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face. He sits with both hands resting on the table and for a long while does not take his eyes off from her. While the Judge is looking at her, a great change comes over him. All the ennui and displeasure in his face vanishes, and the large, rough-hewn visage becomes beautiful with the most beautiful emotion. “Ah, see!” he thinks⁠—“Ah, see! such is the mettle of my people. I shall not be vexed at them when there is so much love and godliness even in one of the humblest.”

Suddenly the Judge feels his eyes fill up with tears; then he pulls himself together, almost ashamed, and casts a hasty glance about him. He sees that the clerks and bailiffs and the whole long row of jurymen are leaning forward and looking at the girl who stands before the Judges’ table with the Bible hugged close to her. And he sees a light in their faces, as though they had seen something very beautiful, which had made them happy all the way into their souls.

Then the Judge casts a glance over the spectators, and he sees that they all breathe a quick sigh of relief, as if they had just heard what they had longed above everything to hear.

Finally, the Judge looks at the defendant. Now it is he who stands with lowered head and looks at the floor.

The Judge turns once more to the poor girl. “It shall be as you wish,” he says. “The case shall be stricken from the Calendar,”⁠—this to the recording clerk.

The defendant makes a move, as though he wished to interpose an objection. “Well, what now?” the Judge bellows at him. “Have you anything against it?”

The defendant’s head hangs lower and lower, and he says, almost inaudibly, “Oh, no, I dare say it is best to let it go that way.”

The Judge sits still a moment more, and then he pushes the heavy chair back, rises, and walks around the table and up to the plaintiff.

“Thank you!” he says and gives her his hand.

She has laid down the Bible and stands wiping away the tears with the crumpled up handkerchief.

“Thank you!” says the Judge once more, taking her hand and shaking it as if it belonged to a real man’s man.

II

Let no one imagine that the girl who had passed through such a trying ordeal at the bar of justice thought that she had done anything praiseworthy! On the contrary, she considered herself disgraced before the whole court room. She did not understand that there was something honorable in the fact that the Judge had gone over and shaken hands with her. She thought it simply meant that the trial was over and that she might go her way.

Nor did she observe that people gave her kindly glances and that there were several who wanted to press her hand. She stole by and wanted only to go. There was a crush at the door. The court was over and many in their hurry to get out made a rush for the door. She drew aside and was about the last person to leave the court room because she felt that everyone else ought to go before her.

When she finally came out, Gudmund Erlandsson’s cart stood in waiting at the door. Gudmund was seated in the cart, holding the reins, and was apparently waiting for someone. As soon as he saw her among all the people who poured out of the court room, he called to her: “Come here, Helga! You can ride with me since we are going in the same direction.”

Although she heard her name, she could not believe that it was she whom he was calling. It was not possible that Gudmund Erlandsson wanted to ride with her. He was the most attractive man in the whole parish, young and handsome and of good family connections and popular with everyone. She could not imagine that he wished to associate with her.

She was walking with the head shawl drawn far down on her forehead, and was hastening past him without either glancing up or answering.

“Don’t you hear, Helga, that you can ride with me?” said Gudmund, and there was a friendly note in his voice. But she couldn’t grasp that Gudmund meant well by her. She thought that, in one way or another, he wished to make sport of her and was only waiting for those who stood near by to begin tittering and laughing. She cast a frightened and indignant glance at him, and almost ran from the Court House grounds to be out of earshot when the laughter should start in.

Gudmund was unmarried at that time and lived at home with his parents. His father was a farm-owner. His was not a large farm and he was not rich, but he made a good living. The son had gone to the Court House to fetch some deeds for his father, but as there was also another purpose in the trip, he had groomed himself carefully. He had taken the brand-new trap with not a crack in the lacquering, had rubbed up the harness and curried the horse until he shone like satin. He had placed a bright red blanket on the seat beside him, and himself he had adorned with a short hunting-jacket, a small gray felt hat, and top boots, into which the trousers were tucked. This was no holiday attire, but he probably knew that he looked handsome and manly.

Gudmund was seated alone in the cart when he drove from home in the morning, but he had agreeable things to think of and the time had not seemed long to him. When he had arrived about halfway, he came across a poor young girl who was walking very slowly and looked as though she were scarcely able to move her feet because of exhaustion. It was autumn and the road was rain-soaked, and Gudmund saw how, with every step, she sank deeper into the mud.

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