“To-morrow!  So soon!” he said.  “Well, what must be, must be.  I will go and talk to my wife about it.”

“Yes, do so, and consult Mr. Malarius also; you will find that he is of my opinion.”

“I do not doubt it,” answered the fisherman, with a sad smile.

He shook the hand which Dr. Schwaryencrona held out to him, and went away looking very thoughtful.

That evening before dinner the doctor again directed his steps toward the dwelling of Mr. Hersebom.  He found the family assembled round the hearth, as they were the evening before, but not wearing the same appearance of peaceful happiness.  The father was seated the furthest from the fire, silent, and with idle hands.  Katrina, with tears in her eyes, held Erik’s hands between her own, whose cheeks were reddened by the hope of the new destiny which seemed opening before him, but who looked sad at leaving all whom he loved, and who did not know what feeling he ought to yield to.

Little Vanda’s face was hidden in her father’s knees, and nothing could be seen except her long braids of golden hair.  Otto, also greatly troubled at this proposed separation, sat motionless beside his brother.

“How sad and disconsolate you look!” said the doctor, stopping on the threshold.  “If Erik were about to set out on a distant and most perilous expedition you could not show more grief.  He is not going to do anything of the kind, I assure you, my good friends.  Stockholm is not at the antipodes, and the child is not going away forever.  He can write to you, and I do not doubt that he will do so often.  He is only going away to school, like so many other boys.  In two years he will return tall, and well-informed, and accomplished, I hope.  Is this anything to feel sad about?  Seriously, it is not reasonable.”

Katrina arose with the natural dignity of the peasant of the North.

“Doctor,” she said, “God is my witness that I am profoundly grateful to you for what you propose to do for Erik—­but we can not help feeling sad because of his departure.  Mr. Hersebom has explained to me that it is necessary, and I submit.  Do not think that I shall feel no regret.”

“Mother,” said Erik, “I will not go, if it causes you such pain.”

“No, child,” answered the worthy woman, taking him in her arms.  “Education is a benefit which we have no right to refuse you.  Go, my son, and thank the doctor who has provided it for you, and prove to him by constant application to your studies that you appreciate his kindness.”

“There, there,” said the doctor, whose glasses were dimmed by a singular cloudiness, “let us rather speak of practical matters, that will be better.  You know, do you not, that we must set out to-morrow very early, and that you must have everything ready.  We will go by sleigh to Bergen, and thence by railroad.  Erik only needs a change of linen, I will procure everything else that is necessary at Stockholm.”