bore you a special affection. But I suppose our Evan was never one for dwelling much in the past.… ”
“I expect that Evan has been too busy to write,” I said quickly, wishing now to put an end to the subject.
“But not too busy to be a comfort to me, you will be glad to hear,” said Karen.
“A comfort?” I asked.
“Oh, most decidedly so.” She opened her mouth and rubbed a back tooth. As she did, I could see that many of her teeth were blackened and rotted, and (I hope I will not offend the sensibilities of the reader by revealing this) I could as well detect a terrible smell emanating from the office. “Full of the most stimulating conversation in the evenings,” she went on. “Do you know that we went together to Kristiania by train over the Easter holiday last year? It was tremendously exciting, Maren. Evan took me to the theater and to supper and we stayed at a hotel. And he spent one afternoon at the University, and spoke to some of the professors there quite seriously of admitting himself to a course of study.”
“Evan did?”
“Oh, yes. He has prospered wonderfully and has been able to put some money by. And I do think that now I am gone, he will go to Kristiania, at least for a term, to see how he fares. And doubtless he will meet there some young woman who will turn his head. It’s time he settled down, our Evan. Don’t you think so, Maren?”
I tried to calm my hands by stirring the soup that was on the stove. “You don’t think that Evan will come to America too?” I asked as casually as I could.
“America!” Karen exclaimed. “Whyever for? A man who prospers so well in his own country and has no need to escape will never think of emigrating to another country. No, Maren, I should think not. It was of course difficult for me to have to leave him.… ”
“Why exactly did you leave?” I asked, turning to her sharply. I was feeling quite cross with Karen at this point.
“We may talk about that at some other time.”
Karen turned her head away, and appeared once again to be examining the cottage. “You cannot keep your windows clean?”
“The sea spray,” I said. “It is continual.”
“At home, I like to use the vinegar.”
“I would like to know what has brought you here,” I said, interrupting her. “Of course, you are entirely welcome, whatever the reasons, but I do think John and I have a right to know. I hope it is not some dread illness.”
“No, nothing like that.”
Karen stood up and walked to the window. She folded her arms across her breast and appeared to contemplate the north-west view for some time. Then, with a sigh of, I believe, resignation, she began to tell her story. There had been a man in Laurvig by the name of Knut Eng, she said, who was a widower of fifty four years, who had courted Karen for seven months with the implicit promise of an engagement not long in the future as they were neither of them young, and then suddenly, after a particularly silly quarrel between them, had broken off their relations, and there was no longer any talk of marriage. So abrupt and shaming was this cessation of his affections, and so widespread the gossip surrounding the affair, that Karen found she could no longer walk with any confidence into town or attend services at our church. Thus the thought of voyaging to America to join John and myself suddenly became appealing to her.
I felt sorry for her loss, though I could not help but think that Karen had most likely done her part to alienate her suitor. Nor was it altogether flattering to know that my sister had come to us only because she was embarrassed to have been spurned. But as it was our custom to welcome all visitors, and particularly those who were family, I tried to make her comfortable and showed her to the upstairs bedroom so that she might have privacy. She found the room uncheerful, and had the poor manners to say so, and, in addition, appeared not to see the star quilt at all. But I forgave her, as she was still in a state of irritation and tiredness owing to her sea-journey.
“What was the nature of the quarrel?” I asked her when she was settled and sitting on the bed.
“I had observed