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nature itself had raised a wall between them. Rebecca Gram
would never know a tenth part of the sufferings her children
had endured for her sake. And a friend of her mother’s was
still mourning her handsome boy, who had been killed by an
accident, and dreaming of the future that would have been his;
she was the only person who did not know that he had shot
himself as the only way of escape from insanity.
Love of one’s children did not exclude any other love; one
or two mothers among her acquaintances had lovers, and
believed that the children did not know. Some were divorced,
and found happiness in new ties; only if the new love brought
disappointment did they ever complain or regret. Her own
mother had idolized her — yet there was room for Berner in
her heart too, and she had been happy with him. Gert had
been fond of his children — and a father’s affection is more
understanding, more a matter of reflection and less instinctive
than a mother’s — yet he had scarcely thought of Helge all last
winter.
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