the party landed just at the place where Sir Bugge's castle had stood， and where Jorgenhad walked with his foster-parents after the burial feast， during. the four happiest days ofhis childhood. He was led by the well-known path， over the meadow to Vosborg; once morethe elders were in bloom and the lofty lime-trees gave forth sweet fragrance， and it seemedas if it were but yesterday that he had last seen the spot. In each of the two wings of thecastle there was a staircase which led to a place below the entrance， from whence there isaccess to a low， vaulted cellar. In this dungeon Long Martha had been imprisoned， and fromhere she was led away to the scaffold. She had eaten the hearts of five children， and hadimagined that if she could obtain two more she would be able to fly and make herself invisible.In the middle of the roof of the cellar there was a little narrow air-hole， but no window. Theflowering lime trees could not breathe refreshing fragrance into that abode， where everythingwas dark and mouldy. There was only a rough bench in the cell; but a good conscience is asoft pillow， and therefore Jorgen could sleep well.
the thick oaken door was locked， and securedon the outside by an iron bar; but the goblin ofsuperstition can creep through a keyhole into abaron's castle just as easily as it can into afisherman's cottage， and why should he not creepin here， where Jorgen sat thinking of Long Marthaand her wicked deeds? Her last thoughts on thenight before her execution had filled this place， andthe magic that tradition asserted to have beenpractised here， in Sir Svanwedel's time， came intoJorgen's mind， and made him shudder; but asunbeam， a refreshing thought from without， penetrated his heart even here—it was theremembrance of the flowering elder and the sweet smelling lime-trees.
He was not left there long. They took him away to the town of Ringkjobing， where he wasimprisoned with equal severity.
Those times were not like ours. the common people were treated harshly; and it was justafter the days when farms were converted into knights' estates， when coachmen and servantswere often made magistrates， and had power to sentence a poor man， for a small offence，to lose his property and to corporeal punishment. Judges of this kind were still to be found;and in Jutland， so far from the capital， and from the enlightened， well-meaning， head ofthe Government， the law was still very loosely administered sometimes—the smallestgrievance Jorgen could expect was that his case should be delayed.
His dwelling was cold and comfortless; and how long would he be obliged to bear all this?It seemed his fate to suffer misfortune and sorrow innocently. He now had plenty of time toreflect on the difference of fortune on earth， and to wonder why this fate had been allottedto him; yet he felt sure that all would be made clear in the next life， the existence that awaitsus when this life is over. His faith had grown strong in the poor fisherman's cottage; the lightwhich had never shone into his father's mind， in all the richness and sunshine of Spain， wassent to him to be his comfort in poverty and distress， a sign of that mercy of God whichnever fails.
the spring storms began to blow. The rolling and moaning of the North Sea could be heardfor miles inland when the wind was blowing， and then it sounded like the rushing of athousand waggons over a hard road with a mine underneath. Jorgen heard these sounds in hisprison， and it was a relief to him. No music could have touched his heart as did these soundsof the sea—the rolling sea， the boundless sea， on which a man can be borne across theworld before the wind， carrying his own house with him wherever he goes， just as the snailcarries its home even into a strange country.
He listened eagerly to its deep murmur and then the thought arose—“Free! free! Howhappy to be free， even barefooted and in ragged clothes!” Sometimes， when such thoughtscrossed his mind， the fiery nature rose within him， and he beat the wall with his clenchedfists.
Weeks， months， a whole year had gone by， when Niels the thief， called also a horse-dealer， was arrested; and now better times came， and it was seen that Jorgen had beenwrongly accused.
On the afternoon before Jorgen's departure from home， and before the murder， Nielsthe thief， had met Martin at a beer-house in the neighbourhood of Ringkjobing. A few glasseswere drank， not enough to cloud the brain， but enough to loosen Martin's tongue. He beganto boast and to say that he had obtained a house and intended to marry， and when Nielsasked him where he was going to get the money， he slapped his pocket proudly and said：
“the money is here， where it ought to be.”
This boast cost him his life; for when he went home Niels followed him， and cut histhroat， intending to rob the murdered man of the gold， which did not exist.
All this was circumstantially explained; but it is enough for us to know that Jorgen was setfree. But what compensation did he get for having been imprisoned a whole year， and shutout from all communication with his fellow creatures? they told him he was fortunate in beingproved innocent， and that he might go. The burgomaster gave him two dollars for travellingexpenses， and many citizens offered him provisions and beer—there were still good people;they were not all hard and pitiless. But the best thing of all was that the merchant Bronne， ofSkagen， into whose service Jorgen had proposed entering the year before， was just at thattime on business in the town of Ringkjobing. Bronne heard the whole story; he was kind-hearted， and understood what Jorgen must have felt and suffered. Therefore he made up hismind to make it up to the poor lad， and convince him that there were still kind folks in theworld.