"But you are most to blame, Arne. I got so into the habit of being silent in your father's day that you ought to have helped me a little on the way! My God! there are only two of us, and we have suffered so much together!" "Let us see if we cannot do better," whispered Arne. "Next Sunday I will read the sermon to you." "God bless you for that! Arne?" "Yes?" "I have something I ought to say to you." "Say it, mother." "I have sinned greatly against you; I have done something wrong." "You, mother?" And it touched him so deeply that his own good, infinitely patient mother should accuse herself of having sinned against him, who had never been really good to her, that he put his arm round her, patted her, and burst into tears. "Yes, I have; and yet I could not help it." "Oh, you have never wronged me in any way." "Yes, I have,--God knows it; it was only because I was so fond of you. But you must forgive me; do you hear?" "Yes, I will forgive you." "Well, then, I will tell you about it another time; but you will forgive me?" "Oh, yes, mother!" "You see, it is perhaps because of this that it has been so hard to talk with you; I have sinned against you." "I beg of you not to talk so, mother." "I am happy now, having been able to say so much." "We must talk more together, we two, mother." "Yes, that we must; and then you will really read the sermon for me?" "Yes, I will do so." "Poor Arne! God bless you!" "I think it is best for us to go home." "Yes, we will go home." "Why are you looking round so, mother?" "Your father lay in this barn, and wept." "Father?" said Arne, and grew very pale. "Poor Nils! It was the day you were christened. Why are you looking round, Arne?" CHAPTER VIII. From the day that Arne tried with his whole heart to live closer to his mother his relations with other people were entirely changed. He looked on them more with the mother's mild eyes. But he often found it hard to keep true to his resolve; for what he thought most deeply about his mother did not always understand. Here is a song from those days:-- "It was such a pleasant, sunny day, In-doors I could not think of staying: I strolled to the wood, on my back I lay, And rocked what my mind was saying; But there crawled emmets, and gnats stung there, The wasps and the clegs brought dire despair. "'My dear, will you not go out in this pleasant weather?' said mother. She sat singing on the porch. "It was such a pleasant, sunny day, In-doors I could not think of staying: I strayed to a field, on my back I lay, And sang what my mind was saying; But snakes came out to enjoy the sun, Three ells were they long, and away I run. "'In such pleasant weather we can go barefoot,' said mother, and she pulled off her stockings.