nd study. Where he
should go later he did not know; but it made not the least difference
to him. He had acquired a briskness and vigor of thought which it did
one good to see, and an animation in the expression of his feelings
which is so refreshing to a person who the whole year through strives
to repress his own. The school-master grew ten years younger.

"Now we have come _so far_ with him," said he, beaming with
satisfaction as he rose to go.

When the mother returned from waiting on him, as usual, to the
door-step, she called Oyvind into the bedroom.

"Some one will be waiting for you at nine o'clock," whispered she.

"Where?"

"On the cliff."

Oyvind glanced at the clock; it was nearly nine. He could not wait in
the house, but went out, clambered up the side of the cliff, paused on
the top, and looked around. The house lay directly below; the bushes
on the roof had grown large, all the young trees round about him had
also grown, and he recognized every one of them. His eyes wandered
down the road, which ran along the cliff, and was bordered by the
forest on the other side. The road lay there, gray and solemn, but the
forest was enlivened with varied foliage; the trees were tall and well
grown. In the little bay lay a boat with unfurled sail; it was laden
with planks and awaiting a breeze. Oyvind gazed across the water which
had borne him away and home again. There it stretched before him,
calm and smooth; some sea-birds flew over it, but made no noise, for it
was late. His father came walking up from the mill, paused on the
door-step, took a survey of all about him, as his son had done, then
went down to the water to take the boat in for the night. The mother
appeared at the side of the house, for she had been in the kitchen.
She raised her eyes toward the cliff as she crossed the farm-yard with
something for the hens, looked up again and began to hum. Oyvind sat
down to wait. The underbrush was so dense that he could not see very
far into the forest, but he listened to the slightest sound. For a
long time he heard nothing but the birds that flew up and cheated
him,--after a while a squirrel that was leaping from tree to tree. But
at length there was a rustling farther off; it ceased a moment, and
then began again. He rises, his heart throbs, the blood rushes to his
head; then something breaks through the brushes close by him; but it is
a large, shaggy dog, which, on seeing him, pauses on