:</p>
+
+<p>"You've had a sleep now, Mildrid?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I've slept now."</p>
+
+<p>"And you're hungry?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I'm hungry&mdash;&mdash;" and Beret came forward with the food. She looked
+at it and then at them. "Have I slept long?" she asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's almost nine o'clock; look at the sun!"</p>
+
+<p>Not till now did she begin to remember everything.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you sat here long?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not very long&mdash;but you must eat!" She began to do so. "You were
+on your way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>down to the valley?" asked Hans gently, with his head
+nearer hers. She blushed and whispered, "Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"To-morrow, when you've really had a good sleep and rest, we'll go
+down together."</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes looked into his, first in surprise, then as if she were
+thanking him, but she said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>After this she seemed to revive; she asked Beret where <i>she</i> had been,
+and Beret told that she had gone to fetch Hans, and he told all the
+rest. Mildrid ate and listened, and yielded gradually once again to
+the old fascination. She laughed when Hans told her how the dog had
+found her, and had licked her face without wakening her. He was at
+this moment greedily watching every bite she took, and she began to
+share with him.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she had finished, they went slowly towards the s&oelig;ter&mdash;and
+Beret was soon in bed. The two sat on the bench outside the door.
+Small rain was beginning to fall, but the broad eaves kept them from
+feeling it. The mist closed round the s&oelig;ter, and shut them in in
+a sort of magic circle. It was neither day nor night, but dark rather
+than light. Each softly spoken word brought more confidence into their
+talk. Now for the first time they were really speaking to each other.
+He asked her so humbly to forgive him for not having remembered that
+she must feel differently from him, and that she had parents who must
+be consulted. She confessed her fear, and then she told him that he
+was the first real, strong, self-reliant man she had ever known, and
+that this, and other things she had heard about him, had&mdash;she would
+not go on.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>
+<p>But in their trembling happiness everything spoke, to the slightest
+breath they drew. That wonderful intercourse began of soul with soul,
+which in most cases precedes and prepares for the first embrace, but
+with these two came after it. The first timid questions came through
+the darkness, the first timid answers found their way back. The words
+fell softly, like spirit sounds on the night air. At last Mildrid took
+courage <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>to ask hesitatingly if her behaviour had not sometimes struck
+him as very strange. He assured her that he had never thought it so,
+never once. Had he not noticed that she had not said one word all the
+time they were together yesterday? No, he had not noticed that. Had he
+not wondered at her going off down to her parents? No, he had thought
+it only right of her. Had he not thought (for a long time she would
+not say this, but at last the words came, in a whisper, with her face
+turned away), had he not thought that she had let things go too
+quickly? No, he had only thought how beautifully everything had
+happened. But what had he thought of the way she had cried at their
+first meeting? Well, at the time it had puzzled him, but now he
+understood it, quite well&mdash;and he was glad she was like that.</p>
+
+<p>All these answers made her so happy that she felt she wanted to be
+alone. And as if he had guessed this, he got up quietly and said that
+now she must go to bed. She rose. He nodded and went off slowly
+towards the shed where he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>was to sleep; she hurried in, undressed,
+and when she had got into bed she folded her hands and thanked God.
+Oh, how she thanked Him! Thanked Him for Hans's love, and patience,
+and kindness&mdash;she had not words enough! Thanked Him for all, all,
+everything&mdash;even for the suffering of the last two days&mdash;for had it
+not made the joy all the greater? Thanked Him for their having been
+alone up there at this time, and prayed Him to be with her to-morrow
+when she went down to her parents, then turned her thoughts again to
+Hans, and gave thanks for him once more, oh, how gratefully!</p>
+
+<p>When she came out of the s&oelig;ter-house in the morning, Beret was
+still sleeping. Hans was standing in the yard. He had been punishing
+the dog for rousing a ptarmigan, and it was now lying fawning on him.
+When he saw Mildrid he let the dog out of disgrace; it jumped up on
+him and her, barked and caressed them, and was like a living
+expression of their own bright morning happiness. Hans helped Mildrid
+and the boys with the morning work. By the time <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>they had done it all
+and were ready to sit down to breakfast, Beret was up and ready too.
+Every time Hans looked at her she turned red, and when Mildrid after
+breakfast stood playing with his watch chain while she spoke to him,
+Beret hurried out, and was hardly to be found when it was time for the
+two to go.</p>
+
+<p>"Mildrid," said Hans, coming close to her and walking slowly, when
+they had got on a little way, "I have been thinking about something
+that I didn't say to you yesterday." His voice sounded so serious that
+she looked up into his face. He went on slowly, without looking at
+her; "I want to ask you if&mdash;God granting that we get each other&mdash;if
+you will go home with me after the wedding and live at Haugen."</p>
+
+<p>She turned red, and presently answered evasively:</p>
+
+<p>"What will father and mother say to that?"</p>
+
+<p>He walked on without answering for a minute, and then said:</p>
+
+<p>"I did not think that mattered so much, if we two were agreed about
+it."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p><p>This was the first time he had said a thing that hurt her. She made
+no reply. He seemed to be waiting for one, and when none came, added
+gently:</p>
+
+<p>"I wanted us two to be alone together, to get accustomed to each
+other."</p>
+
+<p>Now she began to understand him better, but she could not answer. He
+walked on as before, not looking at her, and now quite silent. She
+felt uneasy, stole a glance at him, and saw that he had turned quite
+pale.</p>
+
+<p>"Hans!" she cried, and stood still without being conscious of doing
+it. Hans stopped too, looked quickly at her, and then down at his gun,
+which he was resting on the ground and turning in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Can you not go with me to my home?" His voice was very low, but all
+at once he looked her straight in the face.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I can!" she answered quickly. Her eyes looked calmly into his,
+but a faint blush came over her cheeks. He changed his gun into his
+left hand, and held out the right to her.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p><p>"Thank you!" he whispered, holding hers in a firm clasp; Then they
+went on.</p>
+
+<p>She was brooding over one thought all the time, and at last could not
+keep it in: "You don't know my father and mother."</p>
+
+<p>He went on a little before he answered: "No, but when you come and
+live at Haugen, I'll have time then to get to know them."</p>
+
+<p>"They are so good!" added Mildrid.</p>
+
+<p>"So I have heard from every one." He said this decidedly, but coldly.</p>
+
+<p>Before she had time to think or say anything more, he began to tell
+about <i>his</i> home, his brothers and sisters, and their industry,
+affectionateness, and cheerfulness; about the poverty they had raised
+themselves from; about the tourists who came and all the work they
+gave; about the house, and especially about the new one he would now
+build for her and himself. She was to be the mistress of the whole
+place&mdash;but they would help her in everything; they would all try to
+make her life happy, he not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>least. As he talked they walked on
+faster; he spoke warmly, came closer to her, and at last they walked
+hand in hand.</p>
+
+<p>It could not be denied that his love for his home and his family made
+a strong impression on her, and there was a great attraction in the
+newness of it all; but behind this feeling lay one of wrong-doing
+towards her parents, her dear, kind parents. So she began again:
+"Hans! mother is getting old now, and father is older; they have had a
+great deal of trouble&mdash;they need help; they've worked so hard,
+and&mdash;" she either would not or could not say more.</p>
+
+<p>He walked slower and looked at her, smiling. "Mildrid, you mean that
+they have settled to give you the farm?"</p>
+
+<p>She blushed, but did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, then&mdash;we'll let that alone till the time comes. When they want
+us to take their places, it's for them to ask us to do it." He said
+this very gently and tenderly, but she felt what it meant. Thoughtful
+of others, as she always <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>was, and accustomed to consider their
+feelings before her own, she yielded in this too. But very soon they
+came to where they could see Tingvold in the valley below them. She
+looked down at it, and then at him, as if it could speak for itself.</p>
+
+<p>The big sunny fields on the hill slope, with the wood encircling and
+sheltering them, the house and farm buildings a little in the shadow,
+but big and fine&mdash;it all looked so beautiful. The valley, with its
+rushing, winding river, stretched away down beyond, with farm after
+farm in the bottom and on its slopes on both sides&mdash;but none, not
+one to equal Tingvold&mdash;none so fertile or so pleasant to the eye, none
+so snugly sheltered, and yet commanding the whole valley. When she saw
+that Hans was struck by the sight, she reddened with joy.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," he said, in answer to her unspoken question&mdash;"yes, it is true;
+Tingvold is a fine place; it would be hard to find its equal."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled and bent down to her. "But I care more for you, Mildrid,
+than for Tingvold; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>and perhaps&mdash;you care more for me than for
+Tingvold?"</p>
+
+<p>When he took it this way she could say no more. He looked so happy
+too; he sat down, and she beside him.</p>
+
+<p>"Now I'm going to sing something for you," he whispered.</p>
+
+<p>She felt glad. "I've never heard you sing," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"No, I know you have not; and though people talk about my singing, you
+must not think it's anything very great. There's only this about it,
+that it comes upon me sometimes, and then I <i>must</i> sing."</p>
+
+<p>He sat thinking for a good while, and then he sang her the song that
+he had made for their own wedding to the tune of her race's Bridal
+March. Quite softly he sang it, but with such exultation as she had
+never heard in any voice before. She looked down on her home, the
+house she was to drive away from on that day; followed the road with
+her eyes down to the bridge across the river, and along on the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>other
+side right up to the church, which lay on a height, among birch-trees,
+with a group of houses near it. It was not a very clear day, but the
+subdued light over the landscape was in sympathy with the subdued
+picture in her mind. How many hundred times had she not driven that
+road in fancy, only she never knew with whom! The words and the tune
+entranced her; the peculiar warm, soft voice seemed to touch the very
+depths of her being; her eyes were full, but she was not crying; nor
+was she laughing. She was sitting with her hand on his, now looking at
+him, now over the valley, when she saw smoke beginning to rise from
+the chimney of her home; the fire was being lit for making the dinner.
+This was an omen; she turned to Hans and pointed. He had finished his
+song now, and they sat still and looked.</p>
+
+<p>Very soon they were on their way down through the birch wood, and Hans
+was having trouble with the dog, to make him keep quiet. Mildrid's
+heart began to throb. Hans arranged with her that he would stay
+behind, but near <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>the house; it was better that she should go in first
+alone. He carried her over one or two marshy places, and he felt that
+her hands were cold. "Don't think of what you're to say," he
+whispered; "just wait and see how things come." She gave no sound in
+answer, nor did she look at him.</p>
+
+<p>They came out of the wood&mdash;the last part had been big dark fir-trees,
+among which they had walked slowly, he quietly telling her about her
+great-grandfather's wooing of his father's sister, Aslaug; an old,
+strange story, which she only half heard, but which all the same
+helped her&mdash;came out of the wood into the open fields and meadows; and
+he became quiet too. Now she turned to him, and her look expressed
+such a great dread of what was before her that it made him feel
+wretched. He found no words of encouragement; the matter concerned him
+too nearly. They walked on a little farther, side by side, some bushes
+between them and the house concealing them from its inhabitants. When
+they got so near that he thought she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>must now go on alone, he
+whistled softly to the dog, and she took this as the sign that they
+must part. She stopped and looked utterly unhappy and forlorn; he
+whispered to her: "I'll be praying for you here, Mildrid&mdash;and I'll
+come when you need me." She gave him a kind of distracted look of
+thanks; she was really unable either to think or to see clearly. Then
+she walked on.</p>
+
+<p>As soon as she came out from the bushes she saw right into the big
+room of the main building&mdash;right through it&mdash;for it had windows at
+both ends, one looking up towards the wood and one down the valley.
+Hans had seated himself behind the nearest bush, with the dog at his
+side, and he too could see everything in the room; at this moment
+there was no one in it. Mildrid looked back once when she came to the
+barn, and he nodded to her. Then she went round the end of the barn,
+into the yard.</p>
+
+<p>Everything stood in its old, accustomed order, and it was very quiet.
+Some hens were walking on the barn-steps. The wooden framework <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>for
+the stacks had been brought out and set up against the storehouse wall
+since she was there last; that was the only change she saw. She turned
+to the right to go first into grandmother's house, her fear tempting
+her to take this little respite before meeting her parents; when, just
+between the two houses, at the wood-block, she came on her father,
+fitting a handle to an axe. He was in his knitted jersey with the
+braces over it, bareheaded, his thin long hair blowing in the breeze
+that was beginning to come up from the valley. He looked well, and
+almost cheerful at his work, and she took courage at the sight. He did
+not notice her, she had come so quietly and cautiously over the
+flagstones.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning!" she said in a low voice.</p>
+
+<p>He looked at her in surprise for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Is that you, Mildrid? Is there anything the matter?" he added
+hastily, examining her face.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she said, and blushed a little. But he kept his eyes on hers,
+and she did not dare to look up.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p><p>Then he put down the axe, saying:</p>
+
+<p>"Let us go in to mother!"</p>
+
+<p>On the way he asked one or two questions about things up at the
+s&oelig;ter, and got satisfactory answers.</p>
+
+<p>"Now Hans sees us going in," thought Mildrid, as they passed a gap
+between the barn and some of the smaller outhouses.</p>
+
+<p>When they got into the living-room, her father went to the door
+leading into the kitchen, opened it, and called:</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, mother! Mildrid has come down."</p>
+
+<p>"Why, Mildrid, has anything gone wrong?" was answered from the
+kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"No," replied Mildrid from behind her father, and then coming to the
+door herself, she went into the kitchen and stood beside her mother,
+who was sitting by the hearth paring potatoes and putting them in the
+pot.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother now looked as inquiringly at her as her father had done,
+with the same effect. Then Randi set away the potato dish, went to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>the outer door and spoke to some one there, came back again, took off
+her kitchen apron and washed her hands, and they went together into
+the room.</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid knew her parents, and knew that these preparations meant that
+they expected something unusual. She had had little courage before,
+but now it grew less. Her father took his raised seat close to the
+farthest away window, the one that looked down the valley. Her mother
+sat on the same bench, but nearer the kitchen. Mildrid seated herself
+on the opposite one, in front of the table. Hans could see her there;
+and he could see her father, right in the face, but her mother he
+could hardly see.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother asked, as her father had done before, about things at the
+s&oelig;ter; got the same information and a little more; for she asked
+more particularly. It was evident that both sides were making this
+subject last as long as possible, but it was soon exhausted. In the
+pause that came, both parents looked at Mildrid. She avoided the look,
+and asked what news <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>there was of the neighbours. This subject was
+also drawn out as long as possible, but it came to an end too. The
+same silence, the same expectant eyes turned on the daughter. There
+was nothing left for her to ask about, and she began to rub her hand
+back and forwards on the bench.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you been in at grandmother's?" asked her mother, who was
+beginning to get frightened.</p>
+
+<p>No, she had not been there. This meant then that their daughter had
+something particular to say to <i>them</i>, and it could not with any
+seemliness be put off longer.</p>
+
+<p>"There is something that I must tell you," she got out at last, with
+changing colour and downcast eyes.</p>
+
+<p>Her father and mother exchanged troubled looks. Mildrid raised her
+head and looked at them with great imploring eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it, my child?" asked her mother anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>"I am betrothed," said Mildrid; hung her head again, and burst into
+tears.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p><p>No more stunning blow could have fallen on the quiet circle. The
+parents sat looking at each other, pale and silent. The steady, gentle
+Mildrid, for whose careful ways and whose obedience they had so often
+thanked God, had, without asking their advice, without their
+knowledge, taken life's most important step, a step that was also
+decisive for <i>their</i> past and future. Mildrid felt each thought along
+with them, and fear stopped her crying.</p>
+
+<p>Her father asked gently and slowly: "To whom, my child?"</p>
+
+<p>After a silence came the whispered answer: "To Hans Haugen."</p>
+
+<p>No name or event connected with Haugen had been mentioned in that room
+for more than twenty years. In her parents' opinion nothing but evil
+had come to Tingvold from there. Mildrid again knew their thoughts:
+she sat motionless, awaiting her sentence.</p>
+
+<p>Her father spoke again mildly and slowly: "We don't know the man,
+neither I nor your mother&mdash;and we didn't know that you knew him."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"And I didn't know him either," said Mildrid.</p>
+
+<p>The astonished parents looked at each other. "How did it happen then?"
+It was her mother who asked this.</p>
+
+<p>"That is what I don't know myself," said Mildrid.</p>
+
+<p>"But, my child, surely you're mistress of your own actions?"</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"We thought," added her father gently, "that we could be quite sure of
+<i>you</i>."</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid did not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"But how did it happen?" repeated her mother more impatiently; "you
+must know that!"</p>
+
+<p>"No, I don't know it&mdash;I only know that I could not help it&mdash;no, I
+couldn't!" She was sitting holding on to the bench with both hands.</p>
+
+<p>"God forgive and help you! Whatever came over you?"</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid gave no answer.</p>
+
+<p>Her father calmed their rising excitement by saying in a gentle,
+friendly voice: "Why did you not speak to one of us, my child?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>And her mother controlled herself, and said quietly: "You know how
+much we think of our children, we who have lived such a lonely life;
+and&mdash;yes, we may say it, especially of you, Mildrid; for you have been
+so much to us."</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid felt as if she did not know where she was.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we did not think you would desert us like this."</p>
+
+<p>It was her father who spoke last. Though the words came gently, they
+did not hurt the less.</p>
+
+<p>"I will not desert you!" she stammered.</p>
+
+<p>"You must not say that," he answered, more gravely than before, "for
+you have done it already."</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid felt that this was true, and at the same time that it was not
+true, but she could not put her feeling into words.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother went on: "Of what good has it all been, the love that we
+have shown our children, and the fear of God that we have taught them?
+In the first temptation&mdash;" for her daughter's sake she could say no
+more.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p><p>But Mildrid could bear it no longer. She threw her arms over the
+table, laid her head on them, her face towards her father, and sobbed.</p>
+
+<p>Neither father nor mother was capable of adding by another reproachful
+word to the remorse she seemed to feel. So there was silence.</p>
+
+<p>It might have lasted long&mdash;but Hans Haugen saw from where he sat that
+she was in need of help. His hunter's eye had caught every look, seen
+the movement of their lips, seen her silent struggle; now he saw her
+throw herself on the table, and he jumped up, and soon his light foot
+was heard in the passage. He knocked; they all looked up, but no one
+said, "Come in!" Mildrid half rose, blushing through her tears; the
+door opened, and Hans with his gun and dog stood there, pale but quite
+composed. He turned and shut the door, while the dog, wagging its
+tail, went up to Mildrid. Hans had been too preoccupied to notice that
+it had followed him in.</p>
+
+<p>"Good morning!" said he. Mildrid fell back on her seat, drew a long
+breath, and looked <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>at him with relief in her eyes; her fear, her bad
+conscience&mdash;all gone! <i>She was right, yes; she was right</i>&mdash;let come
+now whatever it pleased God to send!</p>
+
+<p>No one had answered Hans's greeting, nor had he been asked to come
+forward.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Hans Haugen," he said quietly; lowered his gun and stood holding
+it. After the parents had exchanged looks once or twice, he went on,
+but with a struggle: "I came down with Mildrid, for if she has done
+wrong, it was my fault."</p>
+
+<p>Something had to be said. The mother looked at the father, and at last
+he said that all this had happened without their knowing anything of
+it, and that Mildrid could give them no explanation of how it had come
+about. Hans answered that neither could he. "I am not a boy," he said,
+"for I am twenty-eight; but yet it came this way, that I, who never
+cared for any one before, could think of nothing else in the world
+from the time I saw her. If she had said No&mdash;well, I can't tell&mdash;but I
+shouldn't have been good for much after that."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>The quiet, straightforward way he said this made a good impression.
+Mildrid trembled; for she felt that this gave things a different look.
+Hans had his cap on, for in their district it was not the custom for a
+passer-by to take off his hat when he came in; but now he took it off
+unconsciously, hung it on the barrel of his gun, and crossed his hands
+over it. There was something about his whole appearance and behaviour
+that claimed consideration.</p>
+
+<p>"Mildrid is so young," said her mother; "none of us had thought of
+anything like this beginning with her already."</p>
+
+<p>"That is true enough, but to make up I am so much older," he answered;
+"and the housekeeping at home, in my house, is no great affair; it
+will not task her too hard&mdash;and I have plenty of help."</p>
+
+<p>The parents looked at each other, at Mildrid, at him. "Do you mean her
+to go home with you?" the father asked incredulously, almost
+ironically.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," said Hans; "it is not the farm that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>I am coming after." He
+reddened, and so did Mildrid.</p>
+
+<p>If the farm had sunk into the ground the parents could not have been
+more astonished than they were at hearing it thus despised, and
+Mildrid's silence showed that she agreed with Hans. There was
+something in this resolution of the young people, unintentional on
+their part, that, as it were, took away from the parents the right of
+decision; they felt themselves humbled.</p>
+
+<p>"And it was you who said that you would not forsake us," said her
+mother in quiet reproach, that went to Mildrid's heart. But Hans came
+to her assistance:</p>
+
+<p>"Every child that marries has to leave its parents."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled, and added in a friendly way: "But it's not a long journey
+to Haugen from here&mdash;just a little over four miles."</p>
+
+<p>Words are idle things at a time like this; thoughts take their own way
+in spite of them. The parents felt themselves deserted, almost
+deceived by the young ones. They knew that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>there was no fault to be
+found with the way of living at Haugen; the tourists had given the
+place a good name; from time to time it had been noticed in the
+newspapers; but Haugen was Haugen, and that their dearest child should
+wish to carry their race back to Haugen was more than they could bear!
+In such circumstances most people would likely have been angry, but
+what these two desired was to get quietly away from what pained them.
+They exchanged a look of understanding, and the father said mildly:</p>
+
+<p>"This is too much for us all at once; we can't well give our answer
+yet."</p>
+
+<p>"No," continued the mother; "we were not expecting such great
+news&mdash;nor to get it like this."</p>
+
+<p>Hans stood quiet for a minute before he said:</p>
+
+<p>"It is true enough that Mildrid should first have asked her parents'
+leave. But remember that neither of us knew what was happening till it
+was too late. For that is really the truth. Then we could do no more
+than come at once, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>both of us, and that we have done. You must not be
+too hard on us."</p>
+
+<p>This left really nothing more to be said about their behaviour, and
+Hans's quiet manner made his words sound all the more trustworthy.
+Altogether Endrid felt that he was not holding his own against him,
+and the little confidence he had in himself made him the more desirous
+to get away.</p>
+
+<p>"We do not know you," he said, and looked at his wife. "We must be
+allowed to think it over."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, that will certainly be best," went on Randi; "we ought to know
+something about the man we are to give our child to."</p>
+
+<p>Mildrid felt the offence there was in these words, but looked
+imploringly at Hans.</p>
+
+<p>"That is true," answered Hans, beginning to turn his gun under the one
+hand; "although I don't believe there are many men in the district
+much better known than I am. But perhaps some one has spoken ill of
+me?" He looked up to them.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>Mildrid sat there feeling ashamed on her parents' account, and they
+themselves felt that they had perhaps awakened a false suspicion, and
+this they had no desire to do. So both said at once:</p>
+
+<p>"No, we have heard nothing bad of you."</p>
+
+<p>And the mother hastened to add that it was really the case that they
+hardly knew anything about him, for they had so seldom asked about the
+Haugen people. She meant no harm at all by saying this, and not till
+the words had passed her lips, did she notice that she had expressed
+herself unfortunately, and she could see that both her husband and
+Mildrid felt the same. It was a little time before the answer came:</p>
+
+<p>"If the family of Tingvold have never asked after the Haugen people,
+the fault is not ours; we have been poor people till these last
+years."</p>
+
+<p>In these few words lay a reproach that was felt by all three to be
+deserved, and that thoroughly. But never till now had it occurred to
+either husband or wife that they had been in this case neglecting a
+duty; never till now had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>they reflected that their poor relations at
+Haugen should not have been made to suffer for misfortunes of which
+they had been in no way the cause. They stole an awkward glance at
+each other, and sat still, feeling real shame. Hans had spoken
+quietly, though Randi's words must have been very irritating to him.
+This made both the old people feel that he was a fine fellow, and that
+they had two wrongs to make good again. Thus it came about that Endrid
+said:</p>
+
+<p>"Let us take time and think things over; can't you stay here and have
+dinner with us? Then we can talk a little."</p>
+
+<p>And Randi added: "Come away here and sit down."</p>
+
+<p>Both of them rose.</p>
+
+<p>Hans set away the gun with his cap on it, and went forward to the
+bench on which Mildrid was sitting, whereupon she at once got up, she
+did not know why. Her mother said she had things to see to in the
+kitchen, and went out. Her father was preparing to go too; but Mildrid
+did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>not wish to be alone with Hans as long as her parents withheld
+their consent, so she went towards the other door, and they presently
+saw her crossing the yard to her grandmother's house. As Endrid could
+not leave Hans alone, he turned and sat down again.</p>
+
+<p>The two men talked together about indifferent matters&mdash;first it was
+about the hunting, about the Haugen brothers' arrangements in the
+little summer huts they had high up on the mountains, about the
+profits they made by this sort of thing, &amp;c. &amp;c. From this they came
+to Haugen itself, and the tourists, and the farm management; and from
+all he heard Endrid got the impression of there being prosperity there
+now, and plenty of life. Randi came backwards and forwards, making
+preparations for the dinner, and often listened to what was being
+said; and it was easy to see that the two old people, at first so shy
+of Hans, became by degrees a little surer of him; for the questions
+began to be more personal.</p>
+
+<p>They did not fail to observe his good manners <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>at the dinner-table. He
+sat with his back to the wall, opposite Mildrid and her mother; the
+father sat at the end of the table on his high seat. The farm people
+had dined earlier, in the kitchen, where indeed all in the house
+generally took their meals together. They were making the difference
+to-day because they were unwilling that Hans should be seen. Mildrid
+felt at table that her mother looked at her whenever Hans smiled. He
+had one of those serious faces that grow very pleasant when they
+smile. One or two such things Mildrid added together in her mind, and
+brought them to the sum she wanted to arrive at. Only she did not feel
+herself so sure, but that the strain in the room was too great for
+her, and she was glad enough to escape from it by going after dinner
+again to her grandmother's.</p>
+
+<p>The men took a walk about the farm, but they neither went where the
+people were working, nor where grandmother could see them. Afterwards
+they came and sat in the room again, and now mother had finished her
+work and could sit with them. By degrees the conversation <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>naturally
+became more confidential, and in course of time (but this was not till
+towards evening) Randi ventured to ask Hans how it had all come about
+between him and Mildrid; Mildrid herself had been able to give no
+account of it. Possibly it was principally out of feminine curiosity
+that the mother asked, but the question was a very welcome one to
+Hans.</p>
+
+<p>He described everything minutely, and with such evident happiness,
+that the old people were almost at once carried away by his story. And
+when he came to yesterday&mdash;to the forced march Beret had made in
+search of him because Mildrid was plunged in anguish of mind on her
+parents' account&mdash;and then came to Mildrid herself, and told of her
+ever-increasing remorse because her parents knew nothing; told of her
+flight down to them, and how, worn-out in soul and body, she had had
+to sit down and rest and had fallen asleep, alone and unhappy&mdash;then
+the old people felt that they recognised their child again. And the
+mother especially began to feel that she had perhaps been too hard
+with her.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>While the young man was telling about Mildrid, he was telling too,
+without being aware of it, about himself; for his love to Mildrid
+showed clearly in every word, and made her parents glad. He felt this
+himself at last, and was glad too&mdash;and the old couple, unaccustomed to
+such quiet self-reliance and strength, felt real happiness. This went
+on increasing, till the mother at last, without thinking, said
+smilingly:</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose you've arranged everything right up to the wedding, you
+two&mdash;before asking either of us?"</p>
+
+<p>The father laughed too, and Hans answered, just as it occurred to him
+at the moment, by softly singing a single line of the Wedding March,</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><span class="i2">"Play away! speed us on! we're in haste, I and you!"</span></div>
+
+<p>and laughed; but was modest enough at once to turn to something else.
+He happened accidentally to look at Randi, and saw that she was quite
+pale. He felt in an instant that he had made a mistake in recalling
+that tune to her. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>Endrid looked apprehensively at his wife, whose
+emotion grew till it became so strong that she could not stay in the
+room; she got up and went out.</p>
+
+<p>"I know I have done something wrong," said Hans anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Endrid made no reply. Hans, feeling very unhappy, got up to go after
+Randi and excuse himself, but sat down again, declaring that he had
+meant no harm at all.</p>
+
+<p>"No, you could hardly be expected to understand rightly about that,"
+said Endrid.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't <i>you</i> go after her and put it right again!"</p>
+
+<p>He had already such confidence in this man that he dared ask him
+anything.</p>
+
+<p>But Endrid said: "No; rather leave her alone just now; I know her."</p>
+
+<p>Hans, who a few minutes before had felt himself at the very goal of
+his desires, now felt himself cast into the depths of despair, and
+would not be cheered up, though Endrid strove patiently to do it. The
+dog helped by coming <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>forward to them; for Endrid went on asking
+questions about him, and afterwards told with real pleasure about a
+dog he himself had had, and had taken much interest in, as is
+generally the way with people leading a lonely life.</p>
+
+<p>Randi had gone out and sat down on the doorstep. The thought of her
+daughter's marriage and the sound of the Bridal March together had
+stirred up old memories too painfully. <i>She</i> had not, like her
+daughter, given herself willingly to a man she loved! The shame of her
+wedding-day had been deserved; and that shame, and the trouble, and
+the loss of their children&mdash;all the suffering and struggle of years
+came over her again.</p>
+
+<p>And so all her Bible-reading and all her praying had been of no avail!
+She sat there in the most violent agitation! Her grief that she could
+thus be overcome caused her in despair to begin the bitterest
+self-accusation. Again she felt the scorn of the crowd at her foolish
+bridal procession; again she loathed herself for her own
+weakness&mdash;that she could not stop her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>crying then, nor her thinking
+of it now&mdash;that with her want of self-control she had cast undeserved
+suspicion on her parents, destroyed her own health and through this
+caused the death of the children she bore, and lastly that with all
+this she had embittered the life of a loving husband, and feigned a
+piety that was not real, as her present behaviour clearly showed!</p>
+
+<p>How dreadful that she still felt it in this way&mdash;that she had got no
+farther!</p>
+
+<p>Then it burst upon her&mdash;both her crying in church and the consuming
+bitterness that had spoiled the early years of her married life had
+been <i>wounded vanity</i>. It was wounded vanity that was weeping now; and
+that might at any moment separate her from God, her happiness in this
+world and the world to come!</p>
+
+<p>So worthless, so worthless did she feel herself that she dared not
+look up to God; for oh! how great were her shortcomings towards Him!
+But why, she began to wonder, why had she succumbed just now&mdash;at the
+moment when her daughter, in all true-heartedness and overflowing
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>happiness, had given herself to the man she loved? Why at this moment
+arouse all the ugly memories and thoughts that lay dormant in her
+mind? Was she envious of Mildrid; envious of her own daughter? No,
+<i>that</i> she knew she was not&mdash;and she began to recover herself.</p>
+
+<p>What a grand thought it was that her daughter was perhaps going to
+atone for <i>her</i> fault! Could children do that? Yes, as surely as they
+themselves were a work of ours, they could&mdash;but we must help too, with
+repentance, with gratitude! And before Randi knew what was happening,
+she could pray again, bowing in deep humility and contrition before
+the Lord, who had once more shown her what she was without Him. She
+prayed for grace as one that prays for life; for she felt that it was
+life that was coming to her again! Now her account was blotted out; it
+was just the last settling of it that had unnerved her.</p>
+
+<p>She rose and looked up through streaming tears; she knew that things
+had come right now; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>there was One who had lifted the burden of pain
+from her!</p>
+
+<p>Had she not had the same feeling often before? No, never a feeling
+like this&mdash;not till now was the victory won. And she went forward
+knowing that she had gained the mastery over herself. Something was
+broken that till now had bound her&mdash;she felt with every movement that
+she was free both in soul and body. And if, after God, she had her
+daughter to thank for this, that daughter should in return be helped
+to enjoy her own happiness to the full.</p>
+
+<p>By this time she was in the passage of grandmother's house; but no one
+in the house recognised her step. She took hold of the latch and
+opened the door like a different person. "Mildrid, come here!" she
+said; and Mildrid and her grandmother looked at each other, for that
+was not mother. Mildrid ran to her. What could be happening? Her
+mother took her by the arm, shut the door behind her, so that they
+were alone, then threw <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>her arms round her neck, and wept and wept,
+embracing her with a vehemence and happiness which Mildrid, uplifted
+by her love, could return right heartily.</p>
+
+<p>"God for ever bless and recompense you!" whispered the mother.</p>
+
+<p>The two sitting in the other house saw them coming across the yard,
+hand in hand, walking so fast that they felt sure something had
+happened. The door opened and both came forward. But instead of giving
+her to Hans, or saying anything to him or Endrid, the mother just put
+her arms once more round her daughter, and repeated with a fresh burst
+of emotion: "God for ever bless and reward you!"</p>
+
+<p>Soon they were all sitting in grandmother's room. The old woman was
+very happy. She knew quite well who Hans Haugen was&mdash;the young people
+had often spoken about him; and she at once understood that this union
+wiped out, as it were, much that was painful in the life of her son
+and his wife. Besides, Hans's good looks rejoiced the cheery old
+woman's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>heart. They all stayed with her, and the day ended with
+father, after a psalm, reading from a prayer-book a portion beginning:
+"The Lord has been in our house!"</p>
+
+<hr style='width: 45%;' />
+
+<p>I shall only tell of two days in their life after this, and in each of
+these days only of a few minutes.</p>
+
+<p>The first is the young people's wedding-day. Inga, Mildrid's cousin,
+herself a married woman now, had come to deck out the bride. This was
+done in the store-house. The old chest which held the family's bridal
+silver ornaments&mdash;crown, girdle, stomacher, brooches, rings&mdash;was drawn
+from its place. Grandmother had the key of it, and came to open it,
+Beret acting as her assistant. Mildrid had put on her wedding-dress
+and all the ornaments that belonged to herself, before this grandeur
+(well polished by Beret and grandmother the week before) came to
+light, glittering and heavy. One after another each ornament was
+tried. Beret held the mirror in front of the bride. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>Grandmother told
+how many of her family had worn these silver things on their
+wedding-day, the happiest of them all her own mother, Aslaug Haugen.</p>
+
+<p>Presently they heard the Bridal March played outside; they all
+stopped, listened, and then hurried to the door to see what it meant.
+The first person they saw was Endrid, the bride's father. He had seen
+Hans Haugen with his brothers and sisters coming driving up the road
+to the farm. It was not often that any idea out of the common came to
+Endrid, but on this occasion it did occur to him that these guests
+ought to be received with the March of their race. He called out the
+fiddlers and started them; he was standing beside them himself, and
+some others had joined him, when Hans and his good brothers and
+sisters, in two carriages, drove into the yard. It was easily seen
+that this reception touched them.</p>
+
+<p>An hour later the March of course struck up again. This was when the
+bride and bride<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>groom, and after them the bride's parents, came out,
+with the players going before them, to get into the carriages. At some
+great moments in our lives all the omens are propitious; to-day the
+bridal party drove away from Tingvold in glorious spring weather. The
+crowd at the church was so great that no one remembered having seen
+the like of it, on any occasion. And in this gathering each person
+knew the story of the family, and its connection with the Bridal March
+which was sounding exultantly in the sunshine over the heads of bride
+and bridegroom.</p>
+
+<p>And because they were all thinking of the one thing, the pastor took a
+text for his address that allowed him to explain how our children are
+our life's crown, bearing clear witness to our honour, our
+development, our work.</p>
+
+<p>On the way back from the altar Hans stopped just outside the
+church-door; he said something; the bride, in her superhuman
+happiness, did not hear it; but she felt what it was. He wished her to
+look at Ole Haugen's grave, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>how richly clad in flowers it lay to-day.
+She looked, and they passed out almost touching his headstone; the
+parents following them.</p>
+
+<p>The other incident in their life that must be recalled is the visit of
+Endrid and Randi as grandparents. Hans had carried out his
+determination that they were to live at Haugen, although he had to
+promise that he would take Tingvold when the old people either could
+or would no longer manage it, and when the old grandmother was dead.
+But in their whole visit there is only one single thing that concerns
+us here, and that is that Randi, after a kind reception and good
+entertainment, when she was sitting with her daughter's child on her
+knee, began rocking it and crooning something&mdash;and what she crooned
+was the Bridal March. Her daughter clasped her hands in wonder and
+delight, but controlled herself at once and kept silence; Hans offered
+Endrid more to drink, which he declined; but this was on both sides
+only an excuse for exchanging a look.</p>
+
+<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> The old superstition that every man is followed by a
+"Vard&ouml;ger" (an invisible animal, resembling him in character) is still
+common among the peasants.</p></div>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="ONE_DAY" id="ONE_DAY"></a>ONE DAY</h2>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p><h4>CHAPTER I</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Ella</span> was generally known as the girl with the plait. But, thick
+as the plait was, if it had belonged to any one less shapely, less
+blonde, less sprightly, hardly any one would have noticed it; the
+merry life which it led behind her would have passed unobserved, and
+that, although it was the thickest plait which any one in the little
+town had ever boasted. Perhaps it looked even thicker than it really
+was, because Ella herself was little. It is not necessary to give its
+exact length, but it reached below her waist; a long way below it. Its
+colour was doubtful but inclined a little to red, though people in the
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>town generally called it light, and we will accept their dictum
+without going into the question of half-tones. Her face was noticeable
+for its white skin, pretty shape, and classic profile; she had a
+small, full mouth, and eyes of unusual frankness, a trim little
+figure, but with rather short legs, so that in order to get over the
+ground as fast as it was her nature to do, her feet had to move very
+quickly. She was quick, indeed, in everything which she undertook, and
+that no doubt was why the plait was busier than plaits are wont to be.</p>
+
+<p>Her mother was the widow of a government official, had a small fortune
+besides her pension, and lived in her own little house opposite the
+hotel close by the market. She was an unassuming woman, whose husband
+had influenced her in everything; he had been her pride, her light,
+and when she lost him, the object of her life was gone; she became
+absorbed in religion; but, as she was not dictatorial, she allowed her
+only child&mdash;who much resembled her father&mdash;to follow her own
+inclinations. The mother <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>associated with no one except an elder
+sister, who owned a large farm near the town, but Ella was allowed to
+bring in her companions from school, boating, skating, and
+snow-shoeing; this, however, made no difference, for there was an
+instinctive prudence in her choice of friends; her liveliness was
+tempered by her mother's society and the quietness of the house. So
+that she was active and expeditious without being noisy, frank enough,
+but with self-command and heedfulness.</p>
+
+<p>All the more strange, then, was an incident which occurred when she
+was between fourteen and fifteen. She had gone with a few friends to a
+concert which the Choral Society of the town, and one or two amateurs,
+were giving in aid of the Christmas charities. At this concert, Aksel
+Aar&ouml; sang M&ouml;hring's "Sleep in Peace." As every one knows, a subdued
+chorus carries the song forward; a flood of moonlight seemed to
+envelop it, and through it swept Aksel Aar&ouml;'s voice. His voice was a
+clear, full, deep baritone, from which every one derived great
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>pleasure. He could have drawn it out, without break or flaw, from
+here to Vienna. But within this voice Ella heard another, a
+simultaneous sound of weakness or pain, which she never doubted that
+everybody could hear. There was an emotion in its depths, an affecting
+confidence, which went to her heart; it seemed to say, "Sorrow, sorrow
+is the portion of my life; I cannot help myself, I am lost." Before
+she herself knew it, she was weeping bitterly. Anything more
+impressive than this voice she had never experienced. With every note
+her agitation increased, and she lost all control over herself.</p>
+
+<p>Aar&ouml; was of moderate height, and slender, with a fair, silky beard,
+which hung down over his chest; his head was small, his eyes large and
+melancholy, with something in their depths which, like the voice,
+seemed to say "Sorrow, sorrow." This melancholy in the eyes she had
+noticed before, but had not fully understood it until now, when she
+heard his voice. Her tears would flow. But this would not do. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>She
+glanced quickly round; no one else was crying. She set her teeth, she
+pressed her arms against her sides, and her knees together till they
+ached and trembled. Why in the world should this happen to her and to
+no one else? She put her handkerchief to her lips, and forced herself
+to think of the beam of light which she had seen flash out from the
+lighthouse and disappear again, leaving the sea ghostly in the
+darkness. But no! her thoughts would return; they would not be
+controlled. Nothing could check the first sob, it would break out.
+Before all the astonished eyes she rose, left her seat, slipped
+quietly from the room and got away. No one came with her; no one dared
+to be seen near her.</p>
+
+<p>You who read this, do you realise how dreadful it was? Have you been
+to such a&mdash;I had nearly written <i>silent</i>&mdash;concert, in a Norwegian
+coast town of somewhat pietist savour? Hardly any men are present.
+Either music is not to the masculine taste in the coast towns, or they
+are in some other part of the club, at billiards, or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>cards, or in the
+restaurant drinking punch, or reading the papers. Two or three perhaps
+have come up for a moment, and stand near the door, stand like those
+to whom the house belongs, and who wish to have a look at the
+strangers; or there really are one or two men sitting on the benches,
+squeezed in among the many coloured dresses, or else a few specimens
+are seen round the walls, like forgotten overcoats.</p>
+
+<p>No! those who gather at the concerts are from the harems of the place;
+their elder inhabitants come to dream again, amidst beautiful words
+and touching music, of what they once persuaded themselves that they
+were, and what they had once believed was awaiting them. It is a
+harmless passing amusement. In the main they are better understood up
+above than here below, so that if a whiff of the kitchen or a few
+household worries do find their way into the dreams, it does not
+disturb them. The younger denizens of the harems dream that they <i>are</i>
+what the elders once believed themselves, and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>that <i>they</i> will attain
+at least to something of what the eldest have never reached. <i>They</i>
+had gained some information about life. In one thing old and young
+resemble each other; they are practical and prosperous by descent.
+They never allow their thoughts to stray very far. They know quite
+well that the glow which they feel as they listen to the words and
+music of great minds is not to be taken too seriously; it is only
+"What one always feels, you know."</p>
+
+<p>When, therefore, one among them took this really seriously and began
+to cry about it, good gracious! In private it was called "foolery," in
+public "scandalous."</p>
+
+<p>Ella had made a spectacle of herself. Her own dismay was immeasurable.
+No girl that she knew was less given to tears than herself; that she
+was certain of. She had as great a dread as any one of being looked
+at, or talked about. What in the world was it then? She was fond of
+music, certainly; she played herself, but she did not believe that she
+had any remarkable gift. Why, then, should she especially <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>have been
+overcome by his song? What must he think of the silly girl? This
+thought troubled her most, and on this point she dare not confide in
+any one. Most people concluded that she had been ill, and she actually
+did keep indoors for a few days, and looked pale when she reappeared.
+Her friends teased her about it, but she let the matter drop.</p>
+
+<p>In the winter there were several children's dances, one of which was
+at "Andresen's at the corner," and Ella was there. Just at the
+conclusion of the second quadrille, she heard whispered "Aksel Aar&ouml;,
+Aksel Aar&ouml;!" and there he stood at the door, with three other young
+fellows behind him. The hostess was his elder sister. The four had
+come up from a card party to look on.</p>
+
+<p>Ella felt a thrill of delight, and at the same time her knees
+threatened to give way under her. She could neither see, nor
+understand clearly, but she felt great eyes on her. She was engrossed
+in a fold of her dress which did not hang properly, when he stood
+before her and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>said, "What a beautiful plait you have." His voice
+seemed to sprinkle it with gold-dust. He put out his hand as though he
+were going to touch it, but instead of doing so he stroked his beard.
+When he noticed her extreme timidity, he turned away. Several times
+during the evening she felt conscious of his presence; but he did not
+come up to her again.</p>
+
+<p>The other men took part in the dancing, but Aar&ouml; did not dance. There
+was something about him which she thought specially charming; a
+reserved air of distinction, a polish in his address, a deference of
+that quiet kind which alone could have appealed to her. His walk gave
+the impression that he kept half his strength in reserve, and this was
+the same in everything. He was tall, but not broad-shouldered; the
+small, somewhat narrow head, set on a rather long neck. She had never
+before noticed the way in which he turned his head. She felt now that
+there could be something, yes, almost musical about it.</p>
+
+<p>The room, and all that passed in it, seemed to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>float in light, but
+suddenly this light was gone. A little later she heard some one say,
+"Where is Aksel Aar&ouml;? Has he left?"</p>
+
+<p>Aar&ouml; was not at home for very long that winter. He had already spent
+two years at Havre, from which place he had recently returned; he was
+now going for a couple of years to Hull. Before this, music had been a
+favourite pursuit with Ella; she had especially loved and studied
+harmony, but from this time forward she devoted herself to melody. All
+music had given her pleasure and she had made some progress in it; but
+now it became speech to her. She herself spoke in it or another spoke
+to her. Now, whoever she was with, there was always one as well, she
+was never alone now, not in the street, not at home; of this the plait
+was the sacred symbol.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the spring Fru Holmbo met Ella in the street as she
+was coming from the pastor's house with her prayer-book in her hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Are you going to be confirmed?" asked Fru Holmbo.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>"Yes."</p>
+
+<p>"I have a message for you; can you guess from whom?"</p>
+
+<p>Now, Fru Holmbo was a friend of Aksel Aar&ouml;'s sister and very intimate
+with the family. Ella blushed and could not answer.</p>
+
+<p>"I see that you know who it is from," said Fru Holmbo, and Ella
+blushed more than ever.</p>
+
+<p>With a rather superior smile&mdash;and the prettiest lady in the town had a
+superabundance of them&mdash;she said, "Aksel Aar&ouml; is not fond of writing.
+We have only just received his first letter since he left; but in it
+he writes that when we see 'the girl with the plait,' we are to
+remember him to her.' She cried at M&ouml;hring's song; other people might
+have done so too,'" he wrote.</p>
+
+<p>The tears sprang to Ella's eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"No, no," said Fru Holmbo consolingly, "there is no harm in that."</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><h4>CHAPTER II</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Two</span> years later, in the course of the winter, Ella was coming
+quickly up from the ice with her skates in her hand. She wore her new
+tight-fitting jacket for the first time; in fact, it was principally
+this jacket which had tempted her out. The plait hung jauntily down
+from under her grey cap. It was longer and thicker than ever; it
+throve wonderfully.</p>
+
+<p>As usual, she went round by "Andresen's at the corner." To see the
+house was enough. Just as her eyes rested on it, Aksel Aar&ouml; appeared
+in the doorway. He came slowly down the steps. He was at home again!
+His fair beard lay on the dark fur of his coat, a fur cap covered his
+low forehead and came down almost to his eyes; those large, attractive
+eyes. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>They looked at one another; they had to meet and pass; he
+smiled as he raised his cap, and she&mdash;stood still and curtseyed, like
+a schoolgirl in a short frock. For two years she had not dropped a
+curtsey, or done otherwise than bow like a grown-up person. Short
+people are most particular about this privilege; but to him, before
+whom she specially wished to appear grown-up, she had stood still and
+curtseyed as when he had last seen her. Occupied by this mishap she
+rushed into another. She said to herself, "Do not look round, keep
+yourself stiff, do not look round; do you hear?" But at the corner,
+just as she was turning away from him, she did look back for all that,
+and saw him do the same. From that moment there were no other people,
+no houses, no time or place. She did not know how she got home, or why
+she lay crying on her bed, with her face in the pillow.</p>
+
+<p>A fortnight later, there was a large party at the club, in honour of
+Aksel Aar&ouml;. Every one wished to be there, every one wished to bid
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>their popular friend welcome home. He had been greatly missed. They
+had heard from Hull how indispensable he had by degrees become in
+society there. If his voice had had a greater compass&mdash;it did not
+comprise a large range of notes&mdash;he would have obtained an engagement
+at Her Majesty's Theatre; so it was said over there. At this ball, the
+Choral Society&mdash;his old Choral Society&mdash;would again sing with him.</p>
+
+<p>Ella was there; she came too early&mdash;only four people before her. She
+trembled with expectancy in the empty rooms and passages, but more
+especially in the hall where she had made "a spectacle of herself."
+She wore a red ball-dress, without any ornaments or flowers; this was
+by her mother's wish. She feared that she had betrayed herself by
+coming so early, and remained alone in a side room; she did not appear
+until the rooms had been fully lighted, and the perfume, the buzz of
+voices, and the tuning of instruments lured her in. Ella was so short,
+that when she came into the crowd, she had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>not seen Aksel Aar&ouml; when
+she heard several whispers of "There he is," and some one added, "He
+is coming towards us." It was Fru Holmbo for whom he was looking, and
+to whom he bowed; but just behind her stood Ella. When she felt that
+she was discovered, the bud blushed rosier than its calyx. He left Fru
+Holmbo at once.</p>
+
+<p>"Good evening," he said very softly, holding out his hand, which Ella
+took without looking up. "Good evening," he said again, still more
+softly, and drew nearer.</p>
+
+<p>She was aware of a gentle pressure and had to raise her eyes. They
+conveyed a bashful message half confident, half timid. It was a rapid
+glance, by which no one was enlightened or scandalised. He looked down
+at her, while he stroked his beard, but either because he had nothing
+more to say&mdash;he was not talkative&mdash;or that he could not say what he
+wished; he became absolutely silent. In the quiet way which was
+peculiar to him he turned and left her. He was on at once by his
+friends, and for the rest <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>of the evening she only saw him now and
+again, and always at a distance.</p>
+
+<p>He did not dance, but she did. Everybody said how "sweet" she was (it
+was said with all respect); and that evening she really did beam with
+happiness. In whatever part of the room Aksel Aar&ouml; chanced to be, she
+felt conscious of his presence, felt a secret delight in whirling past
+him. His eyes followed her, his nearness made all and everything
+resplendent.</p>
+
+<p>Standing in the doorway was a heavy, sturdy fellow, who had
+constituted himself the critic of the assemblage. He appeared to be
+between thirty and forty; nearer the latter; he had a weather-beaten,
+coarsely-moulded, but spirited face, black hair, and hazel eyes; his
+figure approached the gigantic. Every one in the room knew him;
+Hjalmar Olsen, the fearless commander of one of the largest steamers.</p>
+
+<p>He scanned the dancers as they passed him, but gave the palm to the
+little one in the red dress; she was the pleasantest to look at: not
+only was she a fine girl, but her buoyant happi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>ness seemed to infect
+him. When Aksel Aar&ouml; approached, Hjalmar Olsen received a share of the
+love glances which streamed from her eyes. She danced every dance.
+Hjalmar Olsen was tall enough to catch glimpses of her in all parts of
+the room. She also noticed him; he soon became a lighthouse in her
+voyage, but a lighthouse which interested itself in the ships. Thus he
+now felt that she was in danger so near to Peter Klausson's waistcoat.
+He knew Peter Klausson.</p>
+
+<p>Her tiny feet tripped a waltz, while the plait kept up an accompanying
+polka. Certainly Peter Klausson did press her too close to his
+waistcoat!</p>
+
+<p>Olsen therefore sought her out as soon as the waltz was over, but it
+was not so easy to secure a dance; a waltz was the first one for which
+she was free, and she gave him that. Just as this was arranged, every
+one pressed towards the platform, on which the Choral Society now
+appeared. Ella felt herself hopelessly little when they all rushed
+forward and packed them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>selves together. Hjalmar Olsen, who saw her
+vain attempts to obtain a peep, offered to lift her up on to the bench
+which ran along the wall, by which they were standing. She dare not
+agree to this, but he saw that others were mounting the bench, and
+before she could prevent it, she was up there too. Almost at the same
+moment Aksel Aar&ouml; came in among his companions and was received with
+the most energetic hand-clapping by all his friends&mdash;men as well as
+women. He bowed politely though somewhat coldly, but the expressions
+of welcome did not cease until his companions drew back a little,
+while he came forward. First of all, the Society gave one of its older
+songs. He kept his voice on a level with the others, which was
+considered in very good taste. After this the conductor took his seat
+at the piano, to accompany a song which Aar&ouml; wished to give alone. The
+song was a composition of Selmer and much in fashion at the capital.
+It could be sung by men as well as women, only in the last verse <i>her</i>
+had to be substituted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>for <i>his</i>. Here it had never been heard before.</p>
+
+<p>During the first song Aar&ouml; had searched the room with his eyes, and,
+from the moment when he discovered where Ella stood, he had kept them
+fixed there. Now he placed himself near the piano, and during the song
+he continued to look in her direction. As he sang, his melancholy eyes
+lighted up; his figure grew plastic.</p>
+
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I sing to one, to only one<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of all the listening throng;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To one alone is fully known<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The meaning of my song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Lend power, ye listeners, to each word.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But for that only one<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Who in me woke sweet music's chord<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My song had ne'er been sung.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though deviously the path may run,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Passing through all hearts here,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet still is it the only one<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which to one heart is near.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Strengthen, oh, loving hearts, my song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So that it still may swell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through all love's choir; the only one<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That in her heart may dwell.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>His voice was captivating; no one had ever listened to such a
+love-message. This time many <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>beside Ella had tears in their eyes.
+When the song ended, they all remained waiting for some moments, as
+though expecting another verse; and there was a short silence, but
+then applause broke forth such as had never been heard. They wanted to
+have the song again, but no one had yet known Aksel Aar&ouml; to sing
+anything twice running; so they relinquished the idea.</p>
+
+<p>Ella had never heard the song; neither words nor music. When, with his
+eyes turned in her direction, he had begun to sing, she felt as though
+she should fall; such unheard-of boldness she had never imagined. That
+he, otherwise so considerate, should sing this across to her, so that
+all could hear! White as the wall against which she leaned for
+support, she suffered such anguish of mind, that she looked round for
+help. Immediately behind her, on the same bench, stood Fru Holmbo,
+magnetised, beautiful as a statue. She no more saw Ella's distress
+than she did the clock in the market-place. This absolute indifference
+calmed her, she recovered her self-possession. The neighbourhood of
+the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>others, which had been so terrible to her, was of no consequence,
+so long as they did not perceive anything. She could listen now
+without distress. More covertly, more charmingly, he could not have
+spoken, notwithstanding that every one heard it. If only he had not
+looked at her! If only she had been able to hide herself!</p>
+
+<p>As soon as the last notes ceased, she jumped down from the bench.
+Among all the shoulders her shyness returned&mdash;her happy dream, her
+secret in its bridal attire. What was it that had happened? What would
+happen next? All round her were sparkling eyes, applauding voices,
+clapping hands&mdash;was it not as though they lighted torches in his
+honour, paid him homage&mdash;was not all this in her honour as well?</p>
+
+<p>Dancing began again at once, and off she went. Off as though all were
+done for her, or as though she were the "only one!" Her partners
+tried, one after another, to talk to her, but in vain. She only
+laughed, laughed in their faces, as though they were mad, and she
+alone understood the state of the case.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>She danced, beamed, laughed, from one partner to another. So when
+Olsen got his waltz it was as though he were received with a score of
+fresh bouquets and a "Long live Hjalmar Olsen!" He was more than
+flattered. When she laid her white arm on his black coat he felt that
+at the bottom he was as unworthy as Peter Klausson. He certainly would
+not sully her, he held her punctiliously away from him. When he
+fancied that she was laughing, and wished to see the little creature's
+merry face, down there near his waistcoat, and in the endeavour to do
+so, thought that he had been indiscreet, Hjalmar Olsen felt ashamed of
+himself, and danced on with his eyes staring straight before him, like
+a sleep-walker. He danced on in a dream of self-satisfaction and
+transport. Ella tried now and then to touch the floor; she wished to
+have at least some certainty that she was keeping time. Impossible! He
+took charge at once, of himself, her dance and his, her time and his,
+she never got near the floor without an effort, all the rest was an
+aerial flight. He could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>hear her laughing and was pleased that she
+was enjoying it, but he did not look at her. Those with whom he came
+into collision were less pleased, which was <i>their</i> affair. He was
+greatly put out when the music ceased; they were only just getting
+into swing, but he was obliged to put her down at the compulsory
+stopping-place.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly afterwards there was some more singing, first by the Society
+alone, then they and Aar&ouml; together sang Grieg's "Landfall." Finally,
+Aar&ouml; sang to a piano accompaniment. This time Ella had hidden herself
+among those at the back, but as they constantly pressed forward she
+remained standing alone. This exactly suited her; she saw him, but he
+did not see her, nor even look towards the place where she was
+standing.</p>
+
+<p>She had never heard this song, did not even know that it existed,
+although when the first words were heard it was evident that it was
+known to the others. Of course she knew that each word and note were
+his, but as he had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>before chosen a story which would only reach the
+one to whom he wished to sing, she did not doubt that it was the same
+now. The first words, "My young love's veiled," could there be a truer
+picture of concealed love? Once more it was for her! That the veil
+should be lifted but for him and dropped as soon as any one else could
+see. Was not that as it must be between them? That love's secrecy is
+like a sacred place, that in it is hidden earth's highest happiness.
+She trembled as she recognised it. The music swept the words over her
+like ice-cold water, this perfect comprehension made her shiver, with
+fear and joy at the same time. No one saw her, that was her safeguard.
+She dreaded every fresh word before it came, and each one again made
+her shiver. With her arms pressed against her breast, her head bowed
+over her hands, she stood and trembled as though waves surged over
+her. And when the second verse came with the line, "The greatest joy
+this world can give," and especially when it was repeated, her tears
+would well forth, as they had done once before. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>She checked them with
+all her might, but remembering how little it had helped her then, her
+powers of resistance gave way, she was almost sobbing when the very
+word was used in the song. The coincidence was too superb, it swept
+all emotion aside, she could have laughed aloud instead. She was sure
+of everything, everything now. It thus happened that the last line in
+its literal sense, in its jubilant sympathy, came to her like a flash
+of lightning, like the stab of a knife. The song ran thus:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My young love's veiled to all but me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No eyes save mine those eyes may see,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which, while to others all unknown,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Command, melt, beam for me alone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Down falls the veil, would others see.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In every good, where two are one,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A twofold holiness doth reign;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The greatest joy this world can give<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is when earth's long desires shall live,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When two as soul to soul are born again.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Why must my love then veiled be?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Why sobs she piteous, silently,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As though her heart must break for love?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Because that veil from pain is wove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And all our joy in yearning need we see.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>Startling, deafening applause! They must, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>they would have the song
+again, this time Aar&ouml;'s haughty opposition should be useless; but he
+would not give way, and at last some of the audience gave up the
+attempt, though others continued insistent.</p>
+
+<p>During this interval several ladies escaped out of the crowd: they
+passed near Ella.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see Fru Holmbo, how she hid herself and cried?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, but did you see her during the first song? Up on the bench? It
+was to her that he was singing the whole time."</p>
+
+<p>Not long afterwards&mdash;it might have been about two in the morning&mdash;a
+little cloaked figure flew along the streets. By her hood and wraps
+the watchman judged that she must be one of the ladies from the ball.
+They generally had some one with them, but the ball was not over yet.
+Something had evidently happened; she was going so quickly too.</p>
+
+<p>It was Ella. She passed near the deserted Town Hall, which was now
+used as a warehouse. The outer walls still remained, but the beautiful
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>interior wood-work had been sold and removed. That is how it is with
+me, thought Ella. She flew along as fast as she could, onward to
+sleepless nights and joyless days.</p>
+
+<p>In the course of the morning Aksel Aar&ouml; was carried home by his
+companions, dead drunk. By some it was maintained that he had
+swallowed a tumbler of whisky in the belief that it was beer; others
+said that he was a "bout drinker." He had long been so but had
+concealed it. Those are called "bout-drinkers" who at long intervals
+seem impelled to drink. His father had been so before him.</p>
+
+<p>A few days later Aksel Aar&ouml; went quietly off to America.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p><h4>CHAPTER III</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Another</span> of those who had been at the ball, steamed about the same
+time across the Atlantic. This was Hjalmar Olsen.</p>
+
+<p>His ship experienced a continuous northwesterly gale, and the harder
+it blew, the more grog he drank; but as he did so he was astonished to
+find that a memory of the ball constantly rose before him&mdash;the little
+rosy red one; the girl with the plait. Hjalmar Olsen was of opinion
+that he had conducted himself in a very gentleman-like manner towards
+her. At first this did not very much occupy his thoughts; he had been
+twice engaged already, and each time it had been broken off. If he
+engaged himself a third time he must marry at once. He had formed this
+determination often <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>before, but he did not really think very
+seriously about it.</p>
+
+<p>A steamer is not many days between ports, and at each there is plenty
+of amusement. He went to New York, from there to New Orleans, thence
+to Brazil and back, once again to Brazil, finally returning direct to
+England and Norway. But often during the voyage, and especially over a
+glass of punch, he recalled the girl with the plait. How she had
+looked at him. It did him good only to think of it. He was not very
+fond of letter-writing, or perhaps he would have written to her. But
+when he arrived at Christiania, and heard from a friend that her
+mother was dying, he thought at once: "I shall certainly go and see
+her; she will think it very good of me, if I do so just now."</p>
+
+<p>Two days later he was sitting before her in the parlour of the little
+house near the hotel and market-place. His large hands, black with
+hair and sunburn, stroked his knees as he stooped smilingly forward
+and asked if she would have him.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>She sat lower than he did; her full figure and plump arms were set
+off by a brown dress, which he stared down on when he did not look
+into her pale face. She felt each movement of his eyes. She had come
+from the other room, and from thoughts of death; she heard a little
+cuckoo clock upstairs announce that it was seven o'clock, and the
+little thing reminded her of all that was now past. One thing with
+another made her turn from him with tears in her eyes as she said, "I
+cannot possibly think of such things how." She rose and walked towards
+her flowers in the window.</p>
+
+<p>He was obliged to rise also. "Perhaps she will answer me presently,"
+he thought; and this belief gave him words, awkward perhaps, but
+fairly plain.</p>
+
+<p>She only shook her head and did not look up.</p>
+
+<p>He walked off in a rage, and when he turned and looked at the house
+again&mdash;the little doll's house&mdash;he longed to throw it bodily into the
+sea.</p>
+
+<p>He spent the evening, while waiting for the steamer to Christiania,
+with Peter Klausson and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>a few friends, and it was not long before
+they discovered on what errand he had been, and how he had sped. They
+knew, too, how he had fared on former occasions. The amount which
+Hjalmar Olsen drank was in proportion to his chagrin; and the next
+morning he awoke on board the steamer in a deplorable condition.</p>
+
+<p>Not long afterwards Ella received a well-written letter of excuse, in
+which he explained that his coming at that time had been well meant,
+and that it was only when he was there that he realised how foolish it
+had been. She must not be vexed with him for it. In the course of a
+month she again received a letter. He hoped that she had forgiven him;
+he for his part could not forget her. There was nothing more added.
+Ella was pleased with both the letters. They were well expressed and
+they showed constancy; but it never occurred to her for a moment that
+this indirect offer could be received in any other way than before.</p>
+
+<p>She had gone to Christiania in order to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>perfect herself in the piano
+and in book-keeping. She added the latter because she had always had a
+turn for arithmetic. She felt altogether unsettled. Her mother was
+dead; she had inherited the house and a small fortune, and she wanted
+to try and help herself. She did not associate with any one in the
+strange town. She was used to dreaming and making plans without a
+confidant.</p>
+
+<p>From Aksel Aar&ouml; came wonderful tidings. After he had sung before a
+large party in New York a wealthy old man had invited him to come and
+see him, and since then they had lived together like father and son.
+So the story ran in the town long before there came a letter from Aar&ouml;
+himself; but when it arrived, it entirely confirmed the rumour. It was
+after this that Ella received a third letter from Hjalmar Olsen. He
+asked in respectful terms if she would take it amiss if he were to pay
+her a visit when he came home: he knew where she was living. Before
+she had arrived at a conclusion as to how she should answer, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>a
+paragraph appeared in all the Norwegian papers, copied from the
+American ones, giving an account of how Hjalmar Olsen, in the teeth of
+a gale, and at the risk of his own ship, had saved the passengers and
+crew of an ocean steamer, the propeller of which had been injured off
+the American coast. Two steamers had passed without daring to render
+assistance, the weather was so terrific. Olsen had remained by the
+vessel for twenty-four hours. It was a wonderful deed which he had
+done. In New York, and subsequently when he arrived in Liverpool, he
+had been f&ecirc;ted at the Sailors' Clubs, and been presented with medals
+and addresses. When he arrived in Christiania, he was received with
+the highest honours. Big and burly as he was, he easily obtained the
+homage of the populace: they always love large print.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all this he sought out Ella. She had hidden herself
+away; she had but a poor opinion of herself since her discomfiture. In
+her imagination he had assumed almost un<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>natural proportions, and when
+he came and took her out with him, she felt as though she had once
+more exchanged the close atmosphere of the house for free air and
+sunshine. She even felt something of her old self-confidence. His
+feelings for her were the same; that she noticed at once, as she
+studied him. He knew the forms of society, and could pay attention and
+render homage with dignity; he refrained from any premature speech.
+She had heard that he was prone to take a glass too much, but she saw
+nothing in that. A handsome fellow, a man such as one seldom sees, a
+little weather-beaten perhaps, but most sailors are the same.
+Something undefined in his eyes frightened her, as did his greediness
+at table. Sometimes she was startled at the vehemence of his opinions.
+If only she had been at home, and could have made inquiries
+beforehand! But he was to leave very soon, and had said jestingly that
+the next time that he proposed, he would be betrothed and married all
+at once. This plain-speaking and precipitation pleased her, not less
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>than his energy and authoritative manner, although she felt
+frightened&mdash;frightened, and at the same time flattered, that so much
+energy and authoritativeness should bow before her, and that at a time
+when all paid court to him.</p>
+
+<p>Then an idea, which she thought very sensible, occurred to her. She
+would, in the event of an offer, impose two conditions: she must
+retain the control of her own property, and never be forced to
+accompany him on his voyages. In case his energy and tone of authority
+should chance to become intractable a limit was thus set, and she
+would, from the outset, make him comprehend that, little as she was,
+she knew how to protect both herself and her possessions.</p>
+
+<p>When the offer came&mdash;it was made in a box at the theatre&mdash;she had not
+courage sufficient to make her stipulation. His expression filled her
+with horror&mdash;for the first time. She often thought of it afterwards.
+Instead of acting upon this intuitive perception, she began to
+speculate on what would happen if she were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>again to say No! She had
+accepted his friendship although she knew what was coming. The
+conditions, the conditions&mdash;they should settle it! If he accepted
+them, it should be as he wished, and then there could be no possible
+danger. So she wrote and propounded them.</p>
+
+<p>He came the next day and asked for the necessary papers, so that he
+could himself arrange both about the property and the contract. He
+evidently looked upon it as a matter of business, and seemed
+thoroughly pleased.</p>
+
+<p>Three days later they were married. It was an imposing ceremony, and
+there was a large concourse; it had been announced in all the papers.</p>
+
+<p>Demonstrations of admiration and respect followed, much parade and
+many speeches, mingled with witticisms over his size and her
+smallness. This lasted from five in the evening till after midnight,
+in rather mixed company. As time wore on, and the champagne
+continually flowed, many of the guests became boisterous and somewhat
+intrusive, and among them the bridegroom.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>The next morning, at seven o'clock, Ella sat dressed and alone, in a
+room next to their bedroom, the door of which stood open. From it she
+could hear her husband's snores. She sat there still and deadly pale,
+without tears and without feeling. She divided the occurrences into
+two&mdash;what had happened and what had been said; what had been said and
+what had happened: she did not know which was the worst. This man's
+longing had been inflamed by deadly hate. From the time that she had
+said No! he had made it the object of his life to force her to say
+Yes! He told her that she should pay for having nearly made him
+ridiculous a third time. She should pay for it all&mdash;she, who had dared
+to make insulting conditions. He would break the neck of her
+conditions like a shrimp. Let her try to refuse to go on board with
+him, or attempt to control anything herself.</p>
+
+<p>Then that which had happened. A fly caught in a spider's web, that was
+what she thought of.</p>
+
+<p>But had she not experienced such a feeling once before? O God, the
+night of the ball! <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>She had a vague feeling that that night had
+fore-doomed her to this; but she could not make it clear to herself.
+On the other hand, she asked herself if what we fail in has not a
+greater influence on our lives than that which we succeed in.</p>
+
+<p>Three or four hours after this, Hjalmar Olsen sat at the
+breakfast-table; he was dull and silent, but perfectly polite, as
+though nothing had happened. Perhaps he had been too drunk to be quite
+accountable, or it might be that his politeness was calculated with
+the hope of inducing her to come with him and visit his ship. He asked
+her to do so, as he left the table, but neither promises nor threats
+could induce her to go on board even for the shortest time. Her terror
+saved her.</p>
+
+<p>Some months later an announcement appeared in the papers that she
+wished to take pupils both for the piano and book-keeping. She was
+once more living in her own little house in her native town. She was
+at this time enciente.</p>
+
+<p>One day an old friend of Aksel Aar&ouml;'s came to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>see her; he was to
+remember Aar&ouml; very kindly to her, and to congratulate her on her
+marriage. She controlled her rising emotion, and asked quietly how he
+was getting on. Most wonderfully; he was still living with the same
+old man, to whom, by degrees, he had entirely devoted himself. This
+was the very thing for Aar&ouml;: it suited him to devote himself
+completely to one person. He had gone through a course of treatment
+for his inherited failing and believed himself to be cured.</p>
+
+<p>"And how is Fru Holmbo?" asked Ella. She was frightened when she had
+said it, but she felt an intense bitterness which would break out. She
+had noticed how thin and pale Fru Holmbo looked&mdash;she evidently missed
+Aar&ouml;, and that was too much!</p>
+
+<p>The friend smiled: "Oh! have you heard that silly rumour? No, Aksel
+Aar&ouml; was only the medium between her and the man to whom she was
+secretly attached. The two friends had lived together abroad. Some
+months ago there had been a talk about a business journey to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>Copenhagen, and Fru Holmbo went there also. But there had undoubtedly
+been something between them for a long time."</p>
+
+<p>That night Ella wept for a long time before she fell asleep. She lay
+and stroked her plait, which she had drawn on to her bosom. She had
+often thought of cutting it off, but it was still there.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><h4>CHAPTER IV</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the course of the two first years of her marriage she had two
+children. Whenever she was alone, she divided her time between them
+and her teaching. Her husband hardly contributed anything to the
+household, except during the brief periods that he passed at home, and
+then the money was squandered in the extravagant life which he led
+with his companions. During these visits the "young ones" were sent
+off to their aunt. "One could not take four steps without going
+through the walls of this wretched little house," he said. At these
+times she also gave up the lessons; she had no time for anything
+except to wait on him.</p>
+
+<p>Every one realised that she could not be happy, but no one suspected
+that her whole life was one <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>of dread&mdash;dread of the telegram which
+would announce his coming, if only for a few days, dread of what might
+happen when he came. When he was there she never attempted to oppose
+him, but displayed to him, and every one else, those frank eyes and
+quick, but quiet, ways which enabled her to come and go without being
+noticed. When he was gone, she would suddenly collapse, and, worn out
+with the strain of days and nights, be obliged to take to her bed.</p>
+
+<p>Each time that he came home he kept less guard over himself, and was
+more careless as regarded others. Had she known that men who have
+expended their strength as he had done are as a rule worn out at
+forty&mdash;and many such are to be found in the coast-towns&mdash;she would
+have understood that these very things were signs of failure. He had
+advanced far along the road. To her he only appeared more and more
+disgusting. He was but little at home, which helped her. She had
+determined that she and her boys should live in the best <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>manner, and
+this again was a help to her; but more than all was her constant
+employment and the regard which every one felt for her. After five
+years of marriage she looked as charming as ever, and appeared as
+cheerful and lively; she was accustomed to conceal her feelings.</p>
+
+<p>Her children were now&mdash;the elder four, the second three years old.
+They were rarely seen anywhere but in the market-place, on the
+snow-heaps in winter and on the sand-heaps in summer, or else they
+were in the country with their aunt whom they had adopted as
+"grandmother."</p>
+
+<p>Next to the care of the little boys, flowers were Ella's greatest
+delight. She had a great many, which made the house appear smaller
+than it really was. She could play with the boys, but she could share
+her thoughts with the flowers. When she watered them, she felt acutely
+how much she suffered. When she dried their leaves, she longed for
+pleasant words and kindly eyes. When she removed dead twigs and
+superfluous shoots, when she re-potted them, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>she often cried with
+longing; the thought that there was no one to care for her overcame
+her.</p>
+
+<p>Five years were gone, then, when one day it was reported through the
+whole town that Aksel Aar&ouml; had become a rich man. His old friend was
+dead and had left him a large annuity. It was also said that he had
+been a second time treated for dypsomania. The previous treatment had
+not been successful, but he was now cured. One could see how popular
+Aar&ouml; was, for there was hardly anybody who was not pleased.</p>
+
+<p>On Wednesday the 16th of March, 1892, at four o'clock in the
+afternoon, Ella sat at work near her flowers; from there she could see
+the hotel. At the corner window in the second story stood the man of
+whom she was thinking&mdash;stood and looked down at her.</p>
+
+<p>She got up and he bowed twice. She remained standing as he crossed the
+market-place. He wore a dark fur cap, and his fair beard hung down
+over his black silk waistcoat. His face was rather pale, but there was
+a brighter expression in his eyes. He knocked, she could <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>not speak or
+move, but when he opened the door and came into the room, she sank
+into a chair and wept. He came slowly forward, took a chair and sat
+down near her. "You must not be frightened because I came straight to
+you, it is such a pleasure to see you again." Ah! how they sounded in
+this house, those few words full of consideration and confidence. He
+had acquired a foreign accent, but the voice, the voice! And he did
+not misconstrue her weakness, but tried to help her. By degrees she
+became her old self, confiding, bright, timid.</p>
+
+<p>"It was so entirely unexpected," she said.</p>
+
+<p>"All that has occurred in the meantime rushes in on one," he added
+courteously.</p>
+
+<p>Not much more was said. He was preparing to leave, when his
+brother-in-law entered. Aar&ouml; looked at her boys out on the snow-heap,
+he looked at her flowers, her piano, her music, then asked if he might
+come again. He had been there hardly five minutes, but an impression
+rested on her mind somewhat as the magnificent fair beard rested on
+the silk waistcoat. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>room was hallowed, the piano, the music, the
+chair on which he had sat, even the carpet on which he had walked&mdash;in
+his very walk there was consideration for her. She felt that all that
+he had said and done showed sympathy for her fate. She could do
+nothing more that day, she hardly slept during the night, but the
+change which had taken place in her was nothing less than the bringing
+of something into the daylight again from five years ago, from six
+years indeed, as one brings flowers out of the cellar, where they have
+been put for their winter sleep, up into the spring-time again. As
+this thought passed through her mind, she made the same gesture at
+least twenty times, she laid both hands on her breast, one over the
+other, as though to control it: it must not speak too loudly.</p>
+
+<p>The next day their conversation flowed more freely. The children were
+called in. After looking at them for a while, he said: "You have
+something real there."</p>
+
+<p>In a little time they were such good friends, he and the boys, that he
+was down on all-fours <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>playing horses with them, and did some quite
+new tricks which they thought extremely amusing; he then invited them
+to come for a drive the next day. After a thaw, there had been an
+unusually heavy fall of snow; the town was white and the state of the
+roads perfect.</p>
+
+<p>Before he left Ella offered to brush him; the carpet had not been as
+well swept as it should have been. He took the clothes-brush from her
+and used it himself, but he had unfortunately lain on his back as
+well, so she was obliged to help him. She brushed his coat lightly and
+deftly, but she was never satisfied, nor was he yet properly brushed
+in front. He had to do it over again: she stood and looked on. When he
+had finished she took the brush into the kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"How funny that you should still wear your plait," said he, as she
+went out. She remained away for some time, and came in again by
+another door. He had gone. The children said that some one had come
+across for him.</p>
+
+<p>The next morning the little boys had their <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>drive. They did not return
+until late in the afternoon. They had been to Baadshaug, a
+watering-place with an hotel and an excellent restaurant, to which
+people were very fond of making excursions during the winter. His
+sister's youngest boy was with them, and while all three went back
+with the horses to "Andresen's at the corner," Aar&ouml; remained standing
+in the passage. Never had Ella seen him so cheerful. His eyes
+sparkled, and he talked from the time he came to the time he left. He
+talked about the Norwegian winter which he had never realised before;
+how could that have been? For many years he had had in his
+<i>r&eacute;pertoire</i> a song in praise of winter, the old winter song which she
+knew as well: "Summer sleeps in winter's arms"&mdash;yes, she knew it&mdash;and
+he only now realised how true it was. The influence of winter on
+people's lives must be immense; why it was nearly half their lives;
+what health and beauty and what power of imagination it must give. He
+began to describe what he had seen in the woods that day. He <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>did not
+use many words, but he gave a clear picture; he talked till he became
+quite excited, and looked at her the whole time with a rapturous
+expression.</p>
+
+<p>It was but for a few moments. He stood there muffled in furs: but when
+he had gone it seemed to her that she had never truly seen him before.
+He was an enthusiast then&mdash;an enthusiast whose depths never revealed
+themselves. Was his singing a message from this enthusiasm? Was this
+why his voice carried everybody away with it into another region? That
+melancholy father of his, when a craving for drink seized him, would
+shut himself up with his violin, and play and play till he became
+helpless. Had the son, too, this dislike of companionship, this
+delight in his own enthusiasm? God be praised, Aksel Aar&ouml; was saved!
+Was it not from the depths of his enthusiasm that he had looked at
+her? This forced itself upon her for the first time; she had been
+occupied before by the change in him, but now it forced itself upon
+her&mdash;hotly, with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>a thrill of fear and joy. A message of gladness
+which still quivered with doubt. Was the decisive moment of her life
+approaching? She felt that she coloured. She could not remain quiet;
+she went to the window to look for him; then paced the room, trying to
+discover what she might believe. All his words, his looks, his
+gestures, since he had first come there, rose before her. But he had
+been reserved, almost niggardly, with them. But that was just their
+charm. His eyes had now interpreted them, and those eyes enveloped
+her; she gave herself absolutely up to them.</p>
+
+<p>Her servant brought in a letter; it was a Christmas card, in an
+envelope without a direction, from Aksel Aar&ouml;&mdash;one of the usual
+Christmas cards, representing a number of young people in snow-shoes.
+Below was printed:</p>
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Winter white,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Has roses red.</span><br />
+</div></div>
+
+<p>On the other side, in a clear round hand, "In the woods to-day I could
+not but think of you. A. A.." That was all.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>"That is like him, he says nothing more. When he passes a shop-window
+in which he sees such a card, he thinks of me; and not only does he
+think of me but he sends me his thoughts." Or was she mistaken. Ella
+was diffident; surely this could not be misconstrued. The Christmas
+card&mdash;was it not a harbinger? The two young couples on it and the
+words&mdash;surely he meant something by that. His enraptured eyes again
+rose before her; they seemed not only to envelop her, but to caress
+her. She thought neither of past nor future; she lived only in the
+present. She lay wide awake that night looking at the moonlight. Now,
+now, now, was whispered. Had she but clung to the dream of her life,
+even when the reality had seemed so cruel, she would have held her
+own; because she had been uncertain about it, all had become
+uncertain. But the greater the suffering had been, the greater,
+perhaps, would be the bliss. She fell asleep in the soft white light,
+which she took with her into her dreams. She woke among light, bright
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>clouds, which gathered round the glittering thought of what might be
+awaiting her to-day. He had not said a word. This bashfulness was what
+she loved the best of anything in him. It was just that which was the
+surest pledge. It would be to-day.</p>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><h4>CHAPTER V</h4>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">She</span> took a long time over her bath, an almost longer time in doing
+her hair; out of the chest of drawers, which she had used as a child,
+and which still stood in its old place&mdash;out of its lowest drawer she
+took her finest underlinen. She had never worn it but once&mdash;on her
+wedding-day&mdash;before the desecration, never since. But to-day&mdash;Now,
+now, now! Not one garment which she put on had ever been touched by
+any one but herself. She wished to be what she had been in her dreams.</p>
+
+<p>She went to the children, who were awake but not dressed.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, boys! To-day Tea shall take you to see grandmother."</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>Great delight, shared by Tea, for this meant a holiday.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, mamma!" she heard behind her, as she ran down to the kitchen
+to get a cup of coffee, and then she was off. First she must get some
+flowers, then put off her lessons. For now, now, now!</p>
+
+<p>Out in the street she remembered that it was too early to get
+anything, so she went for a walk, beyond the town, the freshest, the
+brightest, that she had ever taken. She came back again just as Fru
+Holmbo was opening her shop. As Ella entered the "flower-woman" was
+holding an expensive bouquet in her hand, ready to be sent out.</p>
+
+<p>"I will have that!" cried Ella, shutting the door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>"You!" said Fru Holmbo a little doubtfully; the bouquet was a very
+expensive one.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I must have it;" Ella's little green purse was ready. The
+bouquet had been ordered for the best house in the town, and Fru
+Holmbo said so.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p><p>"That does not matter," answered Ella. Such genuine admiration of a
+bouquet had never been seen&mdash;and Ella got it.</p>
+
+<p>From there she went to "Andresen's at the corner." One of the shopmen
+took lessons in book-keeping from her. She wished to put him off, and
+asked him to tell the whole of the large class. She asked him this
+with kindling eyes, and he gladly promised to do so. The daintiest red
+shawl was hanging just before her. She must have it to wear over her
+head to-day when she drove out; for that she would drive to-day there
+was no doubt. Andresen himself came up, just as she was asking about
+the shawl. He caught a glimpse of her bouquet, under the paper. "Those
+are lovely roses," he said. She took one out at once, and gave it to
+him. From the rose he looked at her; she laughed and asked if he would
+take a little off the price of the shawl; she had not quite enough
+money left.</p>
+
+<p>"How much have you?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Just half a krone too little," she replied.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p><p>He himself wrapped up the shawl for her. In the street she met
+Cecilie Monrad, whose sister studied music with Ella; she was thus
+saved a walk to the other end of the town to put her off. "Everything
+favours me to-day," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>"Did you see about those two who committed suicide together at
+Copenhagen?" asked Cecilie.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, she had." Fr&ouml;ken Monrad thought that it was horrible.</p>
+
+<p>"Why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why the man was married!"</p>
+
+<p>"True enough," answered Ella, "but they loved each other." Her eyes
+glowed; Cecilie lowered hers and blushed. Ella took her hand and
+pressed it. "I tumbled into a love-story there," she thought, and
+flew, rather than walked, up to the villas, where most of her pupils
+lived. On a roof she saw two starlings; the first that year. The thaw
+of a few days back had deceived them. Not that the starlings were
+dispirited. No, they loved! "Mamma, mamma," she seemed to hear at the
+same moment. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>was certainly her boys; she had thought of them when
+she saw the starlings. She was so occupied with this that she walked
+right across to the side of the road and trod on a piece of board,
+which tilted up and nearly threw her down; but under the board Spring
+reigned. They had come with the thaw, they were certainly dandelions!
+However ugly they may be in the summer, the first ones are always
+welcome. She stooped down and gathered the flowers; she put them with
+the roses. The dandelions looked very shabby there, but they were the
+first this year, and found to-day!</p>
+
+<p>After this she was absolutely boisterous. She skipped down the hills
+when her errand was finished. She greeted friends and mere
+acquaintance alike, and when she again saw Cecilie she put down the
+flowers, made a snowball, and threw it at her back.</p>
+
+<p>When she got home she wrapped the children well up and put them into
+the sledge with Tea. "Mamma, mamma!" they shouted and pointed <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>up
+towards the hotel. There stood Aksel Aar&ouml;. He bowed to her.</p>
+
+<p>Soon afterwards he came across. "You are quite alone," he said as he
+entered.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes." She was arranging the flowers and did not look up for she was
+trembling.</p>
+
+<p>"Is it a birthday to-day?" he asked.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you mean because of the flowers?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes. What lovely roses, and those in the glass&mdash;dandelions?"</p>
+
+<p>"The first this year," she answered.</p>
+
+<p>He did not look at them. He stood and fidgeted, as though he were
+thinking of something.</p>
+
+<p>"May I sing to you?" He said at last.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, indeed." She left the flowers, in order to open the piano and
+screw down the music-stool, and then drew quietly back.</p>
+
+<p>After a long and subdued prelude, he began with the "Sunset Song," by
+Ole Olsen, very softly, as he had spoken and moved ever since he came
+in. Never had he sung more beautifully; he had greatly improved, but
+the voice was the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>same, nay, there was even more despair and
+suffering in it than when she had heard it for the first time.
+"Sorrow, sorrow, oh, I am lost!" She heard it again plainly. At the
+end of the first verse, she sat bending forward, and weeping bitterly.
+She had not even tried to control herself. He heard her and turned
+round, a moment afterwards she felt him approach her, it even seemed
+to her that he kissed her plait, certainly he had bent down over her,
+for she could feel his breath. But she did not raise her head, she
+dare not.</p>
+
+<p>He walked across the room, returned and then walked back again. Her
+agitation subsided, she sat immovable and waited.</p>
+
+<p>"May I be allowed to take you for a drive to-day?" she heard him say.</p>
+
+<p>She had known the whole morning that they would go for a drive
+together, so she was not surprised. Just as <i>that</i> had now been
+fulfilled, so would the other be&mdash;everything. She looked up through
+her tears and smiled. He smiled too.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p><p>"I will go and see about the horses," he said, and as she did not
+answer he left her.</p>
+
+<p>She went back to the flowers. So she had not been able to give them to
+him. She would throw away the dandelions. As she took them out of the
+glass, she recalled the words, "You have something real there." They
+had certainly not been said about the dandelions, but they had often
+since recurred to her. Was it strange that they should do so now? She
+let the dandelions remain.</p>
+
+<p>Aar&ouml; stayed away a long time, more than an hour, but when he returned
+he was very cheerful. He was in a smart ladies' sledge, in the
+handsome furs which he had worn the day before; the most valuable ones
+that she had ever seen. He saluted with his whip, and talked and
+laughed with every one, old and young, who gathered round him while
+Ella put on her things. That was soon done; she had not many wraps,
+nor did she need them.</p>
+
+<p>He got down when she appeared, came forward, muffled her up and drove
+off at a trot. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>As they went he stooped over her and whispered, "How
+good of you to come with me." His voice was very genial, but there was
+something quite different about his breath. As soon as the handsome
+horses had slackened speed, he stooped forward again.</p>
+
+<p>"I have telephoned to Baadshaug to order lunch, it will be ready when
+we get there; you do not mind?"</p>
+
+<p>She turned, so as to raise her head towards him, their faces almost
+met.</p>
+
+<p>"I forgot to thank you for the card yesterday."</p>
+
+<p>He coloured. "I repented afterwards," he said, "but at the moment, I
+could not but think of you; how you suit it out here." Now <i>she</i>
+coloured and drew back. Then she heard close by her: "You must not be
+angry, it always happens that when we wish to repair a blunder, we
+make another."</p>
+
+<p>She would have liked to have seen his eyes, as he said this, but she
+dare not look at him. At all events it was more than he had said up to
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>the present time. His words fell softly on her ears. Before to-day
+she had almost misinterpreted his reserve, but how beautiful it made
+everything. She worshipped it.</p>
+
+<p>"In a little time we shall come to the woods, then we will stop and
+look round us," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"<i>There</i>," she thought.</p>
+
+<p>He drove on at a quick trot. How happy she was! The sunlight sparkled
+on the snow, the air was warm, she had to loosen the shawl over her
+head, and he helped her to do so. Again she became aware of his
+breath, there was something, not tobacco, more delicate, pleasanter,
+but what was it? It seemed to harmonise with him. She felt very happy,
+with an overflow of joy in the scene through which they were driving
+and which continually increased in beauty.</p>
+
+<p>On one side of the road were the mountains, the white mountains, which
+took a warm tint from the sunlight. In front of the mountains were
+lower hills, partly covered by woods, and among these lay scattered
+farms. The <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>farms were soon passed and then came woods, nothing but
+woods. On the other side of the road they had the sea for the whole
+way, but between them and it were flat expanses, probably marshes. The
+sea looked steel-grey against the snow. It spoke of another part of
+life, of eternal unrest; protest after protest against the snow idyl.</p>
+
+<p>During the thaw, tree-trunks, branches, and fences had become wet. The
+first snow which fell, being itself wet, had stuck to them. But when
+all this froze together, and there was another overwhelming fall,
+outlines were formed over the frozen surface, such as one rarely sees
+the like of. The weight of the first soft snow had caused it to slip
+down, but it had been arrested here and there by each inequality, and
+there it had collected, or else it had slid under the branches, or
+down on both sides of the fences; when this had been augmented both by
+drift and fall, the most whimsical animal forms were produced&mdash;white
+cats, white hares clawed the tree-trunks with bent backs and heads
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>and fore-quarters outstretched, or sat under the branches, or on the
+hedges. White beasts were there, some appeared the size of martens,
+but occasionally they seemed as large as lynxes or even tigers;
+besides these there were numberless small animals, white mice, and
+squirrels, here, there, and everywhere. Again there were, besides, all
+sorts of oddities, mountebanks who hung by their heels, clowns and
+goblins on the tops of the fences, dwarfs with big sacks on their
+backs; an old hat or a nightcap: an animal without a head, another
+with a neck of preposterous length, an enormous mitten, an overturned
+water-can. In some places the blackened foliage remained uncovered,
+and formed arabesques against the drifts; in others, masses of snow
+lay on the branches of the fir-trees with green above and beneath,
+forming wonderful contrasts of colour. Aar&ouml; drew up and they both got
+out of the sledge.</p>
+
+<p>Now they gained a whole series of fresh impressions. Right in front of
+them stood an old pine-tree, half prostrated in the struggle of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>life;
+but was he not dreaming, here in the winter, the loveliest of all
+dreams, that he was young again? In the joyous growth of this
+snow-white glory he had forgotten all pain and decay, forgotten the
+moss on his bark, the rottenness of his roots was concealed. A rickety
+gate had been taken from its place and was propped against the fence,
+broken and useless. The artist hand of winter had sought it out too,
+and glorified it, and it was now an architectural masterpiece. The
+slanting black gate-posts were a couple of young dandies, with hats on
+one side and jaunty air. The old, grey, mossy rails&mdash;one could not
+imagine Paradise within a more beautiful enclosure. Their blemishes
+had in this resurrection become their greatest beauty. Their knots and
+crannies were the chief building ground for the snow, each hole filled
+up by a donation of heavenly crystals from the clouds. Their
+disfiguring splinters were now covered and kissed, shrouded and
+decorated; all blemishes were obliterated in the universal whiteness.
+A tumble<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>down moss-grown hut by the roadside&mdash;now more extravagantly
+adorned than the richest bride in the world, covered over from
+heaven's own lap in such abundance that the white snow wreaths hung
+half a yard beyond the roof; in some places folded back with
+consummate art. The grey-black wall under the snow wreaths looked like
+an old Persian fabric. It seemed ready to appear in a Shakespearean
+drama. The background of mountains and hills gleamed in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>In the midst of all this Ella seemed to hear two little cries of
+"Mamma, mamma!" When she looked round for her companion he was sitting
+on the sledge, quite overcome, while tears flowed down his cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>They drove on again, but slowly. "I remember this muddy road," said
+he; his voice sounded very sad. "The trees shaded it so that it was
+hardly ever dry, but now it is beautiful."</p>
+
+<p>She turned and raised her head towards him. "Ah! sing a little," she
+said.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>He did not answer at once, and she regretted that she had asked him;
+at length he said:</p>
+
+<p>"I was thinking of it, but I became so agitated; do not speak for a
+moment and then perhaps I can&mdash;the old winter song, that is to say."</p>
+
+<p>She understood that he could not do so until he completely realised
+it. These silent enthusiasts were indeed fastidious about what was
+genuine. Most things were not genuine enough for them. That is why
+they are so prone to intoxicate themselves; they wish to get away, to
+form a world for themselves. Yes, now he sang:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In winter's arms doth summer sleep</span><br />
+<span class="i2">By winter covered calm she lay,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">"Still!" he cried to the river's play,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">To farm, and field and mountain steep.</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Silence reigns o'er hill and dale,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">No sound at home save ringing flail.</span><br />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All that summer loved to see</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Till she returns sleeps safely on.</span><br />
+<span class="i2">In needed rest, the summer gone,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Sleep water, meadow-grass and tree,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Hid like the kernel in the nut</span><br />
+<span class="i2">The earth lies crumbling round each root.</span><br />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><span class="i0">All the ills which summer knew,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Pest and blight for life and fruit</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Winter's hosts have put to rout.</span><br />
+<span class="i0">In peace she shall awake again</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Purified by winds and snows,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Peace shall greet her as she goes.</span><br />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A lovely dream has winter strown</span><br />
+<span class="i2">On the sleeping mountain height;</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Star high, pale in northern light,</span><br />
+<span class="i0">From sight to sight it bears her on</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Through the long, long hours of night,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Till she wakes shall be her flight.</span><br />
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He who we say brings naught but pain</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Lives but for that he ne'er shall see.</span><br />
+<span class="i2">He who is called a murderer, he</span><br />
+<span class="i0">Preserves each year our land again,</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Then hides himself by crag and hill</span><br />
+<span class="i2">Till evening's breeze again blows chill.</span><br />
+</div></div>
+<p>All the little sleigh-bells accompanied the song, like the twitter of
+sparrows. His voice echoed through the trees, the religious service of
+a human soul in the white halls.</p>
+
+<p>One day, felt Ella, paid for a thousand. One day may do what the
+winter song relates. It may rock a weary summer, destroy its germs of
+ill, renew the earth, make the nerves strong, and the darkest time
+bright. In it are collected all our long dreams. What might she not
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>have become, poor little thing that she was, if she had had many such
+days? What would she not then have become, for her children.</p>
+
+<p>They now drew near to a long building with two wings; the whole built
+of wood. In the courtyard a number of sledges were standing. There
+were a great many people here then! A stableman took their horses; the
+waiter who was to attend to them, a German, was quickly at hand, and a
+bareheaded jovial man joined them as well&mdash;it was Peter Klausson. He
+seemed to have been expecting them, and wished to relieve Ella of her
+wraps, but he smelt of cognac or something of the sort, and to get rid
+of him she inquired for the room in which they were to lunch. They
+were shown into a warm cosy apartment where the table was laid. Aar&ouml;
+helped her off with her things.</p>
+
+<p>"I could not endure Peter Klausson's breath," she said, at which Aar&ouml;
+smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"In America we have a remedy for that."</p>
+
+<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>"One takes something which scents the breath."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later he asked her to excuse him. He had to arrange a few
+things. She was thus alone until some one knocked at the door. It was
+Peter Klausson again. He saw her astonishment and smiled.</p>
+
+<p>"We are to lunch together," he said.</p>
+
+<p>"Are we?" she replied.</p>
+
+<p>She looked at the table; it was laid for five.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you heard lately from your husband?"</p>
+
+<p>"No."</p>
+
+<p>A long pause. Was Peter Klausson fit company for Aksel Aar&ouml;? Her
+husband's boon companion! Aar&ouml;, who will have nothing but what is
+genuine. But as she thought this, she had to admit that Peter
+Klausson's impulsive nature was perfectly truthful, which indeed it
+was. The waiter came in with a basket of wine, but did not shut the
+door after him until he had lifted in some more from outside:
+champagne in ice.</p>
+
+<p>"Shall we want so much wine?" asked Ella.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p><p>"Oh, it's all right," answered Peter Klausson, evidently delighted.</p>
+
+<p>"But Aar&ouml; does not drink wine!"</p>
+
+<p>"Aar&ouml;? When he asked me to come here to-day&mdash;I chanced to look in on
+him&mdash;we had some first-rate cognac together."</p>
+
+<p>Ella turned to the window, for she felt that she had grown pale.</p>
+
+<p>Very soon Aar&ouml; came in, so courteous and stately that Peter Klausson
+felt compelled to take his hands out of his pockets. He hardly dared
+to speak. Aar&ouml; said that he had invited the Holmbos, but they had just
+sent an excuse. They three must make the best of each other's society.
+He led Ella to the table.</p>
+
+<p>It was soon evident that Aar&ouml; was the most delightful and accomplished
+of hosts. He spoke English to the waiter, and directed him by frequent
+signs, covered his blunders, and smoothed away every little
+difficulty, in such a way that it was hardly noticed. All the time he
+kept up a constant flow of conversation, narrating small anecdotes
+from his experiences <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>of society, but he never poured out wine for
+himself, and when he raised his glass his hand shook. Ella had fancied
+before that this was the case&mdash;it was torture to her now.</p>
+
+<p>Oysters were served for the first course; she relished them
+thoroughly, for she was very hungry; but as the meal proceeded, she
+became each moment less able to enjoy it. At last her throat seemed to
+contract, she felt more inclined to cry than to eat and drink.</p>
+
+<p>At first the reason was not clear to her. She only felt that this was
+absolutely different from what she had dreamed of. This glorious day
+was to be a disappointment. At first she thought&mdash;this will end some
+time, and we shall go comfortably home again. But by degrees, as his
+spirits rose, she became merely the guest of a society man. As such
+she was shown all imaginable attention&mdash;indeed, the two gentlemen
+joined in making much of her, till she could have cried.</p>
+
+<p>After luncheon she was ceremoniously conducted on Aar&ouml;'s arm into
+another room which <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>was also in readiness for them; comfortable, well
+furnished, and with a piano.</p>
+
+<p>Coffee was served at once with liqueur, and not long afterwards the
+two men asked to be excused; they wanted to smoke, they would not be
+long. They went, and left her alone. This was scarcely polite, and now
+she first realised that it was not the day only, but Aar&ouml;, who had
+become different from what she had believed him. The great darkness
+which had overwhelmed her on the night of the ball again menaced her;
+she fought against it; she got up and paced the room; she longed to be
+out of doors, as though she could find him again there, such as she
+had imagined him. She looked for the luncheon-room, put on her red
+shawl, and had just come out on to the broad space before the
+building, when the waiter came up to her and said something in English
+which she could not at first understand. Indeed, she was too much
+occupied with her own thoughts to be able suddenly to change
+languages.</p>
+
+<p>The waiter told her that one of her com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>panions was ill, and the other
+not to be found. Even when she understood the words, she did not
+realise what was the matter, but followed mechanically. As she went
+she remembered that Aar&ouml;'s tongue had not been quite obedient when,
+after the liqueur, he had asked permission to go and smoke; surely he
+had not had a stroke.</p>
+
+<p>They passed the smoking-room, which seemed to be full&mdash;at all events
+of smoke and laughter. The door of a little room by the side of it was
+opened; there lay Aksel Aar&ouml; on a bed. He must have slunk in there
+alone, perhaps to drink more; indeed, he had taken a short thick
+bottle in with him, which still stood on a table by the bed, on which
+he lay fully dressed with closed eyes and without sense or feeling.</p>
+
+<p>"Tip, tip, Pet&eacute;!" he said to her, and repeated it with outstretched
+finger, "Tip, tip, Pet&eacute;!" He spoke in a falsetto voice. Did he mean
+Peter? Did he take her for a man? Behind him on a pillow lay something
+hairy; it was a <i>toupet</i>; she now saw that he was bald on the crown.
+"Tip, tip, Pet&eacute;!" she heard as she rushed out.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p><p>Few people have felt smaller than Ella as she trudged along the
+country road, back to the town as fast as her short legs could carry
+her, in thin shoes and winter attire. The heavy cloak which she had
+worn for driving was unfastened, she carried the shawl in her hand,
+but still the perspiration streamed off her; the idea was upon her
+that it was her dreams which were falling from her.</p>
+
+<p>At first she only thought of Aksel Aar&ouml;, the unhappy lost one!
+To-morrow or the next day he would leave the country; she knew this
+from past experience, and this time it would be for ever.</p>
+
+<p>But as she thought how terrible it was, the <i>toupet</i> on the pillow
+seemed to ask: "Was Aksel Aar&ouml; so very genuine?" "Yes, yes, how could
+he help it if he became bald so early." "H'm," answered the <i>toupet</i>;
+"he could have confessed to it."</p>
+
+<p>She struggled on; luckily she did not meet any one, nor was she
+overtaken by any of those who had been at Baadshaug. She must look
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>very comical, perspiring and tearful, with unfastened cloak, in thin
+shoes and with a shawl in her hand. Several times she slackened her
+pace, but the disturbance of her feelings was too great, and it was
+her nature to struggle forward.</p>
+
+<p>But through all her feverish haste the great question forced itself
+upon her: "Would you not wish now, Ella, to relinquish all your
+dreams, since time after time things go so badly?" She sobbed
+violently and answered: "Not for worlds. No! for these dreams are the
+best things that I have. They have given me the power to measure
+others so that I can never exalt anything which is base. No! I have
+woven them round my children as well, so that I have a thousand times
+more pleasure in them. They and the flowers are all that I have." And
+she sobbed and pressed on.</p>
+
+<p>"But now you will have no dream, Ella!"</p>
+
+<p>At first she did not know what to reply to this, it seemed but too
+true, too terribly true, and the <i>toupet</i> showed itself again.</p>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p><p>It was here that Aar&ouml; had sung the old winter song, and as the tinkle
+of the sledge-bells had accompanied it, so now her tears were
+unceasingly accompanied by two little voices: "Mamma, mamma!" It was
+not strange, for it was towards the children that she was hurrying,
+but now they seemed to demand that she should dream about them. No,
+no! "You have something real there," Aar&ouml;'s voice seemed to say. She
+remembered his saying it, she remembered his sadness as he did so. Had
+he really thought of himself and her, or of the children and her? Had
+he compared his own weakness with their health, with their future? Her
+thoughts wandered far away from the boys, and she was once more
+immersed in all his words and looks, trying by them to solve this
+enigma. But these, with the yearning and pain, came back as they had
+never done before. Her whole life was over; her dream was of too long
+standing, too strong, too clear, the roots could not be pulled up; it
+was impossible. Were they not round everything which, next day, she
+should <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>see, or touch, or use? As a last stroke she remembered that
+the boys were not at home; she would come to an empty house.</p>
+
+<p>But she resisted still; for when she got home and had bathed and gone
+to bed, and again the moonlight shone in on her and reminded her of
+her thoughts the night before, she turned away and cried aloud like a
+child. None could enter, none could hear her; her heart was young, as
+though she were but seventeen; it could not, it would not give up!</p>
+
+<p>What was it, in fact, that she had wished for to-day? She did not
+know&mdash;no, she did not! She only knew that her happiness was
+<i>there</i>&mdash;and so she had let it remain. Now she was disappointed and
+deluded in a way that certainly few had been.</p>
+
+<p>She could not bear to desecrate him further. Then the winter song
+swept past in his voice, sweet, full, sorrowful, as if it wished to
+make all clear to her; and, tractable as a child, she composed herself
+and listened. What did it say? That her dreams united two summers,
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>the one which had been and the one which was slowly struggling up
+anew. Thanks be to the dreams which had awakened it. It said, too,
+that the dreams were something in themselves often of greater truth
+than reality itself. She had felt this when she was tending her
+flowers.</p>
+
+<p>In her uneasy tossing in her bed, her plait had come close to her
+hand. Sadly she drew it forward; he had kissed it again to-day. And so
+she lay on her side, and took it between her hands, and cried.</p>
+
+<p>"Mamma, mamma!" she heard whispered, and thus she slept.</p>
+
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="THE_NOVELS_OF_BJORNSTJERNE_BJORNSON" id="THE_NOVELS_OF_BJORNSTJERNE_BJORNSON"></a><i>THE NOVELS OF BJ&Ouml;RNSTJERNE BJ&Ouml;RNSON</i></h2>
+
+<p><i>Edited by EDMUND GOSSE</i></p>
+
+<p><i>Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. net</i></p>
+
+<div>
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Synn&ouml;v&eacute; Solbakken</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Arne</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>A Happy Boy</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The Fisher Lass</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>The Bridal March, &amp; One Day</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Magnhild, &amp; Dust</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Captain Mansana, &amp; Mother's Hands</i></span><br />
+<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Absalom's Hair, &amp; A Painful Memory</i></span><br />
+</div>
+
+<p><i>LONDON</i></p>
+
+<p><i>WILLIAM HEINEMANN</i></p>
+
+<p><i>21 Bedford Street, W. C.</i></p>
+
+
+
+<p><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">Ballantyne, Hanson &amp; Co.</span> <i>London and Edinburgh</i></p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRIDAL MARCH; ONE DAY ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18110-h.htm or 18110-h.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/1/1/18110/
+
+Produced by Clare Boothby, Charlene Taylor and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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diff --git a/18110.txt b/18110.txt
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+++ b/18110.txt
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+Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Bridal March; One Day
+
+Author: Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
+Translator: Edmund Gosse
+
+Release Date: April 3, 2006 [EBook #18110]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BRIDAL MARCH; ONE DAY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Clare Boothby, Charlene Taylor and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: Front matter listing the novels of BJOeRNSTJERNE
+BJOeRNSON moved to end of book]
+
+
+
+                            THE BRIDAL MARCH
+
+                                    &
+
+                                 ONE DAY
+
+                                    BY
+
+                           BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON
+
+                  (_Translated from the Norwegian_)
+
+
+
+LONDON
+WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+1896
+
+
+
+
+_BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE_
+
+
+[The Bridal March _(Brude-Slaatten) was written in
+Christiania in 1872. It was originally published in the second volume
+of the first popular edition of Bjoernson's collected tales, issued in
+Copenhagen in that year. In November 1873, a small edition was
+published in separate form, and this was followed by an illustrated
+issue, of which a second edition appeared in 1877._ The Bridal March
+_was originally composed as the text to four designs by the Norwegian
+painter, Tidemand. It was dedicated to Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+One Day _(En Dag) was originally issued in the Norwegian
+Magazine "Nyt Tidsscrift," late in 1893; and was republished in a
+volume of short stories during the following year._
+
+                                                             _E. G._]
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE BRIDAL MARCH
+
+
+There lived last century, in one of the high-lying inland valleys of
+Norway, a fiddler, who has become in some degree a legendary
+personage. Of the tunes and marches ascribed to him, some are said to
+have been inspired by the Trolls, one he heard from the devil himself,
+another he made to save his life, &c., &c. But the most famous of all
+is a Bridal March; and _its_ story does not end with the story of his
+life.
+
+Fiddler Ole Haugen was a poor cottar high among the mountains. He had
+a daughter, Aslaug, who had inherited his cleverness. Though she could
+not play his fiddle, there was music in everything she did--in her
+talk, her singing, her walk, her dancing.
+
+At the great farm of Tingvold, down in the valley, a young man had
+come home from his travels. He was the third son of the rich peasant
+owner, but his two elder brothers had been drowned in a flood, so the
+farm was to come to him. He met Aslaug at a wedding and fell in love
+with her. In those days it was an unheard-of thing that a well-to-do
+peasant of old family should court a girl of Aslaug's class. But this
+young fellow had been long away, and he let his parents know that he
+had made enough out in the world to live upon, and that if he could
+not have what he wanted at home, he would let the farm go. It was
+prophesied that this indifference to the claims of family and property
+would bring its own punishment. Some said that Ole Haugen had brought
+it about, by means only darkly hinted at.
+
+So much is certain, that while the conflict between the young man and
+his parents was going on, Haugen was in the best of spirits. When the
+battle was over, he said that he had already made them a Bridal March,
+one that would never go out of the family of Tingvold--but woe to the
+girl, he added, whom it did not play to church as happy a bride as the
+cottar's daughter, Aslaug Haugen! And here again people talked of the
+influence of some mysterious evil power.
+
+So runs the story. It is a fact that to this day the people of that
+mountain district have a peculiar gift of music and song, which then
+must have been greater still. Such a thing is not kept up without some
+one caring for and adding to the original treasure, and Ole Haugen was
+the man who did it in his time.
+
+Tradition goes on to tell that just as Ole Haugen's Bridal March was
+the merriest ever heard, so the bridal pair that it played to church,
+that were met by it again as they came from the altar, and that drove
+home with its strain in their ears, were the happiest couple that had
+ever been seen. And though the race of Tingvold had always been a
+handsome race, and after this were handsomer than ever, it is
+maintained that none, before or after, could equal this particular
+couple.
+
+With Ole Haugen legend ends, and now history begins. Ole's bridal
+march kept its place in the house of Tingvold. It was sung, and
+hummed, and whistled, and fiddled, in the house and in the stable, in
+the field and on the mountain-side. The only child born of the
+marriage, little Astrid, was rocked and sung to sleep with it by
+mother, by father, and by servants, and it was one of the first things
+she herself learned. There was music in the race, and this bright
+little one had her full share of it, and soon could hum her parent's
+triumphal march, the talisman of her family, in quite a masterly way.
+
+It was hardly to be wondered at that when she grew up, she too wished
+to choose her lover. Many came to woo, but at the age of twenty-three
+the rich and gifted girl was still single. The reason came out at
+last. In the house lived a quick-witted youth, whom Aslaug had taken
+in out of pity. He went by the name of the tramp or gipsy, though he
+was neither. But Aslaug was ready enough to call him so when she
+heard that Astrid and he were betrothed. They had pledged faith to
+each other in all secrecy out on the hill pastures, and had sung the
+bridal march together, she on the height, he answering from below.
+
+The lad was sent away at once. No one could now show more pride of
+race than Aslaug, the poor cottar's daughter. Astrid's father called
+to mind what was prophesied when he broke the tradition of his family.
+Had it now come to a husband being taken in from the wayside? Where
+would it end? And the neighbours said much the same.
+
+"The tramp," Knut by name, soon became well known to every one, as he
+took to dealing in cattle on his own account. He was the first in that
+part of the country to do it to any extent, and his enterprise had
+begun to benefit the whole district, raising prices, and bringing in
+capital. But he was apt to bring drinking bouts, and often fighting,
+in his train; and this was all that people talked of as yet; they had
+not begun to understand his capabilities as a business man.
+
+Astrid was determined, and she was twenty-three, and her parents came
+to see that either the farm must go out of the family or Knut must
+come into it; through their own marriage they had lost the moral
+authority that might have stood them in good stead now. So Astrid had
+her way. One fine day the handsome, merry Knut drove with her to
+church. The strains of the family bridal march, her grandfather's
+masterpiece, were wafted back over the great procession, and the two
+seemed to be sitting humming it quietly, and very happy they looked.
+And every one wondered how the parents looked so happy too, for they
+had opposed the marriage long and obstinately.
+
+After the wedding Knut took over the farm, and the old people retired
+on their allowance. It was such a liberal one that people could not
+understand how Knut and Astrid were able to afford it; for though the
+farm was the largest in the district, it was not well-cultivated. But
+this was not all. Three times the number of workpeople were taken on,
+and everything was started in a new way, with an outlay unheard of in
+these parts. Certain ruin was foretold. But "the tramp"--for his
+nickname had stuck to him--was as merry as ever, and seemed to have
+infected Astrid with his humour. The quiet, gentle girl became the
+lively, buxom wife. Her parents were satisfied. At last people began
+to understand that Knut had brought to Tingvold what no one had had
+there before, working capital! And along with it he had brought the
+experience gained in trading, and a gift of handling commodities and
+money, and of keeping servants willing and happy.
+
+In twelve years one would hardly have known Tingvold again. House and
+outbuildings were different; there were three times as many
+workpeople, they were three times as well off, and Knut himself, in
+his broadcloth coat, sat in the evenings and smoked his meerschaum
+pipe and drank his glass of toddy with the Captain and the Pastor and
+the Bailiff. To Astrid he was the cleverest and best man in the world,
+and she was fond of telling how in his young days he had fought and
+drunk just to get himself talked about, and to frighten her; "for he
+was so cunning!"
+
+She followed him in everything except in leaving off peasant dress and
+customs; to these she always kept. Knut did not interfere with other
+people's ways, so this caused no trouble between them. He lived with
+his "set," and his wife saw to their entertainment, which was,
+however, modest enough, for he was too prudent a man to make
+unnecessary show or outlay of any kind. Some said that he gained more
+by the card-playing, and by the popularity this mode of life won for
+him, than all he laid out upon it, but this was probably pure
+malevolence.
+
+They had several children, but the only one whose history concerns us
+is the eldest son, Endrid, who was to inherit the farm and carry on
+the honour of the house. He had all the good looks of his race, but
+not much in the way of brains, as is often the case with children of
+specially active-minded parents. His father soon observed this, and
+tried to make up for it by giving him a very good education. A tutor
+was brought into the house for the children, and when Endrid grew up
+he was sent to one of the agricultural training schools that were now
+beginning to flourish in Norway, and after that to finish off in town.
+He came home again a quiet young fellow, with a rather over-burdened
+brain and fewer town ways than his father had hoped for. But Endrid
+was a slow-witted youth.
+
+The Pastor and the Captain, both with large families of daughters, had
+their eye on him. But if this was the reason of the increased
+attention they paid to Knut, they made a great mistake; the idea of a
+marriage between his son and a poor pastor's or captain's daughter,
+with no training to fit her for a rich farmer's wife, was so
+ridiculous to him that he did not even think it necessary to warn
+Endrid. And indeed no warning was needed, for the lad saw as well as
+his father that, though there was no need for his bringing more wealth
+into the family through his marriage, it would be of advantage if he
+could again connect it with one of equal birth and position. But, as
+ill-luck would have it, he was but an awkward wooer. The worst of it
+was that he began to get the name of being a fortune-hunter; and when
+once a young man gets this reputation, the peasants fight shy of him.
+Endrid soon noticed this himself; for though he was not particularly
+quick, to make up for it he was very sensitive. He saw that it did not
+improve his position that he was dressed like a townsman, and "had
+learning," as the country people said. The boy was sound at heart, and
+the result of the slights he met with was that by degrees he left off
+his town dress and town speech, and began to work on his father's
+great farm as a simple labourer. His father understood--he had begun
+to understand before the lad did--and he told his wife to take no
+notice. So they said nothing about marriage, nor about the change in
+Endrid's ways; only his father was more and more friendly to him, and
+consulted him in everything connected with the farm and with his
+other trade, and at last gave the management of the farm altogether
+into his hands. And of this they never needed to repent.
+
+So the time passed till Endrid was thirty-one. He had been steadily
+adding to his father's wealth and to his own experience and
+independence; but had never made the smallest attempt at courtship;
+had not looked at a girl, either in their own district or elsewhere.
+And now his parents were beginning to fear that he had given up
+thoughts of it altogether. But this was not the case.
+
+On a neighbouring farm lived in good circumstances another
+well-descended peasant family, that had at different times
+intermarried with the race of Tingvold. A girl was growing up there
+whom Endrid had been fond of since she was a little child; no doubt he
+had quietly set his heart on her, for only six months after her
+confirmation he spoke. She was seventeen then and he thirty-one.
+Randi, that was the girl's name, did not know at first what to answer;
+she consulted her parents, but they said she must decide for herself.
+He was a good man, and from a worldly point of view she could not make
+a better match, but the difference in their ages was great, and she
+must know herself if she had the courage to undertake the new duties
+and cares that would come upon her as mistress of the large farm. The
+girl felt that her parents would rather have her say Yes than No, but
+she was really afraid. She went to his mother, whom she had always
+liked, and found to her surprise that she knew nothing. But the mother
+was so delighted with the idea that with all her might she urged Randi
+to accept him. "I'll help you," she said. "Father will want no
+allowance from the farm. He has all he needs, and he doesn't wish his
+children to be longing for his death. Things will be divided at once,
+and the little that we keep to live on will be divided too when we are
+gone. So you see there will be no trouble with us." Yes, Randi knew
+all along that Knut and Astrid were kind and nice. "And the boy," said
+Astrid, "is good and thoughtful about everything." Yes, Randi had
+felt that too; she was not afraid but that she would get on with
+him--if she were only capable enough herself!
+
+A few days later everything was settled. Endrid was happy, and so were
+his parents; for this was a much respected family that he was marrying
+into, and the girl was both nice-looking and clever; there was not a
+better match for him in the district. The parents on both sides
+consulted together, and settled that the wedding should be just before
+harvest, as there was nothing to wait for.
+
+The neighbourhood generally did not look on the engagement in the same
+light as the parties concerned. It was said that the pretty young girl
+had "sold herself." She was so young that she hardly knew what
+marriage was, and the sly Knut had pushed forward his son before any
+other lovers had the chance. Something of this came to Randi's ears,
+but Endrid was so loving to her, and in such a quiet, almost humble
+way, that she would not break off with him; only it made her a little
+cool. Both his and her parents heard what was said, but took no
+notice.
+
+Perhaps just because of this talk they determined to hold the wedding
+in great style, and this, for the same reason, was not unacceptable to
+Randi. Knut's friends, the Pastor, the Captain, and the Bailiff, with
+their large families, were to be among the guests, and some of them
+were to accompany the pair to church. On their account Knut wanted to
+dispense with the fiddlers--it was too old-fashioned and peasant-like.
+But Astrid insisted that they must be played to church and home again
+with the Bridal March of her race. It had made her and her husband so
+happy; they could not but wish to hear it again on their dear
+children's great festival day. There was not much sentiment about
+Knut; but he let his wife have her way. The bride's parents got a hint
+that they might engage the fiddlers, who were asked to play the old
+March, the family Bridal March, that had lain quiet now for a time,
+because this generation had worked without song.
+
+But alas! on the wedding day the rain poured hard. The players had to
+wrap up their fiddles as soon as they had played the bridal party away
+from the farm, and they did not take them out again till they came
+within sound of the church-bells. Then a boy had to stand up at the
+back of the cart and hold an umbrella over them, and below it they sat
+huddled together and sawed away. The March did not sound like itself
+in such weather, naturally enough, nor was it a very merry-looking
+bridal procession that followed. The bridegroom sat with the high
+bridegroom's hat between his legs and a sou'-wester on his head; he
+had on a great fur coat, and he held an umbrella over the bride, who,
+with one shawl on the top of another, to protect the bridal crown and
+the rest of her finery, looked more like a wet hayrick than a human
+being. On they came, carriage after carriage, the men dripping, the
+women hidden away under their wrappings. It looked like a sort of
+bewitched procession, in which one could not recognise a single face;
+for there was not a face to be seen, nothing but huddled-up heaps of
+wool or fur. A laugh broke out among the specially large crowd
+gathered at the church on account of the great wedding. At first it
+was stifled, but it grew louder with each carriage that drove up. At
+the large house where the procession was to alight and the dresses
+were to be arranged a little for going into church, a hay-cart had
+been drawn out of the way, into the corner formed by the porch.
+Mounted on it stood a pedlar, a joking fellow, Aslak by name. Just as
+the bride was lifted down he called: "Devil take me if Ole Haugen's
+Bridal March is any good to-day!"
+
+He said no more, but that was plenty. The crowd laughed, and though
+many of them tried not to let it be seen that they were laughing, it
+was clearly felt what all were thinking and trying to hide.
+
+When they took off the bride's shawls they saw that she was as white
+as a sheet. She began to cry, tried to laugh, cried again--and then
+all at once the feeling came over her that she could not go into the
+church. Amidst great excitement she was laid on a bed in a quiet room,
+for such a violent fit of crying had seized her that they were much
+alarmed. Her good parents stood beside the bed, and when she begged
+them to let her go back, they said that she might do just as she
+liked. Then her eyes fell on Endrid. Any one so utterly miserable and
+helpless she had never seen before; and beside him stood his mother,
+silent and motionless, with the tears running down her face and her
+eyes fixed on Randi's. Then Randi raised herself on her elbow and
+looked straight in front of her for a little, still sobbing after the
+fit of crying. "No, no,!" she said, "I'm going to church." Once more
+she lay back and cried for a little, and then she got up. She said
+that she would have no more music, so the fiddlers were dismissed--and
+the story did not lose in their telling when they got among the crowd.
+
+It was a mournful bridal procession that now moved on towards the
+church. The rain allowed of the bride and bridegroom hiding their
+faces from the curiosity of the onlookers till they got inside; but
+they felt that they were running the gauntlet, and they felt too that
+their own friends were annoyed at being laughed at as part of such a
+foolish procession.
+
+The grave of the famous fiddler, Ole Haugen, lay close by the
+church-door. Without saying much about it, the family had always
+tended it, and a new head-board had been put up when the old one had
+rotted away below. The upper part of it was in the shape of a wheel,
+as Ole himself had desired. The grave was in a sunny spot, and was
+thickly overgrown with wild flowers. Every churchgoer that had ever
+stood by it had heard from some one or other how a botanist in
+government pay, making a collection of the plants and flowers of the
+valley and the mountains round about, had found flowers on that grave
+that did not grow anywhere else in the neighbourhood. And the
+peasants, who as a rule cared little about what they called "weeds,"
+took pride in these particular ones--a pride mixed with curiosity and
+even awe. Some of the flowers were remarkably beautiful. But as the
+bridal pair passed the grave, Endrid, who was holding Randi's hand,
+felt that she shivered; immediately she began to cry again, walked
+crying into the church, and was led crying to her place. No bride
+within the memory of man had made such an entrance into that church.
+
+She felt as she sat there that all this was helping to confirm the
+report that she had been sold. The thought of the shame she was
+bringing on her parents made her turn cold, and for a little she was
+able to stop crying. But at the altar she was moved again by some word
+of the priest's, and immediately the thought of all she had gone
+through that day came over her; and for the moment she had the feeling
+that never, no, never again, could she look people in the face, and
+least of all her own father and mother.
+
+Things got no better as the day went on. She was not able to sit with
+the guests at the dinner-table; in the evening she was half coaxed,
+half forced to appear at supper, but she spoiled every one's pleasure,
+and had to be taken away to bed. The wedding festivities, that were to
+have gone on for several days, ended that evening. It was given out
+that the bride was ill.
+
+Though neither those who said this nor those who heard it believed it,
+it was only too true. She was really ill, and she did not soon
+recover. One consequence of this was that their first child was
+sickly. The parents were not the less devoted to it from understanding
+that they themselves were to a certain extent the cause of its
+suffering. They never left that child. They never went to church, for
+they had got shy of people. For two years God gave them the joy of the
+child, and then He took it from them.
+
+The first thought that struck them after this blow was that they had
+been too fond of their child. That was why they had lost it. So, when
+another came, it seemed as if neither of them dared to show their love
+for it. But this little one, though it too was sickly at first, grew
+stronger, and was so sweet and bright that they could not restrain
+their feelings. A new, pure happiness had come to them; they could
+almost forget all that had happened. When this child was two years
+old, God took it too.
+
+Some people seem to be chosen out by sorrow. They are the very people
+that seem to us to need it least, but at the same time they are those
+that are best fitted to bear trials and yet to keep their faith. These
+two had early sought God together; after this they lived as it were in
+His presence. The life at Tingvold had long been a quiet one; now the
+house was like a church before the priest comes in. The work went on
+perfectly steadily, but at intervals during the day Endrid and Randi
+worshipped together, communing with those "on the other side." It made
+no change in their habits that Randi, soon after their last loss, had
+a little daughter. The children that were dead were boys, and this
+made them not care so much for a girl. Besides they did not know if
+they were to be allowed to keep her. But the health and happiness
+that the mother had enjoyed up to the time of the death of the last
+little boy, had benefited this child, who soon showed herself to be a
+bright little girl, with her mother's pretty face. The two lonely
+people again felt the temptation to be hopeful and happy in their
+child; but the fateful two years were not over, and they dared not. As
+the time drew near, they felt as if they had only been allowed a
+respite.
+
+Knut and Astrid kept a good deal to themselves. The way in which the
+young people had taken things did not allow of much sympathy or
+consolation being offered them. Besides, Knut was too lively and
+worldly-minded to sit long in a house of mourning or to be always
+coming in upon a prayer meeting. He moved to a small farm that he had
+bought and let, but now took back into his own hands. There he
+arranged everything so comfortably and nicely for his dear Astrid,
+that people whose intention it was to go to Tingvold, rather stayed
+and laughed with him than went on to cry with his children.
+
+One day when Astrid was in her daughter-in-law's house, she noticed
+how little Mildrid went about quite alone; it seemed as if her mother
+hardly dared to touch her. When the father came in, she saw the same
+mournful sort of reserve towards his own, only child. She concealed
+her thoughts, but when she got home to her own dear Knut, she told him
+how things stood at Tingvold, and added: "Our place is there now.
+Little Mildrid needs some one that dares to love her; pretty, sweet
+little child that she is!" Knut was infected by her eagerness, and the
+two old people packed up and went home.
+
+Mildrid was now much with her grandparents, and they taught her
+parents to love her. When she was five years old her mother had
+another daughter, who was called Beret; and after this Mildrid lived
+almost altogether with the old people. The anxious parents began once
+more to feel as if there might yet be pleasure for them in life, and a
+change in the popular feeling towards them helped them.
+
+After the loss of the second child, though there were often the
+traces of tears on their faces, no one had ever seen them weep--their
+grief was silent. There was no changing of servants at Tingvold, that
+was one result of the peaceful, God-fearing life there; nothing but
+praise of master and mistress was ever heard. They themselves knew
+this, and it gave them a feeling of comfort and security. Relations
+and friends began to visit them again; and went on doing so, even
+though the Tingvold people made no return.
+
+But they had not been at church since their wedding-day! They partook
+of the Communion at home, and held worship there. But when the second
+girl was born, they were so desirous to be her godparents themselves
+that they made up their minds to venture. They stood together at their
+children's graves; they passed Ole Haugen's without word or movement;
+the whole congregation showed them respect. But they continued to keep
+themselves very much to themselves, and a pious peace rested over
+their house.
+
+One day in her grandmother's house little Mildrid was heard singing
+the Bridal March. Old Astrid stopped her work in a fright, and asked
+her where in the world she had learned that. The child answered: "From
+you, grandmother." Knut, who was sitting in the house, laughed
+heartily, for he knew that Astrid had a habit of humming it when she
+sat at work. But they both said to little Mildrid that she must never
+sing it when her parents were within hearing. Like a child, she asked
+"Why?" But to this question she got no answer. One evening she heard
+the new herd-boy singing it as he was cutting wood. She told her
+grandmother, who had heard it too. All grandmother said was: "He'll
+not grow old here!"--and sure enough he had to go next day. No reason
+was given; he got his wages and was sent about his business. Mildrid
+was so excited about this, that grandmother had to try to tell her the
+story of the Bridal March. The little eight year old girl understood
+it well enough, and what she did not understand then became clear to
+her later. It had an influence on her child-life, and especially on
+her conduct towards her parents, that nothing else had or could have
+had.
+
+She had always noticed that they liked quietness. It was no hardship
+to her to please them in this; they were so gentle, and talked so much
+and so sweetly to her of the children's great Friend in heaven, that
+it cast a sort of charm over the whole house. The story of the Bridal
+March affected her deeply, and gave her an understanding of all that
+they had gone through. She carefully avoided recalling to them any
+painful memories, and showed them the tenderest affection, sharing
+with them their love of God, their truthfulness, their quietness,
+their industry. And she taught Beret to do the same.
+
+In their grandfather's house the life that had to be suppressed at
+home got leave to expand. Here there was singing and dancing and play
+and story-telling. So the sisters' young days passed between devotion
+to their melancholy parents in the quiet house, and the glad life they
+were allowed to take part in at their grandfather's. The families
+lived in perfect understanding. It was the parents who told them to go
+to the old people and enjoy themselves, and the old people who told
+them to go back again, "and be sure to be good girls."
+
+When a girl between the age of twelve and sixteen takes a sister
+between seven and eleven into her full confidence, the confidence is
+rewarded by great devotion. But the little one is apt to become too
+old for her years. This happened with Beret, while Mildrid only gained
+by being forbearing and kind and sympathetic--and she made her parents
+and grandparents happy.
+
+There is no more to tell till Mildrid was in her fifteenth year; then
+old Knut died, suddenly and easily. There seemed almost no time
+between the day when he sat joking in the chimney-corner and the day
+when he lay in his coffin.
+
+After this, grandmother's greatest pleasure was to have Mildrid
+sitting on a stool at her feet, as she had done ever since she was a
+little child, and to tell her stories about Knut, or else to get her
+to hum the Bridal March. As Astrid sat listening to it, she saw Knut's
+handsome dark head as she used to see it in her young days; she
+followed him out to the mountain-side, where he blew the March on his
+herd-boy's horn, she drove to church by his side--all his brightness
+and cleverness lived again for her!
+
+But in Mildrid's soul a new feeling began to stir. Whilst she sat and
+sang for grandmother, she asked herself: "Will it ever be played for
+me?" The thought grew upon her, the March spoke to her of such radiant
+happiness. She saw a bride's crown glittering in its sunshine, and a
+long, bright future beyond that. Sixteen--and she asked herself:
+"Shall I, shall I ever have some one sitting beside me, with the
+Bridal March shining in his eyes? Only think, if father and mother
+were one day to drive with me in such a procession, with the people
+greeting us on every side, on to the house where mother was jeered at
+that day, past Ole Haugen's flower-covered grave, up to the altar, in
+a glory of happiness! Think what it would be if I could give father
+and mother that consolation!" And the child's heart swelled, imagining
+all this to herself, swelled with pride and with devotion to those
+dear parents who had suffered so much.
+
+These were the first thoughts that she did not confide to Beret. Soon
+there were more. Beret, who was now eleven, noticed that she was left
+more to herself, but did not understand that she was being gradually
+shut out from Mildrid's confidence, till she saw another taken into
+her place. This was Inga, from the neighbouring farm, a girl of
+eighteen, their own cousin, newly betrothed. When Mildrid and Inga
+walked about in the fields, whispering and laughing, with their arms
+round each other, as girls love to go, poor Beret would throw herself
+down and cry with jealousy.
+
+The time came on for Mildrid to be confirmed; she made acquaintance
+with other young people of her own age, and some of them began to come
+up to Tingvold on Sundays. Mildrid saw them either out of doors or in
+her grandmother's room. Tingvold had always been a forbidden, and
+consequently mysteriously attractive place to the young people. But
+even now, only those with a certain quietness and seriousness of
+disposition went there, for it could not be denied that there was
+something subdued about Mildrid, that did not attract every one.
+
+At this particular time there was a great deal of music and singing
+among the youth of the district. For some reason or other there are
+such periods, and these periods have their leaders. One of the leaders
+now was, curiously enough, again of the race of Haugen.
+
+Amongst a people where once on a time, even though it were hundreds of
+years ago, almost every man and woman sought and found expression for
+their intensest feelings and experiences in song, and were able
+themselves to make the verses that gave them relief--amongst such a
+people the art can never quite die out. Here and there, even though it
+does not make itself heard, it must exist, ready on occasion to be
+awakened to new life. But in this district songs had been made and
+sung from time immemorial. It was by no mere chance that Ole Haugen
+was born here, and here became what he was. Now it was his grandson in
+whom the gift had reappeared.
+
+Ole's son had been so much younger than the daughter who had married
+into the Tingvold family, that the latter, already a married woman,
+had stood godmother to her little brother. After a life full of
+changes, this son, as an old man, had come into possession of his
+father's home and little bit of land far up on the mountain-side; and,
+strangely enough, not till then did he marry. He had several children,
+among them a boy called Hans, who seemed to have inherited his
+grandfather's gifts--not exactly in the way of fiddle-playing, though
+he did play--but he sang the old songs beautifully and made new ones
+himself. People's appreciation of his songs was not a little added to
+by the fact that so few knew himself; there were not many that had
+even seen him. His old father had been a hunter, and while the boys
+were quite small, the old man took them out to the hillside and taught
+them to load and aim a gun. They always remembered how pleased he was
+when they were able to earn enough with their shooting to pay for
+their own powder and shot. He did not live long after this, and soon
+after his death their mother died too, and the children were left to
+take care of themselves, which they managed to do. The boys hunted and
+the girls looked after the little hill farm. People turned to look at
+them when they once in a way showed themselves in the valley; they
+were so seldom there. It was a long, bad road down. In winter they
+occasionally came to sell or send off the produce of their hunting; in
+summer they were busy with the strangers. Their little holding was the
+highest lying in the district, and it became famed for having that
+pure mountain air which cures people suffering from their lungs or
+nerves, better than any yet discovered medicine; every year they had
+as many summer visitors, from town, and even from abroad, as they
+could accommodate. They added several rooms to their house, and still
+it was always full. So these brothers and sisters, from being poor,
+very poor, came to be quite well-to-do. Intercourse with so many
+strangers had made them a little different from the other country
+people--they even knew something of foreign languages. Hans was now
+twenty-seven. Some years before he had bought up his brothers' and
+sisters' shares, so that the whole place belonged to him.
+
+Not one of the family had ever set foot in the house of their
+relations at Tingvold. Endrid and Randi Tingvold, though they had
+doubtless never put the feeling into words, could just as little bear
+to hear the name of Haugen as to hear the Bridal March. These
+children's poor father had been made to feel this, and in consequence,
+Hans had forbidden his brothers and sisters ever to go to the house.
+But the girls at Tingvold, who loved music, longed to make
+acquaintance with Hans, and when they and their girl friends were
+together, they talked more about the family at Haugen than about
+anything else. Hans's songs and tunes were sung and danced to, and
+they were for ever planning how they could manage to meet the young
+farmer of Haugen.
+
+After this happy time of young companionship came Mildrid's
+confirmation. Just before it there was a quiet pause, and after it
+came another. Mildrid, now about seventeen, spent the autumn almost
+alone with her parents. In spring, or rather summer, she was, like all
+the other girls after their confirmation, to go to the soeter in
+charge of cattle. She was delighted at the thought of this, especially
+as her friend Inga was to be at the next soeter.
+
+At last her longing for the time to come grew so strong that she had
+no peace at home, and Beret, who was to accompany her, grew restless
+too. When they got settled in the soeter Beret was quite absorbed in
+the new, strange life, but Mildrid was still restless. She had her
+busy times with the cattle and the milk, but there were long idle
+hours that she did not know how to dispose of. Some days she spent
+them with Inga, listening to her stories of her lover, but often she
+had no inclination to go there. She was glad when Inga came to her,
+and affectionate, as if she wanted to make up for her faithlessness.
+She seldom talked to Beret, and often when Beret talked to her,
+answered nothing but Yes or No. When Inga came, Beret took herself
+off, and when Mildrid went to see Inga, Beret went crying away after
+the cows, and had the herd-boys for company. Mildrid felt that there
+was something wrong in all this, but with the best will she could not
+set it right.
+
+She was sitting one day near the soeter, herding the goats and
+sheep, because one of the herd-boys had played truant and she had to
+do his work. It was a warm midday; she was sitting in the shade of a
+hillock overgrown with birch and underwood; she had thrown off her
+jacket and taken her knitting in her hand, and was expecting Inga.
+Something rustled behind her. "There she comes," thought Mildrid, and
+looked up.
+
+But there was more noise than Inga was likely to make, and such a
+breaking and cracking among the bushes. Mildrid turned pale, got up,
+and saw something hairy and a pair of eyes below it--it must be a
+bear's head! She wanted to scream, but no voice would come; she wanted
+to run, but could not stir. The thing raised itself up--it was a tall,
+broad-shouldered man with a fur cap, a gun in his hand. He stopped
+short among the bushes and looked at her sharply for a second or two,
+then took a step forward, a jump, and stood in the field beside her.
+Something moved at her feet, and she gave a little cry; it was his
+dog, that she had not seen before.
+
+"Oh, dear!" she said; "I thought it was a bear breaking through the
+bushes, and I got such a fright!" And she tried to laugh.
+
+"Well, it might almost have been that," said he, speaking in a very
+quiet voice; "Kvas and I were on the track of a bear; but now we have
+lost it; and if I have a 'Vardoeger,'[1] it is certainly a bear."
+
+He smiled. She looked at him. Who can he be? Tall, broad-shouldered,
+wiry; his eyes restless, so that she could not see them rightly;
+besides, she was standing quite close to him, just where he had
+suddenly appeared before her with his dog and his gun.
+
+She felt the inclination to say, "Go away!" but instead she drew back
+a few steps, and asked: "Who are you?" She was really frightened.
+
+"Hans Haugen," answered the man rather absently; for he was paying
+attention to the dog, which seemed to have found the track of the bear
+again. He was just going to add, "Good-bye!" but when he looked at her
+she was blushing; cheeks, neck, and bosom crimson.
+
+"What's the matter?" said he, astonished.
+
+She did not know what to do or where to go, whether to run away or to
+sit down.
+
+"Who are you?" asked Hans in his turn.
+
+Once again she turned crimson, for to tell him her name was to tell
+him everything.
+
+"Who are you?" he repeated, as if it were the most natural question in
+the world, and deserved an answer.
+
+And she could not refuse the answer, though she felt ashamed of
+herself, and ashamed of her parents, who had neglected their own
+kindred. The name had to be said. "Mildrid Tingvold," she whispered,
+and burst into tears.
+
+It was true enough; the Tingvold people had given him little reason to
+care for them. Of his own free will he would scarcely have spoken to
+one of them. But he had never foreseen anything like this, and he
+looked at the girl in amazement. He seemed to remember some story of
+her mother having cried like that in church on her wedding-day.
+"Perhaps it's in the family," he thought, and turned to go. "Forgive
+me for having frightened you," he said, and took his way up the
+hillside after his dog.
+
+By the time she ventured to look up he had just reached the top of the
+ridge, and there he turned to look at her. It was only for an instant,
+for at that moment the dog barked on the other side. Hans gave a
+start, held his gun in readiness, and hurried on. Mildrid was still
+gazing at the place where he had stood, when a shot startled her.
+Could that be the bear? Could it have been so near her?
+
+Off she went, climbing where he had just climbed, till she stood where
+he had stood, shading her eyes with her hand, and--sure enough, there
+he was, half hidden by a bush, on his knees beside a huge bear! Before
+she knew what she was doing, she was down beside him. He gave her a
+smile of welcome, and explained to her, in his low voice, how it had
+happened that they had lost the track and the dog had not scented the
+animal till they were almost upon it. By this time she had forgotten
+her tears and her bashfulness, and he had drawn his knife to skin the
+bear on the spot. The flesh was of no value at this time; he meant to
+bury the carcass and take only the skin. So she held, and he skinned;
+then she ran down to the soeter for an axe and a spade; and although
+she still felt afraid of the bear, and it had a bad smell, she kept on
+helping him till all was finished. By this time it was long past
+twelve o'clock, and he invited himself to dinner at the soeter. He
+washed himself and the skin, no small piece of work, and then came in
+and sat beside her while she finished preparing the food.
+
+He chatted about one thing and another, easily and pleasantly, in the
+low voice that seems to become natural to people who are much alone.
+Mildrid gave the shortest answers possible, and when it came to
+sitting opposite him at the table, she could neither speak nor eat,
+and there was often silence between them. When she had finished he
+turned round his chair and filled and lit his pipe. He too was quieter
+now, and presently he got up. "I must be going," he said, holding out
+his hand, "it's a long way home from here." Then added, in a still
+lower voice: "Do you sit every day where you were to-day?" He held her
+hand for a moment, expecting an answer; but she dared not look up,
+much less speak. Then she felt him press her hand quickly. "Good-bye,
+then, and thank you!" he said in a louder tone, and before she could
+collect herself, she saw him, with the bearskin over his shoulder, the
+gun in his hand, and the dog at his side, striding away over the
+heather. There was a dip in the hills just there, and she saw him
+clear against the sky; his light, firm step taking him quickly away.
+She watched till he was out of sight, then came outside and sat down,
+still looking in the same direction.
+
+Not till now was she aware that her heart was beating so violently
+that she had to press her hands over it. In a minute or two she lay
+down on the grass, leaning her head on her arm, and began to go
+carefully over every event of the day. She saw him start up among the
+bushes and stand before her, strong and active, looking restlessly
+round. She felt over again the bewilderment and the fright, and her
+tears of shame. She saw him against the sun, on the height; she heard
+the shot, and was again on her knees before him, helping him with the
+skinning of the bear. She heard once more every word that he said, in
+that low voice that sounded so friendly, and that touched her heart as
+she thought of it; she listened to it as he sat beside the hearth
+while she was cooking, and then at table with her. She felt that she
+had no longer dared to look into his face, so that at last she had
+made him feel awkward too; for he had grown silent. Then she heard him
+speak once again, as he took her hand; and she felt his clasp--felt it
+still, through her whole body. She saw him go away over the
+heather--away, away!
+
+Would he ever come back? Impossible, after the way she had behaved.
+How strong, and brave, and self-reliant was everything she had seen of
+him, and how stupid and miserable all that he had seen of her, from
+her first scream of fright when the dog touched her, to her blush of
+shame and her tears; from the clumsy help she gave him, to her
+slowness in preparing the food. And to think that when he looked at
+her she was not able to speak; not even to say No, when he asked her
+if she sat under the hill every day--for she didn't sit there every
+day! Might not her silence then have seemed like an invitation to him
+to come and see? Might not her whole miserable helplessness have been
+misunderstood in the same way? What shame she felt now! She was hot
+all over with it, and she buried her burning face deeper and deeper in
+the grass. Then she called up the whole picture once more; all his
+excellences and her shortcomings; and again the shame of it all
+overwhelmed her.
+
+She was still lying there when the sound of the bells told her that
+the cattle were coming home; then she jumped up and began to work.
+Beret saw as soon as she came that something had happened. Mildrid
+asked such stupid questions and gave such absurd answers, and
+altogether behaved in such an extraordinary way, that she several
+times just stopped and stared at her. When it came to supper-time, and
+Mildrid, instead of taking her place at the table, went and sat down
+outside, saying that she had just had dinner, Beret was as intensely
+on the alert as a dog who scents game at hand. She took her supper and
+went to bed. The sisters slept in the same bed, and, as Mildrid did
+not come, Beret got up softly once or twice to look if her sister were
+still sitting out there, and if she were alone. Yes, she was there,
+and alone.
+
+Eleven o'clock, and then twelve, and then one, and still Mildrid sat
+and Beret waked. She pretended to be asleep when Mildrid came at last,
+and Mildrid moved softly, so softly; but her sister heard her sobbing,
+and when she had got into bed she heard her say her usual evening
+prayer so sadly, heard her whisper: "O God, help me, help me!" It made
+Beret so unhappy that she could not get to sleep even now. She felt
+her sister restlessly changing from one position to another; she saw
+her at last giving it up, throwing aside the covering, and lying
+open-eyed, with her hands below her head, staring into vacancy. She
+saw and heard no more, for at last she fell asleep.
+
+When she awoke next morning Mildrid's place was empty. Beret jumped
+up; the sun was high in the sky; the cattle were away long ago. She
+found her breakfast set ready, took it hurriedly, and went out and saw
+Mildrid at work, but looking ill. Beret said that she was going to
+hurry after the cattle. Mildrid said nothing in answer, but gave her a
+glance as though of thanks. The younger girl stood a minute thinking,
+and then went off.
+
+Mildrid looked round; yes, she was alone. She hastily put away the
+dishes, leaving everything else as it was. Then she washed herself and
+changed her dress, took her knitting, and set off up the hill.
+
+She had not the new strength of the new day, for she had hardly slept
+or eaten anything for twenty-four hours. She walked in a dream, and
+knew nothing clearly till she was at the place where she had sat
+yesterday.
+
+Hardly had she seated herself when she thought: "If he were to come
+and find me here, he would believe--" She started up mechanically.
+There was his dog on the hillside. It stood still and looked at her,
+then rushed down to her, wagging its tail. Her heart stopped beating.
+There--there he stood, with his gun gleaming in the sun, just as he
+had stood yesterday. To-day he had come another way. He smiled to her,
+ran down, and stood before her. She had given a little scream and sunk
+down on the grass again. It was more than she could do to stand up;
+she let her knitting drop, and put her hands up to her face. He did
+not say a word. He lay down on the grass in front of her, and looked
+up at her, the dog at his side with its eyes fixed on him. She felt
+that though she was turning her head away, he could see her hot blush,
+her eyes, her whole face. She heard him breathing quickly; she thought
+she felt his breath on her hand. She did not want him to speak, and
+yet his silence was dreadful. She knew that he must understand why she
+was sitting there; and greater shame than this no one had ever felt.
+But it was not right of him, either, to have come, and still worse of
+him to be lying there.
+
+Then she felt him take one of her hands and hold it tight, then the
+other, so that she had to turn a little that way; he drew her gently,
+but strongly and firmly towards him with eye and hand, till she was at
+his side, her head fallen on his shoulder. She felt him stroke her
+hair with one hand, but she dared not look up. Presently she broke
+into passionate weeping at the thought of her shameful behaviour.
+
+"Yes, you may cry," said he, "but I will laugh; what has happened to
+us two is matter both for laughter and for tears."
+
+His voice shook. And now he bent over her and whispered that the
+farther away he went from her yesterday the nearer he seemed to be to
+her. The feeling overmastered him so, that when he reached his little
+shooting cabin, where he had a German officer with him this summer,
+recruiting after the war, he left the guest to take care of himself,
+and wandered farther up the mountain. He spent the night on the
+heights, sometimes sitting, sometimes wandering about. He went home to
+breakfast, but away again immediately. He was twenty-eight now, no
+longer a boy, and he felt that either this girl must be his or it
+would go badly with him. He wandered to the place where they had met
+yesterday; he did not expect that she would be there again; but when
+he saw her, he felt that he must make the venture; and when he came to
+see that she was feeling just as he was--"Why, then"--and he raised
+her head gently. And she had stopped crying, and his eyes shone so
+that she had to look into them, and then she turned red and put her
+head down again.
+
+He went on talking in his low, half-whispering voice. The sun shone
+through the tree-tops, the birches trembled in the breeze, the birds
+mingled their song with the sound of a little stream rippling over its
+stony bed.
+
+How long the two sat there together, neither of them knew. At last
+the dog startled them. He had made several excursions, and each time
+had come back and lain down beside them again; but now he ran barking
+down the hill. They both jumped up and stood for a minute listening.
+But nothing appeared. Then they looked at each other again, and Hans
+lifted her up in his arms. She had not been lifted like this since she
+was a child, and there was something about it that made her feel
+helpless. When he looked up beaming into her face, she bent and put
+her arms round his neck--he was now her strength, her future, her
+happiness, her life itself--she resisted no longer.
+
+Nothing was said. He held her tight; she clung to him. He carried her
+to the place where she had sat at first, and sat down there with her
+on his knee. She did not unloose her arms, she only bent her head
+close down to his so as to hide her face from him. He was just going
+to force her to let him look into it, when some one right in front of
+them called in a voice of astonishment: "Mildrid!"
+
+It was Inga, who had come up after the dog. Mildrid sprang to her
+feet, looked at her friend for an instant, then went up to her, put
+one arm round her neck, and laid her head on her shoulder. Inga put
+her arm round Mildrid's waist. "Who is he?" she whispered, and Mildrid
+felt her tremble, but said nothing. Inga knew who he was--knew him
+quite well--but could not believe her own eyes. Then Hans came slowly
+forward, "I thought you knew me," he said quietly; "I am Hans Haugen."
+When she heard his voice, Mildrid lifted her head. How good and true
+he looked as he stood there! He held out his hand; she went forward
+and took it, and looked at her friend with a flush of mingled shame
+and joy.
+
+Then Hans took his gun and said good-bye, whispering to Mildrid: "You
+may be sure I'll come soon again!"
+
+The girls walked with him as far as the soeter, and watched him, as
+Mildrid had done yesterday, striding away over the heather in the
+sunlight. They stood as long as they could see him; Mildrid, who was
+leaning on Inga, would not let her go; Inga felt that she did not want
+her to move or speak. From time to time one or the other whispered:
+"He's looking back!" When he was out of sight Mildrid turned round to
+Inga and said: "Don't ask me anything. I can't tell you about it!" She
+held her tight for a second, and then they walked towards the
+soeter-house. Mildrid remembered now how she had left all her work
+undone. Inga helped her with it. They spoke very little, and only
+about the work. Just once Mildrid stopped, and whispered: "Isn't he
+handsome?"
+
+She set out some dinner, but could eat little herself, though she felt
+the need both of food and sleep. Inga left as soon as she could, for
+she saw that Mildrid would rather be alone. Then Mildrid lay down on
+her bed. She was lying, half asleep already, thinking over the events
+of the morning, and trying to remember the nicest things that Hans
+had said, when it suddenly occurred to her to ask herself what she had
+answered. Then it flashed upon her that during their whole meeting she
+had not spoken, not said a single word!
+
+She sat up in bed and said to herself: "He could not have gone far
+till this must have struck him too--and what can he have thought? He
+must take me for a creature without a will, going about in a dream.
+How can he go on caring for me? Yesterday it was not till he had gone
+away from me that he found out he cared for me at all--what will he
+find out to-day?" she asked herself with a shiver of dread. She got
+up, went out, and sat down where she had sat so long yesterday.
+
+All her life Mildrid had been accustomed to take herself to account
+for her behaviour; circumstances had obliged her to walk carefully.
+Now, thinking over what had happened these last two days, it struck
+her forcibly that she had behaved without tact, without thought,
+almost without modesty. She had never read or heard about anything
+happening like this; she looked at it from the peasant's point of
+view, and none take these matters more strictly than they. It is
+seemly to control one's feelings--it is honourable to be slow to show
+them. She, who had done this all her life, and consequently been
+respected by every one, had in one day given herself to a man she had
+never seen before! Why, he himself must be the first to despise her!
+It showed how bad things were, that she dared not tell what had
+happened, not even to Inga!
+
+With the first sound of the cow-bells in the distance came Beret, to
+find her sister sitting on the bench in front of the soeter-house,
+looking half dead. Beret stood in front of her till she was forced to
+raise her head and look at her. Mildrid's eyes were red with crying,
+and her whole expression was one of suffering. But it changed to
+surprise when she saw Beret's face, which was scarlet with excitement.
+
+"Whatever is the matter with you?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Nothing!" answered Beret, standing staring fixedly at Mildrid, who
+at last looked away, and got up to go and attend to the cows.
+
+The sisters did not meet again till supper, when they sat opposite to
+each other. Mildrid was not able to eat more then a few mouthfuls. She
+sat and looked absently at the others, oftenest at Beret, who ate on
+steadily, gulping down her food like a hungry dog.
+
+"Have you had nothing to eat to-day?" asked Mildrid.
+
+"No!" answered Beret, and ate on. Presently Mildrid spoke again: "Have
+you not been with the herds then?"
+
+"No!" answered her sister and both of the boys. Before them Mildrid
+would not ask more, and afterwards her own morbid reflections took
+possession of her again, and along with them the feeling that she was
+no fit person to be in charge of Beret. This was one more added to the
+reproaches she made to herself all that long summer evening and far
+into the night.
+
+There she sat, on the bench by the door, till the blood-red clouds
+changed gradually to cold grey, no peace and no desire for sleep
+coming to her. The poor child had never before been in real distress.
+Oh, how she prayed! She stopped and she began again; she repeated
+prayers that she had learned, and she made up petitions of her own. At
+last, utterly exhausted, she went to bed.
+
+There she tried once more to collect her thoughts for a final struggle
+with the terrible question, Should she give him up or not? But she had
+no strength left; she could only say over and over again: "Help me, O
+God! help me!" She went on like this for a long time, sometimes saying
+it in to herself, sometimes out loud. All at once she got such a
+fright that she gave a loud scream. Beret was kneeling up in bed
+looking at her; her sparkling eyes, hot face, and short breathing
+showing a terrible state of excitement.
+
+"Who is he?" she whispered, almost threateningly. Mildrid, crushed by
+her self-torture, and worn out in soul and body, could not answer;
+she began to cry.
+
+"Who is he?" repeated the other, closer to her face; "you needn't try
+to hide it any longer; I was watching you to-day the whole time!"
+
+Mildrid held up her arms as if to defend herself, but Beret beat them
+back, looked straight into her eyes, and again repeated, "Who is he, I
+say?"
+
+"Beret, Beret!" moaned Mildrid; "have I ever been anything but kind to
+you since you were a little child. Why are you so cruel to me now that
+I am in trouble?"
+
+Then Beret, moved by her tears, let go her arms; but her short hard
+breathing still betrayed her excitement. "Is it Hans Haugen?" she
+whispered.
+
+There was a moment of breathless suspense, and then Mildrid whispered
+back: "Yes"--and began to cry again.
+
+Beret drew down her arms once more; she wanted to see her face. "Why
+did you not tell me about it, Mildrid?" she asked, with the same
+fierce eagerness.
+
+"Beret, I didn't know it myself. I never saw him till yesterday. And
+as soon as I saw him I loved him, and let him see it, and that is what
+is making me so unhappy, so unhappy that I feel as if I must die of
+it!"
+
+"You never saw him before yesterday?" screamed Beret, so astonished
+that she could hardly believe it.
+
+"Never in my life!" replied Mildrid. "Isn't it shameful, Beret?"
+
+But Beret threw her arms round her sister's neck, and kissed her over
+and over again.
+
+"Dear, sweet Mildrid, I'm so glad!" she whispered, now radiant with
+joy. "I'm so glad, so glad!" and she kissed her once more. "And you'll
+see how I can keep a secret, Mildrid!" She hugged her to her breast,
+but sat up again, and said sorrowfully: "And you thought I couldn't do
+it; O Mildrid! not even when it was about you!"
+
+And now it was Beret's turn to cry. "Why have you put me away? Why
+have you taken Inga instead of me? You've made me so dreadfully
+unhappy, Mildrid! O Mildrid, you don't know how I love you!" and she
+clung to her. Then Mildrid kissed her, and told her that she had done
+it without thinking what she was doing, but that now she would never
+again put her aside, and would tell her everything, because she was so
+good and true and faithful.
+
+The sisters lay for a little with their arms round each other; then
+Beret sat up again; she wanted to look into her sister's face in the
+light of the summer night, that was gradually taking a tinge of red
+from the coming dawn. Then she burst out with: "Mildrid, how handsome
+he is! How did he come? How did you see him first? What did he say? Do
+tell me about it!"
+
+And Mildrid now poured out to her sister all that a few hours ago it
+had seemed to her she could never tell to anybody. She was sometimes
+interrupted by Beret's throwing her arms round her and hugging her,
+but she went on again with all the more pleasure. It seemed to her
+like a strange legend of the woods. They laughed and they cried. Sleep
+had gone from them both. The sun found them still entranced by this
+wonderful tale--Mildrid lying down or resting on one elbow and
+talking, Beret kneeling beside her, her mouth half open, her eyes
+sparkling, from time to time giving a little cry of delight.
+
+They got up together and did their work together, and when they had
+finished, and for the sake of appearances taken a little breakfast,
+they prepared for the meeting with Hans. He was sure to come soon!
+They dressed themselves out in their best, and went up to Mildrid's
+place on the hill. Beret showed where she had lain hidden yesterday.
+The dog had found her out, she said, and paid her several visits. The
+weather was fine to-day too, though there were some clouds in the sky.
+The girls found plenty to say to each other, till it was about the
+time when Hans might be expected. Beret ran once or twice up to the
+top of the hill, to see if he were in sight, but there was no sign of
+him. Then they began to grow impatient, and at last Mildrid got so
+excited that Beret was frightened. She tried to soothe her by
+reminding her that Hans was not his own master; that he had left the
+German gentleman two whole days to fish and shoot alone, and prepare
+food for himself; and that he would hardly dare to leave him a third.
+And Mildrid acknowledged that this might be so.
+
+"What do you think father and mother will say to all this?" asked
+Beret, just to divert Mildrid's thoughts. She repented the moment the
+words were uttered. Mildrid turned pale and stared at Beret, who
+stared back at her. Beret wondered if her sister had never thought of
+this till now, and said so. Yes; she had thought of it, but as of
+something very far off. The fear of what Hans Haugen might think of
+her, the shame of her own weakness and stupidity, had so occupied her
+mind that they had left no room for anything else. But now things
+suddenly changed round, and she could think of nothing but her
+parents.
+
+Beret again tried to comfort her. Whenever father and mother saw
+Hans, they would feel that Mildrid was right--they would never make
+her unhappy who had given them their greatest happiness. Grandmother
+would help her. No one could say a word against Hans Haugen, and _he_
+would never give her up! Mildrid heard all this, but did not take it
+in, for she was thinking of something else, and to get time to think
+it out rightly, she asked Beret to go and prepare the dinner. And
+Beret walked slowly away, looking back several times.
+
+Mildrid wanted to be left alone a little to make up her mind whether
+she should go at once and tell her parents. It seemed a terrible
+matter to her in her excited, exhausted state. She felt now that it
+would be a sin if she saw Hans again without their knowledge. She had
+done very wrong in engaging herself to him without having their
+consent; but she had been in a manner surprised into that; it had come
+about almost without her will. Her duty now, though, was clearly to go
+and tell them.
+
+She rose to her feet, with a new light in her eyes. She would do what
+was right. Before Hans stood there again, her parents should know all.
+"That's it!" she said, aloud, as if some one were there, and then
+hurried down to the soeter to tell Beret. But Beret was nowhere to
+be seen. "Beret! Beret!" shouted Mildrid, but only the echoes gave
+answer. Excited Mildrid was already, but now she got frightened too.
+Beret's great eyes, as she asked: "What do you think father and mother
+will say to this?" seemed to grow ever greater and more threatening.
+Surely _she_ could never have gone off to tell them? Yet it would be
+just like her hasty way to think she would settle the thing at once,
+and bring comfort to her sister. To be sure that was it! And if Beret
+reached home before her, father and mother would get a wrong idea of
+everything!
+
+Off Mildrid went, down the road that led to the valley. She walked
+unconsciously faster and faster, carried away by ever-increasing
+excitement; till her head began to turn and her breathing to get
+oppressed. She had to sit down for a rest. Sitting did not seem to
+help her, so she stretched herself out, resting her head on her arm,
+and lay there, feeling forsaken, helpless, almost betrayed--by
+affection it was true--but still betrayed.
+
+In a few moments she was asleep! For two days and nights she had
+hardly slept or eaten; and she had no idea of the effect this had had
+on her mind and body--the child who till now had eaten and slept so
+regularly and peacefully in her quiet home. How was it possible that
+she could understand anything at all of what had happened to her? All
+that she had been able to give to her affectionate but melancholy
+parents out of her heart's rich store of love, was a kind of watchful
+care; in her grandmother's brighter home longings for something more
+had often come over her, but there was nothing even there to satisfy
+them. So now when love's full spring burst upon her, she stood amidst
+its rain of blossoms frightened and ashamed.
+
+Tormented by her innocent conscience, the poor tired child had run a
+race with herself till she fell--now she slept, caressed by the pure
+mountain breeze.
+
+Beret had not gone home, but away to fetch Hans Haugen. She had far to
+go, and most of the way was unknown to her. It went first by the edge
+of a wood, and then higher over bare flats, not quite safe from wild
+animals, which she knew had been seen there lately. But she went on,
+for Hans really must come. If he did not, she was sure things would go
+badly with Mildrid; she seemed so changed to-day.
+
+In spite of her anxiety about Mildrid, Beret's heart was light, and
+she stepped merrily on, her thoughts running all the time on this
+wonderful adventure. She could think of no one better or grander than
+Hans Haugen, and none but the very best was good enough for Mildrid.
+There was nothing whatever to be surprised at in Mildrid's giving
+herself up to him at once; just as little as in his at once falling in
+love with her. If father and mother could not be brought to
+understand this, they must just be left to do as they chose, and the
+two must fight their own battle as her great-grandparents had done,
+and her grandparents too--and she began to sing the old Bridal March.
+Its joyful tones sounded far over the bare heights and seemed to die
+away among the clouds.
+
+When she got right on the top of the hill she was crossing, she stood
+and shouted "Hurrah!" From here she could see only the last strip of
+cultivated land on the farther side of their valley; and on this side
+the upper margin of the forest, above it stretches of heather, and
+where she stood, nothing but boulders and flat rocks. She flew from
+stone to stone in the light air. She knew that Hans's hut lay in the
+direction of the snow mountain whose top stood out above all the
+others, and presently she thought that she must be getting near it. To
+get a better look around she climbed up on to an enormous stone, and
+from the top of it she saw a mountain lake just below. Whether it was
+a rock or a hut she saw by the water's edge she could not be sure; one
+minute it looked like a hut, the next like a big stone. But she knew
+that his cabin lay by a mountain lake. Yes, that must be it, for there
+came a boat rowing round the point. Two men were in the boat--they
+must be Hans and the German officer. Down she jumped and off again.
+But what had looked so near was really far off, and she ran and ran,
+excited by the thought of meeting Hans Haugen.
+
+Hans sat quietly in his boat with the German, ignorant of all the
+disturbance he had caused. _He_ had never known what it was to be
+frightened; nor had he ever till now known the feeling of being in
+love. As soon as he did feel it, it was intolerable to him until he
+had settled the matter. Now it was settled, and he was sitting there
+setting words to the Bridal March!
+
+He was not much of a poet, but he made out something about their ride
+to church, and the refrain of every verse told of their meeting in the
+wood. He whistled and fished and felt very happy; and the German
+fished away quietly and left him in peace.
+
+A halloo sounded from the shore, and both he and the bearded German
+looked up and saw a girl waving. They exchanged a few words and rowed
+ashore. Hans jumped out and tied up the boat, and they lifted out the
+guns, coats, fish, and fishing tackle; the German went away towards
+the cabin, but Hans with his load came up to Beret, who was standing
+on a stone a little way off.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked gently.
+
+"Beret, Mildrid's sister," she answered, blushing, and he blushed too.
+But the next moment he turned pale.
+
+"Is there anything the matter?"
+
+"No! just that you must come. She can't bear to be left alone just
+now."
+
+He stood a minute and looked at her, then turned and went towards the
+hut. The German was standing outside, hanging up his fishing tackle;
+Hans hung up his, and they spoke together, and then went in. Ever
+since Beret's halloo, two dogs, shut up in the cabin, had been
+barking with all their might. When the men opened the door they burst
+out, but were at once sternly called back. It was some time before
+Hans came out again. He had changed his clothes, and had his gun and
+dog with him. The German gentleman came to the door, and they shook
+hands as if saying good-bye for a considerable time. Hans came up
+quickly to Beret.
+
+"Can you walk fast?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I can."
+
+And off they went, she running, the dog far ahead.
+
+Beret's message had entirely changed the current of Hans's thoughts.
+It had never occurred to him before that Mildrid might not have the
+same happy, sure feeling about their engagement that he had. But now
+he saw how natural it was that she should be uneasy about her parents;
+and how natural, too, that she should feel alarmed by the hurried rush
+in which everything had come about. He understood it so well now that
+he was perfectly astonished at himself for not having thought of it
+before--and on he strode.
+
+Even on him the suddenness of the meeting with Mildrid, and the
+violence of their feelings, had at first made a strange impression;
+what must she, a child, knowing nothing but the quiet reserve of her
+parents' house, have felt, thus launched suddenly on the stormy sea of
+passion!--and on he strode.
+
+While he was marching along, lost in these reflections, Beret was
+trotting at his side, always, when she could, with her face turned
+towards his. Now and then he had caught a glimpse of her big eyes and
+flaming cheeks; but his thoughts were like a veil over his sight; he
+saw her indistinctly, and then suddenly not at all. He turned round;
+she was a good way behind, toiling after him as hard as she could. She
+had been too proud to say that she could not keep up with him any
+longer. He stood and waited till she made up to him, breathless, with
+tears in her eyes. "Ah! I'm walking too fast," and he held out his
+hand. She was panting so that she could not answer. "Let us sit down a
+little," he said, drawing her to him; "come!" and he made her sit
+close to him. If possible she got redder than before, and did not look
+at him; and she drew breath so painfully that it seemed as if she were
+almost choking. "I'm so thirsty!" was the first thing she managed to
+say. They rose and he looked round, but there was no stream near. "We
+must wait till we get a little farther on," he said; "and anyhow it
+wouldn't be good for you to drink just now."
+
+So they sat down again, she on a stone in front of him.
+
+"I ran the whole way," she said, as if to excuse herself--and
+presently added, "and I have had no dinner," and after another
+pause--"and I didn't sleep last night."
+
+Instead of expressing any sympathy with her, he asked sharply: "Then I
+suppose Mildrid did not sleep last night either? And she has not
+eaten, I saw that myself, not for"--he thought a little--"not for ever
+so long."
+
+He rose. "Can you go on now?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+He took her hand, and they set off again at a tremendous pace. Soon he
+saw that she could not keep it up, so he took off his coat, gave it to
+her to hold, and lifted her up and carried her. She did not want him
+to do it, but he just went easily off with her, and Beret held on by
+his neckerchief, for she dared not touch him. Soon she said that she
+had got her breath and could run quite well again, so he put her down,
+took his coat and hung it over his gun--and off they went! When they
+came to a stream they stopped and rested a little before she took a
+drink. As she got up he gave her a friendly smile, and said: "You're a
+good little one."
+
+Evening was coming on when they reached the soeter. They looked in
+vain for Mildrid, both there and at her place on the hillside. Their
+calls died away in the distance, and when Hans noticed the dog
+standing snuffing at something they felt quite alarmed. They ran to
+look--it was her little shawl. At once Hans set the dog to seek the
+owner of the shawl. He sprang off, and they after him, across the hill
+and down on the other side, towards Tingvold. Could she have gone
+home? Beret told of her own thoughtless question and its consequences,
+and Hans said he saw it all. Beret began to cry.
+
+"Shall we go after her or not?" said Hans.
+
+"Yes, yes!" urged Beret, half distracted. But first they would have to
+go to the next soeter, and ask their neighbours to send some one to
+attend to the cows for them. While they were still talking about this,
+and at the same time following the dog, they saw him stop and look
+back, wagging his tail. They ran to him, and there lay Mildrid!
+
+She was lying with her head on her arm, her face half buried in the
+heather. They stepped up gently; the dog licked her hands and cheek,
+and she stretched herself and changed her position, but slept on. "Let
+her sleep!" whispered Hans; "and you go and put in the cows. I hear
+the bells." As Beret was running off he went after her. "Bring some
+food with you when you come back," he whispered. Then he sat down a
+little way from Mildrid, made the dog lie down beside him, and sat and
+held him to keep him from barking.
+
+It was a cloudy evening. The near heights and the mountain-tops were
+grey; it was very quiet; there was not even a bird to be seen. He sat
+or lay, with his hand on the dog. He had soon settled what to arrange
+with Mildrid when she awoke. There was no cloud in their future; he
+lay quietly looking up into the sky. He knew that their meeting was a
+miracle. God Himself had told him that they were to go through life
+together.
+
+He fell to working away at the Bridal March again, and the words that
+came to him now expressed the quiet happiness of the hour.
+
+It was about eight o'clock when Beret came back, bringing food with
+her. Mildrid was still sleeping. Beret set down what she was carrying,
+looked at them both for a minute, and then went and sat down a little
+way from them. Nearly an hour passed, Beret getting up from time to
+time to keep herself from falling asleep. Soon after nine Mildrid
+awoke. She turned several times, at last opened her eyes, saw where
+she was lying, sat up, and noticed the others. She was still
+bewildered with sleep, so that she did not take in rightly where she
+was or what she saw, till Hans rose and came smiling towards her. Then
+she held out her hands to him.
+
+He sat down beside her:
+
+"You've had a sleep now, Mildrid?"
+
+"Yes, I've slept now."
+
+"And you're hungry?"
+
+"Yes, I'm hungry----" and Beret came forward with the food. She looked
+at it and then at them. "Have I slept long?" she asked.
+
+"Well, it's almost nine o'clock; look at the sun!"
+
+Not till now did she begin to remember everything.
+
+"Have you sat here long?"
+
+"No, not very long--but you must eat!" She began to do so. "You were
+on your way down to the valley?" asked Hans gently, with his head
+nearer hers. She blushed and whispered, "Yes."
+
+"To-morrow, when you've really had a good sleep and rest, we'll go
+down together."
+
+Her eyes looked into his, first in surprise, then as if she were
+thanking him, but she said nothing.
+
+After this she seemed to revive; she asked Beret where _she_ had been,
+and Beret told that she had gone to fetch Hans, and he told all the
+rest. Mildrid ate and listened, and yielded gradually once again to
+the old fascination. She laughed when Hans told her how the dog had
+found her, and had licked her face without wakening her. He was at
+this moment greedily watching every bite she took, and she began to
+share with him.
+
+As soon as she had finished, they went slowly towards the soeter--and
+Beret was soon in bed. The two sat on the bench outside the door.
+Small rain was beginning to fall, but the broad eaves kept them from
+feeling it. The mist closed round the soeter, and shut them in in
+a sort of magic circle. It was neither day nor night, but dark rather
+than light. Each softly spoken word brought more confidence into their
+talk. Now for the first time they were really speaking to each other.
+He asked her so humbly to forgive him for not having remembered that
+she must feel differently from him, and that she had parents who must
+be consulted. She confessed her fear, and then she told him that he
+was the first real, strong, self-reliant man she had ever known, and
+that this, and other things she had heard about him, had--she would
+not go on.
+
+But in their trembling happiness everything spoke, to the slightest
+breath they drew. That wonderful intercourse began of soul with soul,
+which in most cases precedes and prepares for the first embrace, but
+with these two came after it. The first timid questions came through
+the darkness, the first timid answers found their way back. The words
+fell softly, like spirit sounds on the night air. At last Mildrid took
+courage to ask hesitatingly if her behaviour had not sometimes struck
+him as very strange. He assured her that he had never thought it so,
+never once. Had he not noticed that she had not said one word all the
+time they were together yesterday? No, he had not noticed that. Had he
+not wondered at her going off down to her parents? No, he had thought
+it only right of her. Had he not thought (for a long time she would
+not say this, but at last the words came, in a whisper, with her face
+turned away), had he not thought that she had let things go too
+quickly? No, he had only thought how beautifully everything had
+happened. But what had he thought of the way she had cried at their
+first meeting? Well, at the time it had puzzled him, but now he
+understood it, quite well--and he was glad she was like that.
+
+All these answers made her so happy that she felt she wanted to be
+alone. And as if he had guessed this, he got up quietly and said that
+now she must go to bed. She rose. He nodded and went off slowly
+towards the shed where he was to sleep; she hurried in, undressed,
+and when she had got into bed she folded her hands and thanked God.
+Oh, how she thanked Him! Thanked Him for Hans's love, and patience,
+and kindness--she had not words enough! Thanked Him for all, all,
+everything--even for the suffering of the last two days--for had it
+not made the joy all the greater? Thanked Him for their having been
+alone up there at this time, and prayed Him to be with her to-morrow
+when she went down to her parents, then turned her thoughts again to
+Hans, and gave thanks for him once more, oh, how gratefully!
+
+When she came out of the soeter-house in the morning, Beret was
+still sleeping. Hans was standing in the yard. He had been punishing
+the dog for rousing a ptarmigan, and it was now lying fawning on him.
+When he saw Mildrid he let the dog out of disgrace; it jumped up on
+him and her, barked and caressed them, and was like a living
+expression of their own bright morning happiness. Hans helped Mildrid
+and the boys with the morning work. By the time they had done it all
+and were ready to sit down to breakfast, Beret was up and ready too.
+Every time Hans looked at her she turned red, and when Mildrid after
+breakfast stood playing with his watch chain while she spoke to him,
+Beret hurried out, and was hardly to be found when it was time for the
+two to go.
+
+"Mildrid," said Hans, coming close to her and walking slowly, when
+they had got on a little way, "I have been thinking about something
+that I didn't say to you yesterday." His voice sounded so serious that
+she looked up into his face. He went on slowly, without looking at
+her; "I want to ask you if--God granting that we get each other--if
+you will go home with me after the wedding and live at Haugen."
+
+She turned red, and presently answered evasively:
+
+"What will father and mother say to that?"
+
+He walked on without answering for a minute, and then said:
+
+"I did not think that mattered so much, if we two were agreed about
+it."
+
+This was the first time he had said a thing that hurt her. She made
+no reply. He seemed to be waiting for one, and when none came, added
+gently:
+
+"I wanted us two to be alone together, to get accustomed to each
+other."
+
+Now she began to understand him better, but she could not answer. He
+walked on as before, not looking at her, and now quite silent. She
+felt uneasy, stole a glance at him, and saw that he had turned quite
+pale.
+
+"Hans!" she cried, and stood still without being conscious of doing
+it. Hans stopped too, looked quickly at her, and then down at his gun,
+which he was resting on the ground and turning in his hand.
+
+"Can you not go with me to my home?" His voice was very low, but all
+at once he looked her straight in the face.
+
+"Yes, I can!" she answered quickly. Her eyes looked calmly into his,
+but a faint blush came over her cheeks. He changed his gun into his
+left hand, and held out the right to her.
+
+"Thank you!" he whispered, holding hers in a firm clasp; Then they
+went on.
+
+She was brooding over one thought all the time, and at last could not
+keep it in: "You don't know my father and mother."
+
+He went on a little before he answered: "No, but when you come and
+live at Haugen, I'll have time then to get to know them."
+
+"They are so good!" added Mildrid.
+
+"So I have heard from every one." He said this decidedly, but coldly.
+
+Before she had time to think or say anything more, he began to tell
+about _his_ home, his brothers and sisters, and their industry,
+affectionateness, and cheerfulness; about the poverty they had raised
+themselves from; about the tourists who came and all the work they
+gave; about the house, and especially about the new one he would now
+build for her and himself. She was to be the mistress of the whole
+place--but they would help her in everything; they would all try to
+make her life happy, he not least. As he talked they walked on
+faster; he spoke warmly, came closer to her, and at last they walked
+hand in hand.
+
+It could not be denied that his love for his home and his family made
+a strong impression on her, and there was a great attraction in the
+newness of it all; but behind this feeling lay one of wrong-doing
+towards her parents, her dear, kind parents. So she began again:
+"Hans! mother is getting old now, and father is older; they have had a
+great deal of trouble--they need help; they've worked so hard,
+and--" she either would not or could not say more.
+
+He walked slower and looked at her, smiling. "Mildrid, you mean that
+they have settled to give you the farm?"
+
+She blushed, but did not answer.
+
+"Well, then--we'll let that alone till the time comes. When they want
+us to take their places, it's for them to ask us to do it." He said
+this very gently and tenderly, but she felt what it meant. Thoughtful
+of others, as she always was, and accustomed to consider their
+feelings before her own, she yielded in this too. But very soon they
+came to where they could see Tingvold in the valley below them. She
+looked down at it, and then at him, as if it could speak for itself.
+
+The big sunny fields on the hill slope, with the wood encircling and
+sheltering them, the house and farm buildings a little in the shadow,
+but big and fine--it all looked so beautiful. The valley, with its
+rushing, winding river, stretched away down beyond, with farm after
+farm in the bottom and on its slopes on both sides--but none, not
+one to equal Tingvold--none so fertile or so pleasant to the eye, none
+so snugly sheltered, and yet commanding the whole valley. When she saw
+that Hans was struck by the sight, she reddened with joy.
+
+"Yes," he said, in answer to her unspoken question--"yes, it is true;
+Tingvold is a fine place; it would be hard to find its equal."
+
+He smiled and bent down to her. "But I care more for you, Mildrid,
+than for Tingvold; and perhaps--you care more for me than for
+Tingvold?"
+
+When he took it this way she could say no more. He looked so happy
+too; he sat down, and she beside him.
+
+"Now I'm going to sing something for you," he whispered.
+
+She felt glad. "I've never heard you sing," she said.
+
+"No, I know you have not; and though people talk about my singing, you
+must not think it's anything very great. There's only this about it,
+that it comes upon me sometimes, and then I _must_ sing."
+
+He sat thinking for a good while, and then he sang her the song that
+he had made for their own wedding to the tune of her race's Bridal
+March. Quite softly he sang it, but with such exultation as she had
+never heard in any voice before. She looked down on her home, the
+house she was to drive away from on that day; followed the road with
+her eyes down to the bridge across the river, and along on the other
+side right up to the church, which lay on a height, among birch-trees,
+with a group of houses near it. It was not a very clear day, but the
+subdued light over the landscape was in sympathy with the subdued
+picture in her mind. How many hundred times had she not driven that
+road in fancy, only she never knew with whom! The words and the tune
+entranced her; the peculiar warm, soft voice seemed to touch the very
+depths of her being; her eyes were full, but she was not crying; nor
+was she laughing. She was sitting with her hand on his, now looking at
+him, now over the valley, when she saw smoke beginning to rise from
+the chimney of her home; the fire was being lit for making the dinner.
+This was an omen; she turned to Hans and pointed. He had finished his
+song now, and they sat still and looked.
+
+Very soon they were on their way down through the birch wood, and Hans
+was having trouble with the dog, to make him keep quiet. Mildrid's
+heart began to throb. Hans arranged with her that he would stay
+behind, but near the house; it was better that she should go in first
+alone. He carried her over one or two marshy places, and he felt that
+her hands were cold. "Don't think of what you're to say," he
+whispered; "just wait and see how things come." She gave no sound in
+answer, nor did she look at him.
+
+They came out of the wood--the last part had been big dark fir-trees,
+among which they had walked slowly, he quietly telling her about her
+great-grandfather's wooing of his father's sister, Aslaug; an old,
+strange story, which she only half heard, but which all the same
+helped her--came out of the wood into the open fields and meadows; and
+he became quiet too. Now she turned to him, and her look expressed
+such a great dread of what was before her that it made him feel
+wretched. He found no words of encouragement; the matter concerned him
+too nearly. They walked on a little farther, side by side, some bushes
+between them and the house concealing them from its inhabitants. When
+they got so near that he thought she must now go on alone, he
+whistled softly to the dog, and she took this as the sign that they
+must part. She stopped and looked utterly unhappy and forlorn; he
+whispered to her: "I'll be praying for you here, Mildrid--and I'll
+come when you need me." She gave him a kind of distracted look of
+thanks; she was really unable either to think or to see clearly. Then
+she walked on.
+
+As soon as she came out from the bushes she saw right into the big
+room of the main building--right through it--for it had windows at
+both ends, one looking up towards the wood and one down the valley.
+Hans had seated himself behind the nearest bush, with the dog at his
+side, and he too could see everything in the room; at this moment
+there was no one in it. Mildrid looked back once when she came to the
+barn, and he nodded to her. Then she went round the end of the barn,
+into the yard.
+
+Everything stood in its old, accustomed order, and it was very quiet.
+Some hens were walking on the barn-steps. The wooden framework for
+the stacks had been brought out and set up against the storehouse wall
+since she was there last; that was the only change she saw. She turned
+to the right to go first into grandmother's house, her fear tempting
+her to take this little respite before meeting her parents; when, just
+between the two houses, at the wood-block, she came on her father,
+fitting a handle to an axe. He was in his knitted jersey with the
+braces over it, bareheaded, his thin long hair blowing in the breeze
+that was beginning to come up from the valley. He looked well, and
+almost cheerful at his work, and she took courage at the sight. He did
+not notice her, she had come so quietly and cautiously over the
+flagstones.
+
+"Good morning!" she said in a low voice.
+
+He looked at her in surprise for a moment.
+
+"Is that you, Mildrid? Is there anything the matter?" he added
+hastily, examining her face.
+
+"No," she said, and blushed a little. But he kept his eyes on hers,
+and she did not dare to look up.
+
+Then he put down the axe, saying:
+
+"Let us go in to mother!"
+
+On the way he asked one or two questions about things up at the
+soeter, and got satisfactory answers.
+
+"Now Hans sees us going in," thought Mildrid, as they passed a gap
+between the barn and some of the smaller outhouses.
+
+When they got into the living-room, her father went to the door
+leading into the kitchen, opened it, and called:
+
+"Come here, mother! Mildrid has come down."
+
+"Why, Mildrid, has anything gone wrong?" was answered from the
+kitchen.
+
+"No," replied Mildrid from behind her father, and then coming to the
+door herself, she went into the kitchen and stood beside her mother,
+who was sitting by the hearth paring potatoes and putting them in the
+pot.
+
+Her mother now looked as inquiringly at her as her father had done,
+with the same effect. Then Randi set away the potato dish, went to
+the outer door and spoke to some one there, came back again, took off
+her kitchen apron and washed her hands, and they went together into
+the room.
+
+Mildrid knew her parents, and knew that these preparations meant that
+they expected something unusual. She had had little courage before,
+but now it grew less. Her father took his raised seat close to the
+farthest away window, the one that looked down the valley. Her mother
+sat on the same bench, but nearer the kitchen. Mildrid seated herself
+on the opposite one, in front of the table. Hans could see her there;
+and he could see her father, right in the face, but her mother he
+could hardly see.
+
+Her mother asked, as her father had done before, about things at the
+soeter; got the same information and a little more; for she asked
+more particularly. It was evident that both sides were making this
+subject last as long as possible, but it was soon exhausted. In the
+pause that came, both parents looked at Mildrid. She avoided the look,
+and asked what news there was of the neighbours. This subject was
+also drawn out as long as possible, but it came to an end too. The
+same silence, the same expectant eyes turned on the daughter. There
+was nothing left for her to ask about, and she began to rub her hand
+back and forwards on the bench.
+
+"Have you been in at grandmother's?" asked her mother, who was
+beginning to get frightened.
+
+No, she had not been there. This meant then that their daughter had
+something particular to say to _them_, and it could not with any
+seemliness be put off longer.
+
+"There is something that I must tell you," she got out at last, with
+changing colour and downcast eyes.
+
+Her father and mother exchanged troubled looks. Mildrid raised her
+head and looked at them with great imploring eyes.
+
+"What is it, my child?" asked her mother anxiously.
+
+"I am betrothed," said Mildrid; hung her head again, and burst into
+tears.
+
+No more stunning blow could have fallen on the quiet circle. The
+parents sat looking at each other, pale and silent. The steady, gentle
+Mildrid, for whose careful ways and whose obedience they had so often
+thanked God, had, without asking their advice, without their
+knowledge, taken life's most important step, a step that was also
+decisive for _their_ past and future. Mildrid felt each thought along
+with them, and fear stopped her crying.
+
+Her father asked gently and slowly: "To whom, my child?"
+
+After a silence came the whispered answer: "To Hans Haugen."
+
+No name or event connected with Haugen had been mentioned in that room
+for more than twenty years. In her parents' opinion nothing but evil
+had come to Tingvold from there. Mildrid again knew their thoughts:
+she sat motionless, awaiting her sentence.
+
+Her father spoke again mildly and slowly: "We don't know the man,
+neither I nor your mother--and we didn't know that you knew him."
+
+"And I didn't know him either," said Mildrid.
+
+The astonished parents looked at each other. "How did it happen then?"
+It was her mother who asked this.
+
+"That is what I don't know myself," said Mildrid.
+
+"But, my child, surely you're mistress of your own actions?"
+
+Mildrid did not answer.
+
+"We thought," added her father gently, "that we could be quite sure of
+_you_."
+
+Mildrid did not answer.
+
+"But how did it happen?" repeated her mother more impatiently; "you
+must know that!"
+
+"No, I don't know it--I only know that I could not help it--no, I
+couldn't!" She was sitting holding on to the bench with both hands.
+
+"God forgive and help you! Whatever came over you?"
+
+Mildrid gave no answer.
+
+Her father calmed their rising excitement by saying in a gentle,
+friendly voice: "Why did you not speak to one of us, my child?"
+
+And her mother controlled herself, and said quietly: "You know how
+much we think of our children, we who have lived such a lonely life;
+and--yes, we may say it, especially of you, Mildrid; for you have been
+so much to us."
+
+Mildrid felt as if she did not know where she was.
+
+"Yes, we did not think you would desert us like this."
+
+It was her father who spoke last. Though the words came gently, they
+did not hurt the less.
+
+"I will not desert you!" she stammered.
+
+"You must not say that," he answered, more gravely than before, "for
+you have done it already."
+
+Mildrid felt that this was true, and at the same time that it was not
+true, but she could not put her feeling into words.
+
+Her mother went on: "Of what good has it all been, the love that we
+have shown our children, and the fear of God that we have taught them?
+In the first temptation--" for her daughter's sake she could say no
+more.
+
+But Mildrid could bear it no longer. She threw her arms over the
+table, laid her head on them, her face towards her father, and sobbed.
+
+Neither father nor mother was capable of adding by another reproachful
+word to the remorse she seemed to feel. So there was silence.
+
+It might have lasted long--but Hans Haugen saw from where he sat that
+she was in need of help. His hunter's eye had caught every look, seen
+the movement of their lips, seen her silent struggle; now he saw her
+throw herself on the table, and he jumped up, and soon his light foot
+was heard in the passage. He knocked; they all looked up, but no one
+said, "Come in!" Mildrid half rose, blushing through her tears; the
+door opened, and Hans with his gun and dog stood there, pale but quite
+composed. He turned and shut the door, while the dog, wagging its
+tail, went up to Mildrid. Hans had been too preoccupied to notice that
+it had followed him in.
+
+"Good morning!" said he. Mildrid fell back on her seat, drew a long
+breath, and looked at him with relief in her eyes; her fear, her bad
+conscience--all gone! _She was right, yes; she was right_--let come
+now whatever it pleased God to send!
+
+No one had answered Hans's greeting, nor had he been asked to come
+forward.
+
+"I am Hans Haugen," he said quietly; lowered his gun and stood holding
+it. After the parents had exchanged looks once or twice, he went on,
+but with a struggle: "I came down with Mildrid, for if she has done
+wrong, it was my fault."
+
+Something had to be said. The mother looked at the father, and at last
+he said that all this had happened without their knowing anything of
+it, and that Mildrid could give them no explanation of how it had come
+about. Hans answered that neither could he. "I am not a boy," he said,
+"for I am twenty-eight; but yet it came this way, that I, who never
+cared for any one before, could think of nothing else in the world
+from the time I saw her. If she had said No--well, I can't tell--but I
+shouldn't have been good for much after that."
+
+The quiet, straightforward way he said this made a good impression.
+Mildrid trembled; for she felt that this gave things a different look.
+Hans had his cap on, for in their district it was not the custom for a
+passer-by to take off his hat when he came in; but now he took it off
+unconsciously, hung it on the barrel of his gun, and crossed his hands
+over it. There was something about his whole appearance and behaviour
+that claimed consideration.
+
+"Mildrid is so young," said her mother; "none of us had thought of
+anything like this beginning with her already."
+
+"That is true enough, but to make up I am so much older," he answered;
+"and the housekeeping at home, in my house, is no great affair; it
+will not task her too hard--and I have plenty of help."
+
+The parents looked at each other, at Mildrid, at him. "Do you mean her
+to go home with you?" the father asked incredulously, almost
+ironically.
+
+"Yes," said Hans; "it is not the farm that I am coming after." He
+reddened, and so did Mildrid.
+
+If the farm had sunk into the ground the parents could not have been
+more astonished than they were at hearing it thus despised, and
+Mildrid's silence showed that she agreed with Hans. There was
+something in this resolution of the young people, unintentional on
+their part, that, as it were, took away from the parents the right of
+decision; they felt themselves humbled.
+
+"And it was you who said that you would not forsake us," said her
+mother in quiet reproach, that went to Mildrid's heart. But Hans came
+to her assistance:
+
+"Every child that marries has to leave its parents."
+
+He smiled, and added in a friendly way: "But it's not a long journey
+to Haugen from here--just a little over four miles."
+
+Words are idle things at a time like this; thoughts take their own way
+in spite of them. The parents felt themselves deserted, almost
+deceived by the young ones. They knew that there was no fault to be
+found with the way of living at Haugen; the tourists had given the
+place a good name; from time to time it had been noticed in the
+newspapers; but Haugen was Haugen, and that their dearest child should
+wish to carry their race back to Haugen was more than they could bear!
+In such circumstances most people would likely have been angry, but
+what these two desired was to get quietly away from what pained them.
+They exchanged a look of understanding, and the father said mildly:
+
+"This is too much for us all at once; we can't well give our answer
+yet."
+
+"No," continued the mother; "we were not expecting such great
+news--nor to get it like this."
+
+Hans stood quiet for a minute before he said:
+
+"It is true enough that Mildrid should first have asked her parents'
+leave. But remember that neither of us knew what was happening till it
+was too late. For that is really the truth. Then we could do no more
+than come at once, both of us, and that we have done. You must not be
+too hard on us."
+
+This left really nothing more to be said about their behaviour, and
+Hans's quiet manner made his words sound all the more trustworthy.
+Altogether Endrid felt that he was not holding his own against him,
+and the little confidence he had in himself made him the more desirous
+to get away.
+
+"We do not know you," he said, and looked at his wife. "We must be
+allowed to think it over."
+
+"Yes, that will certainly be best," went on Randi; "we ought to know
+something about the man we are to give our child to."
+
+Mildrid felt the offence there was in these words, but looked
+imploringly at Hans.
+
+"That is true," answered Hans, beginning to turn his gun under the one
+hand; "although I don't believe there are many men in the district
+much better known than I am. But perhaps some one has spoken ill of
+me?" He looked up to them.
+
+Mildrid sat there feeling ashamed on her parents' account, and they
+themselves felt that they had perhaps awakened a false suspicion, and
+this they had no desire to do. So both said at once:
+
+"No, we have heard nothing bad of you."
+
+And the mother hastened to add that it was really the case that they
+hardly knew anything about him, for they had so seldom asked about the
+Haugen people. She meant no harm at all by saying this, and not till
+the words had passed her lips, did she notice that she had expressed
+herself unfortunately, and she could see that both her husband and
+Mildrid felt the same. It was a little time before the answer came:
+
+"If the family of Tingvold have never asked after the Haugen people,
+the fault is not ours; we have been poor people till these last
+years."
+
+In these few words lay a reproach that was felt by all three to be
+deserved, and that thoroughly. But never till now had it occurred to
+either husband or wife that they had been in this case neglecting a
+duty; never till now had they reflected that their poor relations at
+Haugen should not have been made to suffer for misfortunes of which
+they had been in no way the cause. They stole an awkward glance at
+each other, and sat still, feeling real shame. Hans had spoken
+quietly, though Randi's words must have been very irritating to him.
+This made both the old people feel that he was a fine fellow, and that
+they had two wrongs to make good again. Thus it came about that Endrid
+said:
+
+"Let us take time and think things over; can't you stay here and have
+dinner with us? Then we can talk a little."
+
+And Randi added: "Come away here and sit down."
+
+Both of them rose.
+
+Hans set away the gun with his cap on it, and went forward to the
+bench on which Mildrid was sitting, whereupon she at once got up, she
+did not know why. Her mother said she had things to see to in the
+kitchen, and went out. Her father was preparing to go too; but Mildrid
+did not wish to be alone with Hans as long as her parents withheld
+their consent, so she went towards the other door, and they presently
+saw her crossing the yard to her grandmother's house. As Endrid could
+not leave Hans alone, he turned and sat down again.
+
+The two men talked together about indifferent matters--first it was
+about the hunting, about the Haugen brothers' arrangements in the
+little summer huts they had high up on the mountains, about the
+profits they made by this sort of thing, &c. &c. From this they came
+to Haugen itself, and the tourists, and the farm management; and from
+all he heard Endrid got the impression of there being prosperity there
+now, and plenty of life. Randi came backwards and forwards, making
+preparations for the dinner, and often listened to what was being
+said; and it was easy to see that the two old people, at first so shy
+of Hans, became by degrees a little surer of him; for the questions
+began to be more personal.
+
+They did not fail to observe his good manners at the dinner-table. He
+sat with his back to the wall, opposite Mildrid and her mother; the
+father sat at the end of the table on his high seat. The farm people
+had dined earlier, in the kitchen, where indeed all in the house
+generally took their meals together. They were making the difference
+to-day because they were unwilling that Hans should be seen. Mildrid
+felt at table that her mother looked at her whenever Hans smiled. He
+had one of those serious faces that grow very pleasant when they
+smile. One or two such things Mildrid added together in her mind, and
+brought them to the sum she wanted to arrive at. Only she did not feel
+herself so sure, but that the strain in the room was too great for
+her, and she was glad enough to escape from it by going after dinner
+again to her grandmother's.
+
+The men took a walk about the farm, but they neither went where the
+people were working, nor where grandmother could see them. Afterwards
+they came and sat in the room again, and now mother had finished her
+work and could sit with them. By degrees the conversation naturally
+became more confidential, and in course of time (but this was not till
+towards evening) Randi ventured to ask Hans how it had all come about
+between him and Mildrid; Mildrid herself had been able to give no
+account of it. Possibly it was principally out of feminine curiosity
+that the mother asked, but the question was a very welcome one to
+Hans.
+
+He described everything minutely, and with such evident happiness,
+that the old people were almost at once carried away by his story. And
+when he came to yesterday--to the forced march Beret had made in
+search of him because Mildrid was plunged in anguish of mind on her
+parents' account--and then came to Mildrid herself, and told of her
+ever-increasing remorse because her parents knew nothing; told of her
+flight down to them, and how, worn-out in soul and body, she had had
+to sit down and rest and had fallen asleep, alone and unhappy--then
+the old people felt that they recognised their child again. And the
+mother especially began to feel that she had perhaps been too hard
+with her.
+
+While the young man was telling about Mildrid, he was telling too,
+without being aware of it, about himself; for his love to Mildrid
+showed clearly in every word, and made her parents glad. He felt this
+himself at last, and was glad too--and the old couple, unaccustomed to
+such quiet self-reliance and strength, felt real happiness. This went
+on increasing, till the mother at last, without thinking, said
+smilingly:
+
+"I suppose you've arranged everything right up to the wedding, you
+two--before asking either of us?"
+
+The father laughed too, and Hans answered, just as it occurred to him
+at the moment, by softly singing a single line of the Wedding March,
+
+  "Play away! speed us on! we're in haste, I and you!"
+
+and laughed; but was modest enough at once to turn to something else.
+He happened accidentally to look at Randi, and saw that she was quite
+pale. He felt in an instant that he had made a mistake in recalling
+that tune to her. Endrid looked apprehensively at his wife, whose
+emotion grew till it became so strong that she could not stay in the
+room; she got up and went out.
+
+"I know I have done something wrong," said Hans anxiously.
+
+Endrid made no reply. Hans, feeling very unhappy, got up to go after
+Randi and excuse himself, but sat down again, declaring that he had
+meant no harm at all.
+
+"No, you could hardly be expected to understand rightly about that,"
+said Endrid.
+
+"Can't _you_ go after her and put it right again!"
+
+He had already such confidence in this man that he dared ask him
+anything.
+
+But Endrid said: "No; rather leave her alone just now; I know her."
+
+Hans, who a few minutes before had felt himself at the very goal of
+his desires, now felt himself cast into the depths of despair, and
+would not be cheered up, though Endrid strove patiently to do it. The
+dog helped by coming forward to them; for Endrid went on asking
+questions about him, and afterwards told with real pleasure about a
+dog he himself had had, and had taken much interest in, as is
+generally the way with people leading a lonely life.
+
+Randi had gone out and sat down on the doorstep. The thought of her
+daughter's marriage and the sound of the Bridal March together had
+stirred up old memories too painfully. _She_ had not, like her
+daughter, given herself willingly to a man she loved! The shame of her
+wedding-day had been deserved; and that shame, and the trouble, and
+the loss of their children--all the suffering and struggle of years
+came over her again.
+
+And so all her Bible-reading and all her praying had been of no avail!
+She sat there in the most violent agitation! Her grief that she could
+thus be overcome caused her in despair to begin the bitterest
+self-accusation. Again she felt the scorn of the crowd at her foolish
+bridal procession; again she loathed herself for her own
+weakness--that she could not stop her crying then, nor her thinking
+of it now--that with her want of self-control she had cast undeserved
+suspicion on her parents, destroyed her own health and through this
+caused the death of the children she bore, and lastly that with all
+this she had embittered the life of a loving husband, and feigned a
+piety that was not real, as her present behaviour clearly showed!
+
+How dreadful that she still felt it in this way--that she had got no
+farther!
+
+Then it burst upon her--both her crying in church and the consuming
+bitterness that had spoiled the early years of her married life had
+been _wounded vanity_. It was wounded vanity that was weeping now; and
+that might at any moment separate her from God, her happiness in this
+world and the world to come!
+
+So worthless, so worthless did she feel herself that she dared not
+look up to God; for oh! how great were her shortcomings towards Him!
+But why, she began to wonder, why had she succumbed just now--at the
+moment when her daughter, in all true-heartedness and overflowing
+happiness, had given herself to the man she loved? Why at this moment
+arouse all the ugly memories and thoughts that lay dormant in her
+mind? Was she envious of Mildrid; envious of her own daughter? No,
+_that_ she knew she was not--and she began to recover herself.
+
+What a grand thought it was that her daughter was perhaps going to
+atone for _her_ fault! Could children do that? Yes, as surely as they
+themselves were a work of ours, they could--but we must help too, with
+repentance, with gratitude! And before Randi knew what was happening,
+she could pray again, bowing in deep humility and contrition before
+the Lord, who had once more shown her what she was without Him. She
+prayed for grace as one that prays for life; for she felt that it was
+life that was coming to her again! Now her account was blotted out; it
+was just the last settling of it that had unnerved her.
+
+She rose and looked up through streaming tears; she knew that things
+had come right now; there was One who had lifted the burden of pain
+from her!
+
+Had she not had the same feeling often before? No, never a feeling
+like this--not till now was the victory won. And she went forward
+knowing that she had gained the mastery over herself. Something was
+broken that till now had bound her--she felt with every movement that
+she was free both in soul and body. And if, after God, she had her
+daughter to thank for this, that daughter should in return be helped
+to enjoy her own happiness to the full.
+
+By this time she was in the passage of grandmother's house; but no one
+in the house recognised her step. She took hold of the latch and
+opened the door like a different person. "Mildrid, come here!" she
+said; and Mildrid and her grandmother looked at each other, for that
+was not mother. Mildrid ran to her. What could be happening? Her
+mother took her by the arm, shut the door behind her, so that they
+were alone, then threw her arms round her neck, and wept and wept,
+embracing her with a vehemence and happiness which Mildrid, uplifted
+by her love, could return right heartily.
+
+"God for ever bless and recompense you!" whispered the mother.
+
+The two sitting in the other house saw them coming across the yard,
+hand in hand, walking so fast that they felt sure something had
+happened. The door opened and both came forward. But instead of giving
+her to Hans, or saying anything to him or Endrid, the mother just put
+her arms once more round her daughter, and repeated with a fresh burst
+of emotion: "God for ever bless and reward you!"
+
+Soon they were all sitting in grandmother's room. The old woman was
+very happy. She knew quite well who Hans Haugen was--the young people
+had often spoken about him; and she at once understood that this union
+wiped out, as it were, much that was painful in the life of her son
+and his wife. Besides, Hans's good looks rejoiced the cheery old
+woman's heart. They all stayed with her, and the day ended with
+father, after a psalm, reading from a prayer-book a portion beginning:
+"The Lord has been in our house!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I shall only tell of two days in their life after this, and in each of
+these days only of a few minutes.
+
+The first is the young people's wedding-day. Inga, Mildrid's cousin,
+herself a married woman now, had come to deck out the bride. This was
+done in the store-house. The old chest which held the family's bridal
+silver ornaments--crown, girdle, stomacher, brooches, rings--was drawn
+from its place. Grandmother had the key of it, and came to open it,
+Beret acting as her assistant. Mildrid had put on her wedding-dress
+and all the ornaments that belonged to herself, before this grandeur
+(well polished by Beret and grandmother the week before) came to
+light, glittering and heavy. One after another each ornament was
+tried. Beret held the mirror in front of the bride. Grandmother told
+how many of her family had worn these silver things on their
+wedding-day, the happiest of them all her own mother, Aslaug Haugen.
+
+Presently they heard the Bridal March played outside; they all
+stopped, listened, and then hurried to the door to see what it meant.
+The first person they saw was Endrid, the bride's father. He had seen
+Hans Haugen with his brothers and sisters coming driving up the road
+to the farm. It was not often that any idea out of the common came to
+Endrid, but on this occasion it did occur to him that these guests
+ought to be received with the March of their race. He called out the
+fiddlers and started them; he was standing beside them himself, and
+some others had joined him, when Hans and his good brothers and
+sisters, in two carriages, drove into the yard. It was easily seen
+that this reception touched them.
+
+An hour later the March of course struck up again. This was when the
+bride and bridegroom, and after them the bride's parents, came out,
+with the players going before them, to get into the carriages. At some
+great moments in our lives all the omens are propitious; to-day the
+bridal party drove away from Tingvold in glorious spring weather. The
+crowd at the church was so great that no one remembered having seen
+the like of it, on any occasion. And in this gathering each person
+knew the story of the family, and its connection with the Bridal March
+which was sounding exultantly in the sunshine over the heads of bride
+and bridegroom.
+
+And because they were all thinking of the one thing, the pastor took a
+text for his address that allowed him to explain how our children are
+our life's crown, bearing clear witness to our honour, our
+development, our work.
+
+On the way back from the altar Hans stopped just outside the
+church-door; he said something; the bride, in her superhuman
+happiness, did not hear it; but she felt what it was. He wished her to
+look at Ole Haugen's grave, how richly clad in flowers it lay to-day.
+She looked, and they passed out almost touching his headstone; the
+parents following them.
+
+The other incident in their life that must be recalled is the visit of
+Endrid and Randi as grandparents. Hans had carried out his
+determination that they were to live at Haugen, although he had to
+promise that he would take Tingvold when the old people either could
+or would no longer manage it, and when the old grandmother was dead.
+But in their whole visit there is only one single thing that concerns
+us here, and that is that Randi, after a kind reception and good
+entertainment, when she was sitting with her daughter's child on her
+knee, began rocking it and crooning something--and what she crooned
+was the Bridal March. Her daughter clasped her hands in wonder and
+delight, but controlled herself at once and kept silence; Hans offered
+Endrid more to drink, which he declined; but this was on both sides
+only an excuse for exchanging a look.
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Footnote 1: The old superstition that every man is followed by a
+"Vardoeger" (an invisible animal, resembling him in character) is still
+common among the peasants.]
+
+
+
+
+ONE DAY
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+Ella was generally known as the girl with the plait. But, thick as the
+plait was, if it had belonged to any one less shapely, less blonde,
+less sprightly, hardly any one would have noticed it; the merry life
+which it led behind her would have passed unobserved, and that,
+although it was the thickest plait which any one in the little town
+had ever boasted. Perhaps it looked even thicker than it really was,
+because Ella herself was little. It is not necessary to give its exact
+length, but it reached below her waist; a long way below it. Its
+colour was doubtful but inclined a little to red, though people in the
+town generally called it light, and we will accept their dictum
+without going into the question of half-tones. Her face was noticeable
+for its white skin, pretty shape, and classic profile; she had a
+small, full mouth, and eyes of unusual frankness, a trim little
+figure, but with rather short legs, so that in order to get over the
+ground as fast as it was her nature to do, her feet had to move very
+quickly. She was quick, indeed, in everything which she undertook, and
+that no doubt was why the plait was busier than plaits are wont to be.
+
+Her mother was the widow of a government official, had a small fortune
+besides her pension, and lived in her own little house opposite the
+hotel close by the market. She was an unassuming woman, whose husband
+had influenced her in everything; he had been her pride, her light,
+and when she lost him, the object of her life was gone; she became
+absorbed in religion; but, as she was not dictatorial, she allowed her
+only child--who much resembled her father--to follow her own
+inclinations. The mother associated with no one except an elder
+sister, who owned a large farm near the town, but Ella was allowed to
+bring in her companions from school, boating, skating, and
+snow-shoeing; this, however, made no difference, for there was an
+instinctive prudence in her choice of friends; her liveliness was
+tempered by her mother's society and the quietness of the house. So
+that she was active and expeditious without being noisy, frank enough,
+but with self-command and heedfulness.
+
+All the more strange, then, was an incident which occurred when she
+was between fourteen and fifteen. She had gone with a few friends to a
+concert which the Choral Society of the town, and one or two amateurs,
+were giving in aid of the Christmas charities. At this concert, Aksel
+Aaroe sang Moehring's "Sleep in Peace." As every one knows, a subdued
+chorus carries the song forward; a flood of moonlight seemed to
+envelop it, and through it swept Aksel Aaroe's voice. His voice was a
+clear, full, deep baritone, from which every one derived great
+pleasure. He could have drawn it out, without break or flaw, from
+here to Vienna. But within this voice Ella heard another, a
+simultaneous sound of weakness or pain, which she never doubted that
+everybody could hear. There was an emotion in its depths, an affecting
+confidence, which went to her heart; it seemed to say, "Sorrow, sorrow
+is the portion of my life; I cannot help myself, I am lost." Before
+she herself knew it, she was weeping bitterly. Anything more
+impressive than this voice she had never experienced. With every note
+her agitation increased, and she lost all control over herself.
+
+Aaroe was of moderate height, and slender, with a fair, silky beard,
+which hung down over his chest; his head was small, his eyes large and
+melancholy, with something in their depths which, like the voice,
+seemed to say "Sorrow, sorrow." This melancholy in the eyes she had
+noticed before, but had not fully understood it until now, when she
+heard his voice. Her tears would flow. But this would not do. She
+glanced quickly round; no one else was crying. She set her teeth, she
+pressed her arms against her sides, and her knees together till they
+ached and trembled. Why in the world should this happen to her and to
+no one else? She put her handkerchief to her lips, and forced herself
+to think of the beam of light which she had seen flash out from the
+lighthouse and disappear again, leaving the sea ghostly in the
+darkness. But no! her thoughts would return; they would not be
+controlled. Nothing could check the first sob, it would break out.
+Before all the astonished eyes she rose, left her seat, slipped
+quietly from the room and got away. No one came with her; no one dared
+to be seen near her.
+
+You who read this, do you realise how dreadful it was? Have you been
+to such a--I had nearly written _silent_--concert, in a Norwegian
+coast town of somewhat pietist savour? Hardly any men are present.
+Either music is not to the masculine taste in the coast towns, or they
+are in some other part of the club, at billiards, or cards, or in the
+restaurant drinking punch, or reading the papers. Two or three perhaps
+have come up for a moment, and stand near the door, stand like those
+to whom the house belongs, and who wish to have a look at the
+strangers; or there really are one or two men sitting on the benches,
+squeezed in among the many coloured dresses, or else a few specimens
+are seen round the walls, like forgotten overcoats.
+
+No! those who gather at the concerts are from the harems of the place;
+their elder inhabitants come to dream again, amidst beautiful words
+and touching music, of what they once persuaded themselves that they
+were, and what they had once believed was awaiting them. It is a
+harmless passing amusement. In the main they are better understood up
+above than here below, so that if a whiff of the kitchen or a few
+household worries do find their way into the dreams, it does not
+disturb them. The younger denizens of the harems dream that they _are_
+what the elders once believed themselves, and that _they_ will attain
+at least to something of what the eldest have never reached. _They_
+had gained some information about life. In one thing old and young
+resemble each other; they are practical and prosperous by descent.
+They never allow their thoughts to stray very far. They know quite
+well that the glow which they feel as they listen to the words and
+music of great minds is not to be taken too seriously; it is only
+"What one always feels, you know."
+
+When, therefore, one among them took this really seriously and began
+to cry about it, good gracious! In private it was called "foolery," in
+public "scandalous."
+
+Ella had made a spectacle of herself. Her own dismay was immeasurable.
+No girl that she knew was less given to tears than herself; that she
+was certain of. She had as great a dread as any one of being looked
+at, or talked about. What in the world was it then? She was fond of
+music, certainly; she played herself, but she did not believe that she
+had any remarkable gift. Why, then, should she especially have been
+overcome by his song? What must he think of the silly girl? This
+thought troubled her most, and on this point she dare not confide in
+any one. Most people concluded that she had been ill, and she actually
+did keep indoors for a few days, and looked pale when she reappeared.
+Her friends teased her about it, but she let the matter drop.
+
+In the winter there were several children's dances, one of which was
+at "Andresen's at the corner," and Ella was there. Just at the
+conclusion of the second quadrille, she heard whispered "Aksel Aaroe,
+Aksel Aaroe!" and there he stood at the door, with three other young
+fellows behind him. The hostess was his elder sister. The four had
+come up from a card party to look on.
+
+Ella felt a thrill of delight, and at the same time her knees
+threatened to give way under her. She could neither see, nor
+understand clearly, but she felt great eyes on her. She was engrossed
+in a fold of her dress which did not hang properly, when he stood
+before her and said, "What a beautiful plait you have." His voice
+seemed to sprinkle it with gold-dust. He put out his hand as though he
+were going to touch it, but instead of doing so he stroked his beard.
+When he noticed her extreme timidity, he turned away. Several times
+during the evening she felt conscious of his presence; but he did not
+come up to her again.
+
+The other men took part in the dancing, but Aaroe did not dance. There
+was something about him which she thought specially charming; a
+reserved air of distinction, a polish in his address, a deference of
+that quiet kind which alone could have appealed to her. His walk gave
+the impression that he kept half his strength in reserve, and this was
+the same in everything. He was tall, but not broad-shouldered; the
+small, somewhat narrow head, set on a rather long neck. She had never
+before noticed the way in which he turned his head. She felt now that
+there could be something, yes, almost musical about it.
+
+The room, and all that passed in it, seemed to float in light, but
+suddenly this light was gone. A little later she heard some one say,
+"Where is Aksel Aaroe? Has he left?"
+
+Aaroe was not at home for very long that winter. He had already spent
+two years at Havre, from which place he had recently returned; he was
+now going for a couple of years to Hull. Before this, music had been a
+favourite pursuit with Ella; she had especially loved and studied
+harmony, but from this time forward she devoted herself to melody. All
+music had given her pleasure and she had made some progress in it; but
+now it became speech to her. She herself spoke in it or another spoke
+to her. Now, whoever she was with, there was always one as well, she
+was never alone now, not in the street, not at home; of this the plait
+was the sacred symbol.
+
+In the course of the spring Fru Holmbo met Ella in the street as she
+was coming from the pastor's house with her prayer-book in her hand.
+
+"Are you going to be confirmed?" asked Fru Holmbo.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I have a message for you; can you guess from whom?"
+
+Now, Fru Holmbo was a friend of Aksel Aaroe's sister and very intimate
+with the family. Ella blushed and could not answer.
+
+"I see that you know who it is from," said Fru Holmbo, and Ella
+blushed more than ever.
+
+With a rather superior smile--and the prettiest lady in the town had a
+superabundance of them--she said, "Aksel Aaroe is not fond of writing.
+We have only just received his first letter since he left; but in it
+he writes that when we see 'the girl with the plait,' we are to
+remember him to her.' She cried at Moehring's song; other people might
+have done so too,'" he wrote.
+
+The tears sprang to Ella's eyes.
+
+"No, no," said Fru Holmbo consolingly, "there is no harm in that."
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+Two years later, in the course of the winter, Ella was coming quickly
+up from the ice with her skates in her hand. She wore her new
+tight-fitting jacket for the first time; in fact, it was principally
+this jacket which had tempted her out. The plait hung jauntily down
+from under her grey cap. It was longer and thicker than ever; it
+throve wonderfully.
+
+As usual, she went round by "Andresen's at the corner." To see the
+house was enough. Just as her eyes rested on it, Aksel Aaroe appeared
+in the doorway. He came slowly down the steps. He was at home again!
+His fair beard lay on the dark fur of his coat, a fur cap covered his
+low forehead and came down almost to his eyes; those large, attractive
+eyes. They looked at one another; they had to meet and pass; he
+smiled as he raised his cap, and she--stood still and curtseyed, like
+a schoolgirl in a short frock. For two years she had not dropped a
+curtsey, or done otherwise than bow like a grown-up person. Short
+people are most particular about this privilege; but to him, before
+whom she specially wished to appear grown-up, she had stood still and
+curtseyed as when he had last seen her. Occupied by this mishap she
+rushed into another. She said to herself, "Do not look round, keep
+yourself stiff, do not look round; do you hear?" But at the corner,
+just as she was turning away from him, she did look back for all that,
+and saw him do the same. From that moment there were no other people,
+no houses, no time or place. She did not know how she got home, or why
+she lay crying on her bed, with her face in the pillow.
+
+A fortnight later, there was a large party at the club, in honour of
+Aksel Aaroe. Every one wished to be there, every one wished to bid
+their popular friend welcome home. He had been greatly missed. They
+had heard from Hull how indispensable he had by degrees become in
+society there. If his voice had had a greater compass--it did not
+comprise a large range of notes--he would have obtained an engagement
+at Her Majesty's Theatre; so it was said over there. At this ball, the
+Choral Society--his old Choral Society--would again sing with him.
+
+Ella was there; she came too early--only four people before her. She
+trembled with expectancy in the empty rooms and passages, but more
+especially in the hall where she had made "a spectacle of herself."
+She wore a red ball-dress, without any ornaments or flowers; this was
+by her mother's wish. She feared that she had betrayed herself by
+coming so early, and remained alone in a side room; she did not appear
+until the rooms had been fully lighted, and the perfume, the buzz of
+voices, and the tuning of instruments lured her in. Ella was so short,
+that when she came into the crowd, she had not seen Aksel Aaroe when
+she heard several whispers of "There he is," and some one added, "He
+is coming towards us." It was Fru Holmbo for whom he was looking, and
+to whom he bowed; but just behind her stood Ella. When she felt that
+she was discovered, the bud blushed rosier than its calyx. He left Fru
+Holmbo at once.
+
+"Good evening," he said very softly, holding out his hand, which Ella
+took without looking up. "Good evening," he said again, still more
+softly, and drew nearer.
+
+She was aware of a gentle pressure and had to raise her eyes. They
+conveyed a bashful message half confident, half timid. It was a rapid
+glance, by which no one was enlightened or scandalised. He looked down
+at her, while he stroked his beard, but either because he had nothing
+more to say--he was not talkative--or that he could not say what he
+wished; he became absolutely silent. In the quiet way which was
+peculiar to him he turned and left her. He was on at once by his
+friends, and for the rest of the evening she only saw him now and
+again, and always at a distance.
+
+He did not dance, but she did. Everybody said how "sweet" she was (it
+was said with all respect); and that evening she really did beam with
+happiness. In whatever part of the room Aksel Aaroe chanced to be, she
+felt conscious of his presence, felt a secret delight in whirling past
+him. His eyes followed her, his nearness made all and everything
+resplendent.
+
+Standing in the doorway was a heavy, sturdy fellow, who had
+constituted himself the critic of the assemblage. He appeared to be
+between thirty and forty; nearer the latter; he had a weather-beaten,
+coarsely-moulded, but spirited face, black hair, and hazel eyes; his
+figure approached the gigantic. Every one in the room knew him;
+Hjalmar Olsen, the fearless commander of one of the largest steamers.
+
+He scanned the dancers as they passed him, but gave the palm to the
+little one in the red dress; she was the pleasantest to look at: not
+only was she a fine girl, but her buoyant happiness seemed to infect
+him. When Aksel Aaroe approached, Hjalmar Olsen received a share of the
+love glances which streamed from her eyes. She danced every dance.
+Hjalmar Olsen was tall enough to catch glimpses of her in all parts of
+the room. She also noticed him; he soon became a lighthouse in her
+voyage, but a lighthouse which interested itself in the ships. Thus he
+now felt that she was in danger so near to Peter Klausson's waistcoat.
+He knew Peter Klausson.
+
+Her tiny feet tripped a waltz, while the plait kept up an accompanying
+polka. Certainly Peter Klausson did press her too close to his
+waistcoat!
+
+Olsen therefore sought her out as soon as the waltz was over, but it
+was not so easy to secure a dance; a waltz was the first one for which
+she was free, and she gave him that. Just as this was arranged, every
+one pressed towards the platform, on which the Choral Society now
+appeared. Ella felt herself hopelessly little when they all rushed
+forward and packed themselves together. Hjalmar Olsen, who saw her
+vain attempts to obtain a peep, offered to lift her up on to the bench
+which ran along the wall, by which they were standing. She dare not
+agree to this, but he saw that others were mounting the bench, and
+before she could prevent it, she was up there too. Almost at the same
+moment Aksel Aaroe came in among his companions and was received with
+the most energetic hand-clapping by all his friends--men as well as
+women. He bowed politely though somewhat coldly, but the expressions
+of welcome did not cease until his companions drew back a little,
+while he came forward. First of all, the Society gave one of its older
+songs. He kept his voice on a level with the others, which was
+considered in very good taste. After this the conductor took his seat
+at the piano, to accompany a song which Aaroe wished to give alone. The
+song was a composition of Selmer and much in fashion at the capital.
+It could be sung by men as well as women, only in the last verse _her_
+had to be substituted for _his_. Here it had never been heard before.
+
+During the first song Aaroe had searched the room with his eyes, and,
+from the moment when he discovered where Ella stood, he had kept them
+fixed there. Now he placed himself near the piano, and during the song
+he continued to look in her direction. As he sang, his melancholy eyes
+lighted up; his figure grew plastic.
+
+  I sing to one, to only one
+    Of all the listening throng;
+  To one alone is fully known
+    The meaning of my song.
+  Lend power, ye listeners, to each word.
+    But for that only one
+  Who in me woke sweet music's chord
+    My song had ne'er been sung.
+
+  Though deviously the path may run,
+    Passing through all hearts here,
+  Yet still is it the only one
+    Which to one heart is near.
+  Strengthen, oh, loving hearts, my song,
+    So that it still may swell
+  Through all love's choir; the only one
+    That in her heart may dwell.
+
+His voice was captivating; no one had ever listened to such a
+love-message. This time many beside Ella had tears in their eyes.
+When the song ended, they all remained waiting for some moments, as
+though expecting another verse; and there was a short silence, but
+then applause broke forth such as had never been heard. They wanted to
+have the song again, but no one had yet known Aksel Aaroe to sing
+anything twice running; so they relinquished the idea.
+
+Ella had never heard the song; neither words nor music. When, with his
+eyes turned in her direction, he had begun to sing, she felt as though
+she should fall; such unheard-of boldness she had never imagined. That
+he, otherwise so considerate, should sing this across to her, so that
+all could hear! White as the wall against which she leaned for
+support, she suffered such anguish of mind, that she looked round for
+help. Immediately behind her, on the same bench, stood Fru Holmbo,
+magnetised, beautiful as a statue. She no more saw Ella's distress
+than she did the clock in the market-place. This absolute indifference
+calmed her, she recovered her self-possession. The neighbourhood of
+the others, which had been so terrible to her, was of no consequence,
+so long as they did not perceive anything. She could listen now
+without distress. More covertly, more charmingly, he could not have
+spoken, notwithstanding that every one heard it. If only he had not
+looked at her! If only she had been able to hide herself!
+
+As soon as the last notes ceased, she jumped down from the bench.
+Among all the shoulders her shyness returned--her happy dream, her
+secret in its bridal attire. What was it that had happened? What would
+happen next? All round her were sparkling eyes, applauding voices,
+clapping hands--was it not as though they lighted torches in his
+honour, paid him homage--was not all this in her honour as well?
+
+Dancing began again at once, and off she went. Off as though all were
+done for her, or as though she were the "only one!" Her partners
+tried, one after another, to talk to her, but in vain. She only
+laughed, laughed in their faces, as though they were mad, and she
+alone understood the state of the case.
+
+She danced, beamed, laughed, from one partner to another. So when
+Olsen got his waltz it was as though he were received with a score of
+fresh bouquets and a "Long live Hjalmar Olsen!" He was more than
+flattered. When she laid her white arm on his black coat he felt that
+at the bottom he was as unworthy as Peter Klausson. He certainly would
+not sully her, he held her punctiliously away from him. When he
+fancied that she was laughing, and wished to see the little creature's
+merry face, down there near his waistcoat, and in the endeavour to do
+so, thought that he had been indiscreet, Hjalmar Olsen felt ashamed of
+himself, and danced on with his eyes staring straight before him, like
+a sleep-walker. He danced on in a dream of self-satisfaction and
+transport. Ella tried now and then to touch the floor; she wished to
+have at least some certainty that she was keeping time. Impossible! He
+took charge at once, of himself, her dance and his, her time and his,
+she never got near the floor without an effort, all the rest was an
+aerial flight. He could hear her laughing and was pleased that she
+was enjoying it, but he did not look at her. Those with whom he came
+into collision were less pleased, which was _their_ affair. He was
+greatly put out when the music ceased; they were only just getting
+into swing, but he was obliged to put her down at the compulsory
+stopping-place.
+
+Shortly afterwards there was some more singing, first by the Society
+alone, then they and Aaroe together sang Grieg's "Landfall." Finally,
+Aaroe sang to a piano accompaniment. This time Ella had hidden herself
+among those at the back, but as they constantly pressed forward she
+remained standing alone. This exactly suited her; she saw him, but he
+did not see her, nor even look towards the place where she was
+standing.
+
+She had never heard this song, did not even know that it existed,
+although when the first words were heard it was evident that it was
+known to the others. Of course she knew that each word and note were
+his, but as he had before chosen a story which would only reach the
+one to whom he wished to sing, she did not doubt that it was the same
+now. The first words, "My young love's veiled," could there be a truer
+picture of concealed love? Once more it was for her! That the veil
+should be lifted but for him and dropped as soon as any one else could
+see. Was not that as it must be between them? That love's secrecy is
+like a sacred place, that in it is hidden earth's highest happiness.
+She trembled as she recognised it. The music swept the words over her
+like ice-cold water, this perfect comprehension made her shiver, with
+fear and joy at the same time. No one saw her, that was her safeguard.
+She dreaded every fresh word before it came, and each one again made
+her shiver. With her arms pressed against her breast, her head bowed
+over her hands, she stood and trembled as though waves surged over
+her. And when the second verse came with the line, "The greatest joy
+this world can give," and especially when it was repeated, her tears
+would well forth, as they had done once before. She checked them with
+all her might, but remembering how little it had helped her then, her
+powers of resistance gave way, she was almost sobbing when the very
+word was used in the song. The coincidence was too superb, it swept
+all emotion aside, she could have laughed aloud instead. She was sure
+of everything, everything now. It thus happened that the last line in
+its literal sense, in its jubilant sympathy, came to her like a flash
+of lightning, like the stab of a knife. The song ran thus:
+
+  My young love's veiled to all but me,
+  No eyes save mine those eyes may see,
+    Which, while to others all unknown,
+    Command, melt, beam for me alone.
+  Down falls the veil, would others see.
+
+  In every good, where two are one,
+  A twofold holiness doth reign;
+    The greatest joy this world can give
+    Is when earth's long desires shall live,
+  When two as soul to soul are born again.
+
+  Why must my love then veiled be?
+  Why sobs she piteous, silently,
+    As though her heart must break for love?
+    Because that veil from pain is wove,
+  And all our joy in yearning need we see.
+
+Startling, deafening applause! They must, they would have the song
+again, this time Aaroe's haughty opposition should be useless; but he
+would not give way, and at last some of the audience gave up the
+attempt, though others continued insistent.
+
+During this interval several ladies escaped out of the crowd: they
+passed near Ella.
+
+"Did you see Fru Holmbo, how she hid herself and cried?"
+
+"Yes, but did you see her during the first song? Up on the bench? It
+was to her that he was singing the whole time."
+
+Not long afterwards--it might have been about two in the morning--a
+little cloaked figure flew along the streets. By her hood and wraps
+the watchman judged that she must be one of the ladies from the ball.
+They generally had some one with them, but the ball was not over yet.
+Something had evidently happened; she was going so quickly too.
+
+It was Ella. She passed near the deserted Town Hall, which was now
+used as a warehouse. The outer walls still remained, but the beautiful
+interior wood-work had been sold and removed. That is how it is with
+me, thought Ella. She flew along as fast as she could, onward to
+sleepless nights and joyless days.
+
+In the course of the morning Aksel Aaroe was carried home by his
+companions, dead drunk. By some it was maintained that he had
+swallowed a tumbler of whisky in the belief that it was beer; others
+said that he was a "bout drinker." He had long been so but had
+concealed it. Those are called "bout-drinkers" who at long intervals
+seem impelled to drink. His father had been so before him.
+
+A few days later Aksel Aaroe went quietly off to America.
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+Another of those who had been at the ball, steamed about the same time
+across the Atlantic. This was Hjalmar Olsen.
+
+His ship experienced a continuous northwesterly gale, and the harder
+it blew, the more grog he drank; but as he did so he was astonished to
+find that a memory of the ball constantly rose before him--the little
+rosy red one; the girl with the plait. Hjalmar Olsen was of opinion
+that he had conducted himself in a very gentleman-like manner towards
+her. At first this did not very much occupy his thoughts; he had been
+twice engaged already, and each time it had been broken off. If he
+engaged himself a third time he must marry at once. He had formed this
+determination often before, but he did not really think very
+seriously about it.
+
+A steamer is not many days between ports, and at each there is plenty
+of amusement. He went to New York, from there to New Orleans, thence
+to Brazil and back, once again to Brazil, finally returning direct to
+England and Norway. But often during the voyage, and especially over a
+glass of punch, he recalled the girl with the plait. How she had
+looked at him. It did him good only to think of it. He was not very
+fond of letter-writing, or perhaps he would have written to her. But
+when he arrived at Christiania, and heard from a friend that her
+mother was dying, he thought at once: "I shall certainly go and see
+her; she will think it very good of me, if I do so just now."
+
+Two days later he was sitting before her in the parlour of the little
+house near the hotel and market-place. His large hands, black with
+hair and sunburn, stroked his knees as he stooped smilingly forward
+and asked if she would have him.
+
+She sat lower than he did; her full figure and plump arms were set
+off by a brown dress, which he stared down on when he did not look
+into her pale face. She felt each movement of his eyes. She had come
+from the other room, and from thoughts of death; she heard a little
+cuckoo clock upstairs announce that it was seven o'clock, and the
+little thing reminded her of all that was now past. One thing with
+another made her turn from him with tears in her eyes as she said, "I
+cannot possibly think of such things how." She rose and walked towards
+her flowers in the window.
+
+He was obliged to rise also. "Perhaps she will answer me presently,"
+he thought; and this belief gave him words, awkward perhaps, but
+fairly plain.
+
+She only shook her head and did not look up.
+
+He walked off in a rage, and when he turned and looked at the house
+again--the little doll's house--he longed to throw it bodily into the
+sea.
+
+He spent the evening, while waiting for the steamer to Christiania,
+with Peter Klausson and a few friends, and it was not long before
+they discovered on what errand he had been, and how he had sped. They
+knew, too, how he had fared on former occasions. The amount which
+Hjalmar Olsen drank was in proportion to his chagrin; and the next
+morning he awoke on board the steamer in a deplorable condition.
+
+Not long afterwards Ella received a well-written letter of excuse, in
+which he explained that his coming at that time had been well meant,
+and that it was only when he was there that he realised how foolish it
+had been. She must not be vexed with him for it. In the course of a
+month she again received a letter. He hoped that she had forgiven him;
+he for his part could not forget her. There was nothing more added.
+Ella was pleased with both the letters. They were well expressed and
+they showed constancy; but it never occurred to her for a moment that
+this indirect offer could be received in any other way than before.
+
+She had gone to Christiania in order to perfect herself in the piano
+and in book-keeping. She added the latter because she had always had a
+turn for arithmetic. She felt altogether unsettled. Her mother was
+dead; she had inherited the house and a small fortune, and she wanted
+to try and help herself. She did not associate with any one in the
+strange town. She was used to dreaming and making plans without a
+confidant.
+
+From Aksel Aaroe came wonderful tidings. After he had sung before a
+large party in New York a wealthy old man had invited him to come and
+see him, and since then they had lived together like father and son.
+So the story ran in the town long before there came a letter from Aaroe
+himself; but when it arrived, it entirely confirmed the rumour. It was
+after this that Ella received a third letter from Hjalmar Olsen. He
+asked in respectful terms if she would take it amiss if he were to pay
+her a visit when he came home: he knew where she was living. Before
+she had arrived at a conclusion as to how she should answer, a
+paragraph appeared in all the Norwegian papers, copied from the
+American ones, giving an account of how Hjalmar Olsen, in the teeth of
+a gale, and at the risk of his own ship, had saved the passengers and
+crew of an ocean steamer, the propeller of which had been injured off
+the American coast. Two steamers had passed without daring to render
+assistance, the weather was so terrific. Olsen had remained by the
+vessel for twenty-four hours. It was a wonderful deed which he had
+done. In New York, and subsequently when he arrived in Liverpool, he
+had been feted at the Sailors' Clubs, and been presented with medals
+and addresses. When he arrived in Christiania, he was received with
+the highest honours. Big and burly as he was, he easily obtained the
+homage of the populace: they always love large print.
+
+In the midst of all this he sought out Ella. She had hidden herself
+away; she had but a poor opinion of herself since her discomfiture. In
+her imagination he had assumed almost unnatural proportions, and when
+he came and took her out with him, she felt as though she had once
+more exchanged the close atmosphere of the house for free air and
+sunshine. She even felt something of her old self-confidence. His
+feelings for her were the same; that she noticed at once, as she
+studied him. He knew the forms of society, and could pay attention and
+render homage with dignity; he refrained from any premature speech.
+She had heard that he was prone to take a glass too much, but she saw
+nothing in that. A handsome fellow, a man such as one seldom sees, a
+little weather-beaten perhaps, but most sailors are the same.
+Something undefined in his eyes frightened her, as did his greediness
+at table. Sometimes she was startled at the vehemence of his opinions.
+If only she had been at home, and could have made inquiries
+beforehand! But he was to leave very soon, and had said jestingly that
+the next time that he proposed, he would be betrothed and married all
+at once. This plain-speaking and precipitation pleased her, not less
+than his energy and authoritative manner, although she felt
+frightened--frightened, and at the same time flattered, that so much
+energy and authoritativeness should bow before her, and that at a time
+when all paid court to him.
+
+Then an idea, which she thought very sensible, occurred to her. She
+would, in the event of an offer, impose two conditions: she must
+retain the control of her own property, and never be forced to
+accompany him on his voyages. In case his energy and tone of authority
+should chance to become intractable a limit was thus set, and she
+would, from the outset, make him comprehend that, little as she was,
+she knew how to protect both herself and her possessions.
+
+When the offer came--it was made in a box at the theatre--she had not
+courage sufficient to make her stipulation. His expression filled her
+with horror--for the first time. She often thought of it afterwards.
+Instead of acting upon this intuitive perception, she began to
+speculate on what would happen if she were again to say No! She had
+accepted his friendship although she knew what was coming. The
+conditions, the conditions--they should settle it! If he accepted
+them, it should be as he wished, and then there could be no possible
+danger. So she wrote and propounded them.
+
+He came the next day and asked for the necessary papers, so that he
+could himself arrange both about the property and the contract. He
+evidently looked upon it as a matter of business, and seemed
+thoroughly pleased.
+
+Three days later they were married. It was an imposing ceremony, and
+there was a large concourse; it had been announced in all the papers.
+
+Demonstrations of admiration and respect followed, much parade and
+many speeches, mingled with witticisms over his size and her
+smallness. This lasted from five in the evening till after midnight,
+in rather mixed company. As time wore on, and the champagne
+continually flowed, many of the guests became boisterous and somewhat
+intrusive, and among them the bridegroom.
+
+The next morning, at seven o'clock, Ella sat dressed and alone, in a
+room next to their bedroom, the door of which stood open. From it she
+could hear her husband's snores. She sat there still and deadly pale,
+without tears and without feeling. She divided the occurrences into
+two--what had happened and what had been said; what had been said and
+what had happened: she did not know which was the worst. This man's
+longing had been inflamed by deadly hate. From the time that she had
+said No! he had made it the object of his life to force her to say
+Yes! He told her that she should pay for having nearly made him
+ridiculous a third time. She should pay for it all--she, who had dared
+to make insulting conditions. He would break the neck of her
+conditions like a shrimp. Let her try to refuse to go on board with
+him, or attempt to control anything herself.
+
+Then that which had happened. A fly caught in a spider's web, that was
+what she thought of.
+
+But had she not experienced such a feeling once before? O God, the
+night of the ball! She had a vague feeling that that night had
+fore-doomed her to this; but she could not make it clear to herself.
+On the other hand, she asked herself if what we fail in has not a
+greater influence on our lives than that which we succeed in.
+
+Three or four hours after this, Hjalmar Olsen sat at the
+breakfast-table; he was dull and silent, but perfectly polite, as
+though nothing had happened. Perhaps he had been too drunk to be quite
+accountable, or it might be that his politeness was calculated with
+the hope of inducing her to come with him and visit his ship. He asked
+her to do so, as he left the table, but neither promises nor threats
+could induce her to go on board even for the shortest time. Her terror
+saved her.
+
+Some months later an announcement appeared in the papers that she
+wished to take pupils both for the piano and book-keeping. She was
+once more living in her own little house in her native town. She was
+at this time enciente.
+
+One day an old friend of Aksel Aaroe's came to see her; he was to
+remember Aaroe very kindly to her, and to congratulate her on her
+marriage. She controlled her rising emotion, and asked quietly how he
+was getting on. Most wonderfully; he was still living with the same
+old man, to whom, by degrees, he had entirely devoted himself. This
+was the very thing for Aaroe: it suited him to devote himself
+completely to one person. He had gone through a course of treatment
+for his inherited failing and believed himself to be cured.
+
+"And how is Fru Holmbo?" asked Ella. She was frightened when she had
+said it, but she felt an intense bitterness which would break out. She
+had noticed how thin and pale Fru Holmbo looked--she evidently missed
+Aaroe, and that was too much!
+
+The friend smiled: "Oh! have you heard that silly rumour? No, Aksel
+Aaroe was only the medium between her and the man to whom she was
+secretly attached. The two friends had lived together abroad. Some
+months ago there had been a talk about a business journey to
+Copenhagen, and Fru Holmbo went there also. But there had undoubtedly
+been something between them for a long time."
+
+That night Ella wept for a long time before she fell asleep. She lay
+and stroked her plait, which she had drawn on to her bosom. She had
+often thought of cutting it off, but it was still there.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+In the course of the two first years of her marriage she had two
+children. Whenever she was alone, she divided her time between them
+and her teaching. Her husband hardly contributed anything to the
+household, except during the brief periods that he passed at home, and
+then the money was squandered in the extravagant life which he led
+with his companions. During these visits the "young ones" were sent
+off to their aunt. "One could not take four steps without going
+through the walls of this wretched little house," he said. At these
+times she also gave up the lessons; she had no time for anything
+except to wait on him.
+
+Every one realised that she could not be happy, but no one suspected
+that her whole life was one of dread--dread of the telegram which
+would announce his coming, if only for a few days, dread of what might
+happen when he came. When he was there she never attempted to oppose
+him, but displayed to him, and every one else, those frank eyes and
+quick, but quiet, ways which enabled her to come and go without being
+noticed. When he was gone, she would suddenly collapse, and, worn out
+with the strain of days and nights, be obliged to take to her bed.
+
+Each time that he came home he kept less guard over himself, and was
+more careless as regarded others. Had she known that men who have
+expended their strength as he had done are as a rule worn out at
+forty--and many such are to be found in the coast-towns--she would
+have understood that these very things were signs of failure. He had
+advanced far along the road. To her he only appeared more and more
+disgusting. He was but little at home, which helped her. She had
+determined that she and her boys should live in the best manner, and
+this again was a help to her; but more than all was her constant
+employment and the regard which every one felt for her. After five
+years of marriage she looked as charming as ever, and appeared as
+cheerful and lively; she was accustomed to conceal her feelings.
+
+Her children were now--the elder four, the second three years old.
+They were rarely seen anywhere but in the market-place, on the
+snow-heaps in winter and on the sand-heaps in summer, or else they
+were in the country with their aunt whom they had adopted as
+"grandmother."
+
+Next to the care of the little boys, flowers were Ella's greatest
+delight. She had a great many, which made the house appear smaller
+than it really was. She could play with the boys, but she could share
+her thoughts with the flowers. When she watered them, she felt acutely
+how much she suffered. When she dried their leaves, she longed for
+pleasant words and kindly eyes. When she removed dead twigs and
+superfluous shoots, when she re-potted them, she often cried with
+longing; the thought that there was no one to care for her overcame
+her.
+
+Five years were gone, then, when one day it was reported through the
+whole town that Aksel Aaroe had become a rich man. His old friend was
+dead and had left him a large annuity. It was also said that he had
+been a second time treated for dypsomania. The previous treatment had
+not been successful, but he was now cured. One could see how popular
+Aaroe was, for there was hardly anybody who was not pleased.
+
+On Wednesday the 16th of March, 1892, at four o'clock in the
+afternoon, Ella sat at work near her flowers; from there she could see
+the hotel. At the corner window in the second story stood the man of
+whom she was thinking--stood and looked down at her.
+
+She got up and he bowed twice. She remained standing as he crossed the
+market-place. He wore a dark fur cap, and his fair beard hung down
+over his black silk waistcoat. His face was rather pale, but there was
+a brighter expression in his eyes. He knocked, she could not speak or
+move, but when he opened the door and came into the room, she sank
+into a chair and wept. He came slowly forward, took a chair and sat
+down near her. "You must not be frightened because I came straight to
+you, it is such a pleasure to see you again." Ah! how they sounded in
+this house, those few words full of consideration and confidence. He
+had acquired a foreign accent, but the voice, the voice! And he did
+not misconstrue her weakness, but tried to help her. By degrees she
+became her old self, confiding, bright, timid.
+
+"It was so entirely unexpected," she said.
+
+"All that has occurred in the meantime rushes in on one," he added
+courteously.
+
+Not much more was said. He was preparing to leave, when his
+brother-in-law entered. Aaroe looked at her boys out on the snow-heap,
+he looked at her flowers, her piano, her music, then asked if he might
+come again. He had been there hardly five minutes, but an impression
+rested on her mind somewhat as the magnificent fair beard rested on
+the silk waistcoat. The room was hallowed, the piano, the music, the
+chair on which he had sat, even the carpet on which he had walked--in
+his very walk there was consideration for her. She felt that all that
+he had said and done showed sympathy for her fate. She could do
+nothing more that day, she hardly slept during the night, but the
+change which had taken place in her was nothing less than the bringing
+of something into the daylight again from five years ago, from six
+years indeed, as one brings flowers out of the cellar, where they have
+been put for their winter sleep, up into the spring-time again. As
+this thought passed through her mind, she made the same gesture at
+least twenty times, she laid both hands on her breast, one over the
+other, as though to control it: it must not speak too loudly.
+
+The next day their conversation flowed more freely. The children were
+called in. After looking at them for a while, he said: "You have
+something real there."
+
+In a little time they were such good friends, he and the boys, that he
+was down on all-fours playing horses with them, and did some quite
+new tricks which they thought extremely amusing; he then invited them
+to come for a drive the next day. After a thaw, there had been an
+unusually heavy fall of snow; the town was white and the state of the
+roads perfect.
+
+Before he left Ella offered to brush him; the carpet had not been as
+well swept as it should have been. He took the clothes-brush from her
+and used it himself, but he had unfortunately lain on his back as
+well, so she was obliged to help him. She brushed his coat lightly and
+deftly, but she was never satisfied, nor was he yet properly brushed
+in front. He had to do it over again: she stood and looked on. When he
+had finished she took the brush into the kitchen.
+
+"How funny that you should still wear your plait," said he, as she
+went out. She remained away for some time, and came in again by
+another door. He had gone. The children said that some one had come
+across for him.
+
+The next morning the little boys had their drive. They did not return
+until late in the afternoon. They had been to Baadshaug, a
+watering-place with an hotel and an excellent restaurant, to which
+people were very fond of making excursions during the winter. His
+sister's youngest boy was with them, and while all three went back
+with the horses to "Andresen's at the corner," Aaroe remained standing
+in the passage. Never had Ella seen him so cheerful. His eyes
+sparkled, and he talked from the time he came to the time he left. He
+talked about the Norwegian winter which he had never realised before;
+how could that have been? For many years he had had in his
+_repertoire_ a song in praise of winter, the old winter song which she
+knew as well: "Summer sleeps in winter's arms"--yes, she knew it--and
+he only now realised how true it was. The influence of winter on
+people's lives must be immense; why it was nearly half their lives;
+what health and beauty and what power of imagination it must give. He
+began to describe what he had seen in the woods that day. He did not
+use many words, but he gave a clear picture; he talked till he became
+quite excited, and looked at her the whole time with a rapturous
+expression.
+
+It was but for a few moments. He stood there muffled in furs: but when
+he had gone it seemed to her that she had never truly seen him before.
+He was an enthusiast then--an enthusiast whose depths never revealed
+themselves. Was his singing a message from this enthusiasm? Was this
+why his voice carried everybody away with it into another region? That
+melancholy father of his, when a craving for drink seized him, would
+shut himself up with his violin, and play and play till he became
+helpless. Had the son, too, this dislike of companionship, this
+delight in his own enthusiasm? God be praised, Aksel Aaroe was saved!
+Was it not from the depths of his enthusiasm that he had looked at
+her? This forced itself upon her for the first time; she had been
+occupied before by the change in him, but now it forced itself upon
+her--hotly, with a thrill of fear and joy. A message of gladness
+which still quivered with doubt. Was the decisive moment of her life
+approaching? She felt that she coloured. She could not remain quiet;
+she went to the window to look for him; then paced the room, trying to
+discover what she might believe. All his words, his looks, his
+gestures, since he had first come there, rose before her. But he had
+been reserved, almost niggardly, with them. But that was just their
+charm. His eyes had now interpreted them, and those eyes enveloped
+her; she gave herself absolutely up to them.
+
+Her servant brought in a letter; it was a Christmas card, in an
+envelope without a direction, from Aksel Aaroe--one of the usual
+Christmas cards, representing a number of young people in snow-shoes.
+Below was printed:
+
+  Winter white,
+  Has roses red.
+
+On the other side, in a clear round hand, "In the woods to-day I could
+not but think of you. A. A.." That was all.
+
+"That is like him, he says nothing more. When he passes a shop-window
+in which he sees such a card, he thinks of me; and not only does he
+think of me but he sends me his thoughts." Or was she mistaken. Ella
+was diffident; surely this could not be misconstrued. The Christmas
+card--was it not a harbinger? The two young couples on it and the
+words--surely he meant something by that. His enraptured eyes again
+rose before her; they seemed not only to envelop her, but to caress
+her. She thought neither of past nor future; she lived only in the
+present. She lay wide awake that night looking at the moonlight. Now,
+now, now, was whispered. Had she but clung to the dream of her life,
+even when the reality had seemed so cruel, she would have held her
+own; because she had been uncertain about it, all had become
+uncertain. But the greater the suffering had been, the greater,
+perhaps, would be the bliss. She fell asleep in the soft white light,
+which she took with her into her dreams. She woke among light, bright
+clouds, which gathered round the glittering thought of what might be
+awaiting her to-day. He had not said a word. This bashfulness was what
+she loved the best of anything in him. It was just that which was the
+surest pledge. It would be to-day.
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+She took a long time over her bath, an almost longer time in doing her
+hair; out of the chest of drawers, which she had used as a child, and
+which still stood in its old place--out of its lowest drawer she took
+her finest underlinen. She had never worn it but once--on her
+wedding-day--before the desecration, never since. But to-day--Now,
+now, now! Not one garment which she put on had ever been touched by
+any one but herself. She wished to be what she had been in her dreams.
+
+She went to the children, who were awake but not dressed.
+
+"Listen, boys! To-day Tea shall take you to see grandmother."
+
+Great delight, shared by Tea, for this meant a holiday.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she heard behind her, as she ran down to the kitchen
+to get a cup of coffee, and then she was off. First she must get some
+flowers, then put off her lessons. For now, now, now!
+
+Out in the street she remembered that it was too early to get
+anything, so she went for a walk, beyond the town, the freshest, the
+brightest, that she had ever taken. She came back again just as Fru
+Holmbo was opening her shop. As Ella entered the "flower-woman" was
+holding an expensive bouquet in her hand, ready to be sent out.
+
+"I will have that!" cried Ella, shutting the door behind her.
+
+"You!" said Fru Holmbo a little doubtfully; the bouquet was a very
+expensive one.
+
+"Yes, I must have it;" Ella's little green purse was ready. The
+bouquet had been ordered for the best house in the town, and Fru
+Holmbo said so.
+
+"That does not matter," answered Ella. Such genuine admiration of a
+bouquet had never been seen--and Ella got it.
+
+From there she went to "Andresen's at the corner." One of the shopmen
+took lessons in book-keeping from her. She wished to put him off, and
+asked him to tell the whole of the large class. She asked him this
+with kindling eyes, and he gladly promised to do so. The daintiest red
+shawl was hanging just before her. She must have it to wear over her
+head to-day when she drove out; for that she would drive to-day there
+was no doubt. Andresen himself came up, just as she was asking about
+the shawl. He caught a glimpse of her bouquet, under the paper. "Those
+are lovely roses," he said. She took one out at once, and gave it to
+him. From the rose he looked at her; she laughed and asked if he would
+take a little off the price of the shawl; she had not quite enough
+money left.
+
+"How much have you?" he asked.
+
+"Just half a krone too little," she replied.
+
+He himself wrapped up the shawl for her. In the street she met
+Cecilie Monrad, whose sister studied music with Ella; she was thus
+saved a walk to the other end of the town to put her off. "Everything
+favours me to-day," she thought.
+
+"Did you see about those two who committed suicide together at
+Copenhagen?" asked Cecilie.
+
+"Yes, she had." Froeken Monrad thought that it was horrible.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why the man was married!"
+
+"True enough," answered Ella, "but they loved each other." Her eyes
+glowed; Cecilie lowered hers and blushed. Ella took her hand and
+pressed it. "I tumbled into a love-story there," she thought, and
+flew, rather than walked, up to the villas, where most of her pupils
+lived. On a roof she saw two starlings; the first that year. The thaw
+of a few days back had deceived them. Not that the starlings were
+dispirited. No, they loved! "Mamma, mamma," she seemed to hear at the
+same moment. It was certainly her boys; she had thought of them when
+she saw the starlings. She was so occupied with this that she walked
+right across to the side of the road and trod on a piece of board,
+which tilted up and nearly threw her down; but under the board Spring
+reigned. They had come with the thaw, they were certainly dandelions!
+However ugly they may be in the summer, the first ones are always
+welcome. She stooped down and gathered the flowers; she put them with
+the roses. The dandelions looked very shabby there, but they were the
+first this year, and found to-day!
+
+After this she was absolutely boisterous. She skipped down the hills
+when her errand was finished. She greeted friends and mere
+acquaintance alike, and when she again saw Cecilie she put down the
+flowers, made a snowball, and threw it at her back.
+
+When she got home she wrapped the children well up and put them into
+the sledge with Tea. "Mamma, mamma!" they shouted and pointed up
+towards the hotel. There stood Aksel Aaroe. He bowed to her.
+
+Soon afterwards he came across. "You are quite alone," he said as he
+entered.
+
+"Yes." She was arranging the flowers and did not look up for she was
+trembling.
+
+"Is it a birthday to-day?" he asked.
+
+"Do you mean because of the flowers?"
+
+"Yes. What lovely roses, and those in the glass--dandelions?"
+
+"The first this year," she answered.
+
+He did not look at them. He stood and fidgeted, as though he were
+thinking of something.
+
+"May I sing to you?" He said at last.
+
+"Yes, indeed." She left the flowers, in order to open the piano and
+screw down the music-stool, and then drew quietly back.
+
+After a long and subdued prelude, he began with the "Sunset Song," by
+Ole Olsen, very softly, as he had spoken and moved ever since he came
+in. Never had he sung more beautifully; he had greatly improved, but
+the voice was the same, nay, there was even more despair and
+suffering in it than when she had heard it for the first time.
+"Sorrow, sorrow, oh, I am lost!" She heard it again plainly. At the
+end of the first verse, she sat bending forward, and weeping bitterly.
+She had not even tried to control herself. He heard her and turned
+round, a moment afterwards she felt him approach her, it even seemed
+to her that he kissed her plait, certainly he had bent down over her,
+for she could feel his breath. But she did not raise her head, she
+dare not.
+
+He walked across the room, returned and then walked back again. Her
+agitation subsided, she sat immovable and waited.
+
+"May I be allowed to take you for a drive to-day?" she heard him say.
+
+She had known the whole morning that they would go for a drive
+together, so she was not surprised. Just as _that_ had now been
+fulfilled, so would the other be--everything. She looked up through
+her tears and smiled. He smiled too.
+
+"I will go and see about the horses," he said, and as she did not
+answer he left her.
+
+She went back to the flowers. So she had not been able to give them to
+him. She would throw away the dandelions. As she took them out of the
+glass, she recalled the words, "You have something real there." They
+had certainly not been said about the dandelions, but they had often
+since recurred to her. Was it strange that they should do so now? She
+let the dandelions remain.
+
+Aaroe stayed away a long time, more than an hour, but when he returned
+he was very cheerful. He was in a smart ladies' sledge, in the
+handsome furs which he had worn the day before; the most valuable ones
+that she had ever seen. He saluted with his whip, and talked and
+laughed with every one, old and young, who gathered round him while
+Ella put on her things. That was soon done; she had not many wraps,
+nor did she need them.
+
+He got down when she appeared, came forward, muffled her up and drove
+off at a trot. As they went he stooped over her and whispered, "How
+good of you to come with me." His voice was very genial, but there was
+something quite different about his breath. As soon as the handsome
+horses had slackened speed, he stooped forward again.
+
+"I have telephoned to Baadshaug to order lunch, it will be ready when
+we get there; you do not mind?"
+
+She turned, so as to raise her head towards him, their faces almost
+met.
+
+"I forgot to thank you for the card yesterday."
+
+He coloured. "I repented afterwards," he said, "but at the moment, I
+could not but think of you; how you suit it out here." Now _she_
+coloured and drew back. Then she heard close by her: "You must not be
+angry, it always happens that when we wish to repair a blunder, we
+make another."
+
+She would have liked to have seen his eyes, as he said this, but she
+dare not look at him. At all events it was more than he had said up to
+the present time. His words fell softly on her ears. Before to-day
+she had almost misinterpreted his reserve, but how beautiful it made
+everything. She worshipped it.
+
+"In a little time we shall come to the woods, then we will stop and
+look round us," he said.
+
+"_There_," she thought.
+
+He drove on at a quick trot. How happy she was! The sunlight sparkled
+on the snow, the air was warm, she had to loosen the shawl over her
+head, and he helped her to do so. Again she became aware of his
+breath, there was something, not tobacco, more delicate, pleasanter,
+but what was it? It seemed to harmonise with him. She felt very happy,
+with an overflow of joy in the scene through which they were driving
+and which continually increased in beauty.
+
+On one side of the road were the mountains, the white mountains, which
+took a warm tint from the sunlight. In front of the mountains were
+lower hills, partly covered by woods, and among these lay scattered
+farms. The farms were soon passed and then came woods, nothing but
+woods. On the other side of the road they had the sea for the whole
+way, but between them and it were flat expanses, probably marshes. The
+sea looked steel-grey against the snow. It spoke of another part of
+life, of eternal unrest; protest after protest against the snow idyl.
+
+During the thaw, tree-trunks, branches, and fences had become wet. The
+first snow which fell, being itself wet, had stuck to them. But when
+all this froze together, and there was another overwhelming fall,
+outlines were formed over the frozen surface, such as one rarely sees
+the like of. The weight of the first soft snow had caused it to slip
+down, but it had been arrested here and there by each inequality, and
+there it had collected, or else it had slid under the branches, or
+down on both sides of the fences; when this had been augmented both by
+drift and fall, the most whimsical animal forms were produced--white
+cats, white hares clawed the tree-trunks with bent backs and heads
+and fore-quarters outstretched, or sat under the branches, or on the
+hedges. White beasts were there, some appeared the size of martens,
+but occasionally they seemed as large as lynxes or even tigers;
+besides these there were numberless small animals, white mice, and
+squirrels, here, there, and everywhere. Again there were, besides, all
+sorts of oddities, mountebanks who hung by their heels, clowns and
+goblins on the tops of the fences, dwarfs with big sacks on their
+backs; an old hat or a nightcap: an animal without a head, another
+with a neck of preposterous length, an enormous mitten, an overturned
+water-can. In some places the blackened foliage remained uncovered,
+and formed arabesques against the drifts; in others, masses of snow
+lay on the branches of the fir-trees with green above and beneath,
+forming wonderful contrasts of colour. Aaroe drew up and they both got
+out of the sledge.
+
+Now they gained a whole series of fresh impressions. Right in front of
+them stood an old pine-tree, half prostrated in the struggle of life;
+but was he not dreaming, here in the winter, the loveliest of all
+dreams, that he was young again? In the joyous growth of this
+snow-white glory he had forgotten all pain and decay, forgotten the
+moss on his bark, the rottenness of his roots was concealed. A rickety
+gate had been taken from its place and was propped against the fence,
+broken and useless. The artist hand of winter had sought it out too,
+and glorified it, and it was now an architectural masterpiece. The
+slanting black gate-posts were a couple of young dandies, with hats on
+one side and jaunty air. The old, grey, mossy rails--one could not
+imagine Paradise within a more beautiful enclosure. Their blemishes
+had in this resurrection become their greatest beauty. Their knots and
+crannies were the chief building ground for the snow, each hole filled
+up by a donation of heavenly crystals from the clouds. Their
+disfiguring splinters were now covered and kissed, shrouded and
+decorated; all blemishes were obliterated in the universal whiteness.
+A tumbledown moss-grown hut by the roadside--now more extravagantly
+adorned than the richest bride in the world, covered over from
+heaven's own lap in such abundance that the white snow wreaths hung
+half a yard beyond the roof; in some places folded back with
+consummate art. The grey-black wall under the snow wreaths looked like
+an old Persian fabric. It seemed ready to appear in a Shakespearean
+drama. The background of mountains and hills gleamed in the sunlight.
+
+In the midst of all this Ella seemed to hear two little cries of
+"Mamma, mamma!" When she looked round for her companion he was sitting
+on the sledge, quite overcome, while tears flowed down his cheeks.
+
+They drove on again, but slowly. "I remember this muddy road," said
+he; his voice sounded very sad. "The trees shaded it so that it was
+hardly ever dry, but now it is beautiful."
+
+She turned and raised her head towards him. "Ah! sing a little," she
+said.
+
+He did not answer at once, and she regretted that she had asked him;
+at length he said:
+
+"I was thinking of it, but I became so agitated; do not speak for a
+moment and then perhaps I can--the old winter song, that is to say."
+
+She understood that he could not do so until he completely realised
+it. These silent enthusiasts were indeed fastidious about what was
+genuine. Most things were not genuine enough for them. That is why
+they are so prone to intoxicate themselves; they wish to get away, to
+form a world for themselves. Yes, now he sang:
+
+  In winter's arms doth summer sleep
+    By winter covered calm she lay,
+    "Still!" he cried to the river's play,
+  To farm, and field and mountain steep.
+    Silence reigns o'er hill and dale,
+    No sound at home save ringing flail.
+
+  All that summer loved to see
+    Till she returns sleeps safely on.
+    In needed rest, the summer gone,
+  Sleep water, meadow-grass and tree,
+    Hid like the kernel in the nut
+    The earth lies crumbling round each root.
+
+  All the ills which summer knew,
+    Pest and blight for life and fruit
+    Winter's hosts have put to rout.
+  In peace she shall awake again
+    Purified by winds and snows,
+    Peace shall greet her as she goes.
+
+  A lovely dream has winter strown
+    On the sleeping mountain height;
+    Star high, pale in northern light,
+  From sight to sight it bears her on
+    Through the long, long hours of night,
+    Till she wakes shall be her flight.
+
+  He who we say brings naught but pain
+    Lives but for that he ne'er shall see.
+    He who is called a murderer, he
+  Preserves each year our land again,
+    Then hides himself by crag and hill
+    Till evening's breeze again blows chill.
+
+All the little sleigh-bells accompanied the song, like the twitter of
+sparrows. His voice echoed through the trees, the religious service of
+a human soul in the white halls.
+
+One day, felt Ella, paid for a thousand. One day may do what the
+winter song relates. It may rock a weary summer, destroy its germs of
+ill, renew the earth, make the nerves strong, and the darkest time
+bright. In it are collected all our long dreams. What might she not
+have become, poor little thing that she was, if she had had many such
+days? What would she not then have become, for her children.
+
+They now drew near to a long building with two wings; the whole built
+of wood. In the courtyard a number of sledges were standing. There
+were a great many people here then! A stableman took their horses; the
+waiter who was to attend to them, a German, was quickly at hand, and a
+bareheaded jovial man joined them as well--it was Peter Klausson. He
+seemed to have been expecting them, and wished to relieve Ella of her
+wraps, but he smelt of cognac or something of the sort, and to get rid
+of him she inquired for the room in which they were to lunch. They
+were shown into a warm cosy apartment where the table was laid. Aaroe
+helped her off with her things.
+
+"I could not endure Peter Klausson's breath," she said, at which Aaroe
+smiled.
+
+"In America we have a remedy for that."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"One takes something which scents the breath."
+
+A moment later he asked her to excuse him. He had to arrange a few
+things. She was thus alone until some one knocked at the door. It was
+Peter Klausson again. He saw her astonishment and smiled.
+
+"We are to lunch together," he said.
+
+"Are we?" she replied.
+
+She looked at the table; it was laid for five.
+
+"Have you heard lately from your husband?"
+
+"No."
+
+A long pause. Was Peter Klausson fit company for Aksel Aaroe? Her
+husband's boon companion! Aaroe, who will have nothing but what is
+genuine. But as she thought this, she had to admit that Peter
+Klausson's impulsive nature was perfectly truthful, which indeed it
+was. The waiter came in with a basket of wine, but did not shut the
+door after him until he had lifted in some more from outside:
+champagne in ice.
+
+"Shall we want so much wine?" asked Ella.
+
+"Oh, it's all right," answered Peter Klausson, evidently delighted.
+
+"But Aaroe does not drink wine!"
+
+"Aaroe? When he asked me to come here to-day--I chanced to look in on
+him--we had some first-rate cognac together."
+
+Ella turned to the window, for she felt that she had grown pale.
+
+Very soon Aaroe came in, so courteous and stately that Peter Klausson
+felt compelled to take his hands out of his pockets. He hardly dared
+to speak. Aaroe said that he had invited the Holmbos, but they had just
+sent an excuse. They three must make the best of each other's society.
+He led Ella to the table.
+
+It was soon evident that Aaroe was the most delightful and accomplished
+of hosts. He spoke English to the waiter, and directed him by frequent
+signs, covered his blunders, and smoothed away every little
+difficulty, in such a way that it was hardly noticed. All the time he
+kept up a constant flow of conversation, narrating small anecdotes
+from his experiences of society, but he never poured out wine for
+himself, and when he raised his glass his hand shook. Ella had fancied
+before that this was the case--it was torture to her now.
+
+Oysters were served for the first course; she relished them
+thoroughly, for she was very hungry; but as the meal proceeded, she
+became each moment less able to enjoy it. At last her throat seemed to
+contract, she felt more inclined to cry than to eat and drink.
+
+At first the reason was not clear to her. She only felt that this was
+absolutely different from what she had dreamed of. This glorious day
+was to be a disappointment. At first she thought--this will end some
+time, and we shall go comfortably home again. But by degrees, as his
+spirits rose, she became merely the guest of a society man. As such
+she was shown all imaginable attention--indeed, the two gentlemen
+joined in making much of her, till she could have cried.
+
+After luncheon she was ceremoniously conducted on Aaroe's arm into
+another room which was also in readiness for them; comfortable, well
+furnished, and with a piano.
+
+Coffee was served at once with liqueur, and not long afterwards the
+two men asked to be excused; they wanted to smoke, they would not be
+long. They went, and left her alone. This was scarcely polite, and now
+she first realised that it was not the day only, but Aaroe, who had
+become different from what she had believed him. The great darkness
+which had overwhelmed her on the night of the ball again menaced her;
+she fought against it; she got up and paced the room; she longed to be
+out of doors, as though she could find him again there, such as she
+had imagined him. She looked for the luncheon-room, put on her red
+shawl, and had just come out on to the broad space before the
+building, when the waiter came up to her and said something in English
+which she could not at first understand. Indeed, she was too much
+occupied with her own thoughts to be able suddenly to change
+languages.
+
+The waiter told her that one of her companions was ill, and the other
+not to be found. Even when she understood the words, she did not
+realise what was the matter, but followed mechanically. As she went
+she remembered that Aaroe's tongue had not been quite obedient when,
+after the liqueur, he had asked permission to go and smoke; surely he
+had not had a stroke.
+
+They passed the smoking-room, which seemed to be full--at all events
+of smoke and laughter. The door of a little room by the side of it was
+opened; there lay Aksel Aaroe on a bed. He must have slunk in there
+alone, perhaps to drink more; indeed, he had taken a short thick
+bottle in with him, which still stood on a table by the bed, on which
+he lay fully dressed with closed eyes and without sense or feeling.
+
+"Tip, tip, Pete!" he said to her, and repeated it with outstretched
+finger, "Tip, tip, Pete!" He spoke in a falsetto voice. Did he mean
+Peter? Did he take her for a man? Behind him on a pillow lay something
+hairy; it was a _toupet_; she now saw that he was bald on the crown.
+"Tip, tip, Pete!" she heard as she rushed out.
+
+Few people have felt smaller than Ella as she trudged along the
+country road, back to the town as fast as her short legs could carry
+her, in thin shoes and winter attire. The heavy cloak which she had
+worn for driving was unfastened, she carried the shawl in her hand,
+but still the perspiration streamed off her; the idea was upon her
+that it was her dreams which were falling from her.
+
+At first she only thought of Aksel Aaroe, the unhappy lost one!
+To-morrow or the next day he would leave the country; she knew this
+from past experience, and this time it would be for ever.
+
+But as she thought how terrible it was, the _toupet_ on the pillow
+seemed to ask: "Was Aksel Aaroe so very genuine?" "Yes, yes, how could
+he help it if he became bald so early." "H'm," answered the _toupet_;
+"he could have confessed to it."
+
+She struggled on; luckily she did not meet any one, nor was she
+overtaken by any of those who had been at Baadshaug. She must look
+very comical, perspiring and tearful, with unfastened cloak, in thin
+shoes and with a shawl in her hand. Several times she slackened her
+pace, but the disturbance of her feelings was too great, and it was
+her nature to struggle forward.
+
+But through all her feverish haste the great question forced itself
+upon her: "Would you not wish now, Ella, to relinquish all your
+dreams, since time after time things go so badly?" She sobbed
+violently and answered: "Not for worlds. No! for these dreams are the
+best things that I have. They have given me the power to measure
+others so that I can never exalt anything which is base. No! I have
+woven them round my children as well, so that I have a thousand times
+more pleasure in them. They and the flowers are all that I have." And
+she sobbed and pressed on.
+
+"But now you will have no dream, Ella!"
+
+At first she did not know what to reply to this, it seemed but too
+true, too terribly true, and the _toupet_ showed itself again.
+
+It was here that Aaroe had sung the old winter song, and as the tinkle
+of the sledge-bells had accompanied it, so now her tears were
+unceasingly accompanied by two little voices: "Mamma, mamma!" It was
+not strange, for it was towards the children that she was hurrying,
+but now they seemed to demand that she should dream about them. No,
+no! "You have something real there," Aaroe's voice seemed to say. She
+remembered his saying it, she remembered his sadness as he did so. Had
+he really thought of himself and her, or of the children and her? Had
+he compared his own weakness with their health, with their future? Her
+thoughts wandered far away from the boys, and she was once more
+immersed in all his words and looks, trying by them to solve this
+enigma. But these, with the yearning and pain, came back as they had
+never done before. Her whole life was over; her dream was of too long
+standing, too strong, too clear, the roots could not be pulled up; it
+was impossible. Were they not round everything which, next day, she
+should see, or touch, or use? As a last stroke she remembered that
+the boys were not at home; she would come to an empty house.
+
+But she resisted still; for when she got home and had bathed and gone
+to bed, and again the moonlight shone in on her and reminded her of
+her thoughts the night before, she turned away and cried aloud like a
+child. None could enter, none could hear her; her heart was young, as
+though she were but seventeen; it could not, it would not give up!
+
+What was it, in fact, that she had wished for to-day? She did not
+know--no, she did not! She only knew that her happiness was
+_there_--and so she had let it remain. Now she was disappointed and
+deluded in a way that certainly few had been.
+
+She could not bear to desecrate him further. Then the winter song
+swept past in his voice, sweet, full, sorrowful, as if it wished to
+make all clear to her; and, tractable as a child, she composed herself
+and listened. What did it say? That her dreams united two summers,
+the one which had been and the one which was slowly struggling up
+anew. Thanks be to the dreams which had awakened it. It said, too,
+that the dreams were something in themselves often of greater truth
+than reality itself. She had felt this when she was tending her
+flowers.
+
+In her uneasy tossing in her bed, her plait had come close to her
+hand. Sadly she drew it forward; he had kissed it again to-day. And so
+she lay on her side, and took it between her hands, and cried.
+
+"Mamma, mamma!" she heard whispered, and thus she slept.
+
+
+
+
+
+  _THE NOVELS OF BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON_
+
+  _Edited by EDMUND GOSSE_
+
+  _Fcap. 8vo, cloth, 3s. net_
+
+  _Synnoeve Solbakken_
+  _Arne_
+  _A Happy Boy_
+  _The Fisher Lass_
+  _The Bridal March, & One Day_
+  _Magnhild, & Dust_
+  _Captain Mansana, & Mother's Hands_
+  _Absalom's Hair, & A Painful Memory_
+
+_LONDON_
+
+_WILLIAM HEINEMANN_
+
+_21 Bedford Street, W. C._
+
+
+
+_Printed by_ Ballantyne, Hanson & Co. _London and Edinburgh_
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Bridal March; One Day, by Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
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