There is nothing more painful than an unsuccessful attempt at reconciliation. They rose without being able to look at each other, to return thanks for the meal. In the dining room it became at last so oppressive, that all three would willingly have left the room, but no one wished to go first. Petra for her part, felt that if she went, it would be for ever. She could not see Signe again, if she might not love her, she could not bear to see the dean sorrowful for her sake. But if she was to go away, she must go without taking leave; for how could she take leave of these people? The mere thought of it agitated her so, that she could with the greatest difficulty suppress it. An oppressive silence like this, when each is waiting for the other, becomes more insupportable every moment. We cannot move, because we feel it will be noticed, every sigh is heard, and if we are quite still it is heard too, for it is heard as harshness. We are kept in suspense because no one says anything, and we tremble lest any one should begin.--They all felt this to be a moment that would never return.--The walls that we build up between each other rise higher, our own guilt and that of the others increases with every breath; now we are in desperation, now in wroth; for the one that behaves so to us is unmerciful, wicked, we don't tolerate THAT, we don't forgive THAT! Petra could not bear it longer, she must either escape or scream. But just then sledge bells were heard on the road, a man with a wolf skin coat dashed by, and turned in at the farm.--All breathed easier, and listened for the liberation. They heard the stranger in the hall, he put off his travelling coat and boots, and talked with the servant who assisted him; the dean rose to meet him, but turned so as not to leave the two girls alone,--they heard the stranger talking again, and this time nearer, so that his voice made all three look up, and Petra rose, fixing her eyes on the door,--there was a knock,--"Come in!" said the dean in an agitated tone; a tall gentleman with a light complexion and spectacles appeared in the doorway, Petra gave a scream, and fainted--it was Odegaard. He was expected at the deanery at Christmas, although no one had told Petra, but that he should come just at this juncture, must have been in the ordering of Providence; this was felt at once, and by them all. When Petra recovered consciousness, he was standing beside her, and held her hand. He continued to hold it, but said nothing, nor did she; she was powerless even to rise. But while she continued looking at him, two tears rolled down her cheeks. He was very pale, but quite calm and kind; he withdrew his hand, and walked across the floor; then he went to Signe, who had crouched down among her mother's flowers in the furthest window.