Solberga church and Branehog that toward evening not an inch of
snow could be seen that had not been trampled by men's feet.

But late in the evening, when all had gone their ways, came
Torarin the fish hawker driving along the road from Branehog to
Solberga.

Torarin had talked with many men in the course of the day; again
and again had he told the story of Herr Arne's death. He had been
well entertained too at the assize and had been made to empty many
a mug of ale with travellers from afar.

Torarin felt dull and heavy and lay down upon his load. It
saddened him to think that Herr Arne was gone, and as he
approached the parsonage a yet more grievous thought began to
torment him. "Grim, my dog," he said, "had I believed that warning
of the knives I might have warded off the whole disaster. I often
think of that, Grim, my dog. It disquiets my spirit, I feel as
though I had had a part in taking Herr Arne's life. Now remember
what I say--next time I hear such a thing I will hold it true and
be guided by it!"

Now while Torarin lay dozing upon his load with eyes half closed,
his horse went on as he pleased, and on coming to Solberga
parsonage he turned into the yard from old habit and went up to
the stable door, Torarin being all unwitting. Only with the
stopping of the sledge did he rise up and look about him; and then
he fell a-shuddering, when he saw that he was in the yard of a
house where so many people had been murdered no more than a week
before.