"The tree bore its fruit in the midsummer glow: Said the girl, 'May I gather thy berries or no?' 'Yes, dear, all thou canst see; Take them; all are for thee,' Said the tree, while it bent down its laden boughs low."[23] This song almost took her breath away. He, too, sat there silent, after he was through, as though he had sung more than he cared to say to her. Darkness has great power over those who are sitting in it and dare not speak; they are never so near each other as then. If Eli only turned, only moved her hand on the bed-cover, only breathed a little more heavily than usual, Arne heard it. "Arne, could not you teach me to make songs?" "Have you never tried?" "Yes, these last few days I have; but I have not succeeded." "Why, what did you want to have in them?" "Something about my mother, who cared so much for your father." "That is a sad theme." "I have cried over it, too." "You must not think of what you are going to put in your songs; it comes of itself." "How does it come?" "As other precious things, when you least expect it." They were both silent. "I wonder, Arne, that you are longing to go away when you have so much that is beautiful within yourself." "Do _you_ know that I am longing?" She made no reply to this, but lay still a few moments, as though in thought. "Arne, you must not go away!" said she, and this sent a glow through him. "Well, sometimes I have less desire to go." "Your mother must be very fond of you. I should like to see your mother." "Come over to Kampen when you are well." And now all at once he pictured her sitting in the cheerful room at Kampen, looking out on the mountains; his chest began to heave, the blood rushed to his head. "It is warm in here," said he, getting up. She heard this. "Are you going, Arne?" asked she, and he sat down again. "You must come over to us often; mother likes you so much." "I should be glad to come myself; but I must have some errand, though." Eli was silent for a while, as if she were considering something. "I believe," said she, "that mother has something she wants to ask of you." He heard her turn in bed. There was no sound to be heard, either in the room or outside, save the ticking of the clock on the wall. At last she burst out,-- "How I wish it were summer!" "That it were summer?" and there rose up in his mind, blended with fragrant foliage and the tinkling of cattle bells, shouts from the mountains, singing from the valleys, Black Water glittering in the sunshine, the gards rocking in it, and Eli coming out and sitting down, as she had done that evening long ago. "If it were summer," said she, "and I were sitting on the hill, I really believe I could sing a song." He laughed and asked: "What would it be about?" "Oh, something easy, about--I do not know myself--" "Tell me, Eli!" and he sprang up in delight; then, recollecting himself, he sat down again. "No; not for all the world!" She laughed.