They had been talking of his experiences at school. He knew her desire to finish the college education cut short by a lack of means.
"Signe, I wish you would let me do you a favor."
She thought for a moment before she asked what it was.
"Let me help you attend college. You know I am able to, besides—besides, some day you may learn to think as much of me as I do of you, and then, dear Signe—"
Signe arose. "Hr. Bogstad," she said, "I wish you would not talk like that. If you do, I shall go back to Hansine."
"Why, Signe, don't be offended. I am not jesting." He stood before her in the path, and would have taken her hand, but she drew back.
"Signe, I have thought a great deal of you for a long time. You know we have been boy and girl together. My absence at school has made no difference in me. I wish you could think a little of me, Signe."
"Hr. Bogstad, I don't believe in deceiving anyone. I am sorry that you have been thinking like that about me, because I cannot think of you other than as a friend. Let us not talk about it."
If Henrik could not talk about that nearest his heart, he would remain silent, which he did.
Signe was gathering some rare ferns and mosses when Hansine's lur sounded through the hills. That was the signal for them, as well as the cows, to come home.