From the brow of the cliff he then heard his own name called, quite softly; it was no delusion, for it was repeated twice.

He looked up and faintly distinguished a female form crouching between the trees and looking down.
"Who is it ?" asked he.
"I hear you are going away," said a low voice, "so I had to come to you and say good-by, as you would not come to me." "Dear me! Is that you, Marit?
I shall come up to you." "No, pray do not.

I have waited so long, and if you come I should have to wait still longer; no one knows where I am and I must hurry home." "It was kind of you to come," said he.
"I could not bear to have you leave so, Oyvind; we have known each other since we were children." "Yes; we have." "And now we have not spoken to each other for half a year." "No; we have not." "We parted so strangely, too, that time." "We did.

I think I must come up to you!" "Oh, no! do not come! But tell me: you are not angry with me ?" "Goodness! how could you think so ?" "Good-by, then, Oyvind, and my thanks for all the happy times we have had together!" "Wait, Marit!" "Indeed I must go; they will miss me." "Marit! Marit!" "No, I dare not stay away any longer, Oyvind.

Good-by." "Good-by!" Afterwards he moved about as in a dream, and answered very absently when he was addressed.