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Updated: May 4, 2025
Old Lorentz D. Uthoug rarely visited his rich sister at Bruseth, but to-day he had taken his weary way up there, and the two masterful old folks sat now facing each other. "So you've managed to find your way up here?" said Aunt Marit, throwing out her ample bosom and rubbing her knees like a man.
Most of the people stood on the steps and in the entrance-hall. And now and again they would catch a glimpse of a pale woman, dressed in black, with thick dark eyebrows, crossing the courtyard to a servant's house or a storehouse to give some order for moving the things. It was Merle, now mistress here no longer. Old Lorentz D. Uthoug met his sister, the mighty lady of Bruseth, on the steps.
As he lay, after a sleepless night, watching the window grow lighter with the dawn, he would think: Yet another new day and nothing that I can do in it. And yet he had to get up, and dress, and go down and eat. His bread had a slightly bitter taste to him it tasted of charity and dependence, of the rich widow at Bruseth and the agent for English tweeds.
It was like gathering the first straws to make his new nest. And the pale woman with the spectacles looked kindly at him, as if to say: "You are taking her from me, but I forgive you." One day he was sitting in the hotel, reading, when Merle came in. "Will you come for a walk?" she asked. "Good idea. Where shall we go to-day?" "Well, we haven't been to see Aunt Marit at Bruseth yet.
There were not so many months of their year left now. And then? Another winter here? And living on charity ah me! Merle shook her head and sighed. The time had come, too, when Louise should go to school. "Send the children over to me all three of them, if you like," wrote Aunt Marit from Bruseth. No, thanks; Merle knew what that meant. Aunt Marit wanted to keep them for good.
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