Tidemand was the only one who knew of Aagot's departure and who followed her to the train. He was paying his usual call to Henriksen's office during the afternoon and was having his daily chat with the old man. As he left he met Aagot outside: she was ready to go. Tidemand accompanied her and carried her valise; her trunk had been sent ahead.
It had rained and the streets were muddy. Aagot said several times:
"What a disagreeable, mournful day!"
They hardly spoke. Aagot simply said:
"It was very kind of you to come with me; otherwise I should have been altogether alone." And Tidemand noticed that she tried to appear unconcerned. She smiled, but her eyes were moist.
He, too, smiled and said comfortingly that he was glad she was going to leave all this mud and filth; now she was going to the country, to cleaner roads, to purer air. These few words were all they spoke. They stood in the train-shed beneath the glass vault. It had begun to rain, and they heard the drops beating on the roof while the engine stood wheezing on the track. Aagot entered her compartment and gave Tidemand her hand. And in a sudden desire to be forgiven, to be judged charitably, she said to this stranger, whom she knew so slightly:
"Good-bye—And do not judge me too harshly!" and she coloured deeply.
"But, child!" he said amazed. He had no time to say more.
She put her fair little face out of the window and nodded as the train moved along. Her eyes were wet, and she struggled not to break down. She looked at Tidemand as long as she could see him, then she waved a tiny handkerchief.
The strange girl! Her unaffected simplicity moved him. He did not stop waving until the train was out of sight. Not judge her too harshly? He certainly wouldn't! And if he ever had been tempted to, he would know better in the future. She had waved to him—almost a stranger! He would be sure and tell Ole—how that would please him!…