But even that did not make the time pass any more quickly, and she did not reach the point where she could look down into the valley until the sun was setting. The shadow had begun to creep up on the opposite side. Above the dark shadow line the slope was still bathed in the rosy evening sunlight, but the shadow steadily ate its way upward.
Then Lisbeth forgot to count her steps any more. What fun it would be to try to reach the sunshine again before the shadow had passed Hoel, which lay shining so brightly up there!
She went down the long slope on a run; but, run as fast as she might, it took time, and when she had reached the bottom of the valley and started up the hilly road on the other side, the sun had gone down. She could only catch its last gleam through the tops of the spruce trees, and a last tiny reflection as it left the window of Peerout Castle.
She stopped to get her breath after running. It was so still and warm and close down there in the valley,—so different from what it had been up on the mountain. It seemed as if the earth sent out a deep breath the moment the sun went down,—a strange, heavy fragrance that made her, all at once, feel anxious and downhearted, just as if she had done something wrong which she could not remember. Then it came into her mind that she ought to have sent word to Kjersti Hoel that she was coming. People in the valley were always afraid that something was the matter when a person came from the sæter unexpectedly; and it would be too shameful for any one to give Kjersti Hoel a fright.
That was the reason she was now jogging so slowly up over the hilly road leading to Hoel Farm. She was in hopes that some one would catch sight of her, or that at least Bearhunter would give warning of her approach; for then they would see that she was not coming in haste, and that she therefore could not be bringing any bad news.
But no one caught sight of her, and no one was stirring on the farm; so she would have to go right in, after all.
Yes, Kjersti Hoel was really startled when she saw her. Lisbeth had no time to offer a greeting before Kjersti said: "What in the world! Is this a mountain bird that has taken flight? There is nothing the matter at the sæter, is there?"
Lisbeth made haste to answer: "Oh, no, indeed! I was to greet you from the milkmaid and say that you must not be frightened at seeing me, for everything is going very well with both man and beast. I have only come down to make a visit and meet Jacob, my brother."
"God be praised!" said Kjersti. "And now you are heartily welcome."
At these words all Lisbeth's downheartedness vanished, and she felt only how festive and cozy it was to be at home again. And Kjersti was in the best of humors. She gave Lisbeth something good to eat, and treated her with as much ceremony as if she had been the milkmaid herself. When the time came for Lisbeth to go to bed, Kjersti went with her all the way to the little sleeping room under the hall stairs, which looked just as neat and orderly as when she had left it. And Kjersti sat on the edge of the bed and asked after every single one of the animals,—she remembered them all. And Lisbeth told about everything. There was only one provoking thing that she shrank from confessing (it might as well be acknowledged first as last, however, for it was sure to come out sometime), and that was her mistake in naming one of the calves. She had called it Young Moolley,[19 ] but the name had proved not at all suitable, for the calf's horns had begun to grow, although Lisbeth had done her best to prevent it by strewing salt upon them.