Later he heard that Marit had not been to the sledge playing either. He read with such diligence that even his father thought it went too far. He grew thoughtful; his face, which had been so round and mild, became thinner and sharper, his eyes deeper; he seldom sang and never played, it was as if time were too short. When the desire to join his old companions came over him, it was as if something whispered, "Not yet, not yet,"--and continually, "not yet." The children played, shouted, and laughed awhile as before, but when they saw they could not by any means induce him to come, they gradually disappeared; they found other grounds and soon the sledge hill was quite vacated. The schoolmaster soon observed that he was not the same Ovind who used to read because it fell out so, and play because it was necessary. He often talked with him, and sought to find the cause, for the lad's heart was not light as in former days. He spoke also with the parents, and by agreement he came one Sunday evening late in the Winter, and after sitting awhile, he said,--"Come, Ovind, let us go out, I want to talk with you a little." Ovind got up and went with him. They took the path towards Heidegaard. The conversation did not flag, but they spoke of nothing important; when they came near the farms, the schoolmaster took the direction of the middle one, and as they got nearer they heard the sound of laughter and merriment. "What is up here?" said Ovind. "They are dancing," said the schoolmaster, "shall we not go in?" "No." "Will you not go to a dance, lad!" "No, not yet." "Not yet? When then?" He did not answer. "What do you mean,--not yet?" As he did not reply, the schoolmaster said,--"Come now, no such talk!" "No, I won't go." He was very positive and seemed agitated. "That your own schoolmaster should stand here and have to ask you twice to go to dance!" There was a long silence. "Is there any one you are afraid of meeting?" "I cannot tell who there may be there." "But could there be any one?" No answer. Then the schoolmaster went close up to him, and laid his hand on his shoulder,--"Are you afraid of meeting Marit?" Ovind looked down, and breathed heavily and quickly. "Tell me, Ovind." Still no answer. "You perhaps feel ashamed to confess it before you are confirmed, but tell me anyhow, and you will never regret it." Ovind looked up but he could not say a word, and his eyes fell again. "You are not light-hearted as you were; does she care for any one more than you?" Ovind was still silent, the schoolmaster felt a little hurt, and turned away; then they went back. When they had gone some distance, the schoolmaster waited till Ovind got up to him,--"You wish very much, that you were confirmed," said he. "Yes." "What do you then intend to do?" "I should like to go to the Training School." "And to be schoolmaster?" "No." "You think it isn't good enough?" Ovind was silent. "Then what would you be?"