There sat the lady, and her large blue eyes looked up to the evening sky so seriously and sorrowfully, and yet there was something which sounded again like a great joy in the beautiful song she was singing.

The little boy sat on a footstool beside her and looked at his mother with his joyful, bright eyes, and listened to the singing.
Marianne could not look long.

A strange feeling came over her, and she stepped down from the log, put her apron to her eyes and wept and wept, until the singing had died away..