Erlingsen and Rolf came home sooner than might reasonably have been expected, and well laden with bears' flesh. The whole family of bears had been found and shot.
He sometimes hammered at his skiff.
Erlingsen kept a keen and constant look-out upon the fiord. His wife's account of the adventures of the day of his absence made him anxious; and he never went a mile out of sight of home, so vivid in his imagination was the vision of his house burning, and his family at the mercy of pirates.
So came on and passed away the spring of this year at Erlingsen's farm. It soon passed, for spring in Nordland lasts only a month. About the bridges which spanned the falls were little groups of the peasants gathered, mending such as had burst with the floods, or strengthening such as did not seem secure enough for the passage of the herds to the mountain.
During the one busy month of spring, a slight shade of sadness was thrown over the household within by the decline of old Ulla. It was hardly sadness, it was little more than gravity; for Ulla herself was glad to go. Peder knew that he should soon follow, and every one else was reconciled to one who had suffered so long going to her rest.
One day Rolf led Erica to the grave when they knew that no one was there.
"Now," he said, "you know what she who lies there would like us to be settling. She herself said her burial-day would soon be over, and then would come our wedding-day."
"When everything is ready," replied Erica, "we will fix; but not now. There is much to be done—there are many uncertainties."