As soon as Ingrid saw him she stood quite still. She could not have told whether she was most glad to see him again or most grieved that he had again gone out of his mind; she only forgot everything else in the world.
Her eyes began to sparkle. In that moment she saw nothing of the poor wretched man. She only felt that she was once again near the beautiful soul of the man for whom she had longed so terribly.
There were a great many people about, and they could not help looking at her. They could not take their eyes from her face. She did not move; she stood waiting for him. But those who saw how radiant she was with happiness must have thought that she was waiting for some great and noble man, instead of a poor, half-witted fellow.
They said afterwards that it almost seemed as if there were some affinity between his soul and hers—some secret affinity which lay so deeply hidden beneath their consciousness that no human being could understand it.
But when Hede was only a step or two from Ingrid her adopted mother took her resolutely round the waist and lifted her into the carriage. She would not have a scene between the two just outside the church, with so many people present. And as soon as they were in the carriage the man sent his horses off at full gallop.
A wild, terrified cry was heard as they drove away. The Pastor's wife thanked God that she had got the young girl into the carriage.
It was still early in the afternoon when a peasant came to the Parsonage to speak with the Pastor. He came to speak about the crazy Dalar man. He had now gone quite raving mad, and they had been obliged to bind him. What did the Pastor advise them to do? What should they do with him?
The Pastor could give them no other advice but to take him home. He told the peasant who he was, and where he lived.
Later on in the evening he told Ingrid everything. It was best to tell her the truth, and trust to her own common-sense.