I have often been down to see your parents. I have spoken with your mother, and we understand each other now, but I cannot tell you more for you wrote so strangely last time. The schoolmaster only makes game of me, but he knows nothing about the song, for no one dare sing such before him. I stand alone and feel to have no one to talk to. I often think of the time when we were children, when I always rode on your sledge, and you were so good to me. I could wish we were children again. I dare not ask you to answer me any more, but if you will write just this once I shall never forget it, Ovind. Marit Knudsdatter. P.S.--I beg you burn this letter, I scarcely know if I dare send it. Dear Marit, It was a happy moment when you wrote that letter; and I thank you for it. I feel as if I could scarcely stay here any longer Marit, I love you so much, and if you love me as truly, then Jon Hatlen's song and others' bitter words shall be like the chaff that the wind blows away. Since I received your letter I am like another man,--I feel so much stronger, and am not afraid of anything in the whole world. After I had sent my last letter I regretted it so, that it made me almost ill, and now you shall hear what this led to. The principal took me aside and asked me what was the matter; he thought I read too much. Then he said to me that when my year here was completed, he would allow me to stay a year longer free of expense; I should assist him in several ways, and he would give me a chance of learning more. Then I thought that work was the only thing for me, and I was very grateful, and even now, though I long so much to come to you, I do not regret it, for it will put me in a better position for the future. How happy I am! I do the work of three, and shall never be behind in anything. I will send you a book I am reading, for there is a great deal about love, and I read it at nights when the others are asleep; then I read your letter over too. Have you thought of the time when we shall meet again? I think about it very often, and so must you, it is so delightful. I am glad I wrote so much before, though it was so difficult, for now I can open my whole heart to you. I shall send you several books to read, that you may see what those who truly love each other have had to go through, choosing rather to die of sorrow than to give each other up. And we should do so too. Though it will be two years before we see each other, and longer still before we really belong to each other, we must cheer our hearts by thinking that each day as it goes brings us one day nearer. I have a great deal to write about, but I will leave it till next time, as I have not got any more paper to night, and the others are all asleep. Now I shall go to bed and think of you till I sleep. Your friend, Ovind Pladsen. CHAP. IX. OVIND THROWS HIS CAP IN THE AIR.