He had seen his father come home, and knew well enough he was
sitting there in the window at that moment, looking out. No harm in
putting his back into it then for a bit, working a little harder for
the moment--it would hurt no one, and might do himself good.
Eleseus was somehow changed; whatever it might be, something in him
had been warped, and quietly spoiled; he was not bad, but something
blemished. Had he lacked a guiding hand those last few years? What
could his mother do to help him now? Only stand by him and agree. She
could let herself be dazzled by her son's bright prospects for the
future, and stand between him and his father, to take his part--she
could do that.
But Isak grew impatient at last over her opposition; to his mind, the
idea about Breidablik was by no means a bad one. Only that very day,
coming up, he had stopped the horse almost without thinking, to look
out with a critical eye over the ill-tended land; ay, it could be made
a fine place in proper hands.
"Why not worth while?" he asked Inger now.
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