"What will my life be, if I must always call to mind that I am living on Herr Arne's money?" she thought. "If I put a mouthful of food to my lips, must I not think of the stolen money? And if I have a new gown, will it not ring in my ears that it is bought with ill-gotten gold? Now at last I see that it is impossible for me to go with Sir Archie and join my life to his. I shall tell him this when he comes." When evening was drawing on, Sir Archie came to her. He was in cheerful mood, he had not been plagued with evil thoughts, and he believed it was owing to his promise to make good to one maiden the wrong he had done another. When Elsalill saw him and heard him speak she could not bring herself to tell him that she was sad at heart and would part from him. All the sorrows which gnawed at her were forgotten as she sat listening to Sir Archie. The next day was a Sunday, and Elsalill went to church. She was there both in the morning and in the evening. As she sat during the morning service listening to the sermon, she heard someone weeping and sobbing close by. She thought it was one of those who sat beside her in the pew, but whether she looked to right or left she saw none but calm and devout worshippers. Nevertheless, she plainly heard a sound of weeping, and it seemed so near to her that she might have touched the one who wept by putting out her hand. Elsalill sat listening to the sighing and sobbing, and thought to herself that she had never heard so sorrowful a sound. "Who is it that is afflicted with such deep grief that she must shed these bitter tears?" thought Elsalill. She looked behind her, and she leaned forward over the next pew to see. But all were sitting in silence, and no face was wet with tears. Then Elsalill thought there was no need to ask or wonder, for indeed she had known from the first who it was that wept beside her. "Dear sister," she whispered, "why do you not show yourself to me, as you did but lately? For you must know that I would gladly do all I may to dry your tears." She listened for an answer, but none came. All she heard was the sobbing of the dead girl beside her. Elsalill tried to hearken to what the preacher was saying in the pulpit, but she could follow little of it. And she grew impatient and whispered: "I know one who has more cause to weep than any, and that is myself. Had not my foster sister revealed her murderer to me I might have sat here with a heart full of joy." As she listened to the weeping she became more and more resentful, so that she thought: "How can my dead foster sister require of me that I shall betray the man I love? Never would she herself have done such a thing, if she had lived." She was shut up in the pew, but she could scarcely sit still. She rocked backward and forward and wrung her hands. "Now this will follow me all day," she thought. "Who knows," she went on, growing more and more anxious, "who knows whether it will not follow me through life?"