From the churchyard he could see the funeral procession moving towards Borg. He watched it for a while, tried to laugh, but in vain. He went home, and found the house empty. Looked into the servants’ quarters—the place was deserted. He went out again and searched about outside.
Coming back to the house, after making sure that there was not a soul to be seen, he found a dog beside the door. The animal slunk away. Ketill spoke to it softly, beckoned to it, trying with friendly voice and gesture to call it to him. But the dog would not come, and finally ran away.
Ketill looked after it without any sign of emotion. Then he went indoors and sat down at his writing-table. He sat there all through the day, still wearing his vestments. Thoughts crowded in upon him—thoughts that he could not drive away.
He had sinned against life, taking the gift of life in vain. And now he was alone, an outcast, rejected and despised by all. Even a dog disowned him.
He had sinned against God, taking His name in vain. The House of God was closed to him. Alone, cursed by his father and abandoned by his God!
He had sinned against love; he had used his utmost efforts to ruin the lives of two innocent women. God had intervened to save them: the one through the love of human beings, the other by taking away her reason. And he—he was left alone and shunned by all. The world was full of love around him, on every side were human beings, his fellow-creatures, loving and being loved. To him only love was denied; for him alone there was no kindly thought in any single heart. All who knew him hated and despised him. He had crushed the flower of love underfoot—it would bloom no more on his way, nor gladden him by its fragrance.
Alone. And what should he do now? Why could he not sink to the earth and die? Why was not his body given to the worms? Why could he not rot away, and return to dust? What had he to do with life now? Or was it that life had not yet done with him?
He made no effort to check the current of his thoughts, but suffered them to come and go as they pleased.
Tears flowed down his cheeks. There was a strange sensation at his heart now, as if despair and loneliness were to become a source of joy; something akin to what the earth must feel when spring casts loose the fetters of winter.
He sat on. The faint, scarcely perceptible northern twilight crept into the room; he did not mark it. He had forgotten the existence of time. His only thought was that he was alone.