“Oh yes, I’m sure he will. And now lie down and go to sleep, there’s a good girl.”
Merle sat down again in the room and waited. But at last she rose, put on a cloak and went out.
The town lay down there in the autumn darkness under a milk-white mist of light. And over the black hills all around rose a world of stars. Somewhere out there was Peer, far out maybe upon some country road, the horse plodding on through the dark at its own will, its master sitting with bowed head, brooding.
“Help us, Thou above—and help him most, he has had so much adversity in these last days.”
But the starry vault seems icy cold—it has heard the prayers of millions and millions before—the hearts of men are nothing to the universe.
Merle drooped her head and went in again to the house.
It was midnight when Peer drove up the hill towards his home. The sight of the great house with its brilliantly lighted windows jarred so cruelly on his wearied mind that he involuntarily gave the horse a cut with his whip.
He flung the reins to the stable-boy who had come out with a lantern, and walked up the steps, moving almost with a feeling of awe in this great house, as if it already belonged to someone else.
He opened the door of the drawing-room—no one there, but light, light and comfort. He passed through into the next room, and there sat Merle, alone, in an armchair, with her head resting on the arm, asleep.
Had she been waiting so long?