His name was Boerje Nilsson, and he was a sailor on the Swedish lugger “Albertina.”  As long as the boat lay in the harbor, he came almost every day to her home, and they could soon no longer believe that he was only a common sailor.  He shone always in a clean, turned-down collar and wore a sailor suit of fine cloth.  Natural and frank, he showed himself among them, as if he had been used to move in the same class as they.  Without his ever having said it in so many words, they got the impression that he was from a respectable home, the only son of a rich widow, but that his unconquerable love for a sailor’s profession had made him take a place before the mast, so that his mother should see that he was in earnest.  When he had passed his examination, she would certainly get him his own ship.

The lonely family who had drawn away from all their former friends, received him without the slightest suspicion.  And he described with a light heart and fluent tongue his home with its high, pointed roof, the great open fireplace in the dining-room and the little leaded glass panes.  He also painted the silent streets of his native town and the long rows of even houses, built in the same style, against which his home, with its irregular buttresses and terraces, made a pleasant contrast.  And his listeners believed that he had come from one of those old burgher houses with carved gables and with overhanging second stories, which give such a strong impression of wealth and venerable age.

Soon enough she saw that he cared for her.  And that gave her mother and sisters great joy.  The young, rich Swede came as if to raise them all up from their poverty.  Even if she had not loved him, which she did, she would never have had a thought of saying no to his proposal.  If she had had a father or a grown-up brother, he could have found out about the stranger’s extraction and position, but neither she nor her mother thought of making any inquiries.  Afterwards she saw how they had actually forced him to lie.  In the beginning, he had let them imagine great ideas about his wealth without any evil intention, but when he understood how glad they were over it, he had not dared to speak the truth for fear of losing her.

Before he left they were betrothed, and when the lugger came again, they were married.  It was a disappointment for her that he also on his return appeared as a sailor, but he had been bound by his contract.  He had no greetings either from his mother.  She had expected him to make another choice, but she would be so glad, he said, if she would once see Astrid.—­In spite of all his lies, it would have been an easy matter to see that he was a poor man, if they had only chosen to use their eyes.