Isak woke up in the night—­Inger was not there.  Could she be gone to see to the cows?  He got up and went across to the cowshed.  “Inger!” he called.  No answer.  The cows turned their heads and looked at him; all was still.  Unthinkingly, from ancient habit, he counted heads, counted the sheep also; there was one of the ewes had a bad habit of staying out at night—­and out it was now, “Inger!” he called again.  Still no answer.  Surely she couldn’t have gone with them down to the village?

The summer night was light and warm.  Isak stayed a while sitting on the door-slab, then he went out into the woods to look for the ewe.  And he found Inger.  Inger and one other.  They sat in the heather, she twirling his peaked cap on one finger, both talking together—­they were after her again, it seemed.

Isak trundled slowly over towards them.  Inger turned and saw him, and bowed forward where she sat; all the life went out of her, she hung like a rag.

“H’m.  Did you know that ewe’s out again?” asked Isak.  “But no, you wouldn’t know,” said he.

The young telegraph hand picked up his cap and began sidling away.  “I’ll be getting along after the others,” he said.  “Good-night to ye.”  No one answered.

“So you’re sitting here,” said Isak.  “Going to stay out a bit, maybe?” And he turned towards home.  Inger rose to her knees, got on her feet and followed after, and so they went, man in front and wife behind, tandem-wise.  They went home.

Inger must have found time to think.  Oh, she found a way. “’Twas the ewe I was after,” said she.  “I saw it was out again.  Then one of the men came up and helped me look.  We’d not been sitting a moment when you came.  Where are you going now?”

“I?  Seems I’d better look for the creature myself.”

“No, no, go and lie down.  If any one’s to go, let me.  Go and lie down, you’ll be needing rest.  And as for that, the ewe can stay out where she is—­’twon’t be the first time.”

“And be eaten up by some beast or other,” said Isak, and went off.

Inger ran after him.  “Don’t, don’t, it’s not worth it,” she said.  “You need rest.  Let me go.”

Isak gave in.  But he would not hear of Inger going out to search by herself.  And they went indoors together.

Inger turned at once to look for the children; went into the little chamber to see to the boys, as if she had been out on some perfectly natural errand; it almost seemed, indeed, as if she were trying to make up to Isak—­as if she expected him to be more in love with her than ever that evening—­after she had explained it all so neatly.  But no, Isak was not so easy to turn; he would rather have seen her thoroughly distressed and beside herself with contrition.  Ay, that would have been better.  What matter that she had collapsed for a moment when he came on her in the woods; the little moment of shame—­what was the good of that when it all passed off so soon?