e nodded and went off slowly
towards the shed where he was to sleep; she hurried in, undressed,
and when she had got into bed she folded her hands and thanked God.
Oh, how she thanked Him! Thanked Him for Hans's love, and patience,
and kindness--she had not words enough! Thanked Him for all, all,
everything--even for the suffering of the last two days--for had it
not made the joy all the greater? Thanked Him for their having been
alone up there at this time, and prayed Him to be with her to-morrow
when she went down to her parents, then turned her thoughts again to
Hans, and gave thanks for him once more, oh, how gratefully!

When she came out of the soeter-house in the morning, Beret was
still sleeping. Hans was standing in the yard. He had been punishing
the dog for rousing a ptarmigan, and it was now lying fawning on him.
When he saw Mildrid he let the dog out of disgrace; it jumped up on
him and her, barked and caressed them, and was like a living
expression of their own bright morning happiness. Hans helped Mildrid
and the boys with the morning work. By the time they had done it all
and were ready to sit down to breakfast, Beret was up and ready too.
Every time Hans looked at her she turned red, and when Mildrid after
breakfast stood playing with his watch chain while she spoke to him,
Beret hurried out, and was hardly to be found when it was time for the
two to go.

"Mildrid," said Hans, coming close to her and walking slowly, when
they had got on a little way, "I have been thinking about something
that I didn't say to you yesterday." His voice sounded so serious that
she looked up into his face. He went on slowly, without looking at
her; "I want to ask you if--God granting that we get each other--if
you will go home with me after the wedding and live at Haugen."

She turned red, and presently answered evasively:

"What will father and mother say to that?"

He walked on without answering for a minute, and then said:

"I did not think that mattered so much, if we two were agreed about
it."

This was the first time he had said a thing that hurt her. She made
no reply. He seemed to be waiting for one, and when none came, added
gently:

"I wanted us two to be alone together, to get accustomed to each
other."

Now she began to understand him better, but she could not answer. He
walked on as before, not looking at her, and now quite silent. She
felt uneasy, stole a glance at him, and saw that he had turned q