Arne’s fancies for some time now were of dreams of love and fair maidens.  Old ballads and romances mirrored them for him, as the water had mirrored the young girl.

A two-fold longing—­the yearning to have someone to love, and a desire to do something great—­sprang up together in his soul, and melted into one.  Again he began to work at the song, “Over the mountains high,” altering it, and thinking each time, “One day it will carry me off.”  But he never forgot his mother in his thoughts of travel, and decided that he would send for her as soon as he had got a footing abroad.

There was in the parish a merry old fellow of the name of Ejnar Aasen.  He was well off, and, in spite of a lameness that made him use a crutch, was fond of organising parties of children to go nutting.  All the young people called him “godfather.”

Aasen liked Arne, and invited him to join in the next nutting party, and though Arne blushed, and made excuses, he decided to go.  He found himself the only young man among many girls.  They were not the maidens of whom he had made songs, nor yet was he afraid of them.  They were more full of life than anything he had seen, and they could make merry over anything.  All of them laughed at Arne, as they caught at the branches, because he was serious, so that he could not help laughing himself.

After a while they all sat on a large knoll, old Aasen in the middle, and told stories.  And then they were anxious to tell their dreams, but this could be done only to one person, and Arne was trusted to hear the dreams.  The last of the girls to tell her dreams was called Eli, and she was the girl he had seen in the boat.

Arne had to say which was the best dream, and as he said he wanted time to think, they left him sitting on the knoll and trooped off with godfather.  Arne sat for some time, and the old yearnings to travel came back, and drove him to his song, “Over the mountains high.”  Now, at last, he had got the words; and taking paper out of his pocket, he wrote the song through to the end.  When he had finished he rose, and left the paper on the knoll; and later, when he found he had forgotten it, he went back.  But the paper was gone.

One of the girls, who had returned to seek him, had found—­not Arne, but his song.

III.—­Love’s Awakening

Whenever Arne mentioned his friend Kristen, and wondered why he never heard from him, his mother left the room, and seemed unhappy for days afterwards.  He noticed, too, that she would get specially nice meals for him at such times.

He had never been so gentle since his father’s death as he was that winter.  On Sundays he would read a sermon to his mother, and go to church with her; but she knew this was only to win her consent to his going abroad in the spring.  Upland Knut, who had always been alone, now came to live at Kampen.  Arne had become very skilful with axe and saw, and that winter he was often busy at the parsonage as well as Kampen.