In fact both the young people were anxious to confide in the excellent man whom they loved with a truly filial devotion, but they were waiting for him to question them.  During his absence they had felt lonely and forsaken—­the more so from the fact that Sylvius Hogg had not seen fit to tell them where he was going.  Never had the hours seemed so long.  It never once occurred to them that the journey was in any way connected with a search for the “Viking,” and that Sylvius Hogg had concealed the fact from them in order to spare them additional disappointment in case of failure.

And now how much more necessary his presence seemed to have become to them!  How glad they were to see him, to listen to his words of counsel and hear his kind and encouraging voice.  But would they ever dare to tell him what had passed between them and the Drammen usurer, and how Dame Hansen had marred the prospects of her children?  What would Sylvius Hogg say when he learned that the ticket was no longer in Hulda’s possession, and when he heard that Dame Hansen had used it to free herself from her inexorable creditor?

He was sure to learn these facts, however.  Whether it was Sylvius Hogg or Hulda that first broached the subject, it would be hard to say, nor does it matter much.  This much is certain, however, the professor soon became thoroughly acquainted with the situation of affairs.  He was told of the danger that had threatened Dame Hansen and her children, and how the usurer would have driven them from their old home in a fortnight if the debt had not been paid by the surrender of the ticket.

Sylvius Hogg listened attentively to this sad story.

“You should not have given up the ticket,” he cried, vehemently; “no, you should not have done it.”

“How could I help it, Monsieur Sylvius?” replied the poor girl, greatly troubled.

“You could not, of course, and yet—­Ah, if I had only been here!”

And what would Professor Sylvius Hogg have done had he been there?  He did not say, however, but continued: 

“Yes, my dear Hulda; yes, Joel, you did the best you could, under the circumstances.  But what enrages me almost beyond endurance is the fact that this Sandgoist will profit greatly, no doubt, by this absurd superstition on the part of the public.  If poor Ole’s ticket should really prove to be the lucky one this unprincipled scoundrel will reap all the benefit.  And yet, to suppose that this number, 9672, will necessarily prove the lucky one, is simply ridiculous and absurd.  Still, I would not have given up the ticket, I think.  After once refusing to surrender it to Sandgoist Hulda would have done better to turn a deaf ear to her mother’s entreaties.”

The brother and sister could find nothing to say in reply.  In giving the ticket to Dame Hansen, Hulda had been prompted by a filial sentiment that was certainly to be commended rather than censured.  The sacrifice she had made was not one of more or less probable chance, but of Ole Kamp’s last wishes and of her last memento of her lover.