the man who did it in his time.

Tradition goes on to tell that just as Ole Haugen's Bridal March was
the merriest ever heard, so the bridal pair that it played to church,
that were met by it again as they came from the altar, and that drove
home with its strain in their ears, were the happiest couple that had
ever been seen. And though the race of Tingvold had always been a
handsome race, and after this were handsomer than ever, it is
maintained that none, before or after, could equal this particular
couple.

With Ole Haugen legend ends, and now history begins. Ole's bridal
march kept its place in the house of Tingvold. It was sung, and
hummed, and whistled, and fiddled, in the house and in the stable, in
the field and on the mountain-side. The only child born of the
marriage, little Astrid, was rocked and sung to sleep with it by
mother, by father, and by servants, and it was one of the first things
she herself learned. There was music in the race, and this bright
little one had her full share of it, and soon could hum her parent's
triumphal march, the talisman of her family, in quite a masterly way.

It was hardly to be wondered at that when she grew up, she too wished
to choose her lover. Many came to woo, but at the age of twenty-three
the rich and gifted girl was still single. The reason came out at
last. In the house lived a quick-witted youth, whom Aslaug had taken
in out of pity. He went by the name of the tramp or gipsy, though he
was neither. But Aslaug was ready enough to call him so when she
heard that Astrid and he were betrothed. They had pledged faith to
each other in all secrecy out on the hill pastures, and had sung the
bridal march together, she on the height, he answering from below.