“What you want to go down village again for now?” said his father in displeasure.  “Wearing boots to rags....”  Oh, Isak was more bitter than need be; he knew well enough that Sivert was going to the post.

“Going to church,” says Sivert.

’Twas all he could find by way of excuse, and his father muttered:”  Well, what you want to go for ...?”

But if Sivert was going to church, why, he might harness up and take little Rebecca with him.  Little Rebecca, ay, surely she might have that bit of a treat for once in her life, after being so clever guarding turnips and being all ways the pearl and blessing of them all, ay, that she was.  And they harnessed up, and Rebecca had the maid Jensine to look after her on the way, and Sivert said never a word against that either.

While they are away, it so happens that Aronsen’s man, his chief clerk, from Storborg, comes up the road.  What does this mean?  Why, nothing very much, ’tis only Andresen, the chief clerk from Storborg, come up for a bit of a walk this way—­his master having sent him.  Nothing more.  And no great excitement among the folk at Sellanraa over that—­’twas not as in the old days, when a stranger was a rare sight on their new land, and Inger made a great to-do.  No, Inger’s grown quieter now, and keeps to herself these days.

A strange thing that book of devotion, a guide upon the way, an arm round one’s neck, no less.  When Inger had lost hold of herself a little, lost her way a little out plucking berries, she found her way home again by the thought of her little chamber and the holy book; ay, she was humble now and a Godfearing soul.  She can remember long years ago when she would say an evil word if she pricked her finger sewing—­so she had learned to do from her fellow-workers round the big table in the Institute.  But now she pricks her finger, and it bleeds, and she sucks the blood away in silence.  ’Tis no little victory gained to change one’s nature so.  And Inger did more than that.  When all the workmen were gone, and the stone building was finished, and Sellanraa was all forsaken and still, then came a critical time for Inger; she cried a deal, and suffered much.  She blamed none but herself for it all, and she was deeply humbled.  If only she could have spoken out to Isak, and relieved her mind, but that was not their way at Sellanraa; there was none of them would talk their feelings and confess things.  All she could do was to be extra careful in the way she asked her husband to come in to meals, going right up to him to say it nicely, instead of shouting from the door.  And in the evenings, she looked over his clothes, and sewed buttons on.  Ay, and even more she did.  One night she lifted up on her elbow and said: 

“Isak?”

“What is it?” says Isak.

“Are you awake?”

“Ay.”

“Nay, ’twas nothing,” says Inger.  “But I’ve not been all as I ought.”

“What?” says Isak.  Ay, so much he said, and rose up on his elbow in turn.