She had reached the opposite door when she heard a quiet bitter laugh behind her.
At once she turned, with pride in every feature of her face, and looked at him.
"How do you do, Salve Kristiansen ?" she said, firmly and quietly.
"How do you do, Elizabeth ?" he replied, rather huskily, getting up and looking confused.
"Are you lying here in Amsterdam with some vessel ?" He sat down again, for there was something in her manner that denied approach.
"No; in Puermurende," he replied.

"I only came in here to--" "You are in the timber line, then, now ?" "Yes--Elizabeth," he ventured to add, in another tone, which had a whole volume of meaning in it.

But she took her leave of him now in the same proud manner, and left the room.
Salve sat for a while with compressed lips, looking down upon the table before him.

When she turned round the first time at the door, something told him that she would come in again; but he had expected quite a different kind of scene.

A good deal of the tyrant had been developed in him since they had last met; and when she had come in so quietly and so humbly, with the acknowledgment of the great wrong she had done him written upon her face, he felt himself at once, with a certain bitter and devouring pleasure, upon the judgment-seat.