She went back to the flowers.  So she had not been able to give them to him.  She would throw away the dandelions.  As she took them out of the glass, she recalled the words, “You have something real there.”  They had certainly not been said about the dandelions, but they had often since recurred to her.  Was it strange that they should do so now?  She let the dandelions remain.

Aaroe stayed away a long time, more than an hour, but when he returned he was very cheerful.  He was in a smart ladies’ sledge, in the handsome furs which he had worn the day before; the most valuable ones that she had ever seen.  He saluted with his whip, and talked and laughed with every one, old and young, who gathered round him while Ella put on her things.  That was soon done; she had not many wraps, nor did she need them.

He got down when she appeared, came forward, muffled her up and drove off at a trot.  As they went he stooped over her and whispered, “How good of you to come with me.”  His voice was very genial, but there was something quite different about his breath.  As soon as the handsome horses had slackened speed, he stooped forward again.

“I have telephoned to Baadshaug to order lunch, it will be ready when we get there; you do not mind?”

She turned, so as to raise her head towards him, their faces almost met.

“I forgot to thank you for the card yesterday.”

He coloured.  “I repented afterwards,” he said, “but at the moment, I could not but think of you; how you suit it out here.”  Now she coloured and drew back.  Then she heard close by her:  “You must not be angry, it always happens that when we wish to repair a blunder, we make another.”

She would have liked to have seen his eyes, as he said this, but she dare not look at him.  At all events it was more than he had said up to the present time.  His words fell softly on her ears.  Before to-day she had almost misinterpreted his reserve, but how beautiful it made everything.  She worshipped it.

“In a little time we shall come to the woods, then we will stop and look round us,” he said.

“There,” she thought.

He drove on at a quick trot.  How happy she was!  The sunlight sparkled on the snow, the air was warm, she had to loosen the shawl over her head, and he helped her to do so.  Again she became aware of his breath, there was something, not tobacco, more delicate, pleasanter, but what was it?  It seemed to harmonise with him.  She felt very happy, with an overflow of joy in the scene through which they were driving and which continually increased in beauty.

On one side of the road were the mountains, the white mountains, which took a warm tint from the sunlight.  In front of the mountains were lower hills, partly covered by woods, and among these lay scattered farms.  The farms were soon passed and then came woods, nothing but woods.  On the other side of the road they had the sea for the whole way, but between them and it were flat expanses, probably marshes.  The sea looked steel-grey against the snow.  It spoke of another part of life, of eternal unrest; protest after protest against the snow idyl.