“Go straight back and tell her that Ingmar Ingmarsson is just going to drive to church; he has no time to talk with her.”

As soon as the young woman received this curt dismissal, she went her way.  When the bridal party had returned from the church, she came back, and again asked if she might speak to Ingmar Ingmarsson.  This time she approached one of the menservants who was hanging round the stable door; he went in and told the master.

“Tell her that Ingmar Ingmarsson is about to sit down to the wedding feast,” said the master.  “He has no time to talk to her.”

On receiving this answer, she sighed and went her way.  When she came again it was late in the evening, as the sun was setting.  This time she gave her message to a child that was swinging on the gate.  The child ran straight to the house and told the bride.

“Tell her that Ingmar Ingmarsson is dancing with his wife,” said the bride.  “He has no time to talk to anyone else.”

When the child came back and repeated what had been told her, the young woman smiled indulgently, and said:  “Now you are telling something that isn’t true.  Ingmar Ingmarsson is not dancing with his bride.”

This time she did not go away, but remained standing at the gate.

The bride, meanwhile, thought to herself:  “I have told a lie on my wedding day!” Sorry for what she had done, she went up to Ingmar, and told him that there was a stranger outside who wished to speak with him.  Ingmar went out, and found Gertrude standing at the gate, waiting.

When Gertrude saw him coming, she started down the road, Ingmar following.  They walked along in silence till they were some distance away from the house.

As to Ingmar, it could be truthfully said of him that he had aged in the short time of a few weeks.  At any rate, there was something about his face that showed added shrewdness and caution.  He also stooped more, and looked more subdued, now that he had acquired riches, than was the case when he had nothing.

Indeed, he was anything but glad to see Gertrude!  Every day since the auction he had been trying to persuade himself into the belief that he was satisfied with his bargain.  “In fact, we Ingmarssons care for little else than to plow and to sow the fields on the Ingmar Farm,” was what he had said to himself.

But there was something that troubled him even more than the loss of Gertrude—­the thought that now there was one human being who could say of him that he had not lived up to his word.  Keeping a little behind Gertrude all the while, he went over in his mind all the scornful things which she had a right to say to him.

Presently Gertrude sat down on a stone at the roadside, and put her basket on the ground; then she drew her kerchief still farther over her face.

“Sit down,” she said to Ingmar, pointing to another stone.  “I have many things to talk over with you.”