ke way for him."

"No," cried Karin quickly, "if you will only let me care for you,
so that your life may be spared to us, I promise you that I will
see that Hellgum goes away. God will surely find us another
shepherd," thought Karin, "but for the time being it seems best to
let Ingmar have his way."

After she had staunched the wound, she helped Ingmar home and put
him to bed. He was not badly wounded. All he needed was to rest
quietly for a few days. He lay abed in a room upstairs, and Karin
tended him and watched over him like a baby.

The first day Ingmar was delirious, and lived over all that had
happened to him in the morning. Karin soon discovered that Hellgum
and the sawmill were not the only things that had caused him
anxiety. By evening his mind was clear and tranquil; then Karin
said to him: "There is some one who wishes to speak to you."

Ingmar replied that he felt too tired to talk to any one.

"But I think this will do you good."

Directly afterward Gertrude came into the room. She looked quite
solemn and troubled. Ingmar had been fond of Gertrude even in the
old days, when she was full of fun, and provoking. But at that time
something within him had always fought against his love. But now
Gertrude had passed through a trying year of longing and unrest,
which had wrought such a wonderful change in her that Ingmar felt
an uncontrollable longing to win her. When Gertrude came over to
the bed, Ingmar put his hand up to his eyes.

"Don't you want to see me?" she asked.

Ingmar shook his head. He was like a wilful child.

"I only want to say a few words to you," said Gertrude.

"I suppose you've come to tell me that you have joined the
Hellgumists?"

Then Gertrude knelt down beside the bed and lifted his hand from
his eyes. "There is something which you don't know, Ingmar," she
whispered.

He looked inquiringly at her, but did not speak. Gertrude blushed
and hesitated. Finally she said:

"Last year, just as you were leaving us, I had begun to care for
you in the right way."

Ingmar coloured to the roots of his hair, and a look of joy came
into his eyes; but immediately he became grave and distrustful
again.

"I have missed you so, Ingmar!" she murmured.

He smiled doubtingly, but patted her hand a little as thanks for
her wanting to be kind to him.

"And you never once came back to see me," she said reproachfully.
"It was as if I no longer existed for you."

"I didn't want to see you