She could not but treat him as if he had been a
girl or some person inferior to her in station.
In spite of his large body, the impression he
made upon her was that of weakness; but she
liked the sincerity and kindness which expressed
themselves in his sad smile and large, honest
blue eyes. His gaze reminded her of that of an
ox, but it had not only the ox's dullness, but
also its simplicity and good-nature.

They sat talking on for a while about the weather,
the cattle, and the prospects of the crops.

"What is your name?" she asked, at last.

"Halvard Hedinson Ullern."

A sudden shock ran through her at the sound
of that name; in the next moment a deep blush
stole over her countenance.

"And my name," she said, slowly, "is Brita
Bjarne's daughter Blakstad."

She fixed her eyes upon him, as if to see
what effect her words produced. But his features
wore the same sad and placid expression;
and no line in his face seemed to betray either
surprise or ill-will. Then her sense of patronage
grew into one of sympathy and pity. "He