His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. Birgit, who had raised her head, now leaned it on her arm again, but said nothing. Baard waited for some time; he heard her breathe, but he got no answer,--and he had nothing further to say himself either. He looked up and grew very pale; for she did not even turn her head. Then he rose. At the same moment there was a gentle knock at the door, and a soft voice asked, "Are you coming, mother?" It was Eli. There was something in the tone that made Baard involuntarily pause and glance at Birgit. Birgit also raised her head; she looked towards the door, and her eyes fell on Baard's pale face. "Are you coming, mother?" was once more asked from without. "Yes, I am coming now!" said Birgit, in a broken voice, as she firmly crossed the floor to where Baard stood, gave him her hand, and burst into the most passionate weeping. The two hands met, they were both toil-worn now, but they clasped as firmly as though they had been seeking each other for twenty years. They still clung together as they went toward the door, and when a while later the bridal procession was passing down to the landing-place, and Arne gave his hand to Eli to take the lead, Baard, seeing it, took his wife by the hand, contrary to all custom, and followed them, smiling contentedly. Behind them, Margit Kampen walked alone, as was her wont. Baard was in high spirits that day; he sat talking with the rowers. One of these who kept looking up at the mountains remarked, that it was strange that even such a steep rock could be clad. "It must, whether it would or no," said Baard, and his eyes wandered all along the procession until they rested on the bridal pair and his wife. "Who could have foretold this twenty years ago?" said he. EARLY TALES AND SKETCHES. THE RAILROAD AND THE CHURCHYARD. CHAPTER I.