This evening the birch-wood was crackling in the stove, and the lamp shed its light upon the long table; and Ingeborg sat at the door between the two rooms and read so that she could be heard on both sides.
When she had finished reading, she repeated the Lord’s Prayer and sang a hymn, in which the two old men upon the bench tried to join. When this was over and she was about to go, one of the men said:
“How is the case going on?”
“There will be an inquiry the day after to-morrow,” said Ingeborg.
“Ha, ha!” laughed the blind man from his bed, while he scratched himself.
“Hasn’t that there Wangen confessed yet?” murmured one of the farm-labourers, shaking his head sympathetically.
“No!” sighed Ingeborg, adding: “May God turn his heart!”
“If he’d only been wise enough to confess at once his punishment would have been lighter,” said the blind man, still scratching himself.
“He may have confessed to God,” said Ingeborg. “But the Bible says that if any one wants to do God’s will, he must go and be reconciled to his brother. I’m sure if Wangen had come and asked father to forgive him, father would have forgiven him.”
“Yes, God bless him!” said the dairymaid from the little room.