a little; there was a sweetish, rotting smell from the dead leaves in
the wood, and the magpies flew with twigs in their beaks, building their
nests. A couple of days more, and the brooks began to swell and foam;
here and there a butterfly was to be seen, and the fishermen came home
from their stations. The trader's two boats came in laden deep with
fish, and anchored off the drying grounds; there was life and commotion
all of a sudden out on the biggest of the islands, where the fish were
to be spread on the rocks to dry. I could see it all from my window.

But no noise reached the hut; I was alone, and remained so. Now and
again someone would pass. I saw Eva, the blacksmith's girl; she had got
a couple of freckles on her nose.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Out for firewood," she answered quietly. She had a rope in her hand to
carry the wood, and her white kerchief on her head. I stood watching
her, but she did not turn round.

After that I saw no one for days.

The spring was urging, and the forest listened; it was a great delight
to watch the thrushes sitting in the tree-tops staring at the sun and
crying; sometimes I would get up as early as two in the morning, just
for a share of the joy that went out from bird and beast at sunrise.

The spring had reached me too, maybe, and my blood beat at times as if
it were footsteps. I sat in the hut, and thought of overhauling my
fishing rods and lines and gear, but moved never a finger to any work at
all, for a glad, mysterious restlessness that was in and out of my heart