By the following day she had made up her mind what was to be done. She must go to America, and he must accompany her. This prompt decision rather disconcerted him. But neither he nor his sister dared oppose her. The sister, however, managed to give another direction to the girl's thoughts. She said: "You ought to be married to each other first." Marit looked at her and replied: "Yes, you are right. Of course we must be." And this thought began to occupy her mind so much that her grief became less acute. Anders had not been asked; but there was no necessity that he should be. Then came the first letter from Hans. After telling about his uncle's funeral--how he had made all the arrangements, and what they were--he offered to take over his uncle's business and property. Anders placed unlimited confidence in his brother; the offer was accepted; hence the journey was given up as needless. As soon as the necessary investigations and valuations had been made, Hans named his figure, and asked his brother if he would not invest this sum in the business. The bank deposits and other securities were sent over at once. These alone produced a sum sufficient not only to pay Anders' debts, but also to allow Marit to make all the improvements at Krogskogen which she fancied. Anders wished her to keep the whole fortune in her own hands, but she ridiculed the idea. So he went into partnership with his brother, and was thenceforth, according to Norwegian ideas, a very wealthy man. Some months after their marriage a change came over Marit. She gave way to strange impulses, seemed unable to distinguish clearly between dream and reality, and was possessed by a desire to make changes in everything that was under her care, both at home and in their house in town. The people who rented part of the latter had to move. She wished to have the house to herself. Much of her husband's time was occupied in carrying out her plans, more in watching over herself. His gratitude did not find much expression in words; it was to be read in his eyes, in his increased reverence of manner, and above all in his tender care. He was afraid of losing what had come to him so unexpectedly, or of something giving way. His humility led him to feel that his happiness was undeserved. Marit clung to him closer than ever. Two expressions she never tired of repeating: "You are my father--and more!" and: "You have the most beautiful eyes in the world; and they are mine." Gradually she gave up many of her wonted occupations. In place of them she took to reading aloud to him. From her childhood she had been accustomed to read to her father; this practice was to be begun again. She read American literature, chiefly poetry--read it in the chanting style in which English verse is recited, and carried conviction by her own sincerity. Her voice was soft; it took hold of the words gently, repeated them quietly, as if from memory.