A loud knock startled Gunhild, and she ran to the door and opened it in nervous haste. Her eyes leaped out, and then she shrank back. "Oh, what is the matter?" she cried.
"Nothing," Milford answered, trying to smile.
"But you look old," she said. "You have scared me."
She took hold of his hand to lead him into the sitting-room. "No, not in there," he said. "I will tell you out here. I must not go in. I am afraid that I might hear that Norwegian hymn--out here--let me tell you! There was a time when you might have gone with me, but not now--not where I am going."
"Don"t, dearest; don"t. What are you saying? I will go with you anywhere. Yes, I will go with you. I dream of nothing but going with you--through the fields, across the ditches."
"Will you go with me to the penitentiary?"
She put her arms about his neck. "Anywhere," she said. "To the gallows, where we may both die. Yes, I will go to the penitentiary. And I will wait by the wall, and then we will go to the potato field."
It was nearly six o"clock.
"Tell him to come in," said Jim Mills.
Milford and Gunhild stepped into the room. Mills got up with a bow. "Who is this?" he asked.
"My wife," said Milford.
"You didn"t tell me you were married."
"I wasn"t until a few moments ago. She knows all about it, and will go with me."
Mills clapped Milford on the shoulder. "My dear sir," said he, "all my life I have been looking for an honest man, and now I have found him.
Penitentiary! Why, you are worth five thousand dollars a year to me." He turned to Gunhild with a smile, and handing her a roll of bank notes, said: "A marriage dower from a hard-working man. Keep it, in the name of honesty; and, my dear, you and your honorable husband shall eat your wedding-supper with me."
THE END.