But the
pastor, I am told, grew very wroth, and
demanded that his nephew should first take his
second and third degrees, attaching, besides,
some very odious stipulations regarding average
in study and college standing, before there could
be any talk about engagement or matrimony.
So, at present, Arnfinn is still studying, and the
fair-haired Inga is still waiting.
TRULS, THE NAMELESS.
HE was born in the houseman's lodge;
she in the great mansion. He did not
know who his father was; she was
the daughter of Grim of Skogli, and
she was the only daughter he had. They were
carried to baptism on the same day, and he was
called Truls, because they had to call him something;
she received the name of Borghild, because
that had been the name of every eldest
born daughter in the family for thirty
generations. They both cried when the pastor poured
the water on their heads; his mother hushed
him, blushed, and looked timidly around her;
but the woman who carried Borghild lifted her
high up in her arms so that everybody could
see her, and the pastor smiled benignly, and the
parishioners said that they had never seen so
beautiful a child. That was the way in which
they began life--he as a child of sin, she as the
daughter of a mighty race.
They grew up together. She had round
cheeks and merry eyes, and her lips were redder
than the red rose. He was of slender
growth, his face was thin and pale, and his eyes
had a strange, benumbed gaze, as if they were
puzzling themselves with some sad, life-long
riddle which they never hoped to solve.
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