ly from her hands, while her ringing laughter
echoed through the house, and her sunny presence made it bright in the
dusky ancestral halls. In her kitchen the long rows of copper pots and
polished kettles shone upon the walls, and the neatly scoured milk-pails
stood like soldiers on parade about the shelves under the ceiling.
Bjarne would often sit for hours watching her, and a strange
spring-feeling would steal into his heart. He felt a father's pride in
her stately growth and her rich womanly beauty. "Ah!" he would say to
himself, "she has the pure blood in her veins and, as true as I live,
the farm shall be hers." And then, quite contrary to his habits, he
would indulge in a little reverie, imagining the time when he, as an
aged man, should have given the estate over into her hands, and seeing
her as a worthy matron preside at the table, and himself rocking his
grandchildren on his knee. No wonder, then, that he eyed closely the
young lads who were beginning to hover about the house, and that he
looked with suspicion upon those who selected Saturday nights for their
visits. [5] When Brita was twenty years old, however, her father thought
that it was time for her to make her choice. There were many fine, brave
lads in the valley, and, as Bjarne thought, Brita would have the good
sense to choose the finest and the bravest. So, when the winter came, he
suddenly flung his doors open to the youth of the parish, and began to
give parties with ale and mead in the grand old style. He even talked
with the young men, at times, encouraged them to manly sports, and urged
them to taste of his home-brewed drinks and to tread the spring-dance
briskly. And Brita danced and laughed so that her hair flew around her
and the silver brooches tinkled and rang on her bosom. But when the
merriment was at an end, and any one of the lads remained behind to
offer her his hand, she suddenly grew grave, told him she was too young,
that she did not know herself, and that she had had no time as yet to
decide so serious a question. Thus the winter passed and the summer drew
near.

In the middle of June, Brita went to the saeter [6] with the cattle; and
her sister, Grimhild, remained at home to keep house on the farm. She
loved the life in the mountains; the great solitude sometimes made her
feel sad, but it was not an unpleasant sadness, it was rather a gentle
toning down of all the shrill and noisy feelings of the soul. Up there,
in the heart of t