his age, and a proper son of the house. There was something no doubt
between him and Froken Elisabeth from the vicarage, seeing she came over
one day and stood talking with him out in the fields for quite a while.
When she was leaving, she found a few words for me as well, saying Oline
was beginning to get used to the new contrivances of water-pipes and tap.

"And yourself?" I asked.

Out of politeness, she made some little answer to this also, but I could
see she had no wish to stay talking to me.

So prettily dressed she was, with a new light cloak that went so well with
her blue eyes....

Next day Erik met with an accident; his horse bolted, dragging him across
the fields and throwing him up against a fence at last. He was badly
mauled, and spitting blood; a few hours later, when he had come to himself
a little, he was still spitting blood. Falkenberg was now set to drive.

I feigned to be distressed at what had happened, and went about silent and
gloomy as the rest, but I did not feel so. I had no hope of Froken
Elisabeth for myself, indeed; still, I was rid of one that stood above me
in her favour.

That evening I went over to the churchyard and sat there a while. If only
she would come, I thought to myself. And after a quarter of an hour she
came. I got up suddenly, entirely as I had planned, made as if to slip
away and hide, then I stopped, stood helplessly and surrendered. But here
all my schemes and plans forsook me, and I was all weakness at having her
so near; I began to speak of something.