Leaving the steep high-road, she struck off to the left, intent on gaining the top of Hjerkinshö. Not a house was in sight, not a trace of any living being; she walked on rapidly, for, although the long upward slope was in parts fairly steep, the gray lichen with which the ground was thickly covered was so springy and delicious to walk on that she felt no fatigue, the refreshing little scrunch that it made beneath her feet seemed in itself to invigorate her. By the time she reached the top of the hill she was glowing with exercise, and was glad to sit down and rest by the cairn of stones. All around her lay one great undulating sweep of gray country, warmed by the bright sunlight of the summer morning, and relieved here and there by the purple shadow of some cloud. Beyond, there rose tier above tier of snowy peaks, Snehaetten standing out the most nobly of all, and some eighty attendant peaks ranged round the horizon line as though they were courtiers in attendance on the monarch of the district. At first Sigrid was so taken up by this wonderful panorama that she had not a thought for anything beyond it, but after awhile the strange stillness roused her; for the first time in her life she had come into absolute silence, and what made the silence was the infinite space. “If one could always be in a peace like this,” she thought, “surely life would be beautiful then! If one could get out of all the littleness and narrowness of one’s own heart, and be silent and quiet from all the worries and vexations and dislikes of life! Perhaps it was the longing for this that made women go into convents; some go still into places where they never speak. That would never suit me; out of sheer perversity I should want to talk directly. But if one could always have a great wide open space like this that one could go into when one began to get cross—” But there all definite thought was suddenly broken, because nature and her own need had torn down a veil, and there rushed into her consciousness a perception of an infinite calm, into which all might at any moment retire. The sense of that Presence which had so clearly dawned on her on the night of her father’s death returned to her now more vividly, and for the first time in her life she was absolutely at rest. After a time she rose and walked quietly home, full of an eager hopefulness, to begin what she rightly felt would be a new life. She stopped to pick a lovely handful of flowers for her aunt; she smiled at the thought of the annoyance she had felt on the previous night about such a trifle, and went forward almost gayly to meet the old troubles which but a few hours before had seemed intolerable, but now looked slight and easy. Poor Sigrid! she had yet to learn that with fresh strength comes harder fighting in the battle of life, and that of those to whom much is given much will be required.