eling that there
was a guiding hand behind it all.

But now he _had_ to think, however useless he found it. Suddenly
something would take him mercilessly by the neck, and always face
him with the same hopeless: _Why_? A thousand times the thought of
Soerine would crop up, making everything heavy and sad.

Lars Peter had been thoroughly out of luck before--and borne it as
being part of his life's burden. He had a thick skull and a broad
back--what good were they but for burdens; it was not his business
to whimper or play the weakling. And fate had heaped troubles upon
him: if he could bear that, then he can bear this!--till at last he
would break down altogether under the burden. But his old stolidness
was gone.

He had begun to think of his lot--and could fathom nothing: it was
all so meaningless, now he compared himself with others. As soon as
ever he got into the cart, and the nag into its old trot, these sad
thoughts would reappear, and his mind would go round and round the
subject until he was worn out. He could not unravel it. Why was he
called the rag and bone man, and treated as if he were unclean? He
earned his living as honestly as any one else. Why should his
children be jeered at like outcasts--and his home called the Crow's
Nest? And why did the bad luck follow him?--and fate? There was a
great deal now that he did not understand, but which must be cleared
up. Misfortune, which had so often knocked at his door without
finding him at home, had now at last got its foot well inside the
door.

However much Lars Peter puzzled over Soerine, he could find no way
out of it. It was his nature to look on the bright side of things;
and should it be otherwise they were no sooner over than forgotten.
He had only seen her good points. She had been a clever wife, good
at keeping the home together--and a hard worker. And she had given
him fine children, that alone made up for everything. He had been
fond of her, and proud of her firmness and ambition to get on in
the world. And now as a reward for her pride she was in prison! For
a long time he had clung to the hope that it must be a mistake.
"Maybe they'll let her out one day," he thought. "Then she'll be
standing in the doorway when you return, and it's all been a
misunderstanding." It was some time now since the sentence had
been pronounced, so it must be right. But it was equally difficult
to understand!

There lay a horseshoe on the road. The nag stopped, accor