I am nearly at my goal.

Sunday evening I lay in a watchman’s hut not far from ?vreb?, so as to be on the place early Monday morning. By nine o’clock every one would be up, then surely I must be lucky enough to meet the one I sought.

I had grown dreadfully nervous, and kept imagining ugly things. I had written a nice letter to Falkenberg, using no sharp words, but the Captain might after all have been offended at my fixing the date like that; giving him so and so much time. . . . If only I had never written at all!

Coming up towards the house I stoop more and more, and make myself small, though indeed I had done no wrong. I turn off from the road up, and go round so as to reach the outbuildings first — and there I come upon Falkenberg. He is washing down the carriage. We gave each other greeting, and were the same good comrades as before.

Was he going out with the carriage?

No, just come back the night before. Been to the railway station.

Who had gone away, then?

Fruen.

Fruen?

Fruen, yes.

Pause.

Really? And where was Fruen gone to?

Gone to stay in town for a bit.

Pause.

“Stranger man’s been here writing in the papers about that machine of yours,” says Falkenberg.

“Is the Captain gone away too?”

“No, Captain’s at home. You should have seen his face when your letter came.”

I got Falkenberg to come up to the old loft. I had still two bottles of wine in my sack, and I took them out and we started on them together; eh, those bottles that I had carried backward and forward, mile after mile, and had to be so careful with, they served me well just now. Save for them Falkenberg would never have said so much.

“What was that about the Captain and my letter? Did he see it?”

“Well, it began like this,” said Falkenberg. “Fruen was in the kitchen when I came in with the post. ‘What letter’s that with all those stamps on?’ she says. I opened it, and said it was from you, to say you were coming on the 11th.”

“And what did she say?”

“She didn’t say any more. Yes, she asked once again, ‘Coming on the 11th, is he?’ And I said yes, he was.”

“And then, a couple of days after, you got orders to drive her to the station?”

“Why, yes, it must have been about a couple of days. Well, then, I thought, if Fruen knows about the letter, then Captain surely knows too. D’you know what he said when I brought it in?”

I made no answer to this, but thought and thought. There must be something behind all this. Was she running away from me? Madman! the Captain’s Lady at ?vreb? would not run away from one of her labourers. But the whole thing seemed so strange. I had hoped all along she would give me leave to speak with her, since I was forbidden to write.

Falkenberg went on, a little awkwardly:

“Well, I showed the Captain your letter, though you didn’t say I was to. Was there any harm in that?”

“It doesn’t matter. What did he say?”

“‘Yes, look after the machine, do,’ he said, and made a face. ‘In case any one comes to steal it,’ he said.”

“Then the Captain’s angry with me now?”

“Nay, I shouldn’t think so. I’ve heard no more about it since that day.”

It mattered little after all about the Captain. When Falkenberg had taken a deal of wine, I asked him if he knew where Fruen was staying in town. No, but Emma might, perhaps. We get hold of Emma, treat her to wine, talk a lot of nonsense, and work gradually round to the point; at last asking in a delicate way. No, Emma didn’t know the address. But Fruen had gone to buy things for Christmas, and she was going with Fr?ken Elisabeth from the vicarage, so they’d know the address there. What did I want it for, by t............