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country when the roads were in such a state was
to venture his life, but he did it. He crossed the
lakes on swaying ice, and climbed neck-breaking
heaps of it, where it was stacked; he was obliged
sometimes to cut steps for his horse in the high
blocks, sometimes he dragged it out of the deep
mire of the road. They said the doctor refused to
accompany him, but that he forced him to do so at
the point of his pistol.
“When he came back, the Countess was ready
to cast herself at his feet. ‘Take everything,’ she
cried, ‘take what you will—my daughter, my land,
or my money!’
“‘Your daughter,’ said the tutor.”
Anna Stjärnhök suddenly became silent.
“Well, and afterwards—and afterwards?” asked
the Countess.
“That is enough,” answered Anna, for she was
one of those miserable people who are always in
fear and doubt. She had been in doubt all the week.
She did not know what she wanted. That which
seemed right to her one moment seemed wrong the
next. Now she wished she had never begun this
story.
“I begin to believe you are mocking me, Anna.
Don’t you understand I must hear the end?”
“There isn’t much more to say. The hour of
strife had come to Ebba Dohna, love rose against
love, earth against heaven.…
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