Sven Elversson made no answer.
"I understand you do not wish me to speak of this at all," said Sigrun, "but I do so want to speak to you about it. Remember, to-morrow I shall not be here."
"I took my part in it, of course," said Sven Elversson, "but I was so ill I remember nothing. Afterward, I heard the others talking about it, and I reproached them. But then they said I had no call to say anything, for I had been in it, too. And then I remembered, that they had forced me to ..."
He had spoken with the greatest effort, the words seeming to force themselves painfully through his lips. And he could not finish.
"You fancied you remembered," said Sigrun. "You know well enough it is impossible that you should have done it really. You would rather have died."
"I did it," he said. "Do not try to think otherwise."
"But I do think otherwise," said Sigrun, "and I want you to know that. All the time I have been here under your roof, I have felt convinced that it was not true. No one who knows you could believe it."
Sven Elversson bent forward and grasped her hand. And very earnestly and simply he said:
"You have been very good to me this evening. I can never thank you enough for this hour."
She understood his meaning, and refrained from pursuing the subject further.