peacefully as ever; there was all the mass of hay to be got in, and a
rare heavy crop all round, so that by degrees the thing slipped into
the background of their minds. But it hung over them, and over the
place, none the less. They could not hope that Oline would keep the
secret; it was too much to expect. And even if Oline said nothing,
others would speak; dumb witnesses would find a tongue; the walls of
the house, the trees around the little grave in the wood. Os-Anders
the Lapp would throw out hints; Inger herself would betray it,
sleeping or waking. They were prepared for the worst.

Isak took the matter sensibly--what else was there to do? He knew now
why Inger had always taken care to be left alone at every birth; to be
alone with her fears of how the child might be, and face the danger
with no one by. Three times she had done the same thing. Isak shook
his head, touched with pity for her ill fate--poor Inger. He learned
of the coming of the Lapp with the hare, and acquitted her. It led to
a great love between them, a wild love; they drew closer to each other
in their peril. Inger was full of a desperate sweetness towards him,
and the great heavy fellow, lumbering carrier of burdens, felt a greed
and an endless desire for her in himself. And Inger, for all that she
wore hide shoes like a Lapp, was no withered little creature as the
Lapland women are, but splendidly big. It was summer now, and she went
about barefooted, with her naked legs showing almost to the knee--Isak
could not keep his eyes from those bare legs.

All through the summer she went about singing bits of hymns, and she
taught Eleseus to say prayers; but there grew up in her an unchristian
hate of all Lapps, and she spoke plainly enough to any that passed.
Some one might have sent them again; like as not they had a hare in
their bag as before; let them go on their way, and no more about it.