"'It's a pity about Lotta,' said mother. And father answered at once without asking what she meant, that it was a pity, surely. He'd been thinking of the same thing, you know. "But I thought to myself that they did not know at all, really--for how could it be a pity about me in any way, as long as I had all my visions and voices to be happy with? "And the big farmhouse stood there clear and plain as ever. It looked as if I could just walk in at any moment through the gate and talk to the people indoors. I could see tools and things lying about in the yard, and the bucket by the well, and the dog-kennel and the pigeon-loft, and I could see it was a fine big place, but something old and out of date about it. "It was all very still and quiet and forsaken. Not a soul, not a beast of any kind was moving anywhere. "And then I saw something that was more surprising than all the rest. There was a stone wall round the farm and buildings and yard, between them and the fields, and in the middle a gate. And one of the gateposts stood up straight and firm, but the other was grey and almost rotted through, and would have tumbled down if it hadn't been for a whole lot of struts and supports round it. "Just as I caught sight of that old gatepost, I felt a shiver through me. And I knew that there was something I was afraid of, and did not want to see any more. "I put my hands before my eyes, and turned away from the window; it would not go away. Next time I looked out, there it was, just as before, a splendid place to see, standing out against the black hills behind. And looking at a place like that in reality, you would surely think it must be rich and powerful people that lived there. Everything was well kept, except that one gatepost. "And I tried not to look at it, because it made me afraid, but just as I turned my eyes away from it, I saw that there was someone in the house after all. Someone sitting at the window of the little room above the cellar, almost opposite the gatepost, and looking down at it. "It was an old woman, with a stern but beautiful face, and white hair set up under a cap--I had never seen anyone wear a cap like that before. She sat quite still, with folded hands, and her eyes fixed on the post. Sitting there like a stone, just looking and looking at it all the time. "Now I felt more afraid of her than of the post itself, and I turned away from the window, and tried to make her go away, by thinking of Sigrun. "I thought what good friends we had been, and still were. There was nothing that could separate us. The winter before, Sigrun had been away, to visit some relatives in the south, and stayed with them for several months, but when she came back, we were just as good friends as before.