Nothing more. And no great excitement among the folk at Sellanraa over
that--'twas not as in the old days, when a stranger was a rare sight
on their new land, and Inger made a great to-do. No, Inger's grown
quieter now, and keeps to herself these days.
A strange thing that book of devotion, a guide upon the way, an arm
round one's neck, no less. When Inger had lost hold of herself a
little, lost her way a little out plucking berries, she found her way
home again by the thought of her little chamber and the holy book; ay,
she was humble now and a Godfearing soul. She can remember long
years ago when she would say an evil word if she pricked her finger
sewing--so she had learned to do from her fellow-workers round the big
table in the Institute. But now she pricks her finger, and it bleeds,
and she sucks the blood away in silence. 'Tis no little victory gained
to change one's nature so. And Inger did more than that. When all the
workmen were gone, and the stone building was finished, and Sellanraa
was all forsaken and still, then came a critical time for Inger; she
cried a deal, and suffered much.
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