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+Produced by Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
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+
+ ARNE
+
+ A Sketch of Norwegian Country Life
+
+ BY
+
+ BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON
+
+ TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN BY
+ AUGUSTA PLESNER AND S. RUGELEY-POWERS
+
+ SEVER, FRANCIS, & CO
+ Boston and Cambridge
+ 1869
+
+
+ CAMBRIDGE:
+ PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.
+
+
+
+
+TRANSLATORS' PREFACE.
+
+
+The story which is here first presented in an English form, is one of
+Herr Bjoernson's best works. In the original, it has already attained
+a very wide circulation throughout Northern Europe, and is there
+generally recognized as one of the truest and most beautiful
+representations of Norwegian life. At the present time, when there is
+among us a constantly increasing interest in all things pertaining to
+the Scandinavian nations, this work possesses great claims to
+attention, not only through its intrinsic merits, but also from the
+fact that it is one of the very few works which can, in the fullest
+sense, be termed Norwegian. During the long political union of Norway
+with Denmark, Norwegian literature was so deeply imbued by Danish
+thought and feeling, that it could not be considered national. After
+those political changes in 1814, which placed Norway among the free
+nations, she strove to take an independent position; and she produced
+several gifted writers who endeavored to create a national
+literature; but she had for many years no great works unimpressed
+with the old Danish stamp. Not till 1857, when a young and
+comparatively unknown writer published a book called "Synnove
+Solbakken," can the distinct literary life of Norway be considered to
+have commenced. That young writer was Bjoernstjerne Bjoernson. Since
+the appearance of "Synnove Solbakken," he has produced the present
+story, a few other short sketches, and several dramatic works. All
+these productions are, both in subject and style, thoroughly
+representative of the grand old nation whence they sprang; and they
+are, moreover, so full of original poetic beauty and descriptive
+power, that they have stamped their author as one of the greatest
+writers in Northern Europe.
+
+While presenting this work from one who so well deserves to be known
+and honored by all, we very much wish we could also present a sketch
+of his history. But, so far as we have been able to ascertain, there
+is very little material; for, happily, Herr Bjoernson is yet young,
+and in the midst of his literary career; and therefore only a small
+part of his life-story can yet be told. We have, however, obtained a
+few interesting details, principally from a little sketch in the
+Danish of Herr Clemens Petersen.
+
+Herr Bjoernson is the son of a clergyman; and was born in 1832, at
+Kvikne, a lonely parish on the Dovre Fjeld. In his earliest years, he
+was so far from being marked by any unusual degree of mental
+development, that he was even regarded as "stupid:" he seems to have
+been at that time merely a strong-limbed, happy, playful little
+fellow. Whenever he was at home, he constantly made the quiet
+parsonage a scene of confusion and uproar through his wild play.
+"Things," says Herr Petersen, "which had within the memory of man
+never been moved, were flung down; chairs and tables spun round; and
+all the girls and boys in the place ran about with him in noisy play;
+while his mother used to clasp her hands in fright, and declare he
+must soon be sent off to sea." When, in his twelfth year, he went to
+school, he appears to have been just as little characterized by any
+unusual mental development, and just as much by physical activity. He
+was placed on the lowest form to learn with the little boys. But when
+he got out-doors into the playground, he was at once among the
+leaders, and feared nobody: on one occasion he soundly thrashed the
+strongest boy in the whole school. Although, however, no one else at
+this time saw any promise of his future greatness, he had himself a
+presentiment of it: deep in the heart of the rough Norwegian
+school-boy, who seemed to think of little but play, was hidden a
+purpose to become an author, and even the greatest of all authors.
+
+At the University, Herr Bjoernson was as little distinguished by
+intellectual attainments as at school; and he never passed the second
+part of his examination. He seems, indeed, never to have been a very
+earnest student of any writings save those "manuscripts of God"
+contained in the great volumes of Nature and human society. _These_,
+few have studied more earnestly, or translated with greater force and
+beauty.
+
+While studying at the University, Herr Bjoernson's literary purposes
+still remained; and during this time he produced his first drama,
+"Valburg," though he had then never read one dramatic work through,
+or been at a theatre more than twice in his life. He sent "Valburg"
+to the managers of the theatre at Christiana; and it was accepted.
+But as soon as he had been to the theatre a few times, he decided
+that, in its present state, it was not a fit medium for the
+expression of his inner life; and he therefore took his piece back
+before it had been played. For a while afterwards, he devoted a great
+part of his time to dramatic criticism. He attacked some of the
+prevalent errors in theatrical affairs with so much force and
+boldness that he greatly exasperated the orthodox actors and
+managers, and thus brought down much annoyance upon himself. His
+criticisms were, however, the means of greatly improving the
+Norwegian drama, especially by partly releasing it from the undue
+Danish influence which prevented it from becoming truly national.
+
+Herr Bjoernson subsequently abandoned his dramatic criticism, left
+Christiana, and returned to his father's home in the country. Here he
+assiduously devoted himself to literary work, but without very
+satisfactory tangible results. Next, he went back to Christiana, and
+employed himself in writing for various periodicals, where he
+inserted a series of short sketches which, although far inferior to
+his subsequent and more mature productions, bore strong indications
+of genius, and attracted much attention. But, meanwhile, their noble
+young author lived a sad and weary life--depressed by the fear that
+his best hopes would never be realized--harassed by pecuniary
+difficulties, and tormented by the most cruel persecution. Next, he
+went to Upsala, where he still employed himself upon periodical
+literature, and had an interval of comparative quiet and happiness.
+Thence, he travelled to Hamburg, and afterwards to Copenhagen. Here
+he remained half a year, living a quiet, studious life, and
+associating with some of the most eminent men in the city. "Those
+days," said he, "were the best I ever had." Certainly, they were very
+fruitful ones. In them he produced one complete work, parts of
+several others, and the first half of "Synnove Solbakken," the tale
+which was destined to place him in the foremost rank of Scandinavian
+writers. It is a remarkable fact that shortly before he left
+Copenhagen with all this heap of wealth, he had passed through a
+crisis of such miserable depression that he was just about to abandon
+literary labor for ever, through a sense of utter unfitness to
+perform it.
+
+From Copenhagen, Herr Bjoernson returned to Norway, and was for two
+years manager of the theatre at Bergen, occupying most of the time in
+the training of actors. Thence he went, with his young wife, again to
+Christiana, where he for some months edited _Aftenbladet_, one of
+the leading Norwegian journals.
+
+Relative to Herr Bjoernson's subsequent life and labors, there is but
+very little available information.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Of our own part in the following pages, we have but to say we have
+earnestly endeavored to deal faithfully and reverently with Herr
+Bjoernson's work, and to render nearly every passage as fully and
+literally as the construction of the two languages permits. The only
+exceptions are two very short, and comparatively very unimportant
+passages, which we have ventured to omit, because we believed they
+would render the book less acceptable to English readers.
+
+    London, June, 1866.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+
+ CHAPTER                                         PAGE
+
+    I. How the Cliff was Clad                      11
+
+   II. A Cloudy Dawn                               15
+
+  III. Seeing an old Love                          24
+
+   IV. The Unlamented Death                        34
+
+    V. "He had in his Mind a Song"                 42
+
+   VI. Strange Tales                               48
+
+  VII. The Soliloquy in the Barn                   55
+
+ VIII. The Shadows on the Water                    60
+
+   IX. The Nutting-Party                           68
+
+    X. Loosening the Weather-Vane                  83
+
+   XI. Eli's Sickness                              95
+
+  XII. A Glimpse of Spring                        104
+
+ XIII. Margit Consults the Clergyman              112
+
+  XIV. Finding a lost Song                        122
+
+   XV. Somebody's future Home                     131
+
+  XVI. The Double Wedding                         147
+
+
+
+
+ARNE.
+
+
+
+
+I.
+
+HOW THE CLIFF WAS CLAD.
+
+
+Between two cliffs lay a deep ravine, with a full stream rolling
+heavily through it over boulders and rough ground. It was high and
+steep, and one side was bare, save at the foot, where clustered a
+thick, fresh wood, so close to the stream that the mist from the
+water lay upon the foliage in spring and autumn. The trees stood
+looking upwards and forwards, unable to move either way.
+
+"What if we were to clothe the Cliff?" said the Juniper one day to
+the foreign Oak that stood next him. The Oak looked down to find out
+who was speaking, and then looked up again without answering a word.
+The Stream worked so hard that it grew white; the Northwind rushed
+through the ravine, and shrieked in the fissures; and the bare Cliff
+hung heavily over and felt cold. "What if we were to clothe the
+Cliff?" said the Juniper to the Fir on the other side. "Well, if
+anybody is to do it, I suppose we must," replied the Fir, stroking
+his beard; "what dost thou think?" he added, looking over to the
+Birch. "In God's name, let us clothe it," answered the Birch,
+glancing timidly towards the Cliff, which hung over her so heavily
+that she felt as if she could scarcely breathe. And thus, although
+they were but three, they agreed to clothe the Cliff. The Juniper
+went first.
+
+When they had gone a little way they met the Heather. The Juniper
+seemed as though he meant to pass her by. "Nay, let us take the
+Heather with us," said the Fir. So on went the Heather. Soon the
+Juniper began to slip. "Lay hold on me," said the Heather. The
+Juniper did so, and where there was only a little crevice the Heather
+put in one finger, and where she had got in one finger the Juniper
+put in his whole hand. They crawled and climbed, the Fir heavily
+behind with the Birch. "It is a work of charity," said the Birch.
+
+But the Cliff began to ponder what little things these could be that
+came clambering up it. And when it had thought over this a few
+hundred years, it sent down a little Brook to see about it. It was
+just spring flood, and the Brook rushed on till she met the Heather.
+"Dear, dear Heather, canst thou not let me pass? I am so little,"
+said the Brook. The Heather, being very busy, only raised herself a
+little, and worked on. The Brook slipped under her, and ran onwards.
+"Dear, dear Juniper, canst thou not let me pass? I am so little,"
+said the Brook. The Juniper glanced sharply at her; but as the
+Heather had let her pass, he thought he might do so as well. The
+Brook slipped under him, and ran on till she came where the Fir stood
+panting on a crag. "Dear, dear Fir, canst thou not let me pass? I am
+so little," the Brook said, fondly kissing the Fir on his foot. The
+Fir felt bashful and let her pass. But the Birch made way before the
+Brook asked. "He, he, he," laughed the Brook, as she grew larger.
+"Ha, ha, ha," laughed the Brook again, pushing Heather and Juniper,
+Fir and Birch, forwards and backwards, up and down on the great
+crags. The Cliff sat for many hundred years after, pondering whether
+it did not smile a little that day.
+
+It was clear the Cliff did not wish to be clad. The Heather felt so
+vexed that she turned green again, and then she went on. "Never mind;
+take courage!" said the Heather.
+
+The Juniper sat up to look at the Heather, and at last he rose to his
+feet. He scratched his head a moment, and then he too went on again,
+and clutched so firmly, that he thought the Cliff could not help
+feeling it. "If thou wilt not take me, then I will take thee," said
+he. The Fir bent his toes a little to feel if they were whole, lifted
+one foot, which he found all right, then the other, which was all
+right too, and then both feet. He first examined the path he had
+come, then where he had been lying, and at last where he had to go.
+Then he strode onwards, just as though he had never fallen. The Birch
+had been splashed very badly, but now she got up and made herself
+tidy. And so they went rapidly on, upwards and sidewards, in sunshine
+and rain. "But what in the world is all this?" said the Cliff, when
+the summer sun shone, the dew-drops glittered, the birds sang, the
+wood-mouse squeaked, the hare bounded, and the weasel hid and
+screamed among the trees.
+
+Then the day came when the Heather could peep over the Cliff's edge.
+"Oh, dear me!" said she, and over she went. "What is it the Heather
+sees, dear?" said the Juniper, and came forwards till he, too, could
+peep over. "Dear me!" he cried, and over he went. "What's the matter
+with the Juniper to-day?" said the Fir, taking long strides in the
+hot sun. Soon he, too, by standing on tiptoes could peep over.
+"Ah!"--every branch and prickle stood on end with astonishment. He
+strode onwards, and over he went. "What is it they all see, and not
+I?" said the Birch, lifting up her skirts, and tripping after. "Ah!"
+said she, putting her head over, "there is a whole forest, both of
+Fir and Heather, and Juniper and Birch, waiting for us on the plain;"
+and her leaves trembled in the sunshine till the dew-drops fell.
+"This comes of reaching forwards," said the Juniper.
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+A CLOUDY DAWN.
+
+
+Arne was born upon the mountain plain.
+
+His mother's name was Margit, and she was the only child at the farm,
+Kampen. In her eighteenth year she once stayed too long at a dancing
+party. The friends she came with had left, and then she thought the
+way homewards would be just the same whether she stayed over another
+dance or not. So it came to pass that she was still sitting there
+when the fiddler, Nils, the tailor, laid aside his violin and asked
+another man to play. He then took out the prettiest girl to dance,
+his feet keeping as exact time as the music to a song, while with his
+bootheel he kicked off the hat of the tallest man there. "Ho!" he
+said.
+
+As Margit walked home that night, the moonbeams played upon the snow
+with such strange beauty, that after she had gone up to her
+bedchamber she felt she must look out at them once more. She took off
+her bodice, but remained standing with it in her hand. Then she felt
+chilly, undressed herself hastily, and crouched far down beneath the
+fur coverlet. That night she dreamed of a great red cow which had
+gone astray in the corn-fields. She wished to drive it out, but
+however much she tried, she could not move from the spot; and the cow
+stood quietly, and went on eating till it grew plump and satisfied,
+from time to time looking over to her with its large, mild eyes.
+
+The next time there was a dance in the parish, Margit was there. She
+sat listening to the music, and cared little for the dancing that
+night; and she was glad somebody else, too, cared no more for it than
+she did. But when it grew later the fiddler, Nils, the tailor, rose,
+and wished to dance. He went straight over and took out Margit, and
+before she well knew what she was doing she danced with him.
+
+Soon the weather turned warmer, and there was no more dancing. That
+spring Margit took so much care of a little sick lamb, that her
+mother thought her quite foolish. "It's only a lamb, after all," said
+the mother. "Yes; but it's sick," answered Margit.
+
+It was a long time since Margit had been to church; somebody must
+stay at home, she used to say, and she would rather let the mother
+go. One Sunday, however, later in the summer, the weather seemed so
+fine that the hay might very well be left over that day and night,
+the mother said, and she thought both of them might go. Margit had
+nothing to say against it, and she went to dress herself. But when
+they had gone far enough to hear the church bells, she suddenly burst
+into tears. The mother grew deadly pale; yet they went on to church,
+heard the sermon and prayers, sang all the hymns, and let the last
+sound of the bells die away before they left. But when they were
+seated at home again, the mother took Margit's face between her
+hands, and said, "Keep back nothing from me, my child!"
+
+When another winter came Margit did not dance. But Nils, the tailor,
+played and drank more than ever, and always danced with the prettiest
+girl at every party. People then said, in fact, he might have had any
+one of the first girls in the parish for his wife if he chose; and
+some even said that Eli Boeen had himself made an offer for his
+daughter, Birgit, who had quite fallen in love with him.
+
+But just at that time an infant born at Kampen was baptized, and
+received the name, Arne; but Nils, the tailor, was said to be its
+father.
+
+On the evening of the same day, Nils went to a large wedding-party;
+and there he got drunk. He would not play, but danced all the time,
+and seemed as if he could hardly bear to have any one on the floor
+save himself. But when he asked Birgit Boeen to dance, she refused. He
+gave a short, forced, laugh, turned on his heel and asked the first
+girl at hand. She was a little dark girl who had been sitting looking
+at him, but now when he spoke to her, she turned pale and drew back.
+He looked down, leaned slightly over her, and whispered, "Won't you
+dance with _me_, Kari?" She did not answer. He repeated his question,
+and then she replied, also in a whisper, "That dance might go further
+than I wished." He drew back slowly; but when he reached the middle
+of the room, he made a quick turn, and danced the _halling_[1] alone,
+while the rest looked on in silence.
+
+ [1] The _halling_ is a Norwegian national dance, of which a
+ description is given on pp. 20, 21.--Translators.
+
+Afterwards, he went away into the barn, lay down, and wept.
+
+Margit stayed at home with little Arne. When she heard how Nils
+rushed from dancing-party to dancing-party, she looked at the child
+and wept, but then she looked at him once more and was happy. The
+first name she taught him to say was, father; but this she dared not
+do when the mother, or the grandmother, as she was now called, was
+near; and so it came to pass that the little one called the
+grandmother, "Father." Margit took great pains to break him of this,
+and thus she caused an early thoughtfulness in him. He was but a
+little fellow when he learned that Nils, the tailor, was his father;
+and just when he came to the age when children most love strange,
+romantic things, he also learned what sort of man Nils was. But the
+grandmother had strictly forbidden the very mention of his name; her
+mind was set only upon extending Kampen and making it their own
+property, so that Margit and the boy might be independent. Taking
+advantage of the landowner's poverty, she bought the place, paid off
+part of the purchase-money every year, and managed her farm like a
+man; for she had been a widow fourteen years. Under her care, Kampen
+had been extended till it could now feed four cows, sixteen sheep,
+and a horse of which she was joint owner.
+
+Meantime, Nils, the tailor, continued to go about working in the
+parish; but he had less to do than formerly, partly because he was
+less attentive to his trade, and partly because he was not so well
+liked. Then he took to going out oftener to play the fiddle at
+parties; this gave him more opportunities for drinking, and thus came
+more fighting and miserable days.
+
+One winter day, when Arne was about six years old, he was playing on
+the bed, where he had set up the coverlet for a boat-sail, while he
+sat steering with a ladle. The grandmother sat in the room spinning,
+busy with her own thoughts, and every now and then nodding, as though
+in affirmation of her own conclusions. Then the boy knew she was
+taking no notice of him; and so he sang, just as he had learned it, a
+wild, rough song about Nils, the tailor:--
+
+   "Unless 'twas only yesterday, hither first you came,
+    You've surely heard already of Nils, the tailor's fame.
+
+    Unless 'twas but this morning, you came among us first,
+    You've heard how he knocked over tall Johan Knutson Kirst;
+
+    How in his famous barn-fight with Ola Stor-Johann,
+    He said, 'Bring down your porridge when we two fight again.'
+
+    That fighting fellow, Bugge, a famous man was he:
+    His name was known all over fiord and fell and sea.
+
+    'Now, choose the place, you tailor, where I shall knock you down;
+    And then I'll spit upon it, and there I'll lay your crown.'
+
+    'Ah, only come so near, I may catch your scent, my man:
+    Your bragging hurts nobody; don't dream it ever can.'
+
+    The first round was a poor one, and neither man could beat;
+    But both kept in their places, and steady on their feet.
+
+    The second round, poor Bugge was beaten black and blue.
+    'Little Bugge, are you tired? It's going hard with you.'
+
+    The third round, Bugge tumbled, and bleeding there he lay.
+    'Now, Bugge, where's your bragging?' 'Bad luck to me to-day!'"
+
+This was all the boy sang; but there were two verses more which the
+mother had never taught him. The grandmother knew these last verses
+only too well; and she remembered them all the better because the boy
+did not sing them. She said nothing to him, however, but to the
+mother, she said, "If you think it well to teach him the first
+verses, don't forget to teach him the last ones, too."
+
+Nils, the tailor, was so broken down by his drinking, that he was not
+like the same man; and people began to say he would soon be utterly
+ruined.
+
+About this time a wedding was celebrated in the neighborhood, and two
+American gentlemen, who were visiting near, came to witness it, as
+they wished to see the customs of the country. Nils played; and the
+two gentlemen each gave a dollar for him, and then asked for the
+_halling_. But no one came forward to dance it; and several begged
+Nils himself to come: "After all, he was still the best dancer," they
+said. He refused; but their request became still more urgent, and at
+last all in the room joined in it. This was just what he wanted; and
+at once he handed his fiddle to another man, took off his jacket and
+cap, and stepped smilingly into the middle of the room. They all came
+round to look at him, just as they used to do in his better days, and
+this gave him back his old strength. They crowded closely together,
+those farthest back standing on tables and benches. Several of the
+girls stood higher than all the rest; and the foremost of them--a
+tall girl, with bright auburn hair, blue eyes, deeply set under a
+high forehead, and thin lips, which often smiled and then drew a
+little to one side--was Birgit Boeen: Nils caught her eye as he
+glanced upwards at the beam. The music struck up; a deep silence
+ensued; and he began. He squatted on the floor, and hopped sidewards
+in time with the music; swung from one side to another, crossed, and
+uncrossed his legs under him several times; sprang up again, and
+stood as though he were going to take a leap; but then shirked it,
+and went on hopping sidewards as before. The fiddle was skilfully
+played, and the tune became more and more exciting. Nils gradually
+threw his head backwarder, and then suddenly kicked the beam,
+scattering the dust from the ceiling down upon the people below. They
+laughed and shouted round him, and the girls stood almost breathless.
+The sound of the violin rose high above the noise, stimulating him by
+still wilder notes, and he did not resist their influence. He bent
+forward; hopped in time with the music; stood up as though he were
+going to take a leap, but shirked it, swung from one side to the
+other as before; and just when he looked as if he had not the least
+thought of leaping, leaped up and kicked the beam again and again.
+Next he turned somersaults forwards and backwards, coming upon his
+feet firmly, and standing up quite straight each time. Then he
+suddenly left off; and the tune, after running through some wild
+variations, died away in one long, deep note on the bass. The crowd
+dispersed, and an animated conversation in loud tones followed the
+silence. Nils leaned against the wall; and the American gentlemen,
+with their interpreter, went over to him, each giving him five
+dollars. Once more all were silent.
+
+The Americans said a few words aside to their interpreter, who then
+asked Nils whether he would go with them as their servant. "Where?"
+Nils asked, while the people crowded round as closely as possible.
+"Out into the world," was the answer. "When?" Nils asked, as he
+looked round him with a bright face; his eyes fell on Birgit Boeen,
+and he did not take them off again. "In a week's time when they come
+back here," answered the interpreter. "Well, perhaps I may then be
+ready," said Nils, weighing his ten dollars, and trembling so
+violently, that a man on whose shoulder he was resting one arm, asked
+him to sit down.
+
+"Oh, it's nothing," he answered, and he took a few faltering steps
+across the floor, then, some firmer ones, turned round, and asked for
+a springing-dance.
+
+The girls stood foremost in the circle. He looked slowly round, and
+then went straight over to one in a dark  skirt: it was Birgit
+Boeen. He stretched forth his hand, and she gave both hers; but he
+drew back with a laugh, took out a girl who stood next, and danced
+off gaily. Birgit's face and neck flushed crimson; and in a moment a
+tall, mild-looking man, who was standing behind her, took her hand
+and danced away with her just after Nils. He saw them, and whether
+purposely or not, pushed against them so violently that they both
+fell heavily to the floor. Loud cries and laughter were heard all
+round. Birgit rose, went aside, and cried bitterly.
+
+Her partner rose more slowly, and went straight over to Nils, who was
+still dancing: "You must stop a little," he said. Nils did not hear;
+so the other man laid hold on his arm. He tore himself away, looked
+at the man, and said with a smile, "I don't know you."
+
+"P'r'aps not; but now I'll let you know who I am," said the man,
+giving him a blow just over one eye. Nils was quite unprepared for
+this, and fell heavily on the sharp edge of the fireplace. He tried
+to rise, but he could not: his spine was broken.
+
+At Kampen, a change had taken place. Of late the grandmother had
+become more infirm, and as she felt her strength failing, she took
+greater pains than ever to save money to pay off the remaining debt
+upon the farm. "Then you and the boy," she used to say to Margit,
+"will be comfortably off. And mind, if ever you bring anybody into
+the place to ruin it for you, I shall turn in my grave." In
+harvest-time, she had the great satisfaction of going up to the late
+landowner's house with the last of the money due to him; and happy
+she felt when, seated once more in the porch at home, she could at
+last say, "Now it's done." But in that same hour she was seized with
+her last illness; she went to bed at once, and rose no more. Margit
+had her buried in the churchyard, and a nice headstone was set over
+her, inscribed with her name and age, and a verse from one of
+Kingo's hymns. A fortnight after her burial, her black Sunday gown
+was made into a suit of clothes for the boy; and when he was dressed
+in them he became as grave as even the grandmother herself. He went
+of his own accord and took up the book with clasps and large print
+from which she used to read and sing every Sunday; he opened it, and
+there he found her spectacles. These he had never been allowed to
+touch while she was living; now he took them out half fearfully,
+placed them over his nose, and looked down through them into the
+book. All became hazy. "How strange this is," he thought; "it was
+through them grandmother could read God's word!" He held them high up
+against the light to see what was the matter, and--the spectacles
+dropped on the floor, broken in twenty pieces.
+
+He was much frightened, and when at the same moment the door opened,
+he felt as if it must be the grandmother herself who was coming in.
+But it was the mother, and behind her came six men, who, with much
+stamping and noise, brought in a litter which they placed in the
+middle of the room. The door was left open so long after them, that
+the room grew quite cold.
+
+On the litter lay a man with a pale face and dark hair. The mother
+walked to and fro and wept. "Be careful how you lay him on the bed,"
+she said imploringly, helping them herself. But all the while the men
+were moving him, something grated beneath their feet. "Ah, that's
+only grandmother's spectacles," the boy thought; but he said
+nothing.
+
+
+
+
+III.
+
+SEEING AN OLD LOVE.
+
+
+It was, as we have said before, just harvest-time. A week after the
+day when Nils had been carried into Margit Kampen's house, the
+American gentlemen sent him word to get ready to go with them. He was
+just then lying writhing under a violent attack of pain; and,
+clenching his teeth, he cried, "Let them go to the devil!" Margit
+remained waiting, as if she had not received any answer; he noticed
+this, and after a while he repeated, faintly and slowly, "Let
+them--go."
+
+As the winter advanced, he recovered so far as to be able to get up,
+though his health was broken for life. The first day he could get up
+he took his fiddle and tuned it; but it excited him so much that he
+had to go to bed again. He talked very little, but was gentle and
+kind, and soon he began to read with Arne, and to take in work. Still
+he never went out; and he did not talk to those who came to see him.
+At first Margit used to tell him the news of the parish, but it made
+him gloomy, and so she soon left off.
+
+When spring came he and Margit often sat longer than usual talking
+together after supper, when Arne had been sent to bed. Later in the
+season the banns of marriage were published for them, and then they
+were quietly married.
+
+He worked on the farm, and managed wisely and steadily; and Margit
+said to Arne, "He is industrious, as well as pleasant; now you must
+be obedient and kind, and do your best for him."
+
+Margit had even in the midst of her trouble remained tolerably stout.
+She had rosy cheeks, large eyes, surrounded by dark circles which
+made them seem still larger, full lips, and a round face; and she
+looked healthy and strong, although she really had not much strength.
+Now, she looked better than ever; and she always sang at her work,
+just as she used to do.
+
+Then one Sunday afternoon, the father and son went out to see how
+things were getting on in the fields. Arne ran about, shooting with a
+bow and arrows, which the father had himself made for him. Thus, they
+went on straight towards the road which led past the church, and down
+to the place which was called the broad valley. When they came there,
+Nils sat down on a stone and fell into a reverie, while Arne went on
+shooting, and running for his arrows along the road in the direction
+of the church. "Only not too far away," Nils said. Just as Arne was
+at the height of his play, he stopped, listening, and called out,
+"Father, I hear music." Nils, too, listened; and they heard the sound
+of violins, sometimes drowned by loud, wild shouts, while above all
+rose the rattling of wheels, and the trampling of horses' hoofs: it
+was a bridal train coming home from the church. "Come here, lad," the
+father said, in a tone which made Arne feel he must come quickly. The
+father had risen hastily, and now stood hidden behind a large tree.
+Arne followed till the father called out, "Not here, but go yonder!"
+Then the boy ran behind an elm-copse. The train of carriages had
+already turned the corner of the birch-wood; the horses, white with
+foam, galloping at a furious rate, while drunken people shouted and
+hallooed. The father and Arne counted the carriages one after
+another: there were fourteen. In the first, two fiddlers were
+sitting; and the wedding tune sounded merrily through the clear air:
+a lad stood behind driving. In the next carriage sat the bride, with
+her crown and ornaments glittering in the sunshine. She was tall, and
+when she smiled her mouth drew a little to one side; with her sat a
+mild-looking man, dressed in blue. Then came the rest of the
+carriages, the men sitting on the women's laps, and little boys
+behind; drunken men riding six together in a one-horse carriage;
+while in the last sat the purveyor of the feast, with a cask of
+brandy in his arms. They drove rapidly past Nils and Arne, shouting
+and singing down the hill; while behind them the breeze bore upwards,
+through a cloud of dust, the sound of the violins, the cries, and the
+rattling of the wheels, at first loud, then fainter and fainter, till
+at last it died away in the distance. Nils remained standing
+motionless till he heard a little rustling behind him; then he turned
+round: it was Arne stealing forth from his hiding-place.
+
+"Who was it, father?" he asked; but then he started back a little,
+for Nils' face had an evil look. The boy stood silently, waiting for
+an answer; but he got none; and at last, becoming impatient, he
+ventured to ask, "Are we going now?" Nils was still standing
+motionless, looking dreamily in the direction where the bridal train
+had gone; then he collected himself, and walked homewards. Arne
+followed, and once more began to shoot and to run after his arrows.
+"Don't trample down the meadow," said Nils abruptly. The boy let the
+arrow lie and came back; but soon he forgot the warning, and, while
+the father once more stood still, he lay down to make somersaults.
+"Don't trample down the meadow, I say," repeated Nils, seizing his
+arm and snatching him up by it almost violently enough to sprain it.
+Then the boy went on silently behind him.
+
+At the door Margit stood waiting for them. She had just come from the
+cow-house, where it seemed she had been working hard, for her hair
+was rough, her linen soiled, and her dress untidy; but she stood in
+the doorway smiling. "Red-side has calved," she said; "and never in
+all my life did I see such a great calf." Away rushed Arne.
+
+"I think you might make yourself a little tidy of a Sunday," said
+Nils as he went past her into the room.
+
+"Yes, now the work's done, there'll be time for dressing," answered
+Margit, following him: and she began to dress, singing meanwhile.
+Margit now sang very well, though sometimes her voice was a little
+hoarse.
+
+"Leave off that screaming," said Nils, throwing himself upon the bed.
+Margit left off. Then the boy came bustling in, all out of breath.
+"The calf, the calf's got red marks on each side and a spot on the
+forehead, just like his mother."
+
+"Hold your tongue, boy!" cried Nils, putting down one of his feet
+from the bed, and stamping on the floor. "The deuce is in that
+bustling boy," he growled out, drawing up his foot again.
+
+"You can see very well father's out of spirits to-day," the mother
+said to Arne, by way of warning. "Shouldn't you like some strong
+coffee with treacle?" she then said, turning to Nils, trying to drive
+away his ill-temper. Coffee with treacle had been a favorite drink
+with the grandmother and Margit, and Arne liked it too. But Nils
+never liked it, though he used to take it with the others. "Shouldn't
+you like some strong coffee with treacle?" Margit asked again, for he
+did not answer the first time. Now, he raised himself on his elbows,
+and cried in a loud, harsh voice, "Do you think I'll guzzle that
+filthy stuff?"
+
+Margit was thunder-struck; and she went out, taking the boy with her.
+
+They had several things to do out-doors, and they did not come in
+till supper-time; then Nils had gone. Arne was sent out into the
+field to call him, but could not find him anywhere. They waited till
+the supper was nearly cold; but Nils had not come even when it was
+finished. Then Margit grew fidgety, sent Arne to bed, and sat down,
+waiting. A little past midnight Nils came home. "Where have you been,
+dear?" she asked.
+
+"That's no business of yours," he answered, seating himself slowly on
+the bench. He was drunk.
+
+From that time he often went out into the parish; and he was always
+drunk when he came back. "I can't bear stopping at home with you," he
+once said when he came in. She gently tried to plead her cause; but
+he stamped on the floor, and bade her be silent. Was he drunk, then
+it was her fault; was he wicked, that was her fault, too; had he
+become a <DW36> and an unlucky man for all his life, then, again,
+she and that cursed boy of hers were the cause of it. "Why were you
+always dangling after me?" he said, blubbering. "What harm had I done
+you?"
+
+"God help and bless me!" Margit answered, "was it I that ran after
+you?"
+
+"Yes, that you did," he cried, raising himself; and, still
+blubbering, he continued, "Now, at last, it has turned out just as
+you would have it: I drag along here day after day--every day looking
+on my own grave. But I might have lived in splendor with the first
+girl in the parish; I might have travelled as far as the sun; if you
+and that cursed boy of yours hadn't put yourselves in my way."
+
+Again she tried to defend herself: "It isn't the boy's fault, at any
+rate."
+
+"Hold your tongue, or I'll strike you!" and he did strike her.
+
+The next day, when he had slept himself sober, he felt ashamed, and
+would especially be kind to the boy. But he was soon drunk again; and
+then he beat Margit. At last he beat her almost every time he was
+drunk; Arne then cried and fretted, and so he beat him, too; but
+often he was so miserable afterwards that he felt obliged to go out
+again and take some more spirits. At this time, too, he began once
+more to set his mind on going to dancing-parties. He played at them
+just as he used to do before his illness; and he took Arne with him
+to carry the fiddle-case. At these parties the child saw and heard
+much which was not good for him; and the mother often wept because he
+was taken there: still she dared not say anything to the father about
+it. But to the child she often imploringly said, with many caresses,
+"Keep close to God, and don't learn anything wicked." But at the
+dancing-parties there was very much to amuse him, while at home with
+the mother there was very little; and so he turned more and more away
+from her to the father: she saw it, but was silent. He learned many
+songs at these parties, and he used to sing them to the father, who
+felt amused, and laughed now and then at them. This flattered the boy
+so much that he set himself to learn as many songs as he could; and
+soon he found out what it was that the father liked, and that made
+him laugh. When there was nothing of this kind in the songs, the boy
+would himself put something in as well as he could; and thus he early
+acquired facility in setting words to music. But lampoons and
+disgusting stories about people who had risen to wealth and
+influence, were the things which the father liked best, and which the
+boy sang.
+
+The mother always wished him to go with her in the cow-house to tend
+the cattle in the evening. He used to find all sorts of excuses to
+avoid going; but it was of no use; she was resolved he should go.
+There she talked to him about God and good things, and generally
+ended by pressing him to her heart, imploring him, with many tears,
+not to become a bad man.
+
+She helped him, too, in his reading-lessons. He was extremely
+quick in learning; and the father felt proud of him, and told
+him--especially when he was drunk--that he had _his_ cleverness.
+
+At dancing-parties, when the father was drunk, he used often to ask
+Arne to sing to the people; and then he would sing song after song,
+amidst their loud laughter and applause. This pleased him even more
+than it pleased his father; and at last he used to sing songs without
+number. Some anxious mothers who heard this, came to Margit and told
+her about it, because the subjects of the songs were not such as they
+ought to have been. Then she called the boy to her side, and forbade
+him, in the name of God and all that was good, to sing such songs any
+more. And now it seemed to him that she was always opposed to what
+gave him pleasure; and, for the first time in his life, he told the
+father what she had said; and when he was again drunk she had to
+suffer for it severely: till then he had not spoken of it. Then Arne
+saw clearly how wrong a thing he had done, and in the depths of his
+soul he asked God and her to forgive him; but he could not ask it in
+words. She continued to show him the same kindness as before, and it
+pierced his heart. Once, however, in spite of all, he again wronged
+her. He had a talent for mimicking people, especially in their
+speaking and singing; and one evening, while he was amusing the
+father in this way, the mother entered, and, when she was going away,
+the father took it into his head to ask him to mimic her. At first he
+refused; but the father, who lay on the bed laughing till he shook,
+insisted upon his doing it. "She's gone," the boy thought, "and can't
+hear me;" and he mimicked her singing, just as it was when her voice
+was hoarse and obstructed by tears. The father laughed till the boy
+grew quite frightened and at once left off. Then the mother came in
+from the kitchen, looked at Arne long and mournfully, went over to
+the shelf, took down a milk-dish and carried it away.
+
+He felt burning hot all over: she had heard it all. He jumped down
+from the table where he had been sitting, went out, threw himself on
+the ground, and wished to hide himself for ever in the earth. He
+could not rest, and he rose and went farther from the house. Passing
+by the barn, he there saw his mother sitting, making a new fine shirt
+for him. It was her usual habit to sing a hymn while sewing: now,
+however, she was silent. Then Arne could bear it no longer; he threw
+himself on the grass at her feet, looked up in her face, and wept and
+sobbed bitterly. Margit let fall her work, and took his head between
+her hands.
+
+"Poor Arne!" she said, putting her face down to his. He did not try
+to say a word, but wept as he had never wept before. "I knew you were
+good at heart," she said, stroking his head.
+
+"Mother, you mustn't refuse what I am now going to ask," were the
+first words he was able to utter.
+
+"You know I never do refuse you," answered she.
+
+He tried to stop his tears, and then, with his face still in her
+lap, he stammered out, "Do sing a little for me, mother."
+
+"You know I can't do it," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Sing something for me, mother," implored the boy; "or I shall never
+have courage to look you in the face again." She went on stroking his
+hair, but was silent. "Do sing, mother dear," he implored again; "or
+I shall go far away, and never come back any more." Though he was now
+almost fifteen years old, he lay there with his head in his mother's
+lap, and she began to sing:
+
+   "Merciful Father, take in thy care
+      The child as he plays by the shore;
+    Send him Thy Holy Spirit there,
+      And leave him alone no more.
+    Slipp'ry's the way, and high is the tide;
+    Still if Thou keepest close by his side
+    He never will drown, but live for Thee,
+    And then at the last Thy heaven will see.
+
+    Wondering where her child is astray,
+      The mother stands at the cottage door,
+    Calls him a hundred times i' the day,
+      And fears he will come no more.
+    But then she thinks, whatever betide,
+    The Spirit of God will be his Guide,
+    And Christ the blessed, his little Brother,
+    Will carry him back to his longing mother."
+
+She sang some more verses. Arne lay still; a blessed peace came over
+him, and under its soothing influence he slept. The last word he
+heard distinctly was, "Christ;" it transported him into regions of
+light; and he fancied that he listened to a chorus of voices, but his
+mother's voice was clearer than all. Sweeter tones he had never
+heard, and he prayed to be allowed to sing in like manner; and then
+at once he began, gently and softly, and still more softly, until
+his bliss became rapture, and then suddenly all disappeared. He
+awoke, looked about him, listened attentively, but heard nothing save
+the little rivulet which flowed past the barn with a low and constant
+murmur. The mother was gone; but she had placed the half-made shirt
+and his jacket under his head.
+
+
+
+
+IV.
+
+THE UNLAMENTED DEATH.
+
+
+When now the time of year came for the cattle to be sent into the
+wood, Arne wished to go to tend them. But the father opposed him:
+indeed, he had never gone before, though he was now in his fifteenth
+year. But he pleaded so well, that his wish was at last complied
+with; and so during the spring, summer, and autumn, he passed the
+whole day alone in the wood, and only came home to sleep.
+
+He took his books up there, and read, carved letters in the bark of
+the trees, thought, longed, and sang. But when in the evening he came
+home and found the father often drunk and beating the mother, cursing
+her and the whole parish, and saying how once he might have gone far
+away, then a longing for travelling arose in the lad's mind. There
+was no comfort for him at home; and his books made his thoughts
+travel; nay, it seemed sometimes as if the very breeze bore them on
+its wings far away.
+
+Then, about midsummer, he met with Christian, the Captain's eldest
+son, who one day came to the wood with the servant boy, to catch the
+horses, and to ride them home. He was a few years older than Arne,
+light-hearted and jolly, restless in mind, but nevertheless strong in
+purpose; he spoke fast and abruptly, and generally about two things
+at once; shot birds in their flight; rode bare-backed horses;
+went fly-fishing; and altogether seemed to Arne the paragon of
+perfection. He, too, had set his mind upon travelling, and he talked
+to Arne about foreign countries till they shone like fairy-lands. He
+found out Arne's love for reading, and he carried up to him all the
+books he had read himself; on Sundays he taught him geography from
+maps: and during the whole of that summer Arne read till he became
+pale and thin.
+
+Even when the winter came, he was permitted to read at home; partly
+because he was going to be confirmed the next year, and partly
+because he always knew how to manage with his father. He also began
+to go to school; but while there it seemed to him he never got on so
+well as when he shut his eyes and thought over the things in his
+books at home: and he no longer had any companions among the boys of
+the parish.
+
+The father's bodily infirmity, as well as his passion for drinking,
+increased with his years; and he treated his wife worse and worse.
+And while Arne sat at home trying to amuse him, and often, merely to
+keep peace for the mother, telling things which he now despised, a
+hatred of his father grew up in his heart. But there he kept it
+secretly, just as he kept his love for his mother. Even when he
+happened to meet Christian, he said nothing to him about home
+affairs; but all their talk ran upon their books and their intended
+travels. But often when, after those wide roaming conversations, he
+was returning home alone, thinking of what he perhaps would have to
+see when he arrived there, he wept and prayed that God would take
+care he might soon be allowed to go away.
+
+In the summer he and Christian were confirmed: and soon afterwards
+the latter carried out his purpose of travelling. At last, he
+prevailed upon his father to let him be a sailor; and he went far
+away; first giving Arne his books, and promising to write often to
+him.
+
+Then Arne was left alone.
+
+About this time a wish to make songs awoke again in his mind; and now
+he no longer patched old songs, but made new ones for himself, and
+said in them whatever most pained him.
+
+But soon his heart became too heavy to let him make songs any more.
+He lay sleepless whole nights, feeling that he could not bear to stay
+at home any longer, and that he must go far away, find out Christian,
+and--not say a word about it to any one. But when he thought of the
+mother, and what would become of her, he could scarcely look her in
+the face; and his love made him linger still.
+
+One evening when it was growing late, Arne sat reading: indeed, when
+he felt more sad than usual he always took refuge in his books;
+little understanding that they only increased his burden. The father
+had gone to a wedding party, but was expected home that evening; the
+mother, weary and afraid of him, had gone to bed. Then Arne was
+startled by the sound of a heavy fall in the passage, and of
+something hard pushing against the door. It was the father, just
+coming home.
+
+"Is it you, my clever boy?" he muttered; "come and help your father
+to get up." Arne helped him up, and brought him to the bench; then
+carried in the violin-case after him, and shut the door. "Well, look
+at me, you clever boy; I don't look very handsome now; Nils, the
+tailor's no longer the man he used to be. One thing I--tell--you--you
+shall never drink spirits; they're--the devil, the world, and the
+flesh.... 'God resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the humble.'
+... Oh dear! oh dear!--How far gone I am!"
+
+He sat silent for a while, and then sang in a tearful voice,
+
+   "Merciful Lord, I come to Thee;
+    Help, if there can be help for me;
+    Though by the mire of sin defiled,
+    I'm still Thine own dear ransomed child."
+
+"'Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldest come under my roof; but
+speak the word only....'" He threw himself forward, hid his face in
+his hands, and sobbed violently. Then, after lying thus a long while,
+he said, word for word out of the Scriptures, just as he had learned
+it more than twenty years ago, "'But he answered and said, I am not
+sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel. Then came she
+and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help me. But he answered and said,
+It is not meet to take the children's bread, and to cast it to dogs.
+And she said, Truth, Lord: yet the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall
+from their master's table.'"
+
+Then he was silent, and his weeping became subdued and calm.
+
+The mother had been long awake, without looking up; but now when she
+heard him weeping thus like one who is saved, she raised herself on
+her elbows, and gazed earnestly at him.
+
+But scarcely did Nils perceive her before he called out, "Are you
+looking up, you ugly vixen! I suppose you would like to see what a
+state you have brought me to. Well, so I look, just so!" ... He rose;
+and she hid herself under the fur coverlet. "Nay, don't hide, I'm
+sure to find you," he said, stretching out his right hand and
+fumbling with his forefinger on the bed-clothes, "Tickle, tickle," he
+said, turning aside the fur coverlet, and putting his forefinger on
+her throat.
+
+"Father!" cried Arne.
+
+"How shrivelled and thin you've become already, there's no depth of
+flesh here!" She writhed beneath his touch, and seized his hand with
+both hers, but could not free herself.
+
+"Father!" repeated Arne.
+
+"Well at last you're roused. How she wriggles, the ugly thing! Can't
+you scream to make believe I am beating you? Tickle, tickle! I only
+want to take away your breath."
+
+"Father!" Arne said once more, running to the corner of the room, and
+snatching up an axe which stood there.
+
+"Is it only out of perverseness, you don't scream? you had better
+beware; for I've taken such a strange fancy into my head. Tickle,
+tickle! Now I think I shall soon get rid of that screaming of yours."
+
+"Father!" Arne shouted, rushing towards him with the axe uplifted.
+
+But before Arne could reach him, he started up with a piercing cry,
+laid his hand upon his heart, and fell heavily down. "Jesus Christ!"
+he muttered, and then lay quite still.
+
+Arne stood as if rooted in the ground, and gradually lowered the axe.
+He grew dizzy and bewildered, and scarcely knew where he was. Then
+the mother began to move to and fro in the bed, and to breathe
+heavily, as if oppressed by some great weight lying upon her. Arne
+saw that she needed help; but yet he felt unable to render it. At
+last she raised herself a little, and saw the father lying stretched
+on the floor, and Arne standing beside him with the axe.
+
+"Merciful Lord, what have you done?" she cried, springing out of the
+bed, putting on her skirt and coming nearer.
+
+"He fell down himself," said Arne, at last regaining power to speak.
+
+"Arne, Arne, I don't believe you," said the mother in a stern
+reproachful voice: "now Jesus help you!" And she threw herself upon
+the dead man with loud wailing.
+
+But the boy awoke from his stupor, dropped the axe and fell down on
+his knees: "As true as I hope for mercy from God, I've not done it. I
+almost thought of doing it; I was so bewildered; but then he fell
+down himself; and here I've been standing ever since."
+
+The mother looked at him, and believed him. "Then our Lord has been
+here Himself," she said quietly, sitting down on the floor and gazing
+before her.
+
+Nils lay quite stiff, with open eyes and mouth, and hands drawn near
+together, as though he had at the last moment tried to fold them, but
+had been unable to do so. The first thing the mother now did was to
+fold them. "Let us look closer at him," she said then, going over to
+the fireplace, where the fire was almost out. Arne followed her, for
+he felt afraid of standing alone. She gave him a lighted fir-splinter
+to hold; then she once more went over to the dead body and stood by
+one side of it, while the son stood at the other, letting the light
+fall upon it.
+
+"Yes, he's quite gone," she said; and then, after a little while, she
+continued, "and gone in an evil hour, I'm afraid."
+
+Arne's hands trembled so much that the burning ashes of the splinter
+fell upon the father's clothes and set them on fire; but the boy did
+not perceive it, neither did the mother at first, for she was
+weeping. But soon she became aware of it through the bad smell, and
+she cried out in fear. When now the boy looked, it seemed to him as
+though the father himself was burning, and he dropped the splinter
+upon him, sinking down in a swoon. Up and down, and round and round,
+the room moved with him; the table moved, the bed moved; the axe
+hewed; the father rose and came to him; and then all of them came
+rolling upon him. Then he felt as if a soft cooling breeze passed
+over his face; and he cried out and awoke. The first thing he did was
+to look at the father, to assure himself that he still lay quietly.
+
+And a feeling of inexpressible happiness came over the boy's mind
+when he saw that the father was dead--really dead; and he rose as
+though he were entering upon a new life.
+
+The mother had extinguished the burning clothes, and began to lay out
+the body. She made the bed, and then said to Arne, "Take hold of your
+father, you're so strong, and help me to lay him nicely." They laid
+him on the bed, and Margit shut his eyes and mouth, stretched his
+limbs, and folded his hands once more.
+
+Then they both stood looking at him. It was only a little past
+midnight, and they had to stay there with him till morning. Arne made
+a good fire, and the mother sat down by it. While sitting there, she
+looked back upon the many miserable days she had passed with Nils,
+and she thanked God for taking him away. "But still I had some happy
+days with him, too," she said after a while.
+
+Arne took a seat opposite her; and, turning to him, she went on, "And
+to think that he should have such an end as this! even if he has not
+lived as he ought, truly he has suffered for it." She wept, looked
+over to the dead man, and continued, "But now God grant I may be
+repaid for all I have gone through with him. Arne, you must remember
+it was for your sake I suffered it all." The boy began to weep too.
+"Therefore, you must never leave me," she sobbed; "you are now my
+only comfort."
+
+"I never will leave you; that I promise before God," the boy said, as
+earnestly as if he had thought of saying it for years. He felt a
+longing to go over to her; yet he could not.
+
+She grew calmer, and, looking kindly over at the dead man, she said,
+"After all, there was a great deal of good in him; but the world
+dealt hardly by him.... But now he's gone to our Lord, and He'll be
+kinder to him, I'm sure." Then, as if she had been following out this
+thought within herself, she added, "We must pray for him. If I could,
+I would sing over him; but you, Arne, have such a fine voice, you
+must go and sing to your father."
+
+Arne fetched the hymn-book and lighted a fir-splinter; and, holding
+it in one hand and the book in the other, he went to the head of the
+bed and sang in a clear voice Kingo's 127th hymn:
+
+   "Regard us again in mercy, O God!
+    And turn Thou aside Thy terrible rod,
+    That now in Thy wrath laid on us we see
+    To chasten us sore for sin against Thee."
+
+
+
+
+V.
+
+"HE HAD IN HIS MIND A SONG."
+
+
+Arne was now in his twentieth year. Yet he continued tending the
+cattle upon the mountains in the summer, while in the winter he
+remained at home studying.
+
+About this time the clergyman sent a message, asking him to become
+the parish schoolmaster, and saying his gifts and knowledge might
+thus be made useful to his neighbors. Arne sent no answer; but the
+next day, while he was driving his flock, he made the following
+verses:
+
+   "O, my pet lamb, lift your head,
+    Though a stony path you tread,
+    Over all the lonely fells,
+    Only follow still your bells.
+
+    O, my pet lamb, walk with care;
+    Lest you spoil your wool, beware:
+    Mother now must soon be sewing
+    New lamb-skins, for summer's going.
+
+    O, my pet lamb, try to grow
+    Fat and fine where'er you go:
+    Know you not, my little sweeting,
+    A spring-lamb is dainty eating?"
+
+One day he happened to overhear a conversation between his mother and
+the late owner of the place: they were at odds about the horse of
+which they were joint-owners. "I must wait and hear what Arne says,"
+interposed the mother. "That sluggard!" the man exclaimed; "he would
+like the horse to ramble about in the wood, just as he does himself."
+Then the mother became silent, though before she had been pleading
+her cause well.
+
+Arne flushed crimson. That his mother had to bear people's jeers on
+his account, never before occurred to him, and, "Perhaps she had
+borne many," he thought. "But why had she not told him of it?" he
+thought again.
+
+He turned the matter over, and then it came into his mind that the
+mother scarcely ever talked to him at all. But, then, he scarcely
+ever talked to her either. But, after all, whom did he talk much to?
+
+Often on Sundays, when he was sitting quietly at home, he would have
+liked to read the sermon to his mother, whose eyes were weak, for she
+had wept too much in her time. Still, he did not read it. Often, too,
+on weekdays, when she was sitting down, and he thought the time might
+hang heavy, he would have liked to offer to read some of his own
+books to her: still, he did not.
+
+"Well, never mind," thought he: "I'll soon leave off tending the
+cattle on the mountains; and then I'll be more with mother." He let
+this resolve ripen within him for several days: meanwhile he drove
+his cattle far about in the wood, and made the following verses:
+
+   "The vale is full of trouble, but here sweet Peace may reign;
+    Within this quiet forest no bailiffs may distrain;
+    None fight, like all in the vale, in the Blessed Church's name;
+    But still if a church were here, perhaps 'twould be just the same.
+
+    Here all are at peace--true, the hawk is rather unkind;
+    I fear he is looking now the plumpest sparrow to find;
+    I fear yon eagle is coming to rob the kid of his breath;
+    But still if he lived very long he might be tired to death.
+
+    The woodman fells one tree, and another rots away:
+    The red fox killed the lambkin at sunset yesterday;
+    But the wolf killed the fox; and the wolf, too, had to die,
+    For Arne shot him down to-day before the dew was dry.
+
+    Back I'll go to the valley: the forest is just as bad--
+    I must take heed, however, or thinking will drive me mad--
+    I saw a boy in my dreams, though where I cannot tell--
+    But I know he had killed his father, and I think it was in hell."
+
+Then he went home and told the mother she might send for a lad to
+tend the cattle on the mountains; and that he would himself manage
+the farm: and so it was arranged. But the mother was constantly
+hovering about him, warning him not to work too hard. Then, too, she
+used to get him such nice meals that he often felt quite ashamed to
+take them; yet he said nothing.
+
+He had in his mind a song having for its burden, "Over the mountains
+high;" but he never could complete it, principally because he always
+tried to bring the burden in every alternate line; so afterwards he
+gave this up.
+
+But several of his songs became known, and were much liked; and many
+people, especially those who had known him from his childhood, were
+fond of talking to him. But he was shy to all whom he did not know,
+and he thought ill of them, mainly because he fancied they thought
+ill of him.
+
+In the next field to his own worked a middle-aged man named
+Opplands-Knut, who used sometimes to sing, but always the same song.
+After Arne had heard him singing it for several months, he thought he
+would ask him whether he did not know any others. "No," Knut
+answered. Then after a few more days, when he was again singing his
+song, Arne asked him, "How came you to learn that one song?"
+
+"Ah! it happened thus----" and then he said no more.
+
+Arne went away from him straight indoors; and there he found his
+mother weeping; a thing he had not seen her do ever since the
+father's death. He turned back again, just as though he did not
+notice it; but he felt the mother was looking sorrowfully after him,
+and he was obliged to stop.
+
+"What are you crying for, mother?" he asked. She did not answer, and
+all was silent in the room. Then his words came back to him again,
+and he felt they had not been spoken so kindly as they ought; and
+once more, in a gentler tone, he asked, "What are you crying for,
+mother?"
+
+"Ah, I hardly know," she said, weeping still more. He stood silent a
+while; but at last mustered courage to say, "Still, there must be
+some reason why you are crying."
+
+Again there was silence; but although the mother had not said one
+word of blame, he felt he was very guilty towards her. "Well it just
+came over me," she said after a while; and in a few moments she
+added, "but really, I'm very happy;" and then she began weeping
+again.
+
+Arne hurried out, away to the ravine; and while he sat there looking
+into it, he, too, began weeping. "If I only knew what I am crying
+for," he said.
+
+Then he heard Opplands-Knut singing in the fields above him:
+
+   "Ingerid Sletten of Willow-pool
+      Had no costly trinkets to wear;
+      But a cap she had that was far more fair,
+    Although 'twas only of wool.
+
+    It had no trimming, and now was old;
+      But her mother, who long had gone,
+      Had given it her, and so it shone
+    To Ingerid more than gold.
+
+    For twenty years she laid it aside,
+      That it might not be worn away:
+      'My cap I'll wear on that blissful day
+    When I shall become a bride.'
+
+    For thirty years she laid it aside
+      Lest the colors might fade away:
+      'My cap I'll wear when to God I pray,
+    A happy and grateful bride.'
+
+    For forty years she laid it aside,
+      Still holding her mother as dear:
+      'My little cap, I certainly fear
+    I never shall be a bride.'
+
+    She went to look for the cap one day
+      In the chest where it long had lain;
+      But, ah! her looking was all in vain:
+    The cap had mouldered away."
+
+Arne listened, and the words seemed to him like music playing far
+away over the mountains. He went up to Knut and asked him, "Have you
+a mother?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Have you a father?"
+
+"Ah, no; no father."
+
+"Is it long since they died?"
+
+"Ah, yes; it's long since."
+
+"You haven't many, I dare say, who love you?"
+
+"Ah, no; not many."
+
+"Have you any here at all?"
+
+"No; not here."
+
+"But away in your own place?"
+
+"Ah, no; not there either."
+
+"Haven't you any at all then who love you?"
+
+"Ah, no; I haven't any."
+
+But Arne walked away with his heart so full of love to his mother
+that it seemed as if it would burst; and all around him grew bright.
+He felt he must go in again, if only for the sake of looking at her.
+As he walked on the thought struck him, "What if I were to lose her?"
+He stopped suddenly. "Almighty God, what would then become of me?"
+
+Then he felt as if some dreadful accident was happening at home, and
+he hurried onwards, cold drops bursting from his brow, and his feet
+hardly touching the ground. He threw open the outer door, and came at
+once into an atmosphere of peace. Then he gently opened the door of
+the inner room. The mother had gone to bed, and lay sleeping as
+calmly as a child, with the moonbeams shining full on her face.
+
+
+
+
+VI.
+
+STRANGE TALES.
+
+
+A few days after, the mother and son agreed on going together to the
+wedding of some relations in one of the neighboring places. The
+mother had not been to a party ever since she was a girl; and both
+she and Arne knew but very little of the people living around, save
+their names.
+
+Arne felt uncomfortable at this party, however, for he fancied
+everybody was staring at him: and once, as he was passing through the
+passage, he believed he heard something said about him, the mere
+thought of which made every drop of blood rush into his face.
+
+He kept going about looking after the man who had said it, and at
+last he took a seat next him.
+
+When they were at dinner, the man said, "Well, now, I shall tell you
+a story which proves nothing can be buried so deeply that it won't
+one day be brought to light;" and Arne fancied he looked at him all
+the time he was saying this. He was an ugly-looking man, with scanty
+red hair, hanging about a wide, round forehead, small, deep-set eyes,
+a little snub-nose, and a large mouth, with pale out-turned lips,
+which showed both his gums when he laughed. His hands were resting on
+the table; they were large and coarse, but the wrists were slender.
+He had a fierce look; and he spoke quickly, but with difficulty. The
+people called him "Bragger;" and Arne knew that in bygone days, Nils,
+the tailor, had treated him badly.
+
+"Yes," continued the man, "there is indeed, a great deal of sin in
+the world; and it sits nearer to us than we think.... But never mind;
+I'll tell you now of a foul deed. Those of you who are old will
+remember Alf--Alf, the pedlar. 'I'll call again,' Alf used to say:
+and he has left that saying behind him. When he had struck a
+bargain--and what a fellow for trade he was!--he would take up his
+bundle, and say, 'I'll call again.' A devil of a fellow, proud
+fellow, brave fellow, was he, Alf, the pedlar!
+
+"Well he and Big Lazy-bones, Big Lazy-bones--well, you know Big
+Lazy-bones?--big he was, and lazy he was, too. He took a fancy to a
+coal-black horse that Alf, the pedlar, used to drive, and had trained
+to hop like a summer frog. And almost before Big Lazy-bones knew what
+he was about, he paid fifty dollars for this horse! Then Big
+Lazy-bones, tall as he was, got into a carriage, meaning to drive
+about like a king with his fifty-dollar-horse; but, though he whipped
+and swore like a devil, the horse kept running against all the doors
+and windows; for it was stone-blind!
+
+"Afterwards, whenever Alf and Big Lazy-bones came across each other,
+they used to quarrel and fight about this horse like two dogs. Big
+Lazy-bones said he would have his money back; but he could not get a
+farthing of it: and Alf drubbed him till the bristles flew. 'I'll
+call again,' said Alf. A devil of a fellow, proud fellow, brave
+fellow that Alf--Alf, the pedlar!
+
+"Well, after that some years passed away without his being seen
+again.
+
+"Then, in about ten years or so, a call for him was published on the
+church-hill,[2] for a great fortune had been left him. Big
+Lazy-bones stood listening. 'Ah,' said he, 'I well knew it must be
+money, and not men, that called out for Alf, the pedlar.'
+
+ [2] In Norway, certain public announcements are made before the
+ church door on Sundays after service.--Translators.
+
+"Now, there was a good deal of talk one way and another about Alf;
+and at last it seemed to be pretty clearly made out that he had been
+seen for the last time on _this_ side of the ledge, and not on the
+other. Well, you remember the road over the ledge--the old road?
+
+"Of late, Big Lazy-bones had got quite a great man, and he owned both
+houses and land. Then, too, he had taken to being religious; and
+that, everybody knew, he didn't take to for nothing--nobody does.
+People began to whisper about these things.
+
+"Just at this time the road over the ledge had to be altered. Folks
+in bygone days had a great fancy for going straight onwards; and so
+the old road ran straight over the ledge; but now-a-days we like to
+have things smooth and easy; and so the new road was made to run down
+along the river. While they were making it, there was digging and
+mining enough to bring down the whole mountain about their ears; and
+the magistrates and all the officers who have to do with that sort of
+thing were there. One day while the men were digging deep in the
+stony ground, one of them took up something which he thought was a
+stone; but it turned out to be the bones of a man's hand instead; and
+a wonderfully strong hand it seemed to be, for the man who got it
+fell flat down directly. That man was Big Lazy-bones. The magistrate
+was just strolling about round there, and they fetched him to the
+place; and then all the bones belonging to a whole man were dug out.
+The Doctor, too, was fetched; and he put them all together so
+cleverly that nothing was wanting but the flesh. And then it struck
+some of the people that the skeleton was just about the same size
+and make as Alf, the pedlar. 'I'll call again,' Alf used to say.
+
+"And then it struck somebody else, that it was a very queer thing a
+dead hand should have made a great fellow like Big Lazy-bones fall
+flat down like that: and the magistrate accused him straight of
+having had more to do with that dead hand than he ought--of course,
+when nobody else was by. But then Big Lazy-bones foreswore it with
+such fearful oaths that the magistrate turned quite giddy. 'Well,'
+said the magistrate, 'if you didn't do it, I dare say you're a
+fellow, now, who would not mind sleeping with the skeleton
+to-night?'--'No; I shouldn't mind a bit,--not I,' said Big
+Lazy-bones. So the Doctor tied the joints of the skeleton together,
+and laid it in one of the beds in the barracks; and put another bed
+close by it for Big Lazy-bones. The magistrate wrapped himself in his
+cloak, and lay down close to the door outside. When night came on,
+and Big Lazy-bones had to go in to his bedfellow, the door shut
+behind him as though of itself, and he stood in the dark. But then
+Big Lazy-bones set off singing psalms, for he had a mighty voice.
+'Why are you singing psalms?' the magistrate asked from outside the
+wall. 'May be the bells were never tolled for him,' answered Big
+Lazy-bones. Then he began praying out loud, as earnestly as ever he
+could. 'Why are you praying?' asked the magistrate from outside the
+wall. 'No doubt, he has been a great sinner,' answered Big
+Lazy-bones. Then a time after, all got so still that the magistrate
+might have gone to sleep. But then came a shrieking that made the
+very barracks shake: 'I'll call again!'--Then came a hellish noise
+and crash: 'Out with that fifty dollars of mine!' roared Big
+Lazy-bones: and the shrieking and crashing came again. Then the
+magistrate burst open the door; the people rushed in with poles and
+firebrands; and there lay Big Lazy-bones on the floor, with the
+skeleton on the top of him."
+
+There was a deep silence all round the table. At last a man who was
+lighting his clay-pipe said, "Didn't he go mad from that very time?"
+
+"Yes, he did."
+
+Arne fancied everybody was looking at him, and he dared not raise his
+eyes. "I say, as I said before," continued the man who had told the
+tale, "nothing can be buried so deeply that it won't one day be
+brought to light."
+
+"Well, now I'll tell you about a son who beat his own father," said a
+fair stout man with a round face. Arne no longer knew where he was
+sitting.
+
+"This son was a great fellow, almost a giant, belonging to a tall
+family in Hardanger; and he was always at odds with somebody or
+other. He and his father were always quarrelling about the yearly
+allowance; and so he had no peace either at home or out.
+
+"This made him grow more and more wicked; and the father persecuted
+him. 'I won't be put down by anybody,' the son said. 'Yes, you'll be
+put down by me so long as I live,' the father answered. 'If you don't
+hold your tongue,' said the son, rising, 'I'll strike you.'--'Well,
+do if you dare; and never in this world will you have luck again,'
+answered the father, rising also.--'Do you mean to say that?' said
+the son; and he rushed upon him and knocked him down. But the father
+didn't try to help himself: he folded his arms and let the son do
+just as he liked with him. Then he knocked him about, rolled him over
+and over, and dragged him towards the door by his white hair. 'I'll
+have peace in my own house, at any rate,' said he. But when they had
+come to the door, the father raised himself a little and cried out,
+'Not beyond the door, for so far I dragged my own father.' The son
+didn't heed it, but dragged the old man's head over the threshold.
+'Not beyond the door, I say!' And the old man rose, knocked down the
+son and beat him as one would beat a child."
+
+"Ah, that's a sad story," several said. Then Arne fancied he heard
+some one saying, "It's a wicked thing to strike one's father;" and he
+rose, turning deadly pale.
+
+"Now I'll tell _you_ something," he said; but he hardly knew what he
+was going to say: words seemed flying around him like large
+snowflakes. "I'll catch them at random," he said and began:--
+
+"A troll once met a lad walking along the road weeping. 'Whom are
+you most afraid of?' asked the troll, 'yourself or others?' Now,
+the boy was weeping because he had dreamed last night he had killed
+his wicked father; and so he answered, 'I'm most afraid of
+myself.'--'Then fear yourself no longer, and never weep again; for
+henceforward you shall only have strife with others.' And the troll
+went his way. But the first whom the lad met jeered at him; and so
+the lad jeered at him again. The second he met beat him; and so he
+beat him again. The third he met tried to kill him; and so the lad
+killed him. Then all the people spoke ill of the lad; and so he spoke
+ill again of all the people. They shut the doors against him, and
+kept all their things away from him; so he stole what he wanted; and
+he even took his night's rest by stealth. As now they wouldn't let
+him come to do anything good, he only did what was bad; and all that
+was bad in other people, they let him suffer for. And the people in
+the place wept because of the mischief done by the lad; but he did
+not weep himself, for he could not. Then all the people met together
+and said, 'Let's go and drown him, for with him we drown all the
+evil that is in the place.' So they drowned him forthwith; but
+afterwards they thought the well where he was drowned gave forth a
+mighty odor.
+
+"The lad himself didn't at all know he had done anything wrong; and
+so after his death he came drifting in to our Lord. There, sitting on
+a bench, he saw his father, whom he had not killed, after all; and
+opposite the father, on another bench, sat the one whom he had jeered
+at, the one he had beaten, the one he had killed, and all those whom
+he had stolen from, and those whom he had otherwise wronged.
+
+"'Whom are you afraid of,' our Lord asked, 'of your father, or of
+those on the long bench?' The lad pointed to the long bench.
+
+"'Sit down then by your father,' said our Lord; and the lad went to
+sit down. But then the father fell down from the bench with a large
+axe-cut in his neck. In his seat, came one in the likeness of the lad
+himself, but with a thin and ghastly pale face; another with a
+drunkard's face, matted hair, and drooping limbs; and one more with
+an insane face, torn clothes, and frightful laughter.
+
+"'So it might have happened to you,' said our Lord.
+
+"'Do you think so?' said the boy, catching hold of the Lord's coat.
+
+"Then both the benches fell down from heaven; but the boy remained
+standing near the Lord rejoicing.
+
+"'Remember this when you awake,' said our Lord; and the boy awoke.
+
+"The boy who dreamed so is I; those who tempted him by thinking him
+bad are you. I am no longer afraid of myself, but I am afraid of you.
+Do not force me to evil; for it is uncertain if I get hold of the
+Lord's coat."
+
+He ran out: the men looked at each other.
+
+
+
+
+VII.
+
+THE SOLILOQUY IN THE BARN.
+
+
+On the evening of the day after this, Arne was lying in a barn
+belonging to the same house. For the first time in his life he had
+become drunk, and he had been lying there for the last twenty-four
+hours. Now he sat up, resting upon his elbows, and talked with
+himself:
+
+"... Everything I look at turns to cowardice. It was cowardice that
+hindered me from running away while a boy; cowardice that made me
+listen to father more than to mother; cowardice also made me sing
+the wicked songs to him. I began tending the cattle through
+cowardice,--to read--well, that, too, was through cowardice: I
+wished to get away from myself. When, though a grown up lad, yet
+I didn't help mother against father--cowardice; that I didn't that
+night--ugh!--cowardice! I might perhaps have waited till she was
+killed! ... I couldn't bear to stay at home afterwards--cowardice;
+still I didn't go away--cowardice; I did nothing, I tended cattle ...
+cowardice. 'Tis true I promised mother to stay at home; still I
+should have been cowardly enough to break my promise if I hadn't been
+afraid of mixing among people. For I'm afraid of people, mainly
+because I think they see how bad I am; and because I'm afraid of
+them, I speak ill of them--a curse upon my cowardice! I make songs
+through cowardice. I'm afraid of thinking bravely about my own
+affairs, and so I turn aside and think about other people's; and
+making verses is just that.
+
+"I've cause enough to weep till the hills turned to lakes, but
+instead of that I say to myself, 'Hush, hush,' and begin rocking. And
+even my songs are cowardly; for if they were bold they would be
+better. I'm afraid of strong thoughts; afraid of anything that's
+strong; and if ever I rise into it, it's in a passion, and passion is
+cowardice. I'm more clever and know more than I seem; I'm better than
+my words, but my cowardice makes me afraid of showing myself in my
+true colors. Shame upon me! I drank that spirits through cowardice;
+I wanted to deaden my pain--shame upon me! I felt miserable all
+the while I was drinking it, yet I drank; drank my father's
+heart's-blood, and still I drank! In fact there's no end to my
+cowardice; and the most cowardly thing is, that I can sit and tell
+myself all this!
+
+"... Kill myself? Oh, no! I am a vast deal too cowardly for that.
+Then, too, I believe a little in God ... yes, I believe in God. I
+would fain go to Him; but cowardice keeps me from going: it would be
+such a great change that a coward shrinks from it. But if I were to
+put forth what power I have? Almighty God, if I tried? Thou wouldst
+cure me in such a way as my milky spirit can bear; wouldst lead me
+gently; for I have no bones in me, nor even gristle--nothing but
+jelly. If I tried ... with good, gentle books,--I'm afraid of the
+strong ones--; with pleasant tales, stories, all that is mild, and
+then a sermon every Sunday, and a prayer every evening. If I tried to
+clear a field within me for religion; and worked in good earnest, for
+one cannot sow in laziness. If I tried; dear mild God of my
+childhood, if I tried!"
+
+But then the barn-door was opened, and the mother came rushing across
+the floor. Her face was deadly pale, though the perspiration dropped
+from it like great tears. For the last twenty-four hours she had
+been rushing hither and thither, seeking her son, calling his name,
+and scarcely pausing even to listen, until now when he answered from
+the barn. Then she gave a loud cry, jumped upon the hay-mow more
+lightly than a boy, and threw herself upon Arne's breast....
+
+... "Arne, Arne are you here? At last I've found you; I've been
+looking for you ever since yesterday; I've been looking for you all
+night long! Poor, poor Arne! I saw they worried you, and I wanted to
+come to speak to you and comfort you, but really I'm always afraid!"
+... "Arne, I saw you drinking spirits! Almighty God, may I never see
+it again! Arne, I saw you drinking spirits." It was some minutes
+before she was able to speak again. "Christ have mercy upon you, my
+boy, I saw you drinking spirits! ... You were gone all at once, drunk
+and crushed by grief as you were! I ran all over the place; I went
+far into the fields; but I couldn't find you: I looked in every
+copse; I questioned everybody; I came here, too; but you didn't
+answer.... Arne, Arne, I went along the river; but it seemed nowhere
+to be deep enough...." She pressed herself closer to him.
+
+"Then it came into my mind all at once that you might have gone home;
+and I'm sure I was only a quarter of an hour going there. I opened
+the outer-door and looked in every room; and then, for the first
+time, I remembered that the house had been locked up, and I myself
+had the key; and that you could not have come in, after all. Arne,
+last night I looked all along both sides of the road: I dared not go
+to the edge of the ravine.... I don't know how it was I came here
+again; nobody told me; it must have been the Lord himself who put it
+into my mind that you might be here!"
+
+She paused and lay for a while with her head upon his breast.
+
+He tried to comfort her.
+
+"Arne, you'll never drink spirits again, I'm sure?"
+
+"No; you may be sure I never will."
+
+"I believe they were very hard upon you? they were, weren't they?"
+
+"No; it was I who was _cowardly_," he answered, laying a great stress
+upon the word.
+
+"I can't understand how they could behave badly to you. But, tell me,
+what did they do? you never will tell me anything;" and once more she
+began weeping.
+
+"But you never tell me anything, either," he said in a low gentle
+voice.
+
+"Yet you're the most in fault, Arne: I've been so long used to
+be silent through your father; you ought to have led me on a
+little.--Good Lord! we've only each other; and we've suffered so
+much together."
+
+"Well, we must try to manage better," Arne whispered.
+
+... "Next Sunday I'll read the sermon to you."
+
+"God bless you for it." ...
+
+"Arne!"
+
+"Well!"
+
+"There's something I must tell you."
+
+"Well, mother, tell me it."
+
+"I've greatly sinned against you; I've done something very wrong."
+
+"You, mother?"
+
+"Indeed, I have; but I couldn't help doing it. Arne, you must forgive
+me."
+
+"But I'm sure you've never done anything wrong to me."
+
+"Indeed, I have: and my very love to you made me do it. But you must
+forgive me; will you?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"And then another time I'll tell you all about it ... but you must
+forgive me!"
+
+"Yes, mother, yes."
+
+"And don't you see the reason why I couldn't talk much to you was,
+that I had this on my mind? I've sinned against you."
+
+"Pray don't talk so, mother!"
+
+"Well, I'm glad I've said what I have."
+
+"And, mother, we'll talk more together, we two."
+
+"Yes, that we will; and then you'll read the sermon to me?"
+
+"I will."
+
+"Poor Arne; God bless you!"
+
+"I think we both had better go home now."
+
+"Yes, we'll both go home."
+
+"You're looking all round, mother?"
+
+"Yes; your father once lay weeping in this barn."
+
+"Father?" asked Arne, growing deadly pale.
+
+"Poor Nils! It was the day you were christened."
+
+"You're looking all round, Arne?"
+
+
+
+
+VIII.
+
+THE SHADOWS ON THE WATER.
+
+
+   "It was such a cheerful, sunny day,
+      No rest indoors could I find;
+    So I strolled to the wood, and down I lay,
+      And rocked what came in my mind:
+    But there the emmets crawled on the ground,
+    And wasps and gnats were stinging around.
+
+'Won't you go out-doors this fine day, dear?' said mother, as she sat
+in the porch, spinning.
+
+    It was such a cheerful, sunny day,
+      No rest indoors could I find;
+    So I went in the birk, and down I lay,
+      And sang what came in my mind:
+    But snakes crept out to bask in the sun--
+    Snakes five feet long, so, away I run.
+
+'In such beautiful weather one may go barefoot,' said mother, taking
+off her stockings.
+
+    It was such a cheerful, sunny day,
+      Indoors I could not abide;
+    So I went in a boat, and down I lay,
+      And floated away with the tide:
+    But the sun-beams burned till my nose was sore;
+    So I turned my boat again to the shore.
+
+'This is, indeed, good weather to dry the hay,' said mother, putting
+her rake into a swath.
+
+    It was such a cheerful, sunny day,
+      In the house I could not be;
+    And so from the heat I climbed away
+      In the boughs of a shady tree:
+    But caterpillars dropped on my face,
+    So down I jumped and ran from the place.
+
+'Well, if the cow doesn't get on to-day, she never will get on,' said
+mother, glancing up towards the <DW72>.
+
+    It was such a cheerful, sunny day,
+      Indoors I could not remain:
+    And so for quiet I rowed away
+      To the waterfall amain:
+    But there I drowned while bright was the sky:
+    If you made this, it cannot be I.
+
+'Only three more such sunny days, and we shall get in all the hay,'
+said mother, as she went to make my bed."
+
+Arne when a child had not cared much for fairy-tales; but now he
+began to love them, and they led him to the sagas and old ballads. He
+also read sermons and other religious books; and he was gentle and
+kind to all around him. But in his mind arose a strange deep longing:
+he made no more songs; but walked often alone, not knowing what was
+within him.
+
+Many of the places around, which formerly he had not even noticed,
+now appeared to him wondrously beautiful. At the time he and his
+schoolfellows had to go to the Clergyman to be prepared for
+confirmation, they used to play near a lake lying just below the
+parsonage, and called the Swart-water because it lay deep and dark
+between the mountains. He now often thought of this place; and one
+evening he went thither.
+
+He sat down behind a grove close to the parsonage, which was built on
+a steep hill-side, rising high above till it became a mountain. High
+mountains rose likewise on the opposite shore, so that broad deep
+shadows fell upon both sides of the lake, but in the middle ran a
+stripe of bright silvery water. It was a calm evening near sunset,
+and not a sound was heard save the tinkling of the cattle-bells from
+the opposite shore. Arne at first did not look straight before him,
+but downwards along the lake, where the sun was sprinkling burning
+red ere it sank to rest. There, at the end, the mountains gave way,
+and between them lay a long low valley, against which the lake beat;
+but they seemed to run gradually towards each other, and to hold the
+valley in a great swing. Houses lay thickly scattered all along, the
+smoke rose and curled away, the fields lay green and reeking, and
+boats laden with hay were anchored by the shore. Arne saw many people
+going to and fro, but he heard no noise. Thence his eye went along
+the shore towards God's dark wood upon the mountain-sides. Through
+it, man had made his way, and its course was indicated by a winding
+stripe of dust. This, Arne's eye followed to opposite where he was
+sitting: there, the wood ended, the mountains opened, and houses lay
+scattered all over the valley. They were nearer and looked larger
+than those in the other valley; and they were red-painted, and their
+large windows glowed in the sunbeams. The fields and meadows stood in
+strong light, and the smallest child playing in them was clearly
+seen; glittering white sands lay dry upon the shore, and some dogs
+and puppies were running there. But suddenly all became sunless and
+gloomy: the houses looked dark red, the meadows dull green, the sand
+greyish white, and the children little clumps: a cloud of mist had
+risen over the mountains, taking away the sunlight. Arne looked down
+into the water, and there he found all once more: the fields lay
+rocking, the wood silently drew near, the houses stood looking down,
+the doors were open, and children went out and in. Fairy-tales and
+childish things came rushing into his mind, as little fishes come to
+a bait, swim away, come once more and play round, and again swim
+away.
+
+"Let's sit down here till your mother comes; I suppose the
+Clergyman's lady will have finished sometime or other." Arne was
+startled: some one had been sitting a little way behind him.
+
+"If I might but stay this one night more," said an imploring voice,
+half smothered by tears: it seemed to be that of a girl not quite
+grown up.
+
+"Now don't cry any more; it's wrong to cry because you're going home
+to your mother," was slowly said by a gentle voice, which was
+evidently that of a man.
+
+"It's not that, I am crying for."
+
+"Why, then, are you crying?"
+
+"Because I shall not live any longer with Mathilde."
+
+This was the name of the Clergyman's only daughter; and Arne
+remembered that a peasant-girl had been brought up with her.
+
+"Still, that couldn't go on for ever."
+
+"Well, but only one day more father, dear!" and the girl began
+sobbing.
+
+"No, it's better we take you home now; perhaps, indeed, it's already
+too late."
+
+"Too late! Why too late? did ever anybody hear such a thing?"
+
+"You were born a peasant, and a peasant you shall be; we can't afford
+to keep a lady."
+
+"But I might remain a peasant all the same if I stayed there."
+
+"Of that you can't judge."
+
+"I've always worn my peasant's dress."
+
+"Clothes have nothing to do with it."
+
+"I've spun, and woven, and done cooking."
+
+"Neither is _that_ the thing."
+
+"I can speak just as you and mother speak."
+
+"It's not that either."
+
+"Well, then, I really don't know what it is," the girl said,
+laughing.
+
+"Time will show; but I'm afraid you've already got too many
+thoughts."
+
+"Thoughts, thoughts! so you always say; I have no thoughts;" and she
+wept.
+
+"Ah, you're a wind-mill, that you are."
+
+"The Clergyman never said that."
+
+"No; but now _I_ say it."
+
+"Wind-mill? who ever heard such a thing? I won't be a wind-mill."
+
+"What _will_ you be then?"
+
+"What will I be? who ever heard of such a thing? nothing, I will be."
+
+"Well, be nothing, then."
+
+Now the girl laughed; but after a while she said gravely, "It's wrong
+of you to say I'm nothing."
+
+"Dear me, when you said so yourself!"
+
+"Nay; I won't be nothing."
+
+"Well, then, be everything."
+
+Again she laughed; but after a while she said in a sad tone, "The
+Clergyman never used to make a fool of me in this way."
+
+"No; but he _did_ make a fool of you."
+
+"The Clergyman? well, you've never been so kind to me as he was."
+
+"No; and if I had I should have spoiled you."
+
+"Well, sour milk can never become sweet."
+
+"It may when it is boiled to whey."
+
+She laughed aloud. "Here comes your mother." Then the girl again
+became grave.
+
+"Such a long-winded woman as that Clergyman's lady, I never met with
+in all my live-long days," interposed a sharp quick voice. "Now, make
+haste, Baard; get up and push off the boat, or we sha'n't get home
+to-night. The lady wished me to take care that Eli's feet were kept
+dry. Dear me, she must attend to that herself! Then she said Eli must
+take a walk every morning for the sake of her health! Did ever
+anybody hear such stuff! Well, get up, Baard, and push off the boat;
+I have to make the dough this evening."
+
+"The chest hasn't come yet," he said, without rising.
+
+"But the chest isn't to come; it's to be left there till next Sunday.
+Well, Eli, get up; take your bundle, and come on. Now, get up,
+Baard."
+
+Away she went, followed by the girl.
+
+"Come on, come on!" Arne then heard the same voice say from the shore
+below.
+
+"Have you looked after the plug in the boat?" Baard asked, still
+without rising.
+
+"Yes, it's put in;" and then Arne heard her drive it in with a scoop.
+
+"But do get up, Baard; I suppose we're not going to stay here all
+night? Get up, Baard!"
+
+"I'm waiting for the chest."
+
+"But bless you, dear, haven't I told you it's to be left there till
+next Sunday?"
+
+"Here it comes," Baard said, as the rattling of a cart was heard.
+
+"Why, I said it was to be left till next Sunday."
+
+"I said we were to take it with us."
+
+Away went the wife to the cart, and carried the bundle and other
+small things down into the boat. Then Baard rose, went up, and took
+down the chest himself.
+
+But a girl with streaming hair, and a straw bonnet came running after
+the cart: it was the Clergyman's daughter. "Eli, Eli!" she cried
+while still at a distance.
+
+"Mathilde, Mathilde," was answered; and the two girls ran towards
+each other. They met on the hill, embraced each other and wept. Then
+Mathilde took out something which she had set down on the grass: it
+was a bird in a cage.
+
+"You shall have Narrifas," she said; "mamma wishes you to have it
+too; you shall have Narrifas ... you really shall--and then you'll
+think of me--and very often row over to me;" and again they wept
+much.
+
+"Eli, come, Eli! don't keep standing there!" Arne heard the mother
+say from the shore below.
+
+"But I'll go with you," said Mathilde.
+
+"Oh, do, do!" and, with their arms round each other's neck, they ran
+down to the landing-place.
+
+In a few minutes Arne saw the boat on the water, Eli standing high in
+the stern, holding the bird-cage, and waving her hand; while Mathilde
+sat alone on the stones of the landing-place weeping.
+
+She remained sitting there watching the boat as long as it was on the
+water; and so did Arne. The distance across the lake to the red
+houses was but short; the boat soon passed into the dark shadows, and
+he saw it come ashore. Then he saw in the water the reflections of
+the three who had just landed, and in it he followed them on their
+way to the red houses till they reached the finest of them; there he
+saw them go in; the mother first, next, the father, and last, the
+daughter. But soon the daughter came out again, and seated herself
+before the storehouse; perhaps to look across to the parsonage, over
+which the sun was laying its last rays. But Mathilde had already
+gone, and it was only Arne who was sitting there looking at Eli in
+the water. "I wonder whether she sees me," he thought....
+
+He rose and went away. The sun had set, but the summer night was
+light and the sky clear blue. The mist from the lake and the valleys
+rose, and lay along the mountain-sides, but their peaks were left
+clear, and stood looking over to each other. He went higher: the
+water lay black and deep below; the distant valley shortened and drew
+nearer the lake; the mountains came nearer the eye and gathered in
+clumps; the sky itself was lower; and all things became friendly and
+familiar.
+
+
+
+
+IX.
+
+THE NUTTING-PARTY.
+
+
+       "Fair Venevill bounded on lithesome feet
+            Her lover to meet.
+        He sang till it sounded afar away,
+            'Good-day, good-day,'
+    While blithesome birds were singing on every blooming spray.
+            On Midsummer-day
+            There is dancing and play;
+    But now I know not whether she weaves her wreath or nay.
+
+       "She wove him a wreath of corn-flowers blue:
+            'Mine eyes so true.'
+        He took it, but soon away it was flung:
+            'Farewell!' he sung;
+    And still with merry singing across the fields he sprung.
+            On Midsummer-day, &c.
+
+       "She wove him a chain: 'Oh keep it with care;
+            'Tis made of my hair.'
+        She yielded him then, in an hour of bliss,
+            Her pure first kiss;
+    But he blushed as deeply as she the while her lips met his
+            On Midsummer-day, &c.
+
+       "She wove him a wreath with a lily-band:
+            'My true right hand.'
+        She wove him another with roses aglow:
+            'My left hand now.'
+    He took them gently from her, but blushes dyed his brow.
+            On Midsummer-day, &c.
+
+       "She wove him a wreath of all flowers round:
+            'All I have found.'
+        She wept, but she gathered and wove on still:
+            'Take all you will.'
+    Without a word he took it, and fled across the hill.
+            On Midsummer-day, &c.
+
+       "She wove on bewildered and out of breath:
+            'My bridal wreath.'
+        She wove till her fingers aweary had grown:
+            'Now put it on:'
+    But when she turned to see him, she found that he had gone.
+            On Midsummer-day, &c.
+
+       "She wove on in haste, as for life or death,
+            Her bridal wreath;
+        But the Midsummer sun no longer shone,
+            And the flowers were gone;
+    But though she had no flowers, wild fancy still wove on.
+            On Midsummer-day
+            There is dancing and play;
+    But now I know not whether she weaves her wreath or nay."
+
+Arne had of late been happier, both when at home and when out among
+people. In the winter, when he had not work enough on his own place,
+he went out in the parish and did carpentry; but every Saturday night
+he came home to the mother; and went with her to church on Sunday, or
+read the sermon to her; and then returned in the evening to his place
+of work. But soon, through going more among people, his wish to
+travel awoke within him again; and just after his merriest moods, he
+would often lie trying to finish his song, "Over the mountains high,"
+and altering it for about the twentieth time. He often thought of
+Christian, who seemed to have so utterly forgotten him, and who, in
+spite of his promise, had not sent him even a single letter. Once,
+the remembrance of Christian came upon him so powerfully that he
+thoughtlessly spoke of him to the mother; she gave no answer, but
+turned away and went out.
+
+There was living in the parish a jolly man named Ejnar Aasen. When he
+was twenty years old he broke his leg, and from that time he had
+walked with the support of a stick; but wherever he appeared limping
+along on that stick, there was always merriment going on. The man was
+rich, and he used the greater part of his wealth in doing good; but
+he did it all so quietly that few people knew anything about it.
+There was a large nut-wood on his property; and on one of the
+brightest mornings in harvest-time, he always had a nutting-party of
+merry girls at his house, where he had abundance of good cheer for
+them all day, and a dance in the evening. He was the godfather of
+most of the girls; for he was the godfather of half of the parish.
+All the children called him Godfather, and from them everybody else
+had learned to call him so, too.
+
+He and Arne knew each other well; and he liked Arne for the sake of
+his songs. Now he invited him to the nutting-party; but Arne
+declined: he was not used to girls' company, he said. "Then you had
+better get used to it," answered Godfather.
+
+So Arne came to the party, and was nearly the only young man among
+the many girls. Such fun as was there, Arne had never seen before in
+all his life; and one thing which especially astonished him was, that
+the girls laughed for nothing at all: if three laughed, then five
+would laugh just because those three laughed. Altogether, they
+behaved as if they had lived with each other all their lives; and yet
+there were several of them who had never met before that very day.
+When they caught the bough which they jumped after, they laughed, and
+when they did not catch it they laughed also; when they did not find
+any nuts, they laughed because they found none; and when they did
+find some, they also laughed. They fought for the nutting-hook: those
+who got it laughed, and those who did not get it laughed also.
+Godfather limped after them, trying to beat them with his stick, and
+making all the mischief he was good for; those he hit, laughed
+because he hit them, and those he missed, laughed because he missed
+them. But the whole lot laughed at Arne because he was so grave; and
+when at last he could not help laughing, they all laughed again
+because he laughed.
+
+Then the whole party seated themselves on a large hill; the girls in
+a circle, and Godfather in the middle. The sun was scorching hot, but
+they did not care the least for it, but sat cracking nuts, giving
+Godfather the kernels, and throwing the shells and husks at each
+other. Godfather 'sh 'shed at them, and, as far as he could reach,
+beat them with his stick; for he wanted to make them be quiet and
+tell tales. But to stop their noise seemed just about as easy as to
+stop a carriage running down a hill. Godfather began to tell a tale,
+however. At first many of them would not listen; they knew his
+stories already; but soon they all listened attentively; and before
+they thought of it, they set off tale-telling themselves at full
+gallop. Though they had just been so noisy, their tales, to Arne's
+great surprise, were very earnest: they ran principally upon love.
+
+"You, Aasa, know a good tale, I remember from last year," said
+Godfather, turning to a plump girl with a round, good-natured face,
+who sat plaiting the hair of a younger sister, whose head lay in her
+lap.
+
+"But perhaps several know it already," answered Aasa.
+
+"Never mind, tell it," they begged.
+
+"Very well, I'll tell it without any more persuading," she answered;
+and then, plaiting her sister's hair all the while, she told and
+sang:--
+
+"There was once a grown-up lad who tended cattle, and who often drove
+them upwards near a broad stream. On one side was a high steep cliff,
+jutting out so far over the stream that when he was upon it he could
+talk to any one on the opposite side; and all day he could see a girl
+over there tending cattle, but he couldn't go to her.
+
+   'Now, tell me thy name, thou girl that art sitting
+    Up there with thy sheep, so busily knitting,'
+
+he asked over and over for many days, till one day at last there came
+an answer:--
+
+   'My name floats about like a duck in wet weather;
+    Come over, thou boy in the cap of brown leather.'
+
+"This left the lad no wiser than he was before; and he thought he
+wouldn't mind her any further. This, however, was much more easily
+thought than done, for drive his cattle whichever way he would, it
+always, somehow or other, led to that same high steep cliff. Then the
+lad grew frightened; and he called over to her--
+
+   'Well, who is your father, and where are you biding?
+    On the road to the church I have ne'er seen you riding.'
+
+"The lad asked this because he half believed she was a huldre.[3]
+
+ [3] "Over the whole of Norway, the tradition is current of a
+ supernatural being that dwells in the forests and mountains, called
+ Huldre or Hulla. She appears like a beautiful woman, and is usually
+ clad in a blue petticoat and a white snood; but unfortunately has a
+ long tail, which she anxiously tries to conceal when she is among
+ people. She is fond of cattle, particularly brindled, of which she
+ possesses a beautiful and thriving stock. They are without horns.
+ She was once at a merrymaking, where every one was desirous of
+ dancing with the handsome, strange damsel; but in the midst of the
+ mirth, a young man, who had just begun a dance with her, happened
+ to cast his eye on her tail. Immediately guessing whom he had got
+ for a partner, he was not a little terrified; but, collecting
+ himself, and unwilling to betray her, he merely said to her when
+ the dance was over, 'Fair maid, you will lose your garter.' She
+ instantly vanished, but afterwards rewarded the silent and
+ considerate youth with beautiful presents and a good breed of
+ cattle. The idea entertained of this being is not everywhere the
+ same, but varies considerably in different parts of Norway. In some
+ places she is described as a handsome female when seen in front,
+ but is hollow behind, or else blue; while in others she is known by
+ the name of Skogmerte, and is said to be blue, but clad in a green
+ petticoat, and probably corresponds to the Swedish Skogsnyfoor. Her
+ song--a sound often heard among the mountains--is said to be hollow
+ and mournful, differing therein from the music of the subterranean
+ beings, which is described by earwitnesses as cheerful and
+ fascinating. But she is not everywhere regarded as a solitary wood
+ nymph. Huldremen and Huldrefolk are also spoken of, who live
+ together in the mountains, and are almost identical with the
+ subterranean people. In Hardanger the Huldre people are always clad
+ in green, but their cattle are blue, and may be taken when a
+ grown-up person casts his belt over them. They give abundance of
+ milk. The Huldres take possession of the forsaken pasture-spots in
+ the mountains, and invite people into their mounds, where
+ delightful music is to be heard."--_Thorpe's Northern Mythology._
+
+   'My house is burned down, and my father is drowned,
+    And the road to the church-hill I never have found.'
+
+"This again left the lad no wiser than he was before. In the daytime
+he kept hovering about the cliff; and at night he dreamed she danced
+with him, and lashed him with a big cow's tail whenever he tried to
+catch her. Soon he could neither sleep nor work; and altogether the
+lad got in a very poor way. Then once more he called from the cliff--
+
+   'If thou art a huldre, then pray do not spell me;
+    If thou art a maiden, then hasten to tell me.'
+
+"But there came no answer; and so he was sure she was a huldre. He
+gave up tending cattle; but it was all the same; wherever he went,
+and whatever he did, he was all the while thinking of the beautiful
+huldre who blew on the horn. Soon he could bear it no longer; and one
+moonlight evening when all were asleep, he stole away into the
+forest, which stood there all dark at the bottom, but with its
+tree-tops bright in the moonbeams. He sat down on the cliff, and
+called--
+
+   'Run forward, my huldre; my love has o'ercome me;
+    My life is a burden; no longer hide from me.'
+
+"The lad looked and looked; but she didn't appear. Then he heard
+something moving behind him; he turned round and saw a big black
+bear, which came forward, squatted on the ground and looked at him.
+But he ran away from the cliff and through the forest as fast as his
+legs could carry him: if the bear followed him, he didn't know, for
+he didn't turn round till he lay safely in bed.
+
+"'It was one of her herd,' the lad thought; 'it isn't worth while to
+go there any more;' and he didn't go.
+
+"Then, one day, while he was chopping wood, a girl came across the
+yard who was the living picture of the huldre: but when she drew
+nearer, he saw it wasn't she. Over this he pondered much. Then he saw
+the girl coming back, and again while she was at a distance she
+seemed to be the huldre, and he ran to meet her; but as soon as he
+came near, he saw it wasn't she.
+
+"After this, wherever the lad was--at church at dances, or any other
+parties--the girl was, too; and still when at a distance she seemed
+to be the huldre, and when near she was somebody else. Then he asked
+her whether she was the huldre or not, but she only laughed at him.
+'One may as well leap into it as creep into it,' the lad thought; and
+so he married the girl.
+
+"But the lad had hardly done this before he ceased to like the girl:
+when he was away from her he longed for her; but when he was with her
+he yearned for some one he did not see. So the lad behaved very badly
+to his wife; but she suffered in silence.
+
+"Then one day when he was out looking for his horses, he came again
+to the cliff; and he sat down and called out--
+
+   'Like fairy moonlight, to me thou seemest;
+    Like Midsummer-fires, from afar thou gleamest.'
+
+"He felt that it did him good to sit there; and afterwards he went
+whenever things were wrong at home. His wife wept when he was gone.
+
+"But one day when he was sitting there, he saw the huldre sitting all
+alive on the other side blowing her horn. He called over--
+
+   'Ah, dear, art thou come! all around thee is shining!
+    Ah, blow now again! I am sitting here pining.'
+
+"Then she answered--
+
+   'Away from thy mind the dreams I am blowing;
+    Thy rye is all rotting for want of mowing.'
+
+"But then the lad felt frightened and went home again. Ere long,
+however, he grew so tired of his wife that he was obliged to go to
+the forest again, and he sat down on the cliff. Then was sung over to
+him--
+
+   'I dreamed thou wast here; ho, hasten to bind me!
+    No; not over there, but behind you will find me.'
+
+"The lad jumped up and looked around him, and caught a glimpse of a
+green petticoat just slipping away between the shrubs. He followed,
+and it came to a hunting all through the forest. So swift-footed as
+that huldre, no human creature could be: he flung steel over her
+again and again, but still she ran on just as well as ever. But soon
+the lad saw, by her pace, that she was beginning to grow tired,
+though he saw, too, by her shape, that she could be no other than the
+huldre. 'Now,' he thought, you'll be mine easily;' and he caught hold
+on her so suddenly and roughly that they both fell, and rolled down
+the hills a long way before they could stop themselves. Then the
+huldre laughed till it seemed to the lad the mountains sang again. He
+took her upon his knee; and so beautiful she was, that never in all
+his life he had seen any one like her: exactly like her, he thought
+his wife should have been. 'Ah, who are you who are so beautiful?' he
+asked, stroking her cheek. She blushed rosy red. 'I'm your wife,' she
+answered."
+
+The girls laughed much at that tale, and ridiculed the lad. But
+Godfather asked Arne if he had listened well to it.
+
+"Well, now I'll tell you something," said a little girl with a little
+round face, and a very little nose:--
+
+"Once there was a little lad who wished very much to woo a little
+girl. They were both grown up; but yet they were very little. And the
+lad couldn't in any way muster courage to ask her to have him. He
+kept close to her when they came home from church; but, somehow or
+other, their chat was always about the weather. He went over to her
+at the dancing-parties, and nearly danced her to death; but still he
+couldn't bring himself to say what he wanted. 'You must learn to
+write,' he said to himself; 'then you'll manage matters.' And the lad
+set to writing; but he thought it could never be done well enough;
+and so he wrote a whole year round before he dared do his letter.
+Now, the thing was to get it given to her without anybody seeing. He
+waited till one day when they were standing all by themselves behind
+the church. 'I've got a letter for you,' said the lad. 'But I can't
+read writing,' the girl answered.
+
+"And there the lad stood.
+
+"Then he went to service at the girl's father's house; and he used to
+keep hovering round her all day long. Once he had nearly brought
+himself to speak; in fact, he had already opened his mouth; but then
+a big fly flew in it. 'Well, I hope, at any rate, nobody else will
+come to take her away,' the lad thought; but nobody came to take her,
+because she was so very little.
+
+"By-and-by, however, some one _did_ come, and he, too, was little.
+The lad could see very well what he wanted; and when he and the girl
+went up-stairs together, the lad placed himself at the key-hole. Then
+he who was inside made his offer. 'Bad luck to me, I, codfish, who
+didn't make haste!' the lad thought. He who was inside kissed the
+girl just on her lips----. 'No doubt that tasted nice,' the lad
+thought. But he who was inside took the girl on his lap. 'Oh, dear
+me! what a world this is!' the lad said, and began crying. Then the
+girl heard him and went to the door. 'What do you want, you nasty
+boy?' said she, 'why can't you leave me alone?'--'I? I only wanted to
+ask you to have me for your bridesman.'--'No; that, my brother's
+going to be,' the girl answered, banging the door to.
+
+"And there the lad stood."
+
+The girls laughed very much at this tale, and afterwards pelted each
+other with husks.
+
+Then Godfather wished Eli Boeen to tell something.
+
+"What, then, must it be?"
+
+"Well, she might tell what she had told him on the hill, the last
+time he came to see her parents, when she gave him the new garters.
+Eli laughed very much; and it was some time before she would tell it:
+however, she did at last,--
+
+"A lad and a girl were once walking together on a road. 'Ah, look at
+that thrush that follows us!' the girl said. 'It follows _me_,' said
+the lad. 'It's just as likely to be _me_,' the girl answered. 'That,
+we'll soon find out,' said the lad; 'you go that way, while I go
+this, and we'll meet up yonder.' They did so. 'Well, didn't it follow
+me?' the lad asked, when they met. 'No; it followed me,' answered the
+girl. 'Then, there must be two.' They went together again for some
+distance, but then there was only one thrush; and the lad thought it
+flew on his side, but the girl thought it flew on hers. 'Devil a bit,
+I care for that thrush,' said the lad. 'Nor do I,' answered the girl.
+
+"But no sooner had they said this, than the thrush flew away. 'It was
+on _your_ side, it was,' said the lad. 'Thank you,' answered the
+girl; 'but I clearly saw it was on _your_ side.--But see! there it
+comes again!' 'Indeed, it's on _my_ side,' the lad exclaimed. Then
+the girl got angry: 'Ah, well, I wish I may never stir if I go with
+you any longer!' and she went away.
+
+"Then the thrush, too, left the lad; and he felt so dull that he
+called out to the girl, 'Is the thrush with you?'--'No; isn't it with
+you?'--'Ah, no; you must come here again, and then perhaps it will
+follow you.'
+
+"The girl came; and she and the lad walked on together, hand in
+hand. 'Quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the girl's side;
+'quitt, quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on the lad's side; 'quitt,
+quitt, quitt, quitt!' sounded on every side; and when they looked
+there were a hundred thousand million thrushes all round them. 'Ah,
+how nice this is!' said the girl, looking up at the lad. 'Ah, God
+bless you!' said he, and kissed her."
+
+All the girls thought this was such a nice tale.
+
+Then Godfather said they must tell what they had dreamed last night,
+and he would decide who had dreamed the nicest things.
+
+"Tell what they had dreamed! No; impossible!"
+
+And then there was no end of tittering and whispering. But soon one
+after another began to think she had such a nice dream last night;
+and then others thought it could not possibly be so nice as what they
+had dreamed; and at last they all got a great mind for telling their
+dreams. Yet they must not be told aloud, but to one only, and that
+one must by no means be Godfather. Arne had all this time been
+sitting quietly a little lower down the hill, and so the girls
+thought they dared tell their dreams to him.
+
+Then Arne seated himself under a hazel-bush; and Aasa, the girl who
+had told the first tale, came over to him. She hesitated a while, but
+then began,--
+
+"I dreamed I was standing by a large lake. Then I saw one walking on
+the water, and it was one whose name I will not say. He stepped into
+a large water-lily, and sat there singing. But I launched out upon
+one of the large leaves of the lily which lay floating on the water;
+for on it I would row over to him. But no sooner had I come upon the
+leaf than it began to sink with me, and I became much frightened, and
+I wept. Then he came rowing along in the water-lily, and lifted me
+up to him; and we rowed all over the whole lake. Wasn't that a nice
+dream?"
+
+Next came the little girl who had told the tale about the little
+lad,--
+
+"I dreamed I had caught a little bird, and I was so pleased with it,
+and I thought I wouldn't let it loose till I came home in our room.
+But there I dared not let it loose, for I was afraid father and
+mother might tell me to let it go again. So I took it up-stairs; but
+I could not let it loose there, either, for the cat was lurking
+about. Then I didn't know what in the world to do; yet I took it into
+the barn. Dear me, there were so many cracks, I was afraid it might
+go away! Well, then I went down again into the yard; and there, it
+seemed to me some one was standing whose name I will not say. He
+stood playing with a big, big dog. 'I would rather play with that
+bird of yours,' he said, and drew very near to me. But then it seemed
+to me I began running away; and both he and the big dog ran after me
+all round the yard; but then mother opened the front door, pulled me
+hastily in, and banged the door after me. The lad, however, stood
+laughing outside, with his face against the window-pane. 'Look,
+here's the bird,' he said; and, only think, he had my bird out there!
+Wasn't that a beautiful dream?"
+
+Then came the girl who had told about the thrushes--Eli, they called
+her. She was laughing so much that she could not speak for some time;
+but at last she began,--
+
+"I had been looking forward with very much pleasure to our nutting in
+the wood to-day; and so last night I dreamed I was sitting here on
+the hill. The sun shone brightly; and I had my lap full of nuts. But
+there came a little squirrel among them, and it sat on its hind-legs
+and ate them all up. Wasn't that a funny dream?"
+
+Afterwards some more dreams were told him; and then the girls would
+have him say which was the nicest. Of course, he must have plenty of
+time for consideration; and meanwhile Godfather and the whole flock
+went down to the house, leaving Arne to follow. They skipped down the
+hill, and when they came to the plain went all in a row singing
+towards the house.
+
+Arne sat alone on the hill, listening to the singing. Strong sunlight
+fell on the group of girls, and their white bodices shone bright, as
+they went dancing over the meadows, every now and then clasping each
+other round the waist; while Godfather limped behind, threatening
+them with a stick because they trod down his hay. Arne thought no
+more of the dreams, and soon he no longer looked after the girls. His
+thoughts went floating far away beyond the valley, like the fine
+air-threads, while he remained behind on the hill, spinning; and
+before he was aware of it he had woven a close web of sadness. More
+than ever, he longed to go away.
+
+"Why stay any longer?" he said to himself; "surely, I've been
+lingering long enough now!" He promised himself that he would speak
+to the mother about it as soon as he reached home, however it might
+turn out.
+
+With greater force than ever, his thoughts turned to his song, "Over
+the mountains high;" and never before had the words come so swiftly,
+or linked themselves into rhyme so easily; they seemed almost like
+girls sitting in a circle on the brow of a hill. He had a piece of
+paper with him, and placing it upon his knee, he wrote down the
+verses as they came. When he had finished the song, he rose like one
+freed from a burden. He felt unwilling to see any one, and went
+homewards by the way through the wood, though he knew he should then
+have to walk during the night. The first time he stopped to rest on
+the way, he put his hand to his pocket to take out the song,
+intending to sing it aloud to himself through the wood; but he found
+he had left it behind at the place where it was composed.
+
+One of the girls went on the hill to look for him; she did not find
+him, but she found his song.
+
+
+
+
+X.
+
+LOOSENING THE WEATHER-VANE.
+
+
+To speak to the mother about going away, was more easily thought of
+than done. He spoke again about Christian, and those letters which
+had never come; but then the mother went away, and for days
+afterwards he thought her eyes looked red and swollen. He noticed,
+too, that she then got nicer food for him than usual; and this gave
+him another sign of her state of mind with regard to him.
+
+One day he went to cut fagots in a wood which bordered upon another
+belonging to the parsonage, and through which the road ran. Just
+where he was going to cut his fagots, people used to come in autumn
+to gather whortleberries. He had laid aside his axe to take off his
+jacket, and was just going to begin work, when two girls came walking
+along with a basket to gather berries. He used generally to hide
+himself rather than meet girls, and he did so now.
+
+"Ah! only see what a lot of berries! Eli, Eli!"
+
+"Yes, dear, I see!"
+
+"Well, but, then, don't go any farther; here are many basketfuls."
+
+"I thought I heard a rustling among the trees!"
+
+"Oh, nonsense!"
+
+The girls rushed towards each other, clasped each other round the
+waist, and for a little while stood still, scarcely drawing breath.
+"It's nothing, I dare say; come, let's go on picking."
+
+"Well, so we will."
+
+And they went on.
+
+"It was nice you came to the parsonage to-day, Eli. Haven't you
+anything to tell me?"
+
+"Yes; I've been to see Godfather."
+
+"Well, you've told me that; but haven't you anything to tell me about
+_him_--you know who?"
+
+"Yes, indeed I have!"
+
+"Oh! Eli, have you! make haste and tell me!" "He has been there
+again."
+
+"Nonsense?"
+
+"Indeed, he has: father and mother pretended to know nothing of it;
+but I went up-stairs and hid myself."
+
+"Well, what then? did he come after you?"
+
+"Yes; I believe father told him where I was; he's always so tiresome
+now."
+
+"And so he came there?--Sit down, sit down; here, near me. Well, and
+then he came?"
+
+"Yes; but he didn't say much, for he was so bashful."
+
+"Tell me what he said, every word; pray, every word!"
+
+"'Are you afraid of me?' he said. 'Why should I be afraid?' I
+answered. 'You know what I want to say to you,' he said, sitting down
+beside me on the chest."
+
+"Beside you!"
+
+"And he took me round my waist."
+
+"Round your waist; nonsense!"
+
+"I wished very much to get loose again; but he wouldn't let me. 'Dear
+Eli,' he said----" She laughed, and the other one laughed, too.
+
+"Well? well?"
+
+"'Will you be my wife?' Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+"Ha, ha, ha!"
+
+And then both laughed together, "Ha, ha, ha, ha!"
+
+At last the laughing came to an end, and they were both quiet for a
+while. Then the one who had first spoken asked in a low voice,
+"Wasn't it strange he took you round your waist?"
+
+Either the other girl did not answer that question, or she answered
+in so low a voice that it could not be heard; perhaps she only
+answered by a smile.
+
+"Didn't your father or your mother say anything afterwards?" asked
+the first girl, after a pause.
+
+"Father came up and looked at me; but I turned away from him because
+he laughed at me."
+
+"And your mother?"
+
+"No, she didn't say anything; but she wasn't so strict as usual."
+
+"Well, you've done with him, I think?"
+
+"Of course!"
+
+Then there was again silence awhile.
+
+"Was it thus he took you round your waist?"
+
+"No; thus."
+
+"Well, then;--it was thus...."
+
+"Eli?"
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Do you think there will ever be anybody come in that way to me?"
+
+"Of course, there will!"
+
+"Nonsense! Ah, Eli? If he took me round the waist?" She hid her face.
+
+Then they laughed again; and there was much whispering and tittering.
+
+Soon the girls went away; they had not seen either Arne or the axe
+and jacket, and he was glad of it.
+
+A few days after, he gave Opplands-Knut a little farm on Kampen.
+"You shall not be lonely any longer," Arne said.
+
+That winter Arne went to the parsonage for some time to do carpentry;
+and both the girls were often there together. When Arne saw them, he
+often wondered who it might be that now came to woo Eli Boeen.
+
+One day he had to drive for the clergyman's daughter and Eli; he
+could not understand a word they said, though he had very quick ears.
+Sometimes Mathilde spoke to him; and then Eli always laughed and hid
+her face. Mathilde asked him if it was true that he could make
+verses. "No," he said quickly; then they both laughed; and chattered
+and laughed again. He felt vexed; and afterwards when he met them
+seemed not to take any notice of them.
+
+Once he was sitting in the servants' hall while a dance was going on,
+and Mathilde and Eli both came to see it. They stood together in a
+corner, disputing about something; Eli would not do it, but Mathilde
+would, and she at last gained her point. Then they both came over to
+Arne, courtesied, and asked him if he could dance. He said he could
+not; and then both turned aside and ran away, laughing. In fact, they
+were always laughing, Arne thought; and he became brave. But soon
+after, he got the clergyman's foster-son, a boy of about twelve, to
+teach him to dance, when no one was by.
+
+Eli had a little brother of the same age as the clergyman's
+foster-son. These two boys were playfellows; and Arne made sledges,
+snow-shoes and snares for them; and often talked to them about their
+sisters, especially about Eli. One day Eli's brother brought Arne a
+message that he ought to make his hair a little smoother. "Who said
+that?"
+
+"Eli did; but she told me not to say it was she."
+
+A few days after, Arne sent word that Eli ought to laugh a little
+less. The boy brought back word that Arne ought by all means to laugh
+a little more.
+
+Eli's brother once asked Arne to give him something that he had
+written. He complied, without thinking any more about the matter. But
+in a few days after, the boy, thinking to please Arne, told him that
+Eli and Mathilde liked his writing very much.
+
+"Where, then, have they seen any of it?"
+
+"Well, it was for them, I asked for some of it the other day."
+
+Then Arne asked the boys to bring him something their sisters had
+written. They did so; and he corrected the errors in the writing with
+his carpenter's pencil, and asked the boys to lay it in some place
+where their sisters might easily find it. Soon after, he found the
+paper in his jacket pocket; and at the foot was written, "Corrected
+by a conceited fellow."
+
+The next day, Arne completed his work at the parsonage, and returned
+home. So gentle as he was that winter, the mother had never seen him,
+since that sad time just after the father's death. He read the sermon
+to her, accompanied her to church, and was in every way very kind.
+But she knew only too well that one great reason for his increased
+kindness was, that he meant to go away when spring came. Then one day
+a message came from Boeen, asking him to go there to do carpentry.
+
+Arne started, and, apparently without thinking of what he said,
+replied that he would come. But no sooner had the messenger left than
+the mother said, "You may well be astonished! From Boeen?"
+
+"Well, is there anything strange in that?" Arne asked, without
+looking at her.
+
+"From Boeen!" the mother exclaimed once more.
+
+"And, why not from Boeen, as well as any other place?" he answered,
+looking up a little.
+
+"From Boeen and Birgit Boeen!--Baard, who made your father a <DW36>,
+and all only for Birgit's sake!"
+
+"What do you say?" exclaimed Arne; "was that Baard Boeen?"
+
+Mother and son stood looking at each other. The whole of the father's
+life seemed unrolled before them, and at that moment they saw the
+black thread which had always run through it. Then they began talking
+about those grand days of his, when old Eli Boeen had himself offered
+him his daughter Birgit, and he had refused her: they passed on
+through his life till the day when his spine had been broken; and
+they both agreed that Baard's fault was the less. Still, it was he
+who had made the father a <DW36>; he, it was.
+
+"Have I not even yet done with father?" Arne thought; and determined
+at the same moment that he would go to Boeen.
+
+As he went walking, with his saw on his shoulder, over the ice
+towards Boeen, it seemed to him a beautiful place. The dwelling-house
+always seemed as if it was fresh painted; and--perhaps because he
+felt a little cold--it just then looked to him very sheltered and
+comfortable. He did not, however, go straight in, but went round by
+the cattle-house, where a flock of thick-haired goats stood in the
+snow, gnawing the bark off some fir twigs. A shepherd's dog ran
+backwards and forwards on the barn steps, barking as if the devil was
+coming to the house; but when Arne went to him, he wagged his tail
+and allowed himself to be patted. The kitchen door at the upper end
+of the house was often opened, and Arne looked over there every time;
+but he saw no one except the milkmaid, carrying some pails, or the
+cook, throwing something to the goats. In the barn the threshers
+were hard at work; and to the left, in front of the woodshed, a lad
+stood chopping fagots, with many piles of them behind him.
+
+Arne laid away his saw and went into the kitchen: the floor was
+strewed with white sand and chopped juniper leaves; copper kettles
+shone on the walls; china and earthenware stood in rows upon the
+shelves; and the servants were preparing the dinner. Arne asked for
+Baard. "Step into the sitting-room," said one of the servants,
+pointing to an inner door with a brass knob. He went in: the room was
+brightly painted--the ceiling, with clusters of roses; the cupboards,
+with red, and the names of the owners in black letters; the bedstead,
+also with red, bordered with blue stripes. Beside the stove, a
+broad-shouldered, mild-looking man, with long light hair, sat hooping
+some tubs; and at the large table, a slender, tall woman, in a
+close-fitting dress and linen cap, sat sorting some corn into two
+heaps: no one else was in the room.
+
+"Good day, and a blessing on the work," said Arne, taking off his
+cap. Both looked up; and the man smiled and asked who it was. "I am
+he who has come to do carpentry."
+
+The man smiled still more, and said, while he leaned forward again to
+his work, "Oh, all right, Arne Kampen."
+
+"Arne Kampen?" exclaimed the wife, staring down at the floor. The man
+looked up quickly, and said, smiling once more, "A son of Nils, the
+tailor;" and then he began working again.
+
+Soon the wife rose, went to the shelf, turned from it to the
+cupboard, once more turned away, and, while rummaging for something
+in the table drawer, she asked, without looking up, "Is _he_ going to
+work _here_?"
+
+"Yes, that he is," the husband answered, also without looking up.
+
+"Nobody has asked you to sit down, it seems," he added, turning to
+Arne, who then took a seat. The wife went out, and the husband
+continued working: and so Arne asked whether he, too, might begin.
+"We'll have dinner first."
+
+The wife did not return; but next time the door opened, it was Eli
+who entered. At first, she appeared not to see Arne, but when he
+rose to meet her she turned half round and gave him her hand; yet
+she did not look at him. They exchanged a few words, while the
+father worked on. Eli was slender and upright, her hands were small,
+with round wrists, her hair was braided, and she wore a dress with a
+close-fitting bodice. She laid the table for dinner: the laborers
+dined in the next room; but Arne, with the family.
+
+"Isn't your mother coming?" asked the husband.
+
+"No; she's up-stairs, weighing wool."
+
+"Have you asked her to come?"
+
+"Yes; but she says she won't have anything."
+
+There was silence for a while.
+
+"But it's cold up-stairs."
+
+"She wouldn't let me make a fire."
+
+After dinner, Arne began to work; and in the evening he again sat
+with the family. The wife and Eli sewed, while the husband employed
+himself in some trifling work, and Arne helped him. They worked on in
+silence above an hour; for Eli, who seemed to be the one who usually
+did the talking, now said nothing. Arne thought with dismay how often
+it was just so in his own home; and yet he had never felt it till
+now. At last, Eli seemed to think she had been silent quite long
+enough, and, after drawing a deep breath, she burst out laughing.
+Then the father laughed; and Arne felt it was ridiculous and began,
+too. Afterwards they talked about several things, soon the
+conversation was principally between Arne and Eli, the father now and
+then putting in a word edgewise. But once after Arne had been
+speaking at some length, he looked up, and his eyes met those of the
+mother, Birgit, who had laid down her work, and sat gazing at him.
+Then she went on with her work again; but the next word he spoke made
+her look up once more.
+
+Bedtime drew near, and they all went to their own rooms. Arne thought
+he would take notice of the dream he had the first night in a fresh
+place; but he could see no meaning in it. During the whole day he had
+talked very little with the husband; yet now in the night he dreamed
+of no one in the house but him. The last thing was, that Baard was
+sitting playing at cards with Nils, the tailor. The latter looked
+very pale and angry; but Baard was smiling, and he took all the
+tricks.
+
+Arne stayed at Boeen several days; and a great deal was done, but very
+little said. Not only the people in the parlor, but also the
+servants, the housemen, everybody about the place, even the women,
+were silent. In the yard was an old dog which barked whenever a
+stranger came near; but if any of the people belonging to the place
+heard him, they always said "Hush!" and then he went away, growling,
+and lay down. At Arne's own home was a large weather-vane, and here
+was one still larger which he particularly noticed because it did not
+turn. It shook whenever the wind was high, as though it wished to
+turn; and Arne stood looking at it so long that he felt at last he
+must climb up to unloose it. It was not frozen fast, as he thought:
+but a stick was fixed against it to prevent it from turning. He took
+the stick out and threw it down; Baard was just passing below, and it
+struck him.
+
+"What are you doing?" said he, looking up.
+
+"I'm loosening the vane."
+
+"Leave it alone; it makes a wailing noise when it turns."
+
+"Well, I think even that's better than silence," said Arne, seating
+himself astride on the ridge of the roof. Baard looked up at Arne,
+and Arne down at Baard. Then Baard smiled and said, "He who must wail
+when he speaks had better he silent."
+
+Words sometimes haunt us long after they were uttered, especially
+when they were last words. So Baard's words followed Arne as he came
+down from the roof in the cold, and they were still with him when he
+went into the sitting-room in the evening. It was twilight; and Eli
+stood at the window, looking away over the ice which lay bright in
+the moonlight. Arne went to the other window, and looked out also.
+Indoors it was warm and quiet; outdoors it was cold, and a sharp wind
+swept through the vale, bending the branches of the trees, and making
+their shadows creep trembling on the snow. A light shone over from
+the parsonage, then vanished, then appeared again, taking various
+shapes and colors, as a distant light always seems to do when one
+looks at it long and intently. Opposite, the mountain stood dark,
+with deep shadow at its foot, where a thousand fairy tales hovered;
+but with its snowy upper plains bright in the moonlight. The stars
+were shining, and northern lights were flickering in one quarter of
+the sky, but they did not spread. A little way from the window, down
+towards the water, stood some trees, whose shadows kept stealing over
+to each other; but the tall ash stood alone, writing on the snow.
+
+All was silent, save now and then, when a long wailing sound was
+heard. "What's that?" asked Arne.
+
+"It's the weather-vane," said Eli; and after a little while she added
+in a lower tone, as if to herself, "it must have come unfastened."
+
+But Arne had been like one who wished to speak and could not. Now he
+said, "Do you remember that tale about the thrushes?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It was you who told it, indeed. It was a nice tale."
+
+"I often think there's something that sings when all is still," she
+said, in a voice so soft and low that he felt as if he heard it now
+for the first time.
+
+"It is the good within our own souls," he said.
+
+She looked at him as if she thought that answer meant too much; and
+they both stood silent a few moments. Then she asked, while she wrote
+with her finger on the window-pane, "Have you made any songs lately?"
+
+He blushed; but she did not see it, and so she asked once more, "How
+do you manage to make songs?"
+
+"Should you like to know?"
+
+"Well, yes;--I should."
+
+"I store up the thoughts that other people let slip."
+
+She was silent for a long while; perhaps thinking she might have had
+some thoughts fit for songs, but had let them slip.
+
+"How strange it is," she said, at last, as though to herself, and
+beginning to write again on the window-pane.
+
+"I made a song the first time I had seen you."
+
+"Where was that?"
+
+"Behind the parsonage, that evening you went away from there;--I saw
+you in the water."
+
+She laughed, and was quiet for a while.
+
+"Let me hear that song."
+
+Arne had never done such a thing before, but he repeated the song
+now:
+
+   "Fair Venevill bounded on lithesome feet
+        Her lover to meet," &c.[4]
+
+ [4] As on page 68.
+
+Eli listened attentively, and stood silent long after he had
+finished. At last she exclaimed, "Ah, what a pity for her!"
+
+"I feel as if I had not made that song myself," he said; and then
+stood like her, thinking over it.
+
+"But that won't be my fate, I hope," she said, after a pause.
+
+"No; I was thinking rather of myself."
+
+"Will it be your fate, then?"
+
+"I don't know; I felt so then."
+
+"How strange." She wrote on the panes again.
+
+The next day, when Arne came into the room to dinner, he went over to
+the window. Outdoors it was dull and foggy, but indoors, warm and
+comfortable; and on the window-pane was written with a finger, "Arne,
+Arne, Arne," and nothing but "Arne," over and over again: it was at
+that window, Eli stood the evening before.
+
+
+
+
+XI.
+
+ELI'S SICKNESS.
+
+
+Next day, Arne came into the room and said he had heard in the yard
+that the clergyman's daughter, Mathilde, had just gone to the town;
+as she thought, for a few days, but as her parents intended, for a
+year or two. Eli had heard nothing of this before, and now she fell
+down fainting. Arne had never seen any one faint, and he was much
+frightened. He ran for the maids; they ran for the parents, who came
+hurrying in; and there was a disturbance all over the house, and the
+dog barked on the barn steps. Soon after, when Arne came in again,
+the mother was kneeling at the bedside, while the father supported
+Eli's drooping head. The maids were running about--one for water,
+another for hartshorn which was in the cupboard, while a third
+unfastened her jacket.
+
+"God help you!" the mother said; "I see it was wrong in us not to
+tell her; it was you, Baard, who would have it so; God help you!"
+Baard did not answer. "I wished to tell her, indeed; but nothing's to
+be as I wish; God help you! You're always so harsh with her, Baard;
+you don't understand her; you don't know what it is to love anybody,
+you don't." Baard did not answer. "She isn't like some others who can
+bear sorrow; it quite puts her down, poor slight thing, as she is.
+Wake up, my child, and we'll be kind to you! wake up, Eli, my own
+darling, and don't grieve us so."
+
+"You always either talk too much or too little," Baard said, at last,
+looking over to Arne, as though he did not wish him to hear such
+things, but to leave the room. As, however, the maid-servants stayed,
+Arne thought he, too, might stay; but he went over to the window.
+Soon the sick girl revived so far as to be able to look round and
+recognize those about her; but then also memory returned, and she
+called wildly for Mathilde, went into hysterics, and sobbed till it
+was painful to be in the room. The mother tried to soothe her, and
+the father sat down where she could see him; but she pushed them both
+from her.
+
+"Go away!" she cried; "I don't like you; go away!"
+
+"Oh, Eli, how can you say you don't like your own parents?" exclaimed
+the mother.
+
+"No! you're unkind to me, and you take away every pleasure from me!"
+
+"Eli, Eli! don't say such hard things," said the mother, imploringly.
+
+"Yes, mother," she exclaimed; "now I _must_ say it! Yes, mother; you
+wish to marry me to that bad man; and I won't have him! You shut me
+up here, where I'm never happy save when I'm going out! And you take
+away Mathilde from me; the only one in the world I love and long for!
+Oh, God, what will become of me, now Mathilde is gone!"
+
+"But you haven't been much with her lately," Baard said.
+
+"What did that matter, so long as I could look over to her from that
+window," the poor girl answered, weeping in a childlike way that Arne
+had never before seen in any one.
+
+"Why, you couldn't see her there," said Baard.
+
+"Still, I saw the house," she answered; and the mother added
+passionately, "You don't understand such things, you don't." Then
+Baard said nothing more.
+
+"Now, I can never again go to the window," said Eli. "When I rose in
+the morning, I went there; in the evening I sat there in the
+moonlight: I went there when I could go to no one else. Mathilde!
+Mathilde?" She writhed in the bed, and went again into hysterics.
+Baard sat down on a stool a little way from the bed, and continued
+looking at her.
+
+But Eli did not recover so soon as they expected. Towards evening
+they saw she would have a serious illness, which had probably been
+coming upon her for some time; and Arne was called to assist in
+carrying her up-stairs to her room. She lay quiet and unconscious,
+looking very pale. The mother sat by the side of her bed, the father
+stood at the foot, looking at her: afterwards he went to his work. So
+did Arne; but that night before he went to sleep, he prayed for her;
+prayed that she who was so young and fair might be happy in this
+world, and that no one might bar away joy from her.
+
+The next day when Arne came in, he found the father and mother
+sitting talking together: the mother had been weeping. Arne asked how
+Eli was; both expected the other to give an answer, and so for some
+time none was given, but at last the father said, "Well, she's very
+bad to-day."
+
+Afterwards Arne heard that she had been raving all night, or, as the
+father said, "talking foolery." She had a violent fever, knew no one,
+and would not eat, and the parents were deliberating whether they
+should send for a doctor. When afterwards they both went to the
+sick-room, leaving Arne behind, he felt as if life and death were
+struggling together up there, but he was kept outside.
+
+In a few days, however, Eli became a little better. But once when the
+father was tending her, she took it into her head to have Narrifas,
+the bird which Mathilde had given her, set beside the bed. Then Baard
+told her that--as was really the case--in the confusion the bird had
+been forgotten, and was starved. The mother was just coming in as
+Baard was saying this, and while yet standing in the doorway, she
+cried out, "Oh, dear me, what a monster you are, Baard, to tell it to
+that poor little thing! See, she's fainting again; God forgive you!"
+When Eli revived she again asked for the bird; said its death was a
+bad omen for Mathilde; and wished to go to her: then she fainted
+again. Baard stood looking on till she grew so much worse that he
+wanted to help, too, in tending her; but the mother pushed him away,
+and said she would do all herself. Then Baard gave a long sad look at
+both of them, put his cap straight with both hands, turned aside and
+went out.
+
+Soon after, the Clergyman and his wife came; for the fever
+heightened, and grew so violent that they did not know whether it
+would turn to life or death. The Clergyman as well as his wife spoke
+to Baard about Eli, and hinted that he was too harsh with her; but
+when they heard what he had told her about the bird, the Clergyman
+plainly told him it was very rough, and said he would have her taken
+to his own house as soon as she was well enough to be moved. The
+Clergyman's wife would scarcely look at Baard; she wept, and went to
+sit with the sick one; then sent for the doctor, and came several
+times a day to carry out his directions. Baard went wandering
+restlessly about from one place to another in the yard, going
+oftenest to those places where he could be alone. There he would
+stand still by the hour together; then, put his cap straight and work
+again a little.
+
+The mother did not speak to him, and they scarcely looked at each
+other. He used to go and see Eli several times in the day; he took
+off his shoes before he went up-stairs, left his cap outside, and
+opened the door cautiously. When he came in, Birgit would turn her
+head, but take no notice of him, and then sit just as before,
+stooping forwards, with her head on her hands, looking at Eli, who
+lay still and pale, unconscious of all that was passing around her.
+Baard would stand awhile at the foot of the bed and look at them
+both, but say nothing: once when Eli moved as though she were waking,
+he stole away directly as quietly as he had come.
+
+Arne often thought words had been exchanged between man and wife and
+parents and child which had been long gathering, and would be long
+remembered. He longed to go away, though he wished to know before he
+went what would be the end of Eli's illness; but then he thought he
+might always hear about her even after he had left; and so he went to
+Baard telling him he wished to go home: the work which he came to do
+was completed. Baard was sitting outdoors on a chopping-block,
+scratching in the snow with a stick: Arne recognized the stick: it
+was the one which had fastened the weather-vane.
+
+"Well, perhaps it isn't worth your while to stay here now; yet I feel
+as if I don't like you to go away, either," said Baard, without
+looking up. He said no more; neither did Arne; but after a while he
+walked away to do some work, taking for granted that he was to remain
+at Boeen.
+
+Some time after, when he was called to dinner, he saw Baard still
+sitting on the block. He went over to him, and asked how Eli was.
+
+"I think she's very bad to-day," Baard said.
+
+"I see the mother's weeping."
+
+Arne felt as if somebody asked him to sit down, and he seated himself
+opposite Baard on the end of a felled tree.
+
+"I've often thought of your father lately," Baard said so
+unexpectedly that Arne did not know how to answer.
+
+"You know, I suppose, what was between us?"
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"Well, you know, as may be expected, only one half of the story, and
+think I'm greatly to blame."
+
+"You have, I dare say, settled that affair with your God, as surely
+as my father has done so," Arne said, after a pause.
+
+"Well, some people might think so," Baard answered. "When I found
+this stick, I felt it was so strange that you should come here and
+unloose the weather-vane. As well now as later, I thought." He had
+taken off his cap, and sat silently looking at it.
+
+"I was about fourteen years old when I became acquainted with your
+father, and he was of the same age. He was very wild, and he couldn't
+bear any one to be above him in anything. So he always had a grudge
+against me because I stood first, and he, second, when we were
+confirmed. He often offered to fight me, but we never came to it;
+most likely because neither of us felt sure who would beat. And a
+strange thing it is, that although he fought every day, no accident
+came from it; while the first time I did, it turned out as badly as
+could be; but, it's true, I had been wanting to fight long enough.
+
+"Nils fluttered about all the girls, and they, about him. There was
+only one I would have, and her he took away from me at every dance,
+at every wedding, and at every party; it was she who is now my
+wife.... Often, as I sat there, I felt a great mind to try my
+strength upon him for this thing; but I was afraid I should lose, and
+I knew if I did, I should lose her, too. Then, when everybody had
+gone, I would lift the weights he had lifted, and kick the beam he
+had kicked; but the next time he took the girl from me, I was afraid
+to meddle with him, although once, when he was flirting with her just
+in my face, I went up to a tall fellow who stood by and threw him
+against the beam, as if in fun. And Nils grew pale, too, when he saw
+it.
+
+"Even if he had been kind to her; but he was false to her again and
+again. I almost believe, too, she loved him all the more every time.
+Then the last thing happened. I thought now it must either break or
+bear. The Lord, too, would not have him going about any longer; and
+so he fell a little more heavily than I meant him to do. I never saw
+him afterwards."
+
+They sat silent for a while; then Baard went on:
+
+"I once more made my offer. She said neither yes nor no; but I
+thought she would like me better afterwards. So we were married. The
+wedding was kept down in the valley, at the house of one of her
+aunts, whose property she inherited. We had plenty when we started,
+and it has now increased. Our estates lay side by side, and when we
+married they were thrown into one, as I always, from a boy, thought
+they might be. But many other things didn't turn out as I expected."
+He was silent for several minutes; and Arne thought he wept; but he
+did not.
+
+"In the beginning of our married life, she was quiet and very sad. I
+had nothing to say to comfort her, and so I was silent. Afterwards,
+she began sometimes to take to these fidgeting ways which you have, I
+dare say, noticed in her; yet it was a change, and so I said nothing
+then, either. But one really happy day, I haven't known ever since I
+was married, and that's now twenty years...."
+
+He broke the stick in two pieces; and then sat for a while looking at
+them.
+
+"When Eli grew bigger, I thought she would be happier among strangers
+than at home. It was seldom I wished to carry out my own will in
+anything, and whenever I did, it generally turned out badly; so it
+was in this case. The mother longed after her child, though only the
+lake lay between them; and afterwards I saw, too, that Eli's training
+at the parsonage was in some ways not the right thing for her; but
+then it was too late: now I think she likes neither father nor
+mother."
+
+He had taken off his cap again; and now his long hair hung down over
+his eyes; he stroked it back with both hands, and put on his cap as
+if he were going away; but when, as he was about to rise, he turned
+towards the house, he checked himself and added, while looking up at
+the bed-room window.
+
+"I thought it better that she and Mathilde shouldn't see each other
+to say good-bye: that, too, was wrong. I told her the wee bird was
+dead; for it was my fault, and so I thought it better to confess; but
+that again was wrong. And so it is with everything: I've always meant
+to do for the best, but it has always turned out for the worst; and
+now things have come to such a pass that both wife and daughter speak
+ill of me, and I'm going here lonely."
+
+A servant-girl called out to them that the dinner was becoming cold.
+Baard rose. "I hear the horses neighing; I think somebody has
+forgotten them," he said, and went away to the stable to give them
+some hay.
+
+Arne rose, too; he felt as if he hardly knew whether Baard had been
+speaking or not.
+
+
+
+
+XII.
+
+A GLIMPSE OF SPRING.
+
+
+Eli felt very weak after the illness. The mother watched by her night
+and day, and never came down-stairs; the father came up as usual,
+with his boots off, and leaving his cap outside the door. Arne still
+remained at the house. He and the father used to sit together in
+the evening; and Arne began to like him much, for Baard was a
+well-informed, deep-thinking man, though he seemed afraid of saying
+what he knew. In his own way, he, too, enjoyed Arne's company, for
+Arne helped his thoughts and told him of things which were new to
+him.
+
+Eli soon began to sit up part of the day, and as she recovered, she
+often took little fancies into her head. Thus, one evening when Arne
+was sitting in the room below, singing songs in a clear, loud voice,
+the mother came down with a message from Eli, asking him if he would
+go up-stairs and sing to her, that she might also hear the words. It
+seemed as if he had been singing to Eli all the time, for when the
+mother spoke he turned red, and rose as if he would deny having done
+so, though no one charged him with it. He soon collected himself,
+however, and replied evasively, that he could sing so very little.
+The mother said it did not seem so when he was alone.
+
+Arne yielded and went. He had not seen Eli since the day he helped to
+carry her up-stairs; he thought she must be much altered, and he
+felt half afraid to see her. But when he gently opened the door and
+went in, he found the room quite dark, and he could see no one. He
+stopped at the door-way.
+
+"Who is it?" Eli asked in a clear, low voice.
+
+"It's Arne Kampen," he said in a gentle, guarded tone, so that his
+words might fall softly.
+
+"It was very kind of you to come."
+
+"How are you, Eli?"
+
+"Thanks, I'm much better now."
+
+"Won't you sit down, Arne?" she added after a while, and Arne felt
+his way to a chair at the foot of the bed. "It did me good to hear
+you singing; won't you sing a little to me up here?"
+
+"If I only knew anything you would like."
+
+She was silent a while: then she said, "Sing a hymn." And he sang
+one: it was the confirmation hymn. When he had finished he heard her
+weeping, and so he was afraid to sing again; but in a little while
+she said, "Sing one more." And he sang another: it was the one which
+is generally sung while the catechumens are standing in the aisle.
+
+"How many things I've thought over while I've been lying here," Eli
+said. He did not know what to answer; and he heard her weeping again
+in the dark. A clock that was ticking on the wall warned for
+striking, and then struck. Eli breathed deeply several times, as if
+she would lighten her breast, and then she said, "One knows so
+little; I knew neither father nor mother. I haven't been kind to
+them; and now it seems so sad to hear that hymn."
+
+When we talk in the darkness, we speak more faithfully than when we
+see each other's face; and we also say more.
+
+"It does one good to hear you talk so," Arne replied, just
+remembering what she had said when she was taken ill.
+
+She understood what he meant. "If now this had not happened to me,"
+she went on, "God only knows how long I might have gone before I
+found mother."
+
+"She has talked matters over with you lately, then?"
+
+"Yes, every day; she has done hardly anything else."
+
+"Then, I'm sure you've heard many things."
+
+"You may well say so."
+
+"I think she spoke of my father?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"She remembers him still?"
+
+"She remembers him."
+
+"He wasn't kind to her."
+
+"Poor mother!"
+
+"Yet he was worst to himself."
+
+They were silent; and Arne had thoughts which he could not utter. Eli
+was the first to link their words again.
+
+"You are said to be like your father."
+
+"People say so," he replied evasively.
+
+She did not notice the tone of his voice, and so, after a while she
+returned to the subject. "Could he, too, make songs?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Sing a song to me ... one that you've made yourself."
+
+"I have none," he said; for it was not his custom to confess he had
+himself composed the songs he sang.
+
+"I'm sure you have; and I'm sure, too, you'll sing one of them when I
+ask you."
+
+What he had never done for any one else, he now did for her, as he
+sang the following song,--
+
+   "The Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown:
+    'Shall I take them away?' said the Frost, sweeping down.
+            'No; leave them alone
+            Till the blossoms have grown,'
+    Prayed the tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.
+
+   "The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung:
+    'Shall I take them away?' said the Wind, as he swung.
+            'No; leave them alone
+            Till the berries have grown,'
+    Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.
+
+   "The Tree bore his fruit in the Midsummer glow:
+    Said the girl, 'May I gather thy berries or no?'
+            'Yes; all thou canst see;
+            Take them; all are for thee,'
+    Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low."
+
+That song nearly took her breath away. He, too, remained silent after
+it, as though he had sung more than he could say.
+
+Darkness has a strong influence over those who are sitting in it and
+dare not speak: they are never so near each other as then. If she
+only turned on the pillow, or moved her hand on the blanket, or
+breathed a little more heavily, he heard it.
+
+"Arne, couldn't you teach me to make songs?"
+
+"Did you never try?"
+
+"Yes, I have, these last few days; but I can't manage it."
+
+"What, then, did you wish to have in them?"
+
+"Something about my mother, who loved your father so dearly."
+
+"That's a sad subject."
+
+"Yes, indeed it is; and I have wept over it."
+
+"You shouldn't search for subjects; they come of themselves."
+
+"How do they come?"
+
+"Just as other dear things come--unexpectedly."
+
+They were both silent. "I wonder, Arne, you're longing to go away;
+you who have such a world of beauty within yourself."
+
+"Do _you_ know I am longing?"
+
+She did not answer, but lay still a few moments as if in thought.
+
+"Arne, you mustn't go away," she said; and the words came warm to his
+heart.
+
+"Well, sometimes I have less mind to go."
+
+"Your mother must love you much, I'm sure. I must see your mother."
+
+"Go over to Kampen, when you're well again."
+
+And all at once, he fancied her sitting in the bright room at Kampen,
+looking out on the mountains; his chest began to heave, and the blood
+rushed to his face.
+
+"It's warm in here," he said, rising.
+
+She heard him rise. "Are you going, Arne?" He sat down again.
+
+"You must come over to see us oftener; mother's so fond of you."
+
+"I should like to come myself, too; ... but still I must have some
+errand."
+
+Eli lay silent for a while, as if she was turning over something in
+her mind. "I believe," she said, "mother has something to ask you
+about." ...
+
+They both felt the room was becoming very hot; he wiped his brow, and
+he heard her rise in the bed. No sound could be heard either in the
+room or down-stairs, save the ticking of the clock on the wall. There
+was no moon, and the darkness was deep; when he looked through the
+green window, it seemed to him as if he was looking into a wood; when
+he looked towards Eli he could see nothing, but his thoughts went
+over to her, and then his heart throbbed till he could himself hear
+its beating. Before his eyes flickered bright sparks; in his ears
+came a rushing sound; still faster throbbed his heart: he felt he
+must rise or say something. But then she exclaimed,
+
+"How I wish it were summer!"
+
+"That it were summer?" And he heard again the sound of the
+cattle-bells, the horn from the mountains, and the singing from the
+valleys; and saw the fresh green foliage, the Swart-water glittering
+in the sunbeams, the houses rocking in it, and Eli coming out and
+sitting on the shore, just as she did that evening. "If it were
+summer," she said, "and I were sitting on the hill, I think I could
+sing a song."
+
+He smiled gladly, and asked, "What would it be about?"
+
+"About something bright; about--well, I hardly know what myself." ...
+
+"Tell me, Eli!" He rose in glad excitement; but, on second thoughts,
+sat down again.
+
+"No; not for all the world!" she said, laughing.
+
+"I sang to you when you asked me."
+
+"Yes, I know you did; but I can't tell you this; no! no!"
+
+"Eli, do you think I would laugh at the little verse you have made?"
+
+"No, I don't think you would, Arne; but it isn't anything I've made
+myself."
+
+"Oh, it's by somebody else then?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then, you can surely say it to me."
+
+"No, no, I can't; don't ask me again, Arne!"
+
+The last words were almost inaudible; it seemed as if she had hidden
+her head under the bedclothes.
+
+"Eli, now you're not kind to me as I was to you," he said, rising.
+
+"But, Arne, there's a difference ... you don't understand me ... but
+it was ... I don't know ... another time ... don't be offended with
+me, Arne! don't go away from me!" She began to weep.
+
+"Eli, what's the matter?" It came over him like sunshine. "Are you
+ill?" Though he asked, he did not believe she was. She still wept; he
+felt he must draw nearer or go quite away. "Eli." He listened. "Eli."
+
+"Yes."
+
+She checked her weeping. But he did not know what to say more, and
+was silent.
+
+"What do you want?" she whispered, half turning towards him.
+
+"It's something--"
+
+His voice trembled, and he stopped.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"You mustn't refuse ... I would ask you...."
+
+"Is it the song?"
+
+"No ... Eli, I wish so much...." He heard her breathing fast and
+deeply ... "I wish so much ... to hold one of your hands."
+
+She did not answer; he listened intently--drew nearer, and clasped a
+warm little hand which lay on the coverlet.
+
+Then steps were heard coming up-stairs; they came nearer and nearer;
+the door was opened; and Arne unclasped his hand. It was the mother,
+who came in with a light. "I think you're sitting too long in the
+dark," she said, putting the candlestick on the table. But neither
+Eli nor Arne could bear the light; she turned her face to the pillow,
+and he shaded his eyes with his hand. "Well, it pains a little at
+first, but it soon passes off," said the mother.
+
+Arne looked on the floor for something which he had not dropped, and
+then went down-stairs.
+
+The next day, he heard that Eli intended to come down in the
+afternoon. He put his tools together, and said good-bye. When she
+came down he had gone.
+
+
+
+
+XIII.
+
+MARGIT CONSULTS THE CLERGYMAN.
+
+
+Up between the mountains, the spring comes late. The post, who in
+winter passes along the high-road thrice a week, in April passes only
+once; and the highlanders know then that outside, the snow is
+shovelled away, the ice broken, the steamers are running, and the
+plough is struck into the earth. Here, the snow still lies six feet
+deep; the cattle low in their stalls; the birds arrive, but feel cold
+and hide themselves. Occasionally some traveller arrives, saying he
+has left his carriage down in the valley; he brings flowers, which he
+examines; he picked them by the wayside. The people watch the advance
+of the season, talk over their matters, and look up at the sun and
+round about, to see how much he is able to do each day. They scatter
+ashes on the snow, and think of those who are now picking flowers.
+
+It was at this time of year, old Margit Kampen went one day to the
+parsonage, and asked whether she might speak to "father." She was
+invited into the study, where the clergyman,--a slender, fair-haired,
+gentle-looking man, with large eyes and spectacles,--received her
+kindly, recognized her, and asked her to sit down.
+
+"Is there something the matter with Arne again?" he inquired, as if
+Arne had often been a subject of conversation between them.
+
+"Oh, dear, yes! I haven't anything wrong to say about him; but yet
+it's so sad," said Margit, looking deeply grieved.
+
+"Has that longing come back again!"
+
+"Worse than ever. I can hardly think he'll even stay with me till
+spring comes up here."
+
+"But he has promised never to go away from you."
+
+"That's true; but, dear me! he must now be his own master; and if his
+mind's set upon going away, go, he must. But whatever will become of
+me then?"
+
+"Well, after all, I don't think he will leave you."
+
+"Well, perhaps not; but still, if he isn't happy at home? am I then
+to have it upon my conscience that I stand in his way? Sometimes I
+feel as if I ought even to ask him to leave."
+
+"How do you know he is longing now, more than ever?"
+
+"Oh,--by many things. Since the middle of the winter, he hasn't
+worked out in the parish a single day; but he has been to the town
+three times, and has stayed a long while each time. He scarcely ever
+talks now while he is at work, but he often used to do. He'll sit for
+hours alone at the little up-stairs window, looking towards the
+ravine, and away over the mountains; he'll sit there all Sunday
+afternoon, and often when it's moonlight he sits there till late in
+the night."
+
+"Does he never read to you?"
+
+"Yes, of course, he reads and sings to me every Sunday; but he seems
+rather in a hurry, save now and then when he gives almost too much of
+the thing."
+
+"Does he never talk over matters with you then?"
+
+"Well, yes; but it's so seldom that I sit and weep alone between
+whiles. Then I dare say he notices it, for he begins talking, but
+it's only about trifles; never about anything serious."
+
+The Clergyman walked up and down the room; then he stopped and asked,
+"But why, then, don't you talk to him about his matters?"
+
+For a long while she gave no answer; she sighed several times, looked
+downwards and sideways, doubled up her handkerchief, and at last
+said, "I've come here to speak to you, father, about something that's
+a great burden on my mind."
+
+"Speak freely; it will relieve you."
+
+"Yes, I know it will; for I've borne it alone now these many years,
+and it grows heavier each year."
+
+"Well, what is it, my good Margit?"
+
+There was a pause, and then she said, "I've greatly sinned against my
+son."
+
+She began weeping. The Clergyman came close to her; "Confess it," he
+said; "and we will pray together that it may be forgiven."
+
+Margit sobbed and wiped her eyes, but began weeping again when she
+tried to speak. The Clergyman tried to comfort her, saying she could
+not have done anything very sinful, she doubtless was too hard upon
+herself, and so on. But Margit continued weeping, and could not begin
+her confession till the Clergyman seated himself by her side, and
+spoke still more encouragingly to her. Then after a while she began,
+"The boy was ill-used when a child; and so he got this mind for
+travelling. Then he met with Christian--he who has grown so rich over
+there where they dig gold. Christian gave him so many books that he
+got quite a scholar; they used to sit together in the long evenings;
+and when Christian went away Arne wanted to go after him. But just at
+that time, the father died, and the lad promised never to leave me.
+But I was like a hen that's got a duck's egg to brood; when my
+duckling had burst his shell, he would go out on the wide water, and
+I was left on the bank, calling after him. If he didn't go away
+himself, yet his heart went away in his songs, and every morning I
+expected to find his bed empty.
+
+"Then a letter from foreign parts came for him, and I felt sure it
+must be from Christian. God forgive me, but I kept it back! I thought
+there would be no more, but another came; and, as I had kept the
+first, I thought I must keep the second, too. But, dear me! it seemed
+as if they would burn a hole through the box where I had put them;
+and my thoughts were there from as soon as I opened my eyes in the
+morning till late at night when I shut them. And then,--did you ever
+hear of anything worse!--a third letter came. I held it in my hand a
+quarter of an hour; I kept it in my bosom three days, weighing in my
+mind whether I should give it to him or put it with the others; but
+then I thought perhaps it would lure him away from me, and so I
+couldn't help putting it with the others. But now I felt miserable
+every day, not only about the letters in the box, but also for fear
+another might come. I was afraid of everybody who came to the house;
+when we were sitting together inside, I trembled whenever I heard the
+door go, for fear it might be somebody with a letter, and then he
+might get it. When he was away in the parish, I went about at home
+thinking he might perhaps get a letter while there, and then it would
+tell him about those that had already come. When I saw him coming
+home, I used to look at his face while he was yet a long way off,
+and, oh, dear! how happy I felt when he smiled; for then I knew he
+had got no letter. He had grown so handsome; like his father, only
+fairer, and more gentle-looking. And, then, he had such a voice; when
+he sat at the door in the evening-sun, singing towards the mountain
+ridge, and listening to the echo, I felt that live without him. I
+never could. If I only saw him, or knew he was somewhere near, and he
+seemed pretty happy, and would only give me a word now and then, I
+wanted nothing more on earth, and I wouldn't have shed one tear
+less.
+
+"But just when he seemed to be getting on better with people, and
+felt happier among them, there came a message from the post-office
+that a fourth letter had come; and in it were two hundred dollars! I
+thought I should have fell flat down where I stood: what could I do?
+The letter, I might get rid of, 'twas true; but the money? For two or
+three nights I couldn't sleep for it; a little while I left it
+up-stairs, then, in the cellar behind a barrel, and once I was so
+overdone that I laid it in the window so that he might find it. But
+when I heard him coming, I took it back again. At last, however, I
+found a way: I gave him the money and told him it had been put out at
+interest in my mother's lifetime. He laid it out upon the land, just
+as I thought he would; and so it wasn't wasted. But that same
+harvest-time, when he was sitting at home one evening, he began
+talking about Christian, and wondering why he had so clean forgotten
+him.
+
+"Now again the wound opened, and the money burned me so that I was
+obliged to go out of the room. I had sinned, and yet my sin had
+answered no end. Since then, I have hardly dared to look into his
+eyes, blessed as they are.
+
+"The mother who has sinned against her own child is the most
+miserable of all mothers; ... and yet I did it only out of love....
+And so, I dare say, I shall be punished accordingly by the loss of
+what I love most. For since the middle of the winter, he has again
+taken to singing the tune that he used to sing when he was longing to
+go away; he has sung it ever since he was a lad, and whenever I hear
+it I grow pale. Then I feel I could give up all for him; and only see
+this." She took from her bosom a piece of paper, unfolded it and gave
+it to the Clergyman. "He now and then writes something here; I think
+it's some words to that tune.... I brought it with me; for I can't
+myself read such small writing ... will you look and see if there
+isn't something written about his going away...."
+
+There was only one whole verse on the paper. For the second verse,
+there were only a few half-finished lines, as if the song was one he
+had forgotten, and was now coming into his memory again, line by
+line. The first verse ran thus,--
+
+   "What shall I see if I ever go
+        Over the mountains high?
+    Now I can see but the peaks of snow,
+    Crowning the cliffs where the pine trees grow,
+        Waiting and longing to rise
+        Nearer the beckoning skies."
+
+"Is there anything about his going away?" asked Margit.
+
+"Yes, it is about that," replied the Clergyman, putting the paper
+down.
+
+"Wasn't I sure of it! Ah me! I knew the tune!" She sat with folded
+hands, looking intently and anxiously into the Clergyman's face,
+while tear after tear fell down her cheeks.
+
+The Clergyman knew no more what to do in the matter than she did.
+"Well, I think the lad must be left alone in this case," he said.
+"Life can't be made different for his sake; but what he will find in
+it must depend upon himself; now, it seems, he wishes to go away in
+search of life's good."
+
+"But isn't that just what the old crone did?"
+
+"The old crone?"
+
+"Yes; she who went away to fetch the sunshine, instead of making
+windows in the wall to let it in."
+
+The Clergyman was much astonished at Margit's words, and so he had
+been before, when she came speak to him on this subject; but,
+indeed, she had thought of hardly anything else for eight years.
+
+"Do you think he'll go away? what am I to do? and the money? and the
+letters?" All these questions crowded upon her at once.
+
+"Well, as to the letters, that wasn't quite right. Keeping back what
+belonged to your son, can't be justified. But it was still worse to
+make a fellow Christian appear in a bad light when he didn't deserve
+it; and especially as he was one whom Arne was so fond of, and who
+loved him so dearly in return. But we will pray God to forgive you;
+we will both pray."
+
+Margit still sat with her hands folded, and her head bent down.
+
+"How I should pray him to forgive me, if I only knew he would stay!"
+she said: surely, she was confounding our Lord with Arne. The
+Clergyman, however, appeared as if he did not notice it.
+
+"Do you intend to confess it to him directly?" he asked.
+
+She looked down, and said in a low voice, "I should much like to wait
+a little if I dared."
+
+The Clergyman turned aside with a smile, and asked, "Don't you
+believe your sin becomes greater, the longer you delay confessing
+it?"
+
+She pulled her handkerchief about with both hands, folded it into a
+very small square, and tried to fold it into a still smaller one, but
+could not.
+
+"If I confess about the letters, I'm afraid he'll go away."
+
+"Then, you dare not rely upon our Lord?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I do, indeed," she said hurriedly; and then she added in a
+low voice, "but still, if he were to go away from me?"
+
+"Then, I see you are more afraid of his going away than of continuing
+to sin?"
+
+Margit had unfolded her handkerchief again; and now she put it to her
+eyes, for she began weeping. The Clergyman remained for a while
+looking at her silently; then he went on, "Why, then, did you tell me
+all this, if it was not to lead to anything?" He waited long, but she
+did not answer. "Perhaps you thought your sin would become less when
+you had confessed it?"
+
+"Yes, I did," she said, almost in a whisper, while her head bent
+still lower upon her breast.
+
+The Clergyman smiled and rose. "Well, well, my good Margit, take
+courage; I hope all will yet turn out for the best."
+
+"Do you think so?" she asked, looking up; and a sad smile passed over
+her tear-marked face.
+
+"Yes, I do; I believe God will no longer try you. You will have joy
+in your old age, I am sure."
+
+"If I might only keep the joy I have!" she said; and the Clergyman
+thought she seemed unable to fancy any greater happiness than living
+in that constant anxiety. He smiled and filled his pipe.
+
+"If we had but a little girl, now, who could take hold on him, then
+I'm sure he would stay."
+
+"You may be sure I've thought of that," she said, shaking her head.
+
+"Well, there's Eli Boeen; she might be one who would please him."
+
+"You may be sure I've thought of that." She rocked the upper part of
+her body backwards and forwards.
+
+"If we could contrive that they might oftener see each other here at
+the parsonage?"
+
+"You may be sure I've thought of that!" She clapped her hands and
+looked at the Clergyman with a smile all over her face. He stopped
+while he was lighting his pipe.
+
+"Perhaps this, after all, was what brought you here to-day?"
+
+She looked down, put two fingers into the folded handkerchief, and
+pulled out one corner of it.
+
+"Ah, well, God help me, perhaps it was this I wanted."
+
+The Clergyman walked up and down, and smiled. "Perhaps, too, you came
+for the same thing the last time you were here?"
+
+She pulled out the corner of the handkerchief still farther, and
+hesitated awhile. "Well, as you ask me, perhaps I did--yes."
+
+The Clergyman went on smoking. "Then, too, it was to carry this point
+that you confessed at last the thing you had on your conscience."
+
+She spread out the handkerchief to fold it up smoothly again. "No;
+ah, no; that weighed so heavily upon me, I felt I must tell it to
+you, father."
+
+"Well, well, my dear Margit, we will talk no more about it."
+
+Then, while he was walking up and down, he suddenly added, "Do you
+think you would of yourself have come out to me with this wish of
+yours?"
+
+"Well,--I had already come out with so much, that I dare say this,
+too, would have come out at last."
+
+The Clergyman laughed, but he did not tell her what he thought. After
+a while he stood still. "Well, we will manage this matter for you,
+Margit," he said.
+
+"God bless you for it!" She rose to go, for she understood he had now
+said all he wished to say.
+
+"And we will look after them a little."
+
+"I don't know how to thank you enough," she said, taking his hand and
+courtesying.
+
+"God be with you!" he replied.
+
+She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, went towards the door,
+courtesied again, and said, "Good bye," while she slowly opened and
+shut it. But so lightly as she went towards Kampen that day, she had
+not gone for many, many years. When she had come far enough to see
+the thick smoke curling up cheerfully from the chimney, she blessed
+the house, the whole place, the Clergyman and Arne,--and remembered
+they were going to have her favorite dish, smoked ham, for dinner.
+
+
+
+
+XIV.
+
+FINDING A LOST SONG.
+
+
+Kampen was a beautiful place. It was situated in the middle of a
+plain, bordered on the one side by a ravine, and on the other, by the
+high-road; just beyond the road was a thick wood, with a mountain
+ridge rising behind it, while high above all stood blue mountains
+crowned with snow. On the other side of the ravine also was a wide
+range of mountains, running round the Swart-water on the side where
+Boeen was situated: it grew higher as it ran towards Kampen, but then
+turned suddenly sidewards, forming the broad valley called the
+Lower-tract, which began here, for Kampen was the last place in the
+Upper-tract.
+
+The front door of the dwelling-house opened towards the road, which
+was about two thousand paces off, and a path with leafy birch-trees
+on both sides led thither. In front of the house was a little garden,
+which Arne managed according to the rules given in his books. The
+cattle-houses and barns were nearly all new-built, and stood to the
+left hand, forming a square. The house was two stories high, and was
+painted red, with white window-frames and doors; the roof was of turf
+with many small plants growing upon it, and on the ridge was a
+vane-spindle, where turned an iron cock with a high raised tail.
+
+Spring had come to the mountain-tracts. It was Sunday morning; the
+weather was mild and calm, but the air was somewhat heavy, and the
+mist lay low on the forest, though Margit said it would rise later in
+the day. Arne had read the sermon, and sung the hymns to his mother,
+and he felt better for them himself. Now he stood ready dressed to go
+to the parsonage. When he opened the door the fresh smell of the
+leaves met him; the garden lay dewy and bright in the morning breeze,
+but from the ravine sounded the roaring of the waterfall, now in
+lower, then again in louder booms, till all around seemed to tremble.
+
+Arne walked upwards. As he went farther from the fall, its booming
+became less awful, and soon it lay over the landscape like the deep
+tones of an organ.
+
+"God be with him wherever he goes!" the mother said, opening the
+window and looking after him till he disappeared behind the shrubs.
+The mist had gradually risen, the sun shone bright, the fields and
+garden became full of fresh life, and the things Arne had sown and
+tended grew and sent up odor and gladness to his mother. "Spring is
+beautiful to those who have had a long winter," she said, looking
+away over the fields, as if in thought.
+
+Arne had no positive errand at the parsonage, but he thought he might
+go there to ask about the newspapers which he shared with the
+Clergyman. Recently he had read the names of several Norwegians who
+had been successful in gold digging in America, and among them was
+Christian. His relations had long since left the place, but Arne had
+lately heard a rumor that they expected him to come home soon. About
+this, also, Arne thought he might hear at the parsonage; and if
+Christian had already returned, he would go down and see him between
+spring and hay-harvest. These thoughts occupied his mind till he came
+far enough to see the Swart-water and Boeen on the other side. There,
+too, the mist had risen, but it lay lingering on the mountain-sides,
+while their peaks rose clear above, and the sunbeams played on the
+plain; on the right hand, the shadow of the wood darkened the water,
+but before the houses the lake had strewed its white sand on the flat
+shore. All at once, Arne fancied himself in the red-painted house
+with the white doors and windows, which he had taken as a model for
+his own. He did not think of those first gloomy days he had passed
+there, but only of that summer they both saw--he and Eli--up beside
+her sick-bed. He had not been there since; nor would he have gone for
+the whole world. If his thoughts but touched on that time, he turned
+crimson; yet he thought of it many times a day; and if anything could
+have driven him away from the parish, it was this.
+
+He strode onwards, as if to flee from his thoughts; but the farther
+he went, the nearer he came to Boeen, and the more he looked at it.
+The mist had disappeared, the sky shone bright between the frame of
+mountains, the birds floated in the sunny air, calling to each other,
+and the fields laughed with millions of flowers; here no thundering
+waterfall bowed the gladness to submissive awe, but full of life it
+gambolled and sang without check or pause.
+
+Arne walked till he became glowing hot; then he threw himself down on
+the grass beneath the shadow of a hill and looked towards Boeen, but
+he soon turned away again to avoid seeing it. Then he heard a song
+above him, so wonderfully clear as he had never heard a song before.
+It came floating over the meadows, mingled with the chattering of the
+birds, and he had scarcely recognized the tune ere he recognized the
+words also: the tune was the one he loved better than any; the words
+were those he had borne in his mind ever since he was a boy, and had
+forgotten that same day they were brought forth. He sprang up as if
+he would catch them, but then stopped and listened while verse after
+verse came streaming down to him:--
+
+   "What shall I see if I ever go
+      Over the mountains high?
+    Now, I can see but the peaks of snow,
+    Crowning the cliffs where the pine-trees grow,
+      Waiting and longing to rise
+      Nearer the beckoning skies.
+
+   "Th' eagle is rising afar away,
+      Over the mountains high,
+    Rowing along in the radiant day
+    With mighty strokes to his distant prey,
+      Where he will, swooping downwards,
+      Where he will, sailing onwards.
+
+   "Apple-tree, longest thou not to go
+      Over the mountains high?
+    Gladly thou growest in summer's glow,
+    Patiently waitest through winter's snow:
+      Though birds on thy branches swing,
+      Thou knowest not what they sing.
+
+   "He who has twenty years longed to flee
+      Over the mountains high--
+    He who beyond them, never will see,
+    Smaller, and smaller, each year must be:
+      He hears what the birds, say
+      While on thy boughs they play.
+
+   "Birds, with your chattering, why did ye come
+      Over the mountains high?
+    Beyond, in a sunnier land ye could roam,
+    And nearer to heaven could build your home;
+      Why have ye come to bring
+      Longing, without your wing?
+
+   "Shall I, then, never, never flee
+      Over the mountains high?
+    Rocky walls, will ye always be
+    Prisons until ye are tombs for me?--
+      Until I lie at your feet
+      Wrapped in my winding-sheet?
+
+   "Away! I will away, afar away,
+      Over the mountains high!
+    Here, I am sinking lower each day,
+    Though my Spirit has chosen the loftiest way;
+      Let her in freedom fly;
+      Not, beat on the walls and die!
+
+   "_Once_, I know, I shall journey far
+      Over the mountains high.
+    Lord, is thy door already ajar?--
+    Dear is the home where thy saved ones are;--
+      But bar it awhile from me,
+      And help me to long for Thee."
+
+Arne stood listening till the sound of the last verse, the last words
+died away; then he heard the birds sing and play again, but he dared
+not move. Yet he must find out who had been singing, and he lifted
+his foot and walked on, so carefully that he did not hear the grass
+rustle. A little butterfly settled on a flower at his feet, flew up
+and settled a little way before him, flew up and settled again, and
+so on all over the hill. But soon he came to a thick bush and
+stopped; for a bird flew out of it with a frightened "quitt, quitt!"
+and rushed away over the sloping hill-side. Then she who was sitting
+there looked up; Arne stooped low down, his heart throbbed till he
+heard its beats, he held his breath, and was afraid to stir a leaf;
+for it was Eli whom he saw.
+
+After a long while he ventured to look up again; he wished to draw
+nearer, but he thought the bird perhaps had its nest under the bush,
+and he was afraid he might tread on it. Then he peeped between the
+leaves as they blew aside and closed again. The sun shone full upon
+her. She wore a close-fitting black dress with long white sleeves,
+and a straw hat like those worn by boys. In her lap a book was lying
+with a heap of wild flowers upon it; her right hand was listlessly
+playing with them as if she were in thought, and her left supported
+her head. She was looking away towards the place where the bird had
+flown, and she seemed as if she had been weeping.
+
+Anything more beautiful, Arne had never seen or dreamed of in all
+his life; the sun, too, had spread its gold over her and the place;
+and the song still hovered round her, so that Arne thought,
+breathed--nay, even his heart beat, in time with it. It seemed so
+strange that the song which bore all his longing, _he_ had forgotten,
+but _she_ had found.
+
+A tawny wasp flew round her in circles many times, till at last she
+saw it and frightened it away with a flower-stalk, which she put up
+as often as it came before her. Then she took up the book and opened
+it, but she soon closed it again, sat as before, and began to hum
+another song. He could hear it was "The Tree's early leaf-buds,"
+though she often made mistakes, as if she did not quite remember
+either the words or the tune. The verse she knew best was the last
+one, and so she often repeated it; but she sang it thus:--
+
+   "The Tree bore his berries, so mellow and red:
+    'May I gather thy berries?' a sweet maiden said.
+        'Yes; all thou canst see;
+        Take them; all are for thee.'
+    Said the Tree--trala--lala, trala, lala--said."
+
+Then she suddenly sprang up, scattering all the flowers around her,
+and sang till the tune trembled through the air, and might have been
+heard at Boeen. Arne had thought of coming forwards when she began
+singing; he was just about to do so when she jumped up; then he felt
+he _must_ come, but she went away. Should he call? No,--yes!
+No!--There she skipped over the hillocks singing; here her hat fell
+off, there she took it up again; here she picked a flower, there she
+stood deep in the highest grass.
+
+"Shall I call? She's looking up here!"
+
+He stooped down. It was a long while ere he ventured to peep out
+again; at first he only raised his head; he could not see her: he
+rose to his knees; still he could not see her: he stood upright; no
+she was gone. He thought himself a miserable fellow; and some of the
+tales he had heard at the nutting-party came into his mind.
+
+Now he would not go to the parsonage. He would not have the
+newspapers; would not know anything about Christian. He would not go
+home; he would go nowhere; he would do nothing.
+
+"Oh, God, I am so unhappy!" he said.
+
+He sprang up again and sang "The Tree's early leaf-buds" till the
+mountains resounded.
+
+Then he sat down where she had been sitting, and took up the flowers
+she had picked, but he flung them away again down the hill on every
+side. Then he wept. It was long since he had done so; this struck
+him, and made him weep still more. He would go far away, that he
+would; no, he would not go away! He thought he was very unhappy; but
+when he asked himself why, he could hardly tell. He looked round. It
+was a lovely day; and the Sabbath rest lay over all. The lake was
+without a ripple; from the houses the curling smoke had begun to
+rise; the partridges one after another had ceased calling, and though
+the little birds continued their twittering, they went towards the
+shade of the wood; the dewdrops were gone, and the grass looked
+grave; not a breath of wind stirred the drooping leaves; and the sun
+was near the meridian. Almost before he knew, he found himself seated
+putting together a little song; a sweet tune offered itself for it;
+and while his heart was strangely full of gentle feelings, the tune
+went and came till words linked themselves to it and begged to be
+sung, if only for once.
+
+He sang them gently, sitting where Eli had sat:
+
+   "He went in the forest the whole day long,
+    The whole day long;
+    For there he had heard such a wondrous song,
+    A wondrous song.
+
+   "He fashioned a flute from a willow spray,
+    A willow spray,
+    To see if within it the sweet tune lay,
+    The sweet tune lay.
+
+   "It whispered and told him its name at last,
+    Its name at last;
+    But then, while he listened, away it passed,
+    Away it passed.
+
+   "But oft when he slumbered, again it stole,
+    Again it stole,
+    With touches of love upon his soul,
+    Upon his soul.
+
+   "Then he tried to catch it, and keep it fast,
+    And keep it fast;
+    But he woke, and away i' the night it passed,
+    I' the night it passed.
+
+   "'My Lord, let me pass in the night, I pray,
+    In the night, I pray;
+    For the tune has taken my heart away,
+    My heart away.'
+
+   "Then answered the Lord, 'It is thy friend,
+    It is thy friend,
+    Though not for an hour shall thy longing end,
+    Thy longing end;
+
+   "'And all the others are nothing to thee,
+    Nothing to thee,
+    To this that thou seekest and never shalt see,
+    Never shalt see.'"
+
+
+
+
+XV.
+
+SOMEBODY'S FUTURE HOME.
+
+
+"Good bye," said Margit at the Clergyman's door. It was a Sunday
+evening in advancing summer-time; the Clergyman had returned from
+church, and Margit had been sitting with him till now, when it was
+seven o'clock. "Good bye, Margit," said the Clergyman. She hurried
+down the door-steps and into the yard; for she had seen Eli Boeen
+playing there with her brother and the Clergyman's son.
+
+"Good evening," said Margit, stopping; "and God bless you all."
+
+"Good evening," answered Eli. She blushed crimson and wanted to leave
+off the game; the boys begged her to keep on, but she persuaded them
+to let her go for that evening.
+
+"I almost think I know you," said Margit.
+
+"Very likely."
+
+"Isn't it Eli Boeen?"
+
+Yes, it was.
+
+"Dear me! you're Eli Boeen; yes, now I see you're like your mother."
+
+Eli's auburn hair had come unfastened, and hung down over her neck
+and shoulders; she was hot and as red as a cherry, her bosom
+fluttered up and down, and she could scarcely speak, but laughed
+because she was so out of breath.
+
+"Well, young folks should be merry," said Margit, feeling happy as
+she looked at her. "P'r'aps you don't know me?"
+
+If Margit had not been her senior, Eli would probably have asked her
+name, but now she only said she did not remember having seen her
+before.
+
+"No; I dare say not: old folks don't go out much. But my son, p'r'aps
+you know a little--Arne Kampen; I'm his mother," said Margit, with a
+stolen glance at Eli, who suddenly looked grave and breathed slowly.
+"I'm pretty sure he worked at Boeen once."
+
+Yes, Eli thought he did.
+
+"It's a fine evening; we turned our hay this morning, and got it in
+before I came away; it's good weather indeed for everything."
+
+"There will be a good hay-harvest this year," Eli suggested.
+
+"Yes, you may well say that; everything's getting on well at Boeen, I
+suppose?"
+
+"We have got in all our hay."
+
+"Oh, yes, I dare say you have; your folks work well, and they have
+plenty of help. Are you going home to-night?"
+
+No, she was not.
+
+"Couldn't you go a little way with me? I so seldom have anybody to
+talk to; and it will be all the same to you, I suppose?"
+
+Eli excused herself, saying she had not her jacket on.
+
+"Well, it's a shame to ask such a thing the first time of seeing
+anybody; but one must put up with old folks' ways."
+
+Eli said she would go; she would only fetch her jacket first.
+
+It was a close-fitting jacket, which when fastened looked like a
+dress with a bodice; but now she fastened only two of the lower
+hooks, because she was so hot. Her fine linen bodice had a little
+turned-down collar, and was fastened with a silver stud in the shape
+of a bird with spread wings. Just such a one, Nils, the tailor, wore
+the first time Margit danced with him.
+
+"A pretty stud," she said, looking at it.
+
+"Mother gave it me."
+
+"Ah, I thought so," Margit said, helping her with the jacket.
+
+They walked onwards over the fields. The hay was lying in heaps; and
+Margit took up a handful, smelled it, and thought it was very good.
+She asked about the cattle at the parsonage, and this led her to ask
+also about the live stock at Boeen, and then she told how much they
+had at Kampen. "The farm has improved very much these last few years,
+and it can still be made twice as large. He keeps twelve milch-cows
+now, and he could keep several more, but he reads so many books and
+manages according to them, and so he will have the cows fed in such a
+first-rate way."
+
+Eli, as might be expected, said nothing to all this; and Margit then
+asked her age. She was above twenty.
+
+"Have you helped in the house-work? Not much, I dare say--you look so
+spruce."
+
+Yes, she had helped a good deal, especially of late.
+
+"Well, it's best to use one's self to do a little of everything; when
+one gets a large house of one's own, there's a great deal to be done.
+But, of course, when one finds good help already in the house before
+her, why, it doesn't matter so much."
+
+Now Eli thought she must go back; for they had gone a long way beyond
+the grounds of the parsonage.
+
+"It still wants some hours to sunset; it would be kind it you would
+chat a little longer with me." And Eli went on.
+
+Then Margit began to talk about Arne. "I don't know if you know much
+of him. He could teach you something about everything, he could; dear
+me, what a deal he has read!"
+
+Eli owned she knew he had read a great deal.
+
+"Yes; and that's only the least thing that can be said of him; but
+the way he has behaved to his mother all his days, that's something
+more, that is. If the old saying is true, that he who's good to his
+mother is good to his wife, the one Arne chooses won't have much to
+complain of."
+
+Eli asked why they had painted the house before them with grey paint.
+
+"Ah, I suppose they had no other; I only wish Arne may sometime be
+rewarded for all his kindness to his mother. When he has a wife, she
+ought to be kind-hearted as well as a good scholar. What are you
+looking for, child?"
+
+"I only dropped a little twig I had."
+
+"Dear me! I think of a many things, you may be sure, while I sit
+alone in yonder wood. If ever he takes home a wife who brings
+blessings to house and man, then I know many a poor soul will be glad
+that day."
+
+They were both silent, and walked on without looking at each other;
+but soon Eli stopped.
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"One of my shoe-strings has come down."
+
+Margit waited a long while till at last the string was tied.
+
+"He has such queer ways," she began again; "he got cowed while he was
+a child, and so he has got into the way of thinking over everything
+by himself, and those sort of folks haven't courage to come forward."
+
+Now Eli must indeed go back, but Margit said that
+Kampen was only half a mile off; indeed, not so far, and that Eli
+must see it, as too she was so near. But Eli thought it would be late
+that day.
+
+"There'll be sure to be somebody to bring you home."
+
+"No, no," Eli answered quickly, and would go back.
+
+"Arne's not at home, it's true," said Margit; "but there's sure to be
+somebody else about;" and Eli had now less objection to it.
+
+"If only I shall not be too late," she said.
+
+"Yes, if we stand here much longer talking about it, it may be too
+late, I dare say." And they went on. "Being brought up at the
+Clergyman's, you've read a great deal, I dare say?"
+
+Yes, she had.
+
+"It'll be of good use when you have a husband who knows less."
+
+No; that, Eli thought she would never have.
+
+"Well, no; p'r'aps, after all, it isn't the best thing; but still
+folks about here haven't much learning."
+
+Eli asked if it was Kampen, she could see straight before her.
+
+"No; that's Gransetren, the next place to the wood; when we come
+farther up you'll see Kampen. It's a pleasant place to live at, is
+Kampen, you may be sure; it seems a little out of the way, it's true;
+but that doesn't matter much, after all."
+
+Eli asked what made the smoke that rose from the wood.
+
+"It comes from a houseman's cottage, belonging to Kampen: a man named
+Opplands-Knut lives there. He went about lonely till Arne gave him
+that piece of land to clear. Poor Arne! he knows what it is to be
+lonely."
+
+Soon they came far enough to see Kampen.
+
+"Is that Kampen?" asked Eli, standing still and pointing.
+
+"Yes, it is," said the mother; and she, too, stood still. The sun
+shone full in their faces, and they shaded their eyes as they looked
+down over the plain. In the middle of it stood the red-painted house
+with its white window-frames; rich green cornfields lay between the
+pale new-mown meadows, where some of the hay was already set in
+stacks; near the cow-house, all was life and stir; the cows, sheep
+and goats were coming home; their bells tinkled, the dogs barked, and
+the milkmaids called; while high above all, rose the grand tune of
+the waterfall from the ravine. The farther Eli went, the more this
+filled her ears, till at last it seemed quite awful to her; it
+whizzed and roared through her head, her heart throbbed violently,
+and she became bewildered and dizzy, and then felt so subdued that
+she unconsciously began to walk with such small timid steps that
+Margit begged her to come on a little faster. She started. "I never
+heard anything like that fall," she said; "I'm quite frightened."
+
+"You'll soon get used to it; and at last you'll even miss it."
+
+"Do you think so?"
+
+"Well, you'll see." And Margit smiled.
+
+"Come, now, we'll first look at the cattle," she said, turning
+downwards from the road, into the path. "Those trees on each side,
+Nils planted; he wanted to have everything nice, did Nils; and so
+does Arne; look, there's the garden he has laid out."
+
+"Oh, how pretty!" exclaimed Eli, going quickly towards the garden
+fence.
+
+"We'll look at that by-and-by," said Margit; "now we must go over to
+look at the creatures before they're locked in--" But Eli did not
+hear, for all her mind was turned to the garden. She stood looking
+at it till Margit called her once more; as she came along, she gave a
+furtive glance through the windows; but she could see no one inside.
+
+They both went upon the barn steps and looked down at the cows, as
+they passed lowing into the cattle-house. Margit named them one by
+one to Eli, and told her how much milk each gave, and which would
+calve in the summer, and which would not. The sheep were counted and
+penned in; they were of a large foreign breed, raised from two lambs
+which Arne had got from the South. "He aims at all such things," said
+Margit, "though one wouldn't think it of him." Then they went into
+the barn, and looked at some hay which had been brought in, and Eli
+had to smell it; "for such hay isn't to be found everywhere," Margit
+said. She pointed from the barn-hatch to the fields, and told what
+kind of seed was sown on them, and how much of each kind. "No less
+than three fields are new-cleared, and now, this first year, they're
+set with potatoes, just for the sake of the ground; over there, too,
+the land's new-cleared, but I suppose that soil's different, for
+there he has sown barley; but then he has strewed burnt turf over it
+for manure, for he attends to all such things. Well, she that comes
+here will find things in good order, I'm sure." Now they went out
+towards the dwelling-house; and Eli, who had answered nothing to all
+that Margit had told her about other things, when they passed the
+garden asked if she might go into it; and when she got leave to go,
+she begged to pick a flower or two. Away in one corner was a little
+garden-seat; she went over and sat down upon it--perhaps only to try
+it, for she rose directly.
+
+"Now we must make haste, else we shall be too late," said Margit, as
+she stood at the house-door. Then they went in. Margit asked if Eli
+would not take some refreshment, as this was the first time she had
+been at Kampen; but Eli turned red and quickly refused. Then they
+looked round the room, which was the one Arne and the mother
+generally used in the day-time; it was not very large, but cosy and
+pleasant, with windows looking out on the road. There were a clock
+and a stove; and on the wall hung Nils' fiddle, old and dark, but
+with new strings; beside it hung some guns belonging to Arne, English
+fishing-tackle and other rare things, which the mother took down and
+showed to Eli, who looked at them and touched them. The room was
+without painting, for this Arne did not like; neither was there any
+in the large pretty room which looked towards the ravine, with the
+green mountains on the other side, and the blue peaks in the
+background. But the two smaller rooms in the wing were both painted;
+for in them the mother would live when she became old, and Arne
+brought a wife into the house: Margit was very fond of painting, and
+so in these rooms the ceilings were painted with roses, and her name
+was painted on the cupboards, the bedsteads, and on all reasonable
+and unreasonable places; for it was Arne himself who had done it.
+They went into the kitchen, the store-room, and the bake-house; and
+now they had only to go into the up-stairs rooms; "all the best
+things were there," the mother said.
+
+These were comfortable rooms, corresponding with those below, but
+they were new and not yet taken into use, save one which looked
+towards the ravine. In them hung and stood all sorts of household
+things not in every-day use. Here hung a lot of fur coverlets and
+other bedclothes; and the mother took hold of them and lifted them;
+so did Eli, who looked at all of them with pleasure, examined some of
+them twice, and asked questions about them, growing all the while
+more interested.
+
+"Now we'll find the key of Arne's room," said the mother, taking it
+from under a chest where it was hidden. They went into the room; it
+looked towards the ravine; and once more the awful booming of the
+waterfall met their ears, for the window was open. They could see the
+spray rising between the cliffs, but not the fall itself, save in one
+place farther up, where a huge fragment of rock had fallen into it
+just where the torrent came in full force to take its last leap into
+the depths below. The upper side of this fragment was covered with
+fresh sod; and a few pine-cones had dug themselves into it, and had
+grown up to trees, rooted into the crevices. The wind had shaken and
+twisted them; and the fall had dashed against them, so that they had
+not a sprig lower than eight feet from their roots: they were gnarled
+and bent; yet they stood, rising high between the rocky walls. When
+Eli looked out from the window, these trees first caught her eye;
+next, she saw the snowy peaks rising far beyond behind the green
+mountains. Then her eyes passed over the quiet fertile fields back to
+the room; and the first thing she saw there was a large bookshelf.
+There were so many books on it that she scarcely believed the
+Clergyman had more. Beneath it was a cupboard, where Arne kept his
+money. The mother said money had been left to them twice already, and
+if everything went right they would have some more. "But, after all,
+money's not the best thing in the world; he may get what's better
+still," she added.
+
+There were many little things in the cupboard which were amusing to
+see, and Eli looked at them all, happy as a child. Then the mother
+showed her a large chest where Arne's clothes lay, and they, too,
+were taken out and looked at. Margit patted Eli on the shoulder.
+"I've never seen you till to-day, and yet I'm already so fond of you,
+my child," she said, looking affectionately into her eyes. Eli had
+scarcely time to feel a little bashful, before Margit pulled her by
+the hand and said in a low voice, "Look at that little red chest;
+there's something very choice in that, you may be sure."
+
+Eli glanced towards the chest: it was a little square one, which she
+thought she would very much like to have.
+
+"He doesn't want me to know what's in that chest," the mother
+whispered; "and he always hides the key." She went to some clothes
+that hung on the wall, took down a velvet waistcoat, looked in the
+pocket, and there found the key.
+
+"Now come and look," she whispered; and they went gently, and knelt
+down before the chest. As soon as the mother opened it, so sweet an
+odor met them that Eli clapped her hands even before she had seen
+anything. On the top was spread a handkerchief, which the mother
+took away. "Here, look," she whispered, taking out a fine black
+silk neckerchief such as men do not wear. "It looks just as if it
+was meant for a girl," the mother said. Eli spread it upon her lap
+and looked at it, but did not say a word. "Here's one more," the
+mother said. Eli could not help taking it up; and then the mother
+insisted upon trying it on her, though Eli drew back and held her
+head down. She did not know what she would not have given for such a
+neckerchief; but she thought of something more than that. They
+folded them up again, but slowly.
+
+"Now, look here," the mother said, taking out some handsome ribands.
+"Everything seems as if it was for a girl." Eli blushed crimson, but
+she said nothing. "There's some more things yet," said the mother,
+taking out some fine black cloth for a dress; "it's fine, I dare
+say," she added, holding it up to the light. Eli's hands trembled,
+her chest heaved, she felt the blood rushing to her head, and she
+would fain have turned away, but that she could not well do.
+
+"He has bought something every time he has been to town," continued
+the mother. Eli could scarcely bear it any longer; she looked from
+one thing to another in the chest, and then again at the cloth, and
+her face burned. The next thing the mother took out was wrapped in
+paper; they unwrapped it, and found a small pair of shoes. Anything
+like them, they had never seen, and the mother wondered how they
+could be made. Eli said nothing; but when she touched the shoes her
+fingers left warm marks on them. "I'm hot, I think," she whispered.
+The mother put all the things carefully together.
+
+"Doesn't it seem just as if he had bought them all, one after
+another, for somebody he was afraid to give them to?" she said,
+looking at Eli. "He has kept them here in this chest--so long." She
+laid them all in the chest again, just as they were before. "Now
+we'll see what's here in the compartment," she said, opening the lid
+carefully, as if she were now going to show Eli something specially
+beautiful.
+
+When Eli looked she saw first a broad buckle for a waistband, next,
+two gold rings tied together, and a hymn-book bound in velvet and
+with silver clasps; but then she saw nothing more, for on the silver
+of the book she had seen graven in small letters, "Eli Baardsdatter
+Boeen."
+
+The mother wished her to look at something else; she got no answer,
+but saw tear after tear dropping down upon the silk neckerchief and
+spreading over it. She put down the _sylgje_[5] which she had in her
+hand, shut the lid, turned round and drew Eli to her. Then the
+daughter wept upon her breast, and the mother wept over her, without
+either of them saying any more.
+
+ [5] _Sylgje_, a peculiar kind of brooch worn in Norway.--Translators.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A little while after, Eli walked by herself in the garden, while the
+mother was in the kitchen preparing something nice for supper; for
+now Arne would soon be at home. Then she came out in the garden to
+Eli, who sat tracing names on the sand with a stick. When she saw
+Margit, she smoothed the sand down over them, looked up and smiled;
+but she had been weeping.
+
+"There's nothing to cry about, my child," said Margit, caressing her;
+"supper's ready now; and here comes Arne," she added, as a black
+figure appeared on the road between the shrubs.
+
+Eli stole in, and the mother followed her. The supper-table was
+nicely spread with dried meat, cakes and cream porridge; Eli did not
+look at it, however, but went away to a corner near the clock and sat
+down on a chair close to the wall, trembling at every sound. The
+mother stood by the table. Firm steps were heard on the flagstones,
+and a short, light step in the passage, the door was gently opened,
+and Arne came in.
+
+The first thing he saw was Eli in the corner; he left hold on the
+door and stood still. This made Eli feel yet more confused; she rose,
+but then felt sorry she had done so, and turned aside towards the
+wall.
+
+"Are you here?" said Arne, blushing crimson.
+
+She held her hand before her face, as one does when the sun shines
+into the eyes.
+
+"How did you come here?" he asked, advancing a few steps.
+
+She put her hand down again, and turned a little towards him, but
+then bent her head and burst into tears.
+
+"Why do you weep, Eli?" he asked, coming to her. She did not answer,
+but wept still more.
+
+"God bless you, Eli!" he said, laying his arm round her. She leant
+her head upon his breast, and he whispered something down to her; she
+did not answer, but clasped her hands round his neck.
+
+They stood thus for a long while; and not a sound was heard, save
+that of the fall which still gave its eternal warning, though distant
+and subdued. Then some one over against the table was heard weeping;
+Arne looked up: it was the mother; but he had not noticed her till
+then. "Now, I'm sure you won't go away from me, Arne," she said,
+coming across the floor to him; and she wept much, but it did her
+good, she said.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Later, when they had supped and said good-bye to the mother, Eli and
+Arne walked together along the road to the parsonage. It was one of
+those light summer nights when all things seem to whisper and crowd
+together, as if in fear. Even he who has from childhood been
+accustomed to such nights, feels strangely influenced by them, and
+goes about as if expecting something to happen: light is there, but
+not life. Often the sky is tinged with blood-red, and looks out
+between the pale clouds like an eye that has watched. One seems to
+hear a whispering all around, but it comes only from one's own brain,
+which is over-excited. Man shrinks, feels his own littleness, and
+thinks of his God.
+
+Those two who were walking here also kept close to each other; they
+felt as if they had too much happiness, and they feared it might be
+taken from them.
+
+"I can hardly believe it," Arne said.
+
+"I feel almost the same," said Eli, looking dreamily before her.
+
+"_Yet it's true_," he said, laying stress on each word; "now I am no
+longer going about only thinking; for once I have done something."
+
+He paused a few moments, and then laughed, but not gladly. "No, it
+was not I," he said; "it was mother who did it."
+
+He seemed to have continued this thought, for after a while he said,
+"Up to this day I have done nothing; not taken my part in anything. I
+have looked on ... and listened."
+
+He went on a little farther, and then said warmly, "God be thanked
+that I have got through in this way; ... now people will not have to
+see many things which would not have been as they ought...." Then
+after a while he added, "But if some one had not helped me, perhaps I
+should have gone on alone for ever." He was silent.
+
+"What do you think father will say, dear?" asked Eli, who had been
+busy with her own thoughts.
+
+"I am going over to Boeen early to-morrow morning," said
+Arne;--"_that_, at any rate, I must do myself," he added, determining
+he would now be cheerful and brave, and never think of sad things
+again; no, never! "And, Eli, it was you who found my song in the
+nut-wood?" She laughed. "And the tune I had made it for, you got hold
+of, too."
+
+"I took the one which suited it," she said, looking down. He smiled
+joyfully and bent his face down to hers.
+
+"But the other song you did not know?"
+
+"Which?" she asked looking up....
+
+"Eli ... you mustn't be angry with me ... but one day this spring ...
+yes, I couldn't help it, I heard you singing on the parsonage-hill."
+
+She blushed and looked down, but then she laughed. "Then, after all,
+you have been served just right," she said.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Well--it was; nay, it wasn't my fault; it was your mother ... well
+... another time...."
+
+"Nay; tell it me now."
+
+She would not;--then he stopped and exclaimed, "Surely, you haven't
+been up-stairs?" He was so grave that she felt frightened, and looked
+down.
+
+"Mother has perhaps found the key to that little chest?" he added in
+a gentle tone.
+
+She hesitated, looked up and smiled, but it seemed as if only to keep
+back her tears; then he laid his arm round her neck and drew her
+still closer to him. He trembled, lights seemed flickering before his
+eyes, his head burned, he bent over her and his lips sought hers, but
+could hardly find them; he staggered, withdrew his arm, and turned
+aside, afraid to look at her. The clouds had taken such strange
+shapes; there was one straight before him which looked like a goat
+with two great horns, and standing on its hind legs; and there was
+the nose of an old woman with her hair tangled; and there was the
+picture of a big man, which was set slantwise, and then was suddenly
+rent.... But just over the mountain the sky was blue and clear; the
+cliff stood gloomy, while the lake lay quietly beneath it, afraid to
+move; pale and misty it lay, forsaken both by sun and moon, but the
+wood went down to it, full of love just as before. Some birds woke
+and twittered half in sleep; answers came over from one copse and
+then from another, but there was no danger at hand, and they slept
+once more ... there was peace all around. Arne felt its blessedness
+lying over him as it lay over the evening.
+
+"Thou great, thou Almighty God!" he said, so that he heard the words
+himself, and he folded his hands, but went a little before Eli that
+she might not see it.
+
+
+
+
+XVI.
+
+THE DOUBLE WEDDING.
+
+
+It was in the end of harvest-time, and the corn was being carried. It
+was a bright day; there had been rain in the night and earlier in
+morning, but now the air was clear and mild as in summer-time. It was
+Saturday; yet many boats were steering over the Swart-water towards
+the church; the men, in their white shirt-sleeves, sat rowing, while
+the women, with light- kerchiefs on their heads, sat in the
+stern and the forepart. But still more boats were steering towards
+Boeen, in readiness to go out thence in procession; for to-day Baard
+Boeen kept the wedding of his daughter, Eli, and Arne Nilsson Kampen.
+
+The doors were all open, people went in and out, children with pieces
+of cake in their hands stood in the yard, fidgety about their new
+clothes, and looking distantly at each other; an old woman sat lonely
+and weeping on the steps of the storehouse: it was Margit Kampen. She
+wore a large silver ring, with several small rings fastened to the
+upper plate; and now and then she looked at it: Nils gave it her on
+their wedding-day, and she had never worn it since.
+
+The purveyor of the feast and the two young brides-men--the
+Clergyman's son and Eli's brother--went about in the rooms offering
+refreshments to the wedding-guests as they arrived. Up-stairs in
+Eli's room, were the Clergyman's lady, the bride and Mathilde, who
+had come from town only to put on her bridal-dress and ornaments,
+for this they had promised each other from childhood. Arne was
+dressed in a fine cloth suit, round jacket, black hat, and a collar
+that Eli had made; and he was in one of the down-stairs rooms,
+standing at the window where she wrote "Arne." It was open, and he
+leant upon the sill, looking away over the calm water towards the
+distant bight and the church.
+
+Outside in the passage, two met as they came from doing their part in
+the day's duties. The one came from the stepping-stones on the shore,
+where he had been arranging the church-boats; he wore a round black
+jacket of fine cloth, and blue frieze trousers, off which the dye
+came, making his hands blue; his white collar looked well against his
+fair face and long light hair; his high forehead was calm, and a
+quiet smile lay round his lips. It was Baard. She whom he met had
+just come from the kitchen, dressed ready to go to church. She was
+tall and upright, and came through the door somewhat hurriedly, but
+with a firm step; when she met Baard she stopped, and her mouth drew
+to one side. It was Birgit, the wife. Each had something to say to
+the other, but neither could find words for it. Baard was even more
+embarrassed than she; he smiled more and more, and at last turned
+towards the staircase, saying as he began to step up, "Perhaps you'll
+come too." And she went up after him. Here, up-stairs, was no one but
+themselves; yet Baard locked the door after them, and he was a long
+while about it. When at last he turned round, Birgit stood looking
+out from the window, perhaps to avoid looking in the room. Baard took
+from his breast-pocket a little silver cup, and a little bottle of
+wine, and poured out some for her. But she would not take any, though
+he told her it was wine the Clergyman had sent them. Then he drank
+some himself, but offered it to her several times while he was
+drinking. He corked the bottle, put it again into his pocket with the
+cup, and sat down on a chest.
+
+He breathed deeply several times, looked down and said, "I'm so
+happy-to-day; and I thought I must speak freely with you; it's a long
+while since I did so."
+
+Birgit stood leaning with one hand upon the window-sill. Baard went
+on, "I've been thinking about Nils, the tailor, to-day; he separated
+us two; I thought it wouldn't go beyond our wedding, but it has gone
+farther. To-day, a son of his, well-taught and handsome, is taken
+into our family, and we have given him our only daughter. What now,
+if we, Birgit, were to keep our wedding once again, and keep it so
+that we can never more be separated?"
+
+His voice trembled, and he gave a little cough. Birgit laid her head
+down upon her arm, but said nothing. Baard waited long, but he got no
+answer, and he had himself nothing more to say. He looked up and grew
+very pale, for she did not even turn her head. Then he rose.
+
+At the same moment came a gentle knock at the door, and a soft voice
+asked, "Are you coming now, mother?" It was Eli. Birgit raised her
+head, and, looking towards the door, she saw Baard's pale face. "Are
+you coming now, mother?" was asked once more.
+
+"Yes, now I am coming," said Birgit in a broken voice, while she gave
+her hand to Baard, and burst into a violent flood of tears.
+
+The two hands pressed each other; they were both toilworn now, but
+they clasped as firmly as if they had sought each other for twenty
+years. They were still locked together, when Baard and Birgit went to
+the door; and afterwards when the bridal train went down to the
+stepping-stones on the shore, and Arne gave his hand to Eli, Baard
+looked at them, and, against all custom, took Birgit by the hand and
+followed them with a bright smile.
+
+But Margit Kampen went behind them lonely.
+
+Baard was quite overjoyed that day. While he was talking with the
+rowers, one of them, who sat looking at the mountains behind, said
+how strange it was that even such a steep cliff could be clad. "Ah,
+whether it wishes to be, or not, it must," said Baard, looking all
+along the train till his eyes rested on the bridal pair and his wife.
+
+"Who could have foretold this twenty years ago?" said he.
+
+
+                            THE END.
+
+
+
+
+ Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by John Wilson & Son.
+
+
+
+
+THE
+CHILDREN'S GARLAND
+
+FROM THE BEST POETS
+
+SELECTED AND ARRANGED
+BY COVENTRY PATMORE
+
+16mo. Red Vellum. Vignette Title engraved by MARSH.
+Price, $1.75.
+
+
+LONDON MORNING POST.
+
+"It includes specimens of all the great masters in the art of Poetry,
+selected with the matured judgment of a man concentrated on obtaining
+insight into the feelings and tastes of childhood, and desirous to
+awaken its finest impulses, to cultivate its keenest sensibilities."
+
+
+CINCINNATI GAZETTE.
+
+"The University Press at Cambridge has turned out many wonderful
+specimens of the art, but in exquisite finish it has never equalled
+the evidence of its skill which now lies before us. The text,
+compared with the average specimens of modern books, shines out with
+as bright a contrast as an Elzevir by the side of one of its dingy
+and bleared contemporaries. In the quality of its paper, in its
+vignettes and head-pieces, the size of its pages, in every feature
+that can gratify the eye, indeed, the 'Garland' could hardly bear
+improvement. Similar in its general getting up to the much-admired
+Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics, issued by the same
+publishers a few months since, it excels, we think, in the perfection
+of various minor details."
+
+
+NEW YORK WORLD.
+
+"It is a beautiful book,--the most beautiful in some respects that
+has been published for years; going over a large number of poets and
+wide range of themes as none but a poet could have done. A choice
+cabinet of precious jewels, or better still, a dainty wreath of
+blossoms,--'The Children's Garland.'"
+
+
+BOSTON TRANSCRIPT.
+
+"It is in all respects a delicious volume, and will be as great a
+favorite with the elder as with the younger members of every family
+into which it penetrates. Some of the best poems in the English
+language are included in the selections. Paper, printing, and
+binding,--indeed, all the elements entering into the mechanical
+execution of the book,--offer to the view nothing wherein the most
+fastidious eye can detect a blemish."
+
+
+SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN.
+
+"It is almost too dainty a book to be touched, and yet it is sure to
+be well thumbed whenever it falls into the hands of a lover of
+genuine poetry."
+
+
+
+
+THE
+JEST-BOOK
+
+THE CHOICEST ANECDOTES AND SAYINGS
+
+SELECTED AND ARRANGED
+BY MARK LEMON
+
+16mo. Green Vellum. Vignette Title. Price, $1.75.
+
+
+BOSTON POST.
+
+"Gentlemen, prepare to smile. Here is an interest for a minute or a
+dull day. Mark Lemon gives us the result of his recondite searches
+and seizures in the regions of infinite jest. Like all good jesters,
+he has the quality of sound philosophy in him, and of reason also,
+for he discriminates closely, and serves up his wit with a deal of
+refinement in it."
+
+
+HARTFORD PRESS.
+
+"So exquisitely is the book printed, that every jest in it shines
+like a new gold dollar. It is the apotheosis of jokes.... There is
+jollity enough in it to keep the whole American press good humored."
+
+
+PROVIDENCE JOURNAL.
+
+"Mark Lemon, who helps to flavor Punch, has gathered this volume of
+anecdotes, this parcel of sharp and witty sayings, and we have no
+fear in declaring that the reader will find it a book of some wisdom
+and much amusement. By this single 'Lemon' we judge of the rest."
+
+
+CONGRESSIONAL GLOBE.
+
+"This little volume is a very agreeable provocative of mirth, and as
+such, it will be useful in driving dull care away."
+
+
+ST. JOHN'S GLOBE.
+
+"It contains many old jokes, which like good wine become all the
+better for age, and many new and fugitive ones which until now never
+had a local habitation and a name."
+
+
+CHICAGO JOURNAL.
+
+"For a fireside we can imagine nothing more diverting or more likely
+to be laughed over during the intervals of labor or study."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Arne; A Sketch of Norwegian Country
+Life, by Bjornstjerne Bjornson
+
+*** 
\ No newline at end of file