She was on the point of rising in defence to the death of her maternal rights, when a light suddenly dawned upon her.  Her eyes began to gaze into a perspective of the future.  If Nikolai ever came to justify the great words and promises he was now making, she might, in case of the worst, when the time came, claim an asylum with them.

This thought, however, did not prevent her from selling every concession, with deep sighs, as dearly as possible.

She must say she had thought of something quite different for Silla.  And, however it might be, she would not hear of any gadding about or sweet-hearting until Nikolai could show as much ready money as Holman had done.

He had had a hundred dollars and his good wages, and when Nikolai could lay as much money on the table in front of her eyes, it would be time to talk about it.

A hundred dollars—­that was something decided at last.  He held her in a vice with that.

That was the feeling which filled him when, a little while after, he sprang right across the snowdrift to shorten the way, and knocked at Barbara’s door.  He must have some one to tell it to—­that Mrs. Holman had acquiesced in Silla’s having in this way promised herself to him.

It was exactly the same view of her well-considered advantage that occurred to Barbara while she lay that night collecting herself after the news.  She raised her large person up in bed under the influence of the brilliant idea: 

Why, then, she could live with Nikolai!

This grocery business was completely eating her up—­it did not enter her head that she was eating it up.

She suddenly felt quite clear as to her whole position; how it would be best both for her and Nikolai that she should give up the shop in time, and how instead she could be of unspeakable use in helping the totally inexperienced Silla to manage the house, and perhaps earn a few pence at other houses.  And she had never heard but that a son was bound to provide for his mother.

The following Sunday Mrs. Holman drank coffee at Barbara’s; but as Mrs. Holman was silent about what had taken place, Barbara was silent too.  Only once she led the conversation up to her son Nikolai, and thought that possibly in the autumn, when the room next door was empty, he might move into it.  It would not be too much, when it was remembered how they had always been separated.

Why Mrs. Holman at that moment became thoughtful, pursed up her mouth and said:  “Thank you,” she would not have any more coffee! and somewhat unexpectedly shortened her visit, shall be left untold.  It can only be stated, that from that moment, a silent contest began between them under water—­under the most friendly form, it must be added, for Mrs. Holman’s sake if for nothing else.