"Good fortune!" she said. "We won't be the ones to stand
in your way. Since you think it is all right, of course it is. And we
all hope it will turn out well for you, Peer."
Merle looked at her parents; she had sat through the meal anxious and
troubled, and now the tears rose into her eyes.
"Thanks," said Peer, lifting his glass and drinking to his host and
hostess. "Thanks," he repeated, bowing to old Uthoug. The matter was
arranged. Evidently the two old folks had talked it over together and
come to an agreement.
It was settled, but all four felt as if the solid ground were rocking
a little under their feet. All their future, their fate, seemed staked
upon a throw.
A couple of days later, a day of mild October sunshine, Peer happened
to go into the town, and, catching sight of his mother-in-law at the
window, he went off and bought some flowers, and took them up to her.
She was sitting looking out at the yellow sky in the west, and she
hardly turned her head as she took the flowers. "Thanks, Peer," she
said, and continued gazing out at the sky.
"What are you thinking of, dear mother?" asked Peer.
"Ah! it isn't a good thing always to tell our thoughts," she said, and
she turned her spectacled eyes so as to look out over the lake.
"I hope it was something pleasant?"
"I was thinking of you, Peer. Of you and Merle."
"It is good of you to think of us."
"You see, Peer, there is trouble coming for you. A great deal of
trouble.
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