“What was that nonsense you wrote in your last letter?” he said at last, once more raising his eyes.
Einar rose involuntarily. A voice within him seemed to say: “Be brave!” He began a little hesitatingly:
“I didn’t mean any harm, father; and I still seem to remember that day you came up to my room and told me about the guarantee.”
The old man laughed a little, and pressed down the tobacco in the bowl of his pipe with his fore-finger. “My dear boy,” he said at last, putting on a merry look, “you’ve dreamt that.”
“No, father,” said Einar, in rather an injured tone: “I’m not a child. It’s my firm conviction that you’re mistaken in this matter. It’s quite possible you’ve forgotten it. And I want to ask you to take back your accusation, for I suppose there’s still time, and of course I know that you wouldn’t do anything that was wrong.”
“Are you taking leave of your senses, man?” exclaimed the old man, taking his pipe out of his mouth and looking at his son in astonishment, although he laughed again.
Einar bowed slightly, and said, “I mean no harm, father.”
“Yes, you mean no harm,” said the old man, trying again to laugh, “but do you quite know what it is that you’re accusing me of?” And the astonishment with which he now looked at his son was more serious.
Einar put his hands behind his back, and leant against the wall. He had become more courageous, and all the time he heard the good voice saying: “Take care!”
“Can’t you remember that day, father, when you came up to my room and——”