fV
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 DUST
 
 WORKS OF 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 PATRIOTS EDITION 
 
 MAGNHILD 
 DUST 
 
 Translated from the Norse 
 By 
 
 RASMUS B. ANDERSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
 
 Copyright, 1882, 
 BT HOUQHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 I 
 
 PKEFACE. 
 
 i , 
 
 Q 
 M 
 
 " MAGNHILD " was planned during the summer of 
 
 t-j 1873, while the translator accompanied Mr. Bjornson 
 
 on a journey across Norway. The story is located 
 
 in Laerdaleii and Skarlie's home is in Lttrdalsoren, a 
 
 co small town at the head of one of the branches of the 
 
 - far-famed Sognefjord on the west coast. I well re- 
 
 ( , member with what care the author made his observa- 
 
 ^ lions. The story \vas written the following winter 
 
 is 
 
 in Rome, but was not published until 1877, when it 
 
 appeared in the original in Copenhagen and in a 
 German translation in the Rundschau simultaneously. 
 > The reader will see that " Maguhild " is a new de- 
 ^parture, and marks a new epoch in Bjb'rnson's career 
 i as a writer of fiction. It is but justice to say that 
 . Bjornsou himself looks upon this as one of his 
 less finished works, and yet I believe that many of 
 his American readers will applaud the manner in 
 which he has here championed the rights of a woman 
 when she has become united with such a man as 
 iSkarlie, 
 
 87624
 
 6 PREFACE. 
 
 The celebration, on the 10th of August, 1882, of 
 the twenty-fifth anniversary since the publication of 
 " Synnove Solbakken," was a great success. The 
 day was celebrated by his friends in all parts of 
 Scandinavia and by many of his admirers in Ger- 
 many, France, and Italy. At Aulestad (his home 
 in Norway), more than two hundred of his personal 
 friends from the Scandinavian countries were assem- 
 bled, among whom may be mentioned the eminent 
 Swedish journalist Hedlund, the Danish poet Orach- 
 mann, and the Norwegian author Kristofer Jauson. 
 Over Aulestad, which was handsomely decorated, 
 floated Norwegian, Danish, Swedish, and American 
 flags. There was a great banquet, at which speeches 
 and poems were not wanting. Mr. Bjornson received 
 a number of valuable presents and countless tele- 
 grams from Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Germany, 
 France, Italy, England, and America. 
 
 This volume closes the present series of transla- 
 tions of Bjornson's works. The seven volumes 1 now 
 published contain all the novels and short stories 
 that Bjornson has written. His other works are, as 
 shown in the biographical introduction to " Synnove 
 Solbakken," chiefly dramas. 
 
 1 The first edition of Bjornson's writings, from which the present 
 edition is arranged, was in seven volumes. "Magnhild" formed 
 the seventh volume, and the present preface is reprinted as it therq 
 stood.
 
 PREFACE. 7 
 
 Being thus about to send my last Bjornsou manu- 
 script to the publishers, I desire to express my hearty 
 thanks to the press and to the public for the gener- 
 ous reception they have given these stories as they 
 have appeared one by one. Those who are acquainted 
 with Bjb'rnsou's original and idiomatic style can ap- 
 preciate the many difficulties his translators have had 
 to contend with. I am fully conscious of my short- 
 comings and am particularly aware of my failure to 
 transmit the peculiar national flavor of Bjornson's 
 style, but I have done my best, and have turned his 
 phrases into as good English as I could command. 
 Others might have been more successful, but they 
 could not have taken more pains, nor could they 
 have derived more pleasure from the work than I 
 have found in it. To Auber Forestier, who has 
 kindly assisted me in the translation of the whole 
 series, I once more extend my hearty thanks. With- 
 out her able help the work could not have progressed 
 so rapidly. Finally, I commend " Magnhild " to the 
 tender mercy of the critic and to the good-will of the 
 reader, and say adieu ! 
 
 RASMUS B. ANDERSON. 
 ASGARD, MADISON, WISCONSIN. 
 November, 1882.
 
 MAGNHILD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE landscape lias high, bold mountains, 
 above which are just passing the remnants of 
 a storm. The valley is narrow and continually 
 winding. Coursing through it is a turbulent 
 stream, on one side of which there is a road. 
 At some distance up the slopes farms are 
 spread ; the buildings are mostly low and un- 
 painted, yet numerous; heaps of rno\vn hay 
 and fields of half ripe grain are dotted about. 
 
 When the last curve of the valley is left be- 
 
 V 
 
 hind the fjord becomes visible. It lies spark- 
 ling beneath an uplifting fog. So completely 
 is it shut in by mountains that it looks like a 
 \ake. 
 
 Along the road there jogs at the customary 
 trot a horse with a cariole-skyds. 1 In the car- 
 iole may be seen a waterproof coat and a south- 
 wester, and between these a beard, a nose, and 
 
 1 Conveyance.
 
 10 MAGNHILD. 
 
 a pair of spectacles. Lashed to the back seat 
 is a trunk, and seated on this, with her back to 
 the cariole, is a full-grown " skyds "-girl, snngly 
 bundled up in a kerchief. She sits there dang- 
 ling her coarsely-shod feet. Her arms are 
 tucked in under the kei-chief. Suddenly she 
 bursts out with : " Magnhild ! Magnhild ! " 
 
 The traveler turned to look after a tall 
 woman in a waterproof cloak who had just 
 walked past. He had caught a glimpse of a del- 
 icately-outlined face, beneath a hood which 
 was drawn over the brow ; now he saw the 
 owner standing with her forefinger in her 
 mouth, staring. As he was somewhat persist- 
 ent in his gaze, she blushed. 
 
 " I will step in just as soon as I put up the 
 horse," called out the skyds-girl. 
 
 They drove on. 
 
 " Who was that, my dear? " asked the trav- 
 eler. 
 
 " She is the wife of the saddler down at yon- 
 der point," was the reply. 
 
 In a little while they had advanced far enough 
 to gain a view of the fjord and the first houses 
 on the point. The skyds-girl reined in the 
 horse and jumped down from the trunk. She 
 first attended to the animal's appearance, and 
 then busied herself with her own toilet. It
 
 MAGNHILD. 11 
 
 Lad ceased raining, and she removed her ker- 
 chief, folded it, and stowed it away in a little 
 pocket in front of the cariole. Then thrusting 
 her fingers under her head-kerchief she tried to 
 arrange her hair, which hung in matted locks 
 over her cheeks 
 
 "She had such a singular look," he pointed 
 over his shoulders. 
 
 The girl fixed her eyes on him, and she be- 
 gan to hum. Presently she interrupted herself 
 with, 
 
 " Do you remember the land-slide you passed 
 a few miles above here ? " 
 
 "I passed so many land-slides." 
 
 She smiled. 
 
 " Yes ; but the one I mean is on the other 
 side of a church." 
 
 *' It was an old land-slide ? " 
 
 " Yes ; it happened long ago. But that is 
 where once lay the gard belonging to her fam- 
 ily. It was swept away when she was eight 
 or nine years old. Her parents, brothers and 
 sisters, and every living thing on the gard, per- 
 ished. She alone was saved. The land-slide 
 bore her across the stream, and she was found 
 by the people who hastened to the spot, she 
 was insensible." 
 
 The traveler became absorbed in thought.
 
 12 MAGNHlLD. 
 
 " She must be destined to something," said 
 he, at last. 
 
 The girl looked up. She waited some time, 
 but their eyes did not meet. So she resumed 
 her seat on the trunk, and they drove on. 
 
 The valley widened somewhat in the vicin- 
 ity of the point ; farms were spread over the 
 plain : to the right lay the church with the 
 churchyard around it ; a little farther on the 
 point itself, a small town, with a large number 
 of houses, most of which were but one story 
 high and were either painted white and red or 
 not painted at all ; along the fjord ran the 
 wharf. A steamer was just smoking there ; 
 farther down, by the mouth of the river, might 
 be seen a couple of old brigs taking in their 
 cargoes. 
 
 The church was new, and showed an attempt 
 at imitating the old Norse wooden church 
 architecture. The traveler must have had 
 some knowledge of this, for he stopped, gazed 
 a while at the exterior, then alighted, went 
 through the gateway, and into the church ; botu 
 gate and door stood open. He was scarcely in- 
 side of the building when the bells began to 
 ring ; through the opening he saw a bridal pro- 
 cession coming np from the little town. As he 
 took his departure the procession was close by
 
 MAGNHILD IS 
 
 the churchyard gate, and by this he stood while 
 it moved in : the bridegroom, an elderly man, 
 with a pair of large hands and a large face, the 
 bride, a young girl, with a plump, ronnd face, 
 and of a heavy build. The bridesmaids were 
 all clad in white and wore gloves ; not one of 
 them ventured to bestow more than a side 
 glance at the stranger ; most of them stooped, 
 one was humpbacked ; there was not one who 
 could truly be said to have a fine form. 
 
 Their male friends lagged behind, in gray, 
 brown, and black felt hats, and long frock coats, 
 pea-jackets, or round-abouts. Most of them had 
 a lock of hair drawn in front of the ear, and those 
 who had beards wore them to cover the entire 
 chin. The visages were hard, the mouths usu- 
 ally coarse; most of them had tobacco stains 
 about the corners of their mouths, and some 
 had cheeks distended with tobacco-quids. 
 
 Involuntarily the traveler thought of her in 
 the waterproof cloak. Her history was that of 
 the landscape. Her refined, unawakened face 
 hung as full of yearning as the mountains of 
 showers ; everything that met his eye, both 
 landscape and people, became a frame for bor. 
 
 As he approached the road, the skyds-gir! 
 hastened to the wayside where the horse was 
 grazing. While she was tugging at the reins
 
 14 MAGNHILD. 
 
 she continued to gaze fixedly at the bridal pro- 
 cession. 
 
 " Are you betrothed ? " asked the stranger, 
 smiling. 
 
 " He who is to have me has no eyes yet," 
 she replied, in the words of a proverb. 
 
 " Then, I suppose, you are longing to get 
 beyond your present position," said he, adding : 
 " Is it to America? " 
 
 She was surprised ; that query was evi- 
 dently well aimed. 
 
 " Is it in order that you may more speedily 
 earn your traveling expenses that you have 
 gone into the skyds line ? Do you get plenty 
 of fees ? Hey ? " 
 
 Now she colored. Without uttering a word 
 in reply, she promptly took her seat on the 
 trunk with her back to the stranger, before he 
 had stepped into the cariole. 
 
 Soon they had neared the white-painted ho- 
 tels which were situated on either side of the 
 street close by the entrance to the little town. 
 In front of one of these they paused. By the 
 balustrade above stood a group of carriers, 
 chiefly young fellows ; they had most likely 
 been watching the bridal procession and were 
 now waiting for steamer-bound travelers. The 
 stranger alighted and went in, while the gir!
 
 MAGNHILD. 15 
 
 busied herself with unstrapping the trunk. 
 Some one must have offered her help, for as 
 the traveler approached the window he saw her 
 push from her a great lubberly boy in a short 
 jacket. In all probability some impertinence 
 had also been offered her and had been repaid 
 in the same coin, for the other carriers set up 
 a shout of laughter. The girl came walking 
 in with the heavy trunk. The traveler opened 
 the door for her, and she laughed as she met 
 him. While he was counting out her money 
 to her, he said, 
 
 " T agree with you, Ronnaug, you ought to 
 be off to America as soon as possible." 
 
 Pie now handed her two specie dollars as her 
 fee. 
 
 "This is my mite for your fund," said he, 
 gravely. 
 
 She regarded him with wide-open eyes and 
 open mouth, took the money, returned thanks, 
 :uid then put up both hands to stroke back her 
 hair, for it had again fallen out of place. While 
 thus engaged she dropped some of the coins she 
 held in one half-closed hand. She stooped to 
 pick them up, and as she did so some of the 
 hooks in her boddice gave 'way. This loosened 
 her kerchief and one end fell out, for a knot in 
 one corner contained something heavy. While
 
 1C MAGNHILD. 
 
 readjusting this she again dropped her money. 
 She got off at last, however, with all her 
 abundance, and was assailed with a volley of 
 rude jests. This time she made no reply ; but 
 she cast a shy glance into the hotel as she drove 
 the horse past, full trot. 
 
 It was the traveler's lot to see her once 
 more ; for as he passed down to the steamer, 
 Inter in the day, she was standing with her 
 back turned toward the street, at a door over 
 which hung a sign-board bearing the inscrip- 
 tion : fck Skarlie, Ssuldler." As he drew nearer 
 he beheld Magnhild in the inner passage. She 
 had not yet removed her waterproof cloak, al- 
 though the rain had long since ceased. Even 
 the hood was still drawn over her head. Magn- 
 hild was the first to espy the stranger, and she 
 drew farther back into the house ; Ronnaug 
 turned, and then she too moved into the pas- 
 sage. 
 
 That evening Ronnaug's steamer ticket was 
 bought ; for the sum was complete. Magnhild 
 did not undress after Ronnaug had gone home 
 late in the evening. She sat in a large arm- 
 chair in the little low room, or restlessly paced 
 the floor. And once, with her heavy head 
 pressed against the window pane, she said half 
 aloud, 
 
 "Then she must be destined to something.'
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHE had heard these words before. 
 
 The first time it was in the churchyard that 
 blustering winter day her fourteen relatives 
 were buried, all whom she had loved, both 
 parents and grandparents, and brothers and 
 sisters. In fancy she saw the scene again ! The 
 wind had here and there swept away the snow, 
 the pickets of the fence stood out in sharp 
 prominence, huge rocks loomed up like the 
 heads of monsters whose bodies were covered 
 by the snow-drifts. The wind whistled behind 
 the little group of mourners through the open 
 church porch whose blinds had been taken out, 
 and down from the old wooden belfry came the 
 clanging toll of the bell, like one cry of anguish 
 after another. 
 
 The people that were gathered together were 
 blue with the cold ; they wore mittens and their 
 garments were closely buttoned up. The priest 
 appeared in sea-boots and had on a skin suit 
 beneath his gown ; his hands also were cased 
 in large mittens, and he vigorously fought the
 
 18 MAGNHILD. 
 
 air round about him with these. He waved one 
 of them toward Magnhiid. 
 
 " This poor child," said he, " remained stand- 
 ing on her feet, and with her little sled in her 
 hand she was borne downward and across the 
 frozen stream, the sole being the Lord saw 
 fit to save. To what is she destined ? " 
 
 She rode home with the priest, sitting on his 
 lap. He had commended her to the care of the 
 parish, and took her home with him " for the 
 present," in order to set a good example. She 
 nestled up to his fur overcoat, with her small 
 cold hands inside of his huge mittens, beside 
 his soft, plump hands. And all the while she 
 kept thinking : " What am I destined to, I 
 wonder? " 
 
 She presumed that her mind would become 
 clear on this point when she got into the house. 
 But nothing met her eye here she had not seen 
 before until she entered the inner room, where 
 a piano which some one was just playing in 
 the highest degree attracted her. 
 
 But for that very reason she forgot the 
 thought she had brought in with her. 
 
 In this household there were two daughters, 
 heavy-looking girls, with small round heads 
 and long, thick braids of light hair. They had 
 recently been provided with a governess, a pale.
 
 MAGNHILD. 19 
 
 enough fleshy person, with her neck more ex- 
 posed and her sleeves more open than Magu- 
 hild had ever seen in any one before- Her 
 voice sounded as though it needed clearing, and 
 Magnhild involuntarily coughed several times ; 
 but this was of no avail. The governess asked 
 Magnhild 'e name and inquired if she knew how 
 to i-p-'fl, to which Magnhild replied in the attirm- 
 ativa. Her whole family had been noted for 
 their love of reading. And then the governess 
 proposed, still with the same husky after- tone 
 in her voice, that she should be allowed to 
 share the instructions of the little girls, in or- 
 der to spur them on. Magnhild was one year 
 older than the elder. 
 
 The mistress of the house was sitting by, en- 
 gaged with her embroidery. She now glanced 
 up at Magnhild and said, " With pleasure," 
 then bent over her work again. She was a 
 person of medium size, neither thin nor stout, 
 and had a small head with fair hair. The 
 priest, who was heavy and corpulent, came 
 down-stairs after removing his gown ; he was 
 smoking, and as he crossed the floor, he said, 
 " There comes a man with fish," and passed out 
 of the room again. 
 
 The youngest girl once more attacked her 
 scales, Magnhild did not know whether she
 
 20 MAGSHILD. 
 
 should remain where she was, or go back to the 
 kitchen. She sat oil the wood-box by the stove 
 tormented with the uncertainty, when dinner 
 was announced in the adjoining room. All 
 work was put aside, and the little one at the 
 piano closed the instrument. Now when Magu- 
 hild was alone and heard the rattling of the 
 knives, she began to cry ; for she had not yet 
 eaten a morsel that day. During the meal the 
 priest came out from the dining-room ; for it 
 had been decided that he had not bought 
 enough fish. He opened the window and called 
 out to the man to wait until dinner was over. 
 As he turned to go bade into the dining-room 
 he espied the little one on the wood-box. 
 
 " Are you hungry? " asked he. 
 
 The child made no reply. He had lived long 
 enough among the peasants to know that her 
 silence meant u yes," and so taking her by the 
 hand he led her to the table, where room was 
 silently made for her. 
 
 In the afternoon she went coasting with the 
 little girls, and then joined them in their studies 
 and had a lesson in Bible history with them ; 
 after this she partook of the afternoon lunch 
 with them, and then played with them until 
 they were called to supper, which they all ate 
 at the same table. She slept that night on a
 
 MAGNH1LD. 21 
 
 lounge in the dining-room and took part the 
 next day in the duties of the priest's daugh- 
 ters. 
 
 She had no clothes except those she had on ; 
 but the governess made over an old dress for 
 her; some articles of old linen belonging to 
 one of the little girls were given to her, and a 
 pair of their mother's boots. The lounge she 
 had slept on was removed from the dining- 
 room, because it occupied the space needed for 
 some shoemakers who were to " see the house- 
 hold well shod." It was placed in the kitchen, 
 but was in the way there ; then in the bed- 
 room of the maid-servants, but there the door 
 continually struck against it ; finally it was car- 
 ried up to the nursery. Thus it was that Magn- 
 hild came to eat, work, and sleep with the 
 priest's daughters ; and as new clothes were 
 never made for her she naturally fell to wear- 
 ing theirs. 
 
 Quite as much by chance she began to play 
 the piano. It was discovered that she had 
 more talent for music than the daughters of 
 the house, so it was thought best that she 
 should learn, in order to help them. More- 
 over, she grew tall, and developed a fine 
 voice for singing. The governess took great 
 oains in teaching her to sing by note ; she did
 
 22 MAGNHILD. 
 
 so at first merely in the mechanical way she 
 did everything, later because -the remarkable 
 skill in reading at sight which, her pupil devel- 
 oped under her guidance proved a diversion to 
 them all in their mountain solitude. The priest 
 could lie on the sofa (the place he most fre- 
 quently occupied) and laugh aloud when he 
 heard Magnhild running all sorts of exercises 
 up and down like a squirrel in a tree. The re- 
 sult of this, so far as Magnhild was concerned, 
 was that the young girl learned not more 
 music, as one might have supposed, but bas- 
 ket-making. 
 
 The fact was that about this time there 
 spread, like an epidemic among the people, the 
 idea that skill in manual industries should be 
 cultivated among the peasants, and propagators 
 of the new doctrine appeared also in this par- 
 ish. Magnhild was chosen as the first pupil ; 
 she was thought to have the most " dexterity." 
 The first thing taught was basket-making, then 
 double spinning, then weaving, especially of the 
 more artistic kinds, and after this embroidery, 
 etc., etc. She learned all these things very rap- 
 idly, that is to say, she learned zealously as long 
 as she was gaining an insight into each ; further 
 development did not interest her. But as she 
 was henceforth expected to teach others, grown
 
 MAGNHILD. 2# 
 
 people as well as children, it became a settled 
 habit for her to repair twice each week to the 
 public school where many were assembled. 
 When anything had once become part of her 
 daily routine she thought no more about it. 
 The house that had given her shelter was re- 
 sponsible for this. 
 
 The mistress of the house made her daily 
 regulation visits to the kitchen, cellar, and sta- 
 bles, the rest of the time she embroidered ; the 
 whole house was covered with embroidery. 
 She might be taken for a fat spider, Avith a lit- 
 tle round head, spinning its web over chairs, 
 tables, beds, sledges, and carts. Her voice was 
 rarely heard ; she was seldom addressed by any 
 one. 
 
 The priest was much older than his wife 
 His face was characterized by its small proper 
 tion of nose, chin, and eyes, and its very larg^ 
 share of all else belonging to it. He had fared 
 badly at his examination, and had been com- 
 pelled to support himself by teaching until, 
 when he was advancing in years, he had mar- 
 ried one of his former pupils, a lady with quite 
 a nice property. Then he betook himself to 
 seeking a clerical appointment, " the one thing 
 in which he had shown perseverance," as he 
 was himself in the habit of playfully remark-
 
 24 MAGNHILD. 
 
 ing. After a ten years' search he had suc- 
 ceeded in getting a call (not long since) to his 
 present parish, and he could scarcely hope for 
 a better one. He passed most of his time in 
 lying on the sofa reading, chiefly novels, but 
 also newspapers and periodicals. 
 
 The governess always sat in the same chair 
 in which Magnhild had seen her the first day, 
 took the same walk to the church and back 
 each day, and never failed to be ready for her 
 duties on the stroke of the clock. She grad- 
 ually increased in weight until she became ex- 
 cessively stout ; she continued to wear her neck 
 bare and her sleeves open, furthermore to speak 
 in the same husky voice, which no effort on 
 her part had ever yet been able to clear. 
 
 The priest's daughters became stout and 
 heavy like their father, although they had 
 small round heads like their mother. Magn- 
 hild and they lived as friends, in other words, 
 they slept in the same room, and worked, 
 played, and ate together. 
 
 There were never any ideas afloat in this 
 parish. If any chanced to find their way there 
 from without they got no farther than the 
 priest's study. The priest was not communica- 
 tive. At the utmost he read aloud to his fam- 
 Jy some new or old novel that he had founJ 
 diverting.
 
 MAGNHILD. 26 
 
 One evening they were all sitting ronnd the 
 table, and the priest, having yielded to the en- 
 treaties of the united family, was reading aloud 
 the " Pickwick Club." 
 
 The kitchen door slowly opened and a large 
 bald head, with a snub nose and smiling coun- 
 tenance, was thrust in. A short leg in very 
 wide trousers was next introduced, and this 
 was followed by a crooked and consequently 
 still shorter one. The whole figure stooped as 
 it turned on the crooked leg to shut the door. 
 The intruder thus presented to the party the 
 back of the before mentioned large head, with 
 its narrow rim of hair, a pair of square-built 
 shoulders, and an extraordinarily large seat, 
 only half covered by a pea-jacket. Again he 
 turned in a slanting posture toward the assem- 
 bled party, and once more presented his smiling 
 countenance with its snub-nose. The young 
 girls bowed low over their work, a suppressed 
 titter arose first from one piece of sewing and 
 then from another. 
 
 " Is this the saddler ? " asked the priest, ris- 
 ing to his feet. 
 
 44 Yes," was the reply, as the new-comer 
 limped forward, holding out a hand so aston- 
 ishingly large and with such broad round finger 
 tips that the priest was forced to look at it aa
 
 26 MAGNHILD. 
 
 he took it in liis own. The hand was offered 
 to the others ; and when it came to Magnhild's 
 turn she burst out laughing just as her hand 
 disappeared within it. One peal of laughter 
 after another was heard and suppressed. The 
 priest hastened to remark that they were read- 
 ing the " Pickwick Club." 
 
 " Aha ! " observed the saddler, " there is 
 enough to make one laugh in that book." 
 
 " Have you read it ? " asked the priest. 
 
 " Yes ; when I was in America. I read most 
 of the English writers ; indeed, I have them all 
 in my house now," he answered, and proceeded 
 to give an account of the cheap popular edi- 
 tions that could be obtained in America. 
 
 The laughter of young girls is riot easily sub- 
 dued; it was still ready to bubble over when, 
 after the saddler was furnished with a pipe, the 
 reading was resumed. Now to be sure there 
 was a pretext. After a while the priest grew 
 tired and wanted to close the book, but the 
 saddler offered to continue the reading for him, 
 and was allowed to do so. He read in a dry, 
 quiet manner, and with such an unfamiliar pro- 
 nunciation of the names of the personages and 
 localities introduced that the humor of the text 
 became irresistible; even the priest joined in 
 the laughter which no one now attempted to
 
 MAQNHILD. 27 
 
 restrain. It never occurred to the girls to ask 
 themselves why they were all obliged to laugh ; 
 they were still laughing when they went up- 
 stairs to go to bed, and while undressing they 
 imitated the saddler's walk, bowed and talked 
 as he did, pronounced the foreign words with 
 his English accent. Magnhild was the most 
 jadroit in mimicking ; she had observed him the 
 most closely. 
 
 At that ftme she was fifteen, in her sixteenth 
 year. 
 
 The next day the girls passed every free 
 moment in the dining-room, which had now 
 been transformed into a work-shop. The sad- 
 dler told them of a sojourn of several years in 
 America, and of travels in England and Ger- 
 many ; he talked without interrupting his work 
 and with a frequent intermingling of jests. His 
 narratives were accompanied by the incessant 
 tittering of his listeners. They were scarcely 
 aware themselves how they gradually ceased 
 laughing at him and laughed instead at the 
 witty things he said ; neither did they observe 
 until later how much they learned from him. 
 Me was so greatly missed by the girls when he 
 left that more than half of their time together 
 was occupied in conversation about him ; this 
 lasted for many days after he was gone, and 
 /)ever wholly ceased.
 
 28 MAGNHILD. 
 
 There were two things which had made the 
 strongest impression on Magnhild. The first 
 was the English and German songs the saddler 
 had sung for them. She had paid little atten- 
 tion to the text, unless perhaps occasionally ; 
 but how the melodies had captivated her ! 
 
 While singing hymns one Sunday they had 
 first noticed that Skarlie had a fine voice. 
 Thenceforth he was obliged to sing for them 
 constantly. These foreign melodies of his flut- 
 tering thither from a fuller, richer life, freer 
 conditions, larger ideas than their own, clung 
 to Magnhild's fancy the entire summer. They 
 were the first pictures which had awakened 
 actual yearning within her breast. It may also 
 be said that for the first time she comprehended 
 what song was. As she was singing her inter- 
 minable scales one day, before beginning her 
 studies in singing from note, she came to a full 
 realization of the fact that this song without 
 melody was to her like wings beating against a 
 cage : it fluttered up and down against walls, 
 windows, doors, in perpetual and fruitless long- 
 ing, aye, until at last it sank like the cobwebs, 
 yver everything in the room. She could sit 
 alone out of doors with Ms songs. While she 
 was humming them, the forest hues dissolved 
 into one picture; and that she had never dis-
 
 MAGNHILD. 20 
 
 covered before. The density, the vigor in the 
 tree-tops, above and below the tree-tops, over 
 the entire mountain wall, as it were, over- 
 whelmed her ; the rushing of the waters of the 
 stream attracted her. 
 
 The second thing which had made so deep 
 an impression on her, and which was blended 
 with all the rest, was Skarlie's story of how he 
 had become lame. In America, when he was a 
 young man, he had undertaken to carry a boy 
 twelve years old from a burning house ; he had 
 fallen with the boy beneath the ruins. Both 
 were extricated, Skarlie with a crushed limb, 
 the boy unscathed. That boy was now one of 
 the most noted men of America. 
 
 It was his lot to be saved, " he was destined 
 to something." 
 
 This reminder again ! The thought of her 
 own fate had heretofore been shrouded in the 
 wintry mantle of the churchyard, amid frost, 
 weeping, and harsh clanging of bells ; it had 
 been something sombre. Now it flitted onward 
 to large cities beyond the seas, among ships, 
 burning houses, songs, and great destinies 
 From this time forth she dreamed of what she 
 was destined to be as something far distant and 
 great.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LATE in the autumn all three girls were 
 confirmed. This was such a matter of course 
 to them all that their thoughts were chiefly 
 busied with what they should wear on the day 
 of the ceremony. Magnhild, who had never yet 
 had a garment cut out and made expressly for 
 herself, wondered whether an outfit would now 
 be prepared for her. No. The younger girls 
 were furnished with new silk dresses ; an old 
 black dress that had become too tight for the 
 priest's wife was made over for Magnhild. 
 
 It was too short both in the waist and in the 
 skirt ; but Magnhild scarcely noticed this. She 
 was provided by the governess with a little 
 colored silk neckerchief and a silver brooch ; 
 she borrowed the every-day shawl of the mis- 
 tress of the house ; a pair of gloves were loaned 
 her by the governess. 
 
 Her inner preparations were not much more 
 extensive than the outer ones. 
 
 The day glided tranquilly by without any 
 special emotion. Religious sentiments at the
 
 MAGNHILD. 31 
 
 parsonage, as well as elsewhere in the parish, 
 were matters of calm custom. Some tears were 
 shed in church, the priest offered wine and a 
 toast at table, and there was a little talk about 
 what should now be done with Magnhild. This 
 last topic so affected Magnhild that after coffee 
 she went out and sat down alone. She gazed 
 toward the broad rocky path of the land-slide 
 on the verdure-clad mountain, then toward the 
 mighty mass of de*bris in the midst of the plain, 
 for it was there her home had stood. 
 
 Her little brothers and sisters appeared be- 
 fore her, one fair, bright face after another. 
 Her mother came too ; and her melancholy eye 
 dwelt lingeringly on Magnhild ; even the lines 
 about the mouth were visible. The fine psalm- 
 singing of her mother's gentle voice floated 
 around Magnhild now. There had been sung 
 in church that day one of the hymns her 
 mother used to sing. Once more, too, her 
 father sat on the bench, bowed over the silver 
 work in which he was a master. A book or a 
 newspaper lay at his side: he paused in his 
 work now and then, stole a glance at the page 
 before him, or turned a leaf. His long, deli- 
 cately cut face inclined occasionally toward the 
 family sitting-room and its inmates. The aged 
 grandparents formed part of the home circle.
 
 8 MAGNHILD. 
 
 The grandmother tottered off after some little 
 dainty for Maguhild, while the old grandfather 
 was telling the child a story. The dog, shaggy 
 and gray, lay stretching himself on the hearth. 
 Mis howl had been the last living sound Magn- 
 hild had heard behind her as she was carried 
 downward across the stream. The memory of 
 that awful day once more cast over her child- 
 hood the pall of night, thunder, and convulsions 
 of the earth. Covering her face with her hands, 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 The saddler's ballads came floating toward 
 her, bringing a sense of want with their obscure 
 dream images. And there drifted past her a 
 motley throng of those half-comprehended songs 
 and the anecdotes upon which she had often 
 placed false interpretations, until, exhausted by 
 the thoughts, emotions, and yearnings of the 
 day, with an aching void within and a dull feel- 
 ing of resignation, she feel asleep. 
 
 In the evening Rbnnang, with whom they 
 had become acquainted during the confirma- 
 tion instructions, made her appearance; she 
 was out at service in the neighborhood and 
 had a holiday in honor of the occasion. She 
 brought with her a whole budget of gossip con- 
 cerning the love affairs of the parish, and the 
 inexperienced girls sat with wondering eyes
 
 MAGNHILD. 33 
 
 listening. It was she who caused the youngest 
 girl to tear her new silk dress, Konnaug could 
 roll down hill with such incomprehensible 
 speed that she was induced to repeat the feat 
 several times, and this finally led the priest's 
 daughter to try her skill. 
 
 Hereafter Ronnaug often dropped in of an 
 evening when her work was done. They all 
 took delight in her wild exuberance of spirits. 
 She was as hearty and as plump as a young 
 foal ; she could scarcely keep the clothes on her 
 back because she was all the time tearing them 
 to tatters, and she had never-ceasing trouble 
 with her hair, which would keep falling over 
 her face because she never had it done up prop- 
 erly. When she laughed, and that was nearly 
 all the time, she tossed back her head, and 
 through two rows of pearly teeth, white as 
 those of a beast of prey, could be seen far down 
 her throat. 
 
 In the autumn Skarlie came again. There 
 was a difference between the reception now 
 given him and the former one. The three girls 
 surrounded his sledge, they carried in his lug- 
 gage, notwithstanding his laughing resistance, 
 their laughter accompanied him as he stood in 
 the passage taking off his furs. 
 
 Questions without number were showered like 
 3
 
 34 MAGNH1LD. 
 
 hail upon him the first time they sat with hiu? 
 in the work-room ; the girls had an accumula- 
 tion of treasuved-up doubts and queries about 
 things he had told them on his previous visit, 
 and many other perplexing themes which they 
 considered him able to solve. On very few 
 topics did Skarlie hold the prevailing opinions 
 of the parish, but he had a way of deftly turn- 
 ing the subject with a joke when pressed too 
 closely for his precise views. When alone with 
 Magnhild he expressed himself more freely ; 
 at first he did so cautiously, but gradually in- 
 creased his plainness of speech. 
 
 Magnhild had never viewed her surroundings 
 with critical eyes ; she would now laugh heart- 
 ily with Skarlie over the priest's last sermon, 
 or his indolent life ; now over the spider-like 
 activity of the mistress of the house, because 
 it was all described so comically. At the " fat 
 repose " of the governess, even at the " yellow, 
 round heads " of her young friends, Magnhild 
 could now laugh ; for the humor with which 
 everything was delineated was so surprisingly 
 original ; she did not perceive that this jesting 
 was by degrees undermining the very ground 
 ehe stood upon. 
 
 The quite usual amusement in the country 
 of teasing a young girl about being in love
 
 MAGNHILD. 35 
 
 was, meanwhile, directed rather unexpectedly 
 toward Magnhild ; she was called " the saddler's 
 wife," because she passed so much time in his 
 society. This reached Skarlie's ears and in> 
 mediately he too began to call her his " wife," 
 his " tall wife," his " blonde wife," his " very 
 young wife." 
 
 The following summer the priest's daugh- 
 ters went to the city for increased opportunities 
 of culture. The governess remained " for the 
 present " at the parsonage. 
 
 The saddler came once more in the autumn 
 to complete his work. Magnhild was now, of 
 course, more frequently alone with him than 
 before* He was merrier than ever. One joke 
 that was often repeated by him was about jour- 
 neying round the world with "his young wife." 
 They met with an immense number of trav- 
 eling adventures, and they saw many remark- 
 able sights, all of which were so accurately de- 
 scribed by Skarlie that they attained the value 
 of actual experiences. But the most ludicrous 
 picture he drew represented the two tramping 
 through the country : Skarlie limping on be- 
 fore with a traveling satchel, Magnhild follow- 
 ing in a waterproof cloak and with an umbrella 
 in her hand, grumbling at the heat, dust, and 
 thirst, weary and heartily disgusted with him
 
 36 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Then, having reached their journey's end, they 
 rested in Skarlie's little home in the little town, 
 where Magnhild had everything her own way 
 and lived like a princess all the rest of her 
 life. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the coun- 
 tenance of the priest when the saddler appeared 
 in his study one evening, and taking a seat in 
 front of him asked, after a few cordial, pleasant 
 remarks by way of introduction, whether the 
 priest would object to his marrying Magnhild. 
 The priest 'was lying on the sofa smoking ; his 
 pipe dropped from his mouth, his hand sank 
 with it, his fat face relaxed until it resembled 
 a dough-like mass, in which the eyes peeped 
 forth as wholly devoid of thought as two 
 raisins ; suddenly he gave a start that set a 
 quantity of springs beneath him to creaking 
 and grating, and the book that lay upside down 
 on his knee fell. The saddler picked up the 
 volume smiling, and turned over the leaves. 
 The priest had risen to his feet. 
 
 " What does Magnhild have to say to this ? " 
 asked he. 
 
 The saddler looked up with a smile. 
 
 " Of course I should not have asked if she 
 were not likely to give her consent," said he.
 
 MAGNHILD. 37 
 
 The priest put his pipe in his mouth, and 
 strode up and down the floor, puffing away. 
 Gradually he grew calmer, and without slacken- 
 ing his speed, he observed : 
 
 " To be sure I do not know what is to be- 
 come of the girl." 
 
 Once more the saddler raised his eyes from 
 the book whose leaves he was turning over, and 
 now laying it aside, he remarked : 
 
 " It is, you know, rather a sort of adoption 
 than a marriage. Down yonder at my house 
 she can develop into whatever she pleases." 
 
 The priest looked at him, took a puff at his 
 pipe, paced the floor, and puffed again. 
 
 " Aye, to be sure ! You are, I believe, a 
 wealthy man ? " 
 
 " Well, if not precisely wealthy, I am suffi- 
 ciently well provided to get married." 
 
 Here Skarlie laughed. 
 
 But there was something in his laugh, some- 
 thing which did not quite please the priest. 
 Still less did he like the tone of indifference 
 with which Skarlie seemed to treat the whole 
 affair. Least of all did he like being so taken 
 by surprise. 
 
 " I must speak with my wife about this," 
 said he, and groaned. " That I must," he added 
 decidedly, " and with Maguhild," came as an 
 afterthought.
 
 38 MAGMH1LD. 
 
 " Certainly," said the other, as he rose to 
 take leave. 
 
 A little while later, the priest's wife was sit- 
 ting where the saddler had sat. Both hands 
 lay idly open on her lap, while her eyes fol- 
 lowed her spouse as he steamed back and 
 forth. 
 
 " Well, what do you think? " he urged, paus- 
 ing in front of her. 
 
 Receiving no reply, he moved on again. 
 
 u He is far too old," she finally said. 
 
 " And surely very sly," added the priest, and 
 then pausing again in front of his wife, he whis- 
 pered : " No one really knows where he comes 
 from, or why he chooses to settle here. He 
 might have a fine workshop in a large city 
 wealthy, and a smart dog ! " 
 
 The priest did not use the choicest language 
 in his daily discourse. 
 
 " To think she should allow herself .to be so 
 beguiled I " whispered the wife. 
 
 "Beguiled ! Just the word beguiled ! " re- 
 peated the priest, snapping his fingers. " Be- 
 guiled ! " and off he went in a cloud of smoke. 
 
 "I am so sorry for her," remarked the wife, 
 and the words were accompanied by a few 
 tears. 
 
 This touched the priest, and he said :
 
 MAGNHILD. 3** 
 
 here, mother, we will talk with her, both ot 
 us ! " then strode heavily on again. 
 
 Ere long Magnhild stood within the precincts 
 of the study, wondering what could be wanted 
 of her. The priest was the first to speak : 
 
 u Is it really true, Magnhild, that you have 
 agreed to be the wife of this fellow, the sad- 
 dler?" 
 
 The priest often used the general term "fel- 
 low " instead of a proper name. 
 
 Magnhild's face became suffused with blushes ; 
 in her whole life she could never have been so 
 red before. Both the priest and his wife inter- 
 preted this as a confession. 
 
 " Why do you not come to us with such 
 things ? " asked the priest, in a vexed tone. 
 
 " It is very strange you should act so, Magn- 
 hild," said the mistress of the house, and she 
 wept. 
 
 Magnhild was simply appalled. 
 
 " Do you really mean to have him ? " asked 
 the priest, pausing resolutely in front of her. 
 
 Now Magnhild had never been accustomed 
 to being addressed in a confidential tone. When 
 questioned thus closely she had not the courage 
 to give a frank statement of all that had oc- 
 curred between her and Skarlie, telling how 
 this talk of marriage had commenced as a jest,
 
 40 MAGNHILD. 
 
 and that although later she had had a misgiv- 
 ing that it was becoming serious, it was so con- 
 tinually blended anew with jests that she had 
 not given herself the trouble to protest against 
 it. How could she, with the priest standing 
 thus before her, enter on so long a story ? And 
 so instead she burst into tears. 
 
 Well now, the priest did not mean to tor- 
 ment her. What was done could not be un- 
 done. He was very sorry for her, and in the 
 goodness of his heart merely wanted to help 
 her lay a solid foundation to her choice. Skar- 
 lie was a man of considerable means, he said, 
 and she a poor girl; she certainly could not ex- 
 pect a better match, so far as that went. True, 
 Skarlie was old ; but then he had himself said 
 that he designed rather a sort of adoption than 
 a marriage; his only object was Magnhild's 
 happiness. 
 
 But all this was more than Magnhild could 
 bear to listen to, and so she rushed from the 
 room. In the passage she fell to crying as 
 though her heart would break ; she was obliged 
 to go up to the dark garret in order to avoid 
 attracting attention, and there her grief grad- 
 ually assumed definite shape. It was not be- 
 cause the saddler wanted her that she was in 
 such distress ; it was because the priest and his 
 wife did not want her.
 
 MAGNHITJ). 41 
 
 This was the interpretation she had put on 
 their words. 
 
 When the governess was informed of the 
 affair she differed entirely from the mistress of 
 the house, who could not comprehend Magnhild, 
 for the governess could comprehend the young 
 girl perfectly. Skarlie was a man of fine mind 
 and very witty. He was rich, jovial, rather 
 homely, to be sure, but that was not of such 
 great consequence down at the Point. And 
 she adopted this tone in talking with Magnhild 
 when she finally succeeded in getting hold of 
 her. Magnhild was red with weeping, and burst 
 into a fresh flood of tears ; yet not a word did 
 she say. 
 
 Somewhat curtly the priest now informed 
 the saddler that as the matter was settled he 
 might as well proceed with the preparations. 
 The saddler desired this himself ; moreover, he 
 was now quite through with his work. Ea- 
 gerly as he strove for an opportunity to speak 
 with Magnhild, he even failed to catch a glimpse 
 of her. He was therefore forced to take his 
 departure without having an interview with 
 her. 
 
 During the days which followed Magnhild 
 neither appeared in the sitting-room nor at ta- 
 ble. No one attempted to seek her and talk
 
 42 MAGNHILD. 
 
 with her ; the governess deemed it quite natu- 
 ral that in the face of so serious a step tho 
 young girl should wish to be alone. 
 
 One day the members of the household were 1 , 
 surprised by the arrival through the mail of a 
 letter and large package for Magnhild. The 
 letter read as follows : 
 
 In order to complete our delightful joke, dear 
 Magnhild, I came down here. My house has 
 been painted this summer, within and without, 
 a joke which now almost looks like earnest 
 does it not ? 
 
 Beds, household furniture, bedding, etc., are 
 articles that I deal in myself, so these I can 
 purchase from my own stores. When I think 
 of the object I have in view, this becomes the 
 most delightful business transaction I have ever 
 entered into. 
 
 Do you remember how we laughed the time 
 I took your measure in order to prove accu- 
 rately how much too short in the waist your 
 dress was, how much too wide across the shoul- 
 ders, and how much too short in the skirt? 
 Just by chance I took a note of your exact 
 measurement, and according to it I am now 
 having made : 
 
 1 black silk dress (Lyons taffeta).
 
 MAGNHILD. 48 
 
 1 brown (cashmere). 
 
 1 blue (of some light woolen material). 
 
 As I have always told you, blue is the most 
 becoming color that you can wear. 
 
 Such orders cannot be executed without some 
 delay ; but tlie articles shall be sent as speedily 
 as possible. 
 
 For other garments that you may perhaps 
 require I telegraphed to Bergen immediately 
 upon my arrival here ; such things can be ob- 
 tained there ready-made. You will most likely 
 receive them by the same mail which brings 
 you this letter. 
 
 v 
 
 As you see (and shall further continue to 
 see), there are sundry jokes connected with this 
 getting married. For instance, I made my will 
 to-day, and in it designated you as my heiress. 
 
 With most respectful greetings to the priest 
 and his honored family, I now subscribe my- 
 self Your most obedient jester, 
 
 SKABLIB. 
 
 Magnhild had taken refuge in the garret, 
 with both the letter and the large package. 
 She had plunged forthwith into the letter, and 
 etrerging from its perusal perplexed and fright- 
 ened, she tore open the package and found 
 1 ;any full suits of everything pertaining to fern-
 
 44 MAGNHILD. 
 
 inine under garments. She scattered them all 
 around her, blushing crimson, angry, ashamed. 
 Then she sat down and wept aloud. 
 
 Now she had courage to speak ! She sprang 
 down-stairs to the priest's wife, and throwing 
 her arms about her neck, whispered, " Forgive 
 me ! " thrust the letter into her hand, and dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 The priest's wife did not understand Magn- 
 hild's " Forgive me ! " but she saw that the 
 young girl was crying and in great excitement. 
 She took the letter and read it. It was peculiar 
 in form, she thought ; yet its meaning was plain 
 enough : it indicated a sensible, elderly man's 
 prudent forethought, and deserved credit. An 
 old housewife and mother could not be other- 
 wise than pleased with this, and she carried the 
 letter to the priest. It impressed him in the 
 Bame way ; and he began to think the girl might 
 be happy with this singular man. The mistress 
 of the house searched everywhere for Magn- 
 hild, in order to tell her that both the priest 
 and herself were of the opinion that Skarlie's 
 conduct promised well. She learned that Magn- 
 hild was in the garret, and so throwing a shawl 
 round her (for it was cold) she went up-stairs. 
 She met the governess on the way and took her 
 writh her. Magnhild was not visible ; they saw
 
 MAGNHILD. 45 
 
 only the articles of clothing strewn over floor, 
 chests, and trunks. They collected these to- 
 gether, discussed them, examined them, and 
 pronounced them admirable. They well knew 
 that such a gift was calculated to embarrass a 
 young girl; but then Skarlie was an elderty 
 man whose privilege it was to take things in a 
 fatherly way. This they told Magnhild when 
 they finally found her. And she had no 
 longer the courage to be confidential. This 
 was because the priest's wife, sustained by the 
 governess, spoke what they deemed sensible 
 words to her. They told her that she must not 
 be proud ; she must remember that she was a 
 poor girl who had neither relatives nor future 
 of her own. In the days which followed, Magn- 
 hild fought a hard fight in secret. But she 
 lacked energy for action. Where could she 
 have gained it ? Where could she go since the 
 priest's family had so evidently grown tired of 
 her? 
 
 A little later there arrived a chest containing 
 her dresses and many other articles. Magnhild 
 allowed it to stand untouched, but the govern- 
 ess, who so well understood this bashfulness, 
 attended to having it opened. She and the 
 priest's wife drew forth the COD tents piece by 
 piece, and not long afterwards Magnhild was
 
 46 MAQNHILD. 
 
 trying on dress after dress before the large mir- 
 ror in the family sitting-room. The doors were 
 locked, the priest's wife and the governess full 
 of zeal. Finally they came to the black silk 
 dress, and Magnhild gradually ceased to be in- 
 different. She felt a blushing gratification in 
 beholding in the glass her own form encom- 
 passed in beatitiful fine material. She discov- 
 ered herself, as it were, point by point. If it 
 chanced to be the face, she had not before this 
 day so fully observed that those she beheld at 
 her side were without distinct outline, while 
 hers Her vision had been rendered keen by 
 the sense awakened, in the twinkling of an eye, 
 by a handsome, well-fitting garment. 
 
 This picture of herself floated before her for 
 many days. Fearing to disturb it she avoided 
 the mirror. Once more she became absorbed 
 in the old dreams, those which bore her across 
 the sea to something strange and great. 
 
 But the marriage? At such moments she 
 thrust it from her as though it were a steamer's 
 plank, to be drawn ashore after serving its pur- 
 pose. How was this possible? Aye, how 
 many times in the years that followed did she 
 not pause and reflect ! But it always remained 
 alike incomprehensible to her. 
 
 She could neither be persuaded to put on one
 
 MAONHILD. 47 
 
 of the new dresses the day Skarlie came, nor to 
 go out to meet him ; on the contrary, she hid 
 herself. Later, and as by chance, she made her 
 appearance. With unvarying consistency she 
 treated both the marriage and Skarlie as though 
 neither in the least concerned her. 
 
 Skarlie was in high spirits ; the fact was 
 both the priest and his wife took pains to mak' j 
 amends for Magnhild's lack of courtesy, and he 
 reciprocated in the most winning manner. The 
 governess declared him to be decidedly amia- 
 ble. 
 
 The next evening Magnhild sat in the din- 
 ing-room arranging some articles belonging to 
 the industrial school that must now be sent 
 back. She was alone, and Skarlie entered softly 
 and smiling, and slowly closing the door be- 
 hind him took a seat at her side. He talked 
 for some time on indifferent subjects, so that 
 she began to breathe freely again ; she even 
 ventured at last to look down on him as he sat 
 bent over smoking. Her eyes rested on the 
 bald head, the bushy brows, and the extreme 
 end of the snub-nose, then on his enormous 
 hands and their very singular-looking nails ; 
 the latter were deeply set in the flesh, which 
 everywhere, therefore in front also, encompassed 
 them like a thick round frame. Under the
 
 MAGNHILD. 
 
 nails there was dirt, a fact to which the gov- 
 erness, who had herself very pretty hands, had 
 once called the attention of her pupils as a 
 deadly sin. Magnhild looked at the reddish, 
 bristling hair which completely covered these 
 hands. Skarlie had been silent for a little 
 while, but as if he felt that he was being scru- 
 tinized, he drew himself up, and with a smile 
 extended to her on(; of his objectionable hands. 
 
 " Aye, aye, Magnhild ! " said he, laying it on 
 both of hers. This gave her a shock, and in a 
 moment she was like one paralyzed. She could 
 not stir, could not grasp a single thought except 
 that she was in the clutches of a great lobster. 
 His head drew nearer, the eyes too were those 
 of a lobster ; they stung. This she had never 
 before observed, and she sprang hastily to her 
 feet. He retained his seat. Without looking 
 back Magnhild began to busy herself where she 
 stood with another lot of the industrial work. 
 Therefore she did not leave the room, but a lit- 
 tle while later Skarlie did. 
 
 The governess decked her hi her bridal finery 
 the next day ; the mistress of the house too 
 came to look on. This gave her great pleasure, 
 she said. Magnhild let everything be done for 
 her without stirring, without uttering a word 
 and without shedding a tear.
 
 MAGNHILD. 49 
 
 It was the same iii the sitting-room. She 
 was motionless. A feeling akin to defiance had 
 taken possession of her. The men-servants and 
 the house-maids sat and stood by the kitchen 
 door, which was ajar, and just inside of it ; 
 Magnhild saw, too, the heads of little children. 
 The deacon started the singing as the priest 
 came down-stairs. 
 
 Magnhild did not look at the bridegroom. 
 The priest touched on tender chords ; his wife 
 shed tears, and so too did the governess ; but 
 Magnhild 's icy coldness chilled both him and 
 them. The discourse was brief and dealt 
 chiefly in mere generalities. It was followed 
 by congratulations, and a painful silence ; even 
 the saddler had lost his smile. It was a relief 
 when they were summoned to dinner. 
 
 During the repast the priest, desiring to pro- 
 pose a toast, began : " Dear Magnhild ! I trust 
 you have no fault to find with us," he got 
 no farther, for here Magnhild burst into such 
 convulsive weeping that the priest's wife, the 
 governess, aye, even the priest himself became 
 deeply affected, and there arose a long and 
 painful silence. Finally, however, the priest 
 managed to add ; " Think of us ! " But these 
 words were followed by the same heart-rending 
 weeping as before, so that no toast was drunk,
 
 50 MAGNHILD. 
 
 What this really signified was not clear to any 
 of those present, unless perhaps to the bride- 
 groom ; and he said nothing. 
 
 While they were at dessert one of the young 
 girls approached the bride and whispered a few 
 words in her ear. Ronnaug was outside and 
 wished to say farewell ; she had been waiting 
 ever since the company had gone to table and 
 could stay no longer. Ronnaug was standing 
 on the back porch, benumbed with the cold ; 
 she did not wish to intrude, she said. She ex- 
 amined the bride's dress, thought it extraordi- 
 narily fine, and drawing off one mitten stroked 
 it with the back of her hand. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say he is rich," said she, " but 
 if they had given me a gown of silver I would 
 not " and she added a few words which can- 
 not be repeated here, and for which Magnhild, 
 her face flaming, administered a good sound box 
 on the ear. The kerchief softened the blow 
 somewhat, but it was seriously meant. 
 
 Magnhild returned to the dining-room and 
 sat down, not in her place at the bridegroom's 
 side, but on a chair by the window ; she did 
 not wish anything more, she said. It was of 
 no avail that she was entreated to sit with the 
 others at least until they had finished ; she said 
 ihe could not.
 
 MAGNHILD. 51 
 
 The departure took place shortly after coffee 
 was served. Au incident had meanwhile oc- 
 curred which suppressed all emotion, of what- 
 ever nature it might be. It was that the bride- 
 groom suddenly appeared, looking like a shaggy 
 beast, carrying a fur cape, fur boots, a short coat, 
 a hood, fur gloves, and a muff. He let them fall 
 in front of Magnhild, saying with dry earnest 
 ness, 
 
 " All these I lay at your feet ! " 
 
 There burst forth a peal of laughter in which 
 even Magnhild was forced to join. The whole 
 bridal party gathered about the things which 
 were spread over the carpet, and every one was 
 loud in praise. It was evidently not displeas- 
 ing to Magnhild either, in the face of a winter 
 journey, for which she had been promised 
 the loan of a variety of wraps, to have such 
 presents lavished upon her. 
 
 In a few moments more Magnhild was at- 
 tired in her blue dress, and she was enough of 
 a child or rather woman to be diverted by the 
 change. Shortly afterwards the new traveling 
 wraps were donned, piece by piece, amid the 
 liveliest interest of all, which reached its height 
 when Magnhild was drawn before the mirror 
 to see for herself how she looked. The horse 
 had been driven round, and Skarlie just now
 
 52 MAGNHILD. 
 
 came into the room, also dressed for traveling, 
 and wearing a dog-skin coat, deer-skin shoes 
 and leggings, and a flat fur cap. He was nearly 
 as broad as he was long, and in order to raise a 
 laugh, he limped up to the mirror, and, with 
 dry humor in his face, took his stand beside 
 Magnhild. There followed a burst of laughter, 
 in which even Magnhild herself joined but 
 only to become at once entirely mute again. 
 Her silence still hung over the parting. Not 
 until the parsonage was left behind did she be- 
 come again dissolved in tears. 
 
 Her eyes wandered listlessly over the snow- 
 covered heap of ruins on the site of her child- 
 hood's home ; it seemed as though there were 
 that within herself which was shrouded in 
 snow and desolation. 
 
 The weather was cold. The valley grew 
 narrower, the road led through a dense wood. 
 One solitary star was visible. 
 
 Skarlie had been cutting figures in the snow 
 with his whip ; he now pointed the latter to- 
 ward the star and began to hum, finally to sing. 
 The melody he had chosen was that of one of 
 the ballads of the Scottish highlands. Like a 
 melancholy bird, it flitted from one snow-laden 
 fir-tree to another. Magnhild inquired its 
 meaning, and this proved to be in harmony
 
 MAGNHILD. 63 
 
 with a journey through the depths of a forest. 
 Skarlie talked further about Scotland, its his- 
 tory, his sojourn there. 
 
 Once started, he continued, and gradually 
 broke into such merry anecdotes that Magnhild 
 was astonished when they stopped to rest ; as- 
 tonished that she had been able to laugh, and 
 that they had driven nearly fourteen miles. 
 
 Skarlie helped her out of the sledge and 
 ushered her into the inn, but he himself went 
 directly out again to feed the horse. 
 
 A stylish looking young lady sat by the 
 hearth in the guest-room warming herself , 
 scattered over the benches around were her 
 traveling-wraps; they were of such fine mate- 
 rial and costly fur that Magnhild grew curious 
 and felt obliged to touch them. The travel- 
 ing-suit the lady wore, so far as material and 
 htyle was concerned, made the same impression 
 on Magnhild as she might have gained from a 
 zoological specimen from another quarter of the 
 globe. The lady's face possessed youth and a 
 gentle melancholy ; she was fair and had lan- 
 guishing eyes and a slightly-curved nose. Her 
 hair, too, was done up in an unfamiliar style. 
 Pacing the floor was a slender young man ; his 
 traveling boots stood by the hearth and his 
 feet were cased in small morocco slippers, lined
 
 54 MAGNHILD. 
 
 with fur. His movements were lithe and 
 graceful. 
 
 " Are you Skaiiie's young wife ? " inquired 
 the hostess, quite an old woman, who had placed 
 a chair by the hearth for Maguhild. Before 
 Magnhild could reply, Skarlie came in with 
 some things from the sledge. The bald head, 
 half protruding from the shaggy furs, the deer- 
 skin shoes, sprawling like monstrous roots over 
 the floor, attracted the wondering gaze of the 
 young lady. 
 
 " Is this your wife ? " repeated the hostess. 
 
 " Yes, this is my wife," was the cheerful re- 
 ply, as Skarlie limped forward. 
 
 The young man fixed his eyes on Magnhild. 
 She felt herself growing fiery red beneath his 
 gaze. There was an expression entirely new 
 to her in his face. Was it scorn ? The lady, 
 too, now looked at her, and at the same mo- 
 ment the hostess begged Magnhild to take a 
 iieat by the fire. But the latter preferred re- 
 maining in the dark, on a bench in the farthest 
 corner. 
 
 It was fully ten o'clock when the Point wa? 
 reached, but every light there had been extin- 
 guished, even in the house in front of which 
 the sledge stopped. An old woman, awakened 
 by the jingling of the bells, came to the street
 
 MAGXHILD. 55 
 
 door, opened it and looked out, then drew back 
 and struck a light. She met Magnhild in the 
 passage, cast the light on her and said finally, 
 " I bid you welcome." 
 
 A strong smell of leather filled the passage ; 
 for the work-room and shop were to the left. 
 The loathsome odor prevented Magnhild from 
 replying. They entered a room to the right. 
 Here Magnhild hastily removed her traveling- 
 wraps ; she felt faint. Without casting a 
 glance about her, or speaking to the woman 
 who was watching her from behind the light, 
 she then crossed the floor and opened a door she 
 had espied on coming into the room. She first 
 held the light in, then stepped in herself and 
 closed the door after her. The woman heard 
 a rumbling within and went to the door. There 
 she discovered that one of the beds was being 
 moved. Directly afterward Magnhild reap- 
 peared with the candle. The light revealed 
 a flushed face. She looked resolute. 
 
 She now told the woman she had no need of 
 her services. 
 
 The saddler did not come in for some time ; 
 for he had been seeing to the horse, which he 
 nad borrowed for the journey. The- light was 
 till on the table. There was no one up.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Two years had passed since that evening, 
 and the greater part of a third. 
 
 Magnhild was quite as thoroughly accus- 
 tomed to the new daily routine as she had been 
 to the old. 
 
 The priest visited her three or four times a 
 year ; he slept in the room over the work-shop 
 usually occupied by Skarlie when he was at 
 home. During the day the priest visited at 
 the captain's, or the custom-house officer's, or at 
 the home of the chief of police. His coming 
 was called the " priestly visitation." 
 
 There was chess-playing in the day-time and 
 cards in the evening. The priest's wife and 
 young lady daughters had also been seen at 
 the Point a few times. In the lading-town 
 there was scarcely any one with whom Magn- 
 hild associated. 
 
 Skarlie and she had taken one trip to Bergen. 
 Whatever might there have happened or not 
 happened, they never undertook another, either 
 to Bergen or eke where.
 
 MAGNHILD. 57 
 
 Skarlie was more frequently absent than at 
 home ; he was engaged in speculations ; the 
 work-shop was pretty much abandoned, though 
 the store was still kept open. A short time 
 after her arrival, Magnhild had received an in- 
 vitation from the school committee most likely 
 through Skarlie's solicitation to become the 
 head of the industrial school. Henceforth she 
 passed an hour or two every day at the public 
 school ; moreover, she gave private instructions 
 to young girls who were grown up. Her time 
 was employed in walking, singing, and a little 
 sewing ; she did very little reading, indeed. It 
 was tedious to her. 
 
 Directly after she came there, Ronnaug had 
 appeared at the Point, and had hired out at the 
 nearest "skyds " (post-station), in order to earn 
 money speedily for the purchase of a ticket to 
 America. She was determined to live no longer 
 the life of an outcast here, she said. 
 
 Magnhild took charge of Ronnaug's money 
 for her, and was alarmed to note how rapidly 
 it increased, for she had her own thoughts 
 about the matter. Now the ticket was bought, 
 Magnhild would be entirely alone. 
 
 Many were the thoughts called forth by the 
 fact that the journey across the sea to new and 
 perhaps great experiences should be so easy for 
 one person and not for another.
 
 58 MAGNHILD. 
 
 One morning after a sleepless night, Magn- 
 hild took her accustomed walk to the wharf to 
 watch the steamer come in. She saw the usual 
 number of commercial travelers step ashore ; 
 i;he usual number of trunks carried after them ; 
 but this day she also observed a pale man, with 
 long, soft hair and large eyes, walking around 
 a box which he finally succeeded in having 
 lifted on a wagon. " Be careful ! Be careful ! " 
 he repeated again and again. " There must be 
 a piano in the box," though Magnhild. 
 
 After Magnhild had been to school, she saw 
 the same pale man, with the box behind him, 
 standing before the door of her house. He 
 was accompanied by the landlord of one of the 
 hotels. Skarlie had fitted up the rooms above 
 the sitting-room and bed-chamber for the ac- 
 commodation of travelers when the hotels were 
 full. The pale stranger was an invalid who 
 wished to live quietly. 
 
 Magnhild had not thought of letting the 
 rooms to permanent guests and thus assuming 
 a certain responsibility. She stood irresolute. 
 The stranger now drew nearer to her. Such eyes 
 she had never beheld, nor so refined and spirit- 
 lal a face. With strange power of fascination 
 those wondrous eyes were fixed on her. There 
 was, as it were, two expressions combined in
 
 MAGNHILD. 59 
 
 the gaze that held her captive, one behind the 
 other. Magnhild was unable to fathom this 
 accurately ; but in the effort to do so she put 
 her forefinger in her mouth, and became so ab- 
 sorbed in thought that she forgot to reply. 
 
 Now the stranger's countenance changed ; 
 \t grew observant. Magnhild felt this, roused 
 herself, blushed, gave some answer and walked 
 away. What did she say ? Was it " Yes " or 
 No"? The landlord followed her. She had 
 ,iaid " Yes ! " She was obliged to go up-stairs 
 ind see whether everything was in readiness 
 for a guest ; she did not rely very implicitly on 
 her own habits of order. 
 
 There was great confusion when the piano 
 was carried up ; it took time, too, to move the 
 bed, sofa, and other articles of furniture to 
 make room for the instrument. But all this 
 came to an end at last, and quiet once more 
 prevailed. The pale stranger must be tired. 
 Soon there was not a step, not a sound, ovei'- 
 head. 
 
 There is a difference between the silence 
 which is full and that which is empty. 
 
 Magnhild dared not stir. She waited, list- 
 ened. Would the tones of the piano soon fall 
 upon her ear ? The stranger was a composer, so 
 the landlord had said, and Magnhild thought,
 
 60 MAGNHILD. 
 
 too, she had read his name in the newspaper. 
 How would it be when such a person played ? 
 Surely it would seem as though miracles were 
 being wrought. At all events, something would 
 doubtless ring into her poor life which would 
 long give forth resonance. She needed the rev- 
 elation of a commanding spirit. Her gaze wan- 
 dered over the flowers which decorated her 
 window, and on which the sun was now play- 
 ing ; her eyes sought the " Caravan in the Des- 
 ert," which hung framed and glass covered by 
 the door, and which suddenly seemed to her so 
 animated, so full of beautifully arranged groups 
 and forms. With ear for the twittering of the 
 birds in the opposite neighbor's garden and the 
 sporting of the magpies farther off in the fields, 
 she sat in blissful content and waited. 
 
 Through her content there darted the ques- 
 tion, "Will Skarlie be pleased with what you 
 have done ? Is there not danger of injury to 
 the new sofa and the bed too ? The stranger 
 is an invalid, no one can tell" She sprang 
 to her feet, sought pen, ink, and paper, and for 
 the first time in her life wrote a letter to Skar- 
 lie. It took her more than an hour to complete 
 it. This is what she wrote : 
 
 I have let the rooms over the sitting-room
 
 MAGNHILD. 61 
 
 and bed-chamber to a sick raan who plays the 
 piano. The price is left to you. 
 
 I have had one of the new sofas (the hair- 
 cloth) carried up- stairs and one of the spring 
 beds. He wants to be comfortable. Perhaps 
 I have not done right. MAGNHILD. 
 
 She had crossed out the words : " Now I shall 
 have an opportunity to hear some music." The 
 heading of the letter had caused her some 
 trouble ; she finally decided to use none. " Your 
 wife," she had written above the signature, but 
 had drawn her pen through it. Thus fashioned, 
 the letter was copied and sent. She felt easier 
 after this, and again sat still and waited. She 
 saw the stranger's dinner carried up to him; 
 she ate a little herself and fell asleep, she 
 had scarcely had any sleep the previous night. 
 
 She awoke ; there was yet no sounds of mu- 
 sic above. Again she fell asleep, and dreamed 
 that the distance between the mountain peaks 
 had been spanned by a bridge. She told her- 
 self that this was the bridge at Cologne, a lith- 
 ograph of which hung on the wall near the bed- 
 chamber. Nevertheless it extended across the 
 valley from one lofty mountain to the other, 
 oupported by trestle-work from the depths bo- 
 'ow. The longer she gazed the finer, more
 
 62 MAGNHILD. 
 
 richly-colored the bridge became; for lo! it 
 was woven of rainbow threads, and was trans- 
 parent and radiant, all the way up to the 
 straight line from crest to crest. But cross- 
 wise above this, the distance was spanned by 
 another bridge. Both bridges began now to 
 vibrate in slow two-fourths time, and immedi- 
 ately the entire valley was transformed into a 
 sea of light, in which there was an intermin- 
 gled play of all the prismatic hues ; but the 
 bridges had vanished. Nor were the mountains 
 any longer visible, and the dissolving colors 
 filled all conceivable space. How great was 
 this ? How far could she see ? She grew pos- 
 itively alarmed at the infinity of space about 
 her and awoke; there was music overhead. 
 In front of the house stood a crowd of people, 
 silently gazing at the upper window. 
 
 Magnhild did not stir. The tones flowed 
 forth with extreme richness ; there was a bright, 
 gentle grace over the music. Magnhild sat list- 
 ening until it seemed as though these melo- 
 dious tones were being showered down upon 
 head, hands, and lap. A benediction was being 
 bestowed upon her humble home, the world of 
 tears within was filled with light. She pushed 
 her chair farther back into the corner, and as 
 she sat there she felt that she had been found
 
 MAGNHILD. 63 
 
 out by the all-bountiful Providence who had 
 ordered her destiny. The music was the result 
 of a knowledge she did not possess, but it ap- 
 pealed to a passion awakened by it within her 
 soul. She stretched out her arms, drew them 
 in again, and burst into tears. 
 
 Long after the music had ceased, the crowd 
 was gone, the musician still, Magnhild sat 
 motionless. Life had meaning ; she, too, might 
 gain access to a rich world of beauty. As 
 there was now song within, so one day there 
 should be singing around about her. When 
 she came to undress for the night she required 
 both sitting-room and bed-chamber for the pur- 
 pose, and more than half an hour ; for the first 
 time in her life she laid down to rest with a 
 feeling that she had something to rise for in 
 the morning. She listened to the footsteps of 
 her guest above ; they were lighter than those 
 of other people ; his contact with the furniture, 
 too, was cautious. His eyes, with their kindly 
 glow of good-will, and the fathomless depths 
 beyond this, were the last objects she saw dis- 
 tinctly. 
 
 Indescribable days followed. Magnhild went 
 regularly to her lessons, but lost no time in get- 
 ting home again, where she was received by 
 music and found the house surrounded by list
 
 64 MAGNHILD. 
 
 eners. She scarcely went out again the rest 
 of the day. Either her guest was at home and 
 she was waiting for him to play, or he had gone 
 out for a walk, and she was watching for his re- 
 turn. When he greeted her in passing she 
 blushed and drew back. If he came into her 
 room to ask for anything, there ran a thrill 
 through her the moment she heard the ap- 
 proach of his footsteps ; she became confused 
 and scarcely comprehended his words when he 
 stood before her. She had, perhaps, not ex- 
 changed ten words with him in as many days, 
 but she already knew his most trifling habit and 
 peculiarity of dress. She noticed whether his 
 soft brown hair was brushed behind his ears, or 
 whether it had fallen forward; whether his 
 gray hat was pushed back, or whether it was 
 drawn down over his forehead; whether he 
 wore gloves or not ; whether he had a shawl 
 thrown over his shoulders or not. And how 
 was it in regard to herself ? Two new summer 
 dresses had been ordered by her, and she was 
 now wearing one of them. She had also pur- 
 chased a new hat. 
 
 She believed that in music lay her vocation ; 
 but she felt no inclination to make any kind of 
 a beginning. There was enough to satisfy hex 
 in her guest's playing, in his very proximity.
 
 MAGNHILD. 65 
 
 Day by day she developed in budding fullness 
 of thought; her dream-life had prepared her 
 for this : but music was the atmosphere that 
 was essential to her existence : she knew it now. 
 She did not realize that the refined nature of 
 this man of genius, spiritualized and exalted 
 by ill-health, was something new, delightful, 
 thought-inspiring to her ; she gave music alone 
 the credit for the pleasure he instilled into her 
 life. 
 
 At school she took an interest in each scholar 
 she had never experienced before ; she even fell 
 into the habit of chatting with the sailor's wife 
 who did the work of her house. There daily 
 unfolded a new blossom within her soul ; she 
 was as meek as a woman in the transition 
 period, which she had never known. Books 
 she had heard read aloud, or read herself at 
 the parsonage, rose up before her as something 
 new. Forms she had not noticed before stood 
 out in bold relief, they became invested with 
 flesh, blood, and motion. Incidents in real life, 
 as well as in books, floated past like a cloud, 
 suddenly became dissolved and gave distinct 
 pictures. She awoke, as an Oriental maiden is 
 awakened, when her time comes, by song be- 
 neath her window and by the gleam of a tur- 
 ban. 
 
 i
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ONE morning as Magnhild, after making her 
 toilet, went into the sitting-room, humming 
 softly to herself and in joyous mood, to open 
 the window facing the street, she saw a lady 
 standing at the open window of the house op- 
 posite. 
 
 It was a low cottage, surrounded by a garden, 
 and belonged to a government officer who had 
 moved away. Vines were trained about the 
 windows of the house partially covering them, 
 and the lady was engaged in arranging one of 
 the sprays that was in the way. Her head was 
 encircled with ringlets, which were rather black 
 than brown. Her eyes sparkled, her brow was 
 low but broad, her eyebrows were straight, her 
 nose was also straight but quite large and 
 round, her lips were full, her head was so beau- 
 tifully poised on her shoulders that Magnhild 
 could not help noticing it. The open sleevea 
 had fallen back during the work with the 
 vines, displaying her arms. Magnhild was un- 
 able to ' withdraw her eyes. When the lady
 
 MAGNHILD. 67 
 
 perceived Magnhild, she nodded to her and 
 smiled. 
 
 Magnhild became embarrassed, and drew 
 back. 
 
 Just then a child approached the lady, who 
 stooped and kissed it. The child also had 
 ringlets, but they were fair ; the fa.ce was the 
 mother's, and yet it was not the mother's, it 
 was the coloring which misled, for the child was 
 blonde. The little one climbed upon a chair 
 and looked out. The mother caught hold of 
 the vine again, but kept her eyes fixed on 
 Magnhild, and her expression was a most sin- 
 gular one. Magnhild put on her hat ; it was 
 time for her to go to school ; but that look 
 caused her to go out of the back door and re- 
 turn by the same way, when she came home an 
 hour later. 
 
 He was playing. Magnhild paused for a 
 while in her little garden and hearkened, un- 
 til finally she felt that she must go in to see 
 what effect this music had upon the beautiful 
 lady. She went into her kitchen and then 
 cautiously entered her sitting-room, shielding 
 herself from observation. No ; there was no 
 beautiful lady at the window opposite. A 
 sense of relief passed over Magnhild, and she 
 went forward. She was obliged to move some
 
 68 MAGNHILD. 
 
 plants into the sunshine, one of her daily duties, 
 but she came very near dropping the flower- 
 pot into the street, for as she held it in her 
 hands the lady's head was thrust into the open 
 window. 
 
 " Do not be frightened ! " was the laughing 
 greeting, uttered in tones of coaxing entreaty 
 for pardon, that surpassed in sweetness any- 
 thing of the kind Magnhild had ever heard. 
 
 " You will allow me to come in ; will you 
 not?" And before Magnhild could answer, 
 the lady was already entering the house. 
 
 The next moment she stood face to face with 
 Magnhild, tall and beautiful. An unknown 
 perfume hovered about her as she flitted 
 through the room, now speaking of the lithe* 
 graphs on the wall, now of the valley, the 
 mountains, or the customs of the people. The 
 voice, the perfume, the walk, the eyes, indeed 
 the very material and fashion of her dress, es- 
 pecially its bold intermingling of colors, took 
 captive the senses. From the instant she en- 
 tered the room it belonged to her ; if she 
 smelled a flower, or made an observation con- 
 cerning it, forthwith that flower blossomed 
 anew ; for what her eyes rested upon attained 
 precisely the value she gave it. 
 
 Steps were heard above. The lady paused
 
 MAGNHILD. 69 
 
 Magnhild blushed. Then the lady smiled, aiid 
 Magnhild hastened to remark : " That is a 
 lodger who " 
 
 " Yes, I know ; he met me last evening at 
 the wharf." 
 
 Magnhild opened her eyes very wide. The 
 lady drew nearer. 
 
 " My husband and he are very good friends," 
 said she. 
 
 She turned away humming, and cast a glance 
 at the clock in the corner between the bed- 
 room wall and the window. 
 
 " Why, is it so late by your time here ? " She 
 drew out her own watch, u We are to walk to- 
 day at eleven o'clock. You must go with us ; 
 will you not ? You can show us the prettiest 
 places in the wood behind the church and up 
 the mountain slopes." 
 
 Magnhild promptly answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Listen : do you know what ? I will run 
 up-stairs and say that you are going with us, 
 and then we will go at once at once ! " 
 
 She gave Magnhild's hand a gentle pressure, 
 opened the door and sped swiftly up the stairs. 
 Magnhild remained behind and she was very 
 pale. 
 
 There was a whirling, a raging within, a fall. 
 But tiiere was no explosion. On the contrary,
 
 70 MAGNHILD. 
 
 everything became so empty, so still. A few 
 creaking steps above, then not another sound. 
 
 Magnhild must have stood motionless for a 
 long time. She heard some one take hold of 
 the door-knob at last, and involuntarily she 
 pressed both hands to her heart. Then she 
 felt an impulse to fly ; but the little fair curly 
 head of the child, with its innocent, earnest 
 eyes, now appeared in the opening of the door. 
 
 "Is mamma here?" the little one asked, 
 cautiously. 
 
 " She is up-stairs," replied Magnhild, and the 
 sound of her own voice, the very purport of the 
 words she uttered, caused the tears to rise in 
 her eyes and compelled her to turn her face 
 away. 
 
 The child had drawn back its head and closed 
 the door. Magnhild had no time to become 
 clear in her own mind about what had oc- 
 curred ; for the child speedily came down-stairs 
 again and into her room. 
 
 " Mamma is coming ; she said I must wait 
 here. Why are you crying ? " But Magnhild 
 was not crying now. She made no reply, how- 
 ever, to the child, who presently exclaimed: 
 ' Now mamma is coining." 
 
 Magnhild heard the lady's step on the stair, 
 and escaped into her bedroom. She heard th
 
 MAGNHILD. 71 
 
 interchange of words between mother and child 
 in the adjoining room, and then to her conster- 
 nation the bedroom door was opened ; the lady 
 came in. There was not the slightest trace of 
 guilt in her eyes : they diffused happiness, 
 warmth, candor through the whole chamber. 
 But when her gaze met Magnhild's the expres- 
 sion changed, causing Magnhild to drop her 
 eyes in confusion. 
 
 The lady advanced farther into the room. 
 She placed one hand on Magnhild 's waist, the 
 other on her shoulder. Magnhild was forced 
 to raise her eyes once more and met a grieved 
 smile. This smile was also so kind, so firm, 
 and therefore so persuasive, that Magnhild per- 
 mitted herself to be drawn forward, and pres- 
 ently she was kissed softly at first, as though 
 she were merely fanned by a gentle breath, 
 while that unknown perfume which always ac- 
 companied the lady encompassed them both, 
 and the rustle of the silk dress was like a low 
 whisper ; then vehemently, while the lady's 
 bosom heaved and her breath was deeply drawn 
 as from some life-sorrow. 
 
 After this, utter silence and then a whis- 
 pered : " Come now ! " She went on in ad- 
 vance, leading Magnhild by the hand. Magn- 
 hild was a mere child in experience. With
 
 72 MAGNHILD. 
 
 contending emotions she entered the pretty lit 
 tie cottage occupied by the lady, and was soon 
 standing in the midst of open trunks and a 
 wardrobe scattered through two rooms. 
 
 The lady began a, search in one of the 
 trunks, from which she rose with a white lace 
 neckerchief in her hand, saying : " This will suit 
 you better than the one you have on, for that 
 is not at all becoming," and taking off the one 
 Magnhild wore, she tied on the other in a 
 graceful bow, and Magnhild felt herself that it 
 harmonized well with her red dress. 
 
 " But how have you your hair ? You have 
 an oval face and your hair done up in that 
 way ? No " and before Magnhild could offer 
 any resistance she was pressed down into a 
 chair. " Now I shall " and the lady com- 
 menced undoing the hair. Magnhild started 
 up, fiery red and frightened, and said some- 
 thing which was met with a firm : " Certainly 
 not!" 
 
 It seemed as though a strong will emanated 
 from the lady's words, arms, fingers. Magn- 
 hild's hair was unfastened, spread out, brushed, 
 then drawn loosely over the head and done up 
 in a low knot. 
 
 " Now see ! " and the mirror was held up be- 
 fore Magnhild.
 
 MAGNHILD. 73 
 
 All this increased the young woman's em- 
 barrassment to such a degree that she scarcely 
 realized whose was the image in the glass. 
 The elegant lady standing in front of her, the 
 delicate perfume, the child at her knee who 
 with its earnest eyes fixed 0:1 her said, " Now 
 you are pretty ! " and the guest at the oppo- 
 site window who at this moment looked down 
 and smiled. Magnhild started up, and was 
 about to make her escape, but the lady only 
 threw her arms around her and drew her far- 
 ther into the room. 
 
 " Pray, do not be so bashful ! We are going 
 to have such a nice time together; " and once 
 more her attention was full of that sweetness 
 the like of which Magnhild had never known. 
 ' Run over now after your hat and we will 
 start ! " 
 
 Magnhild did as she was bid. But no sooner 
 was she alone than a sense of oppression, a 
 troubled anxiety, wrung her heart, and the 
 lady seemed detestable, officious ; even her kind- 
 ness was distorted into a lack of moderation ; 
 Magnhild failed to find the exact word to ex- 
 press what distressed her. 
 
 " Well ? Are you not coming ? " 
 
 These words were uttered by the lady, who in 
 a jaunty hat, with waving plume, beamed in
 
 74 MAGNHILD. 
 
 through the window. She tossed back her 
 curls, and drew on her gloves. " That hat be- 
 comes you very well indeed," said she. " Come 
 now ! " 
 
 And Magnhild obeyed. 
 
 The little girl attached herself to Magnhild. 
 
 " I am going with you," said she. 
 
 Magnhild failed to notice this, because she 
 had just heard steps on the stairs. Tande, the 
 composer, was coming to join them. 
 
 " How your hand trembles ! " cried the little 
 one. 
 
 A hasty glance from the lady sent the hot 
 blood coursing up to Magnhild's neck, cheeks, 
 temples yet another from Tande, who stood 
 on the door-steps, not wholly free from embar- 
 rassment, and who now bowed. 
 
 "Are we going up in the wood? " asked the 
 little girl, clinging tightly to Magnhild'a hand. 
 
 " Yes," replied the lady ; " is there not a 
 path across the fields behind the house ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is." 
 
 " Then let us go that way." 
 
 They went into the house again, and passed 
 out of the back door, through the garden, across 
 the fields. The wood lay to the left of the 
 church, and entirely covered the plain and the 
 lower mountain slopes. Magnhild and the
 
 MAGNHILD. 75 
 
 child walked on in advance; the lady and 
 Tande followed. 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked the little girl. 
 
 " Magnhild." 
 
 " How funny, for my name is Magda, and 
 that is almost the same." Presently she said : 
 " Have you ever seen papa in uniform ? " 
 
 No, Magnhild never had. 
 
 " He is coming here soon, papa is, and I will 
 ask him to put it on." 
 
 The little girl continued to prattle about her 
 papa, whom she evidently loved beyond all else 
 upcn earth. Sometimes Magnhild heard what 
 she was saying, sometimes she did not hear. 
 The pair walking behind spoke so low that 
 Miignbild could not distinguish a single word 
 they were saying although they were quite 
 near. Once she gave a hasty glance back and 
 observed that the lady's expression was troub- 
 led, Tande's grave. 
 
 They reached the wood. 
 
 " Just see ! here at the very edge of the 
 wood is the most charming spot in the world ! " 
 exclaimed the lady, and now she was radiant 
 again, as though she had never known other 
 than the most jubilant mood. "Let us sit 
 down here ! " and as she spoke she threw her- 
 self down with a little burst of delight and a
 
 76 MAGNHILD. 
 
 laugh. Tande seated himself slowly and at a 
 little distance, Magnhild and the child took 
 their seats opposite the pair. 
 
 The little one sprang directly to her feet 
 again, for her mother wanted flowers, grass, 
 ferns, and moss, and began to bind them at 
 once into nosegays when they were brought to 
 her. It was evidently not the first time Magda 
 had made collections of the kind for her 
 mother, for the child knew every plant by 
 name, and came running up to the group with 
 exclamations of delight whenever she found 
 anything her mother had not yet noticed but 
 which she knew to be a favorite of hers. 
 
 Various topics were brought forward, some 
 of which, although not all, were dwelt upon by 
 Tande, who had stretched himself out on the 
 grass and seemed inclined to rest; but from 
 the moment an affair of recent occurrence was 
 mentioned, concerning a wife who had forsaken 
 her husband, and had eventually been cast off 
 by her lover, he took zealous part, severely 
 censuring the lover, for whom Fru Bang made 
 many excuses. It was absurd, she said, to feign 
 an affection which no longer existed. But at 
 least it was possible to act from a sense of 
 duty, Tande insisted. Ah, to duty they had 
 bid farewell, the lady remarked softly, as she
 
 MAGNHILD. 77 
 
 busied herself in decking Magda's hat with 
 flowers. 
 
 Further conversation incidentally revealed 
 that Fru Bang had been in the habit of min- 
 gling in the first circles of the land ; that she 
 had traveled extensively, and evidently had 
 means to live where and how she pleased. 
 And yet here she sat, full of thoughtful care 
 for Magnhild, for Tande, for the child. She 
 had a kindly word for everything that was 
 mentioned ; her fancy invested the most trifling 
 remark with worth, just as she made the blades 
 of grass she was putting into her nosegay ap- 
 pear to advantage, and managed so that not one 
 of them was lost. 
 
 Tande's long pale face, with its marvelously 
 beautiful smile, and the soft hair falling caress- 
 ingly, as it were, about it, had gradually be- 
 come animated. 
 
 The glowing, richly-tinted woman at his side 
 was part of the world in which he lived and 
 composed. 
 
 The spot on which they sat was surrounded 
 by birch and aspen. The fir was not yet able 
 to gain the mastery over these, although its 
 scions had already put hi an appearance. 
 While such were the case grass and flowers 
 would flourish but no longer.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MAGNHILD awoke the next day, not to joy- 
 ous memories such as she had cherished every 
 morning during the past few weeks. There 
 was something to which she must now rise 
 that terrified her, and, moreover, grieved her. 
 Nevertheless it attracted her. What should 
 she pass through this day ? 
 
 She had slept late. As she stepped into the 
 sitting-room, she saw Fru Bang at the open 
 window opposite, and was at once greeted with 
 a bow and a wave of the hand. Then a hat 
 was held up and turned round. Very soon 
 Magnhild was so completely under the spell of 
 the lady's kind-hearted cordiality, beauty, and 
 vivacity that her school hour was nearly forgot- 
 ten. 
 
 She was met by a universal outcry when she 
 appeared at the school with her hair done up 
 in a new style, and wearing a new hat and a 
 white lace neckerchief over her red dress ! 
 Magnhild had already felt embarrassed at the 
 change, and now her embarrasment increased.
 
 MAGNHILD. 79 
 
 But the genuine, hearty applause that arose 
 from many voices speedily set her at her ease, 
 and she returned home in a frame of mind sim- 
 ilar to that of a public officer whose rank had 
 been raised one degree. 
 
 The weather was fine as on the preceding 
 day. A little excursion was therefore decided 
 on for the afternoon. In the forenoon Tande 
 played. All the windows in the neighborhood 
 were open, and Fru Bang sat in hers and wept. 
 Passers-by stared at her ; but she heeded them 
 not. There was something passionately intense 
 and at times full of anguish in his playing to- 
 day. Magnhild had never before heard him 
 give vent to such a mood. Perhaps he, too, felt 
 it to be a strange bewilderment ; for rousing 
 himself he now conjured up a wealth of bright, 
 glittering bits of imagery which blended into 
 the sunshine without and the buzzing of the 
 insects. This dewy summer day became all at 
 once teeming with discoveries; in the street, 
 now parched and dry, the particles of dust glit- 
 tered, over the meadows quivered the varied 
 tints of green where the aftermath had sprung 
 up, and of yellow and brown where it had not 
 yet made its appearance. There was every- 
 where an intermingling of gold, red, brown, 
 and green in the play of the forest hues. The
 
 80 MAGNHILD. 
 
 loftiest pinnacle of the mighty mountain chair 
 had never been more completely bathed in 
 blue. It stood out in bold relief against the 
 glowing grayish tone in the jagged cliffs about 
 the fjord. The music grew more calm ; pain 
 was uppermost again, but it was like an echo, 
 or rather it seemed as though it were dissolved 
 into drops which ever and anon trickled down 
 into the sunny vigor of the new mood. The 
 lady opposite bowed forward until her head 
 rested on her arm, and her shoulders quivered 
 convulsively. Magnhild beheld this, and drew 
 back. She did not like such an exposure. 
 
 On the excursion that afternoon it again fell 
 to Magnhild's lot to take the lead with the 
 child ; the other two came whispering after 
 them. They found to-day a new tarrying- 
 place, a short distance farther up the mount- 
 ain than where they had assembled the previ- 
 ous day ; the lady had been weeping ; Tande 
 was silent, but he appeared even more spiritual 
 than usual. 
 
 The conversation this time centred in the 
 fjord scenery of Norway, and the depressing in- 
 fluence it must necessarily have on the mind to 
 be so completely shut in by mountains. The 
 various barriers in the spiritual life of the peo- 
 ple were named; old prejudices, established cus-
 
 MAGNHILD. 81 
 
 toms, above all those regulations of the church 
 which had became mere empty forms, hypoc- 
 risy, too, were all reviewed in the most amus- 
 ing manner ; the infinite claims of love, how- 
 ever, were freely conceded. 
 
 " See, there she is sitting with her forefinger 
 in her mouth again," laughed the lady ; this 
 greatly startled Magnhild, and created a fresh 
 flow of merriment. 
 
 A little while after this Magnhild permitted 
 her hair to be decked by Magda with flowers 
 and grass. She hummed softly to herself all 
 the while, a habit she had acquired during the 
 days when she was practicing reading notes at 
 the parsonage. This time her irregular song 
 took higher flights than usual, inasmuch as 
 thoughts filled it, just as the wind inflates a sail. 
 The higher she sang, the stronger her voice be- 
 came, until Magda exclaimed : 
 
 " There comes mamma." 
 
 Magnhild was silent at once. True enough 
 there came the lady, and directly following her 
 Tande. 
 
 " Why, my child, do you sing ? " 
 
 In the course of the day they had fallen into 
 the habit of using the familiar " du ; " that is, 
 Fru Bang used it, but Magnhild could not do so. 
 
 " That is the highest, clearest soprano I have
 
 82 MAGNHILD. 
 
 heard for some time," said Tande, who now 
 drew near, and who was flushed from having 
 taken a few steps at a more rapid pace than 
 usual. 
 
 Magnhild sprang to her feet, so hastily that 
 there fell a shower of flowers and grass to the 
 ground, at the same time putting up her hands 
 to remove Magda's adornments from her hair, 
 which called forth a bitter complaint from the 
 little girl. Tande's words, appearance, and the 
 look he now fastened on her had embarrassed 
 Magnhild, and Fru Bang displayed most kindly 
 tact in endeavoring, as it were, to shield her 
 young friend. 
 
 It was not long before they were on their 
 way home, and they went at once to Tande's 
 room to try Magnhild's voice. 
 
 Fru Bang stood holding her hand. Magn- 
 hild sang the scale, and every note was so firm 
 and true that Tande paused and looked up at 
 her. She was then obliged to admit that she 
 had sung before. 
 
 A feeling of happiness gradually took pos- 
 session of her ; for she was appreciated, there 
 could be no mistake about it. And when a lit- 
 tle two-part song was brought forward and 
 Magnhild proved able to sing the soprano at 
 light, and then a second one was tried and a
 
 MAGNHILD. 83 
 
 third, such joy reigned in the little circle that 
 Magnhild gained inspiration, which gave her a 
 beauty she had never possessed at any previous 
 moment of her life. 
 
 Fru Bang had a fine alto ; her voice was not 
 so cultivated as it was sympathetic ; nor was it 
 strong, but for this reason it was all the better 
 suited to Magnhild's voice, for although the 
 latter doubtless was stronger, Magnhild had 
 never been accustomed to letting out its full 
 strength, nor did she do so now. 
 
 As they gradually became more acquainted 
 with the songs, Tande kept adding to the rich- 
 ness and fullness of the piano the accompani- 
 ments. 
 
 The street had become crowded with peo- 
 ple ; such music had never been heard before in 
 the little town. It was evident that a swarm 
 of new ideas were let loose upon those heads. 
 The thoughts and words of the ensuing evening 
 were no doubt more refined than usual. Upon 
 the children there surely dawned a foreboding 
 of foreign lands. A drizzling rain was falling, 
 the crests of the lofty mountains on both sides 
 of the valley and surrounding the fjord were 
 veiled, but towered up all the higher in fancy. 
 The glorious forest hues, the placid surface of 
 the fjord, now darkened by the rain, the fresh
 
 84 MAGNHILD. 
 
 aftermath of the meadows, and not a disturb- 
 ing sound save from the turbulent stream. 
 Even if a wagon came along, it paused in front 
 of the house. 
 
 The silence of the multitude without har- 
 monized with the mood of those within. 
 
 When the singing at length ended, Tande 
 said that he must devote an hour each day to 
 instructing Magnhild how to use her voice, so 
 that she could make further progress alone 
 when he and Fru Bang were gone. Moreover, 
 they must continue the duet singing, for this 
 was improving to the taste. Fru Bang added 
 that something might be made of that voice. 
 
 Tande's eyes followed Magnhild so search- 
 ingly that she was glad when it was time to 
 take leave. 
 
 She forgot some music she had brought with 
 her, and turning went back after it. Tande 
 was standing by the door. " Thanks for your 
 visit ! " he whispered, and smiled. This made 
 her stumble on the threshold, and overwhelmed 
 with confusion, she came near making a mis- 
 step at the head of the stairs. She entered her 
 sitting-room in great embarrassment. Fru 
 Bang, who was still there waiting to say 
 " Good-night ! " looked at her earnestly. It 
 was some time before she spoke, and then the
 
 MAGNHILD. 85 
 
 greeting was cold and absent-minded. She 
 turned, however, before she had proceeded 
 many steps, and descrying Magnhild's look of 
 surprise, sprang back and clasped her in a fer- 
 vent embrace. 
 
 At no very remote period there had been an 
 evening which Magnhild had thought the hap- 
 piest of her life. But this 
 
 When steps were again heard above she 
 trembled in every fibre of her body. She could 
 see Tande's expression, as he raised his eyes 
 while playing. The diamond, cutting brilliant 
 circles of light over the keys of the piano, the 
 blue-veined hands, the long hair which was 
 continually falling forward, the fine gray suit 
 the musician wore, his silent demeanor, all 
 dissolved into the melodies and harmonies, 
 and with them became blended his whispered 
 " Thanks for your visit ! " 
 
 At the cottage across the street it was dark. 
 
 Magnhild did not seek her couch until mid- 
 night, and then not to sleep ; nor did he who 
 was above sleep ; on the contrary, just as Magn- 
 hild had retired he began to play. He struck 
 up a melancholy, simple melody, in the form of 
 a soprano solo at first, and finally bursting into 
 what sounded like a chorus of female voices; 
 his harmonization was exquisitely pure. With-
 
 86 MAGNHILD. 
 
 out being conscious herself of the transition of 
 thought, Magnhild seemed to be sitting on the 
 hill-side on the day of her confirmation, gazing 
 at the spot where her home had stood. All 
 her little brothers and sisters were about her. 
 The theme was treated in a variety of ways, 
 but always produced the same picture. 
 
 At school the next morning Magnhild was 
 accosted with many questions concerning the 
 preceding evening ; among other things whether 
 she had really taken part in the singing, what 
 they had sung, about the other two, and whether 
 they would sing often. 
 
 The questions filled her with joy: a great 
 secret, her secret, was in its innermost depths. 
 She felt conscious of strange elasticity. She 
 had never made such haste home before. She 
 was looking forward to singing with him again 
 in the forenoon ! 
 
 And she did sing. Tande sent word down 
 by the sailor's wife that he expected her at 
 twelve o'clock. A little before this hour she 
 heard once more that melancholy, pure compo- 
 sition of yesterday. 
 
 Tande met her without a word. He merely 
 bowed and went straight to the piano and then 
 turned his head as before to bid her draw 
 nearer. She sang scales, he gave suggestions
 
 MAGJSHILL>. 87 
 
 as a rule without looking at her; the whole 
 hour passed as a calm matter of business ; she 
 was thankful for this. 
 
 From her lesson she crossed the street to the 
 lady. Fru Bang sat, or rather reclined, on the 
 eofa, with an open book on her lap, and with 
 Magda, to whom she was talking, in front of 
 her. She was grave, or rather sorrowful ; she 
 looked up at Magnhild, but went on talking 
 with the child, as though no one had entered. 
 Magnhild remained standing, considerably dis- 
 appointed. Then the lady pushed aside the 
 child and looked up again. 
 
 " Come nearer!" said she, feebly, and made 
 a motion with the hand that Magnhild did not 
 understand. 
 
 " Sit down there on the footstool, I mean." 
 
 Magnhild obeyed. 
 
 " You have been with him ? " Her fingers 
 loosened Magnhild's hair as she spoke. " The 
 knot is not quite right," then with a little ca- 
 ress, " You are a sweet child I " 
 
 She sat up now, looked Magnhild full in the 
 eyes, gently raising her friend's head as she 
 did so. 
 
 " I have resolved to make you pretty, pret- 
 tier than myself. Do you see what I have 
 bought for you to-day ? "
 
 88 MAGNHILD. 
 
 On the table behind Magnhild lay the mate- 
 rials for a summer costume. 
 
 " This is for you it will be becoming." 
 
 " But, dear lady ! " 
 
 "Hush ! Not a word, my friend ! I am not 
 happy unless I can do something of the kind 
 arid, in this case, I have my own reasons into 
 the bargain." 
 
 Her large, wondrous eyes seemed to float 
 away in dreams. 
 
 " There, that will do ! " said she, and rose 
 hastily. 
 
 "Now we will dine together; but first we 
 must have a short stroll, and in the afternoon 
 a long stroll, and then we will have some sing- 
 ing and afterwards a delightful siesta ; that is 
 what he likes ! " 
 
 But neither short nor long stroll was accom- 
 plished, for it rained. So the lady busied her- 
 self with cutting out Magnhild's dress ; it was 
 to be made in the neighborhood after Fru 
 Bang's own pattern. 
 
 They sang together, and even longer than on 
 the preceding day. A supply of songs for two 
 voices was telegraphed for; a few days later 
 the package arrived. During the days which 
 followed most of the songs were gone through 
 with the utmost accuracy. Every day Magn
 
 MAGNHILD. 89 
 
 hild had her regular lesson. Tande entered 
 into it with the same business-like silence as on 
 the first day. Magnhild gained courage. 
 
 Wonderful days these were ! Song followed 
 upon song, and these three were continually to- 
 gether, chiefly at the lady's, where they most 
 frequently both dined and supped. One day 
 Fru Bang would be in the most radiant mood, 
 the next tormented with headache, and then 
 she would have a black, red, and brown ker- 
 chief tied like a turban, about her head, and 
 would sit or recline on the sofa, in languid 
 revery. 
 
 As they were thus assembled together one 
 day, and Magda stood at the window, the little 
 one said, 
 
 " There goes a man into your house, Magn- 
 hild : he is lame." 
 
 Magnhild sprang up, very red. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Fru Bang, who was 
 lying on the sofa with a headache, and had 
 been talking in a whisper with Tande. 
 
 " Oh I it is " Magnhild was searching for 
 her hat; she found it and withdrew. From 
 the open window she heard the child say : "A 
 lame, ugly man, who " 
 
 Skarlie was working this year on the sea- 
 coast. A foreign ship had been wrecked there
 
 90 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Skarlie and some men in Bergen had bought 
 it; for they could repair it at a much less out- 
 lay than had originally been estimated. They 
 had made an uncommonly good bargain. Skar- 
 lie supervised the carpentering, painting, and 
 leather work of refitting the vessel. He had 
 come home now after a fresh supply of provis- 
 ions for the workmen. 
 
 His surprise on entering his house was not 
 small. Everything in order ! And the room 
 filled with a pleasant perfume. Magnhild 
 came it was a lady who stood before him. 
 Her whole countenance was changed. It had 
 opened out like a flower, and the soft, fair hair 
 floating about neck and drooping shoulders 
 threw a lustre over head and form. She paused 
 on the threshold, her hand on the door-knob. 
 Skarlie had seated himself in the broad chair 
 in the corner, and was wiping the perspiration 
 from his bald head. As soon as his first aston- 
 ifihment was over, he said : " Good-day ! " 
 
 No reply. But Magnhild came in now, and 
 closed the door after her. 
 
 " How fine it looks here," said he. " Is it 
 your lodger " 
 
 He puckered up his lips, his syes grew small. 
 Magnhild looked at him coldly. He contin 
 aed more good-naturedly,
 
 MAGNHILD. 91 
 
 " Did he make your new dress, too ? " 
 
 Now she laughed. 
 
 " How are you getting on ? " she asked, pres- 
 ently. 
 
 " I am nearly through." 
 
 He had acquired the comfortable air of a man 
 who is conscious ofdoing well in the world. 
 
 " It is warm here," said he ; the sun had just 
 burst forth after a long rain, and was scorching, 
 as it can be only in September. He stretched 
 out his legs, as far as the crooked one per- 
 mitted, and lay back, letting his large hands 
 hang down over the arms of the chair, exact 
 pictures of the web-feet of some sea-monster. 
 
 " Why are you staring at me ? " asked he, 
 with his most comical grimace. Magnhild 
 turned with a searching glance toward the win- 
 dow. 
 
 The room had become filled at once with the 
 peculiar saddler odor which attended Skarlie : 
 Magnhild was about to open the window, but 
 thinking better of it stepped back again. 
 
 " Where is your lodger ? " 
 
 " He is across the street." 
 
 "Are there lodgers there, too ? " 
 
 " Yes, a Fru Bang with her daughter." 
 
 " So they are the people you associate 
 with?"
 
 92 MAGNHILD. 
 
 "Yes!" 
 
 He rose, took off his coat, and also laid aside 
 his vest and cravat. Then he filled his cutty 
 with tobacco, lighted it, and sat down again, 
 this time with an elbow resting on one arm of 
 the chair and smoking. With a roguish smile 
 he contemplated his other half. 
 
 " And so you are going to be a lady, Magn- 
 hild?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " Aye ! Well, I suppose I shall have to be- 
 gin to make a gentleman of myself." 
 
 She turned toward him with an amused 
 countenance. His chest, thickly covered with 
 dark red hair, was bare, for his shirt was 
 open ; his face was sunburned, his bald head 
 white. 
 
 " The deuce ! how you stare at me ! I am 
 not nearly as good-looking as your lodger, I 
 can well believe. Hey ? " 
 
 " Will you have something to eat ? " asked 
 she. 
 
 " I dined on the steamer." 
 
 " But to drink ? " 
 
 She went out after a bottle of beer, and 
 ^ laced it with a glass on the table beside him. 
 He poured out the beer and drank, looking 
 across the street as he did so.
 
 MAGNHILD. 93 
 
 " That 's a deuce of a woman ! Is that the 
 lady ? " 
 
 Magnhild grew fiery red ; for she too saw 
 Fru Bang standing at the window, staring at 
 the half -disrobed Skarlie. 
 
 She fled into her chamber, thence into the 
 garden, and there seated herself. 
 
 She had only been there a few minutes when 
 she heard first the chamber, then the kitchen 
 door open, and finally the garden door was 
 opened by her husband. 
 
 " Magnhild ! " he called. " Yes, there she 
 is." 
 
 Little Magda's light curly head was now 
 thrust out, and turned round on every side 
 until Magnhild was seen, and then the child 
 came slowly toward her. Skarlie had gone 
 back into the house. 
 
 " I was sent to ask if you were not coming 
 over to take dinner with us." 
 
 " Give greetings and thanks ; I cannot come 
 now." 
 
 The child bestowed on her a mute look of 
 inquiry, then asked : " Why can you not ? Is 
 it because that man has come ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Who is he ? " 
 
 It was in Magnhild's mind to say, " He is
 
 94 MAQNHILD. 
 
 my ; but it would not cross her lips ; and 
 
 BO without speaking she turned to conceal her 
 emotion from the child. The little one stood 
 silently waiting for some time ; finally she 
 asked, 
 
 " Why are you crying, Magnhild ? ' 
 
 This was said so sweetly : it chimed in with 
 the memory of the whole bright world which 
 was once more closed, that Magnhild clasped 
 its little representative in her arms, and bow- 
 ing over the curly head burst into tears. Fi- 
 nally, she whispered, 
 
 " Do not question me any more, little Mag- 
 da ; but go home now, this way, through the 
 garden gate, and tell mamma that I cannot 
 come any more." 
 
 Magda obeyed, but she looked over her 
 shoulder several times as she walked away. 
 
 Magnhild removed all traces of tears, and 
 went out to make some purchases ; for her 
 larder was nearly empty. 
 
 When she returned home, and passed through 
 the sitting-room, Skaiiie was still in his chair ; 
 ne had been taking a little nap ; now he 
 yawned and began to fill his cutty. 
 
 " Did you tell me the lady across the street 
 ras married ? " 
 
 " Yes."
 
 MAGNHILD. 95 
 
 " Is he married, too ? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 " I saw them kissing each other," said he. 
 
 Magnhild grew very pale and then red. 
 
 " I have never seen anything of the kind." 
 
 " No, of course not ; they did not suppose 
 that I saw them either," said he, and began to 
 light his cutty. 
 
 Magnhild could have struck him. She went 
 directly to the kitchen, but could not avoid com- 
 ing back again. Skarlie greeted her with, 
 
 " It is no wonder they make much of you, 
 for you serve as a screen." 
 
 She had brought in a cloth to spread the ta- 
 ble, and she flung it right at his laughing face. 
 He caught it, however, and laughed all the 
 louder, until the tears started in his eyes ; he 
 could not restrain his laughter. 
 
 Magnhild had run back into the kitchen, and 
 she stood in front of the butter, cheese, and 
 milk she had ready to carry into the adjoining 
 room, stood there and wept. 
 
 The door opened, and Skarlie came limping 
 in. 
 
 " I have spread the cloth," said he, not yet 
 free from laughter, " for that, I presume, was 
 what you wanted : eh ? " and now he took up 
 one by one the articles that stood before Magn-
 
 96 MAGNHILD. 
 
 hild, and carried them into the next room. He 
 asked good-naturedly after something that was 
 wanting, and actually received an answer. 
 After a while Magnhild had so far recovered 
 her composure as to set the kettle on the fire 
 for tea. 
 
 Half an hour later the two sat opposite each 
 other at their early evening meal. Not a word 
 more about those across the street. Skarlie 
 commenced telling of his work on the steamer, 
 but broke off abruptly, for Tande began to 
 play. Skarlie had taste for music. It was a 
 restless, almost defiant strain that was heard ; 
 but how it brightened the atmosphere. And 
 it ended with the little melody that always 
 transported Magnhild to the home of her par- 
 ents, with the fair heads of her little brothers 
 and sisters round about. Skarlie evidently 
 listened with pleasure, and when the playing 
 ceased, he praised it in extravagant terms. 
 Then Magnhild told him that she was singing 
 with Tande ; that he thought she had a good 
 voice. She did not get beyond this; for the 
 playing began anew. When it had ceased 
 again, Skarlie said, 
 
 " See here, Magnhild ! Let that man give 
 you all the instruction he will; for he is a 
 master and with the rest you need not med- 
 dle."
 
 MAGNHILD. 97 
 
 Skarlie was still in extraordinarily high 
 spirits when, weary from his journey, he went 
 up to the room over the saddler workshop to 
 go to bed. He filled his pipe, and took an Eng- 
 lish book and a light up-stairs with him. 
 
 Magnhild thoroughly aired the room after 
 him, opening all the windows as soon as he was 
 gone. She paced the room in the dark for a 
 long while ere she laid herself down to sleep. 
 
 The next morning she stole out of the back 
 door to school, and returned the same way. 
 
 She found the whole school in a state of re- 
 joicing over the news Skarlie had just brought, 
 that a quantity of hand-work for which he had 
 undertaken to find purchasers in town had 
 been sold to unusually great advantage. He 
 had doubtless told her this in the course of the 
 morning, but she had been so absorbed in her 
 own affairs that it had made no impression on 
 her. Scarcely was this theme exhausted when 
 one of the young girls (there were both chil- 
 dren and grown people in attendance at this 
 hour) expressed her surprise at Magnhild's ap- 
 pearance, which was so different from that of 
 the preceding days. The pupils inquired if 
 anything was amiss. Magnhild did not wear 
 the dress, either, that was so becoming to her, 
 that is, the one given to her by the lady. It 
 7
 
 98 MAGNHILD. 
 
 was hunch-back Marie, and tall, large-eyea 
 Ellen who were the loudest of all in both de- 
 light and astonishment. Magnhild felt ill at 
 ease among them, and took her departure as 
 early as possible. As soon as she had reached 
 home it was announced to her by the sailor's 
 wife that Tande was expecting her. A brief 
 struggle ensued ; and then she put on the 
 dress which became her best. She was re- 
 ceived as she had been received yesterday, the 
 day before, and every other day : he greeted 
 her with a slight bow, took his seat at the piano 
 and struck a few chords. She was so thankful 
 for his reserve, and especially to-day, that she 
 her desire to show her appreciation failed to 
 find utterance. 
 
 As she came down-stairs she saw Skarlie and 
 Fru Bang standing by the lady's door, in close 
 conversation ; they were both laughing. Magn- 
 hild stole in unperceived and continued to watch 
 them. 
 
 There was a changeful play of expression in 
 the countenances of both, and herein they were 
 alike ; but here, too, the resemblance ceased, for 
 Skarlie had never looked so ugly as he did now 
 in the presence of this beautiful woman. More, 
 over, the smooth, glossy hat he wore completely 
 covered his forehead, giving his face a con
 
 MAGNHILD. 99 
 
 traded look; for the forehead alone was al- 
 most as large as all the rest of the face. Magn- 
 hild was conscious of him at this moment to 
 the extreme tips of her fingers. 
 
 The lady was all vivacity ; it flashed from 
 her as she tossed back her head and set all her 
 ringlets in fluttering motion, or shifted her foot, 
 accompanying the act with a swaying move- 
 ment of the upper part of the body, or with a 
 wave of her hand aided in the utterance of 
 some thought, or indicated another with an 
 eager gesture. 
 
 The hasty, assured glances the two exchanged 
 gave the impression of combat. It seemed as 
 though they would never get through. Were 
 they interested in each other ? Or in the mere 
 act of disputing ? Or in the subject they were 
 discussing? Had not Tande come down-stairs, 
 their interview would scarcely have drawn to 
 a conclusion that forenoon. But as he ap- 
 proached with a bow Skarlie limped away, still 
 laughing, and the other two went into the lady's 
 house, she continuing to laugh heartily. 
 
 " A deuce of a woman ! " said Skarlie, all 
 excitement. " Upon my word she could very 
 easily turn a man's head." 
 
 And while he was scraping the ashes from 
 bis cutty, he added : " If she were not so kind-
 
 100 MAGNHILD. 
 
 hearted she would be positively diabolical. 
 She sees everything ! " 
 
 Maghhild stood waiting for more. 
 
 He glanced at her twice while he was filling 
 his cutty from his leathern pouch ; he looked 
 pretty much as one who thought : " Shall I say 
 it or not?" She knew the look and moved 
 away. But perhaps this very action of hers 
 gave the victory to his taunting impulse. 
 
 "She saw that there was light last night up 
 OTer my workshop. I really thought she was 
 going to ask whether " 
 
 Magnhild was already in the kitchen. 
 
 At noon a wagon drove up to the door; 
 Skarlie was obliged to go out into the country 
 to buy meat for his workmen down on the sea- 
 coast. 
 
 As soon as he was gone, the lady came run- 
 ning across the street. It was now as it ever 
 had been. Scarcely did she stand in the room, 
 shedding around her sweet smile, than every 
 bad thought concerning her crept away abashed, 
 and with inward craving for pardon, Magnhild 
 yielded to the cordial friendliness with which 
 the lady threw her arms about her, and kissed 
 her and drew her head down caressingly on 
 her shoulder. This time there was not a word 
 spoken, but Magnhild felt the same sympathy
 
 MAGNHILD. 101 
 
 in every caress that had accompanied every 
 previous embrace and kiss. When the lady 
 released her, they moved away in different di- 
 rections. Magnhild busied herself in breaking 
 off a few withered twigs from one of the plants 
 in the window. 
 
 Suddenly her cheek and neck were fanned by 
 the lady's warm breath. " My friend," was 
 softly whispered into her ear, " my sweet, pure 
 little friend I You are leading a wild beast 
 with your child hands." 
 
 The words, the warm breath which, as it 
 were, infused magic into them, sent a tremor 
 through Magnhild's frame. The tears rolled 
 down her cheeks and fell on her hand. The 
 lady saw this and whispered : " Do not fear 
 You have in your singing an enchanted ring 
 which you only need turn when you wish your- 
 self away ! Do not cry ! And turning Mag"- 
 hild round, she folded her in her arms again. 
 
 " This afternoon the weather is tine ; this 
 afternoon we will all be together in the wood 
 and in the house, and we will sing and laugfc 
 Ah ! there are not many more days left to 
 us!" 
 
 These last words stabbed Magnhild to the 
 heart. Autumn was nigh at hand, and soon 
 she would be alone again.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THEY were up-stairs in the afternoon, stand- 
 ing by the piano singing, when they heard 
 Skarlie come home and go into the sitting- 
 room below. Without making any remarks 
 about this, they went on singing. They sang 
 at last by candle-light, with the windows still 
 open. 
 
 When Magnhild came down-stairs Skarlie 
 too had his windows open; he was sitting in 
 the arm-chair in the corner. He rose now and 
 closed the windows ; Magnhild drew down the 
 curtains, and in the mean time Skarlie struck a 
 light. While they were still in the dark, he 
 began to express his admiration of the singing 
 to which he had been listening. He praised 
 Magnhild's voice as well as the lady's alto, and 
 of his wife's soprano he repeated his praise. 
 " It is as pure as you are yourself, my child," 
 said he. He was holding a match to the candle 
 as he spoke, and he appeared almost good-look- 
 ing, so calm and serious was his shrewd coun- 
 tenance. But ere long there came the play of
 
 MAGNHILD. 103 
 
 other thoughts. This indicated a change of 
 mood. 
 
 " While you were singing her husband, the 
 captain of engineers, arrived." Magnhild 
 thought he was jesting, but Skarlie added : 
 " He sat in the window opposite listening." 
 Here he laughed. 
 
 This so alarmed Magnhild that she was un- 
 able to sleep until late that night. For the 
 first time it occurred to her that Fru Bang's 
 husband might be repulsive to her, and she 
 considered the lady's conduct from this point 
 of view. What if those two people really loved 
 each other ? Suppose it were her own case ? 
 She found herself blushing furiously ; for at 
 once Tande's image rose distinctly before her. 
 
 When she awoke the next morning she in- 
 voluntarily listened. Had the tempest already 
 broken loose ? Hurriedly putting on her clothes 
 she went into the sitting-room, where Skarlie 
 was preparing to start off again. A portion of 
 the articles he was to have taken with him had 
 not yet arrived ; he was obliged to go with 
 what he had and come again in a few days. 
 He took a friendly leave of Magnhild. 
 
 She accompanied him as far as the school. 
 
 Scarcely had she returned home than she 
 saw a man with red beard and light hair come
 
 104 MAGNHILD. 
 
 out of the house opposite, holding little Magda 
 by the hand. This must be Magda's papa. 
 The little girl had his light hair and something 
 of his expression of countenance ; but neither 
 his features, nor his form ; he was of a heavy 
 build. They crossed the street, entered the 
 house, and went up-stairs. Surely there could 
 be no quarrel when the child was along ? 
 Magnhild heard Tande go dress himself, and 
 she heard an audible, " Good-day I Are you 
 here ? " in Tande's voice. 
 
 Then nothing more, for now the door was 
 softly closed. So filled with anxiety was she 
 that she listened for the least unusual sound 
 overhead ; but she heard only the steps now of 
 one, now of both. Soon the door opened, she 
 heard voices, but no contention. All three 
 came down -stairs and went out into the street 
 where the lady stood waiting for them, in her 
 most brilliant toilet, and with the smile of her 
 holiday mood. Tande greeted her, she cordially 
 held out her hand. Then the whole four walked 
 past the house-door, and turned into the garden 
 way to take the usual path across the fields to 
 the wood and the mountains. At first, they 
 sauntered slowly along in a group; later, the 
 father went on in advance with the child, who 
 seemed desirous to lead the way, and the lady
 
 MAGNHILD. 105 
 
 and Tande followed, very slowly, very confi- 
 dentially. Magnhild was left behind alone, 
 overwhelmed with astonishment. 
 
 In the afternoon Magda came over with her 
 papa. He greeted Magnhild with a smile and 
 apologized for coming; his little daughter had 
 insisted on his paying his compliments to her 
 friend, he said. 
 
 Magnhild asked him to take a seat, but he 
 did not do so at once. He looked at her flow- 
 ers, talked about them with an air of under- 
 standing such as she had never heard before, 
 and begged to be allowed to send her some new 
 plants upon whose proper care he enlarged. 
 
 "It is really little Magda who will send 
 them," said he, turning with a 'mile toward 
 Magnhild. This time she was conscious that 
 he was shyly observing her. 
 
 He looked at the pictures on the wall, the 
 bridge at Cologne, the Falls of Niagara, the 
 White House at Washington, the Caravan in 
 the Desert, and " Judith," by Horace Vernet ; 
 examined also some photographs of unknown, 
 often uncouth-looking men and women, some of 
 them in foreign costumes. 
 
 " Your husband has been a traveler," said 
 he, and his eyes glided from the portraits back 
 to " Judith," while he stood stroking his beard
 
 106 MAGXHILD. 
 
 " Have you been long married ? " he pres- 
 ently asked, taking a seat. 
 
 " Nearly three years," she replied, and col- 
 ored. 
 
 "You must put on your uniform so that 
 Magnhild can see you in it," said the little 
 girl; she had posted herself between her fa- 
 ther's knees, now toying with his shirt studs, 
 now with his beard. He smiled ; certain wrin- 
 kles about the eyes and mouth became more 
 apparent when he smiled, and bore witness of 
 sorrow. Musingly he stroked the little one's 
 hair ; she nestled her head up against him, so 
 lovingly, so trustingly. 
 
 He awoke at last from his revery, cast a shy, 
 wondering look at Magnhild, stroked his beard, 
 and said, 
 
 " It is very beautiful here." 
 
 " When will you send Magnhild the flowers 
 you spoke of ? " interrupted the little girl. 
 
 " As soon as I get back to town," said he, 
 caressing the child. 
 
 " Papa is building a fort," explained Magda, 
 not without pride. " Papa is building at home, 
 too," she added. " Papa is all the time build- 
 ing, and now we have a tower to our house, and 
 all the rooms are so pretty. You just ought 
 to see."
 
 MAGNHILD. 107 
 
 And she fell to describing her home to Magn- 
 hild, which, however, she had often done be- 
 fore. The father listened with that peculiar 
 smile of his that was not altogether a smile, 
 and as though to turn the conversation he has- 
 tily observed : " We took a short stroll up the 
 mountains this morning (here the little girl ex- 
 plained where they had been) and then " 
 There was undoubtedly something he wanted 
 to say ; but a second thought must have flashed 
 across the first. 
 
 He became absorbed again in thought. Just 
 then Tande began to play overhead. This 
 brought life to the countenance of Magda's fa- 
 ther, a wondering, shy look stole over it, and 
 bowing his head he began to stroke his little 
 daughter's hair. 
 
 " He plays extraordinarily well," he re- 
 marked, and rose to his feet. 
 
 The next day the captain left. He might 
 perhaps return later to meet the general of en- 
 gineers, with whom he had to make a tour of 
 inspection. The life of those left behind glided 
 now into its accustomed channels. 
 
 One evening Magnhild appeared at Fru 
 Bang's with a very carelessly arranged toilet. 
 
 As soon as the lady noticed this she gave 
 Magnhild a hint, and herself covered her r&
 
 108 MAGNHILD. 
 
 treat. Magnhild was so much mortified that 
 she could scarcely be prevailed upon to enter 
 the sitting-room again ; but amid the laughing 
 words of consolation heaped upon her she for- 
 got everything but the never-wavering goodness 
 and loving forethought of her friend. It was 
 so unusual for Magnhild to express herself as 
 freely as she did now, that the lady threw her 
 arms about her and whispered, 
 
 " Yes, my child, you may well say that I am 
 good to you, for you are killing me ! " 
 
 Magnhild quickly tore herself away. She 
 sought no explanation with words, she was by 
 far too much startled ; but her eyes, the expres- 
 sion of her face, her attitude, spoke for her. 
 The door was opened, and Magnhild fell from 
 surprise to painful embarrassment. Tande had, 
 meanwhile, turned toward Magda, humming 
 softly, as though he observed nothing ; he 
 amused himself by playing with the little one. 
 Later he talked with Magnhild about her sing- 
 ing, which he told her she must by no means 
 drop again. If arrangements could be made for 
 her to live in the city, and that could so easily 
 be brought about, he would not only help her 
 himself, but procure for her better aid than his. 
 
 Fru Bang was coming and going, giving di. 
 rections about the evening meal. The maid
 
 MAGNHILD. 109 
 
 entered with a tray, on which were the cream 
 and other articles, and by some untoward 
 chance Fru Bang ran against it directly in front 
 of Magnhild and Tande, and her efforts to pre- 
 vent the things from falling proved fruitless, 
 because the others did not come speedily enough 
 to her aid. Everything was overthrown. The 
 dresses of both ladies were completely bespat- 
 tered. Tande at once drew out his pocket 
 handkerchief and began to wipe Magnhild 's. 
 
 " You are less attentive to me than to her," 
 laughed the lady, who was much more soiled 
 than Magnhild. 
 
 He looked up. 
 
 ** Yes, I know you better than her," he an- 
 swered, and went on wiping. 
 
 Fru Bang grew ashen gray. " Hans ! " she 
 exclaimed, and burst into tears. Then she has- 
 tened into the next room. Magnhild under- 
 stood this as little as what had previously oc- 
 curred. Indeed, it was not until months had 
 elapsed that one day, as she was wandering 
 alone through the wintry slush of a country 
 road, with her thoughts a thousand miles away 
 from the lady and the whole scene, she sud- 
 denly stood still: the full meaning of Fru 
 Bang's behavior rushed over her. 
 
 Tande had risen to his feet, for Magnhild had
 
 110 MAGNHILD. 
 
 drawn back in order not to accept any further 
 assistance from him. That she could act so, 
 and that his name was " Hans," was all that 
 was clear to her at this moment. Tande slowly 
 paced the floor. He was very pale ; at least so 
 it seemed to Magnhild, although she could not 
 see very well, for it was beginning to grow 
 dark. Should she follow the lady, or withdraw 
 altogether? Magda was in the kitchen; she 
 finally concluded to go to her. And out there 
 she helped the little girl fill a dish with pre- 
 serves. From the chamber which adjoined the 
 kitchen she soon heard a low conversation and 
 sobs. When Magda and she went into the sit- 
 ting-room with the dish, Tande was not there. 
 They waited so long for the evening meal that 
 Magda fell asleep and Magnhild had to go 
 home. 
 
 Not long afterward she heard Tande, too, 
 come home. The next forenoon she sang with 
 him ; he appeared quite as usual. In the after- 
 noon she met the lady by chance in the street, 
 and she made sundry criticisms on Magnhild's 
 improvising, which she had heard, a little while 
 before, through the open window ; at the same 
 time she straightened Magnhild's hat, which 
 was not put on exactly right. 
 
 Skarlie came home again. He told Magn-
 
 MAGNHILD. Ill 
 
 hild that on a trip to Bergen he had traveled 
 with Captain Bang. 
 
 There was a person on the steamer, he said, 
 who knew about Fru Bang's relations with 
 Tande and spoke of them. Magnhild had 
 strong suspicions that Skarlie himself was that 
 person; for after he had been home the last 
 time she had heard allusions to these relations 
 from Tande's woman-servant, the sailor's wife, 
 and several others. 
 
 " The captain is good-natured," said Skarlie; 
 *' he considers himself unworthy to be loved by 
 so much soul and brilliancy. He was, there- 
 fore, rejoiced that his wife had at last found an 
 equal." 
 
 " You seem delighted," Magnhild replied . 
 " you appear more disgusting than you " She 
 was just going to Fru Bang's, and withdrew 
 without deigning to complete the sentence. 
 
 She was to accompany Magda to an exhibi- 
 tion to be given by an old Swedish juggler, 
 with his wife and child, on the square some 
 distance behind the house. 
 
 When Magnhild came in, the lady met her 
 all dressed ; she was going to the show, too. 
 The explanation of this speedily followed ; that 
 is to say, Tande appeared to accompany them. 
 He reported that the general had arrived.
 
 112 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Then they set off, Magda and Magnhild, tlie 
 lady and Tande. A crowd of people had as- 
 sembled, most of them outside of the inclos- 
 ure, where they could pay what they pleased. 
 Within the inclosure there were " reserved " 
 places, that is, benches, and to these the lady 
 and her party repaired. 
 
 The old juggler was already in his place, 
 where, with the aid of his wife, he was prepar- 
 ing for the show. He bore a ludicrous resem- 
 blance to Skarlie, was bald, had a snub-nose, was 
 large and strong-looking, and his face was not 
 devoid of humor. Scarcely had Magnhild made 
 this discovery than she heard Magda whisper 
 to her mother, 
 
 " Mamma, he looks just like Magnhild's hus- 
 band." 
 
 The lady smiled. At the same moment the 
 old juggler stepped up to them. Among the 
 reserved places was one "especially reserved," a 
 bench, that is, with a back to it. The old man 
 was quite hoarse, and his language, so far as it 
 could be comprehended, was such a droll mix- 
 ture of Swedish and Norwegian, that those 
 nearest laughed; and the clown-like courtesy of 
 his manner also created a laugh, even among 
 those at a distance. But so soon as the laugh 
 oegan Tande stepped back a few paces. The
 
 MAGNHILD. 113 
 
 lady went forward, and Magda and Magnhild 
 followed. 
 
 The old juggler had a wife much younger 
 than himself, a black-haired, hollow-eyed, sor- 
 rowfully thin person, who had the general ap- 
 pearance of having been unfortunate. There 
 soon came skipping out of the tent a little lad 
 with curly hair, sprightly eyes, and an air of 
 refinement over face and form which he did not 
 get from his mother, still less from the old 
 clown. He was dressed as a jester, but was 
 evidently anything else. He paused at his 
 mother's side and asked her some question. He 
 spoke in French. The lady, who was annoyed 
 by Tande's foolish shyness, addressed the boy 
 in his native tongue. The little fellow came 
 forward, but merely to pause at a short distance 
 and stand viewing her with an expression of 
 dignified inquiry. This amused her, and tak- 
 ing out her purse she handed him quite a large 
 coin. 
 
 " Merci, Madame I " said he, making a low 
 bow. 
 
 * Kiss the lady's hand ! " commanded the old 
 man. The boy obeyed, with shy haste. Then 
 he ran back to the tent, whence was heard the 
 Darking of dogs. 
 
 Suddenly there arose a commotion in th<<
 
 114 MAGNHILD. 
 
 crowd behind those who were seated. A 
 woman with a child three or four years old in 
 her arms was trying to push her way forward. 
 She could not stand and hold the child forever, 
 she said ; she wanted to sit down. She was 
 quite as good as any one else present. 
 
 But there seemed to be no seat vacant except 
 on the front bench. So to the front bench she 
 went, to the great sport of the multitude ; for 
 she was well known. She was no other than 
 " Machine Martha." Two years before she had 
 come to the Point with a child and a large and 
 a small sewing-machine, with which she sup- 
 ported herself, for she was capable. She had 
 deserted her husband with an itinerant trades- 
 man, who dealt, among other things, in sewing- 
 machines. He had deceived her. Since then 
 she had fallen into wretched habits of drunk- 
 enness, and had become thoroughly degraded. 
 Her face was^ rough and her hair disheveled. 
 Nevertheless, she still seemed to have sufficient 
 energy left to raise a storm. She seated herself 
 directly beside the lady, who shrank away, for 
 Martha smelled strongly of beer. 
 
 The old juggler had noticed the involuntary 
 movement the lady made. He was on hand at 
 once, aad, in a hoarse, rough voice, ordered 
 Martha to take another place.
 
 MAGNHILD. 115 
 
 She must liave been abashed herself by all 
 the silk she had come into contact with, for she 
 now got up and moved away. 
 
 As she was watching her Magnhild descried 
 Skarlie. At his side Martha paused. Soon she 
 came forward again. " I will sit there, I tell 
 you," said she, and resuming her seat she placed 
 the child on the bench beside her. 
 
 The old juggler left his preparations. He 
 had grown angry. " You cursed " here he 
 must have remembered the fine company he 
 was in, for he continued: "It costs money to 
 sit here." He spoke Swedish. 
 
 " Here is a mark ! " said the woman, holding 
 out the coin as she spoke. 
 
 " Very well," said he, hoarsely ; " but sit on 
 another bench. Will the ladies and gentlemen 
 please move closer together?" he begged of 
 those on the nearest benches. Whether his di- 
 rections were followed or not, Martha did not 
 stir. 
 
 " The devil a bit will I move," said she. 
 
 " Let her stay where she is," whispered the 
 lady. 
 
 " Not for any sum," replied the gallant old 
 man. " These seats are reserved for the highest 
 aristocracy," and he took hold of the child. Bui 
 now Martha sprang up like one possessed.
 
 116 MAGNHILD. 
 
 " You Swedish troll I " cried she, " will you 
 let my child alone ? " 
 
 The crowd burst into stormy shouts of laugh- 
 ter, and encouraged thereby, she continued : 
 " Highest aristocracy ? Pshaw I She is a 
 she, as well as I." The word shall remain un- 
 written ; but Martha looked significantly at the 
 lady. A volley of laughter, and then, as at 
 the word of command, the silence of the grave. 
 
 The lady had started up, proud and beauti- 
 ful. She looked around for her escort. She 
 wished to leave. Tande was standing not very 
 far off, with a couple of travelers, who had 
 begged to be presented to the well-known com- 
 poser. The lady's flaming eyes met his. He 
 gazed back at her intently. Every one was 
 looking at him. But no one could penetrate 
 his gaze, any farther than they could have pen- 
 etrated a polished steel ball. 
 
 And yet, however unfathomable those eyes, 
 there was one thing they said plainly enough : 
 " Madame, I know you not ! " And his refined, 
 arched brow, his delicately-chiseled nose, his 
 tightly-compressed lips, his hollow cheeks, aye, 
 the glittering diamond studs in his shirt, the 
 aristocratic elegance of his attire, all said, 
 u Touch me not ! " Over his eyes were drawn 
 after veil.
 
 MAGNHILD. 117 
 
 It was all the work of a moment. The lady 
 turned to Magnhild as though to call on her to 
 bear witness. And yet no ! There was no one 
 in the world beside him and herself who could 
 know how great was the offering that now was 
 burnt, how great the love he now flung from 
 him. 
 
 Again the lady turned toward him a look, as 
 brief as a flash of lightning. What indigna- 
 tion, what a great cry of anguish, what a swarm 
 of memories, what pride, what contempt, did 
 she not hurl at him. Magnhild received the 
 quivering remains as she turned to her to aye, 
 what should she do now ? Her face suddenly 
 betrayed the most piteous forlornness, and at the 
 same time a touching appeal, as that of a child. 
 The tears rolled down her cheeks. Magnhild, 
 entering completely into her mood, impulsively 
 held out her hand. The lady grasped it and 
 pressed it so vehemently that Magnhild had to 
 exercise all her self-control not to scream aloud. 
 The poor, wounded, repulsed woman gathered 
 together all her inward strength through this 
 outward expenditure of force, and thus she 
 became uplifted. For at the same time she 
 smiled. And lo ! across that part of the square 
 \vhere the tight rope was stretched and where 
 spectators were forbidden to intrude, there
 
 11.8 MAGNHILD. 
 
 strode at this moment two officers, seen by 
 all ; but how could admittance be refused to 
 a general's cap ? And such a one was worn 
 by the all-powerful individual who, with long 
 strides and wide-swinging arms, as though he 
 were himself both commander and army, ad- 
 vanced with his adjutant on the left flank. Al- 
 ready from afar he saluted, in the most respect- 
 ful manner, his captain's beautiful wife. She 
 hastened to meet her deliverer. On the gen- 
 eral's arm she was led back to her place, while 
 he himself took a seat by her side. The ad- 
 jutant fell to Magnhild's lot, after the lady had 
 introduced them. The general stole many a 
 glance at Magnhild, and the adjutant was all 
 courtesy. This was almost the only thing 
 Magnhild noticed. She was quivering in every 
 nerve. 
 
 The lady sparkled with wit, sprightliness, 
 beauty. But every now and then she would 
 seize Magnhild's hand, and press it with re- 
 morseless energy. She strengthened herself in 
 the reality of the moment. The bodily pain 
 this caused Magnhild corresponded with the 
 spiritual pain she experienced. She heard the 
 adjutant at her side and Magda cry out in won- 
 der. She, too, now saw several balls glittering 
 in the air, and she saw a large one weighed by
 
 MAGNHILD. 119 
 
 a spectator, and then cast into the air by the 
 old athlete, as though it were a play ball, and 
 caught again on his arm, shoulder, or breast ; 
 but at the same time she heard the lady tell 
 the general that she would leave the next morn- 
 ing under his escort ; she had been waiting for 
 him since her husband could not come. 
 
 Magnhild well knew that all was now over: 
 but would the end come as soon as the next 
 morning? A loud outcry, coming chiefly from 
 the voices of boys, cut through her pain. The 
 old man had thrown the large ball into the air 
 with both hands, and then quite a small ball, 
 and continued to keep them in rapid motion 
 for some time. To Magnhild the small ball 
 represented herself ; and the large one ? It 
 was not in order to search for an adequate sym- 
 bol, nor did she apply it, but everything be- 
 came symbolic. The perpetual glitter of the 
 balls in the air represented to her the icy glance 
 which had just made her tremble. 
 
 " The old man is extraordinarily strong," 
 said the adjutant. " I once saw a man in Ven- 
 ice with another man standing on his shoulders, 
 who stooped and raised a third, and he worked 
 his way up and stood on the second man's 
 shoulders, and then, only think, they drew up 
 a fourth, wno managed to stand on the shoul-
 
 120 MAGNHILD. 
 
 ders of the third. The first man walked about 
 on the ground, carrying with him the other 
 three, while the upper man played with balls." 
 
 " Were I to die at this moment," the lady 
 was saying on the other side, " and the soul 
 could forget everything here and have imparted 
 to it a new series of wonderful problems, infi- 
 nite vistas, so that enraptured discovery after 
 discovery might be made what could there 
 be more glorious ? " 
 
 " My imagination does not carry me so far," 
 came in the general's firm voice. " I am ready 
 to stake my life that to live and die in the ful- 
 fillment of one's duty is the greatest happiness 
 a healthily organized human being can feel. 
 The rest is, after all, of little consequence." 
 
 Here Magnhild received a feverish pressure 
 of the hand. 
 
 " Applaud, ladies and gentlemen, applaud," 
 said the clown, hoarsely and good-naturedly. 
 This raised a laugh, but no one stirred. 
 
 "Why do not the dogs come out?" asked 
 Magda, who heard the animals impatiently 
 barking in the tent. 
 
 About the mountain peaks clouds crisped and 
 curled ; a gust of wind betokened a change in 
 the weather ; the fjord darkened under the in- 
 fluence of a swiftly rising squall. There was
 
 MAGNHILD. 121 
 
 something infinitely sublime in the landscape ; 
 something awe-inspiring. 
 
 It began to grow cold. The people in the 
 background felt hushed and gloomy. Now the 
 clown's wife came forward ; she was to go on 
 the tight rope. The haggard, faded beauty 
 wore a dress cut very low in the neck, and with 
 short sleeves. The lady shivered as she looked 
 at her, complained of cold feet, and rose. The 
 general, the adjutant, and consequently Magn- 
 hild also, did the same ; Magda alone, with 
 looks of entreaty, kept her seat ; she was wait- 
 ing for the dogs. A single glance from hei 
 mother sufficed ; she got up without a word. 
 
 They passed out the same way the officers 
 had come in; not one of them looked back. 
 The lady laughed her most ringing laugh ; its 
 pleasant tones rolled back over the assembled 
 multitude. Every one gazed after her. The 
 general walked rapidly, so that her light, easy 
 movements appeared well at his side. The gen- 
 eral's height invested hers with a peculiar charm ; 
 nis stiff, martial bearing and figure heightened 
 the effect of her pliant grace. The contrasts of 
 ~olor in her attire, the feather in her hat, an 
 impression from her laughter, affected one man 
 in the audience as he might have been affected 
 by withdrawing musio.
 
 122 MAGNHJLD. 
 
 When the officers took their leave at the 
 lady's door, she did not speak a word to Magn- 
 hild ; she did not so much as glance at her as 
 she went into the house. Magnhild felt her sym- 
 pathy repulsed. Deeply grieved, she crossed 
 the street to her own house. 
 
 Tande returned late. Magnhild heard him 
 walking back and forth, back and forth, more 
 rapidly than ever before. Those light steps 
 kept repeating : " Touch me not I " at last in 
 rhythm ; the glitter of the diamond studs, the 
 aristocratic elegance of the attire, the deep re- 
 serve of the countenance, haunted her. The 
 lady's anguish groaned beneath these footsteps. 
 What must not she be enduring ? " That 
 amidst the thunder and lightning of her suffer- 
 ing she should think of me," thought Magnhild, 
 "would be unnatural." In the first moment of 
 terror she had sought refuge with her young 
 friend, as beneath a sheltering roof, but imme- 
 diately afterward all was, of course, forgotten. 
 
 Some one came into the hall. Was it a mes- 
 sage from the lady ? No, it was Skarlie. Magn- 
 hild well knew his triple time step. He gave 
 her a searching glance as he entered. "It is 
 about time for me to be off," said he. He was 
 all friendliness, and began to gather together 
 his things.
 
 MAGNHILD. 123 
 
 "Have you been waiting for a conveyance?" 
 asked she. 
 
 " No, but for the meat I ordered and had to 
 go without the last time ; it came a little while 
 
 ago." 
 
 She said no more, and Skarlie was soon 
 ready. 
 
 " Good -by, until I come again!" said he. 
 He had taken up his things, and now stood 
 looking at her. 
 
 "Skarlie," said she, "was it you who gave 
 Machine Martha that mark? " 
 
 He blinked at her several times, and finally 
 asked : " What harm was there in that, my 
 dear ? " 
 
 Magnhild grew pale. 
 
 " I have often despised you," said she, " but 
 never so much as at this moment." 
 
 She turned, went into her bed-room and 
 bolted the door. She heard Skarlie go. Then 
 ahe threw herself on the bed. 
 
 A few bars were struck on the piano above, 
 but no more followed ; Tande was probably 
 himself startled at the sound. These bars in- 
 voluntarily made Magnhild pause. Now she 
 was forced to follow the steps which began 
 afresh. A new tinge of the mysterious, the in- 
 comprehensible, had fallen over Tande. She
 
 124 MAGNHILD. 
 
 was afraid of him. Before this, she had trem- 
 bled when he was near at hand ; now a thrill 
 ran through her when she merely thought of 
 him. 
 
 The steps above ceased, and she glided from 
 the unfathomable to Skarlie ; for here she was 
 clear. How she hated him ! And when she 
 thought that in a fortnight he would come 
 again and act as though nothing had occurred, 
 she clinched her hands in rage and opened them 
 again ; for as it had been a hundred times be- 
 fore, so it would be again. She would forget, 
 because he was so good-natured, and let her 
 have her own way. 
 
 A profound sorrow at her own insufficiency 
 fell like the pall of night on her fancy. She 
 burst into tears. She was unable to cope with 
 one of the relations of life, either those of others 
 or her own ; unable to grasp any saving resolu- 
 tion. Indeed, what could this be ? 
 
 The steps began again, swifter, lighter than 
 over. Once more Magnhild experienced that 
 inexplicable, not unpleasant tremor Tande had 
 caused in her before. 
 
 It had finally grown dark. She rose and 
 went into the next room. At the cottage op- 
 posite there was light, and the curtains were 
 down. Magnhild also struck a light. Scarcely
 
 MAGNHILD. 125 
 
 had she done so when she heard steps in the 
 hall, and some one knocked at her door. She 
 listened ; there came another rap. She went 
 to the door. It was a message from the lady 
 for Magnhild to come to her. She put out the 
 light and obeyed the summons. 
 
 She found everything changed. All around 
 stood open, already - packed chests, trunks, 
 boxes, and traveling satchels ; Magda lay sleep- 
 ing on her own little hamper. A hired woman 
 was assisting the maid in putting the room in 
 order. The maid started up saying : " My lady 
 has just gone into her bed-room. I will an- 
 nounce you." 
 
 Magnhild knocked at the door, then entered 
 the chamber. 
 
 The lady lay on her couch, behind white bed 
 curtains, in a lace-trimmed night-dress. She 
 had wound about her head the Turkish ker- 
 chief which was inseparably associated with her 
 headaches. The lamp stood a little in the 
 background, with a shade of soft, fluttering red 
 paper over it. She was leaning on one elbow 
 which was buried deep in the pillow, and she 
 languidly extended the free left hand ; a weary, 
 agonized gaze followed. How beautiful she 
 was ! Magnhild was hers again, hers so com- 
 pletely that she flung herself over her and
 
 126 MAGNHILD. 
 
 wept. As though under the influence of an 
 electric shock the sick woman sat up and cast- 
 ing both arms about Magnhild pressed her to 
 her own warm, throbbing form. She wanted 
 to appropriate all this comprehension and sym- 
 pathy. " Thanks ! " she whispered over Magn- 
 hild. Her despair quivered through every 
 nerve of her body. Gradually her arms re- 
 laxed and Magnhild rose. Then the lady sank 
 back among the pillows and begged Maguhild 
 to fetch a chair and sit by her. 
 
 " The walls have ears," she whispered, point- 
 ing to the door. Magnhild brought the chair. 
 " No, here on the bed," said the lady, making 
 room beside her. 
 
 The chair was set aside again. The lady 
 took Magnhild's hand and held it in both of 
 hers. Magnhild gazed into her eyes, which 
 were still full of tears. How good, how true, 
 how full of comprehension she looked ! Magn- 
 hild bent down and kissed her. The lips were 
 languid. 
 
 " I sent for you, Magnhild," said she, softly. 
 "I have something to say to you. Be not 
 afraid," a warm pressure of the hand accom- 
 panied these words ; " it is not my own history 
 and it shall be very brief ; for I feel the need 
 of being alone." Here the tears rolled down
 
 MAGNHILD. 127 
 
 over her cheeks. She was aware of it and 
 smiled. 
 
 " You are married I do not understand 
 how, and I do not wish to know ! " A tremor 
 ran through her and she paused. She turned 
 her head aside for a moment. Presently she 
 continued: "Do not attempt" but she got no 
 farther ; she drew away both hands, covered 
 her face, and flinging herself round, wept in 
 the pillow. Magnhild saw the convulsive quiv- 
 ering of back and arms, and she rose. 
 
 " How stupid that was of me," she heard at 
 last ; the lady had turned round again, and now 
 bathed eyes and brow with an essence which 
 filled the room with perfume. " I have no ad- 
 vice to give you besides, of what use would 
 it be ? Sit down again I " Magnhild sat down. 
 The lady laid aside the phial and took Magn- 
 hild's hand in both of hers. She patted and 
 stroked it, while a long, searching gaze fol- 
 lowed, " Do you know that you are the cause 
 of what happened to-day? " Magnhild flushed 
 as though she were standing before a great 
 fire ; she tried to rise, but the lady held her fast. 
 " Be still, my child ! I have read his thoughts 
 when we were together. You are pure and 
 fine and I I " She closed her eyes and lay 
 ts still as though she were dead. Not a sound
 
 128 MAGNHILD. 
 
 was heard, until at last the lady drew a long 
 long breath, and looked up with a gaze so full 
 of suffering ! 
 
 Magnhild heard the beating of her own 
 heart ; she dared not stir ; she suppressed even 
 her breathing. She felt cold drops of moisture 
 start from every pore. 
 
 " Yes, yes, Magnhild ; be now on your 
 guard ! " 
 
 Magnhild started up. The lady turned her 
 head after her. " Be not proud ! " said she. 
 
 "Is there any place where you can now go?" 
 Magnhild did not hear what she said. The 
 lady repeated her question as calmly as she had 
 spoken before. " Is there any place where you 
 can now go ? Answer me I " 
 
 Magnhild could scarcely collect her thoughts, 
 but she answered : " Yes," merely out of accus- 
 tomed acquiescence to the lady. She did not 
 think of any special place of refuge, only that 
 she must go away from here now, at once. 
 But before she could move, the lady, who had 
 been watching her closely, saitl, 
 
 " I will tell you one thing that you do not 
 know : you love him." 
 
 Magnhild drew back, swift as lightning, her 
 eyes firmly fixed on hers. There arose a brief 
 conflict, in which the lady's eyes, as it were,
 
 MAGNHILD. 129 
 
 breathed upon Magnhild's. Magnhild grew 
 confused, colored, and bowed her head on her 
 hands. The lady sat up and took hold of her 
 arm. Magnhild still resisted ; her bosom heaved 
 she tottered, as though seeking support ; and 
 finally leaned aside toward where she felt the 
 pressure of the lady's hand. 
 
 Then throwing herself on the lady's bosom 
 she wept violently.
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 WHILE he was still in bed the next morning 
 there was brought to Tande by the sailor's wife 
 a letter. It had a dainty, old-fashioued, some- 
 what yellow, glazed envelope, and the address 
 was written in an unpracticed lady's hand, with 
 delicate characters, of which those extending 
 below the lines terminated in a little superflu- 
 ous flourish, as if afraid of being round and yet 
 with a strong tendency to become so. 
 
 " From whom can this be ? " thought Tande. 
 
 He opened the letter. It was signed " Magn- 
 hild." A warm glow ran through him, and he 
 read : 
 
 HE. H. TANDE, I thank you very much for 
 your kindness to me, and for the instruction 
 you have so generously given me. My husband 
 has said that you have no room-rent to pay. 
 
 I am obliged to go away without waiting for 
 an opportunity to tell you of this. Once more 
 my best thanks. MAGNEJLD. 
 
 He read the letter through at least five times.
 
 MAGNHILD. 131 
 
 Then he studied each word, each character. 
 This epistle had cost fully ten rough sketches 
 and discarded copies ; he was sure of it. The 
 word " Magnhild " was written with more skill 
 than the rest ; the writer must have had fre- 
 quent practice in that early in life. 
 
 But with such trifling discoveries Tande 
 could not silence the terrible accusation that 
 stared at him from this letter. He lay still a 
 long time after letting the letter drop from his 
 hands. 
 
 Presently he began to drum on the sheet with 
 the fingers of his right hand ; he was playing 
 the soprano part of a melody. Had it reached 
 the piano, and had Magnhild heard it, she 
 would surely have recognized it. 
 
 Suddenly Tande sprang out of bed and into 
 the adjoining room. Stationing himself be- 
 hind the curtain he took a cautious survey of 
 the opposite house. Quite right : the windows 
 were all open, two women were at work clean- 
 ing ; the house was empty. Tande paced the 
 floor and whistled. He walked until he was 
 chilled through. Then he began to dress. It 
 usually took him an hour to make his toilet, 
 during which he went from time to time to the 
 piano. To-day he required two hours, and yet 
 he did not once go near the piano.
 
 132 MAGNHILD. 
 
 In the forenoon he took a long walk, but not 
 to the spots they had all visited together. Dur- 
 ing this walk what had occurred began to assume 
 a shape which made him feel less guilty than 
 he had felt at first. The next day he scarcely 
 felt that he was in the least to blame. Toward 
 evening of the third day his conscience began 
 again to trouble him; but on the following 
 morning he rose from his couch ready to smile 
 over the whole affair. 
 
 The first day he had twice commenced a let- 
 ter to Magnhild but had torn up each effort. 
 On the fourth day he found, instead of the at- 
 tempted letter, a musical theme. This was ca- 
 pable of being developed into a complex, richly 
 harmonized composition, full of magnificent 
 unrest. Several bars of the simple, refined 
 melody which had conjured up for Magnhild 
 dreams of her childhood might be sprinkled 
 through it. Could not the two motives be 
 brought into conflict ? 
 
 <j 
 
 But as he failed to succeed to his satisfaction, 
 Tande concluded that neither at this place nor 
 it this time could it be accomplished. He re- 
 mained at the Point one week longer, and then 
 packing up his things he departed. The piano 
 he left behind him, and the key with it. He 
 jet forth for Germany.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ABOUT five years had elapsed when one Sun- 
 day evening in spring, a party of young girls 
 passed up the one large street of the coast 
 town. They were walking arm in arm, and 
 their numbers were continually increased ; for 
 the girls were singing a three part song as they 
 went along. 
 
 In front of the saddler's house (which, by 
 the way, was now without either sign-board or 
 shop) they slackened their speed, as though 
 they especially desired their singing to be heard 
 here. Perhaps they also expected to see a face 
 at one of the low windows ; but they saw none 
 and soon moved onward. 
 
 When the last of the party had disappeared, 
 a woman rose from the large chair in the cor- 
 ner. She was scarcely more than half dressed, 
 had down-trodden slippers and disheveled hair. 
 As she knew that no one lived opposite and 
 saw no one in the street, she ventured to ap- 
 proach the window, and resting her arm on 
 the sash she bowed her head in her hand and
 
 134 MAGNHILD. 
 
 became absorbed in thought. And as she stood 
 thus she dreamily listened to the harmonies 
 which ever and anon floated back to her. 
 
 This chorus was a reminder that Magnhild 
 had once loved song and had believed that in it 
 she had found her vocation. It was she who 
 stood there, and who although, it was Sunday, 
 or perhaps just because it was Sunday, had not 
 thought it worth while to dress herself ; it was 
 six o'clock in the afternoon. 
 
 She was roused by the rattling of carriage- 
 wheels from another direction. The steamer 
 must have arrived. So accustomed was she to 
 this one break in the desert-stillness of the 
 town, that she forgot she was not dressed, and 
 looked out to see who was coming. It proved 
 to be two ladies ; one with a child in her arms 
 and a sunshade ; the other with a fluttering 
 veil, bright, eager eyes and a full face. She 
 wore a Scotch plaid traveling suit, and as the 
 carriage drove rapidly past she nodded to Magn- 
 hild, the travel-bronzed face all beaming ; later 
 she turned and waved her gloved hand. 
 
 Who in all the world could this be? In her 
 surprise, which with her always gave place to 
 embarrassment, Magnhild had drawn back into 
 the room. Who could it be ? 
 
 There was something familiar that was strug-
 
 MAGNHILD. 135 
 
 gling in vain for the supremacy when the lady 
 came running back toward the house. She 
 moved on briskly in her light traveling cos- 
 tume, and now springing up the steps she soon 
 stood in the door that was thrown open to re- 
 ceive her. She and Magnhild looked at each 
 other for a moment. 
 
 " Do you not know me ? " asked the elegant 
 lady, in the broadest dialect of the parish. 
 
 " Ronnaug ? " 
 
 " Yes, of course ! " 
 
 And then they embraced. 
 
 " My dear ! I am here solely on your account. 
 I want to tell you that all these years I have 
 been looking forward to this moment. My dear 
 Magnhild!" 
 
 She spoke an intermixture of three lan- 
 guages : English, the dialect of the parish, and 
 a little of the common book language of Nor- 
 way. 
 
 " I have been trying to speak Norse only a 
 couple of months, and do not succeed very well 
 yet." 
 
 Her countenance had developed : the eyes 
 glowed with more warmth than of yore; the 
 full lips had acquired facility in expressing 
 every varied shade of humor, friendliness, and 
 will. Her form was even more voluptuous than
 
 136 MAGNHILD. 
 
 it had formerly been, but her rapid movements 
 and the elegant traveling suit she wore softened 
 the effect. Her broad hands, which bore the 
 impress of her working days, closed warmly 
 about Magnhild's hand, and soon they were sit- 
 ting side by side while Ronnaug told her 
 strange experiences of the past four or five 
 years. She had not wanted to write about 
 them, for no one would have believed her story 
 if she had. The reason why she had not kept 
 her promise to write immediately upon reach- 
 ing her journey's end was simply because even 
 during the voyage she had risen from the steer- 
 age to the first cabin, and what had caused this 
 promotion would have been misinterpreted. 
 
 When she sailed from Liverpool she was sit- 
 ting forward on the gunwale of the large ship. 
 A gentleman came up to her and in broken 
 Norwegian claimed acquaintance with her, for 
 just as she was sitting now, he said, she had 
 sat a month before on the back of his cariole. 
 Ronnaug, too, remembered him, and they talked 
 together that day and many other days. After 
 a while he brought a lady with him. The next 
 day he and the lady came again and invited 
 Ronnaug to go with them to the first cabin. 
 Here the lady and she, with the aid of the 
 gentleman, entered into an English conversa-
 
 MAGNHILD. 137 
 
 tion, which created much amusement. Others 
 soon gathered about the group and the upshot 
 of it all was that Ronnaug was compelled to re- 
 main in the first cabin, she really did not know 
 at whose expense. She took a bath, was pro- 
 vided with new clothes from top to toe, several 
 ladies contributing, and remained as a guest 
 among the passengers. All were kind to her. 
 
 She left the ship with the lady, who proved 
 to be an aunt of the gentleman who had first 
 spoken to Ronnaug and at whose expense, as 
 she soon learned, she had traveled. He after- 
 wards had her provided with instruction and 
 the handsomest support, and it was at his ex- 
 pense they all three took frequent long jour- 
 neys together. For the past two years she had 
 been his wife, and they had a child about a 
 year old whom she had with her. And this 
 child Magnhild must see not "to-morrow," 
 nor " by and by," but " now," " right away ! " 
 
 Magnhild was not dressed. Well, then she 
 must speedily make her toilet. Ronnaug would 
 help her and in spite of all resistance they 
 were both soon standing in Magnhild's chamber. 
 
 As soon as Magnhild had begun to dress 
 Ronnaug wandered about in the rooms. As she 
 did so she asked one single question, and this 
 was : why Magnhild was not dressed so late in
 
 138 MAGNHILD. 
 
 the day. A long protracted "oh!" was the 
 only answer she received. Ronnaug hummed 
 softly to herself as she went out into the front 
 room. By and by some words were uttered by 
 her ; they were English words, and one of them 
 Magnhild heard distinctly: it was "disap- 
 pointed." Magnhild understood English ; dur- 
 ing the past three winters Skarlie had read the 
 language with her, and she could already read 
 aloud to him from the American weekly paper, 
 which, since his sojourn in America, it had been 
 a necessity for him to take. She knew, there- 
 fore, that " disappointed '" was the same as 
 " skuffet" 
 
 There are times when a change occurs in our 
 mood, inasmuch as the sun which filled the 
 whole room suddenly disappears, leaving the 
 atmosphere gray, cold, within and without. In 
 like manner Magnhild was involuntarily seized 
 with an indescribable dread ; and sure enough, 
 the next time Ronnaug came humming past the 
 open door (she was looking at the pictures on 
 the wall), she cast a brief side glance in at 
 Magnhild ; it was by no means unfriendly ; but 
 it was felt, nevertheless, by Magnhild, as though 
 she had received a shock. What in all the 
 world had happened ? or rather, what was dis- 
 covered? It was impossible for her to con-
 
 MAGNHILD. 139 
 
 ceive. She cast her eyes searchingly around 
 the room, when she came in after dressing. But 
 she sought in vain for anything which could 
 have betrayed what she herself would have 
 concealed, or indicated what could have caused 
 displeasure. What was it? Rb'nnaug's face 
 was now quite changed ah ! what was it ? 
 
 They set forth ; both had grown silent. Even 
 on the street, where there must be so much that 
 was familiar, she who had but now spoken in 
 three languages could hold her peace in them 
 all. They met a man in a cariole, who was 
 talking passionately with a younger man he 
 had stopped; both bowed to Magnhild, the 
 elder one with an air of indifference, the 
 younger one with triumph in his pimpled face 
 and flashing eyes. For the first time Ronnaug 
 roused to interest. Although nearly five years 
 had elapsed since she had served as " skyds " 
 girl to the unknown man who had talked about 
 Magnhild's destiny, and who had seen her her- 
 self in circumstances of which she was now 
 ashamed, she recognized him at once. Hur- 
 riedly grasping Magnhild's hand, she cried : 
 
 "Do you know him? What is his name? 
 Does he live here ? " 
 
 In her eagerness she quite forgot to use her 
 mother-tongue.
 
 140 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Magnhild replied only to the last question: 
 
 " Yes, since last winter." 
 
 What is his name ? " 
 
 " Grong." 
 
 " Have you had any conversation with him ? " 
 
 " More with his son ; that was he who was 
 standing by the cariole. 
 
 Ronnaug looked after Grong, who at this mo- 
 ment drove briskly, it might almost be said 
 angrily, past them. 
 
 They soon came to the second hotel on the 
 right hand side ; a maid servant was asked if a 
 lady had stopped there with a child. They were 
 shown up-stairs. There stood the lady who had 
 accompanied Ronnaug. The latter asked her 
 in English where the child was, at the same 
 time presenting Miss Roland to Mrs. Skarlie, 
 after which all three went into the adjoining 
 room. 
 
 " Ah, we have a cradle ! " exclaimed Ron- 
 naug in English, and threw herself on her 
 knees beside the cradle. 
 
 Magnhild remained standing, at a little dis- 
 tance. The child was very pretty, so far as 
 Magnhild could see. Ronnaug bent over it 
 and for some time she neither looked up nor 
 spoke. But Magnhild saw that great tears 
 trickled down on the fine coverlet that was
 
 MAGNHILD. 141 
 
 spread over the cradle. There arose a painful 
 silence. 
 
 Ronnaug rose to her feet at last, and with a 
 side glance at Magnhild she went past her into 
 the front room. Magnhild finally felt con- 
 strained to follow her. She found Ronnaug 
 standing by the window. A carriage stopped 
 at that moment in front of the hotel. Magn- 
 hild saw that it was drawn by three men. It 
 was a new. handsome traveling carriage, the 
 handsomest she had ever seen. 
 
 " Whose carriage is that? " asked she. 
 
 " It is mine," replied Ronnaug. 
 
 Betsy Roland came in and asked some ques- 
 tion. Ronnaug went out with her, and when, 
 directly afterward, she returned to the room, she 
 went straight up to Magnhild, who still sat 
 looking at the carriage. Ronnaug laid one arm 
 about her neck. 
 
 " Will you go with me in this carriage 
 through the country, Magnhild ? " she asked, 
 in English. 
 
 At the first contact Magnhild had become 
 startled , she was conscious of Ronnaug's eyes, 
 of her breath; and Ronnaug's arm encircled her 
 like an iron bar, although there certainly was 
 no pressure. 
 
 " Will you go with me through the country
 
 142 MAGNHILD. 
 
 in this in this carriage, Magnhild ? " she 
 heard once more, this time in a blending of the 
 dialect of the parish and English, and the voice 
 trembled. 
 
 " Yes," whispered Magnhild. 
 
 Ronnaug released her, went to the other win- 
 dow, and .did not look round again. 
 
 " Is the carriage from America ? " 
 
 " London." 
 
 " How much did you give for it? " 
 
 " Charles bought it." 
 
 " Is your husband with you ? " 
 
 " Yes ja," and she added, brokenly, " Not 
 here ; Constantinople delivery of guns in 
 September we are to meet Liverpool." And 
 then she looked up at Magnhild with wide open 
 eyes. What did she mean? 
 
 Magnhild wished to go. Ronnaug accom- 
 panied her down-stairs, and they both went out 
 to inspect the carriage, about which stood a 
 group of people who now fell back somewhat. 
 Ronnaug pointed out to Magnhild how comfort- 
 able the carriage was, and while her head was 
 still inside she asked, 
 
 " Your rooms up-stairs, are they to let ? " 
 
 " No, it would give me too much trouble." 
 
 Ronnaug hastily said "good-night," and ran 
 up the steps.
 
 MAGNHILD. 143 
 
 Magnhild had not gone very far before she 
 felt that she certainly ought to have offered 
 those rooms to Ronnaug. Should she turn 
 back? Oh, no. 
 
 This was one of Magnhild's wakeful nights. 
 Ronnaug had frightened her. And this jour- 
 ney ? Never in the world would she undertake 
 it.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHEN she left her chamber after ten o'clock, 
 the first object she beheld was Rb'nnaug, who 
 was coming up from the coast town, and was 
 on her way to call on Magnhild no, not on 
 Magnhild, but on the priest, the young curate, 
 who lived at Magnhild's house, in the former 
 saddler workshop. Rbnnaug at the priest's ? 
 At eleven o'clock she was still with him. And 
 when she came out, accompanied by the curate, 
 a shy young man, she merely put her head in 
 Magnhild's door, greeted her, and disappeared 
 again with the curate. 
 
 Magnhild found still greater cause for won- 
 der, for later in the day she saw Rb'nnaug in 
 company with Grong. This wounded her, she 
 could scarcely tell why. The following day 
 Ronnaug called in as she passed by ; various 
 people were discussed whom it had entertained 
 Rb'nnaug to meet, but not a word was said about 
 the journey. Several days went by, and it was 
 still not mentioned. Perhaps it had been given 
 up!
 
 MAGNfflLD. 145 
 
 But finally Magnhild began to bear about 
 this journey from others : first from the sailor's 
 wife who did the work of her house, then from 
 the woman of whom she bought fish, finally 
 from every one. What should she do? For 
 upon no account would she consent to go. 
 
 Ronnaug told her that she was reading Norse 
 with Grong, and also with the curate, in order 
 that neither might have too much torment with 
 her at any one time ; she wrote exercises, too, 
 she said, and laughed. In the same abrupt 
 manner she touched upon sundry individuals 
 and circumstances, mentioned them in the most 
 characteristic way, and hurried on to something 
 else. Magnhild was not invited to the hotel. 
 Ronuaug often went by pushing her child in a 
 little wagon she had bought ; she would stop 
 and show the child to every one she met, but 
 she never brought it in to see Magnhild. 
 
 Ronnaug made the most extraordinary sensa- 
 tion in the town. It was no unusual thing at 
 a sea-port town to see remarkable changes of 
 fortune. Judging from the presents Ronnaug 
 made, indeed from her whole appearance, she 
 must be immensely wealthy, yet she was the 
 most unassuming and sociable of all. Magnhild 
 frequently heard her praises sounded ; the young 
 curate alone occasionally observed that she de- 
 10
 
 146 MAGNHILD. 
 
 cidedly evinced that impatience which was char- 
 acteristic of such a child of fortune. 
 
 But what then did Ronnaug hear about 
 Magnhild ? For it might be assumed beyond 
 all doubt that if she did not question Magnhild 
 herself she at least asked others about her. 
 This was true, but she proceeded very cau- 
 tiously. There were, indeed, but two people 
 to whom she put direct questions, the young 
 curate and Grong. 
 
 The curate said that during the whole time 
 he had been at the Point, and that was now 
 nearly a year, he had neither heard nor seen 
 anything but good concerning Magnhild. Skar- 
 lie was a person who was less transparent ; ac- 
 cording to universal testimony he had settled 
 in this town merely to study the prevailing 
 conditions and utilize them for his own benefit 
 " without competition and without control." 
 He was sarcastic and cynical ; but the curate 
 could not deny that it was sometimes amusing 
 to talk with him. The curate had never heard 
 that Skarlie was otherwise than considerate to 
 his wife or rather his adopted daughter ; for 
 other relations scarcely existed between them. 
 And the shy young curate seemed quite embar- 
 rassed at being obliged to give this information. 
 
 Grong, on the contrary, called Magnhild a
 
 MAGNHILD. 147 
 
 lazy, selfish, pretentious hussy. She would not 
 even take the trouble to tie up her stockings ; 
 he had noticed this himself. The handwork 
 she had started here had long since been left 
 to a hunchback girl named Marie and a tall girl 
 by the name of Louise. Magnhild occasionally 
 taught them something new, yet even that was 
 due not to herself but to her husband, who 
 picked up such things on his travels and spurred 
 her on to introduce them. Upon the whole, 
 Skarlie was a capable, industrious fellow, who 
 had breathed life into this sleepy, ignorant par- 
 ish, and even if he had victimized the people 
 somewhat, it could scarcely be expected that so 
 much knowledge should be gained for nothing. 
 Magnhild's vocation? Bah! He had long 
 since given up the idea of there being such a 
 thing as a special destiny. In Nordland, many 
 years before, he had seen an old man who in his 
 childhood had been the only person saved out 
 of a whole parish ; the rest had been swept 
 away by an avalanche. This man was a great 
 dunce ; he had lived to be sixty-six years of 
 age without earning a farthing except by row- 
 ing, and had died a year before, a pauper. 
 What sort of a destiny was that ? Indeed, 
 there were precious few who had any destiny 
 at all.
 
 148 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Grong at this time was wretchedly out of 
 humor : he had believed his gifted son to be 
 destined for something ; he lived for his sake 
 alone and the young man had accomplished 
 nothing except falling in love. Ronnaug, who 
 knew nothing of Grong's own experience, was 
 shocked at his harsh verdict. Nor could she in- 
 duce him to discuss the subject with her, for he 
 declared point blank that Magnhild bored him. 
 
 So she once more sought Magnhild herself, 
 but found her so apathetic that it was impossi- 
 ble to approach her. 
 
 If she would persevere in her design, there 
 was nothing left for her but to resort to strat- 
 egy- 
 
 In the most indifferent tone in the world she 
 
 therefore one day announced to Magnhild that 
 in a couple of days she proposed starting ; Magn- 
 hild would not need to take much luggage with 
 her, for when they stopped anywhere they 
 could purchase whatever they required. That 
 was the way she always managed. 
 
 This was about nine o'clock in the morning, 
 and until twelve o'clock Magnhild was toiling 
 over a telegram to her husband who had just 
 announced to her his arrival at Bergen. The 
 telegram was at last completed as follows : 
 
 " Ronnaug, married to the rich American,
 
 MAGNHILD. 149 
 
 Charles Randon, New York, is here ; wants me 
 to go with her on a long journey. Magnhild." 
 
 She felt it to be treason when, on the stroke 
 of twelve, she dispatched this telegram. Trea- 
 son ? Toward whom ? She owed reckoning to 
 no one. Meanwhile, in the afternoon, she went 
 out in order that 110 one might find her. When 
 she returned home in the evening a telegram 
 was awaiting her. 
 
 " Home by the steamer to-morrow. Skar- 
 lie." 
 
 Rb'nnaug sought Magnhild at eight o'clock 
 the next morning : she wanted to surprise her 
 with a traveling suit that was ready for her at 
 the hotel. But it was all locked up at Magn- 
 hild's. Ronnaug went round the house and 
 peeped in at the bed-room window whose cur- 
 tain was drawn aside. Magnhild was out ! 
 Magnhild, who seldom rose before nine o'clock ! 
 
 Well, Ronnaug went again at nine. Fast- 
 ened up ! At ten o'clock. The same result. 
 After this she went to the house every quarter 
 of an hour, but always found it fastened up. 
 Then she became suspicious. At eleven o'clock 
 she paid two boys handsomely to stand guard 
 over the house and bring her word as soon as 
 Magnhild returned. 
 
 Ronnaug herself stayed at the hotel and
 
 150 MAGNHILD. 
 
 waited. It came to be one, two, three o'clock 
 
 no messenger. She inspected her guards ; 
 all was right. The clock struck four, then five. 
 Another inspection. Just as the clock struck 
 six a boy came running along the street, and 
 Ronnaug, hat in hand, flew down the steps to 
 meet him. 
 
 She found Magnhild in the kitchen. Magn- 
 hild was so busy that Ronnaug could find no 
 opportunity to speak a single word with her. 
 She was passing incessantly to and fro between 
 kitchen, yard, and inner rooms. She went also 
 into the cellar and remained there for a long 
 time. Ronnaug waited ; but as Magnhild never 
 paused, she finally sought her in the pantry. 
 There she asked her if she would not go with 
 her to the hotel for a moment. Magnhild said 
 she had no time. She was engaged in putting 
 butter on a plate. 
 
 " For whom are you making preparations ? " 
 
 Oh ! " 
 
 The hand which held the spoon trembled ; 
 this Ronnaug observed. 
 
 " Are you expecting Skarlie by the steamer 
 
 now?" 
 
 Magnhild could not well say " No," for this 
 would speedily have proved itself false, and so 
 she said " Yes."
 
 MAGNHILD. 151 
 
 " Then you sent for him ? " 
 
 Magnhild laid aside the spoon and went into 
 the next room ; Rb'nnaug followed her. 
 
 It now came to light how much good vigor- 
 ous Norse Rb'nnaug had learned in the short 
 time she had been studying, even if it were not 
 wholly faultless. She first asked if this sig- 
 nified that Skarlie would prevent the journey. 
 When Magnhild, instead of making any reply, 
 fled into the bed-chamber, Ronnaug again fol- 
 lowed her ; she said that to-day Magnhild must 
 listen to her. 
 
 This " to-day " told Magnhild that Rb'nnaug 
 had long been wanting to talk with her. Had 
 the window Magnhild now stood beside been a 
 little larger, she would certainly have jumped 
 out of it. 
 
 But before Rb'nnaug managed to begin in ear- 
 nest, something happened. Noise and laughter 
 were heard in the street, and ringing through 
 them an infuriated man's voice. " And you 
 will prevent me from taking the sacrament, you 
 hypocritical villain ? " After this a dead silence, 
 and then peals of laughter. Most likely the 
 man had been seized and carried off ; the shout- 
 ing and laughing of boys and old women re- 
 sounded through the street, and gradually 
 sounded farther and farther away.
 
 152 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Neither of the two women in the chamber 
 had stirred from her place. They had both 
 peered out through the door toward the sitting- 
 room window, but they had also both turned 
 away again, Magnhild toward the garden. But 
 Ronnaug had been reminded by this interrup- 
 tion of Machine Martha, who in her day had 
 been the terror and sport of the coast town. 
 Scarcely, therefore, had the noise died away, 
 before she asked, 
 
 "Do you remember Machine Martha? Do 
 you remember something that I told you about 
 your husband and her ? I have been making 
 inquiries concerning it and I now know more 
 than I did before. Let me tell you it is un- 
 worthy of you to live under the same roof with 
 such a man as Skarlie." 
 
 Very pale, Magnhild turned proudly round 
 with : 
 
 " That is no business of mine ! " 
 
 " That is no business of yours ? Why you 
 live in his house, eat his food, wear his clothes, 
 and bear his name, and his conduct is no busi- 
 ness of yours ? " 
 
 But Magnhild swept past her and went into 
 the sitting-room without vouchsafing a reply. 
 She took her stand by one of the windows open- 
 ing on the street.
 
 MAGNHILD. 153 
 
 "Aye, if you do not feel this to be a dis- 
 grace, Magnhild, you have sunk lower than I 
 thought." 
 
 Magnhild had just leaned her head against 
 the window frame. She now drew it up suffi- 
 ciently to look at Ronnaug and smile, then she 
 bowed forward again. But this smile had sent 
 the blood coursing up to Ronnaug's cheeks, for 
 she had felt their joint youth compared in it. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking of, " here 
 Ronnaug's voice trembled, " and I could not 
 have believed you to be so unkind, although at 
 our very first meeting I plainly saw that I had 
 made a mistake in feeling such a foolish longing 
 for you." 
 
 But in a moment she felt herself ,that these 
 words were too strong, and she paused. It was, 
 moreover, not her design to quarrel with Magn- 
 hild ; quite the contrary ! And so she was in- 
 dignant with Magnhild for having led her so 
 far to forget herself. But had it not been thus 
 from the beginning ? With what eager warmth 
 had she not come, and how coldly had she not 
 been received. And from this train of thought 
 her words now proceeded. 
 
 " I could think of nothing more delightful in 
 the world than to show you my child. There 
 was, indeed, no one else to whom I could show
 
 154 MAGNHILD. 
 
 it. And you did not even care to see it ; you 
 did not so much as want to take the trouble to 
 dress yourself." 
 
 She strove at first to speak calmly, but before 
 she finished what she was saying, her voice 
 quivered, and she burst into tears. 
 
 Suddenly Magnhild darted away from the 
 window toward the kitchen door but that was 
 just where Ronnaug was; then toward the 
 bed-room door, but remembering that it would 
 be useless to take refuge there, turned again, 
 met Ronnaug, knew not where to go, and fled 
 back to her old place. 
 
 But this was all lost on Ronnaug ; for now 
 she too was in a state of extreme agitation. 
 
 " You have no heart, Magnhild ! It is dread- 
 ful to be obliged to say so! You have per- 
 mitted yourself to be trailed in the mire until 
 you have lost all feeling, indeed you have. 
 When I insisted upon your seeing my child, 
 you did not even kiss it ! You did not so much 
 as stoop to look at it ; you never said a word, 
 no, not a single word, and you have no idea 
 how pretty it is ! " 
 
 A burst of tears again checked her flow of 
 words. 
 
 " But that is natural," she continued, " you 
 have never had a child of your own. And I
 
 MAGNHILD. 155 
 
 chanced to remember this, otherwise I should 
 have started right off again at once ! I was 
 so disappointed. Ah ! well, I wrote Charles 
 all about it ! " In another, more vigorous tone 
 she interrupted herself with : " I do not know 
 what you can be thinking of. Or everything 
 must be dead within you. You might have 
 full freedom and you prefer Skarlie. Write 
 for Skarlie ! " She paced the floor excitedly. 
 Presently sh'e said : " Alas ! alas ! So this is 
 Magnhild, who was once so pure and so refined 
 that she saved me ! " She paused and looked 
 at Magnhild. " But I shall never forget it, and 
 you shall go with me, Magnhild ! " Then, 
 with sudden emotion : " Have you not one 
 word for me ? Can you not understand how 
 fond I am of you ? Have you quite forgotten, 
 Magnhild, how fond I have always been of you ? 
 Is it nothing to you that I came here all the 
 way from America after you." 
 
 She failed to notice that she had thus avowed 
 her whole errand ; she stood and waited to see 
 Magnhild rouse and turn. She was not stand- 
 ing near enough to see that tears were no\v 
 falling on the window-sill. She only saw that 
 Magnhild neither stirred nor betrayed the slight- 
 est emotion. This wounded her, and, hasty as 
 she was in her resolves when her heart was full,
 
 156 MAGNHILD. 
 
 she left. Magnhild saw her hurry, weeping, 
 up the street, without looking in. 
 
 And Ronnaug did not cease weeping, not 
 even when she had thrown herself down over 
 her child and was kissing it. She clasped it 
 again and again to her bosom, as though she 
 wanted to make sure of her life's great gain. 
 
 She had expected Magnhild to follow her. 
 The clock struck eight, no Magnhild appeared ; 
 nine still no Magnhild. Ronnaug threw a 
 shawl over her head and stole past the saddler's 
 house. Skarlie must have come home some 
 time since. All was still within ; there was no 
 one at the windows. Ronnaug went back to 
 the hotel and as she got ready for bed she kept 
 pondering on what was now to be done, and 
 whether she should really start on her journey 
 without Magnhild. The last thought she 
 promptly dismissed. No, she would remain 
 and call for assistance. She was ready to risk 
 a battle, and that with Mr. Skarlie himself, sup- 
 ported by the curate, Grong, and other worthy 
 people. She probably viewed the matter some- 
 what from an American standpoint ; but she 
 was determined. 
 
 She fell asleep and dreamed that Mr. Skarlie 
 and she were fighting. With his large hairy 
 hands he seized her by the head, the shoulders,
 
 MAGNHILD. 157 
 
 the hands ; his repulsive face, with its toothless 
 mouth, looked with a laugh into her eyes. She 
 could not ward him off : once more he had her 
 by the head ; then Magnhild repeatedly called 
 her name aloud and she awoke. Magnhild was 
 standing at the side of her bed. 
 
 " Ronnaug ! Ronnaug! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " 
 
 " It is I Magnhild ! " 
 
 Ronnaug started up in bed, half intoxicated 
 with sleep. " Yes, I see you It is you ? 
 No, really you, Magnhild ! Are you going with 
 me?" 
 
 " Yes ! " 
 
 And Magnhild flung herself on Ronnaug's 
 bosom and burst into tears. What tears ! 
 They were like those of a child, who after long 
 fright finds its mother again. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! What has happened ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell you." Another burst of pas- 
 sionate weeping. Then quietly freeing herself 
 from Ronnaug's arms, she drew back. 
 
 " But you will really come with me ? " 
 
 There was heard a whispered " yes," and then 
 renewed weeping. And Ronnaug stretched out 
 her arms ; but as Magnhild did not fly into 
 them, she sprang out of bed and took her joy 
 in a practical way by beginning to dress in
 
 158 MAGNHILD. 
 
 great haste. There was joy, aye, triumph in 
 her soul. 
 
 As she sat on the edge of the bed, drawing 
 on her clothes, she took a closer survey of 
 Magnhild; the summer night was quite clear 
 and light, and Magnhild had raised a curtain, 
 opened a window, and was now standing by the 
 latter. It was about three o'clock. Magnhild 
 had on a petticoat with a cloak thrown over 
 it ; a bundle lay on the chair, it perhaps con- 
 tained her dress. What could have happened ? 
 Ronnaug went to her parlor to finish dress- 
 ing, and when Magnhild followed -her, the new 
 traveling suit was lying spread out and was 
 shown to her. She uttered no word of thanks, 
 she scarcely looked at the suit; but she sat 
 down beside it and her tears flowed anew. 
 Ronnaug was obliged to put the clothes on her. 
 As she was thus engaged, she whispered : 
 
 " Did he try to use force ? " 
 
 " That he has never done," said Magnhild ; 
 44 no, there are other things " and now she be- 
 came so convulsed with weeping that Ronnaug 
 said no more, but finished dressing both Magn- 
 hild and herself as quickly as possible. She 
 hastened into the bed-chamber to awaken her 
 American friend, then down-stairs to rouse the 
 people of the hotel : she wanted to start with- 
 in an hour.
 
 MAGNHILD. 159 
 
 She found Magnhild where she had left her. 
 
 " No, this will not do," said she. " Pray 
 control yourself. Within an hour we must be 
 away from here." 
 
 But Magnhild sat still ; it was as though all 
 her energy had been exhausted by the struggle 
 and the resolve she had just come from. Ron- 
 naug let her alone; she had as much as she 
 could do to get ready. Everything was packed, 
 and last of all the child was wrapped in its 
 traveling blanket without being roused. With- 
 in an hour they and all their belongings were 
 actually stowed away in the carriage. 
 
 The world around them slept. They drove 
 onward in the bright, dawning morning, past 
 the church. The sun was not visible ; but the 
 skies, above the mountains to the east, were 
 flushed with roseate hues. The landscape lay 
 in dark shadows, the upper slope of the mount- 
 ains in the deepest of deep black-blue ; the 
 stream, not a streak of light over its struggle, 
 cut its way along, like a procession of wild, an- 
 gry mountaineers, recklessly dashing downward 
 at this moment of the world's awakening, with- 
 out consideration, without pausing for rest, and 
 with shrill laughter at this mad resolve and the 
 success which attended it. 
 
 The impressions of nature, and the feelings
 
 160 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Magnhild might otherwise have experienced 
 during this journey away from the griefs of 
 many years, over the first miles, as it were, of 
 a new career in the sumptuous traveling car- 
 riage of the friend of her childhood, all were 
 lulled into a weary, vapid drowsiness. Her 
 daily life had been for years one monotonous 
 routine, so that the emotions of a single even- 
 ing had completely exhausted her strength. 
 She longed now for nothing so much as for a 
 bed. And Ronnaug, bent on fully carrying out 
 the wonders of contrast, was not content with 
 traveling in her own carriage with two horses 
 (when the ascent began she would have four), 
 she wanted also to sleep in one of the guest- 
 beds at the post-station where she had once 
 served. This wish was gratified, and three 
 hours' sleep was taken by them all. The host- 
 ess recognized Ronnaug, but as she was a per- 
 son Ronnaug had not liked, there was no con~ 
 versation between them. 
 
 After they had slept, eaten, and settled their 
 account, Ronnaug felt a desire to write some- 
 thing with her own hand in the traveler's reg- 
 ister. That was indeed too amusing. She read 
 what was last written there, as follows : " Two 
 persons, one horse, change for the next station," 
 and on the margin was added,
 
 MAGNHILD. 161 
 
 "Birds encountered us two, tweewhitt! 
 ' With MS to tarry, think you, tweewhitt? ' 
 
 " ' We plan, we reason, no more, tra-ra ! 
 Each other we adore, tra-ra! ' " 
 
 " What nonsense was this ? " The rest of the 
 party must see : it was translated into English 
 for Betsy Roland. Now they remembered that 
 as they drove into the station they had seen a 
 carriage, with a gentleman and lady in it, driv- 
 ing quickly past them up the road. The gentle- 
 man had turned his face away, as though he did 
 not wish to be seen ; the lady was closely veiled. 
 
 They were still talking of this when they sat 
 in the carriage and drove away, while all the 
 people at the station had assembled to watch 
 them. The travelers concluded that the verses 
 must have been written by some happy new- 
 married couple ; and Magnhild, by one of those 
 trains of thought which cannot be accounted 
 for, called to mind the young couple, the gen- 
 tleman in morocco slippers, and the lady with 
 her hair so strangely done up, she had met at 
 the next station, on her own wedding trip. 
 This led her to recall her own wedding, then 
 to think of what she had gone through in all 
 these years, and of how aimless her whole life 
 was, aimless whether she looked into the past 
 or into the future. 
 11
 
 162 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Day had meanwhile dawned in wondrous 
 beauty. The sun had risen above the lofty 
 mountains. The valley, although narrow, was 
 so situated that it was thoroughly illumined by 
 the sunshine. The stream now flowed in a nar- 
 rower, more rocky bed, was white with foam 
 where struggles arose, grass-green where they 
 ceased, blue where there were overhanging 
 shadows, and gray where the water formed ed- 
 dies over a clay bottom. The grass here was 
 filled with stubble, farther up it was studded 
 with yellow cowslips, the largest they had ever 
 seen. 
 
 The peaks of the mountains sparkled, the 
 dark pine forest in the bosom and lap of the 
 chain displayed such a wealth of luxuriance, 
 that whoever viewed it aright must inevitably 
 be refreshed. Close by the road-side grew de- 
 ciduous trees, for here the pines had been cut 
 down, yet ever and anon they pushed their 
 way triumphantly forth from their vigorous 
 headquarters in the background. The road was 
 free from dust. On the outskirts of the forest 
 grew mountain flowers, all glittering with the 
 last dew-drops of the day. 
 
 The travelers had the carriage stop that they 
 might pluck some of the flowers ; and then they 
 sat in the grass and amused the child with
 
 MAGNHILD. 163 
 
 them; they wove garlands and twined them 
 about the little one. A short distance far- 
 ther up, where the stream had sunk so far be- 
 neath them that its roar had ceased to sound 
 above all else, they heard the jubilant song of 
 birds. The thrush, singly and in groups, swung 
 from tree to tree, and its vigorous chirping had 
 a cheering tone. A startled wood-grouse, with 
 strong wing-beats, flew shrieking among the 
 branches. A dog who followed the horses set 
 chase to the red grouse ; they shrieked, flapped 
 their wings, hid in the heather, shrieked, started 
 up again and sought a circuitous way back. 
 They must have nests here. There was also a 
 rich growth of birch round about this little 
 heath. 
 
 " Ah, how I have longed for this journey ! 
 And Charles, who gave it to me ! " The tears 
 stood in Ronnaug's eyes, but she brushed them 
 away, after she had kissed her child. " No, no 
 tears. Why should there be any ? " 
 
 And she sang : 
 
 " Shed no tear ! Oh shed no tear ! 
 The flower will bloom another year. 
 Weep no more ! Oh weep no more ! 
 Young buds sleep in the root's white core." 1 
 
 " This is our summer trip, Magnhild ! The 
 summer travels in Norway. Now onward ! " 
 
 i Keats.
 
 164 MAGNHILD. 
 
 But Magnhild bowed down and covered her 
 face with her hands. 
 
 "All shall be well with you, Magnhild. 
 Charles is so good ! He will do everything for 
 you." 
 
 But here she heard Magnhild sob, and so she 
 said no more. 
 
 The sunny day through which they rode on- 
 ward, the fresh, aromatic mountain air they in- 
 haled, the sounds of jubilee which burst forth 
 from the forest, blending with childhood's mem- 
 ories, became too much for Rb'nnaug. She for- 
 got Magnhild and began to sing again. Then 
 she took the child and chatted playfully with 
 it and with Miss Roland. She was surprised 
 by Magnhild's asking : 
 
 " Do you love your husband, Ronnaug ? " 
 
 " Do I love him ? Why, when Mr. Charles 
 Randon said to me: 'I will gladly provide for 
 your education, Ronnaug; I hope you will let 
 me have this pleasure,' well, I let him have 
 the pleasure. When Mr. Charles said to me : 
 ' My dear Ronnaug, I am much older than you ; 
 yet if you could consent to be my wife, I am 
 certain that I should be happy,' well and 
 so I made him happy. And when Mr. Charles 
 said : ' My dear Ronnaug, take good care of 
 our little Harry, so that I may find you all in
 
 MAGNHILD. 165 
 
 Liverpool in September, and your Norwegian 
 friend with you,' why, I determined that he 
 should find us all in Liverpool in September, 
 and little Harry well and hearty ; and my 
 Norwegian friend along, too ! ' and she kissed 
 the child and set it to laughing. 
 
 They changed horses at the next post -station. 
 Magnhild and Miss Roland kept their seats in 
 the carriage. Ronnaug got out, partly to re- 
 visit familiar haunts, partly to make an entry 
 in the register. That was her duty, she said. 
 Presently she came back, laughing, with the 
 register. Under the entry : " Two persons for 
 the next station," indicating that these two 
 persons were too much absorbed to even trouble 
 themselves with the name of the next station, 
 were the following lines : 
 
 "Love is all the budding flower, 
 Perfect blossom, fruit mature. 
 When breaking boughs no more endure, 
 Then "stop! " is shrieked to Winter's power. 
 Eat her life to stop be driven ; 
 No alternative is given ! " 
 
 Ronnaug translated it for Betsy Roland, and 
 now various conjectures were expressed by them 
 all, in both Norwegian and English. They 
 agreed in supposing the writers to be two lovers, 
 on a journey, under peculiar circumstances ; but 
 whether they were a newly-married couple, or
 
 166 MAGNHILD. 
 
 merely lovers; whether theirs was a runaway 
 flight, or whether they were simply actuated by 
 exuberance of spirits over happily overcome 
 obstacles, or, oh ! there were manifold possi- 
 bilities. 
 
 Ronnaug wished to copy the verses, and 
 Magnhild offered her a leaf from her pocket- 
 book. As this was produced a letter fell from 
 it. Magnhild was surprised, but ,^he soon re- 
 membered that she had received the letter by 
 mail the evening before, an hour after her hus- 
 band's arrival. Wholly absorbed in her conflict 
 with him, she had placed it for the time in her 
 pocket-book. She never received letters, so 
 she could not imagine from whom this could 
 come. The two travelers from America did 
 not notice that the letter bore a foreign stamp, 
 but Magnhild saw this at once. She tore open 
 the letter ; it was written in a delicate hand, on 
 fine paper, and was quite long. It was headed 
 "Munich," and the signature was did she 
 ivad aright? "Hans Tande." She folded 
 the letter again, without knowing what she was 
 doing, while the hot blushes spread over face 
 and neck. The two others acted as though they 
 had observed nothing ; Ronnaug busied herself 
 with copying the verses. 
 
 They drove rapidly on, and left Magnhild to
 
 MAGNHILD. 167 
 
 her reflections. But her embarrassment in- 
 creased to such a degree that it became positive 
 torture to her to sit in the carriage with the 
 others. She meekly begged to be allowed to 
 get out and walk a little distance. Ronnaug 
 smiled and ordered the coachman to stop, 
 they had just reached a level plain where the 
 horses could rest a while. When the travelers 
 had alighted, she took Magnhild by the hand 
 and led her toward a thicket a few steps be- 
 hind them. 
 
 " Come go in there now and read your let- 
 ter ! " said she. 
 
 When Magnhild found herself alone in the 
 wood she stood still. Her agitation had com- 
 pelled her to pause. She peered about her, as 
 though fearing even in this lonely spot the 
 presence of people. The sun played here and 
 there on the yellow pine needles that were 
 strewn about, on the fallen decayed branches, 
 on the dark green moss covering the stones, on 
 the heather in the glades. Around her all was 
 profoundly still ; from the sunny margin of the 
 wood there floated toward her the twittering of 
 a solitary bird, the babbling of the child, and 
 Ronnaug's laughter, which rang with the ut- 
 most clearness through the trees. 
 
 Magnhild ventured to draw forth the letter
 
 168 MAGNHILD. 
 
 once more. She opened it. It was not folded 
 in the original creases. She spread it out be- 
 fore her, and looked at it as an aged woman 
 might gaze into the depths of a chest upon her 
 bridal garments. A solitary sunbeam, break- 
 ing through the branches, played restlessly on 
 the sheet, and was now round, now oblong. 
 Magnhild saw within its shining ring one word, 
 two words, more distinctly than the rest. 
 " Great hopes and failed ! " were written 
 there. " Great hopes and failed." She read 
 and trembled. Alas ! alas ! alas ! Over and 
 over again she read the words, and felt rich in 
 expectation, in dread, in memories of bliss and 
 of conflict ; she could not sit still, she rose to 
 her feet, but only to sit down again to fresh ef- 
 forts. The ringing tones of Ronnaug's laugh- 
 ter broke upon her solitude, like a staff, which 
 she grasped for support. She gained courage 
 from Ronnaug's courage, and looked here and 
 there in the letter, not to read, rather to find 
 out whether she dare read. But she was too 
 agitated to connect the broken sentences, and 
 was led, almost unawares, to a continuous pe- 
 rusal. She did not understand all that she 
 read. Still it was a communion ; it was like 
 the warm clasp of a hand. There was music 
 wafted about her, his music ; she was once
 
 MAGNHILD. 169 
 
 more in his presence, with the rare perfume, the 
 look, the embarrassed silence, amid which she 
 had experienced earth's highest bliss. The dia- 
 mond cut its shining circlets over the piano keys, 
 his white, refined hand played " Flowers on the 
 Green." Wholly under his influence now, she 
 became absorbed in re-reading the letter, com- 
 prehended it better than before, paused, ex- 
 ulted without words, read, while the tears 
 trickled down her cheeks. She paused, with- 
 out being aware of it, simply because she could 
 not see, began again, without perceiving it, 
 wept profusely, read on, finished only to begin 
 anew three, four, five times from beginning 
 to end. She could read no more. 
 
 What had she not experienced during this 
 perusal of thoughts and feelings she had had a 
 thousand times before, and thoughts and feel- 
 ings she had never dreamed of ! 
 
 The first complete impression she gathered, 
 in the humid forest shades, where she sat con- 
 cealed from view, was like a shaft of quivering 
 sunbeams. It was the foreboding which stole 
 over her it was not put into words, and yet it 
 was breathed from every line (a thousand times 
 sweeter so !) the foreboding, aye, the certainty, 
 that he, yes, that he had loved her ! and the 
 second was that he had at the same time been
 
 170 MAGNHILD. 
 
 fully aware of her love, long, long before she had 
 grasped it herself ! and he had not hinted at this 
 by so much as a look. How considerate he had 
 been ! And yet, what must he not have seen in 
 her heart ! Was it true ? Could it be true ? 
 
 Ah ! it was all one ! And yet amidst her 
 grief the thought of being able to feel all this 
 to the core as he had felt, was like the sun shin- 
 ing behind a misty atmosphere and gradually 
 bursting through the layers of fog with thou- 
 sands of undreamed-of light effects, above and 
 below. How freely she could breathe again 
 after the void, privation, brooding of many 
 years. 
 
 Not until later did individual thoughts force 
 themselves forward, then not fully until Ron- 
 naug came to her. There was something la- 
 bored in this letter ; it read occasionally like a 
 translation from a foreign language. But now 
 for the letter itself: 
 
 I have just returned from the south. I 
 thought myself strong enough. Alas ! The 
 papers have doubtless informed you that I am 
 ill; but the papers do not know what I now 
 know ! 
 
 The first thing I do in this new certainty is 
 to write to you, dear Magnhild.
 
 MAGNHILD. 171 
 
 You will, of course, be painfully surprised at 
 the sight of my signature. I awakened great 
 hopes and failed when they should have been 
 fulfilled. 
 
 A thousand times since I have thought how 
 impossible it would be for you to go to the pi- 
 ano and try over some song we three had stud- 
 ied together, or some exercise we two had gone 
 through. A miracle would have been needed 
 to compel you to do so. 
 
 A thousand times I have considered whether 
 I should write to you, and tell you what I must 
 now tell you, that this has been the deepest 
 sorrow of my life. 
 
 You set me free from a once rich, but after- 
 ward unworthy relation, and this was my salva- 
 tion. The germ of innocence in my soul was 
 once more released. The entire extent of my 
 emancipation, however, I did not realize so long 
 as we were together. 
 
 And I repaid you for what you had done for 
 me by desolating your life, so far as lay within 
 my power. But I have also yearned to tell 
 you what I now believe: our destiny upon 
 earth is not alone what we ourselves have rec- 
 ognized it to be, not alone what we believe to 
 be the main purpose of our existences. When 
 you, without being yourself conscious of it,
 
 172 MAGNHILD. 
 
 gave me a purer, higher tendency, you were ful- 
 filling a part of your destiny, dear Magnhild. 
 It was perhaps a small part; but perhaps it 
 was also only an hundredth part of still more 
 which you had done for many others without 
 so much as suspecting it yourself. 
 
 Magnhild, I can say it now without danger 
 of being misinterpreted, and also without doing 
 harm ; for you have become four years and a 
 half older and I am going hence ; indeed, I be- 
 lieve it will help you to hear it. Well, then, 
 the innocence in your soul had become, amidst 
 your peculiar circumstances, a moral atmos- 
 phere which in you, more than in any one I 
 ever met, proclaimed itself to be a power. It 
 was all the more beautiful because so uncon- 
 scious in its manifestations. It was breathed 
 from every manifestation of your bashfulness. It 
 revealed itself to me not alone in your blushes, 
 Magnhild ; no, in the tone of your voice also, in 
 the immediate relations you held with every 
 one you had intercourse with, or looked upon, 
 or merely greeted. If there were those in your 
 presence who were not pure, you made them 
 appear abhorrent; you taught even the fallen 
 ones what beauty there is in moral purity. 
 
 You have the fullest right to rejoice over 
 what I say. Aye, may it bring you more than
 
 MAGNHILD. 173 
 
 rejoicing ! It is not well to brood over a lost 
 vocation, Magnhild, and the letters I receive 
 from Grong lead me to suppose that this is 
 what you are now doing. One who does not 
 attain the first or greatest object of his ambi- 
 tion ought not to sink into listless inactivity ; 
 for do we not thus check the development of 
 the thousand-leaved destiny of the tree of life ? 
 May not even disappointment be part of this ? 
 
 (Five days later.) 
 
 Magnhild, I do not say this in self -justifica- 
 tion. Every time I think of your singing I 
 realize what I have repressed. It possessed a 
 purity, untouched by passion, and that was 
 why it moved with such exalting influence 
 through my soul. The perfume of tender mem- 
 ories was in it, memories of my childhood, my 
 mother, my good teacher, my first conceptions 
 of music, my first yearning for love, or thirst 
 for beauty. It also revived the first, pure tint- 
 ings of life, those which had not yet become 
 glaring, still less tainted. 
 
 I think of your singing artistically schooled, 
 radiant with spirituality what a revelation! 
 And this I checked in its growth. 
 
 I bought while we were together some of the 
 brooches made by your father. I showed them
 
 174 MAGNHILD. 
 
 to no one. Under the circumstances it would 
 have caused suspicion and consequent annoy- 
 ance. But in those brooches I felt the fam- 
 ily calling, Magnhild, the family work, which 
 your talent should have further continued. In 
 your father's work there is innocent fancy, pa- 
 tience, in its imperfections, as it were, a sigh of 
 far more significant, undeveloped power. 
 
 Is all this now checked because your progress 
 is checked, you who are the last of your family 
 and without children? No, I cannot justify 
 myself. 
 
 (I have been again compelled to lay aside 
 my pen for many days. Now I must try if I 
 can finish.) 
 
 Let not the wrong I did to you, and thereby, 
 alas, to many both in the present and in the 
 future, be used by you as an excuse for never 
 making further progress ! You can, if you will, 
 give free scope to whatever power there is 
 within you, if not in one way, in another. And 
 do this now ; do it, also, because I implore you ! 
 You can make the burden of my fault less 
 heavy for my thoughts, now in the last hours 
 of my life. 
 
 Aye, while I write this it grows lighter. 
 The kindness you, in spite of all, surely cher-
 
 MAGNHILD. 175 
 
 ish toward me (I feel it !) sends me a greet- 
 ing. 
 
 You will, so far as you can, rescue my life's 
 work, where it failed to complete its efforts; 
 you will build upon and improve, Magnhild ! 
 
 You will, moreover, accept this request as a 
 consolation ? 
 
 (I could proceed no farther. But to-day I 
 am better.) 
 
 If what I have written helps to open the 
 world once more to you, so that you can enter 
 in and take hold of life's duties ; aye, if all that 
 you have either neglected or only half performed 
 can come to attain the rank of links in life's 
 problem, and thus become dear to you, then it 
 will do me good ; remember this ! Farewell ! 
 
 Ah, yes, farewell ! I have other letters to 
 write, and cannot do much. Farewell ! 
 
 HANS TANDE. 
 
 (Eight days later.) 
 
 I copy in this letter to you the following 
 lines from a letter to another : 
 
 " It is not true that love is for every one the 
 portal to life. Perchance it is not so for even 
 half of those who attain real life. 
 
 " There are many whose lives are ruined by
 
 176 MAGNHILD. 
 
 the loss of love, or by sacrificing everything to 
 love. . With some of them, perhaps, it could not 
 have been otherwise (people are so different, 
 circumstances excuse so much) ; but those 
 whose existences I have seen thus blighted 
 could unconditionally have gained the mastery 
 over self and in the effort acquired a new 
 power. Encouraged, however, by a class of lit- 
 erature and art whose short-sightedness pro- 
 ceeds from a maimed will, they neglected all 
 attempts at gaining strength."
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MAGNHILD and Ronnaug came arm in arm 
 out of the wood where Ronnaug had finally 
 been obliged to seek her friend, where so many 
 confidences had been made, so much discussed 
 and considered. They emerged into the open 
 plain. How blue the haze about the mount- 
 ains ! And this was the frame for the pine 
 forest, the surrounding heather, and the plain 
 with Miss Roland and the child. The latter 
 were sitting on blue and red rugs near the car- 
 riage. From this foreground the mother's eye 
 wandered away more musingly than ever, and 
 gained even stronger impressions of outline, 
 light, color. 
 
 " The summer travels in Norway ! The sum- 
 mer travels in Norway ! " she kept saying to 
 herself. 
 
 From the way in which she uttered these 
 words it might be surmised that in the entire 
 English vocabulary there was nothing which 
 admitted of being repeated with such varied 
 shades of meaning. 
 
 12
 
 178 MAGNHILD. 
 
 The two friends took a long ramble. Magn- 
 hild had become a new being to Ronnaug, her 
 individuality enriched, her countenance illu- 
 mined and thus transformed. For nearly five 
 years Magnhild had been secretly brooding 
 over her lost vocation, and her lost love, those 
 two sisters that had lived and died together. 
 At length she had opened her heart to another ; 
 thus something had been accomplished. 
 
 The horses were now hitched to the carriage, 
 and the party drove on. The noonday repose 
 of nature was not disturbed by so much as the 
 rumbling of the wheels, for the carriage wound 
 its way slowly over the mountain slopes. 
 
 At the next post-station the following lines 
 were found in the register : 
 
 " There met us croaking ravens on our way : 
 We knew that Evil this to us did bode ; 
 We made no off'rings, though, as on we rode, 
 
 To angry gods the mild are full of doubt. 
 Why should we care ? One God to us feels kindly. 
 He is with us ! And Him we follow blindly : 
 
 We laugh at all the omens round about." 
 
 These little verses began to affect the party 
 like a chorus of birds. 
 
 But a joy to which we are unattuned is apt 
 to jar ; and here, moreover, the verses became 
 prophetic, for the travelers had gone but a 
 short distance when they gained a view of the
 
 MAGNHILD. 179 
 
 church steeple on the heights where Magnhild's 
 parents and brothers and sisters were buried, 
 and of the stony ground in the mountain to the 
 left where the home of her childhood had been 
 situated. 
 
 This barren patch of stones always rose up 
 distinctly in Magnhild's mind when she thought 
 of her own life, whose long desert wastes seemed 
 to lay stretched out before her like just such a 
 heap of ruins. Here it faced her once more. 
 It was some time before the consolation she 
 had newly grasped could find expression, for 
 she was haunted by so much that was unsolved, 
 so much that was doubtful. She was now ap- 
 proaching the starting-point of the whole ; from 
 the brow of the hill the parsonage was visible. 
 
 It had been agreed that they should stop 
 here. The carriage rolled down toward the 
 friendly gard through an avenue of birch-trees. 
 Ronnaug was giving Miss Roland a most hu- 
 morous description of the family at the parson- 
 age when suddenly they were all terrified by 
 having the carriage nearly upset. Just by the 
 turn near the house-steps the coachman had 
 driven against a large stone which lay with 
 its lower side protruding into the road. Both 
 Ronnaug and Miss Roland uttered a little 
 shriek, but when they escaped without an acci-
 
 180 MAGNHILD. 
 
 dent they laughed. To their delight Magnhild 
 joined in their laughter. Trifling as had been 
 the occurrence, it had served to rouse her. She 
 was surprised to find herself at the parsonage. 
 And this stone ? Ah, how many hundred ve- 
 hicles had not driven over it ! Would it ever 
 be removed, though? There stood old An- 
 dreas, old Soren, old Knut? There, too, was 
 old Ane, looking out ! From the sitting-room 
 came the sound of a dog's bark. 
 
 " Have they a dog? " asked Magnhild. 
 
 " If they have," replied Ronnaug, " I will 
 venture to say it came through its own enter- 
 prise. 
 
 Old Ane took the luggage, Ronnaug the 
 child, and the whole party was ushered through 
 the passage into the sitting-room, where no 
 one was found except the dog. He was a great 
 shaggy fellow, who at the first kind word relin- 
 quished his wrath, and in a leisurely way went 
 from one to the other, snuffing and wagging his 
 tail, then sauntering back to the stove, lay 
 down, fat and comfortable. 
 
 A creaking and a grating could now be heard 
 overhead ; the priest was rising from the sofa. 
 How well Magnhild knew the music of those 
 springs ! The dog knew it too, and started up, 
 ready to follow his master. But the latter, who
 
 MAGNHILD. 181 
 
 was soon heard on the groaning wooden stairs, 
 did not go out but came into the sitting-room, 
 so the dog only greeted him, and wagging his 
 tail went back to the stove, where he rolled over 
 with a sigh after his excessive exertion. 
 
 The priest was unchanged in every possible 
 particular. He had heard about Ronnaug, and 
 was glad to see her ; his plump hands closed 
 with a long friendly clasp about hers and with 
 a still longer one about Magnhild's. He greeted 
 Miss Roland and played with the child, who 
 was in high glee over the unfamiliar objects in 
 the room, especially the dog. 
 
 And when he had lighted his pipe and had 
 seated the others and himself on the embroid- 
 ered chairs and sofas, the first thing he must 
 tell them (for it was just about a month since 
 the matter had been successfully terminated) 
 was that the " little girls " were provided for. 
 There had been secured for each an annuity. 
 It was really on the most astonishingly favor- 
 able terms. God in his inconceivable mercy 
 had been so good to them. About the "Fro- 
 ken " (so the former governess was usually 
 called), they had had greater cause for anxiety. 
 They had, indeed, thought of doing something 
 for her, too, although their means would scarce- 
 ly have sufficed to make adequate provision for
 
 182 MAGNHILD. 
 
 her, and she had grown too unwieldy to sup- 
 port herself. But God in his inscrutable 
 mercy had not forgotten her. She no longer 
 needed an annuity. She had gone to make a 
 vis,it at the house of a relative not many miles 
 distant, and while there God had called her to 
 Himself; the journey had been too much for 
 her. This intelligence had reached the parson- 
 age a few days before, and the priest was in 
 great uncertainty as to whether a bridal couple 
 would postpone their wedding for a few days. 
 
 " Thus it is, dear Magnhild, in life's vicissi- 
 tudes," said he. " The one is summoned to the 
 grave, the other to the marriage feast. Ah, 
 yes! But what a pretty dress you have on, 
 my child ! Skarlie is truly a good husband to 
 you. This cannot be denied." 
 
 The mistress of the house and her two daugh- 
 ters at length appeared. The moistened hair, 
 the clean linen, the freshly ironed dresses, be- 
 tokened newly-made toilets. They had not a 
 word to say ; the priest took charge of the con- 
 versation, they merely courtesied as they shook 
 hands, and then, taking up their embroidery, 
 sat down each on her own embroidered chair. 
 One of the daughters, however, soon rose and 
 whispered something to her mother ; from the 
 direction in which first her eyes then her moth-
 
 MAGNHILD. 183 
 
 er's wandered, it might be concluded that she 
 had asked whether the gauze covers should be 
 removed from the mirror, the pictures, and the 
 few plaster figures in the room. As the girl 
 at once took her seat again, it must have been 
 decided that the covers should not be removed. 
 
 "Tell me about the Frb'ken who is dead," 
 said Magnhild. 
 
 With one accord the three ladies dropped 
 their embroidery and raised their heads. 
 
 "She died of apoplexy," said the priest's 
 wife. 
 
 They all sat motionless for a moment, and 
 then the ladies continued their embroidery. 
 
 The priest rose to let the dog out. The ani- 
 mal departed with the appearance of being ex- 
 cessively abashed, for which the priest gave 
 him much praise. Then followed a lengthy 
 account of the dog's virtues. He had come to 
 them three years ago, the Lord alone knew 
 from where, and He alone knew why the dog 
 had come to the parsonage ; for the very next 
 summer the animal had saved the " Froken's " 
 life when she was attacked on her accustomed 
 walk to the church by Ole Bjorgan's mad 
 buU. 
 
 The third great event, that old Andreas had 
 cut his foot, was next detailed at quite as great
 
 184 MAGNHILD. 
 
 length. The priest was just telling what old 
 Andreas had said when he, the priest, was 
 helping him to the couch, when the narrative 
 was interrupted by an humble scratching at the 
 door ; it came, of course, from the dog. The 
 corpulent priest rose forthwith to admit the 
 animal, and bestowed on him kind words of 
 admonition, which were accepted with a timid 
 wagging of the tail. 
 
 The dog glanced round the room ; observing 
 that the eyes of the priest's wife manifestly 
 rested with especial friendliness on him, he 
 walked up to her, and licked the hand extended 
 to him. 
 
 At this moment Magnhild rose, and abruptly 
 crossing the floor to where the priest's wife sat, 
 she stroked her hair. She felt that every one 
 was watching her, and that the mistress of the 
 house herself was looking up in embarrassed 
 surprise, and Magnhild was now powerless 
 to explain what she had done. She hastened 
 from the room. Profound silence reigned among 
 those left behind. 
 
 What was it? What had happened? It 
 was this: in the forenoon Magnhild had re- 
 ceived a letter, as we know, and it had caused 
 her to look with new eyes on the life at the 
 parsonage.
 
 I 
 MAGNfllLD. 185 
 
 The tedium seemed uplifted, and behind it 
 she beheld a kindness and an innocence she 
 had always overlooked. And she began to un. 
 derstand the character of that home. 
 
 There was not a word in the priest's narra- 
 tives, from beginning to end, designed to call 
 attention to the good he or any of his house- 
 hold had done. The listener was left to find 
 this out for himself. But the dog had discov- 
 ered it before Magnhild. 
 
 The dog returned thanks ; had she ever done 
 so? The thought had rushed over her with 
 such force that it caused her to feel an irresist- 
 ible impulse to express her gratitude. The 
 universal astonishment caused by her effort to 
 do so made her for the first time realize how 
 unaccustomed her friends were to thanks, or 
 indication of thanks from her, and she became 
 frightened. This was the reason why she had 
 left the room. 
 
 She took the road leading up toward the 
 church, perhaps because it had just been men- 
 tioned. Her new views wholly absorbed her. 
 Until now she had seen only the ludicrous side 
 of the life at the parsonage. The members of 
 the household had provoked, amused, or wear- 
 ied her. But hitherto she had not been aware 
 that what had just been praised in herself had
 
 186 MAGNHILD. 
 
 been gained by her in this household whose in- 
 fluences had spread themselves protectingly 
 over her soul, just as the embroidery was 
 spread over the furniture in these rooms. Had 
 all the weaknesses of the house served Skarlie 
 as a means to ensnare her, in this same house 
 she had acquired the strength wherewith to re- 
 sist his power until the present time. 
 
 If she had lived here without forming close 
 relations with any one, the fault lay not alone 
 in the monotonous routine of the house : it was 
 due chiefly to herself, for even in the days of 
 her life at the parsonage she had wrapped her- 
 self up in dreams. It must have required all 
 the forbearance by which the family were char- 
 acterized to bring her, notwithstanding all this, 
 to the point she had reached. In any other 
 family she would have been shown the door 
 dull, awkward, thankless as she had been. 
 
 Yes, thankless ! Whom had she ever 
 thanked ? Aye, there was one him who had 
 done her the most harm but also the most 
 good; for him she loved. But this could 
 scarcely be counted. 
 
 But whom else ? Not Skarlie, although he 
 had been incessantly kind to her, even he. Not 
 Fru Bang, and how kind she had been ! Not 
 Rounaug; no, not Ronnaug either.
 
 MAGNHILD. 187 
 
 She was appalled. For the first time in her 
 life she held true communion with herself, and 
 she had done little else all her life than com- 
 mune with herself. 
 
 Now she comprehended, although once be- 
 fore she had been startled by a passing thought 
 of the kind; now for the first time she com- 
 prehended what it must have been to Ronnaug 
 after having longed for so many years to tell 
 her about the rich change in her own life, to 
 show her her child, to bring her freedom and 
 increased happiness ; and then to find a per- 
 son who did not even care to take the trouble 
 to walk to the hotel, not a hundred steps dis- 
 tant, because, forsooth, it would necessitate her 
 dressing herself. 
 
 She sat once more on the heights facing the 
 ruins of the home of her parents ; and she cov- 
 ered her face in shame. 
 
 From the thoughts to which this spot gave 
 birth she did not escape until evening, weary 
 in body and in soul. 
 
 When late in the evening she said good- 
 night to Ronnaug, she threw her arm round 
 her, and leaned her head against hers. But 
 words refused to come; they are not easily 
 found the first time they are sought.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE next morning Ronnaug dreamed of 
 singing ; she still heard it when she awoke, and 
 ere long she had so far collected herself as to 
 consider whether it could really be Magnhild 
 who was singing. This thought caused her to 
 become wide awake and to leave her bed. 
 
 She scarcely waited to don her morning- 
 gown before she opened a window. From the 
 sitting-room, which was at the other end of the 
 house, there came the sound of singing and a 
 low piano accompaniment. The voice was pure 
 and high ; it must be Magnhild's. 
 
 Ronnaug made haste to complete her toilet 
 and go down-stairs. She carried her boots out 
 into the passage and put them on there lest 
 she should awaken Miss Roland and the child. 
 There was some one coming up the stairs. 
 Ronnaug quickly put down her boots and 
 stepped forward ; for the head which was now 
 displayed to her view was Grong's. What, 
 Grong here ? 
 
 He greeted Ronnaug with a keen, hasty
 
 MAGNHILD. 189 
 
 glance, and, without a word, went into an 
 apartment near hers. 
 
 Ronnaug sat listening to the singing while 
 she put on her boots. It flowed so equally and 
 calmly; unquestionably there was joy in it, 
 but the joy was subdued it might be called 
 pure. 
 
 She remained still until Magnhild ended, and 
 even then paused a little while. She finally 
 went down-stairs. The door of the sitting- 
 room was half open, which accounted for her 
 having heard so distinctly. Magnhild had 
 turned round with the piano-stool and sat talk- 
 ing with the two friends of her childhood, who 
 had seats one on each side of her. She had 
 been singing for them, it would seem. 
 
 They all rose as Ronnaug entered. Magn- 
 hild called her friend's attention to the clock. 
 Verily, the hour hand pointed to ten. Magn- 
 hild had been up a long time and singing. 
 
 The girls withdrew to carry coffee, eggs, etc., 
 into the dining-room. As soon as Magnhild 
 saw that she and Ronuaug were alone, she has- 
 tened to ask if Ronnaug knew that Grong was 
 at the parsonage. Ronnaug told about having 
 just met him. 
 
 " Yes," whispered Magnhild, " he is travel- 
 ing in search of his sou. Only think, the young
 
 190 MAGNHILD. 
 
 man has eloped with the girl to whom he is be- 
 trothed ! He is twenty years old, she about 
 sixteen." 
 
 " So, then, the verses ? " 
 
 " Were of course by Grong's son. Grong is 
 furious. He wanted to make a poet of his son, 
 though!" 
 
 They both laughed. 
 
 The young man was really extraordinarily 
 gifted, Magnhild further narrated, and for his 
 sake his father had read extensively, besides 
 taking long journeys with his son in Germany, 
 France, Italy, and England. Plans had been 
 made to give the young man an opportunity of 
 gaining an impression of the scenery of his fa- 
 therland and of country life, but pop ! the 
 bird had flown. 
 
 Grong was now heard on the stairs, so noth- 
 ing more was said. He gave the ladies a sharp 
 glance as he entered, then began to pace the 
 floor, as completely hidden by his beard as 
 though it were a forest, and veiled by his spec- 
 tacles as an image is veiled in a fountain. 
 
 They sat down to the late breakfast, and the 
 priest's wife received them, one by one, with 
 diffident friendliness. The priest had gone 
 down to the school-house to attend a meeting. 
 
 After the meal was over, Grong, who had not
 
 MAGNHILD. 191 
 
 opened his mouth for any other purpose than 
 to eat and to drink, walked through the sitting- 
 room and passage directly out to the door-steps. 
 Ronnaug bravely followed ; she wished to talk 
 with him. He discovered this and made an 
 effort to escape, but was overtaken and obliged 
 to walk up the road with Ronnaug. When he 
 heard what she wanted, he exclaimed : 
 
 " I have been so confoundedly bored with 
 this tall woman and her tiresome vocation, that 
 you will find it impossible to get one word out 
 of me. Besides, I am expecting my ' skyds.' ' 
 
 He was about to turn away ; but Ronnaug 
 held fast to him, laughing, and brought him 
 back to the theme. Before she had succeeded, 
 however, in laying before him the necessary 
 facts, he interrupted with, 
 
 " The fact is she has no vocation whatever ; 
 that is the whole secret of the matter. Her 
 singing? Tande so often wrote to me about 
 her singing. Well, I have been listening to 
 her singing this morning, and do you know 
 what I think about it ? Technical correctness, 
 good method, pure tone, in abundance; but 
 no fancy, no inspiration, no expression ; how 
 the deuce could there be ! Had she had fancy, 
 she would have had energy, and with her 
 voice, her natural technical ability, she would
 
 192 MAGNHILD. 
 
 have become a singer, whether there was a 
 Tande or not, whether she had married a Skar- 
 lie or a Farlie." 
 
 Notwithstanding the harsh, blunt form in 
 which this idea was framed, there might be 
 sufficient truth in it to make it worth while to 
 place Magnhild's history before Grong in its 
 true light. Grong could not resist the fascina- 
 tion of a soul's experiences. He became all 
 ear, forgetting both his ire and his " skyds." 
 
 He heard now about the Magnhild who 
 would scarcely take pains to dress herself, and 
 who let Skarlie do and say what he pleased, 
 but who the moment Skarlie mentions Tande's 
 name and hers together, in other words, invades 
 her inner sanctuary, flees forthwith from him 
 to America. Was there no energy in that ? 
 
 He heard about the Magnhild who, checked 
 in her highest aspirations, became wholly in- 
 different. The relations with Tande were fully 
 explained. Grong, indeed, had been partially 
 acquainted with them by Tande himself. Ron- 
 naug also thought it right to inform Grong of 
 the purport of Tande's letter ; she could recall 
 it perfectly, for it had made a deep impression 
 on her. 
 
 What an impression did it not make on 
 Grong!
 
 MAGNHILD. 193 
 
 How much it must have cost this man in his 
 time to renounce what he had originally be- 
 lieved to be his vocation. And now to have to 
 give up his hopes for his son ? How could she 
 and Magnhild have laughed at this as they 
 had done that same morning. 
 
 " Consolation in the idea that our calling is 
 greater and more manifold than we ourselves 
 are aware ? Yes, for those who can blindly 
 and without exercise of their own wills place 
 themselves under subjection to the unknown 
 guidance ! I cannot do so ! " He raised his 
 clinched hand, but let it fall again. " Is it a 
 crime to steer toward a definite goal, and con- 
 centrate one's will, one's responsibility upon its 
 attainment ? Look at yonder insect ! It goes 
 straight forward ; it has a fixed aim. Now I 
 crush it to death. See thus ! 
 
 " You should have seen my wife," he con- 
 tinued, presently. " She sped onward through 
 life, with fluttering veil ; her eyes, her thoughts 
 sparkled. What was her goal? Just as she 
 was beginning, with my aid, to comprehend her 
 faculties, she expired. A meteor ! 
 
 " I had a friend. What talents, and what 
 aspirations ! How handsome he was ! When 
 he was but little over twenty years of age, 
 he fell during the siege of a Danish fortress, 
 
 13
 
 194 MAGNHILD. 
 
 scarcely mentioned, scarcely remembered. A 
 meteor ! 
 
 "But what solicitude for existences which 
 neither can nor will be of any use in the world. 
 That fisherman in Nordland was the only per- 
 son who was saved from destruction out of a 
 whole parish. And he lived more than sixty 
 years as stupid as the codfish he drew out of 
 the sea. 
 
 " For the sake of others ? For the advance- 
 ment of one's fellow-creatures ? For the good 
 of posterity ? Aye, aye, find consolation in all 
 this, if you can ! Before I shall be able to do 
 so I must see the benefit of it for myself. The 
 mole's life in the dark, with chance alone for its 
 guide, is not a life that I could lead, even 
 though I might have a certificate guarantying 
 that light should dawn on me one day, that is 
 to say, on the other side of the grave. I ad- 
 mire those who can be content with such a 
 lot." 
 
 " In other words, you despise them ! " inter- 
 posed Ronnaug. 
 
 Grong looked at her, but made no reply. 
 
 Ronnaug was anxious to know how it was 
 best to advise Magnhild. Grong promptly an- 
 swered, 
 
 " Advise her to go to work."
 
 MAGNHILD. 195 
 
 "Without definite object? Merely for the 
 sake of work ? " 
 
 He hesitated a moment, and then said, 
 
 " I will tell you one thing, my good lady : 
 Magnhild's misfortune has been that through- 
 out her whole life she has had every want sup- 
 plied, every meal, every garment. Had she 
 been obliged to labor hard, or to bring up chil- 
 dren, she would not have indulged so freely in 
 dreams." 
 
 " So, then, work without definite aim ? " re- 
 peated Ronnaug. 
 
 " There are so many kinds of aims," said 
 Grong, peevishly, and then he was silent. It 
 was evident that he. had been all round the cir- 
 cle and had returned to his wrath over what 
 had befallen himself. 
 
 They had turned and were retracing their 
 steps in the friendly birch avenue leading to 
 the parsonage. The tones of a human voice 
 were heard ; they drew nearer, paused, and list- 
 ened attentively. The windows were open, 
 and every note rang out, clear and equal. 
 
 " Yes, there is purity in the voice," said 
 Grong ; " that is true. But purity is a mere 
 passive quality." 
 
 They went on. 
 
 " Not technical skill alone, then ? " queried 
 Ronnaug.
 
 196 MAGNHILD. 
 
 To this Grong made no reply. He had fallen 
 into a new train of thought. When they had 
 reached the house, he roused himself. 
 
 " She and I are, both of us, I dare say, bear- 
 ers of a half-completed family history. Never- 
 theless, her family dies out with her ; and 
 mine? Oh, all this is enough to drive one 
 mad ! Where is my ' skyds ? ' ' 
 
 With these words he strode past the main 
 building to the court-yard behind. Rb'nnaug 
 slowly followed. The " skyds " had not yet 
 arrived. Grumbling considerably, Grong saun 
 tered up to the coach-house, whose doors stood 
 open, and in which he saw Ronnaug's carriage. 
 She joined him, and they discussed the carriage 
 together. It was too light for a traveling car- 
 riage, Grong thought. One fore-wheel must 
 already have been damaged, for it had been 
 taken off. So, then, it depended upon the black- 
 smith how long the ladies would remain at the 
 parsonage? But he would start without fur- 
 ther delay ; for there at last came the 
 " skyds." 
 
 He bade her a light farewell, as though he 
 were merely going to the next corner, and then 
 went into the house for his luggage. Ronnaug, 
 however, determined to wait until he came out 
 again.
 
 MAGNHILD. 197 
 
 She had a kindly feeling for him. She earn- 
 estly hoped that the son's case was not so bad 
 as the father now thought. There was so much 
 unrest in Grong. Was not this caused by his 
 having a great variety of " talents," but no one 
 special talent ? She had once heard Grong half 
 jestingly make a similar assertion about another 
 person. All these endowments, however, might 
 be combined in one main tendency, of this Ron- 
 naug felt sure. It might be the same in the 
 case of Magnhild; but perhaps there was not 
 sufficient talent there. Technical ability ? 
 Aye, if that were her chief endowment she 
 could doubtless render it available in singing. 
 
 Ronnaug had failed to find the light she 
 needed. This was truly discouraging; for 
 counsel must be given, a resolution formed. 
 She prayed God for her friend, and for this 
 gloomy man now coming out of the house, ac- 
 companied by the priest's wife, who seemed to 
 be the only person to whom he had said fare- 
 well. 
 
 " Present my greetings to my old teacher," 
 he called down from the cariole, as he grasped 
 the hand of the mistress of the house. " Tell 
 him tell him nothing!" and with this he 
 whipped up his horse so suddenly that the 
 " skyds " boy came near being left behind.
 
 198 MAGNHILD. 
 
 The priest's wife made some remarks about 
 his surely being very unhappy, as she stood 
 watching him drive away. While the ladies 
 were still at the door, a woman came walking 
 up the road toward them. She nodded and 
 smiled at the mistress of the house as she 
 passed on her way to the kitchen. 
 
 " You made your sale ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I thought so from your looks." 
 
 Then turning to Ronnaug the priest's wife 
 said, 
 
 " This woman, you may well believe, made 
 Magnhild happy this morning." 
 
 " How so ? " 
 
 " Why, she stopped here with her work on 
 her way to the dealer, who makes purchases 
 for a merchant in town. Just as she stepped 
 inside Magnhild came down into the kitchen. 
 When the woman caught sight of her, she 
 eagerly addressed her she is a great talker 
 and she began to cry and to talk, to talk and 
 to cry, telling how poor she had been and how 
 well off both she and her children now were. 
 Magnhild, you know, for many years taught an 
 Industrial School up in these mountains, and 
 this woman was one of her aptest pupils. This 
 hand- work, I can assure you, has spread rapidly
 
 MAGNHILD. 199 
 
 here ; there are scarcely any poor people to be 
 found in our parish now." 
 
 " But Magnhild was she glad ? " 
 " She certainly must have been glad, for soon 
 afterward we heard her singing. And the last 
 time she was here about four or five years 
 ago we could not persuade her to go near the 
 piano." 
 
 Ronnaug now greeted Miss Roland, who was 
 coming toward her with the child. A little 
 later, as she was going through the passage to 
 the sitting-room, the sounds of music once more 
 floated out toward her. The priest's daughters 
 were at the piano, singing a duet with feeble 
 voices, one of which was more quavering than 
 the other. They were drawling out, 
 
 " All rests in God's paternal hand." 
 
 The door stood open. One of the girls sat 
 at the piano, the other stood at its side. Magn- 
 hild sat facing them, leaning against the piano. 
 
 Peace radiated from the little hymn, because 
 they who sang it were at peace. The small, 
 yellow-haired heads above the stiff collars did 
 not make a single movement, the piano almost 
 whispered. But the sunshine, playing on the 
 embroidered furniture and the embroidered 
 covers, blended with the music a harmony from 
 afar.
 
 200 MAGNHILD. 
 
 When they had finished singing, one of the 
 girls told that a lady traveling that way had 
 taught them the hymn, and the other, that her 
 part had been arranged by the Froken. With- 
 out uttering a word, without even changing her 
 position, Magnhild held out her hand, which 
 was clasped by the young lady nearest her. 
 
 At this moment 'voices were heard out of 
 doors. The priest was approaching, accom- 
 panied by several men. As they stopped at 
 the door-steps, Ronnaug entered the sitting- 
 room. Soon a tramping of many feet was 
 heard on the steps ; the group at the piano rose, 
 Magnhild crossed the floor to where Ronnaug 
 stood. First the dog, then the priest, entered 
 in solemn procession, and slowly following 
 them came dropping in, one by one, six or 
 seven of the farmers of the little mountain par- 
 ish, heavy, toil-worn men, all of them. Magn- 
 hild pressed close up to Ronnaug, who also 
 drew back a little, so that they two stood in 
 front of the gauze-covered mirror. The priest 
 said good-morning, first to Mrs. Randon, then 
 to Magnhild, and asked how they were. Then 
 the men went round the room, one by one, and 
 shook hands with every one present. 
 
 " Call mother," said the priest to one of his 
 daughters, and cleared his throat.
 
 MAGNHILD. 201 
 
 The mistress of the house soon appeared, and 
 again man after man stepped forward, shook 
 hands, and returned to his place. The priest 
 wiped his face, stationed himself in front of the 
 frightened Magnhild, bowed, and said : 
 
 " Dear Magnhild, there is no cause for alarm ! 
 The representatives of our little parish chanced 
 to assemble to-day in the school-house, and as I 
 happened to mention that you were making a 
 journey and had stopped at the parsonage on 
 your way, some one said : ' It is due to her ex- 
 ertions that the poor-rates of this parish are so 
 small.' Several others expressed the same sen- 
 timents. And then I told them that this should 
 be said to your face ; they all agreed with me. 
 I do not suppose thanks have ever been offered 
 to you, my dear child, either here or down at 
 the Point, where the results of your work are 
 even greater than here and have spread to the 
 parishes on both sides of the fjord. 
 
 " Dear child, God's ways are inscrutable. 
 As long as we can discern them in our own 
 little destinies we are happy, but when we fail 
 to see them we become very unhappy." (Here 
 Magnhild burst into tears.) 
 
 " When you were carried downward by the 
 landslide, with your sled in your little hand, 
 you were saved in order that you might become 
 ,a blessing to many.
 
 202 MAGNHILD. 
 
 " Do not scorn the gratitude of this humble 
 parish : it is a prayer for you to the Almighty. 
 You know what He has said : ' Inasmuch as ye 
 have done it unto one of the least of these my 
 brethren, ye have done it unto me.' May you 
 realize this ! " 
 
 The priest now turned toward his wife, and 
 in the same solemn tone said, 
 
 " Have refreshments handed to these men ! " 
 
 He strode round among the latter with play- 
 ful remarks, but the whole house seemed to 
 shake beneath his tread. The more deeply 
 Magnhild seemed moved the happier the priest 
 was. 
 
 Magnhild felt a strong impulse to say some- 
 thing to him ; for had she not found a refuge 
 in his house, none of the results for which she 
 had just received such unmerited thanks would 
 have been accomplished. But the priest's im- 
 petuosity restrained her. 
 
 Refreshments were handed round ; then the 
 men once more shook hands with every one and 
 withdrew, led by the priest, whose voice could 
 be heard almost all the way to the school- 
 house.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN the afternoon the mail from the Point ar- 
 rived, bringing a letter for Magnhild. She was 
 alarmed, and handed the letter to Ronnaug, 
 who soon returned it to her, with the informa- 
 tion that she need not be afraid to read it her- 
 self. 
 
 " You will see by this what your journey has 
 already brought about," Ronnaug added. 
 
 The letter was from tall Louise. 
 
 DEAR MAGNHILD, I was obliged to go up 
 to your house to-day to ask for the pattern you 
 had promised to explain to us. But I found 
 only Skarlie at home, and he was not exactly 
 ah ! what shall I call it ? for I have never 
 before seen so unhappy a person. He said you 
 had gone on a journey. 
 
 I heard later that you were traveling with 
 Mrs. Randon, and thinking it most likely that 
 you are at the parsonage in the mountains I 
 address you there. For you must not leave us,
 
 204 MAGNHILD. 
 
 Magnhild, or if you do go awaj^, you must come 
 back to us again ! 
 
 We have all of us plainly seen that you were 
 unhappy ; but as you said nothing, we did not 
 like to say anything either. But can you not 
 stay with us ? 
 
 How shall we make progress with the new 
 work which has just been introduced? We 
 cannot understand it without some one to ex- 
 plain it to us. And there is the singing, too ! 
 Dear Magnhild, so many people thank me and 
 Marie ; she and I take the lead now, it is true, 
 but we all know to whom we owe our excellent 
 means of support, the good times we have to- 
 gether, and our opportunities for helping one 
 another. Now that you have left us it seems 
 very dreadful to think that we never did any- 
 thing to give you pleasure, and that you do not 
 really know us. 
 
 I can assure you we could do much for you 
 in return for your kindness to us if you would 
 only let us. Do not leave us ! Or if you must, 
 come back to us when your journey is over ! 
 Your devoted, heartily grateful 
 
 LOUISE. 
 
 There was added to the letter an extremely 
 neat postscript from Marie.
 
 MAGNHILD. 205 
 
 I was so grieved when Louise told me you 
 had gone. She has more energy than I, poor 
 hunchback. She has written and said what 
 we all, yes, all of us, think of the matter. 
 
 But I have the greatest cause to write to you. 
 What in the world would have become of me 
 if you had not come to the school and made me 
 skillful in work that is just suited to me. 
 Without you I should have been a burden to 
 others, or at least I should never have learned 
 to take pleasure in work. Now I feel that I 
 am engaged in something which is continually 
 growing. Yes, now I am happy. 
 
 I have told you this at last. How often have 
 I wished to open my heart to you, yet did not 
 quite dare, because you were so reserved ! 
 
 What delightful times we might have had 
 together! But can we not have them yet? 
 Your MARIE. 
 
 Postscript. You may think I mean that 
 you took no interest in us. No : I did not 
 mean that. You were too patient with us for 
 me to have any such thought. But it seemed 
 as if you were indifferent to everything about 
 you, people as well as all else ; that is what I 
 had in mind. 
 
 Cannot you, as Louise says, come to us ? We
 
 206 MAGNHILD. 
 
 will gather about you, as bees about their 
 queen, dear Magnhild. 
 
 There is no better way to express what now 
 happened to Magnhild, than to say that a new 
 life-spring welled up within her. This help 
 from what she had never thought of as any- 
 thing but a pastime and a monotonous routine 
 worked wonders. She felt that she must en- 
 deavor to deserve this devotion ; she knew now 
 what it was her duty to do. 
 
 She was walking and talking with Ronnaug 
 in the court-yard. Evening was drawing nigh ; 
 the fowls had already sought shelter and were 
 settling themselves cackling on the roost ; the 
 cows were being driven home from the pasture, 
 and slowly passed by. The perfume of hay 
 was wafted toward the ladies, ever and anon, 
 for loads were being hauled into the barn. 
 
 Ronnaug was so sure of what she was doing 
 that she did not hesitate to tell Magnhild what 
 the same mail had brought her : it was a news- 
 paper containing a telegram from Munich an- 
 nouncing the death of Tande. These tidings 
 produced no further effect upon Magnhild than 
 to make both her and Ronnaug pause for an 
 instant and then walk on in silence. Tande 
 had always been thought of as one very far
 
 MAGNHILD. 207 
 
 away, and now he seemed nearer. What he 
 had recently sent her for her guidance became 
 more profoundly true than ever. 
 
 The first words she uttered were not about 
 Tande but about Skarlie. Perhaps it would 
 be best to send for him that they might have 
 an explanation before she started on her jour- 
 ney. Ronnaug was not disinclined to agree to 
 this ; but she thought that she, not Magnhild, 
 should attend to the explanation. In fact, 
 there was nothing to say except to announce 
 what Magnhild had resolved upon doing. 
 
 The conversation was spasmodic like their 
 walk. All the people of the house were out 
 making hay. Miss Roland and the child had 
 also gone to the field. Magnhild and Ronnaug 
 were about going there themselves when a boy 
 came walking into the yard whistling, with his 
 hands in his pockets. Seeing the ladies he 
 stood still and stopped whistling. Then he 
 took a stand on his right foot ; the left heel he 
 planted in the ground, and moved his leg in 
 such a way that the sole of the foot stood erect 
 and fanned the air. 
 
 Presently he drew nearer. 
 
 " Is it you they call Magnhild ? " he asked, 
 in the ringing dialect of the parish. 
 
 He addressed the question to the right one, 
 who replied in the affirmative.
 
 208 MAGNHILD. 
 
 " I was sent to ask you to come down to our 
 place, Synstevold ; for there is a fellow there 
 waiting to see you." 
 
 " What is his name ? " asked Ronnaug. 
 
 "I was told not to tell," said the boy, as 
 he planted his left heel in the ground again, 
 fanned the air with his foot, and stared at the 
 barn. 
 
 Ronnaug broke into the dialect as she asked 
 whether the " fellow " was not lame. 
 
 " That is very possible," answered the boy, 
 with a grin and an oath. 
 
 Here Ronnaug ran to meet old Andreas who 
 was just coming out of the barn with an empty 
 hay wagon to go after another load ; the rum- 
 bling of the wheels prevented him from hear- 
 ing her call ; but she overtook him. 
 
 " Was it you who took one of the fore-wheels 
 from my carriage ? " asked she. 
 
 " Fore-wheel of the carriage," repeated old 
 Andreas. " Is it off ? Stand still, you fool 
 there ? " he cried, giving the reins such a jerk 
 that one of the horses started to move backward 
 instead of forward, for it was a young horse. 
 
 But in the mean time Ronnaug had gained 
 light on the question, and left Andreas. In 
 slow English she told Magnhild what she be- 
 lieved she had discovered; she did not want
 
 MAGNHILD. 209 
 
 the boy who was standing by to understand. 
 Andreas drove on. 
 
 Magnhild laughed : " Yes, Skarlie has come. 
 It is undoubtedly he ! " and turning to the boy 
 she said that she would accompany him at 
 once. 
 
 Ronnaug tried to persuade Magnhild to re- 
 main where she was and let Tier go. No, Magn- 
 hild preferred to go herself. She was already 
 on her way when Ronnaug called after her 
 that she would soon follow herself to see how 
 things were going. Magnhild looked back with 
 a smile, and said, 
 
 " You may if you like ! " 
 
 So after a time Ronnaug set forth for Syns- 
 tevold. She knew very well that Skarlie could 
 offer nothing that would tempt Magnhild, but 
 he might be annoying, perhaps rough. The 
 fore-wheel was a warning. 
 
 There was perhaps no one to whom Skarlie 
 was so repulsive as to Ronnaug. She knew 
 him well. No one besides Ronnaug could sur- 
 mise how he had striven, dastard as he was, to 
 taint the purity of Magnhild's imagination, to 
 deaden her high sense of honor. Magnhild's 
 frequent blushes had their history. 
 
 What was it that so bound him to her ? At 
 the outset, of course, the hope that failed. But 
 
 14
 
 210 MAGNHILD. 
 
 since then? The evening before, when the 
 conversation had turned on the Catholic clois- 
 ters, the priest had remarked that Skarlie 
 who was a man that had traveled and thought 
 considerably had said that in the cloisters 
 the monks prayed night and day to make 
 amends for the neglected prayers of the rest of 
 the people. That was the reason why people 
 were willing to give their money so freely to 
 the cloisters: it was like making a cash pay- 
 ment on the debt of sin. 
 
 Ronnaug had sat and pondered. Had not 
 Skarlie hereby explained his own relations with 
 Magnhild? It was his way of making pay- 
 ments on his debt of sin. 
 
 And so, of course, he grudged giving her up. 
 
 Had he but been harsh and impatient, Magn- 
 hild would immediately have left him. That 
 was just the misfortune ; he was a coward, and 
 he could not bear to renounce her. He was 
 very humble whenever he failed in his attempts 
 to win her, and when he had been especially 
 malicious he forthwith made amends by being 
 as friendly and interesting as possible. And 
 this was what had kept the ball rolling. 
 
 Amid these and similar reflections, Ronnaug 
 took the way across the fields in order not to 
 be seen from the place. The grass where she
 
 MAGNHILD. 211 
 
 walked had not been mown ; she trampled it 
 mercilessly under foot, but she paused before a 
 patch of flowers whose varied hues and leaves 
 she could not help contemplating. Suddenly 
 she heard voices. In front of her there were 
 several willow copses through whose branches 
 she espied the pair she was seeking. 
 
 There sat Skarlie and Magnhild in the grass, 
 he in his shirt-sleeves and without a hat. 
 
 Half -frightened for Magnhild and utterly 
 without respect for him, Ronnaug immediately 
 stood guard. Concealing herself from view she 
 took her post between two copses. Skarlie and 
 Magnhild could be seen quite distinctly, for the 
 space behind them was open. 
 
 " Then I shall certainly close up down at the 
 Point, and I will follow you." 
 
 " You may if you choose. But spare me 
 further threats. For the last time : I have re- 
 solved to go. I wish to travel in order to see 
 and to learn. Some day I hope to return and 
 teach others." 
 
 " Do you intend to come back to me ? " 
 
 " That I do not know." 
 
 " Oh, you do know very well." 
 
 44 Perhaps I do, for if you should lead a bet- 
 ter life I presume I would come back to you ; 
 but I do not believe you capable of changing,
 
 212 MAGNHILD. 
 
 and so I might just as well say at once that I 
 shall not return to you." 
 
 "You do not know all I mean to do for 
 you." 
 
 " What, your last will and testament again ? 
 Suppose we drop this subject now." 
 
 She sat twirling a flower, upon which she 
 was intently gazing. Skarlie had placed his 
 shorter leg under him ; his face was all puck- 
 ered up and his eyes stung. 
 
 " You have never appreciated me." 
 
 "No that is true. I have much to thank 
 you for which I have taken without thanks. 
 Please God, I shall one day show my grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " Cannot we make it right now ? What is 
 it you want ? To travel ? We can travel ; we 
 have means enough." 
 
 " As I said before, let us drop this subject 
 now." 
 
 He sighed, and taking up his cutty, he laid 
 his forefinger over it. It was already filled ; 
 he produced a match-box. 
 
 " If you can smoke there is hope for you," 
 said Magnhild. 
 
 u Oh! I am not smoking; it is nothing but 
 habit," he drew a long sigh. " No, Magnhild, 
 it is impossible for things to go well with me
 
 MAGNHILD. 213 
 
 if you leave me. For that is about equal to 
 closing up my house and driving me out into 
 the world. The gossip of the people would be 
 more than I could bear." 
 
 He looked now positively unhappy. Magn- 
 hild plucked several flowers ; but if he expected 
 an answer from her it was in vain. 
 
 "It is hard for those who have strong nat- 
 ures," said he; "the devil gains the upper- 
 hand over them in many ways. I thought you 
 would have helped me. One thing I must say : 
 if we two could have had a right cozy home to- 
 gether, and a child " 
 
 But here she sprang up quickly, and the 
 flowers fell from her lap. 
 
 " Let us have no more of this ! He who 
 means to do right does not begin as you did. 
 But in spite of the beginning you might per- 
 haps still have Yet how did you act ? I 
 say : let us have no more of this ! " 
 
 She moved away a few paces and came back 
 again with : " No, I was not to blame when I 
 gave myself to you, for you promised that I 
 should do and live precisely as I pleased. And 
 I was such an inexperienced child that I did 
 not in the least understand how you were out- 
 witting me. But I did wrong when I heard 
 how matters really were and did not at once
 
 214 MAGNHILD. 
 
 leave you. Also when I failed to do so later. 
 However, this is connected with many things 
 about which we will not talk at present. All 
 we can do now is to make amends, as far as we 
 can, for the past. Give me up, and try to do 
 your duty toward others." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " His eyes 
 blinked and his face grew sharp. 
 
 " I mean that you have outwitted others, so 
 I have heard, for your own selfish ends. Try 
 to make amends for your evil deeds, if you 
 really desire improvement." 
 
 " That is not true. If it was, it is nothing 
 to you." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! There is little hope of im- 
 provement, I fear, in this as in other things. 
 Aye, then, farewell! It shall be as I have 
 said." 
 
 He looked up and distorted his face to a grin, 
 making the eyes almost wholly disappear be- 
 neath the bushy brows. 
 
 "You cannot leave here without my con- 
 sent." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Moreover, have you considered what you 
 are doing ? Are you right in the eyes of God ? " 
 
 "You know very well what I think upon 
 this subject."
 
 MAGNHILD. 215 
 
 '* Pshaw ! If you mean that talk about un- 
 holy marriages, it is sheer nonsense. There is 
 not a word in the Bible about it. I have 
 looked." 
 
 She stroked the hair from her brow. " Then 
 it is written here," said she, and turned to go. 
 
 Skarlie began to get up. He was very an- 
 gry- 
 
 Ronnaug felt the necessity of making haste, 
 
 for now she was hi danger of being seen. 
 
 Suddenly the three stood face to face. 
 
 Ronnaug went right up to Skarlie, in the 
 sweetest, most amiable manner, heartily shook 
 his hand, and said in English that she was de- 
 lighted to see him, he had often been so ex- 
 tremely kind to her. Then she began to jest ; 
 she was at once insinuating and daring. Skar- 
 lie could not help laughing and offering some 
 remarks, also in English; then Ronnaug said 
 something witty to which Skarlie could retal- 
 iate; soon they were both laughing heartily. 
 The impression made on him by this handsome, 
 finely developed woman, transported him, as it 
 were, before he was aware, to other scenes and 
 spread a new train of thoughts over his spirit. 
 The jesting became livelier. English alone 
 was spoken, which particularly pleased Skar- 
 lie ; and it put him in a good humor, too, to
 
 216 MAGNHILD. 
 
 have a chance of displaying his ready wit, of 
 which he possessed an abundance. Finally, Ron- 
 naug held him completely bound by the spell 
 of her witchery, and thus made no unalloyed 
 good impression on Magnhild, who was alarmed 
 at this display of the powers Ronnaug had at 
 her command. She wound her spell about him, 
 with her look, her words, her challenging fig- 
 ure ; but her eyes flashed fire, while she was 
 laughing: she would have liked, above all 
 things, to give him a good box on the ear! 
 Women become wonderfully united when they 
 have occasion to defend or avenge one another. 
 
 Amid the stream of conversation she grad- 
 ually led the limping Skarlie round the willow 
 copse, and when they stood on the other side she 
 turned toward the copse which had concealed 
 her while she was eavesdropping. Thrusting 
 aside some of the branches, she asked Skarlie, 
 with a laugh, if he would not be "gallant 
 enough " to aid them in rolling home the wheel 
 that lay concealed here. He could not possibly 
 allow the ladies to do it alone, she said. 
 
 Skarlie heartily joined in her laughter, but 
 showed no readiness to give her any assistance. 
 He was in his shirt sleeves, he said ; he must go 
 after his coat if he was to accompany them to 
 the parsonage.
 
 MAGNHILD. 217 
 
 Ronnaug assured him that his coat could be 
 sent after him, and that he would find it far 
 easier to roll the wheel without it. She went 
 to work to raise the wheel unaided, shouting 
 " Ahoy ! " No sooner had she, with great ef- 
 fort, succeeded in getting it up, than it fell 
 over again. 
 
 " It requires two to do this ! " said she. 
 
 She once more stooped to take hold of the 
 wheel, and while bending over it flashed her 
 roguish eyes on Skarlie. His were irresistibly 
 attracted to her face and superb form. The 
 wheel was raised. Ronnaug and Skarlie rolled 
 it forward between them, she skipping along 
 on one side, he limping on the other, amid 
 merry words and much laughter. Magnhild 
 slowly followed. Ronnaug cast back a look at 
 her, over the top of Skarlie's bald head ; it 
 sparkled with mirth and victory. But ere it 
 was withdrawn, its fire was scorching enough 
 to have left two deeply seared brown stripes on 
 his neck and shoulders. 
 
 The distance was not very short. Skarlie 
 groaned. Soon Ronnaug felt great drops of 
 sweat rolling down from his face upon her 
 hands. All the more swiftly did she roll. His 
 sentences became words, his words syllables ; he 
 made a vigorous effort to conceal his exhaus-
 
 218 MAGNHILD. 
 
 tion with a laugh. At last he could neither 
 roll himself nor the wheel ; he dropped down 
 on the grass, red as a cluster of rowan berries, 
 his eyes fixed in their sockets, his mouth wide 
 open. He gasped to recover his breath and 
 his senses. 
 
 Ronnaug called to old Andreas, who at this 
 moment appeared on the road with a load of 
 hay, to come and take the wheel. Then she 
 drew her arm through Magnhild's, bowed and 
 thanked Skarlie still in English " many 
 thousand times for his admirable assistance." 
 Now they could start the next morning early 
 and so, " farewell ! " 
 
 From the road they looked back. The atti- 
 tude of Andreas indicated that he was asking 
 Skarlie how the wheel had come there. Skar- 
 lie made a wrathful movement of the hand, as 
 though he would like to sweep away both the 
 wheel and Andreas ; or perhaps he was con- 
 signing them to a place where the inhabitants 
 of Norway are very apt to consign their least 
 highly -prized friends. The ladies now saw 
 him turn his face toward them ; Ronnaug 
 promptly waved her handkerchief and cried 
 back to him, " Farewell ! " The word was 
 echoed through the evening air. 
 
 The two friends had not proceeded many
 
 MAGNHILD. 219 
 
 steps before Ronnaug paused to give vent to 
 the residue of her wrath. She poured out a 
 stream of words, in a half whisper. Magnhild 
 could only distinguish a few of these words, but 
 those she did make out were from the vocabu- 
 lary of the old days of service on the road ; 
 they compared with Ronnaug' s present vocabu- 
 lary as the hippopotamus compares with the fly. 
 
 Magnhild recoiled from her. Ronnaug stared 
 wildly at Magnhild, then composed herself and 
 said in English, " You are right ! " but imme- 
 diately gave way to a new outburst of wrath and 
 horror ; for she was so forcibly reminded of the 
 time when she herself crept along as best she 
 could down among the slimy dwellers of the 
 human abyss where darkness reigns, and where 
 such as he down on yonder hill sat on the brink 
 and fished. She thrust her hand into her 
 pocket to draw forth Charles Randon's last let- 
 ter, which she always carried about her until 
 the next one came ; she pressed it to her lips 
 and burst into tears. Her emotion was so vio- 
 lent that she was forced to sit down. 
 
 It was the first time Magnhild had ever seen 
 Ronnaug weep. Even upon the deck of the 
 vessel on which she had set sail for America 
 she had not wept. Oh, no, quite the contrary I
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THEY remained at the parsonage several 
 days, for when it was announced that Magnhild 
 was going with Ronnaug to America the good 
 people were so startled that it was thought 
 best to grant them time to become accustomed 
 to the idea. Magnhild wished for her own 
 sake, too, to pass a little time with them. 
 
 One day the ladies were all taking a walk 
 along the road. Ronnaug and Miss Roland 
 had little Harry between them, so they made 
 but slow progress. From sheer solicitude for 
 the child they all went quite out of the way 
 of a large carriage which was overtaking them. 
 
 " Magnhild ! " was called from the carriage, 
 at the moment those walking had fully turned 
 their faces toward it. 
 
 Magnhild looked up ; a lady in black was 
 smiling at her. Magnhild sprang directly to- 
 ward her; the coachman stopped his horses. 
 It was Fru Bang. 
 
 The lady drew Magnhild up to her and 
 kissed her. A stout military man by the lady's 
 side bowed.
 
 MAGNHILD. 221 
 
 The lady was thin. She wore a mourning 
 suit of the latest style. Jet beads, strewed all 
 over the costume, sparkled with every move- 
 ment ; from, the jaunty hat, with waving plume, 
 flowed a black veil which was wound about the 
 neck. As from out the depths of night she 
 gazed, with her glowing eyes, which acquired, 
 in this setting, an especially fascinating radi- 
 ance. Melancholy resignation seemed to com- 
 mand, as it were, the countenance, to hold sway 
 over every nerve, to control the smile about the 
 mouth, to languish in these eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I am changed," said she, languidly. 
 
 Magnhild turned from the lady to the stout 
 officer. The lady's eyes followed. 
 
 " Do you not recognize Bang ? Or did you 
 not see him ? " 
 
 His size had increased tenfold, the flesh re- 
 sembling heavy layers of padding ; he occupied 
 at least two thirds of the carriage, crowding his 
 wife, for one shoulder and arm covered hers. 
 He looked good-natured and quite contented. 
 But when one looked from his plump, heavy 
 face and body back to the lady, she appeared 
 spiritualized aye, to the very finger-tips of 
 the hand from which she was now drawing the 
 glove. 
 
 Steadfastly following Magnhild'a eyes, she
 
 222 MAGNHILD. 
 
 stroked back from Magnhild's brow a lock of 
 hair which had crept forward, and then let her 
 hand pass slowly, softly over her cheek. 
 
 "You are in mourning?" asked Magnhild. 
 
 " The whole land should be in mourning, my 
 child ! " And after a pause, came a whispered, 
 "He is dead!" 
 
 " You must remember that there is no time 
 to lose if we would reach the steamer," said 
 Bang. 
 
 The lady did not look up at her husband's 
 words ; she was busy with the lock she had just 
 stroked back. Bang gave the coachman a sign, 
 the carriage was set in motion. 
 
 " I am going to America," whispered Magn- 
 hild, as she descended from the carriage step. 
 
 The lady gazed after her a moment, then she 
 seemed to grasp in its full extent what it im- 
 plied that Skarlie's wife was going far, far 
 away what suppositions might be therewith 
 connected and what consequences. For her 
 face resumed somewhat of its old brightness, 
 her frame regained its elasticity : at once she 
 was on her feet, had turned completely round, 
 and was waving her handkerchief. With what 
 charming grace she did it ! 
 
 Her husband would not permit the carriage 
 to halt again. He contented himself with fol
 
 MAGNHILD. 223 
 
 lowing his wife's example by waving one hand. 
 The movement must have been accompanied 
 by an admonition to sit down, for the lady dis- 
 appeared forthwith. 
 
 The plume in her hat waved over his shoul- 
 der. More could not be seen ; she must have 
 let herself glide back into her place.
 
 DUST.
 
 DUST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE drive from the town to Skogstad, the 
 large gard belonging to the Atlung family, 
 with its manufacturing establishment on the 
 margin of the woodland stream, at the usual 
 steady pace, might possibly occupy two hours ; 
 but in the fine sleighing we had been having it 
 could scarcely take an hour and a half. The 
 road was a chauss running along the fjord. 
 All the way from town I had the fjord on the 
 right-hand side, and on the left broad fields, 
 gently sloping down from the heights and 
 dotted with villas and gards, surrounded by 
 hedges of trees and having avenues leading to 
 them. 
 
 Farther on, the heights became mountains, 
 
 and rose more abruptly from the shore ; here, 
 
 ' too, they became more and more rugged, and at 
 
 'ast had no other growth than the pine forest,
 
 228 DUST. 
 
 from the uppermost ridge all the way down to 
 the fjord, forest, forest, far as the eye could 
 reach. This belonged to Skogstad ; the fac- 
 tory on the Skogstad River prepared the raw 
 material. 
 
 The Atlungs were of French descent, having 
 settled here in the times of the Huguenots, and 
 were people of plain origin who had bettered 
 their condition by marrying into the once 
 wealthy and influential Atlung family, taking 
 its name, which sounded not unlike their own. 
 
 I thoroughly enjoyed the drive. It had re- 
 cently been snowing, and the snow still lay on 
 the trees; not a breath of wind had left its 
 traces hi the wood. On the other hand, it had 
 been thawing a little, which the deciduous trees 
 that here began to press forward farther down 
 toward the road could not tolerate ; the sole 
 covering they wore was the new-fallen snow of 
 the morning. 
 
 Between both the white landscape and the 
 snow-laden air, the fjord appeared black. It 
 was not far to the opposite side, and there 
 still loftier mountains loomed up, now also 
 white, but of that subdued tint imparted by the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 Where I was driving the sea lay close up to 
 the edge of the snow, only a few sea-weeds,
 
 DUST. 229 
 
 some pebbles, and in some places not so much 
 as these, separated the two forms and hues of 
 the same element reality and poetry, where 
 the poetry is just as real as the reality, simply 
 not so enduring. 
 
 As soon as I had advanced as far as the 
 forest, this attracted my undivided attention. 
 The fir-trees held great armfuls of snow; in 
 some places it had been showered around ; never- 
 theless there was still so much uncovered that a 
 shimmer of dark green overspread the white- 
 ness of the entire forest. On a nearer view 
 it could be seen that the single uncovered 
 branches were thrust forth, as it were, defiantly, 
 and that the red -tinted lower boughs had 
 pierced the snow-drifts. 
 
 Higher up mighty trunks were visible, most 
 of them dark, although some of the younger 
 ones were brighter : taken all together an assem- 
 blage of well-laden giants, and this gave an air 
 of solemnity to the thicket. The foremost 
 trees, which were low enough not to impede the 
 view, and which while growing had been dis- 
 figured either by man or beast, perhaps too by 
 the storms (for they had borne the brunt of 
 these), had not the regular shapes of the others ; 
 they were more gnarled, affording the snow an 
 opportunity to commit what ravages it chose
 
 230 DUST. 
 
 among them. Their lowest branches were in 
 some places quite bowed to the ground, often 
 making the tree appear like an unbroken mass 
 of white ; others were fantastically transformed 
 into clumsy dwarfs, with only upper parts to 
 their bodies, or into sundry human forms, each 
 with a white sack drawn over the head, or a 
 shirt that was not put on right. 
 
 Alongside of these awkward figures I noticed 
 small clusters of deciduous trees, over which 
 but the faintest suspicion of snow was spread ; 
 a single one, which stood apart from the rest, 
 looked as though its outmost white branches, 
 as they grew finer and finer, gradually flowed 
 into the air; then there were young spruce 
 trees which formed pyramid upon pyramid of 
 regular layers of snow. Close down by the 
 sea, where there were more stones, might now 
 and then be seen a bramble bush. The snow 
 had spread itself on every thorn, so that the 
 bush looked as if it were strewed over with 
 white berries. 
 
 I rounded a naze with a crag upon it, and 
 here is where Skogstad proper begins. The 
 ridge recedes and is broken by the river. Again 
 we see gently sloping fields, and here lies the 
 gard. The river flows farther away ; the red 
 roof and a row of buildings alongside become
 
 DUST. 231 
 
 visible. On either side of the gard lie the 
 housemen's places with their surrounding 
 grounds, but they are separated from the gard 
 by fields on the one side and by a wood or 
 park on the other. 
 
 At the sight of the park I forgot all that 
 had gone before. Originally it was intended to 
 slope down to the sea ; but the stony ground 
 had evidently rendered this impossible, and so 
 the trees on the lower square had been felled ; 
 but in the course of years, instead of pine woods 
 a vigorous growth of deciduous trees had shot 
 up. These, being of the same year's growth, 
 were of an equal height, and extended all the 
 way up to the venerable pine trees in the park. 
 The effect of the delicate encircling the ponder- 
 ous, the light opposed to the heavy, the low and 
 perpetually level at the foot of the upward- 
 soaring and powerful, was very fine. 
 
 The eye reveled in this, searching for forms ; 
 I would combine a hundred branches in one 
 survey, because they ran parallel in the same 
 curve, at about the same height; or I would 
 single out one solitary bough from the rest and 
 follow it from its first ramification through the 
 branches of its branches to the most delicate 
 twig, a distended, transparent white wing, 
 or a monstrous fern leaf strewed all over with
 
 232 DUST. 
 
 white down. Then I was compelled once more 
 to cease following the forms and turn to the 
 colors; the unequal coating presented an in- 
 finite variety. 
 
 I turned my back on my traveling companion, 
 the fjord, and wound my way up to the gard. 
 Where the park ended, the garden began, and 
 the road followed this in a gradual ascent. Once 
 there had been a wood here also, and the road 
 had passed through it ; but of the wood there 
 was left but a few yards, on either side, thus 
 forming the avenue. Large, old trees were 
 about being replaced by young ones, whose 
 growth was so dense that in some places I 
 could not see the gard I was driving toward. 
 But the snow-romance followed, decking the 
 sinking giants with white flags, powdering the 
 young and fresh ones, and playing Christmas 
 masquerade with the deformed ones. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 THE impressions of nature play their part in 
 oar anticipations of what we are about to meet. 
 What was there so white and refined in th 
 experience that awaited me here ?
 
 DUST. 233 
 
 She was not clad in white, to be sore, the 
 last time I saw her, the bright attractive being 
 whom I was now to meet again. On her wed- 
 ding journey, and in Dresden, some nine years 
 previous to this time, we had last been together. 
 True, she was dressed in gala attire every day 
 a whim of the young bridegroom, in his 
 blissful intoxication ; but most frequently she 
 wore blue, not once did she appear in white ; 
 nor would it have been becoming to her. 
 
 I remember them especially as they sang at 
 the piano, he sitting, because he was playing 
 the accompaniment, she standing and usually 
 with her hand on his shoulder ; but what they 
 sang was indeed white, at least it was always of 
 the character of a more or less jubilant anthem. 
 She was the daughter of a sectarian priest, and 
 they had just come from the parsonage and from 
 the wedding feast. Since then I had heard of 
 them from time to time at the parsonage, and 
 from that source I had received repeatedly re- 
 newed urgent entreaties to visit them the next 
 time I was in their vicinity. I was now on my 
 way to them. 
 
 I had heard the dwelling-house spoken of as 
 one of the largest frame buildings in Norway. 
 It was gray and immensely long. No Atlung 
 had ever been satisfied with what his prede-
 
 234 DUST. 
 
 cessor had built, and so the house had had an 
 addition made to it by every generation and a 
 partial remodeling of the old portions, so far as 
 it was necessary to make these correspond with 
 the new. I had heard that many and long 
 passages (concerning which at festal gatherings 
 rhymes without end were said to have been 
 made) endeavor to unite the interior in the 
 same successful or unsuccessful manner as the 
 out-buildings, sloping roof, balconies, and veran- 
 das attempt to keep up the style of the exterior. 
 I have heard how many rooms there are in the 
 house, but I have forgotten it. 
 
 The last addition was made by the present 
 owner, and is in a sort of modernized gothic 
 style. 
 
 Behind the dwelling the other buildings of 
 the gard form a crescent, which, however, pro- 
 trudes in rather an unsightly manner on one 
 side. Between these and the dwelling I now 
 drove in order to alight, according to the post- 
 boy's advice, at a porch in the gothic whig. I 
 did not see a living being about the gard, not 
 even a dog. I waited a little but in vain, then 
 walked through the porch into a passage, 
 where I took off my wraps, and then passed 
 on into a large bright front room to the right. 
 Neither did I see any one here; but I heard
 
 DUST. 235 
 
 eithei two children's voices and a woman's 
 voice, or two female voices and one child's 
 voice, and I recognized the song, for it was one 
 that was just then floating about the country, 
 the lament of a little girl that she was every- 
 where in the way except in heaven with God, 
 who was so glad to have unhappy children with 
 Him. It sounded rather strange to hear such a 
 lament in this bright, lively room, filled with 
 guns and other sporting implements, reindeer 
 horns, fox skins, lynx skins, and similar substan- 
 tial objects, arranged with the most exquisite 
 taste. 
 
 I knocked at the door and entered one of the 
 most charming sitting-rooms I have seen in this 
 country, so bright its outlook on the fjord, so 
 large it was, so elegant. The brightly polished 
 wooden panels of the wall were relieved by 
 carved wooden brackets, each bearing a bust or 
 a small statue ; the stylish furniture was in 
 every direction gracefully distributed about on 
 the Brussels carpet. Moody and Sankey's 
 dreamy melody flowed out over this like a 
 white or yellow sheet. This hymn belongs to a 
 collection of Christian songs which are among 
 the most beautiful that I know ; bat it made the 
 same impression here as if beneath this modern 
 room there was a crypt from the Middle Agei
 
 236 DUST. 
 
 where immured nuns were taking part in cer- 
 emonies for the dead, amidst smoking lamps, 
 and whence incense and low chanting, insep- 
 arably blended, stole up into the bright con- 
 ceptions and cheerful art of the nineteenth 
 century. 
 
 The singing proceeded from one woman and 
 two boys, the elder of the latter seven years 
 old or a little more, and the younger about six. 
 The woman turned her face toward the door, 
 and paused quite astonished at my entrance ; 
 the boys were gazing out of the window, and 
 did not look at her ; they were wholly absorbed 
 in their singing, and therefore they continued a 
 while after she had ceased. 
 
 Of these two boys the one resembled the 
 father's family, the other the mother's ; only 
 the mother's eyes had been bestowed on them 
 both. The elder of the boys had a long face, 
 with high brow and sandy hair, and he was 
 freckled like his father. The younger one had 
 his mother's figure, and stooped slightly because 
 the head was set forward on the shoulders. 
 But in consequence of this his head was usually 
 thrown somewhat backward in order to recover 
 its equilibrium. The result of this again was 
 that the lips were habitually parted, and then 
 the large, questioning eyes and the bright curl;
 
 DUST. 237 
 
 hair encircling the fine arched brow were ex- 
 actly like the mother's. The elder one was tall 
 and thin, and had his father's lounging gait and 
 small, outward turned feet. I observed all this 
 at a glance, while the boys walked across the 
 room to the table by the sofa, as their companion 
 left them. She had advanced, after a moment's 
 hesitation, to meet me; she was evidently not 
 sure whether she knew me or not. On hearing 
 my name, she discovered with a smile that it 
 was only my portrait she had seen, the portrait 
 in the album, a souvenir of the wedding journey 
 of the heads of the house. She informed me 
 that Atlung was at the factories, and would be 
 home to dinner, that is to say in about an hour, 
 and that the mistress of the house was at one 
 of the housemen's places I had seen from the 
 road ; it seemed that there was an old man ly- 
 ing at the point of death there. 
 
 She made this announcement in a melodious, 
 although rather feeble voice, and with a pair of 
 searching eyes fastened on me. She had heard 
 something about me. I had never thought that 
 I should see one of Carlo Dolci's madonnas step 
 down from a frame to stand in a modern sitting- 
 room and talk with me, and therefore my eyes 
 were certainly not less searching than hers. The 
 way the head was poised on the shoulders, its
 
 238 DUST. 
 
 inclination to one side, the profile of the face, 
 and beyond all else the eyes and the eyebrows, 
 indeed, the bluish green head kerchief, which 
 was drawn far forward, imparting to the pale 
 face something of its own hue altogether a 
 genuine Carlo Dolci ! 
 
 She walked noiselessly away, and left me 
 alone with the boys, whom I at once attacked. 
 The elder one was named Anton, and he could 
 walk on his hands, at least, almost ; and the 
 younger one informed me that his name was 
 Storm, and told me a great deal more about his 
 brother, whom he regarded with unqualified 
 admiration. The elder, on the other hand, as- 
 sured me that his brother Storm was a very 
 bad boy sometimes ; he had recently been 
 caught at some of his naughty tricks, and so 
 papa had given him a flogging that same day ; 
 Stina had told papa about it. Stina was the 
 name of her who had just left us. 
 
 After this not very diplomatic introduction 
 to an acquaintance, they stood one on each side 
 of me and prattled away about what at pres- 
 ent was working in their minds, with most ex- 
 traordinary force. They both now told me, 
 the elder one taking the lead and the younger 
 following with supplementary details, that yon- 
 der at one of the houseman's places, past which
 
 DUST. 239 
 
 I had driven, lived Hans, little Hans ; that is he 
 had lived there, for the real, true little Hans 
 was with God. He had come to the gard to 
 play with the boys almost every day ; though 
 sometimes they too had been over at the house- 
 men's places, which I soon perceived were to the 
 boys the promised land of this earth. Then 
 one evening, about a fortnight since, Hans had 
 started to go home at dusk ; it was before the 
 snow came, and in the park, through which he 
 had to pass, the fish pond lay spread before him 
 so smooth and black. Hans thought he would 
 like to slide on it and he climbed up from the 
 path on to the pond, for the path ran right 
 along it. But that same day there had been a 
 hole cut in the ice for the people to fish, and 
 they had forgotten to put a signal there, and so 
 little Hans slid right into the hole. A child's 
 cry of distress had reached the gard ; the milk- 
 maid had heard it, but only once, and she had 
 not thought very much about it, for all the boys 
 were in the habit of playing in the park. So 
 little Hans had disappeared and no one could 
 say where he was. Then the ice was cut away 
 from the pond and they found him ; but the 
 boys were not allowed to see him. They had, 
 however, been permitted to be present at the fu- 
 neral with all the little boys and girls of the
 
 240 
 
 factory school. But Hans was not buried in the 
 chapel where grandfather and grandmother lie ; 
 he was buried in the churchyard. Oh, what 
 beautiful singing they had had ! The school- 
 master had sung bass with them, and the old 
 brown horse had drawn Hans, who was in a 
 white painted coffin that papa had bought in 
 town, and there were garlands of flowers on it. 
 Mamma and Stinahad arranged them. All the 
 children got cakes before they started and cur- 
 rant wine. And the song was the one the boys 
 had just been singing ; Stina had taught it to 
 them. Hans had been very poor ; but now he 
 had all he wanted ; he was with God ; it was 
 only the coffin that was put in the ground. 
 What was in the coffin ? Why, it was not the 
 real Hans that was there, for Hans was quite 
 new now. Angels had come down to the pond 
 with everything that the new Hans was to wear, 
 so that he did not feel cold in the pond ; he was 
 not there. All children who died went to God, 
 and that together with a hundred thousand 
 million very small angels. The angels were all 
 round about us here too ; but we could not see 
 them because they were invisible, and Hans was 
 now with them. The angels could see us, and 
 they were so kind to us, especially to children, 
 Mid they always wanted to have very unhappy
 
 DUST. 241 
 
 tittle children with them ; that was the reason 
 why they took them. It is ever and ever and 
 ever so much nicer tc be with the angels than 
 to be here. Yes, indeed, it is, for Stina said so. 
 Stina too would rather be with the angels than 
 here ; it was only for mamma's sake that Stina 
 did not go to them, for mamma would be so 
 lonely without her. All angels had wings, and 
 now Hans's father was lying ill, and he would 
 soon be with Hans. He also would have wings 
 and be a little angel and fly about here and 
 wherever he himself chose right up to the 
 stars. For the stars were not only stars, they 
 were as large, as large, when we got up to them, 
 as large as the whole earth, and that was enor- 
 mously large, larger than the largest mountain. 
 And there were people on the stars, and there 
 were many things that were not here. And 
 that same afternoon Hans's father was to go 
 right to God, for God was up in heaven. 
 They would like so much to see Hans's father 
 get his wings ; but mamma would not let them 
 go with her. And Hans's father had already 
 become so beautiful, as he lay in his bed, that 
 he almost looked like an angel. Mamma had 
 said so; but they were not allowed to see 
 him. 
 
 Stina made her appearance as they came tc 
 
 16
 
 242 DUST. 
 
 the last words ; she bade them come with her 
 and they obeyed. 
 
 A door stood open to the left; I could see 
 book-shelves in the room to which it led, so 
 that I presumed the library must be there. 
 I felt a desire to know what the father of these 
 boys was reading just then provided that he 
 read at all. The first thing I found open on 
 the desk, by the side of letters, account-books, 
 and factory samples, was Bain. And Bain's Eng- 
 lish friends were the first books my eyes beheld 
 on the nearest shelves. I took out one, and 
 saw that it had been much read. This ac- 
 corded with what I had heard of Atlung. 
 
 Just then bells were heard outside. I thought 
 it must be the mistress of the house returning, 
 and put back the books in the same order I had 
 found them. In so doing I disarranged some 
 behind them (for the books stood in two rows), 
 and I felt a desire to examine also these that 
 were hidden from view, which took time. I 
 did not leave the library until just as the lady 
 was entering the front door.
 
 DU8T. 243 
 
 CHAPTER ID. 
 
 FBU l ATLTJNG was evidently glad to see me. 
 She had a singular walk ; it seemed as though 
 she never fully bent her knees ; but with this 
 peculiar gait she advanced hastily toward me, 
 grasped my hands with both of hers, and looked 
 long into my eyes, until her own filled with 
 tears. It was, of course, the wedding journey 
 this look concerned, the most beautiful days of 
 her life ; but the tears ? 
 
 Nay, unhappy she could not be. She was so 
 thoroughly the same as she was formerly, that 
 had she not been somewhat plumper, I could 
 not at all events, not at once have de- 
 tected the slightest change. The expression 
 of her countenance was exactly the same inno- 
 cent, questioning one, not the slightest sugges- 
 tion of a sterner line or a change of coloring ; 
 even the hair fell in the same ringlets about the 
 backward thrown head, and the half parted lips 
 had the same gentle expression, were just as 
 untouched by will, the eyes wore the same look 
 of mild happiness, even the slightly-veiled tone 
 of the voice had the same childlike ring as of 
 yore. 
 
 1 Fra corresponds to the German Frau, and means Mrs. 
 Translator.
 
 244 DUST. 
 
 " You look as though you had not had a sin- 
 gle new experience since last we met," was the 
 first remark I could not help making to her. 
 
 She looked up smiling into my face, and not 
 a shadow contradicted my words. We took our 
 seats, each in a chair that stood out on the car- 
 pet, near the library door; our backs were 
 turned to the windows, and thus we faced a 
 wall where between the busts and statues that 
 rested on the carved wooden brackets, there 
 hung an occasional painting on the polished 
 panels. 
 
 I gave an account of my trip, received thanks 
 for coming at last. I delivered greetings from 
 her parents, of whom we talked a little. She 
 said she had been thinking of her father to-day, 
 she would have been so glad to have had him 
 with her; for she had just come from a dying 
 man, whose death-bed was the most beautiful 
 *he had ever witnessed. Meanwhile, she had 
 assumed her favorite position, that is to say, she 
 sat slightly bowed forward, with her head 
 thrown oack, and her eyes fixed on the upper 
 part of the wall, or on the ceiling. As she sat 
 thus, she pressed one finger against her open 
 under lip, not once, but with a constant repeti- 
 tion of the same movement. Now and then the 
 upper portion of her body swayed to and fro
 
 DUST. 245 
 
 Her eyes seemed to be fixed ; they did not seek 
 my face, either when she asked a question or 
 when she received an answer, unless something 
 special had attracted her from her position. 
 Even then she would promptly resume it. 
 
 " Do you believe in immortality? " she asked, 
 as though this were the most natural question 
 in the world, and without looking at me. 
 
 But as I was surprised, and consequently 
 compelled to look at her, I perceived that a teat 
 was trickling down her cheek, and that those 
 open eyes of hers were full of tears. 
 
 I felt at once that this question was a pre- 
 text ; it was her husband's belief she was think- 
 ing of. Therefore I thought I would spare her 
 further pretexts. 
 
 " What is your husband's opinion of immor- 
 tality?" 
 
 " He does not believe in the immortality of 
 the individual," replied she ; " we perpetuate 
 ourselves in our intercourse with those about 
 us, in our deeds, and above all in our children : 
 but this immortality, he thinks, is sufficient." 
 
 Her eyes were fixed as before, and they were 
 still full of tears ; but her voice was mild and 
 calm ; not a trace of discontent or reproach in 
 the simple statement, which doubtless was co 
 root.
 
 246 OUST. 
 
 No, she is not one of the so-called childlike 
 women, I thought; and if she has the same 
 innocent, questioning expression she had nine 
 years ago, it is not because she has been with- 
 out thought or research. 
 
 " Yon talk, then, with Atlung about these 
 subjects, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 " In Dresden you seemed to le thoroughly 
 united about these things ; you sang together" 
 
 "He was under father's influence then. Be- 
 sides, I think he was not quite clear in his own 
 mind at that time. The change came grad- 
 ually." 
 
 " I saw some books, that are now placed be- 
 hind the others." 
 
 " Yes, Albert has changed." 
 
 She sat motionless, as she gave this answer, 
 except that her finger continued its play on the 
 under lip. 
 
 " But who, then, attends to the education of 
 the children ? " asked I. 
 
 Now she turned half toward me. I thought 
 for a while that she did not intend to answer 
 but after a long time she did speak. 
 
 " No one," said she. 
 
 " No one ? " 
 
 " Albert prefers to have it so for the present.
 
 DUST. 247 
 
 * But, my dear lady, if no one teaches them, 
 at least one thing or another is told to them ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is no objection to that ; and 
 it is usually Stina who talks with them." 
 
 " And so it is left entirely to chance ? " 
 
 She had turned from me, and sat in hei 
 former attitude. 
 
 " Entirely to chance," she replied, in a tone 
 that was almost one of indifference. 
 
 I briefly related to her what Stina had told 
 the boys about the life beyond the grave, about 
 angels, etc., and I inquired if she approved of 
 this. 
 
 She turned her face toward me. " Yes ; why 
 not ? " said she. Her great eyes viewed me 
 so innocently ; but as I did not answer imme- 
 diately the blood slowly coursed up into her 
 face. 
 
 " If anything of the kind is to be told to 
 them," said she, " it must be something that 
 will take hold of their childish imaginations." 
 
 " It confuses the reality for them, my dear 
 lady, and that is the same thing as to disturb 
 the development of their faculties." 
 
 " Make them stupid, do you mean ? " 
 
 "Well, if not exactly stupid, it would at 
 least hinder them from using their faculties 
 rightly."
 
 248 DUST. 
 
 " I do not understand you." 
 
 "When you teach children that life here 
 below is nothing to the life above, that to be 
 visible is nothing in comparison to being invis- 
 ible, that to be a human being is far inferior to 
 being an angel, that to live is not by any means 
 equal to being dead, is that the way to teach 
 them to view life properly, or to love life, to 
 gain courage for life, vigor for work, and pa- 
 triotism ? " 
 
 " Ah, in that way I Why, that is our duty 
 to them later." 
 
 " Later, my dear lady ? After all this dust 
 has settled upon their souls ? " 
 
 She turned away from me, assumed her old 
 position, stared fixedly at the ceiling, and be- 
 came absorbed in thought. 
 
 " Why do you use the word dust ? " she be- 
 gan presently. 
 
 " By the word dust I mean chiefly that 
 which has been, but which now having become 
 disintegrated, floats about and settles in vacant 
 places." 
 
 She remained silent a little while. 
 
 " I have read of dust which carries the poison 
 from putrified matter. You do not mean that, 
 I suppose ? " 
 
 There was neither irony nor anger in the
 
 DUST. 249 
 
 tone, so I failed to understand at what she was 
 aiming. 
 
 ** That depends on where the dust falls, my 
 dear lady ; in healthy human beings it only 
 creates a cloud of mist, prejudices which pre- 
 vent them from seeing clearly ; if there be 
 stagnation this dust will oftentimes collect an 
 inch thick, until the machinery is thoroughly 
 clogged." 
 
 She turned toward me with more vivacity 
 than she had yet shown, and leaning on the arm 
 of her chair brought her face nearer to mine. 
 
 " How did you happen upon this idea ? " 
 asked she. " Is it because you have seen how 
 much dust there is in this house ? " 
 
 I admitted that I had seen this. 
 
 " And yet the chambermaid and Stina do 
 nothing else but clean away the dust, and I did 
 nothing else either at first. I cannot understand 
 it. At home at my mother's, there was noth- 
 ing I heard so much about as dust. She was al- 
 ways busied about father with a damp cloth ; 
 he was constantly annoyed because she would 
 disturb his books and papers. But she misted 
 that he gathered more dust than any one else. 
 He never left his study that she was not after 
 him with a clothes-brush. And later it came to 
 be my turn. I was like my father, she said
 
 250 DUST. 
 
 I accumulated dust, and I never could dust 
 well enough to satisfy her. I was so weary of 
 dust that when I married a Paradise seemed in 
 prospect because I thought I should escape this 
 annoyance and have some one to dust for me. 
 But therein I was greatly in error. And now I 
 have given it up. It is of no use. I evidently 
 have no talent for getting rid of dust." 
 
 " And so it is very singular," she continued, 
 as she sank back in her chair, " that you too 
 should come with this talk about dust." 
 
 " I hope I have not hurt your feelings ? " 
 
 " How can you think ? " and then, in the 
 calmest, most innocent voice in the world, she 
 added : " It would not be easy to hart the 
 feelings of any one who had lived nine years 
 with Albert." 
 
 I became greatly embarrassed. What possi- 
 ble good could it do for me to become entangled 
 in the affairs of this household ? I did not say 
 another word. She too sat, or rather reclined 
 in her seat, for a long time in silence, drum- 
 ming with her fingers on the arms of her chair. 
 Finally I heard, as from far away, the words : 
 " Butterfly dust is very beautiful, though." And 
 then some time afterward there glided forth 
 from the midst of a long chain of thought which 
 he did not reveal, the query, " refracted rayi
 
 DUST. 251 
 
 the various prismatic colors ? " She paused, 
 listened, rose to her feet; she had heard At- 
 lung's step in the front room. 
 I also rose. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE door was thrown wide open, and Atlung 
 came lounging in. This tall, slender man, in 
 these capacious clothes that showed many a 
 trace of the factories he had been visiting, bore 
 in his face, his movements, his bearing, the un- 
 concerned ease of several generations. 
 
 The gray eyes, beneath the invisible eye- 
 brows, blinked a little when he saw me, and 
 then the long face broadened into a smile. His 
 superb teeth glittered between the full, short 
 lips, as he exclaimed : " Is that you ! " He took 
 both my hands between his hard, freckled ones, 
 then dropping one of them threw his arm around 
 his wife's waist. "Was not that delightful, 
 Amalie ? What ? Those days in Dresden, my 
 dear?" 
 
 When he had relaxed his hold, he made 
 eager inquiries about myself and my journey,- 
 he knew I was to make a short trip abroad.
 
 252 DUST. 
 
 Then he began to tell me what occupied him 
 the most, and meanwhile he strolled up and 
 down the room, took up one article between his 
 fingers, handled it, then took up another. He 
 did not hold any little thing as others do with 
 the extreme tips of his fingers ; he firmly 
 grasped it in his hand so that his fingers closed 
 over it. In conversation, too, it was just the 
 same : there was a certain fullness in the way he 
 took up each subject and flung it away again 
 at once for something else. 
 
 His wife had left the room, but returned very 
 rxxm and invited us to dinner. Just at that 
 moment Atlung was sauntering past the piano, 
 on which was open a new musical composition, 
 whose character he described in a few words. 
 Then he began to play and sing verse after 
 verse of a long song. When he was through, 
 his wife again reminded him of the meal. 
 This probably first called his attention to her 
 presence in the room. 
 
 " See here, Amalie, let us try this duet I " he 
 pried, and struck up the accompaniment. 
 
 Looking at me with a smile, she took her 
 place at his side and joined in the song. Hei 
 somewhat veiled, sweet soprano blended with 
 his rich baritone, just as I had heard it nine 
 rears before. The voices of both had acquired
 
 DUST. 253 
 
 that deeper, fuller meaning which life gives 
 when it has meaning itself ; their skill, on the 
 other hand, was about the same as of old. 
 
 Any one who but a moment before might 
 perhaps have found it difficult to understand 
 how these two had come together, only needed 
 to be near them while they sang. A lyric aban- 
 donment of feeling was common to both, and 
 where there was any difference of sentiment 
 they were perfectly content to waive it. They 
 floated onward like two children in a boat, 
 leaving the dinner behind them to grow cold, 
 the servants to become impatient, the guest to 
 think what he pleased, and the order of the 
 house and their own plans for the day to be 
 upset. 
 
 In their singing there was no energy, no 
 school, no delicate finish of style of this simple 
 number, which, moreover, they were doubtless 
 singing for the first time ; but there was a 
 smooth, lazy, happy gliding over the melody. 
 The light coloring of the voices blended to- 
 gether like a caress ; and there was a charm in 
 the way it was done 
 
 They sang verse after verse, and the longer 
 they continued the better they sang together, 
 and the more joyously. When finally they were 
 through and the wife, with her somewhat
 
 254 
 
 labored step, walked into the dining-room on 
 my arm, and Atlung sauntered on before to 
 give Stina the key to the wine-cellar, there was 
 no longer any question in Fru Atlung's eyes, 
 only joy, mild, beautiful joy, and her husband 
 warbled like a canary bird. 
 
 We sat down to table while he was still out , 
 we waited an interminable time for him ; either 
 he had not found Stina or she had not under- 
 stood him : he had gone himself to the cellar 
 and had returned so covered with dust and dirt 
 that we could not help laughing. His wife, 
 however, paused in the midst of her laughter, 
 and sat silent while he changed his clothes and 
 washed. 
 
 He swallowed spoonful after spoonful of the 
 soup in greedy haste, regained his spirits when 
 his first hunger was satisfied, and began to talk 
 in one unbroken stream, until suddenly, while 
 carving the roast, he inquired for the boys. 
 They had had their dinner; they could not 
 wait so long. 
 
 " Have you seen the boys ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes," I replied, and I spoke of their ex- 
 treme artlessness, and what a strong likeness I 
 thought one bore to his and the other to his 
 urife's family. 
 
 " But," he interposed, "it is unfortunate that
 
 DUST. 255 
 
 both families have comparatively too much, im- 
 agination ; there is an element of weakness in 
 it, and the boys have inherited their share 
 from both families. A very sorrowful occur- 
 rence took place here about a fortnight since. 
 A little playfellow was drowned in the fish- 
 pond. What the boys have made out of this 
 of course, with Stina's aid is positively incred- 
 ible. I was thinking about it to-day. I have 
 not said anything, for after all it was extremely 
 amusing, and I did not want to spoil their in- 
 tercourse with Stina. But, indeed, it is most 
 absurd. See here, Amalie, it would almost be 
 better to send them away to school than to let 
 them run wild in this way and get into all kinds 
 of nonsense." 
 
 His wife made no reply. 
 
 I wanted to divert his attention, and inquired 
 if he had read Spencer's " Essay on Education." 
 
 Then he became animated! He had just 
 settled himself to eat, but now he forgot to do 
 so ; he took a few bites and forgot again. In- 
 deed, I should judge we sat over this one course 
 a whole hour, while he expatiated on Spencer. 
 That I who had asked if he had read the book 
 in all probability had read it myself, did not 
 trouble him in the least. He gave me a synop- 
 iis of the book, often point after point, with nil
 
 256 DUST. 
 
 own comments. One of these was that even if 
 as Spencer desires, pedagogics was introduced 
 into every school, as one of its most important 
 branches most people would nevertheless 
 lack the ability to bring up their own children ; 
 for teaching is a talent which but few possess. 
 He for his part proposed to send the boys, as 
 soon as they were old enough, to a lady whom 
 he knew to possess this talent and who also had 
 the indispensable knowledge. She was an en- 
 thusiastic disciple of Spencer. 
 
 He spoke as though this were a matter long 
 since decided upon ; his wife listened as though 
 it were an old decision. I was much surprised 
 that she had not told me of it when we were 
 talking about the children a little while be- 
 fore. 
 
 I do not now remember what theme we were 
 drifting into when Atlung suddenly looked at 
 his watch. 
 
 " I had entirely forgotten Hartmann ! I should 
 have been in town ! Yes, yes it is not yet 
 too late I Excuse me I " 
 
 He threw down his napkin, drank one more 
 glass of wine, rose and left the room. His wife 
 explained apologetically that Hartmann was his 
 attorney ; that unfortunately there was no tele- 
 graphic communication between the gard and
 
 DUST. 257 
 
 the town, and that unquestionably there was 
 Boine business that must be settled within an 
 hour or thereabout. 
 
 It would take an hour at least to drive to 
 town, if for nothing else than to spare the 
 horse; at least an hour there ; and then an hour 
 and a half back, for no one would drive such a 
 long distance equally fast back and forth with 
 the same horse. I sat calculating this while I 
 finished eating, and became aware at the same 
 time that my coming was most inopportune. 
 Therefore I resolved that after coffee I too 
 would take my leave. 
 
 We had both finished and now rose from the 
 table. My hostess excused herself and went 
 out into the kitchen, and I who was thus left 
 alone thought I would look round the gard. 
 
 When I got out on the steps in front of the 
 porch, I was met by a burst of loud laughter 
 from the boys, immediately followed by a word 
 which I should not have thought they would 
 take in their mouths, to say nothing of shout- 
 ing it out with all their might, and this in the 
 open yard. The elder boy called it out first, 
 the younger repeated it after him. 
 
 They were standing up on the barn bridge, 
 and the word was addressed to a girl who stood 
 in the frame shed opposite them, bending over 
 17
 
 258 DUST. 
 
 a sledge. The boys shouted out yet another 
 word, and still another and another, without 
 cessation. Between each word came peals of 
 merriment. It was clear that they were being 
 prompted by some one inside of the barn door. 
 The girl made no reply ; but once in a while she 
 looked up from her work and glanced over her 
 shoulder not at the boys but at some one be- 
 hind the barn where the carriage-shed was 
 situated. 
 
 Then I heard the sound of bells from that di- 
 rection. Atlung came forth, dressed for his 
 trip and leading his horse. Great was the alarm 
 of the boys when they saw their father ! For 
 they suddenly realized, though perhaps not 
 distinctly, what they had been shouting, at 
 least they felt they had been making mischief 
 for some one. 
 
 " Wait until I get home, boys," the father 
 shrieked, "and you shall surely both have a 
 whipping." 
 
 He took his seat in his sledge and applied 
 the lash to his horse. As he drove past me, 
 he looked at me and shook his head. 
 
 The boys stood for a moment as though 
 turned into stone. Then the elder one took to 
 his heels with all his strength. The youngei 
 followed, crying, "Wait for me! Say, Anton
 
 DUST. 259 
 
 do not run away from me I " He burst into 
 tears. They disappeared behind the carriage- 
 shed ; but for a long time I heard the sobbing 
 of the younger one. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I FELT quite out of spirits, and determined to 
 leave at once ; but as I entered the sitting-room 
 my hostess was seated on the large gothic set- 
 tee or sofa, near the dining-room door, and no 
 sooner did she perceive me than she leaned 
 forward across the table in front of her and 
 asked, 
 
 " What do you think of Spencer's theory of 
 education ? Do you believe we can put it into 
 practice ? " 
 
 I did not wish to be drawn into an argument, 
 and so merely answered, 
 
 " Your husband's practice, at all events, does 
 not accord with Spencer's teachings." 
 
 " My husband's practice ? Why, he has none." 
 
 Here she smiled. 
 
 " You mean he takes no interest in the chil- 
 dren?"
 
 260 DUST. 
 
 a Oh, he is like most other men, I suppose/ 
 she replied ; " they amuse themselves with their 
 children, now and then, and whip them occa- 
 sionally, too, when anything occurs to annoy 
 them." 
 
 " You believe that husband and wife should 
 have equal responsibilities in such matters ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure I do. But even in this re- 
 spect men have made what division they chose." 
 
 I expressed a desire to take my leave. She 
 appeared much astonished, and asked if I would 
 not first drink coffee ; " but, it is true," she 
 added, " you have no one to talk with." 
 
 She is not the first married woman, I thought, 
 who makes covert attacks on her husband. 
 
 " Fru Atlung ! " I said, " you have no reason 
 to speak so to me." 
 
 " No, I have not. You must excuse me." 
 
 It was growing dusk ; but unless I was 
 greatly in error, she was almost ready to weep. 
 
 So I took my seat on the other side of the 
 table. "I have a feeling, dear Fru Atlung, 
 that you desire to talk to some one ; but I am 
 surely not the right person." 
 
 " And why not ? " she asked. 
 
 She sat with both elbows on the table, look- 
 ing into my face. 
 
 " Well, if for no other reason, at least be-
 
 DUST. 261 
 
 cause each a conversation needs to be entered 
 into more than once, because there are so many 
 things to consider, and I am going away again 
 to-day." 
 
 " But cannot you come again ? " 
 
 " Do you wish it ? " 
 
 She was silent a moment, then she said 
 slowly : " As a rule, I have but one great wish 
 at a time. And it was fully in keeping with 
 the one I now have that you should come 
 here." 
 
 " What is it, my dear lady ? " 
 
 " Ah, that I cannot tell you, unless you will 
 promise me to come again." 
 
 " Well, then, I will promise you to do so." 
 
 She extended her hand across the table with 
 the words : " Thank you." 
 
 I turned on my chair toward her, and took 
 her hand. 
 
 " What is it, my dear lady ? " 
 
 " No, not now," she replied ; " but when you 
 come again. You must help me if you be- 
 lieve it to be right to do so." 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " Because you, I know, think in many par- 
 ticulars as Atlung does. He will listen to you" 
 
 " Do you think so?" 
 
 ** He will not listen to me, at all events."
 
 262 DUST. 
 
 " Did you ever make an effort to be heard ? " 
 
 " No, that would be the worst thing I could 
 do. With Atlung everything must come as by 
 chance." 
 
 " But, dear me ! I noticed that on the whole 
 you seemed to hold most blessed relations with 
 each other." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure we do ! We often amuse 
 ourselves exceedingly well together." 
 
 I had a feeling that she did not wish me to 
 look at her, and I had turned away, so that I 
 sat with my side to the table as before. The 
 twilight deepened about us. 
 
 " You remember us, I dare say, as we were 
 in Dresden ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " We were two young people who were play- 
 ing with life ; it had been very amusing to be 
 engaged, but to be married must be still more 
 diverting, and then to come home and keep 
 house, oh ! so immensely entertaining ; but not 
 equal to having children. Well, here I am now 
 with a house which I am utterly powerless to 
 manage, and two children which neither of us 
 can educate ; at least Atlung thinks so." 
 
 " But do not you try to take hold ? " 
 
 " Of the house, do you mean ? " 
 
 ** Well, yes, of the house."
 
 DUST. 263 
 
 " Dear me ! of what use would that be ? I 
 usually get a scolding when I try." 
 " But you have plenty of help, I suppose ? " 
 " Yes, that is just the misfortune." 
 I was about to ask what she meant by this 
 when the dining-room door was noiselessly 
 opened ; Stina entered with the lamps. She 
 passed in and out two or three times ; but the 
 large room was far from being lighted by the 
 lamps she brought in. Meanwhile, conversa- 
 tion ceased. 
 
 When Stina was about to leave, Fru Atlung 
 asked for the children. Stina informed her 
 they were being searched for ; they were not on 
 the gard. The mother paid no further atten- 
 tion to this, and Stina left the room. 
 
 " Who is Stina ? " I asked, as the door closed 
 behind her. 
 
 " Oh, she is a very unhappy person. She had 
 a drunken father who beat her, and afterwards 
 she had a husband, a bank cashier, who also be- 
 came a hard drinker and beat her. Now he is 
 dead." 
 
 "Has she been here long ? " 
 " Since before my first child was born." 
 " But this is sad company for you, my dca 
 lady." 
 
 " Tea, she is not very enlivening."
 
 264 DUST. 
 
 " Then most surely she should be sent away.' 
 
 " That would be contrary to the traditions of 
 this house. An older person must always take 
 charge of the children, and this older person 
 must live and die in the family. Stina is a 
 very worthy woman." 
 
 Again the subject of our conversation came 
 noiselessly into the room ; this time with the 
 coffee. There was upon the whole something 
 ghost-like about this blue-green Carlo Dolci por- 
 trait flitting thus over the rugs in the large 
 room, where she was searching for a shade for 
 the lamp on the coffee table, as though it were 
 not dark enough here before. The shade was, 
 moreover, a perforated picture of St. Peter's at 
 Rome. 
 
 Stina departed, and the lady of the house 
 poured out the coffee. 
 
 " And so you men are going to take from us 
 the hope in immortality, with all the rest ? " 
 she abruptly asked. 
 
 To what this " all the rest " referred, I was 
 allowed to form my own conjectures. She 
 handed me a cup of coffee and continued, 
 
 " When I was driving this morning to the 
 other side of the park to visit the dying man, it 
 occurred to me that the snow on the barren trees 
 is, upon the whole, the most exquisite symbol
 
 DUST. 
 
 that could be imagined of the hope of immor- 
 tality spread over the earth ; is it not so ? So 
 purely from above, and so merciful ! " 
 
 " Do you believe it falls from the skies, my 
 dear lady ? " 
 
 " It certainly falls down on the earth." 
 
 " That is true, but it comes also from the 
 earth." 
 
 She appeared not to want to hear this, but 
 continued, 
 
 " You spoke a little while ago of dust. But 
 this white, pure dust on the frozen boughs and 
 on the gray earth is truly like the poetry of 
 eternity ; so it seems to me," and she placed a 
 singing emphasis on the " me." 
 
 " Who is the author of this poetry, my deai 
 lady?" 
 
 She turned on me her large eyes, now larger 
 than ever, but this time not questioningly ; no, 
 there was certainty in her look. 
 
 " If there is no revelation from without, there 
 is one from within ; every human being who 
 feels thus possesses it." 
 
 She had never been more beautiful. At this 
 moment steps were heard in the front room. 
 She turned her head in a listening attitude. 
 
 " It is Atlung back again I " said she, as sh 
 rose and rang for another cup.
 
 266 DUST. 
 
 She was right ; it was Atlung, who as soon as 
 he had removed his out-door wraps opened wide 
 the door and came in. His attorney, Hartmann, 
 had grown anxious and had come to meet him. 
 Atlung had attended to the entire business with 
 him on the highway. 
 
 His wife's questioning eyes followed him as 
 he sauntered across the floor. Either she did 
 not like his having interrupted us, or she no- 
 ticed that he was out of humor. As he took 
 the coffee cup from her hand, he recounted to 
 her his recent experience with the boys. He 
 did not mention any of the words the little fel- 
 lows had shouted out with such jubilant merri- 
 ment; but he added enough to lead her to 
 surmise what they were. And while he was 
 drinking his coffee, he repeated to her that he 
 had promised them a whipping ; " but," said 
 he, " something more than the rod is needed in 
 this case." 
 
 As she stood when she handed him the cup, 
 so she remained standing after he had finished 
 his coffee and gone. Terror was depicted in 
 both face and attitude. Her eyes followed him 
 as he walked about the room ; she was waiting 
 to hear this something else which was more 
 than the rod, 
 
 "Now I will tell you what it is, Araalie,"
 
 DUST. 267 
 
 came from across the room, " the boys must 
 leave to-morrow at latest." 
 
 She sank slowly down on the sofa, so slowly 
 that I do not think she was aware that she was 
 seating herself. She watched him intently. A 
 more helpless, unhappy object I had never seen. 
 
 " You surely think enough of the boys, Ama- 
 lie, to submit ? You see now the result of my 
 humoring you the last time." 
 
 But if he goes on thus he will kill her I 
 Why does he not look at her ? 
 
 Whether she noticed my sympathy or not, 
 she suddenly turned her eyes, her hands, toward 
 me, while her husband walked from us across 
 the floor ; there was a despairing entreaty in 
 this glance, in this little movement. I compre- 
 hended at once what was her sole wish : this 
 was the matter in which I was to help her. 
 
 She had sunk down on her hands, and she 
 remained lying thus without stirring. I did 
 not hear sounds of weeping ; probably she was 
 praying. He strode up and down the room ; 
 he saw her ; but his step kept continually 
 growing firmer. The articles he picked up 
 and crushed in his hand, he flung each time 
 farther and farther away from him, and with 
 increased vehemence. 
 
 The dining-room door slowly opened. Stina
 
 268 DUST. 
 
 appeared again , but this time she remained 
 standing on the threshold, paler than usual. 
 Atlung, who had just turned toward us, stood 
 still and cried : " What is it, Stina ? " 
 
 She did not reply at once ; she looked at the 
 mistress of the house, who had raised her head 
 and was staring at her, and who at last burst 
 out : " What is it, Stina ? " 
 
 " The boys," said Stina, and paused. 
 
 " The boys ? " repeated both parents, Atlung 
 standing motionless, his wife springing up. 
 
 " They are neither on the gard, nor at the 
 housemen's places ; we have searched every- 
 where, even through the manufactory." 
 
 " Where did you see them last? " asked At- 
 lung, breathless. 
 
 " The milkmaid says she saw them running 
 toward the park crying, when you promised to 
 give them a whipping." 
 
 " The fish-pond ! " escaped my lips before I 
 had time to reflect, and the effect upon myself, 
 and upon all the others, was the same as if 
 something had been dashed to pieces in our 
 midst. 
 
 " Stina I " shouted Atlung, it was not a re- 
 proach, no, it was a cry of pain, the bitterest 1 
 have ever heard, and out he rushed. His 
 rife ran after him, calling him by name.
 
 DUST. 269 
 
 " Send for lanterns ! " I cried to the people 
 I saw behind Stina in the dining-room. I went 
 out and found my things, and returning again, 
 met Stina, who was moving round in a circle 
 with clasped hands. 
 
 " Come now," said I, " and show me the 
 way I " 
 
 Without reply, perhaps without being con- 
 scious of what she was doing, she changed her 
 march from round in a circle to forward, with 
 hands still clasped, and praying aloud : " Fa- 
 ther in heaven, for Christ's sake ! Father in 
 heaven, for Christ's sake ! " in touching, vig- 
 orous tones ; and thus she continued through 
 the yard, past the houses, through the garden, 
 and into the park. 
 
 It was not very cold ; it was snowing. As 
 one in a dream, I walked through the snow- 
 mist, following this tall, dark spectre in front 
 of me, with its trail of prayer, in and out 
 among the lofty, snow-covered trees. I said to 
 myself that two small boys might of course go 
 to the fish-pond in the hope of finding God and 
 the angels and new clothes ; but to spring into 
 a hole if there was one, when there were two of 
 them together impossible, unnatural, absurd ! 
 How in all the world had I come to think of or 
 suggest such a thing? But all the sensible
 
 270 DUST. 
 
 things one can say to one's self at such a mo- 
 ment are of no avail ; the worst and most im- 
 probable suppositions keep gaining force in 
 spite of them ; and this " Father in heaven, for 
 Christ's sake ! Father in heaven, for Christ's 
 sake ! " which soughed about me, in tones of 
 the utmost anguish, kept continually increasing 
 my own anxiety. 
 
 Even if the boys had not gone to the fish- 
 pond, or if they had been there and had not 
 dared jump into the water, they might have 
 tumbled into some other place. The father of 
 little Hans was to receive wings that afternoon ; 
 might not they, with their troubled hearts, be 
 sitting under a tree somewhere waiting for 
 wings to be given them? If such were the 
 case, they would freeze to death. And I could 
 see these two little frozen mortals, who dared 
 not go home, the younger one crying, the elder 
 one finally crying too. I positively seemed to 
 hear them " Hush I " 
 
 " What is that ? " said Stina, and turned in 
 sudden hope. " Do you hear them ? " 
 
 We both stood still ; but there was nothing 
 to hear except my own panting when I could 
 no longer hold my breath. Nor was there any- 
 thing resembling two little human beings hud 
 died together.
 
 DUST. 271 
 
 I told her what I had just been thinking 
 about, and drawing near me she clasped her 
 hands, and, in tones of suppressed anguish, 
 whispered : " Pray with me ! Oh, pray with 
 me!" 
 
 " What shall I pray for ? That the boys 
 may die, and go to heaven and become angels ? " 
 
 She stared at me in alarm, then turned and 
 walked on as before, but now without a word. 
 
 We followed a foot-path through the wood : 
 it led to the fish-pond, as I remembered from 
 the story about little Hans ; but we had to go 
 more than half the length of the park in order 
 to reach the latter. Through a ravine flowed a 
 brook, and here a dam had been made. It was 
 large so that the fish-pond had a considerable 
 circumference. We had to step up from the 
 foot-path in order to reach the edge of the 
 pond. Stina continued to walk in front of me, 
 and when she had climbed the bank and could 
 see the pond and the two parents standing on 
 it, she kneeled down, praying and sobbing. 
 Now I was sorry for her. 
 
 When I also stood upon the bank and saw 
 the parents, I was deeply affected. At the 
 same time I heard voices in the wood behind 
 me. They came from the people with the 
 lanterns. The flickering light of the four Ian*
 
 272 DUST. 
 
 terns that, subdued by the falling snow, was 
 shed over human beings, the snow itself, the 
 lower trunks of the trees, and the shadows into 
 which some individuals in the party and some 
 of the trees and certain portions of the land- 
 scape occasionally fell, all became fixed forever 
 in my memory with the words I at that moment 
 heard from the pond : " There is no hole in the 
 ice!" 
 
 It was Atlung's voice, quivering with emo- 
 tion. I turned and saw his wife on his neck. 
 Stina had sprung up with an exclamation which 
 ended in a long but hushed : " God be praised 
 and thanked ! " 
 
 But the two on the ice still clung together , 
 with some difficulty I climbed down from the 
 bank and crossed to where they stood ; the wife 
 still hung on Atlung's neck and he was bowed 
 over her. I paused reverently at a little dis- 
 tance; they were whispering together. The 
 light shed by the lanterns on the pond was the 
 first thing that roused them. 
 
 " But what next ? Where shall we seek 
 now ? " asked Atlung. 
 
 I drew nearer. I now repeated to the par- 
 ents, although more cautiously, what I had al- 
 ready said to Stina, that perhaps the children 
 were sitting somewhere under a tree, waiting
 
 DUST. 273 
 
 in their distress of mind for compassionate an- 
 gels, and in that case there would be danger 
 of their being already so cold that they would 
 be ill. Before I had finished speaking, Atlung 
 had called up to those on the bank : " Had the 
 boys their out-door things on when they were 
 last seen ? " 
 
 " No," replied two of the by-standers. 
 
 He inquired if they had their caps on ; and 
 here opinions differed. I insisted that they did 
 have them on; some one else said No. At- 
 lung himself could not remember. Finally some 
 one declared that the elder boy had his cap on, 
 but not the younger one. 
 
 "Ah, my poor little Storm ! " wailed the 
 mother. 
 
 Among the people on the edge of the pond 
 there were some who wept so loud that they 
 were heard below. I think there were about 
 twenty people, side by side, about the lanterns. 
 
 Atlung shouted up to them : " We must 
 search the whole park through ; we will begin 
 with the housemen's places. And he came to- 
 ward the bank, climbed up and helped his wife 
 up after him. 
 
 They were met by Stina. " My dear, deal 
 tady!" she whispered, beseechingly; but nei- 
 ther of the parents paid any attention to her. 
 
 18
 
 DUST. 
 
 I stared into the ravine below us. To look 
 down on snow-laden trees from above is like 
 gazing on a petrified forest. 
 
 " Dear Atlung ! will not you call ? " begged 
 the wife. 
 
 He took a position far in advance of the 
 rest ; all became still. And then he called 
 aloud through the wood, slowly and distinctly : 
 " Anton and little Storm ! Come home to papa 
 and mamma ! Papa is no longer angry ! " 
 
 Was it the air thus set in motion, or did the 
 last flake of snow needed to break an over- 
 laden branch fall just then, or had some one 
 come into contact with such a branch ; suffice 
 it to say, Atlung received for an answer the 
 snow-fall from a large bough, partly at one 
 side, partly in front of us. It gave a hollow 
 crash, rousing the echoes of the wood, the bough 
 swayed to and fro, and rose to its place, and 
 snow was showered over us. But this swaying 
 motion finally caused all the heavy branches to 
 loose their burdens ; crash followed crash, and 
 snow enveloped us ; before we knew what was 
 coming the nearest tree had cast the burden 
 from all its branches at once. The atmospheric 
 pressure now became so great that two more, 
 then five, six, ten, twenty trees freed them- 
 selves, with violent din, from their heavy loada
 
 DUST. 275> 
 
 Bending an echo through the wood and a mist 
 as from mighty snow-drifts. This was followed 
 by cluster after cluster of trees, some at our 
 sides, some at a long distance off, some right in 
 front of us ; the movement first passed through 
 two great arms, which gradually spread into 
 manifold divisions ; ere long the whole forest 
 trembled. The thunder rolled far away from 
 us, close by us, now at intervals, now all at once, 
 and seemed interminable. Before us everything 
 was surrounded by a white mist ; this loud 
 rumbling of thunder through the wood had at 
 first appalled us ; gradually as it passed farther 
 on and grew in proportion it became so majes- 
 tic that we forgot all else. 
 
 The trees stood once more proudly erect, fresh 
 and green ; we ourselves looked like snow-men. 
 All the lanterns were extinguished, we lighted 
 them again, and we shook the snow from us. 
 Then we heard in a moaning tone : " What if 
 the little boys are lying under a snow-drift ! " 
 
 It was the mother who spoke. Several has- 
 tened to say that it could not in any way harm 
 them, that the worst possible result would be 
 that they might be thrown down, perhaps 
 stifled for a little while ; but they would surely 
 be able to work their way out again. There 
 was one who said that unquestionably the chil-
 
 276 DUST. 
 
 dren would scream as soon as they were free 
 from the snow, and Atlung called out : " Hark ! " 
 We stood for more than a minute listening; 
 but we heard nothing except a far-off echo from 
 some solitary cluster of trees that had just been 
 drawn into the vortex with the rest. 
 
 But if the boys were in one of the remote re- 
 cesses of the wood, their voices could scarcely 
 reach us ; on either side of us the edges of the 
 ravine were higher than the banks of the pond 
 where we stood. 
 
 " Yes, let us go search for them," said At- 
 lung, deeply moved ; as he spoke, he went close 
 to the brink of the pond, turned toward the 
 rest of us who were beginning to step down, 
 and bade us pause. Then he cried : " Anton 
 and little Storm ! Come home again to papa 
 and mamma ! Papa is no longer angry ! " It 
 was heart-rending to hear him. No answer 
 came. We waited a long time. No answer. 
 
 Despondently he returned, and came down 
 on the path with the rest of us ; his wife took 
 his arm.
 
 DUST. 277 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WE reached the edge of the wood, and then 
 our party divided, keeping at such a distance 
 apart that we could see one another and every- 
 thing between us ; we walked the whole length 
 of the wood up and then took the next section 
 down, but slowly; for all the snow from the 
 trees was now spread over the old snow on the 
 ground ; in some places it was packed down so 
 hard that it bore our weight, but in other places 
 we sank in to our knees. When we assembled 
 the next time, in order to disperse anew, I in- 
 quired if after all it were likely that two small 
 boys would have the courage to remain in the 
 wood after it had grown dark. But this sug- 
 gestion met with opposition from all. The boys 
 were accustomed to be busied in the wood the 
 whole day long and in the evenings too ; they 
 had other boys who constructed snow-men for 
 them, forts and snow-houses, in which they 
 often sat with lights, after it was dark. 
 
 This naturally drew our thoughts to all 
 these buildings, and the possibility of the boys 
 having taken refuge in one or other of them. 
 But no one knew where they were situated 
 this year, as the snow had come so recently.
 
 278 DUST. 
 
 Moreover, they were in the habit of building 
 now in one place, now in another, and so noth- 
 ing remained but to continue as before. 
 
 It so happened that Stina walked next to 
 me this time, and as we two were in the ra- 
 vine, and this was winding in some places, we 
 were brought close together, and had no local- 
 ity to search. She was evidently in a changed 
 frame of mind. I asked her why this was. 
 
 " Oh," said she, " God has so plainly spoken 
 to me. We are going to find the boys ! Now 
 I know why all this has happened ! Oh, I know 
 so plainly ! " 
 
 Her Madonna eyes glowed with a dreamy 
 happiness ; her pale, delicate face wore an ex- 
 pression of ecstasy. 
 
 "What is it, Stina?" 
 
 " You were so hard toward me before. But 
 I forgive you. Dear Lord, did not I sin my- 
 self? Did not I doubt God ? Did not I mur- 
 mur against the decrees of God ? Oh, His 
 ways are marvelous ! I see it so plainly so 
 plainly ! " 
 
 " But what do you mean ? " 
 
 " What do I mean ? Fru Atlung has for 
 the last half year prayed God for only one 
 single thing. Yes, it is her way to do so. Sh 
 learned it of her father. Just for one single
 
 DUST. 279 
 
 thing she has prayed, and we have helped her. 
 It is that the boys may not be separated from 
 her ; Atlung has threatened to send them away. 
 Had it not been for what has happened this 
 evening he would surely have kept his word ; 
 but God has heard her prayer ! Perhaps I too 
 have been an instrument in his hands ; I almost 
 dare believe that I have. And the death of 
 little Hans, yes, most certainly the death of 
 little Hans ! If those two sweet little souls 
 are sitting and freezing somewhere, waiting for 
 the angels, oh, the dear, dear boys, they surely 
 have these with them ! Do you doubt this ? 
 Ah, do not doubt! If the boys are made ill 
 and they most surely will be ill it will be 
 most fortunate for them ! For when the father 
 and mother sit together beside the sick-bed, oh, 
 then the boys will never be sent away. Never, 
 no never ! Then Atlung will see that it would 
 be the death of his wife. Oh, he sees it this 
 evening. Yes, he unquestionably sees it. He 
 has already made her a solemn promise ; for the 
 last time we met, she gave me a look of such 
 heartfelt kindness, and that she did not do a 
 little while ago. It was as though she had 
 something to say to me and what else could 
 it possibly be in the midst of her anxiety than 
 this ? She has discerned God's ways, she too
 
 280 DUST. 
 
 God's marvelous ways. She thanks and praises 
 Him, as I do ; yes, blessed be the name of God, 
 for Jesus Christ's sake, through all eternity I " 
 
 She spoke in a whisper, but decidedly, aye, 
 vehemently ; the last, or words of thanksgiv- 
 ing, on the contrary, with bowed head, clasped 
 hands, and softly, as to her own soul. 
 
 We drifted apart, although now and then we 
 drew near together again, when the ravine 
 obliged us to do so, and all attempt at search- 
 ing on our part ceased. 
 
 " There is one thing I need to have ex- 
 plained," I whispered to her. " If everything 
 from the time of the sorrowful death of little 
 Hans has happened in order that Atlung's 
 boys may remain with their mother ; then 
 this great fall of snow we have recently seen 
 and heard must be part of the whole plan. But 
 I cannot see how ? " 
 
 "That? Why that was simply a natural 
 occurrence ; a pure accident." 
 
 " Is there such a thing ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied she ; " and it often has its 
 influence on the rest. To be sure, in this in- 
 stance I cannot see how. It is a great mercy 
 though, that I can see what I do. Why should 
 I ask more ? " 
 
 We peered about us ; but we felt convinced
 
 DUST. 281 
 
 that the boys were not in the ravine. What 1 
 had last said seemed to absorb Stina. 
 
 " What did you think about the snow-fall ? " 
 asked she, softly, the next time we were thrown 
 together. 
 
 " I will tell you. Shortly before we came out 
 into the park, Fru Atlung had been saying to 
 me that the hope of immortality descended from 
 heaven on our lives, just as hushed, white, and 
 soft as the snow on the naked earth " 
 
 " Oh, how beautiful I " interposed Stina. 
 
 " And so I thought when the shock came, 
 and the whole forest trembled, and the snow 
 fell from the trees with the sound of thunder, 
 now do not be angry, that in the same 
 way the hope of immortality had fallen from 
 the mother of the boys, and you and all of us, 
 in our great anxiety for the lives of the little 
 fellows. We rushed about in sorrow and lam- 
 entation, and some of us in ill-concealed frenzy, 
 lest the boys had received a call from the other 
 life, or lest some occurrence here had led them 
 to the brink of eternity." 
 
 " O my God, yes ! " 
 
 " Now we have had this hope of immortality 
 hanging over us for many thousand years, for 
 it is older, much older than Christianity ; and 
 we have progressed no farther than this."
 
 282 DUST. 
 
 " Oh, you are right ! Yes, you are a thou 
 land times right ! Think of it ! " she exclaimed, 
 and walked on in silent brooding. 
 
 " You said before that I was hard toward 
 you, and then I had done nothing but remind 
 you of the belief in immortality you had taught 
 the boys." 
 
 " Oh, that is true ; forgive me I Oh, yes 
 indeed!" 
 
 " For you know that you had taught them 
 that it was far, far better to be with God than 
 to be here ; and that to have wings and be an 
 angel was the highest glory a little child could 
 attain ; indeed, that the angels themselves came 
 and carried away unhappy little children." 
 
 " Oh, I beg of you, no more ! " she moaned, 
 placing both hands on her ears. " Oh, how 
 thoughtless I have been ! " she added. 
 
 " Do not you believe all this yourself, then ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure I believe it ! There have 
 been times in my life when such thoughts were 
 my sole consolation. But you really confuse 
 me altogether." 
 
 And then she told me in a most touching 
 way that her head was no longer very strong ; 
 she had wept and suffered so much ; but the 
 hope of a better life after this had often been 
 Mr one consolation.
 
 DUST. 283 
 
 Atlung's mournful call, with always the same 
 words, was heard ever and anon, and just at 
 this moment fell on our ears. With a start we 
 were back again in the dreadful reality that the 
 boys were not yet found, and that the longer 
 the time that elapsed before they were found, 
 the greater the certainty that they must pay 
 the penalty of a dangerous illness. It contin- 
 ued to snow so that notwithstanding the moon- 
 light we -walked in a mist. 
 
 Then a cry rang through forest and snow 
 from another voice than Atlung's and one of 
 quite a different character. I could not dis- 
 tinguish what was said ; but it was followed 
 by a fresh call from another, then again from 
 a third, and this last time could be distinctly 
 heard the words : " I hear them crying ! " It 
 was a woman's voice. I hastened forward, the 
 rest ran in front of and behind me, all in the 
 direction whence came the call. We had be- 
 come weary of wading in the heavy snow ; but 
 now we sped onward as easily as though there 
 were firm ground beneath our feet. The light 
 from the lanterns skipping about among us and 
 over our heads, shone in our eyes and dazzled 
 us; no one spoke, our breathing alone was 
 heard. 
 
 " Hush ! " cried a young girl, suddenly halt-
 
 284 DUST. 
 
 ing, and the rest of as also stood still ; for we 
 heard the voices of the two little ones uplifted 
 in that piteous wail of lamentation common to 
 children who have been weeping in vain for 
 long, long hours and to whom sympathy has 
 finally come. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " exclaimed an elderly man, 
 he well knew the sound of such weeping. 
 We perceived that the boys were no longer 
 alone; we walked onward, but more calmly. 
 We reached and passed the fish-pond, and came 
 to a place a little beyond the ravine, where the 
 trees were regular in their growth ; for the 
 spot was sheltered and hidden. The weeping, 
 of course, became more distinct the nearer we 
 approached, and at last we heard voices blended 
 with it. They were those of the father and 
 mother, who had been the first to gain the spot. 
 When we had reached an opening where we 
 could see between the trees into the snow, our 
 gaze was met by two black objects against 
 something extremely white ; it was the father 
 and mother, on their knees, each clinging to a 
 boy ; behind them was a snow fort, or rather a 
 crushed snow house, in which, sure enough, the 
 boys had sought refuge. When the lanterns 
 were brought near, we saw how piteously be- 
 numbed with the cold the little fellows were :
 
 DUST. 285 
 
 they were blue, their fingers stiff, they could 
 not stand well on their feet ; neither of them 
 had on caps ; these no doubt lay in the heap 
 of snow, if the boys had had them with them 
 at all. They replied to none of the tokens of 
 endearment or questions of their parents ; not 
 once did they utter a word, they only wept and 
 wept. We stood around them, Stina sobbing 
 aloud. The weeping of the boys, and the lam- 
 entations, questions, and tokens of endearment 
 of the parents, together with the accents of de- 
 spair and joy, which alternately blended there- 
 with, were very affecting. 
 
 Atlung rose and took up one child ; it was 
 the elder one. His wife rose also, and gath- 
 ered up the other in her arms. Several offered 
 to carry the boy for her ; but she made no re- 
 ply, only walked on with him, consoling him, 
 moaning over him, without a moment's pause 
 between the words, until she made a misstep 
 and plunging forward fell prostrate on the 
 ground over her boy. She would not have 
 help, but scrambled up with the boy still in 
 her arms, walked on, and fell again. 
 
 Then she cast a look up to heaven, as though 
 ihe would ask how this could happen, how it 
 could be that this was possible ! 
 
 Whenever I now recall her in her faith and
 
 286 DUST. 
 
 in her helplessness, I remember her thus, with 
 the boy in front of her stretched out in the 
 snow, and she bending over him on her knees, 
 tears streaming from the eyes which were up- 
 lifted with a questioning gaze toward heaven. 
 
 Some one picked up the boy, and Stina 
 helped his mother. But when the little fellow 
 found himself in the arms of another, he began 
 to cry : " Mamma, mamma ! " and stretched 
 forth his benumbed hands toward her. She 
 wanted to go to him at once and take him again 
 in her arms, but he who carried the child has- 
 tened onward, pretending not to hear her, al- 
 though she begged most humbly at last. They 
 had scarcely come down on the footpath before 
 she hastened forward and stopped the t man; 
 then with many loving words she took her boy 
 again in her arms. Atlung was no longer in 
 sight. 
 
 I allowed them all to go on in advance of 
 me. 
 
 But when I saw them a short distance from 
 me, enveloped in snow between the trees and 
 heard the weeping and the soothing words, I 
 drifted back into my old thoughts. 
 
 These two poor little boys had accepted liter- 
 ally the words of the grown people to the 
 utter dismay of the latter I If we were right
 
 DUST. 287 
 
 In our conjectures (for the boys themselves 
 had not yet told us anything and would not be 
 likely to tell anything until after the illness 
 they must unquestionably pass through) ; but 
 if we were right in our conjectures, then these 
 two little ones had sought a reality far greater 
 than ours. 
 
 They had believed in beings more loving than 
 those about us, in a life warmer and richer than 
 our own ; because of this belief they had braved 
 the cold, although amid tears and terror, wait- 
 ing resolutely for the miracle. When the thun- 
 der rolled over them, they had doubtless trem- 
 blingly expected the change and were only 
 buried. 
 
 How many had there been before them with 
 the same experience ? 
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 I LEFT Skogstad at once, and without taking 
 leave of the parents, who were with their chil- 
 dren. I got a horse to the next station, and 
 was soon slowly driving along the chausse'e. 
 The snow which had fallen made the road
 
 288 DUST. 
 
 heavier than when I had come that way. A 
 few atoms still swept about through the air 
 but the fall was lightening more and more, so 
 that the moonlight gradually gained in force. 
 It fell on the snow-clad forest, which still stood 
 unchanged, with fantastic power ; for although 
 the details were lost the contrasts were striking. 
 
 I was weary, and the mood I was in har- 
 monized with my fatigue. In the still sub- 
 dued moonlight the forest looked like a bowed- 
 down, conquered people ; its burden was greater 
 than it could bear. Nevertheless, it stood there 
 patiently, tree after tree, without end, bowed to 
 the ground. It was like a people from the far- 
 distant past to the present day, a people bur- 
 ied in dust. Yonder " heaven-fallen, merciful 
 snow " 
 
 And just as all symbols, even those from the 
 times of old, which mythology dimly reveals to 
 us, became fixed in the imagination, and grad- 
 ually worked their way out to independence, so 
 it was now with mine. I saw the past gener- 
 ations enveloped in a cloud of dust, in which 
 they could not recognize one another, and that 
 was why they fought against one another, slay- 
 ing one another by the millions. Dust was 
 being continually strewed over them. But I 
 taw that it was the same with all those who
 
 DUST. 289 
 
 were wounded, or who must die. I saw in the 
 midst of these poor sufferers many kind, refined 
 souls, who in thus strewing dust were rendering 
 the highest, most beautiful service they knew, 
 like those priestly physicians of Egypt, who 
 offered to the sick and dying magic formulas 
 as the most effectual preventive of death, and 
 placed on the wounds a medicine, the greater 
 part of which was composed of mystic symbols. 
 
 And I saw all the relations of life, even the 
 soundest, strewed over with a coating of dust, 
 and the attempt at deliverance to be the world's 
 most complete revolution, which would wholly 
 shatter these relations themselves. 
 
 And as I grew more and more weary and 
 these fancies left me, but what I had recently 
 experienced kept rising uppermost in my mind, 
 then I plainly heard weeping in among the 
 snow-flakes that were no longer falling ; it was 
 the boys I heard. They wept so sorely, they 
 lamented so bitterly, while we tenderly bore 
 them from dust to more dust. 
 
 I passed through the forest and drove along 
 its margin up to the station. When I had 
 nearly reached this I cast one more look down- 
 ward over the tree-tops, which were radiant in 
 the moonlight. The forest was magnificent in 
 its snowy splendor. 
 
 19
 
 DUST. 
 
 The majesty of the view struck me now, 
 and the symbol presented itself differently. 
 
 A dream hovering over all people, originating 
 infinitely long before all history, continually 
 assuming new forms, each of which denoted the 
 downfall of an earlier one, and always in such 
 a manner that the most recent form lay more 
 lightly over the reality than those just pre- 
 ceding it, concealing less of it, affording freer 
 breathing-space until the last remnants should 
 evaporate in the air. When shall that be ? 
 
 The infinite will always remain, the incom- 
 prehensible with it ; but it will no longer stifle 
 life. It will fill it with reverence ; but not with 
 dust. 
 
 I sat down in the sledge once more, and the 
 monotonous jingle of the bells caused drowsi- 
 ness to overcome me. And then the weeping 
 of the boys began to ring in my ears together 
 with the bells. And weary as I was I could 
 not help thinking about what further must 
 have happened to the two little fellows, and 
 how it must appear at first in the sick-room 
 at Skogstad, and in the surroundings of those 
 I had just left. 
 
 How different was the scene I imagined from 
 what actually occurred ! 
 
 I could not but recall it when, two montba
 
 DUST. 291 
 
 later, 1 drove over the same road with Atlung 
 and he related to me what had taken place. I 
 had then been abroad and he met me in town. 
 
 And when I now repeat this, it is not in his 
 words, for I should be totally unable to re- 
 produce them ; but the substance of his story is 
 what follows. 
 
 The boys were attacked with fever, and this 
 passed into inflammation of the lungs. From the 
 outset every one saw that the illness must 
 take a serious turn ; but the mother was so sure 
 that all had come to pass solely in order that 
 she might keep her boys, that she inspired 
 the rest of the household with her faith. 
 
 However serious the illness might be, it 
 would only be the precursor of happiness and 
 peace. While yet in the wood she had obtained 
 a solemn promise from her husband that their 
 children should not be sent away ; but that 
 a tutor should be engaged for them who would 
 have them continually under his charge. And 
 by the sick-bed, when through the long nights 
 and silent days they met there, Atlung re- 
 peated this promise as often as his wife wished. 
 She had never been more beautiful, he had 
 never loved her more devotedly ; she was in 
 one continual state of ecstasy. She confided 
 to Atlung that from the first time, about half
 
 292 DUST. 
 
 a year before, he had declared that the boys 
 must go away, she had prayed the Lord to 
 prevent it, prayed incessantly, and in all this 
 time had prayed for nothing else. She knew 
 that a prayer offered in the name of Jesus must 
 be granted. She had prayed hi this way sev- 
 eral times before in regard to circumstances 
 which seemed to herself to be brought into her 
 life under the guidance of faith, brought into it 
 in the most natural way. This time she had 
 called her father to her aid and finally Stina ; 
 both of them had promised to pray only for this 
 one thing. It did not seem to occur to her for a 
 moment that there was another way of gaining 
 her point, for instance, as far as lay within her 
 power, and as far as her faith permitted it, 
 to study Atlung's ideas on education, and to 
 endeavor to persuade him to unite with her in 
 an attempt, that it might be proved whether 
 they were equal to the task. She started from 
 the standpoint that she was utterly incompe- 
 tent; what, indeed, was she able to do? But 
 God could do what He would. This was his 
 own cause, and that to a far higher degree than 
 any other matter concerning which he had 
 granted her prayers, and so she was sure He 
 would hear her. Every occurrence, every indi- 
 vidual who came to the gard, was sent ; in one
 
 DUST. 293 
 
 way or another everything must be a link in the 
 chain of events, which was to lead Atlung to 
 other thoughts. When she told Atlung this, in 
 her innocence and her faith, he felt that, at all 
 events, there was no human power which could 
 resist her. He was so completely borne along 
 in the current of her fancies that he not only 
 became convinced that the boys would recover, 
 but he even failed to perceive how ill she was. 
 
 The long stay in the park, without any out- 
 door wraps and with wet feet, the overstrained 
 mental condition and long night vigils, the par- 
 suit of one fixed idea, without any regard to its 
 effect on herself, being so wholly absorbed hi it 
 that she forgot to eat, indeed, no longer felt the 
 need of food wholly robbed her of strength 
 at last. But the first symptoms of illness were 
 closely united with her restless, ecstatic con- 
 dition ; neither she herself, nor the rest of the 
 household paid any heed to them. When 
 finally she was obliged to go to bed, there still 
 hovered over her such joy, aye, and peace, that 
 the others had no time for anxiety. Her fever- 
 ish fancies blended in such a way with her life, 
 her wishes, her faith, that it was often not well 
 to separate them. They all understood that 
 she was ill and that she was often delirious, 
 not that she was in any danger. The phy-
 
 294 DUST. 
 
 eician was one of those who rarely express an 
 opinion ; but they all thought that had there 
 been danger he would have spoken. Stina, who 
 had undertaken the supervision of the sick- 
 room, was absorbed in her own fancies and 
 hope, and explained away everything when At- 
 lung showed any uneasiness. 
 
 Then one noon he came home from the fac- 
 tories, and after warming himself, went up- 
 stairs to the large chamber where the invalids 
 all lay, for the mother wanted to be where 
 the boys were. Her bed was so placed that 
 she could see them both. Atlung softly entered 
 the room. It was airy and pleasant there, and 
 deep peace reigned. No one besides the in- 
 valids, as far as he could see at first, was in 
 the room ; but he afterwards discovered that 
 the sick-nurse was there asleep in a large arm- 
 chair, which she had drawn to the corner near- 
 est the stove. He did not wake her ; he stood 
 a little while bending over each of the boys, 
 who were either sleeping or lying in a stupor, 
 and thence he stepped very softly to his dear 
 wife's bed, rejoicing in the thought that she too 
 was now peaceful, perhaps sleeping ; for he did 
 not hear her babble which usually greeted him. 
 A screen had been placed between the bed and 
 the window, so he could not see distinctly until
 
 DUST. 295 
 
 he came close to her. She lay with wide-open 
 eyes ; but tear after tear trickled down from 
 them. 
 
 " What is it ? " he whispered, startled. In 
 her changed mood he saw at once how worn, 
 how frightfully worn, she was. Why, in all 
 the world, had he not seen this before. Or had 
 he observed it, yet been so far governed by her 
 security that he had not paid any attention 
 to it. For a moment it seemed as if he would 
 swoon away, and only the fear that he might 
 fall across her bed gave him strength to keep up. 
 
 As soon as he could he whispered anew, 
 " What is it, Amalie ? " 
 
 " I see by your looks that you know it your- 
 self," she whispered slowly, in reply ; her lips 
 quivered, the tears filled her eyes and rolled 
 down her cheeks : but otherwise she lay quite 
 still. Her hands oh, how thin they were ; 
 the ring was much too large on her finger, and 
 this he remembered having noticed before ; but 
 why had he not reflected on what it meant ? 
 
 Her hands lay stretched out on either side of 
 the body which seemed to him so slender be- 
 neath the coverlet and sheet. The lace about 
 her wrists was unrumpled, as though she had 
 not stirred since she was dressed for the morn 
 ing, and that must now be several hours since.
 
 296 DUST. 
 
 "Why, Amalie," he burst out, and knelt 
 down at her bedside. 
 
 " It was not thus I meant it," replied she, 
 but in so soft a whisper that under other cir- 
 cumstances he could not have heard it. 
 
 " What do you mean by ' thus,' Amalie ? 
 Oh, try once more to answer me ! Amalie ! " 
 
 He saw that she wanted to reply, but either 
 could not, or else had thought better of it. 
 Tears filled her eyes and trickled down her 
 cheeks, filled her eyes and were shed again, 
 her lips quivered, but as noiselessly as this oc- 
 curred, just so still she lay. Finally she raised 
 her large eyes to his face. He bowed closer to 
 her to catch the words : " I would not take them 
 from you," spoken in a whisper as before; 
 the word " you " was uttered by itself, and in 
 the same low tone as the rest, encompassed 
 with a tenderness and a mournfulness which 
 nothing on earth could exceed in strength. 
 
 He dared not question further, although he 
 failed to understand his wife. He only com- 
 prehended that something had occurred that 
 same forenoon which had turned the current of 
 life to that of death. She lay there paralyzed. 
 Her immobility was that of terror ; something 
 extraordinary had weighed her down to this 
 speechless silence, had crushed her. But h
 
 DUST. 297 
 
 also comprehended that behind this noiseless 
 immobility there was an agitation so great that 
 her heart was ready to burst; he knew that 
 there was danger, that his presence increased 
 the danger, that there must be help sought ; in 
 other words, he comprehended that if he did 
 not go away himself, his face as it must now 
 look was enough to kill her. He never knew 
 how he got away. He can remember that he 
 was on a stairway, for he recollects seeing a 
 picture that his wife herself must have hung up, 
 it was one representing St. Christopher carrying 
 the child Jesus over a brook. He found him- 
 self lying on the sofa in the large sitting-room, 
 with something wet on his brow, and a couple 
 of people at his side, of whom one was Stina. 
 He struggled for a long time as with a bad 
 dream. At the sight of Stina his terror re- 
 turned. " Stina, how is it with Amalie ? " 
 The answer was that she was in a raging fever. 
 
 " But what happened this forenoon while 
 I was absent ? " 
 
 Stina knew nothing. She did not even un- 
 derstand his question. She was not the one 
 who had attended Fru Atlung in the forenoon ; 
 ehe had watched in the night, and then the 
 patient's fever fancies were happy ones, as they 
 had again become. Had the doctor been with
 
 298 DUST. 
 
 her in the forenoon? No, he was expected 
 now. He had said yesterday that to-day he 
 would not come until later than usual. This 
 indicated a feeling of security on the doctor's 
 part. 
 
 Had Fru Atlung spoken with any one else ? 
 If so it must be the sick-nurse. " Bring her 
 here ! " Stina left the room. Atlung also sent 
 away the others who had assembled around him, 
 he needed to collect his thoughts. He sat up, 
 with his head between his hands, and before he 
 knew it he was weeping aloud. He heard his 
 own sobs resounding through the large room 
 and he shuddered. He felt sure ; oh, he felt 
 but too sure, that he would sit here alone and 
 hear this wail of misery for weeks. And in 
 this sense of boundless bereavement, her image 
 stood forth distinctly : she came from her bed 
 in her white garment and told him word for 
 word what she had meant. Her prayer to 
 God had been to be allowed to keep her boys, 
 and now this had been granted in a terrible 
 way for she was to have them with her in 
 death. It was this which had paralyzed her. 
 And the beloved one repeated : " I did not 
 mean it thus , I would not take them from 
 you." 
 
 But how had this idea suddenly occurred ta
 
 DUST. 
 
 299 
 
 her ? Why was her security transformed into 
 something so terrible ? 
 
 The sick-nurse knew nothing. Toward morn- 
 ing the dear lady had fallen into a slumber, 
 and this had gradually become more and more 
 calm. When she awoke rather late in the 
 morning, she lay still a little while before she 
 was waited on. She was excessively weak ; the 
 housekeeper helped care for her. Not a word 
 was said to her about her condition, not a single 
 word. She had not spoken herself, except once ; 
 it was after she had had a little broth, then 
 she said : " Oh, no, never mind ! " She lay 
 back and closed her eyes. Her attendants 
 urged her to take some more; but she made 
 no reply. They stood a little and waited ; then 
 they left her in peace. 
 
 As the evening wore on, the fever increased ; 
 by the doctor's advice she was carried into the 
 next room. She understood this to mean that 
 she was being borne into Paradise, and while 
 they were moving her, she sang in a somewhat 
 hoarse voice. She talked, too, now, without ces- 
 sation ; but with the exception of that hymn 
 about Paradise there was nothing in her words 
 which indicated that she remembered anything 
 that had occupied her thoughts in her mo- 
 ments of consciousness. All was now happiness
 
 800 DUST. 
 
 and laughter once more. Toward morning sne 
 slept ; but she woke very soon, and at once the 
 unspeakable pain she had had before came over 
 her, but at the same time came also the death- 
 struggle. Amid this she became aware that 
 the beds of the boys were not near hers. She 
 looked at Atlung and opened her hand, as if 
 she would clasp his. He understood that she 
 thought die boys had gone on before and wanted 
 to console him. With this cold little hand in his, 
 and with its gentle pressure through the strug- 
 gle with the last message from this receding life, 
 he sat until the end came. 
 
 But then, too, he gave way wholly to his 
 boundless grief. The responsibility he felt for 
 not having attempted to draw her into his own 
 vigorous reading and thought ; for having left 
 her to live a weak dream-life ; to bear the bur 
 den of the housekeeping and the bringing up 
 of the children, but not in community of spirit 
 and will, partly out of consideration for her, 
 partly from a careless desire to leave her as she 
 was when he took her ; for having amused him- 
 self with her when it struck his fancy to do so, 
 but not having made an effort to work in the 
 same direction with her, this was what tor- 
 mented his mind and could find no consolation, 
 QO answer, no forgiveness.
 
 DTOT. 301 
 
 Not until the following night when he was 
 wandering about out of doors, beneath a bright 
 starlit sky, came the first soothing thoughts. 
 Would she under any circumstances have for- 
 saken the ideas of her childhood to follow his ? 
 Were not they an inheritance, so deeply rooted 
 in her nature that an attempt to alter them 
 would only have made her unhappy ? This he 
 had always believed, and it was this which 
 ultimately determined him to live his life while 
 she lived hers. The image of his beautiful 
 darling hovered about him, and the two boya 
 always accompanied her. Whether it was be- 
 cause of his own weariness, or whether his self- 
 reproaches had exhausted themselves and let 
 things speak their own natural language his 
 guilt toward her and toward them was shifted 
 slightly and spread over many other matters, 
 which were painful enough; but not as these 
 were. 
 
 What these matters were, he did not tell me ; 
 but he looked ten years older than before. 
 
 The doctor sought an interview with him the 
 next day, and said that he felt obliged to tell 
 him that if he had not pronounced his wife's 
 condition dangerous it was because he had felt 
 sure that she would recover. Her own happy 
 frame of mind would help her, he thought.
 
 $02 DUST. 
 
 But something must have happened that fore- 
 noon. 
 
 Atlung made no reply. The doctor then 
 added that the boys were past all danger ; the 
 elder one, indeed, had never been in any. 
 
 Atlung had not yet for a moment separated 
 mother and boys in his thoughts. During their 
 illness he felt with her that they must live ; 
 for the last twenty-four hours he had been con- 
 vinced that they must follow her in death. He 
 could not think of the mother without them. 
 
 And now that he must separate them, the 
 first feeling was not one of joy: no, it was 
 dismay that even in this matter the dear one 
 had been disappointed I It seemed as though 
 she were living and could see that it was all a 
 mistake, and that this last mistake had need- 
 lessly killed her. 
 
 The two little boys, clad in mourning, were 
 the first objects we met on the gard. They 
 looked pale and frightened. They did not 
 come to meet us, nor did they return their fa- 
 ther's caress. 
 
 In the passage Stina met us ; she too looked 
 worn. I expressed my honest sympathy for 
 her. She answered calmly that God's ways 
 were inscrutable. He alone knew what was fat 
 oar good.
 
 DUST. 803 
 
 Atlung took me with him to the family 
 burial-place, a little stone chapel in a grove 
 near the river. On the way there, he told me 
 that every time he tried to talk confidentially 
 with the boys and endeavor to be both father 
 and mother to them, his loss rushed over him 
 so overwhelmingly that he was forced to stop. 
 He would learn with time to do his duty. 
 
 The sepulchral chamber was a friendly little 
 chapel, in which the coffins stood on the floor. 
 The door, however, was not an ordinary door, 
 but an iron grating which now stood open ; for 
 there was work going on in the chapel. We 
 removed our hats, and walked forward to her 
 little coffin. We did not exchange a word. 
 Not until after we had left it and were looking 
 at the other coffins and their inscriptions, did 
 Atlung inform me that his wife's coffin was to 
 be placed in one of stone. I remarked that in 
 this way we would eventually have more of our 
 ancestors preserved than would be good for us. 
 ** But there is reverence in it," he replied, as 
 we walked out. 
 
 There was warmth in the atmosphere. Over 
 the bluish snow, the forest rose green or dark 
 gray and the fjord was defiantly fresh. Spring 
 was in the air, although we were still in the 
 midst of winter.
 
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