"Will you not go to a dance, lad!"
"No, not yet."
"Not yet? When then?"
He did not answer.
"What do you mean,--not yet?"
As he did not reply, the schoolmaster said,--"Come now, no such talk!"
"No, I won"t go."
He was very positive and seemed agitated.
"That your own schoolmaster should stand here and have to ask you twice to go to dance!"
There was a long silence.
"Is there any one you are afraid of meeting?"
"I cannot tell who there may be there."
"But could there be any one?"
No answer.
Then the schoolmaster went close up to him, and laid his hand on his shoulder,--"Are you afraid of meeting Marit?"
Ovind looked down, and breathed heavily and quickly.
"Tell me, Ovind."
Still no answer.
"You perhaps feel ashamed to confess it before you are confirmed, but tell me anyhow, and you will never regret it."
Ovind looked up but he could not say a word, and his eyes fell again.
"You are not light-hearted as you were; does she care for any one more than you?"
Ovind was still silent, the schoolmaster felt a little hurt, and turned away; then they went back.
When they had gone some distance, the schoolmaster waited till Ovind got up to him,--"You wish very much, that you were confirmed," said he.
"Yes."
"What do you then intend to do?"
"I should like to go to the Training School."
"And to be schoolmaster?"
"No."
"You think it isn"t good enough?"
Ovind was silent.
"Then what would you be?"
"I haven"t thought much about it."
"If you had money I suppose you"d buy a farm?"
"Yes, but keep the mills."
"Then it would be better to go to the Agricultural School."
"Do they learn as much there as at the Training School?"
"No; but they learn that which will afterwards be of use."
"Do they get numbers there?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"I should like to be amongst the first."
"You can be that without numbers."
They were silent again till they came in sight of the little farm; they could see a light shining from the room; the overhanging mountains looked black in the Winter evening, the lake below was one blank sheet of ice, and the moon reflected the shadow of the pine trees.
"It is a beautiful place!" said the schoolmaster.
Ovind could sometimes see it with the same eyes as when his mother told him stories, and as when they played with the sledges; this he did now,--all looked pleasing and bright.
"Yes, it is beautiful," said he, but sighed.
"Your father has found it sufficient; perhaps you might do so too."
The happy aspect of the place vanished at once. The schoolmaster stood as if waiting a reply, but getting none he shook his head and went in.
He sat awhile with them, but was more silent than talkative. When he said good night, the parents both rose and followed him out, as if expecting that he had something to say. They stood waiting, and looked out upon the night.
"It has grown so quiet," said the mother at last, "since the children left off playing here."
"You have no longer a child in the house," said the schoolmaster.
The mother understood him,--"Ovind has not been happy of late," said she.