there was no snow on the forest skirting the silent bay; the moon
sailed overhead, mirroring the forest trees in the ice.

"It is beautiful here at Pladsen," said the school-master.

There were times when Oyvind could see these things with the same eyes
with which he looked when his mother told him nursery tales, or with
the vision he had when he coasted on the hill-side, and this was one of
those times,--all lay exalted and purified before him.

"Yes, it is beautiful," said he, but he sighed.

"Your father has found everything he wanted in this home; you, too,
might be contented here."

The joyous aspect of the spot suddenly disappeared. The school-master
stood as if awaiting an answer; receiving none, he shook his head and
entered the house with Oyvind. He sat a while with the family, but was
rather silent than talkative, whereupon the others too became silent.
When he took his leave, both husband and wife followed him outside of
the door; it seemed as if both expected him to say something.
Meanwhile, they stood gazing up into the night.

"It has grown so unusually quiet here," finally said the mother, "since
the children have gone away with their sports."

"Nor have you a _child_ in the house any longer, either," said the
school-master.

The mother knew what he meant.