would not willingly have lost it; a tiny boy, a little white creature wrapped up in a rag.  If she were guilty of that child’s death, then she had injured him, Axel—­broken a tie that he prized, and that could not be replaced.  But it might be that he wronged her, after all:  that she had slipped in the water by accident.  But then the wrapping—­the bit of shirt she had taken with her....

Meantime, the hours passed; dinner-time came, and evening.  And when Axel had gone to bed, and had lain staring into the dark long enough, he fell asleep at last, and slept till morning.  And then came a new day, and after that day other days....

Barbro was the same as ever.  She knew so much of the world, and could take lightly many little trifles that were terrible and serious things for folk in the wilds.  It was well in a way; she was clever enough for both of them, careless enough for both.  And she did not go about like a terrible creature herself.  Barbro a monster?  Not in the least.  She was a pretty girl, with blue eyes, a slightly turned-up nose, and quick-handed at her work.  She was utterly sick and tired of the farm and the wooden vessels, that took such a lot of cleaning; sick and tired, perhaps, of Axel and all, of the out-of-the-way life she led.  But she never killed any of the cattle, and Axel never found her standing over him with uplifted knife in the middle of the night.

Only once it happened that they came to talk again of the body in the wood.  Axel still insisted that it ought to have been buried in the churchyard, in consecrated ground; but she maintained as before that her way was good enough.  And then she said something which showed that she was reasoned after her fashion—­ho, was sharp enough, could see beyond the tip of her nose; could think, with the pitiful little brain of a savage.

“If it gets found out I’ll go and talk to the Lensmand; I’ve been in service with him.  And Fru Heyerdahl, she’ll put in a word for me, I know.  It’s not every one that can get folk to help them like that, and they get off all the same.  And then, besides, there’s father, that knows all the great folks, and been assistant himself, and all the rest.”

But Axel only shook his head.

“Well, what’s wrong with that?”

“D’you think your father’d ever be able to do anything?”

“A lot you know about it!” she cried angrily.  “After you’ve ruined him and all, taking his farm and the bread out of his mouth.”

She seemed to have a sort of idea herself that her father’s reputation had suffered of late, and that she might lose by it.  And what could Axel say to that?  Nothing.  He was a man of peace, a worker.

Chapter III

That winter, Axel was left to himself again at Maaneland.  Barbro was gone.  Ay, that was the end of it.

Her journey to town would not take long, she said; ’twas not like going to Bergen; but she wasn’t going to stay on here losing one tooth after another, till she’d a mouth like a calf.  “What’ll it cost?” said Axel.