Yes, she knew it now. She had heard it yesterday.
And as long as the drive lasted Gösta had alternately fever and chills.
What did she want of him? Why did she send for him?
He thought of the life that summer on Löfven’s shores. They had let the days go by with jests and laughter and pleasure parties, while she had worked and suffered.
He had never thought of the possibility of ever seeing her again. Ah, if he had dared to hope! He would have then come into her presence a better man. What had he now to look back on but the usual follies!
About eight o’clock in the evening he arrived, and was immediately taken to the child’s mother. It was dark in the room. He could scarcely see her where she lay. The farmer and his wife came in also.
Now you must know that she whose white face shone in the dimness was always the noblest and the purest he knew, the most beautiful soul which had ever arrayed itself in earthly dust. When he once again felt the bliss of being near her, he longed to throw himself on his knees and thank her for having again appeared to him; but he was so overpowered by emotion that he could neither speak nor act.
“Dear Countess Elizabeth!” he only cried.
“Good-evening, Gösta.”
She gave him her hand, which seemed once more to have become soft and transparent. She lay silent, while he struggled with his emotion.