"Yes, it was the bay mare," answered he, in the same diffident tone; then, encouraged by her smile, he straightened himself a little and continued rather more fluently:"She never was quite right since the time the wolves were after her.And then since they took the colt away from her the milk has been troubling her, and she hasn't been quite like herself." "I haven't seen her anywhere hereabouts," said Brita; "you may have towander far, before you get on the track of her.""Yes, that is very likely.And I am tired already." "Won't you sit down and rest yourself?"He deliberately seated himself in the grass, and gradually gained courage to look her straight in the face; and his dull eye remained steadfastly fixed on her in a way which bespoke unfeigned surprise andadmiration. Slowly his mouth broadened into a smile; but his smile had more of sadness than of joy in it. She had, from the moment she saw him, been possessed of a strangely patronizing feeling toward him. 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 must either be weak-minded or very unhappy," thought she, "and what right have I then to treat him harshly." And she continued her simple, straightforward talk with the young man, until he, too, grew almost talkative, and the sadness of his smile began to give way to something which almost resembled happiness. She noticed the change and rejoiced. At last, when the sun had sunk behind the western mountain tops, she rose and bade him good- night; in another moment the door of the saeter- cottage closed behind her, and he heard her bolting it on the inside. But for a long time he remained sitting on the grass, and strange thoughts passed through his head. He had quite forgotten his bay mare.
The next evening when the milking was done, and the cattle were gathered within the saeter enclosure, Brita was again sitting on the large stone, looking out over the valley. She felt a kind of companionship withthe people when she saw the smoke whirling up from their chimneys, and she could guess what they were going to have for supper. As she sat there, she again heard a creaking in the branches, and Halvard Ullern stood again before her, with his jacket on his arm, and the same bridle in his hand.
"You have not found your bay mare yet?" she exclaimed, laughingly. "And you think she is likely to be in this neighborhood?""I don't know," he answered; "and I don't care if she isn't."He spread his jacket on the grass, and sat down on the spot where he had sat the night before. Brita looked at him in surprise and remained silent; she didn't know how to interpret this second visit.
"You are very handsome," he said, suddenly, with a gravity which left no doubt as to his sincerity.
"Do you think so?" she answered, with a merry laugh. He appeared to her almost a child, and it never entered her mind to feel offended. On the contrary, she was not sure but that she felt pleased.
"I have thought of you ever since yesterday," he continued, with the same imperturbable manner. "And if you were not angry with me, I thought I would like to look at you once more. You are so different from other folks.""God bless your foolish talk," cried Brita, with a fresh burst of merriment. "No, indeed I am not angry with you; I should just as soon think of being angry with--with that calf," she added for want of another comparison.
"You think I don't know much," he stammered. "And I don't." The sad smile again settled on his countenance.
A feeling of guilt sent the blood throbbing through her veins. She saw that she had done him injustice. He evidently possessed more sense, or at least a finer instinct, than she had given him credit for.
