So they mounted higher and higher, pausing now and then to look down at the valley, which on this side had a different appearance from that to which they were now affectionately accustomed from the Solli Gaard. Here the valley was much narrower, and the view, though beautiful, was less comprehensive, but more intimate. From the Solli Gaard they saw the great Gudbrandsdal as a vision. From the hillside behind the old brown church they saw it as a human reality. They noticed, too, that the land was more encumbered with rocks and stones in this district than in the region round about the Solli Gaard; although there also were outward and visible signs of the patient labour with which the Norwegians struggled against a hard nature to make their country productive. But here the battle proclaimed itself even more eloquently; and Katharine, who noticed everything, spoke of it.
"No wonder they are a melancholy people, if they have had to struggle so hard to get so little," she said.
"It is not that which has made them melancholy," Clifford replied. "It is the loneliness."
He was silent for a moment, and then went on:
"Certain nations seem set apart for loneliness, even as certain people. Nature has willed it so. Have you not seen how in active bustling communities there are always several detached persons who prefer to go away into the wilderness? They belong there. It is their native soil, even if they have been born in crowded cities. I believe my father was one of those persons."
"I have seen them out in Colorado," Katharine said. And she added impulsively:
"But you are not one of them."
"No," he said without looking up at her; "I am not one of them. I was forced into my wilderness."
And again she could not help him. For the very life of her, she could not have said to him:
"Tell me about your wilderness, and I will tell you about mine."