She thought of her parents, and the help they had always given her--now she would never have to trouble them again for aid. All was new about her now; she was in another world. "They cannot reach me here," she thought. "They have stood by me up to now, as far as they could. Now I am gone from them for ever. I am driving into the kingdom of Death." She was like a climbing plant, fastened with many threads to a trellis. Now, one after another was loosed, and soon the whole growth would fall to the ground. "It must be like this to die," said Sigrun to herself. "It is not hard or painful at all, only a deep rest." Gradually it grew light. The man on the side of the sledge became once more an ordinary vagabond, with a sullen, unkindly face. The landscape was a stony, barren, poor, but altogether earthly tract, and Sigrun herself awoke to life with its insistent demands for courage and strength of mind.... The horse had had no rest all night, and they were going very slowly. They had to halt for some hours at a peasant's hut to give the animal food and rest. At last, however, they came in sight of a village where there was an inn. As they were thus approaching the end of their journey, the knife-grinder turned to Sigrun. "A man like me," he said, "going about the country all ways, sees many strange things in his time. But I will say, this business to-night's the strangest I've ever had a hand in." "You think so?" Sigrun turned to the little dark man with a friendly smile. "I'll take my oath I've never seen nor heard the like. And I can't for the life of me see what it was made me soft enough to help with it at all. I can't make it out." "Neither can I," said Sigrun. "But be sure you will never regret it." "Why, as to that, you never know," said the man. "But, anyhow, I don't like to let you go on now without knowing how you're going to manage, and where you're making for." "I am going to America," said Sigrun. "It costs a heap of money to get to America," said the man. "You surely do not think I should start on such a journey without money," she returned. At this the man pulled up, went to the horse, and began lifting and fingering the harness. "Well," he said, after a pause, "I've nothing much to do this way or that myself. Might be best, perhaps, to drive past the inn here, and I could take you on a few miles farther. There might be someone here that knew you." For the last half-hour Sigrun had been troubled by that very thought. And the offer was welcome indeed. "When I do a thing, I believe in doing it thoroughly," said the man, taking his place on the sledge once more. The next few miles, however, were toilsome. Again they had to stop and rest and feed the horse. And soon they found that the snowfall in these parts had been lighter than where they had come from; the going became so bad after a time that they were forced to walk long stretches of the way.