Eli made Arne sing to her, first a hymn, and then a song of his own. For
some time there was silence between them, and then Eli said, "I wonder,
Arne, that you, who have so much that is beautiful within, should want
to go away. You must not go away."

"There are times when I seem not to want to so much," he answered.

Presently Arne could hear her weeping, and he felt that he must
move--either forward or back.

"Eli!"

"Yes." Both voices were at a whisper.

"Give me your hand."

She made no answer. He listened, quickly, closely, stretched out his own
hand, and grasped a warm little hand that lay bare.

There was a step on the stairs; they let go of one another, and Birgit
entered with a light. "You've been sitting too long in the dark," she
said, putting the candle on the table. But neither Eli nor Arne could
bear the light; she turned to the pillow, and he shaded his face with
his hands.

"Ah, yes; it's a bit dazzling at first," said the mother, "but the
feeling soon passes away."

Next day Arne heard that Eli was better and going to come down for a
time after dinner. He at once put his tools together, and bade farewell