"I believe I am a Norwegian in spirit if not in body; I have always loved the North and yearned after it."
She glanced at him and caught him looking fixedly at her. He was thinking:
"To-morrow, when she and I go off to Peer Gynt's home together, shall I be able to speak to her as I spoke to her in my dream up at the Saeter?"
He turned away when he met her glance, and retired at once into himself.
Then Gerda sang other Norwegian songs, every one joining in with increasing enjoyment and decreasing shyness: songs about cows, pastures, Saeters, sweethearts, and Huldres, a curious mixture of quaint, even humorous words, and melancholy music.
Finally the Sorenskriver, scarcely waiting until the voices had died away, stood up, a commanding figure, a typical rugged Norwegian, and started the national song:
"Yes, we cherish this our country."
Long afterwards Katharine remembered that scene and that singing.
No voice was silent, no heart was without its thrill, no face without its sign of pride of race and country.