It was not only Hildur and her possessions he was missing, but minor things as well. At this moment he should have been driving to the church, and all who looked upon him would have envied him. And it was to-day that he should have sat at the head of the wedding table and been in the thick of the dancing and the gayety. It was his great luck-day that was going from him.
Erland turned time and again to his son and looked at him. Now he was not so handsome or transfigured as he had been in the morning, but sat there listless and heavy and dull-eyed. The father wondered if the son regretted having confessed and meant to question him about it, but thought it best to be silent.
"Where are we driving to now?" asked Gudmund presently. "Wouldn't it be as well to go at once to the sheriff?"
"You had better go home first and have a good sleep," said the father. "You have not had much sleep these last nights, I dare say."
"Mother will be frightened when she sees us."
"She won't be surprised," answered the father, "for she knows quite as much as I do. She will be glad, of course, that you have confessed."
"I believe mother and the rest of you at home are glad to get me into prison," snarled Gudmund.
"We know that you are losing a good deal in acting rightly," said the father. "We can't help but be glad because you have conquered yourself."
Gudmund felt that he could not endure going home and having to listen to all who would commend him because he had spoiled his future. He sought some excuse that he might escape meeting any one until he had recovered his poise. Then they drove by the place where the path led to Big Marsh. "Will you stop here, father? I think I'll run up to see Helga and have a talk with her."
Willingly the father reined in the horse. "Only come home as quickly as you can, that you may rest yourself," said he.