"Yes," said Ingeborg, "that is true; I might—"
"I have an idea," said Astrid suddenly, "I shall write to the Signora Ferrati, she may be able to tell us something; you know Ragna went back to Florence with her so she must know all about it."
"Wouldn't that seem like going behind Ragna's back?" objected Ingeborg.
"Oh, I shall be careful about that. I shall just write in a friendly way and say how surprised we all were at the announcement of the marriage. And it will be only natural for her to tell how it came about, in her reply. We may find out a good deal that way, and I don't know how else. Besides she is very fond of Ragna, and wouldn't do or say anything to hurt her feelings."
"Very well," agreed Ingeborg grudgingly, "write to the Signora Ferrati, and show me her answer, when it comes. But, Astrid, you won't say anything to anybody, except just that Ragna is married, will you?"
"Of course not, dear."
Then they kissed each other on the cheek, and Ingeborg accompanied Astrid to the door and went to her own room, the one that had been Ragna's formerly, and sat down to compose a letter to her sister.
Fru Boyesen was writing also, a letter which she was to bitterly regret, the more so that her pride would not let her recall it or abandon the position she had taken. She felt a savage joy in wounding as she had been wounded, and re-read the finished note with the pride of an artist in his masterpiece, yet with a pang at heart.
"My dear niece," it ran, "I am much obliged to you for your letter, showing, as it does, so nice a consideration for my feelings and so just an appreciation of your duty towards me. I rejoice in your independence of spirit, and since you have shown yourself quite able to dispense with my counsel or assistance I shall not trouble you in future with either.
"(Signed) Your Aunt Gitta.
"P. S.—You need not bother about answering this letter, as I think you must understand that any correspondence between us has become unnecessary."
She stamped the letter, frowning as she wrote the address, and affixed a large seal of black wax. Allowing herself no time for reflection, she rang for a maid and gave orders that the letter should be immediately posted. Then, determined that the shock which had broken the whole current of her life should leave no trace on her everyday existence, she brought out her account-books, it being her accustomed Saturday morning's task, and proceeded to carefully check the tradesmen's bills for the week.