ed his old home more than he loved Gertrude.

"I put the parcel down beside the bed, thinking that in the morning
I would give it to Marie. But at daybreak I saw that your name was
written on the wrapper. On closer examination I decided to take it
along, and turn it over to you without saying anything about it,
either to Marie or to any one else." Then taking a little parcel
from the bottom of her basket, she said: "Here it is, Ingmar. Take
it; it's your property." She supposed, of course, that he would be
happily surprised.

Ingmar took the parcel, without much thought as to what he was
receiving. He was struggling to ward off the bitter regrets that
were stealing in on him.

"If Gertrude only knew how bewitching she is when she's so sweet
and gentle! It would have been better for me had she come to
upbraid me. I suppose I ought to be glad that she is as she is,"
he thought, "but I'm not. It seems as if she were grateful to me
for having failed her."

"Ingmar," said Gertrude, in a tone that finally made him understand
that she had something very important to tell him. "When Elof lay
sick at the Ingmar Farm, he must have used that very pillow."

She took the parcel from Ingmar and opened it. Then she counted out
twenty crisp, new bank notes, each of which was a thousand-krona
bill. Holding the money in front of his eyes, she said:

"Look, Ingmar! here's every krona of your inheritance money. It was
Elof, of course, who hid it in the pillow!"

Ingmar heard what she said, and he saw the bank notes--but he saw
and heard as in a daze. Gertrude placed the money in his hand, but
his fingers would not close over it, and it fell to the ground.
Then Gertrude picked it up and stuffed it into his pocket. Ingmar
stood there, reeling like a drunken man. Suddenly he raised his
arm, clenched his fist tight, and shook it, just as a drunken man
might have done. "My God! My God!" he groaned.

Indeed, he wished that he could have had a word with our Lord,
could have asked Him why this money had not been found sooner, and
why it should have turned up now when it was not needed, and when
Gertrude was already lost to him. The next moment his hand dropped
heavily on Gertrude's shoulder.

"You certainly know how to take your revenge!"

"Do you call this revenge, Ingmar?" asked Gertrude, in dismay.

"What else should I call it? Why didn't you bring me this money at
once?"

"I wanted to wait until the day of your wedding."

"If