He thought of the life that summer on Löfven’s shores. They had let the days go by with jests and laughter and pleasure parties, while she had worked and suffered. He had never thought of the possibility of ever seeing her again. Ah, if he had dared to hope! He would have then come into her presence a better man. What had he now to look back on but the usual follies! About eight o’clock in the evening he arrived, and was immediately taken to the child’s mother. It was dark in the room. He could scarcely see her where she lay. The farmer and his wife came in also. Now you must know that she whose white face shone in the dimness was always the noblest and the purest he knew, the most beautiful soul which had ever arrayed itself in earthly dust. When he once again felt the bliss of being near her, he longed to throw himself on his knees and thank her for having again appeared to him; but he was so overpowered by emotion that he could neither speak nor act. “Dear Countess Elizabeth!” he only cried. “Good-evening, Gösta.” She gave him her hand, which seemed once more to have become soft and transparent. She lay silent, while he struggled with his emotion. The child’s mother was not shaken by any violently raging feelings when she saw Gösta. It surprised her only that he seemed to consider her of chief importance, when he ought to understand that it now only concerned the child. “Gösta,” she said gently, “you must help me now, as you once promised. You know that my husband has abandoned me, so that my child has no father.” “Yes, countess; but that can certainly be changed. Now that there is a child, the count can be forced to make the marriage legal. You may be certain that I shall help you!” The countess smiled. “Do you think that I will force myself upon Count Dohna?” The blood surged up to Gösta’s head. What did she wish then? What did she want of him? “Come here, Gösta,” she said, and again stretched out her hand. “You must not be angry with me for what I am going to say; but I thought that you who are—who are—” “A dismissed priest, a drunkard, a pensioner, Ebba Dohna’s murderer; I know the whole list—” “Are you already angry, Gösta?” “I would rather that you did not say anything more.” But the child’s mother continued:—