which was a pity; but afterwards she repented
of that, and made it clear that she repented, and gave notice and
would leave. Ay, a proper way to do.

Nothing could have suited Inger at Sellanraa better than this; Inger
was beginning to grow dissatisfied with her maid. Strange; she had
nothing to say against her, but the sight of the girl annoyed her,
she could hardly endure to have her about the place. It all arose, no
doubt, from Inger's state of mind; she had been heavy and religious
all that winter, and it would not pass off. "Want to leave, do
you? Why, then, well and good," said Inger. It was a blessing, the
fulfilment of nightly prayers. Two grown women they were already, what
did they want with this Jensine, fresh as could be and marriageable
and all? Inger thought with a certain displeasure of that same
marriageableness, thinking, maybe, how she had once been the same
herself.

Her deep religiousness did not pass off. She was not full of vice; she
had tasted, sipped, let us say, but 'twas not her intent to persevere
in that way all through her old age, not by any means; Inger turned
aside with horror from the thought. The mine and all its workmen were
no longer there--and Heaven be praised. Virtue was not only tolerable,
but inevitable, it was a necessary thing; ay, a necessary good, a
special grace.

But the world was all awry. Look now, here was Leopoldine, little
Leopoldine, a seedling, a slip of a child, going about bursting
with sinful health; but an arm round her waist and she would fall
helpless--oh, fie! There were spots on her face now, too--a sign in
itself of wild blood; ay, her mother remembered well enough, 'twas the
wild blood would out. Inger did not condemn her child for a matter of
spots 'on her face; but it must stop, she would have an end of it. And
what did that fellow Andresen want coming up to Sellanraa of Sundays,
to talk fieldwork with Isak? Did the two menfolk imagine the child was
blind? Ay, young folk were young folk as they had ever been, thirty,
forty years ago, but worse than ever now.

"Why, that's as it may be," said Isak, when they spoke of the matter.
"But here's the spring come, and Jensine gone, and who's to manage the
summer work?"

"Leopoldine and I can do the haymaking," said Inger. "Ay, I'd rather
go raking night and day myself," said she bitterly, and on the point
of crying.

Isak could not understand what there was to make such a fuss about;
but he had his own