“I noticed how mother gave a sigh of relief, but to me it seemed as if someone stuck a dagger into me.  They surely expected me to go.  Stephen would remain at home and take Eva.  That night I did not sleep at home.  A similar trouble overtook me as in my childhood, only stronger and much more terrible.  Where I gathered strength to return in the morning I do not know.  Eva ran to meet me, and as soon as I saw her I told myself that verily, I would never go to America, and Eva must never belong to anyone else but to me.  Since that hour I could hardly give a kind look to Stephen though he gave me no reason for anger.

“We had a meadow beyond the swamp.  There I went with Eva the next day to turn over the cut grass, and I asked her to be mine.  I did not have much luck at first, but since I pleaded so much and promised so much, she finally promised that she would not take anyone else.

“After the affair was settled, Eva bound up a bundle of grass, and looking around I noticed Stephen departing along the pathway.  He had heard us without us noticing him.

“The following week we had some work in the city and Stephen said that he would go.  Mother tried to prevent him.  She had rather I should go because Stephen did not look very well.  Really he looked thin and pale, as if after a serious illness or before one.  But I insisted that I would not go this time, and father agreed.  He had some work for me.

“‘Come with me part of the way,’ said Stephen the following day, after he had taken leave of our parents and Eva.  So I went.  We took the steep path to the cross above, on top of the hill.  There he stopped.  We looked at each other.

“’Mother told me what plans father had for us.  One of us must go to America,’ he began.  ’It cannot be you.  I saw you and Eva not long ago on the meadow.  Father wants one of us to take Eva.  Now that she is yours what should I do here any longer?  Once before in childhood I was in your way, so that you wanted to get rid of me in that black watery grave.  The second time I shall not stand in your way.  It would be difficult for mother to part with me.  You must realize that, because she has only me.  So I want to spare her the leave-taking, but I want to tell the truth to you that you may be satisfied and not begrudge me anything more.  I am really leaving everything to you:  parents, home, and Eva too.  She cannot belong to both.  Those were hard moments for me on yonder meadow.  If you had to bear what I went through in those moments you could not stand it.  Thus it is good that she chose you.  To me it was as if I was drowning again, only the swamp into which you threw me this time was much deeper than the one before.  Mother said I seem to be ill.  Here I shall never get well—­over there far away, I can recover sooner.  I give you my hand in parting, and you give me yours without any bitterness.  Let us part like brothers.’