So Jorgen went forth from prison as if to paradise， to find freedom， affection， andtrust. He was to travel this path now， for no goblet of life is all bitterness; no good manwould pour out such a draught for his fellow-man， and how should He do it， Who is lovepersonified?
“Let everything be buried and forgotten，” said Bronne， the merchant. “Let us draw athick line through last year： we will even burn the almanack. In two days we will start for dear，friendly， peaceful Skagen. People call it an out-of-the-way corner; but it is a good warmchimney-corner， and its windows open toward every part of the world.”
What a journey that was： It was like taking fresh breath out of the cold dungeon air intothe warm sunshine. The heather bloomed in pride and beauty， and the shepherd-boy sat on abarrow and blew his pipe， which he had carved for himself out of a sheep bone. FataMorgana， the beautiful aerial phenomenon of the wilderness， appeared with hanginggardens and waving forests， and the wonderful cloud called “Lokeman driving his sheep” alsowas seen.
Up towards Skagen they went， through theland of the Wendels， whence the men with longbeards (the Longobardi or Lombards) hademigrated in the reign of King Snio， when all thechildren and old people were to have been killed， tillthe noble Dame Gambaruk proposed that the youngpeople should emigrate. Jorgen knew all this， hehad some little knowledge; and although he did notknow the land of the Lombards beyond the loftyAlps， he had an idea that it must be there， for inhis boyhood he had been in the south， in Spain. Hethought of the plenteousness of the southern fruit， of the red pomegranate flowers， of thehumming， buzzing， and toiling in the GREat beehive of a city he had seen; but home is thebest place after all， and Jorgen's home was Denmark.
At last they arrived at “Vendilskaga，” as Skagen is called in old Norwegian and Icelandicwritings. At that time Old Skagen， with the eastern and western town， extended for miles，with sand hills and arable land as far as the lighthouse near “GREnen.” Then， as now， thehouses were strewn among the wind-raised sand-hills—a wilderness in which the wind sportswith the sand， and where the voice of the sea-gull and wild swan strikes harshly on the ear.
In the south-west， a mile from “GREnen，” lies Old Skagen; merchant Bronne dwelthere， and this was also to be Jorgen's home for the future. The dwelling-house was tarred，and all the small out-buildings had been put together from pieces of wreck. There was nofence， for indeed there was nothing to fence in except the long rows of fishes which werehung upon lines， one above the other， to dry in the wind. The entire coast was strewn withspoiled herrings， for there were so many of these fish that a net was scarcely thrown into thesea before it was filled. They were caught by carloads， and many of them were either thrownback into the sea or left to lie on the beach.
the old man's wife and daughter and his servants also came to meet him with GREatrejoicing. There was a great squeezing of hands， and talking and questioning. And thedaughter， what a sweet face and bright eyes she had!
the inside of the house was comfortable and roomy. Fritters， that a king would havelooked upon as a dainty dish， were placed on the table， and there was wine from the Skagenvineyard—that is， the sea; for there the grapes come ashore ready pressed and prepared inbarrels and in bottles.
When the mother and daughter heard who Jorgen was， and how innocently he hadsuffered， they looked at him in a still more friendly way; and pretty Clara's eyes had a look ofespecial interest as she listened to his story. Jorgen found a happy home in Old Skagen. It didhis heart good， for it had been sorely tried. He had drunk the bitter goblet of love whichsoftens or hardens the heart， according to circumstances. Jorgen's heart was still soft—it wasyoung， and therefore it was a good thing that Miss Clara was going in three weeks' time toChristiansand in Norway， in her father's ship， to visit an aunt and to stay there the wholewinter.
On the Sunday before she went away they all went to church， to the Holy Communion. Thechurch was large and handsome， and had been built centuries before by Scotchmen andDutchmen; it stood some little way out of the town. It was rather ruinous certainly， and theroad to it was heavy， through deep sand， but the people gladly surmounted these difficultiesto get to the house of God， to sing psalms and to hear the sermon. The sand had heapeditself up round the walls of the church， but the graves were kept free from it.
It was the largest church north of the Limfjorden. The Virgin Mary， with a golden crown onher head and the child Jesus in her arms， stood lifelike on the altar; the holy Apostles hadbeen carved in the choir， and on the walls there were portraits of the old burgomasters andcouncillors of Skagen; the pulpit was of carved work. The sun shone brightly into the church，and its radiance fell on the polished brass chandelier and on the little ship that hung from thevaulted roof.