The young girl came forward towards the light, beautiful as one would be who knew that the gates of heaven the next moment would open before her.
He bowed a little stiffly. He evidently did not know who she was. Her ladyship introduced them to each other. He looked curiously at Ingrid.
'I think I saw Miss Berg on the ice,' he said.
He knew nothing about her—had never spoken to her before.
A short, happy time followed. Gunnar Hede was certainly not quite himself; but those around him were happy in the belief that he soon would be. His memory was partly gone. He knew nothing about certain periods of his life; he could not play the violin; he had almost forgotten all he knew; and his power of thinking was weak; and he preferred neither to read nor to write. But still he was very much better. He was not frightened; he was fond of his mother; he had again assumed the manners and habits of a gentleman. One can easily understand that her ladyship and all her household were delighted.
Hede was in the best of spirits—bright and joyous all day long. He never speculated over anything, put to one side everything he could not understand, never spoke about anything that necessitated mental exertion, but talked merrily and cheerfully. He was most happy when he was engaged in bodily exercise. He took Ingrid out with him sledging and skating. He did not talk much to her, but she was happy to be with him. He was kind to Ingrid, as he was to everyone else, but not in the least in love with her. He often wondered about his fiancée—wondered why she never wrote. But after a short time that trouble, too, left him. He always put away from him anything that worried him.
Ingrid thought that he would never get really well by doing like this. He must some time be made to think—to face his own thoughts, which he was afraid of doing now. But she dared not compel him to do this, and there was no one else who dared. If he began to care for her a little, perhaps she might dare. She thought all they now wanted, every one of them, was a little happiness.
It was just at that time that a little child died at the Parsonage at Raglanda where Ingrid had been brought up; and the grave-digger was about to dig the grave.