A great fear took possession of her. In the twinkling of an eye she was out of bed and dressed. She felt that she must go out, as if counsel might somewhere be found, for everything had become confused, uncertain, dangerous. The more she thought of it, the more entangled became the thread: some one must help her unravel it, or she could never get loose! But in whom dared she confide? It could be none other than her mother. When, after a long struggle, she stood in the kitchen beside her, flushed, tearful, but strong in her resolve to give perfect confidence that she might gain perfect help, her mother said, without looking round and so without noticing Petra’s countenance,—
“He has just now been here; he has come home again.”
“Who?” whispered Petra, clinging to the nearest object to keep from falling; for if Gunnar had come already all hope was destroyed. She knew Gunnar; he was dull and good-natured; but once aroused to passion, he lost all self-control.
“You are to come there at once, he said.”
“There?” Petra trembled, for it flashed over her that he must have told his mother everything; and now what was to be done?
