"How naughty you are!" whispered Marit, laughing; and the old man chuckled.
More speeches followed, the best being one by a young teacher in honour of his country. The national song was then sung standing, several taking parts; and finally Pastor Borring rose. He knew that he was expected to say something, and although his presence had been well considered, he felt strangely oppressed. After Wangen had made use of a forged letter in court, he understood of course that his first supposition had been correct, and that Lars Kleven's confession had only been the crotchet of a dying man; but nevertheless he could not help thinking of Wangen, and to the surprise of every one he now began to speak of him. He asked those present to give a sympathetic thought to the unfortunate man who was guilty. It had been rightly said this evening that they should join hands round him who is innocent. Quite right! But let them also, if only in spirit, at the same time join hands round him who was guilty. He stood most in need of reparation and help. And his wife--; but here the pastor could say no more, and sat down; and there were tears in several eyes.
A fresh astonishment was created when Norby tapped his glass, and rising said: "I propose that we start a list to make a collection for Fru Wangen. I will do what I can myself. We must remember that she is left with three children unprovided for!"
There was a pause when he sat down. People looked at one another with eyes that said "He's a man in a thousand!"
AFTER the sweets came coffee, and the conversation was soon being carried on through clouds of tobacco-smoke.
"Do you know who Norby is like?" said Fru Thora to her neighbour, who was the magistrate.
The magistrate looked up with his cigar in his mouth, and answered: "No--at least, yes----"
"Well, now you say it," said the magistrate.
All down the table the talk was exclusively of Norby. It came naturally. Two farmers told of the King's last journey through the district, when Norby quietly went up and took him by the hand, and bade him welcome to the district. Einar had to tell the bailiff's wife about his grandfather, Ingeborg was questioned about her mother; the magistrate praised the old man for his skill in the game of boston; an estate administrator told about a probate case in which Norby was arbitrator, and how clever he was in bringing people to reason; the doctor sat and talked about the shape of the old man's head, and especially the sign of race in the forehead. There was a buzz of homage in the form of little sympathetic touches unearthed from the memories of all present and held up to view; and at last the old man was raised higher and higher, borne as it were by all that was wept, said, sung, and felt there this evening--elevated upon a golden cloud of sympathy and admiration.