A HAPPY BOY

BY

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON

TRANSLATED FROM THE NORSE

BY

RASMUS B. ANDERSON

AUTHOR'S EDITION

PUBLISHER'S NOTE. 

The present edition of Bjornstjerne Bjornson's works is published byspecial arrangement with the author. Mr. Bjornson has designated Prof. Rasmus B. Anderson as his American translator, cooperates with him, andrevises each work before it is translated, thus giving his personalattention to this edition. 

PREFACE. 

"A Happy Boy" was written in 1859 and 1860. It is, in my estimation, Bjornson's best story of peasant life. In it the author has succeededin drawing the characters with _remarkable distinctness_, while hisprofound psychological insight, his perfectly artless simplicity ofstyle, and his thorough sympathy with the hero and his surroundings arenowhere more apparent. This view is sustained by the great popularityof "A Happy Boy" throughout Scandinavia. 

It is proper to add, that in the present edition of Bjornson's stories, previous translations have been consulted, and that in this manner afew happy words and phrases have been found and adopted. 

This volume will be followed by "The Fisher Maiden, " in which Bjornsonmakes a new departure, and exhibits his powers in a somewhat differentvein of story-telling. 

RASMUS B. ANDERSON. 

ASGARD, MADISON, WISCONSIN, November, 1881. 

A HAPPY BOY. 

CHAPTER I. 

His name was Oyvind, and he cried when he was born. But no sooner didhe sit up on his mother's lap than he laughed, and when the candle waslit in the evening the room rang with his laughter, but he cried whenhe was not allowed to reach it. 

"Something remarkable will come of that boy!" said the mother. 

A barren cliff, not a very high one, though, overhung the house wherehe was born; fir and birch looked down upon the roof, the bird-cherrystrewed flowers over it. And on the roof was a little goat belongingto Oyvind; it was kept there that it might not wander away, and Oyvindbore leaves and grass up to it. One fine day the goat leaped down andwas off to the cliff; it went straight up and soon stood where it hadnever been before. Oyvind did not see the goat when he came out in theafternoon, and thought at once of the fox. He grew hot all over, andgazing about him, cried, --

"Killy-killy-killy-killy-goat!"

"Ba-a-a-a!" answered the goat, from the brow of the hill, putting itshead on one side and peering down. 

At the side of the goat there was kneeling a little girl. 

"Is this goat yours?" asked she. 

Oyvind opened wide his mouth and eyes, thrust both hands into his pantsand said, --

"Who are you?"

"I am Marit, mother's young one, father's fiddle, the hulder of thehouse, granddaughter to Ola Nordistuen of the Heidegards, four yearsold in the autumn, two days after the frost nights--I am!"

"Is that who you are?" cried he, drawing a long breath, for he had notventured to take one while she was speaking. 

"Is this goat yours?" she again inquired. 

"Ye-es!" replied he, raising his eyes. 

"I have taken such a liking to the goat;--you will not give it to me?"

"No, indeed I will not. "

She lay kicking up her heels and staring down at him, and presently shesaid: "But if I give you a twisted bun for the goat, can I have itthen?"

Oyvind was the son of poor people; he had tasted twisted bun only oncein his life, that was when grandfather came to his house, and he hadnever eaten anything equal to it before or since. He fixed his eyes onthe girl. 

"Let me see the bun first?" said he. 

She was not slow in producing a large twisted bun that she held in herhand. 

"Here it is!" cried she, and tossed it down to him. 

"Oh! it broke in pieces!" exclaimed the boy, picking up every fragmentwith the utmost care. He could not help tasting of the very smallestmorsel, and it was so good that he had to try another piece, and beforehe knew it himself he had devoured the whole bun. 

"Now the goat belongs to me, " said the girl. 

The boy paused with the last morsel in his mouth; the girl lay therelaughing, and the goat stood by her side, with its white breast andshining brown hair, giving sidelong glances down. 

"Could you not wait a while, " begged the boy, --his heart beginning tothrob. Then the girl laughed more than ever, and hurriedly got up onher knees. 

"No, the goat is mine, " said she, and threw her arms about it, thenloosening one of her garters she fastened it around its neck. Oyvindwatched her. She rose to her feet and began to tug at the goat; itwould not go along with her, and stretched its neck over the edge ofthe cliff toward Oyvind. 

"Ba-a-a-a!" said the goat. 

Then the little girl took hold of its hair with one hand, pulled at thegarter with the other, and said prettily: "Come, now, goat, you shallgo into the sitting-room and eat from mother's dish and my apron. "

And then she sang, --

 "Come, boy's pretty goatie, Come, calf, my delight, Come here, mewing pussie, In shoes snowy white, Yellow ducks, from your shelter, Come forth, helter-skelter. Come, doves, ever beaming, With soft feathers gleaming! The grass is still wet, But sun 't will soon get; Now call, though early 't is in the summer, And autumn will be the new-comer. "[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

There the boy stood. 

He had taken care of the goat ever since winter, when it was born, andit had never occurred to him that he could lose it; but now it was gonein an instant, and he would never see it again. 

The mother came trolling up from the beach, with some wooden pails shehad been scouring; she saw the boy sitting on the grass, with his legscrossed under him, crying, and went to him. 

"What makes you cry?"

"Oh, my goat--my goat!"

"Why, where is the goat?" asked the mother, glancing up at the roof. 

"It will never come back any more, " said the boy. 

"Dear me! how can _that_ be?"

Oyvind would not confess at once. 

"Has the fox carried it off?"

"Oh, I wish it were the fox!"

"You must have lost your senses!" cried the mother. "What has becomeof the goat?"

"Oh--oh--oh! I was so unlucky. I sold it for a twisted bun!"

The moment he uttered the words he realized what it was to sell thegoat for a bun; he had not thought about it before. The mother said, --

"What do you imagine the little goat thinks of you now, since you werewilling to sell it for a twisted bun?"

The boy reflected upon this himself, and felt perfectly sure that henever could know happiness more in _this_ world--nor in heaven either, he thought, afterwards. 

He was so overwhelmed with sorrow that he promised himself that hewould never do anything wrong again, --neither cut the cord of thespinning-wheel, nor let the sheep loose, nor go down to the sea alone. He fell asleep lying there, and he dreamed that the goat had reachedheaven. There the Lord was sitting, with a long beard, as in theCatechism, and the goat stood munching at the leaves of a shining tree;but Oyvind sat alone on the roof, and, could get no higher. Thensomething wet was thrust right against his ear, and he started up. "Ba-a-a-a!" he heard, and it was the goat that had returned to him. 

"What! have you come back again?" With these words he sprang up, seized it by the two fore-legs, and danced about with it as if it werea brother. He pulled it by the beard, and was on the point of going into his mother with it, when he heard some one behind him, and saw thelittle girl sitting on the greensward beside him. Now he understoodthe whole thing, and he let go of the goat. 

"Is it you who have brought the goat?"

She sat tearing up the grass with her hands, and said, "I was notallowed to keep it; grandfather is up there waiting. "

While the boy stood staring at her, a sharp voice from the road abovecalled, "Well!"

Then she remembered what she had to do: she rose, walked up to Oyvind, thrust one of her dirt-covered hands into his, and, turning her faceaway, said, "I beg your pardon. "

But then her courage forsook her, and, flinging herself on the goat, she burst into tears. 

"I believe you had better keep the goat, " faltered Oyvind, lookingaway. 

"Make haste, now!" said her grandfather, from the hill; and Marit gotup and walked, with hesitating feet, upward. 

"You have forgotten your garter, " Oyvind shouted after her. She turnedand bestowed a glance, first on the garter, then on him. Finally sheformed a great resolve, and replied, in a choked voice, "You may keepit. "

He walked up to her, took her by the hand, and said, "I thank you!"

"Oh, there is nothing to thank me for, " she answered, and, drawing apiteous sigh, went on. 

Oyvind sat down on the grass again, the goat roaming about near him;but he was no longer as happy with it as before. 

CHAPTER II. 

The goat was tethered near the house, but Oyvind wandered off, with hiseyes fixed on the cliff. The mother came and sat down beside him; heasked her to tell him stories about things that were far away, for nowthe goat was no longer enough to content him. So his mother told himhow once everything could talk: the mountain talked to the brook, andthe brook to the river, and the river to the sea, and the sea to thesky; he asked if the sky did not talk to any one, and was told that ittalked to the clouds, and the clouds to the trees, the trees to thegrass, the grass to the flies, the flies to the beasts, and the beaststo the children, but the children to grown people; and thus itcontinued until it had gone round in a circle, and neither knew whereit had begun. Oyvind gazed at the cliff, the trees, the sea, and thesky, and he had never truly seen them before. The cat came out justthen, and stretched itself out on the door-step, in the sunshine. 

"What does the cat say?" asked Oyvind, and pointed. 

The mother sang, --

 "Evening sunshine softly is dying, On the door-step lazy puss is lying. 'Two small mice, Cream so thick and nice; Four small bits of fish Stole I from a dish; Well-filled am I and sleek, Am very languid and meek, ' Says the pussie. "[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

Then the cock came strutting up with all the hens. 

"What does the cock say?" asked Oyvind, clapping his hands. 

The mother sang, --

 "Mother-hen her wings now are sinking, Chanticleer on one leg stands thinking: 'High, indeed, You gray goose can speed; Never, surely though, she Clever as a cock can be. Seek your shelter, hens, I pray, Gone is the sun to his rest for to-day, '-- Says the rooster. "[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

Two small birds sat singing on the gable. 

"What are the birds saying?" asked Oyvind, and laughed. 

 "'Dear Lord, how pleasant is life, For those who have neither toil nor strife, '-- Say the birds. "[2]

--was the answer. 

[Footnote 2: Translated by H. R. G. ]

Thus he learned what all were saying, even to the ant crawling in themoss and the worm working in the bark. 

The same summer his mother undertook to teach him to read. He had hadbooks for a long time, and wondered how it would be when they, too, should begin to talk. Now the letters were transformed into beasts andbirds and all living creatures; and soon they began to move abouttogether, two and two; _a_ stood resting beneath a tree called _b_, _c_came and joined it; but when three or four were grouped together theyseemed to get angry with one another, and nothing would then go right. The farther he advanced the more completely he found himself forgettingwhat the letters were; he longest remembered _a_, which he liked best;it was a little black lamb and was on friendly terms with all the rest;but soon _a_, too, was forgotten, the books no longer containedstories, only lessons. 

Then one day his mother came in and said to him, --

"To-morrow school begins again, and you are going with me up to thegard. "

Oyvind had heard that school was a place where many boys playedtogether, and he had nothing against that. He was greatly pleased; hehad often been to the gard, but not when there was school there, and hewalked faster than his mother up the hill-side, so eager was he. Whenthey came to the house of the old people, who lived on their annuity, aloud buzzing, like that from the mill at home, met them, and he askedhis mother what it was. 

"It is the children reading, " answered she, and he was delighted, forthus it was that he had read before he learned the letters. 

On entering he saw so many children round a table that there could notbe more at church; others sat on their dinner-pails along the wall, some stood in little knots about an arithmetic table; theschool-master, an old, gray-haired man, sat on a stool by the hearth, filling his pipe. They all looked up when Oyvind and his mother camein, and the clatter ceased as if the mill-stream had been turned off. Every eye was fixed on the new-comers; the mother saluted theschool-master, who returned her greeting. 

"I have come here to bring a little boy who wants to learn to read, "said the mother. 

"What is the fellow's name?" inquired the school-master, fumbling downin his leathern pouch after tobacco. 

"Oyvind, " replied the mother, "he knows his letters and he can spell. "

"You do not say so!" exclaimed the school-master. "Come here, youwhite-head!"

"Oyvind walked up to him, the school-master took him up on his knee andremoved his cap. 

"What a nice little boy!" said he, stroking the child's hair. Oyvindlooked up into his eyes and laughed. 

"Are you laughing at me!" The old man knit his brow, as he spoke. 

"Yes, I am, " replied Oyvind, with a merry peal of laughter. 

Then the school-master laughed, too; the mother laughed; the childrenknew now that they had permission to laugh, and so they all laughedtogether. 

With this Oyvind was initiated into school. 

When he was to take his seat, all the scholars wished to make room forhim; he on his part looked about for a long time; while the otherchildren whispered and pointed, he turned in every direction, his capin his hand, his book under his arm. 

"Well, what now?" asked the school-master, who was again busied withhis pipe. 

Just as the boy was about turning toward the school-master, he espied, near the hearthstone close beside him, sitting on a little red-paintedbox, Marit with the many names; she had hidden her face behind bothhands and sat peeping out at him. 

"I will sit here!" cried Oyvind, promptly, and seizing a lunch-box heseated himself at her side. Now she raised the arm nearest him alittle and peered at him from under her elbow; forthwith he, too, covered his face with both hands and looked at her from under hiselbow. Thus they sat cutting up capers until she laughed, and then helaughed also; the other little folks noticed this, and they joined inthe laughter; suddenly a voice which was frightfully strong, but whichgrew milder as it spoke, interposed with, --

"Silence, troll-children, wretches, chatter-boxes!--hush, and be goodto me, sugar-pigs!"

It was the school-master, who had a habit of flaring up, but becominggood-natured again before he was through. Immediately there was quietin the school, until the pepper grinders again began to go; they readaloud, each from his book; the most delicate trebles piped up, therougher voices drumming louder and louder in order to gain theascendency, and here and there one chimed in, louder than the others. In all his life Oyvind had never had such fun. 

"Is it always so here?" he whispered to Marit. 

"Yes, always, " said she. 

Later they had to go forward to the school-master and read; a littleboy was afterwards appointed to teach them to read, and then they wereallowed to go and sit quietly down again. 

"I have a goat now myself, " said Marit. 

"Have you?"

"Yes, but it is not as pretty as yours. "

"Why do you never come up to the cliff again?"

"Grandfather is afraid I might fall over. "

"Why, it is not so very high. "

"Grandfather will not let me, nevertheless. "

"Mother knows a great many songs, " said Oyvind. 

"Grandfather does, too, I can tell you. "

"Yes, but he does not know mother's songs. "

"Grandfather knows one about a dance. Do you want to hear it?"

"Yes, very much. "

"Well, then, come nearer this way, that the school-master may not seeus. "

He moved close to her, and then she recited a little snatch of a song, four or five times, until the boy learned it, and it was the firstthing he learned at school. 

 "Dance!" cried the fiddle; Its strings all were quaking, The lensmand's son making Spring up and say "Ho!" "Stay!" called out Ola, And tripped him up lightly; The girls laughed out brightly, The lensmand lay low. 

 "Hop!" said then Erik, His heel upward flinging; The beams fell to ringing, The walls gave a shriek. "Stop!" shouted Elling, His collar then grasping, And held him up, gasping: "Why, you're far too weak!"

 "Hey!" spoke up Rasmus, Fair Randi then seizing; "Come, give without teasing That kiss. Oh! you know!" "Nay!" answered Randi, And boxing him smartly, Dashed off, crying tartly: "Take that now and go!"[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

"Up, youngsters!" cried the school-master; "this is the first day, soyou shall be let off early; but first we must say a prayer and sing. "

The whole school was now alive; the little folks jumped down from thebenches, ran across the floor and all spoke at once. 

"Silence, little gypsies, young rascals, yearlings!--be still and walknicely across the floor, little children!" said the school-master, andthey quietly took their places, after which the school-master stood infront of them and made a short prayer. Then they sang; theschool-master started the tune, in a deep bass; all the children, folding their hands, joined in. Oyvind stood at the foot, near thedoor, with Marit, looking on; they also clasped their hands, but theycould not sing. 

This was the first day at school. 

CHAPTER III. 

Oyvind grew and became a clever boy; he was among the first scholars atschool, and at home he was faithful in all his tasks. This was becauseat home he loved his mother and at school the school-master; he saw butlittle of his father, who was always either off fishing or wasattending to the mill, where half the parish had their grinding done. 

What had the most influence on his mind in these days was theschool-master's history, which his mother related to him one evening asthey sat by the hearth. It sank into his books, it thrust itselfbeneath every word the school-master spoke, it lurked in theschool-room when all was still. It caused him to be obedient andreverent, and to have an easier apprehension as it were of everythingthat was taught him. 

The history ran thus:--

The school-master's name was Baard, and he once had a brother whosename was Anders. They thought a great deal of each other; they bothenlisted; they lived together in the town, and took part in the war, both being made corporals, and serving in the same company. On theirreturn home after the war, every one thought they were two splendidfellows. Now their father died; he had a good deal of personalproperty, which was not easy to divide, but the brothers decided, inorder that this should be no cause of disagreement between them, to putthe things up at auction, so that each might buy what he wanted, andthe proceeds could be divided between them. No sooner said than done. Their father had owned a large gold watch, which had a wide-spreadfame, because it was the only gold watch people in that part of thecountry had seen, and when it was put up many a rich man tried to getit until the two brothers began to take part in the bidding; then therest ceased. Now, Baard expected Anders to let him have the watch, andAnders expected the same of Baard; each bid in his turn to put theother to the test, and they looked hard at each other while bidding. When the watch had been run up to twenty dollars, it seemed to Baardthat his brother was not acting rightly, and he continued to bid untilhe got it almost up to thirty; as Anders kept on, it struck Baard thathis brother could not remember how kind he had always been to him, northat he was the elder of the two, and the watch went up to over thirtydollars. Anders still kept on. Then Baard suddenly bid forty dollars, and ceased to look at his brother. It grew very still in theauction-room, the voice of the lensmand one was heard calmly naming theprice. Anders, standing there, thought if Baard could afford to giveforty dollars he could also, and if Baard grudged him the watch, hemight as well take it. He bid higher. This Baard felt to be thegreatest disgrace that had ever befallen him; he bid fifty dollars, ina very low tone. Many people stood around, and Anders did not see howhis brother could so mock at him in the hearing of all; he bid higher. At length Baard laughed. 

"A hundred dollars and my brotherly affection in the bargain, " said he, and turning left the room. A little later, some one came out to him, just as he was engaged in saddling the horse he had bought a short timebefore. 

"The watch is yours, " said the man; "Anders has withdrawn. "

The moment Baard heard this there passed through him a feeling ofcompunction; he thought of his brother, and not of the watch. Thehorse was saddled, but Baard paused with his hand on its back, uncertain whether to ride away or no. Now many people came out, amongthem Anders, who when he saw his brother standing beside the saddledhorse, not knowing what Baard was reflecting on, shouted out to him:--

"Thank you for the watch, Baard! You will not see it run the day yourbrother treads on your heels. "

"Nor the day I ride to the gard again, " replied Baard, his face verywhite, swinging himself into the saddle. 

Neither of them ever again set foot in the house where they had livedwith their father. 

A short time after, Anders married into a houseman's family; but Baardwas not invited to the wedding, nor was he even at church. The firstyear of Anders' marriage the only cow he owned was found dead beyondthe north side of the house, where it was tethered, and no one couldfind out what had killed it. Several misfortunes followed, and he keptgoing downhill; but the worst of all was when his barn, with all thatit contained, burned down in the middle of the winter; no one knew howthe fire had originated. 

"This has been done by some one who wishes me ill, " said Anders, --andhe wept that night. He was now a poor man and had lost all ambitionfor work. 

The next evening Baard appeared in his room. Anders was in bed when heentered, but sprang directly up. 

"What do you want here?" he cried, then stood silent, staring fixedlyat his brother. 

Baard waited a little before he answered, --

"I wish to offer you help, Anders; things are going badly for you. "

"I am faring as you meant I should, Baard! Go, I am not sure that Ican control myself. "

"You mistake, Anders; I repent"--

"Go, Baard, or God be merciful to us both!"

Baard fell back a few steps, and with quivering voice he murmured, --

"If you want the watch you shall have it. "

"Go, Baard!" shrieked the other, and Baard left, not daring to lingerlonger. 

Now with Baard it had been as follows: As soon as he had heard of hisbrother's misfortunes, his heart melted; but pride held him back. Hefelt impelled to go to church, and there he made good resolves, but hewas not able to carry them out. Often he got far enough to see Anders'house; but now some one came out of the door; now there was a strangerthere; again Anders was outside chopping wood, so there was alwayssomething in the way. But one Sunday, late in the winter, he went tochurch again, and Anders was there too. Baard saw him; he had grownpale and thin; he wore the same clothes as in former days when thebrothers were constant companions, but now they were old and patched. During the sermon Anders kept his eyes fixed on the priest, and Baardthought he looked good and kind; he remembered their childhood and whata good boy Anders had been. Baard went to communion that day, and hemade a solemn vow to his God that he would be reconciled with hisbrother whatever might happen. This determination passed through hissoul while he was drinking the wine, and when he rose he wanted to goright to him and sit down beside him; but some one was in the way andAnders did not look up. After service, too, there was something in theway; there were too many people; Anders' wife was walking at his side, and Baard was not acquainted with her; he concluded that it would bebest to go to his brother's house and have a serious talk with him. When evening came he set forth. He went straight to the sitting-roomdoor and listened, then he heard his name spoken; it was by the wife. 

"He took the sacrament to-day, " said she; "he surely thought of you. "

"No; he did not think of me, " said Anders. "I know him; he thinks onlyof himself. "

For a long time there was silence; the sweat poured from Baard as hestood there, although it was a cold evening. The wife inside wasbusied with a kettle that crackled and hissed on the hearth; a littleinfant cried now and then, and Anders rocked it. At last the wifespoke these few words:--

"I believe you both think of each other without being willing to admitit. "

"Let us talk of something else, " replied Anders. 

After a while he got up and moved towards the door. Baard was forcedto hide in the wood-shed; but to that very place Anders came to get anarmful of wood. Baard stood in the corner and saw him distinctly; hehad put off his threadbare Sunday clothes and wore the uniform he hadbrought home with him from the war, the match to Baard's, and which hehad promised his brother never to touch but to leave for an heirloom, Baard having given him a similar promise. Anders' uniform was nowpatched and worn; his strong, well-built frame was encased, as it were, in a bundle of rags; and, at the same time, Baard heard the gold watchticking in his own pocket. Anders walked to where the fagots lay;instead of stooping at once to pick them up, he paused, leaned backagainst the wood-pile and gazed up at the sky, which glittered brightlywith stars. Then he drew a sigh and muttered, --

"Yes--yes--yes;--O Lord! O Lord!"

As long as Baard lived he heard these words. He wanted to stepforward, but just then his brother coughed, and it seemed so difficult, more was not required to hold him back. Anders took up his armful ofwood, and brushed past Baard, coming so close to him that the twigsstruck his face, making it smart. 

For fully ten minutes he stood as if riveted to the spot, and it isdoubtful when he would have left, had he not, after his great emotion, been seized with a shivering fit that shook him through and through. Then he moved away; he frankly confessed to himself that he was toocowardly to go in, and so he now formed a new plan. From an ash-boxwhich stood in the corner he had just left, he took some bits ofcharcoal, found a resinous pine-splint, went up to the barn, closed thedoor and struck a light. When he had lit the pine-splint, he held itup to find the wooden peg where Anders hung his lantern when he cameearly in the morning to thresh. Baard took his gold watch and hung iton the peg, blew out his light and left; and then he felt so relievedthat he bounded over the snow like a young boy. 

The next day he heard that the barn had burned to the ground during thenight. No doubt sparks had fallen from the torch that had lit himwhile he was hanging up his watch. 

This so overwhelmed him that he kept his room all day like a sick man, brought out his hymn-book, and sang until the people in the housethought he had gone mad. But in the evening he went out; it was brightmoonlight. He walked to his brother's place, dug in the ground wherethe fire had been, and found, as he had expected, a little melted lumpof gold. It was the watch. 

It was with this in his tightly closed hand that he went in to hisbrother, imploring peace, and was about to explain everything. 

A little girl had seen him digging in the ashes, some boys on their wayto a dance had noticed him going down toward the place the precedingSunday evening; the people in the house where he lived testified howcuriously he had acted on Monday, and as every one knew that he and hisbrother were bitter enemies, information was given and a suitinstituted. 

No one could prove anything against Baard, but suspicion rested on him. Less than ever, now, did he feel able to approach his brother. 

Anders had thought of Baard when the barn was burned, but had spoken ofit to no one. When he saw him enter his room, the following evening, pale and excited, he immediately thought: "Now he is smitten withremorse, but for such a terrible crime against his brother he shallhave no forgiveness. " Afterwards he heard how people had seen Baard godown to the barn the evening of the fire, and, although nothing wasbrought to light at the trial, Anders firmly believed his brother to beguilty. 

They met at the trial; Baard in his good clothes, Anders in his patchedones. Baard looked at his brother as he entered, and his eyes wore sopiteous an expression of entreaty that Anders felt it in the inmostdepths of his heart. "He does not want me to say anything, " thoughtAnders, and when he was asked if he suspected his brother of the deed, he said loudly and decidedly, "No!"

Anders took to hard drinking from that day, and was soon far on theroad to ruin. Still worse was it with Baard; although he did notdrink, he was scarcely to be recognized by those who had known himbefore. 

Late one evening a poor woman entered the little room Baard rented, andbegged him to accompany her a short distance. He knew her: it was hisbrother's wife. Baard understood forthwith what her errand was; hegrew deathly pale, dressed himself, and went with her without a word. There was a glimmer of light from Anders' window, it twinkled anddisappeared, and they were guided by this light, for there was no pathacross the snow. When Baard stood once more in the passage, a strangeodor met him which made him feel ill. They entered. A little childstood by the fireplace eating charcoal; its whole face was black, butas it looked up and laughed it displayed white teeth, --it was thebrother's child. 

There on the bed, with a heap of clothes thrown over him, lay Anders, emaciated, with smooth, high forehead, and with his hollow eyes fixedon his brother. Baard's knees trembled; he sat down at the foot of thebed and burst into a violent fit of weeping. The sick man looked athim intently and said nothing. At length he asked his wife to go out, but Baard made a sign to her to remain; and now these two brothersbegan to talk together. They accounted for everything from the daythey had bid for the watch up to the present moment. Baard concludedby producing the lump of gold he always carried about him, and it nowbecame manifest to the brothers that in all these years neither hadknown a happy day. 

Anders did not say much, for he was not able to do so, but Baardwatched by his bed as long as he was ill. 

"Now I am perfectly well, " said Anders one morning on waking. "Now, mybrother, we will live long together, and never leave each other, justas in the old days. "

But that day he died. 

Baard took charge of the wife and the child, and they fared well fromthat time. What the brothers had talked of together by the bed, burstthrough the walls and the night, and was soon known to all the peoplein the parish, and Baard became the most respected man among them. Hewas honored as one who had known great sorrow and found happinessagain, or as one who had been absent for a very long time. Baard grewinwardly strong through all this friendliness about him; he became atruly pious man, and wanted to be useful, he said, and so the oldcorporal took to teaching school. What he impressed upon the children, first and last, was love, and he practiced it himself, so that thechildren clung to him as to a playmate and father in one. 

Such was the history of the school-master, and so deeply did it rootitself in Oyvind's mind that it became both religion and education forhim. The school-master grew to be almost a supernatural being in hiseyes, although he sat there so sociably, grumbling at the scholars. Not to know every lesson for him was impossible, and if Oyvind got asmile or a pat on his head after he had recited, he felt warm and happyfor a whole day. 

It always made the deepest impression on the children when the oldschool-master sometimes before singing made a little speech to them, and at least once a week read aloud some verses about loving one'sneighbor. When he read the first of those verses, his voice alwaystrembled, although he had been reading it now some twenty or thirtyyears. It ran thus:--

 "Love thy neighbor with Christian zeal! Crush him not with an iron heel, Though he in dust be prostrated! Love's all powerful, quickening hand Guides, forever, with magic wand All that it has created. "

But when he had recited the whole poem and had paused a little, hewould cry, and his eyes would twinkle, --

"Up, small trolls! and go nicely home without any noise, --go quietly, that I may only hear good of you, little toddlers!"

But when they were making the most noise in hunting up their books anddinner-pails, he shouted above it all, --

"Come again to-morrow, as soon as it is light, or I will give you athrashing. Come again in good season, little girls and boys, and thenwe will be industrious. "

CHAPTER IV. 

Of Oyvind's further progress until a year before confirmation there isnot much to report. He studied in the morning, worked through the day, and played in the evening. 

As he had an unusually sprightly disposition, it was not long beforethe neighboring children fell into the habit of resorting in theirplaytime to where he was to be found. A large hill sloped down to thebay in front of the place, bordered by the cliff on one side and thewood on the other, as before described; and all winter long, onpleasant evenings and on Sundays, this served as coasting-ground forthe parish young folks. Oyvind was master of the hill, and he ownedtwo sleds, "Fleet-foot" and "Idler;" the latter he loaned out to largerparties, the former he managed himself, holding Marit on his lap. 

The first thing Oyvind did in those days on awaking, was to look outand see whether it was thawing, and if it was gray and lowering overthe bushes beyond the bay, or if he heard a dripping from the roof, hewas long about dressing, as though there were nothing to beaccomplished that day. But if he awoke, especially on a Sunday, tocrisp, frosty, clear weather, to his best clothes and no work, onlycatechism or church in the morning, with the whole afternoon andevening free--heigh! then the boy made one spring out of bed, donnedhis clothes in a hurry as if for a fire, and could scarcely eat amouthful. As soon as afternoon had come, and the first boy on skeesdrew in sight along the road-side, swinging his guide-pole above hishead and shouting so that echoes resounded through the mountain-ridgesabout the lake; and then another on the road on a sled, and stillanother and another, --off started Oyvind with "Fleet-foot, " boundeddown the hill, and stopped among the last-comers, with a long, ringingshout that pealed from ridge to ridge all along the bay, and died awayin the far distance. 

Then he would look round for Marit, but when she had come he payed nofurther attention to her. 

At last there came a Christmas, when Oyvind and Marit might be aboutsixteen or seventeen, and were both to be confirmed in the spring. Thefourth day after Christmas there was a party at the upper Heidegards, at Marit's grandparents', by whom she had been brought up, and who hadbeen promising her this party for three years, and now at last had togive it during the holidays. Oyvind was invited to it. 

It was a somewhat cloudy evening but not cold; no stars could be seen;the next day must surely bring rain. There blew a sleepy wind over thesnow, which was swept away here and there on the white Heidefields;elsewhere it had drifted. Along the part of the road where there wasbut little snow, were smooth sheets of ice of a blue-black hue, lyingbetween the snow and the bare field, and glittering in patches as faras the eye could reach. Along the mountain-sides there had beenavalanches; it was dark and bare in their track, but on either sidelight and snow-clad, except where the forest birch-trees put theirheads together and made dark shadows. No water was visible, buthalf-naked heaths and bogs lay under the deeply-fissured, melancholymountains. Gards were spread in thick clusters in the centre of theplain; in the gloom of the winter evening they resembled black clumps, from which light shot out over the fields, now from one window, nowfrom another; from these lights it might be judged that those withinwere busy. 

Young people, grown-up and half-grown-up, were flocking together fromdiverse directions; only a few of them came by the road, the others hadleft it at least when they approached the gards, and stole onward, onebehind the stable, a couple near the store-house, some stayed for along time behind the barn, screaming like foxes, others answered fromafar like cats; one stood behind the smoke-house, barking like a crossold dog whose upper notes were cracked; and at last all joined in ageneral chase. The girls came sauntering along in large groups, havinga few boys, mostly small ones, with them, who had gathered about themon the road in order to appear like young men. When such a bevy ofgirls arrived at the gard and one or two of the grown youths saw them, the girls parted, flew into the passages or down in the garden, and hadto be dragged thence into the house, one by one. Some were soexcessively bashful that Marit had to be sent for, and then she cameout and insisted upon their entering. Sometimes, too, there appearedone who had had no invitation and who had by no means intended to goin, coming only to look on, until perhaps she might have a chance justto take one single dance. Those whom Marit liked well she invited intoa small chamber, where her grandfather sat smoking his pipe, and hergrandmother was walking about. The old people offered them somethingto drink and spoke kindly to them. Oyvind was not among those invitedin, and this seemed to him rather strange. 

The best fiddler of the parish could not come until later, so meanwhilethey had to content themselves with the old one, a houseman, who wentby the name of Gray-Knut. He knew four dances; as follows: two springdances, a halling, and an old dance, called the Napoleon waltz; butgradually he had been compelled to transform the halling into aschottishe by altering the accent, and in the same manner a springdance had to become a polka-mazurka. He now struck up and the dancingbegan. Oyvind did not dare join in at once, for there were too manygrown folks here; but the half-grown-up ones soon united, thrust oneanother forward, drank a little strong ale to strengthen their courage, and then Oyvind came forward with them. The room grew warm to them;merriment and ale mounted to their heads. Marit was on the floor mostof the time that evening, no doubt because the party was at hergrandparents'; and this led Oyvind to look frequently at her; but shewas always dancing with others. He longed to dance with her himself, and so he sat through one dance, in order to be able to hasten to herside the moment it was ended; and he did so, but a tall, swarthyfellow, with thick hair, threw himself in his way. 

"Back, youngster!" he shouted, and gave Oyvind a push that nearly madehim fall backwards over Marit. 

Never before had such a thing occurred to Oyvind; never had any onebeen otherwise than kind to him; never had he been called "youngster"when he wanted to take part; he blushed crimson, but said nothing, anddrew back to the place where the new fiddler, who had just arrived, hadtaken his seat and was tuning his instrument. There was silence in thecrowd, every one was waiting to hear the first vigorous tones from "thechief fiddler. " He tried his instrument and kept on tuning; thislasted a long time; but finally he began with a spring dance, the boysshouted and leaped, couple after couple coming into the circle. Oyvindwatched Marit dancing with the thick-haired man; she laughed over theman's shoulder and her white teeth glistened. Oyvind felt a strange, sharp pain in his heart for the first time in his life. 

He looked longer and longer at her, but however it might be, it seemedto him that Marit was now a young maiden. "It cannot be so, though, "thought he, "for she still takes part with the rest of us in ourcoasting. " But grown-up she was, nevertheless, and after the dance wasended, the dark-haired man pulled her down on his lap; she tore herselfaway, but still she sat down beside him. 

Oyvind's eyes turned to the man, who wore a fine blue broadcloth suit, blue checked shirt, and a soft silk neckerchief; he had a small face, vigorous blue eyes, a laughing, defiant mouth. He was handsome. Oyvind looked more and more intently, finally scanned himself also; hehad had new trousers for Christmas, which he had taken much delight in, but now he saw that they were only gray wadmal; his jacket was of thesame material, but old and dark; his vest, of checked homespun, wasalso old, and had two bright buttons and a black one. He glancedaround him and it seemed to him that very few were so poorly clad ashe. Marit wore a black, close-fitting dress of a fine material, asilver brooch in her neckerchief and had a folded silk handkerchief inher hand. On the back of her head was perched a little black silk cap, which was tied under the chin with a broad, striped silk ribbon. Shewas fair and had rosy cheeks, and she was laughing; the man was talkingto her and was laughing too. The fiddler started another tune, and thedancing was about to begin again. A comrade came and sat down besideOyvind. 

"Why are you not dancing, Oyvind? " he asked pleasantly. 

"Dear me!" said Oyvind, "I do not look fit. "

"Do not look fit?" cried his comrade; but before he could say more, Oyvind inquired, --

"Who is that in the blue broadcloth suit, dancing with Marit?"

"That is Jon Hatlen, he who has been away so long at an agriculturalschool and is now to take the gard. "

At that moment Marit and Jon sat down. 

"Who is that boy with light hair sitting yonder by the fiddler, staringat me?" asked Jon. 

Then Marit laughed and said, --

"He is the son of the houseman at Pladsen. "

Oyvind had always known that he was a houseman's son; but until now hehad never realized it. It made him feel so very little, smaller thanall the rest; in order to keep up he had to try and think of all thathitherto had made him happy and proud, from the coasting hill to eachkind word. He thought, too, of his mother and his father, who were nowsitting at home and thinking that he was having a good time, and hecould scarcely hold back his tears. Around him all were laughing andjoking, the fiddle rang right into his ear, it was a moment in whichsomething black seemed to rise up before him, but then he rememberedthe school with all his companions, and the school-master who pattedhim, and the priest who at the last examination had given him a bookand told him he was a clever boy. His father himself had sat bylistening and had smiled on him. 

"Be good now, dear Oyvind, " he thought the heard the school-master say, taking him on his lap, as when he was a child. "Dear me! it allmatters so little, and in fact all people are kind; it merely seems asif they were not. We two will be clever, Oyvind, just as clever as JonHatlen; we shall yet have good clothes, and dance with Marit in a lightroom, with a hundred people in it; we will smile and talk together;there will be a bride and bridegroom, a priest, and I will be in thechoir smiling upon you, and mother will be at home, and there will be alarge gard with twenty cows, three horses, and Marit as good and kindas at school. "

The dancing ceased. Oyvind saw Marit on the bench in front of him, andJon by her side with his face close up to hers; again there came thatgreat burning pain in his breast, and he seemed to be saying tohimself: "It is true, I am suffering. "

Just then Marit rose, and she came straight to him. She stooped overhim. 

"You must not sit there staring so fixedly at me, " said she; "you mightknow that people are noticing it. Take some one now and join thedancers. "

He made no reply, but he could not keep back the tears that welled upto his eyes as he looked at her. Marit had already risen to go whenshe saw this, and paused; suddenly she grew as red as fire, turned andwent back to her place, but having arrived there she turned again andtook another seat. Jon followed her forthwith. 

Oyvind got up from the bench, passed through the crowd, out in thegrounds, sat down on a porch, and then, not knowing what he wantedthere rose, but sat down again, thinking he might just as well sitthere as anywhere else. He did not care about going home, nor did hedesire to go in again, it was all one to him. He was not capable ofconsidering what had happened; he did not want to think of it; neitherdid he wish to think of the future, for there was nothing to which helooked forward. 

"But what, then, is it I am thinking of?" he queried, half aloud, andwhen he had heard his own voice, he thought: "You can still speak, canyou laugh?" And then he tried it; yes, he could laugh, and so helaughed loud, still louder, and then it occurred to him that it wasvery amusing to be sitting laughing here all by himself, and he laughedagain. But Hans, the comrade who had been sitting beside him, came outafter him. 

"Good gracious, what are you laughing at?" he asked, pausing in frontof the porch. At this Oyvind was silent. 

Hans remained standing, as if waiting to see what further might happen. Oyvind got up, looked cautiously about him and said in a low tone, --

"Now Hans, I will tell you why I have been so happy before: it wasbecause I did not really love any one; from the day we love some one, we cease to be happy, " and he burst into tears. 

"Oyvind!" a voice whispered out in the court; "Oyvind!" He paused andlistened. "Oyvind, " was repeated once more, a little louder. "It mustbe she, " he thought. 

"Yes, " he answered, also in a whisper; and hastily wiping his eyes hecame forward. 

A woman stole softly across the gard. 

[Transcriber's Note: The above sentence should read, "A woman stolesoftly across the yard. " In other early translations, the words "yard"and "court-yard" are used here. "Gard" in this case is apparently atypo. The use of the word, "gard" throughout the rest of this storyrefers to "farm. "]

"Are you there?" she asked. 

"Yes, " he answered, standing still. 

"Who is with you?"

"Hans. "

But Hans wanted to go. 

"No, no!" besought Oyvind. 

She slowly drew near them, and it was Marit. 

"You left so soon, " said she to Oyvind. 

He knew not what to reply; thereupon Marit, too, became embarrassed, and all three were silent. But Hans gradually managed to steal away. The two remained behind, neither looking at each other, nor stirring. Finally Marit whispered:--

"I have been keeping some Christmas goodies in my pocket for you, Oyvind, the whole evening, but I have had no chance to give them to youbefore. "

She drew forth some apples, a slice of a cake from town, and a littlehalf pint bottle, which she thrust into his hand, and said he mightkeep. Oyvind took them. 

"Thank you!" said he, holding out his hand; hers was warm, and hedropped it at once as if it had burned him. 

"You have danced a good deal this evening, " he murmured. 

"Yes, I have, " she replied, "but _you_ have not danced much, " sheadded. 

"I have not, " he rejoined. 

"Why did you not dance?"

"Oh"--

"Oyvind!"

"Yes. "

"Why did you sit looking at me so?"

"Oh--Marit!"

"What!"

"Why did you dislike having me look at you?"

"There were so many people. "

"You danced a great deal with Jon Hatlen this evening. "

"I did. "

"He dances well. "

"Do you think so?"

"Oh, yes. I do not know how it is, but this evening I could not bearto have you dance with him, Marit. "

He turned away, --it had cost him something to say this. 

"I do not understand you, Oyvind. "

"Nor do I understand myself; it is very stupid of me. Good-by, Marit;I will go now. "

He made a step forward without looking round. Then she called afterhim. 

"You make a mistake about what you saw. "

He stopped. 

"That you have already become a maiden is no mistake. "

He did not say what she had expected, therefore she was silent; but atthat moment she saw the light from a pipe right in front of her. Itwas her grandfather, who had just turned the corner and was coming thatway. He stood still. 

"Is it here you are, Marit?"

"Yes. "

"With whom are you talking?"

"With Oyvind. "

"Whom did you say?"

"Oyvind Pladsen. "

"Oh! the son of the houseman at Pladsen. Come at once and go in withme. "

CHAPTER V. 

The next morning, when Oyvind opened his eyes, it was from a long, refreshing sleep and happy dreams. Marit had been lying on the cliff, throwing leaves down on him; he had caught them and tossed them backagain, so they had gone up and down in a thousand colors and forms; thesun was shining, and the whole cliff glittered beneath its rays. Onawaking Oyvind looked around to find them all gone; then he rememberedthe day before, and the burning, cruel pain in his heart began at once. "This, I shall never be rid of again, " thought he; and there came overhim a feeling of indifference, as though his whole future had droppedaway from him. 

"Why, you have slept a long time, " said his mother, who sat beside himspinning. "Get up now and eat your breakfast; your father is alreadyin the forest cutting wood. "

Her voice seemed to help him; he rose with a little more courage. Hismother was no doubt thinking of her own dancing days, for she satsinging to the sound of the spinning-wheel, while he dressed himselfand ate his breakfast. Her humming finally made him rise from thetable and go to the window; the same dullness and depression he hadfelt before took possession of him now, and he was forced to rousehimself, and think of work. The weather had changed, there had come alittle frost into the air, so that what yesterday had threatened tofall in rain, to-day came down as sleet. Oyvind put on his snow-socks, a fur cap, his sailor's jacket and mittens, said farewell, and startedoff, with his axe on his shoulder. 

Snow fell slowly, in great, wet flakes; he toiled up over the coastinghill, in order to turn into the forest on the left. Never before, winter or summer, had he climbed this hill without recalling somethingthat made him happy, or to which he was looking forward. Now it was adull, weary walk. He slipped in the damp snow, his knees were stiff, either from the party yesterday or from his low spirits; he felt thatit was all over with the coasting-hill for that year, and with it, forever. He longed for something different as he threaded his way inamong the tree-trunks, where the snow fell softly. A frightenedptarmigan screamed and fluttered a few yards away, but everything elsestood as if awaiting a word which never was spoken. But what hisaspirations were, he did not distinctly know, only they concernednothing at home, nothing abroad, neither pleasure nor work; but rathersomething far above, soaring upward like a song. Soon all becameconcentrated in one defined desire, and this was to be confirmed in thespring, and on that occasion to be number one. His heart beat wildlyas he thought of it, and before he could yet hear his father's axe inthe quivering little trees, this wish throbbed within him with moreintensity than anything he had known in all his life. 

His father, as usual, did not have much to say to him; they choppedaway together and both dragged the wood into heaps. Now and then theychanced to meet, and on one such occasion Oyvind remarked, in amelancholy tone, "A houseman has to work very hard. "

"He as well as others, " said the father, as he spit in the palm of hishand and took up the axe again. 

When the tree was felled and the father had drawn it up to the pile, Oyvind said, --

"If you were a gardman you would not have to work so hard. "

"Oh! then there would doubtless be other things to distress us, " and hegrasped his axe with both hands. 

The mother came up with dinner for them; they sat down. The mother wasin high spirits, she sat humming and beating time with her feet. 

"What are you going to make of yourself when you are grown up, Oyvind?"said she, suddenly. 

"For a houseman's son, there are not many openings, " he replied. 

"The school-master says you must go to the seminary, " said she. 

"Can people go there free?" inquired Oyvind. 

"The school-fund pays, " answered the father, who was eating. 

"Would you like to go?" asked the mother. 

"I should like to learn something, but not to become a school-master. "

They were all silent for a time. The mother hummed again and gazedbefore her; but Oyvind went off and sat down by himself. 

"We do not actually need to borrow of the school-fund, " said themother, when the boy was gone. 

Her husband looked at her. 

"Such poor folks as we?"

"It does not please me, Thore, to have you always passing yourself offfor poor when you are not so. "

They both stole glances down after the boy to find out if he couldhear. The father looked sharply at his wife. 

"You talk as though you were very wise. "

She laughed. 

"It is just the same as not thanking God that things have prosperedwith us, " said she, growing serious. 

"We can surely thank Him without wearing silver buttons, " observed thefather. 

"Yes, but to let Oyvind go to the dance, dressed as he was yesterday, is not thanking Him either. "

"Oyvind is a houseman's son. "

"That is no reason why he should not wear suitable clothes when we canafford it. "

"Talk about it so he can hear it himself!"

"He does not hear it; but I should like to have him do so, " said she, and looked bravely at her husband, who was gloomy, and laid down hisspoon to take his pipe. 

"Such a poor houseman's place as we have!" said he. 

"I have to laugh at you, always talking about the place, as you are. Why do you never speak of the mills?"

"Oh! you and the mills. I believe you cannot bear to hear them go. "

"Yes, I can, thank God! might they but go night and day!"

"They have stood still now, since before Christmas. "

"Folks do not grind here about Christmas time. "

"They grind when there is water; but since there has been a mill at NewStream, we have fared badly here. "

"The school-master did not say so to-day. "

"I shall get a more discreet fellow than the school-master to manageour money. "

"Yes, he ought least of all to talk with your own wife. "

Thore made no reply to this; he had just lit his pipe, and now, leaningup against a bundle of fagots, he let his eyes wander, first from hiswife, then from his son, and fixed them on an old crow's-nest whichhung, half overturned, from a fir-branch above. 

Oyvind sat by himself with the future stretching before him like along, smooth sheet of ice, across which for the first time he foundhimself sweeping onward from shore to shore. That poverty hemmed himin on every side, he felt, but for that reason his whole mind was benton breaking through it. From Marit it had undoubtedly parted himforever; he regarded her as half engaged to Jon Hatlen; but he haddetermined to vie with him and her through the entire race of life. Never again to be rebuffed as he had been yesterday, and in view ofthis to keep out of the way until he made something of himself, andthen, with the aid of Almighty God, to continue to be something, --occupied all his thoughts, and there arose within his soul not asingle doubt of his success. He had a dim idea that through study hewould get on best; to what goal it would lead he must consider later. 

There was coasting in the evening; the children came to the hill, butOyvind was not with them. He sat reading by the fire-place, feelingthat he had not a moment to lose. The children waited a long time; atlength, one and another became impatient, approached the house, andlaying their faces against the window-pane shouted in; but Oyvindpretended not to hear them. Others came, and evening after eveningthey lingered about outside, in great surprise; but Oyvind turned hisback to them and went on reading, striving faithfully to gather themeaning of the words. Afterwards he heard that Marit was not thereeither. He read with a diligence which even his father was forced tosay went too far. He became grave; his face, which had been so roundand soft, grew thinner and sharper, his eye more stern; he rarely sang, and never played; the right time never seemed to come. When thetemptation to do so beset him, he felt as if some one whispered, "later, later!" and always "later!" The children slid, shouted, andlaughed a while as of old, but when they failed to entice him outeither through his own love of coasting, or by shouting to him withtheir faces pressed against the window-pane, they gradually fell away, found other playgrounds, and soon the hill was deserted. 

But the school-master soon noticed that this was not the old Oyvind whoread because it was his turn, and played because it was a necessity. He often talked with him, coaxed and admonished him; but he did notsucceed in finding his way to the boy's heart so easily as in days ofold. He spoke also with the parents, the result of the conferencebeing that he came down one Sunday evening, late in the winter, andsaid, after he had sat a while, --

"Come now, Oyvind, let us go out; I want to have a talk with you. "

Oyvind put on his things and went with him. They wended their way uptoward the Heidegards; a brisk conversation was kept up, but aboutnothing in particular; when they drew near the gards the school-masterturned aside in the direction of one that lay in the centre, and whenthey had advanced a little farther, shouting and merriment met them. 

"What is going on here?" asked Oyvind. 

"There is a dance here, " said the school-master; "shall we not go in?"

"No. "

"Will you not take part in a dance, boy?"

"No; not yet. "

"Not yet? When, then?"

Oyvind did not answer. 

"What do you mean by _yet_?"

As the youth did not answer, the school-master said, --

"Come, now, no such nonsense. "

"No, I will not go. "

He was very decided and at the same time agitated. 

"The idea of your own school-master standing here and begging you to goto a dance. "

There was a long pause. 

"Is there any one in there whom you are afraid to see?"

"I am sure I cannot tell who may be in there. "

"But is there likely to be any one?"

Oyvind was silent. Then the school-master walked straight up to him, and laying his hand on his shoulder, said, --

"Are you afraid to see Marit?"

Oyvind looked down; his breathing became heavy and quick. 

"Tell me, Oyvind, my boy?"

Oyvind made no reply. 

"You are perhaps ashamed to confess it since you are not yet confirmed;but tell me, nevertheless, my dear Oyvind, and you shall not regretit. "

Oyvind raised his eyes but could not speak the word, and let his gazewander away. 

"You are not happy, either, of late. Does she care more for any oneelse than for you?"

Oyvind was still silent, and the school-master, feeling slightly hurt, turned away from him. They retraced their steps. 

After they had walked a long distance, the school-master paused longenough for Oyvind to come up to his side. 

"I presume you are very anxious to be confirmed, " said he. 

"Yes. "

"What do you think of doing afterwards?"

"I should like to go to the seminary. "

"And then become a school-master?"

"No. "

"You do not think that is great enough?"

Oyvind made no reply. Again they walked on for some distance. 

"When you have been through the seminary, what will you do?"

"I have not fairly considered that. "

"If you had money, I dare say you would like to buy yourself a gard?"

"Yes, but keep the mills. "

"Then you had better enter the agricultural school. "

"Do pupils learn as much there as at the seminary?"

"Oh, no! but they learn what they can make use of later. "

"Do they get numbers there too?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I should like to be a good scholar. "

"That you can surely be without a number. "

They walked on in silence again until they saw Pladsen; a light shonefrom the house, the cliff hanging over it was black now in the winterevening; the lake below was covered with smooth, glittering ice, butthere was no snow on the forest skirting the silent bay; the moonsailed overhead, mirroring the forest trees in the ice. 

"It is beautiful here at Pladsen, " said the school-master. 

There were times when Oyvind could see these things with the same eyeswith which he looked when his mother told him nursery tales, or withthe vision he had when he coasted on the hill-side, and this was one ofthose times, --all lay exalted and purified before him. 

"Yes, it is beautiful, " said he, but he sighed. 

"Your father has found everything he wanted in this home; you, too, might be contented here. "

The joyous aspect of the spot suddenly disappeared. The school-masterstood as if awaiting an answer; receiving none, he shook his head andentered the house with Oyvind. He sat a while with the family, but wasrather silent than talkative, whereupon the others too became silent. When he took his leave, both husband and wife followed him outside ofthe door; it seemed as if both expected him to say something. Meanwhile, they stood gazing up into the night. 

"It has grown so unusually quiet here, " finally said the mother, "sincethe children have gone away with their sports. "

"Nor have you a _child_ in the house any longer, either, " said theschool-master. 

The mother knew what he meant. 

"Oyvind has not been happy of late, " said she. 

"Ah, no! he who is ambitious never is happy, "--and he gazed up with anold man's calmness into God's peaceful heavens above. 

CHAPTER VI. 

Half a year later--in the autumn it was (the confirmation had beenpostponed until then)--the candidates for confirmation of the mainparish sat in the parsonage servant's hall, waiting examination, amongthem was Oyvind Pladsen and Marit Heidegards. Marit had just come downfrom the priest, from whom she had received a handsome book and muchpraise; she laughed and chatted with her girl friends on all sides andglanced around among the boys. Marit was a full-grown girl, easy andfrank in her whole address, and the boys as well as the girls knew thatJon Hatlen, the best match in the parish, was courting her, --well mightshe be happy as she sat there. Down by the door stood some girls andboys who had not passed; they were crying, while Marit and her friendswere laughing; among them was a little boy in his father's boots andhis mother's Sunday kerchief. 

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sobbed he, "I dare not go home again. "

And this overcame those who had not yet been up with the power ofsympathy; there was a universal silence. Anxiety filled their throatsand eyes; they could not see distinctly, neither could they swallow;and this they felt a continual desire to do. 

One sat reckoning over how much he knew; and although but a few hoursbefore he had discovered that he knew everything, now he found out justas confidently that he knew nothing, not even how to read in a book. 

Another summed up the list of his sins, from the time he was largeenough to remember until now, and he decided that it would not be atall remarkable if the Lord decreed that he should be rejected. 

A third sat taking note of all things about him: if the clock which wasabout to strike did not make its first stroke before he could counttwenty, he would pass; if the person he heard in the passage proved tobe the gard-boy Lars, he would pass; if the great rain-drop, workingits way down over the pane, came as far as the moulding of the window, he would pass. The final and decisive proof was to be if he succeededin twisting his right foot about the left, --and this it was quiteimpossible for him to do. 

A fourth was convinced in his own mind that if he was only questionedabout Joseph in Bible history and about baptism in the Catechism, orabout Saul, or about domestic duties, or about Jesus, or about theCommandments, or--he still sat rehearsing when he was called. 

A fifth had taken a special fancy to the Sermon on the Mount; he haddreamed about the Sermon on the Mount; he was sure of being questionedon the Sermon on the Mount; he kept repeating the Sermon on the Mountto himself; he had to go out doors and read over the Sermon on theMount--when he was called up to be examined on the great and the smallprophets. 

A sixth thought of the priest who was an excellent man and knew hisfather so well; he thought, too, of the school-master, who had such akindly face, and of God who was all goodness and mercy, and who hadaided so many before both Jacob and Joseph; and then he remembered thathis mother and brothers and sisters were at home praying for him, whichsurely must help. 

The seventh renounced all he had meant to become in this world. Oncehe had thought that he would like to push on as far as being a king, once as far as general or priest; now that time was over. But even tothe moment of his coming here he had thought of going to sea andbecoming a captain; perhaps a pirate, and acquiring enormous riches;now he gave up first the riches, then the pirate, then the captain, then the mate; he paused at sailor, at the utmost boatswain; indeed, itwas possible that he would not go to sea at all, but would take ahouseman's place on his father's gard. 

The eighth was more hopeful about his case but not certain, for eventhe aptest scholar was not certain. He thought of the clothes he wasto be confirmed in, wondering what they would be used for if he did notpass. But if he passed he was going to town to get a broadcloth suit, and coming home again to dance at Christmas to the envy of all the boysand the astonishment of all the girls. 

The ninth reckoned otherwise: he prepared a little account book withthe Lord, in which he set down on one side, as it were, "Debit:" hemust let me pass, and on the other "Credit:" then I will never tell anymore lies, never tittle-tattle any more, always go to church, let thegirls alone, and break myself of swearing. 

The tenth, however, thought that if Ole Hansen had passed last year itwould be more than unjust if he who had always done better at school, and, moreover, came of a better family, did not get through this year. 

By his side sat the eleventh, who was wrestling with the most alarmingplans of revenge in the event of his not being passed: either to burndown the school-house, or to run away from the parish and come backagain as the denouncing judge of the priest and the whole schoolcommission, but magnanimously allow mercy to take the place of justice. To begin with, he would take service at the house of the priest of theneighboring parish, and there stand number one next year, and answer sothat the whole church would marvel. 

But the twelfth sat alone under the clock, with both hands in hispockets, and looked mournfully out over the assemblage. No one hereknew what a burden he bore, what a responsibility he had assumed. Athome there was one who knew, --for he was betrothed. A large, long-legged spider was crawling over the floor and drew near his foot;he was in the habit of treading on this loathsome insect, but to-day hetenderly raised his foot that it might go in peace whither it would. His voice was as gentle as a collect, his eyes said incessantly thatall men were good, his hands made a humble movement out of his pocketsup to his hair to stroke it down more smoothly. If he could only glidegently through this dangerous needle's eye, he would doubtless grow outagain on the other side, chew tobacco, and announce his engagement. 

And down on a low stool with his legs drawn up under him, sat theanxious thirteenth; his little flashing eyes sped round the room threetimes each second, and through the passionate, obstinate head stormedin motley confusion the combined thoughts of the other twelve: from themightiest hope to the most crushing doubt, from the most humbleresolves to the most devastating plans of revenge; and, meanwhile, hehad eaten up all the loose flesh on his right thumb, and was busied nowwith his nails, sending large pieces across the floor. 

Oyvind sat by the window, he had been upstairs and had answeredeverything that had been asked him; but the priest had not saidanything, neither had the school-master. For more than half a year hehad been considering what they both would say when they came to knowhow hard he had toiled, and he felt now deeply disappointed as well aswounded. There sat Marit, who for far less exertion and knowledge hadreceived both encouragement and reward; it was just in order to standhigh in her eyes that he had striven, and now she smilingly won what hehad labored with so much self-denial to attain. Her laughter andjoking burned into his soul, the freedom with which she moved aboutpained him. He had carefully avoided speaking with her since thatevening, it would take years, he thought; but the sight of her sittingthere so happy and superior, weighed him to the ground, and all hisproud determinations drooped like leaves after a rain. 

He strove gradually to shake off his depression. Everything dependedon whether he became number one to-day, and for this he was waiting. It was the school-master's wont to linger a little after the rest withthe priest to arrange about the order of the young people, andafterwards to go down and report the result; it was, to be sure, notthe final decision, merely what the priest and he had for the presentagreed upon. The conversation became livelier after a considerablenumber had been examined and passed; but now the ambitious ones plainlydistinguished themselves from the happy ones; the latter left as soonas they found company, in order to announce their good fortune to theirparents, or they waited for the sake of others who were not yet ready;the former, on the contrary, grew more and more silent and their eyeswere fixed in suspense on the door. 

At length the children were all through, the last had come down, and sothe school-master must now be talking with the priest. Oyvind glancedat Marit; she was just as happy as before, but she remained in herseat, whether waiting for her own pleasure or for some one else, heknew not. How pretty Marit had become! He had never seen sodazzlingly lovely a complexion; her nose was slightly turned up, and adainty smile played about the mouth. She kept her eyes partiallyclosed when not looking directly at any one, but for that reason hergaze always had unsuspected power when it did come; and, as though shewished herself to add that she meant nothing by this, she half smiledat the same moment. Her hair was rather dark than light, but it waswavy and crept far over the brow on either side, so that, together withthe half closed eyes, it gave the face a hidden expression that onecould never weary of studying. It never seemed quite sure whom it wasshe was looking for when she was sitting alone and among others, norwhat she really had in mind when she turned to speak to any one, forshe took back immediately, as it were, what she gave. "Under all thisJon Hatlen is hidden, I suppose, " thought Oyvind, but still staredconstantly at her. 

Now came the school-master. All left their places and stormed abouthim. 

"What number am I?"--"And I?"--"And I--I?"

"Hush! you overgrown young ones! No uproar here! Be quiet and youshall hear about it, children. " He looked slowly around. "You arenumber two, " said he to a boy with blue eyes, who was gazing up at himmost beseechingly; and the boy danced out of the circle. "You arenumber three, " he tapped a red-haired, active little fellow who stoodtugging at his jacket. "You are number five; you number eight, " and soon. Here he caught sight of Marit. "You are number one of thegirls, "--she blushed crimson over face and neck, but tried to smile. "You are number twelve; you have been lazy, you rogue, and full ofmischief; you number eleven, nothing better to be expected, my boy;you, number thirteen, must study hard and come to the next examination, or it will go badly with you!"

Oyvind could bear it no longer; number one, to be sure, had not beenmentioned, but he had been standing all the time so that theschool-master could see him. 

"School-master!" He did not hear. "School-master!" Oyvind had torepeat this three times before it was heard. At last the school-masterlooked at him. 

"Number nine or ten, I do not remember which, " said he, and turned toanother. 

"Who is number one, then?" inquired Hans, who was Oyvind's best friend. 

"It is not you, curly-head!" said the school-master, rapping him overthe hand with a roll of paper. 

"Who is it, then?" asked others. "Who is it? Yes; who is it?"

"He will find that out who has the number, " replied the school-master, sternly. He would have no more questions. "Now go home nicely, children. Give thanks to your God and gladden your parents. Thankyour old school-master too; you would have been in a pretty fix if ithad not been for him. "

They thanked him, laughed, and went their way jubilantly, for at thismoment when they were about to go home to their parents they all felthappy. Only one remained behind, who could not at once find his books, and who when he had found them sat down as if he must read them overagain. 

The school-master went up to him. 

"Well, Oyvind, are you not going with the rest?"

There was no reply. 

"Why do you open your books?"

"I want to find out what I answered wrong to-day. "

"You answered nothing wrong. "

Then Oyvind looked at him; tears filled his eyes, but he gazed intentlyat the school-master, while one by one trickled down his cheeks, andnot a word did he say. The school-master sat down in front of him. 

"Are you not glad that you passed?"

There was a quivering about the lips but no reply. 

"Your mother and father will be very glad, " said the school-master, andlooked at Oyvind. 

The boy struggled hard to gain power of utterance, finally he asked inlow, broken tones, --

"Is it--because I--am a houseman's son that I only stand number nine orten?"

"No doubt that was it, " replied the school-master. 

"Then it is of no use for me to work, " said Oyvind, drearily, and allhis bright dreams vanished. Suddenly he raised his head, lifted hisright hand, and bringing it down on the table with all his might, flunghimself forward on his face and burst into passionate tears. 

The school-master let him lie and weep, --weep as long as he would. Itlasted a long time, but the school-master waited until the weeping grewmore childlike. Then taking Oyvind's head in both hands, he raised itand gazed into the tear-stained face. 

"Do you believe that it is God who has been with you now, " said he, drawing the boy affectionately toward him. 

Oyvind was still sobbing, but not so violently as before; his tearsflowed more calmly, but he neither dared look at him who questioned noranswer. 

"This, Oyvind, has been a well-merited recompense. You have notstudied from love of your religion, or of your parents; you havestudied from vanity. "

There was silence in the room after every sentence the school-masteruttered. Oyvind felt his gaze resting on him, and he melted and grewhumble under it. 

"With such wrath in your heart, you could not have come forward to makea covenant with your God. Do you think you could, Oyvind?"

"No, " the boy stammered, as well as he was able. 

"And if you stood there with vain joy, over being number one, would younot be coming forward with a sin?"

"Yes, I should, " whispered Oyvind, and his lips quivered. 

"You still love me, Oyvind?"

"Yes;" here he looked up for the first time. 

"Then I will tell you that it was I who had you put down; for I am veryfond of you, Oyvind. "

The other looked at him, blinked several times, and the tears rolleddown in rapid succession. 

"You are not displeased with me for that?"

"No;" he looked up full in the school-master's face, although his voicewas choked. 

"My dear child, I will stand by you as long as I live. "

The school-master waited for Oyvind until the latter had gatheredtogether his books, then said that he would accompany him home. Theywalked slowly along. At first Oyvind was silent and his struggle wenton, but gradually he gained his self-control. He was convinced thatwhat had occurred was the best thing that in any way could havehappened to him; and before he reached home, his belief in this hadbecome so strong that he gave thanks to his God, and told theschool-master so. 

"Yes, now we can think of accomplishing something in life, " said theschool-master, "instead of playing blind-man's buff, and chasing afternumbers. What do you say to the seminary?"

"Why, I should like very much to go there. "

"Are you thinking of the agricultural school?"

"Yes. "

"That is, without doubt, the best; it provides other openings than aschool-master's position. "

"But how can I go there? I earnestly desire it, but I have not themeans. "

"Be industrious and good, and I dare say the means will be found. "

Oyvind felt completely overwhelmed with gratitude. His eyes sparkled, his breath came lightly, he glowed with that infinite love that bearsus along when we experience some unexpected kindness from afellow-creature. At such a moment, we fancy that our whole future willbe like wandering in the fresh mountain air; we are wafted along morethan we walk. 

When they reached home both parents were within, and had been sittingthere in quiet expectation, although it was during working hours of abusy time. The school-master entered first, Oyvind followed; both weresmiling. 

"Well?" said the father, laying aside a hymn-book, in which he had justbeen reading a "Prayer for a Confirmation Candidate. "

His mother stood by the hearth, not daring to say anything; she wassmiling, but her hand was trembling. Evidently she was expecting goodnews, but did not wish to betray herself. 

"I merely had to come to gladden you with the news, that he answeredevery question put to him; and that the priest said, when Oyvind hadleft him, that he had never had a more apt scholar. "

"Is it possible!" said the mother, much affected. 

"Well, that is good, " said his father, clearing his throat unsteadily. 

After it had been still for some time, the mother asked, softly, --

"What number will he have?"

"Number nine or ten, " said the school-master, calmly. 

The mother looked at the father; he first at her, then at Oyvind, andsaid, --

"A houseman's son can expect no more. "

Oyvind returned his gaze. Something rose up in his throat once more, but he hastily forced himself to think of things that he loved, one byone, until it was choked down again. 

"Now I had better go, " said the school-master, and nodding, turnedaway. 

Both parents followed him as usual out on the door-step; here theschool-master took a quid of tobacco, and smiling said, --

"He will be number one, after all; but it is not worth while that heshould know anything about it until the day comes. "

"No, no, " said the father, and nodded. 

"No, no, " said the mother, and she nodded too; after which she graspedthe school-master's hand and added: "We thank you for all you do forhim. "

"Yes, you have our thanks, " said the father, and the school-mastermoved away. 

They long stood there gazing after him. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The school-master had judged the boy correctly when he asked the priestto try whether Oyvind could bear to stand number one. During the threeweeks which elapsed before the confirmation, he was with the boy everyday. It is one thing for a young, tender soul to yield to animpression; what through faith it shall attain is another thing. Manydark hours fell upon Oyvind before he learned to choose the goal of hisfuture from something better than ambition and defiance. Often in themidst of his work he lost his interest and stopped short: what was itall for, what would he gain by it?--and then presently he wouldremember the school-master, his words and his kindness; and this humanmedium forced him to rise up again every time he fell from acomprehension of his higher duty. 

In those days while they were preparing at Pladsen for theconfirmation, they were also preparing for Oyvind's departure for theagricultural school, for this was to take place the following day. Tailor and shoemaker were sitting in the family-room; the mother wasbaking in the kitchen, the father working at a chest. There was agreat deal said about what Oyvind would cost his parents in the nexttwo years; about his not being able to come home the first Christmas, perhaps not the second either, and how hard it would be to be parted solong. They spoke also of the love Oyvind should bear his parents whowere willing to sacrifice themselves for their child's sake. Oyvindsat like one who had tried sailing out into the world on his ownresponsibility, but had been wrecked and was now picked up by kindpeople. 

Such is the feeling that humility gives, and with it comes much more. As the great day drew near he dared call himself prepared, and alsodared look forward with trustful resignation. Whenever Marit's imagewould present itself, he cautiously thrust it aside, although he felt apang in so doing. He tried to gain practice in this, but never madeany progress in strength; on the contrary, it was the pain that grew. Therefore he was weary the last evening, when, after a longself-examination, he prayed that the Lord would not put him to the testin this matter. 

The school-master came as the day was drawing to a close. They all satdown together in the family-room, after washing and dressing themselvesneat and clean, as was customary the evening before going to communion, or morning service. The mother was agitated, the father silent;parting was to follow the morrow's ceremony, and it was uncertain whenthey could all sit down together again. The school-master brought outthe hymn-books, read the service, sang with the family, and afterwardssaid a short prayer, just as the words came into his mind. 

These four people now sat together until late in the evening, thethoughts of each centering within; then they parted with the bestwishes for the coming day and what it was to consecrate. Oyvind wasobliged to admit, as he laid himself down, that he had never gone tobed so happy before; he gave this an interpretation of his own, --heunderstood it to mean: I have never before gone to bed feeling soresigned to God's will and so happy in it. Marit's face at once roseup before him again, and the last thing he was conscious of was that helay and examined himself: not quite happy, not quite, --and that heanswered: yes, quite; but again: not quite; yes, quite; no, not quite. 

When he awoke he at once remembered the day, prayed, and felt strong, as one does in the morning. Since the summer, he had slept alone inthe attic; now he rose, and put on his handsome new clothes, verycarefully, for he had never owned such before. There was especially around broadcloth jacket, which he had to examine over and over againbefore he became accustomed to it. He hung up a little looking-glasswhen he had adjusted his collar, and for the fourth time drew on hisjacket. At sight of his own contented face, with the unusually lighthair surrounding it, reflected and smiling in the glass, it occurred tohim that this must certainly be vanity again. "Yes, but people must bewell-dressed and tidy, " he reasoned, drawing his face away from theglass, as if it were a sin to look in it. "To be sure, but not quiteso delighted with themselves, for the sake of the matter. " "No, certainly not, but the Lord must also like to have one care to lookwell. " "That may be; but He would surely like it better to have you doso without taking so much notice of it yourself. " "That is true; butit happens now because everything is so new. " "Yes, but you mustgradually lay the habit aside. "--He caught himself carrying on such aself-examining conversation, now upon one theme, now upon another, sothat not a sin should fall on the day and stain it; but at the sametime he knew that he had other struggles to meet. 

When he came down-stairs, his parents sat all dressed, waitingbreakfast for him. He went up to them and taking their hands thankedthem for the clothes, and received in return a"wear-them-out-with-good-health. "[1] They sat down to table, prayedsilently, and ate. The mother cleared the table, and carried in thelunch-box for the journey to church. The father put on his jacket, themother fastened her kerchief; they took their hymn-books, locked up thehouse, and started. As soon as they had reached the upper road theymet the church-faring people, driving and walking, the confirmationcandidates scattered among them, and in one group and anotherwhite-haired grand-parents, who had felt moved to come out on thisgreat occasion. 

[Footnote 1: A common expression among the peasantry of Norway, meaning: "You are welcome. "]

It was an autumn day without sunshine, as when the weather is about tochange. Clouds gathered together and dispersed again; sometimes out ofone great mass were formed twenty smaller ones, which sped across thesky with orders for a storm; but below, on the earth, it was stillcalm, the foliage hung lifeless, not a leaf stirring; the air was atrifle sultry; people carried their outer wraps with them but did notuse them. An unusually large multitude had assembled round the church, which stood in an open space; but the confirmation children immediatelywent into the church in order to be arranged in their places beforeservice began. Then it was that the school-master, in a bluebroadcloth suit, frock coat, and knee-breeches, high shoes, stiffcravat, and a pipe protruding from his back coat pocket, came downtowards them, nodded and smiled, tapped one on the shoulder, spoke afew words to another about answering loudly and distinctly, andmeanwhile worked his way along to the poor-box, where Oyvind stoodanswering all the questions of his friend Hans in reference to hisjourney. 

"Good-day, Oyvind. How fine you look to-day!" He took him by thejacket collar as if he wished to speak to him. "Listen. I believeeverything good of you. I have been talking with the priest; you willbe allowed to keep your place; go up to number one and answerdistinctly!"

Oyvind looked up at him amazed; the school-master nodded; the boy tooka few steps, stopped, a few steps more, stopped again: "Yes, it surelyis so; he has spoken to the priest for me, "--and the boy walked swiftlyup to his place. 

"You are to be number one, after all, " some one whispered to him. 

"Yes, " answered Oyvind, in a low voice, but did not feel quite sure yetwhether he dared think so. 

The assignment of places was over, the priest had come, the bells wereringing, and the people pouring into church. Then Oyvind saw MaritHeidegards just in front of him; she saw him too; but they were both soawed by the sacredness of the place that they dared not greet eachother. He only noticed that she was dazzlingly beautiful and that herhair was uncovered; more he did not see. Oyvind, who for more thanhalf a year had been building such great plans about standing oppositeher, forgot, now that it had come to the point, both the place and her, and that he had in any way thought of them. 

After all was ended the relatives and acquaintances came up to offertheir congratulations; next came Oyvind's comrades to take leave ofhim, as they had heard that he was to depart the next day; then therecame many little ones with whom he had coasted on the hill-sides andwhom he had assisted at school, and who now could not help whimpering alittle at parting. Last came the school-master, silently took Oyvindand his parents by the hands, and made a sign to start for home; hewanted to accompany them. The four were together once more, and thiswas to be the last evening. On the way home they met many others whotook leave of Oyvind and wished him good luck; but they had no otherconversation until they sat down together in the family-room. 

The school-master tried to keep them in good spirits; the fact was nowthat the time had come they all shrank from the two long years ofseparation, for up to this time they had never been parted a singleday; but none of them would acknowledge it. The later it grew the moredejected Oyvind became; he was forced to go out to recover hiscomposure a little. 

It was dusk now and there were strange sounds in the air. Oyvindremained standing on the door-step gazing upward. From the brow of thecliff he then heard his own name called, quite softly; it was nodelusion, for it was repeated twice. He looked up and faintlydistinguished a female form crouching between the trees and lookingdown. 

"Who is it?" asked he. 

"I hear you are going away, " said a low voice, "so I had to come to youand say good-by, as you would not come to me. "

"Dear me! Is that you, Marit? I shall come up to you. "

"No, pray do not. I have waited so long, and if you come I should haveto wait still longer; no one knows where I am and I must hurry home. "

"It was kind of you to come, " said he. 

"I could not bear to have you leave so, Oyvind; we have known eachother since we were children. "

"Yes; we have. "

"And now we have not spoken to each other for half a year. "

"No; we have not. "

"We parted so strangely, too, that time. "

"We did. I think I must come up to you!"

"Oh, no! do not come! But tell me: you are not angry with me?"

"Goodness! how could you think so?"

"Good-by, then, Oyvind, and my thanks for all the happy times we havehad together!"

"Wait, Marit!"

"Indeed I must go; they will miss me. "

"Marit! Marit!"

"No, I dare not stay away any longer, Oyvind. Good-by. "

"Good-by!"

Afterwards he moved about as in a dream, and answered very absentlywhen he was addressed. This was ascribed to his journey, as was quitenatural; and indeed it occupied his whole mind at the moment when theschool-master took leave of him in the evening and put something intohis hand, which he afterwards found to be a five-dollar bill. Butlater, when he went to bed, he thought not of the journey, but of thewords which had come down from the brow of the cliff, and those thathad been sent up again. As a child Marit was not allowed to come onthe cliff, because her grandfather feared she might fall down. Perhapsshe will come down some day, any way. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

 DEAR PARENTS, --We have to study much more now than at first, butas I am less behind the others than I was, it is not so hard. I shallchange many things in father's place when I come home; for there ismuch that is wrong there, and it is wonderful that it has prospered aswell as it has. But I shall make everything right, for I have learneda great deal. I want to go to some place where I can put into practiceall I now know, and so I must look for a high position when I getthrough here. No one here considers Jon Hatlen as clever as he is thought to beat home with us; but as he has a gard of his own, this does not concernany one but himself. Many who go from here get very high salaries, but they are paid sowell because ours is the best agricultural school in the country. Somesay the one in the next district is better, but this is by no meanstrue. There are two words here: one is called Theory, the otherPractice. It is well to have them both, for one is nothing without theother; but still the latter is the better. Now the former means, tounderstand the cause and principle of a work; the latter, to be able toperform it: as, for instance, in regard to a quagmire; for there aremany who know what should be done with a quagmire and yet do it wrong, because they are not able to put their knowledge into practice. Many, on the other hand, are skillful in doing, but do not know what ought tobe done; and thus they too may make bad work of it, for there are manykinds of quagmires. But we at the agricultural school learn bothwords. The superintendent is so skillful that he has no equal. At thelast agricultural meeting for the whole country, he led in twodiscussions, and the other superintendents had only one each, and uponcareful consideration his statements were always sustained. At themeeting before the last, where he was not present, there was nothingbut idle talk. The lieutenant who teaches surveying was chosen by thesuperintendent only on account of his ability, for the other schoolshave no lieutenant. He is so clever that he was the best scholar atthe military academy. The school-master asks if I go to church. Yes, of course I go tochurch, for now the priest has an assistant, and his sermons fill allthe congregation with terror, and it is a pleasure to listen to him. He belongs to the new religion they have in Christiania, and peoplethink him too strict, but it is good for them that he is so. Just now we are studying much history, which we have not donebefore, and it is curious to observe all that has happened in theworld, but especially in our country, for we have always won, exceptwhen we have lost, and then we always had the smaller number. We nowhave liberty; and no other nation has so much of it as we, exceptAmerica; but there they are not happy. Our freedom should be loved byus above everything. Now I will close for this time, for I have written a very longletter. The school-master will read it, I suppose, and when he answersfor you, get him to tell me some news about one thing or another, forhe never does so of himself. But now accept hearty greetings from youraffectionate son, O. THORESEN. 

 DEAR PARENTS, --Now I must tell you that we have had examinations, and that I stood 'excellent' in many things, and 'very good' in writingand surveying, but 'good' in Norwegian composition. This comes, thesuperintendent says, from my not having read enough, and he has made mea present of some of Ole Vig's books, which are matchless, for Iunderstand everything in them. The superintendent is very kind to me, and he tells us many things. Everything here is very inferior comparedwith what they have abroad; we understand almost nothing, but learneverything from the Scotch and Swiss, although horticulture we learnfrom the Dutch. Many visit these countries. In Sweden, too, they aremuch more clever than we, and there the superintendent himself hasbeen. I have been here now nearly a year, and I thought that I hadlearned a great deal; but when I heard what those who passed theexamination knew, and considered that they would not amount to anythingeither when they came into contact with foreigners, I became verydespondent. And then the soil here in Norway is so poor compared withwhat it is abroad; it does not at all repay us for what we do with it. Moreover, people will not learn from the experience of others; and evenif they would, and if the soil was much better, they really have notthe money to cultivate it. It is remarkable that things have prosperedas well as they have. I am now in the highest class, and am to remain there a yearbefore I get through. But most of my companions have left and I longfor home. I feel alone, although I am not so by any means, but one hassuch a strange feeling when one has been long absent. I once thought Ishould become so much of a scholar here; but I am not making theprogress I anticipated. What shall I do with myself when I leave here? First, of course, I will come home; afterwards, I suppose, I will have to seek somethingto do, but it must not be far away. Farewell, now, dear parents! Give greetings to all who inquirefor me, and tell them that I have everything pleasant here but that nowI long to be at home again. Your affectionate son, OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN. 

DEAR SCHOOL-MASTER, --With this I ask if you will deliver the inclosedletter and not speak of it to any one. And if you will not, then youmust burn it. OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN. 

TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER NORDISTUEN AT THE UPPERHEIDEGARDS:-- You will no doubt be much surprised at receiving a letter from me;but you need not be for I only wish to ask how you are. You must sendme a few words as soon as possible, giving me all particulars. Regarding myself, I have to say that I shall be through here in a year. Most respectfully, OYVIND PLADSEN. 

TO OYVIND PLADSEN, AT THE AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL:-- Your letter was duly received by me from the school-master, and Iwill answer since you request it. But I am afraid to do so, now thatyou are so learned; and I have a letter-writer, but it does not helpme. So I will have to try what I can do, and you must take the willfor the deed; but do not show this, for if you do you are not the one Ithink you are. Nor must you keep it, for then some one might see it, but you must burn it, and this you will have to promise me to do. There were so many things I wanted to write about, but I do not quitedare. We have had a good harvest; potatoes bring a high price, andhere at the Heidegards we have plenty of them. But the bear has donemuch mischief among the cattle this summer: he killed two of OleNedregard's cattle and injured one belonging to our houseman so badlythat it had to be killed for beef. I am weaving a large piece ofcloth, something like a Scotch plaid, and it is difficult. And now Iwill tell you that I am still at home, and that there are those whowould like to have it otherwise. Now I have no more to write about forthis time, and so I must bid you farewell. MARIT KNUDSDATTER. P. S. --Be sure and burn this letter. 

TO THE AGRICULTURIST, OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:-- As I have told you before, Oyvind, he who walks with God has comeinto the good inheritance. But now you must listen to my advice, andthat is not to take the world with yearning and tribulation, but totrust in God and not allow your heart to consume you, for if you do youwill have another god besides Him. Next I must inform you that yourfather and your mother are well, but I am troubled with one of my hips;for now the war breaks out afresh with all that was suffered in it. What youth sows age must reap; and this is true both in regard to themind and the body, which now throbs and pains, and tempts one to makeany number of lamentations. But old age should not complain; forwisdom flows from wounds, and pain preaches patience, that man may growstrong enough for the last journey. To-day I have taken up my pen formany reasons, and first and above all for the sake of Marit, who hasbecome a God-fearing maiden, but who is as light of foot as a reindeer, and of rather a fickle disposition. She would be glad to abide by onething, but is prevented from so doing by her nature; but I have oftenbefore seen that with hearts of such weak stuff the Lord is indulgentand long-suffering, and does not allow them to be tempted beyond theirstrength, lest they break to pieces, for she is very fragile. I dulygave her your letter, and she hid it from all save her own heart. IfGod will lend His aid in this matter, I have nothing against it, forMarit is most charming to young men, as plainly can be seen, and shehas abundance of earthly goods, and the heavenly ones she has too, withall her fickleness. For the fear of God in her mind is like water in ashallow pond: it is there when it rains, but it is gone when the sunshines. My eyes can endure no more at present, for they see well at adistance, but pain me and fill with tears when I look at small objects. In conclusion, I will advise you, Oyvind, to have your God with you inall your desires and undertakings, for it is written: "Better is anhandful with quietness, than both the hands full with travail andvexation of spirit. " Ecclesiastes, iv. 6. Your old school-master, BAARD ANDERSEN OPDAL. 

TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:-- You have my thanks for your letter, which I have read and burned, as you requested. You write of many things, but not at all concerningthat of which I wanted you to write. Nor do I dare write anythingdefinite before I know how you are in _every respect_. Theschool-master's letter says nothing that one can depend on, but hepraises you and he says you are fickle. That, indeed, you were before. Now I do not know what to think, and so you must write, for it will notbe well with me until you do. Just now I remember best about yourcoming to the cliff that last evening and what you said then. I willsay no more this time, and so farewell. Most respectfully, OYVIND PLADSEN. 

TO OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN:-- The school-master has given me another letter from you, and I havejust read it, but I do not understand it in the least, and that, I daresay, is because I am not learned. You want to know how it is with mein every respect; and I am healthy and well, and there is nothing atall the matter with me. I eat heartily, especially when I get milkporridge. I sleep at night, and occasionally in the day-time too. Ihave danced a great deal this winter, for there have been many partieshere, and that has been very pleasant. I go to church when the snow isnot too deep; but we have had a great deal of snow this winter. Now, Ipresume, you know everything, and if you do not, I can think of nothingbetter than for you to write to me once more. MARIT KNUDSDATTER. 

TO THE MOST HONORED MAIDEN, MARIT KNUDSDATTER HEIDEGARDS:-- I have received your letter, but you seem inclined to leave me nowiser than I was before. Perhaps this may be meant for an answer. Ido not know. I dare not write anything that I wish to write, for I donot know you. But possibly you do not know me either. You must not think that I am any longer the soft cheese yousqueezed the water away from when I sat watching you dance. I havelaid on many shelves to dry since that time. Neither am I like thoselong-haired dogs who drop their ears at the least provocation and takeflight from people, as in former days. I can stand fire now. Your letter was very playful, but it jested where it should nothave jested at all, for you understood me very well, and you could seethat I did not ask in sport, but because of late I can think of nothingelse than the subject I questioned you about. I was waiting in deepanxiety, and there came to me only foolery and laughter. Farewell, Marit Heidegards, I shall not look at you too much, as Idid at that dance. May you both eat well, and sleep well, and get yournew web finished, and above all, may you be able to shovel away thesnow which lies in front of the church-door. Most respectfully, OYVIND THORESEN PLADSEN. 

TO THE AGRICULTURIST, OYVIND THORESEN, AT THE AGRICULTURAL SCHOOL:-- Notwithstanding my advanced years, and the weakness of my eyes, and the pain in my right hip, I must yield to the importunity of theyoung, for we old people are needed by them when they have caughtthemselves in some snare. They entice us and weep until they are setfree, but then at once run away from us again, and will take no furtheradvice. Now it is Marit; she coaxes me with many sweet words to write atthe same time she does, for she takes comfort in not writing alone. Ihave read your letter; she thought that she had Jon Hatlen or someother fool to deal with, and not one whom school-master Baard hadtrained; but now she is in a dilemma. However, you have been toosevere, for there are certain women who take to jesting in order toavoid weeping, and who make no difference between the two. But itpleases me to have you take serious things seriously, for otherwise youcould not laugh at nonsense. Concerning the feelings of both, it is now apparent from manythings that you are bent on having each other. About Marit I haveoften been in doubt, for she is like the wind's course; but I have nowlearned that notwithstanding this she has resisted Jon Hatlen'sadvances, at which her grandfather's wrath is sorely kindled. She washappy when your offer came, and if she jested it was from joy, not fromany harm. She has endured much, and has done so in order to wait forhim on whom her mind was fixed. And now you will not have her, butcast her away as you would a naughty child. This was what I wanted to tell you. And this counsel I must add, that you should come to an understanding with her, for you can findenough else to be at variance with. I am like the old man who haslived through three generations; I have seen folly and its course. Your mother and father send love by me. They are expecting youhome; but I would not write of this before, lest you should becomehomesick. You do not know your father; he is like a tree which makesno moan until it is hewn down. But if ever any mischance should befallyou, then you will learn to know him, and you will wonder at therichness of his nature. He has had heavy burdens to bear, and issilent in worldly matters; but your mother has relieved his mind fromearthly anxiety, and now daylight is beginning to break through thegloom. Now my eyes grow dim, my hand refuses to do more. Therefore Icommend you to Him whose eye ever watches, and whose hand is neverweary. BAARD ANDERSEN OPDAL. 

TO OYVIND PLADSEN:-- You seem to be displeased with me, and this greatly grieves me. For I did not mean to make you angry. I meant well. I know I haveoften failed to do rightly by you, and that is why I write to you now;but you must not show the letter to any one. Once I had everythingjust as I desired, and then I was not kind; but now there is no one whocares for me, and I am very wretched. Jon Hatlen has made a lampoonabout me, and all the boys sing it, and I no longer dare go to thedances. Both the old people know about it, and I have to listen tomany harsh words. Now I am sitting alone writing, and you must notshow my letter. You have learned much and are able to advise me, but you are nowfar away. I have often been down to see your parents, and have talkedwith your mother, and we have become good friends; but I did not liketo say anything about it, for you wrote so strangely. Theschool-master only makes fun of me, and he knows nothing about thelampoon, for no one in the parish would presume to sing such a thing tohim. I stand alone now, and have no one to speak with. I rememberwhen we were children, and you were so kind to me; and I always sat onyour sled, and I could wish that I were a child again. I cannot ask you to answer me, for I dare not do so. But if youwill answer just once more I will never forget it in you, Oyvind. MARIT KNUDSDATTER. 

Please burn this letter; I scarcely know whether I dare send it. 

DEAR MARIT, --Thank you for your letter; you wrote it in a lucky hour. I will tell you now, Marit, that I love you so much that I can scarcelywait here any longer; and if you love me as truly in return all thelampoons of Jon and harsh words of others shall be like leaves whichgrow too plentifully on the tree. Since I received your letter I feellike a new being, for double my former strength has come to me, and Ifear no one in the whole world. After I had sent my last letter Iregretted it so that I almost became ill. And now you shall hear whatthe result of this was. The superintendent took me aside and askedwhat was the matter with me; he fancied I was studying too hard. Thenhe told me that when my year was out I might remain here one more, without expense. I could help him with sundry things, and he wouldteach me more. Then I thought that work was the only thing I had torely on, and I thanked him very much; and I do not yet repent it, although now I long for you, for the longer I stay here the betterright I shall have to ask for you one day. How happy I am now! I worklike three people, and never will I be behind-hand in any work! Butyou must have a book that I am reading, for there is much in it aboutlove. I read in it in the evening when the others are sleeping, andthen I read your letter over again. Have you thought about ourmeeting? I think of it so often, and you, too, must try and find outhow delightful it will be. I am truly happy that I have toiled andstudied so much, although it was hard before; for now I can say what Iplease to you, and smile over it in my heart. I shall give you many books to read, that you may see how muchtribulation they have borne who have truly loved each other, and thatthey would rather die of grief than forsake each other. And that iswhat we would do, and do it with the greatest joy. True, it will benearly two years before we see each other, and still longer before weget each other; but with every day that passes there is one day less towait; we must think of this while we are working. My next letter shall be about many things; but this evening I haveno more paper, and the others are asleep. Now I will go to bed andthink of you, and I will do so until I fall asleep. Your friend, OYVIND PLADSEN. 

CHAPTER IX. 

One Saturday, in midsummer, Thore Pladsen rowed across the lake to meethis son, who was expected to arrive that afternoon from theagricultural school, where he had finished his course. The mother hadhired women several days beforehand, and everything was scoured andclean. The bedroom had been put in order some time before, a stove hadbeen set up, and there Oyvind was to be. To-day the mother carried infresh greens, laid out clean linen, made up the bed, and all the whilekept looking out to see if, perchance, any boat were coming across thelake. A plentiful table was spread in the house, and there was alwayssomething wanting, or flies to chase away, and the bedroom wasdusty, --continually dusty. Still no boat came. The mother leanedagainst the window and looked across the waters; then she heard a stepnear at hand on the road, and turned her head. It was the school-master, who was coming slowly down the hill, supporting himself on astaff, for his hip troubled him. His intelligent eyes looked calm. Hepaused to rest, and nodded to her:--

"Not come yet?"

"No; I expect them every moment. "

"Fine weather for haymaking, to-day. "

"But warm for old folks to be walking. "

The school-master looked at her, smiling, --

"Have any young folks been out to-day?"

"Yes; but are gone again. "

"Yes, yes, to be sure; there will most likely be a meeting somewherethis evening. "

"I presume there will be. Thore says they shall not meet in his houseuntil they have the old man's consent. "

"Right, quite right. "

Presently the mother cried, --

"There! I think they are coming. "

The school-master looked long in the distance. 

"Yes, indeed! it is they. "

The mother left the window, and he went into the house. After he hadrested a little and taken something to drink, they proceeded down tothe shore, while the boat darted toward them, making rapid headway, forboth father and son were rowing. The oarsmen had thrown off theirjackets, the waters whitened beneath their strokes; and so the boatsoon drew near those who were waiting. Oyvind turned his head andlooked up; he saw the two at the landing-place, and resting his oars, he shouted, --

"Good-day, mother! Good-day, school-master!"

"What a manly voice he has, " said the mother, her face sparkling. "Odear, O dear! he is as fair as ever, " she added. 

The school-master drew in the boat. The father laid down his oars, Oyvind sprang past him and out of the boat, shook hands first with hismother, then with the school-master. He laughed and laughed again;and, quite contrary to the custom of peasants, immediately began topour out a flood of words about the examination, the journey, thesuperintendent's certificate, and good offers; he inquired about thecrops and his acquaintances, all save one. The father had paused tocarry things up from the boat, but, wanting to hear, too, thought theymight remain there for the present, and joined the others. And so theywalked up toward the house, Oyvind laughing and talking, the motherlaughing, too, for she was utterly at a loss to know what to say. Theschool-master moved slowly along at Oyvind's side, watching his oldpupil closely; the father walked at a respectful distance. And thusthey reached home. Oyvind was delighted with everything he saw: firstbecause the house was painted, then because the mill was enlarged, thenbecause the leaden windows had been taken out in the family-room and inthe bed-chamber, and white glass had taken the place of green, and thewindow frames had been made larger. When he entered everything seemedastonishingly small, and not at all as he remembered it, but verycheerful. The clock cackled like a fat hen, the carved chairs almostseemed as if they would speak; he knew every dish on the table spreadbefore him, the freshly white-washed hearth smiled welcome; the greens, decorating the walls, scattered about them their fragrance, thejuniper, strewn over the floor, gave evidence of the festival. 

They all sat down to the meal; but there was not much eaten, for Oyvindrattled away without ceasing. The others viewed him now morecomposedly, and observed in what respect he had altered, in what heremained unchanged; looked at what was entirely new about him, even tothe blue broadcloth suit he wore. Once when he had been telling a longstory about one of his companions and finally concluded, as there was alittle pause, the father said, --

"I scarcely understand a word that you say, boy; you talk so veryfast. "

They all laughed heartily, and Oyvind not the least. He knew very wellthis was true, but it was not possible for him to speak more slowly. Everything new he had seen and learned, during his long absence fromhome, had so affected his imagination and understanding, and had sodriven him out of his accustomed demeanor, that faculties which longhad lain dormant were roused up, as it were, and his brain was in astate of constant activity. Moreover, they observed that he had ahabit of arbitrarily taking up two or three words here and there, andrepeating them again and again from sheer haste. He seemed to bestumbling over himself. Sometimes this appeared absurd, but then helaughed and it was forgotten. The school-master and the father satwatching to see if any of the old thoughtfulness was gone; but it didnot seem so. Oyvind remembered everything, and was even the one toremind the others that the boat should be unloaded. He unpacked hisclothes at once and hung them up, displayed his books, his watch, everything new, and all was well cared for, his mother said. He wasexceedingly pleased with his little room. He would remain at home forthe present, he said, --help with the hay-making, and study. Where heshould go later he did not know; but it made not the least differenceto him. He had acquired a briskness and vigor of thought which it didone good to see, and an animation in the expression of his feelingswhich is so refreshing to a person who the whole year through strivesto repress his own. The school-master grew ten years younger. 

"Now we have come _so far_ with him, " said he, beaming withsatisfaction as he rose to go. 

When the mother returned from waiting on him, as usual, to thedoor-step, she called Oyvind into the bedroom. 

"Some one will be waiting for you at nine o'clock, " whispered she. 

"Where?"

"On the cliff. "

Oyvind glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. He could not wait inthe house, but went out, clambered up the side of the cliff, paused onthe top, and looked around. The house lay directly below; the busheson the roof had grown large, all the young trees round about him hadalso grown, and he recognized every one of them. His eyes wandereddown the road, which ran along the cliff, and was bordered by theforest on the other side. The road lay there, gray and solemn, but theforest was enlivened with varied foliage; the trees were tall and wellgrown. In the little bay lay a boat with unfurled sail; it was ladenwith planks and awaiting a breeze. Oyvind gazed across the water whichhad borne him away and home again. There it stretched before him, calm and smooth; some sea-birds flew over it, but made no noise, for itwas late. His father came walking up from the mill, paused on thedoor-step, took a survey of all about him, as his son had done, thenwent down to the water to take the boat in for the night. The motherappeared at the side of the house, for she had been in the kitchen. She raised her eyes toward the cliff as she crossed the farm-yard withsomething for the hens, looked up again and began to hum. Oyvind satdown to wait. The underbrush was so dense that he could not see veryfar into the forest, but he listened to the slightest sound. For along time he heard nothing but the birds that flew up and cheatedhim, --after a while a squirrel that was leaping from tree to tree. Butat length there was a rustling farther off; it ceased a moment, andthen began again. He rises, his heart throbs, the blood rushes to hishead; then something breaks through the brushes close by him; but it isa large, shaggy dog, which, on seeing him, pauses on three legs withoutstirring. It is the dog from the Upper Heidegards, and close behindhim another rustling is heard. The dog turns his head and wags histail; now Marit appears. 

A bush caught her dress; she turned to free it, and so she was standingwhen Oyvind saw her first. Her head was bare, her hair twisted up asgirls usually wear it in every-day attire; she had on a thick plaiddress without sleeves, and nothing about the neck except a turned-downlinen collar. She had just stolen away from work in the fields, andhad not ventured on any change of dress. Now she looked up askance andsmiled; her white teeth shone, her eyes sparkled beneath thehalf-closed lids. Thus she stood for a moment working with herfingers, and then she came forward, growing rosier and rosier with eachstep. He advanced to meet her, and took her hand between both of his. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, and so they stood. 

"Thank you for all your letters, " was the first thing he said; and whenshe looked up a little and laughed, he felt that she was the mostroguish troll he could meet in a wood; but he was captured, and she, too, was evidently caught. 

"How tall you have grown, " said she, meaning something quite different. 

She looked at him more and more, laughed more and more, and he laughed, too; but they said nothing. The dog had seated himself on the slope, and was surveying the gard. Thore observed the dog's head from thewater, but could not for his life understand what it could be that wasshowing itself on the cliff above. 

But the two had now let go of each other's hands and were beginning totalk a little. And when Oyvind was once under way he burst into such arapid stream of words that Marit had to laugh at him. 

"Yes, you see, this is the way it is when I am happy--truly happy, yousee; and as soon as it was settled between us two, it seemed as ifthere burst open a lock within me--wide open, you see. "

She laughed. Presently she said, --

"I know almost by heart all the letters you sent me. "

"And I yours! But you always wrote such short ones. "

"Because you always wanted them to be so long. "

"And when I desired that we should write more about something, then youchanged the subject. "

"'I show to the best advantage when you see my tail, '[1] said thehulder. "

[Footnote 1: The hulder in the Norse folk-lore appears like a beautifulwoman, and usually wears a blue petticoat and a white sword; but sheunfortunately has a long tail, like a cow's, which she anxiouslystrives to conceal when she is among people. She is fond of cattle, particularly brindled, of which she possesses a beautiful and thrivingstock. They are without horns. She was once at a merry-making, whereevery one was desirous of dancing with the handsome, strange damsel;but in the midst of the mirth a young man, who had just begun a dancewith her, happened to cast his eye on her tail. Immediately guessingwhom he had gotten for a partner, he was not a little terrified; but, collecting himself, and unwilling to betray her, he merely said to herwhen the dance was over: "Fair maid, you will lose your garter. " Sheinstantly vanished, but afterwards rewarded the silent and considerateyouth with beautiful presents and a good breed of cattle. FAYE'S_Traditions_. --NOTE BY TRANSLATOR. ]

"Ah! that is so. You have never told me how you got rid of JonHatlen. "

"I laughed. "

"How?"

"Laughed. Do not you know what it is to laugh?"

"Yes; I can laugh. "

"Let me see!"

"Whoever beard of such a thing! Surely, I must have something to laughat. "

"I do not need that when I am happy. "

"Are you happy now, Marit?"

"Pray, am I laughing now?"

"Yes; you are, indeed. "

He took both her hands in his and clapped them together over and overagain, gazing into her face. Here the dog began to growl, then hishair bristled and he fell to barking at something below, growing moreand more savage, and finally quite furious. Marit sprang back inalarm; but Oyvind went forward and looked down. It was his father thedog was barking at. He was standing at the foot of the cliff with bothhands in his pockets, gazing at the dog. 

"Are you there, you two? What mad dog is that you have up there?"

"It is the dog from the Heidegards, " answered Oyvind, somewhatembarrassed. 

"How the deuce did it get up there?"

Now the mother had put her head out of the kitchen door, for she hadheard the dreadful noise, and at once knew what it meant; and laughing, she said, --

"That dog is roaming about there every day, so there is nothingremarkable in it. "

"Well, I must say it is a fierce dog. "

"It will behave better if I stroke it, " thought Oyvind, and he did so. 

The dog stopped barking, but growled. The father walked away as thoughhe knew nothing, and the two on the cliff were saved from discovery. 

"It was all right this time, " said Marit, as they drew near to eachother again. 

"Do you expect it to be worse hereafter?"

"I know one who will keep a close watch on us--that I do. "

"Your grandfather?"

"Yes, indeed. "

"But he shall do us no harm. "

"Not the least. "

"And you promise that?"

"Yes, I promise it, Oyvind. "

"How beautiful you are, Marit!"

"So the fox said to the raven and got the cheese. "

"I mean to have the cheese, too, I can assure you. "

"You shall not have it. "

"But I will take it. "

She turned her head, but he did not take it. 

"I can tell you one thing, Oyvind, though. " She looked up sideways asshe spoke. 

"Well?"

"How homely you have grown!"

"Ah! you are going to give me the cheese, anyway; are you?"

"No, I am not, " and she turned away again. 

"Now I must go, Oyvind. "

"I will go with you. "

"But not beyond the woods; grandfather might see you. "

"No, not beyond the woods. Dear me! are you running?"

"Why, we cannot walk side by side here. "

"But this is not going together?"

"Catch me, then!"

She ran; he after her; and soon she was fast in the bushes, so that heovertook her. 

"Have I caught you forever, Merit?" His hand was on her waist. 

"I think so, " said she, and laughed; but she was both flushed andserious. 

"Well, now is the time, " thought he, and he made a movement to kissher; but she bent her head down under his arm, laughed, and ran away. She paused, though, by the last trees. 

"And when shall we meet again?" whispered she. 

"To-morrow, to-morrow!" he whispered in return. 

"Yes; to-morrow. "

"Good-by, " and she ran on. 

"Marit!" She stopped. "Say, was it not strange that we met first onthe cliff?"

"Yes, it was. " She ran on again. 

Oyvind gazed long after her. The dog ran on before her, barking; Maritfollowed, quieting him. Oyvind turned, took off his cap and tossed itinto the air, caught it, and threw it up again. 

"Now I really think I am beginning to be happy, " said the boy, and wentsinging homeward. 

CHAPTER X. 

One afternoon later in the summer, as his mother and a girl were rakinghay, while Oyvind and his father were carrying it in, there came alittle barefooted and bareheaded boy, skipping down the hill-side andacross the meadows to Oyvind, and gave him a note. 

"You run well, my boy, " said Oyvind. 

"I am paid for it, " answered the boy. 

On being asked if he was to have an answer, the reply was No; and theboy took his way home over the cliff, for some one was coming after himup on the road, he said. Oyvind opened the note with some difficulty, for it was folded in a strip, then tied in a knot, then sealed andstamped; and the note ran thus:--

 "He is now on the march; but he moves slowly. Run into the woodsand hide yourself! THE ONE YOU KNOW. "

"I will do no such thing, " thought Oyvind; and gazed defiantly up thehills. Nor did he wait long before an old man appeared on thehill-top, paused to rest, walked on a little, rested again. Both Thoreand his wife stopped to look. Thore soon smiled, however; his wife, onthe other hand, changed color. 

"Do you know him?"

"Yes, it is not very easy to make a mistake here. "

Father and son again began to carry hay; but the latter took care thatthey were always together. The old man on the hill slowly drew near, like a heavy western storm. He was very tall and rather corpulent; hewas lame and walked with a labored gait, leaning on a staff. Soon hecame so near that they could see him distinctly; he paused, removed hiscap and wiped away the perspiration with a handkerchief. He was quitebald far back on the head; he had a round, wrinkled face, small, glittering, blinking eyes, bushy eyebrows, and had lost none of histeeth. When he spoke it was in a sharp, shrill voice, that seemed tobe hopping over gravel and stones; but it lingered on an "r" here andthere with great satisfaction, rolling it over for several yards, andat the same time making a tremendous leap in pitch. He had been knownin his younger days as a lively but quick-tempered man; in his old age, through much adversity, he had become irritable and suspicious. 

Thore and his son came and went many times before Ole could make hisway to them; they both knew that he did not come for any good purpose, therefore it was all the more comical that he never got there. Bothhad to walk very serious, and talk in a whisper; but as this did notcome to an end it became ludicrous. Only half a word that is to thepoint can kindle laughter under such circumstances, and especially whenit is dangerous to laugh. When at last Ole was only a few rodsdistant, but which seemed never to grow less, Oyvind said, dryly, in alow tone, --

"He must carry a heavy load, that man, "--and more was not required. 

"I think you are not very wise, " whispered the father, although he waslaughing himself. 

"Hem, hem!" said Ole, coughing on the hill. 

"He is getting his throat ready, " whispered Thore. 

Oyvind fell on his knees in front of the haycock, buried his head inthe hay, and laughed. His father also bowed down. 

"Suppose we go into the barn, " whispered he, and taking an armful ofhay he trotted off. Oyvind picked up a little tuft, rushed after him, bent crooked with laughter, and dropped down as soon as he was insidethe barn. His father was a grave man, but if he once got to laughing, there first began within him a low chuckling, with an occasionalha-ha-ha, gradually growing longer and longer, until all blended in asingle loud peal, after which came wave after wave with a longer gaspbetween each. Now he was under way. The son lay on the floor, thefather stood beside him, both laughing with all their might. Occasionally they had such fits of laughter. 

"But this is inconvenient, " said the father. 

Finally they were at a loss to know how this would end, for the old manmust surely have reached the gard. 

"I will not go out, " said the father; "I have no business with him. "

"Well, then, I will not go out either, " replied Oyvind. 

"Hem, hem!" was heard just outside of the barn wall. 

The father held up a threatening finger to his boy. 

"Come, out with you!"

"Yes; you go first!"

"No, you be off at once. "

"Well, go you first. "

And they brushed the dust off each other, and advanced very seriously. When they came below the barn-bridge they saw Ole standing with hisface towards the kitchen door, as if he were reflecting. He held hiscap in the same hand as his staff, and with his handkerchief was wipingthe sweat from his bald head, at the same time pulling at the bushytufts behind his ears and about his neck until they stuck out likespikes. Oyvind hung behind his father, so the latter was obliged tostand still, and in order to put an end to this he said with excessivegravity, --

"Is the old gentleman out for a walk?"

Ole turned, looked sharply at him, and put on his cap before hereplied, --

"Yes, so it seems. "

"Perhaps you are tired; will you not walk in?"

"Oh! I can rest very well here; my errand will not take long. "

Some one set the kitchen door ajar and looked out; between it and Thorestood old Ole, with his cap-visor down over his eyes, for the cap wastoo large now that he had lost his hair. In order to be able to see hethrew his head pretty far back; he held his staff in his right hand, while the left was firmly pressed against his side when he was notgesticulating; and this he never did more vigorously than by stretchingthe hand half way out and holding it passive a moment, as a guard forhis dignity. 

"Is that your son who is standing behind you?" he began, abruptly. 

"So they say. "

"Oyvind is his name, is it not?"

"Yes; they call him Oyvind. "

"He has been at one of those agricultural schools down south, Ibelieve?"

"There was something of the kind; yes. "

"Well, my girl--she--my granddaughter--Marit, you know--she has gonemad of late. "

"That is too bad. "

"She refuses to marry. "

"Well, really?"

"She will not have any of the gard boys who offer themselves. "

"Ah, indeed. "

"But people say he is to blame; he who is standing there. "

"Is that so?"

"He is said to have turned her head--yes; he there, your son Oyvind. "

"The deuce he has!"

"See you, I do not like to have any one take my horses when I let themloose on the mountains, neither do I choose to have any one take mydaughters when I allow them to go to a dance. I will not have it. "

"No, of course not. "

"I cannot go with them; I am old, I cannot be forever on the lookout. "

"No, no! no, no!"

"Yes, you see, I will have order and propriety; there the block muststand, and there the axe must lie, and there the knife, and there theymust sweep, and there throw rubbish out, --not outside the door, butyonder in the corner, just there--yes; and nowhere else. So, when Isay to her: 'not this one but that one!' I expect it to be that one, and not this one!"

"Certainly. "

"But it is not so. For three years she has persisted in thwarting me, and for three years we have not been happy together. This is bad; andif he is at the bottom of it, I will tell him so that you may hear it, you, his father, that it will not do him any good. He may as well giveit up. "

"Yes, yes. "

Ole looked a moment at Thore, then he said, --

"Your answers are short. "

"A sausage is no longer. "

Here Oyvind had to laugh, although he was in no mood to do so. Butwith daring persons fear always borders on laughter, and now itinclined to the latter. 

"What are you laughing at?" asked Ole, shortly and sharply. 

"I?"

"Are you laughing at me?"

"The Lord forbid!" but his own answer increased his desire to laugh. 

Ole saw this, and grew absolutely furious. Both Thore and Oyvind triedto make amends with serious faces and entreaties to walk in; but it wasthe pent-up wrath of three years that was now seeking vent, and therewas no checking it. 

"You need not think you can make a fool of me, " he began; "I am on alawful errand: I am protecting my grandchild's happiness, as Iunderstand it, and puppy laughter shall not hinder me. One does notbring up girls to toss them down into the first houseman's place thatopens its doors, and one does not manage an estate for forty years onlyto hand the whole over to the first one who makes a fool of the girl. My daughter made herself ridiculous until she was allowed to marry avagabond. He drank them both into the grave, and I had to take thechild and pay for the fun; but, by my troth! it shall not be the samewith my granddaughter, and now you know _that_! I tell you, as sure asmy name is Ole Nordistuen of the Heidegards, the priest shall soonerpublish the bans of the hulder-folks up in the Nordal forest than giveout such names from the pulpit as Marit's and yours, you Christmasclown! Do you think you are going to drive respectable suitors awayfrom the gard, forsooth? Well; you just try to come there, and youshall have such a journey down the hills that your shoes will comeafter you like smoke. You snickering fox! I suppose you have a notionthat I do not know what you are thinking of, both you and she. Yes, you think that old Ole Nordistuen will turn his nose to the skiesyonder, in the churchyard, and then you will trip forward to the altar. No; I have lived now sixty-six years, and I will prove to you, boy, that I shall live until you waste away over it, both of you! I cantell you this, too, that you may cling to the house like new-fallensnow, yet not so much as see the soles of her feet; for I mean to sendher from the parish. I am going to send her where she will be safe; soyou may flutter about here like a chattering jay all you please, andmarry the rain and the north wind. This is all I have to say to you;but now you, who are his father, know my sentiments, and if you desirethe welfare of him whom this concerns, you had better advise him tolead the stream where it can find its course; across my possessions itis forbidden. "

He turned away with short, hasty steps, lifting his right foot ratherhigher than the left, and grumbling to himself. 

Those left behind were completely sobered; a foreboding of evil hadbecome blended with their jesting and laughter, and the house seemed, for a while, as empty as after a great fright. The mother who, fromthe kitchen door had heard everything, anxiously sought Oyvind's eyes, scarcely able to keep back her tears, but she would not make it harderfor him by saying a single word. After they had all silently enteredthe house, the father sat down by the window, and gazed out after Ole, with much earnestness in his face; Oyvind's eyes hung on the slightestchange of countenance; for on his father's first words almost dependedthe future of the two young people. If Thore united his refusal withOle's, it could scarcely be overcome. Oyvind's thoughts flew, terrified, from obstacle to obstacle; for a time he saw only poverty, opposition, misunderstanding, and a sense of wounded honor, and everyprop he tried to grasp seemed to glide away from him. It increased hisuneasiness that his mother was standing with her hand on the latch ofthe kitchen-door, uncertain whether she had the courage to remaininside and await the issue, and that she at last lost heart entirelyand stole out. Oyvind gazed fixedly at his father, who never took hiseyes from the window; the son did not dare speak, for the other musthave time to think the matter over fully. But at the same moment hissoul had fully run its course of anxiety, and regained its poise oncemore. "No one but God can part us in the end, " he thought to himself, as he looked at his father's wrinkled brow. Soon after this somethingoccurred. Thore drew a long sigh, rose, glanced round the room, andmet his son's gaze. He paused, and looked long at him. 

"It was my will that you should give her up, for one should hesitateabout succeeding through entreaties or threats. But if you aredetermined not to give her up, you may let me know when the opportunitycomes, and perhaps I can help you. "

He started off to his work, and the son followed. 

But that evening Oyvind had his plan formed: he would endeavor tobecome agriculturist for the district, and ask the inspector and theschool-master to aid him. "If she only remains firm, with God's help, I shall win her through my work. "

He waited in vain for Marit that evening, but as he walked about hesang his favorite song:--

 "Hold thy head up, thou eager boy! Time a hope or two may destroy, Soon in thy eye though is beaming, Light that above thee is beaming!

 "Hold thy head up, and gaze about! Something thou'lt find that "Come!" does shout; Thousands of tongues it has bringing Tidings of peace with their singing. 

 "Hold thy head up; within thee, too, Rises a mighty vault of blue, Wherein are harp tones sounding, Swinging, exulting, rebounding. 

 "Hold thy head up, and loudly sing! Keep not back what would sprout in spring; Powers fermenting, glowing, Must find a time for growing. 

 "Hold thy head up; baptism take, From the hope that on high does break, Arches of light o'er us throwing, And in each life-spark glowing. "[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

CHAPTER XI. 

It was during the noonday rest; the people at the great Heidegards weresleeping, the hay was scattered over the meadows, the rakes were stakedin the ground. Below the barn-bridge stood the hay sleds, the harnesslay, taken off, beside them, and the horses were tethered at a littledistance. With the exception of the latter and some hens that hadstrayed across the fields, not a living creature was visible on thewhole plain. 

There was a notch in the mountains above the gards, and through it theroad led to the Heidegard saeters, --large, fertile mountain plains. Aman was standing in this notch, taking a survey of the plain below, just as if he were watching for some one. Behind him lay a littlemountain lake, from which flowed the brook which made this mountainpass; on either side of this lake ran cattle-paths, leading to thesaeters, which could be seen in the distance. There floated toward hima shouting and a barking, cattle-bells tinkled among the mountainridges; for the cows had straggled apart in search of water, and thedogs and herd-boys were vainly striving to drive them together. Thecows came galloping along with the most absurd antics and involuntaryplunges, and with short, mad bellowing, their tails held aloft, theyrushed down into the water, where they came to a stand; every time theymoved their heads the tinkling of their bells was heard across thelake. The dogs drank a little, but stayed behind on firm land; theherd-boys followed, and seated themselves on the warm, smoothhill-side. Here they drew forth their lunch boxes, exchanged with oneanother, bragged about their dogs, oxen, and the family they livedwith, then undressed, and sprang into the water with the cows. Thedogs persisted in not going in; but loitered lazily around, their headshanging, with hot eyes and lolling tongues. Round about on the slopesnot a bird was to be seen, not a sound was heard, save the prattling ofchildren and the tinkling of bells; the heather was parched and dry, the sun blazed on the hill-sides, so that everything was scorched byits heat. 

It was Oyvind who was sitting up there in the mid-day sun, waiting. Hesat in his shirt-sleeves, close by the brook which flowed from thelake. No one yet appeared on the Heidegard plain, and he was graduallybeginning to grow anxious when suddenly a large dog came walking withheavy steps out of a door in Nordistuen, followed by a girl in whitesleeves. She tripped across the meadow toward the cliff; he felt astrong desire to shout down to her, but dared not. He took a carefulsurvey of the gard to see if any one might come out and notice her, butthere seemed to be no danger of detection, and several times he rosefrom impatience. 

She arrived at last, following a path by the side of the brook, the doga little in advance of her, snuffing the air, she catching hold of thelow shrubs, and walking with more and more weary gait. Oyvind sprangdownward; the dog growled and was hushed; but as soon as Marit sawOyvind coming she sat down on a large stone, as red as blood, tired andovercome by the heat. He flung himself down on the stone by her side. 

"Thank you for coming. "

"What heat and what a distance! Have you been here long?"

"No. Since we are watched in the evening, we must make use of thenoon. But after this I think we will not act so secretly, nor take somuch trouble; it was just about this I wanted to speak to you. "

"Not so secretly?"

"I know very well that all that is done secretly pleases you best; butto show courage pleases you also. To-day I have come to have a longtalk with you, and now you must listen. "

"Is it true that you are trying to be agriculturist for the district?"

"Yes, and I expect to succeed. In this I have a double purpose: first, to win a position for myself; but secondly, and chiefly, to accomplishsomething which your grandfather can see and understand. Luckily itchances that most of the Heidegard freeholders are young people whowish for improvements and desire help; they have money, too. So Ishall begin among them. I shall regulate everything from their stablesto their water-pipes; I shall give lectures and work; I shall fairlybesiege the old man with good deeds. "

"Those are brave words. What more, Oyvind?"

"Why, the rest simply concerns us two. You must not go away. "

"Not if he orders it?"

"And keep nothing secret that concerns us two. "

"Even if he torments me?"

"We gain more and defend ourselves better by allowing everything to beopen. We must manage to be so constantly before the eyes of people, that they are constantly forced to talk about how fond we are of eachother; so much the sooner will they wish that all may go well with us. You must not leave home. There is danger of gossip forcing its waybetween those who are parted. We pay no heed to any idle talk thefirst year, but we begin by degrees to believe in it the second. Wetwo will meet once a week and laugh away the mischief people would liketo make between us; we shall be able to meet occasionally at a dance, and keep step together until everything sings about us, while those whobackbite us are sitting around. We shall meet at church and greet eachother so that it may attract the attention of all those who wish us ahundred miles apart. If any one makes a song about us we will sit downtogether and try to get up one in answer to it; we must succeed if weassist each other. No one can harm us if we keep together, and thus_show_ people that we keep together. All unhappy love belongs eitherto timid people, or weak people, or sick people, or calculating people, who keep waiting for some special opportunity, or cunning people, who, in the end, smart for their own cunning; or to sensuous people that donot care enough for each other to forget rank and distinction; they goand hide from sight, they send letters, they tremble at a word, andfinally they mistake fear, that constant uneasiness and irritation inthe blood, for love, become wretched and dissolve like sugar. Ohpshaw! if they truly loved each other they would have no fear; theywould laugh, and would openly march to the church door, in the face ofevery smile and every word. I have read about it in books, and I haveseen it for myself. That is a pitiful love which chooses a secretcourse. Love naturally begins in secresy because it begins in shyness;but it must live openly because it lives in joy. It is as when theleaves are changing; that which is to grow cannot conceal itself, andin every instance you see that all which is dry falls from the tree themoment the new leaves begin to sprout. He who gains love casts off allthe old, dead rubbish he formerly clung to, the sap wells up and rushesonward; and should no one notice it then? Hey, my girl! they shallbecome happy at seeing us happy; two who are betrothed and remain trueto each other confer a benefit on people, for they give them a poemwhich their children learn by heart to the shame of their unbelievingparents. I have read of many such cases; and some still live in thememory of the people of this parish, and those who relate thesestories, and are moved by them, are the children of the very personswho once caused all the mischief. Yes, Marit, now we two will joinhands, so; yes, and we will promise each other to cling together, so;yes, and now it will all come right. Hurrah!"

He was about to take hold of her head, but she turned it away andglided down off the stone. 

He kept his seat; she came back, and leaning her arms on his knee, stood talking with him, looking up into his face. 

"Listen, Oyvind; what if he is determined I shall leave home, howthen?"

"Then you must say No, right out. "

"Oh, dear! how would that be possible?"

"He cannot carry you out to the carriage. "

"If he does not quite do that, he can force me in many other ways. "

"That I do not believe; you owe obedience, to be sure, as long as it isnot a sin; but it is also your duty to let him fully understand howhard it is for you to be obedient this time. I am sure he will changehis mind when he sees this; now he thinks, like most people, that it isonly childish nonsense. Prove to him that it is something more. "

"He is not to be trifled with, I can assure you. He watches me like atethered goat. "

"But you tug at the tether several times a day. "

"That is not true. "

"Yes, you do; every time you think of me in secret you tug at it. "

"Yes, in that way. But are you so very sure that I think often ofyou?"

"You would not be sitting here if you did not. "

"Why, dear me! did you not send word for me to come?"

"But you came because your thoughts drove you here. "

"Rather because the weather was so fine. "

"You said a while ago that it was too warm. "

"To go _up_ hill, yes; but _down_ again?"

"Why did you come up, then?"

"That I might run down again. "

"Why did you not run down before this?"

"Because I had to rest. "

"And talk with me about love?"

"It was an easy matter to give you the pleasure of listening. "

"While the birds sang. "

"And the others were sleeping. "

"And the bells rang. "

"In the shady grove. "

Here they both saw Marit's grandfather come sauntering out into theyard, and go to the bell-rope to ring the farm people up. The peoplecame slowly forth from the barns, sheds, and houses, moved sleepilytoward their horses and rakes, scattered themselves over the meadow, and presently all was life and work again. Only the grandfather wentin and out of the houses, and finally up on the highest barn-bridge andlooked out. There came running up to him a little boy, whom he musthave called. The boy, sure enough, started off in the direction ofPladsen. The grandfather, meanwhile, moved about the gard, oftenlooking upward and having a suspicion, at least, that the black spot onthe "giant rock" was Marit and Oyvind. Now for the second time Marit'sgreat dog was the cause of trouble. He saw a strange horse drive in tothe Heidegards, and believing himself to be only doing his duty, beganto bark with all his might. They hushed the dog, but he had grownangry and would not be quiet; the grandfather stood below staring up. But matters grew still worse, for all the herd-boys' dogs heard withsurprise the strange voice and came running up. When they saw that itwas a large, wolf-like giant, all the stiff-haired Lapp-dogs gatheredabout him. Marit became so terrified that she ran away without sayingfarewell. Oyvind rushed into the midst of the fray, kicked and fought;but the dogs merely changed the field of battle, and then flew at oneanother again, with hideous howls and kicks; Oyvind after them again, and so it kept on until they had rolled over to the edge of the brook, when he once more came running up. The result of this was that theyall tumbled together into the water, just at a place where it was quitedeep, and there they parted, shame-faced. Thus ended this forestbattle. Oyvind walked through the forest until he reached the parishroad; but Marit met her grandfather up by the fence. This was thedog's fault. 

"Where do you come from?"

"From the wood. "

"What were you doing there?"

"Plucking berries. "

"That is not true. "

"No; neither is it. "

"What were you doing, then?"

"I was talking with some one. "

"Was it with the Pladsen boy?"

"Yes. "

"Hear me now, Marit; to-morrow you leave home. "

"No. "

"Listen to me, Marit; I have but one single thing to say, only one: you_shall_ go. "

"You cannot lift me into the carriage. "

"Indeed? Can I not?"

"No; because you will not. "

"Will I not? Listen now, Marit, just for sport, you see, just forsport. I am going to tell you that I will crush the backbone of thatworthless fellow of yours. "

"No; you would not dare do so. "

"I would not dare? Do you say I would not dare? Who should interfere?Who?"

"The school-master. "

"School--school--school-master. Does he trouble his head about thatfellow, do you think?"

"Yes; it is he who has kept him at the agricultural school. "

"The school-master?"

"The school-master. "

"Hearken now, Marit; I will have no more of this nonsense; you shallleave the parish. You only cause me sorrow and trouble; that was theway with your mother, too, only sorrow and trouble. I am an old man. I want to see you well provided for. I will not live in people's talkas a fool just for this matter. I only wish your own good; you shouldunderstand this, Marit. Soon I will be gone, and then you will be leftalone. What would have become of your mother if it had not been forme? Listen, Marit; be sensible, pay heed to what I have to say. Ionly desire your own good. "

"No, you do not. "

"Indeed? What do I want, then?"

"To carry out your own will, that is what you want; but you do not askabout mine. "

"And have you a will, you young sea-gull, you? Do you suppose you knowwhat is for your good, you fool? I will give you a taste of the rod, Iwill, for all you are so big and tall. Listen now, Marit; let me talkkindly with you. You are not so bad at heart, but you have lost yoursenses. You must listen to me. I am an old and sensible man. We willtalk kindly together a little; I have not done so remarkably well inthe world as folks think; a poor bird on the wing could easily fly awaywith the little I have; your father handled it roughly, indeed he did. Let us care for ourselves in this world, it is the best thing we cando. It is all very well for the school-master to talk, for he hasmoney himself; so has the priest;--let them preach. But with us whomust slave for our daily bread, it is quite different. I am old. Iknow much. I have seen many things; love, you see, may do very well totalk about; yes, but it is not worth much. It may answer for priestsand such folks, peasants must look at it in a different light. Firstfood, you see, then God's Word, and then a little writing andarithmetic, and then a little love, if it happens to come in the way;but, by the Eternals! there is no use in beginning with love and endingwith food. What can you say, now, Marit?"

"I do not know. "

"You do not know what you ought to answer?"

"Yes, indeed, I know that. "

"Well, then?"

"May I say it?"

"Yes; of course you may say it. "

"I care a great deal for that love of mine. "

He stood aghast for a moment, recalling a hundred similar conversationswith similar results, then he shook his head, turned his back, andwalked away. 

He picked a quarrel with the housemen, abused the girls, beat the largedog, and almost frightened the life out of a little hen that hadstrayed into the field; but to Marit he said nothing. 

That evening Marit was so happy when she went up-stairs to bed, thatshe opened the window, lay in the window-frame, looked out and sang. She had found a pretty little love-song, and it was that she sang. 

 "Lovest thou but me, I will e'er love thee, All my days on earth, so fondly; Short were summer's days, Now the flower decays, -- Comes again with spring, so kindly. 

 "What you said last year Still rings in my ear, As I all alone am sitting, And your thoughts do try In my heart to fly, -- Picture life in sunshine flitting. 

 "Litli--litli--loy, Well I hear the boy, Sighs behind the birches heaving. I am in dismay, Thou must show the way, For the night her shroud is weaving. 

 "Flomma, lomma, hys, Sang I of a kiss, No, thou surely art mistaken. Didst thou hear it, say? Cast the thought away; Look on me as one forsaken. 

 "Oh, good-night! good-night! Dreams of eyes so bright, Hold me now in soft embraces, But that wily word, Which thou thought'st unheard, Leaves in me of love no traces. 

 "I my window close, But in sweet repose Songs from thee I hear returning; Calling me they smile, And my thoughts beguile, -- Must I e'er for thee be yearning?"

CHAPTER XII. 

Several years have passed since the last scene. 

It is well on in the autumn. The school-master comes walking up toNordistuen, opens the outer door, finds no one at home, opens another, finds no one at home; and thus he keeps on until he reaches theinnermost room in the long building. There Ole Nordistuen is sittingalone, by the side of his bed, his eyes fixed on his hands. 

The school-master salutes him, and receives a greeting in return; hefinds a stool, and seats himself in front of Ole. 

"You have sent for me, " he says. 

"I have. "

The school-master takes a fresh quid of tobacco, glances around theroom, picks up a book that is lying on the bench, and turns over theleaves. 

"What did you want of me?"

"I was just sitting here thinking it over. "

The school-master gives himself plenty of time, searches for hisspectacles in order to read the title of the book, wipes them and putsthem on. 

"You are growing old, now, Ole. "

"Yes, it was about that I wanted to talk with you. I am totteringdownward; I will soon rest in the grave. "

"You must see to it that you rest well there, Ole. "

He closes the book and sits looking at the binding. 

"That is a good book you are holding in your hands. "

"It is not bad. How often have you gone beyond the cover, Ole?"

"Why, of late, I"--

The school-master lays aside the book and puts away his spectacles. 

"Things are not going as you wish to have them, Ole?"

"They have not done so as far back as I can remember. "

"Ah, so it was with me for a long time. I lived at variance with agood friend, and wanted _him_ to come to _me_, and all the while I wasunhappy. At last I took it into my head to go to _him_, and since thenall has been well with me. "

Ole looks up and says nothing. 

The school-master: "How do you think the gard is doing, Ole?"

"Failing, like myself. "

"Who shall have it when you are gone?"

"That is what I do not know, and it is that, too, which troubles me. "

"Your neighbors are doing well now, Ole. "

"Yes, they have that agriculturist to help them. "

The school-master turned unconcernedly toward the window: "You shouldhave help, --you, too, Ole. You cannot walk much, and you know verylittle of the new ways of management. "

Ole: "I do not suppose there is any one who would help me. "

"Have you asked for it?"

Ole is silent. 

The school-master: "I myself dealt just so with the Lord for a longtime. 'You are not kind to me, ' I said to Him. 'Have you prayed me tobe so?' asked He. No; I had not done so. Then I prayed, and sincethen all has been truly well with me. "

Ole is silent; but now the school-master, too, is silent. 

Finally Ole says:--

"I have a grandchild; she knows what would please me before I am takenaway, but she does not do it. "

The school-master smiles. 

"Possibly it would not please her?"

Ole makes no reply. 

The school-master: "There are many things which trouble you; but as faras I can understand they all concern the gard. "

Ole says, quietly, --

"It has been handed down for many generations, and the soil is good. All that father after father has toiled for lies in it; but now it doesnot thrive. Nor do I know who shall drive in when I am driven out. Itwill not be one of the family. "

"Your granddaughter will preserve the family. "

"But how can he who takes her take the gard? That is what I want toknow before I die. You have no time to lose, Baard, either for me orfor the gard. "

They were both silent; at last the school-master says, --

"Shall we walk out and take a look at the gard in this fine weather?"

"Yes; let us do so. I have work-people on the slope; they aregathering leaves, but they do not work except when I am watching them. "

He totters off after his large cap and staff, and says, meanwhile, --

"They do not seem to like to work for me; I cannot understand it. "

When they were once out and turning the corner of the house, he paused. 

"Just look here. No order: the wood flung about, the axe not evenstuck in the block. "

He stooped with difficulty, picked up the axe, and drove it in fast. 

"Here you see a skin that has fallen down; but has any one hung it upagain?"

He did it himself. 

"And the store-house; do you think the ladder is carried away?"

He set it aside. He paused, and looking at the school-master, said, --

"This is the way it is every single day. "

As they proceeded upward they heard a merry song from the slopes. 

"Why, they are singing over their work, " said the school-master. 

"That is little Knut Ostistuen who is singing; he is helping his fathergather leaves. Over yonder _my_ people are working; you will not findthem singing. "

"That is not one of the parish songs, is it?"

"No, it is not. "

"Oyvind Pladsen has been much in Ostistuen; perhaps that is one of thesongs he has introduced into the parish, for there is always singingwhere he is. "

There was no reply to this. 

The field they were crossing was not in good condition; it requiredattention. The school-master commented on this, and then Ole stopped. 

"It is not in my power to do more, " said he, quite pathetically. "Hired work-people without attention cost too much. But it is hard towalk over such a field, I can assure you. "

As their conversation now turned on the size of the gard, and whatportion of it most needed cultivation, they decided to go up the slopethat they might have a view of the whole. When they at length hadreached a high elevation, and could take it all in, the old man becamemoved. 

"Indeed, I should not like to leave it so. We have labored hard downthere, both I and those who went before me, but there is nothing toshow for it. "

A song rang out directly over their heads, but with the peculiarshrilling of a boy's voice when it is poured out with all its might. They were not far from the tree in whose top was perched little KnutOstistuen, gathering leaves for his father, and they were compelled tolisten to the boy:--

 "When on mountain peaks you hie, 'Mid green slopes to tarry, In your scrip pray no more tie, Than you well can carry. Take no hindrances along To the crystal fountains; Drown them in a cheerful song, Send them down the mountains. 

 "Birds there greet you from the trees, Gossip seeks the valley; Purer, sweeter grows the breeze, As you upward sally. Fill your lungs, and onward rove, Ever gayly singing, Childhood's memories, heath and grove, Rosy-hued, are bringing. 

 "Pause the shady groves among, Hear yon mighty roaring, Solitude's majestic song Upward far is soaring. All the world's distraction comes When there rolls a pebble; Each forgotten duty hums In the brooklet's treble. 

 "Pray, while overhead, dear heart, Anxious mem'ries hover; Then go on: the better part You'll above discover. Who hath chosen Christ as guide, Daniel and Moses, Finds contentment far and wide, And in peace reposes. "[1]

[Footnote 1: Auber Forestier's translation. ]

Ole had sat down and covered his face with his hands. 

"Here I will talk with you, " said the school-master, and seated himselfby his side. 

Down at Pladsen, Oyvind had just returned home from a somewhat longjourney, the post-boy was still at the door, as the horse was resting. Although Oyvind now had a good income as agriculturist of the district, he still lived in his little room down at Pladsen, and helped hisparents every spare moment. Pladsen was cultivated from one end to theother, but it was so small that Oyvind called it "mother's toy-farm, "for it was she, in particular, who saw to the farming. 

He had changed his clothes, his father had come in from the mill, whitewith meal, and had also dressed. They just stood talking about takinga short walk before supper, when the mother came in quite pale. 

"Here are singular strangers coming up to the house; oh dear! lookout!"

Both men turned to the window, and Oyvind was the first to exclaim:--

"It is the school-master, and--yes, I almost believe--why, certainly itis he!"

"Yes, it is old Ole Nordistuen, " said Thore, moving away from thewindow that he might not be seen; for the two were already near thedoor. 

Just as Oyvind was leaving the window he caught the school-master'seye, Baard smiled, and cast a glance back at old Ole, who was laboringalong with his staff in small, short steps, one foot being constantlyraised higher than the other. Outside the school-master was heard tosay, "He has recently returned home, I suppose, " and Ole to exclaimtwice over, "Well, well!"

They remained a long time quiet in the passage. The mother had creptup to the corner where the milk-shelf was; Oyvind had assumed hisfavorite position, that is, he leaned with his back against the largetable, with his face toward the door; his father was sitting near him. At length there came a knock at the door, and in stepped theschool-master, who drew off his hat, afterward Ole, who pulled off hiscap, and then turned to shut the door. It took him a long time to doso; he was evidently embarrassed. Thore rising, asked them to beseated; they sat down, side by side, on the bench in front of thewindow. Thore took his seat again. 

And the wooing proceeded as shall now be told. 

The school-master: "We are having fine weather this autumn, after all. "

Thore: "It has been mending of late. "

"It is likely to remain pleasant, now that the wind is over in thatquarter. "

"Are you through with your harvesting up yonder?"

"Not yet; Ole Nordistuen here, whom, perhaps, you know, would like verymuch to have help from you, Oyvind, if there is nothing else in theway. "

Oyvind: "If help is desired, I shall do what I can. "

"Well, there is no great hurry. The gard is not doing well, he thinks, and he believes what is wanting is the right kind of tillage andsuperintendence. "

Oyvind: "I am so little at home. "

The school-master looks at Ole. The latter feels that he must now rushinto the fire; he clears his throat a couple of times, and beginshastily and shortly, --

"It was--it is--yes. What I meant was that you should be in a certainway established--that you should--yes--be the same as at home up yonderwith us, --be there, when you were not away. "

"Many thanks for the offer, but I should rather remain where I nowlive. "

Ole looks at the school-master, who says, --

"Ole's brain seems to be in a whirl to-day. The fact is he has beenhere once before, and the recollection of that makes his words get allconfused. "

Ole, quickly: "That is it, yes; I ran a madman's race. I stroveagainst the girl until the tree split. But let by-gones be by-gones;the wind, not the snow, beats down the grain; the rain-brook does nottear up large stones; snow does not lie long on the ground in May; itis not the thunder that kills people. "

They all four laugh; the school-master says:

"Ole means that he does not want you to remember that time any longer;nor you, either, Thore. "

Ole looks at them, uncertain whether he dare begin again. 

Then Thore says, --

"The briar takes hold with many teeth, but causes no wound. In methere are certainly no thorns left. "

Ole: "I did not know the boy then. Now I see that what he sowsthrives; the harvest answers to the promise of the spring; there ismoney in his finger-tips, and I should like to get hold of him. "

Oyvind looks at the father, he at the mother, she from them to theschool-master, and then all three at the latter. 

"Ole thinks that he has a large gard"--

Ole breaks in: "A large gard, but badly managed. I can do no more. Iam old, and my legs refuse to run the errands of my head. But it willpay to take hold up yonder. "

"The largest gard in the parish, and that by a great deal, " interruptsthe school-master. 

"The largest gard in the parish; that is just the misfortune; shoesthat are too large fall off; it is a fine thing to have a good gun, butone should be able to lift it. " Then turning quickly towards Oyvind, "Would you be willing to lend a hand to it?"

"Do you mean for me to be gard overseer?"

"Precisely--yes; you should have the gard. "

"I should _have_ the gard?"

"Just so--yes: then you could manage it. "

"But"--

"You will not?"

"Why, of course, I will. "

"Yes, yes, yes, yes; then it is decided, as the hen said when she flewinto the water. "

"But"--

Ole looks puzzled at the school-master. 

"Oyvind is asking, I suppose, whether he shall have Marit, to. "

Ole, abruptly: "Marit in the bargain; Marit in the bargain!"

Then Oyvind burst out laughing, and jumped right up; all three laughedwith him. Oyvind rubbed his hands, paced the floor, and kept repeatingagain and again: "Marit in the bargain! Marit in the bargain!" Thoregave a deep chuckle, the mother in the corner kept her eyes fastened onher son until they filled with tears. 

Ole, in great excitement: "What do you think of the gard?"

"Magnificent land!"

"Magnificent land; is it not?"

"No pasture equal to it!"

"No pasture equal to it! Something can be done with it?"

"It will become the best gard in the district!"

"It will become the best gard in the district! Do you think so? Doyou mean that?"

"As surely as I am standing here!"

"There, is not that just what I have said?"

They both talked equally fast, and fitted together like the cogs of twowheels. 

"But money, you see, money? I have no money. "

"We will get on slowly without money; but get on we shall!"

"We shall get on! Of course we will! But if we _had_ money, it wouldgo faster you say?"

"Many times faster. "

"Many times? We ought to have money! Yes, yes; a man can chew who hasnot all his teeth; he who drives with oxen will get on, too. "

The mother stood blinking at Thore, who gave her many quick sideglances as he sat swaying his body to and fro, and stroking his kneeswith his hands. The school-master also winked at him. Thore's lipsparted, he coughed a little, and made an effort to speak; but Ole andOyvind both kept on talking in an uninterrupted stream, laughed andkept up such a clatter that no one else could be heard. 

"You must be quiet for a little while, Thore has something he wants tosay, " puts in the school-master. 

They pause and look at Thore, who finally begins, in a low tone:--

"It has so happened that we have had a mill on our place. Of late ithas turned out that we have had two. These mills have always broughtin a few shillings during the year; but neither my father nor I haveused any of these shillings except while Oyvind was away. Theschool-master has managed them, and he says they have prospered wellwhere they are; but now it is best that Oyvind should take them forNordistuen. "

The mother stood in a corner, shrinking away into almost nothing, asshe gazed with sparkling eyes at Thore, who looked very grave, and hadan almost stupid expression on his face. Ole Nordistuen sat nearlyopposite him, with wide-gaping mouth. Oyvind was the first to rousefrom his astonishment, and burst out, --

"Does it not seem as if good luck went with me!"

With this he crossed the floor to his father, and gave him a slap onthe shoulder that rang through the room. "You, father!" cried he, andrubbing his hands together he continued his walk. 

"How much money might it be?" finally asked Ole, in a low tone, of theschool-master. 

"It is not so little. "

"Some hundreds?"

"Rather more. "

"Rather more? Oyvind, rather more! Lord help us, what a gard it willbe!"

He got up, laughing aloud. 

"I must go with you up to Marit, " says Oyvind. "We can use theconveyance that is standing outside, then it will not take long. "

"Yes, at once! at once! Do you, too, want everything done with haste?"

"Yes, with haste and wrong. "

"With haste and wrong! Just the way it was with me when I was young, precisely. "

"Here is your cap and staff; now I am going to drive you away. "

"You are going to drive me away, ha--ha--ha! But you are coming withme; are you not? You are coming with me? All the rest of you comealong, too; we must sit together this evening as long as the coals arealive. Come along!"

They promised that they would come. Oyvind helped Ole into theconveyance, and they drove off to Nordistuen. The large dog was notthe only one up there who was surprised when Ole Nordistuen camedriving into the gard with Oyvind Pladsen. While Oyvind was helpingOle out of the conveyance, and servants and laborers were gaping atthem, Marit came out in the passage to see what the dog kept barkingat; but paused, as if suddenly bewitched, turned fiery red, and ran in. Old Ole, meanwhile, shouted so tremendously for her when he got intothe house that she had to come forward again. 

"Go and make yourself trim, girl; here is the one who is to have thegard!"

"Is that true?" she cries, involuntarily, and so loud that the wordsrang through the room. 

"Yes; it is true!" replies Oyvind, clapping his hands. 

At this she swings round on her toe, flings away what she has in herhand, and runs out; but Oyvind follows her. 

Soon came the school-master, and Thore and his wife. The old man hadordered candles put on the table, which he had had spread with a whitecloth. Wine and beer were offered, and Ole kept going round himself, lifting his feet even higher than usual; but the right foot alwayshigher than the left. 

Before this little tale ends, it may be told that five weeks laterOyvind and Marit were united in the parish church. The school-masterhimself led the singing on the occasion, for the assistant choristerwas ill. His voice was broken now, for he was old; but it seemed toOyvind that it did the heart good to hear him. When the young man hadgiven Marit his hand, and was leading her to the altar, theschool-master nodded at him from the chancel, just as Oyvind had seenhim do, in fancy, when sitting sorrowfully at that dance long ago. Oyvind nodded back while tears welled up to his eyes. 

These tears at the dance were the forerunners of those at the wedding. Between them lay Oyvind's faith and his work. 

Here endeth the story of A HAPPY BOY. 

Transcriber's Note: Some words which appear to be typos are printedthus in the original book. A list of these possible misprints follows:

ascendencypayedskeeswadmalaptestinclosedsecresygayly