During the dark, snow-laden, winter days, the old man tramped about the yard, went in at one outhouse door, came out of another, scolded a little here and there, and imagined he was busy, which he was not. When he knew he was not observed he would stand and stare at his boots, then shake his head and say: “If it only hadn’t been Herlufsen!”
But there sat the house like the troll with its head up to the sky, and called across the valley, jibing and mocking as it always did when Norby was in trouble: “How are you, Norby? Do you feel bad?”
“Poor father!” said Ingeborg to her mother in the kitchen. “He begins to look so pale and wretched; he can’t possibly be well.”
“No,” said her mother; “I suppose it’s this affair that is telling upon him. Of course it can’t be very pleasant, but it isn’t our fault. Wangen has himself to thank for it.”
Ingeborg became doubly zealous in her attentions to her father the more depressed he seemed to be. How touched she was at his taking the matter so much to heart! People could see now how good her father was! She had always known that he was the best man in the world.
But how frightened the poor girl was the day she heard that Wangen had said that it was Norby, and not himself, who would go to prison. Up to that time she had had a certain amount of sympathy with Wangen, because he was guilty; but now he became a dreadful man in her eyes. And suppose he succeeded in bringing trouble upon her father! She dared not mention it to her mother, and as there was no one to whom she could confide her anxiety, it grew larger and larger, and began to keep her awake at night.
It was now, however, that she sought comfort of God, and every night prayed long, fervent prayers; but she knew that if her prayers were to be answered, she must make herself worthy to pray. She thought too that as she succeeded in overcoming the powers of evil in herself, she noticed that her prayers seemed to receive comforting answers; and little by little she began to see her father surrounded by the powers of goodness, who would protect him. How happy she was! Wangen could not hurt him now; he might try if he liked, but it would be of no use!
From that day the weary, sad girl began to go about with a brighter face and lighter step, as if she had a secret joy glowing within her.
The disagreement between Norby and his wife was over; but it had never been so impossible to tell her the rights of the case as it was now.