were, new courage and life.

Chapter X

A woman tramping up along the road. A steady summer rain falls,
wetting her, but she does not heed it; other things are in her
mind--anxiety. Barbro it is, and no other--Brede's girl, Barbro.
Anxious, ay; not knowing how the venture will end; she has gone from
service at the Lensmand's, and left the village. That is the matter.

She keeps away from all the farms on the road up, unwilling to meet
with folk; easy to see where she was going, with a bundle of clothing
on her back. Ay, going to Maaneland, to take service there again.

Ten months she has been at the Lensmand's now, and 'tis no little
time, reckoned out in days and nights, but an eternity reckoned in
longing and oppression. It had been bearable at first, Fru Heyerdahl
looking after her kindly, giving her aprons and neat things to wear;
'twas a joy to be sent on errands to the store with such fine clothes
to wear. Barbro had been in the village as a child; she knew all the
village folk from the days when she had played there, gone to school
there, kissed the lads there, and joined in many games with stones and
shells. Bearable enough for a month or so. But then Fru Heyerdahl
had begun to be even more careful about her, and when the Christmas
festivities began, she was strict. And what good could ever come of
that? It was bound to spoil things. Barbro could never have endured it
but that she had certain hours of the night to herself; from two to
six in the morning she was more or less safe, and had stolen pleasures
not a few. What about Cook, then, for not reporting her? A nice sort
of woman she must be! Oh, an ordinary woman enough, as the world finds
them; Cook went out without leave herself. They took it in turns. And
it was quite a long time before they were found out. Barbro was by no
means so depraved that it showed in her face, impossible to accuse
her of immorality. Immorality? She made all the resistance one could
expect. When young men asked her to go to a Christmas dance, she said
"No" once, said "No" twice, but the third time she would say: "I'll
try and come from two to six." Just as a decent woman should, not
trying to make herself out worse than she is, and making a display
of daring. She was a servant-girl, serving all her time, and knew no
other recreation than fooling with men. It was all she asked for. Fru
Heyerdahl came and lectured her, lent her books--and a fool for her
pains. Barbro had