"No, you must not think such a thing. But if you wish me to speak frankly—I must say that this tenderness has blinded you to your duty. You should have endeavored to discover the family of the infant, as far as your means permitted."
There was perfect silence for a few minutes.
"It is possible that we have done wrong," said Mr. Hersebom, who had hung his head under this reproach. "But what is done can not be altered. Erik belongs to us now, and I do not wish any one to speak to him about these old reminiscences."
"You need have no fear, I will not betray your confidence," answered the doctor, rising.
"I must leave you, my good friends, and I wish you good-night—a night free from remorse," he added, gravely.
Then he put on his fur cloak, and shook hands cordially with his hosts, and being conducted to the door by Hersebom, he took the road toward his factory.
The fisherman stood for a moment on the threshold, watching his retreating figure in the moonlight.
"What a devil of a man!" he murmured, as at last he closed his door.
CHAPTER III.
MR. HERSEBOM'S REFLECTIONS.