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Updated: June 5, 2025
The mare became quite a heroic character, and the suggestion was frequently discussed between Lars and his little sister Marit, whether Stella might not be an enchanted princess who was waiting for some one to cut off her head, so that she might show herself in her glory.
About Marit I have often been in doubt, for she is like the wind's course; but I have now learned that notwithstanding this she has resisted Jon Hatlen's advances, at which her grandfather's wrath is sorely kindled. She was happy when your offer came, and if she jested it was from joy, not from any harm. She has endured much, and has done so in order to wait for him on whom her mind was fixed.
"Come, make haste!" said grandpapa, up on the hill; and Marit rose, and walked with reluctant feet upwards. "You are not forgetting your garter?" Oeyvind cried after her. She turned around, and looked first at the garter and then at him. At last she came to a great resolution, and said, in a choked voice: "You may keep that." He went over to her, and, taking her hand, said: "Thank you!"
Old Lorentz D. Uthoug rarely visited his rich sister at Bruseth, but to-day he had taken his weary way up there, and the two masterful old folks sat now facing each other. "So you've managed to find your way up here?" said Aunt Marit, throwing out her ample bosom and rubbing her knees like a man.
"So they say." "Oyvind is his name, is it not?" "Yes; they call him Oyvind." "He has been at one of those agricultural schools down south, I believe?" "There was something of the kind; yes." "Well, my girl she my granddaughter Marit, you know she has gone mad of late." "That is too bad." "She refuses to marry." "Well, really?" "She will not have any of the gard boys who offer themselves."
"Yes," he answered, standing still. "Who is with you?" "Hans." But Hans wanted to go. "No, no!" besought Oyvind. She slowly drew near them, and it was Marit. "You left so soon," said she to Oyvind. He knew not what to reply; thereupon Marit, too, became embarrassed, and all three were silent. But Hans gradually managed to steal away.
You have never told me how you got rid of Jon Hatlen." "I laughed." "How?" "Laughed. Do not you know what it is to laugh?" "Yes; I can laugh." "Let me see!" "Whoever beard of such a thing! Surely, I must have something to laugh at." "I do not need that when I am happy." "Are you happy now, Marit?" "Pray, am I laughing now?" "Yes; you are, indeed."
He took both her hands in his and clapped them together over and over again, gazing into her face. Here the dog began to growl, then his hair bristled and he fell to barking at something below, growing more and more savage, and finally quite furious. Marit sprang back in alarm; but Oyvind went forward and looked down. It was his father the dog was barking at.
The others are Tairo, a very old Japanese doll in the costume of the feudal warriors, Thora from Iceland, Marit the Norwegian bride, Erik and Brita from Sweden, Giuseppe and Marietta from Rome, Heidi and Peter from the Alps, Gisela from Thuringia, Cecilia from Hungary, Annetje from Holland, Lewie Gordon from Edinburgh, Christie Johnstone the Newhaven fishwife, Sambo and Dinah the cotton- pickers.
She arrived at last, following a path by the side of the brook, the dog a little in advance of her, snuffing the air, she catching hold of the low shrubs, and walking with more and more weary gait. Oyvind sprang downward; the dog growled and was hushed; but as soon as Marit saw Oyvind coming she sat down on a large stone, as red as blood, tired and overcome by the heat.
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