The mine is working now, and the ore is carted down by teams of horses to the sea; a steamer had loaded up one cargo and sailed away with it to South America, and another steamer waits already for the next load.  Ay, ’tis a big concern.  All the settlers have been up to look at the wonderful place, as many as can walk.  Brede Olsen has been up, with his samples of stone, and got nothing for his pains, seeing that the mining expert was gone back to Sweden again.  On Sundays, there was a crowd of people coming up all the way from the village; ay, even Axel Stroem, who had no time to throw away, turned off from his proper road along the telegraph line to look at the place.  Hardly a soul now but has seen the mine and its wonders.  And at last Inger herself, Inger from Sellanraa, puts on her best, gold ring and all, and goes up to the hills.  What does she want there?

Nothing, does not even care to see how the work is done.  Inger has come to show herself, that is all.  When she saw the other women going up, she felt she must go too.  A disfiguring scar on her upper lip, and grown children of her own, has Inger, but she must go as the others did.  It irks her to think of the others, young women, ay ... but she will try if she can’t compete with them all the same.  She has not begun to grow stout as yet, but has still a good figure enough, tall and natty enough; she can still look well.  True, her colouring is not what it used to be, and her skin is not comparable to a golden peach—­but they should see for all that; ay, they should say, after all, she was good enough!

They greet her kindly as she could wish; the workmen know her, she has given them many a drink of milk, and they show her over the mine, the huts, the stables and kitchens, the cellars and storesheds; the bolder men edge in close to her and take her lightly by the arm, but Inger does not feel hurt at all, it does her good.  And where there are steps to go up or down, she lifts her skirts high, showing her legs a trifle; but she manages it quietly, as if without a thought.  Ay, she’s good enough, think the men to themselves.

Oh, but there is something touching about her, this woman getting on in years; plain to see that a glance from one of these warm-blooded menfolk came all unexpectedly to her; she was grateful for it, and returned it; she was a woman like other women, and it thrilled her to feel so.  An honest woman she had been, but like enough ’twas for lack of opportunity.

Getting on in years....

Gustaf came up.  Left two girls from the village, and a comrade, just to come.  Gustaf knew what he was at, no doubt; he took Inger’s hand with more warmth, more pressure than was needed, and thanked her for the last pleasant evening at Sellanraa, but he was careful not to plague her with attention.

“Well, Gustaf, and when are you coming to help us with the building?” says Inger, going red.  And Gustaf says he will come sure enough before long.  His comrades hear it, and put in a word that they’ll all be coming down before long.