"I must speak with my wife about this," said he, and groaned. "That I must," he added decidedly, "and with Magnhild," came as an afterthought. "Certainly," said the other, as he rose to take leave. A little while later, the priest's wife was sitting where the saddler had sat. Both hands lay idly open on her lap, while her eyes followed her spouse as he steamed back and forth. "Well, what do you think?" he urged, pausing in front of her. Receiving no reply, he moved on again. "He is far too old," she finally said. "And surely very sly," added the priest, and then pausing again in front of his wife, he whispered: "No one really knows where he comes from, or why he chooses to settle here. He might have a fine workshop in a large city--wealthy, and a smart dog!" The priest did not use the choicest language in his daily discourse. "To think she should allow herself to be so beguiled!" whispered the wife. "Beguiled! Just the word--beguiled!" repeated the priest, snapping his fingers. "Beguiled!" and off he went in a cloud of smoke. "I am so sorry for her," remarked the wife, and the words were accompanied by a few tears. This touched the priest, and he said: "See here, mother, we will talk with her, both of us!" then strode heavily on again. Ere long Magnhild stood within the precincts of the study, wondering what could be wanted of her. The priest was the first to speak:-- "Is it really true, Magnhild, that you have agreed to be the wife of this fellow, the saddler?" The priest often used the general term "fellow" instead of a proper name. Magnhild's face became suffused with blushes; in her whole life she could never have been so red before. Both the priest and his wife interpreted this as a confession. "Why do you not come to us with such things?" asked the priest, in a vexed tone. "It is very strange you should act so, Magnhild," said the mistress of the house,--and she wept. Magnhild was simply appalled. "Do you really mean to have him?" asked the priest, pausing resolutely in front of her. Now Magnhild had never been accustomed to being addressed in a confidential tone. When questioned thus closely she had not the courage to give a frank statement of all that had occurred between her and Skarlie, telling, how this talk of marriage had commenced as a jest, and that although later she had had a misgiving that it was becoming serious, it was so continually blended anew with jests that she had not given herself the trouble to protest against it. How could she, with the priest standing thus before her, enter on so long a story? And so instead she burst into tears.