again, now that Ödegaard had returned; so her meals were sent up, and she was to be left in peace the whole day. Not until toward evening did she rise to make herself ready; she was going to meet her love. She attired herself in the best she possessed—all her confirmation finery; it was not elegant, but she felt this now for the first time. She, who had had so little taste for dress, to-day suddenly acquired it. One article made the others look ugly until those had been selected that suited together, and even then the effect was not tasteful. She would have given much to-day to be the fairest one—but with these words there glided before her a remembrance which she thrust away with her hand; nothing, nothing must approach her that might cause her disquietude. She stepped about softly, quietly arranging one thing and another in her room, as the time had not yet come. She opened the window and looked out; rosy, glowing clouds had pitched their tents above the mountains; but a cooling breeze floated in with a message from the forest near by. “Yes, now I am coming! now I am coming!” her heart whispered as she once more turned to the mirror to bestow a greeting upon her bridal emotions.
Then she heard Ödegaard’s voice below with
