When Marianne heard his heavy tread on the stairs, she did not even then know if she should go home with him or not. She only knew that she must put an end to this long waiting.
She had hoped that the pensioners would come home; but they did not come. So she had to do something to put an end to it all. She could bear it no longer.
She had thought that he in a burst of anger would have driven away after he had waited five minutes, or that he would break the door in or try to set the house on fire.
But there he sat calm and smiling, and only waited. She cherished neither hatred nor love for him. But there was a voice in her which seemed to warn her against putting herself in his power again, and moreover she wished to keep her promise to Gösta.
If he had slept, if he had spoken, if he had been restless, if he had shown any sign of doubt, if he had had the carriage driven into the shade! But he was only patience and certainty.
Certain, so infectiously certain, that she would come if he only waited!
Her head ached. Every nerve quivered. She could get no rest as long as she knew that he sat there. It was as if his will dragged her bound down the stairs.
So she thought she would at least talk with him.
Before he came, she had all the curtains drawn up, and she placed herself so that her face came in the full light.
For it was her intention to put him to a sort of test; but Melchior Sinclair was a wonderful man that day.