aid he. Mildrid fell back on her seat, drew a long
breath, and looked at him with relief in her eyes; her fear, her bad
conscience--all gone! _She was right, yes; she was right_--let come
now whatever it pleased God to send!

No one had answered Hans's greeting, nor had he been asked to come
forward.

"I am Hans Haugen," he said quietly; lowered his gun and stood holding
it. After the parents had exchanged looks once or twice, he went on,
but with a struggle: "I came down with Mildrid, for if she has done
wrong, it was my fault."

Something had to be said. The mother looked at the father, and at last
he said that all this had happened without their knowing anything of
it, and that Mildrid could give them no explanation of how it had come
about. Hans answered that neither could he. "I am not a boy," he said,
"for I am twenty-eight; but yet it came this way, that I, who never
cared for any one before, could think of nothing else in the world
from the time I saw her. If she had said No--well, I can't tell--but I
shouldn't have been good for much after that."

The quiet, straightforward way he said this made a good impression.
Mildrid trembled; for she felt that this gave things a different look.
Hans had his cap on, for in their district it was not the custom for a
passer-by to take off his hat when he came in; but now he took it off
unconsciously, hung it on the barrel of his gun, and crossed his hands
over it. There was something about his whole appearance and behaviour
that claimed consideration.

"Mildrid is so young," said her mother; "none of us had thought of
anything like this beginning with her already."

"That is true enough, but to make up I am so much older," he answered;
"and the housekeeping at home, in my house, is no great affair; it
will not task her too hard--and I have plenty of help."

The parents looked at each other, at Mildrid, at him. "Do you mean her
to go home with you?" the father asked incredulously, almost
ironically.

"Yes," said Hans; "it is not the farm that I am coming after." He
reddened, and so did Mildrid.

If the farm had sunk into the ground the parents could not have been
more astonished than they were at hearing it thus despised, and
Mildrid's silence showed that she agreed with Hans. There was
something in this resolution of the young people, unintentional on
their part, that, as it were, took away from the parents the right of
decision; they felt themselves humbled.