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Updated: May 3, 2025
It is late; my heart has had its day.... Through the white mist comes a leaping figure; it is Ragnhild coming up from among the bushes, running with her tongue thrust out. The engineer came up to me, nodded Godmorgen, and asked me to mend the summer-house door. "Is it broken again?" "Yes, it got broken last night."
Meantime, she sat indoors and waited; she had not forgotten anything; she did nothing now but sit staring before her. Ragnhild went in and asked if there was anything she could do. No, thank you. Fruen sat bowed forward as if weighted down by some deadly grief. The carriage was ready, and Fruen came out.
Such things had happened this evening, she whispered. Shut the window! Fruen and that engineer fellow never a thought of being careful 'twas as near as ever could be but they'd have done it. He was holding on to her when Ragnhild went in with the letter. Ugh! Up in Fruen's room, with the lamp blown out. "You're mad," said I to Ragnhild. But the girl had both heard and seen well enough, it seemed.
I took the letter out of my pocket and went in the main entrance to give it to Fruen myself. At the top of the stairs Ragnhild comes slipping noiselessly towards me and takes the letter. She is evidently excited. I can feel the heat of her breath as she points along the passage. There is a sound of voices from the far end.
Oh, I know it says in that book there.... Oh, those hateful books! Ragnhild take them away and burn them, she says. 'No, wait, I'll tear them to bits now myself and put them in the stove here. And then she started pulling them to pieces, taking ever so many pages at a time and throwing them in the stove. 'Don't be so excited, Lovise, said the Captain.
It seemed she had been romancing before; it was not true about the Captain's having asked her to keep a look out. I grew more and more convinced in my own mind: Ragnhild was playing the spy on her own account, for sheer love of the game. I left her, and, went up to my room. What had my clumsy intrusion gained for me, after all?
She was grown so used to playing the spy that she could not help spying on her mistress as well. An uncommon sort, was Ragnhild. I put on a lofty air at first and would have none of her tale-bearing, thank you, listening at keyholes. Fie! But how could she help it, she replied. Her orders were to bring up the letter as soon as her mistress put out the light, and not before.
"No, I've no letters," she said, and moved to go. "Beg pardon, then," I said. "Was it the Captain told you to go to the post?" she asked. "No, I was just going for myself." She turned and went back to her room. Ragnhild and I went down again. I had seen her. Oh, but I was humbled now indeed! And it did not ease my mind at all when Ragnhild incautiously let out a further piece of news.
Then the Captain came out, calling after her: "Lovise, what is it, Lovise? Where are you going?" But Fruen only called back: "Leave me alone!" We looked at one another. Ragnhild rose from the table; she must go after her mistress, she said. "That's right," said Nils, calm as ever. "But go indoors first and see if she's moved those photographs."
These lands would of right descend to Eric's eldest son, Harald Ungi, and on his death without issue, to his brothers if alive, and, failing them, to his sisters and their heirs, as happened in the case of Ragnhild and her son Snaekoll Gunni's son, neither Ingibiorg nor Elin receiving any share of this property, for reasons now undiscoverable, but which we shall endeavour to explain later, by presuming that one of them had died unmarried, or had married abroad, while the other and her descendants were amply provided for otherwise by marriage with Gilchrist, Earl of Angus.
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