soul,
The folk to God's word were attending.
Then a voice rang out o'er the fiord so blue;
And the carven angels, the whole church through,
Turned round, methought, to listen thereto.

MARGIT.

O Signe, say on! Tell me all, tell me all!

SIGNE.

'Twas as though a strange, irresistible call
Summoned me forth from the worshipping flock,
Over hill and dale, over mead and rock.
'Mid the silver birches I listening trod,
Moving as though in a dream;
Behind me stood empty the house of God;
Priest and people were lured by the magic 'twould seem,
Of the tones that still through the air did stream.
No sound they made; they were quiet as death;
To hearken the song-birds held their breath,
The lark dropped earthward, the cuckoo was still,
As the voice re-echoed from hill to hill.

MARGIT.

Go on.

SIGNE.

They crossed themselves, women and men;
[Pressing her hands to her breast.

But strange thoughts arose within me then;
For the heavenly song familiar grew:
Gudmund oft sang it to me and you--
Ofttimes has Gudmund carolled it,
And all he e'er sang in my heart is writ.

MARGIT.

And you think that it may be--?

SIGNE.

I know it is he! I know it? I know it! You soon shall see!
[Laughing.

From far-off lands, at the last, in the end,
Each song-bird homeward his flight doth bend!
I am so happy--though why I scarce know--!
Margit, what say you? I'll quickly go
And take down his harp, that has hung so long
In there on the wall that 'tis rusted quite;
Its golden strings I will polish bright,
And tune them to ring and to sing with his song.

MARGIT. [Absently.]

Do as you will--

SIGNE. [Reproachfully.]

Nay, this in not right.
[Embracing her.

But when Gudmund comes will your heart grow light--
Light, as when I was a child, again.

MARGIT.

So much has changed--ah, so much!--since then--

SIGNE.

Margit, you shall be happy and gay!
Have you not serving-maids many, and thralls?
Costly robes hang in rows on your chamber walls;
How rich you are, none can say.
By day you can ride in the forest deep,
Chasing the hart and the hind;
By night in a lordly bower you can sleep,
On pillows of silk reclined.

MARGIT. [Looking toward the window.]

And he comes to Solhoug! He, as a guest!

SIGNE.

What say you?

MARGIT. [Turning.]

Naught.--Deck you out in your best.
That fortune which seemeth to you so bright
May await yourse