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their footgear. Cecilia had not gone up; once or twice she gave a little laugh.
    “’Tis morning already,” her father heard her say. “In three hours we must ride away to church. ’Tis not worth while to go up to the loft—I think I will lie down in here.”
    There was a slight creaking in the south bed as she got up into it, then came the louder sound of the men getting into the other. A few words passed between them. Cecilia’s voice grew faint with sleepiness, then she left off answering, and soon after, one of the men began to snore.
    Olav got up after a while; he would go into the hearth-room and close the vent. In the north bed he saw the heads of the young men; they had rolled the coverlet about them.
    Cecilia was asleep in the other bed; she lay right on her back, her delicate, flower-like face showed white among the masses of loosened hair. Olav was reminded of her mother, who had lainthus, in the same bed, year after year, flung down like a corpse, paralysed to the waist, slowly withering to death.
    But the sleeping child was radiant with health. She was white in the face, but it was fresh and round as pearls; a little stubborn and self-willed she looked, even when asleep, and the long, pale lashes cast a shadow on the rounded cheeks. The short, straight nose and the broad curve of the chin betokened obstinacy or steadfastness—one could not say which it was at her age.
    One of the hands hung down over the side of the bed—it looked uncomfortable. Olav cautiously raised it and laid it on her bosom. Her breasts were rounded firmly and delicately under the red woollen gown, making a wide gape at the opening and showing an embroidered kerchief under the silver lacing. She had outgrown this gown in the sleeves too—they did not reach nearly to her wrists.
    Olav stood looking at his daughter till he felt himself shivering in the chilly morning air with only a cloak about him. He bent down and made the sign of the cross over her. Then he picked up the little red shoes; they were dark with wet from the water in the bottom of the boat—her father set them on the edge of the cold hearth.
    1 Linnœa borealis—reputed to be a cure for shingles.
    2 July 20.

3
    E IRIK and Jörund went much abroad to feastings and merrymakings and often Cecilia was with them; Olav had nothing to say to it.
    The two friends were handsome men; at any rate they made a handsome pair when they went about together; they brought life and gaiety with them, and they were well liked. When folk met Olav they said he might feel honoured in his son.
    Now that he had stopped growing, Eirik was very tall, long and big of limb, but shapely, narrow in the hips and thin about the waist, though the upper part of his body seemed somewhat too broad and heavy—he had grown so broad-shouldered that he stooped a little, so that folk said in jest that he was rather top-heavy—but his head was small in comparison.
    He had grown very dark of hair and complexion, and he hada long, narrow face; his features were not so handsome: the nose hooked, or rather indented, first between the eyes, and then another dent over the bridge; the mouth was so big and the upper jaw so sharply curved that his great white teeth made one think of a horse’s mouth; the long, flat chin lacked roundness. But he had such matchless eyes, said folk—Eirik’s eyes were large and light brown and seemed full of an inner light. And then he had youth, so that he passed for a handsome young man, even if his features might have been better.
    Jörund Rypa was such as most call handsome, tall and well grown, with smooth flaxen hair, blue eyes, a ruddy face, and a large, rather pointed nose, a fresh, rather thick-lipped mouth. He was quiet and retiring enough among the neighbours here—Eirik was far more winning in his ways. So the one was thought handsome because he was lively, and the other’s good looks were held to excuse his being somewhat indolent or haughty.
    It was this subdued