"And that is all," he said, and he waited for her to speak as she turned her dear face towards him. But when she was beginning to speak, he awoke.
He awoke, glad and strong. He who had come out broken and embittered, was going back made whole and sound. He thought of his last words to Knutty:
"I shall be better later."
They had come true. The long wrestle with morbid conscientiousness, his defeat, his wanderings, the great storm, the safe arrival at a haven, his dream, and now his glad awakening had made him whole.
The storm had died down about two in the morning, and it was nearly six before he awoke. He could scarcely wait to drink the coffee which the old woman prepared for him; scarcely wait to hear her directions for getting back to the Gaard. He was off like some impatient boy before she had finished telling him.
His step was brisk, his heart was light, his grave face was smiling. He sang. He did not notice that the way was long and rough. Everything in life seemed easy to him. He trod on air. At last, after several hours, he saw the smoke of the Solli Gaard. He hastened through the birch-woods, down the hillside, and into the courtyard. There was a group of people standing round the carriage, which had evidently just come back from a journey. Mor Inga and Gerda were helping Knutty out of the carriage. Ejnar, Alan, and the Sorenskriver, Solli, Ragnhild, and every one belonging to the Gaard, including old Kari, crowded round her.
"Thank God, thank God, it was not he," she was saying.
Then old Kari looked up and saw Clifford. She firmly believed him to be dead and thought this was his ghost.
"Aa Jösses!"[Q] she cried, falling down on her knees and folding her hands in prayer.
They all turned and saw him. Alan rushed forward to meet his father.