Part 16 (1/2)
”Your mother must be very fond of you. I should like to see your mother.”
”Come over to Kampen when you are well.”
And now all at once he pictured her sitting in the cheerful room at Kampen, looking out on the mountains; his chest began to heave, the blood rushed to his head. ”It is warm in here,” said he, getting up.
She heard this. ”Are you going, Arne?” asked she, and he sat down again.
”You must come over to us often; mother likes you so much.”
”I should be glad to come myself; but I must have some errand, though.”
Eli was silent for a while, as if she were considering something. ”I believe,” said she, ”that mother has something she wants to ask of you.”
He heard her turn in bed. There was no sound to be heard, either in the room or outside, save the ticking of the clock on the wall. At last she burst out,--
”How I wish it were summer!”
”That it were summer?” and there rose up in his mind, blended with fragrant foliage and the tinkling of cattle bells, shouts from the mountains, singing from the valleys, Black Water glittering in the suns.h.i.+ne, the gards rocking in it, and Eli coming out and sitting down, as she had done that evening long ago.
”If it were summer,” said she, ”and I were sitting on the hill, I really believe I could sing a song.”
He laughed and asked: ”What would it be about?”
”Oh, something easy, about--I do not know myself--”
”Tell me, Eli!” and he sprang up in delight; then, recollecting himself, he sat down again.
”No; not for all the world!” She laughed.
”I sang for you when you asked me.”
”Yes, you did; but--no! no!”
”Eli, do you think I would make sport of your little verse?”
”No; I do not think so, Arne; but it is not anything I have made myself.”
”It is by some one else, then.”
”Yes, it just came floating of itself.”
”Then you can surely repeat it to me.”
”No, no; it is not altogether that either, Arne. Do not ask me any more.” She must have hid her face in the bedclothes, for the last words seemed to come out of them.
”You are not as kind to me now, Eli, as I was to you!” he said, and rose.
”Arne, there is a difference--you do not understand me--but it was--I do not know myself--another time--do not be angry with me, Arne! Do not go away from me!” She began to weep.