Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Penance
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been so unjust. “I had no right to judge him,” she
said; “and my husband has himself taught me that
no sacrifice is too great when we wish to atone for an
injustice. Is n’t it true, Henrik?”
Count Henrik turned to his mother.
“What does my mother say?” he asked. He was
stiff with dignity now, and his high, narrow forehead
lay in majestic folds.
“I,” answered his mother, “I say Anna Stjärnhök
was a elever girl, and knew very well what she
was doing when she told Elizabeth that old story.”
“My mother deigns to misunderstand me,”
continued her son. “" I ask what my mother thinks of
this story. Has the Countess Märta tried to talk
over her daughter, my sister, to marry a disgraced
clergyman?”
Countess Märta was silent a moment. Ah, that stupid,
stupid Henrik! He was off again on the wrong
tack. Her dog was after the hunter now and
allowing the hare to escape. But if Countess Märta had
no answer then, it was not long before she had. “My
dear friend,” she said, with a shrug of her shoulders,
“there is a reason for letting these old stories
of that unfortunate man rest—the same reason
which compels me to beg you to avoid all public
scandal. It is in fact highly probable that he
perished last night.”
She spoke in a mild, pitying tone, but there was
not a word of truth in what she said.
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