Hardy said nothing, the horror of watching a man dying in agony for a whole night had unstrung his steady nerves. On reaching the parsonage, he went to his room, and, wearied out, at last fell asleep.
The Pastor, after the usual morning prayers with his household, said, "Stay, Kirstin! You have wickedly cast shame on an honest man; you have attributed sin to another without cause. You have heard that Rasmussen is dead, and how he died; but you do not know that the man you foully slandered had done his utmost for his brother man. When I came to Rasmussen's house, Herr Hardy's clothes were covered with dirt and blood. He had tended the dying man the whole night; he had torn up his linen shirt and under-clothing for bandages; and when I was about to speak to the widow, he gave me money for present need, and has ordered it so that she shall not want for the future. And yet this is the man to whom you would impute sin and shame. Ask forgiveness of God, and beg Herr Hardy's pardon. Go!"
The hard-natured Jutland woman was overcome. Frøken Helga's eyes filled with tears, and she went and kissed her father.
"We were wrong to think evil of another, under any circumstances," said the Pastor, "or to allow suspicion of evil to grow in our minds."
Hardy was ignorant of the little episode thus acted in the Pastor's household, and when he came down from his room some time later, he found a breakfast waiting for him, the Pastor shook hands with him, and asked how he was.
"I feel what I have gone through this night," replied Hardy, "but am quite well."
"An honest answer," said the Pastor.
"But, little father," said Frøken Helga, "can you not tell Herr Hardy that he has been kind and good?"
Praise from her father's lips for a duty well done was with Helga more than gold or incense; and how wrong had they not all been towards Hardy!
"Your father has already said enough," said Hardy.