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returned； but had not dared at once to seek the Parsonage； until he could
invent some plausible reason for his return； but his imagination was very
poor； and he had found none； except that he loved the pastor's beautiful
daughter。
The evening wore on。 The broad mountain… guarded valley； flooded
now to the brim with a soft misty light； spread out about them； and filled
them with a delicious sense of security。 The fjord lifted its grave gaze
toward the sky； and deepened responsively with a bright； ever… receding
immensity。 The young girl felt this blessed peace gently stealing over her；
doubt and struggle were all past； and the sun shone ever serene and
unobscured upon the widening expanses of the future。 And in his breast；
too； that mood reigned in which life looks boundless and radiant； human
woes small or impossible； and one's own self large and all…conquering。
In that hour they remodeled this old and obstinate world of ours； never
doubting that； if each united his faith and strength with the other's； they
could together lift its burden。
That night was the happiest and most memorable night in the history
of the Gran Parsonage。 The pastor walked up and down on the floor；
rubbing his hands in quiet contentment。 Inga； to whom an engagement
was essentially a sol… emn affair； sat in a corner and gazed at her sister and
Strand with tearful radiance。 Arnfinn gave vent to his joy by bestowing
embraces promiscuously upon whomsoever chanced to come in his way。
This story； however； has a brief but not unimportant sequel。 It was
not many weeks after this happy evening that Arnfinn and the maiden with
the 〃amusingly unclassical nose〃 presented themselves in the pastor's
study and asked for his paternal and unofficial blessing。 But the pastor； I
am told； grew very wroth； and demanded that his nephew should first take
his second and third degrees； attaching； besides； some very odious
stipulations regarding average in study and college standing； before there
could be any talk about engagement or matrimony。 So； at present；
Arnfinn is still studying； and the fair…haired Inga is still waiting。
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
TRULS； THE NAMELESS。
HE was born in the houseman's lodge； she in the great mansion。 He
did not know who his father was； she was the daughter of Grim of Skogli；
and she was the only daughter he had。 They were carried to baptism on
the same day； and he was called Truls； because they had to call him
something； she received the name of Borghild； because that had been the
name of every eldest born daughter in the family for thirty generations。
They both cried when the pastor poured the water on their heads； his
mother hushed him； blushed； and looked timidly around her； but the
woman who carried Borghild lifted her high up in her arms so that
everybody could see her； and the pastor smiled benignly； and the
parishioners said that they had never seen so beautiful a child。 That was
the way in which they began lifehe as a child of sin； she as the daughter
of a mighty race。
They grew up together。 She had round cheeks and merry eyes； and
her lips were redder than the red rose。 He was of slender growth； his face
was thin and pale； and his eyes had a strange； benumbed gaze； as if they
were puzzling themselves with some sad； life…long riddle which they never
hoped to solve。 On the strand where they played the billows came and
went； and they murmured faintly with a sound of infinite remoteness。
Borghild laughed aloud； clapped her hands and threw stones out into the
water； while he sat pale and silent； and saw the great white…winged sea…
birds sailing through the blue ocean of the sky。
〃How would you like to live down there in the deep green water？〃 she
asked him one day； as they sat watching the eider…ducks which swam and
dived； and stood on their heads among the sea…weeds。
〃I should like it very well；〃 he answered； 〃if you would follow me。〃
〃No； I won't follow you；〃 she cried。 〃It is cold and wet down in the
water。 And I should spoil the ribbons on my new bodice。 But when I
grow up and get big and can braid my hair； then I shall row with the young
lads to the church yonder on the headland； and there the old pastor will
marry me； and I shall wear the big silver crown which my mother wore
when she was married。〃
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
〃And may I go with you？〃 asked he； timidly。
〃Yes； you may steer my boat and be my helmsman； oryou may be my
bridegroom； if you would like that better。〃
〃Yes； I think I should rather be your bridegroom；〃 and he gave her a
long； strange look which almost frightened her。
The years slipped by； and before Borghild knew it； she had grown into
womanhood。 The down on Truls's cheeks became rougher； and he； too；
began to suspect that he was no longer a boy。 When the sun was late and
the breeze murmured in the great； dark…crowned pines； they often met by
chance； at the well； on the strand； or on the saeter…green。 And the oftener
they met the more they found to talk about； to be sure； it was she who did
the talking； and he looked at her with his large wondering eyes and
listened。 She told him of the lamb which had tumbled down over a steep
precipice and still was unhurt； of the baby who pulled the pastor's hair last
Sunday during the baptismal ceremony； or of the lumberman； Lars； who
drank the kero… sene his wife gave him for brandy； and never knew the
difference。 But； when the milkmaids passed by； she would suddenly
forget what she had been saying； and then they sat gazing at each other in
silence。 Once she told him of the lads who danced with her at the party
at Houg； and she thought she noticed a deeper color on his face； and that
he clinched both his fists and thrust them into his pockets。 That set her
thinking； and the more she thought； the more curious she grew。 He
played the violin well； suppose she should ask him to come and fiddle at
the party her father was to give at the end of the harvest。 She resolved to
do it； and he； not knowing what moved her； gave his promise eagerly。 It
struck her； afterward； that she had done a wicked thing； but； like most girls；
she had not the heart to wrestle with an uncomfortable thought； she shook
it off and began to hum a snatch of an old song。
〃O'er the billows the fleet…footed storm…wind rode； The billows
blue are the merman's abode； So strangely that harp was sounding。〃
The memory of old times came back to her； the memory of the
morning long years ago； when they sat together on the strand； and he said；
〃I think I would rather be your bride… groom； Borghild。〃 The memory
was sweet but it was bitter too； and the bitterness rose and filled her heart。
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TALES FROM TWO HEMISPHERES。
She threw her head back proudly； and laughed a strange； hollow laugh。
〃A bastard's bride； ha； ha！ A fine tale were that for the parish gossips。〃
A yellow butterfly lighted on her arm； and with a fierce frown on her face
she caught it between her fingers。 Then she looked pityingly on the dead
wings； as they lay in her hand； and murmured between her teeth： 〃Poor
thing！ Why did you come in my way； unbidden？〃
The harvest was rich； and the harvest party was to keep pace with the
harvest。 The broad Skogli mansion was festively lighted （for it was
already late in September）； the tall； straight tallow candles； stuck in many…
armed candlesticks； shone dimly through a sort of misty halo； and only
suffused the dusk with a faint glimmering of light。 And every time a
guest entered； the flames of the candles flickered and twisted themselves