f it every time she saw her reflection in the glass.

In small circles great events seem to come all at once, one after
another in startling succession. The worthy town had been quite upset by
all those remarkable events, of a joyful, mournful, or mixed nature,
which followed after the night of the fire at Sandsgaard; and while busy
tongues kept reverting to the materials for gossip thus provided, the
years rolled by without anything further taking place.

Tom Robson had taken Martin with him to America, where they disappeared.

Contrary to his intention, Torpander did not travel home to Sweden. He
put off his departure from time to time. _Her_ grave never seemed pretty
enough, and he never felt perfectly certain that it would be kept
properly in order. He thus remained where he was, and at last moved over
to old Anders Begmand's cottage. The old man's head had become somewhat
affected. He received his week's pay every Saturday, without, however,
doing any work to earn it. And now Torpander grew to be quite a fixture
in the cottage, and the two would sit for many a winter's evening over
the fire, repeating to each other the same stories, which never varied
year after year, about her who had been, and still continued for both,
the very sunshine of their lives.

Uncle Richard soon gave up the lighthouse at Bratvold, and he and Mrs.
Garman shared Sandsgaard between them. Downstairs the lady went about in
her wheel-chair, and she had had all the thresholds of the doors
removed, so that she might be able to have herself rolled into the
kitchen.

Upstairs Uncle Richard continued his ceaseless wanderings, in and out,
to and fro, just as he had begun on the day after his brother's death.
Once only he had had Don Juan saddled; but when he was brought round to
the door, the old gentleman, thought he was too fresh for him. He put
his hand before his eyes, and had Don Juan taken back again, to the
stable.

Summer and winter, day after day, the sound of his footfall overhead
never ceased. A long strip of soft carpet had been put down the whole
length of the house, partly for warmth, and partly to deaden the sound
of his step.

In winter he wore a long coat lined with fur, a fur cap, and a pair of
deerskin gloves; and there were some people who confidently maintained
that he carried an open umbrella when the weather was wet. In the little
room on the north side, there was a cupboard in which a bottle of
Burgundy was always ke