IV.—­After Many Years

It was springtime when Margit went up to the parsonage.  There was something heavy on her heart.  Letters had come from Kristen for Arne, and she had been afraid to give them to her son lest he should go away and join his friend.  Kristen had even sent money, and this Margit had given to Arne, pretending it had been left him by his grandmother.  All this Margit poured out to the old pastor, and also her fears that Arne would go travelling.

“Ah!” he said, smiling, “if only there was some little lassie who could get hold of him.  Eli Boeen, eh?  And if he could manage so that they could meet sometimes at the parsonage.”

Margit looked up anxiously.

“Well, we’ll see what we can do,” he went on; “for, to tell you the truth, my wife and daughter have long been of the same mind.”

Then came the summer, and one day, when the heavens were clear, Arne walked out and threw himself down on the grass.  He meant to go to the parsonage and borrow a newspaper.  He had not been to Boeen since that night in the sick-room, and now he glanced towards the house, and then turned away his eyes.  Presently he heard someone singing his song, the song he had lost the very day he made it.

    Fain would I know what the world may be
        Over the mountains high. 
    Mine eyes can nought but the white snow see,
    And up the steep sides the dark fir-tree,
        That climbs as if yearning to know. 
        Say, tree, dost thou venture to go?

There were eight verses, and Arne stood listening till the last word had died away.  He must see who it was, and presently above him he caught sight of Eli.

The sunlight was falling straight on her, and it seemed to Arne, as he looked at her, that he had never seen or dreamt of anything more beautiful in his life.  He watched her get up, without letting himself be seen, and presently she was gone.  Arne no longer wanted to go to the parsonage, but he went and sat where she had sat, and his breast was full of gentle feelings.

Eli often went to the parsonage, and one Sunday evening Margit found her there, and persuaded the girl to walk back to Kampen with her.  Eli entered the house only when she heard that Arne was not at home.  It was the first time she had visited the homestead.  Margit took her all over the house, and showed her Arne’s room, and opened a little chest full of silk kerchiefs and ribbons.

“He bought something each time he’s been to the town,” Margit remarked.

Eli would have given anything to go away, but she dared not speak.

In a special compartment in the chest she had seen a buckle, a pair of gold rings, and a hymn-book bound with silver clasps, and wrought on the clasps was: 

“Eli Baardsdatter Boeen.”

The mother put back the things, closed the box, and clasped the girl to her heart; for Eli was weeping.