For a long while they walked on in silence, holding each other's hands like two children, and the sound of their footsteps upon the crisp, crunching sand was singularly exaggerated by the great stillness around them.
"And whom is it you have been visiting so late in the night, Elsie?" he asked, at last, glancing furtively into her face.
"Hush, you mustn't talk about her," answered she, in a timid whisper. "It was Gurid Sibyl, and she knows a great many things which nobody else knows except God."
"I am sorry you have resort to such impostors. You know the Bible says it is wrong to consult sibyls and fortune-tellers."
"No, I didn't know it. But you mustn't speak ill of her, or she will sow disease in your blood and you will never see another healthy day. She did that to Nils Saetren because he mocked her, and he has been a cripple ever since."
"Pshaw, I am not afraid of her. She may frighten children—"
"Hush! Oh, don't!" cried the girl, in tones of distress, laying her hand gently over his mouth. "I wouldn't for the world have anything evil happen to you."
"Well well, you foolish child," he answered, laughing. "If it grieves you, I will say nothing more about it. But I must disapprove of your superstition all the same."
"Oh, no; don't think ill of me," she begged piteously, her eyes filling with tears.
"No no, I will not. Only don't cry. It always makes me feel awkward to see a woman cry."