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Mildrid fell back on her seat, drew a long breath, and looked at him with relief in her eyes; her fear, her bad conscience all gone! She was right, yes; she was right let come now whatever it pleased God to send! No one had answered Hans's greeting, nor had he been asked to come forward. "I am Hans Haugen," he said quietly; lowered his gun and stood holding it.
He went on a little before he answered: "No, but when you come and live at Haugen, I'll have time then to get to know them." "They are so good!" added Mildrid. "So I have heard from every one." He said this decidedly, but coldly.
But what had looked so near was really far off, and she ran and ran, excited by the thought of meeting Hans Haugen. Hans sat quietly in his boat with the German, ignorant of all the disturbance he had caused. He had never known what it was to be frightened; nor had he ever till now known the feeling of being in love.
"Hans Haugen," answered the man rather absently; for he was paying attention to the dog, which seemed to have found the track of the bear again. He was just going to add, "Good-bye!" but when he looked at her she was blushing; cheeks, neck, and bosom crimson. "What's the matter?" said he, astonished. She did not know what to do or where to go, whether to run away or to sit down.
Tormented by her innocent conscience, the poor tired child had run a race with herself till she fell now she slept, caressed by the pure mountain breeze. Beret had not gone home, but away to fetch Hans Haugen. She had far to go, and most of the way was unknown to her.
Soon they were all sitting in grandmother's room. The old woman was very happy. She knew quite well who Hans Haugen was the young people had often spoken about him; and she at once understood that this union wiped out, as it were, much that was painful in the life of her son and his wife. Besides, Hans's good looks rejoiced the cheery old woman's heart.
But never till now had it occurred to either husband or wife that they had been in this case neglecting a duty; never till now had they reflected that their poor relations at Haugen should not have been made to suffer for misfortunes of which they had been in no way the cause. They stole an awkward glance at each other, and sat still, feeling real shame.
Grandmother told how many of her family had worn these silver things on their wedding-day, the happiest of them all her own mother, Aslaug Haugen. Presently they heard the Bridal March played outside; they all stopped, listened, and then hurried to the door to see what it meant. The first person they saw was Endrid, the bride's father.
But the most famous of all is a Bridal March; and its story does not end with the story of his life. Fiddler Ole Haugen was a poor cottar high among the mountains. He had a daughter, Aslaug, who had inherited his cleverness. Though she could not play his fiddle, there was music in everything she did in her talk, her singing, her walk, her dancing.
The grave of the famous fiddler, Ole Haugen, lay close by the church-door. Without saying much about it, the family had always tended it, and a new head-board had been put up when the old one had rotted away below. The upper part of it was in the shape of a wheel, as Ole himself had desired. The grave was in a sunny spot, and was thickly overgrown with wild flowers.
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