"
"And I have no doubt that we could hear the echoes ringing over the
hills," continued Hansine, soberly.
"Never mind, you needn't make fun. Yes, Hr. Bogstad, I think we have
some grand natural scenes. I often climb up on the hills, and sit and
look over the pines and the shining lake down towards home. Then,
sometimes, I can see the ocean like a silver ribbon, lying on the
horizon. I sit up there and gaze and think, as Hansine says, nearly all
night. I seem to be under a spell. You know it doesn't get dark all
night now, and the air is so delicious. My thoughts go out 'Over the
high mountains,' as Bjornson says, and I want to be away to hear and see
what the world is and has to tell me. A kind of sweet loneliness comes
over me which I cannot explain."
Hr. Bogstad had finished his dish. He, too, was under a spell--the spell
of a soft, musical voice.
"Then the light in the summer," she continued. "How I have wished to go
north where the sun shines the whole twenty-four hours.
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