Ovind looked at the clock, it was nearly nine. He could not wait in the house, but went out, clambered up the ridge, and looked round. The house roof lay close below; the bushes on the roof were very much larger, and all the small trees had grown; he could remember each one. And there lay the road, grey and sombre, and the wood with its varied foliage, and in the bay a vessel laden with planks, waiting for wind. The lake was bright and calm; some sea-birds flew over, but did not cry as it was late. He sat down waiting; the small trees prevented him from seeing very far over, but he listened to the slightest noise. For some time there were only birds that started up and deceived him; then again, a squirrel springing from tree to tree. But at last he heard a rustling, then it ceased; then it came again. He rose,--his heart beat fast, the blood rushed into his head; there was a movement in the bushes close to him, and a shaggy dog appeared; it was the dog from Heidegaard, and close behind, it rustled again; the dog looked back and wagged his tail; now comes Marit.
A bush caught her dress, she turned to release it, and so she stood when he first saw her; she had her hair plainly dressed, as was the custom with the peasant girls on week days; she wore a strong plaided dress without sleeves, and nothing on her neck except the linen collar. She had stolen away from her work, and durst not stay to tidy herself. She looked up and smiled, then she came forward, growing more and more red at each step. He went to meet her, and took her hand in both of his; she looked down, and so they stood.
"Thanks for all your letters," was the first he said, and when she then looked up a little and laughed, he felt that she was the most roguish little elf he ever could meet in a wood; but he was caught, and she not any the less.
"How you have grown!" she said, but meant something quite different.
They looked at each other but said nothing. Meanwhile the dog had seated himself at the edge of the ridge, and looked down upon the farm, and Thore observing his head from below, could not for his life think what it could be.
When, at last, the two began to talk, Ovind spoke so quickly that Marit couldn't help laughing.
"Yes, you see, it's when I am glad, really glad, you see, and when we came to understand each other it was as if a lock sprang open within me, sprang open, you see."
She laughed, then she said, "I know all the letters you sent me by heart."
"And I know yours too, but you always wrote such short letters."
"Because you always wanted them so long."