had injured him, Axel--broken a tie that
he prized, and that could not be replaced. But it might be that
he wronged her, after all: that she _had_ slipped in the water by
accident. But then the wrapping--the bit of shirt she had taken with
her....

Meantime, the hours passed; dinner-time came, and evening. And when
Axel had gone to bed, and had lain staring into the dark long enough,
he fell asleep at last, and slept till morning. And then came a new
day, and after that day other days....

Barbro was the same as ever. She knew so much of the world, and could
take lightly many little trifles that were terrible and serious things
for folk in the wilds. It was well in a way; she was clever enough for
both of them, careless enough for both. And she did not go about like
a terrible creature herself. Barbro a monster? Not in the least. She
was a pretty girl, with blue eyes, a slightly turned-up nose, and
quick-handed at her work. She was utterly sick and tired of the farm
and the wooden vessels, that took such a lot of cleaning; sick and
tired, perhaps, of Axel and all, of the out-of-the-way life she led.
But she never killed any of the cattle, and Axel never found her
standing over him with uplifted knife in the middle of the night.

Only once it happened that they came to talk again of the body in the
wood. Axel still insisted that it ought to have been buried in the
churchyard, in consecrated ground; but she maintained as before that
her way was good enough. And then she said something which showed that
she was reasoned after her fashion--ho, was sharp enough, could see
beyond the tip of her nose; could think, with the pitiful little brain
of a savage.

"If it gets found out I'll go and talk to the Lensmand; I've been in
service with him. And Fru Heyerdahl, she'll put in a word for me, I
know. It's not every one that can get folk to help them like that, and
they get off all the same. And then, besides, there's father, that
knows all the great folks, and been assistant himself, and all the
rest."

But Axel only shook his head.

"Well, what's wrong with that?"

"D'you think your father'd ever be able to do anything?"

"A lot you know about it!" she cried angrily. "After you've ruined him
and all, taking his farm and the bread out of his mouth."

She seemed to have a sort of idea herself that her father's reputation
had suffered of late, and that she might lose by it. And what could
Axel say to that? Nothing. He