"Then he tried to catch it, and keep it fast, And keep it fast; But he woke, and away in the night it passed, In the night it passed.
"'My Lord, let me pass in the night, I pray, In the night, I pray; For the tune has taken my heart away, My heart away.'
"Then answered the Lord, 'It is thy friend It is thy friend, Though not for an hour shall thy longing end, Thy longing end;
"'And all the others are nothing to thee, Nothing to thee, To this that thou seekest and never shalt see, Never shalt see.'"[28]
CHAPTER XV.
It was a Sunday evening in midsummer; the priest had returned from church, and Margit had been sitting with him until it was nearly seven o'clock. Now she took her leave, and hastened down the steps and out into the yard, for there she had just caught sight of Eli Boen, who had been playing for some time with the priest's son and her own brother.
"Good evening!" said Margit, standing still, "and God bless you all!"
"Good evening!" replied Eli, blushing crimson, and showing a desire to stop playing, although the boys urged her to continue; but she begged to be excused, and they had to let her go for that evening.
"It seems to me I ought to know you," said Margit.
"That is quite likely," was the reply.
"This surely never can be Eli Boen?"
Yes, it was she.
"Oh, dear me! So you are Eli Boen! Yes, now I see you are like your mother."
Eli's auburn hair had become unfastened, so that it floated carelessly about her; her face was as hot and as red as a berry, her bosom heaved, she could not speak, and laughed because she was so out of breath.
"Yes, that is the way with young people."
Margit looked at Eli with satisfaction as she spoke.
"I suppose you do not know me?"
Eli had no doubt wanted to ask who she was, but could not command the courage to do so, because the other was so much older than she; now she said that she did not remember having seen her before.
"Well, to be sure, that is scarcely to be expected; old folks seldom get out. You may perhaps know my son, Arne Kampen. I am his mother." She stole a sly glance, as she spoke, at Eli, on whom these words wrought a considerable change. "I am inclined to think he worked over at Boen once, did he not?"
Yes, it was Eli's impression, too, that he had done so.
"The weather is fine this evening. We turned our hay to-day, and got it in before I left home; it is really blessed weather."
"There will surely be a good hay-harvest this year," Eli observed.
"Yes, you may well say so. I suppose everything looks splendidly over at Boen."
"They are through harvesting there."
"Oh, of course; plenty of help, stirring people. Are you going home this evening?"
No, she did not intend to do so. They talked together about one thing and another and gradually became so well acquainted that Margit felt at liberty to ask Eli to walk a short distance with her.
"Could you not keep me company a few steps?" said she. "I so seldom find any one to talk with, and I dare say it will make no difference to you."
Eli excused herself because she had not her jacket on.
"Well, I know, it is really a shame to ask such a thing the first time I meet a person; but then one has to bear with old folks."
Eli said she was quite willing to go, she only wanted to fetch her jacket.
It was a close-fitting jacket; when it was hooked, she looked as if she wore a complete dress; but now she only fastened the two lowest hooks, she was so warm. Her fine linen had a small turned down collar, and was fastened at the throat with a silver button, in the form of a bird with outspread wings. Such a one tailor Nils had worn the first time Margit Kampen had danced with him.
"What a handsome button," she remarked, looking at it.
"My mother gave it to me," said Eli.
"Yes, so I thought," and Margit helped the girl adjust it as she spoke.
Now they walked on along the road. The new-mown hay was lying about in heaps. Margit took up a handful, smelled it, and thought it was good.
She asked about the live stock at the parsonage, was led thereby to inquire about that at Boen, and then told how much they had at Kampen.
"The gard has prospered finely of late years, and it can be made as much larger as we ourselves wish. It feeds twelve milch cows now, and could feed more; but Arne reads a great many books, and manages according to them, and so he must have his cows fed in a first-rate way."
Eli made no reply to all this, as was quite natural; but Margit asked her how old she was. She was nineteen.
"Have you taken any part in the house-work? You look so dainty, I suppose it has not been much."
Oh, yes, she had helped in various ways, especially of late.
"Well, it is a good thing to become accustomed to a little of everything; if one should get a large house of one's own, there might be many things to be done. But, to be sure, when one finds good help already in the house, it does not matter so very much."
Eli now thought she ought to turn back, for they had gone far beyond the parsonage lands.
"It will be some time yet before the sun sets; it would be kind if you would chat with me a little longer." And Eli went on.
Then Margit began to talk about Arne. "I do not know if you are very well acquainted with him. He can teach you something about everything.
Bless me! how much that boy has read!"
Eli confessed that she was aware he had read a great deal.
"Oh, yes; that is really the least that can be said of him. Why, his conduct to his mother all his days is something far beyond that. If the old saying is true, that one who is good to his mother is sure to be good to his wife, the girl Arne chooses will not have very much to grumble about. What is it you are looking for, child?"
"I only lost a little twig I had in my hand."
They were both silent after this, and walked on without looking at each other.