Why should I dwell upon the days that followed--how her heart grew ever
more restless, how she would suddenly wake up at nights and see those
large blue eyes sadly gazing at her, how by turns she would condemn
herself and him, and how she felt with bitter pain that she was growing
away from those who had hitherto been nearest and dearest to her. And
strange to say, this very isolation from her father made her cling
only the more desperately to him. It seemed to her as if Bjarne had
deliberately thrown her off; that she herself had been the one who
took the first step had hardly occurred to her. Alas, her grief was as
irrational as her love. By what strange devious process of reasoning
these convictions became settled in her mind, it is difficult to tell.
It is sufficient to know that she was a woman and that she loved. She
even knew herself that she was irrational, and this very sense drew her
more hopelessly into the maze of the labyrinth from which she saw no
escape.
His visits were as regular as those of the sun. She knew that there was
only a word of hers needed to banish him from her presence forever. And
how many times did she not resolve to speak that word? But the word was
never spoken. At times a company of the lads from the valley would come
to spend a merry evening at the saeter; but she heeded them not, and
they soon disappeared. Thus the summer went amid passing moods of joy
and sorrow. She had long known that he loved her, and when at last
his slow confession came, it added nothing to her happiness; it only
increased her fears for the future. They laid many plans together in
those days; but winter came as a surprise to both, the cattle were
removed from the mountains, and they were again separated.
Bjarne Blakstad looked long and wistfully at his daughter that morning,
when he came to bring her home. She wore no more rings and brooches,
and it was this which excited Bjarne’s suspicion that everything was not
right with her. Formerly he was displeased because she wore too many;
now he grumbled because she wore none.
II.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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