A moment later a sledge drew up beside her, and Lotta came forward and told her what had happened, telling her, at the same time, that the knife-grinder had promised to say nothing. The man himself was sitting on the sledge, looking sullen and angry, but he spoke as calmly and peaceably as before. "It's this way," he said. "I don't like the fashion of it, having Ruth put away and buried under another name. But I'll stick by what I've said for the rest. Young mistress can get up in the sledge here, and I'll drive her back to the vicarage, and nobody the wiser. I'll be as silent as a stone wall." Sigrun walked over to the man. She had tied a black kerchief round her head, but now she thrust it back. "And all for that, I'm to go back to my misery?" she asked. The man seemed uneasy. He cast a hasty glance at her and looked away. "She is dead. What does it matter in whose name she is buried?" said Sigrun, in a voice trembling with desperation. "I don't see it's acting fairly by Ruth," said the man stubbornly. "No," said Sigrun. "It is not, I know. But do not think that I am going back home after this. That I shall not do." She pointed toward the river, gleaming darkly between the snow-covered banks. "I will go that way, if need be," she said. She stood before him, firm and resolute. And the stem earnestness of her face told him clearly enough that she would do as she said. He turned his face away, as if fearing to look at her. "I know she'd have a better sort of burial and all that," he said. "And it's no great matter to me, after all, seeing she wasn't my lawful wife, so to speak, though she'd been going about with me these two months. But it seems to me ..." Lotta gave a cry. Sigrun had hurried away, and stood now crouching by the rail at the side of the bridge, trying to get under. "For the Lord's sake!" cried the man, rushing toward her. "Don't go and harm yourself! I'll do as you say." "Remember, I will never go back to it all again," said Sigrun. "No; you'll have no need. I'll keep silent all right." "Sigrun is wonderful to-night," thought Lotta. "No one can resist her; she does as she pleases with us all." And indeed it seemed so. The little ill-humoured fellow could not do enough for her. "I haven't my proper cart with me to-night," he said. "I borrowed a sledge this morning to go out looking for Ruth. But that'll make it the easier, perhaps, for me to drive you on a bit of the way. It's not so easy to go tramping in the snow for them that's used to sitting warm and comfortable at home." THE LONG DAY THE day that had begun with Sigrun's flight from her home was, for many, a sad and weary day--a day so long that it seemed as if it would never reach an end.