The bracelet the goldsmith has made for me is very beautiful.  I am sure it will please my sweet Mette.

My honored father-in-law is much distressed and down-hearted.  Malicious tongues have repeated to him the stupid gossip that is going about in the district.  Morten Bruus is reported to have said that “he would force the rector to bring back his brother, if he had to dig him out of the earth.”  The fellow may be in hiding somewhere, possibly at Ingvorstrup.  He has certainly disappeared completely, and no one seems to know where he is.  My poor betrothed is much grieved and worried.  She is alarmed by bad dreams and by presentiments of evil to come.

God have mercy on us all!  I am so overcome by shock and horror that I can scarcely hold the pen.  It has all come in one terrible moment, like a clap of thunder.  I take no account of time, night and morning are the same to me and the day is but a sudden flash of lightning destroying the proud castle of my hopes and desires.  A venerable man of God—­the father of my betrothed—­is in prison!  And as a suspected murderer!  There is still hope that he may be innocent.  But this hope is but as a straw to a drowning man.  A terrible suspicion rests upon him——­And I, unhappy man that I am, must be his judge.  And his daughter is my betrothed bride!  May the Saviour have pity on us!

It was yesterday that this horrible thing came.  About half an hour before sunrise Morten Bruus came to my house and had with him the cotter Jens Larsen of Veilbye, and the widow and daughter of the shepherd of that parish.  Morten Bruus said to me that he had the Rector of Veilbye under suspicion of having killed his brother Niels.  I answered that I had heard some such talk but had regarded it as idle and malicious gossip, for the rector himself had assured me that the fellow had run away.  “If that was so,” said Morten, “if Niels had really intended to run away, he would surely at first come to me to tell me of it.  But it is not so, as these good people can prove to you, and I demand that you shall hear them as an officer of the law.”

“Think well of what you are doing,” I said.  “Think it over well, Morten Bruus, and you, my good people.  You are bringing a terrible accusation against a respected and unspotted priest and man of God.  If you can prove nothing, as I strongly suspect, your accusations may cost you dear.”

“Priest or no priest,” cried Bruus, “it is written, ’thou shalt not kill!’ And also is it written, that the authorities bear the sword of justice for all men.  We have law and order in the land, and the murderer shall not escape his punishment, even if he have the district judge for a son-in-law.”

I pretended not to notice his thrust and began, “It shall be as you say.  Kirsten Mads’ daughter, what is it that you know of this matter in which Morten Bruus accuses your rector?  Tell the truth, and the truth only, as you would tell it before the judgment seat of the Almighty.  The law will demand from you that you shall later repeat your testimony under oath.”