Now, what were they looking so anxious about? And what was the meaning of this sudden politeness and “Won't you sit down?” and all the rest? I had not to wait long to find out: the letter was from Captain Falkenberg.
“Here, you can use this,” said Fruen very obligingly, handing me a letter-opener.
A simple, ordinary letter, nothing more; indeed, it began almost jestingly: I had run away from Øvrebø before he knew I was going, and hadn't even waited for my money. If I imagined he was in difficulties and would not be able to pay me before the harvest was in—if that was why I had left in such a hurry, why, he hoped I had found out I was mistaken. And now he would be very glad if I would come back and work for him if I wasn't fixed up elsewhere. The house and outbuildings wanted painting, then there would be the harvesting, and, after that, he would like to have me for work among the timber. Everything looking well here, fields nice and tall, meadows nice and thick. Glad to hear as soon as you can in answer to this,—Yours, FALKENBERG.
The engineer had finished his reckoning. He turned on his chair and looked over at the wall. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he turned sharply to the table again. Nervousness, that was all. Fruen stood looking at her rings, but I had a feeling she was stealthily watching me all the time—thoroughly nervous, the pair of them!
Then said the engineer:
“Oh, by the way, I noticed your letter was from Captain Falkenberg. How are things going there? I knew the writing at once.”
“Would you like to read the letter?” I said promptly, offering it as I spoke.
“No—oh no. Thanks, all the same. Not in the least. I was only....”
But he took the letter, all the same. And Fruen came across to him and stood looking over his shoulder as he read.
“H'm!” said the engineer, with a nod. “Everything going on nicely, it seems. Thanks.” And he held out the letter to give it back.