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Updated: May 15, 2025
Smiling, he had departed from the earth which had no place for him, and smiling entered the realm where, among the many mansions, there is, perhaps, also one for a gentle, simple-hearted enthusiast. THERE was an ancient feud between the families; and Bjarne Blakstad was not the man to make it up, neither was Hedin Ullern.
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 loved everything that was old, in dress as well as in manners, took no newspapers, and regarded railroads and steamboats as inventions of the devil. Bjarne had married late in life, and his marriage had brought him two daughters, Brita and Grimhild. Hedin Ullern was looked upon as an upstart.
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."
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