"Who are you talking with?"
"Ovind."
"Who did you say?"
"Ovind Pladsen."
"Oh J the peasant lad at the little farm!--Come in directly!"
CHAP. V.
[A NEW AIM IN LIFE.]
When Ovind awoke the next morning it was from a long refreshing sleep, and happy dreams. Marit had been on the mountain and tossed grass down upon him; he had gathered it up and thrown it back again; it went up and down in a thousand shapes and colours, the sun stood high in the heavens, and the whole mountain looked dazzling in its brightness. On awaking, he looked round to see it all again; but then he remembered the events of the day before, and the same acute stinging pain at his heart returned. This will never leave me, he thought, and a feeling of helplessness came over him, as though the whole future were lost to him.
"You have slept long," said his mother, as she sat by his side and spun,--"Come now, and get your breakfast, your father is already in the forest, hewing wood."
It was as if the voice helped him; he got up with a little more courage. It may be the mother remembered her own dancing time, for she sat and hummed at her wheel whilst he took breakfast. This he could not bear; he rose from the table and went to the window; the same heaviness and indifference possessed him, but he sought to overcome it by thinking of his work. The weather had changed, it was colder, and that which yesterday threatened for rain fell to-day in wet sleet. He put on his sailor's jacket and mittens, his gaiters, and a skin cap, then said "Good morning," and took his axe on his shoulder.