It was different now,
different in every way. As, for instance, when he had given her that
ring. Could anything have been more utterly a failure? Isak had been
gloriously modest, and far from venturing to call it a gold ring.
"'Tis nothing grand, but you might put it on your finger just to try."
"Is it gold?" she asked.
"Ay, but 'tis none so thick," said he.
And here she was to have answered: "Ay, but indeed it is." But instead
she had said: "No, 'tis not very thick, but still...."
"Nay, 'tis worth no more than a bit of grass, belike," said he at
last, and gave up hope.
But Inger had indeed been glad of the ring, and wore it on her right
hand, looking fine there when she was sewing; now and again she would
let the village girls try it on, and sit with it on their finger for
a bit when they came up to ask of this or that. Foolish Isak--not to
understand that she was proud of it beyond measure!...
It was a profitless business sitting there alone in the mill,
listening to the fall the whole night through. Isak had done no wrong;
he had no cause to hide himself away.
Pages:
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233