From Heav’n to its own black bosom.
It wells from eyes that are glazed with pain
(God shield me in all disaster!)
When a man has rent like a rag in twain
His own life’s bliss, by his own hand slain,
Being never his fortune’s master.
There was a brief silence when she ceased. Then they crowded round her in admiration and with endless requests for more.
Fru Adelheid rose. She talked and smiled and thanked them. But her glance wandered far beyond all these people, who meant nothing to her, to Cordt, who stood at the far end of the room and was talking to some one and did not see her and had not heard her.
But Finn had heard her. And Finn had seen her great, humble, plaintive look.
He did not take his eyes off her and strange thoughts hurried through his head. He now understood what had happened in this house. He knew why Fru Adelheid had come to him so seldom, lately, in the old room. Why she had sat so silent, steeped in distant thoughts ... why her glance had been so uncertain and so timid, her words so wavering, her hand so slack in his.