One day, in the following spring, there came a knock at the door of the
house where Ib’s old mother lived; and when they opened it, lo and behold,
in stepped the boatman and Christina. She had come to pay them a visit, and
to spend the day. A carriage had to come from the Herning hotel to the next
village, and she had taken the opportunity to see her friends once more. She
looked as elegant as a real lady, and wore a pretty dress, beautifully made
on purpose for her. There she stood, in full dress, while Ib wore only his
working clothes. He could not utter a word; he could only seize her hand
and hold it fast in his own, but he felt too happy and glad to open his lips.
Christina, however, was quite at her ease; she talked and talked, and kissed
him in the most friendly manner. Even afterwards, when they were left
alone, and she asked, “Did you know me again, Ib?” he still stood holding
her hand, and said at last, “You are become quite a grand lady, Christina,
and I am only a rough working man; but I have often thought of you and of
old times.” Then they wandered up the great ridge, and looked across the
stream to the heath, where the little hills were covered with the flowering
broom. Ib said nothing; but before the time came for them to part, it became
quite clear to him that Christina must be his wife: had they not even in
childhood been called the betrothed? To him it seemed as if they were really
engaged to each other, although not a word had been spoken on the subject.
They had only a few more hours to remain together, for Christina was
obliged to return that evening to the neighboring village, to be ready for the
carriage which was to start the next morning early for Herning. Ib and her
father accompanied her to the village. It was a fine moonlight evening; and
when they arrived, Ib stood holding Christina’s hand in his, as if he could
not let her go. His eyes brightened, and the words he uttered came with
hesitation from his lips, but from the deepest recesses of his heart:
“Christina, if you have not become too grand, and if you can be contented
to live in my mother’s house as my wife, we will be married some day. But
we can wait for a while.”
“Oh yes,” she replied; “Let us wait a little longer, Ib. I can trust you, for I
believe that I do love you. But let me think it over.” Then he kissed her lips;
