Page:The collected works of Henrik Ibsen (Heinemann Volume 3).djvu/83

 Frosty showers on her—and other Fiercer frost upon my heart—? God of grace! It is my Mother!

[''Comes up, stops when half seen above the slope, holds her hand up to shade her eyes, and looks round.'']

He's here, they told me.

[Coming nearer.]

Drat the blaze,— It nearly takes away my sight! Son, is that you?

Yes.

[Rubbing her eyes.]

Hoo, those rays, They burn one's very eyes outright; I can't tell priest from boor.

Sun's light At home I never saw at all 'Twixt fall of leaf and cuckoo's call.

[Laughing quietly.]

Ay, there 'tis good. One's gripped with frost Like icicles o'er a plunging river, Strong to dare anything whatever, —And yet believe one is not lost.

Farewell. My leisure time is spent.