d with it comes much more.
As the great day drew near he dared call himself prepared, and also
dared look forward with trustful resignation. Whenever Marit's image
would present itself, he cautiously thrust it aside, although he felt a
pang in so doing. He tried to gain practice in this, but never made
any progress in strength; on the contrary, it was the pain that grew.
Therefore he was weary the last evening, when, after a long
self-examination, he prayed that the Lord would not put him to the test
in this matter.

The school-master came as the day was drawing to a close. They all sat
down together in the family-room, after washing and dressing themselves
neat and clean, as was customary the evening before going to communion,
or morning service. The mother was agitated, the father silent;
parting was to follow the morrow's ceremony, and it was uncertain when
they could all sit down together again. The school-master brought out
the hymn-books, read the service, sang with the family, and afterwards
said a short prayer, just as the words came into his mind.

These four people now sat together until late in the evening, the
thoughts of each centering within; then they parted with the best
wishes for the coming day and what it was to consecrate. Oyvind was
obliged to admit, as he laid himself down, that he had never gone to
bed so happy before; he gave this an interpretation of his own,--he
understood it to mean: I have never before gone to bed feeling so
resigned to God's will and so happy in it. Marit's face at once rose
up before him again, and the last thing he was conscious of was that he
lay and examined himself: not quite happy, not quite,--and that he
answered: yes, quite; but again: not quite; yes, quite; no, not quite.

When he awoke he at once remembered the day, prayed, and felt strong,
as one does in the morning. Since the summer, he had slept alone in
the attic; now he rose, and put on his handsome new clothes, very
carefully, for he had never owned such before. There was especially a
round broadcloth jacket, which he had to examine over and over again
before he became accustomed to it. He hung up a little looking-glass
when he had adjusted his collar, and for the fourth time drew on his
jacket. At sight of his own contented face, with the unusually light
hair surrounding it, reflected and smiling in the glass, it occurred to
him that this must certainly be vanity again. "Yes, but people must be