"Without definite object? Merely for the sake of work?"
He hesitated a moment, and then said,—
"I will tell you one thing, my good lady: Magnhild's misfortune has been that throughout her whole life she has had every want supplied, every meal, every garment. Had she been obliged to labor hard, or to bring up children, she would not have indulged so freely in dreams."
"So, then, work without definite aim?" repeated Rönnaug.
"There are so many kinds of aims," said Grong, peevishly,—and then he was silent. It was evident that he had been all round the circle and had returned to his wrath over what had befallen himself.
They had turned and were retracing their steps in the friendly birch avenue leading to the parsonage. The tones of a human voice were heard; they drew nearer, paused, and listened attentively. The windows were open, and every note rang out, clear and equal.
"Yes, there is purity in the voice," said Grong; "that is true. But purity is a mere passive quality."
They went on.
"Not technical skill alone, then?" queried Rönnaug.
To this Grong made no reply. He had fallen into a new train of thought. When they had reached the house, he roused himself.