They were going to the station to fetch Finn.

 

He had been abroad the whole summer.

 

This was the first time he had been away alone and he had not enjoyed himself abroad. From Florence, Spain and Paris he had written to ask if he might not come home. But Cordt was resolved that he should remain abroad for the time agreed upon.

 

He wrote oftenest to Fru Adelheid ... and stupidly and awkwardly², because he[200] knew that his father would read the letters. Cordt noticed this, but said nothing. He hurried through the letters as though he were looking for something positive and put them down with a face as though he had not found it.

 

He always gave Fru Adelheid the letters he received, although she never asked for them.

 

Fru Adelheid looked impatiently at her watch. She sat down, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the pane³.

 

She thought how empty the house had been during the summer.

 

Cordt had not said a word about the old room, but, from the day when Finn had moved up there, things had altered between him and her. Something had happened ... something indefinite⁴ and nameless, but none the less fateful on that account.

 

[201]And, while Finn was abroad, this had grown between them ... without their doing anything to further or prevent it. Neither of them thought about it. Both led their own lives and drifted farther apart in their yearning⁵ for their quiet child. The day was long for them, their rooms were cold.

 

But inside her was a growing anxiety for Cordt, who became ever more silent and wore such a melancholy⁶ look in his eyes.

 

A door opened and she sprang up:

 

“We shall be late, Cordt.”

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