The sick woman turned her face to the wall, to hide the tears that forced themselves into her eyes.

“But the one she sought was not there, and driven by fear, she crossed the courtyard, barefooted, and half-clad as she was, in the cold, over to the still-room.  They used to make spirits at home in those days.  She opened the door softly and looked in.  There the fire was burning, and by the flickering light she saw a woman—­a young woman then—­lying on a bed, and beside her the man she herself had risen from her childbed to seek.  And at the sight of them her heart died in her.  She would have cried aloud, but only a groan came from her lips, and she went back, dreading at every step lest her legs should fail her....”

The sick woman gasped for breath, and lay trembling; the listeners sat as if turned to stone.

“How she got back,” went on the old woman, “she did not know herself; only there she was, sitting on the bed beside her child, pressing her hands to her breast, that felt as if it would burst.  Then she heard footsteps outside, and a moment later the door opened, and with a roar like a wild beast, a man strode in—­furious, with bloodshot eyes.  He uttered a dreadful curse, and swung up an axe above his head.  The woman almost fainted with fright.  Then behind him she saw her sister reaching up with a cry of horror towards the axe he held.  It flew from his hand, the steel shone in the lamplight—­and what happened after she did not know....”

It was as if the axe had fallen at that moment, striking them all three.  The mother closed her eyes.  Olof was trembling from head to foot; his brother crouched in his seat, his features stiff with horror.

“When she came to herself,” went on the sick woman in a trembling voice, “her husband was sitting beside her, with his head in his hands, his face ashy pale, his eyes bloodshot, and his body trembling all over as if shivering with cold.  The axe had flown straight over the place where mother and child had been, missing them by an inch, and stuck fast in the cupboard beyond—­it was standing there as it stands now....”

The woman sighed as if in relief to find the danger past.

Olof grasped her hand eagerly, pressed it, and looked imploringly into her eyes.

“Yes, yes,” she nodded, “he begged forgiveness—­and she forgave him.  And they were friends again.  And that night he fetched up some putty from the cellar and filled the hole the axe had made, and painted it over afterwards.  But—­you can see where it was....”

Olof rose to his feet and walked over mechanically to the cupboard; his elder brother sat still on his chair, looking over at the place in silent horror.

“You can see—­it struck just between the two sides, and cut deep into the edges.  It’s plain to be seen, for all it’s painted over now.  As for the woman....”

She broke off suddenly, her face pale and bloodless, her features quivering with painful emotion.