I believe you cannot bear to hear them go." "Yes, I can, thank God! might they but go night and day!" "They have stood still now, since before Christmas." "Folks do not grind here about Christmas time." "They grind when there is water; but since there has been a mill at New Stream, we have fared badly here." "The school-master did not say so to-day." "I shall get a more discreet fellow than the school-master to manage our money." "Yes, he ought least of all to talk with your own wife." Thore made no reply to this; he had just lit his pipe, and now, leaning up against a bundle of fagots, he let his eyes wander, first from his wife, then from his son, and fixed them on an old crow's-nest which hung, half overturned, from a fir-branch above.
Oyvind sat by himself with the future stretching before him like a long, smooth sheet of ice, across which for the first time he found himself sweeping onward from shore to shore.

That poverty hemmed him in on every side, he felt, but for that reason his whole mind was bent on breaking through it.

From Marit it had undoubtedly parted him forever; he regarded her as half engaged to Jon Hatlen; but he had determined to vie with him and her through the entire race of life.
Never again to be rebuffed as he had been yesterday, and in view of this to keep out of the way until he made something of himself, and then, with the aid of Almighty God, to continue to be something, -- occupied all his thoughts, and there arose within his soul not a single doubt of his success.

He had a dim idea that through study he would get on best; to what goal it would lead he must consider later.
There was coasting in the evening; the children came to the hill, but Oyvind was not with them.

He sat reading by the fire-place, feeling that he had not a moment to lose.