The presiding justice nods.

In any case—­could not this girl—­if she had been of another sort—­have buried the child naked?  One might even go so far as to say that she might have thrown it into a dustbin.  She might have left it out under a tree in the open, to freeze to death—­that is to say, of course, if it had not been dead already.  She might have put it in the oven when left alone, and burnt it up.  She might have taken it up to the river at Sellanraa and thrown it in there.  But this mother did none of these things; she wrapped the dead child neatly in a cloth and buried it.  And if the body had been found wrapped neatly when the grave was opened, it must be a woman and not a man who had so wrapped it.

And now, the advocate for the defence went on, it lay with the court to determine what measure of guilt could properly be attributed to the girl Barbro in the matter.  There was but little remaining for which she could be blamed at all—­indeed, in his, counsel’s, opinion, there was nothing.  Unless the court found reason to convict on the charge of having failed to notify the death.  But here, again—­the child was dead, and nothing could alter that; the place was far out in the wilds, many miles from either priest or Lensmand; natural enough, surely, to let it sleep the eternal sleep in a neat grave in the woods.  And if it were a crime to have buried it thus, then the accused was not more guilty than the father of the child—­as it was, the misdemeanour was surely slight enough to be overlooked.  Modern practice was growing more and more disposed to lay more stress on reforming the criminal than on punishing the crime.  It was an antiquated system which sought to inflict punishment for every mortal thing—­it was the lex talionis of the Old Testament, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.  There was no longer the spirit of the law in modern times.  The law of the present day was more humane, seeking to adjust itself according to the degree of criminal intent and purpose displayed in each case.

No!  The court could never convict this girl.  It was not the object of a trial to secure an addition to the number of criminals, but rather to restore to society a good and useful member.  It should be noted that the accused had now the prospect of a new position where she would be under the best possible supervision.  Fru Lensmand Heyerdahl had, from her intimate knowledge of the girl, and from her own valuable experience as a mother, thrown wide the doors of her own home to the girl; the court would bear in mind the weight of responsibility attaching to its decision here, and would then convict or acquit the accused.  Finally, he wished to express his thanks to the learned counsel for the prosecution, who had generously refrained from demanding a conviction—­a pleasing evidence of deep and humane understanding.

The advocate for the defence sat down.

The remainder of the proceedings did not take long.  The summing up was but a repetition of the same points, as viewed from opposite sides, a brief synopsis of the action of the play, dry, dull, and dignified.  It had all been managed very satisfactorily all round; both the advocates had pointed out what the court should consider, and the presiding justice found his task easy enough.