fingers. The discovery of this led to an outburst of wrath against her mother. Ödegaard must know nothing of this, though,—but, yes, he should know everything. There should be no concealments from him!
A moment later she was in his home telling him that her mother had refused to accept the money, and that she in her anger at being compelled to bring it back to him had torn the note to pieces. She would have said more, but he received her coldly and bade her go home again, admonishing her to be obedient to her mother, even where it was hard to be so. This seemed very strange to her; for this much she knew, that he did not do what his father wished beyond all else! On the way home she broke down entirely, and just at that moment she met Pedro Ohlsen. She had shunned him all this time, and was about to do the same now, for he was the cause of her bad luck.
“Where have you been?” asked he, joining her. “Has anything gone wrong with you?”
The surging billows within her breast had risen so high that they might toss her whither they would, and as she thought of the matter, she could not understand why her mother should forbid her to have any intercourse with this man, of all others. It was doubtless a mere whim, now as well as before.
