how she would suddenly wake up at nights and
see those large blue eyes sadly gazing at her,
how by turns she would condemn herself and
him, and how she felt with bitter pain that she
was growing away from those who had hitherto
been nearest and dearest to her. And strange
to say, this very isolation from her father made
her cling only the more desperately to him. It
seemed to her as if Bjarne had deliberately
thrown her off; that she herself had been the
one who took the first step had hardly occurred
to her. Alas, her grief was as irrational as her
love. By what strange devious process of
reasoning these convictions became settled in her
mind, it is difficult to tell. It is sufficient to
know that she was a woman and that she loved.
She even knew herself that she was irrational,
and this very sense drew her more hopelessly
into the maze of the labyrinth from which she
saw no escape.

His visits were as regular as those of the sun.
She knew that there was only a word of hers
needed to banish him from her presence forever.
And how many times did she not resolve to
speak that word? But the word was never
spoken. At times a company of the lads from
the valley would come to spend a merry evening
at the saeter; but she heeded them not, and
they soon disappeared. Thus the summer went