The word "guilty" sounded as if she suspected him of murder or theft. He became purple with anger, but could find no words to express his indignation. Then he caught his breath, raised his arm as if to strike, and pushed her out of the room.
Some time had elapsed when he heard sledge-bells in the yard, and looking out, he saw that it was Marit driving off. Oh, indeed! They were beginning to take the horses out of the stable without asking his leave, were they? "The next thing she'll take will be my breeches," he said to himself, beginning to pace the floor, as his habit was when angry.
A little later he heard the bells returning. He did not look out, but lay down upon the leather sofa and closed his eyes. Soon after he heard the well-known steps in the passage, the door opened, and Marit entered; but the old man lay still with his eyes closed.
She began at once, while she untied the strings of her bonnet.
"I know quite well you're man enough to order me to leave the room once more; but as you're not man enough to look after your own affairs, I shall have to do it for you; and as sure as I'm mistress in this house, this shall not pass. So now I've been to the bailiff."
Knut rose slowly, pushing the rug aside. He gazed at her, opened his mouth and gazed. At last he passed his hand through his beard, and then over his bald head, and said in an uncomfortably ordinary tone of voice:
"Oh, have you been to the bailiff, Marit?"
"Yes! When there are no men on the farm, the women have to go out to work," she said. "I didn't come quite empty-handed when I became mistress at Norby, and I didn't mean to let you give my share to tramps and beggars."
Knut turned pale, but once more passed his hand over his bald crown and through his beard, and tried to laugh. She could hardly have wounded the capable Knut Norby more deeply, for he had about doubled their fortune.
Marit now deemed it wisest to withdraw, but she closed the door slowly behind her, and walked with slow firm step. Knut remained sitting, and again passed his hand over his head two or three times. For the first time in his life Norby thought of going after his wife and thrashing her, for domestic peace was at an end anyhow.
He rose and began to wander about with his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat. Now and again he stood still as if to make quite certain whether this was not a dream from which he might awake. But there stood the outhouses right enough, painted red, and a magpie let itself slip down the sloping roof, and left a furrow in the snow; and there hung Johan Sverdrup over the writing-table, and he himself stood here and still had his forest clothes on. No, it must be true after all that his wife had been to the bailiff--with this----