often failed to do rightly by you, and that is why I write to you now;
but you must not show the letter to any one. Once I had everything
just as I desired, and then I was not kind; but now there is no one who
cares for me, and I am very wretched. Jon Hatlen has made a lampoon
about me, and all the boys sing it, and I no longer dare go to the
dances. Both the old people know about it, and I have to listen to
many harsh words. Now I am sitting alone writing, and you must not
show my letter.
You have learned much and are able to advise me, but you are now
far away. I have often been down to see your parents, and have talked
with your mother, and we have become good friends; but I did not like
to say anything about it, for you wrote so strangely. The
school-master only makes fun of me, and he knows nothing about the
lampoon, for no one in the parish would presume to sing such a thing to
him. I stand alone now, and have no one to speak with. I remember
when we were children, and you were so kind to me; and I always sat on
your sled, and I could wish that I were a child again.
I cannot ask you to answer me, for I dare not do so. But if you
will answer just once more I will never forget it in you, Oyvind.
MARIT KNUDSDATTER.

Please burn this letter; I scarcely know whether I dare send it.



DEAR MARIT,--Thank you for your letter; you wrote it in a lucky hour.
I will tell you now, Marit, that I love you so much that I can scarcely
wait here any longer; and if you love me as truly in return all the
lampoons of Jon and harsh words of others shall be like leaves which
grow too plentifully on the tree. Since I received your letter I feel