The end of it was that the priest went back to his study, and his wife was left in peace.
At breakfast next morning no one could see from her looks that she had been suffering and wretched. All her trouble seemed charmed away, and not a memory of their quarrel left. Her easy, changeable nature stood her in good stead, and helped to make her life endurable. The priest was touched once more. After all, he might as well have held his peace about these household matters; the new housekeeper would be coming soon, and should be on her way already.
"I'm sorry you'll hardly be able to get those shoes just yet," he said.
"Enok's offering will have to be returned; the money was stolen."
"Yes, only fancy--it was he who stole all that money from Mack. He confessed before the _Lensmand_ yesterday." And the priest told her the whole story.
"Then it wasn't Rolandsen after all..." said Fruen.
"Oh, Rolandsen--he's always in mischief some way or other. An incorrigible fellow. But, anyhow, I'm afraid your shoes will have to wait again."
"Oh, but it doesn't matter about the shoes."
That was her way, always kind and unselfish to the last--a mere child. And her husband had never heard her complain about their poverty.
"If only you could wear mine," he said, softening.
But at that she laughed heartily. "Yes, and you wear mine instead, ha-ha-ha!" And here she dropped his plate on the floor and smashed it; dropped the cold cutlet as well. "Wait a minute; I'll fetch another plate," she said, and hurried out.
Never a word about the damage, thought the priest; never so much as entered her head. And plates cost money.
"But you're surely not going to eat that cutlet?" said his wife when she came in.
"I'm afraid I can't afford that sort of thing, if you can," said he, turning gloomy again. And this might have led to a first-rate quarrel again, if she had not been wise enough to pass it over in silence. As it was, both felt suddenly out of spirits....
Next day another remarkable happening was noised abroad: Rolandsen had disappeared. On hearing the news of the find in the wood, and Enok's confession, he had exclaimed, "The devil! It's come too early--by a month, at least." Børre the organ-blower had heard it. Then, later in the evening, Rolandsen was nowhere to be found, within doors or without. But Børre's little boat, that was drawn up at the Vicarage landing-place, had disappeared, together with oars and fishing-gear and all that was in it.