The driver of the cart evidently thought he was driving a new servant to the vicarage; he turned to Lotta and asked if he should pull up, so that she might speak to her new mistress as they passed.
"Oh, heavens!" she thought. "If I could only turn back now."
And then, when they were within a few steps of Sigrun, Lotta felt her fears completely overwhelming her. All her faith in voices and warnings was gone; she stretched out her hand to grasp the reins.
"Turn, turn back!" she cried. "I am not going any farther. It must be the wrong way."
But they were so close now that Sigrun heard, and turned round. And at sight of a strange woman trying to take the reins from the driver, a slight smile passed over her serious face.
Next moment, however, before the smile had faded, she put her hand to her heart, and hurried up to the pair.
"Oh, Lotta—is it really you?" she said, with tears in her eyes.
But at sight of her tears, Lotta thought only that they must be for her little girl that had died because she had not come to help.
She threw herself down from the cart, and would have fallen at Sigrun's feet in the road to beg her forgiveness.
But before she could do so, Sigrun had taken her in her arms, and was telling her how glad—how glad she was to see her.