Here is the rarest
Of grass for the fairest,
Here is the whitest
Of flowers for the brightest.
Here is a swelling
Bud for the lovely one,
Here is a telling
Leaf for the faithful one.
Take up the wreath, dearest, it is for thee, Take up the wreath, dearest, thinking of me!
When she awoke in the morning she had been in a forest where the sun shone in on every side, where all the trees were those they called "golden rain," their long yellow tassels hanging down and almost touching her as she passed. Soon she remembered the chain, she took it and hung it over; then she put a black handkerchief over the white, and the chain over that, as it showed better upon black. She sat up in bed and kept looking at herself in a little hand mirror; was she indeed so beautiful? She stood up to do her hair and then look at herself again, but remembering that her mother knew nothing about it, she hastened to go down and tell her. Just as she was ready, and was about to hang the chain round her neck, it occurred to her what her mother would say, what everybody would say, and what she should answer when they asked her why she wore such a costly chain. The question being a very reasonable one, it returned again and again, till at last she drew forth a little box in which she laid the chain, put the box in her pocket, and, for the first time in her life, felt herself poor.
She did not go where she ought to have done that forenoon; for above the town, near the spot where she had got the chain, she sat with it in her hand, with a feeling as if she had stolen it.
That night, at the foot of the garden, she waited still longer for Yngve Vold than she had done the foregoing evening for Gunnar: she wanted to give him the chain back. But as the ship that Gunnar was going with, had the day before unexpectedly weighed anchor, because it had got a splendid cargo in the next town, so Yngve Vold, the owner of the vessel had to set out to-day on the same errand; he had other business to transact at the same time, therefore he was away three weeks.
In these three weeks, the chain was gradually transferred from her pocket to a drawer in the closet, and from there again to an envelope, and the envelope to a secret corner; and during the time she herself made one humiliating discovery after another. For the first time she became aware of the distance that separated her from the ladies of the higher classes; they could have worn the chain without any one asking the why and the wherefore. But to one of these, Yngve Vold would not have ventured to offer the chain without, at the same time, offering his hand; it was only with the Fisher Girl he could do that. But if he wished to give her anything, why then not something she could have some use for; he had meant to scorn her so much the more, by giving her what she could never use. The story of "the most beautiful" must have been a fable; for had the chain been given her on that afternoon, he would never have come in secret, and at night time. Vexation and shame gnawed themselves so much the deeper in, as she had ceased to confide in any one. No wonder, then, that the first time she met him again, him in whom centred all these vexatious and shame-filling thoughts, she should blush so deeply that he misinterpreted it, and when she saw that, blush deeper still.
She turned her steps quickly home again, snatched up the chain, and, although it was scarcely light, she seated herself above the town to wait for him; now he should get it back! She felt sure he would come, because he also had blushed at seeing her, and he had been away the whole time. But soon these same thoughts began to tell in his favour; he would not have blushed if he had been indifferent to her; he would have come before if he had been at home. It began to get rather dusk; for in these three weeks the days had shortened quickly. But at nightfall our thoughts often change. She sat close above the road among the trees; she could see without being seen. When she had been there some time, and he did not come, conflicting thoughts began to rise; she listened now in anger, now in fear; she could hear every one who came, long before she saw them, but it was never him. The little birds that half asleep changed their perches among the leaves, could frighten her, she sat so breathlessly; every sound from the town, every noise took her attention. A large vessel was weighing anchor, and the sailors were singing; it would be tugged out in the night, to get the good of the first morning breeze. She longed to go too, out upon the great sea. She caught up the song, the clinging stroke of the capstan gave raising power, whereto, whence? There stood the light hat upon the road just in front of her, she sprang up with a shriek, and frightened at what she had done, she ran, and in running she remembered she ought not to have done so; it was one mistake upon another, so she ran with all her might. But shame and agitation overpowered her, he was just behind, and she cast herself down among the trees. When he got up to her, she breathed so heavily that he could hear every breath, and the same power that in her intrepidity she had exercised over him last time they met, she still possessed as she lay there in an agony of fear; he bent over her, and whispered "Do not fear!"
But she trembled still more. Then he kneeled down beside her and took her hand, but slowly, for he himself was afraid. At the first touch of his hand she sprang up as if burnt with fire--and off again--whilst he remained standing.
She did not run far, for she had not power, her temples throbbed, her bosom heaved, she pressed her hands against it, and listened. She heard a step in the grass, a cracking among the leaves,--he was coming, and straight towards her. He saw her? No, he did not see,--Yes, good heavens, he saw!... no, he went by--Then she sank down weak and exhausted.
After a long time she got up and began to go slowly down the mountain, then stopped and went on again, as though without any aim. On reaching the road, there he was waiting for her; she had been walking as if in a fog and had not observed him before. He rose; a slight cry escaped her, but she did not stir, she merely put her hands before her eyes and wept. Then he whispered again: "I see you love me!--I love you!--You shall be mine!--You don't answer?--You cannot!--But trust me, for from this hour you are mine!--Good night!" and he gently touched her shoulder.