urned to his wrath over what had befallen himself.

They had turned and were retracing their steps in the friendly birch
avenue leading to the parsonage. The tones of a human voice were heard;
they drew nearer, paused, and listened attentively. The windows were
open, and every note rang out, clear and equal.

"Yes, there is purity in the voice," said Grong; "that is true. But
purity is a mere passive quality."

They went on.

"Not technical skill alone, then?" queried Roennaug.

To this Grong made no reply. He had fallen into a new train of thought.
When they had reached the house, he roused himself.

"She and I are, both of us, I dare say, bearers of a half-completed
family history. Nevertheless, her family dies out with her; and mine?
Oh, all this is enough to drive one mad! Where is my 'skyds?'"

With these words he strode past the main building to the court-yard
behind. Roennaug slowly followed. The "skyds" had not yet arrived.
Grumbling considerably, Grong sauntered up to the coach-house, whose
doors stood open, and in which he saw Roennaug's carriage. She joined
him, and they discussed the carriage together. It was too light for a
traveling carriage, Grong thought. One fore-wheel must already have been
damaged, for it had been taken off. So, then, it depended upon the
blacksmith how long the ladies would remain at the parsonage? But he
would start without further delay; for there--at last--came the "skyds."

He bade her a light farewell, as though he were merely going to the next
corner, and then went into the house for his luggage. Roennaug, however,
determined to wait until he came out again.

She had a kindly feeling for him. She earnestly hoped that the son's
case was not so bad as the father now thought. There was so much unrest
in Grong. Was not this caused by his having a great variety of
"talents," but no one special talent? She had once heard Grong half
jestingly make a similar assertion about another person. All these
endowments, however, might be combined in one main tendency, of this
Roennaug felt sure. It might be the same in the case of Magnhild; but
perhaps there was not sufficient talent there. Technical ability? Aye,
if that were her chief endowment she could doubtless render it available
in singing.

Roennaug had failed to find the light she needed. This was truly
discouraging; for counsel must be given, a resolution formed. She prayed
God for her friend, and for this gloomy man now co