When Petra came to herself again, she was lying in bed undressed and well nursed; before her sat the mother with her arms upon her knees; her head in both her hands, and eyes of fire fastened upon her daughter. "Have you read enough with him now?" she asked:--"Have you learnt something?--What is it you are going to be now?"--Petra answered with an outburst of grief. The mother sat and listened to this for a long time, then said with strange solemnity: "May the Lord heartily curse him!"--The daughter started up: "Mother, mother! Not him, not him, but me, me,--not him!"--"Oh; I know them! I know who should have it!"--"No mother, he has been deceived, dreadfully deceived, and that by me, me--it is I who have deceived him!"--She told the whole story hurriedly and sobbing; he must not for a moment be misjudged; she told about Gunnar, and what she had asked of him, how she had hardly understood at the time, what she was doing; next about Yngve Vold's unlucky gold chain, that had taught her so much, and got her so fearfully entangled, and then about Odegaard, how on seeing him, she had forgotten all else. She could not understand how it had all happened, but this she did understand, that she had sinned deeply against them all, and especially against him who had taken her up, and given her all that one human being can give to another. After sitting long silent, at last the mother said: "Then you have committed no sin against ME? Where have I been all this time that you have never said a word to me?"--"Oh! mother, help me, don't be hard on me now; I feel that I shall suffer for it as long as I live; but I shall pray to God that He will let me soon die!--Dear, dear God," she began, as she folded her hands and looked up to Heaven, "dear, dear God, hear me, I have already forfeited my life; there is nothing more for me, I am not fit, I do not know how to live, then, dear God, I pray Thee suffer me to die!"--But Gunlaug, who had hard words uppermost, stifled them, and laid her hand on the daughter's arm, to take it down from such a prayer: "Govern your feelings, child, do not tempt God;--we must live even if it is painful." She drew several heavy sighs and rose up; she had no consolation to offer. The daughter had no doubt now given her entire confidence, but it was too late. Gunlaug never more set foot within that little attic chamber. Odegaard had taken an illness, that seemed likely to be a dangerous one, so his old father had gone up, and made his study beside him, saying to all who begged him to spare himself, that he could not do it; his work was to watch over his son, each time he lost one of those whom he loved better than his father. It was thus that matters stood when Gunnar came home.