At last he began to walk more slowly. There was a voice that whispered to him: “But this inquiry is only an investigation of the matter. It will be time enough if you give evidence before the jury.” But he stood still, as if the thought were something that he could knock down. “Confound it!” he thought. “This is just as cowardly, I imagine I can go to the trial by jury? I? The coward!”
He had wandered backwards and forwards in this way before to-day, now determined to go away, now to go straight to the inquiry and give evidence; and when he finally approached the court-house with firm steps, he had felt glad and proud that what was truest and bravest in him had conquered.
And now? He could not go home any more. Even if his father could forgive him, he would despise this sorry hero; and as son at Norby Farm, he had betrayed the house and all his family just as much as if he had not been too cowardly to put his resolve into action.
He stopped and looked back. There, on the white snowy surface by the sound, stood the court-house, enveloped in driving showers. In Einar’s eyes, that building was now only a den of injustice, in which false accusations were made and false evidence given, and where an innocent man was condemned, and had his life ruined. And he who could save him? He fled! He was the greatest coward of them all.
Einar suddenly felt it was quite impossible for him to go back to town and be the old Einar Norby. He could never look his friends in the face. He would have to live with shame in his heart, and always bow his head and keep silence when mention was made of honesty and truth in the world. Could he ever have another happy day if Wangen were condemned?
No, he could not walk any farther towards the station; his feet refused to carry him. At last he sat down upon a stone by the wayside. He had not yet noticed that he had forgotten his overcoat.
An hour later he was still sitting there, with his head in his hands. He was roused by the sound of sledge-bells. Two men drove past in a double sledge, laughing and talking about the inquiry. Something must have happened. But Einar sat on. Should he turn back? he thought; perhaps there was still time. And then he suddenly burst into a laugh. That this desire to do something great could still raise its head made him laugh scornfully and bitterly; and as he laughed he coughed.
When Sören Kvikne at last came into the witness-box, he put himself into an important attitude, and thrust his hands deep into his pockets; for he knew now that the whole thing depended upon him. He declared that while he worked at Haarstad’s, Haarstad had once told him that he had seen Norby put his name to a paper for Wangen, and that he himself had signed as witness.
There was a great sensation in the court. This was an acquittal for Wangen.
“Are you sure of that?” asked the clerk, and looked at the farm-labourer.