It was with this in his tightly closed hand that he went in to his
brother, imploring peace, and was about to explain everything.

A little girl had seen him digging in the ashes, some boys on their way
to a dance had noticed him going down toward the place the preceding
Sunday evening; the people in the house where he lived testified how
curiously he had acted on Monday, and as every one knew that he and his
brother were bitter enemies, information was given and a suit
instituted.

No one could prove anything against Baard, but suspicion rested on him.
Less than ever, now, did he feel able to approach his brother.

Anders had thought of Baard when the barn was burned, but had spoken of
it to no one. When he saw him enter his room, the following evening,
pale and excited, he immediately thought: "Now he is smitten with
remorse, but for such a terrible crime against his brother he shall
have no forgiveness." Afterwards he heard how people had seen Baard go
down to the barn the evening of the fire, and, although nothing was
brought to light at the trial, Anders firmly believed his brother to be
guilty.

They met at the trial; Baard in his good clothes, Anders in his patched
ones. Baard looked at his brother as he entered, and his eyes wore so
piteous an expression of entreaty that Anders felt it in the inmost
depths of his heart. "He does not want me to say anything," thought
Anders, and when he was asked if he suspected his brother of the deed,
he said loudly and decidedly, "No!"

Anders took to hard drinking from that day, and was soon far on the