t the white wall of Soeren Kule's dwelling. Her
brother was standing in the open door, surrounded by trunks and boxes.
Was he thinking of going away? Tears streamed down her face.

"Edward!"

She could get no further. He drew himself upright, his face white and
stern.

"You shall never enter here!" he said, with a break in his voice.

He bent down to do up a trunk. When he got up she was gone. With a
fierce look in his eyes, he continued his preparations. He meant to
catch the first train the next morning, and get at once far away from
his native town. What he would then do he did not know, except that he
would never return. When everything was ready, he locked the front door
and went to bed. But he could not sleep. Twice in the night the
door-bell rang, but he would not open the door. It rang a third time,
and kept on ringing; and at last he got out of bed. It was Ole Tuft. His
face was ghastly.

"Where is my wife, Edward Kallem? What have you done with my wife?" he
moaned.

"Ragni's grave," said Kallem. "She is there, I think."

And then he slammed the door to. Just as dawn was breaking, the bell
rang again. Kallem went into the hall, and saw that two pieces of paper
had been thrust through the letter-box. On one, Tuft had written: "She
is not there, Edward; she was not there. I found this note on my
writing-table among the letters you sent her. Oh, Edward, it was not
like you to send her away!" On the other piece of paper Josephine had
written: "Read these, Ole, and you will understand all. For my life's
sake, I am now going to my brother!"

"For my life's sake!" Kallem shivered as he read it, and all his old
love for his sister came back to him. Had he killed her? She had wronged
Ragni, true; but it was merely out of jealousy. Jealousy because he had
made Ragni all in all to him, and left her out of his life. He could
have brought his wife and sister together, but he had not tried to do
it. Ah, he, too, was guilty! All her life long Josephine had looked up
to him and worshipped him. Then he had come back from America, and cast
her off, for one who was not worthy of him, so it seemed to her. And in
his fierce pride he had refused to reveal to her the fine character of
his wife.

He rushed out of the door, resolved to find what had become of her. She
was sitting on the steps of the house. As she saw him, she crouched down
like a wounded bird, which cannot get away, yet must not be seen. He
took her up into