Just after Christmas, Petra received a letter with a large official seal; she felt quite nervous and took it in to the dean to open. It was from the magistrate in her native town, and read thus: "Whereas Pedro Ohlsen, who yesterday departed this life, has left a will as follows: 'That which I leave behind me, which is exactly noted down in the account book, that is in the blue chest, standing in my room at Gunlaug Aamund's on the bank, and of which the said Gunlaug has the key, even as she alone knows the whole matter,--I wish,--if she, Gunlaug Aamund, gives her mind thereto, which she need not do unless she likes, to fulfil the condition which I have named, which she alone who is the only one who knows it, can fulfil,--that it should pass to Miss Petra, daughter of the said Gunlaug Aamund, that is to say, if Miss Petra thinks it worth while to remember a decrepit old man, to whom she has done good though she did not know it, as she could not do, and who has been his only comfort in his last years, wherefore he has thought to give her a little joy in return, which she must not despise. God be merciful to me a sinner. Pedro Ohlsen.' I beg to ask if you will communicate with your mother respecting it, or you wish me to do it." The next mail brought a letter from the mother, written by Pastor Odegaard, the only one in whom she dare now confide; it contained the information that she was willing to fulfil the requirement, namely to inform Petra who Pedro was. This information and the legacy gave Petra a peculiar feeling; it seemed as if everything were now putting itself to rights; it was another reminder of her departure. Then it was for her artist life that old Peer Ohlsen had fiddled his money together at weddings and dances, and son and grandson in different ways, by little and little added thereto. The sum was not great but it was sufficient to bring her further out into the world, and thus more quickly forward. The thought rose as sunshine before her, that now she could repay her mother, her mother should come to her, every day she could give her some happiness. She wrote a long letter to her every post day, she could scarcely wait for the answer, and when it came it was a bitter disappointment, for Gunlaug thanked her, but observed, "that each was best in his own place." Then the dean promised to write, and when Gunlaug got his letter, she could no longer contain herself, she must tell her sailors and other acquaintances, that her daughter was going to be something great, and wanted her to go to her. Thus the matter became a very important topic in the town, it was discussed on the quay, in the boats, and in all kitchens. Gunlaug, who up to this time had never named her daughter, now spoke of nothing but "my daughter Petra," even as no one spoke of anything else to her.