Remembering the letter for his wife, he drew it from his pocket and jerked it across the table to her, without looking up, or appearing otherwise to be aware of her presence. She seized the envelope eagerly, frowning at the torn flap, but smiled in spite of herself, as she saw that it was written in Norwegian--the nut had been too hard to crack this time! She was obliged to defer her reading until she had lifted the children down and sent them off to Carolina. They slunk away like little animals, even as they had sat silent since Valentini's entrance; they lived in mortal terror of his fits of ill-humour, and had learned to avoid irritating him, by making themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Ragna took up her letter and began to read. It was from Ingeborg written two days after Fru Boyesen's death, telling of the old woman's intention of reinstating Ragna as her heiress and of the frustration of her design. "You must not think hardly of poor Auntie," wrote Ingeborg, "she has been so unhappy. I have seen the struggle going on for some time, and I was sure her better nature would win in the end. Oh, Ragna, if I had only known, I might have done something, but although I could see she was relenting I never guessed she was so near to giving in, and I was afraid of doing more harm than good, if I tried to push things--If you had seen the expression of her poor eyes, when she said, 'I must make it right for Ragna,' and the agonised look in them, that last instant just before--. Oh, if only she could have lived ten minutes, five minutes longer! Isn't it awful to think of her remorse, feeling herself dying without having accomplished what was in her heart? Dr. Ericssen and Herr Hendriksen, both went to see the Directors of the Orphanage, to which she had left her money,--she did that you know, when she tore up her will in favour of you,--and told them they had no moral right to accept the bequest, as the last wishes of the deceased were otherwise, but they did not see it at all that way. Why are charities so grasping, I wonder? I don't see how they can reconcile their consciences to accept a bequest that morally belongs to someone else! It makes my blood boil, Ragna dear, as according to Auntie's wishes it all ought to be yours--" Ragna put the letter down with a sigh. She hardly realized as yet all that this disappointment meant to her, the hopes of relative independence dashed, nothing to look forward to beyond her own unaided effort. The news of her Aunt's death grieved her, but her senses, dulled by the nervous strain of the evening before, refused to appreciate to its full extent the enormity of the catastrophe. She sat as though stunned. Little Mimmo stole in unnoticed and installed himself on the floor with a picture-book. Valentini, smoking ostentatiously, cast furtive glances at his wife, and at last, unable to contain his curiosity any longer, shifted his chair and asked: "Well, what does Ingeborg say?"