present,
Arnfinn is still studying, and the fair-haired Inga is still waiting.

TRULS, THE NAMELESS.

HE was born in the houseman's lodge; she in the great mansion. He did
not know who his father was; she was the daughter of Grim of Skogli, and
she was the only daughter he had. They were carried to baptism on
the same day, and he was called Truls, because they had to call him
something; she received the name of Borghild, because that had been the
name of every eldest born daughter in the family for thirty generations.
They both cried when the pastor poured the water on their heads; his
mother hushed him, blushed, and looked timidly around her; but the woman
who carried Borghild lifted her high up in her arms so that everybody
could see her, and the pastor smiled benignly, and the parishioners said
that they had never seen so beautiful a child. That was the way in which
they began life--he as a child of sin, she as the daughter of a mighty
race.

They grew up together. She had round cheeks and merry eyes, and her lips
were redder than the red rose. He was of slender growth, his face was
thin and pale, and his eyes had a strange, benumbed gaze, as if they
were puzzling themselves with some sad, life-long riddle which they
never hoped to solve. On the strand where they played the billows came
and went, and they murmured faintly with a sound of infinite remoteness.
Borghild laughed aloud, clapped her hands and threw stones out into
the water, while he sat pale and silent, and saw the great white-winged
sea-birds sailing through the blue ocean of the sky.

"How would you like to live down there in the deep green water?" she
asked him one day, as they sat watching the eider-ducks which swam and
dived, and stood on their heads among the sea-weeds.

"I should like it very well," he answered, "if you would follow me."

"No, I won't follow you," she cried. "It is cold and wet down in the
water. And I should spoil the ribbons on my new bodice. But when I grow
up and get big and can braid my hair, then I shall row with the young
lads to the church yonder on the headland, and there the old pastor will
marry me, and I shall wear the big silver crown which my mother wore
when she was married."

"And may I go with you?" asked he, timidly.

"Yes, you may steer my boat and be my helmsman, or--you may be my
bridegroom, if you would like that better."

"Yes, I think I should rather be your bridegroom," and he gave her a
lo