The young wife spoke throughout very slowly, choosing her words with care, and Sven Elversson listened with growing interest. And he could not help thinking that the description of the old man who was so fond of gardens fitted in excellently with a landowner living a little way out of Applum, near the sea; he had a big place, and would naturally have invited the Pastor and his wife some time. "She must be very pretty, I suppose--your friend," was all he said. Again she cast a covert, searching glance at him. "I daresay people would think her quite good-looking," she said, carelessly. "But what joy can it be to her, when her husband has so much to find fault with in all that she does? When it seems as if she were never to have her will in anything; and all that she cares to do is wrong? And never can learn what she may do and what not?" Sven Elversson was getting the sail over ready to tack, and had not time to answer before she went on: "Before, when she was at home, no one ever spoke unkindly to her for what she did. Everyone seemed pleased with her then. She was a good example to her little brothers and sisters, they said, and wondered how they would manage when she was gone. And whenever she thinks of that time she cannot help smiling at herself, for now that she has a home of her own, it seems she can do nothing right, and is scolded for all she says or does not say, whatever she does or does not do." Sven Elversson was at a loss how to answer. "She is all alone," he thought, "and has no one to confide in; helpless and a stranger. And she needs someone to talk to; it helps her a little to talk of it this way." And he said only that Fru Rhånge seemed to care very much for her friend. "I wish I could help her," she said, and was very near to weeping again. "For I know she is good and kind, really. She loves to help and comfort old people, and the poor, when they are in trouble, but she must not do that now, and that is almost the worst thing of all. And she may not sit in the pew that belongs to her home in church, though she likes best to sit there, because it is just in the choir, and a little above the rest, so she can see out over the congregation." Sven Elversson thought of the little pew in Applum church, set aside for the family of the incumbent; it stood a little higher than the others, and one had a view of the rest of the church from there. "But how can I tell her," he thought, "that her husband is jealous? It would only hurt her. Perhaps it will pass over. Better that she should not know." He turned the vessel now, and made for home. It was as well that her husband should find her there when he came back from church. And in his pain at not daring to help her--perhaps to turn her thoughts from her own trouble--he pointed to a rocky island far to the west. "That is Grimön," he said. "That is where the fellow they call Sven Elversson lives. You've heard of him, maybe?"