THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE NOVELS OF 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE 
 VOLUME II.
 
 THE NOVELS OF 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE 
 
 Synnovi Solbakken. 
 
 Arne. 
 
 A Happy Boy. 
 
 The Fisher Lass 
 
 The Bridal March, & A Day. 
 
 Magnhild, <& Dust. 
 
 Captain Mansana, & Mother's Hands. 
 
 Absalom's Hair, dx A Painful Memory. 
 
 In God's Way. (2 vols.) 
 
 The Heritage of the Kurts. (2 vols.) 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
 
 A R N E 
 
 BY 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 Ti anslated from the Norwegian 
 By WALTER LOW 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
 
 Uniform Edition 
 
 First published April 1895 
 
 New Edition January 1909 
 
 New Impressions November 1912, July 1918 
 
 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN 
 
 AT THE COMPLETE PRESS 
 
 WEST NORWOOD
 
 TT" 
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
 
 [ARNE was written for the most part at Ejkisdal, in 
 Romsdal, during the summer of 1858, and was finished later 
 on in the year at Hop, near Bergen. It was first published 
 at Bergen in the beginning of 1859, but with 1858 on the 
 title-page. The story was not successful at first, and in the 
 ensuing summer the author parted with fifteen years' copy- 
 right of it for a very small sum. No second edition was 
 called for until 1868, when it appeared in Copenhagen, with 
 the spelling modified. In 1872 it was included in the 
 Fortaellinger, where it has since appeared. 
 
 A Swedish translation of Arne was published at Upsala 
 in 1860, and a German one in the same year at Bergen. In 
 1861 Thomas Krag printed in Bergen an English version 
 which he described as " translated from the second edition " 
 of Arne, apparently taking the German text, which the 
 author had " largely improved" as being the second edition. 
 The translation by Augusta Plesner and S. Rugeley-Powers, 
 which first made the name of Bjornson known in this country, 
 was published in 1866 simultaneously in London and New 
 York. Since that time several English versions have been 
 essayed, and Arne has been published in most of the 
 
 European languages. 
 
 E.G.] 
 
 745545
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 [. PROLOGUE 
 
 II. KAMPEN 8 
 
 III. THE WEDDING 23 
 
 IV. DAYBREAK 39 
 
 V. UPLAND KNUT 51 
 
 vi. ARNE'S STORY 60 
 
 VII. SELF-REPROACH 72 
 
 VIII. ELI 80 
 
 IX. A NUTTING PARTY 93 
 
 X. AT BOEN 115 
 
 XI. BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH . . .135 
 
 xn, ARNE'S SONG 150 
 
 xin. MARGIT'S CONFESSION . . . .161 
 
 XIV. BY THE BLACK WATER .... 177 
 
 xv. ARNE'S TREASURE 189 
 
 XVI. "AFTER MANY DAYS " .... 2IJ
 
 ARNE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PROLOGUE * 
 
 THERE was a deep ravine between two of the 
 mountains : through it a full-flowing stream 
 rushed heavily down over boulder and crag. 
 High was the bank on each hand, and rocky, so 
 that one side stood barren and naked ; but cio&c 
 to the stream and so near it, that in spring and 
 autumn it shook its spray upon them, were 
 green patches of forest-growth, looking up and 
 around, and finding room to throw out their 
 arms neither here nor there. 
 
 "What if we were to clothe the ravine- 
 side ? " said the Juniper one day to the stranger 
 
 * Translator's Note. The headings of the chapters are not 
 in the original 
 
 I A
 
 ARNE 
 
 Oak, that stood nearer to her than all the 
 others. The Oak looked down to see who it 
 was that spoke ; then looked up again and 
 held his peace. The stream worked so mightily 
 that its waters were foamy white ; the North 
 wind dashed into the ravine, and roared amid 
 the rocky rifts ; the bare mountain hung sadly 
 over it, shivering in the cold. 
 
 "What if we were to clothe the ravine 
 side ? " said the Juniper to the Fir, on the other 
 side of her. " If any one's to do it, it may well 
 be we," said the Fir ; he grasped his shaggy 
 beard, and looked across at the Birch. 
 
 " What do you think ? " he said. 
 
 The Birch looked warily up at the rocky 
 wall : so heavy it lay above her, that she scarce 
 felt able to draw breath. 
 
 " In God's name let us clothe it," said the 
 Birch ; and there was none other to help than 
 these three, so they took it upon themselves to 
 clothe the ravine-side. 
 
 The Juniper led the way. 
 
 When they had gone a little bit of the dis- 
 tance, they met the Heather. The Juniper was 
 about to go by. "No, let's take the Heather
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 too," said the Fir. So the Heather went with 
 them. 
 
 Before long the Juniper began to slip. 
 " Catch hold of me," said the Heather. Juniper 
 did so, and where there was only a tiny crevice 
 the Heather put in one finger, and where the 
 Heather once put a finger in, there the Juniper 
 worked in her whole hand. On they clambered 
 upward, the Fir slowly following them, and the 
 Birch labouring after. "But it's God's own 
 work," said the Birch. 
 
 Now the Mountain began to ponder what sort 
 of live creatures it could be that were clawing 
 and creeping up her. When she had thought 
 over it for a couple of hundred years or 
 so, she sent down a little streamlet to have a 
 look. It was in the spring-flood days, and 
 the brook slipped on and on till it came to the 
 Heather. 
 
 "Heather, dear Heather, can't you let me 
 by? I am so little!'' said the Streamlet. 
 
 The Heather was very busy ; she just raised 
 her head and went on with her work again. 
 Under her darted the Streamlet, and out and or 
 again. 
 
 3
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Juniper, dear Juniper, can't you let me by ? 
 I am so little ! " 
 
 The Juniper gave her a scrutinising glance 
 but as the Heather had let her by, she thought 
 she couldn't be doing much harm if she did 
 the same. On darted the Streamlet, on and 
 down again, till she came to where the Fir 
 stood, gasping for breath, on the steep hill-side. 
 
 " Fir-tree, dear Fir-tree, can't you let me by ? 
 I'm so little ! " said the Streamlet ; and she 
 kissed his foot, and behaved so humbly, yet 
 daintily, that he felt quite abashed, and made 
 way. 
 
 But the Birch drew aside of her own accord, 
 before ever the Streamlet asked. 
 
 " Hi, hi, hi ! " laughed the Streamlet, growing 
 bigger and bigger. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha 1" laughed the Streamlet, still 
 growing. " Ho, ho, ho ! " as she grew greater 
 still, and hurled Heather and Juniper, and Fir 
 and Birch flat on their faces and their backs, up 
 and down the craggy boulders. The Mountain 
 sat pondering for some hundred years whether 
 she had not smiled that day. 
 
 It was clear enough ; the Mountain did not 
 
 4
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 wish to be clothed. The Heather was so much 
 put out that she turned quite green again before 
 going on. " Pluck up your heart ! " said the 
 Heather. Juniper had got half up to look at 
 the Heather, and went on getting up for so long 
 that at last she was quite upright. She ran her 
 hand through her hair, set out again on her way, 
 and bit so fast hold of the crags that she thought 
 the Mountain could not help being aware of it. 
 14 If you won't hold me, I'll hold you, at any 
 rate ! " was what she meant. The Fir bent his 
 toes a bit, to see if they were still sound ; raised 
 himself on one foot, and found it all right ; 
 raised himself on the other, which was unhurt, 
 too ; and then stood up on both. He looked 
 round him to see firstly, where he had been ; 
 secondly, where he had fallen ; and thirdly, 
 whither he was to go. Then he began to jog 
 along again, and behaved as if he had never 
 tumbled down in his life. The Birch had made 
 herself very dirty in her fall, but she got up and 
 brushed off the earth. And now on they went 
 again, growing more and more, right up over the 
 side, in sunshine and in rain. 
 
 44 What's all this about now ? " said the 
 5
 
 ARNE 
 
 Mountain, when the summer sun rose above 
 them, the dew-drops glittered on them, the birds 
 sang, the wood-mouse piped, the hare frisked 
 hither and thither, and the ermine hid himself 
 with a shrill cry. 
 
 Then came the day when the Heather got onf 
 eye over the edge of the mountain- wall. "OM 
 how lovely, how lovely, how lovely ! " she cried, 
 and on she dashed. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said Juniper, " what can it be 
 that Heather sees ? " and she pushed on till she 
 too could peep over. "Oh! how beautiful!" 
 burst from her, and she, too, sped on. " What's 
 up with Juniper to-day, I wonder ? " said the 
 Fir, making long, quick strides beneath the 
 summer sun. Presently he stretched up on his 
 toes and peeped over. " Oh, how glorious ! " 
 he cried, all his leaves and prickles standing on 
 end with amazement ; he struggled up over the 
 ledge, got a firm footing, and was off after the 
 other two. 
 
 "What can it be they all see there that I 
 can't ? " quoth the Birch, lifting her skirts well 
 up, and tripping after them. She got her whole 
 head above the ledge all at once. 
 6
 
 PROLOGUE 
 
 " Oh, look, look ! if there's not a great wood 
 of Firs and Heather and Juniper and Birches 
 upon the common there waiting for us!" cried 
 the Birch, shaking her leaves in the sunlight till 
 the dew-drops trickled sparkling off. 
 
 "Yes," said Juniper, "that's what comes of 
 going on 1 "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 ARNE was born up at Kampen. His mother was 
 Margit, the only child at the little farm among 
 the crags. When she was eighteen, she stopped 
 too long at a dance one evening ; her friends 
 had gone off without her, so Margit thought the 
 way home would be just as long for her, whether 
 she waited till the end of the dance or not. 
 Thus it came about that Margit remained sitting 
 there till Nils Skraedder,* the fiddler, suddenly 
 laid aside his instrument, as was his wont when 
 he had had more than enough to drink, left the 
 dancers to hum their own tune, took hold of the 
 prettiest girl he could find, and letting his feet 
 keep as good time to the dance as music to a 
 song, jerked off with the heel of his boot the 
 
 i.e.. tailor. 
 8
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 hat of the tallest man in the room. "Ho!" 
 laughed he. 
 
 As Margit walked home that night, the moon 
 was making wondrous sport over the snow. 
 When she got to the loft where she slept, she 
 could not help looking out at it again. Taking 
 off her bodice, she stood with it in her hand ; 
 then she felt that she was getting cold, so she 
 quickly took off her things and dived far down 
 beneath the coverlet. That night Margit dreamed 
 of a great red cow that had got into their field. 
 She strove to drive it out, but, try as she might, 
 she could not stir from the spot. The cow stood 
 there quietly eating, getting fatter and fuller, and 
 every now and again looking up at her with great 
 heavy eyes. 
 
 Next time there was a dance in the parish 
 Margit was there. She did not care much to 
 dance that evening; she sat listening to the 
 music, and it seemed strange to her that others 
 did not want to do so too. But when it grew 
 late, the fiddler rose and wanted to have a dance. 
 He went straight across to Margit Kampen. She 
 was scarcely aware of anything, but she was 
 dancing with Nils Skrsedder ! 
 9
 
 ARNE 
 
 Before long the weather grew warmer, and 
 there was no more dancing. That spring, Margit 
 was so taken up with a little lamb of theirs which 
 had fallen ill, that her mother thought she was 
 going almost too far. 
 
 " It's only a lamb, after all," she said. 
 
 " Yes," replied Margit, " but it's in pain." 
 
 It was long since she had been to church j 
 she had rather her mother went, she said, and 
 one of them must stop at home. One Sunday, 
 however, when the summer was getting on, the 
 weather was so fine that the mother thought the 
 hay might well be left out for another day and 
 night, and so they could both go. Margit had 
 nothing much to say against it, so she put on her 
 things; but when they got within hearing of 
 the church bells she burst into tears. The 
 mother turned pale as death. They went on, the 
 mother in advance, Margit following; they lis- 
 tened to the sermon, joined in the hymns, heard 
 the prayers out, and waited for the bells to peal 
 out the end of worship before they got up to go. 
 But when they were in the room at home again, 
 her mother threw both her arms round her. 
 " Hide nothing from me, my child ! " she cried. 
 10
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 Winter came again, but Margit danced no 
 more. Nils Skraedder went on playing, drank 
 more than formerly, and wound up each party 
 by dancing with the prettiest girl there. It was 
 now said for certain that he could get whichever 
 he wished of the daughters of the richest farmers 
 in the place ; some added that Eli B6en herseh 
 had offered him the hand of her daughter Birgit, 
 who was sick for love of him. 
 
 But just about this time it was, that a child ot 
 the cotter's daughter at Kampen was brought to 
 be christened. It was given the name of Arne, 
 and its father was said to be Nils Skreedder. 
 
 On the evening of that very day Nils was at 
 a great wedding feast: there he drank all he 
 could. He would not play, but was dancing the 
 whole time, and could scarcely endure any one 
 else being on the floor. But when he came to 
 Birgit Boen and asked for a dance, she refused. 
 He gave a short laugh, turned on his heel, and 
 took hold of the first best girl at hand. She, 
 too, held back. He looked down at her a 
 little dark creature, who had sat looking intently 
 at him; she was now quite pale. He bent 
 lightly over her and whispered : 
 ii
 
 ARNE 
 
 11 Won't you dance with me % Karen ? " 
 
 She did not answer; he repeated his question. 
 Then she replied, whispering as he had done : 
 
 "The dance might go further than I should 
 like." 
 
 He drew slowly back till he got to the middle 
 of the floor, then he gave a sudden spring, and 
 danced the " Hailing " alone. No one else 
 danced : all stood silently looking on. 
 
 Then he went out into the barn, threw himself 
 down, and wept. 
 
 Margit sat at home with the little boy. She 
 heard about Nils, and how he went from dance 
 to dance; she looked at the child and wept, 
 looked at him again and was glad at heart. 
 The first thing she taught the boy to say was 
 "Daddy," but she dared not do so when the 
 mother or rather grandmother, as she was 
 henceforth called was anywhere near. The 
 consequence of this was that it was the grand- 
 mother whom the boy called " Daddy." It cost 
 Margit much trouble to teach him not to do so, 
 and this helped to make him sharp and quick at 
 a very early age. He was not very big before 
 he learnt that Nils Skraedder was his father, and 
 
 12
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 as he was then at an age when all that is out of 
 the common is attractive, he soon got to know 
 what sort of man Nils Skraedder was. The 
 grandmother had strictly forbidden Nils ever 
 being mentioned ; her great aim in life was to 
 get her little Kampen made into a regular farm, 
 so that her daughter and her daughter's son 
 might be secure. She took advantage of the 
 neighbouring farmer's poverty to buy ground, 
 and every year she paid off a portion of the 
 money, working like a man, for she had been a 
 widow now for fourteen years. Kampen grew 
 steadily bigger, and now supported four cows 
 and sixteen sheep, besides having a half share 
 in a horse. 
 
 Nils Skraedder, meanwhile, was still going 
 about the parish. His business was not so pro- 
 fitable now as it used to be, partly because he 
 took less trouble about it, and partly because he 
 was not so well liked as of old. He devoted 
 himself all the more to playing the fiddle, and 
 this was often the occasion of his giving himself 
 up to drink, which led him into quarrels and 
 stormy days. There were some who heard him 
 complain of his lot. 
 
 13
 
 ARNE 
 
 Arne might have been about six years old 
 when he was one winter's day playing at sailors 
 on his bed : he had put up the white counter- 
 pane for a sail, and sat steering with a ladle. 
 His grandmother was sitting spinning, busy with 
 her own thoughts. Every now and then she 
 would nod her head, as if to hold fast the thing 
 she was thinking of. Then the boy knew that 
 she was taking no notice of him, so he began to 
 sing, just as he had heard it, a song about Nils 
 Skraedder, coarse and low as it was : 
 
 " If you've chanced but a day's length among us to dwell, 
 You have surely of Nils, our brave tailor, heard tell. 
 
 " If it's more than a day you've been here in our town, 
 Then of course you know how he knocked Bully-Knut 
 down ; 
 
 " And that off his own barn-roof he pitched Ola Per, 
 With a ' Next time, take food when you fly thro* the air. 1 
 
 " When Hans Bugge was getting so mighty a fame, 
 That the land and the water resounded his name, 
 
 " In his pride he bragged ' Tailor ! now say, if you dare, 
 Where you'll lie, and I'll spit, and I'll put your head there. 
 
 " ' Just come here,' answered Nils, ' within reach of my arm ! 
 Don't you know that mere swagger can't do any harm 
 
 " So they met : the first grapple proved neither the best, 
 And the hot-headed fellows prepared for the rest 
 
 M
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 "At the second round, Bugge lost foothold and fell. 
 Have a care to the game. Hans ! you'll need to play well ! 
 
 " But the third time Nils flings him head-down on the stones 
 In his blood, as he jeers Spit away, lad ! 'Hans groans." 
 
 The boy sang no farther ; but there were two 
 verses more, which his mother had not taught 
 him : 
 
 A tree's shadow hast seen o'er pure shining snow pass ? 
 Our Nils hast thou seen, when he plays with a lass ? 
 
 " Our fine Nils hast thou seen as he lords it in dance ? 
 Art thou Maid ? Then away, e'er befall thee mischance.' 
 
 These two verses the grandmother knew, and 
 they came the more vividly back to her now, 
 just because they were left missing. She said 
 nothing to the boy, but to the mother she said : 
 
 " That's right : let the boy know all your 
 shame ; but don't forget the last two verses ! " 
 
 Nils had now so given himself up to drink 
 that he was no longer the man he used to be 
 There were many folks who thought it would 
 soon be all over with him. 
 
 Now it happened that there were two Ameri- 
 cans visiting the place, and they heard that there 
 was a bridal near at hand ; at once they felt a 
 15
 
 ARNE 
 
 desire to see it, and observe the customs of the 
 people. Nils was playing there. They gave a 
 thaler each to the fiddler and asked for the 
 "Hailing." No one would take upon himself 
 to dance it, in spite of all entreaties. One after 
 another begged Nils himself to dance it ; he was 
 the best of them, after all, they said. 
 
 The more he refused, the more they pressed 
 him, till at last they were all urging him -to 
 dance, and that was just what he wanted. He 
 handed his fiddle to another man, laid aside coat 
 and cap, and stepped, smiling, into the midst of 
 the group. All the old anxious attention was 
 on him now, and that gave him back his former 
 vigour again. The onlookers pressed round him 
 as closely as possible, those in the background 
 mounting on tables and chairs, some girls looked 
 over the heads of the others. Most conspicuous 
 among these was a tall lass with light, tawny- 
 brown hair, blue eyes set deep beneath a broad 
 brow, and a mouth with long curving lips that 
 was often smiling, and was then generally a little 
 awry it was Birgit Boen. Nils saw her as he 
 cast his eyes up towards the rafters. The music 
 struck up : utter silence fell upon all. Nils threw 
 16
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 himself into the dance. He bounded over the 
 floor, glided up the room in time to the music, 
 with his body bending towards the ground, 
 swayed now to one side, now to another, crossed 
 his legs suddenly beneath him, sprang up again, 
 made as if to throw himself over, and then glided 
 along again all aslope. The fiddle was wielded 
 by a doughty hand, and the music grew more 
 and more fierce. Nils threw his head further 
 and further back, and suddenly struck the beam 
 above him with his heel, so that the dust came 
 showering down on those below. There were 
 shrieks of wonder and laughter around him, and 
 the girls stood looking at him as if unable to 
 draw breath. The music burst in upon them, 
 and spurred him on anew with more and more 
 energy. Nils by no means held back ; he threw 
 out his limbs, hopped in time to the music, 
 gathered himself up as if for another leap, then, 
 instead of taking it, glided forward again aslant 
 as before, till, just as he saw no one was expect- 
 ing it, he dashed his heel against the rafter over- 
 head, and again and again turned a somersault, 
 now forward, then backwards and stood erect 
 and motionless on his feet. That was enough. 
 17
 
 ARNE 
 
 The fiddle gave out a trill and a flourish, and 
 then a few wavering deep tones ; finally, these 
 died away in a single long bass note. The 
 lookers-on dispersed about the room : the breath- 
 less stillness gave way to quick, loud talk, min- 
 gled with shouts and laughter. Nils was standing 
 by the wall ; the Americans came over to him 
 with their interpreter, and gave him five thalers 
 apiece. Then there was silence once more. 
 
 The Americans spoke for a moment or two 
 with their interpreter. Then the latter asked 
 him if he would go with them as their servant ; 
 he should have whatever wages he asked for. 
 
 " Where am I to go ? " asked Nils, while all 
 the people pressed up to him as close as they 
 could. 
 
 " Out into the world," was the answer. 
 
 " When ? " asked Nils, looking round him 
 with shining eyes, which encountered those ol 
 Birgit B6en, and held them fast. 
 
 " In a week, when they come back," he was 
 answered. 
 
 " Maybe I shall be ready then," said Nils, 
 weighing his two five-thaler pieces. He had 
 leant one arm on the shoulder of the man standing 
 it
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 next to him, and now was trembling so that the 
 latter tried to make him sit down on a bench. 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing ! " answered Nils ; and he 
 made a few staggering steps over the floor, and 
 then a firm one or two ; then he turned and 
 called for a jig. 
 
 All the girls had pressed forward. He looked 
 round at them slowly and deliberately, and then 
 went over to one in a dark frock it was Birgit 
 Boen. He stretched forth his hand, and she gave 
 both hers. He gave a laugh, drew back, put his 
 arm round a girl standing beside her, and danced 
 off with hilarious glee. The blood rushed to 
 Birgit's neck and face. A tall, quiet-looking man 
 stood just behind her; he took her hand and 
 danced away close after Nils. The latter saw 
 it ; and perhaps from mere carelessness danced 
 so hard up against them that the man and Birgit 
 fell to the ground with a heavy fall. Birgit got 
 up, crept aside, and burst out bitterly weeping. 
 
 The quiet-looking man got up more slowly and 
 went straight up to Nils, who was still going on 
 dancing. 
 
 " You must stop a bit," said the man. 
 
 Nils paid no heed, so the other took him by 
 '9
 
 ARNE 
 
 the arm. Nils tore himself loose and looked him 
 in the face. 
 
 " I don't know you," he said, with a smile. 
 
 11 No, but you've got to know me now," said 
 the quiet- looking man, and struck him straight 
 over the eyes. 
 
 Nils, who was not expecting anything of the 
 kind, fell with a dull, heavy thud right against 
 the sharp corner of the stone grate. He tried 
 to rise again, but could not his back was 
 broken. 
 
 At Kampen, things had undergone a change. 
 The grandmother had been ailing of late, but as 
 soon as she perceived it, she began to work even 
 harder than before to get together the money for 
 paying off the final instalment of the debt due on 
 the farm. 
 
 "Then," she said, "you and the boy will 
 have all you need ; but if ever you let any one 
 in to waste it for you, I shall turn round in my 
 grave." 
 
 When autumn drew on she had had the satis- 
 faction of being able to jog up to the former 
 owner of the land with the last portion of the 
 debt; and a happy woman was she when she 
 20
 
 KAMPEN 
 
 sat in her chair at home again, and said : " Well, 
 that's done now ! " But that very day she was 
 stricken with mortal sickness. She had to take 
 to her bed, and she never left it again. Her 
 daughter buried her in the churchyard, where 
 there was room for the sleepers, and set up a 
 fine headstone, on which were graved her name, 
 her age, and a verse of one of Kingo's hymns. 
 
 A fortnight after the funeral, the grandmother's 
 black Sunday gown was made into clothes for 
 the boy, and as he stood in them, he looked as 
 grave as if she were come back to life again. Of 
 his own accord, he went to the clasped book with 
 big print that his grandmother had read and 
 sung out of every Sunday ; he opened it, and 
 found her spectacles lying there. These the 
 boy had never been allowed to touch all his 
 life ; now he took them timidly up, put them on 
 his nose, and looked through them at the book. 
 All was misty. " That's a very funny thing," 
 thought the boy ; " that was how grandmother 
 used to read God's word." He held them up to 
 the light, to see what was the matter with them 
 and there lay the spectacles on the floor ! 
 
 He was very frightened, and, as the door at 
 ax
 
 ARNE 
 
 that moment began to open, it seemed to him as 
 if grandmother must be just about to come in ; 
 but it was his mother and six men, who, with 
 much noise and tramping of feet, carried in a litter 
 between them, and set it down in the middle 01 
 the floor. The door stood open behind them 
 for a time, so that the cold air came into the 
 room. 
 
 On the litter lay a man with black hair and a 
 pale face. The mother walked about, weeping. 
 
 "Lay him carefully down on the bed," she 
 besought them, and helped them to do so. But 
 all the while the men were moving about with 
 him, there was a noise of something being 
 crushed under their feet. 
 
 "Ah, that's only grandmother's spectacles," 
 thought the boy ; but he did not say it.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 THIS was in the autumn, as we have said. A 
 week after the day that Nils Skraedder was 
 taken to Margit Kampen's, came a message from 
 the Americans that he was to hold himself in 
 readiness. He happened just then to be lying 
 writhing in dreadful pain ; he bit his teeth 
 together and cried out : 
 
 " Let them go to the devil ! " 
 
 Margit stood still by his bed, as it' she had 
 had no answer. He noticed it, and a moment 
 after, in a weary voice, he repeated : 
 
 " Let them go ! " 
 
 When winter drew on, he had got so far 
 better that he could sit up, though his health 
 was ruined for all his days. The first time he 
 really got up, he drew forth his violin and tuned 
 it ; but it worked him up to such a pitch of 
 33
 
 ARNE 
 
 excitement that he had to go back to bed again. 
 He was very silent now, though easy to get on 
 with, and as time went by he began to read 
 with the boy, and to do work in the house ; but 
 he never went out, nor did he talk with people 
 who came to see him. At first, Margit used to 
 tell him news about things in the parish ; but 
 after it he would fall into a fit of gloomy depres- 
 sion, so she gave it up. 
 
 As spring came on, he and Margit began to 
 sit up later than before, and talk together after 
 their supper. The boy was at those times sent 
 off to bed. Soon after the beginning of spring, 
 their banns were given out in church, and they 
 were then quietly married. 
 
 He took part in the work in the fields, and 
 looked after everything sensibly and without 
 fuss. To the boy, Margit said : " There is both 
 help and comfort in him for us. Now you must 
 be good and obedient, and do all that you can 
 for him." 
 
 Margit had been a buxom lass through all 
 her trouble ; her face was ruddy and her eyes 
 very large, and they looked the larger for the 
 nng that had come round them. Her lips were
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 full, and her face round, fresh, and healthy- 
 looking, though she was not very strong. Now 
 she looked nicer than ever before, and she was 
 constantly singing, as was her wont, when she 
 was at work. 
 
 Now it happened one Sunday afternoon thai 
 father and son had gone out, to see how things 
 were getting on in the fields. Arne was frisking 
 merrily along by his father, aiming hither and 
 thither with a bow and arrows, which Nils 
 himself had made for the boy. Thus going 
 along, they got on to the road that led from the 
 church and the parsonage into what was known 
 as " The Plain." Nils sat down on a stone by 
 the wayside and was soon lost in thought ; the 
 Doy darted about in the road, and ran after his 
 arrows, moving in the direction of the church. 
 
 " Take care ! " cried the father, " don't go 
 too far away 1 " Suddenly the boy stopped 
 short in his agile movements, as if he were 
 listening. 
 
 44 Father ! " he shouted, 4< I hear music ! " 
 
 The man listened too ; there was the sound 
 of fiddles and of loud and merry shouts accom- 
 panied by the clatter of horses' hoofs and the 
 25
 
 ARNE 
 
 rumbling of carriage wheels; it was a bridal 
 party coming back from the church. 
 
 " Come here, boy ! " shouted the father, and 
 Arne knew from his voice that he must come at 
 once. 
 
 Nils had suddenly risen, and drawn back 
 behind a great tree. The boy followed. 
 
 "Not here there!" And the boy fled 
 behind a clump of alders. The train of car- 
 riages was already turning the corner by the 
 birch copse, and they came galloping along : the 
 horses were white with foam, and men and 
 women merry with drink were shouting and 
 singing. Father and son counted carriage after 
 carriage ; there were in all fourteen. In the 
 first sat two fiddlers, and the bride-march rang 
 out through the clear, dry air ; a boy stood up 
 behind them, driving. Next came the bride, 
 with a wreath on her head, sitting tall and 
 bright in the rays of the sun ; she was smiling, 
 with her lips curved slightly to one side; by 
 her side was a man in blue clothes, with a 
 gentle, cheerful face. A long procession followed ; 
 men sitting on women's laps, little lads perched 
 up behind them, drunken folks driving, half a 
 26
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 dozen pulled along by one horse ; in the last 
 vehicle came the caterer, holding a keg of brandy 
 on his knees. They sped on, shouting and 
 singing, and dashed headlong down the hill. 
 The noise of the fiddlers, the shouts of merri- 
 ment, and the rattling of wheels was borne back 
 through the cloud of dust that followed them, then 
 melted into one single sound, which gave place 
 to a dull murmur, and finally died away. Nils 
 was still standing motionless, when he heard a 
 rustle behind him ; he turned round ; it was the 
 boy creeping forth again. 
 
 "Who was that, father?" But Arne started 
 es he saw the gloom on his father's face ; he 
 stood still, waiting for an answer, and then 
 remained standing still because he got none. 
 At last his patience gave out, and he ventured 
 again. " Shall we go ? " he murmured. 
 
 Nils seemed still to be looking after the bridal 
 train, but now he pulled himself together, and 
 began to move. Arne followed him. He put 
 an arrow to his bow, shot it away, and ran off 
 after it. 
 
 " Don't trample the grass down ! " said Nils 
 sternly. The boy let the arrow lie where it 
 27
 
 ARNE 
 
 was, and came back again. Presently, though, 
 he forgot, and whilst his father stood still again, 
 he threw himself down on the meadow, and 
 began turning somersaults. 
 
 "Don't trample the grass down, I tell you ! " 
 cried Nils, and pulled the boy up by the arm as 
 if he meant to dislocate it. After that, the boy 
 followed his father in silence. 
 
 Margit stood in the doorway waiting for 
 them ; she had just come back from the cow- 
 house, where she must have been hard at work, 
 for her hair was all untidy, her linen was soiled 
 and stained, and her clothes were in the same 
 state ; but she smiled as she stood there in the 
 doorway. 
 
 " Some of the cows got loose," she said, "and did 
 some mischief, but they're made fast again now." 
 
 " Can't you manage to look a bit decent of 
 Sundays?" said Nils, going past her into the 
 sitting-room. 
 
 "Yes. Now that work's over, it's time to 
 get tidy," said Margit, as she followed him. She 
 immediately began to change her clothes, singing 
 as she did so. Now Margit sang well, but at 
 times she was a trifle hoarse, 
 as
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 "Stop that row! "shouted Nils, from the bed, 
 on which he had thrown himself, and Margit 
 was silent at once. 
 
 Just then in rushed the boy. 
 
 " There's a great black dog," he cried, " that's 
 come running into the yard a great ugly 
 thing " 
 
 " Shut up, boy ! " yelled Nils, getting half off 
 the bed to stamp with one foot on the ground. 
 " Curse it, the devil must be in the brat ! " he 
 mumbled, as he drew up his foot again. The 
 mother gave the boy a threatening glance. 
 " Can't you see father's not in good spirits ? " 
 she said. 
 
 " Won't you have some strong coffee with 
 syrup in it ? " she went on to Nils, trying to 
 coax him into good humour again. This was a 
 beverage that the grandmother had liked, and 
 the others too. Nils had no liking for it, but 
 he used to drink it all the same, because the 
 others did so. " Won't you have some strong 
 coffee and syrup ? " she repeated, for he had not 
 answered the first time. Nils raised himself on 
 his elbows: "Do you think," he screamed, "I'll 
 swallow that muck ? " 
 
 29
 
 ARNE 
 
 Margit was dumb with astonishment : she put 
 her hand on the boy, and went out with him. 
 
 They had various things to do out of doors, 
 and so they did not come back till supper-time. 
 Nils was not within. Arne was sent out to the 
 fields to call him in, but he could not find him 
 anywhere. They waited till the food was nearly 
 cold ; but when they had finished supper Nils 
 was not yet back. Margit began to grow 
 anxious ; she sent the boy to bed, and sat down 
 to wait. A little after midnight, in came Nils. 
 
 " Where have you been, dear ? " asked she. 
 
 "That's no business of yours," he answered, 
 and sat slowly down on the bench. He was 
 drunk. 
 
 From that day, Nils was constantly going 
 about the neighbourhood, and each time he came 
 back again tipsy. 
 
 " I can't stand it here with you," he cried 
 once when he came in. She began to defend 
 herself with gentle words, but he stamped upon 
 the floor, and bade her be silent. If he was 
 drunk, that was her fault, he said. If he was 
 wicked, that was her fault too. If he was a 
 cripple and a miserable creature for all the days 
 30
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 of his life, that was all the fault of her, and 
 that confounded brat of hers. 
 
 "Why," he cried, bursting into tears, "were 
 you always coming after me, and hanging about 
 me ? What harm did I do you, that you could 
 not leave me in peace ? " 
 
 "But Heaven bless me and preserve me!" 
 said Margit, "was it I that came after you 
 then?" 
 
 " Yes, that it was ! " he screamed through his 
 tears; and springing up he went on: "And 
 now at last you've got it all as you wanted it ; 
 I go crawling about here from tree to tree; 
 every day I creep around, looking at my own 
 grave. And I might have lived grandly with 
 the richest and finest girl in the place, I might 
 have travelled as far as the sun travels, had not 
 you and your confounded boy thrown yourselves 
 in my way." 
 
 " That was no fault of the boy's, at any rate," 
 she said, trying once more to defend herself. 
 
 " If you won't hold your noise," he screamed, 
 " I'll strike you ! " And he struck her. 
 
 Next day, when he had slept off the effects of 
 the liquor, he was ashamed of himself, and much 
 31
 
 ARNE 
 
 kinder than usual to the boy. But he soon 
 drank again, and then again he struck her ; at 
 length he got to beating her each time he was 
 tipsy. The boy wept and moaned, and then ht 
 got beaten too. At times, too, Nils was so wild 
 with remorse that he could not stay within 
 doors. Now, too, he began to yearn to go to 
 dances again ; he played his fiddle as of old, 
 and took the boy with him to carry the case. 
 There Arne saw many things. The mother 
 wept at the lad's constantly going to such places, 
 but dared not say anything to the father. 
 
 "Cling fast to God," she earnestly begged 
 him, as she kissed him, "and learn nothing 
 wicked." 
 
 But it was very cheerful and amusing, and 
 here at home it was neither cheerful nor amusing. 
 He turned more and more from her and to his 
 father: she marked it, and was silent. Arne 
 picked up all sorts of songs at these dances, 
 and sang them afterwards to his father ; this 
 amused the latter, and sometimes the boy was 
 even able to make him laugh. This so flattered 
 the lad that he took care to learn as many songs 
 as possible ; he soon got to see what sort his 
 32
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 father liked best, and what it was in them that 
 he laughed at. If there was nothing of the sort 
 in the song, the boy put it in himself as well as 
 he could, and so he early got used to putting 
 words to music. Nils liked best to hear jeering 
 songs and scoffing ditties about folks who had 
 risen to prosperity and power; so that was the 
 sort of thing that Arne sang. 
 
 At length the mother wished to have him with 
 her of an evening to help in the cow-shed ; he 
 made all sorts of excuses to get off, but they 
 proved unavailing, and he had to go with her. 
 Then it was that she spoke earnestly to him of 
 God and all that is good, and ended, as she folded 
 him in her arms, by tearfully begging and pray- 
 ing him not to grow up a bad man. 
 
 The mother used to read with him, and the 
 boy was most wonderfully quick to learn. His 
 father was ver y proud of this, and got into the 
 way of telling him especially when he had 
 been drinking that he had his head. 
 
 At the dances Nils soon grew accustomed, 
 
 when the drink had got the better of him, to 
 
 order Arne to sing to the company. The boy 
 
 sang one song after another, amid loud applause 
 
 33 c
 
 ARNE 
 
 and laughter -, the applause delighted the boy 
 almost more than it did Nils, so that at last there 
 was no end to the songs he learned to sing. 
 Anxious mothers, hearing him, went to his own 
 mother and told her, for the songs he sang were 
 not fit for a boy. The mother took the boy 
 aside, and bade him, in the name of God and all 
 that is good, not to sing such songs; and now 
 it seemed to the boy that his mother was against 
 everything he delighted in. He told his father 
 for the first time what his mother had said. She 
 had to suffer for it in consequence next time Nils 
 got drunk, but after that Arne never told him 
 anything again. What he had done came now 
 vividly before the lad, and in his soul he besought 
 God and her for forgiveness, for he could not bring 
 himself to do so openly. The mother was as kind 
 to him as ever, and this cut him to the heart. 
 
 Once, however, he forgot himself. He had 
 the power of mimicking anybody, especially as 
 regards their way of speaking and singing. One 
 evening, when he was amusing his father by this, 
 his mother came in, and when she had gone out 
 again, it came into Nils's head to make the boy 
 imitate his mother's singing. At first he refused, 
 34
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 but the father, who lay on the bed, laughing so 
 that his sides shook, persisted obstinately in his 
 demand. 
 
 " Well," thought the boy, " she's a good way 
 off, so she won't hear it"; and he sang just as 
 she did at times when she was hoarse and in- 
 clined to tears. The father laughed so that it 
 almost frightened the lad, and he left off of his 
 own accord. Then Margit came in from the 
 kitchen, looked mournfully and steadfastly at 
 Arne, walked over to the dresser for a bowl, and 
 went out again. 
 
 Arne felt hot as fire throughout his whole 
 body. She had heard it all, then ! He jumped 
 down from the table on which he had been sitting, 
 dashed out, and threw himself down on the ground 
 as if he would fain bury himself in it. He could 
 not rest ; he sprang up, feeling he must get 
 further away. He rushed by the barn, and there 
 behind it sat his mother, hemming a new and 
 fine shirt for him. At other times she used to 
 sing a hymn over her work when she sat thus , 
 now she was not singing not that she was 
 weeping, either she was just sitting still, sew- 
 ing. But Arne could contain himself no longer ; 
 35
 
 ARNE 
 
 he threw himself down on the grass at her feet, 
 looked up at her, and sobbed passionately. The 
 mother let her sewing fall, and took his head in 
 her hands. 
 
 " Poor Arne ! " she said, and put her face 
 against his. 
 
 He did not make an attempt to speak, but 
 wept as he never had before. 
 
 " I knew all the time," said the mother, 
 stroking his hair, " that you were good at heart." 
 
 " Mother, you won't say No to what I'm going 
 to ask you ? " was the first thing he could say. 
 
 " That you know I never do," was the answer. 
 
 He tried to check his tears, and then, with 
 his head in her lap, he blurted out : 
 
 " Mother, sing me something ! " 
 
 " My dear, I can't, you know," she said, in a 
 low voice. 
 
 "Mother, sing me something!" implored he, 
 "else I'll never believe that I'm fit to look at 
 you again ! " 
 
 She stroked his hair, but made no sound. 
 
 " Mother, sing, sing ! do you hear, sing ! " 
 he sobbed out, " else 111 go far away and never 
 come back home again." 
 36
 
 THE WEDDING 
 
 And as he lay there, big boy of over fourteen 
 as he was, with his head in his mother's lap, she 
 began to sing over him : 
 
 " Lord, protect this little child, 
 Playing on the rugged shore. 
 Round him let Thy Spirit mild 
 Cast its bonds for evermore. 
 Mighty waves nor treach'rous sand 
 Tear him from that sacred band. 
 Safe and blessed may he live. 
 Praise to Thee and glory give. 
 
 " Mother sits in anxious pain, 
 Knowing not why thus he tarries ; 
 Calls him o'er and o'er again, 
 No reply the stillness carries. 
 Yet she knows, where'er the spot. 
 Help divine forsakes him not. 
 Far from angry wave and foam, 
 Jesus leads him gently home." 
 
 She sang several verses : Arne lay still, for a 
 holy peace had fallen upon him, and under its 
 sway he felt refreshed, and wearily restful. 
 The last word that he heard distinctly was 
 " Jesus." It seemed to carry him into a great 
 burst of light where twelve or thirteen voices 
 sang clear ; and above them all he could hear 
 his mother's. Sweeter music he had never 
 known ; he prayed that it might be given him 
 37
 
 ARNE 
 
 so to sing. It seemed to him that if he were 
 to sing very softly, he too should learn how to 
 do it ; so now he began to sing softly, and then 
 more and more softly, until the music seemed 
 well-nigh heavenly, and in his joy at this he 
 pealed forth in loud tones and all was at an 
 end. He was awake again : he looked up and 
 listened intently, but nothing struck on his ear, 
 save the mighty, unceasing noise of the water- 
 fall, and the sound of the little streamlet which, 
 with soft and constant murmur, flowed close by 
 the barn. The mother had gone ; but first she 
 had laid beneath his head her jacket and the 
 half-finished shirt.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 Now that the time had come for the cattle to be 
 looked after in the woods, Arne wanted to tend 
 them. Nils was against it ; as yet Arne had 
 never taken part in such work, and he was now 
 in his fifteenth year. But he pleaded his cause 
 so well, that it was decided in the way he wished, 
 and all that spring, summer, and autumn he was 
 only at home to sleep ; he was in the woods by 
 himself the livelong day. 
 
 He took his books with him to the woods : he 
 spent his time in reading and cutting letters on 
 the bark of trees, in walking and thinking, in 
 dreamy yearnings and singing ; but in the 
 evening, when he got home, the father would 
 often be drunk and strike the mother, cursing 
 her and the place as he boasted about once having 
 had the chance of travelling far away from it all. 
 99
 
 ARNE 
 
 Then the boy was seized with a longing for 
 travel. At home all was amiss, and his books 
 increased his longing to depart nay, sometimes 
 the very air seemed to be calling him away over 
 the mighty mountains. 
 
 Thus things were, when at midsummer time 
 he fell in with Kristen, the Captain's eldest son, 
 who had come to the woods with one of the 
 farm lads for the horses, so as to ride back home. 
 He was a boy a few years older than Arne, light- 
 hearted and full of fun, ever restless in all his 
 thoughts, but, notwithstanding, firm and stead- 
 fast of purpose. He spoke quickly and jerkily, 
 and, for choice, of two things at a time ; he rode 
 horses bare-backed ; shot birds on the wing, and 
 knew all about fly-fishing ; in short, he seemed 
 to Arne a very model in all things. He, too, 
 was yearning to travel, and talked to Arne of 
 far-off lands till they seemed to lie shining 
 before him. He found out Arne's love of 
 reading, and brought up to him books that he 
 himself had read, and when these were finished 
 he got new ones. On Sundays he would come 
 with geography and maps, and explain them 
 to him, and Arne read so eagerly all that 
 40
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 summer and autumn that he grew quite pale 
 and thin. 
 
 In the winter he got them to let him read at 
 home, partly because he was to be confirmed 
 next year, and partly because he had a way of 
 managing his father. He began, too, to go to 
 school now ; but there he was most content when 
 he could shut his eyes and call up to his mind 
 his books at home. He had no longer any 
 friends among the peasant lads. 
 
 The father's ill-treatment of the mother 
 increased with years, as did also his physical 
 ailments and his drunkenness. But when, spite 
 of this, Arne had to sit at home and amuse him to 
 get his mother an hour's peace, and to do so had 
 often to talk in a way which now in his heart he 
 despised, he began to loathe his father; but this 
 feeling he kept closely to himself, as he did his 
 love for his mother. When he met Kristen, 
 their talk was ever of travel and books ; he said 
 nothing, even to him, of how things were at 
 home. But many a time when, after converse 
 of wide wanderings with him, he walked home 
 alone, and thought of what would very likely be 
 going on there, he burst into tears, and prayed 
 41
 
 ARKE 
 
 to God among His stars to order things that it 
 should be granted him to journey forth before 
 long. 
 
 In summer, Kristen and he were confirmed. 
 Straightway the former began to carry out his 
 plans. His father had no choice but to let him 
 go away and become a sailor. He gave Arne 
 his books, promised to write to him often, and 
 fared forth. 
 
 So now Arne was left alone. 
 
 It was then that the longing to write songs 
 came again upon him. But now he no longer 
 patched up old ones ; he composed new songs, 
 putting into them all that most oppressed his 
 spirit. 
 
 But his heart was too heavy, and his grief 
 could not be pressed into verse. Through the 
 long nights he lay sleepless, till at last it seemed 
 quite certain to him that he could no longer 
 endure his life there. He must go away and 
 find Kristen, he felt, without saying a word to 
 any one. But when he thought of his mother, 
 and of what would become of her, he scarcely 
 dared to look her in the face. 
 
 One night at this time, he was sitting up very 
 42
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 late reading. Whenever he felt more depressed 
 than usual, it was his books he fled to, never 
 noticing that they only made him suffer the more. 
 The father was away at a wedding-feast, but was 
 expected home that evening; the mother was 
 tired and dreaded his return, so had gone to 
 bed. Arne heard a dull fall in the passage, and 
 started up ; there was the noise of some heavy 
 thing striking against the door. It was the 
 father returning. 
 
 Arne opened the door, and looked down at 
 him. 
 
 " Is that you, my bright boy ? " hiccupped 
 Nils ; " then come and help your daddy up." 
 
 Arne lifted him up and supported him to a 
 bench, picked up the fiddle-case, brought it in 
 too, and shut the door. 
 
 "Aye, look at me, my bright boy," Nils 
 rambled on. " I'm not much to look at now. 
 I'm no longer the Nils I once was. Let this 
 warn you I warn you you nev never to 
 touch brandy ; that's the very Devil the World, 
 the Flesh, the Devil. ' He resisteth the proud, 
 but giveth grace to the humble and meek.' Alas ! 
 alas ! what have I come to 1 " 
 
 43
 
 UtHI 
 
 He sat still for a moment, and then sang 
 through his drunken tears : 
 
 " ' Jesus Christ, Redeemer mine, 
 Help I need, so grant me Thine ; 
 Deep in mire although I lie. 
 Still Thine erring child am I.' 
 
 1 Lord, I am not worthy that Thou shouldst enter 
 under my roof, but say but the word ' " 
 
 He threw himself forward, hid his face in his 
 .lands, and sobbed convulsively. Long he lay 
 thus, and then he began to repeat word for word 
 from the Bible, as he had learnt it more than 
 twenty years before : 
 
 "But she came and begged Him, and said: 
 Lord, help me! But he answered and said: 
 It is not meet to take the children's bread and 
 cast it to the dogs. But she said : Yea, Lord, 
 but the dogs eat of the crumbs that fall from the 
 master's table." 
 
 He relapsed into silence again, but wept more 
 freely and less violently. 
 
 The mother had long been awake, but had not 
 dared to look up ; but now when she heard him 
 weeping as one who had been saved, she raised 
 herself on her elbows and looked up.
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 But no sooner did Nils catch sight of her than 
 he screamed : 
 
 " Do you look up you ? you want to see 
 what you've brought me to, don't you ? Yes, 
 this is what I look like, just this here before 
 you ! " He began to rise, and she crouched 
 beneath the fur coverlet. " No, no, don't hide 
 yourself! I'll find you soon enough," he said, 
 and stretching out his right hand, he began to 
 fumble about with his forefinger. "Tickle I 
 Tickle ! " he cried, and he drew aside the coverlet 
 and put his forefinger on her throat. 
 
 " Father ! " cried Arne. 
 
 "Look how shrivelled up and lean you've 
 got," Nils went on; "there's not far to go in 
 this. Tickle! tickle!" The mother convul- 
 sively seized his hand with both hers, but she 
 could not free herself from his grasp : she 
 crouched in a heap beneath the coverlet. 
 
 " Father ! " cried Arne again. 
 
 " So 1 there's some life in you yet, is there ? " 
 Nils went on, unheeding. " What a sight she 
 is when she wriggles, too ! Tickle ! tickle ! " 
 
 "Father!" cried Arne once more, and the 
 room began to go up and down. 
 45
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Tickle, I say ! " screamed Nils. 
 
 She let go his hands and gave herself up to 
 her fate. 
 
 " Father ! " shrieked Arne, and rushed to a 
 corner of the room where stood an axe. 
 
 "It's only obstinacy that keeps you from 
 crying out," Nils went on. " You'd better 
 take care, though ; such a funny thought's got 
 hold of me now ! Tickle, tickle ! " 
 
 " Father ! " cried Arne, and grasped the axe, 
 but stood still as if nailed to the floor ; for at 
 that moment the father rose up, gave a piercing 
 shriek, pressed his hand to his heart, and fell 
 to the earth. " Jesus Christ," came to his lips, 
 and then he lay quite still. 
 
 Arne scarcely knew where he stood or what 
 was before him ; he almost expected the room 
 to burst apart, and a flash from the heavens to 
 fall upon it. The mother began to draw long, 
 deep breaths, as if she had freed herself of an 
 incubus ; at last she raised herself in the bed, 
 and saw the father lying outstretched on the 
 floor, with the son standing by him, axe in 
 hand. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! what have you done ? " 
 4 6
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 she shrieked, as, springing out of bed, and 
 throwing a garment round her, she drew near 
 to him. Then something seemed to set free 
 Arne's tongue. 
 
 " He fell down by himself," he said, in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " Oh Arne, Arne, 1 don't believe you ! " cried 
 the mother in an earnest, reproachful voice. 
 " Now may Christ help you ! " And she cast 
 herself upon the body, with a burst of wailing. 
 
 But now the boy began to emerge from his 
 bewilderment, and he too fell on his knees. 
 
 "Sure as I hope for mercy from God," he 
 said, " he fell of himself, just as he stood there." 
 
 " Then our Lord Himself has been here ! " 
 said the woman quietly, and, raising herself on 
 her knees, she gazed fixedly before her. 
 
 Nils lay just as he fell, with stiffened limbs, 
 and open eyes and mouth. His hands were 
 near together, as if he had tried to fold them, 
 but had not had time. 
 
 "Come," said the mother, "you are strong; 
 help me to lift your father up, so that he may 
 lie on the bed." 
 
 They raised him up and laid him on it : she 
 47
 
 ARNE 
 
 dosed his eyes and mouth, straightened out his 
 limbs, and folded his hands. 
 
 They both stood there looking at him. All 
 that they had lived through before seemed not 
 to have lasted so long, nor to have had so much 
 in it, as had the last hour. If the Devil himseh 
 had been there, so also had God ; the encounter 
 had been brief. All that had been was now 
 over and done. 
 
 It was now a little past midnight, and they 
 had to watch by the dead till daybreak. Arne 
 went to the hearth and made a great fire ; the 
 mother sat down beside it. And as she sat 
 there, she thought of the many evil days she 
 had gone through with Nils, so that she thanked 
 God in fever-fervent prayer for what he had 
 done. " But all the same I had some happy 
 days with him, too," she said, and wept as if in 
 remorse for the thanksgiving that had just 
 escaped her ; and before long she was taking all 
 the blame upon herself, in that, for love of the 
 dead, she had transgressed God's law, and 
 broken her mother's commands ; and therefore 
 (she thought) it was right for her own sinful 
 love to have been her punishment. 
 48
 
 DAYBREAK 
 
 Arne sat down opposite to her. The mother 
 glanced at the bed and said : 
 
 " Arne, you must remember that it's for your 
 sake I have borne it all," and she burst into 
 tears, longing for a loving word to support her 
 amid the flow of her own self-reproaches, and 
 comfort her in all time to come. The boy 
 trembled, but had no answer. 
 
 " You must never leave me ! " she sobbed out. 
 Then there came before his eyes all that she had 
 been in the sorrowful past, and how unutterably 
 lonely she would feel if, in return for all her 
 loving kindness to him, he were to forsake her 
 now. 
 
 " Never, never ! " he said, in a low, fervent 
 voice ; he wanted to go over to where she sat, 
 but felt as if he could not move. There sat 
 both of them, weeping bitterly. She prayed 
 aloud, now for the dead, and again for herself 
 and her boy : then came the tears again, to be 
 interrupted presently by supplications to Heaven, 
 which again gave place to lamentation. At last 
 she said : 
 
 " Arne, you have a good voice ; sit back a 
 little way and sing a hymn for your father." 
 49 o
 
 ARNE 
 
 Straightway he seemed to find strength to do 
 it. He got up, fetched a hymn-book, and 
 kindled a fir-splinter ; then, with the torch in 
 one hand and the book in the other, he stood 
 by the head of the bed, and sang in a clear 
 voice Kingo's I27th hymn : 
 
 " Turn from as in grace Thine anger sore, 
 Call us not Thy judgment seat before. 
 Grant to us Thy servants, sinful-living, 
 Thy forgiving ! "
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 UPLAND KNUT 
 
 ARNE grew up reserved and shy; he went on 
 tending the cattle and making songs. Though 
 he was in his twentieth year, he still went with 
 the herds to summer pasture. He got the 
 pastor to lend him books to read, and that was 
 the only thing he cared for. 
 
 The pastor urged him to become a school- 
 teacher, saying that his faculties and learning 
 ought to be turned to the advantage of the com- 
 munity. Arne did not answer at once, but on 
 the following day, as he was driving his sheep 
 to pasture, he made this song : 
 
 " Little skipping lamb of mice, 
 Follow close the herd bell's chime ; 
 Though the road be steep and high, 
 Listen to my guiding cry.
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Little skipping lamb of mine 
 Keep for me that fleece of thine ; 
 For my mother 'twill provide 
 Garments warm in winter-tide. 
 
 Little skipping lamb of mine, 
 Keep your flesh all soft and fine ; 
 You are chosen from the troop, 
 As the lamb to make our soup." 
 
 When in his twentieth year, he one day chanced 
 to overhear a conversation between his mother 
 and the wife of the former owner of the farm. 
 They disagreed about the horse that they owned 
 in common. 
 
 " I'll just wait and hear what Arne says," said 
 his mother. 
 
 " That sluggard ! " answered the other, " he'd 
 iust as lief as not have the horse wandering 
 about all day in the woods, as he does himself, 
 1 dare say ! " 
 
 Then the mother was silent, though she had 
 spoken up well enough before. 
 
 Arne turned as red as fire. Never had it 
 occurred to him before that his mother might be 
 put to shame on his account. " Though, perhaps," 
 thought he now, " it may often have happened. 
 But why had she never told him, then ? " 
 52
 
 UPLAND KNUT 
 
 He kept thinking about it till it impressed on 
 his mind that his mother scarcely ever spoke to 
 him ; but then he never spoke to her either. 
 Indeed, whom did he ever speak to ? 
 
 Many a Sunday, when he sat silent at home, 
 he would have liked to have read aloud a sermon 
 to his mother her own eyes were not good 
 enough, for she had done too much weeping in 
 her life; but he could not bring himself to do 
 it. Many a time, too, he would have liked to 
 offer to read aloud from his own books, when all 
 at home was silence, and it seemed to him that 
 she must be finding it rather dull. But he could 
 not bring himself to do it. 
 
 " Well, well ! " he thought, at last, " I'll give 
 up going to the woods with the cattle, and spend 
 my time down here with mother." 
 
 Firm in this resolve, he went to the woods, as 
 usual, for a few days, drove the herds far and 
 wide for pasture, and made this song mean- 
 while : 
 
 " The parish is all restless, but there's peace in grove and 
 
 wood. 
 
 No beadle here impounds you, to suit his crabbed mood ; 
 No strife profanes ur little church, tho' there it rages high 
 But then we hive no little church, and that perhaps is why ( 
 
 53
 
 ARNE 
 
 " How happy is the woodland grove, despite the eager way 
 The hawk will chase the sparrow that he chooses for his 
 
 prey; 
 And tho' on some ill-fated thing the eagle swoops to 
 
 ground, 
 The little beast without it would a speedy grave have found 
 
 " One tree is conquered by the axe, while skyward rises one 
 The fox has torn the lambkin ere the setting of the sun. 
 The wolf has killed the little fox, now both are lying dead, 
 For Arne shot the hungry wolf before the night had fled. 
 
 " In valley and in woodland there are many things to see, 
 But of one thing be you certain, that your sight unclouded 
 
 be. 
 
 I dreamed I saw a stripling by his hand his father fell ; 
 It seemed to me, I know not how, this thing was done in 
 
 hell." 
 
 He came home and told his mother that she 
 must send to the village and get a herd-boy ; he 
 meant to look after the farm himself henceforth, 
 he said. So it was settled ; and now the mother 
 was ever about him, with tender admonitions not 
 to do too much. She got into the habit, too, at 
 this time, of giving him such dainty meals, that 
 he often felt ashamed to eat them ; but he said 
 nothing. 
 
 There was a song in his heart whose burden 
 was : " Over the mountains high ! " Somehow 
 or other, he could not finish it, chiefly because 
 54
 
 UPLAND KNUT 
 
 he wanted the refrain to come in every other 
 line ; afterwards, he gave up that idea. 
 
 But many of the songs he made got spread 
 about among the people, who liked them well. 
 There were some who would have been glad to 
 talk with him, especially such as had known about 
 him from his childhood. But Arne was shy of 
 all whom he did not know, and disliked them ; 
 chiefly because he believed they disliked him. 
 
 At his side in all his field-work was a labourer, 
 known as Upland Knut, a middle-aged man, who 
 was in the habit of singing at times ; but it was 
 always the same song that he sang. When this 
 had gone on for some months, Arne thought he 
 might ask him if he knew no other songs. 
 
 " No," answered the man. 
 
 Some days went by, and then, when the peasant 
 was once more singing his song, Arne asked : 
 
 " How did you come to learn just that one 
 song ? " 
 
 "Ah ! " replied the other, " it happened so." 
 
 Arne went from him straight home. There 
 
 sat the mother, weeping a thing he had not 
 
 seen her do since his father's death. He made 
 
 as if he had not noticed it, and turned to the 
 
 55
 
 ARNE 
 
 door again ; but he felt that the mother was 
 looking at him mournfully, and had perforce to 
 check his steps. 
 
 " Why are you crying, mother ? " he said. 
 
 For a moment or two, his words were the 
 only sound in the room ; they seemed to keep 
 repeating themselves to him, and he felt that 
 they had not been spoken gently enough. 
 
 " Why are you crying, mother ? " he asked 
 once more. 
 
 " Ah ! " said the mother, weeping still more, 
 "I don't really know." 
 
 He stood silent for a while, and then he said, 
 as boldly as he could : 
 
 " There must be something you're weeping 
 for." 
 
 There was silence again, and Arne began to 
 feel very guilty, although she had not reproached 
 him, and he knew of nothing he had done to 
 pain her. 
 
 " I just felt fit to cry," said the mother, at 
 length ; and then, after a pause, she added, " I'm 
 really so happy at heart," and then she burst out 
 weeping again. 
 
 But Arne hastened out, and his heart bore him 
 56
 
 UPLAND KNUT 
 
 on to the ravine. He sat beside it, and looked 
 down into it ; suddenly, as he was sitting so, he 
 began to weep. 
 
 " If only I knew what these tears of mine are 
 for ! " said Arne. 
 
 Up above on the new-ploughed field sat Up- 
 land Knut, singing his song. 
 
 "Ingerid Sletten, of Sillegjord-mere, 
 Had neither of silver nor golden store ; 
 But hers was one treasure she valued far more, 
 For a gift 'twas of old from her mother so dear. 
 
 11 Sure 'twas one of the plainest and simplest of things, 
 Just a hood for her head made of soft wool, dyed bright ; 
 But the thoughts of her mother that rose at its sight, 
 Made it fairer to her than the treasure of kings. 
 
 11 So she took it with careful and reverent hand, 
 And for full twenty years did the hood lay aside : 
 ' I will wear thee,' she said, ' if some day as a bride. 
 Little hood, at the altar all joyous I stand.' 
 
 For thirty long years did it still lie aside, 
 She fearing to spoil it or wear it away ; 
 
 O my own little hood,' she would often-times say, 
 
 ' In God's presence I 11 wear thee one day as a bride/ 
 
 For forty long years it lay hidden away, 
 And Ingerid thought of her mother so dear; 
 
 Thee, my poor little hood,' cried she, ' never, I fear, 
 Shall I wear, if I wait for the glad bridal day.' 
 
 57
 
 ARNE 
 
 " And her heart it was heavy with tears and with teen. 
 As she went to the box, forth her treasure to draw. 
 She looked at its place that was all that she saw, 
 For there was not a thread of the hood to be seen. " 
 
 Arne sat listening, as if music had fallen on 
 his ear from the mountains far away. He went 
 up to Knut. 
 
 " Have you a mother ? " he asked. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Have you a father ? " 
 
 11 Ah no ! No father." 
 
 " Is it long since they died ? " 
 
 " Ah yes ! Twas long ago. 
 
 "I suppose you've not got very many 
 friends ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! not many." 
 
 " Have you any here ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! not here." 
 
 "But you have some in your own village, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! not there either." 
 
 " Have you no one at all, then, who cares for 
 you?" 
 
 "Ah no! I have no one." 
 
 When Arne left him, he felt as if his heart 
 was so full of love to his mother that it must 
 58
 
 UPLAND KNUT 
 
 surely burst, and it seemed to him as if there 
 was a halo of light about him. 
 
 "Thou God in Heaven," he thought, "Thou 
 hast given me her, and with her such unspeak- 
 able love and yet I put her aside ; perhaps 
 when I want to draw her to me again, she will 
 be no more ! " He felt he must go to her, if for 
 nothing else, then just to see her. But on the 
 way a sudden thought struck him. "What if, 
 because you do not sufficiently prize her, you 
 were to be punished by soon losing her ? " He 
 stood stock-still. " Almighty God ! " he cried, 
 " what would become of me then ? " 
 
 At that moment, it seemed to him as if some 
 terrible misfortune was taking place at home ; he 
 rushed toward the house, cold sweat breaking 
 out on his brow, his feet scarcely touching the 
 ground as he ran. He tore open the house 
 door ; once inside, it seemed as if the air was 
 filled with peace. Gently he opened the door of 
 the room. The mother was already in bed, and 
 the moonbeans were shining upon her face. 
 She lay there, sleeping like a child.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 SOME days later, mother and son, who had lately 
 been more together, agreed to go to the wedding 
 of some relatives at a neighbouring farm. The 
 mother had not been to a party since she was a 
 girl. 
 
 They scarcely knew the people there except 
 by name, and to Arne especially it seemed 
 strange how all looked at him wherever he 
 was. 
 
 Something was said about him as he walked 
 through the passage once; he was not quite 
 certain what it was, but every drop of blood in 
 his veins began to boil when he thought of it. 
 
 He kept following about and looking at the 
 man who had said it ; at last he took his seat 
 beside him. But when they were at table, the 
 man's conversation took quite a different turn. 
 60
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 " Now I'll tell you a story," said he, " which 
 shows that nothing can be hidden so deep down 
 in the darkness but it comes to light some day." 
 It seemed to Arne that the man was looking at 
 him. He was an ugly-looking fellow, with thin 
 red hair that overhung a wide, round forehead, 
 below which were a pair of very small eyes, a 
 little snub nose, and a very large mouth with 
 pale, projecting lips. When he laughed he 
 showed all his gums. His hands, which were 
 on the table, were very large and coarse, though 
 the wrists were slender enough. He looked 
 keenly about, and spoke quickly, though with 
 effort. He was nicknamed " Ugly Jaws," and 
 Arne knew that Nils Skraedder had given him a 
 rough time of it in the old days. 
 
 " Yes," went on the man, " there's much sin 
 in this world ; it is often nearer to us than we 
 
 think Well, well! listen now to the story 
 
 of an ugly deed. Those here who are old 
 enough will remember Alf the Packman. ' Soon 
 come again ! ' was Alf s saying, and people have 
 got into the habit of saying it from him ; for 
 whenever he'd driven a good bargain and what 
 a hand he was at a bargain to be sure ! he threw 
 61
 
 ARNE 
 
 his pack on his back, and off he was, with a 
 ' Soon come again ! ' O, a devil of a fellow 
 was Alf^ a fine, jolly old boy was the pack- 
 man. 
 
 "Well now, about him and Big Lazy. Big 
 Lazy why, you knew him, of course ? Big he 
 was, and lazy too that's certain. Well, he fell 
 in love with a jet-black pony of AlPs, which 
 hopped like a grasshopper when the packman 
 drove it; and before Big Lazy himself right 
 well knew it, Alf had got him to give him fifty 
 thalers for the nag ! Into a carriole jumped Big 
 Lazy, big as he was, to drive like the king with 
 his fifty-thaler horse ; but though he might 
 curse it and lash it till the dust flew about in 
 clouds, the horse ran full tilt against every door 
 or wall that stood in its way; for it was stone* 
 blind ! 
 
 " Well now, whenever these two met they fell 
 a-fighting about the horse, quarrelling all over 
 the parish like two dogs. Big Lazy demanded 
 his money back again, but never got a stiver of 
 it : the packman beat him each time till he could 
 drub him no longer. ' Soon come again ! ' said 
 Alf, as he left him. O, a devil of a fellow was 
 62
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 Alf, I can tell you ! a fine, jolly old boy of a 
 packman ! 
 
 "Well now, years went by, and Alf never 
 came again. Some ten years after this, how- 
 ever, a notice was given out from the church for 
 him to come back, for a big fortune had been 
 left him. Big Lazy stood by. ' Ah ! ' he said, 
 'I knew well enough that it was not men but 
 money that wanted Packman Alf back ! ' 
 
 "Then folks all began to talk about Alf in 
 one place and another, and from all the gossip 
 this much was certain, that he was last seen, not 
 on the other side of the mountain ridge, but on 
 this side. You remember the road over the 
 ridge the old road don't you ? 
 
 " Now Big Lazy had, during the last few 
 years, got very rich and prosperous, in his farm 
 and in other property. He had also grown very 
 religious, and every one knew that he didn't 
 become religious all of a sudden for nothing, not 
 he any more than any one else. These things 
 set folks a-thinking. 
 
 " It was about this time that the way over 
 the ridge was re-made. Our grandfathers liked 
 to be able to go straight to a place, and so the 
 63
 
 ARNE 
 
 road ran right over the ridge; but we want to 
 have it all smooth and easy, so now the road 
 goes down along by the river. Well, there was 
 such a hubbub with all the blasting and mining, 
 that you might have thought the whole moun- 
 tain-side was coming down. All sorts of people 
 connected with the work gathered there, but 
 most frequently of all came the mayor, for he 
 travelled to and fro without payment. Well, 
 one day, as the workmen were digging away 
 the rocky earth, a man grasped what he thought 
 was a stone, but it was a hand, sticking out 
 amid the stones, and so strong was the hand 
 that the man who touched it fell back at the 
 touch and that man was Big Lazy. 
 
 " The mayor was not far off ; he was fetched 
 at once, and all the bones of a man were dug 
 out. The doctor too was fetched, and he put all 
 the bones together so cunningly that all it now 
 lacked was flesh. And now folks began to de- 
 clare that the skeleton was just the size of All 
 the Packman. ' Soon come again ! ' said Alf the 
 Packman. 
 
 " Well now, one and another began to think it 
 queer that a dead hand could knock down a 
 64
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 fellow like Big Lazy, especially without striking 
 him. The mayor straightway took him where 
 they could not be overheard, and taxed him with 
 the murder outright. But then Big Lazy swore 
 he was innocent with such oaths that the mayor 
 turned faint. 
 
 " ' Well, well ! if it wasn't you, you're man 
 enough to pass the night with the skeleton, aren't 
 you?' 
 
 " ' Yes, of course I am ! ' answered Big Lazy. 
 
 " So the doctor bound the bones at the joints, 
 and laid the skeleton on one of the beds in the 
 barrack-room. Big Lazy was to lie in the other 
 bed, while the mayor, wrapped round in his 
 cloak, kept close to the wall on the other side. 
 When it was dark, and time for Big Lazy to 
 join his bed-fellow, the door seemed to close 
 behind him of its own accord, and shut him off 
 from the light. But Big Lazy began to sing 
 hymns, for he had a very strong voice. 
 
 " ' Why are you singing hymns ? ' asked the 
 mayor from without. 
 
 " ' Because I don't know whether bells were 
 ever tolled and hymns sung for him,' answered 
 Big Lazy. 
 
 65 >
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Presently he began to pray as hard as he 
 could. 
 
 " ' Why are you praying ? ' asked the mayor 
 from without. 
 
 " ' Because he was a fearful sinner,' answered 
 Big Lazy. 
 
 " Then for a long time all was so still that 
 the mayor had very nearly fallen asleep. Sud- 
 denly there was an awful scream, that shook the 
 whole building. 
 
 " ' Soon come again ! ' it rang out. There 
 was the noise of fiendish confusion within. 
 
 ' Let's have those fifty dollars of mine I ' 
 roared Big Lazy, and then came a scream and a 
 crash. The mayor burst open the door ; in 
 rushed the people with sticks and torches, and 
 there lay Big Lazy in the middle of the floor, 
 and on top of him the skeleton ! " 
 
 There was unbroken silence all round the 
 table. At length one said, lighting his clay pipe 
 the while : 
 
 " He went mad from that day, didn't he ? " 
 
 " He did." 
 
 Arne felt as if all eyes were on him, and he 
 could not muster courage to look up.
 
 ARNE'r, STORY 
 
 " I say, as I said before/' resumed the man 
 who had told the story, " there's nothing can be 
 hidden so deep down in the darkness but it 
 comes to light some day." 
 
 "Well, now," said a fair-haired, thick-set, 
 round-faced man, " I'll tell you about a son who 
 struck his own father." 
 
 Arne felt as if he scarce knew where he was 
 sitting. 
 
 "There was once a quarrelsome, bullying 
 fellow," the man went on, " belonging to a good 
 family down there in Hardanger, and he had got 
 the better of many a man. Now, he and his father 
 had a quarrel about money matters, and this made 
 him as cantankerous at home as he was abroad. 
 
 " Well, his goings-on grew worse and worse, 
 and his father kept getting more and more angry 
 with him. ' No one shall be my master ! ' said 
 the son. 'That shall I,' said the father, 'as 
 long as I live.' 
 
 " ' If you don't be quiet, I'll strike you ! ' said 
 the son, and he raised his arm. 
 
 " ' Just you dare, and you'll never have a 
 moment's happiness in this world,' said the 
 father, raising himself too. 
 67
 
 ARNE 
 
 " ' Think so ? ' said the son, and he fell upon 
 the other and threw him to the ground. But 
 the father made no resistance: he only folded 
 his arms and let him do as he would. 
 
 " The son beat him, laid hold of him, and 
 pulled him to the door. 
 
 " ' I will have peace at home ! ' he cried. 
 
 "But when they got to the door, the father 
 half raised himself. 
 
 " ' No further than the door ! ' he cried ; 
 'just so far as that did I drag my own father ! ' 
 
 " The son paid no heed ; he dragged his 
 father's head over the threshold. 
 
 " ' No further than the door, I tell you ! ' 
 cried the old man. He got up, threw his son 
 to the ground at his feet, and beat him like a 
 child." 
 
 " What an awful story ! " cried several voices. 
 
 " How shocking to strike one's father ! " Arne 
 seemed to hear some one saying ; but he was 
 not certain. 
 
 " Now /'// tell you something," said Arne ; 
 and he got up, pale as a corpse, and not know- 
 ing what he was to say. All he saw was words 
 whirling about him like great snowflakes. " Let 
 68
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 me catch them as they fly," he thought, and he 
 began : 
 
 "A troll once met a boy walking along the 
 road and crying. 'Whom are you most afraid 
 of ? ' asked the troll, ' yourself, or somebody 
 else?' 
 
 " Now, the boy was crying, as it happened, 
 because the night before he had dreamed that 
 he had been obliged to kill his wicked father, 
 so he answered : 
 
 " Myself.' 
 
 " ' Be at peace with yourself, then, and never 
 weep again ; for henceforth you shall be at 
 variance only with others.' And so saying the 
 troll went his way. 
 
 " Now the first person whom the boy met 
 laughed scornfully at him, and the boy could 
 not but sneer at him in return. The next 
 whom he met dealt him a blow, and the boy, to 
 defend himself, struck back. The third whom 
 he met tried to kill him, so the boy had to kill 
 htm. 
 
 11 And now every one began to speak ill of 
 the boy, so that he had nothing but ill to speak 
 of every one. They locked all their cupboards 
 69
 
 ARNE 
 
 and bolted their doors, so that whatever he 
 needed he must perforce steal : even his night's 
 lodging he was forced to get by stealth. And 
 now that he was unable to find anything good 
 to do, he must needs find something evil. Then 
 all the parish began to be saying : ' Really we 
 must get rid of this boy, he is so wicked.' So 
 one fine day they took him and put him out of 
 pain. Now the boy himself had no idea that he 
 had done anything wrong, and so after death he 
 went straight to our Lord's presence. There on 
 one bench sat his father (whom, as you know, 
 he had not killed), and on another, just opposite 
 him, all those who had been the cause of his 
 doing evil. 
 
 " ' Which bench are you afraid of ? ' said 
 God. The boy pointed to the long row of faces. 
 
 " ' Sit down by your father, then,' said our 
 Lord ; and the boy went to do so but just 
 then down tumbled the father from the bench, 
 with a great wound in his neck. In place of 
 him sat the figure of the boy himself, but with 
 horror-stricken face and features pale as death. 
 Then came another figure of himself, this time 
 with a drunkard's face, and bloated, drink- 
 701
 
 ARNE'S STORY 
 
 swollen body ; and after him one with vacant 
 eyes, torn garments, and horrid laughter. 
 
 " ' Even as one of these might you have been/ 
 said our Lord. 
 
 " ' Even as these ! ' repeated the boy, and he 
 put out his hand to touch God's garment. At 
 that, down fell both benches from the heavens, 
 and the boy stood there before his God's face 
 and laughed. 
 
 " ' Think on that when you awake ! ' said our 
 Maker and at that moment the boy awoke. 
 
 " Now the boy who dreamed all this was I, 
 and those who tempt him by thinking ill of him 
 are you 1 Myself I no longer fear ; but of 
 you I am indeed afraid. Call not out the evil 
 in me ; for I know not whether it will be 
 granted me to touch the garment of our Lord." 
 
 He dashed out of the room, and all the people 
 looked at one another.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 SELF-REPROACH 
 
 IT was the day after, in the barn of that same 
 farm. Arne had drunk too much, for the first 
 time in his life. It had upset him, and he had 
 lain in the barn there for the best part of the 
 four-and-twenty hours. He was sitting up now, 
 leaning on his elbows and talking to himself. 
 
 " Everything, I see, can be brought home to 
 my cowardice. I didn't run away when I was a 
 boy that was cowardice ; I heeded father more 
 than mother that was cowardice ; I sang horrid 
 songs to him that was cowardice ; I took up 
 with going with the cattle to pasture, just out 
 of cowardice ; with reading yes, that was 
 cowardice, too I only wanted to hide from 
 myself. Even when I was no longer a boy, 
 1 didn't take mother's part against father 
 coward that I was ! and even that night 
 72
 
 SELF-REPROACH 
 
 coward ! coward ! I did not coward ! I 
 should very likely have done nothing till he 
 had killed her ! Afterwards I could no longer 
 endure home coward ! yet I didn't go away 
 either coward ! I just did nothing ; I went 
 and watched the cattle coward ! It's true I 
 had promised mother to stay with her ; but 
 I'm sure I should have been coward enough to 
 break my word at any time, if I hadn't been 
 afraid of mixing with people ; for the truth is 
 I am afraid of people, chiefly because I think 
 they see what a wretched creature I am. But 
 just because I am afraid of them I go and talk 
 evil of them confounded coward that I am. 
 It's only out of cowardice that I make songs. 
 I dare not think of my own affairs, so I go and 
 dip in other folks' and that's making poetry ! 
 
 " I've had reason enough for weeping till the 
 hills turned to lakes, yet I say to myself, ' Hush, 
 hush,' and rock myself to sleep. Why, even 
 my songs are cowardly : if they were bolder, 
 they'd be far better. I'm afraid of all bold 
 thought : I fear everything that's strong ; if I 
 force myself to it, it's only when I'm in a 
 passion and passion is mere weak cowardice. 
 73
 
 ARNE 
 
 I'm cleverer, abler, wiser than I seem I'm 
 better than I appear from my talk but yet, 
 such is my cowardice, I dare not seem to be 
 just what I am. Why, look here ! that brandy 
 yesterday I only drank from cowardice ; I 
 wanted to drown my thoughts ! Ah, I was 
 doing wrong, I knew ; but I went on drinking 
 and drinking I drank my father's life-blood 
 and my own wits away ! Why, my cowardice 
 is altogether without limits ; and most cowardly 
 of all is it that I can loll here and tell myself all 
 this. 
 
 " Kill myself ? stuff and nonsense ! I'm much 
 too much of a coward for that I Besides, I 
 believe in God yes, I do believe in God and 
 I'd go to Him gladly enough too, but my 
 cowardice keeps me from Him. Everything 
 would be changed and different then, and that's 
 just what a coward like me shudders away from. 
 But suppose I tried tried with all my might ? 
 Almighty God ! suppose I were to try. I say, 
 would'st Thou amend me in such way as my 
 frail strength could endure ? for there is neither 
 bone nor sinew in me ; all is as quavering jelly. 
 But suppose I were to try with good and 
 74
 
 SELF-REPROACH 
 
 gentle books (I fear all strong writings) ; with 
 beautiful tales and legends, and all that is com- 
 forting; with a sermon every Sunday and a 
 prayer every evening ; and with regular, steady 
 work, so that religion may find fitting soil for 
 that it cannot in idleness. If I were to try 
 dear gentle God of my childhood ! let me try to 
 come to Thee ! " 
 
 Some one opened the door, and dashed across 
 to him ; it was his mother, her face pale as 
 death, though it was bathed in perspiration. 
 This was the second day of her search for her 
 son. She had been crying his name aloud, and 
 without waiting to listen for his answer, going 
 on crying aloud and running about, till he called 
 out to her from amid the hay on which he lay. 
 Then she uttered one shrill scream, sprang upon 
 the heap of hay, more lightly than a boy, and 
 folded him in her arms. 
 
 " Oh, Arne ! Arne ! are you here ? " she 
 sobbed. " Have I really found you at last ? 
 I have been looking for you ever since yester. 
 day evening : I have been searching all night. 
 My poor, poor Arne ! I saw they had been 
 treating you shamefully. I did so want to talk 
 75
 
 ARNE 
 
 with you and console you ! Arne ! I saw you 
 were drinking too much! God Almighty! 
 may I never see that again ! " It was long 
 before she could go on again. "Jesus guard 
 you, my son," she sobbed. " I saw you drink- 
 ing ! and then all of a sudden you had got 
 away from me, all dazed with drink and worry 
 as you were, and I ran about everywhere to 
 find you : I went into every house ; I ran far 
 out into the fields ; I peered into every ditch ; 
 I asked everybody I met ; I came here, too, but 
 you did not answer my call. O Arne, Arne ! I 
 went along by the river, but it did not seem 
 
 anywhere deep enough to " And she 
 
 pressed him closer to her. 
 
 "That made me feel calmer, and I thought 
 you must surely have gone home, and I hurried 
 back, and got there in a quarter of an hour. I 
 opened the doors and looked in every room, and 
 not till then did I remember that I had the key 
 myself, so that you could not possibly have got 
 in there. Arne ! last night I searched every 
 inch of the road on both sides ; I did not dare 
 to go and look at the precipice ! How I came 
 here again I don't know ; there was no one *<? 
 76
 
 SELF-REPROACH 
 
 help me, but somehow God put it into my mind 
 that you must be here." 
 
 He tried to soothe her as best he could. 
 
 " Arne ! " she burst out, " you'll never drink 
 brandy again, will you ? " 
 
 " No, you may be sure of that." 
 
 "They must have behaved badly to you 
 they did behave badly to you, didn't they ? " 
 
 " Ah no ! it was I who was a coward" replied 
 he, laying stress on the last word. 
 
 " I don't understand how they could treat you 
 unkindly. But what was it they did to you? 
 You never will tell me anything." And she 
 began to weep again. 
 
 " But you never tell me anything either," 
 returned Arne, in a gentle voice. 
 
 " Still, it's your fault most, Arne ; I have 
 grown so used to say nothing from your father's 
 days, that I need you to help me a little to 
 speak ! Good God ! there's only we two ; and 
 we have suffered so much together." 
 
 "Let us see if we cannot make things go 
 better for the future," whispered he. " Next 
 Sunday I'll read out the sermon to you." 
 
 " God bless you for that ! " she murmured. 
 77
 
 ARNE 
 
 Presently she began again. 
 
 " Arne ! " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " There is something I ought to tell you." 
 
 "Tell it me, mother." 
 
 " I am bearing a great sin for your sake : I 
 have done a wicked thing." 
 
 " You, mother ! " he cried. And it moved 
 him so to think that his loving-hearted, ever- 
 patient mother should reproach herself for 
 having sinned against him, who never did any- 
 thing really kind for her, that he threw his 
 arms round her, kissed her, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 " Yes, I ! and yet I couldn't help doing it." 
 
 "O mother, you've never done anything 
 wrong against me, I know." 
 
 " Yes, I have ; God knows it was only 
 because I loved you so. But you will forgive 
 me for it, won't you ? " 
 
 " I'll forgive you, never fear." 
 
 "And some other time I'll tell it you but 
 you'll forgive me for it, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, mother." 
 
 "You see, that's really why it's been so hard 
 78
 
 SELF-REPROACH 
 
 for me to talk with you I have had this sin 
 against you on my mind." 
 
 44 Good God ! don't talk so, mother." 
 
 " At any rate, I'm glad now that I've been 
 able to tell you that much." 
 
 " Mother, we must talk together more, you 
 and I." 
 
 " That we will and you'll really read the 
 sermon to me, won't you ? " 
 
 "That I will." 
 
 44 God bless you, my poor, poor Arne ! " 
 
 " I think now we had better go home." 
 
 " Yes, home." 
 
 41 Why do you look about you like that, 
 mother ? " 
 
 44 It was in this very barn your father lay 
 and wept." 
 
 44 Father ? " cried Arne, turning pale. 
 
 44 Poor Nils ! it was the day you were chris- 
 tened," said Margit. " Why do you look about 
 you like that, Arne ? " 
 
 79
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ELI 
 
 FROM the day on which Arne had tried with all 
 his heart to join his life more closely to his 
 mother's, his attitude towards other people began 
 quite to alter. He looked at them now more 
 with his mother's gentle eyes. But he often 
 found it hard to remain true to his purpose ; 
 for the things that were most in his thoughts 
 were often quite beyond his mother's under- 
 standing. Here is a song he made about this 
 time: 
 
 " So lovely and bright was the fair summer's day, 
 
 That the house seemed oppressive to grow ; 
 So out to the beech-grove I wended my way, 
 
 And myself on my back did I throw. 
 But the midge 'gan to sting, and the ant 'gan to creep, 
 And the gadfly buzzed out at me, ' Wake from thy sleep ! " 
 
 . " Won't you go out this glorious day, dear ? " 
 said the mother, who sat singing by the threshold. 
 80
 
 ELI 
 
 " So lovely and bright was the fair summer's day, 
 
 That the house seemed oppressive to grow ; 
 So I sang on the hill-side, as dreaming I lay, 
 
 Of fair maidens and days long ago. 
 
 But some serpents approached me, a good three ells long, 
 And chased me away from my meadow and song." 
 
 "It's such beautiful weather, one could gc 
 barefoot," said the mother ; and she drew oft 
 her stockings. 
 
 So lovely and bright was the fair summer's day, 
 
 That the house seemed pppressive to grow ; 
 I longed for a plunge in the cool of the bay, 
 
 So far out on the fjord did I row. 
 But fiercely the sun came, my skin to attack : 
 And that was too much, so I rowed the boat back." 
 
 " Now, this is the sort of day for the hay to 
 get dry in," said the mother ; and she pushed a 
 hay-rake deep into it. 
 
 " So lovely and bright was the fair summer's day. 
 
 That the house seemed oppressive to grow ; 
 To the depth of the greenwood, where venturesome raj 
 
 Ne'er pierces, I hopefully go. 
 
 But a worm from a tree tumbled down on my face : 
 Fiend take you,' cried I, and I rushed from the place. ' ' 
 
 "Well, if the cow doesn't find plenty to eat 
 to-day," said the mother, "she never will." And 
 she glanced up towards the pasture. 
 
 81 *
 
 ARNE 
 
 " So lovely and bright was the fair summer's day, 
 
 That the house seemed oppressive to grow ; 
 I bathed in the waterfall's silvery spray, 
 
 Now here can befall me no woe 1 ' 
 Alas ! I was drowned in the golden sunshine 
 But if this is so, then this song isn't mine." 
 
 " Three such sunny days, and all the hay will 
 be got safely in," said the mother. And away 
 she went to make his bed. 
 
 Nevertheless, Arne's intercourse with his 
 mother grew every day more and more of a 
 comfort to her. The things she was unable 
 to understand produced a relationship to her 
 quite as well as the things she did understand ; 
 for just because she did not grasp them, he 
 thought over her difficulties more and more; 
 and she herself grew dearer to him for his find- 
 ing her boundaries in all directions. Yes, she 
 was very, very dear to him ! 
 
 Arne had not cared much for stories when he 
 was a boy, but now, as a young man, he was 
 seized with a passion for them, and then for the 
 national sagas and heroic songs. A strange 
 longing possesed his soul. He went about alone 
 much of his time now; and many a place he 
 had never looked at before now seemed to him 
 82
 
 ILI 
 
 marvellously fair. While he was being- prepared 
 for confirmation, he had often gone with his class 
 fellows and played beside a great piece of water 
 near the parsonage called, from its depth and 
 darkness, the Black Lake. This water now 
 began to come into his thoughts again, and one 
 evening he wandered down to it. 
 
 He sat down behind some bushes close by 
 the parsonage, which lay on the slope of a very 
 steep hill that rose high behind it. The opposite 
 shore was of the same shape, so that all sorts of 
 strange shadowy forms were playing on the lake 
 from both sides ; but out in the middle was a 
 broad shimmering band of silver water. 
 
 All was peace. The sun was beginning to 
 set; there came the faint chime of bells from 
 the opposite shore, and save that there was no 
 sound. Arne did not look straight across ; at 
 first his eyes were fixed on the surface of the 
 waters, for the sun just before sinking was shed- 
 ding a deep red glow over them. There was a 
 break in the mountains, making a long, low vale, 
 in which the waters plashed ; it looked as if the 
 crags grew together again in order to encompass 
 the intervening dale. 
 
 83
 
 ARNE 
 
 Homestead touched homestead in the valley 
 beyond ; the smoke rose up from them and curled 
 away ; the fields shone with verdant moisture, 
 and boats laden with hay lay by the shore. He 
 could see many folks moving about, but he heard 
 no sound. His eye turned from them to the 
 strand, from which rose naught save God's dark 
 woods, through which, by the water's edge, the 
 path of mankind was pointed out as by a finger, 
 for all the way a winding streak of dust was 
 plain to see. With his eye he followed it till he 
 reached the point just opposite to where he sat ; 
 there the wood ceased, the mountains broke, and 
 farm upon farm filled the gap. There were red- 
 painted houses, larger than those in the lower 
 valley and with bigger windows, which just now 
 were red too in the setting sun. The hills were 
 all alight with bright rays : the smallest child at 
 play there could be seen, distinct and plain ; 
 bright by the water's edge the sand shone white, 
 children and dogs gleefully disporting themselves 
 thereon. But suddenly all grew sun-forsaken 
 and gloomy, the houses dusky-red, the herbage 
 black green, the sand grey-white, the children 
 little shapeless lumps. A mist had sprung up 
 84
 
 ELI 
 
 over the mountain-side and shut out the face of 
 the sun. But Arne looked down into the waters, 
 and found all the scene pictured there again. 
 The smiling corn-fields waved before him, the 
 woods slept silently into his view. There stood 
 the dwelling-houses gazing calmly down, with 
 doors open, and children passing in and out. 
 Mystic fancies, strange memories of childhood 
 circled round him like fish around the bait ; 
 away they darted, back they ventured again, to 
 and fro they sported, but never did they let 
 themselves be caught. 
 
 44 Let us sit down here till your mother comes 
 back ; the pastor's lady must get done some time 
 or other, after all." 
 
 Arne started up ; somebody had plainly seated 
 himself right behind him. 
 
 41 Oh ! I would so like to stay just this one 
 night more," said a supplicating, tearful voice 
 a voice evidently belonging to a young girl not 
 yet quite grown up. 
 
 "Now, don't cry any more," answered the 
 gentle but deliberate voice of a man ; " it's not 
 nice of you to keep crying because you're to go 
 home to your mother." 
 
 85
 
 ARNE 
 
 " That's not why I'm crying." 
 
 "Why are you crying, then." 
 
 " Because I can't be with Mathilde any more." 
 
 (This was the name of the pastor's only 
 daughter. Arne called to mind now that a 
 young country girl had been brought up along 
 with her.) 
 
 "Well, that couldn't go on for ever, you 
 know." 
 
 " Yes, but only just one day more ! " And her 
 sobs burst forth again. 
 
 " It's best for you to come back home with us 
 now ; perhaps, as it is, it's too late." 
 
 " Too late ! what do you mean ? Did ever 
 girl hear the like ? " 
 
 " You were born a country girl, and a country 
 girl you must remain ; we're not the sort of people 
 to have a fine lady." 
 
 ' I could have kept on being a country girl 
 however much I stayed there." 
 
 " You can't judge of that." 
 
 " I've always worn country girl's clothes." 
 
 " That's not what makes a country girl." 
 
 " I've spun, too, and woven, and cooked." 
 
 " That's not it, either." 
 86
 
 ELI 
 
 4> I can talk just as you and mothei do." 
 
 " Nor is that it, either." 
 
 " Well, then, I don't rightly know what it is ! " 
 said the girl, and she laughed. 
 
 "We shall see," replied the other. "One 
 thing I'm afraid of is that you've got too many 
 ideas in your head already." 
 
 " Ideas, ideas ! that's what you're always 
 saying. I haven't got a single one, I tell you." 
 And she fell a-weeping again. 
 
 " Little weathercock that you are ! " ejaculated 
 the man. 
 
 " Weathercock indeed ! The pastor never 
 called me that." 
 
 " Well, then, / do." 
 
 " Weathercock, weathercock ! Did ever girl 
 hear the like? I won't be called weathercock, 
 I tell you ! " 
 
 " Well, what will you be called, then ? " 
 
 "What will I be called? Oh dear, there's a 
 thing to say ! I'll be called nothing." 
 
 " Very well, let's call you ' Nothing,' then." 
 
 At this the girl began to laugh, but a moment 
 after she said, quite gravely : 
 
 " It's horrid of you to call me ' Nothing.' " 
 8?
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Good heavens ! didn't you ask me yourself ? " 
 " No. I will not be ' Nothing.' " 
 " Very well, dear ; be ' Everything.' " 
 Again the girl began to laugh, then imme- 
 diately, with reproachful voice, she said : 
 
 " The pastor never used to fool me like that." 
 " No, he was content with making you a fool." 
 " The pastor did ! Why, you've never been 
 so kind to me as he was ! " 
 
 " It would have been too bad if I had." 
 " Oh yes ! sour milk can ne'er get sweet." 
 " Yes, it can, if it's cooked to whey." 
 At this her laughter burst forth. 
 " There comes your mother," said he. 
 Straightway she was all seriousness again. 
 " Such a chattering creature as that pastor's 
 wife I've never met in all my born days," came 
 from a sharp, strident voice. " Hurry up now, 
 Baard ; get up and push off the boat, else we 
 sha'n't be home to-night. She kept telling me I 
 was to take care Eli always kept her feet dry 
 why, she can take care of that herself, I suppose. 
 She's to go for a walk every morning, she says, 
 because of her delicate health. ' Delicate health ' 
 here and ' delicate health ' there it was with her, 
 88
 
 ELI 
 
 I can tell you. But get up, Baard, do, and push 
 off the boat why, I've got bread-baking to look 
 after this evening yet." 
 
 "The box hasn't come yet," answered the 
 man, without stirring. 
 
 "The box isn't going to come; it's to stay 
 there till next Sunday. And you, Eli ! don't 
 you hear ? Get up, I say ; pick up your bundle 
 and come along. Come, get up, Baard, do ! " 
 
 She moved away, the girl following, the 
 woman's " get up, and come, do ! " still coming 
 from the distance below. 
 
 " Have you seen to the plug in the boat ? " 
 asked Baard, without moving. 
 
 " Yes, it's in all right ; " and Arne heard her 
 immediately knock it in with a baler. "But 
 get up, do, Baard ! we are not to stop here all 
 night, are we ? " 
 
 " I'm waiting for the box." 
 
 " Bless me ! haven't I told you it's to stay 
 here till next Sunday ? " 
 
 " Here it comes," said Baard. And thej 
 heard the rattle of wheels. 
 
 "Why, I told them," said the woman, "it 
 was to stay over till Sunday." 
 89 "
 
 ARNE 
 
 " And I said it was to come with us." 
 
 The woman, without a word, went straight 
 up to the cart, took out of it a bundle, a lunch- 
 bag, and some small things, and bore them off 
 to the boat. Then Baard raised himself, went 
 to the cart, and carried the box down unaided. 
 
 But following the cart came running a girl in 
 a straw hat, her hair fluttering about her: it 
 was the pastor's daughter. 
 
 " Eli ! Eli ! " she cried from the distance. 
 
 " Mathilde ! Mathilde ! " came the answer, as 
 Eli dashed up to meet her. 
 
 They met on the hill-side, weeping in each 
 other's embrace. Presently Mathilde took up 
 something she had set down on the grass : it 
 was a bird-cage. 
 
 "You are to have Narrifas you must take 
 him. Mother wants you to, too. Yes, you 
 must take Narrifas after all, and then you'll 
 often think of me and often, very often, row 
 across to me here." And at that both fell 
 a-crying again. 
 
 " Eli ! Come, come, Eli ! Don't stick there ! " 
 came a summons from below. 
 
 " I'll come with you, that I will," said 
 90
 
 ELI 
 
 Mathildc; I'll go across with you and sleep 
 with you to-night." 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " And with arms round one 
 another's necks, down they went to the landing- 
 place. A moment after, and Arne saw the boat 
 out in the water, Eli standing up in the stern, 
 holding the bird-cage, and waving her hand to 
 Mathilde, who was sitting on a stone by the 
 landing-stage, bitterly weeping. 
 
 She sat there as long as the boat was in sight 
 on the water: it was not far across to the red 
 houses, and Arne remained in his place. His 
 eyes followed the boat even as hers did. 
 Presently it was on the black strip of water in 
 the shadows, and he watched it draw near to the 
 land. He could see the three forms mirrored 
 in the water, and thus he followed them all along 
 the houses, till they came to the best of them 
 all. He saw the mother go in first, then the 
 father with the chest, and lastly the daughter, 
 for he could distinguish them by their different 
 statures. Presently the daughter came out 
 again and sat down by the granary door, most 
 likely to get a last glimpse of the other side, as 
 the sun lit it up with his last rays. But the
 
 ARNE 
 
 pastor's daughter was gone, and there was no 
 one there but Arne, who sat there looking at her 
 image in the water. " Perhaps she sees me 
 now," was in his heart. 
 
 He rose and went. The sun had set, but 
 the heavens were blue and clear as they only 
 are sometimes on summer nights. Clouds of 
 vapour arose from land and water on both sides 
 of the mountains ; but the peaks stood free and 
 unembarrassed as they looked at one another. 
 He went up the hill-side ; the water grew 
 blacker and deeper and denser in his eyes. The 
 valley below grew narrower, and seemed to be 
 getting closer to the water's edge ; the peaks 
 seemed to grow nearer together, making more of 
 a solid mass for the bright sun-rays separate 
 them. The heavens themselves came nearer to 
 earth, and all things were in amity and repose.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 ARNE'S fancy now began to play with dreams 
 of love and fair maidens; his old ballads and 
 romances made him behold them in a mystic 
 mirror like the young girl he had seen mirrored 
 in the water. He was for ever looking into it, 
 and from that night the fancy took him to sing 
 of it too ; for now love had come, so to speak, 
 nearer to him. But his thoughts sped away from 
 him, and came back with a song that seemed to 
 him all unknown; it was as if some one else 
 had composed it for him : 
 
 " Fair Venevil hastened, with light-tripping feet, 
 
 Her lover to greet. 
 She sang till the air bore the echo away, 
 
 Good day, and good day ! ' 
 
 And all the small singing-birds twittered this lay : 
 
 On St. Hans's eve, 
 
 All their toil will leave, 
 Who knows if she then may her bridal wreath weave ? ' 
 
 93
 
 ARNE 
 
 ' She weaves him a garland of blossoms blue, 
 
 ' Of my eyes the hue ! ' 
 He glanced at them, dropped them, then took the flowers 
 
 gay- 
 
 1 Fair maiden, good day ! ' 
 He left her, and sang as he went on his way : 
 
 ' On St. Hans's eve, 
 All their toil will leave, 
 Who knows if she then may her bridal wreath weave ? ' 
 
 ' She weaves him another. ' Ah, think it fair ! 
 
 Tis my golden hair.' 
 Then she coaxing raised, as the words she said, 
 
 Her mouth so red : 
 He kissed it, and blushed, and away he sped. 
 
 1 She wove one white as a lily band. 
 
 See ! 'tis my right hand ! ' 
 And one, blood-red as love's agony. 
 
 'Tis the left, for thee : ' 
 
 He took them both, but away turned he. 
 
 But still would the maiden her garlands bind 
 
 ' 'Tis all I can find ! ' 
 While over her flowerets fell many a tear, 
 
 Take all that is here ! ' 
 
 He took them in silence, and fled as in fear. 
 
 ' She wove one, pure as the pale moon's ray, 
 
 ' For my bridal day ! ' 
 She wove till the blood left her fingers fair, 
 
 ' Now love, deck my hair ! ' 
 But ah ! when she sought him no lover was there< 
 
 ' She wove and she tarried not, day or night, 
 
 At her bride-wreath white.' 
 Summer, and flowers, and St. Hans's day 
 
 All have passed away. 
 
 94
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 Still in dreams she is weaving her garland gay. 
 ' On St. Hans's eve, 
 All their toil will leave, 
 Who knows if she then may her bridal wreath weave ? ' " 
 
 It was the melancholy in his heart that gave 
 such a gloomy cast to the first vision of love 
 that came over his soul. Two heart's-desires 
 the yearning to have some one to love, and the 
 longing to do some great thing sprang up 
 together in his soul, and melted into one. It 
 was now that he began to work again at the 
 song, " Over the mountains high " ever alter- 
 ing it, singing it over to himself, and thinking 
 each time, "It'll yet carry me off some time or 
 another: I'll go on singing it till I pluck up 
 courage enough." He did not, however, forget 
 his mother in his thoughts of travel ; but he 
 consoled himself with the thought that he would 
 send for her as soon as he had got a footing 
 abroad, and could offer her a life such as he 
 never could hope to get, either for himself or for 
 her, at home. But in the midst of his great 
 yearnings there played around him something 
 serene, yet bright and tender, that seemed to 
 dart hither and thither, lay hold of him, and 
 95
 
 ARNE 
 
 anon fly off again ; so that, dreamer as he had 
 now become, he was more thoroughly in the 
 power of involuntary fancies than he himself 
 knew. 
 
 There was in the parish a merry old fellow of 
 the name of Ejnar Aasen ; he had broken his 
 leg when twenty years of age, and since that 
 time walked with a crutch, but wherever he ap- 
 peared limping along on his crutch, there was 
 always some merriment forward. The man was 
 well-to-do; there was a great nut-copse on his 
 land, and it was a regular thing for a troop of 
 merry girls to come together at his house on one 
 of the finest days in autumn, and go a-nutting. 
 They were grandly entertained by him in the 
 day-time, and there was dancing for them at night. 
 To most of them he had stood sponsor for he 
 stood sponsor to half the parish : all children 
 called him " Godfather," and young and old alike 
 followed their example. 
 
 Now Godfather and Arne were well acquainted, 
 and the man liked the lad for his songs, so he 
 invited him to join them in the nutting party. 
 Arne blushed and refused. " He was not used 
 to being among women," he said. 
 96
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 " Better get used to it now, then," answered 
 Godfather. 
 
 Arne could not sleep of a night for thinking 
 of it ; fear and longing were at strife within 
 him. However, in the long run he not only 
 went, but, what is more, was in fact the only 
 young man among all these girls. 
 
 He could not deny that he felt a sense of 
 disillusion ; these were not the maidens of 
 whom he had made songs, nor yet were they 
 those he had feared to encounter. They were 
 more full of life than anything he had ever seen, 
 and the first thing which struck him was that 
 they could make merry over anything in the 
 world; and if three of them had anything to 
 laugh at, incontinently five fell a-laughing just 
 because the three laughed. They behaved, too, 
 as if they all shared one another's daily life ; 
 yet there were some there who had never met 
 till that day. If they got hold of the branch 
 they sprang up at, they laughed ; and, if they 
 missed it, they laughed too. They struggled for 
 the nutting-hook to catch the branches with. 
 Those who got it laughed ; those who failed to 
 get it laughed too. Godfather hopped after 
 97 G
 
 ARNE 
 
 them with his crutch, and teased them as much 
 as he could. Those whom he caught laughed 
 because he caught them; those he failed to 
 catch laughed because he failed to catch them. 
 And all of them laughed at Arne because he 
 was serious-looking, so that he could not help 
 laughing too ; and that made them laugh at 
 him because he laughed himself at last. 
 
 They seated themselves finally on a big knoll 
 Godfather in the midst, and all the girls about 
 him. There was a wide expanse around them, 
 and the sun was burning hot ; but the girls 
 cared little for that, as they pelted one another 
 with shells and husks, and gave Godfather the 
 kernels. Godfather kept ordering them to be 
 still, and striking out at them as far as he could 
 reach with his crutch ; for now he wanted them 
 to begin telling tales, and merry ones, if possible. 
 But to get them to tell stories seemed harder 
 than to stop a runaway cart going down hill. 
 Godfather began, but many of them would not 
 listen, for they knew his tales from of old, they 
 said ; but gradually they were all earnestly 
 listening ; and before they knew, they were 
 sitting there, telling the best they could. And 
 98
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 what astonished Arne most was that their stories 
 were now as serious as before their merriment 
 had been noisy. Most of them ran on love. 
 
 " Now then, Aasa, you've got a good one, I 
 remember, from last year," said Godfather, turn- 
 ing to a healthy, good-natured looking, round- 
 faced lass, who sat with her little sister's head 
 on her lap, plaiting her hair. 
 
 " I expect lots of them know that," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Let's have it, anyway," they urged. 
 
 " Well, I won't wait to be pressed, then," said 
 she; and straightway she began her story, 
 plaiting her sister's hair all the while she told 
 it. 
 
 " Once upon a time there was a young man, 
 who used to go tending the cattle : he liked to 
 drive them up to a certain broad river. A bit 
 higher up there was a crag, which jutted out so 
 far over the stream that he could make himself 
 heard from it on the other side. Now, over on 
 that other side was a girl tending her flocks ; 
 he could see her all day long, but he could 
 not get over to her. Day after day he questioned 
 her: 
 
 99
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Who art thou, O maid, by the river sitting, 
 Blowing the horn, and for ever knitting.' 
 
 " Till at last he got for answer : 
 
 " My name it swims, like the gull on the sea. 
 O, lad with the fur cap, come over to me.' 
 
 " At this the boy was just as wise as he was 
 before ; so he thought he wouldn't trouble about 
 her any more. But this wasn't so easy to do, 
 for let him drive his herd wherever he pleased, 
 it was sure to lead him somehow or other back 
 to the crag again. So at last the lad grew 
 frightened, and he shouted at her : 
 
 " ' How call they thy father, and where dost thou dwell ? 
 Ne'er in church have I seen thee. Fair maiden, then tell. 
 
 " The fact is, the lad began half to believe that 
 she was a troll. 
 
 " ' O, drowned is my father, my house it is burnt, 
 And the way to the church have I never yet learnt. ' 
 
 " But this, too, left the lad as wise as he was 
 before. He spent all his days now at the crag, 
 and at night he dreamt that she danced round 
 him, lashing out at him with a great cow-whip 
 whenever he tried to catch her. At last he 
 100
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 could not sleep by night or work by day, so 
 that he fell into a wretched condition. 
 
 " ' If thou art a fairy, then far from me flee ; 
 But if mortal maiden, then answer to me.' 
 
 "Yet she made no answer, so now he felt 
 certain she was a troll. He gave up tending the 
 cattle, but that did him no good, for wherever he 
 was, and whatever he was doing, his thoughts 
 were always of the fair troll playing on the 
 horn. 
 
 " Well, one day, as he was standing chopping 
 up wood, there came through the yard a young 
 girl who was the very image of the troll ; but 
 when she came nearer, he saw it was not she. 
 He was still thinking of this when the girl came 
 back again, and, at a distance, she was so 
 exactly like the troll, that he ran up to her at 
 once. But when he came near it was not she, 
 all the same. 
 
 "After this, wherever the lad went to 
 church, to a dance, or to any gathering of any 
 sort he always saw this girl. Some way off 
 from him she seemed his troll exactly, but close 
 at hand she was different ; so at last he asked 
 
 101
 
 ARNE 
 
 her if it was she or not, but she only laughed at 
 him. ' Well, well,' thought the lad, ' I may as 
 well jump in as slip in,' so he went and married 
 the girl. 
 
 " Well, when he had done this, he no longer 
 liked the girl. When away from her he was 
 always longing for her, but when he was with 
 her he was always yearning for one whom he 
 could not see. Hence the lad did not treat his 
 wife kindly ; but she bore with him in patient 
 silence. 
 
 " Now one day, as he was going after some 
 horses, his way took him up to the crag, and he 
 sat down there and sang : 
 
 " ' Like moonlight far over the cliffs dost thou play, 
 And like Will-o f -the- Wisp shines thy far-distant ray.' 
 
 " It seemed to him good to sit there, and 
 from that time he often went to the crag, when 
 he was discontented with home. But each 
 time, when he had gone out, his wife fell 
 a-weeping. 
 
 " One day, as he sat there, there, on the 
 other side, before his very eyes, sat the troll, 
 blowing her horn. 
 
 102
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 ' Ah ! there thou art, fair one ! oh, blow once again, 
 While lonely I listen, and weep in my pain. ' 
 
 " Then she answered : 
 
 11 Till the dreams have gone out of your head I will blow, 
 For at home the corn ripens, and home you must go.' 
 
 "At this the lad grew frightened, and went 
 back to his home. But, before very long, he 
 grew so tired of his wife again, that he couldn't 
 help going to the crag over the river in the wood. 
 Then he heard singing : 
 
 " 'I dreamed that thou earnest ; now hasten to find me ; 
 But if thou wouldst do so, then look well behind thee.' 
 
 " The lad started up and looked around him : 
 the end of a green skirt twinkled away among 
 the bushes. After it dashed he : then followed 
 a chase through the wood. Fleet of foot as the 
 troll no human being could be. He cast spells 
 at her time after time, but she ran on just as well 
 as before. But at last she began to grow 
 weary, as the lad could see from the way she 
 ran ; he could see, too, more and more clearly, 
 from his view of her figure, that she was his 
 troll, and no other. 
 
 " ' Now you shall certainly be mine/ thought 
 103
 
 ARNE 
 
 the lad, and suddenly he dashed at her so 
 impetuously that both he and the troll fell, and 
 rolled far down the hill together before they 
 could stop themselves. 
 
 "Then the troll laughed, sc that it seemed 
 to the lad the mountains sang again. He 
 clasped her to his heart, and she was fair as he 
 had wished his own wife to be. 
 
 " ' Who art thou, oh, beauteous maid ? ' asked 
 the lad, and he stroked her soft cheeks, which 
 were glowing. 
 
 " ' Dear heart,' answered the troll, 4 1 am 
 only your own wife.' " 
 
 The girls laughed and made merry over the 
 lad's folly. Godfather turned to Arne, and 
 asked him if he had been listening carefully. 
 
 "Well, now /'// tell you something," cried a 
 little lass, with a little round face and a little 
 round nose. 
 
 " There was once a little fellow who wanted 
 very much to make love to a little girl ; they 
 were both quite old enough, but they were both 
 such little things. The boy could never pluck 
 up courage enough to begin. He kept close to 
 her at church-time, but never could talk to her 
 104
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 of anything but the weather. He followed her 
 about at dances, and almost danced her to death ; 
 yet he could not manage to talk to her. 
 
 " ' You must learn to write/ said he to him- 
 self, at last, ' so you'll not need to say it ' ; and 
 off he went to learn writing. 
 
 " He kept thinking he could not write well 
 enough, so that he was a whole year before he 
 ventured to write the letter. Then it was 
 necessary to get it given her without any one 
 seeing it. So one day, as they happened to 
 be alone together behind the church, the lad 
 said : 
 
 '"I've got a letter for you.' 
 
 " ' But, 1 answered the girl, ' I can't read 
 writing.' 
 
 " So there he was at a standstill again. 
 
 " Well, the lad went into her father's service, 
 and never let her be out of his sight all day 
 long. Once he had very nearly managed to ask 
 her: he had just got his mouth open, when in 
 flew a great fly. 
 
 " ' Suppose some one were to come and take 
 her from me ! ' thought he ; but nobody came 
 and took her from him, because she was so little. 
 105
 
 ARNE 
 
 " At last, however, somebody did come, and 
 he was little too. The lad saw at once what 
 the new comer meant, so, when they went up 
 to the loft together, the lad ran and placed him- 
 self at the key-hole. Then the stranger inside 
 began to make love to her. 
 
 " ' Oh ! ' groaned the lad to himself, ' what a 
 noodle I must have been, not to have been 
 quicker about it myself.' 
 
 "Then the wooer inside kissed the girl on 
 the lips. 
 
 " ' Ah, that tasted nice, I daresay,' snarled 
 the lad to himself. 
 
 "Then the lover inside took the girl on his 
 knee. 
 
 " ' Oh, what a world we live in ! ' moaned the 
 lad, and he burst out crying. 
 
 " The girl heard the noise, and went to the door. 
 
 " ' What is it you want of me, horrid boy, 
 that I never can get a moment's peace because 
 of you ? ' 
 
 "'I want ? I only wanted to ask to be your 
 best man.' 
 
 "'No; that one of my brothers shall be/ 
 answered the girl, and she slammed the door.
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 11 And there stood the boy, alone again." 
 
 The girls laughed loudly at this tale, and 
 began to pelt each other vigorously with nut- 
 shells again. 
 
 Godfather wanted Eli Been to tell them some- 
 thing now. 
 
 " Yes, but what was it to be ? " she asked. 
 
 Why, let her tell them what she had told 
 him, last time he was over the hills at her 
 people's house, when she gave him the new 
 garters. 
 
 It was long before Eli could be got to begin, 
 because she was laughing so ; but at last she 
 said: 
 
 "A boy and a girl were once walking 
 together along a road. 
 
 " ' Look at that thrush following us,' said the 
 girl. 
 
 " ' Following me, you mean/ said the boy. 
 
 "'Just as likely me as you,' answered the 
 girl. 
 
 "'That's easy to see," retorted the boy; 'you 
 go by the lower road and I'll go by the upper, 
 and we'll meet up there at the end.' 
 
 " They did as he said. 
 107
 
 ARNE 
 
 "'Well,' said the boy, when they met again, 
 'it followed me, you see.' 
 
 " ' Why, it followed me,' answered the girl. 
 
 " ' There must be two of them,' said he. 
 
 "They walked on together again for a while, 
 but there was only one bird now. The boy 
 insisted it was flying along on his side, but the 
 girl was just as positive it was on hers. 
 
 " ' I don't care a pin for the old thrush,' said 
 the boy, at last. 
 
 " * Nor do I, then,' answered the girl. 
 
 "But no sooner had they said this, than the 
 thrush disappeared. 
 
 " ' It was on your side, after all,' said the 
 boy. 
 
 " ' No, thank you. I saw plainly enough it 
 was on yours,' retorted she. 'But look; here 
 he is come again,' she cried. 
 
 " ' Yes, so he is. Well, he's on my side now, 
 at any rate,' shouted the boy. 
 
 " At this the girl lost her temper. 
 
 " ' I'd rather do anything than walk along 
 with a horrid thing like you ! ' And she went 
 her own way. 
 
 " At this, the thrush flew away from the boy ; 
 1 08
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 and he found it so tedious, that he began to call 
 her name. 
 
 "She answered. 
 
 " ' Is the thrush with you ? ' shouted the boy. 
 
 " ' No ; isn't he with you ? ' 
 
 " ' No, no. Why don't you come back here ; 
 then perhaps he'll come to.' 
 
 "So the girl came back, and they took one 
 another's hands and walked along together. 
 
 " ' Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, ! ' came from the 
 girl's side of the way. 
 
 " ' Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet 1 ' came from the 
 boy's side. 
 
 " ' Tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, tweet, 
 tweet, tweet ! ' came from all sides ; and when 
 they looked to see where it came from, they 
 saw a hundred thousand million thrushes round 
 them. 
 
 " ' Oh, how lovely ! ' cried the girl, and she 
 looked at the boy. 
 
 " ' God bless you, dear ! ' said he, and patted 
 her cheeks." 
 
 This story delighted all the girls. 
 
 Then Godfather thought it would be nice for 
 them to tell what they had last dreamt, and he 
 109
 
 ARNE 
 
 would judge which of them had had the best 
 dream. 
 
 " What ! tell what they had dreamt 1 " cried 
 they. " No, indeed ! " And they all began to 
 laugh and whisper. But gradually one girl after 
 another began to declare that she had had such 
 a wonderful dream the night before. 
 
 "Ah," said another, "but it couldn't have 
 been so wonderful as mine was." 
 
 And at last all of them were anxious to be 
 telling their dreams. 
 
 " But not aloud," they all stipulated ; " only 
 to some one person ; and that person must cer- 
 tainly not be Godfather." 
 
 Arne was sitting silent on a knoll a little way 
 off, and they decided they would trust their 
 dreams to him. He was sitting in the shade of 
 a hazel-bush when the girl who had told the first 
 story came up to him. She considered for a 
 while and then began : 
 
 " I dreamt I was standing by a great sheet of 
 water. Then I saw some one moving over the 
 water, and that was one whose name I will not 
 say. He got up on the cup of a great water- 
 lily, and there he sat, singing. Now I went 
 no
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 and stood on one ol the great lily-leaves that lie 
 swimming on the water ; I wanted to row over 
 to him on it. But as soon as I got on the leaf, 
 it began to sink with me, and I was so frightened, 
 that I burst out crying. Then he came rowing 
 up in the lily-cup, took me into it, and away we 
 rowed, right across the water. Wasn't that a 
 beautiful dream ? " 
 
 Next came the little girl who had told the 
 tale about the little people. 
 
 " I dreamed I had caug"ht a little bird, and I 
 was so glad. I didn't mean to let it go till I 
 had got it home ; but when I got there, I didn't 
 dare to let it go either, for fear father and 
 mother might bid me let it out again. So I 
 went up to the garret with it ; but there was the 
 cat lurking about, so that I couldn't let it go 
 there either. Then I didn't know what to do, 
 so I went to the barn ; but, oh dear ! there were 
 so many chinks, that it would easily have flown 
 out through one. So I went away with it, 
 down to the farm-yard again, and there (I 
 thought) there was standing some one whose 
 name I will not say. He stood playing with a 
 big, big dog. 
 
 ixz
 
 ARNE 
 
 " ' I would rather play with your bird/ said 
 he, and he came quite near. 
 
 41 But now (I thought) I suddenly dashed 
 away with him, the big dog after me, and away 
 we went round the yard; but mother quickly 
 opened the door, pulled me in, and shut it to 
 again. Outside stood he, laughing, with his 
 face against the window-pane. 
 
 " ' Look, here's your bird ! ' he cried. And 
 fancy, he actually had it. 
 
 " Wasn't that a funny dream ? " 
 
 Next came the girl who had told about aii the 
 thrushes. " Eli," the others called her. It was 
 this Eli whom he had seen that evening in the 
 boat, and mirrored in the lake. She was just 
 the same as then, and yet not the same, so 
 maidenly and handsome did she look now with 
 her thoughtful face and slender figure, as she 
 took her place. She was laughing very much, 
 and it was long before she could manage to 
 speak. At last she began : 
 
 " I had been so enjoying the thought of 
 coming here nutting to-day, that last night I 
 dreamt I was sitting here on the hill. The sun 
 was shining, and I had my lap all full of nuts, 
 
 112
 
 A NUTTING PARTY 
 
 but a little squirrel had got in all among my 
 nuts, and he sat up in my lap and ate them all. 
 Wasn't that a funny dream ? " 
 
 And now, when many dreams had been told 
 him, he had to say which was the best. He 
 wanted time to think, he said ; so, meantime, 
 Godfather, with all his troop, made his way to 
 the homestead, whither Arne was to follow them. 
 They darted down the hill, and arranged them- 
 selves in ranks when they had got on to level 
 ground, and marched back to the house singing. 
 
 Arne, left sitting on the knoll, heard their 
 singing. The sun's rays were falling on the 
 merry band, and their white sleeves glistened in 
 the distance. Sometimes one would take another 
 round the waist ; then away they danced over 
 the meadow, with Godfather after, threatening 
 them with his stick for treading down the grass. 
 Arne was no longer thinking of the dreams, nor 
 did his eyes long follow the young girls; his 
 fancies were spreading over the dale like bright 
 sun-threads, and he sat upon the hill-side, 
 weaving them together. Before he was con- 
 scious of it, he was caught in a web of sad 
 longings : there was a yearning in his heart to 
 113 H
 
 ARNE 
 
 be gone, such as never had been there in his 
 life before. He vowed to tell his mother of his 
 intent as soon he got home again, come of it 
 what would. 
 
 These thoughts grew upon him every minute, 
 and drove him to his old song, " Over the 
 mountains high." Never had the words come 
 so easily to him before, nor ranged themselves 
 so fairly to his desire ; they seemed to him like 
 maidens sitting together on a hill. He drew 
 forth a scrap of paper and wrote on it, on his 
 knee. And when he had written his song through 
 to the end, up he rose, as if freed from a burden. 
 He had no wish to go back to the rest ; he began 
 to make his way homewards through the woods, 
 though he knew he would need to be walking 
 the whole night. 
 
 The first time he sat down to rest on the way, 
 he thought he would take out the song, and sing 
 it through to himself all through the parish ; but 
 he found he had left it, forgotten, on the spot 
 where he made it. 
 
 One of the girls came to seek him at the 
 knoll ; she found not him, but the song.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 AT B5EN 
 
 To " have a talk with mother " was a thing 
 easier to say than to do. He alluded casually 
 to Kristen, and the letters which never came ; 
 but at that his mother left the room, and for days 
 afterwards he thought her eyes were red. He 
 perceived, too, another sign of her state of mind, 
 and that was that she got especially nice meals 
 for him. 
 
 One day he had to go to the forest, to cut 
 down some wood ; his way ran through the 
 thickets, and the spot where he was to begin his 
 hewing was a place frequented in autumn-time 
 for its wortleberries. Arne had put down his 
 axe to take off his coat, and was just about to 
 begin, when two girls came along with berry- 
 pails. It was always his way to hide himself 
 "5
 
 ARNE 
 
 rather than encounter a girl, so that was what he 
 did now. 
 
 44 O, I say ! I say ! " he heard, " just look at 
 all the berries ! Eli, Eli ! " 
 
 44 Yes, dear, yes I see." 
 
 44 But don't let's go any further ; there are any 
 number of pailfuls here." 
 
 " I thought I heard a rustle in the thicket there." 
 
 44 Oh, you silly ! " said the other ; and each girl 
 clasped the other nervously round the waist, and 
 for a while they stood so still as scarcely to draw 
 breath. 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing, after all," said one at length, 
 " let's begin picking." 
 
 44 Yes, yes, let's begin, then," said the other, 
 and they began again to fill their pails. 
 
 44 It was nice of you, Eli, to come over to the 
 parsonage to-day. Now haven't you something 
 to tell me ? " 
 
 " I've been at Godfather's " 
 
 41 Yes, yes, you told me that ; but is there 
 nothing about you know whom ? " 
 
 "Ah, yes!" 
 
 44 Oh, Eli ! really, really ? Do be quick and tell 
 
 me, dear." 
 
 116
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 " He's been again ! " 
 
 "What, really?" 
 
 " Yes, really. Both father and mother made 
 as if they didn't notice anything, but I ran up to 
 the garret and hid myself." 
 
 " Go on, go on. Did he follow you ? " 
 
 " I think father must have told him where I 
 was. He's always so horrid now." 
 
 " So he came after you, then ? Here, sit 
 down, sit down by me now. He came up, you 
 say?" 
 
 " Yes, but he didn't say much, he was so shy." 
 
 " Tell me every word he said, anyhow, every 
 word." 
 
 " ' Are you afraid of me ? ' said he. ' Why 
 should I be afraid of you ? ' said I. ' You know 
 what it is I want of you,' said he, and seated 
 himself on the chest beside me." 
 
 " Beside you ! " 
 
 " And then he put his arm round my waist " 
 
 " Round your waist ! are you mad ? " 
 
 " I tried to get away again, but he wouldn't 
 let me go. ' Dear Eli,' said he " and she 
 laughed, and the other girl laughed too. 
 
 " Well ? well ? what then ? " 
 117
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Will you be my wife ? " said he. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed her hearer. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Eli. 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha I " laughed they both. 
 
 "At last, however, even the girl's laughter 
 could not but come to an end, and then for a 
 while there was perfect silence, after which came 
 a question in a low voice. 
 
 " But, Eli, tell me wasn't it wasn't it horrid, 
 when he put his arm round you ? " 
 
 The other either made no answer to this, or 
 else it was in so low a tone that it could not 
 be overheard ; perhaps it was only a smile. 
 Presently the first speaker began again. 
 
 " Didn't your father or your mother say any- 
 thing to you about it afterwards ? " 
 
 " Father came up and looked at me, but I hid 
 myself directly, for he laughed as soon as he 
 saw me." 
 
 " And your mother ? " 
 
 "She said nothing, but she's not been so 
 severe as usual." 
 
 ' You refused him, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 Then there was silence again for a time. 
 118
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 "I say?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Do you think any one will ever come to me 
 like that ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course." 
 
 " Are you really in earnest ? O O Eli 
 suppose he were to take me by the waist ! " And 
 she hid her face. 
 
 Presently they were laughing, chattering, and 
 whispering together, and .before long they de- 
 parted. They had neither of them seen Arne, 
 or his axe or coat, of which he was very glad. 
 
 Some days after, he took Upland Knut to work 
 and live at Kampen. 
 
 "You shall no longer be alone," said Arne. 
 
 Arne himself was now at work with a purpose. 
 He had early learnt how to handle a saw, for 
 he had done much to the house at Kampen. 
 Now he wanted to practise carpentry as a 
 trade, knowing it was best to have a regular 
 handicraft, and he knew, too, that it was good 
 for him to mix with other people ; and such was 
 the alteration that had gradually taken place in 
 him, that he now felt himself longing for com- 
 panionship whenever he had been for a while all 
 119
 
 ARNE 
 
 alone. It happened that that winter he was at 
 the parsonage, with his axe and saw, and both 
 the girls were often together there too. Arne 
 wondered, when he saw them, who on earth it 
 was that was wooing Eli BOen. 
 
 It happened one day that he was to take the 
 pastor's daughter and EH for a drive ; he had 
 sharp ears, but for all that, he could not hear 
 what they were talking of. Now and again, 
 Mathilde spoke a word to him, and then Eli 
 would laugh, and turn away her face. Once 
 Mathilde asked him if it was true that he wrote 
 verses. " No," said he, shortly ; and then both 
 girls began to laugh, chatter, and giggle. After 
 this, Arne was not best pleased with them, and 
 behaved as if he did not see them. 
 
 Once he was sitting in the servants' room 
 when there was dancing going on, and Mathilde 
 and Eli had both come in to look on. They were 
 evidently discussing something in the corner, 
 something which Eli did not want, it seemed, but 
 Mathilde did; and the latter had her way. So 
 up they both came to where he sat, bowed, and 
 asked if he could dance. He said he could 
 not, and at this both turned, laughed, and fled. 
 120
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 " That's a nice way to laugh," thought Arne, and 
 he grew grave. But the pastor had a little 
 foster-son, ten or twelve years old, whom Arne 
 was very fond of; now from this boy Arne 
 learned to dance, when no one else was by to see. 
 
 Eli had a little brother, the same age as the 
 pastor's foster son. These two were playmates, 
 and Arne made sledges, snow-shoes, and bird- 
 snares for them, while he talked with them much 
 of their sisters, especially of Eli. One day, 
 Eli's brother brought him word that he was not 
 to be so untidy and careless about his hair. 
 
 " Who said that ? " he asked. 
 
 " Eli did ; but I was not to tell that she 
 said it." 
 
 Some days after, he sent word that Eli might 
 laugh a little less. The boy came back again, 
 with the message that Arne might laugh a little 
 more. 
 
 One day, the boy wanted to have something 
 he had written. Arne let him do so, and thought 
 no more about it. A little while later, the boy 
 tried to gladden Arne with the tidings that both 
 the girls liked his writing very much. 
 
 " Have they seen seen it then ? " 
 121
 
 ARNE 
 
 "Yes; it was for them that I wanted it." 
 
 Arne told the boys to bring him something 
 that their sisters had written, and they did so. 
 Arne corrected their writing with a carpenter's 
 pencil, and bade the boys put it where it would 
 be easy for them to find it. Later on, he found 
 the paper in his jacket pocket again, and, written 
 at the foot of it the words, " Corrected by a 
 conceited goose." 
 
 Next day, Arne finished his work at the 
 parsonage and went home. His mother had 
 never found him so gentle as he was this winter, 
 since that sorrowful time that followed his 
 father's death. He read the sermon to her, he 
 went to church with her, and was kind to her in 
 every way. But she knew right well all the 
 while that this was only to gain her consent to 
 his leaving her, to travel, when spring came. 
 Meanwhile, one day, a messenger came from 
 BQen, to ask him if he would go over there for 
 some carpentry work. 
 
 Arne was thrown into confusion, and answered 
 "Yes," apparently without thinking the matter 
 over. As soon as the man had gone, however, 
 the mother said :
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 "You may well be dumbfounded. From 
 Boen ! " 
 
 " Is that so wonderful, then ? " asked Arne, 
 without looking at her. 
 
 " From Boen ! " cried Margit again. 
 
 "Well, why not, as well as from any other 
 farm ? " said he, looking up a bit. 
 
 " From BOen and Birgit Been ! from Baard, 
 who maimed your father, and all for Birgit's 
 sake ! " 
 
 "What's that you say?" cried the boy. 
 " Was it Baard Boen who did that ? " 
 
 Son and mother stood looking at one another. 
 A whole life-time swept before their eyes, and 
 for an instant they saw the black thread that 
 was woven through it from beginning to end. 
 Presently they began to talk of the days of Nils's 
 glory, when old Eli Boen herself sought him for 
 her daughter Birgit, and got a refusal. They 
 went on talking till they got to where Nils was 
 struck down, and both found out that Baard's 
 guilt in the matter had been the less ; but never- 
 theless it was he and none other that had made 
 Arne's father a cripple. 
 
 "Am I never to be finished with father?" 
 123
 
 ARNE 
 
 thought Arne, and at once made up his mind 
 to go. 
 
 When Arne walked across the ice to Boen, 
 his saw over his shoulder, it seemed to him a fine 
 homestead. The house looked as if it had been 
 new-painted all over : he was feeling cold, and 
 perhaps that was why it looked so cosy and 
 pleasant to him. Instead of going straight in, 
 he went round by the farm-yard. There was a 
 herd of shaggy-haired goats nibbling about in 
 the snow at some birch boughs : a sheep-dog 
 was running backwards and forwards in front 01 
 the barn, barking as if the fiend were coming 
 into the yard ; but as soon as Arne halted he 
 began to wag his tail, and let himself be stroked. 
 The kitchen door on the other side of the house 
 opened every now and again, and each time Arne 
 looked in, but saw only the milkmaid with her 
 pails, or the cook throwing out something to the 
 goats. From the barn came the sound of lusty 
 threshing. On the left, by a pile of logs, stood 
 a lad chopping up wood, and behind him were 
 sundry wood-heaps. 
 
 Arne put down his saw, and went into ithe 
 hitchen. The floor was all covered with white 
 124
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 sand, and tiny shavings of jumper ; along the 
 walls shone brightly-polished copper cooking 
 utensils, and in the racks were rows of china. 
 Dinner was being cooked. Arne asked if he 
 could speak to Baard. "Go into the parlour," 
 answered a maid, pointing. He went. He 
 noticed that there was no latch to the door, but 
 a handle of brass instead. The room was clean 
 and well-painted, the ceiling ornamented with 
 roses ; the presses coloured red, with their 
 owner's name in black letters, and the bedstead 
 to match, but with the addition of blue stripes 
 round the edges. By the fireplace sat a broad- 
 shouldered man, with a kind face and long yellow 
 hair ; he was fitting hoops on some tubs. At 
 the end of the long table sat a woman with a 
 linen hood on her head ; she wore closely-fitting 
 clothes, and was tall and slender ; she was busy 
 dividing a heap of grain into two portions. 
 These were the only people in the room. 
 
 " Good day, and good luck to your work ! " 
 said Arne, taking off his cap. 
 
 Both looked up. The man smiled, and asked 
 who he was. 
 
 " The man about the carpentry." 
 125
 
 ARNE 
 
 The man smiled still more, nodding his head 
 and beginning his work again. " Ah ! Arne 
 Kampen." 
 
 " Arne Kampen ? " cried the woman, her eyes 
 fixed on him. The man looked up quickly, with 
 another smile. "Son of Nils Skraedder," he 
 said, and settled down to his work again. 
 
 Next minute the woman had risen, gone to a 
 shelf, turned round, moved back to a cupboard, 
 turned back again, bending down as if groping 
 for something in a drawer, and asked, without 
 looking up : 
 
 " Is he to work here ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is," said the man, without looking 
 up either. " You haven't been asked to take a 
 seat, I'm afraid," he went on, turning to Arne. 
 
 Arne sat down by the door. The woman left 
 the room, the man went on with his work. Arne 
 asked if he might begin work too. " We'll have 
 dinner first," was the answer. 
 
 The woman did not return, but next time the 
 kitchen door opened it was Eli who came in. At 
 first she made as if she did not see him. He got 
 up to meet her, and she turned half round as 
 she gave him her hand, without letting her eyes 
 126
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 meet his. They exchanged a few words, while 
 the father went on working. Eli's hair was in 
 plaits now ; she wore a bodice with tight-fitting 
 sleeves, her figure was slender and graceful, her 
 wrists prettily curved, and her hands small. 
 
 She began to lay the table. The work- folk 
 took their dinner in the other room, but Arne 
 and the household had theirs in the parlour. It 
 happened that particular day that they dined 
 alone, but generally they all sat at the same 
 table in the big light kitchen. 
 
 " Isn't your mother coming ? " asked the man. 
 
 " No ; she is in the garret, weighing out 
 wool." 
 
 " Have you asked her ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but she says she doesn't want any- 
 thing to eat." 
 
 For a moment there was silence, and then the 
 man said : 
 
 " It must be cold up in the garret." 
 
 " She wouldn't let me light the fire," answered 
 Eli. 
 
 After dinner Arne began his work ; in the 
 evening he sat with the others again. The 
 mother was with them too ; she and her daughter 
 127
 
 ARNE 
 
 were sewing, the man was employed in mend- 
 ing various little things, and Arne helped. For 
 a long time there was perfect stillness, for 
 Eli, whose wont it seemed to be to lead the 
 talk, was now quite silent. It struck Arne, with 
 a sort of dread, that it was often so in his own 
 home ; but now, for the first time, it seemed to 
 him oppressive. At last Eli drew a deep breath, 
 as if she had held it long enough, and began to 
 laugh. Then the father began to laugh too, and 
 Arne, somehow, felt in a laughing mood, and 
 joined in as well. Then they began to talk of 
 all sorts of things. By degrees he and Eli had 
 most of the conversation to themselves, the 
 father putting in a word here and there. But 
 once, after Arne had been speaking at some 
 length, he chanced to look up ; his eye met 
 Birgit's the mother's eyes ; she had let fall her 
 work, and sat gazing fixedly at him. She plied 
 her needle again at once, but as soon as he 
 began to speak again she looked up. 
 
 Bed-time came, and they all went to their 
 
 rooms. Arne particularly wanted to note what 
 
 dream he would have the first night in a new 
 
 place ; but there was no sense in it at all. The 
 
 128
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 whole day he had talked very little, or not at all, 
 with the master of the house ; yet all night it 
 was only of him that he dreamt. Just before 
 waking, it seemed to him that Baard was sitting 
 at cards with Nils Skraedder, who was very 
 angry and pale ; but Baard was smiling, and 
 drawing all the cards over to his side. 
 
 Arne was there for several days, during which 
 there was almost nothing said, but a great deal 
 done. Not only the family in the parlour, but 
 the servants, the labourers, and even the maids 
 scarcely spoke. There was an old dog in the 
 yard, who barked whenever a stranger ap- 
 proached ; but no one in the place ever heard 
 the dog baying without a prompt " Lie down, 
 sir!" at which the old hound returned, grumb- 
 ling, to his kennel. At Kampen there was a 
 great weathercock on the roof, that turned with 
 every breath of wind ; here at B6en was a still 
 larger one, which attracted Arne's attention at 
 once, because it never moved. When the wind 
 drove against it, it tried with all its might to get 
 free, and Arne watched it so long that at last he 
 could not keep himself from getting up on the 
 roof and loosening it. 
 
 129 i
 
 ARNE 
 
 It was not frozen tight, as he had thought, 
 but a peg was run through it to keep it from 
 turning. Arne drew it out and threw it down ; 
 it struck Baard, who happened to be passing. 
 He looked up, with a "What are you doing 
 there?" 
 
 " Loosening the weathercock." 
 
 " Don't do that ; it squeaks when it turns." 
 
 "That's better," said Arne, as he sat astride 
 the ridge of the roof " that's better than making 
 no sound at all." 
 
 Baard looked up at Arne, and Arne looked 
 down at Baard ; then Baard smiled. 
 
 " He that can't help squeaking when he 
 speaks," he said, "had best hold his tongue 
 altogether, I should think." 
 
 Now it may happen that a remark haunts you 
 long after it has been made, and especially when 
 it is the last you have heard. These words re- 
 peated themselves to Arne as he climbed down 
 in the cold from the roof, and they were with 
 him still when he came into the parlour that 
 evening. Eli was standing by the window in 
 the evening twilight, looking out over the ice 
 that lay shining in the rays of the moon. He 
 130
 
 went to the other window, and looked out too. 
 Inside, all was comfortable warmth and stillness; 
 outside, all was cold. The keen night wind, 
 sweeping through the valley, was shaking the 
 trees, so that the shadows they cast in the moon- 
 shine scrambled and crept hither and thither 
 across the snow. From the parsonage on the 
 other side shone out a bright light, that seemed 
 to keep dilating and contracting, and to take all 
 sorts of shapes and tints, as is ever the case 
 when one looks over-long at a bright thing. The 
 mountain towered aloft, black and haunted of 
 strange shapes within, but white with the moon- 
 light falling on its snows without. The heavens 
 were thick-sown with stars, a northern light at 
 the far-off boundary just glimmering into view 
 but not spreading. A few paces from the 
 window, by the water's edge, stood the trees, 
 their shadows melting into one another ; but the 
 great ash stood alone and apart, drawing figures 
 on the snow. 
 
 All was still, save that every now and then 
 came the sound of a strident, wailing noise. 
 " What is that ? " asked Arne. 
 
 "The weathercock," answered Eli, adding, in 
 131
 
 ARNE 
 
 a lower tone, as if to herself, "it must have 
 broken loose." 
 
 Till then, Arne had been as one who would 
 have talked, but could not. Now he spoke. 
 
 "Do you remember the tale of the thrushes 
 and their singing ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Of course ; why, it was you who told it us. 
 It was a beautiful story." 
 
 " I often think," she said, in so soft a voice 
 as he had never yet heard, he thought " I often 
 think there is something singing when one is 
 quite still." 
 
 "That is the good in one's heart," said he. 
 
 She looked at him as if there was too much 
 in that answer, and both were silent for awhile. 
 
 Drawing on the pane with her finger, she 
 asked him : 
 
 " Have you been making any new songs 
 lately ? " 
 
 He coloured up, but she could not see that, 
 so she went on questioning. 
 
 " How do you set about making a song ? " 
 
 " Do you really care to know ? " 
 
 Yes yes." 
 
 132
 
 AT BOEN 
 
 " I keep hold and take care of thoughts that 
 other people are glad to let go," he answered 
 evasively, and she was silent again for awhile ; 
 for she was trying with one and another of his 
 songs, if she, too, had had the thoughts, but let 
 them go. 
 
 "That is very wonderful," she said, as if to 
 herself, and began to draw on the window-pane 
 anew. 
 
 " I made a song the first time I saw you," 
 said Arne. 
 
 " Where was that ? " 
 
 " Down by the parsonage over there, that 
 night you left them. I saw you in the water." 
 
 She laughed, stopped, and said : 
 
 " Let me hear the song." 
 
 Arne had never before done such a thing, yet 
 now he trusted himself to sing the song to her. 
 
 " Fair Venevil hastened, with light-tripping feet, 
 Her lover to greet," etc. 
 
 Eli listened with great attention, and stood 
 still for some minutes after the song was ended. 
 Then at last she cried : 
 
 " Oh, how I pity poor Venevil ! " 
 
 " It always seems to me as if I hadn't written
 
 ARNE 
 
 it myself," said Arne. He was feeling ashamed 
 now of having sung his own verses to her ; he 
 could not make out how it was he had come to 
 do it. He stood there now, thinking of the 
 words. Then said Eli : 
 
 " But is that what's to happen to me, then ? " 
 
 " No, no, no; I was really thinking of myself." 
 
 " Is it to happen to you, then ? " 
 
 " I don't know ; but I felt so at that time. I 
 feel so no longer ; I used to be so melancholy 
 at that time." 
 
 " That is strange," said she ; and her fingers 
 were busy on the window again. 
 
 Next morning, when Arne came in to dinner, 
 he went straight to the window. Out of doors, 
 the world was grey and heavy ; within, warmth 
 and comfort. On the window was written by a 
 finger, "Arne," "Arne," " Arne " always 
 " Arne." It was the window by which Eli had 
 been standing the night before. 
 
 But next day Eli did not come downstairs ; 
 she was poorly. Indeed, she had been by no 
 means well of late; she said so herself, and 
 besides, it was plain to see. 
 
 134
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 NEXT day Arne came in and mentioned what he 
 had just heard on the farm that Mathilde, the 
 pastor's daughter, was on the point of setting 
 out on a visit to town ; for some days, she 
 herself thought, but, in reality, for a year or 
 two. Eli, who had heard nothing of it till that 
 moment, fainted away. 
 
 Arne had never seen such a thing before, and 
 was very frightened. He ran for the servants, 
 and they for her parents, who came breathless 
 to the room. There was a confusion of noises 
 all over the farm, the watch-dog by the barn 
 door joining in with his deep bark. When 
 Arne came in again somewhat later, he found 
 the mother was on her knees by the bed, and 
 the father was supporting his sick daughter's 
 head. The maids were scurrying to and fro ;
 
 ARNE 
 
 one was running for water, another for the 
 cordial drops that were in one of the cupboards, 
 and a third was loosening the girl's bodice round 
 her neck. 
 
 "Ah! God save and help us!" said the 
 mother ; " it was too idiotic of us to have told 
 her nothing about it. It was all your doing 
 Baard. God save and help you ! " 
 
 Baard made no reply. 
 
 '' I told you so before," she went on ; " but 
 nothing's ever done as I want it here. Ah ! 
 God help you ! you're always so hard about her, 
 Baard. You don't understand her at all. You 
 don't know what it means to love any one, you 
 don't." 
 
 Still Baard was silent. 
 
 " She's not like others, that can bear sorrow, 
 isn't Eli ; it knocks her over completely, poor 
 weak little thing! especially now, too, when 
 she's so out of sorts. Wake up again, my dear 
 little one, and we'll always be kind to you ! 
 Wake up again, my own Eli, and don't grieve 
 us so ! " 
 
 Then said Baard : 
 
 "You either keep silence too much, or else 
 136
 
 BETWEEN tlFE AND DEATH 
 
 you talk too much ; " and he looked at Arne, 
 as if he wished him not to listen, but to go 
 about his work. But as the maids stayed there, 
 Arne thought he too might stay, so he only 
 walked across to the window. The sick girl 
 had now so far recovered as to be able to open 
 her eyes and see those about her; but at the 
 same instant recollection returned, and with a 
 cry of " Mathilde ! Mathilde ! " she fell into a fit 
 of weeping, and sobbed so that it was pain for 
 one to be in the room. Her mother sought to 
 comfort her, while her father stood just so as to 
 be seen by her ; but the poor girl pushed them 
 both away. 
 
 " Go, go ! " she cried. " Go ! I can't bear 
 you, either of you ! " 
 
 " Christ Jesus ! " said the mother, " you can't 
 bear your own parents ? " 
 
 " No ! you're cruel to me ; and you take from 
 me the only joy I have ! " 
 
 " Eli, Eli ! don't say such awful things," said 
 her mother, sternly. 
 
 "Yes, mother, yes ! " screamed the girl, 
 hysterically ; " now I must speak. Yes, mother ! 
 you want to marry me to that horrid man ; and
 
 ARNE 
 
 I won't have him. You shut me up here, where 
 I'm never happy unless I can get out. And 
 you've taken Mathilde from me the only 
 person I love and care for in the whole world. 
 Oh God! what will become of me when 
 Mathilde's no longer here ! And now, now too, 
 when there's so much I can't bear any longer, if 
 I don't have some one to talk with ! " 
 
 " But you haven't been there often with her 
 lately, you know," said Baard. 
 
 "What did that matter, when I had her 
 across there in the window ? " answered the 
 poor girl, sobbing like a little child, so that to 
 Arne it seemed as if he had never heard the 
 sound of weeping before. 
 
 " But you couldn't see her," said Baard. 
 "I could see the house," she retorted. And 
 her mother interrupted vehemently, looking at 
 him, " You can't understand anything of that, 
 you ! " So Baard said no more. 
 
 " Now I can never go to the window ! " said 
 Eli. " I used to go to it every morning when 
 I got up; in the evening I sat there in the 
 moonlight; and I went there always when I 
 had no one to go to. Oh Mathilde ! Mathilde ! " 
 138
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 She writhed on her bed, and began to sob 
 convulsively again. Baard sat down on a stool 
 and gazed steadfastly at her. 
 
 Eli was not herself again so soon as they had 
 perhaps expected. Towards evening they began 
 to suspect that some illness was upon her that 
 had probably been coming on for some time 
 past; and Arne was called in to help to take 
 her up to her own room. She was quite un- 
 conscious, pallid, and motionless. Her mother 
 sat down beside her ; her father stood by the 
 bed, looking at her ; presently he rose and went 
 down to his work. Arne did the same ; but 
 that evening he prayed for her, and he prayed 
 that one so young and pretty as she might live 
 happy in this world, with no one to take her 
 happiness from her. 
 
 Next day, when Arne came in, the father and 
 mother were sitting together, talking : the mother 
 had plainly been weeping. Arne asked how Eli 
 was going on ; each expected the other to speak, 
 so that it was a moment or two before he was 
 answered. " Very sadly indeed," said the father, 
 at last ; and later on Arne heard that Eli had 
 been wandering in her mind all night, or/ as the 
 139
 
 ARNE 
 
 father put it, " saying all sorts of queer things." 
 Now she lay in a torpid state, recognising no 
 one, and refusing to touch food. They had just 
 been debating whether to call a doctor or not. 
 When they rose to go to the patient's room, and 
 Arne was left sitting by himself, it seemed to 
 him as if life and death were struggling in the 
 room above ; but he must sit alone, apart from 
 them. 
 
 In a few days, however, she was better. 
 Once, as the father sat by her, a fancy took 
 her to have Narrifas the bird Mathilde had 
 given her by the bed. Then Baard told her 
 what was too true that, in all the confusion 
 and worry of her illness, the bird had been for- 
 gotten, and was dead. The mother happened to 
 come in just as he was speaking. 
 
 " Oh, God help me, Baard ! " she cried from 
 the doorway, " you cruel creature, to tell your 
 sick girl such a thing as that. Look, she's 
 fainting away again ! Look ! God forgive you 
 your heartlessness ! *' 
 
 Each time Eli came to at all she cried for her 
 bird; declared passionately she could never be 
 happy with Mathilde again, now that Narrifas 
 140
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 was dead ; begged to be allowed to go to her, 
 and fell into a swoon again. Baard stood by 
 looking at her till it was too hard to bear ; then 
 he tried to help soothe her, but Birgit pushed 
 him aside, telling him to let the poor child alone. 
 So Baard stood and looked at both for a long 
 while, then he straightened his hat on his head 
 with both hands, turned, and left the room. 
 
 The pastor and his wife came over later on, 
 for her illness gained fresh hold upon her now, 
 and they knew not whether the end of it would 
 be life or death. 
 
 Both the pastor and his wife gave Baard a 
 bit of their minds, telling him he was too hard 
 in his treatment of his child. They got to hear 
 about the bird, and the pastor told him plainly 
 that his conduct had been horribly unfeeling. 
 He would like, he said, to take the girl back to 
 their house as soon as she was better and able 
 to be moved. The pastor's wife, indeed, refused 
 to see him any longer; she wept, and sat by 
 Eli's bedside, fetched the doctor, received his 
 directions, and came over to B6en several times 
 a day to see that they were carried out. Baard 
 wandered about the farm from one place to 
 141
 
 ARNE 
 
 another, nearly always quite alone ; often stand- 
 ing still for a long while, and then, straightening 
 his hat on his head with both hands, falling to 
 some work or other. 
 
 The mother no longer spoke with him : they 
 scarcely looked at one another. He went up to 
 the sick girl several times a day, taking off his 
 shoes at the foot of the stairs and laying down 
 his hat outside the door before warily opening 
 it. As soon as he came in, Birgit turned as it 
 she had not seen him, then leant her head on 
 her hand again, and looked straight before her 
 at the patient, who lay there pale and motionless, 
 unaware of anything that was going on around 
 her. Baard generally stood for a moment or 
 two at the foot of the bed, looked at both of 
 them, and saying nothing. Whenever Eli 
 moved, as if about to wake, he glided away from 
 the spot as silently as he had entered. 
 
 Often Arne thought that now had been said 
 certain things between man and wife, as also 
 between parents and child, which long had been 
 stored up in secret among them, and would not 
 now be soon put out of mind again. He longed 
 to be gone, though he was all eagerness to know 
 143
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 first how it was to turn out with Eli. But that 
 he could always keep himself informed of, after 
 all, thought he ; so he went to Baard and said 
 that it was time for him to go home again : the 
 work he had come for was done. Baard was 
 sitting on the timber-chopping block in the yard 
 when Arne came to him and told him ; he was 
 bending forward, digging in the snow with a 
 wooden peg. Arne recognised the peg : it was 
 the same that had held tight the weathercock. 
 Baard did not look up as he answered, " It's not 
 pleasant, I know, to be here now ; but still, I 
 shouldn't like you to go." And he said no 
 more, and neither did Arne. He waited a 
 moment, then went and got something to do, as 
 if it was settled that he was to remain. 
 
 Later in the day, when Arne was called in to 
 dinner, he found Baard still sitting on the wood- 
 block. Then Arne went up to him, and asked 
 how Eli was that day. 
 
 " Bad, bad, I'm sure, to-day," answered Baard, 
 " I see her mother's been weeping." 
 
 It seemed to Arne as if some one had invited 
 him to sit down, and he placed himself on a bit 
 of a felled free, exactly opposite Baard. 
 43
 
 ARNE 
 
 " I've been thinking a good deal about your 
 father the last few days," said Baard, so 
 unexpectedly that Arne could make no reply. 
 " You know, of course," he went on, " what 
 there was between us ? " 
 
 " I know." 
 
 "Ah, but you only know one side of the 
 matter, of course, and so you lay all the blame 
 on me." 
 
 " You have surely made your account for it," 
 said Arne, after a moment's hesitation, " with 
 your God, just as certainly as my father has now 
 done." 
 
 " Ah, well ! that must be as it may," answered 
 Baard. "When I found this peg though, it 
 seemed so strange that you, of all men, should 
 have come here and loosed the weathercock. But 
 it's just as well, first as last, thought I." He had 
 taken off his hat, and now he sat there looking 
 at it. 
 
 Arne did not yet perceive that Baard meant 
 that he wanted to talk to him of his father now ; 
 nay, he did not even realise it when he began 
 on the subject, for it seemed so unlike Baard. 
 But now he gradually remarked, during the pro-
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 gress of Baard's talk what had been going on 
 in his heart; and if he had felt any respect 
 before for this ponderous but thoroughly worthy 
 man, be sure it was none the less after that. 
 
 " I was about fourteen," said Baard ; and he 
 paused here, as he did every now and then 
 throughout his whole narrative. Then he said 
 a few more words and paused again, so that 
 every word of his story gave one the impression 
 of being well weighed: "I was about fourteen 
 when I first got to know your father, who was 
 
 about the same age He was very 
 
 spirited, and would own no one over him, and 
 that was why he never could forget that I was 
 number one at confirmation, and he was number 
 
 two He often challenged me to settle 
 
 which was best man, but somehow it never came 
 to anything ; most likely because neither of us 
 was quite confident of winning. . . . But it's a 
 funny thing, that he had quarrels and fights 
 every day, and nothing came of it, while the one 
 me I was drawn in it turned out as badly as it 
 could; but it's true I had waited a long time. 
 .... Nils ran after all the girls, and they after 
 him. There was only one I cared about, but
 
 ARNE 
 
 her he took from me at every dance, every wed- 
 ding, every party ; it was she to whom now I 
 
 am married Often, as I sat by, I longed 
 
 to try my strength with him, just for that ; but 
 I was afraid that I might lose, and I knew that 
 then I should lose her too. When all the people 
 had gone away, I used to lift the weights he had 
 lifted, and take the leaps he had leapt ; but all 
 the same, next time that he danced off with the 
 girl before my eyes, I could not bring myself to 
 set everything on a throw with him ; though once, 
 as he stood fooling with her before my face, I 
 took a full-grown man and laid him across the 
 beam above, as if just for fun. That made Nils 
 turn a bit pale 
 
 " Buf if he had only behaved well to her ! But 
 he was deceiving her, and that night after night. 
 I really believe she liked him the better for it 
 
 each time So it came about that the end 
 
 drew near. I would not have him going on like 
 that any longer, and it was thus that he fell a bit 
 
 heavier than I meant him to I never 
 
 saw him again." 
 
 They sat a long while silent. At length Baard 
 went on : 
 
 146
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 " I began to court her again. She gave me 
 neither yea nor nay, but I thought we should 
 get on better together by-and-by. We got 
 married ; our wedding took place down in the 
 valley there, at her aunt's, who made her her 
 heiress. We began with much, and that's since 
 grown to more. Our farms had lain side by side, 
 and now they were thrown into one a thing 
 I had longed to have done ever since my boy- 
 hood But many other things were not 
 
 as I had longed to have them." He broke off, 
 and sat silent awhile. Arne thought for a 
 moment that he was weeping, but that was not 
 so ; yet his voice was gentler than usual when 
 he went on : " At first she was very quiet and 
 melancholy. I had nothing to say to console 
 her, so I was silent too. A bit later on she 
 began gradually to take up with those bustling, 
 domineering ways you've no doubt noticed. At 
 any rate, that's some alteration, thought I ; so I 
 
 said nothing now either But one day of 
 
 real happiness I've not had since I was married, 
 and that I've been twenty years now." . . . ^ 
 
 At this, he broke the wooden peg in two, and 
 sat looking at the pieces awhile. 
 147
 
 ARNE 
 
 " When Eli began to grow up, I thought it would 
 be happier for her to be with strangers than with 
 us. It's not often I've wanted my way in any- 
 thing, but when I have it's mostly turned out all 
 wrong as it did in this instance. The mother 
 sat longing for her child, though there was only 
 that bit of water between them ; and at last, too, 
 I began to suspect that it wasn't the best place 
 in the world for her to be, for the parsonage 
 people are a set of most kind-hearted noodles ; 
 but I was too late with my wisdom. She cares 
 now for neither father nor mother." 
 
 He had taken off his hat again, and his long 
 hair was hanging down over his eyes. He 
 pushed it aside, and set on his hat with both 
 hands, as if to go; but, turning towards the 
 house to rise, he paused again, and added, look- 
 ing up at the attic window : 
 
 "I thought it would be better for Mathilde 
 and her not to say farewell to one another ; but 
 that was foolish too. I told her the poor little bird 
 was dead, because that was my fault, so it seemed 
 to me I ought to tell her ; but I was wrong there 
 too. And so it is in everything ; all I have done 
 was always meant for the best, but it's always 
 148
 
 BETWEEN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 turned out for the worst, and now it's come so 
 far that they're both speaking ill of me wife and 
 daughter; and here am I, wandering about 
 alone." 
 
 A maid called to them that the meat was 
 getting cold. Baard got up. " I hear the horses 
 whinnying," said he ; " they have been forgotten, 
 I expect ; " and he went off to the stables to 
 give them some hay. 
 
 149
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ARNE'S SONG 
 
 ELI was very weak after her relapse. Her 
 mother sat over her day and night, and was 
 never to be seen downstairs ; her father went up 
 to pay his accustomed visits in his stocking-feet, 
 always leaving his hat outside the door. Arne 
 was still at the farm ; he and Baard sat together 
 in the evenings, and he had grown very fond of 
 him. Baard was a well-informed and very 
 thoughtful man, but inclined to be somewhat 
 afraid of what he knew ; but now, when Arne 
 encouraged, and told him of things that he did 
 not know before, Baard was very grateful. 
 
 Eli was soon able to sit up at times ; and 
 after each attempt, as she got on better, she grew 
 more and more full of whims. Thus it happened 
 that one evening, as Arne sat in the room below 
 hers, singing aloud, the mother came down and 
 150
 
 ARNE'S SONG 
 
 asked him, in Eli's name, to go up to her and 
 sing, so that she could hear the words. Arne 
 must surely have been sitting there singing for 
 Eli as it was, for when Birgit spoke he turned 
 red, and got up as if to deny that he had done 
 so, though no one had said he had. However, 
 he pulled himself up and said trying to refuse 
 that he was scarcely able to sing at all. But 
 he was answered by the mother that that did not 
 seem to be so when he sat alone. 
 
 Arne gave in and went. He had not seen El 
 since the day he helped to carry her up ; he felt 
 that she must now be much changed, and that 
 gave him a feeling of dread. But when he softly 
 opened the door, and entered, there was such 
 deep darkness that he saw no one. He paused 
 by the door. 
 
 " Who is that ? " asked Eli, in a clear, low 
 tone. 
 
 "Arne Kampen," answered he, gently, trying 
 to keep his voice from jarring on her nerves. 
 
 "It was good of you to come." 
 
 " How are you now, Eli ? " 
 
 " Thanks ; now I am getting better." 
 You must sit down, Arne," she said, after a
 
 ARNE 
 
 pause ; and Arne felt his way to a chair that 
 stood by the foot of the bed. "It was so nice 
 to hear you singing, that you must sing a little 
 to me up here." 
 
 " If I only knew what to sing 1 " 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and then, " Sing 
 a hymn," said the girl. And he did so, singing 
 a bit of a confirmation hymn. As he finished, 
 he heard her weeping, and did not dare to sing 
 any more ; but presently she said, " Sing 
 another," and he sang one that is often heard 
 in church. 
 
 " How many things I have thought of while 
 I've been lying here ! " said Eli, when he had 
 finished. 
 
 He knew not what to answer, and he heard 
 her weeping again to herself in the darkness. 
 A clock, which was ticking away on the wall, 
 gathered itself up for a blow, and struck out the 
 hour. 
 
 Eli slowly drew breath once or twice, as if 
 trying to lighten a load on her breast, and 
 said : 
 
 " One knows so little ; one can't even get to 
 know one's own father or mother. I have not 
 152
 
 ARNE'S SONG 
 
 been good to them, and that's why it makes me 
 feel so strange now to hear the confirmation 
 hymn." 
 
 When people talk in the dark, they are likely 
 to be more truthful than when they see one 
 another's faces, and to speak more freely too. 
 
 " It makes me happy to hear you say that," 
 answered Arne. He was thinking of what she 
 had said when she fell ill. 
 
 She understood what was in his heart, and 
 added : 
 
 " Had not that happened to me, God knows 
 how long I might have been without having 
 found mother." 
 
 " Has she spoken freely with you, then ? " 
 
 " Every day ; she has done nothing else." 
 
 " Then you must have heard much from her ? " 
 
 " You may well say so." 
 
 ". . . . She talked to you about my father, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Does she still think of him ? " 
 
 "She still thinks of him." 
 
 " He did not treat her well." 
 
 44 Poor mother ! "
 
 ARNE 
 
 " He treated himself far worse, though." 
 
 But there was something in the heart of each 
 that neither would tell the other. It was Eli who 
 first spoke again : 
 
 " You are said to be like your father." 
 
 "They say so," he answered, uneasily. 
 
 She did not notice his tone, so she returned 
 to the subject again. 
 
 " Could he, too, make songs ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Sing me a song one that you have made 
 yourself." 
 
 But it was not Arne's habit to admit that any 
 song he sang was his own. 
 
 "I have none," he said. 
 
 " But you will find one, and you'll sing it, too, 
 won't you, if I ask? " 
 
 And he did for her now what he never had 
 done for any one else. This was the song he 
 sang : 
 
 ' Green stood the Tree, with its leaves tender-bright. 
 ' Shall I take them ? ' said Frost, as he breathed through 
 the night. 
 
 ' Oh ! pray let them be 
 Till my blossoms you see ! ' 
 Begged the Tree, as she shivered and shook in affright. 
 
 154
 
 ARNE'S SONG 
 
 "Sweet sang the birds the fair blossoms among. 
 ' Shall I take them ? ' said Wind, as he swayed them and 
 swung, 
 
 Oh ! pray let them be, 
 Till my berries you see ! ' 
 Begged the Tree, as its branches all quivering hung. 
 
 " Bright grew the berries beneath the sun's heat. 
 Shall I take them ? ' said Lassie, so young and so sweet. 
 ' Ah ! take them, I crave, 
 Take all that I have ! ' 
 Begged the Tree, as it bent its full boughs to her feet." 
 
 The song seemed well nigh to take her breath 
 away. He, too, sat there when it was ended, 
 as if he had said more in his song than he had 
 wanted. 
 
 Darkness lies heavy upon those who sit 
 together in it, but do not talk ; they are never 
 nearer together than then. He heard it if she 
 but turned, or merely drew her hand across the 
 coverlet ; he heard her, if she so much as breathed 
 a little deeper than usual. 
 
 "Arne, couldn't you teach me to make 
 songs ? " 
 
 " Have you never tried ? " 
 
 " Yes, lately, but I can't get on." 
 
 "What have you tried to make your songs 
 about ? "
 
 ARNE 
 
 "About mother, and all her love for your 
 father." 
 
 "That's a difficult subject." 
 
 " I've cried over it so, too." 
 
 " You must not seek for subjects ; they come." 
 
 " How do they come ? " 
 
 "Like other precious things when one least 
 expects them." 
 
 Both were silent awhile. 
 
 " I wonder, Arne," she said, at length, " that 
 you, who have so much that is beautiful within 
 yourself, should want to go away." 
 
 " How do you know I want to ? " 
 
 She did not answer, but lay silent as if in 
 thought. 
 
 "Arne, you must not go away ! " she said, and 
 it set his blood aflame. 
 
 "There are times when I seem not to want 
 to so much," he said. 
 
 " Your mother must be very fond of you. I 
 must get to know your mother." 
 
 " Come over to Kampen when you're well 
 
 again," said he. And at the words lie seemed 
 
 to see her sitting in the bright room at Kampen, 
 
 looking out at the mountains. His heart began 
 
 156
 
 to beat fast, and his blood to rush to his head. 
 " It's very warm in here," said he, and he rose, as 
 if to go. 
 
 She heard his movement. 
 
 " Are you going, Arne ? " said she, and he 
 sat down again. " You must come here oftener 
 now. Mother's taken such a liking to you." 
 
 " I should like to come, too .... but I must 
 have something to come for." 
 
 Eli was silent for a while as if she were 
 reflecting. 
 
 " I think," she said, " mother has something 
 she will ask you about." 
 
 He heard her raising herself up in bed. No 
 sound was there in the room or below, save the 
 clock ticking on the wall. Suddenly she broke 
 out: 
 
 "Would to God summer were here ! " 
 
 " Summer ! " and at the word rose up before 
 him fragrant leaves, and the tinkle of cattle- 
 bells, merry sounds from the hills, and songi 
 from the valleys, the black water glittering in 
 the sun, and the homesteads reflected in its 
 ripples. Eli came out, and was sitting down just 
 as she had done that summer evening long ago.
 
 ARNE 
 
 " If summer were here," said she, " if I could 
 sit on the hill, I certainly believe I should be 
 able to sing a song of my own." 
 
 He laughed, and asked, "What would it be 
 about?" 
 
 " About something that would be easy enough 
 about about I don't know ! " 
 
 " Tell me, Eli ! " and he rose joyously ; but a 
 thought struck him, and he sat down again. 
 
 " Not you, for all the world ! " And she laughed. 
 
 " I sang to you when you asked me." 
 
 " That's true but no, no, no ! "{ 
 
 " Eli, do you think I'd make fun of the little 
 verses you've made ? " 
 
 "No, that I don't Arne; but it's not any- 
 thing I've made myself." 
 
 " Is it anybody else's, then ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it came of itself to me, so to speak." 
 
 " Well, then, surely you can tell it me," 
 
 "No, no; it's not anything of that sort eithei 
 Arne. Don't ask me any more." 
 
 She was certainly hiding her head in the bed v 
 for the last words were scarcely audible. 
 
 " Well, Eli, you're not as kind to me as I've 
 been to you ! " and he rose. 
 158
 
 ARNE'S SONG 
 
 "Arne, it's different you don't understand 
 me but it was I don't know some other 
 time don't be cross with me, Arne ! Don't go 
 away ! " And she began to cry. 
 
 " Eli, what is the matter with you ? " and he 
 listened. "Are you ill?" he asked, but he did 
 not think she was. 
 
 She was still weeping, and he felt that now 
 he must move either forward or back. 
 
 "Eli!" 
 
 " Yes I " both voices in a whisper. 
 
 "Give me your hand." 
 
 She made no answer. He listened, quickly, 
 closely stretched out his own hand over the 
 coverlet, and grasped a warm little hand that 
 lay bare. 
 
 There was a step on the stairs, and they let 
 go of one another. 
 
 It was Birgit, coming in with a light. " You've 
 been sitting too long in the dark," said she, and 
 put the candle on the table. But neither Eli 
 nor he could bear the light ; she turned her face 
 to the pillow, and he held his hand before his 
 eyes. "Ah, yes ; it's a bit dazzling at first," said 
 the mother; "but the feeling soon passes away."
 
 ARNE 
 
 Arne groped about on the floor for his hat 
 which he had never brought in with him and 
 so left the room. 
 
 Next day he heard that Eli was going to come 
 down for awhile after dinner. He put his tools 
 together, and bade farewell to the farm. When 
 she came down he was gone. 
 
 160
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 SPRING comes late among the mountains. The 
 post that speeds along the- highway three times 
 a week in winter comes only once in April, and 
 the mountain-dwellers begin to feel that now the 
 snow has begun to melt in the world without, 
 the ice is breaking, the steamers are travelling to 
 and fro again, and the harrow is breaking the 
 soil once more. With them, the snow still lies 
 three ells high, the cattle are still lowing from 
 their stalls, and the birds that come back hide 
 themselves shivering. The chance traveller tells 
 them that he has left his carriole down in the 
 valley below, and shows them flowers that he 
 has plucked by the roadside. Then the moun- 
 taineers begin to be filled with longings as they 
 go about talking to one another, looking at the 
 sun, and discussing how much higher in the sky 
 161 L
 
 ARNE 
 
 it gets daily. They strew ashes on the slippery 
 snow, and their thoughts wander to those who 
 now are plucking flowers. 
 
 At such a season was it that old Margit 
 Kampen came up to the parsonage, and asked to 
 be allowed to speak to the pastor. She was 
 taken into his study, where the minister, a 
 slimly built, fair-haired, kind-looking man, with 
 large eyes shadowed by spectacles, received her 
 friendlily (for he knew her), and bade her sit 
 down. 
 
 " Anything fresh about Arne ? " he asked, 
 as if they had often spoken together on that 
 subject. 
 
 " Ah, God help me ! " said Margit ; " there's 
 never anything but good that I have to say of 
 him ; and yet it's so hard." And she looked very 
 sad as she spoke. 
 
 " Has his old longing come back again ? H 
 asked the pastor. 
 
 " Worse than ever," said the mother. " I 
 don't believe that he'll stay with me now even 
 ill spring's here." 
 
 " But he promised never to leave you." 
 
 " That he did. But, good Lord ! he must act 
 162
 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 for himself now. If his mind's set on it, he 
 can't well help himself. But what's to become 
 of me ? " 
 
 " All the same, I don't really believe he'll ever 
 forsake you," said the pastor. 
 
 " No ; but suppose he can't be happy at home ? 
 Dare I have it on my conscience that I'm in his 
 way? There are times when I think I ought 
 to beg him to go." 
 
 " How do you know that he wants to go now 
 more than before ? " 
 
 " Ah ! by many things. Since the middle of 
 winter he hasn't worked anywhere in the parish 
 for a single day. On the other hand, he's made 
 three trips to the town, and each time been a 
 long while there. He scarcely ever speaks now 
 at his work, though that's often been his habit 
 He sits for a long, long while by himself in the 
 little garret window, looking out towards the 
 mountains and the ravine. He sits there all 
 Sunday afternoons ; and often, when there's 
 moonlight, he'll sit there till far past midnight." 
 
 " Does he never read aloud to you ? " 
 
 " Every Sunday, as usual, of course, he reads 
 and sings to me ; but he seems to hurry over it, 
 163
 
 ARNE 
 
 except now and again, when he makes almost 
 too much of it." 
 
 " Does he ever talk to you ? " 
 
 " Often not for so long at a time that I can't 
 help crying to myself; then he notices that, and 
 begins to talk ; but only of little things, never 
 of serious ones." 
 
 The pastor paced up and down, paused, and 
 asked : 
 
 "Why don't you talk to him of them, then ?" 
 
 It was long before she answered. She 
 gave two or three sighs ; she looked on the 
 ground and aside ; she folded her kerchief and 
 unfolded it. 
 
 " I've come here to-day," she said, at last, 
 "to talk with you, sir, about something that's 
 heavy on my heart." 
 
 " Speak freely ; that will lighten it." 
 
 " I trust it will ; for I have now crept under 
 the burden for many and many a year, and each 
 year it grows heavier and heavier." 
 
 " What is it then my poor woman ? " 
 
 There was still some hesitation beforeshe spoke. 
 
 " I have committed a great sin against my 
 son," and she began to weep. 
 164
 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 The pastor went up close to her. " Confess 
 it to me, then, and let us pray God together to 
 forgive it you." 
 
 Margit sobbed, and dried her tears, and began 
 to weep again as soon as she tried to speak, and 
 thus she went on for some time. The pastor 
 endeavoured to comfort her. " It certainly 
 couldn't be such a dreadful thing that she had 
 done," he said ; " she was too severe to herself," 
 and so forth. But Margit went on weeping, 
 and could not make a beginning of her story till 
 the pastor sat down by her side and began to 
 question her kindly. Then it came out, bit by 
 bit. " He had such a hard time," she said, 
 "when he was a boy, and that made him long 
 to travel. Well, he met Kristen that Kristen 
 who's now such a great man out there where 
 they dig up gold ; and Kristen gave Arne so 
 many books that he was no longer the same as 
 we peasant folk. The two sat together night 
 after night, and when Kristen went off, Arne 
 wanted to go too. But at that time," she went 
 on, "his father died so terribly, and my boy 
 promised never to leave me. But I was like a 
 hen that had hatched a duck's egg. When
 
 ARNE 
 
 the little one grew up a bit, he wanted to go out 
 on the great water, and I went about everywhere 
 crying. If he didn't actually go himself, his 
 songs were always of travel, so that I expected 
 every morning to find his bed empty. 
 
 " Then it was that there came for him a letter 
 from a long, long way off; and this must be (I 
 knew) from Kristen. God forgive me ! I took 
 and hid it. I thought that was the end of it ; 
 but presently came another, and, as I had hidden 
 the first, I had to do the same with this one too. 
 But it was as if they were burning a hole in the 
 box where I put them, for I could think of 
 nothing but that from the moment I opened my 
 eyes to the time I went to bed. And, just 
 imagine what was worst of all there came a 
 third letter ! I stood with it in my hand for a 
 quarter of an hour; I carried it about with me 
 in my dress for three days, weighing with myself 
 whether to give it to him or put it away with the 
 other two ; but, perhaps (thought I) it might 
 have the power to entice away my boy from me, 
 and so I could not help putting it with the rest. 
 Now I went in fear the whole day long; not 
 only because of those in the box, but also of 
 1 66
 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 anything new coming. I was afraid of every 
 person who came near the farm; and when we 
 were both indoors and there came a rap, I 
 trembled all over ; it might be a letter, and then 
 he would take it in himself. When he was away 
 in the village, I kept pacing about the farm, 
 thinking, ' Now perhaps he's been given a letter 
 out there, and has found out from it about the 
 others that have come ! ' When he came back, 
 I looked at his face as he was still far off, and if 
 he smiled good God ! how glad I was, for by 
 that I knew he had heard nothing ! He had 
 grown so handsome now, too just like his 
 father, but fairer and gentler. And then he had 
 such a beautiful voice for singing ! When he 
 sat on the threshold in the evening, singing up 
 at the mountains above, and listening for the 
 echo, then I knew that I could never bear to 
 lose him ! If I only saw him, if I only knew 
 that he was anywhere near, if he merely seemed 
 happy, and gave me a nod now and again, then 
 I felt there was nothing more I wanted here on 
 earth, and I would not have had any of my tears 
 unwept. 
 
 " But just as it seemed he was getting 
 167
 
 ARNE 
 
 happier, and to like being among people more 
 than he used to, there came a message one day 
 from the post-office that now a fourth letter had 
 come, and in it two hundred dollars ! I thought 
 I should have sunk to the ground as I stood 
 there; what was I to do now? This letter, of 
 course, I could put out of the way as before 
 but the money ? I got no sleep for many a 
 night for that money. I put it at one time in 
 the garret, at one time in the cellar behind a 
 cask, and once I was so desperate that I put it 
 in the window, for him to find; but when I 
 heard him coming, I took it away again. At 
 last I hit on a plan ; I gave him the money, and 
 told him it was some that had been owing since 
 my mother's death. He buried it in the ground 
 a thing I had myself thought of; and there 
 it rested. But as luck would have it, that very 
 autumn, as he sat there one evening, he kept 
 saying he wondered that Kristen should have 
 forgotten him so completely. 
 
 " That made my wound break out again, and 
 the money burnt; it was sin that I had done, 
 and sin to no purpose ! 
 
 "The mother who has sinned against her 
 1 68
 
 MARGITS CONFESSION 
 
 child is the unhappiest of all mothers ; and yet 
 I had only done it from love of him. So it is 
 that I am surely to be punished by losing my 
 dearest. Ever since midwinter now, he's been 
 singing the tune he always sings when the long- 
 ing to go seizes upon him ; 'tis the song he has 
 sung from his boyhood, and I never hear it 
 without turning pale. It's then that I feel I 
 could do anything. And here you shall see," 
 she said, drawing forth a paper from her bodice, 
 unfolding it, and giving it to the pastor ; " here is 
 something he writes at, every now and again ; 
 it is words that go to that tune. I brought it 
 with me, because I can't read such fine writing. 
 Will you please see if there's anything in it 
 about going away ? " 
 
 There was only one complete verse on the 
 paper. Here and there was a line, or half a 
 line, of another stanza, as if it were a song that 
 he had forgotten, and was now trying to recollect 
 line by line. And this was how the first verse ran : 
 " Fain would I know what the world may be 
 
 Over the mountains high. 
 Mine eyes can nought but the white snow see, 
 And up the steep sides the dark fir-tree, 
 That climbs as if yearning to know. 
 Ah ! what if one ventured to go ? " 
 169
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Is it about travelling ? " asked Margit, 
 hungrily watching the pastor's face. 
 
 11 Yes, it is about travelling," said he, and let 
 the paper fall. 
 
 "I knew it! Oh God! I knew it all the 
 time, well enough ! " 
 
 She looked at the pastor with clasped hands, 
 her face haggard, her eyes wild with excitement, 
 the tears rolling down her cheeks. 
 
 But here the pastor could no more help her 
 than she could herself. " The lad must be left 
 alone," said he; "life can't be made different 
 for his sake ; but maybe he'll come to see some- 
 thing more in it of his own accord. Just now it 
 looks as if he thought he might get that ' some- 
 thing more ' by wandering in search of it." 
 
 "Why, that's just like the old woman !" said 
 Margit. 
 
 " The old woman ? " 
 
 "The old woman who wandered on and on to 
 get sunlight, instead of making a window in the 
 wall to let it come in ! " 
 
 The pastor was struck by her acuteness ; but, 
 indeed, it was not the first time he had been 
 astonished, when she got on the subject of Arne's 
 170
 
 longings: truth to tell, Margit had given her 
 thoughts to nothing else these seven or eight 
 years past. 
 
 " Do you think he'll go ? what am I to do ? 
 and the money ? and the letters ? " she cried, her 
 thoughts all crowding in upon her. 
 
 "As to the letters, your conduct has been 
 wrong. You'll find it difficult to answer for 
 having kept from him what was his. Worse 
 still, you have let a fellow-Christian and one 
 who by no means deserved it appear in a con- 
 temptible light to your son, and, what makes it 
 worst of all, one of whom he was so fond, and 
 who in turn was so much attached to him. But 
 we will pray to God to forgive you ; we will 
 both pray to Him." 
 
 Margit bowed her head ; she had been sitting 
 all along with her hands folded. " How gladly," 
 she said, " would I pray for forgiveness, if only 
 I knew he would stay ! " 
 
 She was evidently mixing up God and Arne 
 in her mind. The pastor made as if he did not 
 hear her. 
 
 " Do you mean now," he asked, " to tell him 
 the truth straight away ? " 
 171
 
 ARNE 
 
 She fixed her eyes on the ground, and said, in 
 a low tone : 
 
 " If only I might wait a little, I would gladly 
 do it." 
 
 The pastor smiled, without letting her see it. 
 
 " Don't you think," he said, " the longer you 
 delay the greater is your sin ?" 
 
 She was twisting her kerchief in both her 
 hands ; she folded it up into a little square, and 
 was now trying, but vainly, to make it into a 
 still smaller one. 
 
 "If I tell him about the letters," she mur- 
 mured, " he'll go off, I'm afraid." 
 
 " You dare not trust to God, then ? " 
 
 " Ah, yes, of course I but still," she added, 
 " suppose he were to leave me now, all the 
 same ? " 
 
 "You are more afraid, then, of his going away 
 than of your being left in sin ? " 
 
 Margit had unrolled her kerchief again, and 
 she raised it to her eyes now, for the tears 
 were beginning to fall. The pastor sat looking 
 at her for a moment, and then : 
 
 " Why have you been telling me all this," he 
 went on, " if you didn't mean it to lead to some- 
 172
 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 thing ? " And he paused for a reply, but none 
 came. 
 
 " Did you think, perhaps," he went on, " that 
 your sin would be less when once you had con- 
 fessed it to some one ? " 
 
 " That is what I thought," she said softly, her 
 head bowed still lower on her breast. The pastor 
 smiled and rose. 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear Margit," he said, " you 
 must now so act that ; ji your old age you may 
 have happiness." 
 
 " If only I might keep what I have now ! " 
 said she. And it seemed to the pastor as if she 
 dared not hope for any greater happiness than 
 always to live in her present constant anxiety. 
 He smiled, and filled his pipe. 
 
 " If only," he muttered, " there were some 
 little lassie, now, who could get hold of him, 
 he'd stay here fast enough then, you'd soon 
 see!" 
 
 She looked up quickly, and followed the 
 pastor's movements with her eyes, till he came 
 and paused before her. 
 
 " Eli Boen ? What ? eh ? " he said. 
 
 She blushed fiery red, and looked down again,
 
 ARNE 
 
 but made no answer. The pastor, still halting 
 before her, awaiting her reply, said (as if to 
 himself) : 
 
 " If only we could manage so that they could 
 oftener come together to the parsonage here ! " 
 
 She peered up into his face to see if he were 
 in serious earnest, but she scarcely dared really 
 believe him. 
 
 He began to walk up and down again, but 
 presently he paused : 
 
 "Look here, now, Margit to come to the 
 point ; was that the real reason that brought 
 you here to-day ? " 
 
 She looked fixedly at the floor, put a couple 
 of fingers in her twisted kerchief, and pulled 
 them out of the tip of it : 
 
 "Ah, yes," she said, "God help me! that 
 was really just it." 
 
 The pastor burst out laughing, and rubbed 
 his hands. 
 
 "Was it that, perhaps, you wanted last tim 
 you were here, then ? " 
 
 She drew out the end of her kerchief still 
 further, pulling and pulling at it, till she at last 
 got out : 
 
 174
 
 MARGIT'S CONFESSION 
 
 " As you say so yourself, it must have been, 
 I suppose." 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! ha, ha, ha! Oh Margit, 
 Margit ! Well, well, we'll see what we can do ; 
 for, truth to tell, my wife and daughter have 
 long been of the same mind." 
 
 " Is that possible ? " cried Margit. And she 
 looked up with so happy, and yet so shame- 
 faced an expression, that it quite rejoiced the 
 pastor to see her open, handsome face, where it 
 was plain to read the child's heart, in spite of 
 all sorrow or fear. 
 
 "Yes, Margit," said he. "You who have so 
 much love in you will surely, for Love's own 
 sake, get forgiveness, both of your God and your 
 son, for your transgressions. You have indeed 
 had your punishment already in the constant 
 and great anxiety you have lived in. We shall 
 see now whether God will make speedy ending 
 to ii all ; for if He wills it so, He will lend us 
 His aid in this." 
 
 She sighed deeply again and again ; then she 
 rose up, thanked him, curtsied, walked across 
 the room, and curtsied farewell again on the 
 threshold. The moment she was out of the room,
 
 ARNE 
 
 she felt as if transformed. She looked up to 
 the heavens with a quick glance, full of shining 
 thankfulness, and hastened down the steps, and 
 the farther she got the quicker she went, walking 
 back to Kampen that day with a lighter heart 
 than she had had for many and many a year. 
 When she got so far as to be able to see the 
 smoke curling thick and merrily from the chim- 
 ney, she blessed the house, the farmyard, the 
 whole homestead, the pastor and Arne, and 
 remembered that they were to have smoked meat 
 for dinner, which was her favourite dish.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 BY THE BLACK WATER 
 
 KAMPEN was a fine farm. It lay in the midst of 
 the level ground that had the rocky ravine for 
 boundary on the lower side, and the high road 
 on the other. On the upper side of the road 
 stood a thick, close wood ; just behind it began 
 the mountain slope, and in the distance towered 
 up the blue, snow-capped peaks. In a like way, 
 on the other side of the ravine rose another 
 broad range of mountains, that curved away by 
 the Black Water, just at the spot where Boen 
 lay, and then went higher and higher up towards 
 Kampen, but turned aside on its way towards the 
 broad valley known as the " Lower Parish," that 
 began at this spot ; for Kampen was the iast farm 
 in the " Upper Parish." 
 
 The front door of the dwelling-house at Kampen 
 opened towards the road ; from the one to the 
 *77 M
 
 ARNE 
 
 other, a distancce of several hundred yards, led a 
 path with leafy birch-trees on both sides of it. 
 On both sides, too, of the cultivated lands lay 
 woods ; the farm lands and meadows could thus 
 be easily increased as much as one pleased; 
 indeed, it was in most respects a splendid spot 
 for farming. 
 
 In front of the house lay a little garden. Arne 
 had laid it out and looked after it, as he had learnt 
 to from his books. To the left were the cattle- 
 sheds and the other outhouses; they were for 
 the most part newly-built, and formed a square 
 with the dwelling-house. This latter was painted 
 red, with window-frames and doors of white ; it 
 had two storeys and was thatched with turf, so 
 that little bits of green were growing on the roof. 
 On the ridge of this latter was a staff, on which 
 turned an iron cock with a long tail. 
 
 Spring had come to the mountains. One 
 Sunday morning the air was somewhat heavy, 
 but calm and not cold ; a sort of mist seemed to 
 lie over the forest, but it would lift as the day 
 went on, thought Margit Arne had read the 
 sermon to his mother and sung hymns, and it 
 had made him feel happy. Now he was standing 
 178
 
 BY THE BLACK WATER 
 
 in full trim to go up to the parsonage. He 
 opened the door ; the fragrance of fresh foliage 
 struck upon his senses from the garden, standing 
 deep clothed in morning mist ; from the ravine 
 came the mighty thunderous sound that made the 
 eyes and ears quiver of him that heard it. 
 
 Arne began his up-hill walk. As he got 
 further from the waterfall, the sound of the rush 
 of water was less and less terrific ; but it seemed 
 now to spread out over the whole landscape, like 
 the full deep tone of an organ. 
 
 " God be with him on the way he's going 
 now ! " said the mother, opening the window, and 
 following him with her eyes till the bushes hid him. 
 The mist lifted bit by bit, the sun's rays pierced 
 it through, and life sprang up again in meadow 
 and garden ; all Arne's work was growing there 
 with fresh strength, bringing forth fragrance and 
 joy for his mother. Spring is beautiful indeed 
 for one who has long borne winter. 
 
 Arne had no definite object at the parsonage, 
 but he wanted to ask about the newspapers that 
 he took in with the pastor. Lately he had seen 
 the names of several Norwegians who had done 
 well for themselves at gold-mining in America, 
 179
 
 ARNE 
 
 and among them was Kristen. Now, Arne had 
 heard a vague rumour that Kristen was expected 
 home. Of this he thought he could get certain 
 information at the parsonage; and if it should 
 be really true that Kristen had already come back 
 to the town, Arne thought he would go and see 
 him in the interval between the end of spring and 
 the hay cutting. 
 
 Deep in these thoughts, he strode along till 
 he got to where he could see the Black Water, 
 and, on the other side of it, Boen. The mist 
 was lifting there, too, by this time, and the sun's 
 rays were sporting over the green sward; the 
 mountain stood with its head all golden, but its 
 breast deep-wrapped in haze ; the forest threw 
 its dense shadow over the water on the right, 
 but just in front of the houses the waves had 
 receded somewhat, and the white sand lay glis- 
 tening in the sun. At a bound, his thoughts 
 were within the red-painted building with the 
 white doors and window-frames which he had 
 painted his own to resemble. He did not think 
 of the first heavy days he had spent there ; he 
 thought only of the summer they both saw he 
 and Eli up there in the sick-room. Since then, 
 180
 
 BY THE BLACK WATER 
 
 he had never been there ; after that, he never 
 would not for all the world. If his thoughts 
 but turned that way, it made him hot and red, 
 and filled him with shame though, indeed, he 
 thought of it every single day, and many times a 
 day, too ; but if there was one thing which could 
 drive him away from the place, it was (he felt) 
 just that ! 
 
 On he strode, as if he would take himself far 
 from it all ; but the more he walked, the nearer 
 he came to being right opposite Boen, and, con- 
 sequently, the more he looked at it. The mist was 
 all gone now ; the heavens were shining clear from 
 one mountain top to the other, the birds swimming 
 in the sun-bright air and crying joyously to one 
 another, the fields answering in myriads of bright 
 blossoms. There was no thunderous waterfall 
 there, to sober radiant joy into awe and reverence ; 
 but freely, boundlessly, full of life, it burst forth 
 singing, shining, rejoicing, on its upward way. 
 
 Arne had walked himself burning hot. He 
 threw himself down on the grass at the foot of a 
 knoll, glanced over at Boen, and turned away, so 
 that his eyes might no longer look that way. 
 Then he heard singing above him, clear-sounding 
 181
 
 ARNE 
 
 as none he had ever heard before. It darted up 
 from the meadow among the songs of the birds, 
 and almost before he could make sure of the 
 tune, he recognised the words ; for the tune was 
 the one he loved best of all, and the words were 
 those he had had in his heart from his childhood 
 and lost, the very day he had brought them 
 forth ! He sprang up, as if to catch them now ; 
 but, instead, paused and listened. There came 
 rippling down to him the first verse, then the 
 next, then the third, the fourth all the verses 
 of his own lost song. 
 
 " Fain would I know what the world may be 
 
 Over the mountains high. 
 Mine eyes can nought but the white snow see. 
 And up the steep sides the dark fir-tree, 
 That climbs as if yearning to know, 
 Ah ! what if one ventured to go ? 
 
 " The eagle flies in his fearless way 
 Over the mountains high ; 
 
 In triumph he swims through the fresh young day, 
 Spends his wild heart in the hunt for his prey, 
 And drops where he chooses to rest, 
 Obedient to no man's behest. 
 
 ' Thou yearn'st not to journey, O apple-tree green, 
 
 Over the mountains high ; 
 
 For in winter thou waitest till summer-time sheen 
 Shall clothe thee with blossoms so fair to be seen, 
 What the birds sing, as flying they go, 
 Thou know'st not nor carest to know. 
 182
 
 BY THE BLACK WATER 
 
 " He who has longed twenty years in his soul 
 
 To be over the mountains high, 
 Yet who knows that he never will reach that goal, 
 And feels weaker and feebler as swift the years roll, 
 Let him learn from the birds on the wing 
 The tidings of comfort they bring. 
 
 " Carolling birds, say, why left you there, 
 
 Over the mountains high, 
 Your warm little nests, and a land so fair, 
 With its leaner trees and its mild, sweet air ? 
 Say, was it only to bring 
 Longing, longing but never a wing ? 
 
 " Say, am I never, never to go 
 
 Over the mountains high ? 
 Ye ice-bound rocks, will ye weigh on me so, 
 That ye smother my heart 'neath the depths of your snow, 
 Penned 'mid your darksome gloom, 
 Till ye yield me up to the tomb ? 
 
 " Up, heart, up ! and away, away ! 
 
 Over the mountains high. 
 
 For my courage is young, and my soul will be gay, 
 If no longer bound straitly and fettered I stay, 
 But seeking yon summit to gain, 
 No more beat my wings here in vain. 
 
 " One day, I know, shall my journey be 
 
 Over the mountains high. 
 Lord God ! fair is the dwelling of Thee. 
 Say, is the portal unbarred for me ? 
 Not yet let its hinges turn ; 
 Grant me to live and to yearn." 
 
 Arne stood listening till the last verse, the last 
 word died away. Once more he heard the 
 183
 
 ARNE 
 
 birds singing merrily and flitting about, but he 
 scarce knew whether he himself dared move. 
 But see who it was he must, at any rate. He 
 moved towards the place, planting his steps so 
 warily that not even the rustle of the grass 
 tould be heard. A little butterfly settled upon 
 a flower just in front of his foot, fluttered up, 
 flew on a little, and settled down again ; up 
 again and on, and on, and on in front of him all 
 the way, as he crept to the top of the hill. 
 There, in front of him, stood a thick clump of 
 bushes ; he need go no further, for now he could 
 see. A bird flew up from amidst the under- 
 growth with a twitter of affright, and sped 
 away over the hill. She looked up at this she 
 who was sitting there. He bent low down, 
 holding his breath, with his heart beating so that 
 he could hear every pulsation, and listening with 
 every fibre; he dared not let a leaf rustle for 
 it was she it was Eli ! 
 
 Long, long, after, he looked up a little, and 
 would have liked to draw himself a step nearer ; 
 but the bird had its nest, perhaps, among the 
 undergrowth (thought he), and he would not run 
 /he risk of trampling it down, so he peered through 
 184
 
 BY THE BLACK WATER 
 
 the foliage as the boughs swung apart or drew 
 together. The sunlight was falling straight on 
 her, as she sat there in her black, sleeveless 
 bodice, with her boy's straw hat placed loosely 
 and sideways on her head. In her lap lay a 
 book, but on it a profusion of wild flowers ; her 
 right hand was playing among them, as if she 
 was lost in thought ; her left arm was resting on 
 her knee and supporting her head. Her eyes 
 were following the bird's flight, and it looked as 
 if she might have been weeping. 
 
 A thing more beautiful had Arne never seen 
 or dreamt of in all his lifetime. The sun was 
 scattering all his gold on her and about her ; and 
 it seemed to him that the song, though she had 
 long ceased singing, was floating about him, till 
 he felt as if his heart and his breath were beat- 
 ing time to it. 
 
 She took the book and opened it, shut it again 
 quickly, and, sitting as before, began to hum. 
 It was his song : 
 
 "Green stood the tree, with its leaves tender bright." 
 
 He could hear that, though she did not remembet 
 
 cither the words or the tune properly, and often 
 
 185
 
 ARNE 
 
 went wrong in them. The last verse was the 
 one she knew best, so she ran over it again and 
 again ; but this was how she sang it : 
 
 " Bright grew the berries, so red, ripe, and rare. 
 ' May I take you ? ' said Lassie, so young, and so fair. 
 ' Yes, take them, I pray, 
 This sunshiny day,' 
 Said the tree tralala, tralalalala fair ! " 
 
 And then up she sprang quickly, shook off all 
 her flowers around her, and carolled out so loudly 
 that her voice seemed to thrill through the air, 
 and well nigh to reach Bo' en. And away she 
 darted ! Should he call to her ? No ! 
 
 Down the hills she sped, singing, trilling; off 
 fell her hat in her speed, and she stood still 
 among the tall grass to pick it up. "Shall I 
 call?" he thought; "she's looking round!" 
 and down he dropped again. It was long before 
 he dared peer forth ; at first he dared not raise 
 more than his head he could not see her ; then 
 he knelt, but still he could not see her ; then he 
 rose to his feet she was gone ! . . . . 
 
 He no longer wanted to go to the parsonage, 
 He no longer wanted anything! He went and 
 sat where she had been sitting, and he was 
 1 86
 
 BY THE BI.ACK WATER 
 
 sitting there still when the sun above him 
 marked mid-day. On the lake was not a single 
 ripple; from the homesteads smoke was begin- 
 ning to curl up; the water-fowl ceased calling 
 one after another ; the smaller birds were at 
 play, but they were moving towards the shade 
 of the woods ; all the dew was gone, and the 
 grass looked soberly demure; there was not a 
 breath of wind to stir the leaves ; the sun was 
 now about its mid-day height. He knew not 
 how it was, he found himself, as he sat there, 
 making a little song. A soft tune came into his 
 heart, offering itself to him, and, with his breast 
 strangely filled with all gentle feelings, the tune 
 hovered about him, till it melted them together 
 into one harmonious whole. 
 
 He sang it, softly and peacefully as he had 
 composed it : 
 
 " In the woods the lad wandered the whole day long, 
 
 The whole day long ; 
 
 For there he had heard such a wonderful song, 
 Such a wonderful song. 
 
 " He made him a flute from a willow-tree, 
 
 From a willow-tree ; 
 And sought if therein lay the melody, 
 The melody. 
 
 187
 
 ARNE 
 
 " It came, and it whispered its name to him, 
 
 Its name to him ; 
 
 But, whispering, died in the forest dim, 
 In the forest dim. 
 
 " And as he lay sleeping, it stole to him oft, 
 
 Stole to him oft. 
 
 In dreams it would lovingly hover aloft. 
 Hover aloft. 
 
 " But when, joyously listening, he woke from his dream, 
 
 Woke from his dream, 
 
 Far off hung the song in the wan moon-beam, 
 The wan moon-beam. 
 
 ' Oh, Father in Heaven ! now take me from hence, 
 
 Take me from hence ! 
 The song it has stolen my heart and sense, 
 My heart and sense.' 
 
 " But our Father answered : 'It loves thee well, 
 
 It loves thee well, 
 
 Tho' it never thine own for an hour may dwell, 
 For an hour may dwell. 
 
 " ' For no other song shalt thou long and pine, 
 
 Long and pine ; 
 
 But for this one alone, which can never be thine, 
 Never be thinel 1 " 
 
 188
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 IT was a Sunday evening in summer-time. The 
 pastor had come back from church, and Margit 
 had been with him at his house till nearly seven 
 o'clock. Then she bade him farewell, and 
 hastened down the steps, and out into the farm- 
 yard, for there she had caught sight of Eli 
 Boen, who had for some time past been playing 
 with the little boy and her own brother. 
 
 " Good evening," said Margit, coming to a 
 standstill ; " God bless you all ! " 
 
 " Good evening," said Eli, blushing red, and 
 trying to leave off her game with the children, 
 who kept pressing her to go on ; but she begged 
 them to let her go, and got their gracious per- 
 mission for that one evening. 
 
 " It really seems to me," said Margit, " that I 
 must know you." 
 
 189
 
 ARNE 
 
 " That may well be," replied the other. 
 
 " Surely you must be Eli B6en ? " 
 
 Eli acquiesced. 
 
 " Ah ! so then you really are Eli Boen ! Yes, 
 I see now you're very like your mother." 
 
 Eli's auburn hair had come down, and was 
 hanging long and loose about her ; her face was 
 hot, and brown as a berry ; her bosom was rising 
 and falling rapidly ; she could not get breath to 
 speak, and she laughed at herself for being in 
 such a state. 
 
 " Well, well," said Margit, looking at her with 
 pleasure, "it's natural for young folks to be 
 merry. You don't know me, I suppose ? " 
 
 Eli had been wanting to ask her name, but 
 could not pluck up courage to do it, because the 
 other was so much her elder ; now she said in 
 answer, that she did not remember having seen 
 her before. 
 
 " Ah no," Margit said, " that was scarcely to 
 be expected, of course ; we old people seldom 
 get about much. Perhaps though, you know my 
 son a bit Arne Kampen ? I'm his mother." 
 And she shot a glance at Eli, upon whose face 
 had come a new expression. "I think," she 
 190
 
 went on, " he did some work once over there at 
 Boen ? " 
 
 Yes, that was so, Eli said. 
 
 " What beautiful weather it is this evening ! 
 We heaped up the hay to-day, and took it all in 
 before I came out," continued Margit. "This 
 is really God's own weather." 
 
 " It must indeed be a glorious year for hay," 
 said Eli. 
 
 " You may well say so. Is there a good crop 
 at Boen ? " 
 
 " They've taken it all in by now." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so ; sturdy folks, quick work. 
 Are you going back to-night ? " 
 
 No, she was not. 
 
 They talked together about one thing and 
 another, and by degrees got intimate enough for 
 Margit to venture to ask if Eli would walk with 
 her part of the way. 
 
 " Can't you give me your company just for a 
 few steps ? " she said ; " it's so seldom I meet 
 any one to talk to, and I dare say it's much the 
 same with you." 
 
 Eli had no jacket with her ; she could noi 
 come, she said. 
 
 191
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Ah, it's too bad of roe, I know," said Margit, 
 " to ask such a thing the first time I've ever 
 seen you ; but one must put up with something 
 from old folks." 
 
 Eli said she would be very glad to go with 
 her ; she would just run in and get her jacket. 
 
 It was a tight-fitting jacket; when it was 
 fastened about her, it looked as if it was merely 
 a bodice; but now she did up only the two 
 lowest hooks, she was so warm. Her pretty 
 linen vest had a little collar, that turned down 
 and spread out round her neck, and was fastened 
 by a silver clasp in the shape of a bird with 
 outstretched wings. Just such a one had Nils 
 Skraedder worn the first time Margit Kampen 
 danced with him. 
 
 " A pretty clasp," said she, looking at it. 
 
 " I had it from mother," said Eli. 
 
 "Ah, yes, naturally!" said Margit, helping 
 her to fix it. 
 
 They walked along side by side. The hay 
 was heaped up, and lay in little stacks ; Margit 
 pulled bits out of them, smelt it, and pronounced 
 it good. She ask about the cattle on the par- 
 sonage farm, questioned Eli about those at B6en, 
 192
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 and told her how big those were that they had 
 at Kampen. 
 
 " The place has been getting on mightily these 
 last few years," she said, " and there's room for 
 it to grow as much as one pleases. It supports 
 twelve milch-cows now, and it might keep more ; 
 but my son's got so many books that he reads 
 and goes by, and so he will have them all so 
 well fed." 
 
 Eli had nothing to say to all this, as was to be 
 expected. Then Margit asked her how old she was. 
 
 She was nineteen. 
 
 " Have you taken any part in the house- 
 work ? you look so delicate that you can scarcely 
 have done much," said Margit. 
 
 Oh, yes, Eli had borne her share in lots of 
 ways especially of late. 
 
 " Ah, it's good to be used to doing a little of 
 all that sort of thing ; when one has a large 
 house oneself, there is so much wants doing and 
 looking after ; of course, though, when one finds 
 good help at hand in the house, there's not so 
 much need." 
 
 Eli thought she must be going back now, for 
 they had got long past the parsonage lands. 
 193 N
 
 ARNE 
 
 " Oh, it'll be a long time yet," urged Margit, 
 " before the sun goes down. It would be sc 
 nice of you if you came a little further, and 
 talked to me." And Eli went with her. 
 
 Then Margit began to talk of Arne. 
 
 " I don't know if you know him much. He 
 can teach you something about everything. God 
 bless me ! what a lot he has read ! " 
 
 Eli admitted that she knew he had read a great 
 deal. 
 
 " Ah ! yes ; and that's the least to be said for 
 him. Far more than that is how he's behaved 
 to his mother all his life long far more. 1 can 
 tell you I If the old saying's true, that he who's 
 good to his mother '11 be good to his wife, then 
 she he chooses won't need much pity. What is 
 it you're looking for, my child ? " 
 
 " Oh, I dropped a little twig I was carrying." 
 
 Both were silent for a while, and went on 
 without looking at one another. 
 
 " It's so curious in him," the mother began 
 again ; " he was always so kept down and shy 
 as a child, and so he got into the habit of think- 
 ing over everything to himself, and people of 
 that sort don't easily pluck up heart." 
 194
 
 Eli felt sure she ought to be going back now, 
 but Margit said it was such a little way up to 
 Kampen that she really must come and see it 
 now, since she had got so far. 
 
 Eli declared it was too late for doing so that 
 day. 
 
 " Oh, we have always some one or other 
 there who'll see you safely home," said Margit. 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Eli quickly, making as if 
 to go. 
 
 "What a pity," said Margit, "Arne's not at 
 home, so that he can't see you back; but still, 
 there are others there." 
 
 And now Eli made less objection. She would 
 very much like to see Kampen, of course (she 
 said), if only it didn't get too late. 
 
 " Well, if we stand talking here long it cer- 
 tainly will be," said Margit. And on they went 
 again. 
 
 " I suppose you've read lots of books," said 
 the mother " as you've been brought up at the 
 parsonage." 
 
 Yes, she had read a good many. 
 
 "That will be useful," said Margit, "if you 
 have a husband who's read less."
 
 ARNE 
 
 Eli had no intention of having such a one, 
 she said. 
 
 " Well, well, its best not to, of course ; but 
 here in these parts folks don't get much book- 
 learning." 
 
 Eli asked what the smoke came from, away 
 there in the wood. 
 
 " That's the new crofter's clearing ; it belongs 
 to Kampen. A man called Upland Knut lives 
 there. He was all alone in the world, so Arne 
 gave him the place to clear and live in. Poor 
 Arne, he knows what it is to be alone ! " 
 
 Presently they were high enough up to see 
 Kampen. The sun was straight in their faces ; 
 they put up their hands to shield them, and 
 looked down. In the middle of the level ground 
 lay the farm-house, its wall painted red, its win- 
 dow-frames white ; round about it the meadows 
 were mown and the hay was piled up in stacks, 
 the heavy-laden, rich-looking fields of grain 
 contrasting with the pale, shorn hay-fields. 
 Away by the cattle-sheds all was busy life, for 
 cows, sheep, and goats were just come home, 
 amid the tinkling of bells, the baying of dogs, 
 the cry of the milking maids; and above and 
 196
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 through all these sounds rose up from the ravine 
 the thunderous voice of the waterfall. The 
 longer Eli looked, the more this last alone took 
 possession of her, filling her with such awe that 
 at length it made her heart beat fast, and roared 
 and thundered through and through her head 
 till she grew quite dazed, and then so happy and 
 excited that she began unconsciously to lag with 
 short steps, so that Margit had to ask her to 
 walk a little faster. She gave a start. " I have 
 never heard a sound like that waterfall before," 
 she explained ; " I am almost afraid of it." 
 
 " You'll soon grow used to it," said the mother; 
 " you'd get quite to miss it at last." 
 
 "Do you really think so ? " queried Eli. 
 
 " Ah ! you'll see, sure enough," said Margit ; 
 and she smiled. " Come," she went on ; and they 
 turned into the farm from the road ; " first we'll 
 look at the cattle. These trees on both sides of 
 the way here Nils planted ; he was always 
 wanting to have the place look nice, was Nils ; 
 and so's Arne too. Look at the garden he's 
 made there." 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh ! " cried Eli, darting up to the 
 garden fence. She had often seen Karapen, but 
 197
 
 ARNE 
 
 never so near as now ; so she had not had a 
 glimpse of the garden at all before. 
 
 " We'll look at it presently," said Margit. 
 
 Eli glanced furtively through the windows, as 
 they passed the house. There was no one 
 within. 
 
 They went and stood at the barn door, and 
 looked at the cows as they went lowing by to 
 their stalls. Margit named each by its name to 
 Eli, telling her how much milk each one gave, 
 which of them would calve that summer and 
 which not. The sheep were counted and penned 
 in ; they were of a large, strange breed, for Arne 
 had taken a couple of lambs from the south. 
 
 " He takes great pains with all that sort of 
 thing, though you mightn't think it of him," said 
 Margit. 
 
 Next they went into the barn and looked at 
 the hay, which was already carted in ; Eli had to 
 smell it, of course, " for such hay," as the mother 
 said, " was not to be found everywhere." She 
 pointed out the different fields through the win- 
 dow-hole of the barn, telling her what crops each 
 one bore, and how much was sown of each kind. 
 And now they went towards the house. Eli, 
 198
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 who had answered nothing to all Margit said 
 hitherto, asked as they passed the garden if she 
 might not go into it. Being allowed to do so, 
 she next asked leave to pluck just a flower or 
 two. There was a little bench in one corner ; 
 she seated herself on it, apparently only to try 
 it, for she got up again at once. 
 
 " We must hurry now, if we don't want to be 
 very late," said Margit, standing in the door- 
 way ; and at this they went in. 
 
 Margit asked Eli if she might not give her 
 something to eat and drink, as this was the first 
 time she had crossed their threshold ; but Eli 
 turned red, and curtly declined. She turned 
 and looked round her. She was in the room 
 they used in the daytime ; it was not large, but 
 it was cosy-looking, with its timepiece, its tiled 
 stove, and its windows that faced the road. 
 Nil's fiddle, old and time-stained, but with new 
 strings, hung there, as did a couple of guns that 
 belonged to Arne, his English fishing-rod, and 
 other precious objects, which the mother took 
 down and showed her. Eli looked at them, and 
 touched them. The room was not painted, for 
 Arne disliked painted walls ; neither was the 
 199
 
 ARNE 
 
 other room, which looked out upon the ravine, 
 with the bright, clear mountain-peak far away 
 behind. This apartment, which was an addition 
 to the original building as was quite half that 
 side of the house was larger and handsomer 
 than the other ; but in the two smaller rooms of 
 the wing the walls and ceilings were painted, for 
 that was where the mother was to live when she 
 got old, and he took to himself a wife. They 
 went into the kitchen, the pantry, the wash- 
 house. Not a single word did Eli say, and she 
 looked at everything as if from a distance. 
 Even when Margit handed her something to 
 look at, she put out her hand indeed, but 
 scarcely touched it. Margit, talking to her the 
 whole way, took her back to the house again ; 
 they must go up and look at the higher storey. 
 
 Up there were tidy rooms that corresponded to 
 those down below, but they looked new, and not 
 lived in, except one that faced the ravine. In 
 these rooms there lay about, or hung on the 
 walls, all sorts of household goods that were 
 not required for daily use. There were a 
 whole row of fur coverlets and bed-clothes ; 
 these the mother took hold of and lifted one 
 200
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 after another, and bade Eli do so too. The 
 girl seemed now to have plucked up heart a 
 little more, or else she took more interest in 
 things like these; for some of them she went 
 back to more than once, asking questions, and 
 growing brighter and brighter. Presently the 
 mother said, " Now we'll go, last of all, to 
 Arne's own room," and they went into the one 
 facing the waterfall. The thunderous voice of 
 the torrent smote right upon them through the 
 open window. Up at the height they were, 
 they could see jets and spray from the cascade 
 amid the crags, but not the water of the fall 
 itself, save at one place further up, where a 
 huge bit of rock had broken loose, at the very 
 spot where the torrent came rushing along, 
 gathering all its strength for the last leap into 
 the depths below. Fresh green turf had 
 covered the upper surface of the rocky wall, 
 and down into it a handful of fir-cones had 
 dived, throwing their heads heavenward again, 
 with their roots deep in the rifts of stone. The 
 wind had dashed upon the trees, shaking them 
 with all its might ; the spray of the torrent bad 
 washed against their stems, so that not a twig 
 201
 
 ARNE 
 
 was to be seen within four ells of their roots ! 
 they stood there as if with knees crippled and 
 bent, and gnarled and knotted were the branches 
 of them ; but yet, stand firmly there they did, 
 thrusting their heads aloft 'mid the mountain 
 walls. They were the first that Eli saw from 
 the window, and next she saw the shining 
 white snow-peaks that rose above the green. 
 She turned aside her eyes ; over the fields lay 
 peace and fruitfulness. And now at last she 
 looked round the room where she stood, for the 
 torrent had forbidden her doing so at first. 
 
 How calm and tranquil it was in here, con- 
 trasted with the tumult without ! She singled 
 out no special thing to gaze at, for everything in 
 the room seemed to be in harmony, and nearly 
 all of it was a new thing to her ; for Arne had 
 put his heart's love into that room, so that, poor 
 as it was, it had been made as beautiful in almost 
 every least particular as well might be. It 
 seemed to her that his verses came singing in as 
 she stood there, or that he himself smiled at 
 her from everything. The first thing her mind 
 took in separately was a large, handsome, and 
 finely-carven bookcase. There were so many 
 202
 
 books in it that she thought the pastor himself 
 could scarcely have more. Next, a handsome 
 chest caught her attention. He had many a 
 precious thing in that, his mother told her ; there, 
 too, he kept his money, she added, in a whisper. 
 Twice had they had a legacy, she told her, a little 
 later ; once more they were to do so, if all went 
 as it should. " But money," she said, " is not 
 the best thing in the world ; he's got the power 
 to get what's better." 
 
 There were many little knick-knacks about the 
 room that were well worth looking at, and Eli 
 looked at them all, as happy and bright as a child. 
 
 Margit patted her on the shoulder. "I've 
 never seen you before to-day, child," she said, 
 " and yet I feel so fond of you," and she looked 
 lovingly into her eyes. Before Eli had time to 
 blush, she nudged her gently, and went on : 
 
 "Look at that little red chest there; there's 
 something precious in that, you may be sure." 
 
 Eli looked at it. it was a little square box 
 that she would much have liked to have for her 
 own. 
 
 " He doesn't want me to know," whispered the 
 mother, " what there is in that box, and he hides 
 203
 
 ARNE 
 
 away the key every time." So saying, she went 
 to some clothes that were hanging on the wall, 
 took down a velvet waistcoat, felt in the watch- 
 pocket and drew out the key. 
 
 " Come now," she whispered, " come and see ! M 
 
 Eli thought what the mother was now doing 
 was not at all right ; but women are women, and 
 both these two walked softly up to the little chest 
 and knelt down before it. But the moment the 
 mother raised the lid, such a pleasant odour arose 
 that Eli clapped her hands together in delight 
 before she saw a single thing. At the top lay a 
 kerchief, spread out out over everything, and this 
 Margit now drew aside. " Look, look now ! " 
 she whispered, and drew forth a fine black silk 
 kerchief, but not one of the kind worn by men. 
 
 "That's just fit for a girl," said the mother, 
 "and here's another." 
 
 Eli took hold of it involuntarily, and the other 
 declared she must try it on her, though the girl 
 objected and turned away her head. The mother 
 folded it up carefully again. 
 
 " Look at this ! " she cried, drawing forth a 
 handful of beautiful silk ribbons, " all just as if 
 for a girl, isn't it ? " 
 
 204
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 Eli was fiery red now, but she uttered not a 
 sound ; her bosom was heaving, her eyes down- 
 cast, her whole being showed anxious unrest. 
 
 " There's more yet ! " went on Margit, drawing 
 out some handsome black velvet, evidently meant 
 for a dress. "This is fine indeed" and she 
 held it up to the light. 
 
 Eli's hands were trembling a little when the 
 mother bade her feel it ; she felt the blood rushing 
 to her head, and she seemed to want to turn 
 away but not to have the power to do so. 
 
 " He's bought something each time he's been 
 to the town," said Margit. 
 
 Eli could scarcely hold out much more now, 
 she felt ; her glance flitted from one thing in the 
 chest to another, and then back again to the 
 velvet ; but indeed she no longer saw anything. 
 But the mother went on with what she was 
 doing. The last thing she took up was wrapped 
 in many papers; she unfolded them one after 
 another, so arousing Eli's curiosity that she got 
 more and more excited ; at last appeared a pair 
 of little shoes. Neither Eli nor Margit had ever 
 seen their like ; the mother, indeed, declared she 
 would not have believed such things could be 
 205
 
 ARNE 
 
 made. Not a word said the girl, but when the 
 shoes were given her to hold she closed her five 
 little fingers tight on them, and then felt so 
 ashamed of herself that she was like to weep : 
 she would have given anything to go away, but 
 she dared not trust herself to speak, she dared 
 not cause the mother to look up. Margit, 
 indeed, was fully taken up with what she her- 
 self was doing. 
 
 "Doesn't it look," she said, "just as if he had 
 bought all these things, one after another, for 
 some one he did not dare give them to ? " and 
 she went on putting them all carefully back in 
 the places she had taken them from ; she must 
 have had practice in it. " Now let's see what's 
 in the compartment here," she went on, and 
 opened it with much care, as there really was 
 some great thing coming now. There lay a 
 buckle, broad as if for a belt. This was the 
 first thing she called Eli's attention to, and next 
 to a pair of gold rings fastened together; and 
 then Eli saw a velvet-bound hymn-book with 
 silver clasps, and after that nothing more for 
 she had seen engraved on the silver clasp of the 
 hymn-book, in finely- wrought characters : 
 206
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 "LI BAARDSDATTER BQEN." 
 
 The mother urged her to look ; she got no 
 answer, but she saw tear after tear roll down on 
 the silk covering, and stream over it. Margit 
 put down the brooch she was holding up, closed 
 the box again, turned, and clasped Eli to her 
 heart. And the daughter wepi there, and the 
 mother wept over her, and neithei of them said 
 a word. 
 
 ***** 
 
 A little while after, Eli was walking in the 
 garden alone ; the mother had gone to the 
 kitchen to prepare something especially nice, 
 for Arne would soon be back now. Presently 
 she went out into the garden for Eli ; she saw 
 her sitting, leaning towards the ground, writing 
 on the sandy soil. She rubbed it out with her 
 foot when she saw Margit coming, and looked 
 up at her smiling, but she had evidently been 
 weeping. 
 
 "You've nothing to cry for, my child," said 
 Margit, and patted her cheeks. 
 
 They saw something black among the bushes 
 by the road. Into the house darted Eli, and 
 207
 
 ARNE 
 
 alter her Margit. There was quite a little ban- 
 quet spread within, with its cream pudding, 
 smoked meat, and cakes ; but not a glance did 
 it get from Eli : she went and sat on a chair 
 against the wall in the corner by the clock, and 
 started if she but heard a cat stirring. The 
 mother sat down by the table. They heard a 
 man's step on the stone flags, then a light, quick 
 step in the passage ; the door opened, and Arne 
 came in. The first thing he saw was Eli in the 
 corner by the clock; he let go the door-handle 
 and stood motionless. Thereon Eli's confusion 
 was even greater than before ; she got up, re- 
 pented having done so, and turned her face to 
 the wall. 
 
 " You here ! " said Arne, softly, blushing fiery 
 red as he spoke. 
 
 She raised one hand and held it before her, as 
 one does when the sun shines too dazzlingly in 
 one's eyes. 
 
 "Why ?" he broke off, but he made a 
 
 step or two towards her ; she lowered her hand 
 again, turned to him with bowed head, and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " God bless you, Eli ! " said he, and he put his 
 208
 
 ARNE'S TREASURE 
 
 arms round her ; she leant her head on his 
 breast. He whispered something in her ear ; 
 she made no answer, but clasped him round the 
 neck with her two arms. 
 
 Long stood they thus, with not a sound to be 
 heard save the torrent's eternal admonition. 
 Suddenly somebody seemed to be crying on the 
 other side of the table ; Arne looked up ; it was 
 his mother, whom he had not seen in the room 
 till then. 
 
 " Now, I'm sure you won't go away from me, 
 Arne," said she, coming over to where he stood. 
 Her tears were flowing fast, but that did her 
 good, she said. 
 
 As they walked home together in the fair 
 summer evening, they could not utter many 
 words to one another in their strange new 
 happiness. Nature herself interpreted their 
 hearts to one another, in her tranquil, shining, 
 magnificent companionship. But on his way 
 home from their first summer-night's walk ; 
 Arne, as he walked towards the rising sun, 
 composed a song, which, though he had not 
 209 o
 
 ARNE 
 
 time then to complete it, he perfected soon 
 after, and made it his daily hymn for a season. 
 
 " Once 1 thought that I really might grow to be great, 
 If afar in the world I might grapple with fate ; 
 And I recked not of friend, and I recked not of foe, 
 While my heart was aflame with a yearning to go. 
 But sudden mine eye met a girl's soft glance, 
 
 And straight died my longing for flight ; 
 And it seems to me now that the fairest on earth 
 Were to live in that dear maid's sight. 
 
 " Once I thought that I really might grow to be great, 
 If afar in the world I might grapple with fate ; 
 For the voice of Ambition cried loudly ' Arise, 
 Young spirit ! and struggle thy best for the prize,' 
 
 But that maiden she taught me (with never a word) 
 
 That the dearest of things God can give 
 Is not to be famous, renowned, or great, 
 But perfect in manhood to live. 
 
 " Once I thought that I really might grow to be great, 
 If afar in the world I might grapple with fate ; 
 But to do aught at home I should never be bold, 
 For all I met here were misjudging and cold. 
 
 But when I saw her, and her sweet, bright love. 
 
 And her radiant, pure-hearted glee, 
 And I knew that her joy and her heart all was 
 
 mine, 
 Ah ! to live was a glory to me." 
 
 After that there was many a summer's 
 evening walk, followed by many a song. Here 
 is one such : 
 
 2IO
 
 ' Whence comes this sudden change I find ? 
 No flood has been, no angry wind ; 
 And yet my gently wand'ring course 
 Now rushes with a torrent's force 
 Mightily to the mighty sea. 
 
 " Can something in Life's self, indeed, 
 Give to a man at utmost need 
 An earnest strength, yet tender heart, 
 That peril, care, and Love's own smart 
 Encompass, as with bridal chains ? 
 
 " Sends Life to me such promise rare 
 As now I feel strong, helpful, fair ? 
 Then must some God this thing have willed 
 Ordaining, ' Be My word fulfilled,' 
 Wafting me soft to joy for aye." 
 
 But perhaps nothing expressed his deep 
 sense of thankfulness so well as the following : 
 
 " The might that I got from my power to sing 
 Made Life's joy and Life's pain 
 Fall like sunshine and rain 
 On my soul, in its first fresh years of spring. 
 So in sorrow or glee 
 No harm I knew, 
 While my song might be 
 Of my own Love true. 
 
 " The might that I got from my power to sing 
 Made me love young and old, 
 Made me urgent and bold, 
 Spite of self, to prize love beyond all other thing. 
 211
 
 ARNE 
 
 On, on did I roam 
 
 Every barrier through, 
 Till at last I reached home 
 
 And my own Love trne. 
 
 " The might that I got from my power to sing 
 Must help me to cheer 
 Those who wander in fear, 
 
 And shall lead them to share the glad tiding I bring. 
 Joy perfecter never 
 
 To man can be due, 
 Than carolling ever 
 His own Love true." 
 
 lit
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 " AFTER MANY DAYS " 
 
 IT was autumn-time, and the harvest was 
 beginning to be garnered. The day was bright 
 and clear, and the air mild as in summer-time, 
 for it had been raining the night before and in 
 the morning. Though it was Saturday, many 
 boats were making their way over the Black 
 Water to the church the men in shirt-sleeves 
 rowing, the women sitting in the bows and stern 
 with bright-coloured kerchiefs thrown over their 
 heads. Many more boats, however, seemed to 
 be on their way to BQen, to row out again from 
 it in a long and large procession ; for to-day 
 Baard Boen was to celebrate the marriage of his 
 daughter Eli with Arne Nilsson Kampen. 
 
 All doors stood open ; people were constantly 
 in and out ; children, with bits of cake in their 
 hands, fearing for their new clothes, and looking 
 213
 
 ARNE 
 
 shyly at one another, all about the farmyard. 
 An old woman sat on the granary steps by her- 
 self ; it was Margit Kampen. She was wearing 
 a large silver ring that had several smaller ones 
 fastened to its upper edge ; every now and then 
 she looked at it. Nils had given it her the day 
 she became his wife, and she had never worn it 
 since. 
 
 Within, in the two or three sitting rooms, the 
 steward and two young bridesmen Eli's brother 
 and the pastor's son were busily going about 
 handing refreshments to the guests that came 
 streaming in to the great wedding. Up in Eli's 
 room sat the bride, the pastor's wife, and 
 Mathilde, who had come from the town on 
 purpose to dress the bride ; for that the two 
 girls had promised to do, the one for the other, 
 ever since they were children. Arne, in his 
 smartest of clothes, his round, well-fitting coat, 
 and a neckcloth that Eli herself had worked for 
 him, was downstairs in the room with the 
 window that Eli had once written " Arne " on. 
 It was open, and by it he stood, leaning against 
 the frame and looking out over the still water at 
 the parsonage and the church. 
 214
 
 " AFTER MANY DAYS " 
 
 Out in the passage just then two persons met 
 one another, both of whom had just come from 
 looking after things. One of them was fresh 
 from the landing-stage, where he had been 
 arranging the boats for the church. He was 
 wearing a round black cloth jacket and blue 
 frieze breeches, the dye from which had made 
 his hands all blue ; his white neckcloth set off 
 his fair face and long, yellow hair ; his high 
 forehead looked serene, and on his lips played 
 a smile. This was Baard. The person he met 
 in the passage had just come from the kitchen. 
 She was dressed for the church ; her figure 
 looked slender and stately, and she walked self- 
 consciously and slowly through the doorway. 
 When she met Baard, she paused, and her lips 
 drew down a little on one side : it was Birgit, 
 his wife. Each had something to say to the 
 other, but the only sign of it was that both came 
 to a standstill. Baard was more confused than 
 she, but he smiled more and more, and his 
 evident and great confusion came to his aid, for, 
 without more ado, he began to go up the stairs, 
 with a "perhaps you'll come too." 
 
 She followed him. In the garret up there 
 215
 
 ARNE 
 
 they were alone by themselves ; but yet Baard 
 locked the door behind her, and allowed himself 
 plenty of time. When at last he turned away 
 from it, Birgit was by the window, looking out, 
 so as not to see what was going on in the room. 
 
 Baard drew forth a little flask from his breast- 
 pocket, and a little silver cup. He offered it to 
 his wife, but she refused it, in spite of his assur- 
 ance that it was wine sent them from the par- 
 sonage. He then drank some himself, though, 
 as he drank, he kept on pressing her to share it. 
 At length he corked the flask again, put it away 
 with the little silver cup in his breast-pocket, and 
 seated himself on a box. It evidently annoyed 
 him that his wife would not drink with him. 
 
 He drew a long, deep breath again and again. 
 Birgit was leaning against the window-frame just 
 in front of him, one hand resting on it. Baard 
 had something to say, but to say it now was 
 harder than ever. 
 
 "Birgit," he began, "you've been thinking 
 to-day as I've been, I dare say. He heard her 
 shift from one side of the window to the other, 
 and then rest on her arm again. "You guess 
 what I mean," he went on. " He stood between 
 216
 
 us two, I know. I thought that would only go 
 on till our marriage, but it's gone on much 
 longer." 
 
 He heard her breathing quick ; he saw her 
 fidget about again, but he could not see her face. 
 He himself was undergoing such a struggle that 
 he had to dry his face with his coat-sleeve. 
 After long wrestling he began again : 
 
 "To-day a son of his, handsome and clever, 
 has come into our house, and to him we have 
 given our only daughter. .... How would it 
 be, Birgit, if we too were to join our hearts 
 to-day?" 
 
 His voice trembled away, and he cleared his 
 throat. Birgit, who had been fidgeting un- 
 easily, laid her head on her arm again, but said 
 nothing. Long Baard waited ; he heard her 
 breathing ; but he got no answer. He had no 
 more to say. He looked up, his face growing 
 paler and paler ; but she did not even turn her 
 head. At last he rose. At that same moment 
 came a gentle rap on the door, and a soft voice 
 asked : 
 
 " Aren't you coming, mother ? " 
 
 It was Eli ; and there was something in tiic 
 
 217 P
 
 ARNE 
 
 voice that made Baard involuntarily stand still, 
 and involuntarily look at Birgit. Birgit, too, 
 raised her head. She looked towards the door, 
 and her eyes met Baard's white face. 
 
 "Aren't you coming, mother ? " cried the 
 voice from without, once more. 
 
 "Yes, I'm coming now, dear!" said Birgit, 
 in a choking voice; and with firm step she 
 walked across the room to Baard, took his hand 
 in hers, and broke into violent sobs. The two 
 hands clung tight together; time-worn hands 
 they were now; but firmly they clasped each 
 other, as if each had been seeking- the other for 
 twenty years. Hand in hand were they still, as 
 they went to open the door ; and presently, too, 
 when the bridal train streamed down to the 
 landing-stage, and Arne gave his hand to Eli, 
 leading the way ; Baard, seeing it, took his 
 wife's hand in his own, against all use and 
 custom, and followed them smiling happily. 
 But behind them came Margit Kampen alone, 
 as was her wont. 
 
 Baard was beside himself with joy on that 
 day ; as he sat chatting with the rowers, one of 
 them, looking at the mountain behind them, 
 218
 
 " AFTER MANY DAYS " 
 
 remarked how wonderful it was that even rocky 
 crags like those could be clad in foliage. 
 
 " It must go on, whether it will or no," said 
 Baard. And his eyes wandered over the wed- 
 ding party till they rested on the bridal pair and 
 his wife. " Ah ! " he added, " no one would 
 have thought such a thing possible twenty 
 years ago." 
 
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