"I made a song after I had seen you the first time."
"Over by the parsonage, the evening you left there. I saw you in the lake."
She laughed, then was still a while.
"Let me hear that song."
Arne had never before done such a thing, but now he sang for her the song,—
"Fair Venevill bounded on lithesome feet,
Her lover to meet," etc.
Eli stood there very attentive; she stood there long after he was through. At last she burst out,—
"Oh, how I pity her!"
"It seems as though I had not made it myself," said Arne, for he felt ashamed at having produced it. Nor did he understand how he had come to do so. He remained standing there as if looking after the song.