“Or?” she questioned.
While he was seeking for probable reasons, he felt at the same time an ill-defined anxiety lest it should only be a misunderstanding. A star seemed to have risen in the firmament of his consciousness, and pointed to an inquiry, acquittal, and reparation. Half unconsciously he felt that this would be salvation, not only as regarded this accusation, but also all others.
“Norby is one of those men of whom you never can make anything,” he answered. “It is quite possible that the couple of thousand now in question have quite robbed him of his wits.”
She raised her eyes, and her glance said: “Two thousand? There too!” And she almost imperceptibly shook her head.
With an involuntary anxiety lest she should attach too much importance to this side of the question, he continued:
“He’s a great idiot anyhow; for he must surely understand that as there’s a witness, he can’t get out of it.”
As they talked, and he was able to occupy himself with his innocence in the matter, his tranquillity of mind increased, and things looked easier and brighter. And he carried her along with him. She had quite forgotten to ask how he had got on in town, and whether he could save her money. An event had taken place in the house which swept everything else into the background.
“How did you get on in town to-day?” she asked at length.
And he could answer frankly now: “Karen dear, the worst is about your money—” He could get no further, his voice grew husky. Instead of being afraid and in despair, he now felt so certain of forgiveness that he could safely be distressed.