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The worthy town had been quite upset by all those remarkable events, of a joyful, mournful, or mixed nature, which followed after the night of the fire at Sandsgaard; and while busy tongues kept reverting to the materials for gossip thus provided, the years rolled by without anything further taking place. Tom Robson had taken Martin with him to America, where they disappeared.
He sprang up and grasped the dean's hand. "Thank you! thank you! You have saved me!" His eyes flashed, and his broad, powerful bosom seemed to swell. At that moment the dean might have sent him to certain death, and he would have obeyed. As they drove back from Sandsgaard, the dean narrowly observed his young friend.
But when old Worse died, and his son took his place in the firm, it was soon evident that Morten Garman and young Worse would not be able to work together. Under a friendly arrangement, therefore, Worse retired with a considerable fortune, while Garman retained the business and the old family property of Sandsgaard.
He had also determined that he would at length take courage, and ask his brother how money matters stood between them. It was really too bad not to have a clear knowledge of one's own affairs. At Sandsgaard he found the whole house in an uproar. On the second floor the furniture was being moved, dusting was going on, and candles were being put in the chandeliers.
Both Fanny and Morten were at Sandsgaard that evening. The latter behaved to Madeleine just as before, and was so smiling and kind that Madeleine had often to ask herself if she had not, after all, been dreaming on that moonlight evening. It was nearly eleven o'clock, and Gabriel had just returned from his expedition to the field above the West End.
The whole town was fairly buzzing with stories and gossip. The business men gave each other a knowing wink. The old man at Sandsgaard had been a hard nut to crack, but now they would have more elbow-room, and Morten was not so dangerous. The preparations for the funeral were on the grandest scale.
In a moment it seemed clear to him by how little he had escaped getting on the wrong path, and now all the apprehensions which he had felt on his first visit to Sandsgaard again reappeared.
"It is Miss Garman Madeleine, I mean." "It's a lie!" shouted Delphin, grasping his riding-whip. The pastor cautiously took two or three steps backwards on the footpath, raised his hat, and continued his way. But Delphin rode off rapidly down the road, and away past Sandsgaard, ever faster and faster, till his steed was covered with foam.
That apparently helpless young man had shown that he knew how to look after himself only too well. "Invited nearly every day to Sandsgaard! Hum!" muttered Martens, as he went down the street. No sooner had Delphin taken the clergyman's place, than the conversation changed its tone. "Our worthy chaplain did not much like Johnsen's going to Sandsgaard," said Fanny.
"You shan't go out at all when you are so unwell," said Madeleine, decidedly. "I will make such a nice excuse for you." "Oh, if I could only stop at home, or, even better still, if I could get to Sandsgaard; it is so quiet there!" said Fanny, with a sigh. "Yes, that is just what you shall do," cried Madeleine. "You take the carriage when it has left me, and drive out there.
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