“He forbids me—­me!” exclaimed Sandgoist.  “But how about his mother—­what does she say?”

“Speak, mother!” cried Joel, approaching Dame Hansen, and endeavoring to remove her hands from her face.

“Joel, my brother,” exclaimed Hulda.  “I entreat you, for my sake, to be calm.”

Dame Hansen bowed her head upon her breast, not daring to meet her son’s searching eyes.  It was only too true that she had been endeavoring to increase her fortune by rash speculations for several years past.  The small sum of money at her disposal had soon melted away, and she had been obliged to borrow at a high rate of interest.  And now the mortgage had passed into the hands of this Sandgoist—­a heartless and unprincipled man—­a well-known usurer, who was heartily despised throughout the country.  Dame Hansen, however, had seen him for the first time when he came to Dal to satisfy himself in regard to the value of the property.

This was the secret that had weighed so heavily upon her.  This, too, explained her reserve, for she had not dared to confide in her children.  This was the secret she had sedulously kept from those whose future she had blighted.

Hulda scarcely dared to think of what she had just heard.  Yes, Sandgoist was indeed a master who had the power to enforce his will!  The ticket he wished to purchase would probably be worth nothing a fortnight hence, and if she did not consent to relinquish it certain ruin would follow—­their house would be sold over their heads, and the Hansen family would be homeless and penniless.

Hulda dared not even glance at Joel, but Joel was too angry to pay any heed to these threats.  He could think only of Sandgoist, and if the man continued to talk in this way the impetuous youth felt that he should not be able to control himself much longer.

Sandgoist, seeing that he had once more become master of the situation, grew even more arrogant and imperious in his manner.

“I want that ticket, and I intend to have it,” he repeated.  “In exchange for it I offer no fixed price, but I promise to extend the mortgage for one—­two, or three years—­Fix the date yourself, Hulda.”

Hulda’s heart was so deeply oppressed with anguish that she was unable to reply, but her brother answered for her.

“Ole Kamp’s ticket can not be sold by Hulda Hansen.  My sister refuses your offer, in spite of your threats.  Now leave the house!”

“Leave the house,” repeated Sandgoist.  “I shall do nothing of the kind.  If the offer I have made does not satisfy you I will go even further.  In exchange for the ticket I offer you—­I offer you—­”

Sandgoist must certainly have felt an irresistible desire to possess this ticket—­or at least he most have been convinced that the purchase would prove a most advantageous one to him, for he seated himself at a table upon which lay pen, ink, and paper, and a moment afterward he added: