Ingmar sat down, and was glad that he felt quite calm.  “This will be easier than I had expected,” he said to himself.  “I thought it was going to be much harder on me to see Gertrude again, and to hear her speak.  I was afraid that my love for her would get the better of me.”

“I should never have come like this, and disturbed you on your wedding day, had I not been compelled to do so,” said Gertrude.  “I shall soon be leaving this part of the world, never to return.  I was ready to start a week ago, when something came up that made it necessary for me to put off going, that I might speak with you to-day.”

Ingmar sat all huddled up, with his shoulders hunched and his head drawn in, as if he were expecting a tempest, saying to himself, meanwhile:  “Whatever Gertrude may think about it, I’m sure I did the right thing in choosing the farm.  I should have been lost without it.”

“Ingmar,” said Gertrude, blushing so that the little corner of her cheek that could be seen behind the kerchief showed crimson.  “You remember, of course, that five years ago I was ready to join the Hellgumists.  At that time I had given my heart to Christ.  But I took it back, to give it to you.  In so doing, I acted wrongly, and that’s why I’ve had to suffer all this.  As I once forsook Christ, even so have I been forsaken by the one I loved.”

When Ingmar perceived that Gertrude was about to tell him that she was going with the Hellgumists, he at once showed signs of disapproval.  “I can’t bear to have her join these Jerusalem people, and go away to a strange land,” he thought.  And he opposed her plan as vehemently as he would have done had he still been engaged to her.  “You mustn’t think like that, Gertrude,” he protested.  “God never meant this as a punishment to you.”

“No, no, Ingmar, not as a punishment, indeed not! but only to show me how badly I had chosen the second time.  Ah, this is no punishment!  I feel so happy, and lack for nothing.  All my sorrow has been turned into joy.  You will understand this, Ingmar, when I tell you that the Lord Himself has chosen me, and called me.”

Ingmar was silent; a look of weariness came into his eyes.  “Don’t be a fool!” he said to himself.  “Let Gertrude go.  To put sea and land between you and her would be the best thing that could happen—­ sea and land, yes, sea and land!”

And yet that something within him which did not want to let Gertrude go was, nevertheless, stronger than himself.  So he said:  “I can’t conceive of your parents allowing you to leave them.”

“That they’ll never do!” Gertrude replied.  “And I know it so well that I wouldn’t even dare ask them.  Father would never give his consent.  He would use force, if necessary, to prevent my going.  The hard part of it is that I shall have to sneak away.  They think now that I’m going about the country selling my handiwork; so they won’t know about it until I have joined the Jerusalem pilgrims at Gothenburg and am well out of Sweden.”