Then it burst upon her—­both her crying in church and the consuming bitterness that had spoiled the early years of her married life had been wounded vanity.  It was wounded vanity that was weeping now; and that might at any moment separate her from God, her happiness in this world and the world to come!

So worthless, so worthless did she feel herself that she dared not look up to God; for oh! how great were her shortcomings towards Him!  But why, she began to wonder, why had she succumbed just now—­at the moment when her daughter, in all true-heartedness and overflowing happiness, had given herself to the man she loved?  Why at this moment arouse all the ugly memories and thoughts that lay dormant in her mind?  Was she envious of Mildrid; envious of her own daughter?  No, that she knew she was not—­and she began to recover herself.

What a grand thought it was that her daughter was perhaps going to atone for her fault!  Could children do that?  Yes, as surely as they themselves were a work of ours, they could—­but we must help too, with repentance, with gratitude!  And before Randi knew what was happening, she could pray again, bowing in deep humility and contrition before the Lord, who had once more shown her what she was without Him.  She prayed for grace as one that prays for life; for she felt that it was life that was coming to her again!  Now her account was blotted out; it was just the last settling of it that had unnerved her.

She rose and looked up through streaming tears; she knew that things had come right now; there was One who had lifted the burden of pain from her!

Had she not had the same feeling often before?  No, never a feeling like this—­not till now was the victory won.  And she went forward knowing that she had gained the mastery over herself.  Something was broken that till now had bound her—­she felt with every movement that she was free both in soul and body.  And if, after God, she had her daughter to thank for this, that daughter should in return be helped to enjoy her own happiness to the full.

By this time she was in the passage of grandmother’s house; but no one in the house recognised her step.  She took hold of the latch and opened the door like a different person.  “Mildrid, come here!” she said; and Mildrid and her grandmother looked at each other, for that was not mother.  Mildrid ran to her.  What could be happening?  Her mother took her by the arm, shut the door behind her, so that they were alone, then threw her arms round her neck, and wept and wept, embracing her with a vehemence and happiness which Mildrid, uplifted by her love, could return right heartily.

“God for ever bless and recompense you!” whispered the mother.

The two sitting in the other house saw them coming across the yard, hand in hand, walking so fast that they felt sure something had happened.  The door opened and both came forward.  But instead of giving her to Hans, or saying anything to him or Endrid, the mother just put her arms once more round her daughter, and repeated with a fresh burst of emotion:  “God for ever bless and reward you!”