sign of tears on any of the faces. Petter Nord had still enough
sense to see that this could not be Edith Halfvorson's funeral
train.

But if this was not she, who knows if it was not a greeting from
her. Petter Nord felt that he had no right to escape. She had said
that he was to go up to the graveyard. She must have meant that he
was to wait for her there, so that she could find him to give him
his punishment. The funeral was a greeting, a token. She wished him
to wait for her there.

To his sick brain the low churchyard wall rose as high as a
rampart. He stared despairingly at the frail trellis-gate; it was
like the most solid door of oak. He was imprisoned. He could never
get away, until she herself came up and brought him his punishment.

What she was going to do with him he did not know. Only one thing
was distinct and clear; that he must wait here until she came for
him. Perhaps she would take him with her into the grave; perhaps
she would command him to throw himself from the mountain. He could
not know--he must wait for a while yet.

Reason fought a despairing struggle: "You are innocent, Petter
Nord. Do not grieve over what you have not caused! She has not sent
you any messages. Go down to your work! Lift your foot and you are
over the wall; push with one finger and the gate is open."

No, he could not. Most of the time he was in a stupor, a trance.
His thoughts were indistinct, as when on the point of falling
asleep. He only knew one thing, that he must stay where he was.