And, dressing quietly, lest she should wake her, the widow stole out to her work.
On waking, Bagga noticed at once that her mother was already up. She got out of bed herself, and, without making any attempt to dress, sat down on the bed to think. Today she was to leave home. At first she half hoped it was all a dream, but in a moment she realized that it was the sad truth. And the question which had risen to her mind the night before came to her now again: Why should she go? Hitherto, her mother had never said anything about her going away from home; on the contrary, she had always felt that her mother would have been sorry to lose her. And then to decide on this so suddenly.... There must be some reason for it all—something they had not told her. She was to go as housekeeper to the doctor, a man she had never liked. From her first sight of him she had felt an instinctive aversion to him. His looks, his friendly advances, repelled her. But if her mother thought it best, that must be enough. And if her mother did not wish to tell her the reason for so thinking, there was no more to be said.
She would not ask.
Going out, she found her mother had just finished making the coffee. They talked with some restraint; it seemed awkward even to talk of little everyday things now. The widow was evidently distressed herself, and Bagga was on the verge of tears. From her manner, the mother judged that Bagga had determined not to ask the reason of her being sent away from home. This was as well, since it saved her the necessity of answering awkward questions; but, on the other hand, it puzzled her to think why her daughter should have refrained from asking.
The few necessary preparations for the journey were soon made, and a man came up to the house with the horse Bagga was to ride.
It was noticeable that at parting the widow carefully impressed upon her daughter not to hesitate in telling her all that happened—to let her know at once, if need be.
“It will be lonely here when you have gone, child,” she said.
Bagga burst into tears, but strove bravely to recover herself. The two women embraced, and the widow walked beside the horse until they came to the stream. Here they stopped, and bade each other farewell tenderly.
“God be with you,” said the mother earnestly. “Trust in Him, and keep yourself pure in soul and body. And, should it please Him to call me to Himself, remember that there is one beside myself who loves you.”
Bagga blushed at her words, and warm joy filled her heart. Then, with a parting kiss, she touched her horse and rode across the stream.