She came sailing into the room where the two young people were waiting,
and Peer saw her coming towards them, a tall, full-bosomed woman
with grey hair and florid colour. Oho! here's an aunt for you with a
vengeance, he thought. She pulled off a blue apron she was wearing and
appeared dressed in a black woollen gown, with a gold chain about her
neck and long gold earrings.
"So you thought you'd come over at last," she said. "Actually remembered
my existence, after all, did you, Merle?" She turned towards Peer, and
stood examining him, with her hands on her hips. "So that's what you
look like, is it, Peer? And you're the man that was to catch Merle?
Well, you see I call you Peer at once, even though you HAVE come all the
way from--Arabia, is it? Sit down, sit down."
Wine was brought in, and Aunt Marit of Bruseth lifted a congratulatory
glass toward the pair with the following words:
"You'll fight, of course. But don't overdo it, that's all. And mark my
words, Peer Holm, if you aren't good to her, I'll come round one fine
day and warm your ears for you. Your healths, children!"
The two went homewards arm-in-arm, dancing down the hillsides, and
singing gaily as they went. But suddenly, when they were still some
way from the town, Merle stopped and pointed. "There," she
whispered--"there's mother!"
A solitary woman was walking slowly in the twilight over a wide field
of stubble, looking around her. It was as if she were lingering here to
search out the meaning of something--of many things.
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