"Passes back to me as he was before?" the man asked.
And Nature said:
"No, no, passes forward, onward to meet you at another point. For you, too, have passed on."
"Ah," cried the man, "I have been forgetting him. All my thoughts have been for her—and this is my just punishment, that in the midst of my selfish happiness I should be wounded in my tenderest affections, and reminded of the bitter past—reminded of the manner of Marianne's death and my share in it."
"Morbid conscientiousness, morbid conscientiousness," Nature said. "Often have you and I fought out that battle together—fought it out at midnight on the moors and on the mountains, and along the lonely country roads. And now we must fight it out again; here, this very moment, with the Rondane in front of us, and the snow-peaks in the distance, and the great Gudbrandsdal spread out below us."
So they fought it out, and it was a hard battle, a hand-to-hand fight; for the man was stubborn, and prepared to defend his fortress of self-reproach and sadness to the bitter end. But Nature gathered together all her forces—and conquered.
And when the dire battle was over, she held out her hands to him, and ministered to him; at her bidding the bracing mountain air sent currents of fresh life into the man's body; the great expanse sent a thrill of freedom into his soul; the magnificence of earth and sky sent a thrill of gratitude and gladness into his spirit.
"The earth is beautiful and life is splendid!" he cried, as he lifted up his head and passed on his way.
"Ah," said Nature softly.
"The boy loves me!" he cried. "We shall have a closer friendship than before."