"You are in mourning?" asked Magnhild.
"The whole land should be in mourning, my child!" And after a pause, came a whispered, "He is dead!"
"You must remember that there is no time to lose if we would reach the steamer," said Bang.
The lady did not look up at her husband's words; she was busy with the lock she had just stroked back. Bang gave the coachman a sign, the carriage was set in motion.
"I am going to America," whispered Magnhild, as she descended from the carriage step.
The lady gazed after her a moment, then she seemed to grasp in its full extent what it implied that Skarlie's wife was going far, far away—what suppositions might be therewith connected and what consequences. For her face resumed somewhat of its old brightness, her frame regained its elasticity: at once she was on her feet, had turned completely round, and was waving her handkerchief. With what charming grace she did it!
Her husband would not permit the carriage to halt again. He contented himself with following his wife's example by waving one hand. The movement must have been accompanied by an admonition to sit down, for the lady disappeared forthwith.
The plume in her hat waved over his shoulder. More could not be seen; she must have let herself glide back into her place.