The result of his reflections was that he gave up his idea of plying to Holland.

He took a boat to Sandvigen, but while they were on the way, he suddenly made the boatman change his course, and put in to the slip on the other side of the harbour.  He must talk to Elizabeth’s aunt.  There was something in his mind all the time that wouldn’t let him altogether believe the worst.

When he went in to the old woman, she recognised him at once.

“How do you do, Salve?” she said, quite calmly.  “You have been a long while away—­half a century almost.”

She offered him a chair, but he remained standing, and asked abruptly—­

“Is it true that Elizabeth—­left Beck’s like that—­and went to Holland?”

“How do you mean like that?” she asked, sharply, while her face flushed slightly.

“As people say,” replied Salve, with bitter emphasis.

“When people say it, a fool like you of course must believe it,” she rejoined, derisively.  “I don’t understand why you want to come here to her old aunt for information when it seems you have so many other confidants about the town.  But anyhow, she can tell you something different from them, my lad; and she wouldn’t do it, if it wasn’t that she knew the girl still loved you in spite of all the years you have been away, gadding about, God knows where, in the world.  It’s true enough she left Beck’s one night and came here in the morning; but it was just for your sake, and no one else’s, that she might get quit of the lieutenant.  It was Madam Beck herself that got her a place in Holland, because she didn’t want to have her for a daughter-in-law.”

A wild gleam of joy broke over Salve’s features for a moment, but they relapsed almost immediately into gloom.

“Was she not engaged to Carl Beck, then?” he asked.

“Yes and no,” replied the old woman, cautiously, not wishing to depart a hair’s-breadth from the truth.  “She allowed herself to be betrayed into saying ‘yes,’ but fled from the house because she didn’t want to have him.  She told me, with tears in her eyes, that she repented having said ‘no’ to you.”

“So that was the way of it,” he rejoined sarcastically.  “The ‘yes’ and ‘no’ meant that the Becks wouldn’t have her for a daughter-in-law, and bundled her out of the house over to Holland; and you want me to believe it was for my sake she went.  God knows,” he added, sadly, and shaking his head slowly, “I would willingly believe it—­more willingly than I can say; but I can’t, Mother Kirstine.  You are her aunt, and want of course to—­”

“I’m afraid it is your misfortune, Salve,” she broke in severely, “not to have it in your power to believe thoroughly in any one creature upon this earth; you’ll be always doubting, always listening to folks’ talk.  With the thoughts you have now in your mind, you have at any rate no business any longer inside my door.  But there is one thing I’ll ask of you,” she said, with a look of mildly impressive earnestness in her strong, clever face.  “I know Elizabeth’s nature well, and don’t you attempt to approach her or try to win her as long as you have a trace of those doubts about her in your heart—­it would only bring unhappiness to both of you.”