trait; it knew of course
what was best for him. But he shuddered nevertheless at the time
that was now coming.

The same day he made an offer of marriage to the plainest daughter
of the poorest fisherman, a little creature, whose head was drawn
down between her shoulders and who had a projecting under-jaw. The
parents said yes, and the day when he was to go to the town and
publish the bans was appointed.

The road from the fishing-village to the town passes over windy
marshes and swampy cow-pastures. It is two miles long, and there is
a tradition that the inhabitants of the fishing-village are so rich
that they could pave it with shining silver coins. It would give
the road a strange attraction. Glimmering like a fish's belly, it
would wind with its white scales through clumps of sedge and pools
filled with water-bugs and melancholy bullfrogs. The daisies and
almond-blossoms which adorn that forsaken ground would be mirrored
in the shining silver coins; thistles would stretch out protecting
thorns over them, and the wind would find a ringing sounding-board
when it played on the thatched roof of the cow-barns and on
telephone-wires.

Perhaps old Mattsson would have found some comfort if he could have
set his heavy sea boots on ringing silver, for it is certain that
he for a time had to go that way oftener than he liked.

He had not had "clean papers." The bans could not be published. It
came from his having run away from his bride the last time. Some
time passed before the clergyman could write to the consistory
about him and get permission for him to contract a new marriage.

As long as this time of waiting lasted, old Mattsson came to the
town every week. He sat by the door of the pastor's room and
remained there in silent expectation until all had spoken in turn.
Then he rose and asked if the clergyman had anything for him. No,
he had nothing.

The pastor was amazed at the power that all-conquering love had
acquired over that old man. There he sat in a thick, knitted
jersey, high sea-boots and weather-beaten sou'wester with a sharp,
clever face and long, gray hair, and waited for permission to get
married. The clergyman thought it strange that the old fisherman
should have been seized by so eager a longing.

"You are in a hurry with this marriage, Mattsson," said the
clergyman.

"Oh yes, it is best to get it done soon."

"Could you not just as well give up the whole thing? You are no
longer young, Mattss