Her hand still rested on his arm; it looked as if she were leading him to prison. He could only just feel a very slight pressure, but it went to his very marrow. Now and then her silk dress just touched his leg, they were keeping step together, he seemed carried along by the electric current of her vicinity. They were utterly alone, and the silence round them was complete; they could hear their own steps and the rustling of the silk dress. He kept the arm on which her hand lay, painfully quiet, half afraid that the hand might fall down and be broken. There was just this one drawback--for there must always be something not quite perfect, that he felt an ever-increasing guilty desire to take her hand and tuck it under his arm in the usual way; he could have pressed it then. But he dared not do it. They walked on and on. He looked upward and discovered there was no moon. "There is no moon," said he. "It would have been lighter if there had been," answered she, smiling. "Much lighter." Their voices had met and the sound of them mingled, floating together like birds in the air. But just on that account they found it difficult to say more. As Ole walked along pondering over what he could venture to say next, he felt both touched and proud. He thought of that snowy Saturday evening long ago, when the other boys at school had treated him so badly, and he had fled away to Store-Tuft; he thought of all his misery that day; but his promotion as it were dated from then, he had walked into the town from the other side, but with her on his arm--stop though, not quite. There had been the same drawback then too. Should he tell her? Would she not think it too outspoken. "We are quite alone now, we too," thus cunningly would he try to lead up to it; but he could not depend on his voice, it would betray him. She did not answer him. Again there was a complete silence between them. Just fancy, then her hand of its own accord slipped quietly into his arm, in the usual way when two people are engaged. His whole frame quivered, and taking courage, he pressed it slightly; but did not dare to look at her. They walked on. Soon the town lay before them as though under a veil, the ships' rigging rising up like so many towers; or like the pointed sort of rigging dredging ships always have; the houses stood in thick outline, no coloring visible; everything carefully packed up and put away, the mountains keeping guard over the whole. One long, faint, indistinct sound, a dull gleam through the dead-gray silence. "Will you not tell me something?" said she, rapidly, as though she could not possibly get out more just then. He felt quite relieved at this, and asked her if he should tell her--about light. "Yes, about light," answered she; was it ironical?