I saw all at once that in my sad, spiritually dark home, I had always, from childhood upwards, really had a feeling in my inmost heart that happiness and blessedness were not meant for me, and that all the happiness and joy I hitherto had was really only borrowed sunshine from the parsonage.

And with the sin I was carrying, I could only have Susanna as a loan until I died, when we should have to part, and I must go back to the evil powers of unhappiness, which, from my earliest hour here at home, had taken possession of me.
I leant against the wall and cried.
As I was about to continue my dressing, and turned to the glass, it was without terror, even with a certain tranquillity, that my gaze fell on the old vision of my childhood, the lady with the rose whom I saw standing behind me in the open chamber-door, pale and sorrowful, looking at me, until she suddenly vanished.
The church bells were ringing and the people were streaming towards the church.

To-day Anne Kvaen and all the house servants were also among the churchgoers.

Father went with me, and bowed respectfully to the minister when they met at the entrance.
The order in which we confirmation candidates were to stand in church had been decided the Monday before.

I was to stand first on the boys' side, Susanna first on the girls' side.
One hymn had already been sung before Susanna came with her mother, dressed like a grown-up lady in a black silk dress, with gauze on her neck and arms, and a locket on her breast.