‘I noticed that a dog which was very much attached to her, and which was called Karo, followed me about wherever I went, and was evidently also trying to find her. This was a further sign to me that she had not voluntarily disappeared. The dog would have accompanied her. I took the dog with me, in the hope that it might possibly scent out her footprints, and we hunted through the house, the park, the village, and the neighbourhood, but all in vain. I could not find the slightest trace of her. ‘“Do you still refuse to tell me the truth?” I asked my father when I returned home. “Can you tell me if Annita is dead? because if I know that, then I know what to do.” ‘“I can’t tell you more than I know.” ‘“You are lying, father!” I exclaimed in anger; “but it is all the same; I will find her, or get to know about her. I will not rest, either day or night, till I find her, living or dead. But may God punish you with everlasting remorse if I find that you have driven her with blows to the altar to marry Anthony.” ‘“Unnatural son! go and ask the priest.” ‘I went to the pope in the village. Like one demented, I rushed into his room and asked: ‘“Have you married Annita and Anthony?” As he hesitated with his answer I caught him by the throat, threw him on the ground and knelt on his chest. ‘“Out with the truth, you wretch!” I cried; “have you married Annita and Anthony?” ‘He assured me, by all that was holy, that he had not married them, and that he knew nothing about it. I could not but believe him. If I had felt any doubt as to the truth of his word I believe that, in the desperate and frenzied state in which I was, I should have held my hand so long on his throat that I should have choked him. ‘The next day I also disappeared and was away for a whole year. I wandered about from house to house, village to village, and inquired of everybody, and promised rewards if anyone would procure me tidings of Annita. But all in vain. I could find no trace of her. I went to Finland, to Annita’s homestead, and through Kuolaniemi, where I had rescued her. The farm-house had been rebuilt, and had a new proprietor, but nobody had heard anything of Annita. ‘I returned home as ragged as a beggar, sick, haggard, hollow-eyed, and in despair. I was no longer as angry as before, but dreadfully out of spirits and broken-hearted. I again begged my father to tell me the truth, or let me know for certain whether Annita was alive.