Later he sat where she had been sitting, still sat there until the sun drew near the meridian. The lake was not ruffled by a single ripple; the smoke from the gards began to curl upward; the land-rails, one after another, had ceased their call; the small birds, though, continued their sportive gambols, but withdrew to the wood; the dew was gone and the grass looked sober; not a breath of wind stirred the leaves; it was about an hour from noon. Arne scarcely knew how it was that he found himself seated there, weaving together a little song; a sweet melody offered itself for it, and into a heart curiously full of all that was gentle, the tune came and went until the picture was complete. He sang the song calmly as he had made it:-- "He went in the forest the whole day long, The whole day long; For there he had heard such a wonderful song, A wonderful song. "He fashioned a flute from a willow spray, A willow spray, To see if within it the sweet tune lay, The sweet tune lay. "It whispered and told him its name at last, Its name at last; But then, while he listened, away it passed, Away it passed. "But oft when he slumbered, again it stole, Again it stole, With touches of love upon his soul, Upon his soul. "Then he tried to catch it, and keep it fast, And keep it fast; But he woke, and away in the night it passed, In the night it passed. "'My Lord, let me pass in the night, I pray, In the night, I pray; For the tune has taken my heart away, My heart away.' "Then answered the Lord, 'It is thy friend It is thy friend, Though not for an hour shall thy longing end, Thy longing end; "'And all the others are nothing to thee, Nothing to thee, To this that thou seekest and never shalt see, Never shalt see.'"[28] CHAPTER XV. It was a Sunday evening in midsummer; the priest had returned from church, and Margit had been sitting with him until it was nearly seven o'clock. Now she took her leave, and hastened down the steps and out into the yard, for there she had just caught sight of Eli Boeen, who had been playing for some time with the priest's son and her own brother. "Good evening!" said Margit, standing still, "and God bless you all!" "Good evening!" replied Eli, blushing crimson, and showing a desire to stop playing, although the boys urged her to continue; but she begged to be excused, and they had to let her go for that evening. "It seems to me I ought to know you," said Margit. "That is quite likely," was the reply. "This surely never can be Eli Boeen?" Yes, it was she. "Oh, dear me! So you are Eli Boeen! Yes, now I see you are like your mother."