the kitchen door had heard everything, anxiously sought Oyvind's eyes,
scarcely able to keep back her tears, but she would not make it harder
for him by saying a single word. After they had all silently entered
the house, the father sat down by the window, and gazed out after Ole,
with much earnestness in his face; Oyvind's eyes hung on the slightest
change of countenance; for on his father's first words almost depended
the future of the two young people. If Thore united his refusal with
Ole's, it could scarcely be overcome. Oyvind's thoughts flew,
terrified, from obstacle to obstacle; for a time he saw only poverty,
opposition, misunderstanding, and a sense of wounded honor, and every
prop he tried to grasp seemed to glide away from him. It increased his
uneasiness that his mother was standing with her hand on the latch of
the kitchen-door, uncertain whether she had the courage to remain
inside and await the issue, and that she at last lost heart entirely
and stole out. Oyvind gazed fixedly at his father, who never took his
eyes from the window; the son did not dare speak, for the other must
have time to think the matter over fully. But at the same moment his
soul had fully run its course of anxiety, and regained its poise once
more. "No one but God can part us in the end," he thought to himself,
as he looked at his father's wrinkled brow. Soon after this something
occurred. Thore drew a long sigh, rose, glanced round the room, and
met his son's gaze. He paused, and looked long at him.

"It was my will that you should give her up, for one should hesitate
about succeeding through entreaties or threats. But if you are
determined not to give her up, you may let me know when the opportunity
comes, and perhaps I can help you."

He started off to his work, and the son followed.