parted a single
day; but none of them would acknowledge it. The later it grew the more
dejected Oyvind became; he was forced to go out to recover his
composure a little.

It was dusk now and there were strange sounds in the air. Oyvind
remained standing on the door-step gazing upward. From the brow of the
cliff he then heard his own name called, quite softly; it was no
delusion, for it was repeated twice. He looked up and faintly
distinguished a female form crouching between the trees and looking
down.

"Who is it?" asked he.

"I hear you are going away," said a low voice, "so I had to come to you
and say good-by, as you would not come to me."

"Dear me! Is that you, Marit? I shall come up to you."

"No, pray do not. I have waited so long, and if you come I should have
to wait still longer; no one knows where I am and I must hurry home."

"It was kind of you to come," said he.

"I could not bear to have you leave so, Oyvind; we have known each
other since we were children."

"Yes; we have."

"And now we have not spoken to each other for half a year."

"No; we have not."

"We parted so strangely, too, that time."

"We did. I think I must come up to you!"

"Oh, no! do not come! But tell me: you are not angry with me?"

"Goodness! how could you think so?"

"Good-by, then, Oyvind, and my thanks for all the happy times we have
had together!"

"Wait, Marit!"

"Indeed I must go; they will miss me."

"Marit! Marit!"

"No, I dare not stay away any longer, Oyvind. Good-by."

"Good-by!"

Afterwards he moved about as in a dream, and answered very absently
when he was addressed. This was ascribed to his journey, as was quite
natural; and indeed it occupied his whole mind at the moment when the
school-master took leave of him in the evening and put something into
his hand, which he afterwards found to be a five-dollar bill. But
later, when he went to bed, he thought not of the journey, but of the
words which had come down from the brow of the cliff, and those that
had been sent up again. As a child Marit was not allowed to come on
the cliff, because her grandfather feared she might fall down. Perhaps
she will come down some day, any way.

CHAPTER VIII.

DEAR PARENTS,--We have to study much more now than at first, but
as I am less behind the others than I was, it is not so hard. I shall
change many things in father's place when I come home; for there is
much that is wrong t