"I know she'd have a better sort of burial and all that," he said. "And it's no great matter to me, after all, seeing she wasn't my lawful wife, so to speak, though she'd been going about with me these two months. But it seems to me ..."
Lotta gave a cry. Sigrun had hurried away, and stood now crouching by the rail at the side of the bridge, trying to get under.
"For the Lord's sake!" cried the man, rushing toward her. "Don't go and harm yourself! I'll do as you say."
"Remember, I will never go back to it all again," said Sigrun.
"No; you'll have no need. I'll keep silent all right."
"Sigrun is wonderful to-night," thought Lotta. "No one can resist her; she does as she pleases with us all."
And indeed it seemed so. The little ill-humoured fellow could not do enough for her.
"I haven't my proper cart with me to-night," he said. "I borrowed a sledge this morning to go out looking for Ruth. But that'll make it the easier, perhaps, for me to drive you on a bit of the way. It's not so easy to go tramping in the snow for them that's used to sitting warm and comfortable at home."
[THE LONG DAY]
THE day that had begun with Sigrun's flight from her home was, for many, a sad and weary day—a day so long that it seemed as if it would never reach an end.