But it could hardly mean anything else than faithlessness and desertion on her part. And he had found the little body by the stream. Not that he had made any search for it, to speak of; he knew pretty closely where it must be, but he had left the matter idly as it was. Then chance willed it so that he should not forget it altogether; birds began to hover above the spot, shrieking grouse and crows, and then, later on, a pair of eagles at a giddy height above. To begin with, only a single bird had seen something buried there, and, being unable to keep a secret like a human being, had shouted it abroad. Then Axel roused himself from his apathy, and waited for an opportunity to steal out to the spot. He found the thing under a heap of moss and twigs, kept down by flat stones, and wrapped in a cloth, in a piece of rag. With a feeling of curiosity and horror he drew the cloth a little aside--eyes closed, dark hair, a boy, and the legs crossed--that was all he saw. The cloth had been wet, but was drying now; the whole thing looked like a half-wrung bundle of washing. He could not leave it there in the light of day, and in his heart, perhaps, he feared some ill to himself or to the place. He ran home for a spade and dug the grave deeper; but, being so near the stream, the water came in, and he had to shift it farther up the bank. As he worked, his fear lest Barbro should come and find him disappeared; he grew defiant and thoroughly bitter. Let her come, and he would make her wrap up the body neatly and decently after her, stillborn or no! He saw well enough all he had lost by the death of the child; how he was faced now with the prospect of being left without help again on the place--and that, moreover, with three times the stock to care for he had had at first. Let her come--he did not care! But Barbro--it might be she had some inkling of what he was at; anyway, she did not come, and Axel had to wrap up the body himself as best he could and move it to the new grave. He laid down the turf again on top, just as before, hiding it all. When he had done, there was nothing to be seen but a little green mound among the bushes. He found Barbro outside the house as he came home. "Where you been?" she asked. The bitterness must have left him, for he only said: "Nowhere. Where've you been?" Oh, but the look on his face must have warned her; she said no more, but went into the house. He followed her. "Look here," he said, and asked her straight out, "What d'you mean by taking off those rings?" Barbro, maybe, found it best to give way a little; she laughed, and answered: "Well, you are serious today--I can't help laughing! But if you want me to put on the rings and wear them out weekdays, why, I will!" And she got out the rings and put them on. But seeing him look all foolish and content at that, she grew bolder. "Is there anything else I've done, I'd like to know?"