But one pleasant day toward the last of August, she was permitted to go into the country with Madam; a call had come from Consul With’s brick-works, where the foreman’s wife was one of Madam’s old patients.
The whole Ark was in a commotion because of the event, and all the children of the neighborhood stood in awe about the gig to see Madam Speckbom climb in. Christian Falbe stood above and nodded; “the gang” had gathered around the front window of the garret, from which they could see the gig drive away; and they shouted and winked at Loppen. She turned, beaming with delight, and laughed so it rang in the narrow street.
The sun was not really bright yet. It shone violet-grey through the motionless, heavy, autumn fog which rose from the water and damp marshes, and mingled with the dark brown, morning smoke from all the chimneys down in the town.
But when they came up higher, there was no more fog, except far below, where a dot still hung over the parks or over the big trees by the church. And it grew warm and quite clear, so one could glimpse the strip of open sea, out in the west. But over the fjord with its islands, and the lofty, blue mountains, down over the meadows and golden harvest-fields, and up over the hillocks and patches of heather, which were blue with blossoms, over all lay the early autumn morning, so peacefully—so peacefully and softly.
Loppen laughed and talked so much at first that Madam Speckbom bade her hold her tongue. Madam had rather entertain herself with the coach boy, who stood behind, about the state of health and things in general out in the country.
Elsie held her tongue then, not just because she cared so much about what Madam said, but gradually she lost all desire to talk.
She began to enjoy it more by herself—all that she saw around her. She no longer cried out, every time she saw a cow; but it made her happy to think how good it seemed to walk about and feed in the fresh, cool grass.
It was quite motionless; and the water which came and vanished among the hills was as bright as a mirror. The rye was light golden; but the oats yet had flecks of green, down in the valleys, where the soil was deep. The heavy, short heads hung low, after the wind which had blown the day before; and over all was such a warm, ripe fragrance.
But when they had gone so far from town, that the fields ceased and the heather spread in great, violet tufts on both sides of the road; then the air became so oppressively rich that Elsie threw her breath all out several times, and clasped her bosom; it felt as if her bodice was too tight.
All this beauty of nature, of which she knew so little, filled her with a kind of pain, so that tears came into her eyes. She reviewed all her little short-comings, and thought she was not good enough to be shone upon by this blessed sun.