He looked at her in surprise; this was not her usual way of receiving him. There was a confidence in her tone, as if she had taken upon herself to call him to account for his absence. It had hitherto been he always who had taken the initiative and been in a gracious humour or not, according as it pleased him.
"Gjert," he answered, rather shortly, "is at home in the house. So you have been anxious about me—expected me?" he added, in a peculiar tone, as if he found something to remark upon in this way of addressing him, but deferred comment for the present.
"Why, you know, goodman, that it can't be the same to me if you are lost out there at sea."
"How is your aunt?" he asked, abruptly. "Is she seriously ill?"
"She can see you. Come in with me, but step gently."
Salvé felt that he could not very well refuse, and followed her. He had always, as far as possible, avoided seeing Mother Kirstine, and had left his wife to represent him in that quarter. He was afraid of the penetrating eyes which the old woman turned upon him, and had never forgotten the warning she had given him not to go near Elizabeth as long as he harboured a doubt against her in his heart.
It was with great deference that he now approached her bedside.
"Oh, it's you, Salvé," she said, in a weak voice. "It's not often I have a sight of you. Elizabeth has been such a blessing to me; and Henrik is so quiet and good. Where is Gjert? Have you not brought him with you?" And her eyes wandered in search of the boy.
"He is at home taking care of the house, aunt. How are you?"
"Oh, thanks—as you see. I think so often what will become of that boy; he is so wild, but with such a good nature, poor fellow!"