Pedro Ohlsen sat beside her when she sat, and walked beside her when she walked; he was perpetually occupied in getting out of her way, and for that reason, was continually getting into it, as the deck was covered with goods. She could see only his great nose and his eyes, and not even these distinctly, but he gave the impression of having something on his mind, which he wished to say and could not. He sighed, he sat down, he got up, he went round her, sat down again, but never a word came forth, and she did not speak. At last he was obliged to give it up; he drew out a huge leather pocket book, and whispered that the 100 species were within, and a little besides. She held out her hand and thanked him, and in doing so she came so near his face, that she observed his eyes were moist and were anxiously following her. For, with her, he was in truth losing all that was left to his desolate life. He would like to have said something that might yield him a kind remembrance, when he should be no more; but it was forbidden him, and though he would have said it nevertheless, he could not manage it, for she did not help him! Petra was too tired, and she could not just then banish the thought that he had been the cause of her first sin against her mother. She could not bear it much longer, it grew worse instead of better the longer he sat, for people are easily annoyed when they are tired. The poor creature felt it, he MUST go, and so at last he got whispered, "farewell," and drew his shrunken hand out of the mitten; she laid hers warm within it, and then both arose. "Thank you,--and give my love to mother!" she said. He gave a sigh, or rather a sob, and with two or three more such, he left her, turned and went backwards down the ladder. She went to the railing, he looked up, nodded, and then rowed slowly away. She stood till he was darkness in the darkness, then she went below; she was so tired she could scarcely stand, and although she felt ill directly she went down, she had scarcely laid her head upon the pillow and said the first two clauses of "The Lord's Prayer," before she slept. Till that same hour, the mother was sitting up by the yellow boat-house; she had followed them slowly all the way, and sat down behind the boat-house just as they were rowing from land. From that same spot, Pedro Ohlsen had in former days rowed out with her; it was a long time ago, but she could not fail to remember it now, when he rowed the daughter away. As soon as she saw him coming back alone, she arose and went; for then she knew that Petra was safely on board. She did not take the road home, but went further over: there, in the darkness, she found the path that led over the mountains, and that she took. Her house stood empty and desolate for more than a month, she would not return to it, before she had had good news from her daughter.