No, this was too much for the dean, he snatched the book from Signe's hand, and rushed to the door; this time she did not hold him back. He went straight to Petra, threw the book on the piano before her, turned, and strode across the room; when he came back, she had risen, and pressing the book to her heart, she looked all round with a confused expression. He stopped to give her his full mind, but his anger at the thought that for more than two years he had been made use of by this wily girl, and especially that his warm-hearted, affectionate daughter had been duped by her, came so forcibly before him, that he did not at once find words,--and when he did find them, he felt they were too hard. After striding once more across the floor, and once more coming opposite to her, his face scarlet, he turned his back, and without a word walked into his study. When he came there, Signe was gone. All that day they kept to their own rooms. The dean dined alone, neither of the girls appeared. Petra was in the housekeeper's room, which had been alloted to her since the fire; she sought all over for Signe to explain to her, but in vain: she could not be at home. Petra felt this to be a decisive moment in her life. Her most secret thoughts had slipped from her, and they would try to exert an influence over them, which she could not bear. She knew best herself, that if she relinquished this object, she would be driven at the mercy of the winds. She could be light-hearted with the light-hearted, and confidential with the confidential, hopeful in everything, but it was in the strength of that secret purpose,--that some time she would be able to secure that after which her powers were yearning. To confide in any one, after that first baulking attempt at Bergen,--no, she could not do it, not even in Odegaard himself! She must be alone in it, until her aim had grown so strong, that it could bear to hear the doubts that would be breathed upon it. But now it had happened otherwise: the dean's fiery red face looked continually down upon her scared conscience.--She must save herself!--She sought for Signe more earnestly and hurriedly in the afternoon, but still she was not to be found. The longer one whom we seek hides from us, the greater we depict the cause of separation, and thus it was, that at last she made herself believe it had been treachery against Signe, secretly to use her friendship for that which Signe thought to be a sin. The omniscient God must be her witness, that this view of her conduct had never struck her before; she felt herself a great sinner. Just as before at home, she now stood with the feeling of a great sin upon her conscience, of which a moment before, she had no suspicion. That that terrible experience might be repeated, augmented her vague fear to terror; she saw before her a future of unhappiness. But in proportion as her own guilt increased, Signe's image stood forth in purity and disinterested attachment.