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 LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 ROBERT L. CA5HMAN
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOT*
 
 Cbc prodigal Son 
 
 By HALL CAINE 
 
 Author of" THE MANXMAN," " THE DEEMSTER," 
 
 ''THE CHRISTIAN," ''THE ETERNAL CITY," 
 
 Etc., Etc. 
 
 A. L. BURT COMPANYy ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 A* ^ ^ PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
 
 Copyright, 1904 
 By hall CAINE 
 
 ^•'.'. rishts reserved 
 
 Printed in the United States of America
 
 'Then to the rolling Heav'n itself I cried. 
 Asking. ' What Lamp had Destiny to guide 
 Her little Children stumbling in the Dark?' 
 And — 'A blind Understanding!' Heav'n replied/
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PART I 1 
 
 PART II 65 
 
 PART III 124 
 
 PART IV 16f> 
 
 PART V 23(> 
 
 PART VI 307 
 
 PART VII . . . o = o o o . 357
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 PAET I 
 
 The worldly hope men set their heai-ts upon 
 Turns ashes — or it prospers ; and anon 
 Like Snow ^ipon the desert's dusty face 
 Lighting a little hour or two — is gone." 
 
 Iceland had never looked more wonderful. The stem old 
 Northland, which in the daylight bears always and every- 
 where on its sphinx-like face the mutilating imprint of the 
 burnt-out fires of ten thousand ages, and would seem to be 
 dead but for the murmurings of volcanic life in its sul- 
 furous womb, lay in the autumn moonlight like a great 
 creature asleep — calm, august, and blue as the night. 
 
 The moon was still shining, and everything seemed to 
 swim in the soft grace of its silvery light, houses, ships, 
 fishing-boats, the fiord in front, the lake behind, the black 
 moorland aroimd, and the snow-tipped mountains beyond — 
 when the little wooden capital began to stir in the morning. 
 
 It was the day appointed for the annual sheep-gathering 
 at Thingvellir; the sheep-fold was thirty odd miles away; 
 there were no railways or coaches, and few roads in Ice- 
 land, and hence the younger townspeople who intended to 
 make a holiday of the event had to set out early on their 
 little shaggy ponies. 
 
 As the clock struck four in the tower of the cathedral 
 Thora Neilsen, the daughter of Factor Neilsen, awoke with 
 a start, and leapt out of bed. She had drawn up her blinds 
 the night before so that the daylight might waken her in 
 the morning, but before she realized that it was the moon- 
 light that had been playing upon her eyelids she was stand-
 
 2 THE TEODIGAL SON 
 
 ing in the middle of the floor and crying in the ringing voice 
 of youth and happiness : 
 
 "Aunt Margret! Auntie! IVe overslept myself! I'll 
 be late ! Auntie ! Auntie ! " 
 
 Then the measured and sonorous breathing which had 
 been coming through an open door from the adjoining room 
 was interrupted by an older voice, a good-natured voice try- 
 ing to be angry, and saying drowsily : 
 
 " Drat the girl, she'll waken the whole house." 
 
 This was followed by the creaking of a bed and the thud 
 of bare feet on the floor, accompanied by a running fire of 
 grumbling, in which the speaker reminded herself that she 
 was not a cat, capable of sleeping in the daytime, and if she 
 had to be called up in the dead of night she might at least 
 be permitted to wash her face. 
 
 The girl listened for a moment and laughed — the light 
 and joyous laugh of the soul that has never known soitow. 
 She was young and unusually fair. Iler height was under 
 rather than over the average height of woman, and if her 
 face was not beautiful it produced the effect of beauty, being 
 one of those soft-featured faces which have a smile always 
 playing upon them, even when the o^vner does not know it 
 to be there. 
 
 She lit her candles, dropped her Venetians, and began to 
 dress herself, humming a tune to show she was not con- 
 cerned. By this time the rumbling artillery from the next 
 apartment entered the room in the person of an elderly 
 lady, who looked more than usually grotesque (if it is fair 
 to take her at such a moment) in abbreviated underwear 
 and small calico nightcap, with bobs of hair in papers about 
 her forehead like barnacles on the figurehead of a ship that 
 is fresh from a long service in foreign waters. 
 
 This was Aunt Margret, with goodness written on every 
 line of her old face, but with a tongue that fell like a foun- 
 tain on sharp stones and knew nothing of dry weather. The 
 moment she set eyes on Thora in the preliminary stages of 
 her toilet she cried : 
 
 " Silk? At this time in the morning? And who is to see 
 them under your big boots, if you please ? " 
 
 The girl laughed at this, as she laughed at everything,
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 3 
 
 and said : " Very well, give me the woollen ones then. But 
 what a cross old thing you are, auntie. You knew I had to 
 get up early, having a six hours' ride before me." 
 
 " But who wants you to have a six hours' ride, I wonder ? " 
 said Aunt Margret, bustling about breathlessly to get the 
 girl ready. 
 
 " You know quite well who wants me, auntie — Magnus 
 wants me. When they elected him mountain-king for the 
 year I promised him faithfully that I would go to the sheep- 
 gathering, and of course " 
 
 " Don't try to fool an old fox, my dear, but come and 
 wash in this water. It isn't because Magnus wants you at 
 the sheep-gathering, but because somebody else is going to 
 take you there." 
 
 " Auntie 1 " cried Thora, lifting a dripping face from the 
 washbasin. 
 
 " Oh, you needn't color up like fire, my precious — I know 
 it's the truth without that." 
 
 " How absurd you are. Aunt Margret ! You know as 
 well as I do that Magnus himself asked Oscar to take me. 
 He wrote expressly from the farm, not having seen Oscar 
 since he came from college, and wanting to kill two birds 
 with one stone." 
 
 " The more fool he ! " said Aunt Margret. " The man 
 who expects to marry a girl and asks another man to look 
 after her while he is away is a fool, and his friends ought 
 to take care of him. It's only the simpleton who shuts the 
 door with a bang behind him like that." 
 
 " What a nonsensical woman you are, auntie ! " said 
 Thora. " Oscar is Magnus's brother." 
 
 " Brother, indeed ! So was Jacob the brother of Esau, and 
 Cain was the brother of Abel, and those ten big beauties were 
 the brothers of Joseph and Benjamin." 
 
 " Good gracious me. Aunt Margret, what a bad dispo- 
 Bition you've got! That's the worst of you — you have got 
 such a bad disposition. You talk of Oscar Stephenson as 
 if he were a regular reprobate instead of the son of the 
 Governor, and the idol of everybody." 
 
 " It's easy to defend some one whom nobody wants to strike. 
 I don't say anything against Oscar."
 
 4 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Of course, you don't, you cross old creature. You're 
 fonder of him than anybody else, and I believe you want him 
 for yourself, you jealous thing, because you think he is the 
 brightest and cleverest and best-looking young man in 
 Iceland." 
 
 " Many things glitter in the goldsmith's shop, but a sen- 
 sible woman doesn't want to grab the whole of them." 
 
 "And do I, you silly?" 
 
 " It looks as if you do, my dear ; but sit down here before 
 the glass and let me brush your hair. You are to be mar- 
 ried to Magnus, and your public betrothal is to take place 
 the day after to-morrow in the presence of both the families, 
 yet you've had Oscar here every day, and all day, since he 
 came home from England a week ago, and now you are 
 going to ride with him to Thingvellir. You'll make mis- 
 chief, I promise you. Two dogs at the same bone seldom 
 agree." 
 
 At that the girl was taken with a violent fit of laughing. 
 " Auntie, what names you are calling us ! " 
 
 " Better I should do so than somebody else ! The people 
 here are all ears, and Oscar is all mouth — he is always talk- 
 ing about you." 
 
 " ISTot always, auntie." Thora's pretty face was reddening 
 in the glass in front of her. 
 
 " Always ! Only yesterday he said, ' My future sister-in- 
 law ' " 
 
 " Not ' future sister-in-law,' auntie." 
 
 "Did I speak, or did I not speak, Thora? 'My future 
 sister-in-law is perfectly charming,' he said " 
 
 "Now, I'm sure it wasn't 'charming,' auntie darling.'.'; 
 
 " Yes, it was, and hold your silly head quiet, miss — ' per- 
 fectly charming,' he said, ' and I'm half jealous of old Mag- 
 nus already.' " 
 
 The blue eyes in the glass were gleaming with delight, but 
 the mouth said, " Well, of course, I should have been dread- 
 fully vexed if I had heard him say that, but still it isn't 
 my fault " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " said Aunt Margret with a sniff of con- 
 tempt, " Just take a cranky old woman's advice, my pre- 
 cious, and don't make trouble between two brothers."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 5 
 
 Then the shining face in the glass became serious and 
 thoughtful, and Thora said : 
 
 " How can you say such uncomfortable things. Aunt Mar- 
 gret? Merely because I am going to ride with Oscar to the 
 sheep-gathering " 
 
 " Oh, a little brook can start a big river. But what's the 
 use of talking — a beast can be broken, but not a wilful 
 woman." 
 
 Then seeing that the tears were in Thora's eyes Aunt Mar- 
 gret gave the girl's hair a softer smoothing, and said : 
 
 " Magnus may not be as clever as his brother, Thora, but 
 he is twenty times as solid and steady, and he is just as able 
 to take care of a girl, and quite as likely to make her happy. 
 Besides, dear, it's all settled and done, and the made road 
 is easiest to travel, you know. Your marriage with Magnus 
 has been arranged between your father and the Governor; 
 they have set their hearts on it, the contract is ready, and if 
 anything should happen now " 
 
 But Thora, who had been listening with head aslant to 
 sounds outside the house, suddenly leapt to her feet, saying, 
 " I do believe that's Silvertop's step." 
 
 There was a clatter of hoofs on the cobbles of the street, 
 and at the next moment a silvery male voice under the win- 
 dow was crying, 
 
 "Helloa! Helloa! Helloa!" 
 
 Thora ran to the Venetians, parted two blades of them, and 
 6ai(^' with an air of surprise, " It's Oscar ! " Then she tapped 
 the window-pane, and cried " Presently " to the person out- 
 side, and stood for a moment to look down at him. 
 
 A young man of three-and-twenty sat on one pony and held 
 another by its bridle. He was tall and slim, almost as fair 
 as Thora herself, and he had a cluster of short curls under 
 the Alpine hat which he raised to the moving blind. The 
 moon had gone by this time; a greyish-pink light — the pio- 
 neer of the sun — was filtering through a vaporous atmosphere ; 
 the ships and fishing boats in the bay were breaking through 
 a veil of mist, and vague shadows of men and women, mufiled^>„ 
 up to the throats, but chattering and laughing like children, ' 
 were coming and going in the gloom of the streets. 
 
 " Quick, auntie, quick ! " cried Thora, lowering her voice.
 
 6 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and while the women in the bedroom hustled about and 
 talked in whispers the young man waiting outside slapped 
 his leggings with his riding whip, and whistled and sang al- 
 ternate lines of a love-song — 
 
 *' Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 And I will pledge with mine." 
 
 " Must I wear these ugly ? " 
 
 " Certainly you must. They're warm and comfortable, 
 
 and it's not as if anybody could see " 
 
 " Auntie, don't speak so loud, or people will hear." 
 
 " Or leave a kiss within the cup, 
 And I'll not ask for wine." 
 
 "What a voice he has! I'm certain he'll make a success 
 some day." 
 
 " Maybe so, but people don't feed on voices — not in Ice- 
 land, anyway — here's your over-skirt." 
 
 " For goodness sake, Aunt Margret ! " 
 
 " The thirst that from the soul doth come 
 Doth ask a draught divine." 
 
 " Now for my hat ! If I have to wear this old black riding 
 habit I must have something sweet on my head, at all events. 
 That one with the feather — no, this one and a veil. There! 
 Do I look nice ? " 
 
 " Shockingly nice, if you ask me." 
 
 The girl laughed gaily, and said in a louder voice, " Then 
 let us go downstairs — the poor boy must be tired of waiting, 
 and anxious to be off." 
 
 " Not half so anxious as the poor girl, I'm thinking." 
 
 Then the smiling face became serious again, and Thora 
 said, " Don't say those dreadful things any more, there's a 
 dear soul ! " 
 
 " Then don't forget my warning, and watch over your feel- 
 ings, my precious." 
 
 The door to the street was being opened by this time, and 
 a rich bary'tone voice, mingled with the soft murmur of the 
 sea, came floating into the hall —
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 7 
 
 *• But might I of Jove's nectar sip 
 I would not change ." 
 
 "Helloa! Good morning, Thora! Is that Aunt Mar- 
 gret?" 
 
 From behind the bulwark of the door ajar, with one eye 
 and two curl papers visible in three inches of opening, Aunt 
 Margret answered that it was, and told Oscar, as he lifted 
 Thora to the saddle, to take care of her child and deliver 
 her safely to Magnus. 
 
 Oscar laughed a little jauntily, and answered — not, she 
 thought, with too much conviction — 
 
 " That'll be all right, auntie. Good-by ! " 
 
 «Good-by!" 
 
 " Good-by, Aunt Margret ! " 
 
 " Good-by, Thora ! And remember ! " 
 
 At the next moment the two young people had disap- 
 peared in the mists of morning, amid a cavalcade of sim- 
 ilar shadows dying ofi in the same direction. Half an hour 
 afterward the sun had risen and the little capital was going 
 merrily. 
 
 n 
 
 The father of Oscar Stephenson was Stephen Magnusson, 
 (according to his Icelandic patronymic), and he had been 
 Governor-General of Iceland for more than twenty years. 
 He was a man of the highest integrity and of the firmest 
 mind. In his public character he was zealous and incorrupt- 
 ible, and his private life was without stain. His chief char- 
 acteristics were dignity and pride. 
 
 The father of Thora was Oscar Neilsen, commonly called 
 Factor Neilsen (of Icelandic birth, but Danish descent), 
 and he was the chief merchant and one of the richest citizens 
 of the capital. His business methods had often been a sub- 
 ject for discussion, and his domestic history a cause of gos- 
 sip. He was a man of untiring indiistry and great frugality, 
 amounting almost to greed. 
 
 These two men had been lifelong friends. Their friend- 
 ehip had not been founded on any hollow commercial league,
 
 8 THE PRODIGAL SO^ST 
 
 but nevertheless it had been cemented by community of 
 interest, and it was a common saying that the man who 
 coiild break it could break the constitution. It was one of 
 those friendships that are young after fifty years, and are 
 constantly growing younger because they are always growing 
 older — a peculiarity of all friendships that are true and con- 
 etant, and the reason why new friendships can never take the 
 place of old ones. Half a word explained a meaning, half a 
 look provoked a laugh. Their friendship was the unwritten 
 history of their past, a living obituary of memories and ideas 
 that were dead. It began in boyhood, and notwithstanding 
 varying fortunes, and some family differences, it had never 
 been darkened by so much as the shadow of a cloud. But 
 people said that if Stephen Magnusson and Oscar Xeilsen 
 ever ceased to be friends they would become the bitterest of 
 enemies. 
 
 They went through the Latin School together as boys, and 
 were two of four Icelandic students who were sent with sti- 
 pends to the University at Copenhagen. That was in the days 
 when student life was not so regular as it might have been, 
 but three of them got through without serious damage, while 
 the fourth made a slip which was perhaps the first cause of 
 the present story. 
 
 When the time came to separate, one of the four went to 
 Oxford as an assistant in the library, and became a Univer- 
 sity lecturer, and another went to London to be clerk in a 
 bank, and rose to be manager. The other two remained 
 faithful to their nationalities, and Stephen Magnusson re- 
 turned to Iceland to practise law, while Oscar Neilsen staj'ed 
 in Denmark to follow commerce. 
 
 Within ten years the friends had made rapid progress. 
 Stephen had risen from advocate to assessor, from assessor 
 to deputy-governor, and from deputy-governor to governor- 
 general, while Neilsen had re-established hitaself in Iceland, 
 first as factor for a firm in Copenhagen, and afterward as a 
 merchant on his own responsibility. 
 
 In the meantime both men had married. The Governor 
 married the daughter and only child of Grim, owner of the 
 farm at Thingvellir, one of the largest farms in Iceland. 
 The Factor, to everybody's surprise, married before he re-
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 9 
 
 turned home, and nobody knew anything of his wife except 
 that she came from Copenhagen. But scandal seldom loses 
 its way in the dark, and it was whispered that the Factor's 
 wife had been a little actress of the lighter sort, and had 
 been compelled to marry. 
 
 The wife of the Governor had borne him two sons. He 
 christened the first of them Magnus, after his father, but 
 the second he called Oscar, after his friend, who had arrived 
 in time to stand godfather at the baptism. In like manner 
 the wife of the Factor had borne two daughters. She 
 brought the eldest in her arms when she arrived in Iceland, 
 and the Factor called her Thora, after his mother. The 
 second, born soon afterward, he would have called Anna, 
 after his friend's wife, but his own wife objected, and it 
 was christened Helga, after herself. There were not many 
 years between the births of the children, but Magnus was 
 the eldest and Ilelga the youngest, while Oscar and Thora 
 were almost of one age. 
 
 The wives of the two friends could hardly have been more 
 unlike each other. Anna was homely in looks, dress, and 
 habits. In practical matters she was a typical Iceland 
 housewife, thrifty and economical. Although the position 
 of Governor-General was one of considerable dignity it was 
 far from a fat living, and Anna set her sail according to the 
 draught of her husband's ship. She was shrewd, but not 
 well educated, and wise, but not enlightened, and she gov- 
 erned the Governor by obeying him. Stephen found his 
 wife his safest steward and most faithful counsellor. He 
 had a profound respect for her instinct, but not too much 
 reverence for her intellect. When in doubt he always con- 
 sulted her, and while she told him what he ought to do he sat 
 and listened attentively, but as soon as she began to explain 
 her reasons he got up and fled. 
 
 The Factor's wife was distinctly comely, volatile, and vain, 
 and her conduct on coming to Iceland might have been cal- 
 culated to justify the scandal that was coupled with her 
 name. She was extravagant in her dress, unthrifty in her 
 home, restless in her habits, and romantic in her tastes, and 
 after a while she began to gird at the monotony and dreari- 
 ness of the life about her. A light wife makes a heavy hus- 
 2
 
 10 THE TEODIGAL SON 
 
 band, and the Factor, -who was not then rich, was made to 
 realize that in marrying? his Danish beauty he had bought a 
 commodity which he could neither exchange nor return — a 
 housekeeper who neglected his house, and a mother who 
 cared little for his children. 
 
 The children were the first to feel their mother's loss of 
 interest in Iceland, for while Government House was for- 
 ever warm and joyous with some noisy festival — Magnus's 
 first holiday or Oscar's last birthday — there were no holi- 
 days or birthdays in their own home, which was always quiet 
 and generally cold. But the mother's ear is thin, and across 
 the gap that opened between the houses of the Governor 
 and the Factor, Anna heard the hearts of the little girls and 
 concocted schemes to get at them. The Factor's wife was 
 nothing loth to be rid of her tiresome charges while she 
 devoured dramatic newspapers and French novels, and thus 
 it came to pass that Thora and Helga spent half of their 
 early days with Anna, and that as long as they lived there- 
 after hers was the mother's form that stood up in their 
 memory when they looked back to the blue mountains of 
 childhood and youth. 
 
 Gathered together under Anna's wing, what times the 
 four children had of it ! As long as they were little. Govern- 
 ment House was like a nest of song-birds, and if at some 
 moments it resembled more nearly a menagerie of monkeys, 
 it was always alive and always happy. Except the Gover- 
 nor's bureau, they took possession of the whole place, includ- 
 ing the kitchen, for there was only one servant in those days, 
 and she was as fond of them as her mistress. In summer 
 time they ran wild over the home-field, and in winter they 
 romped through every room in the house. Anna spoiled the 
 whole of them, for she never knew how to be cross with 
 children, and at Christmas and New Year she helped them 
 to keep up their noisy customs — boiling the toffy which they 
 pulled into twisted sticks amid shrieks of delighted laughter, 
 and lighting the candlee with which they marched in awe- 
 some procession from chimney to coal-hole to find the hidden 
 folk from the hills — and bad fairies who came to steal good 
 children. 
 
 On such high days and holidays the Governor and the
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 11 
 
 Factor, smoking their long German pipes, would come from 
 the bureau to the door of the kitchen to look on at the 
 childish revels. And seeing Anna in the midst of them, 
 like a fairy godmother grown middle-aged and matronly, 
 but with the loveliness of love still shining over her homely 
 face, the Governor would say to himself, " God bless her ! " 
 And the Factor would mutter, " God bless my motherless 
 girls ! " And then the two old friends would drop their 
 heads, and go back to talk politics. 
 
 in 
 
 The child grows, but his clothes do not, neither do his char- 
 acteristics. What the children of the Governor and the Fac- 
 tor were at the beginning of their lives they remained to the 
 end. Thora was always a merry little woman, with a con- 
 stant smile on her comely face. She was usually following 
 or clinging to somebody — generally Oscar — but she could sit 
 for hours coaxing, scolding, and singing to her doll, for the 
 instinct of motherhood was strong in her from the first. 
 
 Helga was at all points the opposite of her sister. She had 
 black hair, a broad brow, large hazel eyes that were often half 
 closed, a nose that was very slightly turned up at the tip, 
 and a lai^e mouth with thin, red lips which were generally 
 a little awry. A witch may be found under a fair com- 
 plexion, and an angel under a dark skin, but Helga did not 
 belie her looks. She was as bright as a pebble of the brook, 
 and just as hard and self -centered. Sufiicient to herself, she 
 clung to no one, but loved to have the eyes of everybody upon 
 her. She sang like a throstle, and was fond of dressing her- 
 self up in grand disguises of paper crowns and coronets, 
 being full of make-believe, and never quite able to distinguish 
 fact from fiction. 
 
 The sons of the Governor were not less unlike each other. 
 Magnus was a big, heavy, black-haired boy, silent and slow, 
 and thought to be rather stupid. He found it hard to learn, 
 and his face had often a puzzled expression, sometimes a 
 gloomy and morose one. On the other hand, his moral char*
 
 12 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 acter was as sensitive as his intellect was sluggish. If he 
 borrowed a penny he would never rest until he had paid it 
 back, and if any one lent him a pencil he would walk a mile 
 to return it. As a consequence his sense of injustice was 
 keen to the point of agony, and he suffered more from an 
 unmerited rebuke than from a blow. He liked best to visit 
 the family faim at Thingvellir, and when asked what he 
 was going to be he plumped for being a farmer. Always 
 fond of animals he filled the house with dogs, cats and 
 white mice, and seemed to love nothing else except his 
 mother. Not a lovable boy, and a rather surly and unhappy 
 one, he was by no means a general favorite, but Anna was 
 very fond of him. 
 
 Oscar was so totally unlike Magnus in every quality of 
 mind and heart that it was difHcuIt to believe they could be 
 brothers. The fair-haired little fellow with the handsome 
 face was as sweet-tempered as the sunshine, and as full of 
 laughter as a running river. He could learn anything with- 
 out an effort, and he had an extraordinary ear for music. 
 Before he could speak properly he imitated the notes of any 
 instrument from the organ to the guitar, and before he knew 
 his alphabet he wrote mysterious musical hieroglyphics on 
 scraps of paper, which the Governor carried off to his bureau 
 and hoarded up like treasures more precious than gold. But 
 in giving him something like genius Nature had taken 
 away character — without which genius is a curse. The merry 
 little soul did not seem to know right from wrong, or truth 
 from a lie. He was always glancing from one thing to an- 
 other like the sun on an April day. If crying one minute he 
 was laughing the next. Nothing troubled him long, but, 
 also, nothing seized and held him. He began by announcing 
 that he intended to be a king; rather later he thought it 
 would be grander to be a general, but going one evening 
 with the organist of the cathedral to his weekly rehearsal, 
 he finally concluded that to be organ-blower would be best 
 of all. 
 
 Nobody loved him the less for his infirmities of character, 
 for it is one of the whims of the human heart that the people 
 who run most strictly within the laws of life find an ir- 
 resistible fascination in the recklessness of those who kick
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 13 
 
 over the traces. Oscar was the privileged pet of everybody 
 and the idol of his father's eyes. 
 
 " Ah, Stephen, you'll never rear that boy," said the 
 Factor. 
 
 " Nonsense ! Why shouldn't I ? " 
 
 " Whom the gods love die young, you know.'* 
 
 " That's only because they never grow old," said the 
 Governor. 
 
 From the first Oscar was fond of a pageant, and always 
 wanted to be marching in procession, like a victorious gen- 
 eral, with the juvenile equivalents for banners and bands of 
 music. One day he was doing so, playing a tune of his own 
 composing on a comb, with Helga as an eager lieutenant, 
 Thora as a submissive soldier, and Magnus as a subservient 
 slave behind him, when coming to a river that crossed the 
 home-field a desire for caraage seized the general, and back- 
 ing suddenly on the narrow bridge he toppled his folloAvers 
 into the water. Magnus and Helga escaped without serious 
 consequences, but, as nobody is anybody's brother in a game, 
 Thora, being dragged doAvn by her sister, was drenched to 
 the skin. 
 
 The Governor came up at the moment when Magnus was 
 hauling Thora on to the bank, and he was angry. 
 
 " Was it an accident ? " he asked, but the children did not 
 answer. " Then who did it ? " he demanded, but Thora, to 
 whom he spoke, looked first at Oscar and then at Helga and 
 began to ciy. " Was it you, Oscar ? " Oscar hesitated for 
 an instant, but Helga touched his sleeve and he shook his 
 head. " Was it you, Helga ? " Helga promptly answered, 
 " j^o." " Then it must have been you, Magnus," said the 
 Governor, and Magnus flushed crimson all over his face and 
 neck, but made no reply. " Was it you ? " Magnus's mouth 
 quivered, but still he did not speak. " So it was you, sir, 
 and you can go indoors and to bed immediately." 
 
 Without a word or a tear, but with a look of defiance, Mag- 
 nus wagged his head and turned toward the house. Seeing 
 him go, Oscar wanted to blurt out the truth, but his melting 
 eyes encountered Helga's, which held them fast, and he 
 said nothing. 
 
 It was one of Anna's many birthdays, and from the upper
 
 14 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 room where all was silent and cold Magnus heard the chil- 
 dren's voices below stairs, at fii*st hushed and restrained, 
 but after a while merry enough, with Oscar's voice amongst 
 the rest, and Helga's above evcrj'body's. The laughter and 
 joking burnt into his soul, and at last he struck the table with 
 his fist and burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 Then through the sound of his own sobs a thin whimper 
 came from somewhere, whispering, " Magnus ! Magnus ! " 
 It was Thora at the keyhole. 
 
 " Go away," said Magnus, gruffly, but Thora did not go. 
 
 " Magnus, shall I tell ? " said Thora, and Magnus blinked 
 several times as the big tears rained down his cheeks, but still 
 he answered, " Go away, I tell you." 
 
 At that Thora fell to kissing the keyhole, and Magnus had 
 stopped his sobbing to listen, when he heard another voice — 
 Anna's voice — outside the door, and then the child was 
 taken away. 
 
 As soon as the birthday party was over and the girls were 
 gone, Oscar began to ask for Magnus, but the Governor 
 patted his curly head and said Magnus had been naughty, 
 and must sleep alone that night. Half an hour later Anna 
 found him crying with his head under the bedclothes, and 
 she said, " Hide nothing from your father, my child." 
 
 The Governor was sitting alone in his bureau when a little 
 figure in a dressing gown came in, with swimming eyes and 
 trembling lips, saying, " It wasn't Magnus, papa. It 
 was " and then a wild outburst of weeping. 
 
 The Governor was more touched by Oscar's confession 
 than by Magnus's silence. He patted Oscar's head again 
 and said, " That was very, very wrong of you, curly pate ; 
 but go and beg your brother's pardon and take him off to 
 bed." 
 
 When Anna went upstairs again she found two heads on 
 the pillow side by side — the dark as well as the fair one — and 
 Magnus was listening and Oscar was talking, and both were 
 laughing merrily. 
 
 As soon as the youngest of the children was fourteen win- 
 ters old they were confirmed together. There was only one 
 other candidate, little Neils, the Sheriff's son, whose mother 
 ■was dead. In the preliminary examination it was expected
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON" 15 
 
 that Oscar would come first, Helga second, ISTeils and Thora 
 next, and Magnus last. The Rector examined them, and when 
 the moment came to declare the order of the candidates he 
 looked serious and even severe. 
 
 Oscar, with a sparkle in his eyes, was carrying himself 
 gaily, and Helga was at her ease, while Thora and Neils were 
 trembling with anxiety, and Magnus was nibbling his thumb 
 nail, for he was in dread of not being accepted at all, and 
 in that case, as his new black suit had been bought, he would 
 be afraid to go home. But when the Rector had cleared 
 his throat, and called for silence, he announced a great sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " Magnus is first," he said, " Thora second, Neils third, 
 Ilelga fourth, and Oscai* — Oscar is last." 
 
 Then he turned to Oscar and said, " You are rightly 
 served, my son, for you might have done better, and you took 
 no trouble. Take an old man's word for it, Oscar — in the 
 race of life it isn't always the rider who comes in first that 
 was the last to put on his spurs ! " 
 
 Oscar was crushed with shame, but he recovered himself 
 in a moment, and while the others looked at him to see what 
 he would do — Helga, with her mouth awry, and Thora, with 
 eyes that could not see distinctly, and a throat that could not 
 swallow — he swung about to where Magnus was standing 
 with head down, blushing like a baby, and gripped and shook 
 his hand. 
 
 It was a beautiful confirmation service. The cathedral 
 was full of women, but the Governor was with Anna in their 
 pew in the gallery, and the Factor, who was alone, sat in 
 his seat below. The children knelt in a line on the lower 
 step of the communion rail, the girls in muslin frocks and 
 veils, and the boys in black suits and white gloves. The 
 morning was bright and warm, and the sun was shining 
 from the chancel windows on to the five drooping heads as 
 the old Bishop laid his hands on them one by one. 
 
 When the little ones had made their vows the Bishop de- 
 livered an address : " Be true, be strong, be faithful ! Think 
 of the covenant you have made with God, and resist tempta- 
 tion. If Satan tempts you with the treasures of this life, 
 remember that wealth and power are only for a day, while
 
 16 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 a dishonored name is for a thousand years. Love one an- 
 other, my children ! No one knows how soon the world may 
 separate you, or with what sorrow and tears you may yet 
 be torn asunder, but keep together as long as you can, and 
 may God love and bless you all ! " 
 
 The sen^ice ended with the confirmation hymn, which the 
 children sang by themselves. Anna, the Governor, and the 
 Factor were deeply affected. Ah ! the sweet and happy time 
 of childhood ! If the children could only remain children ! 
 But there was nothing to foretell the future — nothing to 
 be seen there except five innocent boys and girls kneeling 
 side by side, with their faces toward the altar — nothing to 
 be heard but their silvery voices floating up over the heads 
 of the congregation to the blue roof studded with stars. 
 
 IV 
 
 Soon after that the children were separated. Helga was 
 the first to go. The Factor had become rich, and his wife, 
 who had only been waiting until she could claim a separate 
 maintenance, parted from her husband and went back to 
 Denmark, taking their younger daughter with her. Helga, 
 who was then fifteen years of age, was glad to go, but it 
 was a condition of the separation that at twenty-one she 
 should return to Iceland if her father wished her to do so, 
 or forfeit all interest in his will. 
 
 Little Neils Finsen was the next to leave, for his father 
 had married again, and his stepmother had persuaded the 
 Sheriff that the boy had a genius for the violin, and ought 
 to be sent to London. 
 
 Oscar remained a few winters longer, trjdng to find out the 
 profession he wished to follow, and deciding sometimes in 
 favor of the law, sometimes in favor of the church, but 
 generally in favor of music (which was vetoed by everybody 
 as a beggarly business), and being finally despatched to the 
 care of the Governor's college friend at Oxford as a first 
 stage toward an English degree and the pursuit of a public 
 career in. Iceland.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 17 
 
 Thus it happened that within four years of their confirma- 
 tion only two of the five children were left at home, and it 
 had come to pass that these two — Magnus and Thora — were 
 living under the same roof. 
 
 Magnus having failed at the Latin School, the Rector had 
 concluded that it would be waste of time to keep him there 
 any longer, and the Governor had decided to send him to 
 the farm, when the Factor volunteered to take him as an 
 apprentice in his business and to receive him into his house. 
 
 The Factor's house was greatly changed by this time, the 
 place of his wife being taken by his sister, a shrewd little 
 body with a kindly heart but a sharp tongue, which kept 
 everybody in order and reduced everything to rule. Under 
 Margret's regime Magnus began as one of four apprentices 
 who ate at the same table with the master and his family, 
 but saw no more of them than they could see at meals. 
 
 He found it difiicult to learn his master's business. It 
 was business of barter, in which the farmers exchanged 
 their wool for foreign products, and settlements were made 
 on paper. Magniis made many blunders at the beginning, 
 and was constantly being reproved. As time went on he 
 grew to be big and powerful, and his fellow-apprentices 
 christened him " Jumbo." The name stuck, and he was 
 treated as a dullard. 
 
 Except twice a day — at dinner and at supper — he saw 
 nothing of Thora now. Aunt Margret sent her to the Girls' 
 High School, and if he met her in the street, coming or go- 
 ing, she would drop her head and smile and then run away. 
 Magnus wanted to run too, and always in an opposite direc- 
 tion, for the secret of sex had begun to whisper to both o2 
 them. 
 
 Once a month in winter they met at a dancing class held 
 at the Artisans' Institute. Why Magnus should go there, 
 seeing he could never learn to dance, was a mystery to every- 
 body, until one night the truth became obvious to all, and 
 then nobody thought him a dullard any longer or dared 
 to say " Jmnbo " beneath his breath. 
 
 A sprightly young sailor named Hans Thomson, lately 
 home from a voyage, was carrying himself with extraordi- 
 nary freedom. He was quick-witted, glib, and nimble, and
 
 IS THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 partly for his merit as a dancer, but mainly for the glory 
 of having " sailed," he was attracting the eyes of the girls. 
 Seeing tliis, he did his best to make sport for them, and 
 when other ejQforts had been exhausted he looked out for a 
 butt for his ridicvde, and seized upon Magnus. He called 
 him " Jumbo " several times, and when this jibe began to 
 fail he made a doggerel chorus, which he sung to a grotesque 
 caricature of Magnus's elephantine steps: 
 
 " Slowly goes tlie cow in calf — 
 Jog along and do not laugh." 
 
 The laughter came in peals, yet Magnus did not speak, 
 and the girls thought he was stupid. Encouraged by his 
 success Hans wagered a group of his friends that he would 
 take his pick of all the girls in the room, and to prove bis 
 Word he strutted up to Thora — who was reputed to be the 
 richest heiress in Iceland — and asked her to dance with hinj. 
 But Thora, who had flushed up at the previous scene, said 
 quietly, but in a voice tremulous with anger, " No, thank 
 you," and turning aside she danced with Magnus. 
 
 Hans was at first speechless with amazement, but a man 
 has to be hungry to eat his words in silence, and after a 
 moment he winked to his friends and whispered " Wait." 
 
 The next dance was a cotillion, and in the fii-st of its 
 figures a girl had to sit blindfold on a chair placed at one 
 end of the room while the boys raced from the other end to 
 capture her. The one to reach her first had to lead her to the 
 middle of the floor and kiss her — still blindfold — and then 
 dance her round the room. 
 
 Hans whispered to the leader, Thora was chosen for the 
 chair, and all the young men present — Magnus excepted — 
 ran to catch her. Of course, Hans was the easy victor, and 
 taking possession of his prize he led her to the appointed 
 place, and then, while all were silent and everybody waited 
 to see what he would do, he made a mock obeisance before 
 her blindfolded face, as much as to say he did not wish to 
 kiss her, and left her where she stood. 
 
 At that the girls began to giggle, and Thora, feeling that 
 . something was wrong, xmcovered her eyes and found herself
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 19 
 
 standing alone, and the sailor in his seat. Then the color 
 rushed to her eyes again, hut thrice redder and hotter than 
 before, and, covered with confusion, she crept back to her 
 place, 
 
 A moment afterward Hans was in the middle of the 
 floor kicking his heels higher than a short man's head, when 
 Magnus, pale as a ghost, stepped out and took hold of him. 
 
 " You must dance with me next," he said, and the sailor, 
 feeling the grip of a lion about his waist, cried, half in ear- 
 nest, half in jest: 
 
 " But it's no use dancing with a bull. Let go of me, will 
 you?" 
 
 " JSTot till I show you how a bull would dance you," said 
 Magnus, and before any one could know what was about to 
 happen, the sailor had kicked the beam of the ceiling, filling 
 the room with dust, and fallen with a crash to the floor. 
 
 Hans never went to sea again, and the Sheriff, who was a 
 life-long rival of the Governor, fined Magnus a hundred 
 crowns, after reading him a lecture on bad passions and the 
 duty of parents to check them. The Factor paid the money 
 and then stopped it, ten crowns a month for ten months, 
 out of Magnus's salary. The salary was twenty crowns in 
 all at that time, and Magnus took the other ten in secret 
 to Hans himself. As long as Hans lived in Iceland Magnus 
 paid him ten crowns a month, whatever his own earnings 
 might be. Hans became a water-carrier and a drunkard. 
 
 After that Aunt Margret invited Magnus to 8i)end his 
 evenings with her and Thora instead of going upstairs with 
 the other apprentices. This led to the happiest period in his 
 life. Thora played the guitar, while Aunt Margret knitted 
 interminable stockings, and in order to find an excuse for 
 his presence, Magnus began to learn the flute. He had no 
 music in his natvire, but he continued to scream and puff 
 through his instrument like an express train through a 
 ventilated tunneL And when he had blown himself out of
 
 20 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 breath, Thora, who was sweet and patient, would wait while 
 he wiped his forehead. 
 
 Those intervals in the hannony were always the dearest 
 part of the evenings to Magnus, for then he could talk to 
 Thora. The big silent fellow who rarely spoke to anybody 
 else would sometimes talk to her with a force and eloquence 
 which made Aunt Margret's closing eyes wink and open wide. 
 It was only about business, what he had done to-day or was 
 going to do to-morrow, but his face would light up, his eyes 
 would flash, his tongue would flow, and he would become 
 another being. 
 
 As time went on and Magnus passed out of his appren- 
 ticeship, he began to develop great schemes and ideas, and 
 he always tried them on Thora first. The barter business 
 would go to the dogs some day, and the fortunes of the future 
 would be made in the fishing. He was the richest man in 
 the world whose estate was in the sea, and if Icelanders had 
 the sense to see where their wealth was waiting for them 
 they would build luggers to replace their open boats, and buy 
 quick steamers to run their fish to England. That required 
 money, but Parliament ought to provide it, and some day — 
 who could know what might not happen? — Magnus himself 
 would enter Althing, and tell those talking automatons what 
 they ought to do. 
 
 The Factor heard of this project through Aunt Margret, 
 and he was much impressed by its foresight and practical 
 wisdom. One day, after smoking various pipes while turn- 
 ing the leaves of his ledger, he went over to the Governor 
 and said: 
 
 " Upon my soul, Stephen, that son of yours is no fool. He 
 has notions, and if he had capital as well, I don't know that 
 something mightn't come of him. But broad thighs want 
 broad breeches, and the question is what are we going to 
 do?" 
 
 " Lend the lad some money, and give him a chance," said 
 the Governor. 
 
 "And create a rival to crush me? No, no! Near is my 
 shirt, but nearer is my skin! But look here, old friend — why 
 shouldn't Magnus marry Thora ? " 
 
 " Splendid I It has been the dream of my life to cement
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 21 
 
 our friendship in the second generation by a suill closer 
 bond." 
 
 " Let's come down to facts and figures, then, said the 
 Factor, and within half an hour the marriage of Magnus 
 and Thora was a settled matter. 
 
 Magnus heard of it from the Governor. " I'vo been talk- 
 ing with the Factor about you, Magnus, and A^e think it 
 would be a good thing if you and Thora made g match. He 
 will make you his partner immediately, and in Jfue time the 
 heir to half he leaves behind. So if you agree " 
 
 " But Thora ? " Magnus's eyes had lit up wi ..h a deep glow 
 of delight. " Does Thora agree ? " 
 
 " I must leave you to find that out for yr irself ," said the 
 Governor. 
 
 Thora in her turn heard of the arrangement from Aunt 
 Margret. 
 
 " Your father is growing old, my pr? yious, and it's time 
 he took a partner. Pity he hasn't a son for a place like that, 
 but the next best thing is a son-in-law and if you or Helga 
 would mari-y somebody who could ca ry on the business — 
 somebody like Magnus " 
 
 " But Magnus is like my brother, - .unt Margret." 
 
 " So much the easier to make Liim your husband, my 
 honey." 
 
 " But surely it's necessary to lovo one's husband, auntie." 
 
 " Certainly it is necessary to Icve him, but that's easy 
 enough with Magnus — such an old friend, and so devoted to 
 the family." 
 
 There seemed to be nothing lef except that Magnus should 
 speak to Thora for himself, biu that was a task of graver 
 difficulty. The great creature who had broken the back of 
 the swaggering bully began to tremble in the mere presence 
 of the soft-voiced little lady, who dropped her blue eyes 
 whenever he entered the room. The music lasted longer of 
 an evening now, and th' intervals were fewer and more 
 brief. 
 
 But one day Magnus, who had been to Thingvellir on the 
 business of the sl^ep-gathering, came back with a young 
 pony and called Thora into the yard of her father's house 
 to look at it. The four-year-old colt, which was prancix*^;
 
 22 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 about for sheer joy of being alive, had faultless limbs, a 
 glossy chestnut coat, and a silvery mane and tail. 
 
 " Is it a good one ? " said Magnus. 
 
 " It's a beauty! " said Thora. " It's perfect! It's the love- 
 liest thing that ever stepped ! Whomever does it belong to ? " 
 
 " It belongs to you," said Magnus, and when Thora gave 
 him her hand to thank him he held it for a moment while 
 he looked into her face, and then drew her to his side and 
 kissed her. 
 
 " Is it to be so, Thora ? " he whispered, and from some- 
 where in the depths of his breast Thora answered " Yes." 
 
 The world was going romid him in a wild dance of joy 
 when somebody touched him on the shoulder. It was the 
 Factor, who had seen everything from the house. 
 
 " That's the best day's work you ever did in your life, 
 my lad, and I'U take care you never rue it. But what's this 
 they tell me — that you are Mountain-king at Thingvellir 
 this year ? " 
 
 " That is so," said Magnus. 
 
 " Well, well, I'm willing ! Take ten days at your sheep- 
 gathering, and while you are away I'll have the contract 
 written out and ready. Then we'll sign it the day after you 
 come back, and the wedding can be when you please." 
 
 Thora and Magnus went into the house hand in hand like 
 children, and Avmt Margret, who had been crying behind 
 the kitchen door, fell on them and kissed them. Magnus 
 thought he had never been so happy in his life, and though 
 the sun had set it shone for him all night long. Next day 
 he went back to Thingvellir, and scarcely two hours after he 
 had gone word ran through the town that the steamer Laura 
 had arrived in the fioi*d, and his brother Oscar had returned 
 in her. 
 
 VI 
 
 Oscar Stephenson carried everything before him. Dur- 
 ing the six years of his absence in England he had grown as 
 straight as a poplar and as handsome as a young god. Both 
 his dress and his manners seemed faultless in Iceland eyes, 
 and each had a touch of individuality that was irresistible.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 23 
 
 His spirits were as buoyant and boyish as before, and his 
 gaiety captivated everybody. 
 
 It counted for nothing that his career abroad had been 
 something like a failure; that his infirmities of character 
 had followed him; that his father had forbidden him to re- 
 turn before in order to fix him at his studies; that he had 
 left Oxford, nevertheless, without taking his degree, and 
 that, removing to London at his own earnest entreaty, he 
 had hitherto done nothing at the Academy of Music. He 
 could and he would was all that anybody thought of this; 
 and when he once began he would take the world by storm. 
 
 On landing from the steamer he ran up the street as light 
 of foot as a reindeer, shouting salutations on every side, 
 plunged into Government House, hugged his mother at in- 
 tervals for five minutes, spoke so fast that she could not 
 follow him, dashed into the Governor's bureau, kissed his 
 father just as he used to do when he was a boy, talked for 
 ten minutes, explained that he had not written to say that 
 he was coming because he wanted to take everybody un- 
 awares ; then said, " Now I must slip off to see my god- 
 father," and vanished like a shaft of April sunshine, leaving 
 the air of the room tingling like a candelabra, and the old 
 people smiling into each other's faces with delighted surprise. 
 
 " Well ! Oscar was always a master of surprise," said the 
 Governor, and he took up his hat and followed him. 
 
 When Oscar reached the Factor's house, he came first upon 
 Aunt Margret, and throwing his arms about her neck he 
 held her so long that to recover her breath and to save her 
 ringlets she had to beat him off with her fists. And then 
 there stood Thora in her laced bodice and turned down collar, 
 her hufa and tassel, and plaited hair, looking sideways out of 
 her soft, blue eyes, and smiling with her rows of pure white 
 teeth. He thought she was a picture of charming simplicity, 
 and took both her hands in both of his, and so they stood for 
 some moments, while she grew redder and redder every in- 
 stant, and tried to get away. 
 
 " Can it be possible ? " he said. " And this is Thora ! 
 When we were children she used to kiss me, but now " 
 
 " ISTow she's going to be married, Oscar. Haven't you 
 heard the news ? Thora is to be married to Magnus."
 
 24 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Then she belongs to the family, and I may kiss her in 
 any case," said Oscar. 
 
 Thora escaped at last, and then the Factor came in, and 
 Oscar had to turn round and round like a tee-totum, that 
 his godfather might see what changes the world had made in 
 him. He laughed and laughed again, inquiring about the 
 business and the crops, and then tramped about the house 
 asking what had become of this piece of furniture and what 
 they had done with that. 
 
 " Everything seems to speak to me," he said, " and in my 
 den at Oxford I used to hear that old Bornholme clock tick- 
 ing away as plainly as I hear it now." 
 
 Then the Governor arrived, and Anna followed him, and 
 while the old men smoked and Aunt Margret did the hon- 
 ors, Oscar poured out the foreign news in a stream of gal- 
 loping words, and then asked what was going on at home. 
 They told him of Magnus's ideas and schemes, but he did 
 not approve them. 
 
 " Iceland will be Iceland no longer if you turn it into a 
 little America," he said. " It is the country of song and 
 story, of fire, frost, volcano, glacier, and of patriarchal meth- 
 ods of government and trade." 
 
 " Oscar is right," said the Factor. " Keep up the old order, 
 I say." 
 
 And when Oscar had shot away like a meteor, the Factor 
 said, " That young fellow has made me feel fifteen years 
 younger. I must keep an eye on Magnus, though. He is no 
 fool, but he can't reach with his hands where Oscar has his 
 feet. Oscar's a boy ! " 
 
 " He's a darling," said Aunt Margret, straightening her 
 ringlets. 
 
 Thora hardly knew what she thought of him, except that 
 he had left her very unhappy. When she went to bed that 
 night she could not help comparing Magnus unfavorably 
 with his brother — recalling little things like his hands and 
 his nails and the discolored patches on his cheeks when he 
 neglected to shave. 
 
 Next day Oscar distributed the presents he had brought 
 from England — a brooch for Anna containing a place for 
 his own portrait, a pin for Aunt Margret, a silver belt for
 
 THE TKODIGAL SON 25 
 
 Thora, and something for nearly everybody. His unsel- 
 fishness was a subject of general eulogy, and nobody re- 
 membered for the moment that the Governor had paid for 
 everything. 
 
 In the afternoon he came again to the Factor's, and talked 
 for an hour to Thora and Aunt Margret about London and 
 the glory of its sights and scenes. " You must see them for 
 yourself some day, Thora," he said. " But then I suppose 
 old Magnus will never leave Iceland whatever happens." 
 
 Thora was more unhappy than ever when she went to bed 
 that second night, thinking what a difference it made in a 
 man if he had " sailed," and what a wondrous life the girl 
 must live who was to marry Oscar. She was looking at her 
 new belt in the glass, and standing off from it to admire her 
 glorified waist when Silvertop winnied in the stable, and 
 then she felt a little ashamed. 
 
 Oscar came the next day also, and. Aunt Margret being 
 out on an errand of charity, he sat with Thora alone until it 
 was quite dark, telling of the plays he had seen in England. 
 There was a good deal about love in them, and one was of 
 a girl beloved by two brothers. Her father had married her 
 to the elder brother while she was still a child, but as soon 
 as her heart awoke she loved the younger one, and her hus- 
 band killed both of them, Thora cried for the two children 
 who tried to be true, but could not, and she dreamt that 
 night that she was Francesca, and Oscar was Paolo, and 
 Magnus was Giovanni. The dream was painful, but the 
 awakening was more painful still. 
 
 Oscar came the next day also, and then he played a 
 number of songs he had composed on subjects in the Sagas. 
 Thora thought she had never heard such playing; and do 
 what she would she could not help laughing a little at the 
 thought of Magnus's performances on the flute. " I'm sure 
 he'll become a great composer," she said when Oscar had 
 gone. 
 
 " Perhaps so, but no one can feed on honor," said Aunt 
 Margret. 
 
 By this time Thora had begun to look for Oscar every 
 day, and the next time he came he persuaded her to fetch 
 out her guitar. She played some Iceland love songs, and 
 3
 
 26 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 sang them in a sweet voice. Thora was like a flower that had 
 grown under the snow, and was opening its eyes to the sun. 
 
 "I wonder whom Oscar will marry?" she said, and Aunt 
 Margret answered : 
 
 " Some English miss with plenty of this world's goods and 
 none of the next." And then Thora felt a tingling paiu in 
 her breast. 
 
 One day there came a note from Oscar, saying, " Glorious 
 morning! What do you say to a few hours on the fiord? 
 Will call for you immediately." 
 
 They took a boat belonging to the Factor and turned her 
 head toward Engey, an island inhabited by ten thousand 
 eider duck. Both were rowing Avhen they left the jetty and 
 the water foamed under their oars, but as soon as they were 
 out of sight and hearing they dipped softly and drifted. 
 The sea and sky were blue and quiet, like two mirrors face 
 to face, each reflecting the other, and with the boat like a 
 great bumble bee humming between. 
 
 Oscar was like a boy. He laughed and talked continually, 
 telling stories of what they used to do when they were chil- 
 dren. He was not very' chivalrous then, he remembered, 
 but when she pleaded pitifully he used to allow her to sit on 
 his sledge and they went cracking and crashing through the 
 crisp snow. They had tiffs, too, in those days, and people 
 used to say, " Children who make a quarrel often live to 
 make a match." Wise folks, were they not ? 
 
 They landed on Engey and rambled about in search of the 
 eider duck, but all the birds were gone, and there was noth- 
 ing left in their empty nests but a few discolored eggs, and 
 these were addled. 
 
 " We've come too late," said Oscar. " Haven't we come 
 here too late, Thora ? " he said again, stooping to look side- 
 ways into her face. And then Thora, who had been hum- 
 ming a tune, suddenly flushed as red as fire. Their eyes 
 were sparkling, and they were quivering with excitement. 
 
 " How I wish we could be children again ! " said Oscar. 
 "Don't you, Thora?" 
 
 Before she was aware Thora answered "Yes," and then, 
 becoming embarrassed, she turned back toward the boat. 
 The groimd was scored with narrow nits which had been
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 27 
 
 riven out of the grass by the frosts of winter, and Oscar 
 said: 
 
 " We can't both walk in one rut, you know." 
 
 " You can catch me, then," said Thora, and she ran away 
 laughing. 
 
 Oscar ran after her and caught her and held her by the 
 belt, and then she became serious. After a moment she 
 covered her face and began to cry. 
 
 " Have I hurt you ? " asked Oscar. 
 
 " No, no ! It's nothing. I'm silly ! Catch me again ! " said 
 Thora, and snatching his cap off his head she flew over the 
 ruts and had leapt back into the boat before he came up 
 with her. 
 
 When they returned to the Factor's, Aunt Margret, who 
 looked cool and thoughtful, gave Oscar a letter which his 
 mother had left for him. It was from Magnus, and it ran : — 
 
 " Dear Oscar : — I am glad to hear you have come home, and 
 I wish I had been there to welcome you. You come in a good 
 hour, for you must have heard of my good fortune about 
 Thora. It was long before I could bring myself to grasp my 
 happiness, because she was such a happy little girl, and it 
 seemed selfish to take her from her father's house and every- 
 body there so fond of her. But now that I have got her I 
 feel new strength and am doing the work of three. I am so 
 happy that nothing goes wrong with me, and I am like the 
 anvil that could not be made angry though it were to have 
 the heaviest blow. But I am longing to see you, and I write 
 to ask if you will come to the sheep-gathering and bring 
 Thora with you. Now I must conclude, for we are camping 
 in the mountains and it will take this letter all its work to 
 reach you in time. — Your affectionate brother, Magnus 
 Stephenson." 
 
 Oscar read the letter aloud, and when he had finished it 
 Thora could not see him distinctly for the vapor which 
 floated before her eyes — like the chilling thaw-cloud that 
 comes down the valley on a bright winter's day and hides 
 the shining fells. But after a moment Oscar laughed — a 
 little nervously — and said : 
 
 "Let us go by all means. I'll have Silvertop ready and 
 bring him round at five in the morning."
 
 28 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 vn 
 
 Next day Magnus awoke on the mountains in the paling 
 light of the moon and the early glimmering of the dawn, 
 and thought of Thora. He always thought of Thora first on 
 waking in the morning, and her face was the last he saw at 
 night when he closed his eyes under the stars. Seven days 
 before, when he had set his face toward the fells, with his 
 forty shepherds and eighty ponies, he had found it hard to 
 turn his back on the lowlands, because Thora was there. 
 But when by daybreak the following morning they reached 
 the ridge of the mountains which divides the north district 
 from the south; and in the grey light and the i-unning mist 
 they met the shepherds who had come up from the other side, 
 and hailed and saluted them, and exchanged snuflf and drank 
 healths with them, and then turned about and parted, and 
 begun to descend the way they came, his spirits rose rapidly, 
 because every step was taking him back to Thora. 
 
 Five days thereafter Magnus and his men scoured the 
 mountains, gathering up the sheep that had strayed during 
 the summer; and every night when they pitched their tents 
 in some sheltered place where there was water and grass 
 among the lava and screes, and eveiy morning when they 
 rose at the first glimpse of daylight, he told himself he was 
 one day and one night nearer to Thora. 
 
 When he was midway down some one had brought him 
 news of Oscar's return to Iceland, and after he had written 
 his letter and despatched it, he was happy in the prospect of 
 seeing his young brother after a long separation, but happier 
 still in the thought of seeing Thora one day sooner than he 
 had expected, because Oscar would bring her to meet him. 
 
 And now it was the last day of his duty, and as he and his 
 shepherds came down the mountains, driving five thousand 
 head of sheep before them, and the men began to talk of 
 their wives and sweethearts, he thought surely nobody had 
 ever loved anybody as he loved Thora, because there was only 
 one Thora in the world. 
 
 The morning was bright and calm, and there was no sound 
 in the clear air except the bleating of sheep, the barking of
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 29 
 
 dogs, and the voices of shepherds calling to each other as 
 they raced across the fells to keep their flocks together, but 
 Magnus felt as if everything on earth and in heaven were 
 talking to him of Thora. 
 
 He began to think of how they should meet, and he found 
 it delightful to imagine what would happen. Oscar would 
 say, " Have I brought her safely, Magnus ? " And then with 
 one arm about Thora he would give his other hand to young 
 Oscar and thank him for taking such good care of the sweet 
 ffirl who was more to him than his own soul. 
 
 At eight o'clock they came in sight of the sheep-fold they 
 were going to, lying in the valley like an inverted honey- 
 comb, and then Magnus persuaded himself he could see 
 through his field-glass a line of people like a train of ants 
 coming over the plain beyond. He could hardly contain 
 himself at the thought that Thora must be among them; 
 and when, an hour afterward, he could plainly distinguish 
 two riders galloping ahead, he was happy in the certainty 
 that these were Oscar and Thora, and that they were hurry- 
 ing to meet him. 
 
 By ten o'clock Magnus and his company had reached the 
 sheep-fold, and there the farmers of the district were gath- 
 ered to greet them, with snuff and health-drinking as before, 
 but above the joy of that meeting was the delight of seeing 
 a long cavalcade of the townspeople, who had come to make 
 holiday, and were riding rapidly up the valley. 
 
 Half an hour later Magnus saw Oscar and Thora on the 
 outside of the sheep-fold, but at that moment he was knee- 
 deep in a palpitating and bleating sea of sheep, and he could 
 only wave his hand and try to shout his salutations. He 
 found he could not shout, for something had gripped him. 
 by the throat; but Oscar called to him, and he thought, 
 " What a man he is now, and what a grown-up voice he has 
 got!"_ 
 
 During the next three hours Magnus was kept busy, sep- 
 arating the sheep, and settling disputes among the farmers ; 
 but as he worked he saw the townspeople pitch their tents 
 and light fires to boil their kettles. " Thora is there," he 
 thought, and he was content. 
 
 By two o'clock in the afternoon the last of the sheep had
 
 30 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 been separated ; the shepherds were driving away their flocks 
 in different directions; the bleating, barking, and shouting 
 were dying off in the distance, and then Magnus — soiled, 
 sunburnt and unshaven — turned his face toward the tents. 
 
 The townspeople had finished eating; their fires were 
 smouldering out in the sunshine, and they were dancing to 
 a guitar on a level piece of green, when Magnus went up to 
 them and asked for Oscar, but looked for Thora. Somebody 
 told him they had gone — gone for a walk somewhere — and 
 Magnus was glad, because they could meet where they would 
 be more alone. 
 
 He shaded his eyes and looked down the valley, and think- 
 ing he saw two figures at the foot of the hills, he leapt on the 
 back of a pony that was grazing near, and rode off in that 
 direction. He was humming a tune, for he was very happy. 
 
 After some minutes he was sure he saw Oscar and Thora, 
 and began to call to them. 
 
 " Helloa ! " he cried, but there came no answer. 
 
 " Helloa ! " he cried again, but still there was no reply, 
 and all was silent now save for the tinkling of the guitar be- 
 hind him. 
 
 " Helloa ! Helloa ! Helloa ! " but nothing came back to 
 him but his own voice as it echoed in the hills. 
 
 Oscar and Thora were sitting on the sunny side of a rock 
 which rose out of the foot of the mountain like a mound of 
 black soil, but was really the mouth of an extinct volcano. 
 Magnus thought he knew what they were doing — they were 
 dropping stones down the crater and listening for the sound 
 of their descent. That was why they had not heard him, 
 although he had called so loud. Very well, he knew what 
 he would do, he would play a practical joke upon them; he 
 would take them by surprise ; he would creep up on the oppo- 
 site side of the rock and suddenly appear before them as if 
 he had risen out of the pit. 
 
 With this intention Magnus made a circuit of the crater, 
 and drew up on the shady side of it. He was then very close 
 to the two who were sitting above, but still they did not 
 hear him, so slipping from the saddle and throwing the reins 
 over the pony's head he stole up softly and began to climb
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 31 
 
 the rock as quietly as he could in his big boots over the 
 rolling stones. The greater difficulty was to keep himself 
 from laughing aloud at the thought of what their faces 
 would be like when he stood up between them like a ghost 
 that had spning out of the earth. 
 
 Scrambling on hands and knees Magnus had climbed half 
 way up the rock when he heard Oscar speaking, and he 
 stopped to listen. 
 
 " But why did you consent ? " said Oscar's voice. 
 
 Thora did not answer, and after a moment the voice of 
 Oscar said again, " "Why did you, Thora ? " 
 
 There was a low murmur of indistinguishable words, and 
 then the voice of Oscar said, " Because your father wished it ? 
 But surely you have to live your own life, Thora. However 
 obedient a daughter should be to her father, she is a separate 
 being, and the time comes when she has to fly with her own 
 wings, as we say. Then, why did you consent ? " 
 
 Magnus felt his fingers tighten their hold on the rock he 
 was clinging to, and he leaned forward to catch Thora's 
 reply. But there was only the same low murmur of indis- 
 tinguishable words, and then Oscar's voice once more, 
 
 " Magnus ? No doubt ! I wouldn't say a word against 
 Magnus — God forbid ! — but love — mutual love — is the only 
 basis of a true marriage, and if you do not love Magnus — 
 not really and truly, as you say — why did you consent to 
 marry him ? " 
 
 Magnus felt the ground to be reeling under his knees. 
 If he had not been clinging to the rock he must have rolled to 
 the foot of it. All his soul seemed to listen, but he could hear 
 nothing except the sound of Thora's voice breaking with sobs. 
 
 Then came Oscar's voice again, but lower and tenderer 
 than before, " How hateful of me to make you cry, Thora ! 
 I didn't intend to do that, dear. But have you never asked 
 yourself what will happen if you marry Magnus, and then 
 find out when it is too late that you like somebody else? " 
 
 At that there came another note into Thora's weep- 
 ing, a note of joy as well as sorrow, and Magnus — though he 
 did not know it — clambered higher up the rock. 
 
 " What did you say, Thora ? Tell me, dear, tell me — did 
 you say you had fo\md out already ? "
 
 32 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 And then at last came Thora's voice in a burst of passion- 
 ate tears, " You know I have, Oscar," and after that there 
 was a startled cry. 
 
 Thora had risen and was moving toward Oscar, who was 
 already on his feet and holding out his arms to her, when 
 behind him she saw Magnus with a terrible face — eyes star- 
 ir»g, lips parted, and breath coming and going in gusts. Os- 
 car turned to see what it was that Thora looked at and, 
 seeing Magnus, his whole body seemed to shrink in an in- 
 stant, and he felt like a little man. 
 
 " Is it — you — really ? " he faltered, and he smiled a sickly 
 amile, but Magnus neither saw nor heard him. 
 
 Magnus heard nothing, saw nothing, and knew nothing at 
 that first moment except that he, a man of awful strength 
 and passion, was standing at the mouth of a pit as deep as 
 hell and as silent as the grave, with two who had been dearer 
 to him than any others in the world, and they had deceived 
 and betrayed him. But at the next moment he saw a look 
 in Thora's face that made him remember Hans, the sailor, 
 for it was the same look that he had seen there the instant 
 after he had thrown the man on his back, and then a ghostly 
 hand seemed to touch him on the shoulder and the fearful 
 impulse passed. 
 
 There was silence for some moments, in which nothing 
 ■was heard but the quick breathing of the three, and then 
 Magnus found his voice — a choking utterance — and he fell 
 on Thora with loud reproaches. 
 
 " What does this mean ? " he said. " It is only six days 
 since I parted from you, and now I find you like this ! Speak ! 
 Can't you speak ? " 
 
 But Thora could only gasp and moan; and Oscar, who 
 had struggled to recover himself, stepped out to defend her. 
 "It's not Thora's fault, Magnus. It's mine, if it is any- 
 body's, and if you have anything to say you must speak to 
 me." 
 
 " You ! " cried Magnus, wheeling round on him. " What 
 are you, I'd like to know? A man who betrays his own 
 brother ! Is that what you came home to do — to make mis- 
 chief and strife and break up everything? In the name of 
 God why didn't you stay where you came from? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 35 
 
 " Magnus," said Oscar, trying to hold himself in, " you 
 must not speak to me like that. You must not talk as if T 
 had stolen Thora's affections away from you, because " 
 
 "Then what have you done? If you haven't done that, 
 ■what have you done?" 
 
 " Because Thora never loved you — never — though I am 
 sori-y to say it — very sorry " 
 
 " Damn your sorry ! " said Magnus. 
 
 " And damn your insolence ! " cried Oscar. " And if you 
 won't hear the truth in sorrow, then hear it in scorn — Thora's 
 engagement to you is nothing but a miserable commercial 
 bargain between her father and our father by which she 
 has been bought and sold like a slave." 
 
 The blow went home ; Magnus felt the truth of it ; he tried 
 to speak, and at first he could not do so ; at length he stam- 
 mered : 
 
 " I know nothing about that. I only know that I was to 
 marry Thora, and that in two days' time we were to be be- 
 trothed." 
 
 Then Thora said nervously, with quivering lips and voice, 
 "It wasn't altogether my fault, Magnus — you know it was 
 not. It was all done by other people, and I had noth- 
 ing to say in the matter. I was never asked — never con- 
 sulted." 
 
 " But I asked you myself, Thora." 
 
 " That was when everything had been settled and ar- 
 ranged, Magnus." 
 
 " But if you had told me even then, Thora — if you had 
 told me that you did not wish it — that you could not care 
 for me " 
 
 " I didn't know at that time, Magnus." 
 
 "You didn't know, Thora?" 
 
 " I didn't know that the love I felt for you was not the 
 right love — that there was another kind of love altogether, 
 and that before a girl should bind herself to any one for bet- 
 ter or worse until death parts them, she ought to love him 
 with all her heart and soul and strength." 
 
 " And do you know that kind of love now, Thora ? " asked 
 Magnus, and Thora faltered, " Yes." 
 
 That word was like a death-knell to Magnus. He stared
 
 34 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 blankly before him and muttered beneath his breath, "My 
 God ! My God ! " and then Thora broke down utterly. 
 
 No one spoke for some moments. Magnus was going 
 through a terrible struggle. He was telling himself that, after 
 all, these two had something to say for themselves. They 
 had their eixcuse, their justification. They loved each other, 
 and perhaps they could not avoid doing what they had done, 
 while he — he who had thought himself the injured person — 
 was really the one who was in the way. 
 
 When Thora's weeping ceased, Magnus looked up and said, 
 in a voice that was pitifully hoarse and husky, 
 
 " So it's all over, it seems, and there's no help for it ? " 
 
 No one spoke, and Magnus said again, " Well, a man's 
 heart does not break, I suppose, so I daresay I shall get 
 over it." 
 
 Still the others said nothing, and Magnus looked from 
 Oscar to Thora and said, quite simply, " But what is to be 
 done ? If it is all over between Thora and me, what is to be 
 done now ? " 
 
 Neither of them answered him, so he turned to Thora and 
 said, " Your father was to have the contract ready by the 
 time of our return — can you ask him to destroy it ? " 
 
 She did not reply. " You can't — I know you can't — your 
 father would never forgive you — never." 
 
 Then he turned to Oscar : " The Governor has plans about 
 the partnership — can you fulfil them if I should fail ? — No ? 
 Is it impossible ? " 
 
 Oscar gave no sign, and after a moment Magnus said, 
 *' Then I must be the fii-st to move, I suppose. But per- 
 haps that is only right, since I am the one who has to get 
 out of the way." 
 
 " Don't say that, Magnus," cried Thora. 
 
 " Why not ? Better a sour truth than a sweet lie, Thora." 
 
 Thora dropped her eyes; Oscar turned aside; they heard 
 Magnus's foot on the stones as if he were moving away, 
 but they dared not look lest they should see his face. After 
 a moment he stopped and spoke again: 
 
 " When I was coming down the mountain I thought we 
 might go home together — all three together — but perhaps 
 •we had better not. Besides, if I have to move first in that
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 35 
 
 matter. I have my work cut out for me, and I must be alone 
 to think of it." 
 
 " What are you going to do ? " asked Oscar. 
 
 " God knows ! " said Magnus. " He has got us into a knot. 
 He must get us out of it." 
 
 They heard his heavy boots on the sliding stones as he 
 stepped down the rock; they heard him speak cheerfully to 
 his pony as he swnmg to the saddle ; they heard the crack of 
 his long reins as he slashed them above the pony's head, and 
 then — as well as they could for the tears that were blinding 
 them — they saw him bent double and flying across the plain. 
 
 vin 
 
 Early next day Magnus called at Government House and 
 went up to Oscar's room. He found Oscar sitting at a desk 
 with a pen in his hand, a blank sheet of paper before him, 
 and sundry torn scraps lying about, as if he had been trying 
 in vain to write a letter. The brothers greeted each other 
 with constraint, and during the greater part of their in- 
 terview neither of them looked into the other's face. 
 
 " I have come to tell you," said Magnus, sitting by the 
 side of the desk and fixing his eyes on the carpet at his feet, 
 *' I have come to tell you that I see a way — I think I see 
 a way out of our difficulty." 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Oscar, looking steadfastly at the 
 blank sheet of paper before him. 
 
 " It is a plan which does not involve Thora at all, or in 
 any way reflect upon you, therefore you need not ask me 
 what it is. I expect to try it to-morrow, and if it succeeds 
 the consequences will be mine — mine only — and nobody else 
 will be blamed or affected." 
 
 Oscar bowed his head over the blank sheet of paper and 
 said nothing. 
 
 " But before I take the step I am thinking of, I want to 
 be sure it will be worth taking, and have the results I ex- 
 pect. That's why I am here now — I am here to ask you 
 ^^rtain questions."
 
 36 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " What are they ? " said Oscar. 
 
 " They are very intimate and personal questions, but I 
 think I have a right to ask them, seeing what I intend to 
 do," said Magnus, and then, in a firmer voice, " and a right 
 to have them answered, also." 
 
 " Ask them," said Oscar. 
 
 " I want to know, first, whether, if I can liberate Thora 
 from her promise to me, you will marry her ? " 
 
 " Indeed, yes — if she will have me — yes ! " 
 
 " You said yesterday, you remember, that love — mutual 
 love — was the only basis of a true marriage. Perhaps I forgot 
 that in my own case, but I must not forget it now. So it 
 is not sufficient that Thora should love you; it is necessary 
 that you should love Thora — you do love her ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do." 
 
 " Your attachment is a brief one — are you sure it is not 
 a passing fancy ? " 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 " It is a solemn thing that two human beings should bind 
 themselves together, as Thora said, for better or worse, until 
 death parts them — you are not afraid of that ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You will always love her ? " 
 
 " Always," said Oscar. 
 
 " You have counted the cost, all the consequences ? " 
 
 " I know nothing of costs and consequences, Magnus. I 
 only know that I love Thora with all my heart and soul, and 
 that if you will liberate her, and she will consent to marry 
 me, I will consecrate my whole life to make her happy." 
 
 Magnus shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and began 
 again. 
 
 " Thora is a sweet, good girl," he said, " the best and 
 sweetest girl in the world, but she is a simple Iceland maiden 
 who has never been out of her own country. She is not like 
 you, and if you take her to England she will not be like your 
 friends there. Have you thought of that ? Are you ready to 
 make allowances for her upbringing and education? Will 
 your love bear all the strain of such a marriage ? " 
 
 It was now Oscar's turn to move restlessly in his seat. 
 *' Why should you ask me a question like that, Magnus ? "
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 37 
 
 " Will it ? " repeated Magnus more firmly. 
 
 " I certainly think it will." 
 
 " But will it ? " said Magnus still more firmly. 
 
 "It will," said Oscar. 
 
 There was a short pause and then Magnus said quietly: 
 
 " There are two or three other questions I wish to ask of 
 you, and I ask them for your sake as much as Thora's." 
 
 " Go on," said Oscar. 
 
 " Thora is practically her father's only daughter now, 
 and he is old and very fond of her. If he should wish her 
 to remain in Iceland after her marriage, you would be will- 
 ing to live here for the rest of your life ? " 
 
 " If he made it a condition — yes." 
 
 " Naturally the Governor has certain plans for you, having 
 spent so much on your education, and you have your own 
 aims and ambitions also, but if these should clash with your 
 love for Thora, if they should tempt you away from her, 
 you would be ready to give them up ? " 
 
 " Certainly I would." 
 
 " You are sure of that ? " 
 
 " I am sure of it — that is to say — it would be hard, no 
 doubt — to abandon the aims and ambitions of one's whole 
 life — but if they ever clashed, as you say, with my love for 
 Thora, ever tempted me away from her — tempted me to 
 leave her to go to England for example " 
 
 " Or to any other country, or any other woman ? " 
 
 " That is not possible, Magnus." 
 
 " But if it were possible ? " 
 
 " I would not go," said Oscar. 
 
 " So that if I give Thora up and she consents to marry 
 you, nothing and nobody will be allowed to disturb her happi- 
 ness ? " 
 
 "Nothing and nobody," said Oscar. 
 
 " Then write that," said Magnus, tapping the paper on 
 the desk. 
 
 "Write it?" 
 
 " To her, not to me. If you are sure of all this, you cannot 
 be afraid to put it in black and white." 
 
 " I'm not afraid, but it's of no use writing it to Thora." 
 
 "Why not?"
 
 38 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Because when you left us yesterday she told me that, 
 though her heart was mine, she had given her word to you, 
 and she wovJd be compelled to keep it." 
 
 "She told you that?" 
 
 " She did." 
 
 Magnus hesitated for a moment, and then said in the 
 husky voice of yesterday, " Write it, nevertheless, and let 
 me take the letter," 
 
 " You mean that, Magnus ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 " That you will give her back her word, and speak to 
 her for me ? " 
 
 " Write your letter," said Magnus huskily. 
 
 " What a good fellow you are ! You make me feel as if 
 I had behaved odiously and wish to heaven I had never 
 come back from England. I cannot wish that, though, for 
 Thora's love is everything on earth to me now, and I would 
 do anything to hold on to it. But if I have done wrong to 
 you I know of no better way of expressing my regret than 
 by placing my dearest interests in your hands, I will write 
 the letter at once, Magnus. I tried to write it twenty 
 times and couldn't, but now I can, and I will." 
 
 While Oscar's pen flew over the blank sheet of paper 
 Magnus sat with head down, digging at the pattern in the 
 carpet. A fierce fight was going on in his heart even yet, 
 for the devil seemed to be whispering in his ear, " What 
 are you doing? Didn't you hear what he said — that Thora 
 had decided to keep her word to you ? Are you going to per- 
 suade her not to do so ? You'll never get over it — never ! " 
 
 When Oscar had finished his letter he gave it to Magnus 
 and said : " Here it is. I think it says all we talked about, 
 if less than a fraction of what I feel. She'll listen to you, 
 though, I feel sure of that; but if she does not — if she 
 sends me the same answer " 
 
 " What will you do then ? " asked Magnus, pausing at the 
 door. 
 
 " Then I will take the first steamer back to England, and 
 ask you to say nothing to anybody of what has happened." 
 
 A bright light came into Magnus's face, and then slowly 
 died away.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 39 
 
 "But T cannot think of that yet, Map:nus; not till I hear 
 the result of your errand. See her, speak to her, tell her 
 she is not responsible for her father's contract; beg of her 
 not to ruin her own life and mine. Will you ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " God bless you, old fellow ! You are the best brother a 
 man ever had. Don't be too long away. I shall hardly live 
 until you return. Put me out of suspense as quickly as you 
 can, Magnus. If you only knew how awfully I love the little 
 girl and how much her answer means to me " 
 
 But Magnus's tortured face had disappeared behind the 
 door. 
 
 At the bottom of the stairs his mother met him, and she 
 said : " So you've been up with Oscar all the time ! Your 
 father and the Factor were looking for you everywhere. 
 They had the lawyers with them all the morning, and wanted 
 to consult you about something. It's settled now, I think, 
 60 there's no need to trouble. But, goodness gracious, Mag- 
 nus, how white and worn you look! That work on the 
 mountains hasn't suited you, and you must do no more 
 of it." 
 
 Magnus excused himself to Anna and hastened away to 
 the Factor's. As he passed through the streets with Oscar's 
 letter to Thora in his side pocket, and his nervous fingers 
 clutching it, the devilish voice that had tempted him before 
 seemed to speak to him again and say : " Destroy it ! Didn't 
 you hear him say that he would go away ? Let him go ! No- 
 body but yourself will know anything about the letter ! Even 
 Thora will never know ! And when Oscar is gone, Thora will 
 fulfil her promise to you ! Let her fulfil it ! If she does not 
 love you now, she will come to love you later on. And if she 
 never comes to love you, she will be yours ; you will have her, 
 and who has a better right ? Destroy it ! Destroy it ! " 
 
 But his good angel seemed to answer and say: 
 
 " "What's the use of having a woman's body if you cannot 
 have her soul? That's lust, not love; and it's too late to 
 think of it anyway. The question you have to decide is 
 simple enough — do you love yourself better than you love 
 Thora, or Thora better than yourself ? " 
 
 And then the devil seemed to whisper again and say.
 
 40 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 ■*' What a fool's errand you are going upon ! If you win you 
 lose ; if you lose you win. If you persuade Thora to preserve 
 Tier own happiness you destroy your own! If you do not 
 persuade her to marry Oscar she will maiTy you ! Are you 
 a man ? Is there an ounce of hot blood in you ? " 
 
 The fight was fierce, but Magnus decided in favor of the 
 girl's happiness against his own, and he said to himself at 
 every step, " Go on ; you want Thora to be happy, then carry 
 it through ; it is hard, but go on ; go on ! " 
 
 When he reached the Factor's his great Hmbs could hardly 
 support themselves and his ashen face was covered with 
 sweat. 
 
 IX 
 
 The Factor's house was full of the sweet smell of the bak- 
 ing of cakes, and Thora and Aunt Margret were in the 
 kitchen with the fronts of their gowns tucked up to their 
 waists, their sleeves turned back, and rolling-pins in their 
 hands, behind a table laden with soft dough and sprinkled 
 with flour. 
 
 " Here's Magnus at last ! " said Aunt Margret, " and per- 
 haps he can tell me how it happened that you came home 
 without him yesterday." 
 
 Magnus did his best to laugh it off. " That's a long story, 
 auntie," he said. " A horse's shoe isn't made at a blow, and 
 I want to speak to Thora." 
 
 " Mind you don't keep her long, then. If we're to be ready 
 for all the people who are coming to-morrow there's work 
 here to-day for a baker's dozen." 
 
 Magnus went up to the little sitting-room with the Barn- 
 holme clock in it, and Thora followed. There were dark 
 rings under her eyes, and her manner was nei'vous and rest- 
 less. 
 
 " I am ashamed of what happened yesterday," she said, 
 " and I ask you to forgive and forget." 
 
 " I cannot do either," said Magnus, " that is to say, not 
 yet, and in the way you mean." 
 
 Thora's eyes began to fill. " Don't be too hard on me, 
 Magnus. I'm trying to make amends, and it isn't very easy."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 41 
 
 "I'm not so hard on you as you are on yourself, Thora, 
 and I'm here to tell you not to do yourself an injustice." 
 
 Thora thought for a moment, and then said, "If you 
 mean that you have come to say that after all I must fulfil 
 my promise, it is unnecessary, because I intend to do so." 
 
 " Will that be right, Thora? " 
 
 " It may not be right to Oscar, perhaps, or to myself " 
 
 " I'm not thinking about Oscar now, and I'm not think- 
 ing about you — I'm thinking about myself — will it be right 
 tome?" 
 
 "What more can I do, Magnus? It wasn't altogether 
 my fault that I gave you my word, but I did give it, and I 
 am tiying to keep it." 
 
 " Would it be right to marry me — seeing, as you said your- 
 self, you do not care for me ? " 
 
 Thora dropped her head. 
 
 " You said yesterday that before a girl should marry a 
 man she ought to love him with all her heart and soul and 
 strength. Wouldn't it be wrong to marry me while you 
 loved somebody else like that ? Is that what you call maJiing 
 amends, Thora ? " 
 
 " I was only trying to do what was right, Magnus ; but if 
 you think it would be wrong to marry you, then I will never 
 marry at all. Never ! " 
 
 " What good will that be to me, Thora ? Five years, ten 
 years, twenty years hence, what good will it be to me that 
 because you had given me your word, and could not keep it, 
 you are living a lonely life somewhere ? " 
 
 Thora covered her face with her hands. 
 
 " What sort of a poor whisp of a man do you suppose I 
 am, Thora?" 
 
 "I didn't intend to insult you, Magnus. But if I can 
 neither marry you nor remain unmarried, what am I to do ? " 
 
 " You know quite well what you are to do, Thora." 
 
 Thora uncovered her face; her eyes were shining. 
 
 "You mean that I must marry Oscar?" 
 
 " That depends upon whether you love him." 
 
 The shining eyes were very bi'ight in spite of the tears 
 that swam in them. 
 
 "Do you love him?" 
 4
 
 42 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Don't ask me that, Magnus." 
 
 " But I do ask you, Thora. I have a right to ask you. 
 Do you love Oscar?" 
 
 " I admire and esteem him, Magnus." 
 
 " But do you love him ? " 
 
 " Everybody loves Oscar." 
 
 "Do you love him, Thora?" 
 
 " Yes," said Thora softly, and for some moments after that 
 there was no sound in the room but the ticking of the clock. 
 
 " Then, as he loves you, and wishes to marry you, it is your 
 duty to marry him," said Magnus, 
 
 " But I have given my word to you, Magnus." 
 
 " I give you back your word, Thora." 
 
 The shining eyes were shedding tears of joy by this time, 
 but while love fought for Oscar, duty and honor struggled 
 for Magnus. 
 
 " But I have told him it is impossible," said Thora. 
 
 "He asks you again, Thora. Here is his letter," said 
 Magnus. 
 
 " He gave it to you to deliver ? " 
 
 " I asked for it." 
 
 " And you came to speak for him ? " 
 
 " I came for myself as well." 
 
 " How good you are to me, Magnus ! " 
 
 " Bead your letter," said Magnus, and with trembling 
 hands Thora opened the envelope. 
 
 The fight was short but fierce. Magnus watched every ex- 
 pression of Thora's face. If there had been one ray of love 
 for him in her looks of gratitude and remorse he would have 
 clung to the hope that the time would come when all would 
 be well ; but love for Oscar shone in her eyes, broke from her 
 lips, betrayed itself in the very insistence with which she 
 meant to marry Magnus, and there remained no hope for 
 him anywhere. 
 
 Thora looked up from her letter, and said : 
 
 " How splendid ! How noble ! That's what I do call 
 brotherly! Oscar tells me that you think you can put the 
 contract aside without involving me or reflecting upon him. 
 You are too good — too generous — too forgiving — how can X 
 thank you ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 43 
 
 ** By giving me Oscar's letter," said Magnus. 
 
 *' What do you want witli it ? " 
 
 " I want to have it in my pocket when I do my work to- 
 morrow. That's only fair — that while I am doing my part 
 I hold Oscar's written assurance that he intends to do his." 
 
 " You wouldn't produce it to Oscar's injury ? " 
 
 " Many a man sharpens his axe who never uses it," said 
 Magnus. 
 
 Thora returned the letter to Magnus, and he put it back 
 in his pocket. 
 
 " Now you must answer it," said Magnus. 
 
 " Not yet, not immediately," said Thora. 
 
 " Immediately," said Magnus, and taking pen and paper 
 from a sideboard, he put them before her. 
 
 The power of the man mastered her, and she sat at the 
 table and took up the pen. 
 
 " But why should I write to-day ? " she said. " Why not 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " To-morrow is the day fixed for the betrothal, and if I am 
 to do anything then I must have everything in black and 
 white." 
 
 " But let me have one engagement ended before the other 
 is begun, Magnus." 
 
 " If Oscar does not receive your answer within an hour 
 he will take the first ship back to England, and you will never 
 see him again." 
 
 " He said so ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You will break my heart, Magnus. I don't know what to 
 say to you." 
 
 "Write," said Magnus. 
 
 " I cannot. You have driven everything out of my head." 
 
 " Then write to my dictation : ' My dear Oscar ' " 
 
 « ' My dear Oscar ' " 
 
 " ' I have received the letter you sent by Magnus ' " 
 
 " ' Sent by Magnus ' " 
 
 " ' And I reciprocate all you say ' " 
 
 « ' All you say ' " 
 
 " * I believe you love me very dearly, and that you will 
 never allow anything or anybody to come between us ' "
 
 44 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " ' To come between us 
 
 " * Magnus has given me back my word because I do not 
 love him ' " 
 
 " Must I say that, Magnus ? " 
 
 " ' And because he wishes to make me happy ' " 
 
 " I cannot, Magnus, I really cannot " 
 
 " Go on, Thora. * Therefore, if he can satisfy my father 
 and yours ' " 
 
 " ' My father and yours ' " 
 
 •' ' I will marry you when and where you please, be- 
 cause ' " 
 
 " ' Because ' " 
 
 " * Because I love you with all my heart and soul and 
 strength.' " 
 
 Thora was crying when she came to the end of the letter. 
 
 " Sign it," said Magnus, and she signed it. 
 
 " Address it," he said, and she addressed it. 
 
 " Seal it," he said, and she sealed it. 
 
 " Now give it to me," said Magnus, and he took the letter 
 off the table and put it in his breast pocket. 
 
 " What are you going to do with it ? " asked Thora. 
 
 " Deliver it myself," said Magnus. 
 
 " No, no ! " cried Thora. " At least let me keep it for 
 half an hour — a quarter of an hour," 
 
 " I cannot trust you, Thora," said Magnus, and he made 
 for the door. 
 
 " Give it me back ! Give it me ! Give it me ! " 
 
 She threw her arms about him to detain him, and for a 
 moment he stood trembling in the temptation of her embrace. 
 Then he put her gently aside and fled out of the house. 
 
 While he was hurrying through the streets the warmth of 
 Thora's soft flesh was still tingling on his neck and cheek, 
 and the devilish voice was saying in his ear, " ^Vhat a fool 
 you were! In another moment her sweet body would have 
 been in your strong arms and she would have been yours 
 for ever." 
 
 He tried not to hear it, but the voice went on : " She may 
 still be yours if you're half a man ! Keep back Thora's letter 
 and return his own to Oscar ! Why not ? What better does 
 he deserve of you ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 45 
 
 Magnus walked fast, but the voice followed him. It told 
 him how happy he had been when he thought Thora loved 
 him; how he had left her for the mountains with his heart 
 full of joy; how Oscar had come and everything was at an 
 end. 
 
 " Keep it back ! Return his own ! " said the voice in his 
 ear ; and to make sure of Thora's happiness and to cure him- 
 self of all hope, he took Thora's letter out of his pocket and 
 ran with it in his hand. 
 
 Oscar was at the top of the stairs, being too eager to wait 
 in his bedroom. " So you have brought it ! She has sent me 
 an answer ! Give it me ! " 
 
 " Take it," said Magnus. 
 
 But having Thora's letter in his hands at last Oscar was 
 afraid to open it. " Is it all right ? " he asked. 
 
 " See for yourself," said Magnus, and he dropped into the 
 seat by the desk. 
 
 As Oscar read the letter the expression of his face changed 
 from fear to joy, and from joy to rapture. Without looking 
 up from the paper he cried out like a happy boy, " It's all 
 right ! She agrees ! God bless her ! Shall I read you what 
 she says? Yet, no! That wouldn't be fair to Thora! But 
 it's as right as can be ! How beautiful ! Talk of education — 
 nobody in the world could have put things better! The 
 darling ! " 
 
 He read the letter twice and put it in his pocket ; then took 
 it out and read it again and kissed it, forgetting in his selfish 
 happiness that anybody else was there. 
 
 Magnus sat and watched him. The fight was almost over, 
 but he was nearly breaking down at last. 
 
 " What an age you seemed to be away ! " said Oscar. " Yet 
 you have run hard, for you are still quite breathless. But 
 there is nothing more to do now except what you promised to 
 do to-morrow. You think you can do it ? " 
 
 " I think I can," said Magnus. 
 
 " It will be a stiff job, though. To persuade two old men 
 who don't wish to be persuaded! Nobody wants to see his 
 schemes upset and his contracts broken, and with all the 
 good-will in the world to me " 
 
 " Wait ! " said Magnus, rising — his unshaven face had
 
 46 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 suddenly grown hard and ugly. " We have talked of you and 
 Thora, and of the Factor and the Governor, but there is 
 somebody who has not been too much mentioned — myself ! " 
 
 " Don't suppose I am forgetting you, though," said Oscar. 
 " I can never do that — and neither can Thora — never ! " 
 
 " If I am to stand back, and take the consequences, there 
 is something you owe me — you owe me your silence ! " 
 
 "Assuredly," said Oscar. 
 
 " Whatever I do or say to-morrow," said Magnus, " you 
 must never allow it to be seen that you know my object. Is 
 it a promise ? " 
 
 " Certainly ! " said Oscar. " Silence is inevitable if I am 
 to save Thora from her father's anger, and I will save her 
 from that and from every sorrow." 
 
 Magnus walked to the door, and then, for the first time, 
 Oscar looked at him. 
 
 " But what a brute I am — always talking of myself ! " 
 said Oscar, following his brother to the landing. " When 
 everything is satisfactorily settled, what is to happen to you, 
 Magnus ? " 
 
 " God knows ! " said Magnus, with his foot on the stair. 
 " Everybody has his own wounds to bandage." 
 
 " Well, God bless you in any case, old fellow ! " said Oscar, 
 patting Magnus on the shoulder. And then he returned to 
 his room and took out Thora's letter and read it over again. 
 
 The betrothal was fixed for five o'clock on the following 
 afternoon. Aunt Margret had had women in to clean the 
 house down, and everything was like a new pin. The large 
 sitting-room, looking toward the town, was prepared for the 
 legal part of the ceremony, with pens and ink on the round 
 table, and the smaller sitting-room, divided from it by a 
 plush curtain and overlooking the lake, was laid out with a 
 long dining table, covered with cakes and cups and saucers 
 and surrounded by high-backed chairs. 
 
 These rooms were standing quiet and solemn when at half-
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 47 
 
 past four Aunt Margret came down in her best black silk 
 and with ringlets newly curled, to have a last look round. 
 She was doing a little final dusting when the first of her 
 guests arrived. This was Anna, also in black silk, and, being 
 already on her company manners. Aunt Margret kissed her. 
 
 " But where's Oscar, and where's the Governor ? " asked 
 Aunt Margret. 
 
 " Stephen is coming," said Anna, " but far be it from 
 me to say where Oscar is! The boy is here and there and 
 everywhere." 
 
 " That reminds me of something," said Aunt Margret. 
 " Can you tell me how it came to pass that the young folks 
 missed each other at Thingvellir yesterday, and Magnus 
 came home alone ? " 
 
 " Goodness knows ! It wouldn't be Magnus's fault, that's 
 certain. Magnus is like my poor father — as sure to be in his 
 place as a mill-horse on the tread, but Oscar is as hard to 
 hold as a puff of wind. It's his nature, he can't help it, but 
 it makes me anxious when I think of it, Margret." 
 
 " Don't be afraid for Oscar, Anna ! He'll come out all 
 right. And if he is restless and unsettled, God is good to 
 such, weak heart. He never asks more than He gives, you 
 know." 
 
 The Factor came downstairs — a tall man, clean-shaven, 
 bald-headed, and a little hard and angular, wearing evening 
 dress and a skull-cap, and carrying a long German pipe in 
 his hand. 
 
 "Ko smoking yet!" cried Aunt Margret, and with a 
 grunt and a laugh the Factor laid his pipe on the mantel- 
 piece. 
 
 " And how's Anna to-day ? " he said. " No need to ask 
 that though, our Anna is as fresh and young as ever. Upon 
 my word, Margret, it only seems like yesterday that we were 
 doing all this for Anna herself." 
 
 " She was a different Anna in those days, Oscar," said 
 Anna. 
 
 " Not a bit of it ! There's a little more Anna now — that's 
 the only difference." 
 
 The Governor came in next — a broad-set man of medium 
 height, with a beard but no mustache, and wearing his offi-
 
 48 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 cial uniform, bright with gold braid. He saluted the Factor 
 and said: 
 
 " I have taken the liberty to ask the Bishop, the Rector 
 of the Latin School, and the Sheriff to join us — I trust you 
 don't object? " 
 
 " Quite right, old friend," said the Factor. " The most 
 important acts of life ought always to be done in the pres- 
 ence of witnesses." 
 
 " And how's Margret ? As busy as usual, I see ! All 
 days don't come on the same date ; we must get ready for you 
 next, you know ! " 
 
 " For Margret ! " laughed the Factor. " She'll have to be 
 quick, or she'll be late then — people don't hatch many chick- 
 ens at Christmas." 
 
 " Late, indeed ! " said Aunt Margret, with a toss of her 
 ringlets. " If I couldn't catch up to you folks with your 
 pair of chicks apiece, I shouldn't think it worth while to 
 begin." 
 
 The men laughed, and Anna said, "Well, two children 
 would be enough for me if I could only keep them. But 
 that's the worst of having boys — they marry and leave you. 
 A mother can always keep her girls " 
 
 " Until somebody else's boys come and carry them off, and 
 then she sees no more of either," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " That depends on circumstances," said the Governor — 
 " the marriage contract, for example — eh, old friend ? " 
 
 " Exactly ! " said the Factor. " You can generally keep 
 the bull about the place if you have the cow locked up in 
 the cow-house." 
 
 The men laughed again, and then the Bishop and the 
 Rector arrived — the Bishop a saintly patriarch with a soft 
 face and a white beard, and the Rector — as became the 
 schoolmaster — sharper, if not more severe, 
 
 " I was surprised when I heard it was Magnus," said the 
 Rector. " Oscar has beaten his brother in most things, and 
 I thought he would beat him in getting a wife. And then 
 Thora and he are such friends, too, and so like each 
 other ! " 
 
 " They get on worst together who are most like each other,'" 
 said Anna; and Aimt Margret said:
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 49 
 
 " Stuff ! A dark man's a jewel in a fair woman's eye, and 
 what does Thora want with a fair one ? " 
 
 " But where is Thora ? " asked the Bishop. 
 
 " She's dressing," said Aunt Margret. " Let us go and 
 fetch her down, Anna," and the two women went up-stairs. 
 
 " Magnus ought to be here, too," said the Governor. 
 " Where is he, I wonder ? " 
 
 " Were you asking for Magnus ? " said a voice from the 
 hall. It was the Sheriff — a small man with a sly face, wear- 
 ing a gold-braided uniform like the Governor's. 
 
 "He's at the warehouse, isn't he? Or is he still at the 
 jetty ? " asked the Factor. 
 
 " No," said the Sheriff entering. " To tell you the truth, 
 when I passed the hotel he was sitting in the smoking- 
 room." 
 
 " The smoking-room of the hotel ? " said the Governor. 
 
 The Factor laughed. " Treating his friends in advance 
 of the event, I suppose ! It's bad to let the sledge go ahead 
 of the horse, though." 
 
 " No," said the Sheriff again. " To tell you the truth, he 
 was quite alone." 
 
 " Drinking ? " asked the Governor. 
 
 " Nonsense, Stephen ! Magnus does not drink," said the 
 Factor. 
 
 " I hope not, but I'm always afraid of it. His grandfather 
 on the maternal side, you know " 
 
 " Ah, nobody knows what is inside another's coat," said 
 the Bishop. " Anna's father had some trouble in his head — 
 must have had." 
 
 " Even diseases are inherited," said the Governor. 
 
 " But the old man drank after he buried his wife, not be- 
 fore he married her," said the Rector. 
 
 And then Aunt Margret and Anna returned to the room 
 Baying, " Here she is at last ! " bringing Thora in her simple 
 velvet costume called the kirtle, with silver belt, bell sleeves, 
 and white lace about the neck. 
 
 The Governor took Thora in his arms and kissed her. 
 ** But how pale, my child ! " he said. 
 
 " You may well say so. Governor," said Aunt Margret. 
 " She has been crying since early morning."
 
 50 THE mODIGAL SON 
 
 " Crying ? " said the Factor. " Now, I never can tmder- 
 stand why a woman must always cry when she is going to 
 be married; it's such a bad compliment to her husband." 
 
 " But I agree with Thora," said the Governor. " If ever 
 there is a time to cry, or, at least, to feel grave and anxious, 
 it is just that moment of life when it is customary to dance 
 and sing as if you were setting out on a triumphal proces- 
 sion instead of taking a leap into the dark." 
 
 " And I agree with the Governor," said the Bishop. 
 " When I see a bride crying so bitterly at the altar that she 
 can hardly utter the responses, I generally know she is going 
 to be a happy wife." 
 
 " Thora might wait until the wedding, though," said Aunt 
 Margret, and then Oscar came dashing into the room. 
 
 " Out walking — lost count of the time — only six minutes 
 to dress — did it in five," he said, in breathless gasps. 
 
 " He's another pale one," laughed the Rector. " Has there 
 been a frost overnight that has nipped all our rose-buds ? " 
 
 " Been running to get here," said Oscar, " but I've raced 
 Magnus it seems." 
 
 " Magnus has raced you in another way, my boy," said 
 the Rector, nodding his head toward Thora, who was blush- 
 ing and looking down; whereupon the Governor muttered: 
 
 " Oscar must not dream of marriage yet awhile. He has 
 his career to think about, and he has not been too earnest 
 about it hitherto." 
 
 " Well, my experience in business," said the Factor, " is 
 that when a woman marries she slackens oS, but when a man 
 marries he tightens up." 
 
 At that the Sheriff nudged the Rector, who whispered: 
 
 *' The Factor has still another daughter. Rector." 
 
 " What if he has ? " said the Factor. " A man can't have 
 two sisters-in-law to one brother." 
 
 " No, but he can give his brother a sister-in-law, too," said 
 the Rector, and then everybody laughed. 
 
 " That reminds me," said the Factor, " Helga sent us a 
 photograph the other day. Where is it, Thora ? " 
 
 " Here it is," said Thora, taking a photograph out of A 
 drawer. Oscar held out his hand for it, and looked at it long 
 and earnestly.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 51 
 
 " How fine ! I've scarcely ever seen such a splendid face ! 
 Quite grown up, too! Is Helga coming home soon, 
 Factor?" 
 
 " Not very soon," said the Factor. 
 
 And then the lawyer came In with a large portfolio of 
 papers and laid them on the table. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " laughed the Rector. " A rich man's child 
 needs a careful christening, it seems ! " 
 
 " You're right, Rector, and it has taken my clerk the en- 
 tire day to engross the contract, but it was not that which 
 kept me until now — it was this ! " 
 
 " The rings ! " cried the two elder women, as the lawyer 
 took a small plush box from his pocket. 
 
 " Yes, you may remember that when the rings had to be 
 ordered yesterday morning, Magnus could not be found any- 
 where, so I was compelled to order them myself. Well, I 
 thought I gave careful instructions, but the idea is abroad in 
 the town, do you know, that it is Oscar, not Magnus, who is 
 to marry Thora — nobody believes anything else — so what 
 does Olaf, the silversmith, do but write ' Oscar ' on the in- 
 side of one of the rings ! " 
 
 " Never ! " said Oscar, trying to laugh with the others. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and the error was not discovered until thi' 
 very last moment, and then all I could do, as you see, was 
 to have ' Oscar ' erased — it was too late to have * Magnus ' 
 inscribed instead." 
 
 " Where is Magnus, I wonder ? " said the Governor, walk- 
 ing restlessly before the window. 
 
 " Don't be anxious about Magnus, Stephen," said Anna. 
 " He grows more and more like my poor father. If father 
 promised to be somewhere at a certain time he would turn 
 up to the minute if he had to kill a couple of ponies in get- 
 ting there." 
 
 The cathedral clock struck five at that moment, and sure 
 enough before the clang of the last stroke had died away 
 Magnus walked into the room. He looked slack and almost 
 untidy in his pea jacket and long boots, and was the only 
 person in the room who had not troubled to dress for the 
 occasion. The Governor's face darkened at sight of him, and 
 the Factor said in a tone of vexation :
 
 52 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Well, let us get to work and have it over — Fve been spoil- 
 ing for a smoke this half-hour." 
 
 The lawyer opened his portfolio, and the company gathered 
 about the table, whereupon Aunt Margret cried: 
 
 " Magnus, do you allow of this ? Here's Oscar sitting be- 
 side Thora." 
 
 " Don't disturb him," said Magnus. " This is good enough 
 for me," and he took a low seat by the side of his mother. 
 
 "Now, come," said the Factor, "let the one who has the 
 best voice start the singing." 
 
 " It must be the lawyer, then," said the Rector, " for every 
 lawyer has a voice of silver — passes it for silver anyway." 
 
 And then, amid the general laughter, the lawyer opened 
 the marriage contract and began to read. 
 
 XI 
 
 The company listened intently, and at the close of every 
 clause the Governor, who was resting his head on his hand 
 and his elbow on the table, said : " Good ! " " Very good ! " 
 " Generous ! " "Most generous ! " 
 
 When the lawyer had finished, the other old people leaned 
 back and drew long breaths of satisfaction, but the Govei'nor 
 rose and crossed to the Factor and shook hands with him, 
 saying : " Just like you, old friend ! " 
 
 The Factor was gratified by the reception of the docu- 
 ment and became bright and almost humorous. Imitating 
 the manner of the auctioneer, he cried : " Anybody bid 
 higher? Then going — going — go " 
 
 " Wait ! " said the Governor. " Hadn't we better ask the 
 opinion of the young people themselves ? After all, they are 
 the persons ultimately concerned, and though a cow seldom 
 kicks when you are carrying her clover " 
 
 There was a general titter, a nodding of many heads and 
 muttered responses of " Just so ! " " Just a matter of 
 form!" 
 
 " Very well ! Thora, what do you say ? " said the Factor, 
 expecting a burst of rapturous approval, but Thora only 
 answered timidly:
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 53 
 
 ** I don't know. Hadn't you better ask Magnus first ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear — Magnus first, as a matter of course. 
 What do you say, Magnus ? Any suggestion to make ? Any 
 little improvement? How do you like the contract?" 
 
 There was an awkward silence which astonished the older 
 people, and then came a great surprise. Magnus, who had 
 been sitting with his head down, raised a white and firm-set 
 face and answered : 
 
 " I do not like the contract at all. Factor, and I cannot 
 sign it." 
 
 At this there were looks of bewilderment among the older 
 people, who seemed to be uncertain if they had heard aright, 
 while Thora and Oscar, who partly understood, seemed to be 
 struggling to catch their breath. The Factor was the first 
 to recover his self-possession, and he said, with a slightly 
 supercilious accent: 
 
 " Is that so ? I thought I knew something of these mat- 
 ters; but if you think you can draw up a better document, 
 Magnus " 
 
 But then the Governor interposed : " Some trifle, no 
 doubt," he said suavely. " Magnus will explain. What is 
 the point you object to, my son ? " 
 
 There was another moment of tense silence, and then Mag- 
 nus said in a harsh voice : 
 
 " By this contract I am required to live in Iceland all my 
 life — that's slavery, and I will not submit to it." 
 
 " But, my dear Magnus," said Anna, " don't you see the 
 reason for that? To all intents and purposes Thora is the 
 Factor's only daughter — his only child — and if she goes away, 
 who is to cheer him up and make home bright for him? 
 Be reasonable, Magnus ! " 
 
 " Anna, hadn't we better let the young man finish ? " said 
 the Factor. " He may have other objections. Have you? " 
 
 " Yes," said Magnus. " According to this contract I am 
 to be taken into partnership on marrying Thora, but only 
 on a quarter share. Partnership is partnership, and where 
 there are two partners it should be half and half — I must 
 have half." 
 
 The company listened in consternation, and the Factor 
 began to laugh. " Why not ? " he said in a cynical tone.
 
 54 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Everything is hay in hard weather. I'm so hard up for 
 a son-in-law that I shouldn't stick at a trifle." 
 
 " Old friend," said the Governor, " let us not be too 
 hasty. Perhaps Magnus has not made himself quite plain." 
 
 " As plain as a pikestaff. He wants an equal partnership. 
 But perhaps that is not all. Is there anything else ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is, sir," said Magnus, in a rather aggressive 
 manner. " By this deed, when you retire I am to take over 
 the business, but I am only to have one-third share of the 
 profits. I must have two-thirds." 
 
 " In — deed ! " said the Factor. " Do you know I thought 
 if I allowed you to come into the business that I had made, 
 and to work it with my plant and my capital, one-third was 
 generous." 
 
 " Most generous ! " said the Governor, mopping his fore- 
 head. " But Magnus is slow — slow both of thought and 
 speech. He must have some explanation. What do you 
 mean, Magnus ? Take your time and speak plainly." 
 
 " I mean, sir," said Magnus, " that the barter business in 
 Iceland will break up before long. When the Factor re- 
 tires — perhaps before — his business will be worth nothing — 
 not even the name, for that will be less than nothing. A 
 new business will have to be created, and if I am to create 
 it I must have two-thirds of the profits, leaving one-third for 
 the use of the Factor's money." 
 
 The Factor was losing his temper. " Why any at all ? " 
 he said. "Why not kick me out altogether? No use beat- 
 ing a dog with a cheese when a whip is handy." 
 
 The company were murmuring at Magnus, when the Gov- 
 ernor interposed again. " Magnus," he said, " to say I'm 
 astonished is to say nothing. The Factor has treated you 
 with boundless liberality, but no well is so deep that it can't 
 be emptied, and if you go any farther " 
 
 " Go any farther ! " said the Factor. " Why shouldn't he 
 go farther ? It isn't fair play between the wind and a straw, 
 but why shouldn't he beat me about a little more ? Anything 
 else to ask, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Magnus, without the change of a muscle. " By 
 this contract my wife is to inherit half her father's fortime 
 at his death — she must inherit the whole of it."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 55 
 
 "Good Lord!" 
 
 The exclamation seemed to come from everybody in the 
 general chorus of condemnation which followed. 
 
 " Are you dreaming? " cried the Governor. " Do you for- 
 get that the Factor has another daughter? " 
 
 " 'No, sir, I do not forget it," said Magnus. " But the 
 other daughter has gone away with her mother; she may 
 never come back; and after Thora has spent her life by her 
 father's side — cheering him up and making his home bright, 
 as mother says — and, perhaps, nursing him in his last days — 
 is somebody else, who has done nothing, to sweep off half 
 of all he leaves behind? No! My wife — if I marry — must 
 have everything ! " 
 
 The older people, both strangers and members of the fam- 
 ily, broke into loud expressions of dissent, while the Factor 
 looked round at them, and said, " An eagle isn't displeased 
 with a dead sheep, is it ? And so, Mr. Governor's son," he 
 said, wheeling about on Magnus, " these are the only terms 
 on which you will do me the honor to marry my daughter ? " 
 
 Without noticing the sneer, Magnus answered " Yes." 
 
 "Well, I must say Fm deceived in Magnus," said Aunt 
 Margret. " I didn't think he had a selfish thought in his 
 heart." 
 
 "I didn't think," said the Factor, who was not laughing 
 any longer, " I didn't think the son of anybody in Iceland 
 could afford to turn up his nose at a daughter of mine." 
 
 " Neilsen," said the Governor, firmly, " we have been 
 friends since we were boys, and neither of us knows which 
 will bury the other — don't let us quarrel now over the con- 
 duct of our children." 
 
 The company murmured approval, and then the Governor 
 turned once more to Magnus. 
 
 " My son — for you are my son, though I'm at a loss to 
 understand it — you are making a breach between two fam- 
 ilies by asking these utterly impossible terms! Don't you 
 see they are impossible? Have you taken leave of your 
 senses? Are you quite mad? Or is it true that you have been 
 drinking — that you are drunk ? Good God ! " 
 
 Magnus made no answer, but the painful silence which 
 followed the Governor's outburst was broken by a pitiful cry.
 
 56 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 It came from Thora. She understood everything at last; 
 she knew what Magnus was doing for her and the price he 
 was going to pay for it ; and she wanted to cry out, but could 
 not; so she dropped her head on Aunt Margret's shoulder 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 Anna mistook Thora's tears for shame and humiliation, 
 and turning to Magnus she said : 
 
 " My dear son, you haven't thought of things in the right 
 way or you couldn't do what you are doing. I don't like these 
 marriage contracts myself. It seems like a tempting of 
 Providence to talk about money and business just when two 
 souls who love one another are joining themselves together 
 and becoming one. But you are making it worse, Magnus — 
 you are making it a mere bargain. And, then, think of 
 Thora ! If you refuse her father's offer everybody will hear 
 of it, and the poor girl will be shamed. Do you want to see 
 that, Magnus ? I'm sure you do not ! So come now, for 
 Thora's sake — even though you don't quite like the Factor's 
 conditions, for Thora's sake, Magnus — will you not ? " 
 
 Everybody waited for Magnus's reply, and even Thora 
 raised her head. 
 
 "No," said Magnus, in a voice like a growl, and then he 
 sat with a stolid face while the condemnation of the com- 
 pany fell upon him in a choiais of denunciation. " Infa- 
 mous!" "Hateful!" "Execrable!" "Damnable!" "The 
 man's heart must be as black as a raven." 
 
 Oscar could bear no more. He had been sitting silent, with 
 head down, as if trying to hide his agitated face, while turn- 
 ing Helga's photograph over and over in his restless fingers ; 
 but now he rose, walked to the curtains, which divided the 
 front room from the back, parted them with a trembling 
 hand, and looked out over the lake on which the sun was 
 setting. 
 
 " Don't go away, Oscar," cried the Governor. " I know 
 you are disgusted with your brother's turpitude ; but I want 
 you to speak to him for all that. It is hardly likely that hav- 
 ing refused to pay attention to his mother or me, he should 
 listen to you or anybody else, but try him. For the honor of 
 the family, tell him that if he adheres to the attitude he has 
 taken up, he will be an object of hatred and contempt. As
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 57 
 
 long as he lives people will despise him, and his family will 
 be ashamed to acknowledge his name. If he has no love for 
 Thora, see if he has any respect for himself. Speak to your 
 brother, Oscar, for mercy's sake, speak to him." 
 
 Oscar's hand on the curtain shook visibly, and he said, 
 with an effort, while all listened without breathing, and 
 Thora's parted lips quivered: 
 
 " I cannot do that, father. I do not feel that I have any 
 right. No doubt Magnus knows as well as we do what he 
 is doing, and has counted all the consequences. Everybody 
 has to live his own life." 
 
 At this there was a murmur of disappointment, and the 
 Governor, turning away, walked to the window. Then Os- 
 car stepped back to the table, and said, more firmly, yet with 
 as much emotion : 
 
 " But if I cannot appeal to Magnus, there is something 
 I can do — I can offer to take Magnus's place. If you and 
 the Factor will consent I can accept the conditions of the 
 contract just as they are, and be only too proud to marry 
 Thora if she will accept me." 
 
 At first there were looks of blank amazement about the 
 table, then a general sigh of relief, and everybody seemed 
 to be saying at once, " Good ! " " Splendid ! " " The very 
 thing ! " 
 
 " Yes," said the voice of the Governor, husky with emo- 
 tion, "it is just like Oscar — always doing the great thing! 
 But in a matter which so intimately concerns the boy's future 
 welfare I cannot allow a momentary impulse of gener- 
 osity " 
 
 " It isn't a momentary impulse, father. Since I came 
 home from England I have learnt to love Thora. But she 
 was engaged to my brother, and I couldn't speak imtil Mag- 
 nus had spoken " 
 
 ^ Honorable ! " " Most honorable ! " said several voices, 
 and it was with difficulty that Oscar could go on. 
 
 " But now — if it is understood that Magnus retires, that 
 is to say, refuses to marry Thora " 
 
 " He does, undoubtedly he does," said the Factor. 
 
 "And if Thora will take me " 
 
 Every eye looked toward Thora; she hesitated for a 
 5
 
 58 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 moment, then rose from her chair and timidlj held out her 
 hand. Oscar grasped it eagerly and there was a chorus of 
 congratulation. 
 
 '' But we cannot allow Thora, either, to be carried away 
 by a momentary impulse," said Aunt Margret, who was vig- 
 orously wiping her eyes, " and if she's only doing this to 
 escape from a shameful position " 
 
 " I'm not, auntie," said Thora. " I only consented to 
 marry Magnus because my father wished it, but I love Oscar, 
 and if father will agree " 
 
 The Factor's eyes were sparkling with the light of triumph, 
 and he cried across to the Governor, " What do you say, 
 Stephen?" 
 
 " Well, I must say it's fast ambling — too fast," said the 
 Governor, " but if the young people are satisfied, and if 
 Oscar is content to give up his career in England — his music 
 and his studies — and live in Iceland all his life, it may save 
 a breach between our families and tide us over an ugly 
 reef " 
 
 " Then so be it, godson," cried the Factor, slapping Oscar 
 on the back, " and as for England, I'll take care of that ! " 
 
 This was received with a shout of approval from the 
 strangers, and then lihe Factor called to the lawyer to alter 
 the names in the contract and get it signed without delay. 
 
 " As for you, sir," he said, turning to Magnus, and snap- 
 ping his fingers in his face, " your ugly chickens have come 
 home to roost. You thought you could corner me, but your 
 selfishness and worldliness have done the work that every- 
 body seems to have wanted. Ha, ha, ha ! he laughs best who 
 laughs last! There's nothing I like better than to dish a 
 man who tries to dish me, and I'll go to bed happy to-night." 
 
 Magnus had risen from his low seat and was standing 
 with his head down and his hands on his hips while the 
 storm beat over him, and thinking he was still unmoved the 
 Factor burst upon him again in a tone of biting raillery : 
 
 " But if the barter trade is going to the dogs, hadn't you 
 better cut it before the crash comes ? Heavy is the fall, you 
 know, when an old man tumbles, and I might crush you com- 
 ing down. I'll trouble you to leave my house, sir, without 
 a day's delaj."
 
 THE niODIGAL SON 59 
 
 " Father ! " cried Thora, and she stepped hetween them, 
 but the Factor brushed her aside. 
 
 " You get away, Thora. If a daughter of mine had done 
 to me what he has tried to do to-day she wouldn't have a 
 roof to cover her to-night." 
 
 "Neither shall a son of mine — not in this town, at all 
 events," said the Governor. " Magnus Stephenson " 
 
 " Stephen ! Stephen ! " said Anna, and Oscar, in the same 
 quivering voice as before, cried out to his father. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Anna ! Oscar, be quiet, you've done 
 enough for one day! Magnus Stephenson, when you leave 
 the Factor's house you will go to Thingvellir, and stay there, 
 and thank your stars if for the rest of your life you are 
 allowed to earn your bread by the sweat of .your brow." 
 
 " The amended contract is ready for the signatures," said 
 the lawyer, and then everybody save one turned back to the 
 table, and there was a cackle of cheerful voices. "Wlaen the 
 names were all signed and witnessed, the rings were ex- 
 changed, and there was some joking and happy laughter. 
 
 " All's well that ends well," said the Bishop. " That will 
 do as a pledge between you until you come to me to be made 
 man and wife." 
 
 " Supper is ready," cried Aunt Margret, drawing the cur- 
 tains of the inner room, and then seeing a photograph on the 
 floor beneath them, she said, " but who's been treading on 
 poor Helga's portrait ? " 
 
 " That's Oscar," said Thora. " He had it in his hand when 
 he got up." 
 
 When the company were seated about the supper table it 
 was seen that there was one chair too many, and the Gover- 
 nor pushed it back with an impatient hand. Magnus had 
 gone — no one had seen him go. 
 
 XII 
 
 Alone and forgotten, a prey to the devilish voices which 
 had tortured him in the time of his temptation, angry and 
 unsatisfied although he had carried out his purpose and tri- 
 umphed as he had intended, Magnus was in his room at the
 
 60 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 top of the house gathering up his belongings by the light 
 of a candle. 
 
 They were few and not valuable — a little money, two or 
 three suits of clothes, two or three pairs of riding, fishing, 
 and snow boots, some musical exercise books, the " Book of 
 Job," " The Pilgrim's Progress " (having illustrations of 
 Apollyon with horns), and the precious flute with which he 
 had beguiled those blessed evenings that now seemed to be- 
 long to another existence. He had sent for two ponies to 
 take him to the farm — a saddle pony and a pack pony — and 
 two small boxes held everything. When all was packed he 
 came upon the remains of a bottle of brandy which he had 
 kept in his bedroom as medicine, and he drank the spirit 
 and threw the bottle away. 
 
 During that short hour of pain and degradation he heard 
 at intervals the various noises of the company at supper 
 below — sometimes in single voices, sometimes in climbing 
 cries like the sounds of a geyser, sometimes in peals of joyous 
 laughter — and his heart grew bitter. He could plainly dis- 
 tinguish Oscar's voice among the rest, at first quiet enough, 
 but afterward loud and hilarious, and his very soul sickened. 
 
 " You fool ! " said the other voices at his ear. " What did 
 you expect? Did you think he would be overwhelmed with 
 sorrow? He is glad; he'll walk over your head, and over 
 Thora's head, too! Listen to him already — the sweet, un- 
 selfish, privileged pet of everj'body ! " 
 
 After the boxes had been sent down-stairs Magnus took a 
 last look round, and then he tried to shut out all bitter 
 thoughts and evil passions, for he believed that he was leav- 
 ing that room for ever. It had been his home through seven 
 long years, and some of them had been bad years, but some 
 of them had been good, and the good ones filled the little 
 place with memories of many visions. 
 
 The slooping roof, the dormer window, the deal furniture, 
 the sheep's skin on the bare floor, and the sunflower pattern 
 on the wall-paper were all ghosts of the dreams he had dreamt 
 there. Some were dreams of the great things he was going 
 to do for Iceland, but more were dreams of Thora, and re- 
 membering that both sorts were dead now, and that Thora 
 belonged to Oscar, to save himself from further repining and
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 61 
 
 to crush down the riot that was rising within, he hlew out 
 the candle and that chapter of his life was at an end. 
 
 But the devilish voices were not yet done with him. Go- 
 ing down-stairs he had to pass the door of the front room 
 on the first landing, and he went by it on tiptoe. For years 
 he had always passed that door on tiptoe, for it was the 
 door to Thora's room, a holy place, half nursery, half sanc- 
 tuary, as Thora herself had grown to be half saint to him 
 and half child; but he was not thinking of that this time. 
 He was thinking he must get out of the house without see- 
 ing her again, for she belonged to Oscar now, and if they 
 were to meet and she began to thank him for giving her to 
 Oscar — but God forbid ! 
 
 Thora's door was closed, but the next room stood open. It 
 was Aunt Margret's bedroom, and Magnus knew that a 
 photograph of Thora was on the chest of drawers near the 
 door. He had often envied it, and now he stooped to look 
 at it for the last time, and the voices at his ear seemed 
 to say, "Take it; it's all you are going to carry away 
 of her." 
 
 Going down the last flight of stairs he heard the two 
 sitting-rooms buzzing like the mill-house, and knew that 
 others must have joined the party; but above all other sounds 
 he heard the sound of Oscar's voice, clear as a flute, saluting 
 people as they came in. " Listen to him ! The darling ! " 
 said the mocking voices by his side. 
 
 Coming to the hall, he encountered some of the women o£ 
 the town in their feast-day dresses, and with garden flowers 
 in their hands. Hardly any of them looked at him, but 
 all passed into the sitting-room, where Oscar waited to wel- 
 come them. 
 
 The hat-stand in the hall had been cleared for the new- 
 comers, therefore Magnus had to go to a rail under the stairs 
 for his overcoat and riding-whip, and while he was there 
 Aunt Margret opened the door of the back sitting-room to 
 ventilate the crowded place. She did not see him, for she 
 had taken off the spectacles she usually wore, and he was 
 standing in the shadow, but he saw everybody in the room, 
 and Thora among the rest. 
 
 Thora was sitting by the wall, and the townspeople were
 
 62 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 going up to her one after another and offering their flowers 
 and making congratulatory speeches. And she was thanking 
 them in her soft voice and looking very happy. 
 
 Magnus was hurt by Thora's happiness. He had done all 
 he could to make her happy ; he had sacrificed everything ; but 
 now that he looked on her happiness he was hurt by it; and 
 when Oscar went and stood by her chair, looking bright and 
 proud, he felt hot with anger and hatred. 
 
 While he pulled on his overcoat he could not help hearing 
 what was being said within the room. " Such an extraordi- 
 nary thing, Thora," said one, " people in the town actually 
 said it was Magnus you were going to marry ! " "I heard 
 that, too," said anothei-. " I heard it at Olaf's, the silver- 
 smith's, when we were drinking coffee." "Such an idea!" 
 said a third, " as if any girl would marry Magnus who could 
 get Oscar ! " And then Oscar's voice, large, expansive, in- 
 dulgent, almost patronizing, " Tut, tut ! You mustn't say 
 anything against Magnus, Elisabet ! " " But I hear Magnus 
 insulted Thora this evening, and the Factor has turned him 
 out for it." " Can it be possible ? I saw him in the hall as 
 I was coming in ! " " No, no, not insulted — not insulted ex- 
 actly," said Oscar's voice again, and then Magnus, sick and 
 dizzy, turned away. 
 
 He was going out of the house with head down when the 
 door of the front sitting-room opened and closed quickly, 
 and he found himself face to face Avith Thora. She was try- 
 ing to look sad, but the light of her happiness was still in 
 her eyes, and her parted lips were smiling. 
 
 " I heard you were here," she said, " and I couldn't help 
 coming out to see you. Oscar told me yesterday I was not 
 to speak, whatever happened, but it seems so terrible that 
 you should leave us like this." 
 
 " We made a mistake, and we had to get out of it some- 
 how," said Magnus. 
 
 " I know," said Thora. " And of course I think it will be 
 the best thing in the end. You would have had no joy of me, 
 Magnus, and I should have been veiy unhappy." 
 
 " Perhaps you would," said Magnus. 
 
 " But it is a great grief to me that you will have to give 
 up all the schemes you had set your heart upon, Magnus,"
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 63 
 
 "I have given up more than that, Thora," said Magnus, 
 and he tried to push past her and go. 
 
 The light of her smile died off her face, and with a wistful 
 look, in a pleading voice, she said : 
 
 " I feel as if I am losing a friend, Magnus, and you are 
 saying good-by to me for good." 
 
 " Not that exactly," said Magnus. 
 
 " Good-by, Magnus ! " 
 
 « Good-by!" 
 
 They were standing with hands clasped in what they be- 
 lieved to be their last parting when the buxz of the inner 
 room broke out upon them again, and a cheery voice cried : 
 
 " Thora ! Thora ! Where are you ? — Oh, it's you, 
 Magnus ? " 
 
 It was Oscar, and at the next moment Thora had gone 
 back, the door of the sit.ing-room had closed behind her, and 
 Magnus and his brother were together in the hall. 
 
 " I meant to come out to you before, old fellow," said 
 Oscar, " but they stuck to me like leeches, and I couldn't 
 get away. I wanted to thank you for what you did for me 
 this evening. It was too generous, too brotherly, and I can 
 never be sufficiently grateful." 
 
 Magnus did not answer, so Oscar went on : 
 
 " You pledged me to silence, and you were right, plainly 
 right; but, of course, I cannot allow the error about your mo- 
 tive to go much farther, and as soon as it is safe to do so 
 I will set you right. People shall know the truth about 
 what you did, and why you did it ; and they will make amends 
 for their mistake." 
 
 Still Magnus did not speak, so Oscar continued : 
 
 " It's too bad, though, that you should suffer in the mean- 
 time, and if there is anything I could do for you — in a ma- 
 terial way, I mean — if you are in want of " 
 
 But the dark fire that was rising in Magnus's face fright- 
 ened him^ and he could not finish what he wished to say. 
 
 " I don't care a straw what people think I did it for," said 
 Magnus, " and I don't care a damn if they never make 
 amends. You know what I did it for, and that's enough for 
 me. I did it for the sake of Thora. I gave her up to you 
 that you might love her and cherish her and make her happy.
 
 64 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and be a better husband to her than I could be. But if you 
 don't do it ; if you ever neglect her or desert her or give her 
 up for another woman, I'll take her back. Do you hear me? " 
 — (Magnus swayed like a drunken man and laid hold of 
 Oscar's arm) — " I'll take her back, and then — then, by 
 God, I'll kill you!" 
 
 Saying this, he walked heavily out of the house, leaving 
 Oscar with white cheeks and gibbering lips, alone in the 
 hall. 
 
 His ponies were waiting for him in the street ready for 
 the journey to Thingvellir. The night was dark, but the 
 windows of the house were bright, for the blinds had been 
 drawn and the sashes thrown open. A cackle of many voices 
 came out of them, for the company within was now large and 
 very merry. While Magnus tightened the girths somebody 
 played a guitar, and as he was riding away Oscar began to 
 sing.
 
 PART II 
 
 *' Impotent pieces of the game he plays 
 
 Upon this cheqver-boa/)-d of nights and days ; 
 Hither and thither m.oves^ and checks, and slays 
 And one by one back in the closet lays. " 
 
 Oscar did his best to keep the fire burning in the inner 
 sanctuary — the fire of love and duty — but oftener than he 
 was aware it flickered, and seemed to be in danger of dying 
 out. He tried to tell the truth about Magnus, but as fre- 
 quently as he thought out a way of doing so he was con- 
 fronted by the ugly question which would surely be asked : 
 " Can it be possible that you stood passively aside while we 
 condemned Magnus for a vice he was not guilty of, and 
 praised you for a virtue you did not possess ? " The humili- 
 ation of speech like that would be deeper than the degrada- 
 tion of silence, and from day to day Oscar postponed the 
 painful confession. Thus a month passed, and he had said 
 nothing. 
 
 His position would have been easier if he had been getting 
 on better with his work — if he could have felt it impossible 
 that the Factor could regret the loss of Magnus. Then he 
 would have said, "After all, though naturally you didn't 
 think so at the time, everything has been for the best,'* 
 whereupon the Factor would have said, " You are right, god- 
 son," and after that he would have told all. 
 
 But his work was going badly, and there was no blinking 
 the fact that he was a poor business man. On first going 
 into the Factor's, on the footing the contract gave him, ha 
 rambled from office to warehouse with aimless and shiftlesg 
 uncertainty, dressed with Bohemian freedom, and looking 
 like a butterfly in a back alley. Then the Factor said, 
 
 65
 
 66 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 ** Come, come, young fellow, we must be getting to work; 
 choose a department and be responsible for it." 
 
 Oscar selected the export department. This brought him 
 into I'elation with the farmers, and some of them cheated 
 him unmercifully, concealing their inferior wool in the body 
 of the packs he bought from them. Magnus would have 
 rooted out both the bad stuff and the men who brought it, 
 and they would have gone flying before his threatening face; 
 but Oscar wished to stand well with everybody, and the firm 
 suffered accordingly. 
 
 After a week he wished to change. He thought the im- 
 port department would suit him better : " Very well," said 
 the Factor. " Mistakes are made by the young as well as 
 the old — buckle to at the imports, my boy." 
 
 The imports brought him into relation with the mates of 
 steamers and trading ships, and they were quick to shufl3.e 
 their responsibility for damaged freights onto Oscar's 
 shoulders. 
 
 After another week he went back to the Factor and said, 
 " I don't think a department is what suits me best, god- 
 father — why not let me have a general supervision ? " The 
 Factor shrugged his shoulders, but replied, " I'm willing. 
 You shall be my right-hand man, then, and I'll ease off as 
 soon as you are ready." 
 
 But from that moment onward Oscar did nothing, good, 
 bad, or indifferent. He was always running about like one 
 out of breath, but he came at any hour in the morning and 
 left at any time in the evening, and was always skipping off 
 to see Thora. That little lady was entirely content, but the 
 Factor was heard to say to Aunt Margret, " There was 
 something in Magnus after all, Margret." And Aunt Mar- 
 gret was heard to answer, " Many a good sword is in a bad 
 sheath, you know." 
 
 But one day Oscar came flying to the Factor in breathless 
 haste with his mouth full of great news. The Member of 
 Parliament for the town was dead, and the Radical party 
 were already preparing to run a candidate — an out-and-out 
 Socialist named Oddsson, an enemy of the old order in both 
 politics and trade. 
 
 " Why shouldn't I go into Althing ? " said Oscar. " I could
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 67 
 
 protect the business against these rascally revolutionaries, 
 and help to preserve the old principles." 
 
 " Let me talk to your father first," said the Factor. 
 
 The old friends agreed that the scheme was a good one. 
 Not only was the man Oddsson a believer in Magnus's doc- 
 trine about the barter trade, but he was the champion of an 
 agitation for establishing a new constitution in Iceland, 
 which would abolish the Governor and set up a Minister 
 responsible to Parliament alone. He must be kept out. In 
 self-defense they must fight the common enemy! Oscar 
 would be a good candidate, being young and bright and 
 clever, and a personal favorite. 
 
 " But I cannot appear in the contest," said the Governor. 
 
 " Leave it to me," said the Factor, and he went back and 
 told Oscar, who shouted with delight and shot off to tell 
 Thora. 
 
 By this time Thora had spent a long month in radiant 
 happiness. If she thought sometimes of Magnus's position, 
 she remembered that Oscar had said he would set things 
 right, and the delay counted for little, because she measured 
 existence by days no longer, but by emotions, and she was 
 conscious of one emotion only — love for Oscar, and therefore 
 for everybody and everything in the world. 
 
 As the year was growing elderly and its withering winds 
 made further excursions to the islands of the fiord impos- 
 sible, they remained at home and romped like children or 
 played the guitar and piano. At such times Thora was not 
 without certain backward thoughts of Magnus, for the room 
 was the same and nothing was different except the hour of 
 the day, but there was always the difference of its being 
 Oscar. 
 
 He taught her some Icelandic love songs, and she sang 
 them in a thin sweet treble, which Oscar cheered tumul- 
 tuously. It did not hurt her in the least that Oscar never 
 took her singing seriously — he did not take Thora herself 
 seriously. He called her " Baby Thora," and she christened 
 him the " Bad Boy." 
 
 The moment he had left her sight she would send a letter 
 after him, like a handkerchief he had forgotten. He always 
 replied, and his letters were full of affectionate banter, but
 
 68 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 perhaps at the bottom of her heart she was a little disap- 
 pointed with them. They were not quite lover-like enough; 
 there were scarcely any of them she could not read aloud to 
 Aunt Margret ; there was hardly one that was her very own. 
 
 But Oscar made up for every deficiency when he arrived 
 himself, and on the day when he came with a hop, skip, and 
 a jump into the sitting-room, and announced that he was to 
 be member of Althing, she saw him for one moment great 
 and glorious, like the top of a mountain when it has broken 
 through the mist and the sun has flashed on to it, and then 
 she said, " And now the Bad Boy must play with me — he 
 hasn't played me blindman's buif since yesterday." 
 
 Thora was too happy to think of her happiness, but she 
 told herself sometimes that there was only one thing wanted 
 to make it complete — that Helga should come home to share 
 it. She broached the subject to Oscar, but it was at a mo- 
 ment when he was immersed in his manifestoes, and he 
 merely said, " Good idea ! Splendid ! Helga looks like a 
 stunner! Send for her certainly if the Factor approves," 
 and he went on with his tiresome politics. 
 
 She broached it next to Aunt Margret, who was less en- 
 couraging. Putting her spectacled face close to Thora's, 
 she shook her ringlets, and said, " Don't be a ninny ! Two's 
 company, three's none ! " 
 
 But Thora mentioned the matter to Anna also, and the 
 motherly old thing was moved. " That would be beautiful 
 if you could manage it, Thora," she said, " and if it should 
 lead to bringing the others together, what a blessing it 
 would be ! " 
 
 After that Thora regarded herself in the light of the fam- 
 ily peace-maker, and in this character she approached her 
 father. The Factor listened to her with sympathy, for nature 
 is stronger than lawyer's ink, and he had often told himself 
 he had been foolish to part with his child. " Well, I don't see 
 why she shouldn't," he said. " She might come for the wed- 
 ding — or, say for a year — one year at all events. I'll write 
 to the lawyer in Denmark." 
 
 By the same mail Thora wrote to Helga : 
 
 Dearest Helga: — Father is writing to the lawyer to ask 
 him to send you back to Iceland. It is only for a year, so
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 69 
 
 I hope mamma will not object. I am sure you will not when 
 I tell you what is to happen. There is to be a wedding, and, 
 of course, a party, and great goings on. 
 
 Dear, I am to be married to Oscar Stephenson, who has 
 come back from England, and is so handsome and so clever. 
 If you could see him as he is now, you would fall in love 
 with him instantly, but he is so fond of me, and I am so 
 happy. I was to have married his brother Magnus, but the 
 engagement broke down, and now I am very sorry for Mag- 
 nus, and if ever you hear anything against him when you 
 come home you are not to believe a word of it, because 
 Magnus is as good as gold, only I could not care for him, 
 so it was no use trying. 
 
 Dear, there are such lots of things I want to tell you, but 
 I must save them until you come. We have had bad trade 
 this Slimmer, and Oscar has gone into father's business. I 
 am weaving a web of cloth for father's Christmas suit, but 
 it does not make much progress, because somebody is always 
 interrupting, and when you are about to be married there 
 is so much to dc — isn't there ? 
 
 Dearest Helga, I have no more to write about now, so 
 give my love to mamma, and mind you come before long, 
 for the wedding may be soon, although nothing is fixed yet.— - 
 Your affectionate sister, Thora. 
 
 P. S. — Come quickly. I am dying to introduce you to 
 Oscar. 
 
 A fortnight later the Factor announced that he had heard 
 from the lawyer in Denmark, and Helga was to come by the 
 next steamer. 
 
 " The * Laura,' and she's due on the first of November, and 
 that's the day of the election ! " said Oscar. 
 
 " What a good omen ! " said Thora, and she sang her Ice- 
 land love songs all that evening through, for she was very 
 happy. 
 
 n 
 
 On the morning of the day when the "Laura" was due; 
 there was no sign of her on the sea, but that was a matter of 
 moment only to Thora, who had been up early and down at
 
 70 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 the jetty before breakfast. The rest of the little world in 
 which she lived were immersed in preparations for the elec- 
 tion and were going about like dogs on the leash before the 
 hunt begins. Oscar was flying to and fro with red ribbons 
 in his button-hole; ponies were coming and going with red 
 ribbons in their bridles, and red flags were hanging all over 
 the town ; but, nevertheless, there was a sense of uncertainty 
 everj-where and an atmosphere of intense excitement. 
 
 The day opened dull and rayless, with a pale sun behind 
 a slaty sky like a white wafer on an old parchment. An hour 
 before the polling booths opened the Governor called upon 
 the Factor, under pretense of his morning's walk, and said: 
 
 " I'm doubtful of the result, Neilsen, and I now see that 
 Oscar was the worst possible candidate to stand for our 
 cause. Everybody who has a grievance against the Gov- 
 ernor is going to vote against the Governor's son, and every- 
 body who has a grievance against the Factor will vote against 
 his son-in-law." 
 
 " Oh, I know the people, bless them." said the Factor. 
 " Master when you want anything — slave when you don't. 
 But we'll see, Stei:)hen, we'll see ! " 
 
 After finishing his breakfast comfortably the Factor 
 walked leisurely to his counting-house and called for his 
 ledger. It showed that nearly half of the electors of the 
 town were indebted to him, some of them slightly, others 
 deeply, and not a few beyond hope of payment without pres- 
 sure or distraint. He counted up their total indebtedness, 
 and it proved to be frightful. "But life is precious when 
 death is at the door," he thought, and lighting his long Ger- 
 man pipe, he put the leather-bound book under his arm and 
 strolled quietly across to the polling-station. 
 
 As chairman of Oscar's committee the Factor had a right 
 to sit inside the polling booth, but he merely asked to be 
 allowed to take a chair outside the counter to which the 
 voters would come up when they recorded their votes. " A 
 low seat is often easy," he said, sitting with his face to the 
 Sheriff and his back to the door. 
 
 When the doors were opened the Factor laid his ledger 
 across his knees and took out a thick blue pencil. Then 
 as each voter came up to the counter and his name was called
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 71 
 
 and looked up in the register, the Factor was seen to turn up 
 the voter's account in his own book and hold his blue pencil 
 over it. 
 
 " Whom do you vote for ? " asked the Sheriff, " Oscar 
 Stephenson or Jon Oddsson ? " and if the voter answered 
 " Oscar Stephenson," the blue pencil was seen to descend in 
 two broad strokes across the account as if cancelling it al- 
 together ; but if he answered " Jon Oddsson," it was seen 
 to score the total with a double underline as if marking it 
 for immediate recovery. 
 
 The opposition had entered in hot haste, but the effect 
 was instantaneous. A voter would come swaggering up to 
 the counter, call his name in a robustious voice, and then 
 (while waiting for the verification of his right to vote) see 
 the Factor sitting below with his own account open before 
 him, and, understanding everything in a moment, would be- 
 gin to answer the Sheriff with a faltering, " Odd ," then 
 
 pause, tremble, mumble " Stephenson," and go stumbling 
 out of doors. 
 
 Silently, hour after hour, from the beginning of the day 
 to the end of it, the Factor sat at his task, never once looking 
 up from his ledger and apparently doing nothing but check- 
 ing, as he had a right to do, the Sheriff's record of the votes. 
 Aunt Margret came to say that dinner was ready, but he 
 answered that he was not hungry. Toward three in the 
 sfternoon Thora arrived in great excitement to say that the 
 " Laura " had been sighted outside the head, but he told her 
 to meet her sister herself, and tell her that he did not ex- 
 pect to be home before midnight. 
 
 When the cathedral clock struck four the Sheriff rose and 
 ordered the shutting of the doors. The short winter's day 
 had closed in by this time, and while the counting was going 
 on with its monotonous beat in the silence of the breathless 
 room, like the splashing of rain on the pavement — " Stephen- 
 son, Stephenson, Oddsson, Stephenson " — the Factor, who 
 had lit his pipe, was pacing the corridor outside, like a man 
 who walks in his orchard when the fruit is ripe. 
 
 When the counting was finished the Sheriff told the at- 
 tendants to open the window, and then the deep hum of a 
 crowd which had been cheering and singing outside, with a
 
 72 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 noise like the waves breaking on a bar far off, rose to a 
 roar, like that of the sea running up a stony beach. At the 
 next moment everybody was shaking hands with Oscar, a 
 band was beginning to play in the street, and the Sheriff 
 was stepping on to the balcony. 
 
 Meantime Thora, fluttering with excitement of another 
 sort, had gone down to the jetty to meet Helga. As soon as 
 the " Laura " had steamed up the fiord and cast anchor outside 
 the town, she put off in her father's white boat and drew up 
 alongside. It was now quite dark, but lights were burning on 
 the steamer and the dark figures of a line of passengers 
 were silhouetted against the sky as they leaned over the rail 
 and shouted to the friends in little boats who had come out 
 to meet them. Thora was sure that Helga must be there, 
 and she wanted to call to her, but her heart was beating 
 60 fast that her voice would not answer. At length the lad- 
 der was let down, and Thora's boat swayed up to it, and 
 then she climbed up the steamer's side. 
 
 " Helga ! " 
 
 " Miss Helga is below," said a voice out of th« darkness, 
 and though she felt a pang of disappointment that Helga 
 was not waiting, she ran down the stairs to the saloon. At 
 the bottom she called " Helga " again, and the stewardess 
 said: 
 
 " The young lady is in her cabin." 
 
 "Which?" 
 
 " Second to the left." 
 
 Feeling conscious of increasing disappointment, but still 
 panting in her eagerness, Thora skipped off to the cabin, 
 and then came a shock of surprise. 
 
 Somehow she had expected to find Helga a little thing, 
 grown certainly, but still smaller than herself. In her 
 dreams of their first meeting she had pictured herself stoop- 
 ing to kiss Helga, and then in a sisterly-motherly sort of 
 way putting her arms about her waist. But the young lady 
 who came leisurely out of the cabin with her veil down and 
 buttoning her kid gloves, was much taller than Thora and 
 quite dignified and stately. 
 
 " Thora ! " said the girl. 
 
 " So it is you— really you ? " said Thora.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 73 
 
 " Really me," laughed Helga, and then it was Helga who 
 stooped to kiss Thora, who had to lift up her face to her. 
 
 Thora's heart was in her mouth in both senses. She looked 
 at Helga again by the dim light of the saloon lamp, and felt 
 herself small and insignificant. Ilelga was beautiful, with 
 fine features, large gray eyes and rich dark complexion, and 
 Thora felt herself to be plain and commonplace. Helga was 
 fashionably dressed in the Danish manner, with the soft silk 
 things about the neck and bosom which give charm to a 
 charming girl, and Thora felt herself to be dowdy and coun- 
 trified in her Iceland hufa and stiff velvet cloak. 
 
 " Have you come alone ? " asked Helga. 
 
 " Quite alone," said Thora. 
 
 " But hasn't father come with you ? Or Aunt Margret ? 
 Or that wonderful Oscar? Is there nobody but you?" 
 
 " Nobody but me," said Thora, and then, though she felt 
 crushed and small, she delivered the Factor's message and 
 told about the election. 
 
 " So that was the meaning of the band we heard as we 
 were sailing up ? " said Helga, and at the first moment 
 Thora thought perhaps Helga had hoped it was in honor 
 of her own arrival, but at the next she felt ashamed and 
 foolish. 
 
 " We might as well go, then," said Helga, and she swept 
 up the stairs, leaving Thora to follow. It was all so different 
 from what Thora had expected — so utterly different — that 
 she would have given anything to run away and cry. 
 
 But going ashore in the boat, she sat at the helm side by 
 side with Helga, and there, the lights being gone, and Thora 
 no longer in awe of Helga's fashion and beauty, she slipped 
 her arm about her sister's waist, as she had always intended 
 to do, and after that they got on better. 
 
 When they touched the jetty there was much shouting 
 and scrambling in the darkness, and Thora was nervous 
 and excited, but Helga was quiet and even amused. 
 
 " No carriages in this benighted country yet, I suppose ? " 
 said Helga. 
 
 " No, but I've brought Silvertop to take you up," said 
 Thora. 
 
 " And what is there for you ? " 
 6
 
 74 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Oh, I'll walk— I love walking." 
 
 The street at the top of the jetty was thronged with the 
 people who were waiting outside the polling place to hear the 
 result of the election, and when the girls came to the crowd, 
 which was good-natured but boisterous, they found it diffi- 
 cult to plow their way through until a big man stepped 
 before them and swept the people aside like ninepins. 
 
 " What a tremendous creature that was," said Helga. " He 
 could have felled an ox, I fancy." 
 
 " But didn't you know him, Helga ? It was Magnus Ste- 
 phenson," said Thora. 
 
 "Magnus? Why didn't he speak, I wonder?" 
 
 They had reached the outskirts of the crowd and were 
 crossing in front of the polling place when the people raised 
 a great shout, for it was the moment when the Sheriff 
 stepped on to the balcony. 
 
 " He's going to declare the poll. Shall we wait ? " asked 
 Thora. 
 
 " It might be amusing," said Helga. 
 
 As soon as there was silence the Sheriff read the figures. 
 Oscar had been elected by three votes to one. At this there 
 was another hurricane of cheers, with cries of " Oscar ! " 
 " Oscar ! " and Thora said : 
 
 " Oscar will come next. Shall we wait and see him ? " 
 
 " Why not ? It will be good fun," said Helga, and in the 
 interval Thora patted Silvertop to keep him quiet, and creep- 
 ing closer to her sister squeezed her hand. 
 
 Then Oscar came bounding on to the balcony amidst a 
 wild breaker of applause, and behind him came two men 
 bearing torches, so that his figure and face were plainly 
 visible to the crowd below — his slight, lithe form, his fair 
 hair slightly ruffled, his sparkling eyes, his mobile mouth 
 and the never-failing smile that captivated everybody. 
 
 It was thus that Helga saw him for the first time since 
 he became a man, and her face, which had worn a playfvil 
 expression, became grave. 
 
 " How fine ! " she said. 
 
 Thora could hardlj^ catch the words over the sibilation 
 of the running cheers, but she said : 
 
 " He will speak — shall we wait to hear him ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 75 
 
 "Assuredly," said Ilelga, and when Oscar began with 
 " Fellow townsmen and fellow countrymen," Thora felt 
 Helga's hand shiver and heard her say, " The same voice ! " 
 
 Oscar's speech was punctuated by applause at the end of 
 every sentence, and when it was finished, and the speaker 
 and the men with the torches had disappeared, Thora spoke 
 to Helga again, but she answered at random, and sat in 
 her saddle like one in a dream. 
 
 Somebody else came on to the balcony and had a mixed 
 reception. 
 
 "It must be father," said Thora, and then the Factor's 
 voice, utterly indifferent to hostile interruptions, was heard 
 to say that a supper had been prepared at the hotel for 
 the committee of the successful candidate, and they were to 
 go there at once — the new member would follow presently. 
 
 With that the crowd broke up, and the girls went their 
 way — Thora clinging closer than ever to her sister, for her 
 heart was warm with love and pride. 
 
 "Well," she said, "what did you think of him?" 
 
 "Think of him? Oscar?" said Helga. She laughed un- 
 comfortably, and then stooped from the saddle and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Only to think that a little thing like you, dear, should 
 capture a man like that ! " 
 
 Thora laughed also, but she hardly knew whether she was 
 pleased or hurt. A sudden chill had struck her. It was 
 like the breath of the mountain snow which sometimes comes 
 down in summer. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The gods of riot were playing so hard a game with Thora 
 that she was in a fever to introduce Oscar to Helga, and 
 when he did not appear by noon of the following day she sent 
 a letter across to Government House to order him to come 
 forthwith. The " Bad Boy " was too full of his silly politics, 
 while there was something far more charming and absorbing 
 ■waiting for him there. But an answer came back from Anna 
 to say that Oscar was still asleep, and after the excitement 
 of the day before, and the late hour of the previous night, 
 ahe was unwilling to waken him.
 
 76 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 Early In the afternoon Anna herself came over expecting 
 to see the first-fruits of the peace-making, and, while Aunt 
 Margret was below stairs preparing chocolate for the com- 
 pany that was expected, the motherly old thing tried various 
 artful ways of finding out from lielga what her upbringing 
 had been in Denmark, and, particularly, what religious in- 
 struction and society her mother had given her. Helga saw 
 through the device in a moment, and with her red lips a 
 little awry she painted an alarming picture of theaters and 
 concert-halls, and a flat in Copenhagen frequented by actors 
 and actresses, especially on Sunday evenings, where every- 
 body, including the ladies, smoked cigarettes and drank 
 brandy. 
 
 Meanwhile Thora watched for Oscar out of the sidelight 
 of the projecting window, and as soon as she saw him swing- 
 ing down the road, she darted into the hall and threw her- 
 self into his arms and kissed him, whereupon, with his head 
 full of his victory, he said : 
 
 " Congratulations, eh ? The sweetest I've had yet," and 
 pushed through toward the drawing-room. 
 
 " Wait, wait, wait ! Somebody to show you ! " cried Thora. 
 
 Then the poor victim of God knows what maleficent pow- 
 ers — not knowing what she did, but laughing merrily as if 
 a song-bird had been imprisoned in her throat — began to 
 play the old familiar trick of children; standing behind 
 Oscar on tip-toe in order to reach, she put her hands over his 
 eyes, and crying, "Forward, soldier!" marched him blind- 
 fold into the drawing-room and up to the place where Helga 
 was waiting. Then, removing her hands sharply, she cried, 
 " There ! " and stood off to see the effect. 
 
 Oscar found himself face to face with a girl as unlike 
 Thora as could be, tall, dark, with hair parted at the side 
 and hanging over the forehead, dressed in a light silk blouse 
 and silver-grey skirt, and having an odor of violets about 
 her. 
 
 "Helga! Can it be possible?" 
 
 He stretched out his hand and Helga took it, and held it, 
 and so they stood for some moments, while Thora, breathing 
 rapidly, watched the changing lights in their faces: in Os- 
 car's, astonishment, admiration, and rapture: in Helga's,
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 77 
 
 curiosity, satisfaction, and delight. And Thora's own face, 
 too — to the pitying angels who alone were looking at it — 
 showed expressions just as various : pride, joy, then uneasi- 
 ness, and finally a little twinge of secret pain. 
 
 To relieve this feeling, Thora burst into laughter, and 
 then everybody laughed, and Aunt Margret came into the 
 room with the chocolate and cakes. 
 
 "So you've brought them together again, Thora?" said 
 Aunt Margret, and Thora swallowed a lump in her throat 
 and answered, " Yes." 
 
 Then Oscar and Helga went over to the window and talked 
 together with great animation. Thora heard snatches of 
 their conversation as she carried round the cups. It was 
 about things of which she knew nothing — Denmark, Copen- 
 hagen, England, London, Oxford, the English theater, the 
 Danish theater, and, above all, music, music, music. 
 
 " How well they get along," said Thora. 
 
 " Trust them for that," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 Toward dusk the Factor returned home — not having al- 
 tered his habit of work by a hair's breadth ; and then came 
 half the great people of the town — the Bishop, the Sheriff, 
 the Rector of the Latin School, and finally the Governor. 
 Helga moved among them with the quiet ease of one ac- 
 customed to company. Within an hour she had captured all 
 the men, but the women were less sure of her. 
 
 " The minute I set eyes on her," whispered Aunt Mar- 
 gret to Anna, " I said to myself, ' Thora is a Neilsen out 
 and out, but there's more of the stranger in this one.' " 
 
 " She's the living picture of what my wife was when I 
 saw her first," said the Factor in a low tone to the Gov- 
 ernor, who answered significantly, in the same low tone : 
 
 " Then I don't wonder, old friend — I say I don't wonder ! " 
 
 " Helga's head and youi's were nearer together when I 
 laid my hand on them last," said the Bishop to Thora. " Take 
 care! Your sister is running away from you, little one." 
 
 "Isn't she?" said Thora. 
 
 Thora did not feel quite so happy in Helga's visit as 
 she had expected, but still struggling to show her off, she 
 asked her to play something on the piano — she had played 
 after breakfast and it was beautiful.
 
 78 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Helga played brilliantly, and Oscar, wlio turned over 
 her music, applauded her boisterously. 
 
 " And now Oscar ought to play something," said the Gov- 
 ernor. " From his earliest years he made us conceive the 
 highest hopes that he might become a great musician." 
 
 " He will, too — my son Neils at the College of Music says 
 he will," said the Sheriff. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the Factor. " Oscar has something 
 better to do now than to scrape catgut or blow his lungs 
 through a steam-jjipe." 
 
 " Still, an occasional flirtation with the muses," said the 
 Rector, " you wouldn't object to that. Factor? " 
 
 " I would object to flirtations of all sorts," said the Fac- 
 tor, " and I should think the man a fool who put himself ia 
 the way of them." 
 
 " Surprising how many men do," said the Governor with 
 a wink at the Rector. " Would you believe it — a certain, 
 friend of yours wrote a poem in the days of his youth ! " 
 
 " Never ! " cried the Rector, and while the old people 
 laughed, the Factor said : 
 
 " When I was a child I behaved as a child, but when I be- 
 came a man I put away childish things." 
 
 " Well, I so far agree with the Factor that I think a maD 
 can't have his heart in two places at once," said the Gov* 
 ernor. " What do you say, Thora ? " 
 
 " I suppose not," said Thora. 
 
 " Certainly not, any more than a man can love two women 
 at the same time," said the Governor; and then Oscar began 
 to play. 
 
 He played as the bird sings because the song is in the soul 
 of it, and when he had finished, the company cheered him 
 lustily, and Helga, putting her face close to his, said in a 
 whisper : 
 
 " And you asked me to play — I who only play as I am 
 taught, and you can play like that ! " 
 
 Oscar was delighted with Helga's praises and suggested 
 that they should play together. They played a difficult selec- 
 tion, full of flourishes, and the company declared thex had 
 never heard anything like it. 
 
 " Wonderful, wasn't it ? " said somebody.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 79 
 
 " Yes, wasn't it? " said Thora. 
 
 She was feeling utterly eclipsed and forgotten when Helga 
 wheeled round on the music-stool and said: 
 
 " And now Thora must give us something on her guitar — 
 Aunt Margret says she plays it beautifully." 
 
 " Indeed she does — beautifully ! " said Aunt Margret. 
 
 But Thora begged ofP in alarm, saying, " No, indeed, no ! 
 I couldn't possibly play after playing like that." 
 
 So Oscar and Helga began again. This time it was an 
 English ballad. Helga played the accompaniment, and Os- 
 car sang the air, and there was a chorus which they gave 
 together. The company were completely carried away. 
 " Charming ! " " Exquisite ! " " But how well their voices 
 harmonize ! " " They might have been meant by nature to 
 go together ! " 
 
 " Might they not ? " said Thora. 
 
 " But now Thora ought really to play her guitar," said 
 Helga. 
 
 " Certainly ! Thora and her guitar," said Oscar. " And 
 let her sing one of her Iceland love songs to it." 
 
 It was cruel, it was heart-breaking, it was almost as if 
 Helga were trying to humiliate her, as if Oscar were joining 
 her, as if they were conspiring together to expose her in- 
 feriority. 
 
 " No, no, don't ask me, please don't," she pleaded. 
 
 But Helga continued to ask and Oscar to second her, and 
 being able to bear the strain no longer, Thora burst into 
 tears, and fled from the room. 
 
 " How extraordinary ! " said Helga. 
 
 But Oscar followed Thora and coaxed and comforted her 
 and brought her back with a smile on her face, although the 
 tears were scarcely dry in her eyes. 
 
 " I was silly," she said. " I don't know what came over 
 me." 
 
 " Perhaps it was the heat," said the Governor, and he 
 opened one of the windows.
 
 so THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 IV 
 
 During the next month Oscar was every day and nearly 
 all day at the Factor's, to the total disregard of his public 
 work and the complete neglect of business. But his visits 
 were not always to Thora, who was ceasing to be " Baby 
 Thora " either to him or to any one, and becoming a serious 
 little figure with a wistful face. She never romped about the 
 house now, but sat in a comer with a ball of wool in her lap 
 and a crochet hook in her hand while Oscar and Helga 
 played the piano and talked music. 
 
 It was music, music, always music at the Factor's in those 
 days. Early in her visit Helga brought down a pile of the 
 music of Wagner, and Oscar was completely carried away 
 by it. Other composers produced beautiful harmonies, a 
 subtle and clever combination of sweet sounds, but when 
 Oscar played Wagner, the piano seemed to him to waken and 
 weep, to burn the flame under his fingers. 
 
 " It's glorious ! " he would say. " I can never thank you 
 enough, Helga. It's a new world, a new revelation." 
 
 Helga had heard of Oscar's songs from the Sagas, and one 
 day she said, " I wonder you don't try to compose something- 
 yourself, Oscar — something in the style of Wagner — I'm sure 
 you could." 
 
 Then with diffidence and apologies Oscar produced his 
 'prentice efforts, and Helga praised them enthusiastically. 
 " Do you know you are a born musician ? " she said. " And 
 you should never do anything except create music — never ! " 
 
 Oscar was intoxicated by her applause, but he only laughed 
 and said, 
 
 " Ah, that's impossible." 
 
 " Why impossible ? " 
 
 " Parliament — public duties — and so forth." 
 
 " But, my dear Oscar, you don't mean to say you are going 
 to waste your life like that ? " 
 
 " Do you call it waste, Helga ? " 
 
 "Not for everybody — not for a man like Magnus, for 
 example — but for you, yes," said Helga, and then, with ir- 
 resistible drollery, she mimicked the manners of Parliament,
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX 81 
 
 with its " Mr. Speaker, permit me to rise to a point of order," 
 and " Will the honorable and learned member explain," and 
 all the other inanities of a legislative assembly in a little 
 country. 
 
 Oscar laughed until tears (from more springs than one) 
 began to roll down his cheeks, and then he said — 
 
 " What an actress you would make, Helga ! But prin- 
 ciples, my dear girl, principles are the soul of politics, and 
 if a man can guide his country in the higher paths, he can 
 afford to forget the plains — don't you think so, Thora ? " 
 
 And Thora, who had been feeling dizzy and faint, answered 
 in a helpless way, " Yes, Oscar. But I forgot to tell you that 
 father wished to see you on business." 
 
 " Business ! " cried Helga. " That, too ! " 
 
 " Then you object to business also ? " asked Oscar. 
 
 " For you — certainly, because you are not fit for it," said 
 Helga. " And if you go into business you'll be like a man 
 who has married the wrong woman. She may be an ex- 
 cellent, thrifty soul, quite suitable to somebody else, but 
 she was never meant for him." 
 
 " There's something in that, though it's wonderful how 
 you know it," said Oscar. " I'm about the silliest beggar at 
 a bargain that ever breathed out of an oyster shell." 
 
 " Of course you are, Oscar — you must be. Xow, if Mag- 
 nus had gone into business he might have got something 
 out of it. But you — what in the world do you expect to 
 get?" 
 
 " Ah, now you're wrong, Helga ! I have got something 
 out of it already — I've got Thora ! " 
 
 "Thora?" 
 
 " Didn't you know ? Thora was the prize I was bidding for 
 when I took over that contract." 
 
 " So that was it — was it ? " said Helga ; and then Thora 
 herself, feeling sick and ill, gathered up her work and stole 
 out of the room. 
 
 Nevertheless the seed which Helga had sown had not 
 fallen on stony ground. Within twenty-four hours Oscar 
 appeared with a new composition in his hands. 
 
 " An idea came to me last night and I had to get it off," 
 lie said, and then he sat down to the piano and played.
 
 82 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Beautiful ! " cried Helga. " Really beautiful ! But this 
 subject suggests the organ — why not set it to that, and try it 
 on the organ in the cathedral?" 
 
 " Splendid idea ! " said Oscar. " Thora knows the curator 
 and can get the key. What do you say, Thora? " 
 
 " If you would like to," said Thora, and next day they 
 carried out their scheme. 
 
 Oscar and Helga sat together in the organ loft, while 
 Thora was sent down the communion steps to report the ef- 
 fect at a distance. " How did that go, Thora ? " cried Oscar, 
 once or twice at the beginning, and Thora answered, " Very 
 nicely, I think," but then the two in the organ loft forgot 
 her altogether in the rapture of their rehearsal. 
 
 During the next two or three weeks Oscar and Helga 
 went to the cathedral every day, and sometimes Thora went 
 with them, but more frequently she remained at home. A 
 sudden wave of energy seemed to lift Oscar out of himself, 
 and he produced one composition after another. Helga 
 applauded all of them, and her praises intoxicated him like 
 glory. 
 
 " I can never be sufficiently gi'ateful to you, Helga," he 
 said, " for all the good things you have poured out on me 
 since you came back to Iceland. You have given my life a 
 new joy, a new splendor! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said Helga. " I am nothing but a voice ta 
 awaken your genius. You were born to create music, and 
 whatever happens you must never, never throw away a life 
 which has the glory of a future like that." 
 
 To this, and such as this, he always answered " Ah, no ! *^ 
 or " Impossible ! " or " It's past praying for," but Helga'j 
 words were as the very incense of the dreams which, iii 
 vaguer forms, he had been trying to forget since the day 
 he engaged himself to Thora. 
 
 " Why shouldn't there be another Wagner, an Icelandic* 
 Wagner, a Wagner with a still grander scene and stili 
 greater stories — the Sagas and Eddas of this stern old land ? "' 
 
 About a month after Helga returned to Iceland she sug- 
 gested to Oscar that he should write an anthem on a passage 
 which she selected from one of the Sagas. It was that in 
 which the old gods of the Pagan world, in anger with the
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 83 
 
 family of man for permitting the establishment of Chris- 
 tianity, tore open the bowels of their fruitful valleys with 
 earthquakes, and deluged them with molten lava, and how 
 Christ came through the chaos saying, " Let there be peace ! " 
 
 "Great! Glorious! A stunning subject! But can I do 
 it? " said Oscar. 
 
 " You can, you must," said Ilelga, and from that moment 
 a continual fever burned in Oscar's blood until the task was 
 done. Thora saw nothing of him for days, except when 
 he boimded in to run over a part of his score with Helga, 
 and then away, without a word, to his work again. When 
 the anthem was written and he was ready to try it on the 
 organ, he said: 
 
 " Are you coming across to the cathedral to-day, Thora ? 
 No? Perhaps you had better not. We'll have to go over 
 the thing again and again — it might be tiresome." 
 
 It was the afternoon of a dull week-day in the early win- 
 ter, and some of the dreary noises of the work-a-day world 
 followed Oscar into the cathedral. A vessel was unloading 
 in the fiord — he could hear the rumble of the iron trolleys 
 as they rolled up the paved jetty to the Factor's warehouse. 
 A new house was being erected on the comer of the cathe- 
 dral square — he could hear the thin clank of the mason's 
 trowel. A steamer was on the stocks in the shipyard down 
 the harbor — ^he could hear the sharp beat of the rivetei^s 
 hammer. 
 
 But there was another atmosphere in the cathedral, and 
 Oscar floated on it as on a flood — the silent sanctuary, the 
 rows of empty pews going up to the chancel, the empty 
 pulpit with its sounding-board, the empty altar with the 
 Eastern subject painted above it, the marble font for the 
 baptism of future generations, the marble monuments to 
 the memory of past ones, and then the listening air, awa- 
 kened by a whisper or a footfall, and full of the breath of 
 dead prayer and vanished praise. 
 
 In this atmosphere of art and religion Oscar sat down 
 at the organ, with Ilelga by his side, to try his anthem for 
 the first time. The organ throbbed under his fingers, the 
 empty cathedral shook like a sea-cave under the boom of his 
 waves of sound, and when he came to the end of his first
 
 84 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 reading he was quivering with excitement and Helga was in 
 a fever. 
 
 "What did I tell you?" she said. "Was I not right? 
 Oh, if this could be heard in Denmark ! " 
 
 " Or in England ! " said Oscar. 
 
 They played the piece again and again, and at every 
 fresh playing their excitement increased until it reached 
 the point of hysteria, and their voices in that silent place 
 became as shrill as the wind on the mountain top. At last 
 they tried the words, and then their emotion knew no limit. 
 
 The organ trembled and throbbed again, and then on the 
 top of all other sounds came the sound of Helga's voice, like 
 a human cry above the thundering waves of nature, some- 
 times weeping, sometimes raging, sometimes crouching, 
 sometimes springing out of the surge, and finally sinking 
 down to the soft whisper of " Let there be peace ! " 
 
 When the anthem was over and all was still, Oscar sat 
 quiet for some moments while the unheard echo of the music 
 seemed to roll through the silent air ; and then the lightning- 
 flash of joy or madness which comes to every man of genius 
 once in his life came to him also, and his heart cried out, 
 in its delirious happiness, " I, too, am a great composer ! " 
 
 In the intoxication of that moment, Oscar's hand swung 
 down and took Helga's hand and held it, and their fingers 
 trembled together and they seemed to hear the beating of 
 each other's heart. They looked at each other, and his eyes 
 were bloodshot and hers were wet. 
 
 " Plelga ! " he cried. 
 
 " Oscar ! " she answered, but at the next moment a window 
 blew open on the staircase to the organ loft and Oscar heard 
 again the dreary noises of the work-a-day world without — 
 the rumble of the iron trolleys, the thin clank of the 
 mason's trowel, and the quick beat of the riveter's hammer. 
 It was like the wakening of a prisoner in his cell when 
 the warder beats at the door and the dream of glory is gone 
 and the prison walls close round him again. 
 
 Oscar's fingers slackened, and the next moment he heard 
 Helga's rapid breathing behind him, and her voice saying 
 with a strange bitterness: 
 
 "IsthatThora?"
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 85 
 
 He started and turned. " Where ? " he asked. 
 
 " Do\\^i there by the communion steps — by the altar. No, 
 I was mistaken. It's only a shadow. The light is fading." 
 
 Then with the same bitterness she said, " But I suppose 
 she will be there soon, and you with her." 
 
 Oscar shuddered as if a wounded artery had been torn 
 open, and Helga continued : 
 
 " Then you will go back to business, and Oscar — Oscar 
 Stephenson, the musician — will be dead." 
 
 He fingered the organ stops fumblingly, and made no re- 
 ply, whereupon Helga, with undisguised irony, began to pic- 
 ture the dull routine of the business life that was waiting 
 for him after marriage — its calculations of discounts, its 
 squabbles with farmers, its buying and selling of pots and 
 pans. 
 
 " It is such a pity," she said. 
 
 " Don't torture me, Helga," he cried. 
 
 " But is there no way out of it ? " 
 
 " No, no, no ! " 
 
 "No way at all, Oscar?" 
 
 " Let us go," he said, and he had got down to the door 
 before he remembered that he had left his hat behind him 
 in the organ loft. 
 
 Thora had tea ready when they got back to the Factor's. 
 She was kneeling before a cozy fire, making toast, after cut- 
 ting the bread and butter, and she looked up at them as they 
 entered with a nervous, questioning, tearful smile. 
 
 " Poor little soul ! She must never know — ^never, never ! " 
 thought Oscar. 
 
 Thora knew already, and the big heart in her little breast 
 was breaking. She had begun to think that what had hap- 
 pened to Magnus when Oscar came back was now happening 
 to her — Oscar was falling in love with Helga, and she, like 
 Magnus, was being left alone. 
 
 Yet she could not reconcile herself to this suspicion with- 
 out a hard battle, and the first skirmish of the sweet heart 
 was to fight for the enemy — Oscar had made a great, great
 
 86 THE mODIGAL SON 
 
 sacrifice ■when he agreed to marry her; it was not to be 
 wondered at if he had spasms of regret sometimes. She 
 hinted as much to Aunt Margret in one of the long hours in 
 which they were left together. 
 
 " Don't you think that Oscar was very unselfish when he 
 signed that contract ? " she said. 
 
 " Unselfish ? I don't call it unselfishness to sign yourself 
 into a fortune," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " But he had to take up the business, you know." 
 
 " Certainly he had — the best business in Iceland." 
 
 " Helga seems to think it is a little beneath him. Aunt 
 Margret." 
 
 ^' It's good enough for Helga's father, and he made it. 
 Besides, Oscar had nothing else, and an ugly sheep is better 
 than no mutton." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he had his music, auntie, and Helga thinks that 
 was a good deal." 
 
 " Does she, indeed ? People who are naked needn't go 
 about mending other people's clothes. Oscar's music 
 wouldn't have brought him a penny of profit, and as for 
 honor — what about Althing, and all the other things he 
 couldn't have got without being rich?" 
 
 " So you don't think Oscar sacrificed himself very much 
 when he signed the contract ? " 
 
 " Sacrificed himself ? Perhaps the boot was on the other 
 leg, if you ask me." 
 
 Thora was happy for days after this interview, and while 
 Oscar and Helga played their Wagner, she went about the 
 house singing her little love ditties, and thinking of the 
 time when Parliament would begin its session, and Oscar 
 would throw himself into politics, and become Speaker, and 
 perhaps Governor, and it would all come of having mar- 
 ried her. 
 
 But it was hard to sit for hours in the same room with 
 people who were scarcely conscious of her presence, and 
 though Thora tried to hide her pain lest Oscar should feel 
 ashamed, she sometimes felt bitter about Ilelga, and wanted 
 to burst out on her. The only thing which restrained her 
 from doing so was a sweet doubt which she cherished in 
 the most secret chamber of her heart that perhaps she
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 87 
 
 was mistaken after all, and Oscar did not really care for 
 Helga. 
 
 " Auntie," she said, " don't you think it's silly to be jeal- 
 ous?" 
 
 " Depends upon circumstances, Thora." 
 
 " If a wife — for example — fancies her husband is paying 
 too much attention to another woman — don't you think she 
 is silly to be jealous ? " 
 
 " She's silly to show she is, my precious. It doesn't pre- 
 vent the sting to bite the head off the serpent, and if a wife 
 shows the husband she's jealous, she's just doing what the 
 other woman wants." 
 
 " So you think she ought to be quiet and say nothing ? " 
 
 " Certainly, I do. If the man is going to run away from 
 her, she had better let him run, and if he isn't, he'll be the 
 more ashamed because he thinks she doesn't know." 
 
 " You mean that if the man is only fascinated for a 
 time " 
 
 " Just so ! Fascination may be good enough for a flirta- 
 tion, but it's like bright metal — it soon gets tarnished in a 
 damp cellar. You want gold for the dark places, my honey." 
 
 " That is to say, auntie dear, that love is the only thing 
 for married life ? " 
 
 " I should think so, indeed, with its crosses and disap- 
 pointments, and children and croup, and all the rest of it. 
 And when it comes to marrying, the silliest of the men 
 know that, bless them ! " 
 
 " What a lot you know about the men, auntie darling — I 
 wonder you never married, yourself, dear." 
 
 " That's why, my precious ! " 
 
 It was easier for Thora to veil her agonies with smiles 
 after this conversation. She pictured to herself the time 
 when her love would be everything to Oscar. In the secret 
 places of her soul she thought of the days when children 
 would come, and perhaps even sickness, and they would be 
 drawn close — so close — together, because the dear clouds of 
 life hung over both of them. She was not beautiful, she 
 was only a homely and humble little thing, she was unworthy 
 of Oscar, and there were so many things in which she was 
 inferior, but oh, her love was wonderful! Nothing in the
 
 88 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 world was so wonderful as her love. It would work miracles, 
 it would be stronger than death, it would stand by Oscar to 
 the end. 
 
 But all the same it was hard to receive her wounds with- 
 out a cry, and when Oscar and Helga went off to the cathe- 
 dral and left her at home she told herself she was too 
 ignorant to be Oscar's wife, and all her sweet, heroic love 
 was wasted. 
 
 " Don't you think Helga is very clever. Aunt Margret ? " 
 
 Aunt Margret lifted her eyes from her knitting, and 
 blinked through her spectacles. 
 
 " Clever ? — a girl who can't dam a stocking or boil a 
 potato ! " 
 
 " But see how she can talk, auntie." 
 
 " So can the parrot, my dear, and the raven is seldom 
 sparing of his voice either." 
 
 " But surely a man wants his wife to be a companion, 
 auntie — to be able to converse with him on the subjects he 
 is interested in, and to criticise his work, perhaps." 
 
 " Does he ? Perhaps he does, but it would be a crazy 
 creature of a man who would rather marry a critic than 
 a cook for all that." 
 
 Always after this Thora had tea ready when Oscar and 
 Helga returned from the cathedral, and if her heart had 
 its tremors, still she tried to take care that Oscar should 
 never see a tear in her eyes. But many a time when she 
 felt herself to be like an isthmus between the two, holding 
 them together, yet keeping them apart, the strung bow of her 
 will slackened and she was nearly breaking down. She 
 waited day by day for Oscar's heart to speak to her, and 
 when it did not speak she told herself it was because Helga 
 was so beautiful. 
 
 "Isn't Helga beautiful, Aunt Margret?" 
 
 " Perhaps," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " You know she is, auntie. You know she is the most 
 beautiful girl in Iceland." 
 
 " Maybe I do — maybe I don't ! " 
 
 " What an advantage beauty like Helga's gives to a girl — 
 she gets everything and everybody. If a girl is only beauti- 
 ful enough, she has all the men at her feet."
 
 THE PRiyiJIGAL SON 89 
 
 " They must be chiropodists, then, and there are not 
 many of them in these parts. No, no, beauty isn't every- 
 thing, Thora, and that's a mercy for some of us." 
 
 The color began to mount to Thora's eyes, and catching 
 sight of this flag of distress, Aunt Margret continued : 
 
 " But fine feathers make fine birds, and I know some in 
 Iceland dress would make Helga look small if they were 
 done up in her Danish folderols." 
 
 Thora's blushing face began to shine like the sunrise. 
 
 " But what's the use ? Beauty fills the eye, but not the 
 belly." 
 
 " Auntie Margret, what plain things you say ! " 
 
 " Do I ? Then it's best to say them plainly. It isn't good 
 to gild copper with gold, my honey." 
 
 After this talk with Aunt Maigret, Thora was more the 
 mistress of herself than before, because the dividing line 
 between Helga and herself seemed less. She made up her 
 mind that she would dress in the English manner, so that 
 Oscar should not see so much difference. 
 
 She had money — the di'ess money her father gave her. 
 It was not very much, but in previous years she had given 
 away most of it, and this year she had intended to buy a 
 Scotch overcoat for Hans, the sailor, who was losing all re- 
 spect for himself and going about in cold weather with noth- 
 ing over his shirt. But now she would be selfish, she would 
 spend her money on herself, and that was only right since 
 it was spending it on Oscar also. 
 
 It must be a secret, a great secret; it must come upon 
 everybody as a surprise, because that would be half the bat- 
 tle. So she bought postal orders with her savings, and sent 
 to Edinburgh for a costume such as she saw in the picture 
 of a trade advertisement. 
 
 The costume came by a trading steamer, and she was like 
 a child in her secrecy and joy, smuggling the big cardboard 
 box up-stairs to her room, and answering the inquisitive 
 questions of the Factor and Aunt Margret with mysterious 
 little nods and subterfuges. 
 
 The day was crisp and frosty, and when Oscar, coming in 
 the afternoon, suggested a walk to the lake to try the ice. 
 "^or skating, Helga responded readily, but Thora said no. 
 7
 
 90 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 3he had something to do, something important — a little sur* 
 prise, they should see when they came back again. 
 
 As soon as Helga and Oscar had gone, and Aunt Margret 
 had promised to make tea, Thora stole up to her room, 
 locked the door, opened the box, and took out the new gar- 
 ments that were to work the wondrous change. They were 
 beautiful, they were dreams, they were lovelier than any- 
 thing of Helga's — a blue voile dress with a silk corsage and 
 embroidered yoke. The pleated skirt was like the sun's rays 
 over Hecla after a shower of summer rain, and the silk 
 of the blouse was as beautiful as the ice of a glacier with the 
 flowery bubbles of air in it. 
 
 Thora laughed for joy, and taking ofi her old Iceland 
 costume she threw it aside as a thing she had done with — • 
 the granny skirt, the stiff trey a, and the starchy brjest. She 
 wondered how she could have worn them so long, and even 
 told herself what she would do with them — she would 
 give them to a young widow who had lately lost her 
 child by diphtheria and joined the people at the Salvation 
 shelter. 
 
 When she took up the new garments she had some doubt 
 as to how they were to be put on, and almost wished she 
 had inquired of Helga. The accordion skirt was easy 
 enough, and its ample train made her feel tall and imposing, 
 but the blouse was a besetting trouble. It fastened behind, 
 and after despairing efforts to catch the hooks and eyes she 
 was tempted to call Aunt Margret; but she thought no, that 
 would never do, so she struggled on. 
 
 The room was cold, but when she had finished dressing her 
 face was flushed and heated. She had put on her silver 
 belt, because it was a present from Oscar, and brushed 
 her hair sideways over the forehead, because that was how 
 Helga wore it. Then looking at herself in the glass she 
 laughed again, for she was proud and happy. 
 
 What would Oscar say when he saw her? He would say, 
 " Why, this is Helga ! Another Helga ! Not quite so tall 
 perhaps — but just — yes, really just as nice-looking!" And 
 then Helga would be angry, and envious, and perhaps go back 
 to Denmark. 
 
 She was walking to and fro on tiptoe, glancing with
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 91 
 
 sparkling eyes at her figure in the glass, when she heard 
 voices in the hall below. 
 
 " Thora ! " cried somebody from the foot of the stairs. 
 It was Oscar. 
 
 " I'm coming," she answered. 
 
 "What about the great surprise?" 
 
 " Presently ! " she cried. 
 
 She waited until she heard a door close below, and then, 
 still laughing a little, but breathing rapidly, feeling sure of 
 victory, yet with a fluttering at her heart, she went down 
 the stairs, and sailed into the sitting-room. 
 
 Oscar was leaning on the marble stove, and Helga, sitting 
 on a low seat, was warming her feet at the fire. They 
 turned to Thora as she entered, and looked at her with wide 
 eyes. There was a moment of chilling silence, and then 
 Thora, breathing faster and faster, said: 
 
 " Well, what do you think of it? " 
 
 Helga began to laugh, first in a smothered titter, but 
 finally in an outright roar, whereupon Oscar, who had 
 struggled not to smile, caught the contagion and joined hei*. 
 
 Thora's pitiful face fell, and she said, with a crack in her 
 voice : 
 
 " But what are you laughing at, Oscar ? " 
 
 "My dear, dear child! " said Oscar; and Helga, who wa3 
 still laughing, said : 
 
 "A little milliner! It makes her look like a little mil- 
 liner!" 
 
 " 'No, no, not that," said Oscar. " But it's not Thora. 
 Thora is a sweet, simple Iceland maiden whose charm is her 
 simplicity, whereas this " 
 
 " I see," said Thora, and with her heart in her mouth 
 she turned to go. 
 
 Oscar stepped to the door to stop her, but with the shrill 
 cry of a hare that is wounded to death she flung out at him 
 and passed through. She went up-stairs with a slow step, took 
 off her English costume, put it back in the cardboard box, 
 and pushed it under the bed — crying a little and wiping 
 her eyes. 
 
 She knew the truth at last — she knew where she stood in 
 Oscar's mind. A simple Iceland maiden — that was all he
 
 92 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 had ever seen in her ! It was she who had merely fascinated 
 him, and Helga whom he loved ! 
 
 When the door of the sitting-room closed on Thora, Oscar 
 looked at Helga and said : 
 
 " Whatever has come over her ? " 
 
 " Don't you see ? " said Helga. 
 
 " Why, no— what is it ? " 
 
 " How stupid these clever boys can be ! I could tell you 
 in three words." 
 
 "Tell me, then— tell me." 
 
 " Thora is jealous." 
 
 " You don't mean that ? " 
 
 Helga's face flushed ; she looked up at Oscar, and a mys- 
 terious thrill went thi'ough him. The great surprise had 
 come indeed. 
 
 VI 
 
 OscAK slept badly that night. For two months he had been 
 moving in a garden of dreams, where the odor of sweet flow- 
 ers overpower the senses, but he was awake at last, and was 
 being dragged to trial in a tribunal of his own creating. In 
 that court of conscience he was both righteous judge and 
 guilty prisoner, and through the long hours of broken sleep, 
 when he saw his life and motives as by flashes of lightning, 
 he asked and answered some terrible questions : 
 
 Is Thora's jealousy justified? 
 
 No, yes! That is to say — I may have neglected her — 
 thoughtlessly neglected her. 
 
 Do you love Helga? 
 
 It isn't necessary to think that. I admire her — I admire 
 her beauty, and her intellect, but 
 
 Then you do not love her? 
 
 I love her society — I love to be with her; she is bright 
 and brilliant; we have many interests in common. 
 
 Then if you do not love Helga, why not cut her off rather 
 than see Thora suffer? 
 
 I can't ! I can't ! 
 
 So you do love Helga? 
 
 Yes! Yes! I do love her.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 93 
 
 Then what about Thora? 
 
 I am sorry for Thora — very sorry. 
 
 Have you ceased to love her ? 
 
 Don't say that. My feeling for Thora is the same now 
 as it has always been. 
 
 Then you have never loved her? 
 
 I thought I did — I sincerely thought I did. 
 
 So your feeling for Thora was an illusion? 
 
 A most unfortunate illusion, and I am troubled about 
 her — I shall always be troubled about her. 
 
 But you are betrothed to her? 
 
 God help me, so I am! 
 
 What are you going to do now? 
 
 What am I going to do? I am — yes, I am going to obey 
 the commandment of Nature. Accident and error and illu- 
 sion have betrothed me to the wrong woman, but must I hold 
 to her after I have found out that I do not love her? Xo! 
 She is sweet and loving, and I have no fault to find with her, 
 but I must obey the law of my heart, and who shall judge me 
 if I do that? 
 
 But what about the law of the land — you have signed a 
 contract to marry Thora ? 
 
 Even so, is marriage like any other worldly transaction? 
 Are you bound to go on merely because you have begun? 
 Can human hearts be dealt with like so much merchandise ? 
 
 So you do not intend to marry Thora? 
 
 I cannot — it is impossible — now that her sister has ap- 
 peared before me, I see too well I do not love her. 
 
 But she loves you! 
 
 That is the pity of it. Poor Thora ! 
 
 She thinks you are slipping away from her ? 
 
 It is very pitiful — I see how I have made her suffer. 
 
 What will happen if you leave her altogether? 
 
 Her heart will break — her tender, sweet, child heart will 
 break. 
 
 Can you break Thora's heart ? 
 
 No, no, no ! Better break my own ! 
 
 Then what are you going to do? 
 
 I must go on with the marriage. I see now that I must- 
 it is my duty — there is no help for it.
 
 §4 THE PPvODIGAL SON 
 
 "Wait! There is something you have not thought about. 
 If you go on with your contract and marry Thora, you 
 must be prepared to live her life. 
 
 I know ! I know ! And I am not fit for it ! Good or bad, 
 I am not fit for it ! 
 
 But if you break your contract, and do not marry Thora, 
 you may live the life of Helga. 
 
 Yes, yes, and I am fitted for that life above everything 
 else. It thrills me, it inspires me, it lifts me up. 
 
 The one is the lower life, while the other is the higher 
 life. 
 
 I cannot bear to think of it. 
 
 You know that if you marry Thora you condemn yourself 
 for ever to the lower life, and give up all hope and all thought 
 of the higher one ? 
 
 Don't torture me ! Don't torture me ! 
 
 But the higher life will be a life consecrated to self, where- 
 as the lower life will be a life devoted to self-sacrifice — which 
 is it to be? 
 
 That settles it — I must go on with the contract, whatever 
 the consequences. 
 
 When Oscar awoke in the morning from his restless sleep 
 he thought he saw his way clearly. There was only one 
 solution of the hard problem of his iron destiny — he must 
 sacrifice himself! He was betrothed to Thora, and he must 
 go on with the marriage. He loved Helga, but he must tear 
 her out of his heart. He wished to be a musician, and to 
 live the higher life, but he must be content with the lower 
 life and do his duty. 
 
 A few irresistible pangs of regret, a few tears which he 
 could not quite keep back, and then, feeling a certain satis- 
 faction with himself, a certain pride in his self-sacrifice, 
 Oscar went early to his work. 
 
 It was the autumn caravan time, when the farmers come 
 with the last of the year's tallow and wool to have their ac- 
 counts made up and settled. The offices and warehouses 
 were like a market-place, and there was work for everybody. 
 Oscar threw himself into the day's doings with astonishing 
 energy, and when the Factor returned from breakfast he 
 bantered him on his industry. " Better late than never.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 95 
 
 though," said the Factor, " and a good day in the autumn 
 is worth two in the spring." 
 
 Oscar spent the morning in the office helping at the ac- 
 counts. His part was to reconcile the farmers to their bal- 
 ances, for many of them were dissatisfied, and nearly all 
 were in the Factor's debt. Some grumbled at the rate they 
 received for their produce, others at the price they paid for 
 foreign goods. Oscar's task was to persuade, cajole, and 
 comfort them, and finally to draft the notes of hand on the 
 bankers with which they discharged their debts. He felt 
 mean and miserable. 
 
 Toward noon Helga sent a messenger to say that she 
 hoped to rehearse some of the new music in the cathedral 
 in the afternoon and to ask if Oscar would go with her. 
 He answered that he could not, business was pressing, and 
 he must stick to his work. It cost him a pang to send back 
 this answer, but he had made his bed and he meant to lie 
 on it. 
 
 He spent the afternoon in the warehouse, where the prod- 
 uce brought by the farmers was weighed and stacked away 
 for the winter. The odor of the tallow and wool, mingling 
 with the smell of the men's clothes and the reek of their 
 bodies, made the atmosphere close and noisome, and to 
 freshen the air Oscar ordered the big doors to be thrown 
 open. 
 
 All at once through the clear, crisp winter air outside 
 came the sound of the organ being played in the cathedral, 
 and that was the last drop in his cup. It was like a voice 
 calling him out of the lower world he lived in to the higher 
 one he yearned for. It was like Helga beckoning to him in 
 his unblessed surroundings, and through the roll of the 
 music he could see her face. 
 
 For the first time Oscar was feeling bitterly about Thora, 
 as if he were a prisoner and she were his jailer, when a man 
 rode up to the warehouse door on a bright chestnut pony, 
 with a line of pack ponies behind him. It was Magnus, and 
 seeing him stand outside the counter, which he had formerly 
 stood within, Oscar felt some qualms of shame, and called 
 him into the scalesman's oflSce. 
 
 The interview between the brothers was brief and com-
 
 96 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 monplace, but every simple word seemed to throb and scorcb 
 like a flarae. Oscar asked how Magnus was getting on at 
 the farm, and if he had good servants, and Magnus 
 answered " Yes " ; he had always been fond of farming, and 
 for servants he had only the old ones, and everything was 
 as before. Oscar asked if the Governor had made satisfac- 
 tory arrangements, and Magnus said he had, that the farm 
 was his own now on terms of tenancy, and was to become 
 his property at the old people's death. 
 
 " And how are you getting on here ? " asked Magnus. 
 
 "I? Oh— pretty well, I think." 
 
 "You like the work?" 
 
 " Yes — well — not to say like, perhaps ; I never expected 
 to do that, you know; but I'm all right, I think." 
 
 They had to pause, for the din in the warehouse was louder 
 than usual — some of the farmers were squabbling with the 
 scalesmen. 
 
 " And Thora ? " said Magnus after a moment. 
 
 " Thora ? Oh, Thora is all right, too, I think. Yes, Thora 
 is all right," said Oscar. 
 
 " Mother tells me she looks pale." 
 
 " Pale ? Does she ? I hadn't noticed it. Perhaps she 
 does though, the weather is getting cold." 
 
 There was a painful pause in their conversation, and while 
 they waited Oscar could hear the organ in the cathedral 
 breaking into the opening notes of his own anthem. 
 
 " I hear that Helga has come home," said Magnus. 
 
 " Oh, yes, Helga has come home," said Oscar. 
 
 " They say she is handsome." 
 
 " Handsome ? Yes, she's rather handsome, in fact, dis- 
 tinctly handsome — and musical — decidedly musical. Indeed, 
 she has grown to be a very attractive girl — very ! " 
 
 There was another awkward silence, in which the anthem 
 pealed out over the jangling voices in the warehouse. 
 
 " I suppose the wedding will be soon," said Magnus. 
 
 "The wedding? Well, to tell you the truth, Magnus, 
 nothing has been fixed yet." 
 
 "Not yet?" 
 
 " Nothing definite, I mean — no precise date. I don't know- 
 why, but "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 97 
 
 Oscar looked at his brother, and felt his tongue arrested. 
 
 Magnus was calm, his eyes were quiet, and his voice was 
 soft, but there was something in his face which brought 
 back a terrible memory. It was the memory of the night 
 of the betrothal, the last time they talked together, when 
 Magnus had said, " If you ever neglect or desert her or give 
 her up for another woman, I'll take her back — do you hear 
 me ?— I'll take her back, and then, by God, I'll kill you ! " 
 
 Oscar supped at the Factor's house that night. He was 
 unusually solemn, and more than once during the meal 
 Aunt Margret bantered him on his silence, but, at the end 
 of it, while lighting a cigarette, he said : 
 
 " Godfather, I hope you'll consent to our having the wed- 
 ding soon ? " 
 
 Thora, who had been looking pale and nervous, colored up 
 with a glad look, while Helga, who had been flushed and 
 excited, grew white and rigid. 
 
 "What do you call soon, Oscar — Easter?" asked the 
 Factor. 
 
 " Earlier, much earlier, say the middle of January at 
 latest," said Oscar. 
 
 " But what does Thora say ? " 
 
 Rising from her seat, with brightening eyes and heaving 
 bosom, Thora crossed over to Oscar and kissed him. 
 
 " So that's what Thora says ! " laughed the Factor. " Very 
 well, I'm willing! The middle of January let it be then, 
 and fix the date between you." 
 
 Helga's white face quivered. " So that's settled ! " she 
 cried, and leaping up she went across to the piano and began 
 to play with great vigor. She played the wild " Ride of the 
 Valkyries," becoming faster and louder at every bar. 
 
 Oscar was in torture, and he went home early. " What a 
 mercy Helga does not know ! " he thought. " If she did, 
 I could not trust myself even yet! And if she loves me 
 as I love her — good God ! " 
 
 But Thora was very happy. Going to bfed that night she 
 thought, " How wrong I have been about Oscar ; how cruelly, 
 wickedly, shamefully wrong ! "
 
 98 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 VII 
 
 N'ext morning Oscar thought the battle was over, and his 
 conscience had conquered, but the devil was not done with 
 him yet. lie had hardly settled to his work in the ware- 
 house when a letter came from Helga, saying : 
 
 " The ice is perfect on the lake this morning, and in 
 spite of business and every other botheration you must 
 carry out your promise to take me to skate. Therefore come 
 at two o'clock to the minute, and you will find me waiting 
 to go with you." 
 
 It was the first letter he had received from Helga, and it 
 seemed to burn his fingers. The scented note-paper and the 
 free, bold handwriting gave him a physical thrill which he 
 had never felt before. 
 
 Should he go ? His soul said, " Certainly not ! Why ex- 
 pose yourself to temptation, especially now, when you are 
 as weak as water." But his heart said, " You must ! To 
 make any difference in your attitude toward Helga would 
 be to run the risk of betraying your secret. And what about 
 the future — can you always run away like that ? " His heart 
 won, and at the appointed time he was walking up to the 
 Factor's. 
 
 Helga was standing by the door at the top of the steps. 
 She was dressed in pale blue serge, a short skirt exposing 
 the long tanned boots, a jersey revealing the flexible lines of 
 her shapely figure, and a white woolen cap, like a chain hel- 
 met, covering half her forehead and closing under her chin, 
 leaving her vivid face bare and beautiful as a young nun's 
 in hood and bands. 
 
 Oscar was beginning to doubt himself already, and he 
 asked where was Thora. 
 
 " I'm here," said a cheerful voice from the hall, and Thora 
 came to the door bright and happy, but bareheaded, and 
 sewing a piece of moleskin cloth. 
 
 " Not ready ? " said Oscar, 
 
 " I'm not going, I can't skate," said Thora. 
 
 " Then we'll take a walk instead," said Oscar. But Thora 
 would not hear of it. Helga had set her heart on skating.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX 99 
 
 and she had set her heart on something else — making a 
 sleeve waistcoat for Hans, the sailor. 
 
 " Well, if you really wish it," said Oscar. 
 
 " Eeally, truly ! And I'll have tea ready for you at five 
 o'clock." 
 
 " We'll be back before that," said Oscar, and then he and 
 Helga went swinging down the road. 
 
 Helga, in her short skirt, walked with a spring, like a 
 young horse in sharp weather, and Oscar, as he swung along 
 by her side, sometimes touching her, felt his blood tingling, 
 and every nerve tremblingly alive. This frightened him a 
 little, and turning to look back he saw Thoi-a waving to 
 them from the house, and said, " God bless her, the dear 
 little soul ! " And then Helga glanced at him sideways 
 and laughed. 
 
 The frost had filtered the air, and it was crisp and quiver- 
 ing with currents of electricity, which stimulated all their 
 senses. Their voices crackled when they spoke, and when 
 Helga laughed the sound was like that of dry sticks in a 
 quick fire. 
 
 " What are you laughing at, Helga ? " 
 
 " I don't know," she said, and then they laughed together. 
 
 The ice of the lake was glorious — a broad mirror black as 
 ink, for there had been no snow yet, the water had frozen 
 as by first intention, and through five fathoms they could 
 see the stones and pebbles at the bottom. 
 
 " What a pity Thora didn't come," said Oscar, 
 
 " Isn't it ? " said Helga, and again she glanced at him 
 sideways and laughed. 
 
 They sat on the bank to put on their skates, and while 
 Helga fumbled at her straps, Oscar thought, " I must not, 
 I will not ! " But Helga looked across at him with a smile 
 that seemed to ask a question, and at the next moment he 
 was down on his knees in front of her, with one of her 
 skates and one of her long tanned boots in his quivering 
 hands. 
 
 Oscar thought Helga's skating was wonderful. It was 
 divine, it was devilish, it intoxicated him, he could not trust 
 himself to look at it alone, and seeing a number of skaters 
 at the farther side of the lake, where there was an island of 
 lava rocks, he said:
 
 100 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 " Let us go over to the others." 
 
 Hours passed, the exercise and the air warmed his blood, 
 his tremors left him, and he forgot about Thora. At 
 length the sun began to set over the sea in a flood of glory, 
 and Oscar said, " Time to go home." 
 
 " 'Not yet," said Helga, and they went round and round 
 the island, sometimes apart, sometimes with clasped hands, 
 sometimes side by side with arms interlaced across their 
 .breasts. 
 
 The sun went down, and both sea and land became gray 
 and cold, but still the tops of the mountains were golden. 
 
 " Tea will be waiting," said Oscar. 
 
 " A little longer ! " said Helga, and nothing loath, Oscar 
 ■went round and round with her again. 
 
 The night came striding up from the plain behind, and 
 somebody lit a fire on the island. 
 
 " Too late for tea now," said Helga, and once again Oscar 
 went round and round with her. It seemed to him that 
 Helga's face flashed with electric flame as she swirled out 
 of the darkness into the red glow from the fire, and back 
 again into the darkness. 
 
 One of the skaters started the Elf -song, others joined him, 
 and then it was a scene of complete enchantment. The frost 
 had laid its hand on the falls that fed the lake, and they 
 •were quiet; it had stroked the streams, and they were still; 
 but if the voices of the waters were silent, the voices of the 
 skaters rippled and rang in the crisp night air. 
 
 " Dance by night and dance by day, 
 Life and Time will pass away : 
 Love alone will last alway." 
 
 Oscar was enraptured. The humming of the skates, the 
 swaying of the ice, the music of the singers, the heat, the 
 glow, the sinuous movement, and above all the girl by his 
 side, so bright, so beautiful, so full of life and laughter, car- 
 ried away every sense, and flesh and blood were afire. 
 
 Then the moon rose, a brilliant moon, and it was re- 
 flected full and round and white in the black mirror of the 
 ice. with its streamers going off from it, as if it had been a
 
 THE rnoDiGAL son 101 
 
 comet that had fallen to the earth, and lay there at their 
 lee I/. 
 
 " Look ! Let us cut across it," cried Helga, and away they 
 shot in the darkness, with the moon's reflection receding 
 as they followed it, until they came to the limit of the lake, 
 and then the skatei*s and the fire and the singing were far 
 behind them. 
 
 " What a will o' the wisp she is ! I could catch you quicker 
 than I could catch her ! " said Oscar. 
 
 "You couldn't!" 
 
 " I could ! " 
 
 " Do it then ! " cried Helga, and off she went, laughing at 
 first, but afterward silent yet breathing fast, and at last 
 panting audibly while she twisted and turned to escape from 
 him, until he came down on her at length with outstretched 
 arms and a cry of " Done ! " And then, before he knew 
 what he was doing, he was clasping her to his breast, and 
 she was clinging to him lest she should fall, and he was beat- 
 ing kiss after kiss upon her lips. 
 
 At the next moment consciousness came back to him like 
 an ice wind blowing in a furnace. His arms slackened away 
 from Helga, and he said in a cold voice : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Helga. It was wrong of me. I am 
 very sorry." 
 
 Helga laughed, a nervous, broken laugh which seemed 
 to say, " Are you sure you are thinking of me ? " 
 
 " I am betrothed to your sister, and in less than two 
 months I am to be married to her. I had no right to give 
 way to my feelings like that," said Oscar. 
 
 The nervous, broken laugh came again, and it said, as 
 plainly as words could speak, " Do you know what you are 
 saying, Oscar? " 
 
 Oscar trembled like a withered leaf. He was like a man 
 standing on the hot ground of the geysers, where the crust 
 was thin and cracking under his feet. 
 
 " Let us go home," he said. 
 
 " Take off my skates then," said Helga, 
 
 She sat on the bank in the moonlight, and while he knelt 
 at her feet and fumbled with the straps, his tongue went on 
 with rambling sentences, but every word was tearing as at 
 a torn tendon.
 
 102 THE PRODIGAL SOX 
 
 " Wlien a man has engaged himself to a good woman, lie 
 ought to be true to her. It is his duty, and whatever the 
 consequences to himself, he ought to do it. If he has to 
 suflFer, he must suffer, Helga, and if he has to sacrifice him- 
 self " 
 
 A faint sound stopped him. Helga was crying. Her cry- 
 ing seemed to search his innermost thoughts, and to say, 
 " But have you any right to sacrifice me? " 
 
 " Helga ! Helga ! " he cried, but she took no notice. She 
 covered her face with her hands, and her crying became 
 deep and long and inconsolable. 
 
 He wished to comfort her, but he dare not do so. He re- 
 membered Thora and Magnus, the Factor, and his father, 
 and his thoughts danced about his naked soul like demons. 
 
 " Helga ! Helga ! " he cried again, but still Helga's weep- 
 ing continued. If it had gone on a moment longer he must 
 have taken her in his arms again and told her that he loved 
 her; that his love for her was above all laws, all illusions, 
 all conventions; it was the commandment of Nature, and 
 he was compelled to obey it ; and they must fly from Iceland 
 and never return, whatever the waste of ruined lives they 
 had to leave behind them. 
 
 But Helga's crying stopped suddenly, and throwing back 
 her head she said fiercely, " Very well, if you are satisfied, 
 so am I ! " 
 
 Then she leapt to her feet, wiped her eyes vigorously and 
 laughed — a short, hard, bitter laugh, and after that Oscar 
 recovered control of himself. 
 
 " Let us be off," she said. 
 
 Going back by the road that skirts the lake, side by side, 
 but neither touching the other, and both silent, Oscar 
 thought, " Good heavens, what an escape ! Another moment 
 and what might not have happened ! What a fool I was to 
 expose myself to this temptation ! Marriage is my only safe- 
 guard. It must be soon. Thora and I must go away. When 
 we return, Helga may be back in Denmark, and then a 
 scene like this will never occur again ! " 
 
 When they reached the house at last, he felt like an adul- 
 terer coming home after his first offense, but Thora looked 
 happy and unsuspicious.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 103 
 
 *I knew you couldn't tear yourselves away from your 
 skating, so I put the tea away, and now supper is nearly 
 ready," she said. 
 
 After supper Oscar said, " Godfather, I wish you would 
 permit me to alter the arrangement of last evening." 
 
 " You want to go back to Easter, eh ? " said the Factor. 
 
 " No, sir, to come on to Christmas," said Oscar, and then 
 he gave his reasons. Thora was looking pale — everybody 
 thought so — she wanted a change — he would like to take her 
 to England, perhaps to France, and even to Italy. They 
 might stay away during the months of spring and come 
 back for the first of summer, when Althing would open its 
 session, and by that time Thora would be well, and he him- 
 self would be ready to set to work in earnest. 
 
 " But Christmas, my gracious ! " cried Aunt Margret, 
 " hardly time for the banns ! And what about Thora's wed- 
 ding-dress ? " 
 
 But Thora herself was in raptures, and Aunt Margret's 
 objections were borne down. 
 
 " Christmas let it be then," said the Factor, whereupon 
 Thora gave a cry of joy, and Helga, whose eyes had passed 
 with a quick glance from face to face, while her own grew 
 paler and paler, leapt up, saying: 
 
 " And now let us have a dance to celebrate the happy 
 event ! " 
 
 " No, no, no," said Oscar. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Helga, and sitting down to the piano she 
 played a dance tune with a rapid and passionate touch. 
 " Make him dance, Thora," she cried with an awful bright- 
 ness in her eyes. 
 
 Thora took hold of Oscar and dragged him to his feet, 
 saying laughingly, " Why not, Oscar ? " 
 
 Tables and chairs were pulled aside, the Factor went off 
 to smoke, and Oscar and Thora danced while Helga played, 
 laughing loudly, and calling to them again and again. 
 
 "Helga! Helga! Not so fast! You'll kill us," cried 
 Thora. 
 
 But Helga only laughed the louder and played the faster, 
 "with a fierceness that seemed to consume her like a fire. 
 
 Oscar went home that night with an aching heart, but 
 Thora went to bed happy.
 
 104 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " How wrong I was about dear Helga, also ! " she thought, 
 and then drawing a deep breath she fell asleep. 
 
 VIII 
 
 To think yourself happy is to be happy, and Thora thought 
 herself the happiest little woman in the world. The weeks 
 before her wedding were the brightest period of her heart's 
 existence. She counted the days backward from the day 
 she was living in to the day of all days that was to come, and 
 every morning, the moment she awoke, she said to herself, 
 " Only nineteen now," and then eighteen, seventeen, and 
 sixteen, until it became three, two, and one. " Our Thora is 
 like a white mouse in a revolving cage — she can't make the 
 world go round quickly enough," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 Hers was not the happiness that makes the heart afraid, 
 and she had not a moment's misgiving about Oscar now. 
 She never once saw him alone for more than two minutes 
 together, but that did not trouble her at all. He came and 
 went every day, always in a hurry, and always breathless, 
 and she gave him the benevolence of a smile, and occasion- 
 ally the charity of a kiss, when it could be done decently be- 
 hind the dining-room door. But usually he had to be con- 
 tent to see her seated among her dressmakers and sewing- 
 maids, and that suited him better than she knew. 
 
 There was nothing to tarnish the white simplicity of her 
 happiness, and when Oscar could come with maps and tour 
 lists to arrange about their journey she would say: 
 
 "Why don't you talk it over with Helga? She knows 
 more about traveling." 
 
 And then Oscar would stammer a little and say, " Well, if 
 you are willing to be guided by Helga's judgment, and 
 Helga herself will " 
 
 " Certainly I am, so be off to my bedroom and settle every- 
 thing." 
 
 Whereupon Oscar would cry, " No, no, we're right enough 
 here," and then Helga and he — the one trembling lest a 
 word should betray him, the other going through the bitter- 
 ness of looking at happiness through another's eyes — would
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 105 
 
 discuss routes and railway journeys to the click of scissors 
 and the buzz of the sewing machine. 
 
 " We'll go up by the Mont Cenis, eh? " " No, by the St. 
 Gothard." " We'll come back by San Kemo and Nice." 
 " And Monte Carlo ! " " Yes, of course — Monte Carlo." 
 
 " My gracious, it might be Helga who was going on her 
 honeymoon," Aunt Margret would say. 
 
 " Mightn't it ? " Thora would answer, and then she would 
 laugh like a child. 
 
 In the Holy Land of her innocent heart she had only one 
 thought about her sister — that she had done her the wrong 
 of suspecting her. Helga might know nothing about that, 
 but she knew, and she could never be quite satisfied until 
 she had made amends. Time and again she thought of a way 
 to do this, and at length an artful scheme occurred to her. 
 It was a daring design, and asking herself when she could 
 bring it to pass she concluded that it must be on her wedding- 
 day, because she would be the queen of her own little king- 
 dom then and nobody could deny her anything. Meantime 
 it was to be her secret, and Helga was to hear nothing about 
 it, and even Oscar himself was not to know. 
 
 There was only one other streak of alloy in Thora's happi- 
 ness, and that was her memory of Magnus. The brave 
 heart did not break and Magnus's despair might be dumb, 
 but the thought of his suffering was the tang of iron in the 
 sweet wine of Thora's life. To complete her happiness every- 
 body had to share it, so when Oscar came one day she took 
 him into the hall and said : 
 
 " Oscar, who is to be best man ? " And Oscar stam- 
 mered : 
 
 " Well, really, to tell you the truth, I hadn't — that is to 
 say " 
 
 " Why not Magnus ? " said Thora. 
 
 " Magnus ? I thought of that, but — " and then came 
 the old difficulty — he had not yet set Magnus right on the 
 subject of the betrothal, and until that could be done the 
 old people would object to him. 
 
 '• But why shouldn't you do it now, Oscar ? Such a splen- 
 did moment to heal every sore and let bygones be bygones." 
 
 " Yes, certainly, that's so," said Oscar, but he went off 
 8
 
 106 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 with a troubled face, and Thora heard no more from him on 
 the subject until the day before the wedding, when he said: 
 
 " Oh, by the way, about the best man, that splendid 
 scheme of yours was impossible, Thora." 
 
 " Impossible ? " 
 
 " Mother tells me Magnus has gone to the Northlands — 
 went away about a week ago, it seems." 
 
 " In the winter and on the eve of the wedding? " 
 
 " She thinks he'll be back for that, but, of course, we can't 
 take risks, so Neils — you remember Neils Finsen, the Sher- 
 iff's son? — Neils came back in the last steamer, and he'll be 
 best man, so that's settled." 
 
 " What a pity ! " said Thora, and then Oscar, who had 
 opened the door, cried : 
 
 " Helloa ! Snowing ! We're going to have a white wed- 
 ding, Thora ! " and with a nervous laugh he buttoned up his 
 coat collar and went off without kissing her. 
 
 She remembered this again when she was going to bed, 
 and, sitting on the great chair before the cheerful stove, 
 with the curtains drawn and all so sweet and cozy, she re- 
 flected that it was the last time she was to sleep in her 
 father's house. The three weeks were almost gone at last, 
 and so was her girlhood; and now that both were nearly 
 over they seemed to have vanished like a dream. She was 
 happy still, but it would have taken very little to turn her 
 happiness into pain. It was a pity Oscar had forgotten to 
 kiss her, and it was a pity Magnus would not be present 
 at the wedding. 
 
 Toward the mirk of night she went to bed, and then the 
 snow was still falling. She thought of Magnus traveling 
 over the desert, and wondered why he had gone away just 
 then. Perhaps it was because he could not bear to look 
 upon their happiness — hers and Oscar's! Poor Magnus! 
 
 But the memory of Magnus was whirled away in a cloud 
 of other thoughts — the wedding, the wedding presents, the 
 wedding-feast, and Oscar, always Oscar — and then the tired 
 eyelids of her mind closed in peace and good-will with all 
 the world, and she slept the last sleep of her maidenhood.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 107 
 
 IX 
 
 "Thora! Thora! Well, I declare! The girl is still 
 sleeping ! " 
 
 " On her wedding-day, too. Thora ! Thora ! " 
 
 Thora awoke with a start at the calling and knocking 
 at her door. Leaping out of bed she ran to the window and 
 parted the curtains. It was broad morning, the sun was shin- 
 ing brightly over the snow, and all the world was white. 
 
 She opened the door, the sewing-maids and dressmakers 
 trooped into the room, and from that moment onward for 
 several hours the universe was a chaos without form and 
 void, in which all talked at once and everybody ran up 
 against everybody else, and Thora ate her breakfast while 
 fwalking about or being " fitted on." 
 
 But the dress and the dressing were finished at length, 
 and Aunt Margret was called up to look. Nobody in Iceland 
 had ever seen such a bridal costume — the silk kirtle, the 
 silver-gilt crown, the faldur, the veil, and the blue plush 
 cloak. 
 
 "Isn't she beautiful, Margret?" said the maids, where- 
 upon Aunt Margret, whose eyes were glistening behind her 
 spectacles, said : 
 
 "Talk about Helga— tut!" 
 
 Then the cathedral bells began to ring and a hush fell on 
 everybody. Thora went slowly down-stairs and found her 
 father (looking taller than ever in a new silk hat) waiting 
 for her in the hall, and Silvertop standing ready in the street, 
 with a side-saddle of red plush and gilt. There were a few 
 jests, a few laughs, a few furtive tears, and then they started 
 off. The snow underfoot was as dry and soft as flour, and 
 it was with difficulty that the pony could be made to walk 
 sedately. 
 
 From the moment they reached the cathedral it was all 
 like a dream to Thora, a beautiful day-dream, such as she 
 had dreamt sometimes when she thought she was dead and 
 her happy soul was entering heaven. 
 
 The bridesmaids were waiting in the porch — Helga look-
 
 lOS THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 ing wondrously beautiful in an English dress, and two for- 
 mer school-fellows in Iceland costume. 
 
 Thora, who was moving as in a vision, felt somebody tak- 
 ing off her plush cloak, and then the bells stopped and the 
 organ began. At the next moment the choir was singing 
 a hymn — the usual hymn, " When God the ^Father led the 
 first of brides" — and then she was going up the aisle, leaning 
 on her father's arm. 
 
 She had never seen so many faces since the day she was 
 confirmed. They seemed to move past her, and they made 
 her almost dizzy. She remembered how at other weddings 
 the congregation had watched for the bride and looked at 
 her as if she had been a supernatural thing. " She's com- 
 ing ! " " Here she comes ! " She herself was the bride now, 
 and the people were craning their necks to see her. 
 
 Thora could feel their smiling faces, and she knew that her 
 own face was smiling. She could hear what the people were 
 saying as she passed them : " Dear Thora ! " " How lovely 
 she looks ! " " I'm satisfied now, and I don't care if I go — 
 I only wanted to see how Thora looked in the kirtle." And 
 meanwhile the voices of the choir were coming down from 
 the gallery as from the sky and floating round and round her. 
 
 At the top of the nave Oscar was waiting — so perfectly 
 dressed, so handsome, so noble-looking — ^with a fair young 
 man on his right hand, and on his left the Governor, very 
 solemn and stately with his iron-grey hair and beard. 
 
 The hymn came to an end, the organ died down, and 
 Thora found herself standing by Oscar's side at the foot of 
 the chancel steps, with the old Bishop in his pleated blade 
 gown and white ruff at the top of them. There was a rustle 
 behind her, then there was silence, and the Bishop began to 
 speak. 
 
 " My children," he said, "when long ago God the Father 
 led the first of brides to the first of men in the beautiful 
 garden of Eden he linked their hands together in love, and 
 that was the first marriage. Since then He has carried on 
 the human story by the same sweet means, and love is still 
 the bond that binds man to woman, and woman to man." 
 
 " My children," said the Bishop again — he was speaking 
 to her and Oscar — " you come here to be made man and wife.
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 109 
 
 and because you love one another God is willing to join 
 your hands in holy wedlock, for He blesses and sanctifies 
 no other union, whether of wealth or worldly advantage or 
 any other interest whatsoever. 
 
 " We know you both, my children ; we who are gathered 
 here have watched the flower of your affection bud and 
 bloom, and now we pray to God that you may be true to 
 the vows you are to make to-day, always bearing each other's 
 burdens, forgiving each other's faults, and cherishing the 
 human love that is a symbol of the love divine. 
 
 " My daughter, love him who is to be your husband ; let 
 him find on your breast his solace for every sorrow, whatever 
 the world may do to him, and whatever the world may say, 
 
 " My son, love her who is to be your wife. There is noth- 
 ing nobler in this imperfect existence, no sight more sweet 
 and heavenly, than when a good girl leaves the father who 
 loves her, and the home where she has been happy, and says 
 to him who is to be her husband : ' The past was beautiful, 
 but I trust the future all to you.' Be worthy of that trust. 
 my son, be strong, be brave, be faithful, and He who knows 
 our weaknesses, having trodden the earth before us, will 
 bear you up if your feet should falter. 
 
 " Be companions to each other in the journey of this 
 world, my dear ones, and if it should please God to give you 
 children let them be bonds to bind you closer together. 
 Above all, love one another, for that is the first command- 
 ment, and may He who gave it guard and guide you through 
 all the thorny paths of life." 
 
 The Bishop's voice became tremulous toward the end, and 
 when he finished there was some coughing and blowing of 
 noses among the congregation. Oscar, too, was breathing 
 heavily by Thora's side, and Helga was trampling on her 
 train, but Thora herself was as calm as a trustful child. 
 
 At the next moment she was kneeling by Oscar's side on 
 the communion steps — just where they had knelt as children 
 to be confirmed — and the Bishop was administering the 
 vows. There was a breathless hush in the crowded cathedral 
 during this solemn and beautiful ceremony — a ceremony 
 for ever new, for ever old, for ever awful — the consecration 
 of the man to the woman, the woman to the man, for better
 
 110 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 or for worse, in sickness and in health, " till death us do 
 part." 
 
 Oscar was still breathing heavily, but Thora felt too 
 happy to be agitated, too sure to be afraid. When the 
 Bishop put their hands together, and laid his own hand on 
 the top of them, she felt Oscar's hand tremble and his pulse 
 throb, and she wanted to calm and comfort him. But it 
 was all over in a moment, for they had risen to their feet, 
 and one of the assistant clergy was giving out a hynm. 
 
 " Guide Thy children, Father, guide them, 
 Through the thorny paths of life." 
 
 The choir began it, but the congregation joined in, and all 
 the voices seemed to quiver with emotion. Thora felt herself 
 carried away, far away, but still she was holding Oscar's 
 hand. She thought she could hear Magnus's voice among 
 the voices behind her — the deep voice she used to hear on 
 those evenings so long ago. Poor Magnus ! But then he 
 could have had no joy of her, so it was better even for him. 
 
 It was something of a descent when the hymn ended and 
 the Bishop shook hands with her, and the Governor followed 
 his example, and the bridesmaids came up and kissed her 
 in the presence of the whole congregation. But Oscar gave 
 her his arm, and as they moved down the nave the organ 
 and choir began again: 
 
 '* Perfect Love, all human thought transcending, 
 Lowly we kneel in prayer before Thy throne. " 
 
 She was now sure she could hear Magnus, and looking 
 up at the organ loft she saw him. Yes, he was there; he 
 was in the choir; he had come back from the Northlands to 
 sing at her wedding. 
 
 " That theirs may be the joy that knows no ending, 
 Whom Thou for evermore dost join in one — " 
 
 She had only one glance at his face, but she saw it plainly. 
 She had never seen it like that before — so broken up, and so 
 soft, yet so strong and brave. His eyes were steadfastly
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 111 
 
 fixed on his music book, and he was swaying a little and 
 singing as with all his might. 
 
 " Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow, 
 Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife — " 
 
 But Magnus was whirled away from her in a moment, for 
 the people whispered as she was going past. " Dear Thora ! 
 God bless our Thora ! " 
 
 Oscar was bowing on both sides of the aisle, and the people 
 were talking to him also. " How handsome he looks ! " " He 
 looks as if he could take care of her, too ! " " Take care of 
 her, Oscar ! " 
 
 They were back in the porch at length, and somebody was 
 putting her plush cloak over her shoulders. Silvertop was 
 standing outside, and Hans the sailor (in his new sleeve 
 waistcoat) was giving him water out of his pail. 
 
 Oscar lifted her to the saddle, and they turned their faces 
 homeward. The bells began to ring again — a merry peal — 
 and then, at last, Thora's tears began to flow. How good 
 everybody had been to her! It was all for Oscar's sake! 
 How sweet to think they were good to her for the sake of 
 Oscar! Thank God for Oscar! 
 
 Anna and Aunt Margret were at the door of the Factor's 
 house fX) receive them. They kissed Thora, and called her 
 " Mrs. Stephenson," and then took her up-stairs to change. 
 When she came down again the friends invited to the wed- 
 ding feast were coming in quickly, taking off their snow- 
 shoes, shaking hands with Oscar, and talking all at once. 
 
 The table was laid in the double sitting-room which had 
 been the scene of the betrothal. The Factor sat at the head 
 with Oscar on his right (just in the place where he had 
 trodden on Helga's photograph), and Thora on his left 
 (where Magnus had sat on the low seat beside his mother), 
 ■while the Governor faced the Factor, with Anna and Aunt 
 Margret at either side of him, and the Bishop, the Sheriff,
 
 112 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and the Doctor between. Helga sat midway down the table, 
 "with Neils Finsen on one side of her and the Rector on the 
 other. 
 
 Thora was bashful but bright, reddening a little with 
 maidenly reserve when pointed remarks were made to her, 
 hut filling the room with musical laughter. During the meal 
 nearly everybody raised his glass to her, and at the end of 
 it the Governor rose, bowed to her dovsm the table with 
 a stately grace, and began to speak. 
 
 " I rise," said the Governor, " to propose the health of the 
 bride and bridegroom. We are all happy in the marriage 
 which has just been celebrated, and no one can be more happy 
 than myself. It had been for many years the dearest hope 
 of my heart that the life-long friendship between Factor 
 Neilsen and myself might be cemented in our children by 
 a still closer bond." 
 
 " Your health, old friend," interrupted the Factor, raising* 
 his glass, and the Governor stopped to drink with him. 
 
 " Time was, perhaps," he continued, " when I feared lest 
 this hope might be frustrated." 
 
 " No, no ! " said the Factor, while Thora dropped her 
 head, Anna sighed audibly, and there was silence for a mo- 
 ment, as if the spirit of some one who was not present had 
 passed through the room. 
 
 " But sweet is the bliss that follows bale," said the Gov- 
 ernor, " and thank God we are now of one mind and one 
 family." 
 
 When the glasses of the company had ceased to jingle, the 
 Governor went on to speak of Thora. " She has always been 
 like a daughter in our house, and now she is our daughter 
 indeed. We have loved her all her life, and to-day we have 
 given her the best we had to give to any one — our son, our 
 favorite son, the idol of our hopes and the pride of our 
 hearts. God bless both of them ! " 
 
 As soon as the Factor had done wiping his eyes with his 
 print handkerchief he rose with a laugh and said: 
 
 " Stem before stern when the sea gets up, and I'm not 
 much used to pulling backward, but I'm with the Governor 
 in thanking God that the storm that threatened has blown 
 over and we are sailing in smooth water. As for Oscar, he
 
 THE TEODIGAL SON 113 
 
 has been my godson ever since he was anything ; and to-day 
 he has become my son, and I could not wish for a better. 
 
 " And now," said the Factor, as soon as he was allowed to 
 go on, " a small promise kept is better than a big one for- 
 gotten, and I'm going to keep a little promise which I made 
 on the day of the betrothal. Perhaps some of you wouldn't 
 think it, but I believe in young people enjoying their youth 
 while they've got any. I managed to miss mine somehow, 
 and it's been work, work, work with me all my days. The 
 same with the Governor ; it's been work, work, work with him 
 too, and we haven't had a holiday between us. But we are go- 
 ing to have a holiday now — we're going to travel to the sunny 
 south lands, where the ground and the sea aren't white like 
 this and that." (The Factor waved his hands toward the 
 windows front and back.) " Yes, we're going to see the 
 world in our old age, the Governor and I, but it's got to be 
 with eyes that are better than ours are now — the eyes of our 
 children." 
 
 " What's more," continued the Factor, when the company 
 were again quiet, " we're not going to grudge the expense 
 either, and if Oscar will look under his bottom plate he'll 
 find a little oil that will grease the wheels on the way." 
 
 Oscar lifted his fruit plate and took up two checks, and 
 when the toast had been honored he rose to reply. Nobody 
 had ever before seen him so pale, so nervous, or so serious. 
 
 " I thank the Governor and the Factor," he said, " for the 
 splendid present they have given us — so much more than we 
 can possibly require on our journey. I thank you all for 
 coming to our wedding — it is so pleasant to be surrounded 
 by the people who have known us all our lives, ' Find your 
 wife among your friends,' says one of our Sagas. I have 
 found mine almost in my family, and I trust the two 
 branches now made one may never be divided as the result 
 of what we have done this morning." 
 
 There was some applause, and when Oscar began again his 
 voice faltered and broke. 
 
 " I thank the Bishop, too," he said, " for the words — the 
 wise and touching words — he spoke in marrying us. I know 
 that love — love is the only foundation of a true marriage, 
 and I — I trust my marriage is a true one. I do not love my
 
 114 THE mODIGAL SON 
 
 wife as mueli as I ought — as much as she deserves. I can 
 never do that; it is impossible, but I hope to love her more 
 and more as time goes on, and to fly from every temptation 
 to love her less, I know I am not worthy of the dear good 
 girl who has given herself to me to-day, but I will try so 
 to live that she may never regret it. Often forgive the 
 woman's faults, says another of our Sagas, but a truer word 
 in this case would be forgive the man's, and I pray God my 
 wife may never have too much to forgive." 
 
 When Oscar sat down the men thought his speech had 
 been a little affected and far-fetched, but there was not a 
 woman in the room who did not want to leap up and kiss 
 him. Thora was openly wiping her eyes, but her face was 
 one high noon of enjoyment, and in the buzz which followed 
 the silence Aunt Margret called across to her. 
 
 " Mrs. Stephenson, you had better take care of your hus- 
 band or some of these young women will run away with him." 
 
 There were other toasts, " The Governor," " The Factor," 
 and finally, " The Bridesmaids," proposed by the Rector in 
 a playful speech. 
 
 " They say a kiss isn't the same thing from all women," 
 he said, " and being an old bachelor I know nothing about 
 that ; but the young fellow on my left" (the Rector indicated 
 oSTeils Finsen), "who has a right to consider himself the best 
 man in Iceland to-day, has confessed to me in a whisper that 
 he finds one of the bridesmaids so charming and beautiful' 
 that if he had been in Oscar's place, and compelled by a 
 narrow-minded law to choose between the Factor's two daugh- 
 ters, he would have cut off to some eastern country where he 
 could have married both." 
 
 Everybody laughed and looked at Helga, who had herself 
 been laughing rather hysterically, and looking at Oscar all 
 through dinner. And then Thora, who was overflowing 
 with happiness, glanced down at her sister, and remem- 
 bered the great scheme she had conceived to make amends 
 for mistrusting and suspecting her. Now was the moment 
 to carry it into effect — now that she was queen in her little 
 kingdom — and, half bold, half shy, she rose from her seat, 
 put her arms about her father's neck, and whispered some- 
 thing in his ear.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 115 
 
 The Factor's face straightened for a moment, then broad- 
 ened again, and he said, " But what does Oscar say? " 
 
 " Oscar will be sure to agree," said Thora, and she whis- 
 pered in her father's ear again. 
 
 " Well, I'm not going back on my word ; I'm willing ; but 
 you must ask Oscar." 
 
 Then, laughing and reddening, Thora crept up behind 
 Oscar and whispered in his ear also, while looking sideways 
 down at Helga. As Oscar listened his face became serious 
 and he said: 
 
 " But you are quite sure that you wish it, Thora ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes," said Thora, laughing and blushing, for 
 now the eyes of the whole company were on her. 
 
 " Let us talk of it to-morrow," said Oscar. 
 
 " No, no, now," said Thora. 
 
 " But perhaps Helga herself — " began Oscar, and then 
 he stopped, whereupon Helga, hearing her own name, said 
 with a nervous laugh: 
 
 "What is that about Helga?" 
 
 " Yes, what is it ? " said several voices at once, and then 
 the Factor explained. 
 
 " Thora wants to have her sister to accompany them on 
 their tour, and she is trying to persuade Oscar." 
 
 There were some unconvincing cries of " Why not ? " and 
 *' Splendid ! " and then there was silence, broken only by 
 Thora's voice saying : 
 
 " Please, Oscar, please ! " 
 
 It was the last thing Oscar could have expected — to have 
 temptation thrown in his way at the moment when he was 
 trying to escape from it; to have the flood-gate of passion 
 opened afresh after he had struggled so hard to dam it — and 
 to have this done by Thora herself, in her blind unselfishness 
 and innocent joy, as if the powers of hell were making game 
 of her. 
 
 But the company were waiting for Oscar's answer; and, 
 not to betray himself, he tried to escape by banter. " I'm 
 not like Neils — I don't want both of you," he said; but still 
 the pleading, coaxing voice was at his ear, saying : 
 
 " Please, Oscar, please, please ! " And when Oscar con- 
 tinued to hesitate the Kector said :
 
 116 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Tut, tut, Oscar, refusing your wife's first request is a 
 bad beginning." 
 
 " I'm not refusing," said Oscar, " and if Helga berself 
 really and truly thinks she would like to go with us " 
 
 " Would you like to go, Helga ? " asked the Factor, and 
 then there was another moment's hesitation, in which Helga, 
 biting her lower lip with a fierceness which betrayed the 
 struggle in her soul, looked across at Oscar as if trying to 
 read in his face what her answer was to be. 
 
 " Tell her to say yes, Oscar," said Thora. 
 
 " Yes," said Helga, and at the next moment Thora was 
 clapping her hands in triumphant delight and making the 
 room ring with her laughter. 
 
 ^JsTeils Finsen had sat down to the piano and the servants 
 were clearing the table to make way for dancing, when Anna 
 came up behind Thora and whispered : 
 
 " Somebody outside wishes to see you, Thora." 
 
 "Is it perhaps ?" 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Anna, and Thora followed her out of the 
 room. 
 
 XI 
 
 Magnus was waiting in the hall, dressed in snow stockings 
 and a long cape overcoat, rough and worn and belted about 
 the waist. His face was stamped with the deep lines which 
 in a strong man stand for resignation and in a weak one for 
 despair. Thora thought she had never seen him look so big 
 and brawny, but his voice when he spoke to her was as soft 
 as a woman's, and he broke into the sunniest of smiles. 
 She closed the door of the sitting-room to shut out the sound 
 of the piano, and then came fonvard and held out her hand, 
 feeling little and weak in her kirtle and the bridal crown 
 across her forehead. 
 
 " I came to say good-by and to wish you a good voyage," 
 he said. 
 
 " I'm so glad you've come," said Thora. " I heard you 
 had gone away, and I was afraid I was going to miss you." 
 
 " I've brought you this for a wedding present," said Mag-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 117 
 
 nus, taking up from the hall table a large white bear's skin 
 which Thora had not noticed before. 
 
 " What a magnificent rug ! " said Thora. 
 
 " Is it a good one ? " said Magnus. 
 
 " It is perfectly beautiful. I have never seen anything 
 like it. It must have cost you a fortune." 
 
 " 'No, not a great deal. I bought it in the Northlands." 
 
 " Then it was to get this that you went there ? " 
 
 « Yes." 
 
 *' In the winter, too — such a long, cold journey! " 
 
 " I am strong, Thora — I never feel the cold." 
 
 His sad eyes were glistening, and Thora's throat was thick. 
 
 "I shall use it on the ship and in the train and every- 
 where," she said. " And whenever I use it I will always think 
 of you." 
 
 "Will you?" 
 
 " Indeed I will. But we are going south, you know," 
 
 " I know." 
 
 " To England and France — perhaps to Italy." 
 
 "It will do you good, Thora. The sun will do you good. 
 And you will see the fruit and the flowers growing — it will 
 be beautiful." 
 
 "Will it not?" 
 
 The piano was becoming louder, and there was a sound of 
 shuffling feet — the people in the sitting-room were beginning 
 to dance. 
 
 " And what do you think — Helga is going with us," said 
 Thora. 
 
 "Helga!" 
 
 "Didn't Anna tell you?" 
 
 " Is Helga to go with you to Italy ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, and we are delighted to have her. She's so 
 clever and bright — Oscar can never be dull for a moment 
 while Helga is with us." 
 
 The grave face looked sideways for a moment, and then 
 he said, in a still gentler voice: 
 
 " I hope you'll be happy on your journey, Thora." 
 
 " I'm sure I shall. We shall all be happy. We sail by the 
 * Laura ' to-morrow morning." 
 
 " So mother told me — I've been taking your baggage aboard 
 and seeing to your cabin."
 
 118 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " And you have been doing that while we ** 
 
 " I wanted to do something for you, Thora." 
 
 " But, Magnus, you ought to have been here by rights. 
 Oscar always wished it. In fact he wanted you to be his best 
 man." 
 
 "Oscar did?" 
 
 " Indeed he did, but you couldn't be found, because you 
 had gone on your journey." 
 
 Over the sound of the music and the dancing the Gover- 
 nor's voice came from within, mingled with the Factor's 
 hearty laughter. 
 
 " Perhaps it was just as well I was away," said Magnus. 
 " The old people have never forgiven me for what I did, and 
 if they ever came to suspect that somebody else was respon- 
 sible " 
 
 He stopped, and then Thora dropped her eyes and said : 
 
 " I was so glad you were in the cathedral." 
 
 " It was beautiful," said Magnus. 
 
 " You have no feeling against Oscar now ? " 
 
 " Not now. When I saw you kneeling together at the com- 
 munion rails I thought of the day when we all knelt there. 
 And then — then Oscar was my little brother once again." 
 
 " Magnus — won't you — won't you kiss me ? " 
 
 He hesitated for a moment, but she held her sweet face 
 up to him — pure as a saint's and wet with tears — and he 
 opened his great arms and gathered the little white figure 
 to his breast and kissed her on the forehead under the bridal 
 crown. 
 
 " Good-by, little girl, and God bless you and make you 
 very happy. But if you ever want me say * Come,' and I'll 
 come to you — if it's to the farthest corner of the earth." 
 
 Thora began to cry audibly and Magnus bustled about 
 and made for the door. He must be off, he had a long jour- 
 ney before him. 
 
 " And then Silvertop is outside — I mxist not keep him 
 waiting. 
 
 "Silvertop?" 
 
 " Mother told me to take care of him until you return — so 
 I'm taking him back to the farm." 
 
 " Let me say good-by to him," said Thora.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 119 
 
 Magnus covered her from head to foot in the bear's skin 
 and led her down the steps to the street. It was dark, but the 
 stars were out and the northern lights were cleaving the sky 
 as with the sweep of a mighty saber. All was white and 
 silent, save for the deadened beat of the piano and the thud 
 of the feet of the dancers. Two horses, saddled and bridled, 
 otood quietly in the snow with their reins hanging over their 
 heads, and Magnus, mounting one of them, said : 
 
 " This is Golden Mane — Silvertop's big brother." 
 
 Thora found her own pony, stroked its ears and kissed its 
 nose, and then fled back to the door out of the frosty air. 
 
 " Good brothers go well together ; we'll be home by mid- 
 night," cried Magnus. 
 
 Thora watched them go. A glittering shaft of the aurora 
 lit up the three as they turned the corner of the road — 
 Magnus riding Golden Mane, and Silvertop, with an empty 
 saddle, running briskly beside him. 
 
 xn 
 
 When Thora returned to the sitting-room Oscar and 
 Helga, both with sparkling eyes and flushed faces, were 
 waltzing vigorously. Then Thora herself danced with the 
 Governor, the Factor, the Rector, and, of course, with Oscar. 
 But the room grew hot and stuffy, too full of excitement, 
 and after a while Thora became pale and faint. Seeing this, 
 after Aunt Margret had called attention to it, Oscar began 
 to say it was time to break up. The young men bantered 
 him ("Want to get rid of us, eh?") and Helga, who grew 
 more and more hysterical, protested that the evening was 
 still young, but Oscar sent his bride up-stairs to prepare for 
 the journey to her husband's house. 
 
 " Let us all take her home, then," said one of the brides- 
 maids, and when Thora reappeared, muffled up for her night 
 walk, with only eyes, nose, and mouth visible, she was sur- 
 rounded by a group of merry girls, similarly bandaged, and 
 chirping over her like linnets in spring. 
 
 At last the final moment came when Thora had to leave her
 
 120 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 father's house for good, and then Aunt Margret, whose face 
 had become grotesquely long and watery, broke down alto- 
 gether. 
 
 " It's no use," she said. " I'm losing her, and I don't know 
 what they'll do with my precious now." 
 
 " Nonsense, Margret," said the Factor. " Oscar will take 
 care of her." 
 
 " He'd better, or I'll murder him," said Aunt Margret ; 
 and the idea of Aunt Margret murdering anybody was so 
 amusing to the company that they broke up merrily. 
 
 The Factor's family went to the door to see them off, and 
 Helga, who was hot with dancing and excitement, but wore 
 no wraps, stood on the top of the steps holding a lamp above 
 her head to light them down the road. It was a paraffin, 
 lamp with a glass reservoir, but she paid no heed to any 
 warning. 
 
 " Take care, Helga, do take care," said Oscar, but she 
 only cried : 
 
 " Good night, pleasant dreams ! " and continued to wave 
 the flickering lamp above her head. 
 
 " Helga, for mercy's sake, Helga ! " shouted Oscar, and 
 Thora said : 
 
 " Yes, dear, don't let us have an accident on our wedding- 
 day." 
 
 " The better the day the better the deed," cried Helga, and 
 she sent a ringing, hysterical laugh after them as they disap- 
 peared in the darkness. 
 
 The wedding party went off in two batches, Oscar in the 
 midst of the young men, whose arms were round his shoul- 
 ders, and Thora in the midst of the young women, who were 
 holding her by the waist and stopping at intervals to whisper 
 mischievous messages in her ears. The crisp snow crackled 
 under their feet, and the starry sky, with its northern lights, 
 pulsed and throbbed like the hearts in their bosoms. 
 
 When they came to the gate of Government House some- 
 body suggested that Oscar, as a zealous Sagaman, ought to 
 carry out the ancient custom of lifting his bride across the 
 threshold; and then to Thora's delight, amid a squealing 
 chorus of laughter, Oscar picked her up in his arms and 
 isarried her into the house, where Anna (who had gone oi>
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 121 
 
 ahead) smuggled her up-stairs while the others went into 
 the drawing-room to drink the last toast before parting. 
 
 A bright fire was burning in the bridal chamber, the cur- 
 tains were drawn, the bed was laid open, and the room looked 
 like a white nest of eiderdown when Thora, with a fluttering 
 heart, stepped into it. 
 
 " What a day it has been ! " she said. 
 
 " Hasn't it ? " said Anna, closing the door behind them. 
 
 " Well. I can always say I had a wonderful wedding-day, 
 can't I?" 
 
 "Indeed, you can. A woman has only two days in her 
 life that are her own — her very own — and her wedding-day 
 is one of them." 
 
 " And what is the other day, Anna ? " 
 
 " The other ? Oh, the other day is too far away for you 
 to think about it yet, but all the days between belong to 
 somebody else — her children or her husband." 
 
 " But how sweet ! How beautiful ! To live in your hus- 
 band, to give up everything to him, your life, yourself, every- 
 thing ! There's happiness in that, isn't there, Anna ? " 
 
 "Indeed, there is, my dear, and pain, too, perhaps. But 
 there's something better in this life than happiness, Thora, 
 and that's blessedness, you know." 
 
 This made Thora think of Magnus, but she heard Oscar 
 laughing in the room below, and soon forgot everything else 
 in a delicious shuddering which suddenly came over her. 
 Anna helped her to undress, and when the crown and the 
 kirtle were laid aside, she moved about for some moments 
 without speaking. Then she said, softly : 
 
 " Will you go to bed now, dearest, or shall I give you your 
 dressing-gown ? " 
 
 " Give me my dressing-gown," said Thora faintly. 
 
 Anna moved about on tiptoe a moment or two longer, 
 turning the lamp down and fixing the shade. Then she 
 opened the door and stood for an instant on the threshold 
 looking back at Thora where she sat combing out her hair 
 before the stove. All at once her middle-aged, homely face 
 became young and beautiful by the magic of a memory of 
 her own, and going softly back she kissed Thora without 
 saying a word, and then crept silently out of the room. 
 9
 
 122 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Left alone, Thora looked timidly around her, and seeing 
 things of Oscar's lying among her own she felt a new and 
 still more deliciou3 sense of happiness. During the days 
 preceding the wedding she had thought that as soon as the 
 service in the cathedral had come to an end and she was 
 Oscar's wife a mysterious change would come over her, but 
 that had not been so, and all day long she had felt quite the 
 same. But now it was different, and in this room she had 
 become another being — not herself only, but Oscar also. 
 It was very sweet and beautiful, but it was a little fright- 
 ening, too, and to ease her fast-beating heart she got into bed 
 and covered up her face. 
 
 She could hear the company breaking up below, and a 
 little later she heard their footsteps crunching the snow 
 under her window, which fronted the road. They stood there 
 and sang a bridal song. It was the song of the " Two 
 Eoses." 
 
 The winter was cold and the groimd was white, but two 
 roses of love still grew in the garden of God. The frost 
 could not freeze the two roses of love, for they were warmed 
 by the air of heaven ; the sun could not scorch the two roses 
 of love, for they were watered from the well of life. Two 
 roses of love on a single stem ; two roses of love in two fond 
 young hearts; two roses of love and joy! 
 
 When the song came to an end there was some merry gig- 
 gling under the window, followed by shouts of " Good night, 
 Thora ! " " Happy di-eams ! " Then as the company went 
 off they started the bridal song again, and in her mind's eye 
 Thora could see them going back to the town, arm in arm, 
 young girls and young men. 
 
 Thora listened to the voices dying down the street, and 
 for a moment all life seemed to be set to the music of love; 
 Oscar and she would be children always, never growing older, 
 but rambling hand in hand through a flowery world where 
 everybody loved them and they loved everybody, and there 
 could be no real trouble because love was all in all. 
 
 But just then the cathedral clock struck eleven, and she 
 remembered Magnus. She could see him crossing the deso- 
 late white heath imder the shooting stream of the northern 
 lights — a lonesome man riding one horse, while another.
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 12S 
 
 with an empty saddle, was running by his side. Poor Mag- 
 nus ! But there was no help for it ! 
 
 The voices died away in the distance, and there was a mo- 
 ment of silence in the cozy nest — a warm, muffled, secret 
 kind of silence, broken by nothing but the underthrob of 
 the ceaseless sea. Thora closed her eyes and held her breath. 
 How happy she was ! She was trembling like a bird caught 
 and held in the hand, but even her fear was full of happiness. 
 
 At the next moment there was a noiseless footstep on the 
 floor, a sense of somebody in the room, and then — Oscar 
 was leaning over her and kissing her on the lips.
 
 PAET III 
 
 Yet ah, that spring should vanish with the rose ! 
 That youth's sweet-scented manuscript should dost I 
 The nightingale that in the branches sang,, 
 Ah, whence f and whither fiown again, who knows * 
 
 The wedding being over, and the wedding party gone, 
 Anna went on a visit to Magnus in order to bear him com- 
 pany during the first weeks of his first winter, and to see 
 that his house was in order. 
 
 The farm was thirty-odd miles from the capital, not far 
 from the scene of the sheep-gathering and in the middle of 
 the great plain of Thingvellir — an historic spot, formerly 
 the place of the Icelandic parliament, for the neglected 
 Mount of Laws may still be seen there. 
 
 There were only two houses on the plain — the farmhouse 
 and the parsonage, with its little church beside it. The 
 farmhouse was the larger of the two, and being on the line 
 of road from the capital to the chief market of the Northland 
 it had become a resting place for travelers. 
 
 The Inn-farm had belonged to Anna's family for many 
 generations and her father had been the last to hold it. He 
 was a worthy man, silent and serious, much like Magnus in 
 personal character, but he left the place badly embarrassed, 
 having fallen into the hands of a defaulting factor. After 
 his daughter married he lost his wife and then he died sud- 
 denly — people said of drink. Since then the astate had been 
 twenty years in the hands of a steward, but the Governor 
 had paid off the mortgage out of the savings of his salary and 
 the farm was free. 
 
 It was an endless delight to Anna to bring the place back 
 to Its former condition. She began with the sleeping accom- 
 modation, for sin comes with a laugh, she said, but goes with 
 134
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 125 
 
 a cry. The shepherd and his wife she put in the upper bed- 
 room (the Badstofa), the maids in the lower one, and the 
 farm-boys in the loft. Each of the rooms was under its own 
 roof, and the homestead as a whole was less like a single 
 house than a group of houses, or like a gipsy encampment, 
 with its peaked tents going off in different directions. The 
 principal apartment was a large square hall, with two guest- 
 rooms opening out of it. Magnus was to sleep in one of 
 these guest rooms, except when both were wanted for trav- 
 elers, and then he was to lie on a mattress stretched on the 
 floor. 
 
 Anna inspected the kitchen (the Elt House) and the 
 storehouse (the Skemma) — examined the winter's stock o£ 
 potted meat and dried and salted cod and whale, and put a 
 lock on the Bur, for seldom does the servant-maid starve in, 
 the larder, she said. Finally she turned her attention ta 
 the Hall, which was the general living room, and furnished 
 it afresh with a settle, an armchair, a Bornhome clock, and. 
 a big German stove. As a finishing stroke she hung two 
 large photographs on the walls, one of the Governor, the 
 other of herself. The Governor was gorgeous in his gold- 
 braided uniform, but she was homely in her black hufa, and 
 on second thoughts she would have taken her own picture 
 down but Magnus said something nice about it and she al- 
 lowed it to remain. 
 
 Anna's visit was a long one, but as often as she prepared 
 to go, saying home was the best place for the stupid, Magnus 
 answered that in that case Gudrun must unpack her trunk, 
 for the Governor could not be expecting her. In this way she 
 stayed at Thingvellir until the snow began to be honey- 
 combed by the thaw and the ribs of the landscape to be re- 
 vealed again. 
 
 Meantime her life at the farm was simple and primitive 
 and every day had its own duty. Before it was light in the 
 morning she rang the bell in the hall which awakened the 
 household, and sent the maids to the shippons and the boys 
 to the beasts in their pens. And when the short day had 
 closed in she rang the bell again for supper, and finally for 
 prayers, when the house-father (Magnus now) gave out a 
 hymn and read a lesson.
 
 126 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 On Sunday she went to church, and met the fifty-odd 
 people who had ridden over from the farms that bordered the 
 plain. She sat in the seat in front of the communion rail, 
 with its picture of Christ in white robes among warm eastern 
 foliage. Magnus sat in the choir and put up the figures on 
 the plate that gave the numbers of the hymns. He had 
 little voice and no music, but Anna listened and was happy. 
 
 Though the nights were long the household was never 
 idle. While the servants had to mend and make blankets in 
 their own quarters, Magnus would weave on a loom he set 
 up in the hall and his mother would spin or knit stockings. 
 He was full of great projects again, and though his former 
 schemes were impossible to him now he had others of equal 
 consequence. 
 
 What Iceland wanted was roads ; roads were the landmarks 
 of civilization; without roads the most productive country 
 in the world could not prosper, for what was the use of a 
 cow that gave much milk if it kicked over the pail ? 
 
 Night after night in the pauses of the loom Anna had to 
 listen to this story and to assent to the schemes that were 
 tied on to it. Yes, Magnus was going to be very comfortable 
 and she could go home in content. 
 
 " After all, perhaps everything was for the best," she said, 
 *'and if there were only a mistress in the house " 
 
 But Magnus rattled at the loom and nothing more was 
 heard for some moments. 
 
 " John and Gudrun are very well, in their way, but it's 
 thin blood that isn't thicker than water, and when I go 
 back " 
 
 The loom rattled still louder. 
 
 " But a young man who couldn't be satisfied with a girl 
 like Thora isn't likely to find many to his liking." 
 
 And then the loom rattled louder than ever, and nothing 
 more was said that night. 
 
 n 
 
 At intervals during Anna's visit to the farm there came 
 news of the wedding party — the letters being sent on by the 
 weekly post from Government House and from the Factor's.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 127 
 
 The first to come was from England, and it was a joint letter 
 to everybody written by all three of the wanderers. Oscar 
 began it, with a playful review of their journey from the 
 time of the departure of the " Laura." 
 
 " As soon as we set foot on the ship we were told that 
 Captain Limsen had given up his own cabin to us, and from 
 that hour to this everybody has shown us boundless hospi- 
 tality, especially father's old college friends, the professor 
 at Oxford and the banker here in London. Naturally we 
 know we owe everything to the magic of the Governor's 
 name, and consequently I am cultivating an extraordinary 
 reverence for it, though I doubt if I shall ever find it more 
 beautiful than I did on the morning of our wedding at the 
 bottom of that splendid check." 
 
 " Ha, ha, the mouse knows where to come back for his 
 cheese," said Anna. 
 
 Helga came next, with a glowing account of the London 
 theaters, opera-houses, and picture-galleries. 
 
 " The half had not been told me, as the big Book says, 
 and I wonder more than ever why a poor girl should be> 
 doomed to waste her life in a wilderness when she might 
 live in a world of so many clever and beautiful people." 
 
 " M'm ! It's poor work pouring water on a rock," said 
 Anna. 
 
 Thora came last with a rather sad little note. It was 
 all very wonderful, no doubt, but she was feeling just a 
 wee bit home-sick. Did not care so very much for operas 
 and picture-galleries, so Oscar had to take Helga by herself. 
 
 " I like best to sit in the window of the hotel and look 
 at the crowds in the square. Such multitudes ! Always go- 
 ing and coming and hardly anybody ever speaking to any- 
 body else! That's what strikes you at first as most extraor- 
 dinary. It is so strange to think that the people in the 
 streets do not even know each other by sight, and that every 
 young woman who goes by has her own family somewhere — 
 her own husband and perhaps her own children — and that 
 she is hurrying away to them. I don't know why, but it 
 makes me feel so lonely, and then I almost want to be back 
 in my dear, sweet, homely old Iceland." 
 
 Magnus had to read this letter aloud — for Anna was no
 
 128 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 reader of handwriting — and when he came to Thora's part 
 his voice thickened and broke. 
 
 The next letter came from Paris, and Helga wrote the 
 whole of it. 
 
 " Such sights ! Such luxury ! Such gaiety ! And such 
 dreams of dresses! And then the opera — Chopin, Verdi, 
 Wagner, Greig! We are at the opera every night — that is 
 to say, Oscar and I are, Thora not caring very much for 
 music. Thora's chief pleasure is to walk in the flower mar- 
 ket by the Madeleine and watch the children playing, and 
 look as if she wished she were one of them." 
 
 " Just like our Thora/' said Anna. 
 
 " Neils is here — Neils Finsen you know. Neils has fin- 
 ished his course at the Musical College, and is connected in 
 some way with Covent Garden and has come to Paris on 
 managerial business. He seems to be getting along won- 
 derfully and it makes me feel almost envious. Oh, to get 
 on in life ! To escape forever from that grey sky and all 
 those freezing surroundings ! What I would give to do it ! 
 Nothing should stand between me and success in life if I 
 only saw the chance of it. And who knows — perhaps I may 
 some day ! Neils declares that my voice has improved won- 
 derfully and I am practising constantly. But to have any 
 real opportunity in music one ought to be here or in London 
 or Dresden, and it is so expensive. I'm nearly penniless as it 
 is, and I am so shockingly dowdy that if some one does not 
 send me " 
 
 The letter was to the Factor and he had cut away the 
 end of it. 
 
 " M'm ! M'm ! " said Anna. " What the Miss is used to, 
 the Misses keeps up." And then they ate their supper of 
 smoked mutton and black bread in silence and rang the bell 
 for prayers. 
 
 The third letter from the wedding party came from Italy, 
 and it was written by Oscar only. The post that brought it 
 had been delayed by a snow-storm, and had sheltered two 
 nights on the Moss Fell Heath. At the Inn-farm the cattle- 
 pens had been completely buried, and Magnus and the men 
 had worked up to their waists from daylight to dark, dig- 
 ging a way out of the snow that the beasts might be fed and 
 watered.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 129 
 
 " The world will be white with you in Iceland, but here in 
 Italy the roses are in bud, and the sky is blue and the air 
 is balmy. What a time we have had of it! We came down 
 from Venice, the city of silence and dream, through Flor- 
 ence, the city of sunshine, and Rome, the mother of cities, 
 to Naples, the city of song. Italy seems to set all Europe to 
 music ! Lovely and beloved Italy ! If only some one could do 
 the same for Iceland! Rugged, gaunt, grand old Iceland I 
 But wait — only wait — perhaps somebody will do it yet ! " 
 
 "Ah, Oscar, Oscar," said Anna, "it's easier to count 
 twelve mountains than to climb one." 
 
 " Helga is enjoying the trip tremendously. Out every 
 minute of the day and making friends on every side. Thora 
 does not seem so well, poor child, and she hardly cares to go 
 about. We are going on to the Riviera next week and thence 
 back to Iceland. I must, of course, be home for the opening 
 of Althing, but Helga is grudging every day. It is now two 
 o'clock in the morning and we have just returned from a 
 Veglioni — that is to say a masque ball — this (yesterday) 
 being the last of Lent. Flowers, streamers, confetti, and 
 such dresses ! Helga looked magnificent in a pale blue chiffon 
 of the latest model and was, out of all comparison, the belle 
 of the evening. Poor Thora did not care to go, so she stayed 
 in the hotel and went to bed early." 
 
 Magnus and his mother also went to bed early on the 
 night they read that letter. Anna rung the bell that hung 
 from the ceiling of the hall, and the servants in their skin 
 slippers and woolen stockings trooped in for prayers. The 
 lesson was the story of the widow's cruise and the hymn 
 was — 
 
 " Meek and low, meek and low, 
 I shall soon my Jesus know." 
 
 The last letter they received from the wanderers came on 
 the first day of spring, when the thaw had set in, and the 
 water was running .down the discolored snow on the moun- 
 tains like tears on a wrinkled face, and the sheep were be- 
 ginning to lamb. It was from Monte Carlo and was written 
 by Thora to Anna herself. 
 
 " This place is so beautiful, Anna, yet I do not think I like
 
 130 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 it very much. The houses are all splendid palaces, but they 
 don't seem so comfortable as the little homes in Iceland. I 
 dare not say this to Oscar, lest he should think me ungrate- 
 ful, and certainly there is no fog or mist here, and no big 
 white waves, because the sea is always blue; and of course 
 the trees are so wonderful and the blossoms so beautiful! 
 Sometimes they have a carnival, and then wagon-loads of 
 flowers are flung about everywhere; but next day it is quite 
 pitiful to see the lovely roses that have been trampled upon 
 being swept up in the streets. 
 
 " In the afternoon a band plays in a garden and you drive 
 in a carriage round and round it. At night you go to a 
 restaurant — bigger than the Artisan's Institute — and there 
 another band plays while you eat your dinner — two or three 
 hundred at once, and all the ladies in low dresses. After 
 that you go to a Casino, where all is silent and rather dark 
 and people sit round tables and play cards for money. 
 Everybody plays cards here because everybody seems to be 
 always taking a holiday." 
 
 " Ah, but the devil never does," said Anna. 
 
 " It is shocking to hear, though, how much is some- 
 times lost in a moment. Last night Oscar pointed out a 
 pale-faced young man who had gambled away the whole of 
 his estate — larger and more valuable than the Inn-farm 
 itself. They say he had not intended to play at all when he 
 went into the room, but the fever mastered him and he could 
 not resist it. 
 
 " Ay, ay, we don't see the ruts when the snow covers 
 them," said Anna. 
 
 " It made me feel ill and I couldn't stay any longer, but 
 Helga wished to remain, so Oscar put me in a carriage and 
 I came back to the hotel and went to bed. I do wish Helga 
 were not so fond of such places. She is, however, and as a 
 consequence Oscar is compelled to go with her, although he 
 does not want to, and sometimes he comes back very de- 
 pressed. Since we came here his sleep has been much 
 broken, and his manner very restless. I shall be glad when 
 we leave this place. 
 
 " But we have had such a wonderful time altogether, and 
 .Oscar has been so kind to me aud I have been so happy. All
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 131 
 
 the same, I shall be glad to be home again, to see all the 
 dear old faces — yours and Auntie Margret's and father's 
 and the Governor's. I suppose Magnus does not talk of me 
 now — does he? How is Silvertop? Tell Magnus to rub his 
 ears for me and kiss his rough old nose. What a romp we'll 
 have over the Heath some day! But I suppose I must not 
 romp too much now, must I ? It is so strange, Anna — there 
 are hardly any babies about this place! !N'ot like Italy, 
 where you see them everywhere, with their poor little legs 
 wrapped up like a mummy's. 
 
 " We are to be back for the first of summer, and I'm count- 
 ing the days already. Give our love to everybody and if 
 anybody asks after me in particular say I am so well and so 
 happy." 
 
 The loom in the hall lay idle on the night when Magnus 
 read this letter. Nobody spoke until Anna lit two candles 
 and gave one of them to Magnus, saying : 
 
 " Here ! You're tired, and no wonder, being up before 
 daybreak. How many lambs this morning, Magnus ? " 
 
 " Twenty-two, but one of the best of them is dead." 
 
 " That's the way of it always. Good night ! " 
 
 « Good night ! " 
 
 At the door of his bedroom Magnus paused, candle in 
 hand. 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 « Well ? " 
 
 " Do you think she w so very happy ? " 
 
 " Our Thora ? God knows, my son ! " said Anna. 
 
 in 
 
 The snow was gone and the pale ground was green and 
 golden with the raiment and the jewels of spring when the 
 travelers returned to Iceland. Rounding the head of the 
 fiord in the early morning, when the little capital was smok- 
 ing for breakfast. Captain Zimsen had fired a cannon in honor 
 of their home-coming, and everybody ran out-of-doors in de- 
 light, thinking the man-of-war had come from Copenhagen,
 
 132 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 but there was greater joy still when the " Laura " dropped 
 her anchor and the little boats that had gone out to meet 
 her came back with the news that the wedding party had 
 returned. 
 
 Half the men of the town went down to the jetty to wel- 
 come the wanderers; among them the Governor in his gala 
 uniform, the Factor in his best scull-cap, smoking his best 
 German pipe, the Sheriff, the Eector, and the Bishop. 
 
 The Factor's big white boat had been sent off instantly to 
 fetch the three ashore, and when it was coming back there 
 was a good deal of curiosity as to how they would look after 
 their long journey. Oscar, who was standing in the bow, 
 was seen to be sunburnt, and slightly older-looking, having 
 grown a small, fair mustache, which was curled up at the 
 ends. It was observed by somebody that he wore the latest 
 pattern of waistcoat and carried an Italian cloak over his 
 arm. Helga, who was standing in the middle of the boat, 
 looked a shade more buxom, and wore a new French hat. 
 She had a kodak swung over her shoulder and was looking 
 at the people on the jetty through an ivory-framed field- 
 glass. And Thora, who was sitting in the stern in the cos- 
 tume in which she went away, with Magnus's white bearskin 
 across her knees, looked a thought thinner than before, but 
 her face was bright with smiles, though there wei'e tears in 
 her sparkling eyes. 
 
 When the boat came alongside the salutations were lusty 
 and robustious. Such laughter! Such chaff! Such pro- 
 longed handshaking and slapping on the back! After the 
 Governor and the Factor had kissed Thora they found their 
 cheeks were wet, but Helga was as bright as the day and 
 Oscar made everybody happy. He shook hands all round 
 and hailed even the fishermen and boatmen by name. " He 
 doesn't forget an old friend, eh ? " said an old fellow in 
 bare feet. 
 
 Then away they trooped to Government House, where 
 Anna was waiting in apron and hufa at the door of the porch. 
 Thora cried for joy at sight of her, and had to be carried 
 off to her bedroom. And when Aunt Margret came in her 
 oiled ringlets and Oscar would have kissed her she beat him 
 off with a playful pat on the cheek, and saying, " I must
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 133 
 
 Bee what you've done with my child first," ran straight up- 
 stairs. 
 
 Helga went up also to take off her hat, and the Governor 
 and the Factor carried Oscar into the drawing-room, where 
 the Bishop, the Sheriff and the Rector joined them. Maria 
 brought in coffee and chocolate, and the old men charged 
 their pipes and plied Oscar with questions. The Governor 
 asked about English politics, the Factor about custom-house 
 duties, the Bishop about the Vatican, and the Rector about 
 the excavations in the Roman Forum. 
 
 Oscar answered all of them with a dash and emphasis 
 ■that had the look of knowledge and the effect of wit, and 
 then glancing off the heavy ground of fact he went tobog- 
 ganing down the slippery slopes of fiction, with amusing tales 
 of their travels and of the ridiculous things that had and had 
 not happened to them. 
 
 I All his stories told, every time he pulled the trigger his 
 pistol fired, and the old men laughed until they cried. 
 " What a boy he is ! " " He plays with every finger." His 
 high spirits affected them like sunshine after dark days, like 
 a breeze after a calm at sea, like the swing of a boat after 
 the first dip of the oar. He was the same reckless, irrespon- 
 sible, lovable prodigal as before, and it was not until after- 
 ward that anybody remembered there had been a hollow ring 
 in his hilarity, a false note in his joy. 
 
 Helga came down to the drawing-room and the men re- 
 ceived her with a shout. 
 
 " How plump she has grown ! " said the Governor. 
 
 " She has certainly filled out on the trip," said the Factor. 
 
 " Hasn't she ? " said Oscar. " Just what she wanted — all 
 she wanted." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Let us talk of something serious," said 
 Helga. 
 
 Thora came next, with Anna and Aunt Margret buzzing 
 and humming about her like bees. She had changed to her 
 old Iceland dress — just for remembrance — and now that she 
 could be seen without her veil she was undoubtedly thinner, 
 and she had a pinched look about the nostrils and a feverish 
 spot in the middle of her cheeks. But her face was shining 
 with timid smiles and she was overflowing with gratitude.
 
 134 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Anna Eas given us such beautiful rooms, Oscar, tte big 
 one overlooking the road and the long one behind it, though 
 I don't know what in the world we are going to do with two." 
 
 " Oh, don't worry yourself about that, dear — we may find 
 a use for them by and by," said Anna with a knowing nod 
 of the head, and then the color flew up to Thora's eyes like a 
 flag of distress, and the men began to smile. 
 
 Anna was smiling also and making signals to the Governor 
 and chuckling to him behind her hand. " Is it so ? " " Yes, 
 indeed, I asked her up-stairs and it's just as I expected." 
 Then the Governor in his turn began to chuckle and to 
 whisper to the Factor. " No ? Is it a fact ? " " So Anna 
 tells me." And then they chuckled together, until everybody 
 laughed at them, whereupon the Factor said : 
 
 " And now, Oscar, you've told us all about London and 
 Paris and Home, but not a word about the place where they 
 make money without working for it." 
 
 ''Monte Carlo? Haven't I?" said Oscar. ''Oh, well— 
 a beautiful place ! In fact an absolute paradise." 
 
 " An absolute hell if half one hears is true," said the 
 Governor. 
 
 " Well, yes — yes, that's so, too," said Oscar. 
 
 " I once heard of a man who made ten pounds in a single 
 night — think of that," said the Factor. 
 
 " Goodness' sake ! " cried Aunt Margret. 
 
 " But what's the good of having a chest full of gold if 
 the devil keeps the key ? " said the Governor. 
 
 Then Helga, who was sitting on the piano-stool, began to 
 play softly, and Oscar swung round to her. 
 
 " Ah, ' Addio Napoli ! ' We must sing you some of the 
 Neapolitan songs, father," 
 
 This was received with a chorus of approval, and for the 
 •next half -hour Helga played and Oscar sang the gay ditties 
 with which Naples fills the air of Italy with song. And 
 ■when at one moment the Factor would have come back to the 
 man who made ten pounds in a single night, Helga struck 
 up the tarantella and Oscar danced it. 
 
 At length the Governor said, " Everything has a stopping 
 place except Time. It's late, and Thora is looking tired, so 
 I'm going to turn out everybody who doesn't live here."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 135 
 
 "Quite right, too," said Aunt Margret, "and I'm going 
 to carry Helga off to her own quarters." 
 
 " I will take Helga home," said Oscar, and with further 
 handshaking and well-wishing the party began to break up. 
 
 " After all I suppose you are glad to be back, Thora ? " said 
 the Bishop. 
 
 " Very, very glad," replied Thora. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! It isn't easy to hobble a home-sick pony," 
 laughed the Rector. " And you, Helga ? " 
 
 " I'm not glad at all. Rector. Who could be glad to leave 
 all that loveliness for a wilderness like this." 
 
 That chilled everybody for a moment, and thinking 
 to come to Helga's relief, Oscar said: 
 
 " There's something in what Helga says, certainly." 
 
 " Then you, also, Oscar " 
 
 " No, Rector, no — that is to say — well, I'm glad to be back 
 and I shall be glad to go away again." 
 
 And then everybody was as happy as before. 
 
 IV 
 
 Next day Oscar and Helga spent many hours in a round 
 of return visits, while Thora, who was still tired, stayed at 
 home and received some of her old schoolfellows. One of 
 them, who had been the beauty of her day, had married a 
 farmer fifteen miles away and borne him three children. It 
 was all work, work, work with her now and the once-bright 
 girl was a slave. 
 
 " Ah, Thora, how lucky you were not to marry Magnus ! " 
 she said. 
 
 " Do you think so ? " said Thora. 
 
 " Why, yes, Thora. And then everybody says Oscar is go- 
 ing to be such a distinguished man." 
 
 It was the spring caravan time and Magnus himself, who 
 had brought his wool to the Factor's, came late in the after- 
 noon. Thora thought he looked brawnier and bigger than 
 ever, and she could not help seeing that his hands were 
 coarser and his nails chopped off square. But his voice was 
 as soft as it used to be, and he was shy and even nervous. 
 
 The light was low when he came into the drawing-room.
 
 136 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and looking closely at her face he asked three times over 
 if she was well, until she laughed as she gave him the same 
 answer again and again. Then he laughed, too, and after 
 that they got on better, and exchanged all the " newses." 
 
 Silvertop was in good condition; he had got his summer 
 coat and looked splendid; in fact, he had been too well fed 
 and was getting a little over himself and would have to be 
 taken down a peg or two before Thora rode him again. Ah, 
 well, she wouldn't want him just yet — not just yet — and 
 Magnus had better keep the rascal at the farm a little longer. 
 
 " But what a time you've been away ! " said Magnus. 
 
 " Haven't we ? " said Thora. " Five months, nearly six." 
 
 " Six months come Tuesday week," said Magnus. 
 
 At that they both became confused, and Thora began to 
 show some photographs taken by Helga on the journey. 
 
 " How beautiful ! How wonderful ! " said Magnus. " But 
 I wonder your ship wasn't floating on the pumps, as they say, 
 before you got back to harbor — it must have cost a good deal 
 of money to see all those places." 
 
 " It must," said Thora, " traveling is so expensive — espe- 
 cially when there is more than one to pay for." 
 
 " And then there was Helga," said Magnus. 
 
 " Yes, indeed, there was Helga. But the check which 
 father and the Governor gave to Oscar seems to have been 
 sufficient for all." 
 
 " Still I can not understand how he made it pay for every- 
 thing." 
 
 " No, it isn't easy to understand that, is it ? " 
 
 " Venice ! Rome ! Monte Carlo ! How you must have 
 enjoyed your journey! " 
 
 " Oscar did — every day of it." 
 
 "And you, Thora?" 
 
 " I'm not a good traveler — I soon tire of sight-seeing, and 
 if it hadn't been for Helga " 
 
 " So you are not sorry you took Helga with you ? " 
 
 Thora faltered a little and then said, " Helga was able to 
 go sight-seeing with Oscar when I had to stay in the hotel." 
 
 " But were you not lonely while they were away? " 
 
 " Perhaps — sometimes — just a little — being so much alone, 
 and among so many strange faces."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 137 
 
 Magnus, who seemed to be absorbed in the photographs, 
 said almost unconsciously, " Poor little thing ! " 
 
 Then the flag of distress ran up to Thora's eyes and she 
 answered hurriedly, " Oh, it was my own fault. Oscar al- 
 ways wanted to stay with me, and if it hadn't been for 
 Helga " 
 
 But a little catch came into her throat, and she had to 
 stop. Whereupon Magnus said: 
 
 " And I hoped you were so happy ! " 
 
 But then Anna brought in the lamp and the lights relieved 
 the tension, yet being able to see the photographs plainly 
 Magnus laid them down and Thora put them away. 
 
 He left early, having a long ride before him, and Anna 
 followed him to the door. 
 
 " Is Thora quite well ? " he asked in a whisper. 
 
 "As well as can be expected under the circumstances," 
 said Anna. 
 
 "And is Oscar kind to her?" 
 
 "Kind? Oscar, kind? Why should you ask that, Mag- 
 nus?" 
 
 " She looks so pale, so depressed." 
 
 " Oh, that's often the way with young wives in her condi- 
 tion. Haven't you noticed anything — anything particular? 
 Our Thora will be a mother before long." 
 
 " And is that all that's the matter with her ? " said Magnus. 
 
 The summer session of Parliament was to begin almost 
 immediately and Oscar plunged straightway into prepara- 
 tions for his campaign. He was to move a resolution propos- 
 ing that the Acts of Althing should henceforward be promul- 
 gated on the last day of the session, as in the old times, from 
 the ancient Mount of Laws at Thingvellir. It was to be his 
 maiden speech and much depended upon it. Before he wrote 
 it he went over to the Factor's to discuss with Helga its 
 scheme and argument. After he had written it he went 
 over to the Factor's again to read it to Helga, and obtain 
 10
 
 138 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 the benefit of her suggestions. And when he had committed 
 it to memory he went over to the Factor's a third time to 
 rehearse it before Helga. It was Helga first and last, all 
 day and every day until the day of the opening sitting. 
 
 " Helga is a great politician, but you care nothing about 
 politics, do you, Thora ? " And Thora would swallow the 
 lump in her throat and answer " No." 
 
 Thora and Helga were both present when Oscar took his 
 seat. They occupied the Governor's ante-room that opened 
 off the parliamentary chamber. The galleries were crowded 
 with spectators, and there was much curiosity when Oscar 
 rose to speak. Thora felt a little faint at the first sound 
 of his voice, and she would have fled away if she could have 
 done so, but Helga held her to her chair. 
 
 " Hush ! For goodness' sake be quiet," she whispered. 
 * You'll make him still more nervous." 
 
 The speech was a great success. It was an appeal for the 
 preservation of the old order — for all that made Iceland 
 what it was — the land of Saga and song. Even the party 
 of progress who thought much of its moonshine were carried 
 away by the fervor and enthusiasm, the poetry and passion 
 of the young speaker. When Oscar finished there were vol- 
 lies of applause; the people in the galleries clapped their 
 hands and Helga stood up and waved her handkerchief, but 
 Thora covered her face and cried into her gloves. 
 
 The resolution was passed unanimously, and Oscar was 
 made chairman of a committee to carry out the necessary 
 preparations. This work occupied all his spare time during 
 the six weeks of the parliamentary session. It took him to the 
 Factor's every day, for Helga was full of schemes for the great 
 ceremonial. Being in Parliament every morning and at 
 the Factor's every afternoon Oscar was nearly always frorq, 
 home and Thora saw little of him. Every night he returned 
 with a mouthful of apologies and a torrent of explanations. 
 They had been searching the Sagas for the exact course 
 taken by the procession in the old days, or they had been, 
 selecting flags to hang over the rocks, or they had been com- 
 posing a hymn to celebrate the occasion — Oscar had impro- 
 vised one in a moment and Helga had written it down. 
 
 ** And how has my little baby been going on all day long ?
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 139 
 
 liOnely? What a shame! I'm sorry — very, very sorry," he 
 would say. 
 
 And then Thora would answer, " Don't think of me, Oscar. 
 You have your work to do, and I only wish I could help you, 
 like Helga." 
 
 But in the long hours of loneliness, when her head was on 
 her hands and her feet were in the fender, the poor little 
 soul would sink and the tender heart grow bitter. Only 
 Anna would be with her then, comforting and consoling her, 
 and pretending to be blind to what every eye could see. 
 
 " Anna," she said at length, " when Magnus was here 
 be asked me such a strange question." 
 
 " Wtat was that, Thora ? " 
 
 " He asked if I wasn't sorry that Helga had gone with us 
 on our journey." 
 
 " And are you ? " 
 
 " Sometimes — ^perhaps it is foolish — but sometimes I think 
 I am." 
 
 " I know. I think I know. And it isn't foolish of you 
 at all, dear. Oscar is doing wrong. I must speak to him — 
 I must speak to him severely." 
 
 *' It isn't Oscar's fault. Helga is so selfish." 
 
 " Yes, she takes after somebody else in that way, Thora." 
 
 " She was always taking Oscar away from me when we 
 were on our journey." 
 
 " But your journey is over now, and he must mend his 
 manners." 
 
 " Ah, no! That part of our journey isn't over yet, Anna. 
 Sometimes I think it has only begun." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that Helga is trying to " 
 
 " Helga has no pity. When she once gets hold of anybody 
 she will never give him up." 
 
 " You think she is trying to get hold of Oscar ? " 
 
 "I think she has got hold of him." 
 
 " You mustn't say that about your husband, Thora." 
 
 " Oh, I don't blame Oscar. Helga is so beautiful, so clever. 
 She has every advantage over me." 
 
 " Now that's just where you are wrong. There is one 
 point in which our little Thora has an advantage over 
 Helga and every other woman in the world."
 
 140 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " You mean with Oscar- 
 
 " Yes, with Oscar — you are going to be the mother of his 
 child." 
 
 " Will that make any difference ? " 
 
 " Any difference ? I should think it will indeed. My 
 poor mother used to say, ' When people are married it's the 
 children who keep the pot boiling.' " 
 
 " You mean that when my baby is born Oscar will come 
 back to me ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do." 
 
 " And that he will never go away from me any more ? " 
 
 " Never ! Oscar has always loved children — wait till he 
 has a child of his own and see." 
 
 " Well, you are his mother — you know him best." 
 
 "Trust me, Thora! It isn't a good well if water has to 
 be carried to it, but when the child is born Oscar will begin 
 all over again." 
 
 "You think that? Really? You think Oscar will love 
 me again for my baby's sake ? " 
 
 " Any man must if he has a good heart — and Oscar's 
 heart is good whatever his head may be." 
 
 " Indeed — indeed it is." 
 
 " He must love the mother for the sake of the child, and 
 the child for the sake of the mother." 
 
 " How sweet ! How beautiful ! " 
 
 Thora's own eyes were now like the eyes of a child — so 
 full of wonder and love. She fell to counting the weeks that 
 must pass before the fulness of her time. 
 
 "Nine weeks — hardly nine — eight — think, mother — only 
 eight. How I wish it were even less! I used to look for- 
 ward to that time with anxiety and dread, but there is noth- 
 ing to be afraid of if so much good can come out of a little 
 pain — nothing really — now is there ? " 
 
 VI 
 
 In this sweet hope Thora comforted herself for four weeks, 
 and then something happened which disturbed all her cal- 
 culations. It was the eve of the proclamation and the com-
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON" 141 
 
 mittee of which Oscar was the chief decided to visit Thing- 
 vellir in order to complete their preparations for the cere- 
 mony. On this errand Helga was to go with them, and hav- 
 ing so many things to attend to they were to sleep one night 
 at the Inn-farm and return the following day. When Oscar 
 announced this program a sudden change came over Thora's 
 patient and submissive spirit. 
 
 " Then I must go, too," she said. 
 
 "You? You, Thora?" said Oscar. "Why, what can you 
 be thinking of? Thirty-three miles away — in that desolate 
 region — without a doctor or a nurse — and so near your time, 
 too. Impossible ! Quite impossible ! " 
 
 " Then Helga mustn't go either." 
 
 " But Helga is so useful, so necessary." 
 
 " I don't care. If I can not go with you then Helga shall 
 not do so, either." 
 
 " My dear Thora, this is so unlike you. But as you please. 
 I shall be ashamed to tell Helga, and explain to the com- 
 mittee, but still, if you wish it — No, no, you must not 
 cry. You must not disturb yourself. My little woman must 
 keep herself very quiet while I am away — very, very quiet." 
 
 Two hours after Oscar had gone Helga came to Govern- 
 ment House. Thora was alone, and the sisters faced each 
 other for some instants without speaking. At length Helga 
 said: 
 
 " Well, I trust you are satisfied. Now that you have 
 shown your foolish jealousy and made us the talk of the 
 town, I trust you are satisfied." 
 
 " Oscar said I was to keep myself quiet, Helga, and you 
 know I ought to do so." 
 
 " Oh, you can excite yourself enough it seems, when you 
 wish to express your paltry feelings. Because I have sympa- 
 thized with Oscar and tried to help and inspire him, you 
 who have never sympathized with him and can never help 
 him, because you cannot understand him, and he is beyond 
 you — you must come with your paltry spite ^" 
 
 " Helga ! You have never been kind to me — never since 
 you came home a year ago — but now you are cruel." 
 
 ** Am I ? Perhaps I am. And perhaps I've gone through 
 enough to make me so."
 
 142 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " You speak as if your disappointment of this morning in 
 not going with Oscar were a great and grievous matter, but 
 you don't seem to remember how often I have been disap- 
 pointed in the same way." 
 
 " Oh, I dare say you think you are much to be pitied." 
 
 "I don't say I'm to be pitied, Helga, because I know it 
 •was my own fault at the beginning. But I do say I've never 
 known a moment's peace since you came home from Den- 
 mark. I persuaded father to send for you because you were 
 my sister, and I wished you to share my happiness, but you 
 have never shown me any sisterly feeling — never. On the con- 
 trary, you found me happy and you have made me miserable. 
 You have done your best to render life intolerable to me." 
 
 " I thought you said you were not to excite yourself, 
 Thora?" 
 
 " It is you that are exciting me, Helga, because you are 
 always inflicting the sharpest tortures upon me and hurting 
 me where you know I can bear it least. From the first you 
 tried to take Oscar away from me — you know you did. You 
 tried to do it before our marriage and you have tried to do 
 it ever since. You were not even ashamed to try during our 
 honeymoon and you are trying now, because you have lost all 
 sense of loyalty or justice or remorse or even shame." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Helga, " you think you have been a great 
 martyr. But would it surprise you to hear that somebody 
 else has gone through a still greater martyrdom? You ac- 
 cuse me of having inflicted tortures upon you — what of the 
 tortures you have inflicted upon me ? " 
 
 «I, Helga?" 
 
 " Yes, you ! You speak as if I were the sort of woman 
 ■who draws a man into her net, who tears him away from the 
 wife he loves and drags him down to his death. You would 
 have been nearer right if you had thought of me as another 
 kind of woman altogether — one who is herself the sufferer — 
 •who is shut out and cut off and must remain unmated be- 
 cause the man who loves her is married to somebody else." 
 
 "Helga!" 
 
 " Oh, I should have had mercy on your condition, but you 
 would not let me. And now if you wish to hear the truth I 
 •will tell you."
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 143 
 
 " And what is the truth, Helga ? " 
 
 " The truth is that Oscar does not love you at all — perhaps 
 he has never loved you." 
 
 *' Helga, how dare you ! The falseness of what you say 
 is on the face of it. If Oscar has never loved nae, why am I 
 his wife? What advantage had he to gain by choosing me 
 instead of you? What compulsion was put upon him? If 
 he did not love me why did he marry me ? " 
 
 " He married you out of pity — from a mistaken sense 
 of duty — because he had contracted to marry you and 
 thought it honorable to go on with his bargain. But he 
 loved somebody else and so he sacrificed both of them." 
 
 " It's false, Helga, it's false, and it's only your vanity that 
 makes you say so." 
 
 " Oh, you must not suppose that I am saying this without 
 a certainty. I had it from himself " 
 
 "Himself? He, himself?" 
 
 *' from his own mouth, on the very eve of your mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " On the eve of his marriage to me, he told you " 
 
 " He told me that he loved me. And since then, if he has 
 not said it in words he has said it in other ways again and 
 again. He loves me still " 
 
 " No, no, no, it is not true." 
 
 " He will always love me." 
 
 " It is not true, it is not true." 
 
 " And he loves you no more than a man loves his dog or 
 his horse, or the man of the Bible days loved the hand- 
 maiden of his wife." 
 
 " Helga, for shame ! Are you without conscience or truth 
 that you can lie to me like that ? If Oscar had never loved 
 me do you think I should not have found it out long ago? 
 And if he loved you do you think I should not know it — I 
 who am bearing his child ? " 
 
 " Oh, you needn't taunt me with that, Thora. Yes, yours 
 are the lips that kiss him, but it isn't the lips that matter. 
 It is the love behind the lips, and that love is mine, and 
 every time he kisses you the kiss is meant for me." 
 
 " You lie, Helga, you lie." 
 
 " And the child too, it is not your child, because the love 
 that gave it life was my love."
 
 144 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " You lie, you lie." 
 
 " What do I care if you are the bondwoman who bears his 
 child? The child will be my child, and when he is bom 
 he will have my face " 
 
 " No, it is not possible." 
 
 " It is, it is — you know it is." 
 
 Thora gasped for breath. Then an extraordinary change 
 came over her that made her almost unrecognizable. The 
 patient and gentle woman seemed suddenly possessed by a 
 demon. Something strange and horrible seemed in an in- 
 stant to enter into her soul. The homicidal impulse which 
 takes hold of wild animals appeared to assail and conquer 
 her. One moment she stood facing her sister, convulsed and 
 livid, and then in a voice that was hoarse with rage and 
 shame she said: 
 
 " Very well, if that is so, and if my child is not my own, 
 if it has been conceived in the love of another woman, and 
 I am only the bondwoman who bears it, then — then — then — 
 it shall never be born, or if it is born I — I — I will kill it ! " 
 
 With that she burst into a peal of laughter, and fell on to 
 the floor. 
 
 The noise brought Anna into the room panting. 
 
 " What have you done to her ? What have you said ? 
 Thora! Thora!" 
 
 « I will kill the child. I will kill it, I will kill it ! " 
 
 The wild, shrieking laughter continued and increased un- 
 til the Governor came running from his room. He listened 
 for a moment to the mad cries and then said, " Let us lift 
 her up and carry her to bed. Helga, go for the doctor and 
 for Margret Neilsen. Tell them to come quickly. She's in 
 labor — there's no time to lose." 
 
 VII 
 
 All night Thora tossed about in a strong delirium, which 
 expressed itself in the one wild, homicidal cry. Aunt Mar- 
 gret came and found Anna in the sick-room. The Factor 
 followed, and sat for hours with the Governor iu his bureau 
 below.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 145 
 
 The Doctor (Doctor Olesen) never left Thora's side. He 
 did not conceal the gravity of her condition. The delirium 
 was due to premature labor. Such homicidal mania was not 
 unknown in the cases of young mothers. It generally orig- 
 inated in some startling event, perhaps a great loss, or a 
 great shock or a grievous disappointment. Doctor Olesen 
 questioned Anna, but she knew nothing to account for 
 Thora's seizure. He asked Helga, but she said little. 
 
 Helga was obviously in a state of terror. Her face was 
 deathly pale and her lips quivered. She could not be got to 
 leave the house. When the Factor returned home at ten 
 o'clock, being powerless to do anything, he could not tear 
 Helga away. It was observed by all three attendants on the 
 invalid that Helga did not ask to be admitted to Thora's 
 room. " A sensible girl," thought the Doctor. " She knows 
 better than ask me," thought Anna. But Helga seemed 
 anxious to help in any menial way, no matter what. 
 
 When there was nothing else to do Helga sat in the draw- 
 ing-room, still wearing her cloak and hat, and listening in 
 fear to the mad cries from the chamber overhead. In the 
 long dark hours she was a prey to the most agonizing 
 thoughts. She was feeling like one who had committed 
 a murder and asking herself what would happen if Thora 
 died. 
 
 Beyond the physical agony of hearing those wild cries from 
 the chamber overhead, beyond the pangs of a troubled con- 
 science and beyond the pain of the sisterly love and pity 
 which overcame her and surprised her in these dark hours, 
 Helga suffered from one overmastering terror — the terror 
 of what Oscar would say to her when he came back. He 
 had been sent for; there would be no need to tell him any- 
 thing. 
 
 Oscar arrived at midnight, covered with dust and sweat. 
 Somebody opened the hall door to him. He did not stop 
 to look who it was — ^but pushing through the house came 
 first upon Helga in the drawing-room. For a moment they 
 stood face to face, like guilty things. She was trembling 
 from head to foot; he was breathing heavily. 
 
 " How is she now ? " he asked. 
 
 "No better," she answered.
 
 146 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 He heard the cries from the room above. 
 
 "Is that she?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Oh, God ! " he muttered, and began to load himself witK 
 reproaches. '' I should have taken her with me when she 
 asked me. Why didn't I ? I ought to have known what would 
 happen." 
 
 Helga had expected that he would fly out at her, and she 
 could have borne any insult, but this she could not bear. 
 
 " It's all my fault," he said. " I have been a fool — a weak, 
 selfish fool. Oh, Thora, my sweet, innocent, long-suffering 
 Thora, forgive me, forgive me ! " 
 
 Helga could not endure the house any longer. She felt 
 like a criminal and wanted to escape. Leaving Oscar with 
 his head on his arms over the cushions of the couch, she 
 slipped out and went home through the dark and silent 
 streets alone. 
 
 Finding Helga gone, Oscar crept up to the door of Thora's 
 room, but he was not permitted to enter where the mere 
 breath of excitement might quench the glimmer of life 
 within. His mother came out to him in the large room at 
 the back and found him with his face down on the table. 
 She had intended to rate him soundly the moment she set 
 eyes on him, but the sight of his distress silenced her re- 
 proaches and she fell to comforting him instead. 
 
 " No, no," said Anna, " you couldn't have taken her with 
 you. Things are bad enough as they are, but think how much 
 worse they would have been if all this had happened there." 
 
 " Then I should have stayed at home," said Oscar. " I 
 should have given up everything." 
 
 " Thora couldn't have wished you to do that, my son. None 
 of us had a right to expect it." 
 
 " But you don't know everything, mother. I have behaved 
 shamefully to Thora. I thought I was doing right by her, 
 but I was doing wrong, dreadfully wrong. The poor girl has 
 Buffered terribly, and this is the result." 
 
 As the first streaks of dawn began to fret the sky above 
 
 the glaciers of the Eastern fells, the delirium abated, and 
 
 there came a period of conscious pain. Anna ran in to Oscar 
 
 I to tell him of the change, and then down-stairs on a similar
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 147 
 
 errand to where the Governor lay in his shirt-sleeves on 
 the sofa in his bureau. 
 
 " She's herself at last, thank the Lord, and the doctor says 
 she's going along as well as can be expected." 
 
 Two hours later, when the sun rose on the little town, and 
 the fiord and the fells were crimson with his glory, the angel 
 of peace came down to the house of pain, bearing a babe in 
 her arms. 
 
 With a smile and an outstretched hand, the doctor entered 
 Oecar's room, and said : 
 
 " I am happy to congratulate you. A girl — a beautiful 
 child." 
 
 "ButThora?" 
 
 " She is weak, but quite at ease, and as well as can be 
 expected under the circumstances." 
 
 " Thank God ! " 
 
 " And now go to bed yourself, Oscar, and sleep, if you 
 can, until this time to-morrow." 
 
 " I will — I will. Thank you, doctor, thank you a thousand 
 times." 
 
 Meanwhile Anna was in the bureau telling the glad news 
 to the Governor, and then running about the house to find 
 some one to carry it to the Factor. 
 
 " I'll go, mother," said a voice from the kitchen. 
 
 " Goodness ! Is that you, Magnus ? When did you 
 come?" 
 
 " About eleven o'clock last night." 
 
 " Then you were here before Oscar ? " 
 
 " Golden Mane gallops fast, mother." 
 
 " And what have you been doing in the kitchen ? " 
 
 " Carrying the wood and boiling the water for Margret 
 Keilsen." 
 
 " Then you must go to bed now — ^you'll be sleepy." 
 
 " Not I — I can lie awake six nights, you know, when the 
 lambs are coming." 
 
 " Well, a lamb has come to-night, Magnus," said Anna. 
 
 " God bless it, and the little mother as well," said Magnus.
 
 148 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 vin 
 
 TnoRA slept until midday under the combined effects of 
 exhaustion and a sleeping draught, and when she awoke 
 the evil spirit which had possessed her had gone, and she was 
 her own sweet simple self once more. But the struggle had 
 been a terrible one, and if the better part of her soul had 
 conquered the frail body which had been its battlefield was 
 a waste of weakness. She was pale and thin and her blue 
 eyes were large and liquid. 
 
 Before opening them she heard from the back room (which 
 had been transformed into a nursery) the sweetest, most 
 thrilling sound that ever comes to a woman's ears, a sound 
 which sums up into its joys all the ecstasy that a human 
 soul can know, a sound which no woman in the world has 
 ever heard but once — the first cry of her first-born. 
 
 Thora opened her eyes, and saw Anna knitting by her side, 
 
 " Is that baby ? " she asked. 
 
 " Ah, I thought you were awake ! " said Anna. " Yes, 
 Thora, that is baby. Margret Neilsen is bathing her." 
 
 " Bring her to me. Tell Aunt Margret to bring her imme- 
 diately." 
 
 " By and by, dear, by and by." 
 
 "No, now! If she doesn't bring baby this instant, I'll 
 get up and go to her." 
 
 "Hush! You are to be very quiet, and not to excite 
 yourself. And as for getting up, the doctor says if you stir 
 out of bed within a week goodness knows what will happen." 
 
 " Yes, I know. I am very naughty, and you must forgive 
 me. But I've not seen baby yet — not really seen her — and 
 if you will bring her to me I shall be so good, I shall not 
 excite myself at all— not at all. You will see how quiet I 
 shall be." 
 
 "Well, if you promise me, faithfully promise me," said 
 Anna. 
 
 " Wait ! Sit down again, mother. Sit here by the win- 
 dow. I have something to ask you first. Does she — does 
 baby resemble anybody ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 149 
 
 "Resemble anybody? I shoiild think she does, indeed. 
 I have never in all my life seen a child so like its mother." 
 
 " Like me ? Oh, bring her ! Bring her ! I can't wait a 
 moment longer." 
 
 Anna went into the nursery and told Atmt Margret that 
 Thora was awake and calling impatiently for the child. 
 
 " But she'll want to take her," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " Trust her for that, if she's a mother," said Anna. 
 
 " But will it be safe ? Is she quite herself again ? " 
 
 " We'll chance her," said Anna. 
 
 Aimt Margret gathered up the baby in its long clothes 
 and with its feeding-bottle at her breast, and carried it into 
 Thora's room, and stooping by the bed she said, " There I 
 Look at that now ! " 
 
 " Give her to me, give her to me," cried Thora, stretching 
 out two trembling white arms. 
 
 " Carefully then, carefully," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 There was no need to fear: Thora gathered her child to 
 her breast with the free and daring but gentle touch that 
 comes to mothers of every species. 
 
 " My baby ! My baby ! " she whispered, and her pale face 
 overflowed with joy. " Yes, she is like me. I can see it my- 
 self. But why doesn't she open her eyes? Is she asleep? 
 That can not be, because she is still sucking. Coo-coo ! Isn't 
 she beautiful ? How foolish of me to say that ! And yet it's 
 true. Coo ! My baby ! My bootif ul, bootif ul baby ! " 
 
 Through all this broken jargon — the divine foolishness of 
 motherhood — the two older women stood by, trying to cackle 
 and laugh behind their black silk aprons, but finding it hard 
 to keep back their tears. 
 
 " Has Oscar seen her yet ? " 
 
 " Not yet," said Anna. 
 
 " But he has come back, hasn't he ? Didn't you tell me he 
 had come back ? " 
 
 " Yes, but he was quite worn out with watching and I 
 sent him off to bed." 
 
 "Poor boy!" 
 
 " And Magnus has come, too, but I couldn't get him to 
 go to bed and he still is working away in the kitchen." 
 
 " What a deal of trouble I am to everybody ! "
 
 150 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Trouble ? We don't call that trouble." 
 
 " YouVe got a baby for it, haven't you? " said Thora, and 
 she looked down at the treasure at her breast as if she 
 had brought them the wealth of the world. All at once she 
 cried, " Oh, oh ! Look ! Look ! " 
 
 Aunt Margret, who was at the other side of the room, 
 almost fainted at Thora's sudden cry. 
 
 " What has happened ? " she gasped. 
 
 " Baby has opened her eyes," said Thora. 
 
 Aunt Margret dropped to a chair to breathe. 
 
 " They're blue like mine. Oscar's are brown, and Helga's 
 — her's are grey. But perhaps baby's eyes will change their 
 color ! Do children's eyes change their color, Anna ? " 
 
 " Sometimes they do," said Anna. " Blue eyes sometimes 
 become brown " 
 
 " Never grey ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said Anna. 
 
 " I'm so glad baby is like me," said Thora, and she gazed 
 down at the child with looks of wonder and love. Then her 
 delicious selfishness took another turn and she said : 
 
 " Mother, do you not think Oscar has slept long enough 
 now ? " 
 
 " Doctor Olesen said he was to sleep until to-morrow," re- 
 plied Anna. 
 
 " But couldn't you wake him up for a moment — just for a 
 moment, to come and see us as we are now — baby and me — 
 would it do him much harm ? " 
 
 " No, but it would do you a great deal. You would over- 
 excite yourself, and then, my gracious, I should get into 
 trouble." 
 
 " Oh, no, I shall be quite calm — I promise you I shall be 
 calm. And Oscar can come in his dressing-gown and then 
 go back to sleep. Do call him — do — please do — Anna, Aunt 
 Margret — mother! " 
 
 They could not resist the pleading voice, and Anna went 
 off to Oscar's room. Oscar was awake. 
 
 " How is she now ? " he asked. 
 
 " Still a little weak, but getting stronger every hour," 
 said Anna. 
 
 " And the child ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 151 
 
 " She's got it in bed with her, and wishes you to come and 
 see them." 
 
 " I'll come at once." 
 
 " Dear Thora ! She is happy at last. I have never seen 
 anybody so happy. And nobody ever deserved happiness 
 more. Just now when I left her she had the eyes of a child. 
 But she is still on the brink of life and death. It wouldn't 
 need much to make her take flight from this world. There- 
 fore watch over your words, Oscar, and don't say anything 
 that will agitate her." 
 
 Oscar promised, and then followed his mother into Thora's 
 bedroom. At the threshold he heard the soft " Boo-oo — 
 coo-coo " of motherly endeannent, and then saw the shining 
 pale face on the pillow with the tiny red one below it. 
 
 " My poor Thora," he said, kissing her forehead, " you are 
 not suffering now, are you? A little pale, perhaps, and a 
 little thin, but better, are you not ? " 
 
 " Look ! " she whispered, uncovering the child and having 
 no thoughts to waste on lesser matters. " Who is she like, 
 Oscar?" 
 
 " Like ? Do you ask me who she's like, Thora ? Why, she's 
 like — ridiculously like you ! " 
 
 " Kiss me, Oscar. Put your arms around both of us, 
 dearest. That way — so." 
 
 But at the next moment the baby was crying and the older 
 women were protesting loudly. 
 
 " Come away you great, clumsy creature," said Axint 
 Margret. 
 
 " No, no," cried Thora. " It wasn't Oscar. He never 
 hurts anybody. It was I, auntie," but auntie, making no 
 terms with such heroics, took the child out of bed and pro- 
 seeded to rock it, face downward, across her knee. 
 
 When the baby had been hushed to sleep they fell to the 
 discussion of its name. Oscar was for " Thora," but Thora 
 herself said no, that was her own name, the name Oscar 
 knew her by, and therefore she could not share it even 
 with her child. 
 
 " Then what do you say to * Elin ' ? " said Oscar. 
 
 " Beautiful ! Anna, Aunt Margret, listen. Say it again, 
 Oscar."
 
 152 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " ' Elin.' " 
 
 "Isn't it lovely as Oscar says it?" 
 
 So they decided straightway that " Elin " it should be, and 
 next came the question of the godparents. Thora was for 
 Magnus (" Poor Magnus ") and Oscar assented. But when 
 Oscar in his turn nominated Helga the sunshine died off 
 Thora's face, whereupon Anna gave him a quick glance, and 
 began to make a noise. 
 
 " Then Magnus for godfather and Aunt Margret for god- 
 mother," said Oscar, and so it was agreed. 
 
 " And let us have the baptism to-day," said Thora. 
 
 "To-day?" cried Anna. "Why, Thora, a child is never bap- 
 tised on the day of its birth except when it is going to die." 
 
 It was now Aunt Margret's turn to make a noise, and this 
 she did by wakening baby in rising suddenly, and protesting 
 that Oscar ought to be turned out of the room and Thora 
 left to rest. 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's true," said Oscar, and kissing Thora 
 again he followed Aunt Margret and the baby into the 
 nursery. When they were gone, and the door had closed on 
 them, Anna leaned over the bed and whispered : 
 
 " There ! Didn't I know what o'clock it was striking ? 
 Hasn't Oscar come back to you ? When he kissed you didn't 
 you feel that all his heart was yours ? " 
 
 "Yes, it is true," said Thora. " But will it last, think you?" 
 
 " Certainly, it will last. Last night he was reproaching- 
 himself with all sorts of things, and to-day he is like a man 
 who is beginning over again a new life." 
 
 " You think so, Anna ? You really think so ? " 
 
 " Indeed I do. Depend upon it he'll not lose sight of that 
 baby for five minutes in the day. And he'll never look at 
 her but he'll think of you." 
 
 " How happy I am ! I have never been so happy before — 
 never, never ! " She took a deep breath and closed her 
 shining eyes to ease the beating of her heart. There was a 
 moment's silence and then in another voice she said, 
 "Mother?" 
 
 "Yes, dear?" 
 
 "Last night — when I was so ill — didn't I say " 
 
 " Hush ! That's all over. We'll not speak of it any more.'*
 
 THE PROr:GAL SON 153 
 
 " All the same if I could die now — now when I am so 
 happy — and baby, too " 
 
 And then Anna sank into a chair, trembling from head to 
 foot. 
 
 IX 
 
 Anna was right about Oscar and the baby — ^he could not 
 willingly allow it to be out of his sight for any five minutes 
 of the day or night. When it was to be bathed he felt it 
 necessary to superintend the operation, and when it was fed 
 he was compelled to keep watch and ward. He had a thou- 
 sand fears of accidents that might happen to it and became 
 dizzy when it lay naked on the edge of Aunt Margret's lap. 
 If it cried while he was in the dining-room he rushed up- 
 stairs, and if anything fell on the floor above he turned pale 
 and trembled. Sleeping in the room next to the nursery he 
 kept his door open at night, and if the baby was fretful he 
 walked Aunt Margret to and fro (being afraid to carry the 
 child himself) as if she had taken too much laudanum. 
 
 Two days passed in this way and he was never once out- 
 of-doors. Thora overheard him in the adjoining room, coax- 
 ing and scolding Aunt Margret, and talking or laughing to 
 the child, and her heart overflowed with happiness. " But 
 will it last ? " she asked herself. 
 
 Meantime Helga, sitting at home, shut out from these 
 joys, was feeling herself neglected. On the third day Oscar 
 had a message from her, saying she wished to see him on 
 an important matter and asking him to come round imme- 
 diately. He could not resist it. The little scented envelope 
 drew him like a magnet. Going out for a walk, to think of 
 what he should do, every step took him in the direction of 
 the Factor's. Within half an hour he found himself in the 
 little sitting-room overlooking the lake, and Helga was stand- 
 ing before him with head down, more meek and modest, but 
 also more beautiful and irresistible than ever before. 
 
 " I have a confession to make to you," she said, " and if 
 you are angry with me I must bear it." 
 
 She had been the cause of poor Thora's sudden illness. 
 Stung by the disappointment of some days ago she had gone 
 11
 
 154 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 across to Government House to reproach her sister with the 
 humiliation she had put upon her. Perhaps she had said too 
 much, and more than was true, and she was sorry and 
 ashamed. She could wish to ask Thora's forgiveness, and if 
 Oscar would do it for her " 
 
 " With pleasure, Helga," said Oscar. " But all's well that 
 ends well, and why should we say more on this subject? " 
 
 " There is another that I wished to speak of," said Helga, 
 and then came the real burden of her message. 
 
 Poor Thora's delirium had been homicidal. She had 
 threatened to take the life of her unborn child. What a 
 frightful thing it would be if out of her weakness and hallu- 
 cination she should attempt to carry out her threat ! 
 
 " But that's all over now, Helga," said Oscar. " Since 
 her baby came Thora had been as gentle as a lamb, and 
 running over with tenderness and love." 
 
 " So I thought until this morning," said Helga. " But 
 father tells me that your mother sees signs of dementia 
 still." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " cried Oscar. 
 
 " Everybody appears to have heard of it except you. I 
 thought it was wrong to keep you in the dark, and so I've 
 told you." 
 
 " Thanks, Helga, it is good of you, and if poor Thora is 
 still suffering in that way " 
 
 " There can't be a doubt of it, Oscar. She told your 
 mother she wished she could die, and baby with her." 
 
 " She must be watched — the child, too. There must be 
 nurses night and day." 
 
 "Is that enough, Oscar? Tou know how cunning people 
 are when they are suffering from dementia. And then a 
 child is such a frail thing — it's life might be snuffed out in 
 an instant." 
 
 "You mean that baby should be removed?" 
 
 " It might be safest — for a time at least. It might come 
 here — I should take the greatest care of it. But it needn't 
 change its nurse — Aunt Margret must come home soon in 
 any case." 
 
 " It must be done, Helga. It would be too awful if any- 
 thing happened to the child. I should go mad."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 155^ 
 
 " And then think of Thora. It would be ten thousand 
 times more terrible for her." 
 
 " Poor Thora ! It will break her heart," said Oscar. " It 
 seems as if I am doomed to bring grief and pain and death 
 to her." 
 
 " We must be cruel only to be kind, Oscar. But don't act 
 on my advice only and for mercy's sake don't say I suggested 
 anything. Ask somebody else." 
 
 « I will." 
 
 " Ask the Governor." 
 
 "The Governor?" 
 
 At the mention of that name they paused and looked at 
 each other in silence, as if a ghost had passed between them. 
 
 " Any news from Monte Car — I mean Copenhagen ? '*^ 
 asked Helga. 
 
 " Nothing yet, but I am in daily fear of something hap- 
 pening." 
 
 " Whatever happens I shall never forget that you did that, 
 for me, Oscar." 
 
 She held out her hand to him, and he took it, kept it for a 
 moment, then kissed it passionately and fled from the house^. 
 
 Later the same day a family conference was held at Gov- 
 ernment House to consider what ought to be done. The 
 Governor and the Factor were there, as well as Oscar and 
 Anna. Aunt Margret came down last, having left one o£ 
 the maids in charge of the child. 
 
 " Magnus is in the nursery too," she said. " He came up 
 with wood for the stove and Thora heard his voice, so now 
 they are talking through the open door." 
 
 Doctor Olesen had been called into consultation and he- 
 gave a guarded opinion. Such forms of homicidal mania 
 were due to weakness and were usually transient. Since the 
 night of the confinement he had seen no signs of it himself,. 
 but if Anna had seen them he would not take the responsi- 
 bility of opposing the step that was suggested. 
 
 Anna rocked herself and moaned and said that after all 
 she could not be certain. She might have mistaken what 
 had fallen from Thora. Perhaps the poor child had been 
 thinking of something quite different. 
 
 Aimt Margret was now of the same mind, but much more
 
 156 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 emphatic. " I don't believe a word of it," she said, " and 
 I'm sorry I ever doubted her. Thora is a Neilsen, and she 
 wouldn't hurt a hair of the child's head." 
 
 " This is no time to indulge sentimental feelings," said 
 the Governor. " If Thora is suffering from dementia, how- 
 ever transient, we must protect her from the dangers of her 
 weakness.^ 
 
 " I agree, Stephen," said the Factor. " I'm sorry — I'm 
 sorry for my daughter — but I agree, I agree." 
 
 " That is our duty — our plain duty," continued the Gov- 
 ernor, " first to the child who is the offspring — at present the 
 only probable offspring — of two families, and next to the 
 poor young mother herself, than whom no one would have 
 more right to reproach us if we failed to do it and a disaster 
 occurred." 
 
 " No one, Stephen, no one," said the Factor. 
 
 " It seems so cruel, so dreadfully cruel," said Anna. 
 
 " But it's all for Thora's own good, mother," said Oscar. 
 
 " I know, Oscar, I know, yet it's cruel for all that." 
 
 " But I should like to know who's going to do it," said 
 Aunt Margret. " I'm not, I tell you flat." 
 
 " Then Anna must do it herself," said the Governor. 
 
 " No, no, don't ask me," said Anna. 
 
 " Why not ? Who so proper to do such an act of mercy 
 and love? And Oscar, too — Oscar himself if need be must 
 carry the child over to the Factor's." 
 
 Oscar's lips whitened and quivered and his heart clutched 
 at his ribs. 
 
 It was decided that the child should be taken from the 
 mother that night, as soon as she was asleep and the house 
 was quiet. 
 
 " But she goes to sleep with the child at her breast and 
 always awakes when it wants the bottle," said Anna. " I'll 
 give her a draught — she'll sleep until morning," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! Oh, dear me ! I shall feel like a thief," 
 said Anna. 
 
 " Or like a murderer," said Aunt Margret.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 157 
 
 Meantime Magnus in the nursery was looking down at the 
 little face in the cot, sometimes blinking at the light, some- 
 times digging its little fist into its face, sometimes gripping 
 with its tiny soft hand his own coarse finger. Through 
 the open door to the adjoining room there came the voice 
 that he knew so well, a little weaker, a little thinner, but 
 more joyous and silvery than before. 
 
 " Is that you, Magnus ? " 
 
 " Yes, Thora." 
 
 " Have you seen my little Elin ? " 
 
 " I'm looking at her now, Thora." 
 
 " Isn't she beautiful ? Isn't she a darling ? " 
 
 " She's like a little angel, Thora." 
 
 A joyous thrill came from the other room, and then the 
 silvery voice began again : " She's awake, isn't she ? Can't 
 I hear her laughing? She laughs already, the little rogue I 
 Do you know you are to be her godfather, Magnus ? " 
 
 "I am?" 
 
 " Yes, Oscar agreed to it immediately, and the baptism. 
 is to take place soon." 
 
 " It will be the happiest moment of my life, Thora." 
 
 " Oh, she'll give you lots of trouble. She's going to be 
 such a little mischief. Can't you see her growing up, 
 Magnus?" 
 
 "I see her just like her mother when she was a child, 
 Thora." 
 
 Another joyous trill came through the open door and then 
 the silvery voice once more : " She'll be going to stay with 
 you at the farm some day, and then she'll pull up all the 
 flowers in your garden." 
 
 " She shall do whatever she likes, Thora." 
 
 " But there are chasms and caves and rifts in the earth 
 there, aren't there ? " 
 
 " I'll keep watch on her, Thora." 
 
 " If she should slip anywhere " 
 
 " I'll keep watch on her all her life, Thora."
 
 158 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 The joyous trill came again, but with a slightly different 
 note: Then: "Magnus?" 
 
 "Yes, Thora?" 
 
 " Why don't you marry and have a little Elin of your 
 own, you know ? " 
 
 "I? Oh, no." And then a gruff laugh and something 
 about " a poor farmer." 
 
 " Don't say that, Magnus." 
 
 Then the silvery voice that came to him through the open 
 door became serious and sweetly patronizing, hoping he 
 would be happy and prosperous at Thingvellir. It wasn't a 
 great life, certainly, not a distinguished career like Oscar's — 
 that is to say what Oscar was to be — and it wanted hard work 
 early and late, yet still 
 
 " But, Magnus, you've been here three days, haven't you? 
 How have you been able to spare thera 2 " 
 
 " I'll make up for them when I get home, Thora." 
 
 " But Anna says you haven't been to bed since you came, 
 and now the Proclamation is near an<J you'll be kept busy at 
 the Inn with that. " 
 
 " I'm strong, Thora — fearfully stro^ig," said Magnus. 
 
 Thora lay back in her bed and with a blush there was none 
 to see said: 
 
 " Magnus, I think — I really think you would do anything 
 in the world for me." 
 
 A gruff laugh came back to her, half smothered as in a 
 man's beard, and then a choking voice said, " I believe I 
 would, Thora." 
 
 "And if I wanted you — or baby wanted you — I think 
 you would follow us to the ends of the earth." 
 
 " Only say * Come ' and I'll come, Thora." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and then a merry laugh 
 came rippling out to him, and he felt hot to the roots of the 
 hair. 
 
 " But of course that can not happen, Magnus. We have 
 Oscar, so we can never need you." 
 
 " No, you can never need me, Thora." 
 
 At that moment Anna and Aunt Margret came back, 
 heated and nervous after the conference, and bundled Mag- 
 t^^a oi^t of iixe room. Then while baby was being bathed for
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX :«59 
 
 bed, behind closed doors, to the customary chorus of screams, 
 Anna combed out Thora's hair for the night, and Thora 
 talked of Magnus. 
 
 " People think him heavy and stupid, but he'll startle 
 them some day," she said. 
 
 " Is it to be plaited as usual ? " asked Anna. 
 
 " Just as usual. But how your hands tremble to-night, 
 mother! That's nursing, you know. Poor Magnus! He 
 hasn't a selfish thought in his heart. Any girl might love 
 him, and perhaps if I had never known Oscar " 
 
 " Doctor Olesen says you are to take a powder to-night, 
 child. It will make you sleep until morning." 
 
 " It's you that should take the powder — you and Aunt 
 Margret." 
 
 " Ah, if I could take it for you I would, dear," said Anna. 
 " But here it is — take it quickly or I may." 
 
 Thora drank from the glass Anna gave her and said, 
 " There ! It's gone ! Now bring me baby." 
 
 Aunt Margret came with the child, hushing it to sleep, 
 and put it gently down into the mother's arms. 
 
 " The darling ! She needs no sleeping draught. My 
 precious, precious pet ! But I declare — Aunt Margret'a 
 hands are trembling, too ! I've worn you out, both of you." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Go to sleep. I'm going to put down the 
 light," said Aunt Margret, and she lowered the lamp and 
 put it to stand on a table behind the bed-curtains. 
 
 " How good you are to me ! Everybody is good to me," 
 came in a fainter voice from the shadow of the bed. 
 
 " That is because everybody loves you, Thora," said Anna 
 in a husky murmur. " You must always believe that, what- 
 ever happens." 
 
 " How sweet it is to be loved ! If I could only think 
 that it would last " 
 
 The baby became fretful, and Thora began to sing it tt» 
 sleep. 
 
 " Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 Angels bright thy slumbers keep, 
 Sleep, baby, sleep." 
 
 Her drowsy voice ran a line and stopped ; then ran an- 
 other line and stopped again, and then the faint voice saidv
 
 160 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " How sweet it would be to fall asleep like tliis some day- 
 baby and I — and awake in heaven ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " 
 
 " I should be sorry for Oscar, but still " 
 
 The faint voice lisped, the soft breathing lengthened, the 
 blue eyelids closed, the pale lips parted, the white arms slack- 
 ened, and then the two children, mother and babe, lay to- 
 gether in the lap of sleep. 
 
 There was silence for some minutes, wherein the two older 
 women who sat in the gloom like guilty things heard nothing 
 but the ticking of a clock. Then Aunt Margret crept over 
 to where Anna sat with her head covered by her black silk 
 apron and whispered : 
 
 " Oscar is waiting at the door. If it has to be done at all 
 let it be done now." 
 
 Anna uncovered her face and saw Oscar on the threshold 
 in his cloak and hat. She rose on trembling limbs and felt 
 her way to the bedside. There she stood listening for a 
 moment to Thora's measured breathing. Then she drew the 
 mother's white arms apart and lifted the baby out of them. 
 
 Aunt Margret wrapped a shawl about the sleeping child 
 and Oscar covered it with his cloak. 
 
 " The night is warm, she will take no harm," he faltered. 
 At the next moment he had gone and Aunt Margret had 
 followed him. Then Anna tottered into the outer room and 
 sank into a chair and covered her head again. " Oh, God 
 forgive me ! God forgive me ! God forgive me ! " she said. 
 
 XI 
 
 The sun was shining into the bedroom when Thora awoke, 
 with a slight flush on her pale cheeks and a look of happiness 
 in her eyes, and saw Anna rocking herself sadly by the 
 bedside. 
 
 " Where is baby ? " asked Thora. 
 
 " Presently, dear, presently," said Anna. 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 " Lie quiet, Thora. Tou shall hear everything by and by." 
 
 " But tell me where is my little Elin, Anna ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 161 
 
 "Promise me not to excite yourself, Thora, and I will 
 tell you all about her." 
 
 Thora raised herself on her elbow and said with quick- 
 coming breath, " You don't mean that you have taken her 
 
 away 
 
 2" 
 
 " There now, you are exciting yourself already, Thora." 
 
 " Have you stolen my child away from me ? " cried Thora. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! What things you are saying, 
 Thora." 
 
 Thora thought a moment and then she said, " I am sorry 
 I said that, Anna. It was very, very wrong of me. I know 
 you wouldn't hurt me for worlds. But why don't you tell 
 me where my little girl is ? She's in the nursery, isn't she ? 
 You took her away from me in the night, and now she's 
 asleep in her cot — isn't that so ? Or perhaps Aunt Margret 
 has taken her down to the door ? There ! Isn't that she ? — 
 that child crying in the home-field? Or was it somebody 
 else's baby in the road ? Speak, Anna ! You are only teasing 
 me, I know. But I'm so weak, so foolish, and my heart is 
 beating like a drum." 
 
 Anna continued to rock herself and to moan, " Oh, dear I 
 Oh, dear!" 
 
 Thora watched her for a moment with eyes that filled 
 with fear, and then called in a shrill voice, " Aunt Margret !. 
 Aunt Margret ! Aunt Margret ! " 
 
 " Aunt Margret has gone, Thora," said Anna. 
 
 " Gone ! And my baby — has she gone too ? " 
 
 Anna only rocked hei-self and moaned, " Oh, dear ! Oh, 
 dear!" 
 
 Thora struggled to raise herself in bed, but her cheeks 
 whitened and her eyes rolled and with a loud scream she 
 fell back fainting. 
 
 The maids came running into the bedroom and opened 
 Thora's clinched hands while Anna bathed her forehead. 
 
 " What have I done ? Oh, those doctors ! Little they know 
 of a mother's feelings ! It will kill her in any case. My poor 
 child ! My poor child ! Come, then ; come, then ! " 
 
 Thora recovered consciousness after a moment, and looked 
 about her with dazed eyes. 
 
 " Oscar ! " she said, " I want to see Oscar."
 
 162 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " And so you shall, dear," said Anna, and she sent one of 
 the maids across to the Factor's to fetch him instantly. 
 Oscar came up-stairs four steps at a stride and entered the 
 room like a rush of wind. 
 
 " My poor Thora ! " he said with panting breath, and he 
 leaned over the bed to kiss her. 
 
 Thora's eyes, which had been dry and hard, now melted 
 and grew wet. " Oscar," she said, " your mother has sent our 
 little Elin away — stolen her fi*om me in the night — and I am 
 so weak and faint I can not get up to follow her." 
 
 " Ah, no, dear, not mother," said Oscar. " Lie quiet and 
 I will explain." 
 
 " Fetch her back to me, Oscar. I love my baby. I can not 
 live without her." 
 
 " I know you love her, Thora, and I promise you that 
 you shall have her back in due time." 
 
 " No, no, dear, now." 
 
 " Not just yet, Thora, but I give you my word for it that 
 baby is safe. They are taking every care of her." 
 
 "What right have they to take care of my baby?" cried 
 Thora. " I must have her back. I will have her back." 
 
 In Thora's flashing eyes, which changed the character of 
 her countenance, and in her voice, which was husky with 
 rage and hatred, there was something of the fierce animal 
 which has been robbed of its young. Oscar shuddered at 
 sight of the convulsed and livid face, but he answered 
 quietly: 
 
 " Thora, if you give way to feelings like those you will 
 make yourself ill again, and then baby will never come back 
 to you. If you will only listen, I will tell you everything. 
 You were very bad before baby came, and doctor feared you 
 might even do some harm to her. Therefore to save you 
 from pain and shame I took her away from you for a little 
 while — only for a little while — until you were better and 
 more sure of yourself, Thora." 
 
 Then a great silence fell on Thora's bewailing and she 
 said in a husky whisper: 
 
 " So it was you, Oscar? " 
 
 " Well — yes, dear, it was I — but what I did was for your 
 own good — yours and our little Elin's. And if you will only
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 163 
 
 wait, only be patient, your baby shall be brought back to 
 you and we shall be happy." 
 
 Thora's wet eyes dried of themselves, but it was a glassy 
 and smileless light that came into them. 
 
 " Where is my baby now ? " she asked. 
 
 "Not far away. In fact, only at your father's. Aunt 
 Margret wrapped her in a shawl and I took her across 
 myself." 
 
 " Then you gave my child to Helga ? " said Thora. 
 
 " Well — ^yes, I gave her to Helga. But Aunt Margret ia 
 there now. And besides, I intend to go over myself o£F 
 and on all day long, so you are not to worry or be anxious 
 about anything — not about any single thing. You under- 
 stand everything now, dear, do you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, I understand everything now," said Thora. 
 
 The glassy, smileless eyes continued to look up at him, 
 but he mistook the light that shone in them. 
 
 " That's a dear, good girl," he said. " Everybody will be 
 delighted to hear you are so reasonable and resigned, because 
 everj'body thought you would be inconsolable — everybody 
 except Helga." 
 
 "Helga?" 
 
 " Helga said you would be yourself within an hour, and 
 she was right. Helga knew you better than any of us." 
 
 " Yes, Helga knew me better than any of you," said Thora. 
 
 Then he sat on the end of the bed and chatted gaily on 
 many subjects, while Anna, crying for joy of the change in 
 Thora's spirits, called for her breakfast and coaxed her to 
 swallow some of it. He talked of his work — of the work he 
 was going to do when he began, which would be soon, very 
 soon now. Then of his ambitions in Parliament, and finally 
 of the Proclamation. It was fixed for the day after to- 
 morrow, everybody was going to it and the town would be 
 empty. As for himself, he had made up his mind to stay at 
 home with Thora, but seeing that the celebration at Thing- 
 vellir had been his idea and that he had taken such a promi- 
 nent part in it, people were saying that it would be a 
 thousand pities if he could not be present. 
 
 " Then there's the hymn, you know," said Oscar. " I've 
 been rehearsing the choir and they are very shaky, but if I
 
 164 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 thought the organist could hold them together I shouldn't 
 go in any case." 
 
 " What does Helga say ? " asked Thora. 
 
 "Helga? Oh,Helga? Helga says I must go," replied Oscar. 
 
 " So do I/' said Thora. 
 
 " You do ? Really ? What a sweet, unselfish soul it is, to 
 be sure." said Oscar, and kissing Thora on the forehead he 
 ran back to see Elin. 
 
 The glassy, smileless eyes on the pillow followed him out 
 of the room, but their light was the light of despair. 
 
 xn 
 
 Going out of Government House Oscar came upon Mag- 
 nus, who was standing at the foot of the staircase, riding- 
 whip in hand, and with Golden Mane at the door of the 
 porch. By the dark cloud on Magnus's face Oscar could 
 see that his brother was in a sullen and rebellious mood, and 
 to avoid further hostilities he saluted him and tried to 
 run on. 
 
 " Wait," said Magnus. 
 
 " Another time," said Oscar. 
 
 " Now," said Magnus, and laying his big hand on Oscar's 
 arm, he drew him back into the hall. 
 
 Oscar flushed up at the indignity and said sharply, " Well, 
 what is it?" 
 
 " Oscar," said Magnus, " I heard what passed in the bed- 
 room." 
 
 " Then you were listening ? " 
 
 " I was." 
 
 " You are not ashamed to say you were listening on the 
 stairs — on your hands and knees perhaps — to my conversa- 
 tion with my wife?" 
 
 " I would have listened on my belly if need be," said Mag- 
 nus, and his face darkened more and more. 
 
 " May I ask why you listened ? " said Oscar. 
 
 " Because I could not do otherwise." 
 
 "How so?"
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 165 
 
 " I had given my word to be here when wanted." 
 
 " To my wife ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You will excuse my saying, Magnus, that it would be 
 much better if you attended to your own business." 
 
 " This is my own business. Oscar, you must give the 
 child back to Thora." 
 
 " Keally, Magnus, you are taking a most unwarrantable 
 liberty. If you were not my brother " 
 
 " Shah ! Give the mother her child." 
 
 " Good Lord, man," said Oscar, breathing hard as if he had 
 been rimning, " do you really think that I am going to allow 
 an outsider, even if he is my brother, to dictate to me 
 what I shall do with my family difficulties and to travel all 
 the way from Thingvellir to conduct my domestic affairs? 
 What right have you to mix yourself in my business — the 
 business of my wife and me ? " 
 
 The cloud that contracted Magnus's face grew darker 
 every moment, and he said : 
 
 " You ask me what right ? " 
 
 « I do." 
 
 " I loved Thora Neilsen." 
 
 " You think it necessary to tell me that ? " said Oscar. 
 " To remind me that she threw you up for me ? " 
 
 " That's a lie, Oscar Stephenson." 
 
 " Strong ! " said Oscar, with a laugh, but he was trembling 
 visibly. 
 
 " I gave her up when I could have kept her to her word. 
 I decided in favor of the girl's happiness against my own. 
 I gave her up to you that you might make her happy. Those 
 were the terms on which I gave her up to you, and what is 
 the result? What is the result, I ask you? You have al- 
 lowed another woman to take her place." 
 
 " Another woman ? " said Oscar. " Is that the way you 
 talk of her own sister — of Helga ? " 
 
 " Sister or not, she has tortured Thora by every art her 
 selfish soul could think of," said Magnus. " That's what she 
 has done, and you have helped her, and the treasure I valued 
 more than my life you have flung away." 
 
 Oscar made a cry of protest, but Magnus bore him down
 
 166 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 with a torrent of words such as never came from his silent 
 lips before. 
 
 " Do you think I don't know what kind of life you led that 
 poor unhappy child while you were away — you and the girl 
 together? And now that her baby comes and her husband 
 returns to her, as he must if he is a man, you let her sister's 
 scheming heart rob her of her only happiness." 
 
 Again Oscar with his whitening lips did his best to laugh. 
 " Magnus," he said, " it is impossible to be angry with you. 
 Apparently you do not know that it was with the consent of 
 the family and by the advice of the doctor that the child was 
 taken from its mother." 
 
 " Bah ! Do you think I don't know who suggested it ? 
 . . . Do you think that I don't see her object? Do you 
 think I don't hear her pitiful pleas — the same as if I had 
 listened to them! The little innocent is in danger of its 
 life! It must come to her — she must take charge of it. 
 Why? To bring you back to her feet — to attach you to her 
 at any cost. And you like a fool fall into her plans — because 
 you want to — because you don't know yourself or your wife 
 or the woman that isn't worthy to tie her shoes." 
 
 Oscar winced under Magnus's words, for they cut him 
 to the bone. 
 
 " Oscar," said Magnus again, " you will give the child 
 back to the mother — it will be best, I promise you." 
 
 " I have my ovm opinion of what is best," said Oscar, 
 bridling, " and if I think that for the time being mother 
 and child are best apart " 
 
 " Oscar Stephenson," interrupted Magnus, " you will give 
 the child back to the mother." 
 
 " And if I refuse, by what right will you command me ? " 
 said Oscar. 
 
 " By the right I acquired when I gave Thora up to you," 
 replied Magnus. 
 
 " And by the right I acquired when she became my wife 
 I will do with her child as I think proijer," said Oscar, 
 
 At that Magnus lost all control of himself. 
 
 " Is she a dog that you can take her whelps ? " he cried. 
 
 " The law gives me the right to dispose of her oflsprLng 
 as I think proper," said Oscar.
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 167 
 
 " Then damn the law," cried Magnus. " And if you are 
 deaf to my entreaties I — ^I will " 
 
 " Go on," said Oscar. " It will not be the first time that 
 you have threatened to break the law." 
 
 " You are breaking that poor girl's heart, yet you talk 
 to me about breaking the law. But I'll do more than that. 
 If you will not give the child to its mother I will take it 
 by force and give it back to her myself. And if any man 
 tries to prevent me, no matter who he is or what he is, by 
 God I'll break his teeth down his throat." 
 
 Flinging down his riding-whip Magnus had taken a step 
 forward and lifted his clinched fist into Oscar's quivering 
 face when a cry came from the head of the staircase : " Mag- 
 nus ! Oscar ! Magnus ! Magnus ! " 
 
 It was Anna. She ran down and put herself between the 
 two men — the slight, lithe figure and fair head of Oscar, 
 and the burly form and swarthy face of Magnus, both pant- 
 ing hard and livid with rage and hate. 
 
 " My sons ! My sons ! For shame ! For shame ! " she 
 cried. "Every word could be heard in the bedroom and 
 Thora is crying her eyes out." 
 
 Magnus dropped his arm and fell aside a pace or two, 
 rebuked and ashamed, but Oscar stood with an unflinching 
 front where his mother had found him. 
 
 " Magnus — Oscar," continued Anna, " if you both love the 
 poor girl who is lying helpless up-stairs, isn't that a reason 
 why you should be friends and not enemies ? And then think 
 of me, my sons. I am your mother. Surely the sons of one 
 mother can live at peace. I nursed you both when you were 
 little ones and if there should be strife between you now, 
 and blows and perhaps bloodshed, it would kill me — I could 
 never survive it." 
 
 Then she turned toward Magnus and said, as well as she 
 could for the tears that choked her : 
 
 " Magnus, you mustn't be angry with Oscar. He is your 
 younger brother, remember. You and he slept in the 
 same bed when you were children. And when he was a 
 boy you used to carry him on your back and fight all his 
 battles." 
 
 Magnus groaned and turned again until he stood side-
 
 168 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 ways to his mother, and thinking he was not to be moved, 
 she faced about to Oscar. 
 
 " Oscar," she said, " you must make peace with Magnus. 
 You must, if only for Thora's sake. Remember, you have got 
 her, Oscar, and if it is true that Magnus gave her up to 
 you, although he loved her himself, think of the sacrifice 
 he must have made for both of you! Perhaps he loves her 
 still, and has condemned himself to life-long loneliness be- 
 cause he has lost her. And perhaps he weeps his heart out 
 for her the long nights through. Love that suffers like that 
 has a great excuse, Oscar. Doesn't it give him a right to 
 look to Thora's happiness ? And if he thinks she is suffering 
 for want of her little Elin " 
 
 Oscar's throat was hurting him, and in a husky voice 
 he said, " She shall have the child back, mother. If the 
 doctor says it is safe she shall have the child back imme- 
 diately." 
 
 " There ! " said Anna. " That's fair — nothing could be 
 fairer than that, Magnus. Come, now, you must shake 
 hands with Oscar." 
 
 She put her hand on Magnus's arm, but he did not move. 
 
 " Magnus," she said, " your mother's love may be all that 
 is left to you now, but it will last long, my son. You need 
 not give it up to any one, and no one can take it away. 
 After all a mother's love is best. It will cling to you and 
 comfort you whatever you do and whatever the world may do 
 to you. Magnus, you must make friends with your brother — 
 for your mother's sake, Magnus " 
 
 Magnus turned about and saw Oscar before him with 
 broken face and outstretched hand. Then his own hand 
 swung out, drew back, swung out again, and at the next 
 moment the big, burly fellow had flung his arms about Os- 
 car's neck and was sobbing over him like a child. 
 
 Two minutes later Magnus was on his way home, cracking 
 his long whip over Golden Mane's flying head and whooping 
 and galloping like a madman.
 
 PART IV 
 
 '• For some we loved, the loveliest and the best 
 That from his vintage rolling time hath pres 
 Have drunk their cup a round or two before, 
 And one by one crept silently to rest. " 
 
 The day of the Proclamation of the Laws was to be kept 
 as a general holiday. A hundred pack horses, carrying tents 
 and provisions, had left the little capital for Thingvellir the 
 day before. The Danish man-of-war anchored in the fiord 
 had lent half its flags and the Order of Good Templars had 
 sent all their insignia. It was to be a gx-eat and gorgeous 
 spectacle. 
 
 Before daybreak the town was astir, and elderly people on 
 slow ponies were setting out on their journey. Evei-ybody 
 was on horseback, for the way was long and Iceland had 
 few roads and no coaches. Soon after dawn the Governor 
 started off in his cocked hat, and with his Inverness belted 
 over the bright gold of his oflScial uniform. Factor IsTeilsen 
 rode beside him, and the Bishop, the Chief Justice and most 
 of the Thingmen followed in his train. The idea of reviving 
 a great ceremony of ancient days, and clasping hands with 
 the mighty dead over a gulf of a thousand years, had taken 
 hold of everybody's imagination. 
 
 Oscar Stephenson, who had been the first to think of it, 
 was among the last to go. He had been round to the Factor's 
 house to see the child and to fetch Helga. The sun was 
 reddening the sky over the eastern hills when they mounted 
 their fleet young ponies. It was a quiet morning, with 
 the promise of a radiant day. 
 
 Helga wore her woolen helmet and a fur cape over a white 
 jersey. Oscar was in riding dress, with his new Italian 
 15 169
 
 170 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 cloak hung loose from his shoulders. Their way out of the 
 town lay past the end of Government House, under the win- 
 dows of Thora's bedroom, and Oscar stopped and called up 
 to it. 
 
 " Helloa ! Helloa ! " cried Oscar. 
 
 "Is it worth while to waken her?" said Helga. 
 
 But the window opened and Anna's face appeared at it. 
 
 " It's Oscar," she said, facing back into the room. 
 
 " Good-by, Thora ! We'll be back this evening," 
 
 There was an indistinct murmur from within, and then 
 Anna said, " Thora says * Good-by ' and you are not to hurry 
 home on her account." 
 
 Oscar laughed and answered, " We'll see, we'll see." And 
 then the riders put their heels to their ponies and bounded 
 away. Helga was in high spirits, but the clouds hung on 
 Oscar and he tried in vain to banish them. 
 
 " All goes well, doesn't it ? " asked Helga. 
 
 " God knows," said Oscar. " She's quiet certainly, and ap- 
 parently resigned. Yet her eyes are so dry, her lips so pale, 
 and her cheeks so white and thin " 
 
 " But what else can you expect four days after her con- 
 finement ? " said Helga. 
 
 "True! But I've never seen her quite like this before. 
 It is almost as if a wall of ice had frozen about her soul." 
 
 " You took my advice, didn't you ? " 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " And what did the Governor say ? " 
 
 " He said Magnus's interference was an impertinence^ 
 and he wouldn't hear of it for a moment." 
 
 " So things are to remain as they are ? " 
 
 " As they are," said Oscar. 
 
 " And what about Magnus himself ? " asked Helga. 
 
 " Magnus is at the farm." 
 
 " But if he should come back while everybody is away ? " 
 
 " He can not come back to-day — his guests will keep him 
 busy." 
 
 " But if he should in spite of everything ? " 
 
 " In that case," said Oscar, dropping his voice and turning 
 his head, " the Sheriff has orders to deal with him." 
 
 By this time they had come to the tail of the train which
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 171 
 
 had started before them, and the dust and the noise of the 
 clattering caravan were too much for Helga. 
 
 " Let us go round by the hot springs and come out ahead 
 of them," she said, and they went cantering down a lane to 
 the left where vapor floated over a flowing stream. Half an 
 hour later they returned to the main road, forded a river 
 and toited up a hill beyond it. The cavalcade was now far 
 behind them, and the little wooden capital was a long way 
 off, with its feet in the grey fiord and the white encircling 
 arms of the snow-covered hills stretching out to the bright- 
 ening line of the sea and sky. 
 
 " There ! " said Helga, drawing rein and looking at Oscar 
 with a sparkle in her eyes. 
 
 " Poor little Tliora ! I was sorry to leave her. But I 
 dare say everything will be well," said Oscar. 
 
 " Sure to be," said Helga. 
 
 " Is that a steamer out there — out by the head ? " asked 
 Oscar. 
 
 " Undoubtedly it is a steamer," replied Helga. 
 
 " The * Laura ' is a day late — she was due to arrive yes- 
 terday." 
 
 " Then it's the * Laura ' to a certainty." 
 
 The sun had now risen, but Oscar shivered as with cold. 
 " I must be a miserable coward, Helga, for the sight of a 
 mail-ship frightens me," he said. 
 
 But Helga only laughed and held up a warning hand. 
 "We'll not talk of that to-day, Oscar — not to-day at all 
 events. Look ! " she cried, pointing to the line of moving 
 forms on the brown streak of road that ran through the plain 
 of black lava. " Look at your tribe down yonder. Don't 
 you feel like Mahomet going back to Mecca? Or like Jacob 
 going up to the Mount of Gilead with his flocks and his 
 herds and " 
 
 " And his wives ? " said Oscar. 
 
 "Yes, and his wives," laughed Helga, and then both 
 laughed together. 
 
 They put heels to their ponies again and Helga sang to 
 herself as they swung along. 
 
 ''What a fool I am," thought Oscar. "Why should I 
 meet misf ortime before it comes ? And why should I trouble
 
 172 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 so much about Thora? Isn't Helga as greatly to be pitied f 
 In the wretched tangle of our fate hers is the knot that can 
 never be untied. Yet how happy she looks ! Why shouldn't 
 I be happy? " 
 
 " Helga ! " said Oscar, when they slowed do%vn again, " you 
 wouldn't like to have lived in those old days I suppose ? " 
 
 " Certainly I should," said Helga. 
 
 " What ? And share your husband with another woman ? '* 
 
 " That's nothing. Women do the same in these days, you 
 know." 
 
 And then they laughed again, though with a dubious 
 gaiety, and broke into a canter once more. 
 
 " I'm a brute," thought Oscar. " And badly as I have in- 
 jured Thora the wrong I have done to Helga is still more 
 terrible. For her there is no outlook, no prospect, no future. 
 She must go back to Denmark and I must go on with my 
 duty. But why shouldn't we have one day of happiness first ? 
 One day of delight before the dream is over?" 
 
 They drew up at a river that ran by the road to wateH 
 their ponies and to take off their cloaks and pack them be- 
 hind their saddles, for the sun was now bright and the air 
 was warm. 
 
 " There's one curious point about the patriarchs," said 
 Oscar. 
 
 " And what's that? " asked Helga. 
 
 " Clearly they thought it possible for a man to love more 
 than one woman." 
 
 " And can't he ? " said Helga. 
 
 " I ask 2/ow," said Oscar — " can't a man love more than one 
 "woman ? " 
 
 "Why not? Aren't we all told to love one another?" 
 laughed Helga, and then Oscar lifted her in his arms and 
 swung her back to her saddle and they started on their 
 journey afresh. 
 
 Their road lay through a bleak and barren country, past 
 red hills of volcanic sand and jagged mouths of extinct vol- 
 canoes, over a deep dale of lava rocks, rutted with paths and 
 scored with fissures, but brightened by a farmstead here and 
 there with its little green-roofed elt house smoking for 
 breakfast and its hummocked home-field gleaming like a
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 173 
 
 gem in a ■wilderness of waste. At the last of these farms 
 they stopped to rest their ponies and to refresh themselves, 
 being now half-way to Thingvellir, with the caravan far 
 behind them. 
 
 An untidy man in his shirt-sleeves took possession of their 
 ponies and a slatternly housewife in a soiled apron brought 
 them milk and skyr. She was still young, but already she 
 had three children. One of them was whimpering at her 
 breast, another was dragging at her skirts and the third was 
 bellowing for her from the floor above. She belonged to the 
 capital and had once been considered a beauty, but she was 
 seven years married and it was six since she had seen the 
 town. 
 
 " There ! " said Oscar, when they returned to the road. 
 " That's the patriarchal life, if you please." 
 
 " Then I'm done with it," said Helga. " Ugh! To think 
 of being buried in a place like that, year in year out, with 
 three children and only one man! It might do for Thora, 
 but give me life, life, life ! " 
 
 " And the man who gives you that may have you body 
 and soul, perhaps ? " said Oscar. 
 
 " Body and soul," laughed Helga. 
 
 For the next hour their course lay across an almost track- 
 less heath, bare as a desert and flat as an inland sea. The 
 mountains that bounded it were stark and cold and far away 
 — on the one side steep with running screes and on the other 
 side clouded with steaming vapor, which rose out of the 
 glistening snow. Not a house was to be seen on any side, 
 not a tree or a bush or a flower or a plant, and hardly a 
 blade of grass, but only a broad stretch of silver moss, leaden 
 and dull, like the mold on a dead man's face. No birds 
 sang in that solitude, but sometimes the wimbrel sent its 
 long love cry across the waste ; sometimes the wild swan sped 
 far overhead and uttered its eerie ululation, and sometimes 
 the raven perched on a stone and croaked out its melan- 
 choly note. A line of beacons, broken and old, each with a 
 projecting stone like an amputated arm, showed the course 
 of the road, going on and on like soldiers in single file tramp- 
 ing back after a lost battle. Midway on the Heath there 
 was a House of Rest for travelers overtaken by the storms of
 
 174 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 •winter — a little hut, half cubicle and half stable, with noth- 
 ing but a plank bed and a truss of hay. 
 
 " Gracious heavens, what a place to be lost in in a snow- 
 storm," said Helga. 
 
 " But what a country for Saga and song," said Oscar, 
 " and if some one could set it to music, grim as its glaciers 
 and fierce as its fires, it would take the world by storm." 
 
 " Do it, Oscar, do it, and I'll love you," cried Helga. 
 
 "As we are commanded to love one another? "asked Oscar. 
 
 " Perhaps," laughed Helga, and when he swung her to the 
 saddle again her hand slipped from his shoulder and his lipa 
 touched her cheek. 
 
 After that they both sang as they cantered along, for the 
 clouds that had hung over Oscar had gone by this time, and 
 if the ground was grey the sky was blue and their blood wag 
 red and warm. 
 
 But suddenly a new scene opened at their feet — a deep 
 plain with a shining blue lake in the midst of it, splashed 
 with islands like spots on an eagle's egg and fenced by soft 
 green fells. It was a dream in a desolate land, a cistern 
 of sunshine encircled by countless peaks which stood round 
 it clothed in white, like a surpliced choir that were singing 
 their hymns to God. The black lava was there as elsewhere, 
 and the valley was blistered with mounds and wrinkled with 
 ruts and scored with fissures ; but the blood-root grew in the 
 clefts of the jagged rocks and the blueberry hung over the 
 face of the gaping chasms, and it was almost as if an angel 
 had passed over the surface torn by earthquakes and brushed 
 it with the bloom of his wings. 
 
 This was Thingvellir, the place of the Proclamation, the 
 Thing-place of the Northlands, the scene of a hundred 
 Sagas, the subject of a thousand songs. 
 
 Oscar and Helga were now near the end of their journey 
 and they watched for the townspeople to overtake them. 
 Half an hour later the caravan came up in a cloud of dust, 
 all noisy, but good-natured and ravenous for breakfast. There 
 were some shouts at the pioneers, and certain dubious com- 
 pliments, but Oscar did not hear and Helga did not heed. 
 They took their places behind the Governor, and went down 
 to the law-plain in his train.
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 175 
 
 The way to it was through a wide chasm whose parallel 
 walls stood up on either side of the steep causeway like the 
 ruined street of some prehistoric city, but thrice grander 
 and more awesome than any work of the hand of man, be- 
 cause straight from the loins of nature and rent from the 
 womb of the earth. There were great openings as of arches, 
 empty spaces as of windows, broken peaks as of pediments 
 and curious stones as of carvings, all shaken from their 
 foundations and toppling as if to fall ; while over them, from 
 beetling side to side, hung the gay flags of the Danish man- 
 of-war, and through them came the bright shafts of the 
 morning sun. 
 
 Half-way down the gorge there was a mound like a plat- 
 form (the " Law-mount " explained Oscar to Helga) and at 
 the foot of it there was a pool whose clear green depths 
 looked cold and chill in the palm of the cliffs that dai'k- 
 ened it. 
 
 " That's the drowning pool," said Oscar. " When a woman 
 was unfaithful to her husband they hurled her from the 
 rocks into the water." 
 
 " And what did they do with the imf aithf ul men ? " 
 laughed Helga. 
 
 From the edge of the pool a frothy river fell with a 
 thunderous clamor over a precipice to the valley below, where 
 it forked into many fingers and ran off to the margin of the 
 lake. Beyond these rivulets there was the rutted plain, now 
 dotted over with tents, but having only two houses within 
 eight — the little wooden parsonage with its tiny church built 
 of stone and shingles and the Inn-farm of Magnus Stephen- 
 eon. 
 
 Magnus himself stood waiting there, washed and dressed, 
 after working the whole night through with his man John 
 Vidalin, to prepare for his expected guests. And when Oscar 
 rode up, a little excited and confused, he received him with 
 the cheerful face of one who had made his peace with his 
 brother and meant to keep it. 
 
 " How's Thora to-day ? " asked Magnus, as he loosened the 
 girths of Oscar's saddle; and Oscar answered nervously: 
 
 " Better — that is to say — ^well, perhaps not so very well to- 
 day, Magnus."
 
 176 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 " Her child has been given back to her? " said Magnus. 
 
 " Kot yet," said Oscar. " To tell you the truth, the Gov- 
 ernor — ," and then he faltered out the sequel to his broken 
 promise. Magnus's face darkened, and he said : 
 
 " So the doctor has not been consulted at all ? " 
 
 " No. In the teeth of the Governor's orders it was plainly 
 impossible " 
 
 " And Thora is still at Government House and her child 
 is still at the Factor's ? " 
 
 " That is so." 
 
 Magnus looked from Oscar to Helga, who now stood 
 beside him, and his face darkened more and more. 
 
 " John Vidalin," he cried in a thick voice over his shoulder 
 to a man behind him, " saddle my horse — I am going to 
 Reykjavik." 
 
 " But Magnus," said the servant-man, " with all this 
 work to do to-day and all this money coming " 
 
 " Saddle it quick," cried Magnus, like a man who was 
 choking. 
 
 " Magnus," said Oscar, " for your own sake I think it only 
 right to tell you " 
 
 But Magnus cut him short by turning on his heel. 
 
 "Let him go," said Helga, and before the people in the 
 tents and the Inn-farm had settled down to brealcfast Mag- 
 nus was riding back to town. 
 
 n 
 
 Meantime Thora at home was in the throes of a great 
 temptation. She had heard the peace-making between Mag- 
 nus and her husband and had said to herself, " Oscar will 
 go to see Dr. Olesen at once, aiad the dear doctor will say: 
 * Certainly, the little mother is quite well enough now to take 
 care of her baby — give the child back to her inunediately.' " 
 Then Oscar would come rushing up-stairs, and her room 
 would be the same as if a window had blown open, and he 
 would cry, "Hip-hip-hurrah! Doctor says baby may come 
 back 1 " and then Anna would take him by the shoulders and 
 turn him out and everybody would laugh.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 177 
 
 But Oscar was long in coming, and when he came he said 
 nothing about the doctor. He only talked about their little 
 Elin, and said he had just returned from seeing her. 
 She was so rosy and well, and she was beginning to " notice." 
 If you held out your finger she looked at it as if it were 
 the bough of a great tree, and then held it tight as if her 
 little body hung by it. 
 
 " I couldn't tear myself away from her, Thora," he said. 
 " It's wonderful what a lot of pleasure you can get out of 
 a baby." 
 
 It was strange that Oscar did not see that he was hurting 
 her every minute, but she only thought, " I know what it is — 
 he is going to take me by surprise. He doesn't want to tell 
 me that baby is coming until she comes. He will bring her 
 back as he took her away, in the night, while I am asleep; 
 and when I awake in the morning she will be there." 
 
 In this sweet hope Thora closed her eyes early that even- 
 ing, before the red glow of the sunset had quite gone from 
 the walls of her room, saying a little prayer for Oscar, and 
 another little prayer for Elin, that she might be as lovely as 
 ever when she saw her in the morning; and then she fell 
 asleep. 
 
 When she awoke next day she listened for the baby's 
 breathing, and thinking she heard it she stretched out a 
 gentle hand to the place where the child should lie, and then 
 with a smile she opened her eyes. But her baby was not 
 there, and the sun in the room died out. 
 
 When the doctor came to see her that morning he looked 
 grave and anxious. " I'm afraid my little patient is worry- 
 ing overmuch," he said. " The head is hot and there is 
 some fever. She must lie quiet, perfectly quiet for the next 
 few days, or I won't answer for what may happen." 
 
 Only this, not a word about baby, and even when the doc- 
 tor took Anna into the nursery to give the usual instructions 
 Thora listened intently, but there was not a syllable about 
 the child. 
 
 The Governor came next, with the odor of snuff on his 
 gold-laced coat, and he stroked Thora's arm as it lay on the 
 counterpane, and said she was not to worry about anything. 
 
 " My dear little daughter must get better as fast as ever
 
 178 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 she can," he said. " She must eat more and if she wants any- 
 thing she must ask for it and she shall have it, whatever it is." 
 
 She tried to say that all she wanted was her little baby, 
 and if they would give her that she would soon be well, but 
 her throat was hurting and she could not speak. 
 
 Her own father came last, smelling of breakfast and 
 st'*ong tobacco, and he rallied her in a loud voice. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! This will never do ! We'll have to send you 
 away again, with Helga to look after you. And look here, 
 young lady, you've got to get better soon and come and carry 
 away that baby. She's turning our house upside down. No- 
 body over there can see the sun for that little mite, and Aunt 
 Margret and Auntie Helga haven't a thought for anybody 
 else." 
 
 By this time the conviction had forced itself upon Thora's 
 mind that the family had agreed that the child was not to 
 be returned to her, and that Helga was responsible for this 
 cruel resolution. Then a fierce passion took possession of 
 her, such as she had never known before. She hated her sis- 
 ter with a terrible hatred. Helga, who had first robbed her 
 of her husband, had now robbed her of her child, and throw- 
 ing dust in her people's eyes had used her weakness as an 
 excuse and a blind. But she would defeat her, she would 
 defeat everybody, she would get back her child whatever the 
 consequences, and not all the powers of earth or heaven or 
 hell should take it away from her again. 
 
 The intensity of her feeling, if it could have been realized 
 by those about her, would have made her sweet and gentle 
 soul unrecognizable. She was like a feline animal robbed of 
 its young and going out to recover it. All the other passions 
 and emotions that had ever possessed her — love of her hus- 
 band, affection for Anna and Aunt Margret and her father 
 and the Governor, pity for Magnus and tenderness toward 
 all living things — were burnt up by the one consuming de- 
 sire — the desire for her child. It made her terrible, it made 
 her cruel, it made her cunning. 
 
 Thora determined to steal back her own child. 
 
 The following day — the day of the Proclamation — would 
 give her an opportunity of doing so. Nearly everybody 
 ■would then be at Thingvellir, therefore her path would be
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 179 
 
 more clear. Only Anna would stay at home to attend to 
 herself, and Aunt Margret to attend to the child. Her one 
 feverish anxiety was that Oscar should not stay behind as 
 well, for if Oscar were to remain Helga would remain also 
 and then her scheme would come to naught. 
 
 Thora lay awake the whole night through. Before day- 
 break she heard the people shouting in the darkness; at 
 dawn she heard the departure of the Governor, and when 
 Oscar called up at her window she knew that Helga was 
 with him, for she heard the hoofs of two horses. 
 
 When everybody had gone she lay back on her pillow 
 with a sigh of immense relief. 
 
 " How soon will they be back, mother ? " she asked. 
 
 " Not much before midnight, I'm afraid. But you must 
 not fret after anybody, my child, for everything shall be 
 done for you," said Anna. 
 
 Then the transparent young soul, in the fierce fire of its 
 temptation, began to lay plans for deceiving Anna and for 
 getting her out of the way. At one moment she said : 
 
 " Haven't you any errands to do this morning, dear — in 
 the town, I mean — being left alone, you know, and even the 
 servants gone? " 
 
 " Errands ? Bless your dear heart, it's like Sunday in 
 town to-day and not a shop open anywhere," said Anna. 
 
 At another moment Thora said: 
 
 " Mother, if you wish to go down into the kitchen to cook 
 you needn't think of me ? " 
 
 " The cooking is all done, dear," said Anna. " Maria did it 
 yesterday, and I've nothing to do now but warm up the 
 dishes on the nursery stove. So I needn't leave you for a 
 minute, you see." 
 
 Thora was beginning to be restless in her perplexity, but 
 presently she thought, " I know ! I'll tell her to lie down 
 after dinner, and then I'll get up and dress and go." 
 
 That suggested thoughts about her clothes, which had been 
 taken off on the night of her attack and packed away some- 
 where. There would be drawers to open and search, and that 
 would take time and make noises. So she said : 
 
 " Mother, dear, don't you think my clothes must be getting 
 damp lying so long unused ? "
 
 180 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 " Damp ? In five days and the middle of summer, too ! " 
 cried Anna. 
 
 " Still, it would be nice to see them airing — it would make 
 me think of getting up, you know." 
 
 " Then you shall, sweetheart, certainly you shall," said 
 Anna, and with the playfulness of one who indulges a child 
 the good soul took Thora's clothes out of a wardrobe, held 
 them up to her one by one, and then hung them on the 
 chairs in front of the stove in the nurseiy, clucking and 
 crowing of the day when Thora would put them on and go 
 down-stairs, with wraps and scarves, and Oscar helping her. 
 
 Thora watched intently and then said : 
 
 "I haven't seen my cloak yet, mother." 
 
 " Your cloak ! Your outdoor cloak ! Bless me, what a 
 heart she has to be sure ! But no, no ! We'll all be dancing 
 with delight if you need that for the next three weeks, 
 Thora." 
 
 The hours lagged cruelly before dinner, and after it the 
 sun's line on the wall was long in leaving the bed; but at 
 last three o'clock struck on the Bornholme clock below stairs 
 and then Thora said : 
 
 " Mother, I'm sure you are very tired — I wish you would 
 go to your room and rest." 
 
 " And leave my honey alone ? l^ot I," said Anna. 
 
 " But I want to rest myself and I can't rest unless you are 
 resting." 
 
 " If you really think you'll sleep better " 
 
 " I'm sure I shall," said Thora. 
 
 '" Well — seeing you slept so little last night," said Anna, 
 and Thora began to yawn and sigh. 
 
 " I'll leave both doors open then. And see, Thora — I'll put 
 this little handbell on the table, and if you awake and want 
 me — I sleep like a cat, you know, the least noise wakens 
 
 " Good night, mother," said Thora in a drowsy tone, and 
 Anna, smiling and nodding to herself over Thora's " error," 
 stole on tiptoe out of the room. 
 
 Thora listened for the last footfall in the corridor and 
 then raised herself in bed. She was alone at last, and the 
 time had come to defeat the conspiracy of love and kindnessi.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 181 
 
 prompted by jealousy and envy, that had robbed her of her 
 child. Her child, her child ! She must get back her child, 
 whatever it might cost her! 
 
 She dropped to the floor and in doing so she brushed the 
 hand-bell off the table. It fell to the carpet with a deadened 
 clang, and for a moment she held her breath and listened. 
 But there was no sound from Anna's room, so she clutched 
 at the bedclothes and stood erect. Then the walls went 
 round, and she knew for the first time how weak she was. 
 But her heart was strong if her limbs were feeble, and she 
 found her way to the nursery, where her clothes still hung 
 over the backs of chairs. It was a weary task to put them 
 on, but her purpose never flagged. At last she was dressed 
 and looking at herself in the glass. Her eyes were red, her 
 lips were pale, and her cheeks were sucked in and white. 
 Nobody would know her who met her in the street, yet still 
 if she could find her cloak 
 
 The Bornholme clock chimed half past three, and Thora 
 began to steal down the corridor. She had to go by Anna's 
 bedroom and the door was standing open. Anna's shawl lay 
 on a chair within and she snatched it up and wrapped it over 
 her shoulders and her head. Then she went down-stairs. 
 Her limbs trembled under her, but not from fear, and if any- 
 body had tried to stop her now she would have fought like 
 a fiend. 
 
 " My child is mine ! " she thought. " What right have they 
 to keep her from me ? " 
 
 The next moment she was in the street. 
 
 m 
 
 The Bornholme clock struck four. Anna awoke and hear- 
 ing no sound from Thora's room she went back to the nur- 
 sery and busied herself noiselessly at the stove. 
 
 Presently the lace curtains in the bedroom were rustled 
 by the wind from an open window and Anna cried through 
 the door: 
 
 " Lie quiet, Thora — I'm making tea," and then she began 
 to sing to herself in the voice of her youth.
 
 182 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 A few minutes later she said, " That sleep must have made 
 me stupid — I've actually put in the hot water before the tea- 
 leaves." 
 
 Soon afterwards she sailed into Thora's room with the 
 tea tray in both hands and a smile on her face, saying, 
 " Here it is, but you'll thank your stars when Maxia comes 
 back in the morning." 
 
 She was setting down the tray on the round tabic by th© 
 beside where the hand-bell should have been, when her eyes 
 fell on the empty bed. Iler breath jumped in her throat, and 
 she turned her head slowly over her shoulder, calling, 
 "Thora!" 
 
 There was no answer ; the room was empty. Anna remem- 
 bered the clothes which she had laid out on the chairs iu 
 the nursery. They were gone. " Thora ! Thora 1 " she cried, 
 in an agitated whisper. 
 
 Then the smile came back to her face. " I know," she 
 thought. " Thora has dressed herself and gone down to the 
 drawing-room, just to show me what she can do." 
 
 At that thought the smile was chased away by a mighty 
 frown. " But I'll give it her," she thought, and down- 
 stairs she went with a determined step and banged the 
 drawing-room door back saying, " Keally, Thora, it is very 
 naughty " 
 
 But the protest died in her throat, for Thora was not 
 there. Then her heart shook like a leaf stiffened by hoar 
 frost and she ran through the house, from room to room, 
 crying in a voice shrill with fear and thickened by sobs, 
 " Thora, where are you ? Thora ! Honey ! Don't hide your- 
 self from me ! Thora ! Thora ! " 
 
 At that moment Grolden Mane came tolting up to the green 
 and Magnus entered the house. Hearing his mother's voice 
 he ran up-stairs, and came face to face with Anna in the 
 corridor. 
 
 " What has happened ? " he asked. 
 
 " Thora's lost," said Anna. 
 
 "Lost?" 
 
 ** She coaxed me to lie down this afternoon, and while I 
 was asleep she got up and dressed herself, and she is gone." 
 
 " Let us be sure first," said Magnus, and the slow fellow
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOIT 183 
 
 shot through the house like a torpedo, while Anna sat on 
 the chair by the door of her own room and wrung her hands 
 and reproached herself. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! What have I done ? How can I 
 ever forgive myself? The poor child was not herself — she 
 didn't know what she was doing." 
 
 Magnus returned with a slow step, saying, " Be quiet, 
 mother ! Can't you see what has happened ? Thora has gone 
 to the child." 
 
 " The child ? The Factor's ? God grant you may be right, 
 Magnus. But she hasn't mentioned the baby for two days." 
 
 " JSTeTCrtheless," said Magnus, " her poor heart has been 
 torn to pieces by this accursed scheme of separating her from 
 her child, and she has gone to join it." 
 
 " Let us go and see," said Anna. " But, oh dear, what 
 a thing to do! And she so ill and weak! It will kill her! 
 Oh, why did I leave her for an instant? What will Oscar 
 say?" 
 
 " If Oscar's wise he will say nothing," said Magnus. " And 
 if anything happens, and he has any conscience, he'll damn 
 himself to the last day of his life." 
 
 " Don't say that, Magnus," said Anna. " If there was 
 anything wrong we were all to blame for it. It wasn't Os- 
 car's fault " 
 
 " Certainly, it was Oscar's fault," said Magnus. " It was 
 Oscar's fault that he allowed Helga to twist him round her 
 finger and make you all her miserable slaves." 
 
 " Where is my shawl ? I laid it down somewhere, and now 
 I can not find it. But let us go. And don't be hard on your 
 :^:other, Magnus. She was trying to do her best " 
 
 " It's not you I'm blaming, mother," said Magnus, " but 
 if," he added, and his words came through his clinched 
 teeth, " if there were a law in this infernal land to punish 
 people like Oscar, as sure as I live I should be the first to 
 use it." 
 
 They were going out of the house when three men came 
 up to the door — the Sheriff and two strangers. 
 
 " Good evening, Mi-s. Anna," said the Sheriff. " These 
 gentlemen are ofiicials from Copenhagen, just arrived by the 
 'Laura.' They wish to see the Governor on an important
 
 184 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 matter, and I thought perhaps you could tell them when he 
 ■will be back from Thingvellir." 
 
 " I can't say — I don't know — I am in a great hurry," said 
 Anna. 
 
 " This young man," said the Sheriff to the strangers, " is 
 the elder son of the Governor, and if you would like to 
 speak to him " 
 
 " We should," answered the men. 
 
 "Is it so very important? My son is going out with me. 
 Can't the matter wait until to-morrow? " said Anna. 
 
 " Go on ahead, mother — I'll follow you presently," said 
 Magnus, and while Anna hurried away, he led the strangers 
 into the Governor's office. One of the two men took a paper 
 from an inner breast pocket and said : 
 
 " Naturally, you know your father's handwriting ? " 
 
 " I do," said Magnus. 
 
 " And of course you are familiar with his signature. 
 
 " I am." 
 
 " Will you be good enough to say if this is your father'* 
 signature ? " said the man, opening his paper and handing 
 it to Magnus. 
 
 It was a note of hand in favor of Oscar Stephenson for 
 an advance of one hundred thousand crowns, signed in the 
 name of the Governor and witnessed by the Factor. 
 
 The world reeled round Magnus, for he saw in a moment 
 what the paper meant. It was almost as if his prayer to 
 punish Oscar had been answered on the instant. The paper 
 rustled in his hand and for some seconds he did not speak. 
 Then he lifted his face and said : 
 
 " You ask me if this is my father's signature. Don't you 
 think it would be more proper to ask my father himself ? " 
 
 "No doubt — certainly — you are right," said the stranger, 
 " but to protect your father — not to say yourself per- 
 haps " 
 
 " Perhaps," said Magnus, and he handed the paper back. 
 
 " Magnus," said the Sheriff, " I was told to watch you if 
 you came to town to-day, but it seems to me that somebody 
 else in your family needs watching a good deal more. Will 
 you not give us your assistance ? " 
 
 Magnus shuddered in the toils of his temptation. A voic«
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 185 
 
 wJ.thin cried, " Speak ! Denounce him ! Now's your time ! " 
 His lower lip quivered, his eyelids trembled, and he 
 answered in a hoarse voice : 
 
 " The Governor will not be back until midnight — let mo 
 come to you to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Good ! " said the Sheriff, whereupon Magnus showed 
 them out of the house and then fled away to the Factor's. 
 
 " That big fellow will speak when he wants to," said one 
 of the strangers as the three men walked down the street, 
 " and when he doesn't the devil himself won't make him 
 do so." 
 
 IV 
 
 Of two ways to the Factor's Thora had taken the shortest 
 and most frequented, yet she had gone through the streets 
 unobserved. Coming near the house she had passed the 
 Sheriff and the two strangers, but they were immersed in 
 their conversation and did not see her as she stumbled by 
 them with her head covered up in Anna's shawl. 
 
 Twice she had stopped to take breath, and once she had 
 steadied herself by a lamp-post, for she was dizzy and her 
 ankles ached. The little distance which had hitherto seemed 
 so short was now a great journey, but it came to an end at 
 length, and she approached her father's house from the front. 
 
 She had intended to creep up softly, enter by stealth, listen 
 until she learned where the child was kept, watch until Aunt 
 Margret left the little one alone for a moment and then 
 steal into the room and take it. 
 
 With this purpose she ascended the stone steps to the front 
 entrance and gently turned the handle, but as soon as she 
 had given the door a noiseless push, there was the loud ring- 
 ing of a bell which had not been there before. 
 
 At the next moment there was a sound of slippered feet 
 coming hurriedly down-stairs and before her dizzy brain 
 could tell what to do Aunt Margret was peering into her 
 face. 
 
 " Mercy me, is it you ? " cried Aunt Margret, and she 
 looked as if she were ready to drop. 
 13
 
 J.86 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 Witli a crushing sense of failure Thora stood silent and 
 her heart fluttered like a captured bird. 
 
 " Good Lord ! How did you get here alone ? And what 
 on earth was Anna doing to let you come ? " said Aunt 
 Margret. 
 
 Then with a convulsive little burst Thora said, " Anna 
 knew nothing about it, Aunt Margret — she was asleep — I 
 came to see baby." And then she broke down utterly, leaned 
 against the doorpost and cried like a child. 
 
 The kind soul with the sharp tongue could bear no more. 
 " And so you shall, dear. Certainly you shall, my pretty 
 poppet," she said with infinite compassion. " As sure as my 
 name is Margret N^eilsen you shall," she said again, with 
 stem determination. "They have left me here as a watch- 
 dog with an order that nobody is to come near the child, but 
 that was meant for somebody else — somebody who was going 
 to steal it — so they said — though what a grown man can 
 want with a suckling infant it baffles my stupid old head to 
 see. But what a silly I am to keep you at the door ! Come 
 up-stairs, my precious. Go before me, Thora, dear! That's 
 right — but not so quick — you shall see your baby soon 
 enough. And Thora, darling, if I haven't exactly tried to 
 take it back to you it wasn't because I didn't love you, and 
 feel for you, and suffer with you, my poor child, but because 
 your father and Helga and even Oscar — no, the other way, 
 Thora — baby is in the front bedroom." 
 
 " Is she well ? " said Thora, breathing quickly as she 
 reached the landing. 
 
 " She's as well as well, and so rosy and bonny — look ! " said 
 Aunt Margret, pushing ahead of Thora and opening the 
 bedroom door. 
 
 But having climbed the stairs so much too rapidly, Thora 
 paused at the threshold of the room and held her left hand 
 hard against her side. " Wait ! I can't go in yet," she said. 
 " Not just yet. Aunt Margret. Is she asleep ? " 
 
 " Yes, she's fast asleep, bless her ! " 
 
 " Is that her breathing ? " 
 
 "No, that's the cat. Yes, it is the baby. But come, my 
 own, come," said Aunt Margret, and then, holding her 
 breath, the young mother entered the room.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 187 
 
 The child was sleeping in a cradle with a hood covered 
 with light blue lace, and its little head, streaked with yeliow 
 hair, lay red against the white pillow. A cat purred on the 
 floor in a warm shaft from the setting sun, and all was sweet 
 and peaceful. 
 
 " My baby ! My baby ! " cried Thora, and she sank down 
 on her knees by the cot and stretched her arms over it like 
 a bird covering its nest with her sheltering wings. 
 
 The child was awakened by the soft gale of its mother's 
 breath on its sleeping face and it began to cry, whereupon 
 Thora gathered it iu her arms and lifted it out of the cot 
 and nursed it lovingly, holding its little plunging hand in 
 her own hand, so thin and white and delicate. 
 
 " It's her bottle she wants, Thora," said Aunt Margret, 
 " and here it is ready and waiting — I keep it warm on the 
 top of the stove." 
 
 " Let me give it her, let me give it her," cried Thora. 
 
 " Do you think you can, my pretty ? But of course you 
 can! My goodness, it's wonderful — when a person is a 
 mother she can do anything with a baby. An angel seems 
 to whisper, ' Do that,' and she does it, and it's just right for 
 the child." 
 
 The little creature was now sucking vigorously with its 
 tiny face toward the mother's breast and its plump red hand 
 on her pallid cheek. 
 
 " But it's you that wants milk, ray child," said Aunt Mar- 
 gret, " Yes, and some spirits too, and you shall have both 
 in a minute. Lay your poor head against this pillow, my 
 precious, and wait while I get the decanter." 
 
 The child was now dropping off to sleep and Thora looked 
 lovingly down at it and said : 
 
 " God bless my motherless baby ! " 
 
 " Motherless, indeed ! Who says she's motherless ? She 
 has too many mothers, it seems to me," said Aunt Margret. 
 
 The tit slipped from the child's slackening lips, and 
 Thora leaned down and kissed away the drops that trickled 
 from the little mouth. 
 
 " I wish I could die," she said. " I wish I could die now, 
 Aunt Margret." 
 
 And Aunt Margret, who was snuffling audibly, said, " Die,
 
 18S THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 indeed! Just <3rink off this drop of brandy and water and 
 don't talk such nonsense." 
 
 Thora drank the brandy and straightway her weakness 
 left her, and with the return of her strength the secret pur- 
 pose which had brought her to the house revived. 
 
 " I must be quick," she thought. " Anna will follow me." 
 
 The innocent selfishness of her starved and injured 
 motherhood knew no conscience, and she set herself to con- 
 sider how she could get rid of Aunt Margret and so carry 
 away the child. That was a perplexing problem, and she sat 
 long to think it out, but accident solved it at last. 
 
 *' Goodness me," Aunt Margret was saying, " how lovely 
 you look, sitting there with the child ! But what a fit some 
 people would have if they could drop in and see you ! They 
 can't, thank goodness! They're thirty miles away, and be- 
 fore they get back you'll be gone, and nobody a penny the 
 wiser. WTien the cat's away the mice will play ! But mercy 
 me, what a stonn there would be if they ever came to know 
 that I had let you touch the little angel! I don't know 
 which is the worst on that subject — your father, or Oscar, 
 or Helga. I think Helga is the worst if you ask me. You're 
 a Neilsen, Thora, but Helga — she's a sheep from another 
 sheepfold. She's so cute, and she has such ways with her. 
 It was Helga who put those bells on the door, and when I 
 heard you coming in I thought, * It's that Sheriff again,' but 
 you could have knocked me down with a feather — Good 
 gracious ! " 
 
 Aunt Margret, who was looking out of the window, sud- 
 denly threw up her hands. 
 
 "What is it?" said Thora. 
 
 " It is — no — yes, it's Anna ! And the Sheriff and two of- 
 ficers are coming behind her! " 
 
 " They're coming for me," cried Thora. " They want to 
 tear me away from my baby. Go down and stop them, Aunt 
 Margret. Say I'm not here — say I'm gone — say any- 
 thing " 
 
 " Hush, dear, don't excite yourself. Leave Margret Neil- 
 sen to manage this little matter. I'll take Anna and the 
 Sheriff into the back parlor and tell them something. Then 
 you'll slip out by the front and get back home and nobody 
 will know."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 18^ 
 
 "Yes, yes, that will do," said Thora. 
 
 "You'll be as quiet as a mouse, and I'll make lots of 
 noises." 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes." 
 
 There was the clang of a bell from below, and Aunt Mar- 
 gret whispered, " There they are ! Now put baby back in 
 the cot, my own, and cover her up with the blanket." 
 
 " Not yet, let me kiss her again, just for the last time," 
 said Thora. 
 
 An agitated voice came from the bottom of the stairs^ 
 " Margret ! Margret Neilsen ! " 
 
 " I must go — be quick," whispered Aunt Margret, and 
 scuttling down-stairs, she cried, " I'm coming," and then 
 there was a rumble of confused voices, followed by the closing" 
 of a door. 
 
 Thora was alone once more, and the feverish strength of 
 outraged motherhood possessed her like a madness. " They've 
 come to take my child again," she thought. 
 
 In a moment she had slipped off her slippers, snatched 
 up the blanket and wrapped it about the sleeping infant, 
 crept down the stairs in stocking feet and out of the house 
 by a back passage. 
 
 Meantime a little tragi-comedy was being acted in the' 
 back parlor. Anna was white and trembling, while Aunt 
 Margret was looking wondrous wise and subtle. 
 
 " Thora ? " gasped Anna. " Have you seen anything of 
 Thora?" 
 
 " Have I seen anything of Thora ? You must be dream- 
 ing, Anna dear." 
 
 " Then she has gone, and I was right after all," said Anna^ 
 
 " Can it be possible ? " said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " Magnus would have it that she had gone to see the baby,, 
 but she has gone farther than that, poor child, and we shall 
 never see her again." 
 
 " What a pity ! " said Aunt Margret, and then Anna flew 
 out at her. 
 
 "Margret Neilsen, don't you understand what I am say-
 
 190 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 ing ? The poor child was demented, and she stole out while 
 I was asleep and goodness knows what she has done with 
 herself." 
 
 " Hush ! Hold your tongue, Anna, and come into this 
 room and I'll tell you something. Magnus was right after 
 all." 
 
 " Then she has been here ? " 
 
 " She's here now — she's up-staii*s this very minute." 
 
 " Oh, thank the Lord " 
 
 " Don't speak, or the poor thing will hear you. And don't 
 be angry with her either, and if you brought the Sheriff to 
 take her back " 
 
 " I brought the Sheriff ! What are you saying, you crazy 
 woman ? " 
 
 " Then can't we let her stay a little longer ? It isn't every 
 day she has the chance " 
 
 " She can stay all night for me, Margret." 
 
 " That is impossible — the Factor is so frightened. And 
 then there's the Governor " 
 
 " That's true," said Anna. 
 
 " But she can safely stay an hour more with her chil-d, 
 can't she ? " said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " Just one hour more," said Anna. 
 
 " Poor thing, she was to steal out while we were talking, 
 but we'll go up and surprise her. And when you see her 
 with the little mite at her breast, looking down at it and 
 kissing it, with such a pitiful smile, the dear, it will fill your 
 heart brimfuL But for goodness' sake wipe your eyes and 
 blow your nose, Anna, and do for mercy's sake look more 
 cheerful. Quietly now, quietly, or she'll think the Sheriff is 
 behind us." 
 
 With that the two old things, snuffling as if they had colds 
 in the head, but stiaiggling to smile and seem happy, went 
 creeping up to the bedi'oom. 
 
 By that time the room was empty and Thora was gone. 
 
 The women looked at each other for an instant, and then 
 Aunt Margret ran to the cradle. The child was gone, too. 
 
 At that moment the bell of the front door rang again. 
 Aunt Margret cried, " There she is," and the two women 
 raced down-stairs to see.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 191 
 
 It was Magnus coining in. 
 
 " Thora has been here, but she has gone — gone this very 
 minute," cried Anna. 
 
 " And she has taken the child along with her," cried Aunt 
 Margret. 
 
 Without a word Magnus turned about and leapt back to 
 the street. There he met the Sheriff and told him what 
 had happened. At the next minute the two women were 
 running hither and thither and the two men were gone 
 different ways. 
 
 Half an hour afterward they met at the Factor's house 
 again. Thora and the child had not been found. They had 
 disappeared as utterly as if a lava stream had swallowed 
 them. 
 
 The women were sitting side by side with blanched faces 
 and startled eyes, twisting their handkerchiefs into knots. 
 
 " The doctor was quite right after all," said Anna. " They 
 were all right, though we thought them so hard and cruel. 
 The poor thing wanted to die — she told me so herself." 
 
 " She told me too — she told me this very day," said Aunt 
 Margret. 
 
 " Is there no house in town she was accustomed to go 
 to ? " asked the Sheriff. 
 
 " None," said Anna, and Aunt Margret said, " Thora was 
 not like that — she would never drink coffee or talk scandal 
 with any one." 
 
 " Let us try again," said Magnus to the Sheriff. 
 
 The sun had set over the fiord and the black rocks of the 
 plain were dying out in the dusky haze of evening when the 
 two men returned to the Factor's for the second time. Their 
 search had been fruitless and Magnus's face was white and 
 haggard. 
 
 Anna and Aunt Margret sat in the parlor window stricken 
 with grief, but finding a certain satisfaction in their afflic- 
 tion from the melancholy glances of groups of other women 
 who had gathered in the street. 
 
 " I knew it would be useless," said Anna. " She's gone, 
 poor dear — I'm afraid she's gone to heaven, poor darling." 
 
 " And taken the little innocent infant along with her," 
 said Aunt Margret.
 
 192 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 "Has anybody thought of going back to Government 
 House ? " asked the Sheriff. 
 
 " I went there first," said Magnus. 
 
 ''And to the lake?" 
 
 " I went there next." 
 
 •*'And the jetty?" 
 
 " I went to the jetty also. But I don't believe Thora has 
 destroyed herself," said Magnus. 
 
 " Then she has died of exhaustion by this time and it's all 
 the same in any case," said Anna. 
 
 " She's in her stocking feet too — see," said Aunt Mar- 
 gret, showing the slippers which Thora had left up-stairs, 
 and falling to kissing and weeping over them. 
 
 " There's one chance left — she may have tried to follow 
 her husband," said Magnus. 
 
 " So far, and without a horse ? " said the Sheriff. 
 
 " It's the last hope — I'm going to follow it up," said Mag- 
 nus. " Mother," he added, " you had better go back home." 
 
 " I can't — I daren't — and if anything happens I'll never 
 be able to go into the poor girl's room again," said Anna. 
 
 Outside, in the fading light, Magnus stood for a moment 
 wiping the flanks of Golden Mane and patting his drooping 
 neck. 
 
 " 1 suppose there isn't another horse left in the town," 
 said the Sheriff, " but you'll kill your splendid pony." 
 
 " Then he'll die well," said Magnus. 
 
 " Magnus," the Sheriff continued, " I intend to search 
 every house in Reykjavik, and if I succeed to-night I'll ex- 
 pect you to help us in the morning." 
 
 " If you don't succeed I'll help you," said Magnus, with a 
 hoarse laugh, and at the next moment he was lost in the 
 darkness. 
 
 VI 
 
 Thora had done the most natural and therefore the most 
 unexpected thing. Only thinking of getting back to her bed 
 in Government House, and of carrying the child along with 
 her, she had taken the simplest means toward doing so. In 
 order to escape the Sheriff she had left her father's house by
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 193 
 
 the back, and to avoid observation from people in the fre- 
 quented thoroughfare she had taken the longer and quieter 
 of the two roads home. 
 
 This road led her past the lake, but she had no desire to 
 destroy herself. Often before she had longed for death from 
 the depths of her heart, but love for her child conquered 
 all such feelings now. The way was very long, but she did 
 not know that she was tired ; the roads were rough, but she 
 did not feel that they were cutting her feet; she was going 
 fast, but she did not realize that she was breathless. She 
 had only one fear — the fear of being overtaken; only one 
 dread — the dread of the child being torn away from her. 
 
 Clinging to the little one with feverish arms she hastened 
 along, weeping to herself, laughing to herself, full of a wild 
 joy that had no remorse, no qualms of any kind, and neither 
 looked before nor after. It was motherhood — the most 
 divine, the most devilish, the most tender, the most terrible, 
 the most sweet, the most sublime, the most savage of all the 
 passions of the heart, 
 
 Eeaching home at last she found the house silent, but 
 every room wide open, as if lately ringing with the noise of 
 hurrying feet. Creeping up-stairs with her precious burden 
 she got safely back to her room, and instantly locked the 
 door behind her. She laughed as she did so, thinking how 
 Anna and Aunt Margret would follow her and find them- 
 selves defeated. 
 
 Then she undressed and got back into bed and for one 
 long, heavenly hour she gave herself up to the delight of 
 having her child — to hold it, to nurse it, to fondle it, to kiss 
 it, and to devour it with all her senses. The little creature 
 had slept during its journey through the town, but now it 
 awoke, and lay quiet by its mother's side while she ran her 
 hungry hands over its tiny body and put its clinched fists 
 and its feet one by one into her mouth. 
 
 After a while the child tired and began to cry, where- 
 upon Thora remembered for the first time that she had left 
 its feeding-bottle behind her. She tried to hush it, but it 
 would not be hushed, and then a sudden thought, a blind im- 
 pulse of maternity, came to her, and she put the little one- 
 to her breast. The child clung to it and was quiet, and the
 
 194 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 milk, which had never come until now, instantly began to 
 flow. 
 
 It was the crowning miracle of that joyous hour, a physical 
 rapture such as Thora had never known before. 
 
 After that a more tender spirit stole over her, and she 
 looked lovingly down at the child in her bosom and kissed it 
 again and again, and said, " God bless my baby." 
 
 Then in a voice so weak and silvery that it was like a 
 voice descending from the sky, she began to sing the child 
 to sleep : 
 
 " Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 Angels bright thy slumbers keep, 
 Sleep, baby, sleep." 
 
 The child slept, and even while she sang Thora became 
 aware of alternate waves of heat and cold going over her. 
 A vague, broken, delirious consciousness came and went, and 
 people seemed to be entering and leaving the room. First it 
 was Helga, then it was Oscar, and finally it was Magnus. 
 Helga was taking the child out of the bed and Oscar was 
 helping her, and she was trying to cry out and could not, 
 when Magnus appeared in the doorway. 
 
 At one moment she thought she was dead, and people 
 were talking around her. They were all strangers, chiefly 
 women whom she had seen going into the Salvation Shelter. 
 " She's gone, poor girl," said some one, and somebody else 
 said, " So much the better — the poor thing's troubles are 
 over." " They say she tried to make away with herself," 
 said one. "And what wonder?" said another. "There 
 was no place left for her in this world." " Nobody can say 
 she didn't love her husband," said a voice at her feet. " That 
 was the pity — he loved her sister," said a voice above her. 
 " Perhaps that was why she thought of taking her life — to 
 leave him free — perhaps to make him happy ? " " Well, she 
 did wrong by Magnus, but we all know who killed her." 
 And then everybody said in chorus, " He'll get his reward, 
 he'll get his reward," and she was sorry for Oscar. 
 
 At another moment she thought she was a blessed saint in 
 paradise, with lilies and roses around her head, but there 
 svas a thorn in her heart for all that, and even among the
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 195 
 
 joys of heaven she had a dull pain there was no ease for, 
 because she could not help thinking about her baby. So she 
 asked the dear God to let her go down to earth to see her 
 little Elin, and He suffered her to come and she came. 
 Oscar and Helga were together now, in a country that was 
 sweet with smiling gardens and a house that was full of 
 gilded furniture. But she could not see her Elin anywhere, 
 until at length she found her in an upper room, neglected 
 and lonely. Then the burning tears ran down her face and 
 she sat by her child and comforted her, and Elin was not 
 afraid. " Stay with me a little longer," said the child, 
 and she stayed with her and sang to her, and no one heard 
 but little Elin: 
 
 " Sleep, baby, sleep, 
 Angels bright thy slumbers keep, 
 Sleep, baby, sleep." 
 
 When she came to herself again it was dark in the bed- 
 room, yet she was still singing. The baby began to cry and 
 she wished to comfort it, but she found she could not speak. 
 It's little body felt cold against her breast and she wanted 
 to cover it up in the blanket, but her arms were heavy and 
 she could not lift them. 
 
 There was a moment of agonized consciousness, but the 
 good Father sealed the senses of His suffering child again. 
 She thought a majestic figure entered the room, clothed all 
 in white, and lifted the baby out of her bosom, saying, 
 " Suffer little children to come unto Me." She knew quite 
 well who It was, but when she looked a second time the 
 figure had the face of Magnus. 
 
 Then it seemed to her that it was she herself and not the 
 baby that had been lifted up, yet she felt no fear at all, nor 
 any pain, nor any heartache. 
 
 At that moment the women who had stood about the bed 
 came back and they began to sing, " Safe in the arms of 
 Jesus " — just as she had heard them singing it when she 
 listened at the door of the Shelter. 
 
 She smiled and drew a deep sigh; a sweet, long breath of 
 joy and rapture; and then the darkness lifted and — it was 
 day.
 
 196 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 vn 
 
 That day had been a prolonged triumph for Oscar. The 
 festival of the Proclamation began with service in the parish 
 church, and though the Governor and the Thingmen only 
 had been able to pack into the little place, the churchyard 
 outside and the home-field of the parsonage had been 
 thronged. 
 
 Aft€r the service there was a procession from the church 
 door to the ancient place of proclamation, and Oscar had 
 ordered and marshaled every one. First the town band, 
 then the Governor and his executive in their gold-braided 
 uniforms, the Bishop in his robes, the Thingmen in their 
 scarfs, the clergy in their black cassocks and white ruffs, 
 and finally a vast following of the people. It was a gorgeous 
 spectacle, such as no man could remember to have seen on 
 that spot before. 
 
 The Proclamation itself was an imposing ceremony. Sit- 
 ting on the law-mount as on a natural platform of lava rock, 
 with his face to the east and the Cross of Dannebrog on his 
 breast, the Governor read out one hy one the titles and 
 descriptions of the Acts which had been passed by Parlia- 
 ment ; and after each of them he lifted his head and cried to 
 the people on the plains below, " Is it Yea or Nay ? " And 
 then the jjeople, led by Oscar, shouted " Yea." 
 
 When the reading was finished the Governor cried, " Long 
 live the King," whereupon Oscar led the cheering, three 
 times three, and when the band struck up the national hymn 
 he started the words of the chorus. 
 
 But the last feature of the function was the best, and 
 that was the singing of the hymn composed by Oscar him- 
 self. It was a hymn to Iceland, the cradle of the Vikings, the 
 scene of the Sagas, the parent of parliaments, the mother of 
 the mighty Northlands. 
 
 Standing under the brant face of the law-mount with his 
 choir of one hundred and fifty on the sloping ground in 
 front, Oscar conducted with great vigor. His prelude pleased 
 the people, but when he rose to the height of his argument
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 197 
 
 and struck the patriotic note, his love for the stem old 
 Northland — 
 
 " Isafold ! My Isafold ! Great land of frost and fire," 
 
 his hearers were carried away and some of them shouted and 
 wept. 
 
 After the hymn was over the Thingmen crowded about 
 Oscar to congratulate him and some of the country-people 
 fell upon his neck. The Governor, too, sitting above, was the 
 object of many congratulations. " But this is genius," said 
 one. " An inspiration," said another. " Our Oscar will be 
 a great musician some day," said a third. And the old man 
 took the tributes quietly, almost silently, but with the shin- 
 ing face of a father proud of his favorite son. 
 
 When the ceremonies ended only one name was on every- 
 body's lips, and that was the name of Oscar Stephenson, 
 and hundreds hummed the strains of " Isafold ! My Isa- 
 fold ! " as they trooped off to dinner. 
 
 Oscar and Helga dined together at the Inn-farm in a cor- 
 ner of the hall which was thronged with guests. But they 
 were both too much excited to remain in mixed company, 
 and after dinner they escaped to the margin of the lake and 
 to the solitary parts of the plain. There they gathered 
 blueberries and, partly to restrain their excitement and 
 partly to nourish it, they talked of nothing but the wild 
 flowers. 
 
 When the sun began to sink they returned by way of the 
 parsonage, where the Governor, with the Factor, the Bishop 
 and certain other officials had taken their dinner apart. The 
 little guest room was dense with smoke, like the mouth of 
 a geyser, and the faces that came and went in it were dis- 
 cussing the merits and defects of the old order and the new. 
 Both Governor and Factor were for the old, as exemplified by 
 the day's ceremony and Oscar's hymn, but others held that 
 changing times brought changing needs and that Iceland 
 would be the better for a new constitution, with Free Trade 
 and modem methods. 
 
 " They'll go on till midnight and never get home to- 
 night," whispered Helga, as she slipped out with Oscar. 
 
 On returning to the farm they found people striking tents
 
 198 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and leading horses from the crowded horsefold to prepare 
 for the return journey. 
 
 " I'm afraid I'm too tired to go back to-night," said Helga. 
 
 " Then stay — stay by all means," said Oscar. 
 
 " And you ? " asked Helga. 
 
 " I must go home in any case — there's Thora," said Oscar. 
 
 " Your mother will look after her," said Helga. 
 
 But Oscar shook his head, and ordered Gudrun, the house- 
 keeper, to make one of the two guest-rooms ready for Helga. 
 
 At that moment some young townspeople were clearing 
 the floor for a dance and they called on Oscar and Helga to 
 lead off with a waltz. They did so with great delight, and 
 when the waltz w^as finished they joined the round dance 
 which followed it, and then they danced a second and a third 
 waltz, until they were flushed and hot and had to go out 
 to cool. 
 
 By this time it was dark, and the people who meant to 
 encamp for the night had lighted fires at the mouths of their 
 tents and were beguiling the hours with various pleasures. 
 One of these was fortune-telling. An old woman, not thought 
 to be overwise, was going from tent to tent, making random 
 shots amid shrieks of laughter. 
 
 " And what do you see here ? " said Helga, holding out 
 her hand. 
 
 " Ah, this is a good hand," said the witch. " You are go- 
 ing to be a great lady and eat mutton and beef every day 
 and drink golden wine and ginger." 
 
 " And what do you see in this ? " asked Oscar. 
 
 " This? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! " said the witch. 
 
 " What's amiss, mother ? " 
 
 " Cold water runs between my skin and my flesh." 
 
 " Is it as bad as that, old lady ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me — don't ask me ! You have a brother, 
 haven't you ? " 
 
 " And if I have, what about him ? " 
 
 " Beware — beware ! " said the witch, and Oscar and Helga 
 turned away laughing. 
 
 The moon rose and they wandered into the great chasm, 
 and walked among the shadows of the toppling stones, until 
 they came under a huge stone called Stoker, which stands
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 199 
 
 like a mig'lity gravestone over a deep pit that is like a tomb. 
 There they sat, with the white moon above and the red 
 camp fires below them, and then the boiling, bubbling geyser 
 of excitement in their breasts could be kept down no 
 longer. 
 
 " You have had a great success to-day, Oscar," said Helga. 
 
 " So have you, Helga, so have you, for without your pres- 
 ence to prompt and inspire me I should have done nothing." 
 
 " I am happy if I have helped you, Oscar, but you must go 
 on now, and never look back — never." 
 
 " You are right, Helga, you are right — to stop would be 
 a sin — an unpardonable sin — almost like a sin against the 
 Holy Ghost." 
 
 " Exactly like it, Oscar, for if any one has a gift he gets 
 it from God, and to bury it, like the man in the parable " 
 
 " There would be no fear of that if I could have you be- 
 side me always, Helga." 
 
 " And can't you, Oscar ? " 
 
 A fragrance seemed to envelop him. He felt Helga's 
 breath upon his face. It made him tremble all over. 
 
 " Would to God I could, but it is impossible. You will 
 return to Denmark " 
 
 " Not I, indeed ! I am not without my own ambitions also. 
 I must go back to England, to France, to Germany, to Italy. 
 And so must you, Oscar — you must, if you are to be true to 
 your talents and to yourself and to the great future " 
 
 " I know it, Helga, I feel it, and if I could write even one 
 song that would stir the souls of millions it would be better 
 than making a fortune or passing an act of parliament. But 
 when a man has given hostages to fortune, and they are 
 dragging him down — with silken threads, perhaps — but still 
 down, down, down " 
 
 He was speaking out of a dry and husky throat, but she 
 answered softly and sweetly, "Are things so absolutely 
 irretrievable, Oscar ? " 
 
 " Absolutely, Helga, absolutely ; and henceforth and all my 
 life long I must learn to go without your comradeship " 
 
 " And what must I do ? " 
 
 The compulsion of passion was driving him on, but he was 
 struggling to hold back. " Helga," he cried, " do you know
 
 200 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 •what is the deadliest tiling in life? It is Love. The painters 
 paint Love as a harmless little Cupid, with a handkerchief 
 about his eyes and a tiny bow and arrow in his hands. But 
 Love is a great, blind, blundering monster with a two-edged 
 sword, dealing destruction on every side." 
 
 His words were as nothing, but his quivering voice sang 
 like music in Helga's ears, and she said, " Is it Love or man 
 that does that, Oscar — man with the false sense of right and 
 wrong, his foolish ideals of honor ? " 
 
 " God knows ! Perhaps if I could have thought so a year 
 ago, before I added injury to injury and brought unhappi- 
 ness on others — but now — now " 
 
 A sensation of triumph came to her and she said, " Isn't 
 it cowardly to talk like that, Oscar? " 
 
 " I am a coward, Helga," he answered, trembling from 
 head to foot ; " to you I can speak the truth — I am a coward, 
 a moral coward, and I can not face the certainty " 
 
 "But if," said Helga excitedly, getting closer, "you had 
 some one beside you who had the courage of life, the defiance 
 of life " 
 
 " Helga ! " cried Oscar, breathing heavily — the earth 
 seemed to be slipping under him like an avalanche. 
 
 " Some one who would go on helping you, and ask nothing 
 but your comradeship " 
 
 " Helga ! Helga ! " He was gasping as for breath in the 
 intoxication of his emotion. 
 
 " Nothing but to work with you and to conquer the world 
 with you " 
 
 "Helga! Helga! Helga!" • | 
 
 "Oscar!" 
 
 There was a breathless cry from both, and then an almost 
 inaudible whisper, " I shall not go back to-night, Helga." 
 
 When they came to themselves again they were returning 
 • — more flushed and excited than before — out of the white 
 moonlight into the yellow mist of the smoking lamp that 
 hung over the dancers in the hall. The young townspeople 
 receivtsd them with a shout and called on them to join the 
 dance they were dancing. It was called " Weaving the 
 Cloth," and the figures were intended to represent the spin-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 201 
 
 ning and carding, the weaving, stretching, hammering and 
 rolling of the thick Icelandic Vadmal. 
 
 The dancers crossed and recrossed, twisted each other 
 about, beat each other breast against breast, and finally 
 rolled each other round and round. 
 
 The music was going fast, and the dancers were singing 
 loud and laughing louder, when there came from outside the 
 sudden barking of dogs, followed by the clatter of the hoofs 
 of a galloping horse. Immediately afterward there was the 
 rattle of the metal end of a riding-whip against a window- 
 pane, and a voice crying, " God be with you ! " 
 
 The newcomer did not wait for the customary answer to 
 his salutation, but pushed the door open and entered hur- 
 riedly. It was Magnus, dusty and dirty, with a white face 
 and wild eyes. 
 
 At that moment Oscar and Helga, blushing and smiling, 
 were in the middle of the floor, locked in each other's arms, 
 performing the last figure of the dance, and it was thus that 
 Magnus came face to face with them. 
 
 " Is she here ? " he cried. 
 
 " She ? " 
 
 " Thora ! She is lost — I thought she might have found a 
 horse and followed you." 
 
 Then the shufiling feet stopped, and the fiddles tailed off 
 into silence as Magnus, in broken sentences, told the story of 
 Thora's flight to the Factor's, her disappearance with the 
 child, and the vain search that had been made for her. 
 
 " But surely she would go back to Government House 
 eventually," said Oscar. " The poor girl would go the long 
 way round to escape observation and home by way of the 
 lake. Did nobody think of that, and stay in the house to 
 see?" 
 
 Magnus looked like a man whose eyes, dulled by groping 
 in a dark tunnel, had been stunned by sudden light. Before 
 the others had recovered themselves he had turned about 
 and was gone. 
 
 At the next moment Oscar was tramping to and fro on 
 the floor, with his clinched fists to his forehead, moaning, 
 *' My God ! My God ! " Helga was combing her hair and 
 putting on her wraps. 
 14
 
 202 THE PKODIGAL SON 
 
 vm 
 
 John, the servant at the farm, was sent over to the par- 
 sonage to tell the Governor and the Factor. He found the 
 gentlemen settling themselves for the night, having talked so 
 long that they had decided to remain until morning. But 
 the news of Thora's disappearance altered everything. 
 
 " We must go back immediately," said the Governor. 
 
 " Bring the horses round instantly," said the Factor. 
 
 Less than half an hour aftenvard a silent and gloomy com- 
 pany were going home — the Governor, the Factor, Oscar, 
 Helga, and a various following of the sympathetic and the 
 inquisitive. 
 
 The two old friends were morose and ill-tempered, and for 
 the first time in fifty years disposed to nag and quarrel. 
 The Governor blamed Aunt Margret, the Factor blamed 
 Anna ; the Governor blamed Helga, the Factor blamed Oscar; 
 the Governor blamed the Factor, and the Factor blamed the 
 Governor. In the half light of uncertainty and suspense 
 their friendship fell before fear, and blood was thicker than 
 water. 
 
 It was a miserable home-going to Oscar. The explanation 
 of Thora's movements with which he had surprised Magnus 
 soon ceased to satisfy himself and he thought of a hundred 
 fatal consequences. Helga tried to comfort him with various 
 plausible arguments. He had acted for the best — the best 
 for Thora, the best for the child, the best for himself, the 
 best for everybody — and if accident had intervened or the 
 dreadful freaks of dementia had followed, he was not re- 
 sponsible and could not be blamed. 
 
 But Oscar's worst sufferings were from a secret purgatory 
 which Helga's pleadings did not touch, for the crudest part 
 of his remorse concerned Helga herself. 
 
 The journey was long and tiresome and every step had its 
 own peculiar misery. During the first hour the moon was 
 shining — a brilliant moon that bathed everything in loveli- 
 ness — and Oscar remembered the scene in the chasm and re-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 203 
 
 fleeted that in the very hour of his delirious happiness Thora, 
 perhaps, was lying dead. 
 
 Then the moon died out and darkness fell — a murky dark- 
 ness, blacker than the lava — and as Oscar pushed and 
 plunged along over the stumbles of his pony, the thought 
 came to him that if Thora were dead perhaps it was the 
 best that could have happened to her — the best under the 
 circumstances — saving her from the bitterness of a future 
 which must surely come when Helga and he, struggle as 
 they might, would have to break the bonds that bound them. 
 
 And then in that dark and treacherous hour, with no face 
 to look into his face, he felt an immense relief, remember- 
 ing that if Thora was gone, the consequences of his life's 
 error were at an end and he was free. 
 
 But the dawn came — a bleared, rainy dawn, with scarfs of 
 vapor stretching across the sun like a cataract over a blood- 
 shot eye — and Oscar's remorse was doubled by the wounds he 
 had inflicted upon his conscience in the darkness, and he 
 dare not look at Helga as she rode, muffled up and silent, 
 by his side. 
 
 They were crossing the Moss Fell Heath by this time, and 
 everything around was dark and drear. A solitary raven 
 kept them cheerless company for a while, flying from beacon 
 to beacon and uttering its husky cry. Oscar remembered the 
 scenes of yesterday when the sky was blue, and their blood 
 was warm, and then the thought came to him — like the shoot- 
 ing of the bolt on a man buried in a tomb — that if he was 
 not to be henceforward the most miserable of men he must 
 pray with all his soul and strength that when they reached 
 the end of their journey Thora should be alive. 
 
 On reaching the more inhabited districts Oscar allowed 
 the Governor and the Factor to forge on ahead, and Helga 
 to wait for him in the road, while he glanced off to the 
 farmhouses and shouted up at the bedroom windows. But 
 the result was always the same — Thora had not been seen 
 and Magnus had been there before him. 
 
 When they came to the top of the hill from which they 
 had looked back on Reykjavik and on the Danish mail- 
 steamer entering the fiord, the little capital floated in the 
 mist of morning like a city in a woolly sea, and the " Laura "
 
 204 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 lay anchored outside of it; but the apprehensions of yester- 
 day were consumed by the fears of to-day, and Oscar thought 
 of one thing alone. 
 
 They met farmers trotting out of the town on their little 
 caravans of ponies, yet Oscar did not question them, lest he 
 should hear the news he dare not listen to, and coming at 
 length to the long street of the little capital, he did not 
 raise his face to the eyes that peered at him through the cur- 
 tains of upper windows, lest they should reveal the truth he 
 dared not learn. 
 
 The fear of disaster had by this time swallowed up any 
 flicker of hope in Oscar, and when, coming up to Govern- 
 ment House, he found a crowd of people standing in front 
 of it, he knew too well that all was over. From that moment 
 onward fact after fact led up to the fatal certainty. 
 
 The window of Thora's bedroom — the window at which 
 Oscar had shouted his adieus the day before — stood open, 
 and a ladder had been raised against it. By the gate to the 
 green a horse lay dead on the gravel — it was Magnus's horse, 
 his magnificent Golden Mane — covered with dust and sweat, 
 as it fell under its rider at the last step of his fearful 
 journey. 
 
 In the middle of the hall Anna and Aunt Margret stood 
 with the Governor and the Factor, sobbing out their pitiful 
 explanations. Afraid to return to the empty house which 
 had been the scene of a painful memory, Anna had sat the 
 night through with Margret at the Factor's, waiting hour 
 after hour for the reports of the Sheriff and his constables. 
 Nothing had been heard of Thora, but in the early morning 
 Magnus had returned and found the door of her room 
 locked on the inside. Then he had run for them and they 
 had called to Thora, but received no answer, though some- 
 times they heard the baby crying. And now Magnus, having 
 failed to force the door, had gone for a ladder, and he in- 
 tended to climb into the room from the outside. 
 
 Oscar was conscious of no more until he found himself 
 knocking at Thora's door and calling in his agony : 
 
 "Thora! Thora! Thora!" 
 
 There was a heavj', staggering step inside the room; the 
 lock was tlirust back and the door thrown open.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 205 
 
 " Thora ! " cried Oscar again, but it was Magnus who 
 stood before him — Magnus with a face white and set and full 
 of anger and hatred. 
 
 " You were right," he said, pointing to the bed. " There 
 she is with God — and you ! " 
 
 Thora lay high on the pillow, with her eyes open and her 
 parted lips smiling, as if she had just awakened from a 
 beautiful dream. She was dead, but her baby was alive, and 
 it was rolling its little round head and digging its red hand 
 into her cold, white breast. 
 
 With a low, choking cry, Oscar fell to his knees at the bed- 
 side and buried his face in the bedclothes. Magnus left the 
 room, the others entered it, and Aunt Margret lifted the liv- 
 ing child out of the mother's breast over the father's kneel- 
 ing form. 
 
 IX 
 
 During the few days before the funeral the Government 
 House felt motionless and empty, like a room when the clock 
 has stopped in it. Behind the drawn blinds everybody talked 
 in whispers, as if the dead were asleep and must not be 
 wakened. The stillness of the house centered in the room 
 where Thora lay, and that was white and fresh with the odor 
 of clean linen and wild flowers. In the deadened sunshine, 
 as it filtered through the yellow blinds, there was a halo 
 about the waxen face on the bed, and it seemed to diffuse 
 solemnity on all around it. 
 
 Anna never allowed herself to be long away from this 
 chamber. Her fear of the room had gone, now that death 
 had entered it. Early and late, in daylight and dark, she 
 went to and fro in the silent place, walking softly and seem- 
 ing to count the hours during which her dear girl would be 
 above ground. 
 
 The Governor did nothing from the day of Thora's death 
 until the day of her burial. Dressed always in his official 
 uniform he sat in his bureau, but received no one. He 
 wrote no letters and read no books and seldom spoke at his 
 meals. For hours together he would sit with folded arms 
 looking fixedly at the pattern on the carpet. A shadow had
 
 206 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 fallen on him — a shadow of shame — and in the sealed cham- 
 ber of his proud soul he was struj^gling to reconcile his 
 conduct to himself and finding it difficult to do so. 
 
 The Factor went on with his work as usual, for in the 
 decalogue of his duty there was no maxim that forbade 
 business, but sometimes as he turned the leaves of his ledger 
 he looked long and saw nothing, and once, as he counted up 
 the figures in his bank-book, the thought smote him with 
 the force of a blow on the brain that perhaps Nature was 
 beginning to strike a balance with him against the sum of his 
 successors, and that the cruel bereavement which had just 
 befallen him was the first stroke of the Nemesis which was 
 to follow in the wake of his wealth. 
 
 Aunt Margret and Helga were always at home, the one 
 busy with the baby, which had been taken back to the Fac- 
 tor's, and the other -with, the " black " which had to be 
 ordered for everybody. 
 
 Little was kno^vn of Magnus, except that he was still in 
 towm, that he had been seen with the Sheriff and two stran- 
 gers, that in spite of the trouble which had overtaken his 
 family he was spending most of his time in the dark 
 smoking-room of the Hotel, and that he was said to be drink- 
 ing heavily. 
 
 But the grief of Oscar touched and satisfied everybody. 
 He had eaten little and had never been known to sleep. 
 Sometimes he was seen to be sitting apart and weeping 
 silently; sometimes he was moving from room to room, as 
 if every spot on which his eye could rest was charged with 
 the memoiy of happy days that were dead; sometimes he 
 was heard in the white room in which Thora lay — the room 
 in which she had been so merry and so sad, so wild with 
 delirium and so happy with her baby — and there he was 
 sobbing out his wild regrets in muflSed cries of " Forgive me I 
 Forgive me ! " Once in the middle of the night he was 
 heard at the harmonium in the room below the death cham- 
 ber, playing softly a pitiful lament which awakened his 
 father and mother and brought the salt tears to their eyes. 
 
 The desolate soul in these ghastly hours was prostrating 
 itself in the dust. Death strikes sternly, and Oscar in his 
 penitence was accusing himself of every crime. He had
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 207 
 
 killed Thora — not her body only, but her heart, that faithful 
 heart which had loved him so deeply, so tenderly, so 
 passionately. 
 
 In this conscience-stricken condition he looked back on 
 the path of his life with Thora, and every step as he now saw 
 it seemed to be thick set with the stubble of sin and rank 
 with the weeds of self-deception. When he returned from 
 England he had taken Thora from Magnus, although he did 
 not love her. It was true he had thought he loved her, but 
 the brotherly thing would have been to stand back in silence, 
 and if he had only done so Time itself would have unde- 
 ceived him. 
 
 That was the first of his offenses, and the next was no 
 less hideous. When, being betrothed to Thora, he awoke to 
 the certainty that his heart was with Helga, he had gone 
 on with his bargain and led the girl who loved him into a 
 loveless marriage. It was true he thought he was doing his 
 duty, but behind duty was fear, fear of the world and fear 
 of Magnus, while the courageous thing, the manly thing, 
 even the merciful thing would have been to stop at the 
 church door, if need be, and face the facts and take the 
 consequences. 
 
 But having cheated Thora of her love and lied to her at 
 the altar, he had crowned the sum of his sins by exposing 
 himself to the temptation of infidelity. It was true that 
 Thora herself, in her innocent affection, had paved the way 
 to this temptation; true, too, that his marriage had been an 
 imperfect partnership ; but all the same his course had been 
 clear and he should have cut himself off from Helga at once 
 and for ever. That he had not done so, that he had paltered 
 with temptation was the last cause of this terrible calamity. 
 Thora had died because her heart was dead, and he himself 
 had killed it. 
 
 Thus the desolate soul of the unhappy man laid down its 
 faults at the feet of God, hiding nothing, palliating nothing, 
 and seeing everything in naked light. If to be sorry for 
 having sinned is to be innocent, Oscar had ceased to be 
 guilty in his pitiful, but useless, sorrow. In the dizzy hours 
 of pain and shame, when the wheel of life goes rapidly, Oscar 
 asked himself how it had fcome to pass that Thora was dead,
 
 208 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and something whispered " Helga," and again and yet again 
 something whispered " Helga," but his heart would not 
 listen to that excuse. Helga had not been to blame. He 
 alone had been at fault. He had sacrificed Thora to his am- 
 bitious dreams — his dreams of greatness, of glory. Helga 
 had been merely the sjTnbol of those dreams, and Thora was 
 dead because he had tried to become a great musician. 
 
 But the past was past, and when Oscar asked himself 
 what punishment he could impose upon himself for the fu- 
 ture, he heard but one answer. If his ambitions had been the 
 cause of his sin, to bury them would be the true expression 
 of his repentance. He would bury them. He would bury 
 his genius and the expectation of becoming a composer in 
 the grave of the sweet girl he had destroyed, and go through 
 the rest of his life in the drudgery of the nearest duty, eating 
 the bread of afiiiction in obscurity and remorse. 
 
 When Oscar first attempted to carry out this resolution, it 
 was in a scene of such tragic beauty that no one who wit- 
 nessed it could ever afterward wipe it out of mind. The 
 family had gathered for that last ofllce of love, which makes 
 perhaps the saddest moment of human experience — sadder 
 than the moment of turning away from the newly covered 
 grave, sadder even that the moment of returning to the 
 void and empty home — the moment when the cofiin-lid is 
 closed down and the beloved face disappears for ever. 
 
 The death chamber was the same that in a better time had 
 been the bridal chamber, but the air which had tingled with 
 all exquisite thoughts of life was now heavy with the hush 
 of death. It was night-time and the same lamp burned under 
 the same shade, while a gilt-edged prayer-book lay in a 
 circle of lighted candles on the little table that stood by the 
 bed. Besides the members of the family, only two persons 
 were present — one of the sewing-maids, who had made the 
 wedding-dress for the cathedral, and had just put the last 
 stitch to the garment intended for a darker house, and a 
 joiner in his shirt-sleeves. 
 
 One by one the family approached the bed to take their 
 last look at the burden that lay on it — the Governor with a 
 solemn tread, as if he had been approaching the presence 
 of a king, the Factor with rigid strides and a bewildered
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 209 
 
 stare, and Helga with a nervous step and a furtive glance, as 
 if duty had called her and she wished herself away. But 
 Anna and Aunt Margret moved about the body without 
 dread or ceremony, laying flowers on the bosom and smooth- 
 ing the soft hair that was dressed down the cheek, as if the 
 dear dead belonged to them by right of nature, and they 
 would give it up to no one until Earth herself, the mother of 
 us all, should claim it for her own. 
 
 The man in the shirt-sleeves had stepped forward to finish 
 his task when the Governor held up his hand. 
 
 "Wait! Where is Oscar? " he asked, and then Maria, the 
 old housemaid, who had been weeping noiselessly outside the 
 door, was sent to fetch him. 
 
 While Maria was away, Aunt Margret went up to Thora 
 and whispered over her : 
 
 " My precious, precious pet ! You never changed to your 
 stupid old auntie, did you? — not even when she kept your 
 dear baby away from you and your sweet heart was broken ! 
 Don't think she didn't love you for all that, my precious. 
 She loved you every minute, my own. And now that she 
 has got your baby she intends to keep it. She will keep it 
 as long as she lives, so don't you ever be troubled about 
 that, Thora. Aunt Margret is going to be a mother to your 
 little girl, and nobody in the world shall ever touch a hair 
 of your darling's head." 
 
 It was at this moment that Oscar entered the room, 
 with old Maria creeping up behind him. His pale cheeks and 
 sunken eyes testified to the strength of his remorse, but his 
 step was firm and his whole figure showed intense vitality of 
 will. He carried a bundle of papers in one hand, and they 
 were loose and irregular, as if they had been snatched up 
 hurriedly at the moment he was called. In the utter absorp- 
 tion of his mood he seemed to be \uiconscious of anybody 
 or anything in the room except one thing — the thing that 
 lay upon the bed — and walking up to it he looked down at 
 the white face and spoke to it as if the dead — and the dead 
 alone — could hear. 
 
 " Thora," he said in a calm voice, " these are the only 
 copies of my compositions, and I wish you to take them 
 with you. They were written in hours when your faithful
 
 210 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 heart was suffering through my fault — when I neglected you 
 and deserted you for the sake of my foolish visions of art 
 and greatness. That was the real cause of your death, 
 Thora, and in punishment of myself for sacrificing your 
 sweet life to my selfish dreams, I wish to burj' the fruits 
 of them in your grave. Take them, then, and let them lie 
 with you and fade with you and be forgotten. I will never 
 write another note of music as long as I live, and from this 
 hour onward my ambitions are at an end." 
 
 Saying this he put the papers beside the body of Thora 
 and wrapped them in the long plaits of her beautiful hair. 
 
 " Oscar ! Oscar ! " cried Helga in breathless horror. 
 
 The others listened and looked on, hardly realizing what 
 Oscar had resigned, but Helga realized it, and she was 
 trying to warn him against the life-long sacrifice. But he 
 did not seem to hear her, and at such a moment further 
 remonstrance was impossible. 
 
 " My sweet girl," said Oscar, stretching both arms over 
 the bed, " forgive me for all my failures of duty. Oh, what 
 I would give to forget them now ; but I can't, I can't ! You 
 are gone, and I can never make amends." 
 
 Thinking to put an end to a scene which was touching 
 everybody too deeply, the Governor signed to the man in 
 the shirt-sleeves, but when the man stepped forward Oscar's 
 grief broke out afresh, and in the vehemence of his sorrow 
 his tongue lost all control of itself. 
 
 "Not yet!" he cried. "Oh, God! Thora! My wife! 
 My sweet young wife! Let me look at her face again! 
 How bright and happy it used to be, and now it is leaving 
 me like this! Forgive me, my angel! Say you forgive me 
 before you go ! I can not live without your forgiveness ! I 
 wronged you and sinned against you, but you were good and 
 your childlike heart was from God ! " 
 
 The desolate cry rang through the room, and each of those 
 who heard the revelation of the naked soul read it by the 
 light of his own. Helga trembled and turned to the window, 
 the Governor and the Factor dropped their heads, but Aunt 
 Margret cried openly in innocent sympathy, and Anna 
 touched Oscar's arm and tried to comfort him. 
 
 After a moment Oscar became more calm and even signed
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 211 
 
 io the man himself, and when all was over he walked firmly 
 and courageously out of the room. 
 
 On the day of the funeral Oscar was weak and ill, and 
 more fit for his bed than for a journey to the cemetery, but 
 no one could prevail on him not to go. The morning was 
 dull and drear, with black clouds from the mountains and 
 some sprinklings of rain, and when the dread hour struck, 
 and Oscar came down among the mourners, his face looked 
 ghastly in the void and heavy air. 
 
 The bell in the cathedral tower began to toll, the solemn 
 turden was borne slowly down the stairs, and then Oscar's 
 white face became yet more white and he would have fallen 
 ^ut for his father's arm which held him up. 
 
 The body was first rested on the green outside the door, 
 and while the mourners grouped themselves round in a wide 
 iialf-circle to sing a parting hymn, Oscar stood bareheaded 
 in the drizzling rain which had begun to fall. 
 
 John, the servant, stood at the gate, holding Silvertop, 
 Thora's pony, which he had brought from the farm to carry 
 her on her last journey, and the sight of this horse seemed 
 to be more than Oscar could bear. The coffin was laid cross- 
 wise on the panniers and the procession began to form. 
 It passed through deep lines of the townspeople, Oscar walk- 
 ing first after the body, alone, bareheaded and conscious of 
 nothing but his grief. The bell was still tolling and a Sab- 
 bath quiet had fallen over the town. 
 
 The cathedral was crowded with the same faces that had 
 looked on at Thora's wedding, when she came down from 
 the altar in her bloom and beauty, happy and smiling on her 
 husband's arm; and now that she was being carried up to it, 
 while the organ played the funeral march, and Oscar walked 
 with drooping head behind, the people nearest the aisle said 
 he was weeping audibly. 
 
 The coffin in its pall was set down on the steps to the 
 communion rail — the spot where Thora had knelt as a young 
 girl to be confirmed and as a bride to be married — and then
 
 212 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 the Bishop who had been waiting to receive it delivered 3 
 consolatory address. 
 
 They should not ask themselves why this sweet and lovely 
 life had been so ruthlessly cut off. The ways of Providence 
 were inscrutable, but God was in heaven and the Judge 
 of all the earth did right. Neither should the family who 
 were there to mourn take blame to themselves for what had 
 occurred, for if it had pleased the Almighty to lay His hand 
 on the afflicted brain of their dear departed sister. He knew 
 best why He did so, and to what end it was done. Rather 
 let them kneel in gratitude to God that in His mercy He 
 had not suffered her to lift her hand against herself, and so 
 rob them of the blessed hope of eternal life. 
 
 " To the young husband who is here plunged in sorrow," 
 said the Bishop, " what can we say but that all our hearts 
 go out to him? It seems only yesterday that he stood on 
 this spot to make his vows before heaven and before men to 
 love and cherish the dear girl who has been so suddenly 
 taken away. If she had lived he would have kept his prom- 
 ises, and though she is gone, he will preserve the spirit of 
 them still. The pure and innocent soul who linked her life 
 with his life will be an abiding memory, a perpetual inspira- 
 tion against sin, and when the first pangs of grief are over, 
 a constant solace and a lasting joy." 
 
 If it was possible for Oscar to look more wan and weak 
 than when he went into the cathedral, he did so when he 
 came out of it. The rain was now falling heavily, but when 
 the procession was formed again for the last stage of the 
 journey, he walked bareheaded as before. 
 
 The Factor, who was behind Oscar (with Helga quivering 
 on his arm), begged him to put on his hat, but he refused, 
 and when the Governor, who came next with Anna, passed 
 up an iimbrella, he shook his head and sent it back. The 
 bell tolled again, the little town sat quiet, and the towns- 
 people who wept floods of tears for Thora, wept for Oscar 
 even more. 
 
 When the procession reached the cemetery the rain was 
 coming down in torrents and even the priest put an overcoat 
 over his cassock, but Oscar stood uncovered by the open 
 grave. During the short prayer — " dust to dust " — he suf-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 213 
 
 fered visibly, and during the long hymn that is always sung 
 at an Icelandic fvuicral, while the grave is being filled in, 
 the hollow thuds of the falling earth seemed to beat upon 
 his twitching face. 
 
 When all was at an end he could not be drawn away until 
 his father took him by the arm and said in a firm voice, 
 " Come." Then with a stronger step he walked with a rem- 
 nant of the broken procession across the little cemetery — the 
 hummocked home-field of the dead — through the gate to 
 the road — where Hans, the water-carrier in the sleeveless 
 waistcoat Thora had made for him, was giving water to 
 her horse — past the Factor's house — where Aunt Margret 
 •watched at a window with the baby in her arms — and thus 
 back to his empty home. 
 
 At the foot of the stairs he excused himself when the 
 maumers went in to their meal, and he was seen no more 
 that day. 
 
 The dirmer was a cheerless thing, being served in the 
 room that had witnessed the home-coming, and so chilled 
 with memories of that happier event. Silently, or in whis- 
 pers, the mourners bade their adieus and crept away one 
 by one, leaving the few remaining members of the two 
 families with wide spaces between them at the table like gaps 
 in a toothless skull. 
 
 The Governor and the Factor had not spoken since their 
 return from the Proclamation, and the interval of silence 
 had made the rift between the two old friends grow wide. 
 
 " Ah, well ! " yawned the Factor, " it's all over, I suppose." 
 
 Then he turned to the Governor and asked sharply, 
 " Where is Magnus ? I've seen nothing of him to-day." 
 
 The Governor did not answer and Anna dropped her head< 
 and then Helga, who was the only other person present, said 
 quietly : 
 
 " Somebody saw him at the Hotel — he did right not to 
 come to the fimeral — they say he was not quite sober," 
 
 " Just like him," said the Factor. " A yeU is all you hear 
 of a wolf, and but for his last drinking bout, perhaps nothing 
 of this would have happened." 
 
 The Governor's proud face quivered, but he did not speak, 
 and soon afterward the Factor and Helga went away.
 
 214 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 XI 
 
 Early next morning, before the household was astir, the 
 Governor was in his bureau, ready to begin on the arrears of 
 business, when somebody knocked at the door. It was Mag- 
 nus, white and worn, but sober and serious as a judge. 
 
 " May I speak to you, sir? " said Magnus. 
 
 " Well — perhaps for a moment — come in," said the Gov- 
 ernor. 
 
 It occurred to the Governor as Magnus entered the bureau 
 that he had come for money to help him with the farm, and 
 he said immediately : 
 
 " If you have come for financial assistance toward stock 
 and seed and what not, I ought to tell you at once, Magnus, 
 that I have nothing to give you. I have already spent as 
 much on the farm as I am justified in spending — more per- 
 haps than I ought to have spent on the inheritance of one 
 of my sons in justice to the claims of the other one — and if 
 it is money — ready money " 
 
 " I do not come to ask for money," said Magnus. " But I 
 come to speak about it," he added, and then he sat on a 
 low seat and twisted his felt hat between his knees, while 
 the Governor leaned back in his desk-chair and fingered 
 a pen. 
 
 " I wish to ask," said Magnus, " whether you drew, about 
 six months ago, a bill on the Bank of Denmark for one hun- 
 dred thousand crowns." 
 
 The Governor uttered a contemptuous snort and said, 
 "Certainly not; I have never drawn a bill in my life and 
 never shall do so. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Because a bill for that amount is in town at this mo- 
 ment," said Magnus. 
 
 " Then it is a forgery — an impudent forgery — and the 
 forger must be found and promptly punished." 
 
 The Governor had risen in his chair when he looked at 
 Magnus's drooping head and a thought occurred to him. 
 
 " But are you sure of what you say ? Is this story true ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " I have seen the paper myself," replied Magnus.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 215^ 
 
 ** And it is signed in my name ? " 
 
 " It is signed in your name, sir, and witnessed in the name 
 of the Factor." 
 
 " That, too," said the Governor, while a painful smile came 
 into his face. " And pray whom is this extraordinary docu- 
 ment drawn in favor of ? " 
 
 Magnus did not reply immediately — he continued to twist 
 his hat between his knees. 
 
 " That may help us to find the motive, and therefore the 
 forger — who is it ? " 
 
 " Oscar Stephenson," said Magnus. 
 
 "Oscar? Your brother?" 
 
 " Yes, sir — and the money was paid to him in Paris." 
 
 " What ? " cried the Governor, crossing the floor. " You 
 tell me that Oscar — your brother Oscar — has committed a 
 forgery? Oh, that's what you mean — don't deny it — ^you 
 mean that my son is a forger ? " 
 
 Magnus made no answer, and after a moment the painful 
 smile about the Governor's face broke into a more painful 
 laugh. " But why do I trouble myself with such a trumpery 
 story? I see how it is, Magnus — strong drink is a strong 
 tongue — you have been drinking." 
 
 " I have been drinking, sir — I was ill and I couldn't help 
 it — but I'm sober now, and what I tell you is God's truth." 
 
 Magnus rose as he said this and father and son stood 
 face to face — the little Governor in his uniform with flushed 
 cheeks and pigeon-breast distended, and Magnus big, black, 
 clumsy, unkempt, and with lines of suffering in his face. 
 
 " And this document, you tell me, is at present in Ice- 
 land?" 
 
 " It is, sir — two officers of the law brought it here from 
 Copenhagen." 
 
 " Officers of the law, you say ? " 
 
 " The bank found reasons to suspect the signatures, so 
 they sent across to verify them." 
 
 "You have talked with these men yourself, no doubt?" 
 
 " The Sheriff brought them to see me," said Magnus. 
 
 " The Sheriff, too ! The Sheriff of all men ! " 
 
 " He is to bring the two men here to-morrow morning." 
 
 " So he is to bring them here to-morrow morning ! "
 
 216 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 The Governor, though heated and agitated, laughed onoe 
 more, and said with a sneer: 
 
 " Of course, in the interests of the family, you felt it 
 necessary to examine the signatures they showed you ? " 
 
 " I did," said Magnus simply. 
 
 "And without consulting me to denounce the forger?" 
 
 Magnus made no reply. 
 
 " And even to hint — only to hint — that perhaps you could 
 point to the forger ? " 
 
 Still Magnus made no answer, and dropping his cynical 
 tone, the Governor burst out in choking anger: 
 
 " Out on you, man, out on you ! I thought you were 
 drunk, or suffering from the delusions of drink, but you 
 are worse — you are sweltering in hatred — and it is an un- 
 natural hatred, too — the hatred of your own flesh and blood." 
 
 Magnus flinched as if a lash had cut him through the skin. 
 
 " You are jealous of your brother — always have been, al- 
 ways will be — because he is clever and successful and amiable 
 and because everybody loves him — you are as jealous of your 
 brother as Cain was of Abel, and this is your way of destroy- 
 ing him." 
 
 Magnus stood with drooping head while the Governor's 
 lash fell over him. 
 
 " Aren't you ashamed to stand before your father and 
 parade the whole diabolical catalogue of your unnatural pas- 
 sions ? You allow yourself to consort with my enemies, with 
 Oscar's enemies, with your own enemies, if you had the 
 sense to see it, while they try to bring him down at the high- 
 est moment of his success." 
 
 The Governor was walking to and fro and lashing himself 
 into a fury. 
 
 " At the deepest moment of his distress, too ! Just when 
 the poor boy is unmanned by the loss of his wife — the dear 
 girl he loved and you insulted. But I don't believe one word 
 of this cock-and-bull story. That accursed document is 
 nothing but a trick to dishonor my son and to discredit me 
 at the very time when a pack of rascals who call themselves 
 reformers are trying to abolish the Governorship. Let them 
 do it if they can, but while I am Governor here I'm master 
 in this house, and Mr. Sheriff shall be suspended and thcise 
 men sent back to Copenhagen," -
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 217 
 
 "Hadn't you better speak to Oscar first, sir?" said 
 Magnus. 
 
 " Certainly, I shall, and if I find as I expect — as I am 
 sure — that your story is a pack of falsehoods — let me never 
 see your face again." 
 
 Without a word of defense or explanation, Magnus left 
 the room, and a few minutes afterward Oscar, at the call 
 of the Governor, entered it. 
 
 Oscar's face was as pale as yesterday, but with a different 
 pallor, a different expression — an expression not of grief and 
 regret, but of fear and shame. 
 
 " Oscar," said the Governor, " I am sorry to trouble you 
 about business so soon after your great sorrow, but an ugly 
 story is being told about you in town, and as every lie has its 
 tail, it is only right that you should hear of this one imme- 
 diately, so that it may be quashed without delay." 
 
 Oscar's lower lip trembled — he felt the blow before it fell. 
 
 " Magnus — your brother Magnus — I am aware he has not 
 been on brotherly terms with you — your mother has told me 
 something about that — and let me say I do not sympathize 
 with his protests and pretensions — I think them nothing but 
 an excuse for his own selfishness — Magnus has just been 
 here, and he tells me that a note of hand drawn in your 
 favor for no less a sum than one hundred thousand crowns 
 has been forged in my name, I do not believe the story 
 and I do not want you to discuss it. I only ask you to con- 
 tradict it — to contradict it flatly — or to leave me to deal with 
 the real offender as I think best." 
 
 Oscar, standing by the Governor's desk, remained for a 
 moment quite still. Then in a voice so low that it hardly 
 seemed to come from him, he said: 
 
 " I can not contradict it, father. What Magnus has told 
 you is true." 
 
 " True? You say it is true?" 
 
 Father and son stood facing each other for some moments 
 without a word more being spoken. Then in hot words, 
 broken by breathless pauses, the Governor poured out ques- 
 tion after question, to which Oscar made no answer. 
 
 " You received that sum and signed for it in your father's 
 name? — in the name of your father-in-law also? One hun- 
 dred thousand crowns ? What has become of the money ? "
 
 218 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " It is lost," said Oscar. 
 
 "Lost?" 
 
 " It was to pay the debts I had already contracted." 
 
 " Was that at Monte Carlo ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 There was another long silence, in which Oscar stood with 
 quivering lips and the Governor with contracted bi'ows. 
 
 " But this document — how did it come about ? " 
 
 " I ask myself that question over and over again, father, 
 and I fail to find an answer. I can not understand myself — 
 I try and I can not." 
 
 " Were you mad ? " 
 
 " Sometimes I think I was — I must have been." 
 
 " Did somebody tempt you — put the idea into your head ? 
 — somebody, perhaps, who helped you to lose and promised 
 to help you to repay ? If so, who was it ? " 
 
 " I do not wish to accuse anybody, father — I suppose I 
 have no right to do so." 
 
 " Right ? Don't talk to me about rights. Think about 
 your duties — and the first of your duties is to me, not to the 
 person, whoever it may be, who has helped to destroy you. 
 You have pledged my credit and my honor, but I don't want 
 to think you altogether bad, and if anybody suggested this 
 devilish device to pay your debts, I ought to be told who it 
 was. Was it Helga ? " 
 
 At the mention of that name Oscar's drooping head 
 drooped lower still ; the Governor saw this and then he under- 
 stood everything. 
 
 " Lord God forgive us," he said, in a breathless whisper. 
 " Then Magnus was right, after all ! And the death of the 
 poor child we buried yesterday was perhaps a part of the 
 diabolical harvest we are reaping to-day! You needn't 
 wince, sir — I see it's true without that." 
 
 Oscar did not attempt to excuse himself, and after some 
 moments of silence the Governor spoke again. 
 
 " You have deceived and disappointed me, Oscar. I 
 thought I had one son who was an intelligent man and a 
 gentleman, not a forger and a fool. But it is of no use to 
 prolong a painful interview. You may go." 
 
 Oscar staggered out of the room and the Governor sank 
 into his chair.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 219 
 
 xn 
 
 The proud man was abased. For the first time in his life 
 he was degraded in his own eyes. His own son had com- 
 mitted a vulgar crime and exposed himself to a vulgar 
 punishment. 
 
 In the first pain of surprise and humiliation he saw him- 
 self covering up the whole wretched episode. But he was 
 too proud to be proud, and at the next moment he began to 
 count with his conscience. Thus far he had tried to do what 
 was right in Iceland, and he would do what was right to the 
 end, whatever it might cost him. 
 
 Oscar had offended against the law and he must bear 
 its righteous punishment. It might be eight years' imprison- 
 ment, with the ruin of all his prospects, the waste of all 
 his talents, and the wreck of all his happiness, but he must 
 go thnough with it to the last hour, the last penalty, the 
 last pang. 
 
 So felt the Governor as Judge, and if as the father he felt 
 differently it was only with a different intensity. His favor- 
 ite son — the son whom he had indulged and pampered in the 
 past — for whom he had planned and prepared so many things 
 in the future — had committed a crime against his country 
 and against himself, relying upon his father's love and pride 
 to save him from the painful consequences, no matter what 
 sacrifice it might cost him in hard-earned money or in money 
 still to earn; no matter how much it might put him at the 
 mercy of a scheming crew who were striving to pull him 
 from his place ! It was selfish, it was heartless, it was shame- 
 ful, it was infamous, and it deserved a double punishment. 
 
 Feeling more bitterly against his son than he had ever felt 
 before against any human creature, the Governor passed the 
 day in torment, and he was sitting alone in his room late 
 at night, with no light but the sleepy glow from the open, 
 stove, when the door opened noiselessly and Anna entered. 
 She looked as if she had been crying, although her eyes were 
 dry, and the Governor reproached himself that in all his 
 sorry summary of the consequences of his son's crime he had 
 never once thought of his son's mother.
 
 220 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 But neither did she think of herself, and now sitting by the 
 stove and stirring it, she began to talk of Oscar. 
 
 " He has fallen asleep at last," she said, " and his troubles 
 are over for a little while anjTvay. He went up to his old 
 bedroom to-night, Stephen, the one he slept in when he was 
 a boy — when Magnus and he were boys together. I sat with 
 him until he dropped off, and he held my hand all the time, 
 just as he used to do after he had been naughty and you had 
 sent him to bed without his supper. He looks quite like 
 himself now, poor boy, and if you could see him lying there 
 on the pillow, you would think the old days had come back, 
 when you used to go up with the candle to look at him, and 
 wipe the tears from his little face while he lay asleep, and 
 stroke his curly hair. Ah, dear, how easily he could throw 
 off his troubles in those old days, Stephen! Next morning 
 you would hear him romping about overhead, and singing 
 like a lark." 
 
 " A shallow nature, Anna," said the Governor, " a shallow 
 nature, on which nothing makes a serious impression — al- 
 ways has been, always will be." 
 
 " Oh, but this will, Stephen, this will make a deep impres- 
 sion, and if the poor boy could only have another chance he 
 I would turn over a new leaf and set to work in good earnest, 
 and realize all your expectations. And then think — only 
 think, father, what a dreadful thing it would be if one 
 brother were to drag the other into the dock — dreadful for 
 us, I mean. We should lose both our children, for Oscar 
 would be lost to us one way and we should never be able 
 to look on Magnus again." 
 
 " Our children have always been at war, Anna, ever since 
 their earliest infancy." 
 
 "Don't say that, Stephen. When they were little they 
 loved each other dearly. It was not until they grew up that 
 they were different. And then others came between them — 
 one other anyway, and — who knows? — perhaps she has been 
 the cause of all this trouble." 
 
 "Has Oscar said so?" asked the Governor. 
 
 " He will say nothing against anybody," replied Anna. 
 " That was always the way with Oscar. But if somebody 
 tempted him and he was weak, and if our poor boy must go 
 to prison while she "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 221 
 
 " There is a weakness that is wickedness, Anna, and must 
 bear its pains and penalties." 
 
 " Yes, I know," said Anna. " I remember you said the 
 same words long ago when the sailor lad killed his sweet- 
 heart in a fit of drunken passion. The mother was a widow 
 and she came to ask me to plead with you for her son. He 
 was a good boy, she said, and if it had not been for the 
 drink he would never have hurt any one. You spared his 
 life, you know, and he was sent to prison. And dear me, 
 how the poor woman kissed me and wept on my face for 
 joy ! But she came to think that for her part it might have 
 been better if her boy had died instead of being locked up 
 for ever. She could never forget it, and when her eldest 
 daughter was married and her house was full of people, and 
 everybody was happy, she suddenly remembered and ran 
 up-stairs to cry. And then on wintry nights, when the wind 
 was moaning over the sea and she was putting the little boys 
 to bed, she always thought of their brother lying alone in 
 the big brown house up the road and round the corner. It 
 wouldn't have been so bad if he had been sent away, she 
 thought. And she was only a poor widow who washed at the 
 hot springs." 
 
 The night wind was moaning over the sea at that moment, 
 and the Governor, who had been walking to and fro, strug- 
 gling to be righteous and severe, was feeling a pain in his 
 parched throat. 
 
 He stood for some moments by the window, with his hands 
 interlaced behind him, looking out through the dark pane on 
 the flying moon, and then with an obvious inward effort he 
 said: 
 
 " Anna, if I acknowledge this signature we shall have 
 nothing left — nothing but my salary. Even my salary is 
 threatened, and if it goes we shall be without anything in the 
 world." 
 
 " AVhy should we think of that, Stephen ? " said Anna. 
 " We had nothing when we married, and yet we were very 
 happy. It is true we were young then, and now we are old, 
 but if poverty comes again we shall know better how to 
 bear it. And if we have nothing else we will have each 
 other — and our boys, too — both our boys — wherever they
 
 222 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 may be by that time — and neither of tbem will love us the 
 less because wc have given up everything — everything we 
 had in the world — that they might still be honored and 
 respected." 
 
 The clock struck twelve in the tower of the cathedral, with 
 a reverberant ring that passed over the sleepy town, and the 
 Governor stopped in his restless perambulation. 
 
 "It is late, mother," he said, in a husky voice, "let us 
 go to bed." 
 
 xni 
 
 IN'ext morning the Governor was in his bureau again. He 
 was now firm and composed and waiting calmly for the offi- 
 cers from Copenhagen. They came early, headed by the 
 Sheriff, and bore themselves largely, like men who were con- 
 scious that they were about to administer a painful shock. 
 
 After the formal introductions the Sheriff leaned above the 
 Governor's desk and said suavely, almost condescendingly : 
 
 " These gentlemen have been anxious to show every con^ 
 si deration. They came on an urgent matter — I may say a 
 most urgent matter — but they have waited five days, rather 
 than break in upon you at a time of domestic tribulation." 
 
 " I am busy this morning, Mr. Sheriff," said the Governor. 
 " Be so good as to waste no more time than is necessary." 
 
 The Sheriff gasped and fell back from the desk, whereupon 
 the strangers stepped up to it, and one of them opening 
 a large envelope, said in a tone of indulgent courtesy : 
 
 " We have a document here, your Excellency, which claims 
 to be drawn by your authority. Will you be good enough to 
 see if this is your Excellency's signature ? " 
 
 The Governor fixed his eye-glasses leisurely, and glancing 
 hastily, almost casually, at the paper put before him, replied 
 promptly : 
 
 " It is." 
 
 The strangers looked at each other in silence before th©y 
 spoke again. 
 
 " In that case we presume your Excellency will be pre- 
 pared to honor it ? " 
 
 " Certainly," said the Governor.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 223 
 
 " Then your Excellency will be aware that the bill is al- 
 ready overdue and that two applications have been made for 
 payment ? " 
 
 The Governor flinched at that question, but recovering 
 himself in a moment, he said, shortly : 
 
 " The bill shall be met immediately." 
 
 " How soon, your Excellency — a week, a fortnight ? " 
 
 " Three days," said the Governor. " Good-morning, gen- 
 tlemen," and without more ceremony he took up his pen and 
 began to write a letter. 
 
 The Sheriff, who was perspiring visibly by this time, had 
 edged round to the door, and after a short silence, in which 
 nothing was heard but the scratching of the Governor's 
 quill, the strangers bowed to his stooping forehead and 
 backed themselves out of the room. 
 
 The Governor's letter was to the Factor, asking him to 
 come immediately. He came, looking sullen and suspicious, 
 with the air of one who knew something already of the busi- 
 ness for which he had been summoned. 
 
 " Old friend," said the Governor, " we have known each 
 other for fifty years, and I have never yet asked you to do 
 me a favor, but I am going to ask you now." 
 
 " H'm ! " said the Factor, with a cold smile. 
 
 "It is not for my own needs I ask it, but for one who is 
 nearer to me than myself. We who are fathers know what 
 that means; and we also know that a favor done once to 
 our children is done twice to ourselves." 
 
 " H'm, h'm ! " said the Factor, with the same cold smile. 
 
 " It is a private matter — strictly private — but to you, old 
 friend, I can reveal the secret — your godson has got himself 
 into trouble." 
 
 And then, excusing and extenuating nothing, the Gov- 
 ernor told the story of Oscar's downfall, and the Factor 
 listened with the impatience of one who had heard the sorry 
 tale before. 
 
 " He signed my name also, you say ? " said the Factor. 
 
 *' That, too, unhappily," answered the Governor, " but you 
 were merely made witness to the deed, and I am responsible 
 for the money." 
 
 "What are you going to do about it?" asked the Factor 
 in a hard tone.
 
 224 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Pay it and give the lad another chance in life," replied 
 the Governor. " And that's why I sent for you this morning. 
 I can find fifty thousand crowns and I want you to lend me 
 the other fifty thousand." 
 
 " Xot fifty thousand cents," said the Factor. " ISTot fifty — 
 to shield a criminal and to cheat the law." 
 
 The Governor's face whitened, but he answered quietly, 
 " Don't speak so fast, old friend. Remember that the of- 
 fense against the law is only an offense against myself, and 
 if I choose to forgive it the law can have nothing to say." 
 
 " What about the offense against me ? " said the Factor. 
 
 " Remember, too," continued the Governor, " that if Oscar 
 has made free with your name he has certain claims upon 
 your purse — there is the marriage contract." 
 
 " The marriage contract was made for Thora, and Thora 
 is dead," said the Factor. 
 
 " There is the child," said the Governor. 
 
 " I hold the child now and I am prepared to provide for 
 it in the future," said the Factor, " but I will have nothing 
 more to do with a man who has forged my name, and if any 
 further claim is made — on my business or estate or what 
 not — I will protest against it and publish my reasons for 
 doing 80." 
 
 " Oscar Neilsen," said the Governor, " there is something 
 I have not told you, something I did not intend to tell you, 
 but I must tell it to you now. I have reason to believe — to be 
 confident — that for the trouble in which Oscar finds himself 
 Helga is partly responsible." 
 
 " Can you prove that, Stephen Magnusson ? " said the 
 Factor. 
 
 " If I can not prove it," replied the Governor, " it is be- 
 cause my son — whatever his faults and follies — is still a 
 gentleman ; and if you do not know it by this time it is be- 
 cause your daughter is not a lady." 
 
 " Speak for your own, Stephen Magnusson, and leave mine 
 to me," said the Factor. 
 
 " Therefore," continued the Governor, " when I pay this 
 money — and I shall pay it — ^you will have the satisfaction to 
 know that though I am a poor man and you are a rich one, 
 I am discharging your debt as well as mine."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 225 
 
 With that, red and angry, the Governor walked to the 
 door and opened it. The Factor looked at him in blank 
 amazement, and for one swift instant his better nature con- 
 quered his greed and he saw what a pitiful thing it was that 
 after fifty years of friendship they should quarrel thus about 
 their children. But one sword draws another from its sheath, 
 and he snapped his fingers contemptuously and strode out 
 of the room. 
 
 Then the Governor sent for the manager of the Bank of 
 Iceland. 
 
 " Manager," he said, " I wish you to arrange a loan of 
 one hundred thousand crowns on the security of my farm 
 at Thingvellir." 
 
 " The fai-m is hardly worth so much, sir — I say it is hardly 
 worth so much," said the manager. " But in your case there 
 can be little difficulty — none whatever if you are willing to 
 pay the higher interest — I say none whatever if you are will- 
 ing to pay the higher interest." 
 
 " I agree," said the Governor, " and let the deed be drawn 
 without delay." 
 
 XIV 
 
 Having gone through the material part of his preparations 
 the Governor had now a spiritual and more trying ordeal 
 before him, and he went out into the home-field to think 
 over it. Leaving the town behind he walked, with hands, as 
 usual, interlaced behind him, as far as to the margin of the 
 fiord. 
 
 It was a beautiful morning. The light was wonderful, a 
 silvery light that made the light of other days seem dull and 
 leaden, full of innumerable sparkles like the stars that are 
 sown in snow. The waters of the fiord were heaving slowly 
 under a quivering haze, and on the sea outside — wide, vast, 
 stretching far away — a number of fishing-boats, with their 
 white sails bellied to a breeze that could not be felt on shore, 
 were going on and on as if sailing into the sky. The mail- 
 steamer was lying at anchor in the bay, getting up steam, 
 for her voyage back to England, and a flock of lighters,,
 
 226 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 painted white, were floating about her black hull, like sea- 
 fowl at the foot of a lava rock. The gulls were calling high 
 up in the air, and from the sheltered side of a little island 
 the last of the year's eider-duck were coaxing or driving 
 their young ones into the sea to prepare them for their flight 
 to far-off lands. 
 
 It was a cruelly beautiful morning, one of those radiant 
 days when Nature in her indifference to man and his suf- 
 ferings, seems to conjure up eveiy joyous sound and sight 
 that can trouble the bitterest waters of memory — when the 
 very sunshine seems to break one's heart. 
 
 At length the proud man who was walking through the 
 hummocked home-field, with head bent low by the sorrow of 
 a wrecked and shattered hope, saw plainly what he had to 
 do. In love no less than anger, in justice no less than duty, 
 he had to cast off forever his favorite son, the pride of his 
 heart and the hope of his life. 
 
 As soon as he returned to the house he sent up-stairs for 
 Oscar. After some moments Oscar came down slowly, look- 
 ing more ill and weak than ever, and stood by the stove with 
 drooping head like a prisoner about to receive his sentence. 
 The Governor glanced up at his son from over the rims of his 
 eye-glasses, and at first his heart failed him, but after a 
 moment he steeled himself to his task and began to speak in 
 a steady voice. 
 
 " I have sent for you to tell you," he said, " that for your 
 mother's sake — I prefer to put it so — I have acknowledged 
 that signature and am preparing to pay the money you have 
 wasted. To do so I am compelled to mortgage every penny- 
 worth of property we possess, so that apart from my official 
 salary I shall soon have nothing. Worse than that I have 
 had to eat up your brother's inheritance in order to purchase 
 your liberty, and whether I had a right to do so God alone 
 can say." 
 
 Oscar shivered as from cold ; the Governor saw this, waited 
 a moment, and then went on. 
 
 " The condition on which I make this sacrifice is that you 
 leave Iceland immediately. You will sail by the * Laura,' 
 which goes back this evening, and, as your honor is my 
 honor, I will give it out that your health is broken after
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 227 
 
 the death of your wife, and that you have gone away to 
 recruit." 
 
 The Governor paused a second time, and when he spoke 
 again his voice was thick and hoarse. 
 
 "I shall not expect you to come back soon — I shall not 
 GApect you to come back at all. Inasmuch as you have done 
 your best — or worst — to wreck my happiness I will ask you 
 to consider that henceforth our lives are to run in different 
 courses, and that for my own part I wish to see you no 
 more." 
 
 The Governor's voice was now husky and indistinct, but 
 still he struggled on. 
 
 " You will look to yourself for your livelihood in the fu- 
 ture, but that — with your talents, little as you have made 
 of them hitherto — should not be difficult. Whatever hap- 
 pens here I shall never expect you to do anything for me, 
 or for your mother, but if fortune should favor you, and 
 you are able to repay your brother, your conscience may 
 be the easier and — though I do not pity him, for his heart 
 was hard — the earth on my grave the lighter." 
 
 The Governor paused for the last time, cleared his throat, 
 and then said in a firmer tone : 
 
 " Only one word more. I thought perhaps your father-in- 
 law might have done something for you, but apart from a 
 promise to provide for the child, he will do nothing. There- 
 fore, as I have reason to fear that his daughter Helga was 
 at the root of the trouble which has so nearly wrecked us 
 all, and perhaps a first cause of the death of our dear Thora, 
 I will ask you to promise me — for your own sake more than 
 mine — to hold no further intercourse with him or his — do 
 you promise ? " 
 
 There was silence for some moments and then a muffled 
 sob came as from the stove itself: 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 After that there was silence again for a perceptible period, 
 and then a voice — a strange voice that was like a cry — 
 said: 
 
 " That is all. And now — good-by and — and God help 
 you!" 
 
 Choking with emotion and blind with tears, Oscar turned
 
 228 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 about to acknovpledge the justice of his punishment — to say 
 that he deserved everything — everything and more — a hun- 
 dred-fold more — but he found himself alone. His father had 
 lied from the room. 
 
 XV 
 
 When Magnus heard of what his father had done, his 
 wrath knew no measure. On the day when he found Thora 
 dead in her bed he had said to himself, " Oscar has done this 
 and he must be made to suffer." But there was no legal way 
 to punish a man who had tortured his wife to death by every 
 refinement of hypocrisy and pretense, and it was at the 
 height of his anger that the offense against his father's 
 property had come to him with its diabolical temptation. 
 " Use me," it whispered, " the damnable spirit of the world 
 understands me better," and after a struggle in which the 
 devils seemed to fight for his soul, he yielded. 
 
 He thought he knew the price he would have to pay and 
 that was the reason he did not join his family at the funeral. 
 EveiT^^body would loathe him for giving up his brother to the 
 punishment he deserved. His own mother would turn from 
 him, and after his father, being confronted by poverty, had 
 allowed the law to take its course, he would hate and despise 
 the son who had saved him from beggary. 
 
 But no matter! When he stood up in court and said, 
 " This is Oscar Stephenson's handwriting, for he is a forger 
 and a thief," and a thrill of horror ran through the crowded 
 room, and every eye turned on him with contempt, he would 
 say to his secret heart, " He killed her, and he had to suffer, 
 and there was no other way than this ! " 
 
 Yet that was not what had happened. His father had 
 saved Oscar from the just punishment of his infamous of- 
 fense. And how had he saved him ? By making him — Mag- 
 nus — pay the price of Oscar's riotous living abroad. Thus 
 the vengeance which he had vowed upon his brother had re- 
 coiled upon himself, and while his rightful inheritance was 
 wiped out, while the farm on which he had built his last 
 hopes was embarrassed beyond the possibility of redemption.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 229 
 
 and he was ruined for the rest of his life, the man for whom 
 and by whom he was ruined — ruined in his affections as well 
 as his fortunes — was to be allowed to steal away amid a 
 croaking chorus of sympathy and pity under the cloak of 
 broken health and a broken heart ! 
 
 What a devil's world it was in which infamy could mas- 
 querade as honor and hypocrisy as grief! When Magnus 
 thought in this way his eyesight grew dull and his hearing 
 dense and he felt a cold pain at the back of his neck. Then 
 he began to use again the only remedy he had recourse to 
 when his head was bad — he began to drink. 
 
 But sitting in the darkest corner of the smoking-room 
 of the hotel, every word he heard — every conversation that 
 filtered through the smoke and noise and his deadened senses 
 — seemed to stimulate the idea which had taken possession 
 of him — it was the devil's own world and God had nothing 
 whatever to do with it! 
 
 At one moment a student ran into the room and shouted, 
 above the laughter and singing of his fellow-students, " Boys, 
 what do you think? Oscar Stephenson is sailing by the 
 * Laura ' to-night ! " And thereupon a babel of voices cried, 
 " Keally ! " " Never ! " " You don't say so ! " " True enough 
 — smashed up for good and going abroad for an indefinite 
 period ! " " ISTot a bit of it ! Oscar isn't the sort to be broken 
 up like that. Six months abroad and he'll be home again as 
 bright and fresh as ever." 
 
 " So he will," thought Magnus, but his heart was fierce and 
 bitter. 
 
 At another moment the chairman of the Town Board 
 came in panting and cried, " News, gentlemen, news ! Oscar 
 Stephenson has resigned his seat in Parliament ! " " Impos- 
 sible ! " " Listen ! " and the little fat man read, out of his 
 rasping, asthmatical throat, from a sheet smelling of damp 
 paper and printer's ink a letter from Oscar to his constitu- 
 ents. Broken in health and happiness — compelled to go 
 abroad — impossible to fix date of return — consequently forced 
 to tender resignation — deeply grieved and disappointed — but 
 set the duties too high to ask his constituents to wait, etc. — 
 " That means he's not coming back ! " " But, good heavens, 
 does he know what he's giving up? Why, there's nothing
 
 230 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 that's not within the man's reach — absolutely nothing ! " " I 
 wonder the Governor has allowed him to do it ! " 
 
 And then Magnus laughed out loud in the fierce bitterness 
 of his heart. 
 
 After that the voices were lower for a little while, and 
 when Magnus heard them again somebody was saying, " But 
 a man can love a woman too much altogether. Breaking 
 your life to pieces because you've lost your wife isn't brave, 
 it isn't manly." " Perhaps not, but it's human," said some- 
 body else, " and if Oscar Stephenson is smashed up by the 
 death of Thora ISTeilsen, he's in the right of it, I say." 
 
 " So do I," cried Magnus, and laughing wildly, he dropped 
 his head over his arms on the table. What a devil's own 
 world it was to be sure ! 
 
 There was some whispering and then two louder voices: 
 " Poor fellow ! So unlike his brother ! Going it fast, they 
 say ! " " His father was pretty hard on him, though ! " " Not 
 harder than he deserved, poor devil ! " 
 
 The poison in the soul of Magnus was fermenting every 
 moment. Hearing the contemptuous pity with which he 
 was contrasted with his brother — his brother who had 
 wrought all the evil — his temples beat furiously and one 
 wild thought expelled all other thoughts from his brain. If 
 there was no law to punish Oscar, if his father had conspired 
 to help Oscar to escape and if the hypocritical community 
 agreed to cover up his fault, one thing at least remained — 
 before Oscar left Iceland he must meet with him ! Then if 
 this was the devil's own world let the devil look after his 
 elect ! 
 
 Magnus's mind was weltering in this thought as in a boil- 
 ing sulphur pit when the captain of the " Laura " came into 
 the smoking-room with the agent of the steamship company, 
 and seating themselves near to him, began to converse apart. 
 " Then he will have to put up with a bed in the hold, for all 
 the berths are gone," said the captain. " But why can't he 
 wait for the next steamer ? " " I'll tell you why," whispered 
 the agent, " because the Factor's daughter is to sail by the 
 Vesta and there seem to be reasons why they should not 
 meet." " So that's it, is it? But their fathers are fools not 
 to know that they'll meet on the other side if they want to."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 231 
 
 Overhearing this conversation, Magnus lifted his head from, 
 his arms, drank a large tumbler of brandy and water to the 
 last drop, and walked heavily out of the house. He had not 
 been conscious of the passing of time, but the darkness was 
 now closing in, porters were hurrying with luggage toward 
 the pier and the first of the " Laura's " three bells was 
 ringing, 
 
 Magnus was like a man who could not see or hear properly. 
 More than once he collided with people on the parapet, and 
 being big and strong he brushed them out of the way. Some 
 of them cursed him, but he did not stop. His clouded facul- 
 ties were conscious of one idea only — that he must go to 
 Government House and meet Oscar face to face before he 
 sailed. 
 
 Reaching his former home he found the door open, as 
 usual on an autumn evening, and nobody in porch or hall. 
 Avoiding his father's door, he walked up-stairs and turned 
 mechanically toward the apartments which had lately been 
 occupied by Oscar. But that was a part of the house sacred 
 to his memory of Thora, and even in this hour of passion 
 and pain something whispered to his tortured conscience, 
 and he turned away. A moment later he was in Oscar's bed- 
 room on the upper floor. 
 
 The furniture was in disorder, the carpet was awry, and 
 articles of apparel were scattered about as if somebody had 
 been packing trunks, but the trunks were gone and there 
 was nobody in the room. Magnus was about to go when his 
 eyes were arrested by papers on a desk. Among sheets of 
 music and scraps from newspaper there were the remains 
 of a letter doubled up and torn across. 
 
 Magnus knew the handwriting — it was Helga's — and with- 
 out any compunction he put the pieces together and read 
 the letter: 
 
 " Oscar : — As soon as I heard that the Governor had spoken 
 to you on the fatal subject, I confessed everything to my 
 father and took my own share of the transaction. Of course, 
 he was furious, and now he vows that I must go back imme- 
 diately to my mother in Copenhagen. That does not trouble 
 me, seeing that you are leaving Iceland, but I must see you 
 before you go. In spite of all you say, and notwithstanding
 
 232 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 any promise you may have given to anybody, it is impossible 
 that we can part like this. It would be too selfish and too 
 cowardly not to give me the chance of seeing you for the last 
 time. Your steamer sails at nine o'clock — come to me at 
 half-past eight. If you do not come I may even follow you 
 to London — I will do so if " 
 
 Magnus read no more, but ramming the pieces into his 
 pocket he plunged down the stairs and out into the street. 
 If anybody could have seen him at that moment his appear- 
 ance must have seemed terrible, for his eyes were bloodshot, 
 and the veins on his forehead were swollen and dark. It was 
 now night and the second bell was ringing in the bay. 
 
 He was lunging along in the direction of the Factor's, 
 when somebody crossed in front of him in the thoroughfare. 
 It was Oscar himself and he was going in another direction. 
 Magnus was like a man whose reason is clogged, but he saw 
 everything in the light of his own making. His brother was 
 returning from the pier after taking his baggage aboard, 
 and he had come ashore on a last errand. Magnus knew what 
 errand that was — it was to see Helga, and they were going 
 to meet where they could be unobserved. 
 
 The moon had risen by this time and Magnus could keep 
 his brother in view while he followed like a hound behind 
 him. He saw nothing else and was not even conscious of 
 what streets they passed through, save that they were going 
 toward the upper part of the town, near to the lake, and down 
 the road that runs beside it. 
 
 He tried to walk softly and to make no noise, but some- 
 times a hard laugh broke from his dry throat and once or 
 twice a great sob came behind it. He was thinking of Thora, 
 and telling himself what he would say when Oscar met Helga 
 and he came face to face with them. He would say, " I 
 loved your wife — I'm not ashamed to say so — I loved her and 
 gave her up to you and you promised to cherish her, but you 
 neglected her and allowed her child to be stolen away. I 
 would have given my heart's blood to make her happy, but 
 you made her miserable and now she is dead, and you are 
 here with this woman who helped to torture her. You are 
 a perjurer and a forger and a scoundrel and you may take 
 that — and that — and that — and carry the mark of my hand
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 233 
 
 on your face when you go where this wanton means to fol- 
 low you ! " 
 
 He was now outside the town, but he could not see or hear 
 or think like a Christian man, and was merely ranging along 
 the road like a beast. Then all at once, in the still air and 
 the silence of all around him, he heard the voice of some one 
 who was saying in low, quivering, pleading tones : 
 
 " My darling ! My darling ! " 
 
 Magnus knew whose voice it was! He thought he also 
 knew what sight he should see a moment later. It would 
 be Oscar and Helga locked in each other's arms as they had 
 been when he saw them last in the dance at the farm — 
 flushed, hot and excited. 
 
 With his fists clinched and his teeth set hard, he plunged 
 through a gate that was like the gate to a garden, and then 
 ran forward a few paces. But he drew up suddenly, as if an 
 unseen hand had seized his arm. He saw where he was, 
 and his breath seemed to leave him — he was in the cemeteiy, 
 and some twenty yards farther down the path his brother 
 Oscar was kneeling by the side of a grave and sobbing as if 
 his heart would break. 
 
 Magnus stumbled back to the road, sobered, ashamed and 
 broken into utter helplessness. 
 
 It might be the devil's own world, but God was in it also. 
 
 XVI 
 
 "When the last of the " Laura's " three bells were ringing, 
 Magnus stood alone on the little wooden jetty going down 
 to the bay. The whistle screamed in the steam-pipe, the 
 anchor-chain rattled in the hawse-holes, and the steamer 
 turned her head to the sea. 
 
 Then a row-boat came back from the vessel's side, bring- 
 ing an elderly lady who was trying to hide her tear-stained 
 face from the gaze of the boatmen and even the eyes of the 
 night, behind the folds of a little lace shawl which she wore 
 over her hufa. It was Anna, and as Magnus helped her 
 ashore, she said: 
 
 " Give me your arm and take me home — I'm not feeling 
 well to-night, Magnus." 
 16
 
 234 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 But before they had gone matiy paces she stopped and 
 looked back lovingly at the ship that was now steaming dov.-n 
 the fiord, and said in a pitiful voice : 
 
 " He is gone and I have lost him ! My poor boy ! My poor 
 Oscar! I had him for six and twenty years and to think it 
 should come to this ! " 
 
 She walked a few more paces and then looked back again, 
 and said : 
 
 " I have never seen anybody so deeply affected. ' Oh, 
 mother, mother! ' he cried at last — just like a child. I could 
 have fancied the years had rolled back and he was still a boy 
 — feeling ill and helpless and wanting to lie in his mother's 
 lap." 
 
 Again she walked a few steps and looked back as before. 
 
 " There was nobody to see him off — nobody at all. The 
 story must have leaked out somewhere, and of all the people 
 he used to call his friends there was not one to say farewell. 
 My poor boy! My poor Oscar! He did wrong — very wrong 
 — but God knows how he is suffering. We think we punish 
 people when we put them in prison, but what punishment 
 is like the pain of an awakened conscience? And Oscar is 
 leaving everything behind him — everything and everybody — 
 and going away in disgrace." 
 
 Once more she walked a few steps and then she said in the 
 voice of a crying child : 
 
 " I shall never see him again. I pretended I should, but 
 I know quite well I shall not. ' Some day you will come 
 back,' I said, ' and make amends and wipe out everything.' 
 And he said * Yes ' and ' Yes,' but we both knew well it 
 wasn't true. When the bell rang and I had to come away he 
 said, ' Mother, you've been the best mother a man ever had,' 
 and I knew it was the last word I shall ever hear from him." 
 
 After that she could not speak for some minutes and then 
 she said, as if trying to comfort herself: 
 
 " Perhaps God will give my boy another chance where he 
 is going to. If so I think he will do better, but if not " 
 
 She could not finish what she intended to say — that God's 
 mercy was more terrible than the vengeance of man, and he 
 who renounced it would surely be destroyed. 
 
 They walked on in silence until they came to the gate of
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 235 
 
 Government House, and then Anna took her last look at 
 the dark ship that was dying away to an indistinguishable 
 mass in the shades of night and the mists of her blinding 
 tears, and said in a brave voice : 
 
 " We must be very good to each other in future, Magnus. 
 You are the only son left to me now, and if you have to 
 suffer for the sin of somebody else you must let me help you 
 to bear it. I will always do so as long as I live, Magnus, and 
 when I am gone from you God will not forget. Good-night, 
 Magnus ! And God bless you ! " 
 
 Magnus stood for some time where his mother had left 
 him, for the breakers of passion were still surging in his 
 throat. Then he returned to the jetty and dropped the re- 
 mains of Helga's letter into the sea, and they went out with 
 the ebbing tide.
 
 PART V 
 
 •* Indeed^ indeed, repentance oft before 
 I swore — but was 1 sober when 1 swore f 
 And then, and then came Spriyig, and rose^n-hani 
 My threadbare penitence apieces tore." 
 
 Above all other cities of the world, London is the home 
 of the outcast, the refuge of the disgraced and rejected, the 
 asylum of the moral leper, the grave of the moral suicide. 
 She offers him obscurity and a kind of cleansing if he vt^ill 
 cast himself into the rolling billows of her six millions of 
 people, and she keeps her word but exacts her penalties. Her 
 penalties are homelessness, f riendlessness, and loneliness, but 
 above all loneliness. There is no loneliness like that of Lon- 
 don. The loneliness of an open boat on an open sea in an 
 impenetrable fog, or the loneliness of a trackless heath in a 
 blinding snowstorm, is not so desolating to the human soul 
 as the loneliness of London's crowded thoroughfares, with 
 their lines of unknown faces filing on and on. 
 
 Within a year Oscar Stephenson knew the loneliness of 
 London to its last pang, its utmost bitterness. 
 
 When he parted from his mother on the deck of the 
 " Laura " she slipped a purse into his pocket, just as she 
 used to do when he was a boy going to college or going 
 away for his holiday. The purse contained gold and notes 
 to the value of fifty pounds, and this, with the little he 
 had of his own, was the whole sum of his fortune and all 
 he had to face the future with. He was not so young as to 
 think it inexhaustible, or so sanguine as to expect the world 
 to fall at the feet of a fallen man, so he tried to be frugal 
 and to spend his substance prudently. 
 
 He spent his first night in London at the hotel in Tra- 
 ^ lalgar Square at which he had stayed with Thora and Helga 
 230
 
 k THE TRODIGAL SON 237 
 
 o» cheir way to Italy, but besides being too expensive for 
 hi? -present means the place was too full of tragic memories, 
 anti next day he removed to a house in one of the first of 
 the side streets going down to the river from the Strand. His 
 lodging was a single room on an upper floor, having a stuffy 
 odor of carpets and curtains and a prospect of the neigh- 
 boring roofs with various causeways of red chimney-pots. 
 
 In this apartment Oscar Stephenson had his first experi- 
 ence of the loneliness of London. He lived there six months 
 without seeing any face belonging to the house except the 
 face of his landlady, and without knowing more about his 
 fellow-lodgers than that his neighbor in the adjoining room 
 never returned home at night until after the great clock 
 at Westminster had struck twelve, and that he whistled " On- 
 ward, Christian Soldiers " in varying degrees of alcoholic 
 uncertainty while he put himself to bed. 
 
 Before the end of those six months Oscar was in debt to 
 his landlady, he had no regular employment and no prospect 
 except the imminent one of being homeless and penniless. 
 
 By what stages of quick descent he came down to this 
 condition it would be a needless task to tell. His story is 
 that of the great army of the disgraced and the castaway 
 who fly to London as to a sanctuary and are allowed to live 
 only by lying at its doors. He had struggled and failed. 
 He was young and active, but nobody needed him. In some 
 places his want of references was a difficulty. In others his 
 superior education was a cause of suspicion. He was too 
 good for one post and not good enough for another. In a 
 world full of work there was no work for him to do. 
 
 The slow agony of those first six months kept alive the 
 shame and misery of his breakdown and nearly sapped his 
 moral courage. As day followed day and the feeling of use- 
 lessness deepened, he felt like a boy, a friendless, abandoned 
 boy. He had done wrong and he was ready to bear his pun- 
 ishment, but the great, irresistible, unanswerable world was 
 using him cruelly. It would not make peace with him on 
 any terms. It was leaving him without hope, or counsel 
 or encouragement or consolation — it was leaving him alone. 
 This sense of being of no account, of being nothing and no- 
 body in the world, with the terror of sinking out of sight
 
 238 THE PRODIGAL SON ^ 
 
 some day and nobody knowing or caring, was harder to bear 
 than poverty or even shame itself. 
 
 When the clouds looked blackest he swallowed the last 
 remnant of his pride and appealed to the few friends of his 
 father in England who had been so good to him in the care- 
 less days of his college life and so boundlessly hospitable 
 in the happy time of his honeymoon. He appealed to the 
 professor at Oxford, making a clean breast of his misdoings 
 and no concealment of his sufferings and asking for influence 
 and assistance in obtaining a sub-librarianship or such other 
 employment as might provide him with bread and butter, 
 and the answer that came back was prompt and courteous 
 but as cold as the breath of an iceberg. 
 
 He appealed to the banker in London, asking for a junior 
 clerkship, or a position as messenger or even porter, and 
 the reply he received was as smooth as a dog's tongue and 
 as useless for help and healing. And then he knew by bitter 
 knowledge that the kindness which had been shown to him 
 in the better time was kindness to his father's son, and that 
 he had wasted that heritage and was his father's son no 
 more. 
 
 Meantime he spent his days, and a great part of his nights 
 also, in the streets. There he was like a piece of helpless 
 driftwood in the roaring current of life, always going on 
 yet never going anywhere, always floating along yet never 
 making headway. The ceaseless stream in the busy thorough- 
 fares tormented him terribly, but the emptiness of the ob- 
 scurer streets tortured him still more, and the blankness of 
 Sunday morning in the Strand afflicted him most keenly 
 of all, for it was full of memories of Sunday morning in 
 Iceland with its atmosphere of peace and rest and the sound 
 of church bells. 
 
 When he was at his lowest depths of hopelessness he sent 
 his first letter home. 
 
 " Dearest Mother," he wrote, sitting in his stuffy back 
 room overlooking the roof-tops, "You would naturally have 
 expected to hear from me before this, and I certainly should 
 have written earlier, only that I have been waiting for a 
 long, quiet hour in which I could tell you all the news, every- 
 thing that has happened to me since we parted on the steamer
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 239 
 
 and I saw your dear face disappearing in the boat. That 
 houi' seems never to come, so I must snatch a few moments 
 without any more delay to say that all is well and everything 
 goes swimmingly." 
 
 " The dear old soul, why should I make her miserable ? " 
 he thought. 
 
 " You will easily understand that in a great city like Lon- 
 don, especially when one is beginning again and one has so 
 much to do and so many people to see, there is not an hour 
 left for oneself and hardly a moment to write a letter. But 
 this does not prevent my thinking of you at all events, and 
 I do so every day and always." 
 
 " That's true at least," he told himself, and he went on 
 boldly with his affectionate fictions. 
 
 " I know that my dear little mamma will want to know first 
 the condition of my creature comforts and I hasten to tell 
 her that these are as right as can be. This is a large and 
 handsome house just off the tide of greatest traffic where 
 splendid horse wagons (called omnibuses) and upholstered 
 sleighs on wheels (called hansoms) roll about in countless 
 numbers day and night, making a roar like that of the Ellida 
 river where it falls into the fiord. But my bedroom, in which 
 I am writing this letter, is quiet and cozy and homelike, and 
 my landlady is a good little creature who visits me daily 
 and is always most kind and motherly." 
 
 As he went on his pen flowed freely and his handwriting 
 became big and reckless. 
 
 " I am making new and influential acquaintances every 
 day, and seeing in the flesh the faces we are all familiar with 
 in prints. Walking in the Park yesterday I passed the Queen, 
 who is one of our own princesses, you know, so I felt myself 
 entitled to bow to her and she bowed back with the sweetest 
 courtesy. I see the Prime Minister frequently, for he lives 
 in a house that is only down the street and round the corner, 
 and the homes and offices of nearly all the Ministers of State 
 are within a stone's throw of this place. In fact one way 
 or another I am certainly coming in touch with the leading 
 men in England, and when I open my window at night I can 
 see the light that burns in the clock-tower above the Houses 
 of Parliament.
 
 240 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " So you see that I am finding life wonderfully interesting 
 in this mighty maelstrom of human activity, and if I do not 
 ■write as often as I ought, my anxious little mamma is not 
 to imagine there is anything amiss with me, but merely to 
 tell herself that no news is good news and that I am im- 
 mersed in many occupations. 
 
 " Perhaps if I have a lonely hour occasionally " — the pen 
 trembled in his fingers and the handwriting became loose and 
 shaky — " it is when I think about home and wonder what is 
 happening there and what people are saying about me now. 
 I suppose I have no right to complain whatever it may be, 
 but sometimes when I am coming back to my lodging on a 
 starry night after a tiring day and I look up to the Milky 
 Way and think, * That is the road to my country,' the 
 thought goes to my heart like a stab that when I left it last 
 my father's door was closed against me, and I saw nothing 
 of Magnus at the end. 
 
 " How are they both, and how are j'ou, and how are the 
 Factor and Aunt Margret, and how — oh ! how is our dear 
 little Elin ? My sweet, sweet child ! What I would give to see 
 her again! Has she grown? Is she still as much like her 
 poor mother ? Docs she * notice ? ' She will begin to babble 
 and talk by and by. Will they bring her up to know noth- 
 ing about her father? Or perhaps to think ill of him? If 
 I return to Iceland some day (and I shall) to take up the 
 broken threads of my life again, and find that the mind of 
 my own child has been poisoned against me, I don't know 
 what will happen; I believe I shall go back instantly and 
 wipe myself out for ever. 
 
 " But I will not think of that even as a remote possibility, 
 and, meantime, I am working day and night to build up a 
 new career, and, as you see, I am getting on splendidly. So 
 good-by, dearest, and God bless you, and God bless every- 
 body at home, for we shall all be good friends yet. — Oscar. 
 
 " P. S. — Is Helga still in Iceland, or has the Factor carried 
 out his threat of sending her back to Denmark? I suppose 
 I ought not to think of her, having given that promise to 
 the Governor, yet I can not help doing so, and I can not help 
 asking."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 241 
 
 n 
 
 It was the time when a young English composer was creat- 
 ing some sensation by writing an opera on the subject of 
 " King Olaf." The theme was one which Oscar had often 
 proposed to himself, and raised his fancy and emulation 
 upon, in the delirious days when he had hoped to become 
 a musician, and the dazzling di'eams of glory were not yet 
 so dead that he could restrain himself from rambling up to 
 Covent Garden on the night of the first performance. 
 
 He knew he was penniless and he was conscious that his 
 clothes were shabby and his shoes in a woful condition as 
 he lounged by the arches and watched the audience assemble. 
 The carriages were rolling up and discharging their occu- 
 pants — the Queen and her ladies, the Prime Minister and 
 finally the King — and he was turning away feeling more mis- 
 erable and destitute than ever, when a hand touched him 
 on the shoulder and a familiar voice at his side said cheerily, 
 
 " Helloa ! Can it be possible ? " 
 
 It was !N^eils Finsen, his former schoolfellow and com- 
 panion, fresh and bright in evening dress under a handsome 
 fur-lined overcoat. 
 
 " Heard you were in London, but didn't know where to 
 find you. Want to see you irmnediately, old fellow. Where 
 do you stay ? " 
 
 As soon as he had got rid of a stifling sensation in the 
 throat Oscar answered him, and then Finsen said, 
 
 " Should I call upon you there, or would you prefer to 
 come here to me ? " 
 
 " I will come to you," said Oscar. 
 
 "Good! When shall it be? Will to-morrow at twelve be 
 convenient ? " 
 
 " Any time will be convenient to me." 
 
 " Happy man ! Twelve to-morrow in my office, then. Glad 
 to have found you at last. Thought you might have looked 
 me up and wondered what on earth had become of you. 
 Good-by! Busy to-night and enough work for a regi- 
 ment. By the way, if you would like to see the perform- 
 ance — can't promise you a seat, but if you would care to
 
 242 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 stand at the back of the balcony — You would ? Come this 
 ■way — Johnson ! Take this gentleman in front and give 
 him anything you have left. By-by ! " 
 
 Before Oscar had quite recovered his breath, he was sit- 
 ting in the half-light at the back of the upper circle, feel- 
 ing miserably humiliated and ashamed, yet tingling with a 
 strange excitement. Pie never quite knew what happened 
 thereafter. He forgot that his monej' was all gone, that he 
 had not eaten since morning, that his trousers were frayed 
 at the bottom and his shoes down at the heels. He only felt 
 that out of the sordid conditions of the past six months he 
 had suddenly emerged into an atmosphere that was as the 
 vivid breath of his soul. 
 
 When the conductor entered — it was the young composer 
 himself — Oscar craned forward to catch a glimpse of the 
 man who was on the eve of snatching the triumph which 
 but for the hard buffetings of fate might perhaps have been 
 his own, and when the opera began he listened with every 
 faculty. It was good, it was human, it was modern, its har- 
 mony was exquisite, its orchestration sure, its form showed 
 mastery of the mystery of music, and yet it lacked something. 
 What did it lack? It lacked the life-blood of the stern old 
 Northland. The Englishman could not give it that, for the 
 root of the matter was not in him. But he could have done 
 so, for his blood was the blood of the Vikings, the blood 
 of Flosi and Snorri and Eric and Olaf and all the mighty 
 men of old. 
 
 Oscar did not hear his fellow-lodger go to bed that night, 
 with his lunging step on the stairs and his drunken whistling 
 of " Onward, Christian Soldiers," and next morning when 
 his landlady came up to speak to him, according to her wont, 
 he was hardly conscious of what she said except that it was 
 some protest, some threat, and that he did not feel it worth 
 while to soften and sweeten her with such promises as he 
 had made before. 
 
 The intoxication of last night was still upon him when 
 he set out to keep his appointment. Music was calling to 
 him again, calling him like a siren, out of his friendlessness 
 and loneliness, his humiliation and obscurity, his poverty and 
 Bhame, out of the pitiless cruelty of crowded thoroughfares
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 243 
 
 and the grimy sordidness of obscure streets, into the glory 
 of success and fame. 
 
 " Come in, old fellow," cried the familiar voice of yester- 
 day, and Oscar found himself in Finsen's office. 
 
 " Let me see," said Finsen, removing a pair of pince-nez, 
 " how long have you been in London ? " 
 
 " Sis months — nearly seven," said Oscar. 
 
 " And what have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Lucky chap ! Nothing at all ? " 
 
 " Yes, there is one thing I've been doing — I've been doing 
 it rather industriously." 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 " Starving." 
 
 Finsen laughed loud, but Oscar laughed louder — he had 
 not yet broken his fast. 
 
 " We all go through it at some time," said Finsen, " and 
 it's best to get it over at the beginning. So I congratulate 
 you, old fellow, and now to business. I'm managing here — 
 managing for a syndicate. Under four eyes, as we say in 
 Iceland, I intend to give a series of concerts and I'm looking 
 out for fresh material. You compose ? " 
 
 " Used to do," said Oscar. 
 
 " I understand," said Finsen. " Your life has been off the 
 tracks lately and you'll not write much more that's worth 
 anything until you get back into the groove. But I know 
 what you used to do and that's good enough for me. I heard 
 some of your songs from the Sagas, you remember, and I 
 don't mind saying that as the work of a man who was nearly 
 self -taught in the matter of harmony I thought them wonder- 
 ful. But Helga tells me — Helga Neilsen, I mean, I hear from 
 her occasionally " 
 
 Oscar flinched as if a lash had cut him. 
 
 " Helga tells me," continued Finsen, " that you did some 
 things in Iceland last year that beat your Saga songs to 
 little bits, and if you think we can try them here " 
 
 " They're gone," said Oscar. 
 
 " I know," said Finsen. " I've heard what has become of 
 them. But perhaps you have copies ? " 
 
 " Not a copy," said Oscar.
 
 244 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Or perhaps you can remember some of them! " 
 
 "Not one." 
 
 " Even so, the case is not quite hopeless. You are a per- 
 son of some influence in Iceland ? " 
 
 " Used to be," said Oscar. 
 
 " Well, I presume to think I am — my father is Sheriff 
 and likely to be something better — so if you care to give 
 your consent we may recover the things still." 
 
 A mist arose between Oscar's eyes and Finsen's face. 
 " You surely do not mean ? " 
 
 " Certainly I do. If the things are half as good as Helga 
 says, they're worth all the trouble. Anyhow, I'm willing to 
 gamble on her judgment, to give you something to go on 
 with, and when the stuff comes to devote a morning to try- 
 ing it with the orchestra, and ask you to conduct the re- 
 hearsal." 
 
 Finsen's figure was floating in the mist that was between 
 it and Oscar's eyes. 
 
 " You wish me to authorize you to exhume " 
 
 " Why not ? It's not an unheard of proceeding. And if 
 ever there was a moment that justified it it's now. If com- 
 positions that might give pleasure to the world and make 
 pots of money are lying buried in a grave " 
 
 " I'll starve first," said Oscar, rising from his seat. 
 
 " My dear chap," said Finsen, putting back his pinoe-nez, 
 "you tell me you're doing that already. But here's your 
 chance of doing it no more, and if " 
 
 "I'll starve to death first," said Oscar, turning to the 
 door. 
 
 " I^onsense, old fellow ! If the things were doing any 
 good where they are I could respect your feelings. But 
 they're not. They are merely rotting away and they will 
 soon disappear altogether. What your object was in bury-» 
 ing them you know best — I confess I thought it very quixotic 
 — but whatever it was it has served its purpose. And now 
 there they lie — works of genius, as I'm willing to believe — 
 that might possibly make your name and begin to make 
 your fortune, while you " 
 
 " I'll die in a ditch rather than touch them," said Oscar, 
 and without a word of farewell he flung out of the room.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 245 
 
 !N'o words could describe the agony he endured during the 
 remaining hours of that day. The intoxication of the night 
 before was gone by this time and he suffered the pains of 
 the spirit that has buoyed itself up on a bankrupt hope. 
 If he had ever had any uncertainty about the meaning of the 
 blind impulse of remorse which had prompted him to bury his 
 compositions in his wife's grave he had none now. It was 
 God's own punishment to shut up the only channel to fame 
 and success, nay to livelihood itself, as by the door of a 
 tomb. 
 
 Hour after hour he walked the streets, feeling that escape 
 from the way of life he had been living was now utterly 
 hopeless. He would go down and down, day by day, little by 
 little, until he was submerged beneath the flood, or became, 
 but for the mercy of God, a vagabond and a castaway. 
 
 It was long before he could bring himself to go back to 
 his lodging and when he did so he found that the street 
 door would not open to the key he carried in his pocket. 
 He rang the bell and a little maid-of-all-work came up as 
 from her bedroom below stairs with curl papers in her hair 
 and some loose clothes about her body. 
 
 " Why did you bolt the door, my child ? " he said. " Didn't 
 you know that I had not come home ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, but mistress told me to tell you as how your 
 room has been let and you can have your trunks when you 
 pay what you owes her." 
 
 " Do you mean that I am to be turned out ? " 
 
 " It ain't my fault, sir, and I'm very sorry." 
 
 Oscar and the girl stood looking vacantly at each other 
 for a moment, and then he turned away and walked up the 
 street with a new sensation — the blank, desolating sensa- 
 tion of not having a roof over his head. No one knows what 
 it means to be one night homeless in a great city except 
 those who have gone through it. It is not so much the 
 poverty of privation that is hard to bear as the sense of utter 
 worthlessness, of being less to the world than its dogs, for 
 they are cared for, or its horses for they are housed. 
 
 His money was gone, and he had no luggage in his hands 
 to make shift to find another lodging with, so he walked 
 ©n and on, up Lower Regent Street and across Piccadilly,
 
 246 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 througli noisy throngs of people — young women smoking 
 cigarettes, young men laughing and singing and a bedraggled 
 girl being lugged along by a policeman — on and on until 
 he came to a wide and quiet thoroughfare where a line of 
 broughams waited outside a house that was brilliantly lighted 
 up, and there he paused in his aimless perambulation to listen 
 to the music that was coming through the open windows. 
 
 He had been asking himself for the hundredth time how 
 it had come to pass that he, so lately the pampered son of 
 his father — who was the Governor of his people and their 
 upright judge — was tramping the streets of London without 
 a penny in his pocket or a roof to cover him, when the door 
 opened and an elderly gentleman came out bare-headed to 
 escort some ladies to their carriage. Then his stunned facul- 
 ties awoke and he saw where he was standing. He was out- 
 side the house of his father's friend, the banker. The deep 
 remembrance came back to him of the time, so near yet so 
 far away, when he himself, with Thora and Helga, had been 
 honored guests in that house, and lest the banker should see 
 him, the wayfarer he then was, skulking there at that un- 
 timely hour, he turned about and walked quickly awaj'. 
 
 Nothing that had happened on that evil night had wounded 
 his feelings so acutely, or made him feel so surely that rescue 
 from his accursed condition there could be none. Was it to 
 be a part of his punishment that even when his senses slept 
 he was to be constantly brought up against himself and re- 
 minded of the days that were dead ? If so, life would be im- 
 endurable, and existence an everlasting hell. Did Nature 
 never forget ? Did God never forgive ? 
 
 Half an hour afterward he was walking along the Em- 
 bankment, past the «rouching and sleeping forms of the 
 sordid things whom the city casts out on to the river's bank 
 by night; and looking wildly at the waters of the Thames, 
 glistening and glimmering under the electric light, he asked 
 himself why he should not end it all and have done with 
 further torture. 
 
 What was the thought that restrained him? Was it the 
 thought of his dead wife whose memory was to be a safe- 
 guard against sin and a perpetual inspiration? No! 
 
 By the inscrutable will of fate it was the thought of the
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 247 
 
 one being -whose love had -wrecked him — it -was the thought 
 of Helga. In spite of the pledge he had given to the Gov- 
 ernor, he could not help thinking of her, No day had been 
 so dark but he had thought of her on going to bed at night 
 and on awakening in the morning. She -was gone, they might 
 never meet again, their love was a page of his life which 
 he had crossed out and turned down for ever, yet her eyes were 
 in his eyes and her smile was the only sunshine that shone 
 upon his face. 
 
 The thought of Thora was a sweet and sacred thing which 
 he had wrapped up and laid by in the lavender of memory, 
 but the thought of Helga was warm and alive and always 
 with him. It was with him now, and it saved his soul from 
 despair and his body from death. 
 
 in 
 
 Before Oscar's letter reached Iceland many changes had 
 taken place there. The estrangement of the Governor and 
 the Factor had developed into open antagonism. Everybody 
 knew of it and the enemies of each had been playing upon 
 his hatred of the other. 
 
 The Factor was the first to suffer. The do-wnfall of the 
 barter trade, which Magnus predicted, had already come to 
 pass, and the Factor's business had tumbled to pieces like 
 an unbound faggot. There is always a good reason to kill 
 a fat ox, and while people said, " The Factor gives the farmers 
 vhat he likes for his wool and charges them what he pleases 
 for foreign produce," the true ground of the attack upon 
 his business had been his intimidation of the town at the 
 time of Oscar's election. 
 
 Oddsson, the defeated candidate of that day, never rested 
 until he had established a company on the cash principle. 
 Even then the Factor would have borne down all opposition, 
 for the Factor was rich while the fanners were poor, but 
 Oddsson had secured an ally in the most powerful person. 
 As the smith uses the tongs to spare his fingers, so Oddsson 
 had used the Governor to save his company. 
 
 The Governor knew full well that Oddsson was his enemy.
 
 248 THE PRODIGAL SOH 
 
 and that if his party got the upper hand they would upset 
 the old order, but he could not resist the temptation to join 
 him when he was trying to destroy the Factor. By his help 
 the preferential tariff with Denmark was broken down and 
 the Iceland markets were opened to English produce, and that 
 was the death-blow to the barter business. 
 
 For three months the Factor kept his doors open by sell- 
 ing at less than cost price and buying at more than market 
 value, but the end was sure. It was whispered at the bank 
 that he was parting with his securities in stocks and shares 
 and his estate in land and loose property, and that sooner 
 or later he would come dowTi with a crash. Nobody pitied 
 him, and at the bottom of his tortured heart one man 
 rejoiced. 
 
 But the smiter has often short joy of his stroke, and when 
 Oddsson and his party, having done with trade, turned their 
 attention to constitutional subjects the Factor, though he 
 hated them, joined their agitation. The winter had been se- 
 vere, there had been many deaths among the older members of 
 Parliament and as often as a by-election had occurred th© 
 Factor had thrown the weight of his remaining influence 
 and the force of his diminishing fortunes into the scale of 
 reform. By the end of the spring it had become certain that 
 the next session of Althing would witness the passing of a 
 bill for the reconstruction of the Constitution and the aboli- 
 tion of the Governorship. 
 
 Thus each of the two men who had stood shoulder to shoul- 
 der for fifty years destroyed himself in destroying the other, 
 and the prophecy of long ago was fulfilled that if the Gov- 
 ernor and the Factor ever ceased to be friends they would 
 become the bitterest of enemies. 
 
 Meantime Anna had tried to make peace and failed. When 
 the quarrel was young, and chiefly about the children, she 
 had attempted a tone of sympathetic protest. " Come, come» 
 Stephen, pardon is the best punishment — ^you must make 
 peace with the Factor." 
 
 " He might have saved my son by the lifting of his hand 
 aod he would not do so — I shall never make peace with him," 
 said the Governor. 
 
 " Oscar Neilsen," said Anna, meeting the Factor in the
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 249 
 
 street, " when are you coming to see Stephen ? If you stay 
 away much longer the house-dog will fly at you." 
 
 " The house-dog flew at me when I was there last, Anna — 
 I shall never trust him again," said the Factor. 
 
 When the quarrel grew old and ugly and personal to the 
 men themselves, Anna thought of another means of recon- 
 ciliation. The child was the last remaining link between the 
 Governor and the Factor — it should bring them together 
 again. " God has always a use for these little angels," she 
 said. 
 
 Aunt Margret joined in the conspiracy and the two old 
 things concocted many schemes — all simple and transparent 
 but womanly and good — to get the men into the same room. 
 They never succeeded, but a thousand beams of sunshine 
 shone out of the baby's cradle, and little by little the ice that 
 had frozen about the men's souls was seen to melt. 
 
 When the child was " shortened " it was taken over to 
 Government House and wheeled in its perambulator into the 
 Governor's bureau. 
 
 " Isn't she a beauty, Stephen ? " said Anna ; and Aunt Mar- 
 gret said, 
 
 " The precious pet couldn't possibly be more like her father 
 if she were not so wonderfully like her mother, too." 
 
 The Governor looked down at the little face without say- 
 ing a word, and when the child blinked up at him with the 
 eyes of Thora and the smile of Oscar he went up-stairs to his 
 bedroom, and Anna heard him lock the door. 
 
 When the child cut her first tooth, and everybody accord- 
 ing to custom ought to have given her a " tooth-fee," the 
 Factor, coming home at night, found no presents on the nur- 
 sery table, but the little one was propped up under the blue 
 lace of her hooded cradle and making the air hideous with 
 the divine discord of a baby's silver-mounted rattle. 
 
 " That's Stephen's present and it must have cost him a 
 fortune," said Aunt Margret, whereupon the Factor, weary 
 as he was, walked out into the road where he could hear 
 nothing but the cold lapping of the lake. 
 
 Yet love of the little one was not bringing the two men 
 together — it was thrusting them still farther apart. " That 
 man is scheming to get hold of the child," thought the Fac- 
 17
 
 250 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 tor. " He and his have robbed me of my daughters and now 
 they're trying to rob me of my granddaughter also." 
 
 " She's my son's child," thought the Governor, " and my 
 son's child is my child — why did I allow that man to have 
 her?" 
 
 " No use, woman ! " said Aunt Margret. " It's late to with- 
 draw the sword when it is thrust to the heart." 
 
 But then came Oscar's letter and Anna's hopes went up 
 with a bound. She was like a child herself in her joy over 
 it. Her happiness was too great to permit her to see holes 
 in its picture of prosperity. Oscar was well, he was getting 
 on splendidly and he sent his love to everj^body. 
 
 She read the letter first to the Governor, and after he had 
 heard it he walked out into the home-field where the eider- 
 ducks were building their nests afresh on the edge of the 
 fiord, and the fishing-smacks were coming back to harbor. 
 Then she took it over to the Factor's, rolled it up in the 
 baby's hand like another rattle, and left it with Aunt Mar- 
 gret to be shown to her brother. 
 
 But that day had been a bad day with the Factor and when 
 Oscar's letter came back to Anna it was torn across the mid- 
 dle and enclosed in an empty envelope. Anna was nearly 
 broken-hearted at the treatment of her treasure, for no girl 
 of sixteen had ever so loved her first love-letter, and she had 
 intended to show it to everybody — to the Bishop, the Rector 
 the Sheriff, and above all to Magnus. 
 
 Magnus had been coming and going at intervals through 
 out the winter. It had been a hard one for him as for others, 
 and he had begun to realize what it would be when his father 
 was gone and he had to bear the burden of the monstrous 
 mortgage. But harder to bear than any winter had been the 
 sight of his mother's sufferings during Oscar's silence. 
 
 " Any news yet ? " he would ask, and Anna would say 
 "No and No, with countless explanations and excuses. 
 
 So it was through the dark days, and his feeling against 
 Oscar grew hard as the ground he trod upon. But when the 
 snow had gone and he went up with the spring caravan there 
 was Anna with a face like the rising sun, and by that he 
 knew that a letter must have come at last. Sure enough in 
 less than a minute out it came from the bosom of her em-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 251 
 
 broidered treya, torn across as the Factor had left it and she 
 was calling on him to write an answer to her dictation. This 
 is what he wrote : 
 
 " My dear Son : Your letter arrived safely by the last 
 steamer and made up by its welcome news for the long time 
 we had to wait for it. It is so good to hear that you are 
 well and prosperous and enjoying your life in the great Eng- 
 lish city. Many a time I feared it might be otherwise, but 
 now I have your letter and I am happy and contented. 
 
 " I am proud that my son is rising into such high and good 
 company, and though your father speaks little I am sure that 
 he feels the same. He always said that you would do great 
 things some day, and it is not the way of God's goodness 
 to disappoint such expectations where they are built on a 
 good foundation. 
 
 " And now I have to tell you that your father is well in 
 bodily health, though a little oppressed by worldly anxieties, 
 but I tell him our home in this life is always on a steep 
 mountain and if we trust in God there is no reason to be 
 afraid. As for myself, I am as well as can be expected at 
 my age, though my left ear troubles sometimes and my eyes 
 are not what they used to be for knitting and small print. 
 But I must not allow myself to complain, for perhaps it is 
 a part of God's mercy to us old people that our senses should 
 die by degrees so that when they come to die altogether we 
 may not be taken unawares. 
 
 " Magnus is writing this letter and he is strong and hearty. 
 The snow was deep at the farm this year and he lost six of 
 his best beasts, but his lambs came beautifully and now they 
 are on the mountains and his ewes are milking well and the 
 home-field is closed for the hay. 
 
 " I have to tell you that the one you ask about has gone 
 back to her mother at Copenhagen and that there are those 
 who can not be very sorry. Sometimes to silence the evil 
 tongues that speak ill of you here I am tempted to blame 
 her for all that has happened, but who am I to judge any one? 
 And the worst I wish for her is that she may soon become 
 a God-fearing girl. 
 
 " Margret Neilsen is just as she always was, a twisted
 
 252 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 bough with plenty of sap in it, and the Factor would be well 
 enough but for a bad hip. He too, like your father, is much 
 oppressed by worldly cares and taking it ill that they should 
 fall so fast upon him in the evening of his days. 
 
 " And now I have to tell you of your little Elin that she 
 is as well as can be, and she has cut two front teeth and her 
 hair is curling over her forehead. She is the best child that 
 ever was born, and when she smiles she is so like somebody 
 that it nearly breaks my heart to look at her. Margret is 
 as good to the darling as if she were her own mother, and 
 your father and the Factor can hardly see the sun for her. 
 As for me it fills my heart brimful to think how God in His 
 goodness has sent us old folks this little angel after our late 
 troubles, for she is like the spring after a hard winter when 
 the snow and ice have stayed so long that we think surely 
 we shall never see the grass or hear the rivers again, and 
 then all at once there are the green fields and the shining 
 streams and all the gladness of the flowers. 
 
 " And now, though you are getting on so well, you must 
 not be angry with your mother for sending you a little pres- 
 ent. Maria has been all day in the kitchen packing your col- 
 lege box, and goodness knows what things she may have put 
 in it. But I am knitting you a pair of stockings out of old 
 Maggie's brown wool, and I hope you will not be ashamed to 
 wear them, for they will keep your feet warm in the cold 
 weather, when the English socks must be so thin and cottony. 
 Then I remember how fond you used to be of our smoked 
 mutton, so I am telling Maria to put in some of that too, 
 and a few rolls of Rullapilsa. 
 
 " I dare not let the Governor know I am sending the mut- 
 ton — he would think it foolish and uimecessary — and of 
 course, with so many good things to eat and drink I do not 
 expect you to offer it to your English friends, but perhaps you 
 can hide it in a cupboard somewhere and take a slice when 
 you are quite alone. 
 
 " And now I must conclude for Magnus is coming to the 
 end of his paper. It makes me happy to think your bedroom 
 is comfortable and I wish I could thank your landlady for 
 being so kind and motherly. I may never see her in this 
 world, but we shall meet in heaven some day and then I will 
 thank her.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 253 
 
 " And now, my dear son, in the midst of your great pros- 
 perity, do not forget that all good things come from God and 
 remember to put your trust in Him. To His care I commit 
 you, for He knows all our wants and all our troubles and all 
 our secrets and His eye ever watches and His heart never 
 sleeps. 
 
 " Your affectionate mother, 
 
 " Anna." 
 
 IV 
 
 When Oscar received his mother's letter he was living in 
 a slum in Westminster. It was called Short Street, and it 
 was a typical example of the mean streets which nearly al- 
 ways, and in all countries, lie near to a great minster, like 
 sea-wrack at the foot of a rock. 
 
 Short Street was a cul-de-sac, whereof one end was a gin- 
 palace and the other an archway to the railway depot of a 
 suburban necropolis. Late at night the inhabitants were 
 kept from sleep by the quarreling of tipsy men who had been 
 turned out of the public-house, and early in the morning they 
 were awakened by the rumbling of the hearses that rattled 
 the corpses over the cobbles of the street. 
 
 Oscar's home in Short Street was at Number One, a grimy 
 house with a soiled card in the fanlight above the door, say- 
 ing, " Lodgings for single men." Besides himself, there were 
 four lodgers, three of them being porters at the funeral depot 
 and the fourth head barman at the public-house. The bar- 
 man had the parlor floor, and he generally brought home a 
 number of noisy companions at closing time to play cards and 
 drink beer. 
 
 .O&xjar's bedroom in this house was not so much a room 
 as a stifling closet of miserable aspect, in which the refuse 
 furniture seemed to make an effort to range itself in order 
 — a threadbare carpet, an iron bedstead without foot or head, 
 a painted washstand, a broken-lipped water ewer, two or three 
 rickety chairs, a table that was safest when it rested against 
 the wall, a few pictures of race-horses on the remains of a 
 dirty wall-paper, and a looking-glass blotched by damp, like 
 a sheet of ice spotted and scabbed by thaw. 
 
 His landlady lived in the basement and was never seen
 
 254 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 except on Monday mornings, when she went round for her 
 lodgers' rent some two or three hours before the collector 
 called for her ovm. The only person whom Oscar saw con- 
 stantly was the landlady's servant, Jenny, a typical cockney 
 girl of the humblest class, untidy and unclean, but as bright 
 as a London street sparrow, and with a big soft heart in her 
 vulgar little breast. 
 
 Jenny had conceived a certain affection for Oscar, based 
 on no grounds more personal than that he did not shout at 
 her down the pairs of stairs, or take liberties, or use bad 
 language, and that he always raised his hat when he passed 
 her in the street. 
 
 The only effect of this sentimental attitude on Jenny's 
 part was that she always dressed in her clean " print " on the 
 days when Oscar happened to be at home to tea, and it was 
 on one of these afternoons that she came knocking at the 
 door of his bankrupt garret and said, " Letter for you, sir," 
 
 It was so long since Oscar had received a letter of any kind 
 that he leaped up with a kind of fear, and on taking the en- 
 velope out of Jenny's hand and seeing it was addressed in 
 Magnus's writing, and had been sent on from his former lodg- 
 ing, he turned pale and trembled. 
 
 " Is it bad news, sir? " said Jenny. " I wouldn't 'a' brought 
 it up on no account if I'd knowed." 
 
 " No, no ! Leave me, Jenny," said Oscar, and when the 
 girl had gone and he had opened the letter with nervous 
 fingers, he read it with eyes that were wet with tears while 
 his cheeks w^ere flushed with shame. 
 
 When he came to the end his heart was beating wildly and 
 he was asking himself if it would not be the brave and manly 
 thing to write at once and say that all this story of his pros- 
 perity was a miserable fiction, that he had never been other- 
 wise than wretched, that he was living in a common way 
 among common companions, doing common work which he 
 dare not think of, and that no words could express the secret 
 agony of his soul at having sunk so low. But deep as was 
 the degradation of that bitter hour it was not so deep as that 
 of the following morning when Jenny came lugging his col- 
 lege box up-stairs, and chattering gaily as if she had brought 
 him a fortune.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 255 
 
 " The railway man said as 'ow it was as 'eavy as lead, so I 
 give 'im twopence for 'isself — I 'ope I did right, sir." 
 
 " Quite right, Jenny. Here's the money. You can go 
 now." 
 
 "Can I 'elp ye to unpack it, sir? There ain't no sort o' 
 box as I can't unpack. My ! what a long way it must 'a' 
 come ! " 
 
 " It came from Iceland, Jenny." 
 
 " Fancy that now ! Pat Looney, the lorry man, 'e come 
 from there, and the neighbors says it's a pity 'e don't go back. 
 They never says that about you, though. ' He's so perlite,' 
 they says." 
 
 Oscar allowed the girl to open the box and empty it of its 
 contents, and as she did so she chii-ped away like the street 
 sparrow that she was, while he sat with the mist of his boyish 
 associations floating up to him from the happy past. 
 
 " Well, I never ! " she cried, sitting back on her heels as 
 she knelt before the box. " Polonies ! And sausages ! And 
 pickled tongues! And hams! Why, you won't 'ave to buy 
 nothin' to eat for months ! Isn't that lucky now ? Just when 
 you're ' out ' too ! Is it a present ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is a present, Jenny." 
 
 " They must think somethin' of ye as sends ye a present 
 like this," said Jenny, and then, after a moment, in a flutter- 
 ing voice, " Is it a laidy, sir ? " 
 
 " It's my mother," said Oscar. 
 
 " Your mother !" said Jenny, in a tone of relief. " Well, 
 that's what I do call a mother — being good to anybody like 
 this." 
 
 " She has been good to me all my life, Jenny, and all my 
 life I've treated her badly." 
 
 Jenny looked at him strangely as if something surprised 
 and pained her. 
 
 " You have, sir? " 
 
 " Shamefully, Jenny, yet she has forgiven me again and 
 again." 
 
 Jenny was silent for a moment and then she said, " Mothers 
 is like that, isn't they? Now there's Jim Cobb, the shandry 
 man, 'e knocks 'is raother about somethin' cruel, but she 
 never 'aves 'im up for it, never ! Mothers is proper good ! "
 
 256 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Is your mother good to you, Jenny ? " 
 
 " Me ? I'm an orfling," said Jenny, and then, lowering her 
 voice to a tone of confidence, she added, " I don't mind tellin' 
 you, but I am ! I always tells the other lodgers as my mother 
 was one o' them girls as ye see at the Aquarium at nights 
 covered with silks and diamonds." 
 
 " And was she ? " 
 
 A look of dejection crossed Jenny's face. " I don't sea 
 as she could 'ave been, because they say at the Orflinage as I 
 was bom in Holloway when my mother was doin' time." 
 
 By this time the contents of the box were ranged on the 
 table and chairs, and Jenny was sitting back on her heels 
 again to look at them. 
 
 " There ! They're as pretty as a 'am and beef shop ! And 
 I do believe as that's what your mother meant 'em for too. 
 Jim Cobb, 'e wanted me to set one up with 'im, but not me ! 
 Not as I 'ave any objections to the 'am and beef business, 
 and if anybody else thought of starting it " 
 
 Jenny's hint was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle 
 stopping suddenly outside the house. 
 
 " 'Now, I bet ye I know who that is," she said with a wink. 
 "It's that blessed Jim Cobb again. He's always a-wantiu' 
 me to go for a ride in 'is shandry." 
 
 But going to the window she cried, " Goodness ! It's a 
 handswim cab ! And there's a laidy a-gettin' out of it ! " 
 
 "A lady?" 
 
 " You can't see 'er now — she's on the steps. There she is," 
 cried Jenny, as a rat-tat came to the street door, " and me 
 not 'ad time to comb my 'air yet ! " 
 
 With an indefinable feeling of mingled fear and hope which 
 there was yet no cause for, Oscar stood on the landing and 
 listened while Jenny ran down the stairs. When the street 
 door was opened he heard his own name in a voice that sent 
 the blood to his head and made him reel with dizziness. A 
 moment later Jenny came back with a face that looked white 
 even under the smudges that soiled it, and she said in the 
 same flutttering voice as before: 
 
 " I thought as much. It's you she's askin' for. I've took 
 ^r into the barman's parlor — 'e won't be 'ome till tea." 
 
 Oscar went down-stairs slowly, but when he got to the hot-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 257 
 
 torn his breath was coining and going in gusts, and his heart 
 was beating against his breast as with the blows of a ham- 
 mer. The parlor door stood ajar and a perfume he knew was 
 coming out to him. After a moment he pushed the door open 
 and then she whom he expected to see was standing before 
 him, she herself, more radiantly beautiful than ever, with 
 something soft and white about her neck and a face shining 
 with smiles. 
 
 How much he lived in that moment no one could say. A 
 hundred emotions coursed through his soul like the flash of 
 flame — joy, delight, pain, shame, the rapture of seeing her, 
 the humiliation of being found in such a common place, the 
 degradation of being ill-clad and obviously poor, but above 
 all love — the uncontrollable love that leads men on to happi- 
 ness and victory or to ruin and death. His face broke up, 
 tears burst from his eyes and holding out both hands he 
 cried — 
 
 "Helga! My God! Helga!" 
 
 Helga appeared to be not less excited than Oscar himself. 
 She was genuinely moved to see how the joy he had in meet- 
 ing her affected him, and when he had kissed both her hands 
 she kissed one of his and tears which she could not keep back 
 came to her eyes also. There was a shiny leather-covered sofa 
 in the room and they sat on it side by side and hand in hand. 
 
 " I have never, never been so glad," he said. 
 
 " And I am glad too," she said. " Let me look at you 
 again, Oscar. A little paler, and perhaps a little thinner, 
 but otherwise not changed in the least." 
 
 " Yet you have changed a great deal, Helga." 
 
 * Grown older, have I ? " 
 
 " Grown lovelier and more beautiful than ever." 
 
 At that she leaned her face toward him and he kissed her, 
 and for some moments they could not restrain their fondness. 
 Helga was the first to recover self-possession. 
 
 " And now let us talk seriously," she said, but Oscar was
 
 258 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 still quivering with excitement and, having brushed away his 
 tears, he laughed hysterically. 
 
 " How long have you been in London ? " he asked. 
 
 " A month — a month to-morrow," she replied. 
 
 " And to think that I have never known it until now I 
 But how did you come to leave Copenhagen? " 
 
 " That's just what I am trying to tell you. My father, for 
 some unknown reason, elected to reduce my mother's income 
 by half, so something had to be done. Then I remembered 
 Keils Finsen and the wonderful things he used to say about 
 my voice." 
 
 " Finseu ! " repeated Oscar, in a graver tone. 
 
 " So I wrote to him, and he answered that if I would come 
 to London he would have experts to hear me, and then they 
 would see what could be done." 
 
 "Well? Well?" 
 
 " Well, I came, and the experts heard me, and they con- 
 cluded that my voice was quite unusual — the most promising 
 soprano they had found for years." 
 
 "And now?" 
 
 " Now I'm at the Royal Academy of Music, and by and by 
 I am to go to Paris for two years, three years, perhaps four 
 to study under Marchesi or Bonby and to attend an acting 
 class, and finally I am to be taken to Monte Carlo or ISTice 
 in representations of " Faust " and " Romeo," as a first step 
 toward taking London by storm as Marguerite or Juliette — 
 there ! " 
 
 " And Finsen is doing all this for you ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, so to speak, I suppose I must say that." 
 
 " Is he to pay your expenses ? " 
 
 " I really don't know who is to pay them, but I've signed 
 a contract to come out under his management and to refund 
 everything when I am fairly launched. And now about your- 
 self, Oscar?" 
 
 "About me?" 
 
 " It's nearly a year since I saw you last. What have you 
 been doing ? " 
 
 Oscar made a clumsy laugh. " Oh, I'm like the lilies of 
 the field — I toil not, neither do I spin." 
 
 But his forced gaiety broke down badly, and he said more 
 ^Boberly, " Don't ask me what I've been doing, Ilelga."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 259 
 
 Helga's eyes wandered around the room for a moment and 
 then she said, " I know ! Neils told me something about it, 
 and he wished me to say " 
 
 Before she could finish Oscar had risen to his feet. " If 
 you come from Finsen I know what your errand is, and I 
 would rather die " 
 
 " N^o, no, no," said Helga, clinging to his nervous hand. 
 " Sit down. It's not that at all. Listen ! " 
 
 He sat and the sweetness of her look banished all his 
 fears. 
 
 " They're giving what they call promenade concerts at Cov- 
 ent Garden, and a few days ago there was some difference with 
 the leader of the orchestra. It seemed desirable to make a 
 change and the question was who the new leader ought to be. 
 Naturally I thought of you." 
 
 "Of me?" 
 
 " Why not ? Didn't I see what you could do with those 
 hundred and fifty numskulls at Thingvellir ? " 
 
 " But Covent Garden ! " 
 
 " My dear Oscar, I've seen every leader they have here, and 
 while they are all your superiors in knowledge and experience, 
 there's not one of them with a tittle of your magnetism and 
 genius. So I said, ' Neils, if you want the finest leader that 
 London has ever seen let me go and fetch him ! ' " 
 
 " But you can't know, Helga — you can't imagine — if you 
 had the least idea of what I've gone through to live — merely 
 to live " 
 
 Helga looked around the room again and she said, " Can't 
 I see ? Haven't I got eyes ? But if you were to tell me that 
 nobody has had any use for you in the meanest work that is 
 ever done by the commonest men, I should still say what I 
 said to Finsen." 
 
 Oscar's throat was hurting him. The thought of Helga's 
 faith and championship broke down his self-control. He 
 never allowed himself to think there could be any selfish 
 ground for it. 
 
 " What do you wish me to do, Helga ? " he asked. 
 
 " To meet me in Finsen's ofiice at eleven o'clock to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " But I vowed I could never set foot in the place again."
 
 260 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " You didn't know then that I should ask you. And I do 
 ask you, Oscar/' 
 
 He remembered the promise he had given to his father; he 
 reflected on the danger of reopening a page of his life which 
 he had crossed out and turned down as for ever; he thought 
 of Finsen and his interest in Helga and the hold he would 
 have of her through her hopes and ambitions; and his will 
 was like a broken withe, for the controlling destiny of his life 
 was leading him on. 
 
 " You will be there, will you not ? " she whispered, and 
 Oscar answered : 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 She leaned her face forward again, and again he kissed her 
 and then she rose to go. 
 
 " Where are you staying ? " he asked, and she told him. 
 It was in a fashionable apartment-house on the edge of the 
 Green Park. 
 
 " Does Finsen live there also ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, he lives in the same building. And you must 
 live there, too. I shall want to see you constantly. There 
 are a thousand things I want you to do for me. But now 
 I must be off." 
 
 He could not let her go, and they renewed their caresses. 
 *' It will seem like a dream when you are gone," he said. " I 
 shall hardly be able to believe you have been here, or that 
 you will ever come back again." 
 
 " Don't say that. I told you in Iceland that I should come 
 to you if you didn't come to me, and I've kept my word, 
 haven't I ? " 
 
 " My dear, dear Helga ! " 
 
 " It wasn't quite good of you to go away without giving 
 me an opportunity of seeing you again." 
 
 " I kn©w, I know ! " 
 
 " You had a certain duty to me, you know, after what had 
 passed " 
 
 "Hush, dear, hush!" 
 
 " But I'm willing to believe it was the fault of other 
 people." 
 
 " Don't let us speak of it, Helga," said Oscar, and his arms, 
 which had been about her in a close embrace, slackened away 
 and fell.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 261 
 
 It ■was easier to part with her after that, but before he 
 opened the door he kissed her again, and when he helped her 
 into the hansom he put her fingers to his lips. 
 
 He stood bare-headed on the pavement oblivious to all sur- 
 roundings until the cab had rounded the corner of the public 
 house and Plelga had vt^aved to him through the glass. Then 
 he became aware that the sight in that sordid slum of so lovely 
 a girl, so beautifully dressed and with a hansom waiting for 
 her, had brought the neighbors to their doors, and that the 
 women were thumbing their apron-strings and grinning to 
 each other across the rails. 
 
 When he reentered the house Jenny passed him in the 
 lobby with a stealthy and guilty air which seemed to say that 
 her poor tortured little soul had not resisted the temptation 
 to listen and to watch. 
 
 He returned to the parlor for a moment and the perfume of 
 Helga's presence was still to be felt there over the odor of 
 dead ale and tobacco. Never had he envied the barman be- 
 fore, but at that moment he would have given all he pos- 
 sessed to keep this room for the rest of the day, that he 
 might sit on the sofa where Helga had sat, and lay his hand 
 on the table where her hand had rested and kiss the carpet 
 where her feet had trod. 
 
 He was like a man moving in a dream, and when he went 
 back to his own apartment he was not conscious of his 
 squalid surroundings. The dirty wall-paper, the threadbare 
 carpet and the blotched looking-glass humiliated and com- 
 promised him no longer. His body was still in his bankrupt 
 garret, but his soul was far away. It was in another world 
 — a world that was bright with Helga's eyes as its sun and 
 stars, for he was going over again the time he had spent 
 with her, every word of it, every tone, every look, every 
 gesture. 
 
 This lasted the whole of the day and when darkness fell a 
 curtain seemed to have fallen on the life he had been living 
 during the past twelve months. The mire and slime of vulgar 
 associations, the degradation of common companionship, the 
 sense of loneliness, of friendlessness, of being nothing and 
 nobody, the deep remembrance of being homeless and hopeless 
 and helpless and useless — all this had gone. That passage of
 
 262 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 his life was over now, and never, never, never would its pain 
 and shame come back to him again. He had passed through 
 it because he had sinned ; but if he had sinned he had suffered, 
 and God Himself had seen that he had suffered enough. 
 
 His eyes were wet when he lay down on his soiled pillow, 
 but he fell asleep in a blissful condition and in the first dream 
 of the night he was back with Helga. Once in the dark hours 
 he awoke and heard the deadened hum of the barman and his 
 friends at their cards and ale; and again he awoke in the 
 dawn and then he heard the hearse of the necropolis thun- 
 dering up Short Street and rumbling under the archway at 
 the top of it. 
 
 At eleven o'clock that morning he went to Covent Garden, 
 and again and again at eleven the following mornings he 
 went there. On the tenth morning he called to Jenny, who 
 had grown shy of him and was leaving his breakfast on a 
 tray outside his door, and said: 
 
 " Jenny, I wish you to tell your mistress that I shall be 
 leaving this lodging in another week." 
 
 Then Jenny's white and wistful face broke down utterly, 
 and with a crack in her voice, and the ghost of a smothered 
 sob in it, she said: 
 
 " I knowed as it 'ud come to this. The minit I set eyes on 
 'er I said as she'd take ye away from me — an' she 'as." 
 
 VI 
 
 The Governor never knew that Oscar had broken faith 
 with him. 
 
 When the time came for the next session of Althing, a Bill 
 for the reform of the Constitution, reenacting the abolition 
 of the Governorship and the appointment of a Minister, was 
 passed by a large majority. But an Act involving a constitu- 
 tional change had to be voted by two Parliaments and there- 
 fore a dissolution of Althing became necessary. The time 
 of dissolution was at the discretion of the Governor, and he 
 might have delayed it until the fever for reform had passed. 
 Instead of doing so he decided to dissolve immediately, thus 
 feeding the agitation and precipitating his own fate.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 263 
 
 Many things befall the man whose day is done, and the 
 measure of the Governor's errors was not yet full. When the 
 time came to select the candidates it was found that the con- 
 stituency for which Oscar had sat — the capital — was once 
 more without its man, and to everybody's astonishment the 
 Governor himself, in order to secure a voice in the popular 
 assembly, determined to etand for it. 
 
 This unusual step on the Governor's part created great ex- 
 citement, but the fever increased tenfold when it was an- 
 nounced that the Factor intended to oppose him. 
 
 Never had popular feeling run so high as on the night when 
 the Governor and the Factor had to confront each other on 
 the same hustings. The better people stayed away, being 
 sorry and ashamed that these two friends of fifty years should 
 claw each other face to face like eagles, but the baser sort 
 were reveling in the prospect of that spectacle and the Arti- 
 san's Institute was crowded. 
 
 " You learn a lot when your servants quarrel," they told 
 each other, and they were not to be disappointed. 
 
 The Sheriff was in the chair, and it was clear from the 
 beginning that his life-long rivalry of the Governor did not 
 prompt him to restrain either candidate from making a fool 
 of himself. Bad luck is a quick voter and the Governor 
 played into the Sheriff's hands without suspicion and without 
 delay. 
 
 The once silent and dignified man had lost all reticence and 
 self-control, and when his time came to speak he flung innu- 
 endoes on every side. If you hate a man all his deeds are 
 hateful, and coming at length to the Factor's business life the 
 Governor said: 
 
 " Never is selfishness satisfied, my friends. Will you com- 
 mit the care of your public purse to one who in order to grasp 
 all is losing all and hurling himself into bankruptcy and 
 want ? " 
 
 This thrust was received with ironical cheers and counter 
 cheers, not unmixed with derisive laughter, and when the 
 Factor's turn came he said with a humorous leer over a face 
 that was white as death : 
 
 " A blimt knife should seek the joints and not hack at the 
 solid bone. But if it comes to asking conundrums I'll ask one
 
 264 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 also : Will you commit the care of your public purse to one 
 whose son was banished from the country because he was a 
 forger and a thief ? " 
 
 This charge against Oscar, often whispered, but never be- 
 fore publicly uttered, fell on the reeking crowd with the effect 
 of a thunderbolt, and before the audience had recovered from 
 its astonishment the Governor was on his feet again, against 
 all rule and order, saying in a loud voice: 
 
 " And will you commit the charge of your public morality 
 to a man who in his youth contracted an alliance with an 
 abandoned woman and only married his mistress after his 
 first daughter had been born a bastard ? " 
 
 This was the climax of sensation. The chewing and spit- 
 ting crowd were silent, save for the sound of their audible 
 breathing which was like the hissing in-wash of an ebbing 
 wave. The Factor was pallid and speechless, as if the Govern- 
 or's cruel word had struck all sensibility as well as sneering 
 out of his face, while the Governor faced him with bloodshot 
 eyes and blazing cheeks and lips that quivered convulsively. 
 
 Thus the two men stood for a long moment with scarcely 
 a yard's space between them, and then a big man was seen 
 to be parting the people at the back of the platform and com- 
 ing forward with great strides. It was Magnus, and he was 
 making for his father as if to take him forcibly away. 
 
 But before the Governor had seen him, or could be con- 
 scious of his presence, another hand, an unseen hand, had 
 been laid upon his shoulder. With a blow on the brain that 
 was like a stroke from heaven, the Governor had realized that 
 in returning the insult of the Factor, in his mad wrath and 
 blind passion, he had outraged the memory of Thora, and 
 that Thora was in her grave, and he had loved her better 
 than any human soul that was not of his own flesh and blood. 
 
 Then the noisome place in its ghastly silence spun round 
 him, and with a low whine like that of a poisoned dog he 
 fell heavily to the floor. Magnus took him up and carried 
 him home — he had a stroke of paralysis. 
 
 There was only one nomination for the capital, the Factor 
 was returned unopposed, and when the writs came back from 
 the country it was found that the reform party had a larger 
 majority than before.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 265 
 
 The Governor made a slow recovery, but he was moving 
 about by the time that Althing was next in session and when 
 the constitutional question came up again he hobbled down 
 to Parliament House on two sticks, in spite of all remon- 
 strance, and took a seat in his little room overlooking the 
 legislative chamber. 
 
 The debate was short and not exciting, and no one looked 
 toward the alcove in which the Governor sat in his faded 
 uniform, a doddering shadow of his old authority, but many 
 cruel sallies of clumsy wit were aimed in that direction. The 
 Governor grew more and more indignant, and at length he 
 rose, frothing at the lips, to protest against unmerited insult, 
 and was put down by the Speaker, who had formerly been his 
 own private secretary. 
 
 The Act was passed by acclamation ; there was much cheer- 
 ing, with the usual nine hurrahs after " God save the King," 
 and then the fallen man was carried home. 
 
 In the middle of the night he had a second seizure, and he 
 never left his room again. But as soon as he had recovered 
 his speech he occupied his time dictating petitions to the 
 King praying him not to give his sanction to an Act that 
 was designed to degrade his sei-vant. 
 
 After a few weeks Magnus came to persuade his father and 
 mother to leave Government House and make their home at 
 the farm. 
 
 " It's of no use to resist Parliament, sir," he said. " The 
 new Minister will be appointed presently, and why should you 
 wait until he turns you out? Come to Thingvellir — I'm 
 strong, I can work for all of us." 
 
 But his father flew at him in a fury. " How dare you make 
 such a proposition ? " he said. " And how dare you show your 
 face in this house? Don't you know that you have been the 
 cause of everything? If it had not been for what you did at 
 the beginning none of this mischief would have happened. 
 As for the new Minister, if he comes here to turn me out tell 
 him to bring my coffin with him — do you hear me ? — tell him 
 to bring my coffin." 
 
 The idea that Magnus was really to blame for all that had 
 occurred, being the first cause and origin of the trouble, grew 
 upon the Governor day by day, so that Oscar seemed to be 
 18
 
 266 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 without fault and even came to be regarded as a martyr. He 
 called upon Anna to read Oscar's letter to him again, and 
 •when he had heard it a second time he was so seized by the 
 idea that the Prime Minister of England was a friend of his 
 son's that he had himself propped up in bed in order that he 
 might write to Oscar with his own hand calling on him to 
 defeat his father's enemies. 
 
 " You have great influence now, Oscar, and you must save 
 your father from the machinations of these malicious scoun- 
 drels, of whom the worst and most devilish is the Factor." 
 
 That was what he thought he was wi'iting, but his poor 
 brain was far gone by this time and the paper he scribbled 
 on over the counterpane was merely covered with unintelli- 
 gible curves and strokes which Anna could not send on to 
 Oscar. 
 
 When it seemed certain that the intensity of the Governor's 
 wrath would kill him, and that he would die with nothing in 
 his heart but hatred of the Factor, Anna and Aunt Margret 
 put their heads together and thought of a way to soften his 
 feelings and sweeten his end. It centered in the child as 
 before. " A little child shall lead them," they said. 
 
 They took little Elin to the Governor's bedroom, and left 
 her to play on the floor. She had grown to be the sweetest 
 thing, with an angel's face, a little beam of spring sunshine 
 that ran about the room and talked. But the only effect of 
 her presence was to make the sick man stretch his arms to a 
 safe near the head of his bed and take out a roll of papers. 
 
 Xobody knew what the papers were, except that they were 
 old and that they crinkled in his stiff fingers. He kept them 
 under his pillow at all times save when his bed was being 
 made and then he smuggled them into the breast of his night- 
 shirt. 
 
 "When the women talked of Elin and all her pretty ways 
 and sweet mysteries of childish make-believe, the Governor 
 talked of Oscar. Although his memory was confused about 
 recent events it was wondrously clear about dietant ones, and 
 he had countless stories of Oscar as a child. Some of them 
 were humorous and he would laugh at them as well as he 
 could with his distorted face, but all were meant to show that 
 Oscar was not like other children, and when he had come 
 to an end he would say :
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 267 
 
 "My son is a great man now, as I always said he would 
 be, and Avhen he gets my letter you'll see what he will do." 
 
 Meantime the Act had been sent over to Denmark and the 
 Sheriff had been called across to Copenhagen. There was 
 only one thing that this could mean, and in the absence of 
 telegraphic communication the little capital sat waiting for 
 the return of the steamer that was to bring the Sheriff back. 
 She was due on a Sunday night, and the bell-ringers of the 
 cathedral stood ready to ring a peal in honor of the new 
 Minister. 
 
 The Governor heai'd that the " Laura " was expected and he 
 conceived the idea that Oscar was coming with her to bring 
 the King's veto and to scatter his father's enemies. He was 
 very ill that day, and Doctor Olesen had said he might not 
 last until morning. But he would have nobody to nurse him, 
 and Magnus, who had come at his mother's call, but dared 
 not show his face to his father, sat on the stairs outside the 
 door. 
 
 Aunt Margret was coming and going during the whole of 
 the day, and toward evening the Factor himself was seen 
 tramping to and fro outside the house, looking up at inter- 
 vals at the Governor's windows with a face in which the mad- 
 ness of love and fear was fighting with the greater madness 
 of pride and wrath. At length Anna went out to him and 
 said: 
 
 " Oscar Neilsen, come into the house to see your old 
 friend." 
 
 " Not till he asks me — not till he asks me," said the Factor; 
 whereupon Anna went indoors again and whispered over the 
 bed of the dying man : 
 
 " Stephen, the Factor is outside, and he only wants to be 
 asked to come in." 
 
 " He must come in on his knees then," said the Governor, 
 and that was the end of everything. 
 
 The steamer did not arrive that night, and the bell-ringers 
 went to bed. But at daybreak, when the fishing-boats in the 
 bay were breaking through a veil of mist and the sunlight 
 was glistening on the mountain-tops, the bells began to ring 
 merrily, for the " Laura " was sailing up the fiord with flags 
 floating from stem to stern.
 
 268 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Magnus heard the bolls, and then a shuffling movement in 
 his father's bedroom. A little later he heard the hurrahs of 
 people cheering in the streets, and then a smothered echo of 
 the same sound at the other side of his father's door. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " " Hurrah ! " cried the people outside. 
 
 " Hur-a ! Hur-a ! Hur-a-a- " echoed the voice within. 
 
 At the next moment the house shook as with a heavy fall 
 and Magnus burst into his father's bedroom. His father lay 
 in his night-shirt on the floor. He was dead, but his face was 
 smiling and in his withered hands were the crinkled papers 
 on which Oscar in his boyhood had scribbled his childish 
 compositions. 
 
 Later the same day Magnus wrote to Oscar : " This is to 
 tell you that our father died this morning. I think he died, 
 happy." 
 
 But the mail did not leave until the end of the week, and 
 under Magnus's message Anna wrote for herself : " He loved 
 you to the last, and we hav berrid him next to our dere 
 Thora." 
 
 VII 
 
 When Oscar received the news of his father's death he was 
 near the close of what he had believed to be the happiest per- 
 iod of his life. His success as a leader of orchestra had been 
 substantial and immediate, and when the concerts at Covent 
 Garden came to an end he had been offered engagements in 
 other quarters. 
 
 "There! Didn't I know what I was talking about?" 
 Helga said. " But this is nothing to the reputation you will 
 make when you consent to appear as a composer." 
 
 " Ah, that is past praying for ! " Oscar answered with a 
 shake of the head, but all the same he was pleased and happy. 
 
 On leavng his dismal lodgings in Short Street, he took 
 rooms in the same house with Helga and Finsen at the corner 
 of Piccadilly and the Green Park. There the three friends 
 lived the innocent lives of children, observing few of the re- 
 strictions which society imposes on the manners and conduct 
 of men and women. 
 
 Helga's sitting-room was the general rendezvous, and the
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 269 
 
 men used it with the utmost freedom. Oscar, in particular, 
 ■was nearly always to be found there, except in the mornings 
 when Helga was at the Academy and in the evenings when 
 he was himself at the theater. 
 
 No hour was too early and hardly any hour too late for 
 Oscar to call on Helga. He ate with her, played with her, 
 sang with her, read with her and helped her with her lessons. 
 Mozart, Cherubini, Ouseley, Macfarren, Parry, and again 
 Mozart — their work was all play and their play was all music. 
 
 Helga was more than satisfied that Oscar should be always 
 with her, always assisting her, always praising and encourag- 
 ing and inspiring her, and he on his part was entirely happy 
 to devote himself to her service. To think for a moment that 
 this was all she wished for, all she wanted with him, was more 
 than his heart was capable of. 
 
 On their oS days and nights they went to other concerts 
 and opera-houses ; attended the English cathedral services and 
 the masses at Catholic Oratories; heard the old masterpieces 
 over and over again; became familiar with nearly every new 
 opera, oratorio, symphony, and voluntary, and studied the 
 methods of most of the great singers and players who ap- 
 peared in London. It was one long feast of music eaten at 
 the table of love. 
 
 They had their social pleasures too, and kept open house 
 on Sundays. Sometimes they supped or dined at restaurants 
 with their new friends, who were chiefly Finsen's friends, and 
 then brought their hosts back to Helga's rooms for cards 
 and conversation until one, two, or three o'clock in the morn- 
 ing. It was a reckless, irresponsible, unconventional life, a 
 little like the life Oscar had lived at college, a little like the 
 life Plelga had lived with her mother at Copenhagen, and 
 more than a little dangerous, though they never thought of 
 that. 
 
 Oscar found only one cause for uneasiness and that con- 
 cerned Finsen. A certain pride which he felt at first in Fin- 
 sen's interest in the girl he loved, the girl who loved him, 
 soon gave place to jealousy. He was jealous of Finsen's hold 
 over Helga, his control of her career, his power over her 
 destiny. Little by little this became a gnawing anxiety until 
 at length every pleasant word Helga exchanged with Finsen,
 
 270 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 and every smile she gave liim, seemed to go to Oscar's heart 
 like a stab. 
 
 He spoke to lier on the subject, and she only laughed at him 
 for his folly. Her endearing words and caresses dissipated 
 his uneasiness for a time, but it always came back. Some- 
 times it seemed to him that Finsen presumed on his position 
 as the one who was finding the ways and means, and that 
 Finsen's friends interpreted this attitude according to the 
 morality of the atmosphere they lived in. At length to ease 
 the secret gnawing at his heart Oscar proposed that they 
 should marry. Why not ? There was no longer any impedi- 
 ment, and there would be an end of damaging misconceptions. 
 
 Remembering the past he thought Helga would have re- 
 ceived his proposal with delight, but times had changed since 
 they were together in Iceland and a cheerless smile hung 
 about her lips as she shook her head. She showed him how 
 fatal marriage at this stage would be to a girl in her position, 
 — fatal to her aims, her ambitions, her standing with the 
 public, and above all with the men to whom she had to look 
 for favors — until he felt almost as much ashamed as if he 
 had proposed a guilty thing. 
 
 "But why should you be jealous?" she said, approaching 
 him to embrace him. " If he is so there may certainly be 
 some cause." 
 
 She put her arms about his neck and added, " Business is 
 business, you know, and I may have to do things in the future 
 which neither of us could wish — unless," she whispered, lay- 
 ing her head on his breast, " my bad boy will at length consent 
 to be true to himself and to his genius and promise to write 
 the great works I know he can write, and let me sing them 
 all over the world. Then," she cried with passion, while her 
 eyes shone and her arms clutched his neck, " then he will see 
 what I can do." 
 
 To this, and such as this, Oscar answered, " No, no," or, 
 " It's impossible," or " Don't let us talk of it; " but Helga's 
 endearing words and caresses, again and again repeated, were 
 like the water from sunny streams which trickles between 
 the snow and the frozen rock and brings down the avalanche 
 at last. 
 
 The days passed — they kept no count of them — six months,
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 271 
 
 a year, a year and a half, and at length the time approached 
 when Helga, according to the program which had been 
 mapped out for her, was to leave the Academy of Music and 
 begin her lessons in Paris. The prospect of an early separa- 
 tion was a constant nightmare to Oscar, who was striving 
 in vain to devise schemes to prevent it, when that secret play 
 of fate which men call chance, helped out by the blind striv- 
 ings of human passion, brought him unexpectedly to the end 
 he aimed at. 
 
 One day Finsen came dashing into Helga's sitting-room 
 with his mouth full of news. The syndicate which held the 
 theater and Casino in one of the principal towns of the Ri- 
 viera had applied to him to recommend a leader of orchestra 
 who should be capable of controlling a season of opera; he 
 had recommended Oscar; his recommendation had been ac- 
 cepted, and it had been left to him to conclude terms with 
 the company's servant and to despatch him without delay. 
 
 If a desire to separate Oscar from Helga had been a part 
 of Finsen's plan his hopes were instantly frustrated, for 
 Helga herself cried: 
 
 " Splendid ! But if Oscar is to control the opera season 
 why can't I go also ? He can put me into small parts under 
 an assumed name in that distant place where I can never 
 be recognized, and that will be better practise for the stage 
 than all the acting-classes in Christendom." 
 
 " Admirable idea ! " shouted Oscai', and Finsen — not half- 
 convinced — was compelled to agree. 
 
 It was while Oscar's heart rode high on this last freak of 
 fortune, while he was preparing for his flight to the Riviera 
 and while Helga was writing to Paris to postpone her lessons, 
 that the letter came from Iceland and fell on him like a thun- 
 derbolt. The sight of a black-edged envelope addressed in 
 Magnus's handwriting sent the blood rushing to his head. It 
 was long before he could gather courage to open it. Feeling 
 numb and faint he put the letter in his pocket and went out 
 into the park to breathe and to think. 
 
 He had not written to his mother since the early days in his 
 first lodging, being afraid to write from Short Street from 
 dread of disclosing his povci'ty or from Piccadilly from fear 
 of saying anything about Helga. As a consequence he had
 
 272 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 heard nothing from home since Anna's letter; the only news 
 that had reached him had come through Finseu by way of 
 his father and concerned public matters chiefly — the fall of 
 the barter trade, the passing of the new Act and the progress 
 of the elections. 
 
 Some one belonging to him was dead — who could it be? 
 Por no other reason than that little Elin was the youngest 
 and frailest he concluded that it must be the child. His 
 poor motherless darling ! He reproached himself with having 
 thought so little of her amid the appeals of an absorbing 
 passion. Yet he had thought of her: he had thought he 
 would go back for her some day, as it was his right and duty 
 to do, and so make amends to Thora in the care and love he 
 would bestow on her child. But perhaps that atonement was 
 impossible now and his sweet child was with her mother in 
 heaven. 
 
 Oscar thought that of all disasters that could befall him 
 at home the death of his child would be the worst, but when 
 at length he opened his letter and found that it was his father 
 who was gone from him his grief was greater still. His dear 
 father who had loved him better, perhaps, than any one else 
 in the world, and whom he had rewarded the worst ! He 
 remembered the forgery and felt choked with shame; he 
 thought of the promise to break with Helga and felt ci*ushed 
 by remorse. His father, who had pampered him and cherished 
 such high hopes for him that should never be realized, never 
 justified now, was dead far away in Iceland, and had loved 
 him to the last ! 
 
 Sitting on a bench under a tree he was trying to read 
 again, as well as he could for the fading light and the blind- 
 ing mist in his eyes, the written sob of his mother's mis- 
 spelled postscript, when a park-keeper touched him on the 
 shoulder to say the gates were closing, and then the dull 
 hum of London's burrowing mazes fell on his ear again. 
 
 Helga had expected him in her room that afternoon ta 
 make the last arrangements for their journey, but the sun set> 
 the evening closed, the night fell and he did not come. Next 
 morning he walked in with drooping head and a dejected 
 step and she saw that something had occurred. 
 
 " You have had bad news, Oscar — what is it ? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 273 
 
 " My father is dead," he answered, and after that they sat 
 for some moments without speaking. 
 
 Then Helga recovered herself — her brain had been going 
 like a fly-wheel — and she said, scarcely above her breath : 
 
 " Well, what do you intend to do ? " 
 
 " I intend to go back," said Oscar. 
 
 "Back to Iceland?" 
 
 " Yes — to my mother and my child." 
 
 He lifted his eyes and looked at her, and at the sight of 
 her face, so full of pain and disappointment the blood rushed 
 from his heart, and he said : 
 
 " Helga, why shouldn't you go with me ? Why shouldn't 
 we marry and go back together? I know it is a good deal to 
 ask, dear, but we should be everything to each other, and I 
 ohould make up to you for any sacrifice by my devotion and 
 love. What matter if we have to forget our cherished dreams 
 and aspirations ? Life is the fulfilment of duty, and our duty 
 is at home — mine is at all events — and if you will share it, 
 if you will go back with me " 
 
 He stopped suddenly and dropped his head on his hands 
 and his elbows on his knees. With every word he uttered the 
 impossibility and folly of what he proposed forced itself upon 
 him, and the blood that had flamed up to his head fell back 
 to the depths of his heart. 
 
 Helga sat a moment without speaking; then she said in a 
 steady voice: 
 
 " I'm sorry, very sorry, but it's impossible ! If I had noth- 
 ing and nobody else to think about I should have to think 
 of ISTeils. He has spent money upon me and I have given him 
 a contract, therefore I can't run awi^.y from him like that." 
 
 Oscar drew deep, gasping breaths and answered, " Then I 
 must go alone. It will be hard, terribly hard, but I must 
 go. There is the mortgage — I must take up that burden now 
 that my father is gone — I can not let anybody else be borne 
 down by it. And then there is the child — I've not done too 
 much for her hitherto, and it is my duty, my sacred duty " 
 
 " The child is all right, Oscar. Aunt Margret is taking 
 care of her. Nothing you could do for the little mite would 
 be half as good as is being done for her already. As for the 
 mortgage, you can bear that burden just as well in England
 
 274 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 as in Iceland ! Better — far better ! You'll earn more money 
 here — ten times, a hundred times more. And then think of 
 the difficulty of beginning over again under the old condi- 
 tions. Everybody must know everything by this time. They 
 do — I know they do ! " 
 
 She rose, and standing over him she stroked his hair — the 
 uncombed curls of his fair hair — and said, softly : 
 
 " No, no, dear ! You can never go back to Iceland until 
 you go back rich and famous. And you may! I say you 
 may ! And then I, too, perhaps " 
 
 But he covered his ears with his hands, for what Helga 
 was saying sounded like mockery. 
 
 " Meantime you can not think of leaving me — especially 
 now when I want your help so badly — and when everything 
 depends upon it — my work and my future." 
 
 She dropped to her knees by his side and put her arms 
 around his neck. 
 
 " Say you will not leave me, dearest ! Say you will not ! " 
 
 She loaded him with caresses, she addressed him by every 
 endearing name, she conquered him. He felt that the im- 
 pulse to go back to Iceland — the impulse of duty — was over- 
 come by the rapture of love, and that he must stay where 
 Helga was, whatever happened. 
 
 " I belong to you, body and soul, Helga — do as you like 
 with me," he said. 
 
 " And you will go to the Eiviera ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 If he had known what he was saying he would rather have 
 called upon the river to carry him to its lowest depths and 
 count him in the death-roll of its damned. But none of 
 us can foresee the future. We must all bow before the 
 Unknown. 
 
 vni 
 
 The engagement on the Riviera was completely successful 
 and Oscar covered himself with honor, but when the opera 
 season came to an end he declined all offers to come back. 
 
 Finsen was there. Under cover of professional and fra-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 275 
 
 temal interest he had made frequent visits to Oscar and 
 Helga during the course of the season, and at the close of it 
 he was staying at the same hotel, Oscar was nervous, fretful, 
 and unhappy. The secret gnawing anxiety which had op- 
 pressed him in London had returned with redoubled force. 
 
 Helga's love of the gaiety and grandeur of the life of the 
 Riviera was only too evident, and Finsen set himself to feed 
 it. He fed it by every art and resource of a full purse and 
 an open hand. Kaces, regattas, fetes, flowers — he gave her 
 everything that was being enjoyed by other women living in 
 abundance. Oscar protested, but she laughed at his protests 
 or tried to coax him out of his jealousy. Her caresses and 
 endearments were beginning to fail of their old effect. In 
 spite of himself he was beginning to feel a certain contempt 
 for her, and at some moments even a sort of hatred which 
 tore his heart to pieces. 
 
 For his own part Oscar hated the life of the Riviera. "Wliat 
 nature had done for the place was good, but what man had 
 done was bad. The soft air, the blue sky, the deep blue sea, 
 the smiling gardens, the flowers, the oleanders, the orange 
 groves, the scent of the resin and then the still nights and 
 the nightingale — could anything be more enchanting? Yet 
 this paradise of nature, this God-blest corner of the earth was 
 degraded by every gross desire that was at war with beauty 
 and art and genius and the everlasting laws of life. 
 
 But Oscar's hatred of the Riviera was due to a cause more 
 personal than his moral revolt — a i^oignant memory of the 
 past. In the Casino which stood in the middle of the gardens, 
 beyond the brilliant hall and the noisy orchestra, there was an 
 inner room, guarded by keen-eyed door-keepers and watched 
 by spies, where men and women sat about a green-topped 
 table in a dusky and clammy silence ; and at the end of that 
 room, in the darkest part of it there was an alcove, almost 
 covered by palms, where two persons could sit unseen. Helga 
 and he had once sat there, and she had pleaded with him to 
 do something that his soul shrank from, and he had done it. 
 " Why not ? " she had said. " He will never hear of it, and it 
 will only be a matter of form. My luck must change, it 
 must, and then we will pay back this money and everything 
 will be wiped out. Do, Oscar, for me, please ! "
 
 276 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 From fear of reviving this memory Oscar had avoided the 
 Casino during his present visit. That was easy enough to do 
 while the opera season lasted, but when it was over, and his 
 work no longer wanted him, it was hard to see Helga go ofE 
 with Finsen night after night, and to wander round the Ca- 
 sino like an uneasy spirit that could find no rest while they 
 were inside of it. The jealousy that was rankling in his 
 breast could not bear that ordeal long and when Helga said, 
 " What nonsense ! You needn't play — why should you ? " he 
 followed her into the gambling-house. 
 
 He saw the usual sights there, and found the usual company 
 gathered about the tables — all middle-class whatever their 
 rank and station — the middle-class financier, the middle-class 
 millionaire, the middle-class baron, the middle-class peer, the 
 middle-class duchess smoking her cigarettes, and then the 
 prostitute in her feathers and the black-leg in his diamonds, 
 as well as reputable men and virtuous women, for the gam- 
 bling-house knows no distinctions of means or morality or 
 intellect and is the high court of the devil's democracy. 
 
 On the night of Oscar's first visit Helga played and lost; 
 and seeing the strained look in her face his very soul felt 
 sick and he walked out into the gardens. On the second night 
 she lost again and he saw her borrow from Finsen who stood 
 behind her. On the third night it was Finsen who played 
 and he won largely, and then Helga, who sat by his side, 
 seemed to be intoxicated by excitement and delight. 
 
 Next day she showed him a costly jewel which Finsen had 
 bought for her out of his winnings. " For luck ! " she said, 
 and when Oscar protested against the present, she said : 
 
 " But why shouldn't I take it ? Every penny he spends on 
 me makes me more necessary to him for the future. Come, 
 dear, don't be jealous. Didn't I tell you that I should have 
 to do things that neither of us could wish? " 
 
 At this, and such as this, Oscar's sense of shame was chok- 
 ing him. His feeling for Helga was now in a perpetual alter- 
 nation between love and hate. He loved her, he hated her, 
 he despised her, he was proud of her, and this red riot in his 
 blood was driving him to despair. 
 
 At one moment he thought her nature was utterly selfish, 
 and that she would sacrifice anything and anybody to gain
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 277 
 
 her ends ; at the next moment he believed she loved him with 
 an unselfish love, but that her disposition was such that she 
 had to struggle between her love for him and her love for lux- 
 ury and success, and therefore she was as much an object for 
 pity as himself. 
 
 Sometimes, when he walked in the gardens of the Casino, 
 he remembered how Thora had suffered as he was suffering 
 now; and then, while the nightingale sang unseen above his 
 head and the peace of the night soothed his soul, he told him- 
 self he was rightly punished. As he had done so he was being 
 done by, and now the manly thing was to leave Ilelga and go 
 away; and then if she loved him she would suffer, too, and 
 that would be his best revenge. 
 
 But at other times, when he saw Helga wearing the brace- 
 lets and brooches which Finsen had given her he felt that 
 flight was impossible; that he must fight this man with his 
 own weapons and subdue this woman on her own terms. 
 
 Yet how was he to do it? When he asked himself that 
 question one answer, and one only, came back to him with 
 every breath he drew in that atmosphere of gamblers, the old, 
 delusive, mocking answer — he must do it by means of play. 
 
 But while he had money enough for his own needs he had 
 none for the gambling-table, and it was not at first that he 
 saw a way to the means with which to begin. Suddenly an 
 idea came to him — he would make the man himself find the 
 means — and without waiting to consider this, without paus- 
 ing to count the cost, with his pulses throbbing painfully 
 and his heart leaping with a devilish joy, he hurried into the 
 Casino and drew Finsen aside to the alcove covered by palms, 
 and said, in a false and tremulous voice: 
 
 " Old friend, do you remember the first time I called on you 
 at Covent Garden ? " 
 
 " When you said you were starving — perfectly." 
 
 " You offered me something if I would sell you some com* 
 positions of mine that are buried in Iceland." 
 
 " And you said you would die in a ditch first." 
 
 " Would you still be disposed to take your chance with 
 them?" 
 
 " Why not ? My father is Minister now — ^there ought to be 
 no difficulty."
 
 278 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " And you would be prepared to pay me the money at 
 once ? " 
 
 " Certainly — as soon as you are ready to sign the necessary 
 authorization." 
 
 " I'm ready to sign it now," said Oscar in the same tremu- 
 lous voice. 
 
 Within ten minutes everything was settled, and Oscar was 
 pocketing the notes that were being paid on Finsen's account 
 from the treasury of the Casino. His hands were trembling, 
 his lips quivering, and his face was white. 
 
 " So you're caught by the fever at last, old fellow," laughed 
 Finsen. " And what you wouldn't do before to feed your 
 stomach, you are doing now to feed your luck," 
 
 " Just so, to feed my luck," said Oscar. 
 
 That night Oscar played carefully and won. The following 
 night he played more freely and won again. On the third 
 night he took the bank and won once more. He took the bank 
 on the fourth, fifth, sixth, and many succeeding nights with 
 the same result. Such a rapid and unbroken run of luck 
 had scarcely ever been seen. The manager of the Casino, a 
 plausible person with a rubicund face, congratulated Oscar. 
 The " house " had rarely had a banker so popular as well as 
 so fortunate, and it rejoiced in his success. 
 
 Meantime Oscar was never for a moment his own man. He 
 seemed to be laboring under a wild intoxication of soul. In 
 a fortnight he had become rich, but he had no love for money 
 for himself and he heaped it upon Helga. There were pres- 
 ents to outshine Finsen's, excursions in steam launches and in 
 automobiles and even some social entGrtainments. The win- 
 some and remarkable-looking young leader of the opera, with 
 his handsome if reckless sister-in-law, became objects of at- 
 tention. They gave one or two dinners in the restaurant of 
 the Casino, where the rich of all nations ate their food in the 
 glitter of a thousand diamonds and to the music of an or- 
 chestra in red coats and black silk stockings. 
 
 Then the change came — the inevitable change. One night 
 it became evident that the tide of Oscar's luck had turned. 
 He did not flinch — he doubled his risk and played on. The 
 ebb set in with frightful rapidity, and every night he in- 
 creased his stakes, and lost his money with a smile. At the
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 279 
 
 end of a week Helga, who had been transported with rapture 
 became pallid with alarm. 
 
 '*' Your luck is leaving you — hadn't you better stop ? " she 
 said, but he would not listen. 
 
 He touched bottom at last. Sitting in his usual seat he 
 called for fresh counters, and said with a laugh, " Life or 
 death — this is my last." 
 
 " Do you mean that ? " said Helga, and he nodded and 
 laughed again. 
 
 Finsen had been punting silently at the other side of the 
 table, and now Helga went over to him and stood behind his 
 chair. It was only the straw that told how the wind was 
 blowing, but Oscar saw it and his twitching face grew red. 
 
 The inscrutable gods of chance seemed to hover over the 
 table. A greater risk than that of money depended on the 
 issue of the next coup, and both men knew it. 
 
 When the cards had been cut Oscar served them slowly, 
 very slowly, and when he came to the last card his trembling 
 fingers seemed loath to turn it. He turned it at last with a 
 rapid movement and at the same moment he rose from his 
 seat and laughed. 
 
 He had lost, and the clammy silence was broken. 
 
 " Are you going ? " asked Helga, in a listless tone, with 
 wandering eyes. 
 
 "Certainly. And you?" 
 
 " Not yet — Neils is winning splendidly." 
 
 Then in a moment, as in the twinkling of an eye, his 
 month-long intoxication of soul left him and he saw where 
 he was and what he had done. He had taken money from 
 Finsen to permit the grave of his wife to be opened, and he 
 had gambled with that money and lost it! 
 
 When he saw things in this way he could scarcely stand 
 upright, but with an effort he walked out of the gambling- 
 room, down the corridor where the spies were watching, past 
 the restaurant where the sluggards were smoking, through the 
 hall where the band was playing and out into the garden. 
 
 There he looked for a dark place and sat on a bench under 
 a tree. The night was clear and quiet, the stars were out, and 
 the sea was singing in the distance, but he could hear nothing 
 except an owl that was hooting somewhere in the eaves. Oh,
 
 280 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 for the snows of his own country to cool his hot forehead! 
 Oh, for the storms of Iceland to silence the babel in his 
 brain ! 
 
 When he thought of his conduct he hated himself, and 
 when he remembered his temptation he hated Helga also. 
 The one hatred counteracted the other or he would have de- 
 stroyed himself. He must live, if only to subdue Helga, to 
 bring her to his feet and then to cast her off forever! 
 
 How was he to do this? There was one way, but it was 
 closed to him — closed by the vow he had made when he stood 
 by the open coffin of his wife and, in punishment of himself 
 for having neglected her and sinned against her, he had 
 sworn before God to bury his ambitions in her grave and 
 never write another line of music as long as he lived. 
 
 If he could only wipe out that vow, if he could only begin 
 again, if he could only say to himself some day, " Oscar 
 Stephenson is dead ! " But that could never be and Oscar 
 Stephenson must go on to the end, trailing the slag of his 
 burned-out life behind him. 
 
 Deciding to return to England immediately, he walked 
 back to the hotel and asked for his bill. When it was given 
 to him he found that the money remaining in his purse was 
 hardly sufficient to discharge his debt and pay the expense of 
 his journey. Without a moment's thought he sat down and 
 wrote to Helga : 
 
 " Dear Helga : — I want to go back to London by the mid- 
 night train and I find I am a little short for my railway 
 ticket. Send me a hundred francs by the messenger who 
 brings you this letter, and for mercy's sake do not keep him 
 too long waiting — I can not live in this place another night. 
 
 " Oscar." 
 
 He had lavished so many presents upon her that he never 
 dreamt she could refuse him, but this was the answer that 
 came back : 
 
 " I^arest Oscar : — How unlucky ! I've just this very min- 
 ute lost my last sou, and you don't like me to borrow Irona
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 281 
 
 Finsen. But, you bad boy, you can not be in earnest about 
 going off at midnight. It's impossible! Your devoted 
 
 " Helga." 
 
 Oscar had nothing that he could turn into money except 
 his watch, and that was his father's gift and all he had to 
 remember him by, but after a sharp struggle he called for the 
 manager, and parted with his keepsake. 
 
 When his bill was paid and his luggage ready, the clock 
 across the gardens was striking eleven. lie had still an hour 
 to spare, and bitterly as he felt toward Helga he could not 
 go away without saying good-by to her, so he walked for 
 that purpose by the shore road to the side door of the 
 Casino. 
 
 It was there that his fate encountered him. 
 
 IX 
 
 As he was going into the Casino he met the manager, who 
 greeted him effusively. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Stephenson, they told me you were going away — 
 I'm glad to see it isn't true ! " 
 
 " It is quite true, sir," said Oscar. 
 
 " Why should you ? The season isn't at an end yet." 
 
 "But my money is," said Oscar; whereupon the manager 
 laughed, put his arm through Oscar's and walked back with 
 him toward the baccarat-room, whispering: 
 
 " Mr. Stephenson, I told you the house liked to see you 
 take the bank. The game is good when you are in the chair. 
 Now there are a few gentlemen here to-night who would 
 play high if they had the proper inducement. Don't go, Mr. 
 Stephenson." 
 
 " But I'm penniless — don't you understand me ? — penni- 
 less." 
 
 " Come this way." 
 
 They were in the baccarat-room by this time and the man- 
 ager was drawing Oscar toward the alcove. 
 
 " I must ask you to excuse me. I have a lady to speak to, 
 and my train to catch," said Oscar. 
 19
 
 282 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Listen for a moment," said the manager, and then with 
 a glance toward the company who stood absorbed and silent 
 under the bright light in the middle of the room, he added, 
 in a low voice, " Mr. Stephenson, I suggest that you return 
 to the table and take the bank. When you call for counters 
 they will be provided. If you lose your first coup the loss 
 Avill be the loss of the house, and if you win the gain will 
 be your own." 
 
 Oscar laughed, and chopping the air impatiently with a 
 pair of gloves which he carried in his hand, he said, " Do 
 you run this house on philanthropic lines then ? " 
 
 " Hush ! At your second coup you will call for fresh cards 
 as you have a right to do, and when you receive them you — 
 you will win. You understand me? You will win!" 
 
 The impatient chopping ceased and Oscar stood looking 
 steadfastly at the man's eyes. 
 
 " At your next coup and your next you will call for cards 
 as before and at the end of your fourth coup you will rise 
 from the table." 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 " Then you will divide your earnings with the house, and 
 be richer than you have ever been in your life." 
 
 Oscar had listened first with astonishment, then with in- 
 dignation, and finally with ungovernable wrath. " How dare 
 you? What do you take me for? " he said in a loud, choking 
 voice, and lifting his hand he smote the man with his gloves 
 across his ruddy and smiling face. 
 
 The unexpectedness of the attack compelled the manager 
 to utter a startled cry, and in a moment the people from the 
 table were crowding round, asking, " What is it ? " What's 
 happened ? " 
 
 But the manager recovered himself in an instant and said : 
 "It's nothing! The gentleman misunderstood something I 
 was saying to him. I beg of you to resume the play." 
 
 Helga had come up with the rest, and when the others had 
 returned to the table she drew Oscar into the alcove and 
 said : " Tell me what occurred." 
 
 He told her, and still trembling with unsatisfied anger, 
 he added : " This is what I have come down to, Helga — that 
 a man can think it safe to make a proposal to me like that !
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 283 
 
 Can you wonder that I want to get out of this place — this 
 atmosphere of cheats and cheating? And yet people talk of 
 the honor of the gamhling-house ! They might as well talk of 
 the morality of hell." 
 
 Helga was sitting with her head down and her fingers — 
 ■which sparkled with some of Oscar's presents — interlaced 
 upon her knee. 
 
 " You might have spared me one of these, Helga," he said, 
 touching her rings. " We could have replaced it some day, 
 whereas I've had to part with the watch my father gave me, 
 and I can never replace that." 
 
 " I didn't want you to go, Oscar, that's why I didn't send 
 you the hundred francs — I didn't want you to go away with- 
 out me." 
 
 "Do you mean that, Helga? Really mean it? You do? 
 Then come with me now ! I came to say good-by, but how 
 can I leave you behind in a place like this? It will destroy 
 you as it has destroyed others. It will sap away your health 
 and spirit and talent and charm and everything a woman 
 wants to keep. Helga," he said, rising to his feet, " I am. 
 nearly distracted by what has occurred to-night, but I know 
 what I am saying. If you will throw in your lot with me 
 — with me only — I will devote my whole life to your welfare, 
 and do everything you wish. If there is anything you want me 
 to do for you I will do it. Do you understand me, Helga ? " 
 
 " Yes, Oscar." 
 
 " Then let us go back to London — to our own world, our 
 own work, Helga." 
 
 "I should like to — dearly like to." 
 
 " Then why not ? " 
 
 "If I throw in my lot with you — with you only — I must 
 break with Finsen — and I'm in Finsen's debt. 
 
 "I know! Oh, I know!" 
 
 " If I could only repay him somehow ! But I have noth- 
 ing!" 
 
 " You have your jewels, Helga." 
 
 " They are not enough. And besides, how could I part 
 with a present of yours, Oscar ? But if there were any other 
 way of getting money " 
 
 " Helga, what are you thinking of ? "
 
 2&4 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " I am thinking that if this is an atmosphere of cheats and 
 cheating perhaps you have been cheated also." 
 
 " Ilelga ! " His voice was tremulous with protest. 
 
 " Would it be so very wrong to do to them as they have 
 done to you, Oscar ? " 
 
 " Helga ! Ilelga ! " His tremulous voice was breaking 
 into gasps of helplessness. 
 
 " I suppose it would, but how happy I should be if we 
 could go back together, and live for each other and our art, 
 and have nothing and nobody else to think about ! " 
 
 Oscar was standing by her side and quivering like a fright- 
 ened horse. There were some moments of silence in which 
 nothing could be heard but the call of the croupier in the 
 middle of the room. Then a waiter went noiselessly by the 
 mouth of the alcove carrying an empty tray to his own 
 quarters, and by a sudden impulse, in a thick croupy voice 
 Oscar called to him: 
 
 " GarQon ! My compliments to the manager ! Say I am 
 sorry for what occurred just now, and if he is still of the 
 same mind I will take the bank." 
 
 A few minutes later Oscar, who had thrown off his overcoat 
 and hat, was taking the banker's chair at the baccarat-table. 
 The people seated about it welcomed him with nods and 
 smiles, and when he called for counters and received a huge 
 pile of ivory ones a bald-headed man with a sinister face 
 said, " I congratulate you, sir ! It isn't everybody who can 
 revive his credit as quickly as that." 
 
 " What does it mean? " whispered Finsen to Helga, where^ 
 upon Helga whispered back: 
 
 " Don't ask me yet," and then she walked up to Oscar and 
 stood close behind his chair. 
 
 There were a few strange faces about the table, including 
 an English lord and an American financier. The manager 
 of the Casino stood watching from the back. Stakes were 
 high for the first coup and the bank lost it. 
 
 " I'm afraid the luck is still against you, sir," said the 
 bald-headed man. 
 
 "I'll try again," said Oscar. "Fresh cards, please!" 
 
 The stakes were higher for the second coup, and the bank 
 won it.
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 285 
 
 " That's better," said the bald-headed man. 
 
 " Another pack of cards, please ! " said Oscar. 
 
 When the money was on the table for the third coup it was 
 seen to be double what it had been for the second. The bank 
 won once more. 
 
 " But this is like your old luck, sir," said the bald-headed 
 man. 
 
 " Another pack ! " cried Oscar, and he swept all his win- 
 nings into the bank. 
 
 The money for the fourth coup was four times what it had 
 been for the third. The bank won again, and then Oscar 
 rose from the table. 
 
 " But aren't you going to give us our revenge, sir ? " asked 
 the American. 
 
 " This is mine," said Oscar, as he left the chair. 
 
 Helga's face was quivering with excitement and delight. 
 There were tears in her eyes as she congratulated Oscar, and 
 she looked as if she were going to kiss him. 
 
 " If you will step this way, Mr. Stephenson — " the man- 
 ager's suave voice was saying, when all at once a commo- 
 tion broke out behind. 
 
 " Croupier," said a voice with a nasal accent, " I will 
 trouble you to examine them cards," whereupon the manager 
 swung round with an aggrieved expression. 
 
 " Surely, sir, you do not mean to say, to imply " 
 
 " I can only say I'll trouble the croupier to examine them 
 last three packs of cards." 
 
 In the confusion that followed Finsen came up to Helga, 
 who was now trembling by Oscar's side and said : " You had 
 better let me take you out of this." 
 
 Oscar saw Helga hesitate, then take one step away from 
 him and stop, but when somebody in the throng about the 
 table cried excitedly : " The bank ought to be impounded," 
 he saw her drop her head and follow Finsen out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Come this way, Mr. Stephenson," whispered the man- 
 ager, and while most of the company were still crowding 
 about the croupier he half -led, half-pushed Oscar through 
 a small door to a private corridor, and a moment afterward 
 there was a roar from the other side of it.
 
 286 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 " Stay here. Leave everything to me. I'll do the best I 
 can," said the manager, and then Oscar found himself alone 
 in a small room, quite dark and silent, save for the glimmer- 
 ing of lamps in the garden and the deadened rumble of the 
 tumult he had left behind. 
 
 How long he stayed there he never knew. It seemed like 
 an hour, but it could hardly have been more than a few min- 
 utes. The tumult grew louder, then there was the report 
 of a pistol-shot, and then the noises frayed oS to silence. 
 
 Unable to restrain himself any longer, and delirious with 
 a wild desire to face the consequences of his conduct, what- 
 ever they might be, Oscar was opening the door of his room 
 when the manager returned to it, bringing his hat, over- 
 coat, and gloves. 
 
 " I've done the best I could for you," said the manager, 
 panting and gasping. " I have told them j'ou have shot your- 
 self, and your friends have supported that explanation. You 
 must get away at once. You must ca^'^^ch the midnight train 
 to Paris. You've only four minutes, but you'll do it if you 
 run. Here is a second-class ticket to London. Good night ! 
 And remember," said the man, as Oscar was passing through 
 a private door to the garden, " remember — Oscar Stephenson 
 is dead." 
 
 Oscar was just able to control his faculties long enough 
 to reach the railway-station, find the train, and search out an 
 empty second-class c'ompartment and then he collapsed ut- 
 terly. He was like a beast that has been smitten in the 
 shambles and is shattered in every sense and nerve. 
 
 Looking up at the lamp in the roof and seeing smoke float- 
 ing above it, he thought at first the carriage must be afire, 
 but looking again the smoke was gone and then he knew his 
 sight had suffered and he supposed he must be going blind. 
 There was a roaring noise in his ears and he thought it was 
 the roaring of the train, but when the train stopped the noise 
 continued, and then he knew that his hearing was injured 
 and he supposed he must be going deaf. Two ofiicials came 
 into the carriage to examine the tickets, but though he saw
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 2S7 
 
 their lips moving he could not bear what they said, or rightly 
 grasp what they wanted, until they were turning to go, and 
 then the noise in his head slid off for a moment and he heard 
 one of them say to the other, " Drunk, poor devil ! "' 
 
 This lasted through the dark hours of the night, and when 
 the morning dawned his experiences were yet more terrible. 
 At the first gleam of light his stunned soul awoke, and with 
 a sharp pain like the after-pain of a bullet wound, he realized 
 where he was and what he was doing. He was flying from 
 the consequences of perhaps the most base and infamous 
 conduct a man could be capable of — conduct the more base 
 and infamous because there was no law to punish it. 
 
 Low as he had sunk hitherto he had never sunk so low as 
 this. This was as low as man could go and live in the face 
 of other men and the eye of the light. And he had descended 
 to this depth, he, Oscar Stephenson, son of the Governor 
 of his country ! When he thought of his father he thanked 
 God that death had taken him before this disgrace befell. 
 
 Every arteiy in his body seemed to bleed, every tendon 
 ^o be torn. When the sun rose on him in his ghastly soli- 
 tude it seemed to sere his very brain and he pulled the blind 
 down to shut it out. 
 
 Then the women passengers began to move about the cor- 
 ridor of the train and he thought of Helga. Although it 
 seemed so long ago as almost to belong to another existence, 
 he could still see her frightened face as she sidled away 
 from him last night and left him standing alone at that 
 hideous moment when it seemed certain that he must pay 
 the penalty of the offense to which she had tempted him. 
 He despised her for her cowardice; he loathed her for her 
 treachery; he hated her for herself; and he told himself that 
 never again as long as he lived should love of Helga hold 
 dominion over him. 
 
 At one moment he found himself cursing her. At the 
 next he found himself weeping. Could it be Helga whom 
 he was thinking of like this ? Helga, who had been so much 
 to him during so many years, who had come so very close 
 to him, nearer than his father, nearer than his mother, 
 nearer — Heaven forgive him! — than his wife or child? 
 Helga, who had been with him early and late, a soft voice
 
 288 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 always at his ear, a sweet presence always at his heart, a 
 spirit, a support, an inspiration ? Helga, whom he had loved 
 and should always love, let her do what she would with him, 
 let him do what he would with her? God pity him! God 
 help him ! 
 
 Yet his tenderness and tears were stronger than his hatred 
 and rage, and he resolved that for her perfidy and selfish- 
 ness, Helga should be punished, and that he should punish 
 her, Thei'e was no longer any need to ask himself how this 
 was to be done. The words that had rumbled in his ears 
 like the roll of a muffled drum when ho ran from the gar- 
 dens of the Casino were rumbling in his ears still. Oscar 
 Stephenson is dead! At first he could not be sure that the 
 manager had really spoken them, so exactly did they echo 
 the wish that had been bubbling within his oaati breast. But 
 Oscar Stephenson was dead indeed, and the words that 
 might have crushed him with shame moved him more than 
 a trumpet. 
 
 If Oscar Stephenson was dead, then the vow he had made 
 in Thora's death-chamber was dead also! That vow had 
 been intended to punish himself for his infidelity and for 
 all his failures of love and duty, by denying himself the 
 gratification of his greatest pride, the realization of his 
 highest hopes. But what pride could be gratified and what 
 hopes realized to Oscar Stephenson if his name was wiped 
 out, his identity lost, and he was dead to all the world except 
 himself ? 
 
 The feverish soul in its hour of sufi'ering found the rea- 
 soning sufficient, and Oscar thought he saw as in a glass 
 everything that he had to do. He had to take another 
 name, to bury himself in London and to set to work on the 
 only task he was fit for! He had to write an opera, as he 
 was now free to do, since Oscar Stephenson was dead, and 
 he was living in the name of another man. 
 
 The scene was to be in his own country, among the lone- 
 some grandeur of its untrodden glaciers and the stark sub- 
 limity of its burned-out plains, and the story was to be from 
 one of the fiery Sagas of the same stem old land. And 
 when, after many days, many months, perhaps years, eating 
 the bread of poverty in loneliness and obscurity, he had
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 289 
 
 finished his task, and had sent it out like a dove from the 
 ark, men were to know that a new voice had come among 
 them and the name of Iceland was to be on the lips of the 
 world. 
 
 Then when people asked each other, who was he that in 
 the darkness of years of labor had learned all the art and 
 mj'stery of music, he would give no sign because his lips 
 would be sealed, but there would be one who would read his 
 secret. It would be Helga, and she would come back to 
 him in shame if not remorse and throw herself at his feet 
 and cry : " I did wrong, forgive me, and take me back to 
 your heart ! " 
 
 And then he would answer and say : " You came between 
 me and my sweet young wife; you persuaded me to the act 
 that broke her heart and killed her; you tempted me to the 
 crime that ruined my father and to the offense that de- 
 stroyed myself, and then you left me to bear my punishment 
 alone. Therefore, I have wiped you out of my life; I have 
 cut you off as I would cut off a rotten limb that threatened 
 to drag the whole body down to death. I love you — yes, I 
 can never cease to love you — that is the punishment I shall 
 always bear — but there can be nothing more between us — 
 we part now forever — your course lies that way, mine this. 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 As the train rolled along he found a delirious joy in this 
 prospect, which began and ended with the idea that Oscar 
 Stephenson was dead. In the light of that thought he looked 
 back on the past of his life and many things that had been 
 hard to understand became plain. Again and again he had 
 tried to stop on his downward course and he could not do 
 so. Before he could rise out of the degradation of his past 
 life he had had to drink his cup to the dregs, to go down 
 to the depths, to be covered by darkness and the shadow 
 of death ! But at last Oscar Stephenson was dead ! Thank 
 God! Thank God! 
 
 How strange that at the moment when Helga was tempt- 
 ing him to the infamous act, which if it had succeeded 
 would have made him her slave and the slave of sin forever, 
 she was leading him by one of Death's terrific strides to life 
 and liberty! How mysterious and how mighty, aye, and
 
 290 THE TRODIGAL SOlC 
 
 how cj'nical also, wei'c the powers of Destiuy, whose super- 
 natural wings hovered over the lives of nuiu and women and 
 moved their little motives of love and hate and revenge and 
 selfishness like pawns on the chess-board of Fate! 
 
 It was in this mood he reached Paris, and having some 
 three hours to wait before his train started for Calais, he 
 walked through the streets until he came to the center of 
 the city, and then sat outside a cafe to eat a roll of bread 
 and drink a cup of coffee. It was six o'clock, and the news- 
 vendc-£ were crying the evening papers. He bought one 
 to beguile the time of waiting, and had not yet opened it 
 when he saw his own name standing out from the front page 
 as if it had been printed in a different ink. 
 
 For some moments thereafter a mist seemed to float be- 
 tween the newspaper and his eyes, but he read the para- 
 graph at last. 
 
 It was a telegram from Nice, headed : " Suicide in a 
 Casino," giving a mangled version of th^ events of last 
 night, clearly inspired by the manager to protect himself 
 and his house, and closing with the words : 
 
 " The deceased, who was from Iceland, is understood to 
 be a son of the late much- respected Governor-General of that 
 coimtiy." 
 
 XI 
 
 The paper slipped from Oscar's fingers and his transport 
 of rapture passed. He told himself that this report would 
 go far, that it would reach Iceland, that his mother w'ould 
 hear of it, and that his child would be told that she was 
 fatherless. 
 
 Little Elin was too young to feel grief, but could he allow 
 his mother to believe that he was dead and to weep for 
 him as t<,r one who vras lost to her forever? That would 
 be too cruel; it would be impossible; he would write to his 
 mother immediately; he would write priv.atcly saying he 
 was still alive and that part of the report was untrue. 
 
 But then came the chilling thought that though he might 
 dispose of the fiction of his death he could not get rid of the 
 fact of his offense, and that when his mother pictured him
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 291 
 
 as one who was flying from the consequences of his conduct, 
 skulking in a slum and hiding his face from the faces of 
 his friends, there would be something in the shame of that 
 end more bitter than death itself, and even his own mother 
 would wish that he had died. 
 
 He had not thought of this before, and in the confusion 
 and pain of it he got up from the table at the cafe and be- 
 gan to walk the streets again. After a while he found him- 
 self ascending the steps of the Madeline, hardly knowing 
 what he was doing, except that he was trj-ing to pass the 
 time by following a stream of people into the building. 
 
 It was the hour of Benediction, the most beautiful, the 
 most tender, the most moving of all the offices of the 
 Catholic Church. The congregation were chiefly women, 
 and among ladies in silks, whose carriages stood outside, 
 were some flower-sellers from the flower-market round the 
 comer, for there is only one caste in the commune of the 
 Cross. One poor woman who took a chair and knelt close 
 beside Oscar, had the sad and storm-beaten face that the 
 Cross draws to it in eveiy church in the country, for its 
 empire is the empire of the oppressed and bereaved and 
 broken-hearted. 
 
 " Somehody''s mother," thought Oscar, as she crossed her- 
 self and sighed. But w'hen she raised her weary eyes to the 
 figure of the world-mother above the altar, her sad face 
 softened and smiled and it was almost as if an angel had 
 come down and whispered to her. 
 
 Then as the sweet music swelled through the great church 
 the hard lump rose to Oscar's throat, and thinking of his 
 own mother so far away, he told himself that if she believed. 
 he was really dead the angel of Death would comfort her. 
 His faults would be forgiven, his errors would be forgotten, 
 and the dust of death would cover all his transgressions. 
 She would be happier in his death than she had ever been in 
 his life, and though it was a sore thing to think of that, the 
 pain would be his, not hers, and her poor heart would be 
 at ease. 
 
 He thought of Magnus, too, how his hatred would be ap- 
 peased when he heard that his brother w^as dead, and all the 
 flames of his rage extinguished. Then he thought of his
 
 292 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 enemies at home, how they would cease to revile him, and 
 how he would pass out of shame, reproach, and contempt 
 into the charity of silence and the peace of forgetfulness. 
 Finally he thought of his little Elin, his sweet motherless 
 daughter, how she would hear no more hard words spoken 
 of her father, but would grow up to think of him merely 
 as one who had died early. Oh, blessed and merciful death 
 which can make those who hate us hate us less and those 
 who love us love us more ! 
 
 It was bitter to comfort himself with the thought that 
 he was dead — dead in disgrace and in a foreign country, 
 with no mother's tears falling on his face and no child 
 weeping by his side, that tragic consolation of the dying. 
 But just at that moment the music ceased, the bell tinkled 
 at the altar, and raising his eyes as the priest elevated the 
 host the awe deepened about him, and he told himself that 
 it was not he who was dead at all but only his sin and mis- 
 ery, and that he might rise, if he would, out of the shadow 
 of death into another and better life. 
 
 Then, almost before he knew it, the thought had become 
 a prayer, and he found himself praying that he might be 
 permitted to begin again, to put the past behind him, and to 
 think of the lost days of his life hitherto as seed that was 
 not dead though he had trampled it into the clay. Out of 
 the heart came the only songs that went to the heart, and 
 out of his shame and suffering in that future he had fore- 
 shadowed for himself the voice might come that would speak 
 to other souls as stained with sin as his. 
 
 Yet who was he to speak to any one? Only a prodigal 
 in a far country who had wasted his substance in riotous liv- 
 ing, and having come to himself at last, now that no man 
 would give to him, was turning his eyes homeward and cry- 
 ing, " Father, I have sinned against heaven, and before thee, 
 and am no more worthy to be called thy son ! " 
 
 The service came to an end and the i)eople rose to go. As 
 Oscar rose, too, he told himself that in actual fact he would 
 go back home some day. A little longer, only a little longer, 
 and he would return to Iceland. His father would be gone, 
 yes, his poor father would be gone, but his mother would be 
 there, and he would make amends to her for everything she
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 293 
 
 had suffered for his sake and wipe all tears from her eyes. 
 His child would be there also, and he would claim her as he 
 had always intended to do, and though she might not even 
 know his face, she would hear the voice of nature calling 
 her and she would come to him and he would be a father t» 
 her, guiding and protecting her, and she would be a daughter 
 to him, cheering and comforting him, and her love would 
 be his solace for all the pains of life. A little longer, only 
 a little longer! 
 
 When he came out of the great church he felt himself 
 lifted into a purer air, where he was no longer a fugitive 
 from the vengeance of his fellow-men, but a pardoned soul 
 born again in a blessed resurrection ; and when he had settled 
 in the train for Calais he set himself to consider what other 
 name he should be known by in that new existence which 
 he had jjust b^un. 
 
 It had to be a name that would sufficiently conceal his 
 own, yet one that would be characteristic of his country, 
 and, after much beating of the wings of memory, he decided 
 on Christian Christiansson as a name which not only an- 
 swered to the conditions, but possessed an added nobleness 
 of meaning and associations that would forever forbid the 
 lowering of the flag of his purpose. 
 
 But after he had concluded that Christian Christiansson 
 was to be his name in the future, it cost him a pang to think 
 that Oscar Stephenson was to be his name no longer. Ste- 
 phen had been his father's name and his poor father had 
 expected him to carry it on from strength to strength and 
 from glory to glory. Oscar had been the name his mother 
 had known him by, and it came back to him now in the 
 tones of her voice with the happiest memories of his boy- 
 hood. He could hear it in Thora's voice also in the tremu- 
 lous happiness of her bridal chamber, in the tender joy of 
 her motherhood, and in the pleading accents of her despair. 
 It was like burying something of himself to bury his name, 
 but Oscar Stephenson was dead, and that name could be his 
 no more. 
 
 It was early morning when he reached London, and re- 
 turning to it after six months' absence he felt like one who 
 had been dead and was alive again. As the empty streets
 
 294 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 echoed to his footsteps his spirits rose and he looked to the 
 future without fear. Though he was coming back friend- 
 less and nearly penniless, he saw himself as he would be 
 some day — Christian Christiansson, the composer, rich, re- 
 spected, honored perhaps, and perhaps beloved. It might 
 be months, it might be years, but God willing, it should 
 come! A little longer, only a little longer! 
 
 He had at first intended to look for a lodging where he 
 would be quite unknown, but in his present elevation of feel- 
 ing it seemed unnecessary to do so, and he determined to 
 return to his old home in Short Street. When he came to 
 Westminster Bridge, he stopped for a moment to look down 
 at the houseless wretches who were still asleep on the benches 
 of the embankment, and to remember the night when he 
 had been one of them, and to think of the other night that 
 was soon to come when the first-fruits of his new life would 
 be in his hands. 
 
 He could see it all as in a glass that revealed the future. 
 The curtain would be down on the new opera and there 
 would be a great demonstration in the crowded opera-house. 
 Again and again the singers would be recalled and then 
 there would be loud cries for the composer. The cries would 
 rise to a deafening clamor, and the whole audience from 
 the royal box to the top-most gallery would be calling for tho 
 unknown man who had breathed his suffering soul into an 
 old Saga and made the dry bones live. But the Unknown 
 would not appear ; he would not be there. Where would he 
 be? He would be down here — here under the night sky, 
 weeping for joy and gratitude, emptying his pockets among 
 these homeless outcasts in memory of the night when he, 
 too, was homeless and an outcast, and vowing never again 
 to forget the friendless and the fallen or to be hard on the 
 sinner and the prodigal. He could see it happening as 
 plainly as if it had already come to pass. It should come 
 to pass! A little longer, only a little longer! 
 
 When he reached Short Street the heai-se of the Xecropolis 
 had just turned the corner and was rattling up the arch- 
 way. Nearly all the window-blinds of Number One were still 
 down, but as he hesitated at the foot of the front steps the 
 door opened and a young woman in curl papers came out
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 295 
 
 with a mop and pail. She stared at him as if he had been 
 a stranger, but he knew her instantly. 
 
 " Don't you remember me, Jenny ? " he said» 
 At the sound of his voice Jenny's face assumed a look of 
 bewilderment; this was followed by a smile of recognition. 
 
 " Well, I never ! Mr. Steevison ! Is it you, sir ? Ye'r so 
 changed I wouldn't 'a knowed ye, an' when ye spoke ye 
 might 'a knocked me down with a feather." 
 " Can I have lodgings here again, Jenny ? " 
 " Certingly ye can, sir. An' ye've come in the nick o' time, 
 too. We buried the barman a week come Wednesday and 
 'is room 'as been just cleaned out. Come in, Mr. Steevison ! " 
 " Hush, Jenny ! That is not my name now." 
 " Isn't it really ? " said Jenny, with a puzzled look, and 
 then, as by sudden enlightenment, " Well, I'm married 
 myself and I've changed my name, too. I'm Mrs. Cobb 
 now, an' I've took over the 'ouse since the missus 'as been 
 down with the stroke, an' my 'usband's asleep in the cellar." 
 They had stepped into the lobby by this time and putting 
 down the pail Jenny cried over the banisters of the base- 
 ment stairs: 
 
 " Jim ! Jim Cobb, you bone-lazy thing, come up an' see 
 an old friend." 
 
 " Don't disturb him now ! Another time ! I'm tired." 
 " Ye look it, sir. Ye really do. I'm afraid she's been 
 'a treatin' ye cruel. I knowed she would. It's always the 
 way with them women. Ye'd better 'a stayed with me, sir — 
 I'd 'a been real good to ye in them days and never 'a wanted 
 nothink. — But go inside, sir, and I'll get ye some brekfist. 
 The kittle is just on the boil an' ye'll have a cup o' tea an' 
 a rasher afore ye can say ' Jack Robison.' " 
 
 Jenny went scurrying down the stairs like an old slipper, 
 and Oscar stepped into the barman's parlor and sat on the 
 shiny leather-covered sofa. He remembered that he had sat 
 there before, he remembered who had sat with him, he re- 
 membered all that had happened since, and then for one 
 brief moment his visions of the future failed him ; his hopes 
 and intentions sank away; everything was blotted out ex- 
 cept the sweet and bitter memory of the woman he had 
 loved and lost, and he broke down utterly.
 
 296 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 xn 
 
 It takes a long time for the truth to travel from a distance, 
 but a lie flics on the Avings of the wind. The report of Os- 
 car's death in a gambling-house on the Riviera reached Ice- 
 land by the next steamer. 
 
 Three days before the steamer's arrival Magnus and his 
 mother were sitting in front of their farm at Thingvellir. 
 Anna was spinning and Magnus was making rope by a 
 twister turned by a small boy a dozen yards away, for it 
 was just after the wool-plucking and a little before the hay- 
 harvest. 
 
 The sun was setting behind the crags of the Almanagja, 
 the blueberry ling was reddening over the green waters of 
 the chasm, and there was no sound in the evening air save 
 the plash of the Axe waterfall, the lowing of kine and the 
 cry of curlew. Then over the hum of the wheel and the wis- 
 wis of the twister came the dull thud of horses' feet on that 
 hollow ground and Anna stopped to listen. 
 
 " That must be the post coming," she said, and Magnus 
 answered, " Perhaps," without turning to look at the road, 
 which was still emptj' as far as to the top of the cleft, where 
 it opened on to the plain. 
 
 " I wonder if there will be a letter from Oscar ? " 
 
 " Why should you wonder, mother ? Has he answered 
 your letter of three years ago? Has he had the de- 
 cency and humanity to reply to the news of his father's 
 death? No!" 
 
 " Still, I can not give up hoping. lie must know by this 
 time how you are placed with the fann, and perhaps he is 
 only waiting until he can send you some assistance." 
 
 Magnus made no reply, but the wis-wis of the rope was 
 louder. 
 
 *' It's true he doesn't know everything. He doesn't know 
 that his father left nothing behind him but the debt to the 
 bank, and that the bank has been so hard " 
 
 " Mother, if you go on talking like that I shall never get
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 297 
 
 this rope finished. I don't want anybody to help me to pay 
 my way, and the bank shall have its money every Christmas 
 if hard work can make it." 
 
 " You'll work yourself to death — that's what you'll do, 
 Magnus. You sent Asher away in the winter, although he 
 was so good at feeding the beasts when the snow was on the 
 ground, and now that the hay has to be cut and the lambs 
 killed, you're discharging Jon Vidalin.'' 
 
 " We'll have to thin down somewhere, and the sooner we 
 begin the better — it's too late to spare when you see the bot- 
 tom of the meal-barrel, you know." 
 
 " That's what you call thinning down — sending everybody 
 away who can help you with the farm and keeping a houseftd 
 of women who are of no use for anything." 
 
 " Why, which of them is of no use, mother ? " 
 
 " Gudrun for one. She only milks the cows in the morn- 
 ing and the ewes in the evening, and I could do both myself 
 and save her keep and wages." 
 
 " Nonsense, mother ! You're not young enough now to 
 get up at four o'clock winter and summer and I won't hear 
 of it for a moment." 
 
 " Then there's Maria — she's old enough for anything, and 
 what's the use of her ? " 
 
 " Maria's been in the family since before I was born, and 
 we can't turn her away now because she's old and rheu- 
 matic." 
 
 " And here's Erie," said Anna, dropping her voice and 
 glancing at the boy who was turning the twister. 
 
 " Eric ? Poor little chap, he's lost his father, and he only 
 gets a lamb for his wages anyway." 
 
 " It's to be a sheep this year, remember, and then there's 
 his food — But if it's an orphanage you want to keep, or 
 a home for invalids " 
 
 "Helloa! Here's the p-ost! And who's this he has got 
 with him ? The Eector ! The Hector and two strangers ! " 
 cried Magm.«s, as a canvas-covered wagon, drawn by four 
 ponies, rumbled over the bridge above the waterfall and gal- 
 loped up to the Inn-farm. 
 
 " Welcome, Rector," said Anna. 
 
 " Thanks, Anna. These are friends from America, trav- 
 20
 
 298 THE mODIGAL SON 
 
 eling to see the country. "We should like to sleep here to- 
 night and go on to Geyser in the morning." 
 
 " With pleasure ! Maria ! Gudrun ! Jon Vidalin ! " cried 
 Anna, and while the strangers were being taken to the 
 guest-room and the horses to the stable, the Rector went 
 indoors with Anna and ilagnus and they sat and talked 
 around the hall table. 
 
 " You look hale in spite of everything, Anna." 
 
 " And you, too, Eector ! " 
 
 " Ah, yes, old wood burns slow ! But I sometimes wonder 
 if it's well to live long. Better go to bed early than sit up too 
 late, I say." 
 
 " Any new trouble in town lately ? " 
 
 " The Factor is down at last, poor fellow." 
 
 " You mean that he's " 
 
 " Bankrupt, and about to be sold up — business, office, 
 everj^thing." 
 
 " Poor Margret ISTeilsen ! " 
 
 " What about the child ? " asked Magnus. 
 
 " I think he would part with it now. To tell you the truth, 
 he is feeling bitterly about Oscar just at present. ' A dove 
 doesn't come out of a raven's egg,'' he said yesterday." 
 
 " He said that ? " 
 
 " So the new Minister says — but then it was the Minister 
 who made him bankrupt." 
 
 " But I thought they were such friends ; and when poor 
 Stephen was petitioning the King " 
 
 " Then you haven't heard what happened about Thora." 
 
 "Thora?" said Magnus. 
 
 " Poor Thora's grave, I mean. It makes the blood run be- 
 tween my skin and my flesh to think about it." 
 
 " Tell us," said Anna. 
 
 And then the Rector told them how the Minister, acting 
 under instructions received from abroad, had ordered Thora's 
 grave to be opened and certain musical compositions which 
 had been buried in it to be taken out; how this had been 
 done and the papers despatched to England ; how the Factor 
 had heard of it, and, being furious, had threatened an action 
 against the Minister; and finally how the Minister, to cut 
 the ground under the Factor's feet, had caused the bank 
 to make him a bankrupt.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 299 
 
 During the progress of the Eector's story Magnus sat 
 without saying a word, but every moment his cheeks grew 
 whiter and his eyes glared and his lips quivered. Meantime 
 Anna covered her face and said : 
 
 " It must have been Neils who did that. I never liked the 
 boy — he was always too much like his father — and now that 
 he is " 
 
 " It wasn't Neils, Anna. It was Oscar." 
 
 " Oscar ? " said Magnus, and his hands clutched the cor- 
 ners of the table. 
 
 "Oh, dear! Oh, dear! I couldn't have believed it of Os- 
 car. But who knows how he may have been tempted? Per- 
 haps he was poor, yes, perhaps after all he was in want and 
 they offered him money. There are such ups and downs in 
 these foreign countries — perhaps he was standing in the 
 streets of London " 
 
 " He wasn't in London at all, Anna. He was at Monte 
 Carlo, or Nice, or somewhere." 
 
 " Then you mean he only wanted the money to — the same 
 as before, when he — I won't believe it ! " 
 
 " Be quiet, mother," said Magnus, with the hoarse croak 
 of a raven, and then turning to the Rector, " Who did it — 
 the work itself, I mean ? " 
 
 " Hans, the sailor — they could get nobody else, it seems." 
 
 " Hans, the sailor," repeated Magnus, in the same hoarse 
 croak, and while the table creaked under the clutch of his 
 great hands, his face grew hard and ugly. 
 
 During the remainder of that day Magnus went about 
 without speaking to any one, and next morning, after the 
 strangers had started on their journey, he saddled Silvertop 
 and rode off toward Reykjavik. Anna saw him go, and 
 "calling to Jon Vidalin, she said : 
 
 " Take the fastest horse and ride to town by the low road 
 and find Hans, the sailor. Tell him to fly before Magnus 
 oomes and never to come back again."
 
 300 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 XIII 
 
 When Magnus returned to the fann three days afterward 
 he was like another man. His face was no longer hard and 
 ugly, it was as soft as a tender woman's, and he was smiling 
 do^vn at something that looked like a huge bundle which he 
 carried on the saddle in front of him. Anna saw him cross- 
 ing the bridge, and she ran out to meet him. 
 
 " Goodness me ! " she cried. " Is it the child ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is the child, mother," said Magnus, and out of a 
 mountain of rugs and shawls came little Elin, now in her 
 fifth year, and she was dropped into Anna's arms. 
 
 " The darling ! What a great girl she has grown ! So she 
 has come to see her gran'ma?" 
 
 " Yes, gran'ma," said the child. 
 
 " And here are her clothes — all of them," said Magnus, 
 swinging a satchel off his shoulders. 
 
 "Then she has come for good ! And she is going to live 
 with her gran'ma and Uncle Magnus ! " 
 
 " And Silvertop and the sheeps and the doggies," said the 
 little one. 
 
 " So she shall, bless her! Jon Vidalin, see to the master's 
 pony. Eric, where are you? Ah! that's a good boy — carry 
 the satchel into the house. Maria, did you ever see any- 
 thing so bonny? But, Magnus, how ever did the Factor 
 come to part with her?" 
 
 " He wouldn't at first, for all his worries and the hard 
 things he had been saying. And when he came to it at last 
 he wanted me to promise that if Margret Neilsen died before 
 himself he should have the child back again." 
 
 " You didn't agree to that, Magnus ? " 
 
 " I said the girl should choose for herself if she was old 
 enough, and at last he consented." 
 
 " But what about Margret Neilsen ? " 
 
 " That was harder still. * I promised her mother I should 
 keep her as long as I lived,' she said." 
 
 "Ah, poor thing 1 She didn't know what was to happen."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 301 
 
 "'I wouldn't part with her to anybody in the world but 
 Anna,' she said." 
 
 " I always said Margret Neilsen was as good as gold." 
 
 " * And I wouldn't part with her now,' she said, ' only Anna 
 is in such trouble.' " 
 
 "Trouble?" ^ 
 
 " Give the child to Maria and come into the house, mother." i 
 
 The sunshine died off Anna's face; she saw what was 
 coming. 
 
 " Here, take her in and give her some barley cake and 
 syrup, and for goodness' sake, woman, don't sniffle as if you 
 had a cold. What is it, Magnus? Am I the only one who 
 doesn't know? Tell me plainly — is he in disgrace again? " 
 
 " Plave courage, mother," said Magnus. 
 
 She looked at him and undei*stood everything. " Wait," 
 she said, and she went down on her knees in the hall and 
 prayed for some moments. After that she got up, pale but 
 calm, and said: 
 
 " Now tell me everything — I am ready." 
 
 Magnus told her what he had heard and all that had 
 happened : how he had gone to town with murder in his 
 heart, intending to punish Hans, the sailor; how some one 
 had warned him and Hans had taken refuge in a schooner 
 that was to sail for Norway; how he had hired a boat to 
 follow the man when the mail steamer dropped anchor in the 
 bay and somebody shouted from the deck that Oscar was 
 dead, and it was the same as if a hand from heaven had 
 stopped him. 
 
 "Dead, did he say?" 
 
 " Dead in France, he said, and he threw down a Danish 
 newspaper. Here it is, mother, but God knows if I should 
 read you the report in it." 
 
 " Read it," said Anna. 
 
 He read it — it was the same which had appeared in Paris 
 — and she listened without drawing breath. 
 
 " Then he died in a gaming-house — by his own hand, too — 
 and to save himself from further disgrace ! " 
 
 Magnus did not attempt to speak, and presently Anna's 
 tears began to flow. After a few moments she wept bitterly 
 and prayed aloud, now for Oscar, that God would forgive
 
 302 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 tim; now for Elin, that God would protect the little orphan; 
 finally for herself, that God would have pity upon her and 
 let her die. 
 
 Magnus went over to the dresser for a bowl, dipped it in 
 the water-crock, and gave her a drink, and after that she 
 seemed better. 
 
 " My poor Oscar ! " she said. " He wasted his life, poor 
 boy ! Such a precious life, too ! Such talents ! There wasn't 
 anything he couldn't master. Everybody said what great 
 things he would do some day. And to think it should come 
 to this ! I never expected to thank God that his father wa3 
 dead, but I do now. Oh, God, I thank Thee — But what 
 am I saying? " 
 
 After a few minutes more she began to blame herself for 
 everything that had happened. 
 
 " I didn't bring him up properly. I could never be strict 
 with children. And he was always so sweet, and even when 
 he was naughty he was so loving. Everybody loved that 
 child. Yes, it was my fault, and God ought to punish me. 
 Almighty Father, be merciful to my poor boy, and if I was 
 to blame " 
 
 " Mother ! Mother ! " said Magnus, and she stopped in her 
 self-reproaches, waiting for a loving word to comfort and 
 support her, but Magnus said no more. 
 
 A few minutes later all she had suffered at Oscar's hands 
 was wiped out of her mind and the wajTvard sinner had be- 
 come a saint. 
 
 " He never changed to me, never, and even when he grew 
 to be a man he always kissed me going to bed, just as he 
 used to do when he was a boy. He was so good to his 
 mother. Both my sons have been good to me. No mother 
 ever had such good sons " 
 
 " Mother ! " said Magnus, and again she waited, but Mag- 
 nus did not speak. 
 
 At length she checked her tears and began to comfort 
 herself with the thought that if Oscar had taken his own 
 life it must have been in madness, therefore God would not 
 hold him accountable. 
 
 " And if he died in disgrace, perhaps it was only because 
 he wanted to come back rich, so that he could pay the mort-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 303 
 
 gage and make us all happy. I used to think of that and 
 pray for it so often. But now if he could only come back 
 poor — I shouldn't care how poor — as poor as the prodigal in 
 the parable " 
 
 " Mother ! " cried Magnus. " I can't hear you talk like this 
 — I can't and I won't. Oscar is dead, but he treated you 
 shamefully." 
 
 " Don't say that, Magnus." 
 
 " But I do say it. I say you were the best mother to 
 him a son ever had, and the only return he made to you for 
 your care and loving-kindness was to neglect you and for- 
 get you." 
 
 " Don't say it, my son." 
 
 " I will say it, mother. And I'll say, too, that Oscar lived 
 in disgrace and died in disgrace, and now that he is gone I 
 am not going to pretend that I wish he could come back 
 again." 
 
 "Magnus ! Magnus ! " 
 
 " I don't wish it. If he came back poor, what right would 
 he have to bring his poverty here ? And if he came back rich, 
 what reason to expect that his money would make amends to 
 us for the evil days we have had through him? I don't be- 
 lieve in the return of the prodigal, mother, and I don't believe 
 in the parable, either. That may be the way in the other 
 world, but it isn't the way in this one, and it shouldn't be — 
 I say it shouldn't be." 
 
 "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" 
 
 " As for Oscar, I tried to forgive him — you know I did — 
 hut there are some crimes that seem to be past forgiveness, 
 and when I think of this last one against Thora I'm not 
 sorry he never came back — I shouldn't have been able to keep 
 my hands off him. I was thinking of him when I was fol- 
 lowing Hans, and if he had returned with the ship that 
 brought the news of his death it would have been God help 
 both him and me." 
 
 " But, my son, your brother is only just dead, and it is 
 your duty to forgive him whatever he did." 
 
 " He died to me long ago, mother — before he went away 
 from Iceland — and now that he is dead indeed, I thank God 
 he can never come back again."
 
 304 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Well, the Lord knows best what He is doing," said Ann? ^ 
 and then her tears came again, whereupon Magnus, seeini 
 •what he had done, walked over to her and kissed her. He 
 Lad never done that in the whole course of his life before, so 
 her tears flowed faster than ever. And then he went out of 
 the house, muttering to himself: 
 
 " Ah, well ! My God ! My God ! " 
 
 That night when the bell in the hall rang for prayers, and 
 little Elin sat in her grandmother's lap and the farm- 
 servants trooped in with the awesome looks of persons who 
 knew what shadow hung over the little house among the 
 lonely hills, Magnus, in his quality of family priest, took 
 Tip the Bible and hymn-book at the place where Anna opened 
 for him. The chapter was from second Samuel, and it 
 ended with the verse: 
 
 " And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over 
 the gate, and wept : and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, 
 my son, my son Absalom ! Would God I had died for thee, O 
 Absalom, my son, my son." 
 
 The hymn was — 
 
 " Meek and low, meek and low, 
 I shall soon my Jesus know." 
 
 When the singing ended, the fann-servants went out one 
 by one, each saying to Magnus : 
 
 " God give you a good night ! " 
 
 And Magnus answered, as well as he could for the emotion, 
 that mastered him: 
 
 " And you ! A\id you ! " 
 
 XIV 
 
 In the house of sorrow God closes the hearts of little chil- 
 dren so that they may not break. Little Elin had been bright 
 and happy the whole evening through. She was a merry 
 little sprite whose laughter — like the rippling of a sunny
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 305 
 
 stream — set everybody else laughing. Old Maria was at a 
 loss to say which of her parents she resembled most. When 
 the child laughed, Maria said : " There's a deal of the father 
 in the little one," and when she listened and looked up side- 
 ways Maria thought there was a deal of the mother, too. 
 
 Anna put her to bed, and while she was being undressed 
 her little tongue went like a shuttle. Existence had gone 
 rapidly since she arrived, and she was full of stories : how she 
 had gone to the chasm with Maria to pluck blueberries, and 
 two big, black ravens, sitting on a crag, had looked down at 
 her and croaked ; how she had gone to the cow-house with 
 Eric to see the cows milked, and Gudrun (to her infinite 
 glee) had squirted some of the milk at her; and, above all, 
 how all alone she had found a pet lamb and it was brown, 
 because it had lost its mother, and lived in the elt-house, be- 
 cause its father had run away from it, and how it put its 
 cold nose against her face and said, " Bah ! " and its name 
 was " Maggie." 
 
 " Maggie shall come and waken you in the morning, 
 darling," said Anna. 
 
 " Shall she come in here, gran'raa ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear," said Anna, and then the sunny stream of 
 the child's laughter rippled through the room. 
 
 " But now it's late, and good little girls must be as quiet 
 as mice." 
 
 " Yes, gran'ma" — in a breathless whisper. 
 
 " This is to be your own little bedroom always, dearest, 
 and gran'ma has made it nice, so that it may do for you 
 when you grow up." 
 
 " Yes, gran'ma " — another breathless whisper. 
 
 " That is the wardi'obe for your clothes, and this is your 
 little chest of drawers, and that — up there on the wall — that 
 is your mamma's guitar and you will learn to play it some 
 day." 
 
 " Yes, gran'ma " — the whisper was growing a little weary. 
 
 " The next room is the guest-room, and Uncle Magnus al- 
 ways sleeps there, except when there are strangers, so if 
 you knock in the night he is sure to hear you." 
 
 ** Yes, gran'ma " — the whisper was getting slow and weary. 
 
 " Gran'ma wants you to be such a good girl to Uncle
 
 306 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Magnus. He loved your dear, sweet mother so much. Oh, 
 so much, but he lost her " 
 
 "Same as Maggie's mother?" — there was a sudden burst 
 of wakefulness. 
 
 " Maggie's mother was only a sheep, darling." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 " But now God has given you to Uncle Magnus to make up 
 to him for everything, so you must be as good as good to 
 him." 
 
 " Yes, gran'ma " — the whisper was becoming faint. 
 
 " When you grow up to be a big, big girl, and grandma 
 isn't here, you must love him and comfort him just the same 
 as if he had been your own father." 
 
 " Ye — es, gran'ma." 
 
 " And if anybody ever comes and wants to take you away 
 from him, you mustn't go — you must always stay with Uncle 
 Magnus." 
 
 " Ye — es, gran' " 
 
 " That's a good girl ! And now climb up into bed, and 
 grandma will kiss you and tuck you in for the night." 
 
 " And will Maggie come in the morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, dearest.'' 
 
 " Good night, gran'ma.'* 
 
 " Good night, my own darling.'* 
 
 " Goo — nigh — gran' — ma."
 
 PART VI 
 
 *' One moment in annihilation's waste 
 
 One moment of the Well of Life to taste, — 
 
 The stars are setting and the caravan 
 
 Draws to the Dawn of Nothing — Oh, make hostel^ 
 
 The Danish mail-steamer "Laura," outward bound on her 
 mid\ST[nter trip from Copenhagen to Leith, and from Leith 
 to Iceland, carried two saloon passengers only. 
 
 One of these, a comfortable, elderly person of ample pro- 
 portions, dressed in the warmest Icelandic vadmal, was an 
 Iceland merchant returning from Edinburgh with a hundred 
 tons of British produce. This was Jon Oddsson, formerly 
 radical champion in politics, and now conservative leader 
 in trade. 
 
 The other passenger was a tall, spare man apparently about 
 fifty years of age, with large and luminous but weaiy eyes, 
 long pale cheeks deeply scored with lines of thought, and a 
 pointed beard that was beginning to be tinged with grey. 
 This was Christian Christiansson, now ten yeai's older than 
 when he returned from the Riviera to London, and so 
 changed in eveiy feature by the strange characters which 
 work and sorrow inscribe on a man's face with the stern hand 
 of Time, that few or none would have recognized him. 
 
 In the interval Christian Christiansson had carried out his 
 plans and realized his expectations. Buried in the depths of 
 London as a man dying on shipboard is buried in the vast 
 grave of the sea, he had lived long as one who was dead, but 
 his hour had struck at last. For five years he had been one 
 of the most popular of living composers. His operas, founded 
 on the Sagas of his own country, had made Iceland familiar 
 to people eveiy where; his works had been represented in 
 
 807
 
 308 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 every capital ; his tunes had been played in every street, and 
 it was almost as if he had breathed over Europe and set the 
 air to song. 
 
 Meantime he had been faithful to the pledge he had made 
 with himself. His name was a household word, but it was 
 no more than a name, and his identity had never been re- 
 vealed. No temptation had prevailed with him to disclose 
 it, and the few who knew his secret had found it to their 
 interest to maintain the mysteiy. And now he was returning 
 to his own country rich and famous — rich as the man who 
 strikes ore from the rock and finds it pouring dowTi on him 
 in an avalanche of gold, but famous only as the " hidden 
 folk " are famous, the good fairies who leave food and drink 
 at the doors of poor men and then steal away before they 
 awake in the dawn. 
 
 How changed the old world was when he emerged at length 
 into the light of open day ! The telegram he sent from 
 London, asking for a berth to be reserved for him, had almost 
 paralyzed the captain with excitement and delight. It was 
 the same old Captain Zimsen, who in former days had given 
 him the best room when he was in favor, and the woi-st when 
 he was in disgrace. The moment he set foot on the ship, 
 lying in dock at Lcith, the time-sei'ving old salt had been 
 there — hat in hand — to lead him to his private cabin. 
 
 " Do me the honor to occupy my stateroom, sir, and if 
 there is anything you could wish — any little dainty for the 
 table " 
 
 " You are very good, very obliging." 
 
 " Don't mention it, sir. It is a pleasure, a privilege, to do 
 anything in my power for the most distinguished Icelander 
 of modern times. Do they know you are coming, Mr. 
 Christiansson ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Captain." 
 
 "What a pity! What a reception they would have given 
 you ! But they will, they will ! " 
 
 If the world was changed, the man was changed also. 
 The buoyancy of youth was gone, and over the old capti- 
 vating gaiety of manner and expression, a sad gravity had 
 fallen, as if a lilac-tree, still bright with blossom, had been 
 borne down by snow. But after two days at sea his spirits
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 309 
 
 rose, and he felt like a slave who had been emancipated, like 
 a prisoner set free. 
 
 It was fifteen years since he had left his own country, but 
 he was returning to it at last, as he had always hoped and 
 intended to do. He had left it in disgi-acc, he was going 
 back to it in honor; he had left it in poverty, he was going 
 back to it with wealth. He was going back as the prodigal, 
 yet not, like the prodigal, empty-handed and ashamed, but 
 able to make amends, and to wipe the tears from all eyes. 
 
 Would it be wrong to pennit himself to be known ? If the 
 people of Iceland, more observant than this old captain, 
 identified in Christian Christiansson the Oscar Stephenson 
 who was thought to be dead, would it be false to the pledge 
 he had made with himself to submit to their recognition? 
 Fifteen years he had lived in obscurity — ^was it not enough 
 for penance and pardon ? Were not the doors of his dungeon 
 even yet broken open? Could he not believe that he was 
 delivered from the body of the death he had lived in? He 
 had lived, he had died — might he not live again ? 
 
 n 
 
 During the ten years in which he had been as a dead man 
 all channels of communication had been closed to him, and 
 except for infoi-mation casually gathered, he had little or no 
 knowledge of what had occurred in Iceland. And now, find- 
 ing himself for the first time face to face with men who had 
 been in constant touch with his people, he had a hundred 
 questions which he yearned to ask: "Is my mother alive? 
 Is she well? And my little daughter — has God been good 
 to me and let her live, or is all my labor wasted ? " 
 
 But he was afraid to learn the truth too suddenly, so he 
 waited and watched and listened for answers to the questions 
 he dared not ask. Meantime he tried to amuse himself with 
 the curiosity of the captain and his fellow-passengers, who 
 were clearly at a loss to know who he was, where he was bom, 
 and what family of the Ohristianssons he came from. It was 
 a perilous pleasure, a dizzy joy, to listen to the names of his 
 family and to hear himself discussed; and sometimes, in
 
 310 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 mortal shame of the subterfuges to which his disguise con- 
 demned him, he could hardly resist an impulse to blurt out 
 the truth of his identity, and sometimes he had to leap up 
 from his place in the smoking-room and fly. 
 
 " You've not been home very lately, Mr. Christiansson ? " 
 said the captain, who was smoking his long pipe after mid- 
 day dinner while the ship swung along in open sea. 
 
 " ISTot very lately. Captain," said Christiansson. 
 
 " You'll see changes, then," said the merchant. 
 
 " No doubt, no doubt ! " 
 
 " The new Constitution has worked wonders for Iceland, 
 sir." 
 
 "Worked wonders, has it?" 
 
 " The barter trade has gone, the cash business is estab- 
 lished everywhere, and as for the fishing, it's another 
 industry, sir." 
 
 " Another industi-y, is it ? " 
 
 " Judge for yourself, sir. Instead of the old open boats we 
 have sixty smacks, manned by twenty men apiece, and going 
 as far as six days out and home again." 
 
 " Then the people were right, after all, who used to say the 
 old trade was doomed and the water was to be the wealth of 
 Iceland?" 
 
 " They were that, sir," said the merchant, inflating his 
 chest and pulling down his waistcoat. " Everybody has bene- 
 fited by the change, and I shouldn't be surprised if you find 
 your own people better off than when you left them — that is 
 to say, if they are still alive." 
 
 " If they're still alive," said Christian Christiansson, drop- 
 ping both voice and eyes. 
 
 " By the way, were you at home in Governor Stephen's 
 time, Mr. Christiansson ? " asked the captain. 
 
 " Well, yes, Captain, yes, I was at home then," said Chris- 
 tian Christiansson, with a momentaiy faltering in his 
 voice. 
 
 " In that case you must have seen the beginning of the 
 end. The old Governor tried to resist the change, and lived 
 with a sword over his head all his latter days, poor devil." 
 
 "A wise old man, though, wasn't he?" said Christian 
 Christiansson — he could scarcely trust himself to speak.
 
 THE PKODIGAL SOX 311 
 
 " Wise ? " said the merchant, with a curl of the lip, " No 
 man is wise who will not be warned, and he had warning 
 enough. But it was his sons who settled him J' 
 
 Christian Christiansson looked up with a start. " Ah, yes, 
 of course, his sons, he had two sons, I remember. What 
 became of them ? " 
 
 " One of them is living at Thingvellir still." 
 
 " Living still, is he ? " 
 
 " If you call it living — up to his ears in debt." 
 
 " In debt, you say ? " 
 
 " Always has been, always will be. As for the other one — 
 Olaf , Eric — what was his name, now ? " 
 
 "Was it Oscar?" said Christian Christiansson, with a 
 catch in his throat. 
 
 " Oscar it was — what a memory you must have, sir ! Oscar 
 Stephenson! He used to think he could do a little in your 
 line, sir, but he was here to-day and there to-morrow, and 
 he never did anything in his life except put an end to it. 
 You would hear what happened — it all came out in the 
 newspapers." 
 
 " Died abroad, didn't he ? " 
 
 " Shot himself in a gambling hell, sir." 
 
 " The young rascal ! " said the captain, taking his pipe 
 out of his mouth to laugh. " I took it out of him though. 
 The last time he crossed from Iceland I made him sleep 
 in the hold." 
 
 " Serve him right, the scoundrel," said the merchant. 
 
 " A scoundrel, was he ? " 
 
 " He used to beat his poor young wife black and blue, sir." 
 
 " Beat his wife, you say ? " 
 
 " She died of his ill-usage, anyway. He killed his father, 
 too. The night he went away he broke open the Governor's 
 safe and carried off everything." 
 
 " Broke open the Governor's safe ? " 
 
 " That's so — the old man died a pauper." 
 
 " Died a pauper? " 
 
 " Left nothing behind him, so it comes to the same thing. 
 Every stick in the house had to be sold to the new Minister." 
 
 " But is this true ? " 
 
 " True enough, sir. Everything came out at the general
 
 312 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 election. The Governor and tlie old Factor were rival candi- 
 dates, and they told us the family secrets." 
 
 " And is this all they say at home of Oscar Stephenson ? " 
 
 "All? Not a tenth of it." 
 
 " Then his very name must be hated in Iceland ? " 
 
 "Hated? Execrated, sir. Not that anybody cares about 
 the old Governor; he is dead and gone with the rotten system 
 he tried to support, but as for his son, nobody can say bad 
 enough about him." 
 
 " So that if he had lived and come back alive " 
 
 " He would have been hounded out of the count ly, sir." 
 
 " Just so, just so," said Christian Christiansson, and rising 
 ■with a startling gesture he stumbled back to his stateroom. 
 
 The merchant looked after him uneasily. " Who the deuce 
 can he be, I wonder ! " 
 
 "I wonder! " said the captain, pulling at his extinguished 
 pipe. 
 
 It was impossible ! The odium attaching to the name of 
 Oscar Stephenson made it impossible that Christian Chris- 
 tiansson could ever reveal his identity. He had thought that 
 the dust of death might cover his transgressions, but rumor 
 and report had kept them alive and magnified them. Even 
 the effort of his family to conceal the truth about his offenses 
 had given birth to falsehood and fostered slander. 
 
 The people of Iceland must never know that Christian 
 Christiansson was Oscar Stephenson. If they suspected, he 
 must use means to deepen his disguise ; if they questioned, he 
 must deny. 
 
 What else had he expected? In thinking he could ever 
 allow himself to be kno\vn in his true name and character, 
 what secret craving of pride and vanity had he been cherish- 
 ing unawares? His errand to Iceland was one of penance 
 and atonement — at the bottom of his heart he had been look- 
 ing to it as the top and high-tide of his career, the flush 
 and crown of his success, as the hour of triumph when he was 
 to justify the friends who had loved him, and to put to rout 
 the enemies who had hated him, and to come off with flying 
 colors at the last. If so, he was rightly punished. Oscar 
 Stephenson was dead, and nothing and nobody could bring 
 him to life again.
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON SJ3* 
 
 ni 
 
 Christian Christiansson became more reserved as the ves- 
 sel approached its destination. Every mile of the voyage was 
 full of memories, and the sweetest were the bitterest, the 
 happiest were the hardest to bear. He was standing in the 
 bow when he caught his first glimpse of Iceland, glimmering 
 white and blue like a sheeted ghost in the distance where its 
 glaciers rose out of the sea. And then, thinking of the en- 
 chanted hopes of the days when he had first seen it so, and 
 how many of them now were dead under ashes, he would 
 have broken down badly but for the captain, who came up 
 behind him and said in his cheery croak : 
 
 " There it is, sir! There's your country ! That's the place 
 you've made them all hear about ! " 
 
 Christian Christiansson returned to his cabin immediately, 
 and he was not seen on deck again until the following morn- 
 ing, when the "Laura" was steaming up the fiord. And theu 
 the merchant, in his shore-going hat and overcoat, began to 
 point out the sights to him as to a stranger. 
 
 " There's the old town, sir. Bigger, I'll be bound, thaa 
 when you saw it last. That's the new shipyard on the right, 
 and that's the leper hospital on the left. This is Engey, tho 
 island with the eider duck — famous place for young folks 
 courting, sir. That's the old cathedral in the middle, and 
 that's Government House to the left of it. They're nearly 
 hidden by the new warehouses now — I built them myself, 
 sir." 
 
 The "Laura" cast anchor under the town, amid a fleet of 
 smacks and coal-hulks, and remembering how he had stood 
 tJiere last. Christian Christiansson's emotion would have 
 mastered him again but for the bustle that was going on 
 around — the orders of the captain from the bridge, the shouts 
 of the sailors who were lowering the ladder, and the cries of 
 •the men who had come out in small boats and were clamber- 
 ing up to the deck. 
 
 Christian Christiansson knew most of the boatmen, though 
 some were old who had been middle-aged, and some were 
 21
 
 314 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 middle-aged ■who had been young, and some were bearded 
 who had been boys. But none of them recognized Christian 
 Christiansson, as they tipped their hats to him and pushed 
 past to the officers of the ship. 
 
 " Good morning, mate ! Good morning, Captain ! What 
 passengers this time?" 
 
 " Only one, besides Jon Oddsson, but he's a host in him- 
 self — Christian Christiansson ! " 
 
 "What! The great Christian Christiansson?" 
 
 In less than three minutes half the small boats were scurry- 
 ing away to carry the news to the town, while the owners of 
 the other half were scrambling for Christiansson's luggage to 
 have the honor of taking it ashore. 
 
 " Easy on, my lads," shouted the captain. " Mr. Chris- 
 tiansson will go with me in the ship's boat, and don't you 
 forget it." 
 
 It was a full half -hour before this could come to pass, for 
 Christian Christiansson had first to drink the captain's health 
 and the ship's luck in the chart-room. When at length they 
 were going ashore, with portmanteaus piled up in the bow o£ 
 the boat and the captain chattering in the stern, it was almost 
 more than Christian Christiansson could do to control himself 
 tinder the memory of the dark night on which he went the 
 other way, with no one to see him off except his m,other, whc 
 eat by his side and held his hand as if she could never part 
 with it. 
 
 When the boat drew up alongside, the jetty was packed 
 with people, and as Christian Christiansson stepped ashore, 
 with the air of a man trying to escape from observation but 
 conscious of being under the full fire of it, a little fat fussy 
 person with asthmatical breathing — Christiansson knew him 
 instantly — bowed deeply and began to read something from 
 a sheet of foolscap paper. 
 
 It was an effusive address, drawn up hastily by the Chair- 
 man of the Town Board, in the name of the inhabitants, 
 beginning, "Illustrious fellow-countryman," and going on to 
 hail Christiansson as one who had " revived the ancient spirit 
 and glory of a thousand years ago." 
 
 Agitated and ashnmed, hardly daring to speak lest the 
 Bound of his voice shoidd betray him, Christian Christiansson
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 315 
 
 replied with a few commonplaces, and then, amid a whispered 
 chorus of " Modest ! " " The modesty of greatness, sir," he 
 tried to push his way toward the hotel. 
 
 He had not made many paces before he was confronted by 
 a young man in the uniform, hat, and cloak of a Government 
 Secretary, who parted the crowd and said, in the breathless 
 gasps of one who had been running: 
 
 " The Minister's compliments, sir, and will you do him the 
 honor to become his guest at Government House ? " 
 
 Christian Christiansson tried to excuse himself, but every 
 eye was on him, and seeing that he could not escape without 
 the danger of exposing himself to suspicion, he yielded and 
 allowed himself to be led away. 
 
 The little journey to Government House was like the 
 progress to a Calvary. Every step was sown with memories — 
 memories of the pleasures, the passions, the darling joys, the 
 sorrows and the tragedies of the past — but while they seemed 
 to strike up at him out of the very stones of the street, he had 
 to nod and smile as the Secretary, walking by his side, rattled 
 along with explanations and descriptions of the places they 
 passed on their way. 
 
 " This is our principal thoroughfare, Mr. Christiansson. 
 That is our chief hotel, and this is our national bank. The 
 large building flying the Iceland falcon is our parliament 
 hall. That is our old cathedral, sir, and this — this is Govern- 
 ment House." 
 
 Suffocated with shame, choking with a sense of duplicity, 
 and trembling with the fear of detection. Christian Chris- 
 tiansson continued to say, " Yes " and " Is that so ? " until he 
 reached the porch of his old home. And then, remembering' 
 how and when he had passed out of it last — alone, at night, 
 disgraced and with his father's door closed against him — it 
 was almost as much as he could do to restrain an impulse to 
 turn about and fly. But just at that moment his father's door 
 opened quickly, and there on the threshold another man, in 
 the uniform of the Governor, stood waiting with outstretched 
 hand to welcome him. 
 
 The palpitation of Christian Christiansson's heart was al- 
 most choking him. What wild harlequinade of real life was 
 this, that he who had been so nearly flung out of Iceland
 
 316 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 should be received back to it with open arms? What mad 
 game of blind-man's buff were the powers of destiny playing 
 with him? It was not for nothing that he had taken the 
 name of Christian Christiansson. What invisible wings of 
 Fate had been over him when he did so? And were they 
 plumed to honor or to dishonor, to reward or to punishment, 
 to joy or to sorrow, to life or to death? 
 
 IV 
 
 The Sheriff made Minister was the same man still. He 
 received Christian Christiansson with suavest politeness but 
 without a trace of recognition. 
 
 " Welcome ! " he said. " Welcome to Iceland ! My wife 
 is in the drawing-room — she will be delighted to see you. We 
 may go this way — this way through my bureau — do me the 
 honor to follow me. Don't knock against the stove — strangers 
 do sometimes. A ramshackle old house, sir, for which my 
 predecessor was responsible — I'm building a better in another 
 part of the town. You've not yet dined ? How fortunate ! 
 In these high latitudes we keep up primitive customs, Mr. 
 Christiansson. We dine in the middle of the day, and you 
 are just in the nick of time. I was holding a meeting of my 
 executive when the news of your arrival reached me, and I 
 took the liberty to invite one or two of my colleagues. This 
 is the drawing-room — have the goodness to step inside." 
 
 Muttering monosyllables only in reply to the Ministers ex- 
 planations, Christian Christiansson followed him through 
 the house that was as familiar as the palm of his hand until 
 he came face to face with his hostess and the friends who 
 had been invited to meet him. 
 
 The hostess was an acquaintance of his school-days, grown 
 middle-aged and matronly, and the friends were the liector 
 of the Latin School, looking elderly and iron-grey, and the 
 Bishop, looking white and old. They received him with the 
 utmost cordiality, but, like the Minister, without a sign of 
 recognition. 
 
 Christian Christiansson bowed but scarcely spoke. He was 
 no longer in fear of discovery, for now he knew that unless
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX 317 
 
 he wished it otherwise he could pass through Iceland un- 
 known ; but standing there in the old home, with the traces of 
 his boyhood about him, his heart swelled and his throat thick- 
 ened, and it was as much as he could do to control himself. 
 
 After a moment a servant announced dinner, and the 
 Minister led the way to the dining-room. It was the same 
 old room, with the same furniture, and hardly altered in any 
 particular. But it was full of ghosts in the eyes of him who 
 entered it again. In one rapid glance Christian Chris- 
 tiansson took in everything — the chair his father used to sit 
 in, his mother's place, Magnus's, and Thora's. And remem- 
 bering that all these were gone; that everything connected 
 with his own people had faded away; that the old house was 
 inhabited by others now, and nothing remained except him- 
 self and he had neither part nor lot in it, the palpitation of 
 his heart nearly choked him again, and he sat at the table 
 like a guilty thing. 
 
 But if Christian Christiansson was silent the Minister 
 talked incessantly. 
 
 " You will find that Iceland knows all about you, Mr. 
 Christiansson — all about you ! Speaking for myself I may 
 say that in addition to the ordinary channels of intelligence 
 I have some private sources of information. My son — you 
 know my son, I think ? " 
 
 Christian Christiansson bowed. 
 
 " My son has kept me constantly informed, so you will find 
 me abreast of all your movements. Certainly, I take it amiss 
 that he did not warn me of your coming — but perhaps he 
 didn't know. He didn't? I thought as much. Not that he 
 would have told me if you had wished it concealed. Neils is 
 discretion itself, sir — discretion itself. For instance I could 
 never persuade him to tell me who you were. I tempted him 
 — I confess I tempted him. But no ! * Business is business, 
 father,' he would say, and I was forced to be content." 
 
 " Iceland is honored that you show yourself first in your 
 own coxmtry, sir," said the Rector. 
 
 " Indeed it is. Rector, and Mr. Christiansson will find that 
 his fame is no empty bubble here." 
 
 " There isn't a student who doesn't sing your songs, sir,'* 
 said the Rector.
 
 318 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " ISTor a girl of fourteen in a farmhouse who doesn't play 
 your music," said the Minister's wife. 
 
 " Wonderful ! " said the Minister himself. "It's perfectly 
 wonderful! But I always say the musician is the interna- 
 tional artist. Other artists — the poets for example — require 
 their translators, but the musician needs no go-between. lie 
 uses the one universal language, and when he speaks the 
 whole world may hear. What a gift ! What a thing it must 
 be to be among the great composers ! Perhaps it has its pen- 
 alties, though. What does the poet say? They learn in 
 suffering what they teach in song. What a thought that is ! 
 I wonder if it's true? I wonder if every great song, eveiy 
 great symphony, every great opera is born of the suffering — 
 the actual real life suffering, and perhaps in some cases the 
 sin and sorrow — of the man who created it! What should 
 you say, Mr. Christiansson ? " 
 
 " God knows," said Christiansson, and after that there was 
 silence for a moment. 
 
 " Poor Stephen ! " said the Bishop suddenly, and then 
 everj'body raised his face from the table. 
 
 " I was thinking," said the Bishop, " that if sin and sorrow, 
 added to the gift of genius, go to the making of great music, 
 somebody was born in this very house who should have left 
 immortal works behind him.'' 
 
 Christian Christiansson had looked up with the rest, and 
 now the Minister leaned across to him and said in an under- 
 tone, " A sad story, sir — a son of my predecessor who made 
 shipwreck of his life, poor fellow." 
 
 "You mean Oscar Stephenson?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. But can it be possible that you knew 
 him?" 
 
 " We talked of him on the steamer." 
 
 " Ah, of course, certainly ! And then he was a kind of 
 humble confrere of youi-s, and conducted at Covent Garden. 
 What a tragedy ! What a scandal ! When the dreadful news 
 came from Nice everybody here felt ashamed. Such a well- 
 known Iceland name, and the son of a fonner Governor! It 
 was almost as if Iceland had been dishonored in the eyes 
 of the world, sir. So different, so entirely different, from the 
 effects, the glorious effects of your own magnificent achieve- 
 ments."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 319 
 
 Christian Christiansson was quivering from heart to eye- 
 lids, but the same mysterious impulse that compels the lamb 
 to confront the dog forced him to go on. 
 
 " His mother is alive, isn't she ? " he said. 
 
 " Anna ? Yes ! She's alive — that's nearly all you can say 
 about her." 
 
 Christian Christiansson's voice deepened and shook. " Is 
 she sick ? " he asked. 
 
 " Sick in fortune at all events. When the old Governor 
 died she went to live with her other son at Thingvellir, and 
 he is in trouble again, poor creature." 
 
 "In debt, isn't he?" 
 
 " Yes, he is in debt to the Bank for the interest and prin- 
 cipal of some money which his father borrowed on mortgage 
 to keep his brother out of prison." 
 
 " And what is the Bank going to do with him ? " 
 
 " Sell him up immediately." 
 
 Christian Christiansson sank into silent reverie again, and 
 when the conversation at the table had taken another turn, 
 he said unexpectedly: 
 
 " He left a child behind him, didn't he ? " 
 
 " Who, sir ? Oh, Oscar Stephenson ? He did — a girl." 
 
 " She's living, too, isn't she ? " 
 
 " She is, sir — that is to say, for all I know to the contrary. 
 Rector, Oscar's little daughter is still alive, is she not ? " 
 
 " Alive and well and hearty," said the Rector. 
 
 Christian Christiansson's eyes brightened visibly. " That's 
 good news, at all events," he said. 
 
 The altered tone startled everybody, and nobody spoke for 
 a little while. Then the Minister said : 
 
 " It is really very good of you to take an interest in the 
 family of your poor dead confrere, and if I'd had the least 
 idea you wished to hear more about them it would have 
 been so easy — I might have invited the banker." 
 
 " I'll see him to-morrow," said Christian Christiansson, 
 and then, breaking through his reserve, he talked for the 
 next half-hour on other subjects. 
 
 He talked well and the company were delighted, for there 
 was no one to know that his vivacity was nervousness and 
 his laughter something like shame. When the dinner waa
 
 320 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 at an end the Bishop, who had fixed his eyes constantly 
 on Christian Christiansson, rose and held out his hand to 
 him. 
 
 " It has been a great happiness to have seen you, Mr. Chris- 
 tiansson," he said, " and I trust we may meet again. I know 
 nothing of music, sir, but I rejoice to see that the noble 
 musician is only another name for the noble man, and I pray 
 God to bless you body and soul." 
 
 Christian Christiansson could not trust himself to reply, 
 for the Bishop's praise added a new bitterness to his remorse, 
 so he stooped over the old man's hand and kissed it. 
 
 The Bishop was pleased and touched. " IIow charming 
 lie is ! How perfectly charming ! " he said, as he put on his 
 overcoat in the porch. " He reminds me of some one I've 
 met somewhere." 
 
 " Me, too," said the Eector. 
 
 " Those beautiful manners, that captivating smile, and that 
 voice that goes through and through you ! " 
 
 " Does he resemble — or is it only because we have been 
 talking at table " 
 
 " You mean poor young " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Ah me ! " said the Bishop as he opened the door. " What 
 brave things he might have done if Heaven had willed it ! " 
 
 " He might have been another Christian Christiansson by 
 this time," said the Eector. 
 
 "Poor Stephen!" said the Bishop. 
 
 " Poor Anna ! " said the Rector, and the two old friends 
 went heavily down the path. 
 
 Meantime the man they were talking of, though they did 
 not know it, was going through an agony of self-reproach. 
 The duplicity of winning his way to the love and esteem of 
 his people under the cover of a false name was suffocating 
 him. It was necessary, it was inevitable, it was a part of 
 the conduct that was forced upon him by the errand that 
 had brought him home, but if they who welcomed him in 
 the ignorance of their enthusiasm could know who he was, 
 how their hearts would turn from him; how their sympathy 
 would change to loathing and their admiration to contempt! 
 
 The evening was one of jDrolonged suffering to Christian
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 321 
 
 Christiansson, for evei^'thing that happened in that house, 
 every trivial object that met his eye, seemed charged with the 
 power to torture him. As soon as he could, he excused him- 
 self, and asked to be shown to his room. 
 
 They showed him to the bedroom that had been occupied 
 by Thora ! 
 
 That was the last drop in his cup. He felt like a man who 
 had stumbled into a hidden grave, and he wanted to say, 
 " Give me any room in the house except this." But he dared 
 not speak, lest his slightest word should betray him. 
 
 When the door was closed, he flung himself in the arm- 
 chair before the stove, and then one after one, as by flashes 
 of lightning, he saw over again the scenes of his life with 
 which that room was associated. He thought of his wedding 
 night, when with a fluttering heart he came on tiptoe into the 
 cosy nest of his bridal chamber, and heard Thora's tremulous 
 breathing behind the curtains of the bed. He thought of the 
 joyous morning when her pale face shone like sunshine, and 
 the air of the room was full of auroral radiance, because a 
 child was bom to them. He thought of the dark day when 
 he found her lying dead, and of the heavy hour when he took 
 his last look at her, and buried his compositions in her 
 coffin. 
 
 Oh, miserable mummery! Oh, broken and senseless vow! 
 Yet not senseless either, save to his own violated intention, 
 for now he knew why he had taken the name of Christian 
 Christiansson. In the blind spasm of his accusing conscience 
 he had thought it was merely in order to deny himself the 
 fame which his works were to win for him, but the inscrutable 
 and ironical powers of Destiny had sterner purposes than 
 that. 
 
 It was in order that, being dead as Oscar Stephenson, he 
 should yet return to Iceland; in order that he should see the 
 accumulated consequences of his conduct; in order that he 
 should follow, as if with bare feet on the hot ground of a 
 geyser, the footsteps and the funeral of his youth; in order 
 that the living might torture him with gratitude, and the dead 
 with memories; in order that God's right hand of Justice 
 should fall on him as it had never fallen before, and every- 
 thins: he had done should be paid for.
 
 322 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 This was "why he had taken the name and won the fame of 
 Christian Christiansson. And the martyrdom of his new life 
 was beginning. 
 
 As soon as the Bank opened in the morning Christian 
 Christiansson called on the manager, and was received with 
 extravagant politeness. 
 
 " I must take the liberty to introduce myself," he began. 
 
 " Quite unnecessary," said the banker with a bow, " all the 
 world — I say all the world, sir, has been introduced to you." 
 
 " You would receive a letter from my banker in Lon- 
 don " 
 
 " We did — it came with the mail that was brought by the 
 ' Laura.' " 
 
 " I think it asks you to honor my signature up to two 
 hundred thousand crowns." 
 
 " That is the amount, sir — two hundred thousand. And 
 if you wish to draw any of it immediately " 
 
 "I do," said Christian Christiansson, and taking a large 
 pocket-book from his breast-pocket he drew out a cheque- 
 book and took up a pen. 
 
 " Mr. Palsson," he said — the banker started at the mention 
 of his name, then bowed and smiled — " I was much touched 
 by a case of distress which the Minister spoke of at dinner 
 yesterday, and I could wish to be of some assistance." 
 
 " You are very generous, Mr. Christiansson, and if I can 
 be of the slightest use to you — I say if I can be of the slightest 
 use, sir, pray be good enough to command me." 
 
 " It was the case of the family of the late Governor — I 
 understand that they are in debt to the Bank and that the 
 Bank is in the act of distraining." 
 
 " Unhappily true, sir, but the Bank has been very indul- 
 gent — I say the Bank has been very indulgent — it was impos- 
 sible to hold back longer." 
 
 " I think that the debt is for interest on a mortgage on 
 the Inn-farm at Thingvellir, and that the money was bor- 
 rowed by the father of the present owner ? " 
 
 " That is so, sir, but the interest is long in arrears, and
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 323 
 
 tibe mortgage — I say the mortgage itself, sir, is the reverse 
 of a good security." 
 
 " Mr. Palsson," said Christian Christiansson, " if I were 
 to pay you the interest out of my own pocket would that 
 stop the proceedings ? " 
 
 The banker's breath seemed to be arrested. " You are very 
 good, sir," he said after a moment. " But the interest is 
 large; you can hardly be prepared for the amount of it." 
 
 " What is the amount of it ? " asked Christian Christians- 
 son. 
 
 " Eight thousand crowns at least, sir — I say at least eight 
 thousand. And in any case I should be unable to receive it. 
 Things have gone too far. The deed of execution has been 
 served, the advertisements of the auction have been published, 
 and the whole matter is now in the hands of the Sheriff." 
 
 " When is the auction to take place ? " 
 
 "Let me see," said the banker, consulting a newspaper, 
 " this is the last day of the year, the auction is advertised for 
 to-morrow, sir." 
 
 " Did you say to-morrow ? " said Christian Christiansson, 
 rising suddenly. 
 
 " To-morrow at nine in the morning, sir." 
 
 Christian Christiansson resumed his seat and sat for some 
 moments nibbling the top of the pen. Then he said : 
 
 " Mr. Palsson, I have been many years abroad, but I seem 
 to remember that when landed property has to be sold by the 
 law in Iceland three auctions are necessary — two at the office 
 of the Sheriff, and the third on the estate itself." 
 
 " That is so, sir, but unfortunately this is the third — the 
 two others have taken place already." 
 
 " So the Inn- farm must go to the hammer in any case ? " 
 
 " It must go to the hammer in any case." 
 
 " You think there is no help for it ? " 
 
 " I am sure, sir — I say I am sure there is no help for it." 
 
 " Ah, well — if it must be, it must be," said Christian Chris- 
 tiansson, and then, as by an after-thought, dipping the pen in 
 the ink, " The interest is eight thousand crowns, you say ? " 
 
 " At least eight thousand, sir. With legal and other ex- 
 penses probably ten — I say probably ten." 
 
 " And the principal is "
 
 324 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " The principal is one hundred thousand, sir." 
 
 " Poor souls, poor souls ! " said Christian Christiansson. 
 He began to write his cheque, but the banker went on talk- 
 ing. 
 
 " I am sorry for the mother, sir — I say I am sorry for the 
 mother. She belongs to a generation which is rapidly passing 
 away, but there are still many in the town who remember her. 
 A good, motherly soul, sir — it is a pity misfortune should 
 
 fall so fast on her in the evening of her days Blotting 
 
 paper ? " 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " I am sorry for the son, too — I am very sorry for the son. 
 An Ishmael, sir — always was and always will be — but he seems 
 to have had a terrible time of it. To tell the truth the farm 
 was frightfully over-mortgaged at the beginning, and if he 
 had thrown it up fifteen years ago it might have been better 
 for himself and the Bank and everybody. Apparently he 
 wished to hold on to it for the sake of the family, and to give 
 the poor wretch his due he has made a splendid fight for it — 
 I say he has made a splendid fight for it." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had written his cheque and was 
 tearing it out of the cheque-book. 
 
 " Then, as you say, sir, the mortgage was not made by 
 himself, and everybody knows the conditions under which the 
 first debt was contracted. Ah, if that scapegrace brother 
 could only be here to-day! When a man does wrong he 
 seems to think the consequences of his crime will end with 
 his own action, but they are like snowballs rolling in the 
 
 snow — I say they are like Two hundred thou«\and crowns, 
 
 sir?" 
 
 Christian Christiansson had handed his cheque to the 
 banker, and the banker, fixing his eye-glasses, was reading the 
 amount of it. 
 
 " Do you really mean that you wish to draw the vrhole sum 
 at once, Mr. Christiansson ? " 
 
 " If you please," said Christian Christiansson. 
 
 The banker began to laugh. " Certainly we have no high- 
 waymen in Iceland, sir — I say we have no highwaymen* — but 
 unless the money is wanted for immediate purposes ^ 
 
 " It is wanted for immediate purposes, Mr. Palsson."
 
 THE PKODIGAL SON 325 
 
 " In that case, of course — certainly — may I ask you to wait 
 a little?" 
 
 It took half-an-hour to find the money for Christian Chris- 
 tiansson's cheque, and when it came it was in three bank- 
 notes of fifty thousand each, signed specially by the Minister, 
 and fifty other notes of a thousand. Christiansson put the 
 whole of them in his pocket-book, and they filled it to its 
 utmost capacity. 
 
 " I've given you a great deal of trouble, Mr. Palsson." 
 
 " It has been a pleasure, sir — I say it has been a pleasure. 
 I only regret that I was unable to help you in that other 
 matter. If you had come to me two days ago I should have 
 sent a messenger to the Sheriff, and perhaps he " 
 
 " Who is the Sheriff in that case, Mr. Palsson? " 
 
 " The Sheriff of Ames, sir. He lives at Borg." 
 
 " How far is that from Thingvellir ? " 
 
 " Only some thirty to forty miles, sir." 
 
 " About as far as from here to there? " 
 
 " About the same, sir, but in this country of no roads and 
 no railwaj's that is sometimes a long day's journey." 
 
 " Just so ! Good day, and thank you, Mr. Palsson ! " 
 
 " Good day to you, Mr. Christiansson," said the banker, 
 and looking after him he thought, " What does he want with 
 two hundred thousand crowns at once, I wonder? And why 
 — I say why did he wish to pay the interest for Magnus 
 Stephenson ? " 
 
 " Thank God I've come in time ! " thought Christian Chris- 
 tiansson. 
 
 And going out of the Bank he told himself, with a thrill of 
 hope an^ joy, that the inscrutable powers of Destiny, which 
 seemed to have made him the plaything of chance and error, 
 could not be wholly evil if they had brought him back to 
 Iceland at the moment of his i)^ople's greatest peril, that he 
 might succor and save them at their utmost need.
 
 326 THE PRODIGAL SOW 
 
 VI 
 
 The morning was heavy and cheerless. Dark woolly clouds 
 were rolling over the mountains, a cold wind was coming up 
 from the east, and the voice of the North Sea was loud and 
 shrill. 
 
 " We shall have snow before the year's out, sir," said one of 
 a group of fishermen who were stamping their feet and beat- 
 ing their arms at the bottom of the Bank steps. 
 
 " No time to lose ! " thought Christian Christiansson. " I 
 must send for horses immediately and start oil without delay." 
 
 But before going to Thingvellir there was something to do 
 in Reykjavik, and that was the most important thing of all — 
 by some excuse or subterfuge he had to see his child as a first 
 step toward claiming and recovering her. She had been ten 
 years at the farm, but he thought she was still at the Factor's, 
 and he bent his steps in that direction. 
 
 Of the Factor himself he knew no more than he had been 
 able to glean at breakfast without betraying a particular in- 
 terest — that he was still alive, that enough had been saved 
 out of the wreck of his fortunes to enable him to keep his 
 house, and that he lived the life of a misanthrope, blaming 
 the whole world for his misfortunes and all the trouble of 
 his days. 
 
 Christian Christiansson might have walked to the Factor's 
 blindfold, but the house itself when he came in front of it 
 seemed strangely unfamiliar. The once bright little villa 
 looked like a witless man who has lost his place in the world 
 and all hope and all respect for himself. The white paint of 
 the walls was cracked and dirty, the windows were smeared 
 with the salt which is borne on the breath of the sea, the 
 garden was wild, and the cobbled path was overgrown with 
 grass. 
 
 It was hardly like a house a young girl might live in, but 
 after he had rung the bell he listened for a light step in the 
 hall. The door was opened by a withered old woman in white 
 ringlets, with her gown tucked up in front. It was Aunt 
 Margret, but the little old maid, once so pert and dainty, had
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 327 
 
 the neglected and frightened look of a cat in an empty house, 
 left behind and forgotten. 
 
 Her face was the first he had yet seen of the faces of his 
 own people, and so hard did he find it to play his part that he 
 had mentioned her name before he was aware of it, and she 
 had started perceptibly, as if at the sound of a familiar voice. 
 
 " Is your brother at home, Margret Neilsen ? " he asked. 
 
 " He is always at home," she answered, " but he never re- 
 ceives anybody now. Who shall I say wishes to see him ? " 
 
 " Say that Christian Christiansson would like to speak to 
 him." 
 
 Aunt Margret, who was not wearing her spectacles, seemed 
 to listen for a moment as to a voice that came to her from 
 afar, and then she asked him into the house. 
 
 As he passed through the hall he listened, in his turn, for 
 the silvery voice he wished to hear, but he heard nothing save 
 the soimd of his own footsteps, for the house echoed like a 
 vault. The sense of change made him forget for a moment 
 the object of his visit, and when he stepped into the sitting- 
 room and found the familiar room so different from what he 
 remembered it, so bare, so bleak, so stamped with the seal of 
 poverty (with its scrap of worn carpet on the floor and its two 
 broken firebricks in the cold stove), he felt as if the ironical 
 powers that controlled his fate had brought him there not to 
 see his child but only to torture him. 
 
 After a moment the Factor came in with the old fire in his 
 eyes and the old spirit in his step, but wearing a threadbare 
 skull-cap over a threadbare suit that had once been black, and 
 looking like a grey rock in a green place when the sun has 
 gone from it, leaving it grim and hoary. 
 
 " I heard of your arrival, Mr. Christiansson," he said, " and 
 I suppose I ought to thank you for your call, but I am an old 
 man who has lived past his day, and I can't think why you 
 wished to see me." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had his subterfuge ready. " Com- 
 ing from London," he said, " I thought I might be able to tell 
 you something of your daughter." 
 
 " Helga ? You know my daughter Helga ? " 
 
 " I used to know her, but our ways have parted, and we 
 have met only once in ten years. Nevertheless I know all 
 about her, and can tell you what has happened."
 
 328 'I'HE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " What ^05 happened, sir ? " 
 
 " She has become a great singer." 
 
 " A singer, has she ? " 
 
 " A great opera-singer." 
 
 " Then she's rich, I suppose ? " 
 
 " In the way of being so, perhaps, but famous at all events, 
 and a favorite all over Europe." 
 
 The Factor was silent for a moment, leaning on his stick ; 
 then he said: 
 
 " Well, that will suit her mother, I daresay. As for me I 
 don't think it matters. It's ten years since Helga Neilsen left 
 Iceland, and I've never seen the scribe of a line from her 
 since. If she's rich I'm poor and she doesn't care anything 
 about it. What I call a daughter is one who remembers her 
 father when he is old and past work and the world has got its 
 heel on him. I had a daughter like that once, but they killed 
 her between them — they killed her between them, I say." 
 
 Th old man's voice was breaking, and thinking to comfort 
 him Christian Christiansson said, hardly knowing what he 
 was saying: 
 
 " I heard of your trouble, Mr. Neilsen." 
 
 " When did you hear of it ? Helga couldn't have told you. 
 She had too much to do with her sister's death to talk of it. 
 "Did you, perhaps — in those days you speak of — did you know 
 my daughter's husband ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Christian Christiansson, for in that heart- 
 quelling moment there seemed to be no escape from it. 
 
 " Then you knew a scoundrel, sir," said the Factor. 
 
 Christian Christiansson dared not flinch, though the Fac- 
 tor's lash had cut him to the bone. With a throttled utter- 
 ance he tried to plead for charity. " Oscar Stephenson never 
 ceased to reproach himself for his share in Thora's death or 
 to mourn " 
 
 " It's a pretty way to mourn for one daughter to corrupt 
 another," said the Factor. 
 
 "Corrupt?" 
 
 " What ehe was it ? He hadn't been a year in London 
 before he persuaded Helga to follow him." 
 
 " Mr. Neilsen, I have no right to speak for the man we are 
 talking of, but Helga is your daughter, and if it is any com-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 329 
 
 fort to you I tell you that you are wrong — I know you are 
 
 " How do you know — he lived in the same house, didn't 
 he?" 
 
 " Nevertheless I — I believe in my heart that whatever 
 his failures of duty to your daughter Thora while she 
 was alive, when she was dead he reverenced her memory too 
 much to " 
 
 " Was it reverencing her memory to sell the right to violate 
 her grave, and then waste the money at the gaming-tables ? " 
 
 The perspiration was breaking out on Christian Christians- 
 son's forehead and he had forgotten the object of his errand, 
 when the door opened and he looked up in the expectation of 
 seeing Elin. It was only Aunt Margret again, but now 
 washed and oiled, and wearing her spectacles. 
 
 Christian Christiansson placed a chair for the childless 
 woman, and began to talk about the child. 
 
 " The man we are speaking of had his faults, God knows, 
 but if you had heard him talk about you, sir, and your sister 
 and his daughter — especially his little daughter " 
 
 " He talked about his daughter, did he ? " 
 
 " Constantly — he seemed to be always thinking of her," 
 
 " He never did anything else, then. He left me to bring 
 her up and never sent a penny toward her support." 
 
 " He was poor himself perhaps — indeed I know he was 
 poor." 
 
 " Then what about the letters he wrote to his mother, 
 bragging of his business and the fine friends he was making ? " 
 
 Christian Christiansson dropped his head. 
 
 " And when my own business was broken up, did he offer 
 to relieve me of my burden ? " 
 
 " That was af teinvard, Oscar — you are confusing the dates," 
 said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Margret Neilsen — I know what I'm 
 Baying. No, sir, when the ingrate at Government House 
 made me a bankrupt and I didn't know if I should have a 
 Toof to cover me, it was the father's brother who had to take 
 the child off my hands." 
 
 "Magnus?" 
 
 " Magnus Stephenson, and he had his mother to provide 
 for already." 
 22
 
 330 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 "Then Elin is at Thingvellir! And Magnus has been 
 bringing her up all these years! How good of him! And 
 now he is a broken man himself, poor fellow ! " 
 
 " Serve him right if he is," said the Factor. " I've no pity 
 for him either — he was the beginning of all the trouble." 
 
 " But when a brave man who has bome other people's 
 burdens " 
 
 " A brave fool, you mean, sir. Fortune comes to every man 
 once, sir, and it came to him, but he wouldn't have it. Look 
 at this room, sir. You may not believe it, but I used to have 
 four assistants eating and drinking with me here, and Magnus 
 Stephenson was one of them. He had good ideas in those 
 days, and if he had stayed with me we should have kept out 
 the free traders, and he would have been the first man in the 
 west of Iceland by this time. I gave him every chance, too. 
 I was willing to make him my partner and marry him to my 
 daughter Thora. But no, grasp all lose all, he insulted my 
 girl and turned up his nose at my contract. And now he's 
 down, but he's not done yet. What gets wet on a fool gets 
 dry on a knave, and Magnus Stephenson will be worse than a 
 bankrupt before we've heard the end of him." 
 
 " Mr. Neilsen," said Christian Christiansson, who was 
 breathing heavily, "you are wrong again, and you ought to 
 know it." 
 
 " Who says I am wrong, sir? And what am I wrong in? " 
 
 " You are wrong in thinking that when Magnus Stephen- 
 son refused to marry your daughter Thora he did so from 
 selfishness." 
 
 " If it wasn't selfishness, sir, what was it? " 
 
 " It was unselfishness — sublime unselfishness." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 " Thora had found that she loved his brother Oscar, and to 
 make her happy Magnus was willing to give her up to him. 
 But the contract was made, and you had built all your hopes 
 on it, so to save your daughter from your displeasure he 
 allowed it to appear that he refused her, although he loved 
 her dearly and his heart was breaking." 
 
 The Factor rose to his feet with a wild lustre in his eyea. 
 " But is this true? " he said. 
 
 " It is God's truth, sir."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 331 
 
 " Who did you have it from? " 
 
 " From one who should have told you himself fifteen years 
 ago but dared not." 
 
 The Factor turned rigidly to his sister. " Margret Neilsen, 
 do you hear what he is saying ? " 
 
 Aunt Margret, who was breathing audibly, merely bowed 
 her head. 
 
 " I don't know what to say to you, sir. If what you tell 
 me is true I've been hating the wrong man for half a life- 
 time. And yet people talk of Providence ! " 
 
 " God veils His face from us. Factor. We are only Hia 
 little children. He has His own plans and purposes." 
 
 " Good Lord ! sir," said the Factor in a husky croak, " what 
 purpose can there be in blinding a man for fifteen years and 
 letting him break up all his friendships ? " 
 
 He was walking to and fro to calm his nerves under the 
 shock as of a moral earthquake. 
 
 " If I have been wrong about Magnus I may have been 
 wrong about Oscar, also. I got frightened when he signed my 
 name, so I helped to send him out of Iceland. And now he 
 is dead ! " 
 
 Christian Christiansson's head was down — his throat was 
 surging. 
 
 " His father is dead, too. We quarrelled about our chil- 
 dren, and now it seems it all began with a blunder ! He was 
 my friend for fifty years, and I've never had another. There's 
 no such thing as making an old friend in your old age, sir, 
 and when your friends are gone the world gets lonely. Per- 
 haps I was hard on Oscar, too. He was my godson. I liked 
 the boy in spite of everything, and he always came to see the 
 old man the minute he set foot in Iceland." 
 
 Christian Christiansson wanted to throw off all disguise 
 «nd cry, " And I'm here again, godfather," but he could not 
 and dared not speak. He rose to go, and the Factor took him 
 to the door. 
 
 " I'll come again before I leave the country," he said at the 
 last moment, " and then perhaps I'll have something to say 
 to you." 
 
 When the Factor returned to the sitting-room, looking like 
 thp same grey rock but with clouds enveloping it. Aunt Mar-
 
 332 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 gret, who had scarcely moved, said in the frightened voice of 
 one who has seen a ghost : 
 
 " Do you know who that was? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " That was Oscar Stephenson." 
 
 " Margret Neilson, you are mad. Oscar Stephenson is 
 dead." 
 
 " Then he came to life again. That is Oscar Stephen- 
 son as sure as I'm a living woman ! " 
 
 vn 
 
 Christian Christiansson left the Factor's house glowing 
 with excitement. Oh, for the hour when he could lay aside 
 the armor of duplicity ! When he could say to his own peo- 
 ple, " I am Oscar Stephenson. Let the world think me 
 Christian Christiansson, but at least you must know me for 
 who I am." 
 
 It was necessary and inevitable that he should reveal him- 
 self to his own family ! How else could he carry out the plan 
 he had formed of buying the farm at the auction to-morrow 
 morning and giving it back to his brother ? And how, except 
 by right of blood, by right of parentage, could he claim 
 the child and take her away with him when he returned to 
 England ? 
 
 In this mood he went back to Government House and 
 announced his intention of going on to Thingvellir. 
 
 " Thingvellir! " said the Minister. " It's only natural, sir, 
 that you should wish to see our great historic meeting-place, 
 the scene of so many of our Sagas. But why go there to-day ? 
 It isn't every day the old town is alive, but this is the last of 
 the year, you know, and before midnight we shall have many 
 interesting ceremonies. Why not stay until to-morrow, and 
 then I shall be happy to go with you ? " 
 
 " I have a particular reason for wishing to go to-day," said 
 Christian Christiansson. 
 
 " That's a pity, and our townspeople will be wofully disap- 
 pointed. To tell you the truth, I've done nothing all morn-
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 333 
 
 ing but receive deputations asking me to offer you a public 
 banquet. Every class of the community is excited, and the 
 students are talking of a torchlight procession." 
 
 " That settles it, Mr. Finsen, I must go now in any case." 
 
 " You are too modest, Mr. Christiansson. But perhaps you 
 don't know the way. And then look at the clouds — a snow- 
 storm is coming." 
 
 " I know every inch of the way, and the snowstorm, if it 
 is not too heavy, will only add to my pleasure." 
 
 " If it is not too heavy ! Believe me, there's nothing in the 
 world more miserable than being caught in a blinding snow- 
 storm on the Moss Fell Heath. But if you must you must, 
 sir, and if you have a particular reason for going it is not 
 for me to keep you back." 
 
 " It is late, Mr. Finsen, and the days are short — I must get 
 off immediately." 
 
 " I'll send for ponies without delay, sir. You'll want two — 
 one for yourself, the other for your pony-boy. You'll be back 
 in a few days, I trust, so you'll leave your baggage behind 
 you." 
 
 The pony-boy with the ponies came round at noon, and by 
 that time, the report of Christiansson's departure having 
 passed through the town, a number of the townspeople had 
 gathered at the gate to see him off. Among them were Pals- 
 son the banker, Oddsson the merchant, Zimsen the captain, 
 Jonsson the chairman of the Town Board, and (most surpris- 
 ing of all) the Factor. 
 
 There was a tingling atmosphere of unsatisfied curiosity in 
 the little crowd, for rumor of the two hundred thousand 
 crowns had passed from lip to lip, and people were asking 
 who the stranger was, who his father had been, and what he 
 could want with so much money. When Christian Chris- 
 tiansson, in his long blue ulster and close-fitting fur cap, 
 came out of the house, and parted from his host and hostess 
 at the porch, he seemed to be in high spirits, for he saluted 
 *rv'er5^body at the gate, and mentioned most of the company 
 'by name. 
 
 This intensified the curiosity, and amid a running fire of 
 Dhaff and laughter the bolder ones began to probe with 
 s[uestions.
 
 334 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " You'll put up at the Inn-farm to-night, Mr. Christians- 
 son?" 
 
 " No doubt, Mr. Jonsson, no doubt." 
 
 "But there's to be an auction there in the morning, you 
 know — I say there's to be an auction in the morning, so you'll 
 be turned out to-morrow," 
 
 " Unless," said the captain, with a wink in his weather eye, 
 "unless Mr. Christiansson buys up the old place and turns 
 farmer and innkeeper." 
 
 " And why not, Captain Zimsen, why not ? " 
 
 " Hard work early and late, sir." 
 
 " Well, no man ever won the day by snoring." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had swung to the saddle, when the 
 Factor came up to him with his rheumy eyes shining, and 
 said: 
 
 " Don't be surprised if I follow you to Thingvellir. Life is 
 short, and before I die I have something to say to Magnus 
 Stephenson." 
 
 " We talked of him on the ship, sir, didn't we — him and his 
 rascally young brother ? " said the merchant. 
 
 " We did," said Christian Christiansson, and then at the 
 last moment, the pony-boy being mounted, and everything 
 ready, a spirit of recklessness came over him, and he added, 
 " But you made one mistake, Mr. Oddsson." 
 
 "And what was that, Mr. Christiansson?" 
 
 " You said Oscar Stephenson had never done anything in 
 his life, except putting an end to it, but he did one thing 
 once, I remember. He stood for parliament when I was at 
 home, and gave a dreadful drubbing to the dunderhead who 
 opposed him. Good-bye ! " 
 
 When he was gone it was the same is if a spell had been 
 broken. Something in his last word, something in his laugh, 
 and something in the lifting of his cap as he cantered up the 
 road, had struck a vague consciousness of his identity into 
 the gossips at the gate. For a moment they stared into each 
 other's face in blank bewilderment and then the merchant 
 said: 
 
 " Who the deuce can he be then ? " 
 
 " Shall I tell you who my sister says he is ? " said the 
 Factor.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 335 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Oscar Stephenson himself." 
 
 It fell in their midst like a thunderbolt. 
 
 " Well, that would explain something, — I say that would 
 explain something," said the banker, and he told the story of 
 Magnus Stephenson's interest. 
 
 Within half-an-hour the word had gone through the town 
 with the r\ish and rattle of the holme wind. Christian Chris- 
 tiansson was Oscar Stephenson! Almost in as many words 
 he had said so himself, and there could not be a doubt 
 about it! 
 
 That night at the Artisans' Institute there were a hundred 
 stories of Oscar Stephenson. Some of them were good, and 
 they were told with tears; but some were bad, yet they were 
 received with peals of laughter. In the smoking-room of the 
 hotel the students sang Oscar's songs until the lamps went 
 out, and then they bellowed them through the darkness in a 
 dozen different keys, while the windows rattled with the 
 vibration of their lusty voices. 
 
 Meantime a group of sedater citizens had taken their sur- 
 mise to the Minister, and he had said with his shy smile : 
 
 " We cannot uncover his nakedness, you know, but we can 
 go on with the arrangements for the banquet, and so tempt 
 him to reveal himself." 
 
 They went on with them immediately. The banquet was 
 to be at the Templars' Hall the night after the stranger's 
 return to Reykjavik. The Minister was to propose, " Chris- 
 tian Christiansson, Iceland's favorite son and heir ! " Then 
 the students were to sing Oscar Stephenson's patriotic 
 hymn, " Isaf old ! my Isaf old ! great land of frost and fire." 
 And after the guest had spoken the cathedral choir were to 
 give Christian Christiansson's stirring anthem, " Who shall 
 ascend into the hill of the Lord, who shall rise up in His holy 
 place? Even he who has clean hands and a pure heart, and 
 hath not lifted up his mind with vanity ! " 
 
 Everything else was forgotten! The odium attaching for 
 ten years to Oscar Stephenson's name was gone! The dis- 
 honor which Death itself could not kill had disappeared be- 
 fore the blinding light of genius, the glittering shrine of 
 success !
 
 '336 THE TEODIGAL SON 
 
 vm 
 
 MEANTBfE the man himself was on his way to Thingvellir. 
 The clouds might be low, but his heart was high; the sea 
 might break on the black beach with a monotonous moan, but 
 his whole being sang a song of hope. A wild activity of 
 thoughts, imagination, feelings, and impulses possessed him, 
 and for the first time since he returned to Iceland he was 
 entirely happy. 
 
 God had permitted him to come in time to save his people 
 from being made houseless and homeless! He had sinned 
 and he had suffered, but the sacred duty of atonement was 
 not to be denied him ! The Inn-farm, which had been mort- 
 gaged to save him from the grip of the law, was to be given 
 back unburdened to his brother! Two hundred thousand 
 crowns w^ere in his breast pocket, and they were to buy the 
 old place at the auction to-morrow morning ! 
 
 As he cantered up the road that led out of the town his 
 soul careered like a leaf in autumn under a bottom wind o£ 
 hope and joy. He saw himself arriving at the farm in the 
 dusk of the evening and meeting his mother and Magnus and 
 his daughter Elin. He heard himself saying, " Mother, don't 
 you know me? I am Oscar, and I have come back to make 
 amends." And next day, when the auction would be over, 
 the Sheriff gone and everybody crying for happiness, he saw 
 himself taking Elin between his knees — Elin with the eyes of 
 Thora, yet with his own face looking at him as in a glass — 
 and saying, " You are to come with me now, my dearest, and 
 if you have gone short of anything as a child I will make it 
 up to you as a woman ! " 
 
 The pony-boy caught the contagion of his high spirits, and 
 as they cantered along he sang snatches of the Elf -song : 
 
 "Dance by night and dance by day, 
 Life and time will pass away, 
 Love alone will last alway." 
 
 He was a tall lad of eighteen who must have resembled his 
 mother, for he had the pink and white face of a girl. They
 
 ^ THE PKODIGAL SON 337 
 
 ^ad passed the hot springs and the Ellida river, and risen to 
 the heights of the first hill on their journey before the sun- 
 shine of the boy's spirits began to be overcast. Then as they 
 rested their ponies and tightened the girths, he said in a 
 frightened whisper : 
 
 " Do you hear it, sir? " 
 
 " Hear what ? " said Christian Christiansson. 
 
 " The Peak," said the boy, pointing to a rock of rugged 
 outline that stood on the topmost line of the mountain to 
 their right, with a dark cloud, that was like a great monster 
 of the air, poised above it. 
 
 " What about it, my boy ? " 
 
 " The storm and the Peak are friends, sir, for they always 
 talk together before the wind comes down. When people 
 hear them talking they tremble, because they know the storm 
 is coming." 
 
 " Let us get on then," said Christian Christiansson, 
 
 In half-an-hour they had come to the bleak and barren 
 country of the Red Hill, the Red Lake, and the Deep Tarn 
 with its dark waters and gloomy shore, and by that time the 
 great cloud which had been poised above the Peak was broken 
 into many parts, and each part seemed to be fighting the 
 others in the sky, for there were volleys of sound like thunder. 
 
 " Hadn't we better stop at the farm at Middale, sir? " said 
 the boy. 
 
 But Christian Christiansson thought of his mother, of 
 Magnus, of Elin, and of the auction to-morrow morning, and 
 he determined to push on. 
 
 They were on the edge of the Moss Fell Heath when the 
 snow began to fall. It fell at first in big flakes like dead 
 buttei-flies, for there was yet no wind on the ground, although 
 the clouds were still scurrying across the sky and the noise 
 overhead was deafening. 
 
 Christian Christiansson remembered what the Minister had 
 said, that of all the miseries of life the worst was to be caught 
 in a snowstorm on this desolate moor, and for one moment he 
 asked himself if he ought not to go back to Middale and wait 
 there until the storm had passed. But at the next instant he 
 told himself that the devilish powers which had dogged his 
 steps since he landed in Iceland were trying to keep him back
 
 338 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 from the good work he meant to do, so he must go on in 
 any case. 
 
 " You're not afraid, my lad? " 
 
 " Not to say afraid," faltered the boy. 
 
 " Let us gallop, then." 
 
 The Heath itself when they came to it was a white wilder- 
 ness within the embracement of black rocks and mountains. 
 They were only able to find the road by following the beacons, 
 which were like white-headed sentinels in single file, with 
 their backs to the storm, going on and on over the wide 
 waste. 
 
 The sense of desolation was appalling, and a voice seemed 
 to say, " Go back while there is time to do so." But again 
 Christian Christiansson thought of his mother, of Magnus, 
 of Eliu, and of the auction to-morrow morning, and he urged 
 his horse through the deepening snow. 
 
 They had not gone much farther when the wind came 'down 
 and hurled itself in their faces. The snowflakes were pelted 
 and slung at them like splinters of flint. It seemed as if 
 every flake would cut through their skin. Then the cold be- 
 came intense. Ice gathered over their eyes, and at every 
 other minute they had to stop to break it away. 
 
 Finally the darkness descended upon them, the deadly, im- 
 placable darkness of the wind and snow. A wild torrent of 
 w^hirling snowflakes swept over the moor and concealed them 
 from each other. It became so dark that they could only see 
 a few yards on either side, and they had to cry out at inter- 
 vals in order to keep together. 
 
 They were now in the mighty grip of the storm and could 
 no longer think of going back. The wind hissed and howled 
 and wept ; the snow pelted and cut. There was no shelter of 
 Took or tree or bush on any side; there was nothing about or 
 above them but the wide wilderness and the thickening dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Christian Christiansson was sorry for the boy, but thus far 
 his own spirits had risen with every fresh phase of the tem- 
 pest. He had a sense of fighting a fierce duel with the ele- 
 ments. At the other end of his journey were his mother and 
 Magnus and Elin, and if he could reach them before morning 
 he would be able to succor and save them. It was a race as
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 339 
 
 for life, for the lives of his nearest and dearest, against the 
 ■wild wantonness of elemental powers. Nature herself, with 
 more than her usual heartlessness toward man, was at dev- 
 ilish war with his effort to save his people. But he would 
 conquer her! Let it snow or blow or hail or thunder, he 
 would reach home in time for the auction! 
 
 The ponies were the first to fail. The one that Christian 
 Christiansson rode was a strong mare of mature age, but the 
 boy's was a young one, newly broken, and it seemed to be 
 suffocating in the snow and the wind. After a time it turned 
 its head from the storm and refused to go forward, and then 
 the boy had to alight and walk in front of it and tug it 
 along by the bridle. In a little while it stopped altogether 
 and slid down on its side, and could with difficulty be raised 
 to its feet again. 
 
 " He's only four, and this is his first journey," said the boy 
 in a whimpering tone, as he laid the lash on the pony's back. 
 
 Then the boy himself began to give in. He wore bag 
 gloves (with two thumbs but no fingers), and in tugging at 
 the bridle he lost one of them. As a consequence his bare 
 hand got frost-bitten and was soon quite powerless. In walk- 
 ing before the horse his clothes had frozen stiff, and he was 
 hardly able to put one foot before the other. His voice be- 
 came weaker and his speech more broken, and when his com- 
 panion called back to him he could scarcely send forward his 
 reply. At last in a faint voice he cried : 
 
 " Come and fetch me, sir — I have no strength left." 
 
 A little later he became delirious, talked of his mother, 
 and tried to strip off his clothes as if he were going to bed. 
 
 Christian Christiansson experienced deep anguish of mind 
 at the thought of the sufferings he had inflicted upon the lad, 
 but he lifted him to the saddle with his back to the horse's 
 head, and comforted him as well as he could in his awful 
 situation. 
 
 " Courage, my boy, courage ! The House of Rest cannot 
 be far off. We'll shelter there. The storm will pass." 
 
 A vision of the little house of basaltic rocks, which he had 
 entered with Helga, had been floating through his mind like 
 a dream of the Calenture. How long it took him to get 
 there and with what desperate exertions he never knew, but
 
 340 THE TEODIGAL SON 
 
 walking in front of the young pony and leading the mare 
 beside him, he reached the little house at last. 
 
 As soon as they were under cover, the boy dropped to his 
 knees, and, with a gibbering accent, as if speaking through 
 half-frozen lips, he began to repeat the Creed, " I believe in 
 God the Father Almighty." He thought he was saying his 
 prayers. 
 
 The House of Rest was badly provided, but it had hay for 
 the horses, and they began to munch it immediately. There 
 was no lamp, and when the door was shut to keep out the 
 driving snow, the place was in pitch darkness. 
 
 After a while the air became warm with the breath of the 
 ponies, and the men's clothes melted. This made them very 
 cold, and they had to beat their arms under their armpits to 
 keep their bodies from shivering and their teeth from chatter- 
 ing. Then the atmosphere grew hot, for the ponies began 
 to sweat, and the boy stripped off his outer garments, and lay 
 down with the young horse, boy and horse side by side, as if 
 they had been human companions. 
 
 Christian Christiansson threw himself upon the wooden 
 platform prepared for travelers, and listened to the storm 
 outside. The wind was howling and hissing around the cor- 
 ners of the house, and he had the sense of the snow becoming 
 deeper and deeper about it. If the storm continued the little 
 place might be buried before long, and then it would be diffi- 
 cult or impossible to cut a way out. 
 
 His heart fell low. He began to feel appalled by the awful- 
 ness of his position. The devilish elements were beating him. 
 He was only half way on his journey, and if he could not 
 make the rest of it before morning, his mother and Magnus 
 and little Elin would be homeless. Yet the storm showed no 
 sign of abating ; the ponies were spent, the boy was done, and 
 it seemed impossible to go on. 
 
 Suddenly a new thought came to him and he raised himself 
 and cried: 
 
 " My boy, my boy ! do you know the road from Borg to 
 Thingvellir? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the boy's drowsy voice in the darkness. 
 
 " What sort of road is it ? " 
 
 " Awful, sir."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 341 
 
 "Worse than this?" 
 
 " Ten times worse — over the Hengel mountain and past 
 the boiling pits, sir." 
 
 " Thank God ! " said Christian Christiansson, and he lay- 
 down again with content, telling himself that the same storm 
 that was keeping him back must keep back the Sheriff, and 
 therefore there could be no auction to-morrow morning. 
 
 The storm still hissed and howled and wept in the wild 
 wilderness outside, but the tempest had now lost its terrors. 
 The boy and the young pony had fallen asleep and were 
 breathing heavily, the mare was munching the last of the 
 hay, and Christian Christiansson, with his heart at ease and 
 a sense of safety, had settled himself for the night and was 
 dropping off into unconsciousness when there came a thud 
 on the roof of the little house. 
 
 He started up and listened, and again he heard the thud- 
 thud over his head. The mare also heard the strange sounds, 
 and ceasing to eat she came across to him, as if in fear, and 
 laid her head upon his legs. It was not at first that he 
 realized that the sounds were human footsteps and that some- 
 body was walking on the roof, but as soon as he did so he 
 cried out to know who was there, and a voice that was like a 
 voice out of a grave answered, " Let me in." 
 
 He removed the saddles with which he had barricaded the 
 door and opened it. There was then another doorway of the 
 snow that had fallen since he entered, but in a little while he 
 had cut it away with the spade that hung on the wall for that 
 purpose. At the next moment a man crossed the threshold — 
 a man and a horse. 
 
 IX 
 
 " Oh, God ! What a night," said the stranger. He seemed 
 to be scared and awe-stricken by the uproar he had come 
 out of. 
 
 When Christian Christiansson had closed and barricaded 
 the door afresh the darkness seemed denser than ever. 
 
 " Have you any matches ? " he asked. 
 
 "'J^o — yes — that is to say, J7m afraid they're damp," said 
 the stranger. He struck one and it spluttered out.
 
 342 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " Take care then. A boy is lying asleep on the floor. 
 Bring your horse this way." 
 
 " Thanks ! How lucky I heard you ! I had lost the road, 
 and was wondering what hollow ground I was walking on 
 when you shouted from below. It nearly frightened my 
 life out." 
 
 It was a young voice; the stranger was clearly a young 
 man, probably a young farmer. They talked together in 
 the darkness, neither being able to see the other's face. 
 
 " Who are you, my lad? " asked Christian Christiansson. 
 
 " I am Eric Arnasson. I come from Thingvellir. Who 
 are you, sir ? " 
 
 " I am a traveler, and I'm on my way there." 
 
 " Going to the sale, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then I have just come from the house you are bound 
 for." 
 
 "Are you a farm-servant at the Inn-farm?" 
 
 " Used to be, but the hands are all gone now. I was the 
 last to leave, sir." 
 
 " Where are Gudrun and Jon Vidalin ? " 
 
 " Farming Korastead these ten years, sir." 
 
 "And Asher?" 
 
 " He has gone too. We thinned down fast when the 
 master got into trouble. I was with him from the time I 
 was a little chap, but he paid me off this afternoon." 
 
 "Where's old Maria?" 
 
 " Dead long ago." 
 
 " Is there nobody left then ? " 
 
 " Nobody but the master and his old mother and his young 
 daughter." 
 
 "Daughter?" 
 
 " Well, everybody calls her so, but she's only his niece." 
 
 " Is there nobody else in the house to-night ? " 
 
 " Not a soul that I know of. And iliey will not be there 
 another night, I suppose." 
 
 " But the sale can not take place to-morrow, my lad. The 
 Sheriff will never be able to get there to-day. He has to 
 come from Borg, and the road over the mountain is even 
 \yilder than this."
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 343 
 
 "The Sheriff is there now, sir." 
 
 "Now?" 
 
 " I left him in the kitchen when I came away, making 
 a list of the house property, and he was to sleep at the 
 Parsonage." 
 
 Christian Christiansson's hair seemed to rise from his head. 
 There was no escape from the terrible journey. He must go 
 on in spite of the storm. His limbs felt like lead, and when 
 he tried to move them he covdd only do so with a tremendous 
 effort. But he shook off his torpor and began to saddle his 
 mare. 
 
 " What do you think is the time, my lad ? " 
 
 " I don't know, my watch has stopped. And then I have 
 no light either. It must be seven o'clock at least. But you're 
 not thinking of going on to-night, sir?" 
 
 " I must." 
 
 " You'll never get to Thingvellir, sir. It was bad enough 
 for me with my back to the storm, but it will be ten times 
 worse for you with your face to it. You'll be lost. Your 
 friends will see no more of you." 
 
 "Good night! Take the boy back to Reykjavik in the 
 morning." 
 
 Out on the snowfield again Christian Christiansson was 
 conscious of nothing but a headlong impulse to go on. The 
 saddle was damp, and he had a sensation of riding in cold 
 water; the snow was deeper than before, and sometimes his 
 horse stumbled up to its girths; the darkness was now the 
 darkness of night, and it was with difficulty that he could 
 follow the line of the beacons; the wind hurled itself against 
 his body, the snow slung itself against his face, but still he 
 strained along, for a new and inspiring thought had come to 
 him. 
 
 The Almighty was fighting on his side in his fierce war with 
 the elements ! The devilish powers of Nature had been trying 
 to keep him back from saving his people, and when he reached 
 the House of Rest they had lulled him into a false repose, but 
 God had sent the farm-servant to warn him that his dear ones 
 were still in danger, and that if he stayed there until morning 
 he would arrive at his journey's end too late! Thinking so, 
 his heart grew strong, for he felt himself in the immediate 
 presence of Him who was greater than the greatest tempest.
 
 344 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 But after some two hours had passed the sacred fire of tkis 
 theory began to fail him. He was growing faint, and the 
 beatings of his heart were suffocating ; he was also losing his 
 way in the deepening snow, and when his mare stumbled into 
 the drifts he was scarcely strong enough to drag her out of 
 them. Then, before he was aware of it, the voices of Nature 
 were speaking to him again. 
 
 " Why did you leave the House of Rest ? The Sheriff may 
 be at the farm, but no buyers can get there to-night, and 
 without people to bid there can be no auction." 
 
 Just as this thought came to him he saw a red speck gleam- 
 ing through the darkness, and he turned his horse's head in 
 the direct-ion of the light. It proved to be in the window of 
 a farm-house, and finding the door he shouted, and presently 
 a man came out to him. 
 
 " I've lost my way," he cried, over the wailing of the wind. 
 " Tell me, please, what place this is ? " 
 
 " This is Korastead," the man cried back, and then a 
 woman came into the hall-way and stood behind him. The 
 man was Jon Vidalin and the woman was Gudrun, but 
 neither of them knew him. 
 
 " Where were you going, sir ? " said Jon. 
 
 " To the auction at Thingvellir." 
 
 " You are not so far out of your road, then. Bear to the 
 right until you cross the river, and then follow the stones 
 tmtil you come to the Chasm." 
 
 Christian Christiansson hesitated. "I'm tired, having rid- 
 den from Reykjavik, and it doesn't seem much good going 
 farther. Nobody else will be fool enough to travel in weather 
 like this, and without people to bid there can be no auction. 
 So if you can give me shelter and a shake-down " 
 
 " You are welcome to the shelter, sir, but if you want the 
 place you had better go on and get there." 
 
 "Why so?" 
 
 " Because it's a Sheriff's sale, and he'll sell in any case." 
 
 " How can he sell if there's nobody to buy ? " 
 
 " He'll bid for somebody himself, sii*, and we all know who 
 that is." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Somebody at Government House who has wanted the 
 farm these fifteen years."
 
 THE PRODIG/iL SON 345 
 
 " So you think the Sheriff will hold the auction to-morrow 
 morning whether anybody is there or not ? " 
 
 " Sure to, sir. The fewer there are to bid the better he'll 
 be pleased, and the bigger the Minister's bargain." 
 
 " I must go on then, I suppose," said Christian Chris- 
 tiansson. 
 
 " Come in and melt yourself first," said Jon. " The wind 
 is going down — it will be quiet presently." 
 
 A few minutes later Christian Christiansson was drink injj 
 hot coffee in the elt-house, while Jon and Gudrun talked of 
 the family at the Inn-farm. 
 
 " We were servants with the family for ten years, so we- 
 know them well, sir," said Jon. 
 
 " Poor old Anna ! " said Gudrun. " She would be welcome 
 to anything I have, but with the boys growing up we haven't 
 a bed to spare in the badstofa." 
 
 " There's an adopted daughter, isn't there ? " 
 
 " There is, sir, and anybody would be glad to have her for 
 a helper, but the master won't hear of letting her go. ' Elin 
 shall be servant to nobody,' he says." 
 
 " It isn't Magnus Stephenson's fault if misfortune has 
 overtaken him," said Jon. " He has the strength of Samson- 
 and has done the work of six men." 
 
 " How does he bear his troubles ? " 
 
 *' Badly," said Gudrun. " He never goes to church now or 
 reads the prayers at home either." 
 
 " Yes," said Jon, " he has lost his religion, poor fellow, and 
 ■when a man loses that he loses everything, you know." 
 
 " People are afraid of him," said Gudrun. " He looks like 
 a man with no luck, and he is always beating his arms about 
 him and driving away the good spirits that walk by a man's 
 side." 
 
 " And what do people say is the cause of the change in 
 him?" 
 
 " The Bank and bad times," said Jon. 
 
 " And a bad brother," said Gudi-un. "His brother is dead 
 and the old mistress has made a saint of him, but she darea't 
 mention his name before Magnus, or he gets up and goes out 
 of the house." 
 
 " Does he hate him so much then ? " 
 23
 
 346 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " There was a time when I believe in my heart he would 
 have killed him," said Jon. 
 
 Christian Christiansson started up and prepared to go on 
 to Thingvellir, although his half-frozen limbs would scarcely 
 cross the saddle or his swollen fingers hold the reins. Again 
 his heart had fallen low, and the hope with which he had 
 begun his journey — the hope of a joyful reunion at the end 
 of it — was now gone. 
 
 The intensity of Magnus's feeling made it impossible that 
 be should reveal himself to his people. If he rode up to the 
 door and said, " I am Oscar, the report of my death was 
 false, and I have come back rich and prosperous," what would 
 Magnus say ? He would say, " Your father is dead, your 
 wife is in her grave, your mother and your child have gone 
 through poverty and perhaps want, and all the consequence 
 of your transgressions — do you think that your miserable 
 money will make amends ? " And then his brother would fling 
 him back into the road. 
 
 Not to-night could he make himself known — not to-night at 
 all events ! Perhaps to-morrow, when the sale would be over 
 and the Sheriff gone, and he had smoothed the way and made 
 sure of his welcome! But now he must go to the Inn like 
 any other traveler who had come there to be present at the 
 auction and to bid for the estate. 
 
 Seeing his course clear in this way, his heart rose again 
 and he pushed on with a better will. The storm had sub- 
 sided, and when he came to the sudden mouth of the Al- 
 managja the wind dropped altogether, and it was almost 
 as if some vast volcano in the sky had poured its lava over 
 the earth in snow. 
 
 The Chasm itself was full of memories — memories of the 
 day of his triumph, the day of his disgrace — but icicles hung 
 from where the flags of the nations had floated, and drifts 
 of snow, like mighty mushrooms, were lying in the holes 
 where the tents had been. He remembered the witch whc 
 had said " Beware of your brother," and he thought of the 
 white face that had broken in upon the dancing. In the 
 breathless calm the sky came out and it spanned the brant 
 walls like a majestical roof studded with stars, but he stum- 
 bled in the darkness on to the frozen surface of the drowning
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 347 
 
 pool, and almost rode up to the spot where he had sat with 
 Helga. 
 
 At the bridge that crossed the frozen waterfall he caught 
 his first sight of the lighted windows of the Inn-farm, and 
 then his heart seemed to stand still. His mother, his brother, 
 and his little daughter were there, and he had been ten years 
 preparing to join them, but now that he was so near, he 
 could hardly bring himself to go on. 
 
 Would his mother recognize him — she who had read his 
 features first and known him from the cradle up ? He was 
 afraid she would, and then, in the tumult of his tossing heart, 
 he was afraid she would not. Nobody in Iceland had known 
 him hitherto, and now he was aware that he was less like 
 himself than ever, for, seeing his face in a glass as he came 
 out of Korastead, he saw that his lips were swollen and his 
 eyes bloodshot with the heavy labor of that awful day. 
 
 He had crunched through the broken ice of the river 
 below the bridge and reached the silent snow of the pathway 
 to the farm, when the door opened and two men came out 
 of the house. " The Sheriff and the Pastor," he thought. 
 He drew rein and they did not hear him, but when they 
 had taken the path to the Parsonage, the dogs inside began 
 to bark. 
 
 The palpitation of his heart was almost choking him, and 
 it would have taken little to make him turn about and fly. 
 How long he stood there — whether five minutes or ten — 
 he never rightly knew. A hundred thoughts, more wild than 
 the whirling snow, were tossing within his brain. But think- 
 ing at length that Almighty God who had brought him 
 through the perils of that fearful day — defeating the designs 
 of the devil and of the elements, and driving him before His 
 mighty will as before a greater hurricane — could not have 
 led him there at last to any end save a good one, he urged 
 his horse to the foot of the steps and raised his whip to 
 the window.
 
 848 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Magnus Stephenson had indeed lost his religion. For 
 fifteen years he had believed with all the strength of his soul 
 that everybody in this life was treated according to his de- 
 serts ; that if you did right you were rewarded sooner or later, 
 and if you did wrong you were punished. But experience of 
 the world had little by little, and year by year, inflicted upon 
 his profound faith in the rule of conscience the most inex- 
 plicable contradictions. The man who lived a good life was 
 not being rewarded, and the man who lived an evil one was 
 not being punished. What, then, was there left to believe? 
 That there was no God in the universe at all, or that if there 
 were a God He did nothing ! 
 
 Magnus Stephenson had tried to do what was right. He 
 had taken up the burdens which others laid down and he had 
 struggled on with a strong heart. For fifteen years he had 
 labored like a slave, and though his arrears of debt constantly 
 accumulated, he had never allowed himself to believe that 
 the end was coming on. The mortgage was monstrous, the 
 interest was exorbitant, and the Bank would come to see 
 that more than he got out of the land and stock it was im- 
 possible for man to make! 
 
 But the deed of execution had been served on him at 
 length, the advertisements of the sale had been published, and 
 the two preliminary auctions had been held. Then, as if in a 
 moment, the man's religion had disappeared and his soul had 
 sent up that sublime if blasphemous cry, which since the 
 beginning of the world has borne to heaven the lamentation 
 and protest of humanity against the misery of man: "I 
 have obeyed Your laws; I have lived a good life; I have 
 assisted the poor and helped the oppressed; I have shared 
 my bread with the orphan and protected the widow — what 
 have You done for me ? " 
 
 In the grim silence which follows that ghastly question, it 
 is more than a man's religion that disappears, and Magnus 
 Stephenson's belief in right and wrong, his faith in justice, 
 in conscience, and in virtue had gone down together, leaving 
 nothing but the fierce convulsions of his animal nature.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 349 
 
 From the moment the Sheriff arrived to make the inventory- 
 he had done little but sit in the hall and drink. He sat 
 there all day long, with his coarse snow-stockings over his 
 boots, his sullen face to the stove, his hands deep in his 
 trouser pockets, his broad forehead heavily wrinkled under 
 the rough stubble of his iron-grey hair, his massive jaw rest- 
 ing on his breast, and his mighty loins making the chair 
 creak as he moved and turned. 
 
 At intei-vals during the day his mother tried to comfort 
 him. 
 
 " Don't be too downhearted, Magnus," said Anna. " The 
 stars shine when it is dark, you know." 
 
 " Isn't it dark enough yet ? " said Magnus, and he laughed 
 bitterly and drank again. 
 
 At intervals Elin came to him also. She was a tall girl 
 now, nearly sixteen years of age, with a whisper of woman- 
 hood in her face and form, but coming in her short blue skirt 
 and buckled shoes she would slide into a seat on Magnus's 
 knee and, slipping one arm about his neck, put the other 
 hand on his hot forehead, and try to soothe him in her 
 motherly little way. 
 
 But " There, there ! That will do. Go to your grand- 
 mother. I'm tired," he would say. 
 
 Early in the day he had been tormented by thoughts of the 
 travelers who might come from a distance to stay over-night 
 in order to be present at the auction, and in his mind's eye he 
 saw the Inn-farm full of them, with their indifferent talk and 
 heartless laughter, and himself in his impotent rage itching 
 with a desire to fling them into the road. But when the 
 storm broke his fears on that head were appeased, and while 
 the wind and snow wailed and wept about the house he sat 
 for hours alone in a gloomy and tragic peace. 
 
 Besides the Sheriff, the only person who visited the house 
 that day was the Pastor, and he came as late as ten at night 
 to take the Sheriff back to lodge with him. By that time all 
 that was left of the broken household had gathered in the 
 hall, where Magnus still sat before the stove, while the 
 Sheriff, with Anna and Elin, stood by the dresser making an 
 end of the inventory. 
 
 " Ugh ! What a night ! " said the Pastor, stamping the
 
 350 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 snow off his stockings. " You're not likely to be brought out 
 of bed by travelers on a night like this — that's some consola- 
 tion, isn't it ? " 
 
 He was a garrulous old man, with a shallow heart and a 
 shallow head, who chewed the cud of his humdrum livelihood 
 with content on his stipend of fifty pounds a year. 
 
 " So this is to be your last night in the old home, Anna ! 
 What a pity ! Well," tapping his snuff-box, " naked came I 
 out of my mother's womb, and naked shall I return thither! 
 Blessed be the name of the Lord !" 
 
 Magnus moved his chair impatiently and made con- 
 temptuous noises in his throat. 
 
 " I've known the old house through all its days of joy and 
 sorrow for forty-five years, Anna. Ever since your poor 
 father that's dead — I buried him myself, God rest his 
 soul ! " 
 
 " God rest his soul," said Anna. 
 
 " Ever since the day he gave you away as a bride. And a 
 nervous, blushing, tender-hearted little bride you were, 
 too!" 
 
 Again Magnus shuffled in his chair and made noises in 
 his throat. 
 
 " I remember it so well because it was the same year that 
 your father's big bam was burnt down, and his cousin Jorg'cn 
 was found dead in the Chasm. What a sensation that made ! 
 What inquiries! What examining witnesses! Your prede- 
 cessor had something on his hands in those days, Sheriff." 
 
 The Sheriff muttered some commonplace and Magnus 
 kicked at the smouldering wood in the stove. 
 
 " Suspicion actually fell upon your father, you remember, 
 and because he had been drinking and was such an ungovern- 
 able man when he was drunk " 
 
 " Oh, for the Lord's sake let's have done with this," cried 
 Magnus. 
 
 " Magnus Stephenson," protested the Pastor, " if we are in 
 trouble let us behave like God's rational creatures " 
 
 " Rational hell ! " growled Magnus, whereupon the Sheriff, 
 to avoid further friction, closed his book with a bang, saying 
 he had finished and was ready to go. 
 
 Magnus sat quiet while the Sheriff — a sharp-featured man
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 351 
 
 with the eyes of a ferret — put on his snow-shoes and cloak, 
 and then with a tremor in his voice and a somber fire in his 
 eyes he turned and said: 
 
 " Is it all over, sir? " 
 
 "Yes; it was a long job, but it's over at last," said the 
 Sheriff. 
 
 " I mean," said Magnus, " is it certain that the auction 
 must take place ? " 
 
 " Quite certain. There has never been any doubt of it that 
 I know of." 
 
 " Look here, sir," said Magnus, heaving up to his feet. " A 
 Sheriff can do a good deal if he cares to use his influence. 
 Give me another chance, and you shall have everything I owe. 
 I've had five bad years in succession — no wonder I fell into 
 arrears. Last spring I lost forty lambs in a single night, and 
 next morning two heifers and a calf. The floods came in the 
 autumn, too. And half my hay was swept into the lake. But 
 weather like that can't last forever. We are sure to have a 
 run of good years next. Give me four years more, sir — and 
 you shall see what I can do." 
 
 " The thing is past praying for," said the Sheriff. 
 
 "Don't say that, sir. Listen! My people have farmed 
 this place for a hundred and fifty years, and a man doesn't 
 like to be the one to lose it. My o\vn flesh and blood are in 
 the land too — the strength of my muscles and the sweat of 
 my brow. Give me three years more, sir — just three." 
 
 " Impossible ! " said the Sheriff. 
 
 " Sheriff, come this way," said Magnus, drawing the man 
 aside by the arm and speaking in a low voice, so that the 
 women might not hear. " I don't care a straw about myself — 
 I'll get along somehow, and if I don't it doesn't matter — but 
 there's the child. She ought to inherit the farm, and she's an 
 orphan, but she'll get nothing. Give me a chance for the 
 child's sake. Sheriff. Don't be hard on me. Sell up half my 
 stock to pay part of the interest and let me have two years 
 more — only two." 
 
 " You know quite well that the mortgage is on the loose 
 property as well as the land," said the Sheriff. " How can I 
 sap away the security? As for the girl, she's young and 
 strong; let her go into service."
 
 352 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Magnus bit his lip in an effort to control himself, and then 
 he said, " You are quite right, sir; the girl and I can take care 
 of ourselves, but there's the old mother. She was born in this 
 house and she expected to die here. I shouldn't so much 
 mind if she were gone, and to tell you the truth she's not well 
 now, sir. Give me one more year, Sheriff — one single year." 
 
 " It's no use wasting words," said the Sheriff. " Matters 
 have gone too far. The only thing I can do now is " 
 
 "What, sir?" 
 
 " If you can pay me the whole of the interest before 
 nine o'clock to-morrow morning I can stop the sale on my 
 own responsibility." 
 
 " Eight thousand crowns ! " said Magnus, raising his voice 
 to a cry of derision ; " you ask me to find you eight thousand 
 crowns before nine o'clock to-morrow morning? You might 
 as well ask me to 'find you the moon ! " 
 
 " Then let us say no more on the subject. The Bank has 
 been very patient, very indulgent " 
 
 " The Bank ! " cried Magnus, in the wild defiance of his 
 despair. "Has the Bank got a mother? Has the Bank got 
 a child? No! The Bank is a great, grinding monster with- 
 out bowels of compassion for anybody. God damn the Bank 
 and all its fools and flunkeys ! " 
 
 " Magnus Stephenson," said the Pastor, raising his little 
 fat hand, " I will ask you to remember that a clergyman is in 
 your company, and if you take God's name in vain " 
 
 " Take God's name in vain ! You do that often enough — 
 you do it every Sunday." 
 
 " I'll not pretend to misunderstand you, Magnus Stephen- 
 son, for I know you are deeply tainted with skepticism, 
 and since you ceased to come to church " 
 
 " Church ! You pray to God in your churches, and what 
 does He do for you ? What does He do for any one ? What 
 has He done for me ? " 
 
 " If your life had been straight and pure God would have 
 watched over .you." 
 
 " And hasn't it ? Haven't I tried to do what was right ? 
 And yet God is seeing me sold up and turned out, and my 
 dear ones left to die in a ditch." 
 
 "God chastises His own, and if we only have faith in 
 Him-- — "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 353 
 
 "Faith in Him? Where is He? Is He in the North- 
 lands ? I have never heard of it. Is He in the Southlands ? 
 I've never seen Him here, though I've seen the devil often 
 enough. He's in the clouds if He's anywhere, and that's no 
 use to me." 
 
 " Magnus Stephenson " 
 
 "If God is on the earth let Him do something. Here's 
 His chance. You call the poor His people, don't you? 
 Well, I've fed and sheltered His people for fifteen years, 
 and novp I want feeding and sheltering myself. I want eight 
 thousand crowns before nine o'clock to-morrow morning, and 
 if God can do anything in the world let him find me the 
 money and save my mother and my child from starvation. 
 But He can't do it ! He can do nothing ! " 
 
 " Magnus Stephenson," said the little clergyman, raising 
 his little fat hand again, " when you come to stand before the 
 great white throne God will have something to forgive you." 
 
 " Pastor Peter, when I come to stand before the great 
 white throne I shall have something to forgive God, it seems 
 to me." 
 
 " Blasphemy ! Blasphemy ! " cried the Pastor, and as he 
 followed the Sheriff out of the house Magnus sent a ringing 
 laugh of contempt after him into the darkness of the night. 
 At the same moment two sheep-dogs that had been lying at 
 the door with their snouts on their paws, as if anxious to join 
 the uproar, began to growl and bark, whereupon Magnus (who 
 had always been a lover of animals) kicked them savagely 
 and then reeled back to his seat by the stove. 
 
 The strangers being gone and the little family alone, Elin, 
 "who had been standing by the dresser, went over to Magnus 
 and slid into her seat on his knee and said : 
 
 " You must not think about me, Uncle Magnus. Wherever 
 you have to go I will go too, and what is good enough for you 
 is good enough for Elin. And then, who knows what may 
 happen before the Sheriff comes back in the morning ? This 
 is New Year's Eve, you know. All good things come at New 
 Year — miracles come at New Year, Uncle." 
 
 But the sweet buoyancy of her girlish spirits, which had 
 been the sunshine of his life for so many years, was failing 
 him at last, and putting her aside with petulant expressions 
 he got up and went out to the back.
 
 354 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Then Anna, who had been sitting in silence by the table, 
 took the Bible and four hymn-books from the corner cup- 
 board and rang the bell for prayers. 
 
 *' I wonder why I did that ? " she said. " I forgot that Eric 
 was gone. I hope he found shelter somewhere, poor boy — I 
 should pity a dog that had to be out of doors on a night like 
 this." 
 
 And then Elin, in default of Magnus, read the lesson which 
 Anna had marked for her. It was the psalm beginning," The 
 Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want." And when the short 
 chapter was finished the two women stood up and sang a 
 hymn — Elin in the silvery treble of youth and Anna in the 
 husky tones of age, they two only in the lonely house among 
 the solitary hills, with nothing about them but the darkness 
 and the snow — nothing but that and the immeasurable wings 
 of God. 
 
 " Happy the man whose tender care 
 
 Relieves the poor distressed ; 
 
 When he by trouble's compassed round 
 
 The Lord will give him rest." 
 
 Anna sat down when the hymn was ended, but Elin con- 
 tinued to stand by the table, and closing her eyes with her 
 innocent face uplifted, she said a little prayer for herself. 
 
 " O Father," she said, " bless Uncle Magnus, so that he 
 may fear no evil. Show me how to help him, so that I may 
 not be a burden and a care. Dear Jesus, send the miracle 
 that will save Uncle Magnus and grandma and me. It will 
 be such a little thing to you, but such a great, great thing to 
 us, and we shall all be so happy and dwell in the house of the 
 Lord forever. For Christ's sake. Amen." 
 
 Then she opened her trustful eyes and said, " I'm sure He 
 will, grandma," and kissing Anna she said "Good night" in 
 a cheery voice and went off to bed. 
 
 Prayers being over, Magnus returned to the hall and began 
 to rake out the stove for the night. The clouds hung heavier 
 on him than ever, and thinking to banish them Anna talked 
 of Elin. 
 
 " She grows more and more like her mother, and sometimes 
 I think it can only be a di-eam that our dear Thora is dead.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 355 
 
 If you had heard her praying for the miracle it would have 
 filled your heart brimful. She has gone to bed quite certain 
 that the miracle will come before morning." 
 
 " It would have to be a miracle to help us now, mother," 
 said Magnus. " And miracles don't happen — except such of 
 them as we make for ourselves." 
 
 " What do you mean by that, Magnus ? " said Anna, light- 
 ing the candles. 
 
 " I mean — if I had to live my life over again, I shouldn't 
 try to do what is right, mother." 
 
 " You wouldn't do what is wrong, would you ? " 
 
 " There is no wrong and no right, mother ; there is only 
 what is best, and if I had to begin over again, I should do 
 what was best — best for myself and for the people about me.'* 
 
 " You don't know what you are saying, Magnus. There 
 are moments when it might seem to be best to rob, even to 
 kill " 
 
 "And why not?" said Magnus — ^he was bolting the door. 
 " If a man came to this house to-night with eight thousand 
 crowns in his pocket, do you think I should hesitate to take 
 them?" 
 
 " My son, you don't mean it." 
 
 "I do!" 
 
 " You are driven to despair, Magnus, and a despairing 
 man's words belong to the wind. If I thought you meant it 
 I should die — I should die this very minute." 
 
 She was crying and there was silence for a moment, and 
 then Magnus said: 
 
 " Never mind, mother. It doesn't matter whether I meant 
 it or not, the temptation isn't likely to come to me. Give me 
 the candle and let us go to bed." 
 
 " You have borne a terrible burden, Magnus, and if I could 
 only have helped you to bear it " 
 
 " You have, mother. If it had not been for you and Elin 
 I should have gone under ten years ago." 
 
 " Your father knew he had robbed you of your inheritance, 
 and perhaps that helped to kill him in the end." 
 
 " It wasn't fathers fault altogether. He tried to do what 
 was right, too. But the poor wretch who comes after the 
 prodigal gleans in a barren field, you know."
 
 350 THE PEODIGAL SOW 
 
 With their candles in hand they were turning- to go — Anna 
 to the badstofa above, and Magnus to the guest-room off the 
 hall — when the dogs, who had risen again, and were snuffling 
 at the bottom of the door, began to growl and bark. 
 
 '' There's somebody coming," said Magnus. 
 
 A moment later there was a sharp knock at the window, as 
 •with a metal end of a riding-whip, and a tremulous, high- 
 pitched voice outside, making the customary Icelandic sal- 
 utation, " God be with you ! " 
 
 They looked at each other in blank sui*prise, while back- 
 ward thoughts galloped through their minds, and then 
 Magnus, forgetting to give the customary reply, walked back 
 to the door, and threw it open. 
 
 There was a dull thud of heavy feet on the outside steps, 
 and at the nest moment a man stood on the thi-eshold. He 
 seemed to be an old man, for his eyebrows, beard, and 
 mustache, and as much as could be seen of his hair under 
 the peaked hood of his ulster, were white with snow. One 
 moment he stood there as if breathless after his journey, 
 looking" from Magnus to the mother, and from the mother 
 to Magnus. Then he said, in the same tremulous voice as 
 before : 
 
 " Can I have a bed here to-night, and shelter for my 
 horse ? " 
 
 It seemed to Anna that he spoke to her, but instead of 
 answering immediately, she looked across at Magnus with 
 helpless eyes that were full of inexpressible fears. Magnus 
 looked back at his mother and hesitated for an instant, while 
 he held the door open with his hand. Then: 
 
 " Come in, sir," he said, and the stranger stepped int« 
 the house.
 
 PART VIl 
 
 The hall no question makes of ayes and noes^ 
 But right or left, as strikes the player goes ; 
 And lie who tossed you down into the field. 
 He knows about it all — He knows — HE knows.'" 
 
 " The little mare is hot — she'll want a rub down and a rest 
 before you give her a feed." 
 
 " I'll see to that, sir," said Magnus, and he went out and 
 pulled the door after him. 
 
 Christian Christiansson had taken two paces into the hall, 
 and was standing there like a man who is dazed. His heart 
 was thumping against his ribs, and his pulse was beating 
 violently, and he felt that he would fall if he took another 
 step forward. So often had he pictured himself in that place 
 that he could not at first believe in the reality. Coming out 
 of the darkness, the light of the candles dazzled him, but he 
 looked round the room, trying to remember. At one glance 
 he took in everything — the old portraits on the wall, the old 
 Bornholme clock in the comer, the stove and the armchair 
 in front of it — and, fresh from the warm comfort of Govern- 
 ment House, the Inn-farm seemed bare and bleak. This sent 
 a chill pang of remorse to his mind, and the pain of con- 
 science increased when he looked at his mother. 
 
 Her hair was white that had once been dark, and her face, 
 which had been full of the loveliness of love and the beauty of 
 happiness, was scored deep with lines of suffering. His heart 
 yearned over her, and notwithstanding his determination not 
 to reveal his identity until morning, it was as much as he 
 could do to restrain himself from saying as well as he could 
 for the emotion that was mastering him, " Mother, don't you 
 
 357
 
 35S THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 know me? I am Oscar," and then throwing his arms about 
 her dear neck as he had always meant to do. 
 
 Meantime Anna, who had recovered her self-control and 
 was lighting the lamp that swung from the ceiling, glanced 
 across at the new-comer and thought, " lie's nearly frozen 
 stiff, and no wonder." With that thought she bustled about 
 to rekindle the stove, and called on him to remove his snow- 
 covered clothing. 
 
 "Won't you take off your cloak and boots, sir?" she said, 
 and though the question was so commonplace he could not 
 answer immediately, for his voice would not come. 
 
 " Your cloak and boots, sir, and I'll put them to dry by 
 the stove." 
 
 " Ah yes, of course, certainly." 
 
 She stood by him while he threw off his ulster and shook 
 the snow from his hair and beard, emerging a younger and 
 stronger man, but she only thought, " A stranger, I suppose. 
 Why does he travel in this weather ? " 
 
 When he had pulled off his riding-boots, she brought him 
 a pair of Magnus's slipi^ers and said: 
 
 " You must have had a terrible ride, sir." 
 
 " It was pretty bad certainly," he said, and after that he 
 got on better. 
 
 " A gentleman must have been anxious to get on with hia 
 journey to travel on a day like this." 
 
 " I was — I had something to do at the end of it." 
 
 "Have you come far, sir? " 
 
 " Altogether ? Yes, very far." 
 
 "From Reykjavik perhaps?" 
 
 " Farther than that — from England." 
 
 « From England ! " 
 
 " From lx)ndon." 
 
 As he stooped to put on the slippers ho thought his mother 
 was looking at him, and he trembled between fear and hope 
 of being recognized. 
 
 " I suppose," he said — his head was down — " I suppose 
 you've never been as far as that, landlady ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Nor any of your family? " 
 
 He could not resist the temptation to say this, but hia
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 359 
 
 mother did not seem to hear him — she was on her knees, 
 breaking sticks into the stove. 
 
 " Sit up and warm yourself, sir. My son raked out the fire, 
 but these sticks will bum presently. You are here on busi- 
 ness, I suppose? " 
 
 " Yes, I'm here on business." 
 
 Anna thought of the auction and waited for the stranger to 
 speak of it. When he did not do so she said, " Travelers 
 come from England to buy sheep and ponies, but they don't 
 often come in the winter, sir." 
 
 Still he did not speak (he was thinking of Elin and looking 
 round for any trace of her), and rising from the stove Anna 
 said: 
 
 " But you'll be hungry after your long ride — what can I 
 give you to eat ? " 
 
 " Anything at all — anything you have ready." 
 
 " I'm afraid I have nothing ready — that is to say, nothing 
 that is good enough for the like of you, sir." 
 
 As soon as he could find his voice after that he said, " Don't 
 you always keep smoked mutton in an Iceland house? " 
 
 " Well, yes, if that will do, sir." 
 
 " I should like it above all things." 
 
 There was a moment's silence, and he thought his mother 
 was looking at him again. " Then perhaps you are an Ice- 
 lander ? " she said. 
 
 " Yes, I'm an Icelander," he answered. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 Another wild impulse to reveal himself immediately to 
 his mother, nearly swept down his fears, for he was choking 
 with a sense of duplicity and his conscience was fighting in 
 contrary ways, but after a moment his prudence conquered, 
 and with a gulp in his throat he said : 
 
 " They call me Christian Christiansson." 
 
 " Well, it's lucky you found us up, sir. We were on the 
 point of going to bed." 
 
 " I suppose the other members of your family are gone 
 already ? " 
 
 " There's only one besides what you've seen — my grand- 
 daughter — and she had just gone oflF as you came in, sir." 
 
 He looked at her as she was crossing in front of him, and
 
 360 THE PRODIGAL SON" 
 
 saw that she was wearing the brooch which he had given her 
 when he came back from Oxford. That sent all the blood 
 to his head again, and he was saying, before he was aware 
 of it— 
 
 "Do you know, landlady, I've slept in this house before?" 
 
 " It must have been a long time ago then — I don't remem- 
 ber you." 
 
 " It iva^ a long time ago. That," pointing to the portrait 
 of Anna on the wall, " that is a portrait of yourself, isn't it ? " 
 
 " It used to be, but I was younger when it was like me, sir." 
 
 A sudden softening came into his voice as he replied, " It 
 was exactly like you when I saw" you last, landlady." 
 
 " Then you've not been here for ten years at least, sir." 
 
 " Quite ten years," he answered. " And that," pointing to 
 the portrait of the Governor, " is a portrait of your husband." 
 
 " It must be more than ten years since you were here, sir, 
 for my husband is more than twelve years in his grave." 
 
 " It is more than ten years. In fact it is sixteen years — 
 nearly sixteen." 
 
 She looked fixedly at him for a moment and something in 
 her memory seemed to stir, for her bosom heaved perceptibly, 
 but she only said, with a deep sigh, " We've seen trouble since 
 you traveled in these parts before, sir." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I've heard of it — I heard of it in Reykjavik. 
 You had a son " 
 
 " That was my son who opened the door to you," 
 
 " But you had another son — a younger son." 
 
 " Yes, but — we never talk of him now, sir." 
 
 " Who's portrait is that in your brooch, landlady ? " 
 
 " It's his— he is dead." 
 
 "Died in disgrace, didn't he?" 
 
 " Who knows that, sir ? Man sees the deed, they say, but 
 God the circumstance." 
 
 " They think hard things of him in Reykjavik, though. 
 They say he robbed his father of every penny when he went 
 away, and never sent anything home toward the maintenance 
 of his child." 
 
 " It needs no skill to wound the defenceless," said Anna, 
 bridling up. " The father robbed himself to save his son, if 
 you want to know the truth, and as for never sending any-
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 361 
 
 thing home for the child the poor boy had nothing to send, 
 for he was poor himself, sir." 
 
 " So you found that out, did you ? " 
 
 " After he was dead we did — one of his father's English 
 friends wrote to tell us so. And all the time he had been 
 writing letters to me to say how busy he was and how well he 
 was succeeding — ^just to keep up my heart and save me frorq 
 fretting." 
 
 The mother's lingering fondness for her prodigal was rising 
 in her eyes and breaking in her voice and she was trying to 
 turn away, but he could not let her go. 
 
 " What a pity his father didn't live long enough to hear 
 that ! It would have softened his heart toward him, perhaps." 
 
 " It didn't need softening, sir — not at the end at all events." 
 
 " His father forgave him, did he? " 
 
 " He died thinking his son had become a great man and 
 had justified all his hopes and atoned for everything. It was 
 only a delusion, sir, but it made him very happy." 
 
 " Your son was a musician, wasn't he ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and from the time he was a child he used to 
 scribble things and call them his compositions. The pieces 
 of paper always disappeared and I never knew what had 
 become of them, but when his father was lying dead I found 
 out where they were." 
 
 " And where were they ? " 
 
 " In his poor father's hands." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had gone on and on, while the hot 
 blood throbbed in his brain, struggling between the desire to 
 reveal himself and the fear of doing so, but he was drawn up 
 at last by a stifling sense of his own unworthiness, and before 
 he knew what he was doing he said : 
 
 " The man who could do wrong to a father who loved him 
 like that must have been a scoundrel — a bad-hearted scoun- 
 drel, and he deserved everything that happened to him.'' 
 
 " He was nothing of the kind, sir," said Anna. " He may 
 have done wrong — I'm not defending him — but a better- 
 hearted boy was never born into the world. Everybody loved 
 him, and he loved everybody, and as for me " 
 
 Christian Christiansson recovered himself at the sound of 
 Anna's faltering words. "God bless her!" he thought, and 
 24
 
 382 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 iis heart danced to a new song, but he only said, with a per- 
 ceptible lowering of his voice, " I beg yonr pardon ! Naturally 
 his mother cannot think so, but this is the first time I've 
 heard a good word for him since I came to Iceland." 
 
 " I hadn't meant to speak of him at all, sir. I never do 
 when my other son is near — Hush! He is coming back." 
 
 But the noise which they heard behind them was that of 
 the opening and closing of a bedroom not a kitchen door, 
 and it was followed by the light footstep of a girl, whereupon 
 Anna said : 
 
 " Elin ! I thought you were in bed and asleep, my child." 
 
 " I was, but I awoke and heard you had a visitor, so I got 
 up to help, grandma." 
 
 Christian Christiansson trembled from head to foot. The 
 silvery voice at his back seemed to come to him from across 
 a wide abyss — for it was a familiar voice but vague as with 
 the mist of dreams and dim as with the clouds of night. 
 
 " This is my granddaughter, sir," said Anna. And then 
 Christian Christiansson turned and saw her — a young girl as 
 tall as a woman, with fair complexion, a soft smiling face, 
 and beautiful blue eyes. She wore a laced bodice, a turned- 
 down collar, a hufa, a tassel, plaited hair, and looked like 
 the living picture of what her mother had been when he came 
 from college. 
 
 It was his daughter, his little Elin, whom he had traveled 
 so far to see, but it seemed to him as if all the cruel years 
 had rolled back in a moment, and it was Thora returned to 
 life. 
 
 n 
 
 " Well, now that you are here, you had better lay the 
 table," said Anna. 
 
 " Yes, grandma," said the girl. 
 
 " Put on the smoked mutton and the Rullapilsa and the 
 Rikling, while I go to the elt-house to make coflFee." 
 
 " Yes, grandma." 
 
 " Make yourself at home. Christian Christiansson — m;^ 
 granddaughter will wait on you." 
 
 " I will," he tried to say, but his voice would scarcely come.
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 363 
 
 Anna being gone, lie sat for some moments looking at Elin 
 while she tripped from dresser to table, and in and out of 
 the pantry, spreading the cloth, and laying the plates and the 
 food. The girl was so simjjle, so natural, so free from self- 
 consciousness, that she seemed to be hardly aware of his 
 presence, for she hummed to herself softly as if some song- 
 bird in her breast could not be kept quite still. His heart 
 swelled and throbbed as his eyes followed her about, and when 
 she left the room the light seemed to fail in it, and when she 
 came back the air seemed to become warm. In the dizzy 
 happiness of that hour he felt as if he had lost a daughter in 
 every one of the fifteen years he had lived without her, and 
 now that she was near, so close, his hands burned and itched 
 to hold her. He wanted to take her in his arms and say, " My 
 child ! My child ! Doesn't something tell you who I am ? I 
 am your father, and I have wanted you so much and thought 
 of you so often, and now I have come to fetch you and we 
 shall never be parted again ! " But between fear of frighten- 
 ing her and dread of disclosing himself, all he could do was 
 to conquer the fluttering in his throat and say : 
 
 " Your name is Elin, isn't it ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the girl. 
 
 " What a beautiful name it is, too — Eleen ! Your father 
 chose it, didn't he ? " 
 
 " I have never heard that, sir. Did grandmother say so ? " 
 
 " Grandmother and I," he stammered, " have been talking 
 of your father. You don't remember him ? " 
 
 " Oh no, sir — he died when I was quite little." 
 
 " What a loss that must have been to you, my cliild ! " 
 
 " I can't say that, sir," said the girl, " because, you see, 
 tJncle Magnus has been the same as a father to me all my 
 life, and I have never known any difference." 
 
 " What a loss to your father himself then 1 How happy you 
 <<pould have made him, and how proud he would have been 
 ^f you!" 
 
 " I can't say that either," said the girl again, " because he 
 lived five years after I was born, and it seems he never took 
 •any notice of me." 
 
 " Did grandmother tell you so ? " 
 
 " Oh no, sir. Indeed no ! Nor Uncle Magnus neither.
 
 364 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 But evei-ybody knows all about my father, and even the girls 
 at school knew that." 
 
 A feeling of mortal shame came over him, and the warm 
 pulsing place in his breast grew still and cold. 
 
 " So you are not sorry your father is dead, Elin? " 
 
 " It wouldn't be right to say that, sir." 
 
 " At all events you feel no love for him ? " 
 
 " I never knew him — you can't love somebody you never 
 knew, can you ? Perhaps if he had lived longer and returned 
 home I might have come to love him. But I don't see how 
 I could if what people say about him is true." 
 
 " What do they say, my child? " 
 
 " They say he was unkind to my mother, and that that was 
 one of the reasons why she died so early." 
 
 " Then you never wish you could have seen and known 
 your father ? " 
 
 " How can I ? If he wasn't good to my poor mother, why 
 should I think he would have been good to me? But see, 
 your supper is ready. Grandma will bring the coffee pres- 
 ently; won't yoli begin with the meat, sir?" 
 
 He sat down to the table but his hunger was gone. For a 
 moment he almost wished himself back in the black night 
 from which he had come. The girl's simple words had been 
 ringing the death-knell of his expectations. He had left her 
 all these years to the keeping and care of others — could he 
 expect to come back now and find the affection he had for- 
 feited? Ah no! He had come too late — too late! But just 
 as one part of the plan he had formed for himself was becom- 
 ing vague and shadowy a gleam of new light was shot into 
 his brain, and his heart rose with a bound. 
 
 " Didn't grandma call you Christian Christiansson ? " asked 
 the girl. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " Ever hear that name before, my 
 child?" 
 
 The girl turned to him with a face glowing with excite- 
 ment and said, " Everybody in Iceland has heard it, sir. It is 
 the same as the name of the great composer who lives in 
 England." 
 
 A deafening tumult of joy was rising within him, and ho 
 said, " So you — you have heard of him, have you? "
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX 365 
 
 " I sing his songs, sir. They are beautiful ! I think they 
 are the most beautiful songs in the world. Would you like 
 me to sing one of them while you eat your supper ? " 
 
 "Will you?" 
 
 " I should like to," she said, and before he could catch the 
 breath which had been suspended she had slipped off like a 
 shaft of moonlight and was back like a ray of the sun, bring- 
 ing a guitar in her hands. 
 
 " This was my mother's guitar, and now it's mine, and it's 
 such a good one," she said, and with the utter freedom from 
 self-consciousness which is the charm of children she sat and 
 began to play. After a moment she stopped, with her head 
 aside, and said : 
 
 " Which should it be, I wonder ? But perhaps you know 
 them all and would like me to sing something in particular ? " 
 
 His face was down, the waves of emotion were surging 
 through and through him. " Sing — sing anything you like, 
 my darling," he replied. 
 
 The fluttered earnestness of his words startled her for a 
 moment, but she only smiled with a new sweetness and began 
 to sing, first in low, clear half-tones, and then in a high, 
 tremulous treble that was like the peal of a lark at the gate 
 of heaven. 
 
 Christian Christiansson could not eat; he could only rest 
 his elbows on the table and cover his face with his hand. 
 His own child was singing his own song to him in a voice 
 that was like her mother's voice and like his own voice too ! 
 
 When the song was done she turned to him again with eyes 
 shining with unshed tears and said, " Isn't that beautiful? " 
 
 " It was beautifully sung, my child, beautifully ! " he said. 
 And then, after a moment, " Elin, would you like to hear 
 something of the man who wrote that song and how he came 
 to write it ? " 
 
 Elin's eagerness was heart-breaking. "Indeed, indeed I 
 should," she said. " Do you know your namesake then? " 
 
 " I have known him all his life, my child." 
 
 " Tell me about him. Oh, do tell me. One who has such 
 beautiful thoughts and feelings must be so good and noble." 
 
 " He is neither the one nor the other, Elin, but only a poor 
 wayward sinner like ourselves. In early life he did wrong by
 
 366 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 his young wife and she died. Then he did wrong by his 
 father and he had to fly from his country. After that he 
 went through many sufferings and was guilty of many sins, 
 but he came to himself at the end, and then he remembered a 
 little daughter whom he had left behind him. He wished to 
 return to her immediately, and be a father to her at last, and 
 make it up to her for all that he had done amiss to her 
 mother who was dead. But there were many things to do 
 first, for he was like one who was buried under an avalanche 
 which he had brought down on himself, and he had to work 
 his way back to life and the world. So when he was far away 
 and his heart was hungry for the love of his little girl, and he 
 didn't know what was happening to her, and he wanted so 
 much — oh so much — to go to her, but could not do so yet 
 because he had sinned and must pay his penalty, he wrote 
 that song, and it was the cry of his soul to the mother in 
 heaven to comfort and care for their child on earth." 
 
 As Elin listened to the story of Christian Christiansson the 
 tears which had been standing in her eyes rolled dowm her 
 cheeks, and her bosom under her laced bodice slowly rose and 
 as slowly fell again. 
 
 " How beautiful ! " she said. And seeing how much she 
 was moved by the sorrows of the man who was not her father, 
 the new light came to him and he asked himself why, if she 
 could not care for him in his true character, she should not 
 love him as Christian Christiansson. 
 
 There was a shadowy ghost of pain in that thought too, but 
 he put it aside. After years of hope and heavy labor he had 
 come home to claim his child, and what he had dreaded had 
 come to pass — her heart had been poisoned against him. But 
 while she loathed him as Oscar Stephenson she loved him as 
 Christian Christiansson! Oh, beautiful, blind, pathetic fal- 
 lacy, could he not let it be? 
 
 In a tumult of heart and brain that was like a whirlpool in 
 a dark river, he had risen to go to the girl, hardly knowing 
 what he was to do or say, when Anna came back with a smok- 
 ing coffee-pot in her hand, saying in a cheery voice: 
 
 " Here it is at last ! The fire had gone out in the elt-house, 
 and I had work enough to kindle it." 
 
 And then, having both in the room at one moment — his
 
 THE PRODIGAL SOX 367 
 
 mother and his daughter — his feelings almost mastered him 
 again, and he had as much as he could do to keep himself 
 from blurting out everj'thing and so being done with further 
 torture. But just as the words of his confession were trem- 
 bling on his lips he thought, "Not to-night; to-morrow 
 morning; and then what joy, what happiness! " 
 
 Almost at the same moment Magnus returned to the house 
 and said, " The little mare was nearly done, sir, but I've 
 rubbed her down and given her hay, and she shall have a mash 
 before I go to bed." 
 
 " Let us have a bottle of brandy first," said Christian 
 Christiansson, and a few minutes later Elin was carrying 
 away the dishes to wash them, Anna was going into Mag- 
 nus's bedroom to make it ready for the guest, and the two 
 brothers were sitting at opposite sides of the table with the 
 bottle between them. 
 
 UL 
 
 They were less like each other now than ever before — the 
 elder with his matted, black beard, his strong features, and 
 the vertical lines in his low brow under the upright stubble 
 of his iron-grey hair; the younger with his luminous brown 
 eyes and delicate face, his full round forehead, and his thin, 
 silken, light hair brushed backward to the crown. 
 
 Christian Christiansson was quivering to the core at this 
 first encounter with the brother whom he had wronged and 
 ruined, but he tried to bear himself bravely and to see how 
 safe it would be to reveal his identity when the time came 
 to do so. 
 
 " It's good of you to give up your room to me," he began. 
 
 " That's nothing — nothing at all," said Magnus. 
 
 " And perhaps you ought to know why I'm here to-night.'* 
 
 " Please yourself, sir — please yourself." 
 
 " To tell you the truth, then, I'm here to attend the auction 
 to-morrow morning. I only heard of it in Eeykjavik yester- 
 day, having arrived by the ' Laura ' the day before." 
 
 " So that was the business that brought you, sir? " 
 
 " It was. I've been abroad for fifteen years, and I've made
 
 368 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Bome money, and now I've come home to invest it. So know- 
 ing this was a good farm " 
 
 " None better in Iceland, sir, if it only had a chance, and 
 if you can afford to buy it out and out " 
 
 " I think I can — I've money enough in my pocket at this 
 moment to buy the place to-morrow and leave some for some- 
 thing else. I'm sorry for you, though, and if it's painfiil to 
 you to hear me talk like this " 
 
 Magnus, who had been rolling in his chair like a man whose 
 mind as well as his body was uneasy, began to laugh im- 
 moderately. " Not at all, sir ! Not at all ! " he said, filling 
 his glass. " It's pleasant to hear of anybody having more 
 money than he wants. For my part, I've never had enough 
 to pay my debts, sir. For sixteen years I've been ploughing 
 the waves and now," raising his glass and draining it, " I'm 
 reaping the breakers, b them ! " 
 
 Christian Christiansson trembled to his very heart at the 
 sound of Magnus's laughter — the bitter laughter of rebellion 
 and despair — but he tried to cover up his fear and to carry 
 it off with a cheery tone. 
 
 " Don't be too depressed," he said. " Nobody knows what 
 the future has in store for him. It's a pretty dark night 
 outside, but all the same the sun will rise to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Besides, there's always a sunny side to misfortune if 
 we'll only allow ourselves to see it. Life is sweet, my friend, 
 whatever happens." 
 
 "You think it is, sir?" 
 
 " I know it is, so why should we sit down on our little 
 handful of thorns ? " 
 
 " Because some of us have nothing else to sit upon," said 
 Magnus, and he laughed again — the same cold, quaking 
 laughter. 
 
 Christian Christiansson shuddered, but struggled on. 
 " You think you've failed, but I know some that have 
 succeeded who would be glad to change places with you 
 any minute. They've got their gold or their fame or both 
 pouring down on them like an avalanche, and nothing to do 
 with it, nobody to share it with — so it is only so much Dead 
 Sea fruit being piled on their backs. You are not like that. 
 Even if you have to lose your laud, you've got your health.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON" 3G5 
 
 and a good character and a clean conscience, and your dear 
 ones left to you, haven't you? " 
 
 " That's why ! " said Magnus. " You don't suppose I'm 
 thinking of myself, do you? It's just because I've got my 
 dear ones left to me that this accursed ill-luck is so hard to 
 bear. What's it to me to have my houses full of lambs, if 
 the floods have come and they are floating on the lake? 
 You talk like a man who has never known misfortune, sir." 
 
 Christian Christiansson felt dizzy. " Perhaps I haven't — 
 perhaps I have," he said in a faint voice, " but I've known 
 despair, and I know that no man can live by that. We can 
 only live by hope — not what is, but what is to be — and if we 
 cannot believe, when the clouds are dark, that the world is 
 ruled in righteousness " 
 
 " And is it? " said Magnus. " Doee the bad man suffer in 
 this world ? Do his sheep die of the rot and his cattle tumble 
 over the rocks, or do they increase faster than anybody else's ? 
 No, sir," he said, turning away in his seat, " if you're a rascal 
 ready to rob your own father, the chances are you'll prosper 
 in this world, but if you're an honest man trying to do good 
 to everybody, as likely as not you'll do no good to yourself 
 or to anybody about you." 
 
 The dizziness which had seized Christian Christiansson was 
 increasing every moment, but he said : 
 
 " The world has its own way of punishing offenders, and 
 even if they escape in life, death is always waiting for 
 them " 
 
 " Death ? " said Magnus, swinging round in his creaking 
 chair. " Death is a blind, blundering monster who strikes 
 down the young and leaves the old, the happy and leaves the 
 miserable, the innocent and leaves the guilty, the poor help- 
 less betrayed one and leaves the betrayer! We have all seen 
 that, haven't we? I have, I know that much." 
 
 The heat and flame of Magnus's husky voice had fallen to 
 a thick whisper that was like a broken sob. Christian Chris- 
 tiansson dared not raise his face, but he tried to say: 
 
 " God brings out all things well in the end. I have always 
 found it so. The march of the world may be enveloped in 
 darkness, but it tends toward justice in the long run." 
 
 " What is the long run to me, sir ? " said Magnus. " I'm
 
 370 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 only here for a few years and I want justice now. I want to 
 see the bad man punished in the present, not in some future 
 generation. Justice, you say ! The sins of the fathers visited 
 on the children — that's the only justice I see in this world. 
 A poor child left penniless because her father gambled or 
 drank the money he didn't make — do you call that justice, 
 sir? I don't!" 
 
 Magnus's thick voice was breaking again, and there was 
 silence for a little while. 
 
 "No, no, sir! Don't tell me we get our deserts in this 
 world — any of us — good or bad. Life gives the lie to that 
 old story — always has, always will do. If you are a cheat or 
 a profligate, or a prodigal, you may live in luxury and travel 
 as far as the sun, but if you are a poor devil staying at home 
 and working your fingers to the bone you'll get thrown out 
 into the road. But what's the good of talking? The evil 
 day is coming. Let it come ! " 
 
 Never before had Christian Christiansson felt so little and 
 so mean. The sources of pride were dry in him and he was 
 broug'ht very low in his own esteem. In the presence of the 
 brother who had borne his burdens and broken down under 
 them he saw himself as an abject and pitiful thing. He could 
 not raise his head, for he felt as if his shame were written on 
 his forehead, but he struggled to say something, and the only 
 words that came to him seemed to scorch his tongue and 
 parch his throat. 
 
 " I can not dispute with you," he said. " You've suffered 
 more than I have, and no doubt your present troubles are the 
 legacy that was left to you by the prodigal brother your 
 mother was talking about." 
 
 Magnus's manner changed instantly at the mention of his 
 mother. " She was talking about him again, was she ? " he 
 said. 
 
 " Does she often talk of him then ? " 
 
 " Too often, and she seems to think of nothing else. He 
 was the foundation she built her house upon, poor soul, and 
 it fell, but she holds to him all the same." 
 
 " God bless her ! " said Christian Christiansson involun- 
 tarily. " God bless all women, I say. They're always on the 
 Bide of the sinners and the sufferers. They'll get their com-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 371 
 
 pensation somewhere — they must," — he was thinking of to- 
 morrow morning. 
 
 " I see no sign of it in this case," said Magnus. " She was 
 the best mother to him a man ever had, and he knew it, but 
 he repaid her with neglect and contempt." 
 
 "Contempt?" 
 
 " What else would you call it ? He lived five years abroad 
 and wrote to her only once in all that time. Yet every night 
 she used to stand outside the door until the post passed, 
 winter and summer, dry or fine, waiting for the letter that 
 never came." 
 
 Christian Christiansson felt as if his very soul were shriv- 
 eling up with shame. 
 
 " She forgave him for that, though, and when he died — you 
 know how he died, everybody knows it — she thought that all 
 he had been trying to do when he fell into that foul dis- 
 honor was to get money enough to come back home and make 
 amends." 
 
 " She thought that, did she? " 
 
 " She still thinks it." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had a sense of hysterical oppres- 
 sion at his heart. Again he wanted to tell all, and he dared 
 not. "But if it had been true," he said — " I don't say it was, 
 but if it had been — if your brother had really been trying 
 for years to make money solely in order to wipe out the debts 
 he had left behind him — if he had come home wath the for- 
 tune in his hands " 
 
 Magnus's dark face darkened ominously, and bringing his 
 great fist down on to the table he said, " There would have 
 been a curse on every coin of it, and I should have flung it 
 in his face." 
 
 Christian Christiansson did not ask him why. He knew 
 too well what Magnus meant. In an instant, by such a flash 
 of the lightning of the mind as must come to the guilty soul 
 on the Day of Judgment, the past of his life lay open before 
 him, and the most awful fact of it stood out with naked vivid- 
 ness — the desecration of his wife's grave. 
 
 It was impossible to plead that this had been only the act 
 of a moment; that he had repented it a thousand times with 
 bitter tears ; that he had derived no profit or advantage from
 
 372 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 it, and had endured for ten years its fearful penalty in the 
 death of his identity. Again and again he had soothed him- 
 self with such excuses, but he could not cheat his conscience 
 now. Why was he Christian Christiansson ? How had it 
 come to pass that he had two hundred thousand crowns in 
 his pocket and that his works were knowTi all over the 
 world ? 
 
 All the miserable sophistry and false reasoning which had 
 made him what he was, the owner of fame and fortune, had 
 been riddled through and through by Magnus's terrible words. 
 All the mocking vanity which had lured him onward to that 
 hour with promises of the great surprise, the great denoue- 
 ment, when he should say, " See, I am here; I have justified 
 all expectations," lay stark and dead and cold. 
 
 No, he could not reveal himself to his family to-morrow 
 morning. He could not reveal himself at all. Having once 
 become Christian Christiansson, he could never again be 
 known as Oscar Stephenson. Thus did the dead punish him, 
 and the desecration of his wife's grave had but rendered the 
 vow he made to himself perpetual and registered the oath he 
 made to her in heaven. 
 
 Christian Christiansson was feeling as if all the world had 
 gone away from him when Anna came out of the guest-room, 
 saying : 
 
 " There, sir ! Your room is ready and you can go to bed 
 at any time." 
 
 Magnus got up to go to the elt-house to mix the mash for 
 the pony, and then mother and son were together again. 
 
 IV 
 
 In the confusion of that heart-quelling moment he was 
 asking himself how he could carry out his plan of rescuing 
 his family from their misfortunes if he could not tell them 
 who he was, and how he could claim his daughter and take 
 her away with him, if he could not say, " I am her father, 
 she is mine," when chance and a commonplace word — those 
 twin sisters of invention and wisdom — showed him what he 
 was to do.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 373 
 
 " I shall want to be awakened early in the morning, land- 
 lady, for I suppose the Sheriff will come soon." 
 
 "The Sheriff, sir?" 
 
 " I've just been telling your son that I intend to bid for 
 your farm at the auction to-morrow morning." 
 
 " So that was what you had to do at the end of your 
 journey ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was what I had to do, landlady." 
 
 She looked at him for a moment, and then asked, "What 
 can a gentleman like you want with a farm like this? " 
 
 lie did not reply, so she said, " You can not think of living 
 in such a lonesome place as Thingvellir." 
 
 Still he did not speak, and she said again, " You might let 
 the farm certainly, but it is hungry land, I assure you, and 
 everything depends on how you work it." 
 
 She busied herself about the table as if trying to find 
 something to do. " My son," she said, " is the only one who 
 has ever been able to work it properly, and if he has got into 
 difficulties at last it wasn't his fault, for there isn't a man in 
 Iceland who would have been able to keep his head above 
 water." 
 
 She waited for him to say something, but he gave no sign. 
 " His difficulties are not so very serious, either. Eight thou- 
 sand crowns arrears of interest — that is all, in sixteen years, 
 sir." 
 
 Again she waited, but he was still silent. " When the 
 Sheriff went off this evening, he said if my son could find the 
 money before nine o'clock to-morrow morning, he wouldn't go 
 on with the auction." 
 
 Christian Christiansson had rested his head on his hand 
 and seemed to be listening intently. 
 
 " If my son could only find somebody to lend him the 
 money " 
 
 There was a ring of appeal in her voice which startled 
 herself, for she stopped, and looking nervously round at the 
 stranger, said : 
 
 " I'm sure he would never regret it, sir. Magnus would 
 work his fingers to the bone to repay every penny. He has 
 always been a boy like that, and with better seasons and a 
 little luck "
 
 374 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 It was then that the new scheme came to Christian 
 Christiansson and he covered his face with his hand to think 
 of it, whereupon Anna, mistaking the meaning of the altered 
 gesture, faltered and began again. 
 
 " I'm taking a great liberty, sir, but I'm not thinking of 
 myself — I'm thinking of my son. In one sense I'm to blame 
 for all that has happened to him. He doesn't know it and I 
 daren't tell him, but I am." 
 
 Christian Christiansson looked up at her. 
 
 " It was all my fault that his father took the mortgage." 
 
 " Your fault ? " 
 
 " Yes, sii-. My husband loved the poor boy who is gone, 
 but he was the Governor of Iceland and every eye was on him 
 to see that he kept his own house in order, and but for me he 
 might have let the law take its course. I pleaded and prayed 
 with him, thinking that we ourselves would be the ones to 
 suffer. But I only ruined one son in trying to save the other 
 — and I didn't save him." 
 
 Christian Christiansson dropped his head, for the waters 
 of bitterness were falling over him in a flood, and Anna, 
 thinking she had touched him, went on more eagerly : 
 
 " Then there's the girl, sir, my granddaughter. You've 
 seen her yourself, and you'll say she doesn't look like a ser- 
 vant, but if the auction comes off she'll have to go out to 
 service. They treat girls shamefully in some farmhouses, 
 and my son can not bear the thought of it. Neither can I, 
 for I can't help thinking of her father. Whatever else he 
 may have been he was a gentleman, and to think of his 
 daughter being a drudge to somebody " 
 
 Anna's voice was faltering again, but after a moment she 
 went on bravely. 
 
 " As for myself, I'm an old woman, and a little misfortune 
 more or less doesn't matter to me now. My time is short in 
 any case, and I shall be glad to go when I'm called. Most of 
 my loved ones are gone already — my son and my grand- 
 daughter are all that are left — and if I could feel that I was 
 leaving them happy and comfortable " 
 
 Christian Christiansson could bear no more. " Land- 
 lady," he said, '^ I had set my heart on buying the farm — ■ 
 t had a particular reason for wishing to buy it — but instead
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 375 
 
 of doing so I'll lend your son the money to pay the in- 
 terest." 
 
 Anna's eyes opened wide in astonishment, and now that 
 her prayer was answered her breath seemed to be suspended. 
 "You will, sir?" she said. 
 
 " I will, on one condition." 
 
 " Oh, never mind the condition, let me go and tell him." 
 
 "My condition is that you give me the girl to adopt as 
 my daughter." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "I'm a lonely person, too, though I'm not so old as you 
 are, and when I'm in England I haven't wife or child or 
 mother or brother to share my life with me. The girl's sweet 
 face would be a great comfort to me there, and I'm ready to 
 pay this interest if you are willing to let her go." 
 
 The light had died out of Anna's eyes — her head was 
 down, 
 
 " I should give you every guarantee that she would be 
 taken care of. I am rich, as men of my class go, and she 
 should want for nothing." 
 
 " But I didn't think your condition would be like that, 
 sir," said Anna. 
 
 " Why not ? Are you thinking of the girl or of yourself, 
 landlady?" 
 
 " I am thinking of my son. No man was ever so wrapped 
 up in a child. He has had her nearly all her life, and he is 
 very, very fond of her. When she was little and the snow 
 was deep as it is to-day he used to take her to school on his 
 shoulder, and at night when she was sleepy he would carry 
 her in his arms to bed. If she were his own he could not 
 love her more dearly. It is like fatherhood to him, and he 
 will never be a father now, because " 
 
 Anna hesitated as if trying to say something which she 
 was afraid to say, and then through her gathering tears she 
 blurted out her secret. 
 
 " To tell you the truth, sir, he cared for her mother, but 
 gave her up to somebody else and she died, and from that 
 day forward all the best years of his life were wasted in a 
 cruel longing for something to love. Then the child came, 
 and it was almost as if the mother herself had sent her little
 
 376 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 one to comfort him. She could not love him, for she loved 
 the other one to the last, but the child might, and she has — 
 God bless her, she has ! " 
 
 Christian Christiansson was wrung to the heart, but he 
 struggled on, " So you think he could not part with the girl 
 even for her own welfare and happiness ? " 
 
 "I don't say that, sir; and perhaps if it were put to him 
 properly -" 
 
 " Put it yourself, landlady." 
 
 " I daren't ! He might suppose that I was thinking of 
 myself." 
 
 "And if he did, would that be such a serious matter? 
 Can it be nothing to him that his mother will be saved from 
 being homeless if no harm is to come to the girl? And no 
 harm shall come to her — you may take my word for that." 
 
 Anna thought for a moment and then she said, " You 
 would tell us where she is to go, and what she is to do, and 
 how she is to be brought up ? '* 
 
 " Indeed I would." 
 
 " She might write to us constantly and come to see us 
 sometimes, perhaps ? " 
 
 " Certainly she might." 
 
 " After all, it would just be like going into service." 
 
 " Just." 
 
 " Only she would be a lady, not a servant ? " 
 
 " Only that." 
 
 " You would be good to her ? Something tells me you 
 would. And you would, wouldn't you ? " 
 
 " I should be as good to the girl as if — as if I were her 
 own father," said Christian Christiansson. 
 
 Anna dried her eyes and said : 
 
 " I don't know what to say, sir — I really don't know what 
 to say to you." 
 
 " Say nothing to me — speak to your son, landlady." 
 
 " You will lend him the money to pay the interest im- 
 mediately ? " 
 
 " Immediately." 
 
 " Eight thousand crowns — you can find it all by nine 
 O*clock to-morrow morning?" 
 
 " See," said Christian Christiansson, taking the pocket*
 
 THE Puodiual son 377 
 
 book out of his breast-pocket, " there's enough in this purse 
 to pay the interest twenty times over. And I'll not lend the 
 money to your son — I'll give it to him if he will give me the 
 girl instead." 
 
 " He will be sorry to part with her, but after all it will be 
 one mouth less to feed, and when I'm gone that will be 
 another, and then perhaps, having no burdens and no em- 
 barrassments " 
 
 " Speak to him — he's here," said Christian Christiansson, 
 and just at that moment Magnus returned to the hall carry- 
 ing a wooden bowl of smoking bran. 
 
 Then in a low and trembling tone, hardly daring to raise 
 her eyes to his face, Anna told her son of the stranger's offer, 
 dwelling chiefly on the advantages to himself when Elin 
 would be provided for, and she herself would be under the 
 earth, and he, no longer crippled by grinding debt, would be 
 able to pay his way and win back his lost inheritance. But 
 as she went on her voice faltered, and her words became 
 confused, for he was looking down at her with a lowering 
 brow, and at last she stopped altogether, saying: 
 
 " I didn't mean any harm, Magnus. I only thought " 
 
 " You thought I could sacrifice Elin to save myself, 
 mother," said Magnus, and at that hard word Anna sank into 
 a chair and sobbed. 
 
 Then Magnus turned to Christian Christiansson and said, 
 ** I'm much obliged for your offer, sir, but my niece is not 
 for sale." 
 
 With that he was passing out of the house, when Chris- 
 tian Christiansson, who was quivering from head to foot, 
 cried, " Wait ! " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "You have decided for yourself fast enough — have you 
 thought of anybody else ? " 
 
 " Who else is there to think about ? " 
 
 " Your mother for one. If you refuse my offer and the 
 house is sold over your heads to-morrow morning, what is to 
 become of her ? " 
 
 Magnus flushed as if an invisible hand had smitten him 
 across the face. 
 
 " What is to become of the girl, too — have you thought of 
 25
 
 378 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 that? Have you a right to send her into service — to be a 
 drudge to somebody ? " 
 
 Magnus was shuddering visibly — even the bowl was trem- 
 bling in his hands. 
 
 " No doubt you are fond of the girl and ha 'e been good to 
 her, but if she were jovi own daughter sLie would be a 
 separate being, and in a case like this you would have no 
 right to speak for her." 
 
 " Then she shall speak for herself," said Magnus, and 
 putting the smoking bowl on the table he crossed to the inner 
 door and cried in an agitated voice, " Elin ! Elin ! Elin ! " 
 
 In a moment the girl came running into the room with a 
 look of alarm, saying, " What is it ? Has anything hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " Listen ! " said Magnus, and Christian Christiansson 
 could see that though his voice shook as if his soul were 
 shaken he was trying to speak calmly. " This gentleman," 
 he said, " has told your grandmother that he wishes to adopt 
 you as a daughter, and he offers to pay my debts if I am 
 "willing to let you go." 
 
 " Uncle ! " cried the girl. 
 
 " I have told him you shall speak for yourself, and so you 
 shall, and whatever you decide to do your grandmother and 
 I will agree to." 
 
 "But, Uncle!" 
 
 " Don't speak yet, my child. It is only fair that you should 
 liear evei-ything. Elin, I am a broken man and I have no 
 longer a home to offer you. After the auction to-morrow 
 morning I don't know what is to become of grandmother 
 and you and me, or where we are to go or what roof is to 
 cover us. But this gentleman is rich, and he promises to 
 provide for you all your life, and to give you all you need and 
 everything you could wish for. If you stay with me you 
 may suffer privations, but if you go to him you will never 
 know a poor day again as long as you live." 
 
 His deep voice had all it could do to support itself, but he 
 tore up to the end, and then Anna, whose eyes were filling as 
 fast as she could wipe them, said : 
 
 "Isn't it wonderful, Elin? Isn't it like a miracle? Like 
 an answer to your prayer, my child, just when we were so
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 379 
 
 low and downliearted ? The gentleman will satisfy us that 
 you are going to a good Christian home and that you will be 
 properly brought up and cared for." 
 
 And then Christian Christiansson himself, though he could 
 scarcely speak for the contending emotions that shook him to 
 the soul, stepped forward and said: 
 
 " Let me tell you who I am, Elin. We spoke of Christian 
 Christiansson the composer, and you sang his song to me and 
 said you would like to hear something about him. I am 
 Christian Christiansson." 
 
 The girl made a little involuntary cry, and his voice fal- 
 tered for a moment. 
 
 " Yes, I am he, and the story I told you was the story of 
 my own unhappy life, only — I have lost my daughter since I 
 wrote that song, and now I am quite alone. Will you not 
 come and take her place, my child? You shall be just the 
 same to me as my own daughter, and you shall never know 
 the difference. You will return with me to England and live 
 my life, and whatever I do you shall do, and wherever I go 
 you shall go also," 
 
 " Think of that, Elin ! " said Anna. " You love music — 
 you take after your poor father that way — and you will travel 
 about just as your dear mother used to do! " 
 
 " It would be beautiful ! " said Elin. 
 
 She had been standing all this time by the table with one 
 hand resting lightly upon it, while her sweet face reflected the 
 changing lights of alarm and pain and surprise and joy. 
 
 " I can't think of anything in the world I should love so 
 much, but — I can not, I must not." 
 
 " Elin ! " 
 
 " Grandma, didn't you tell me yourself when I came here 
 long ago, and you put me to bed the first time, that I was 
 never to leave Uncle Magnus, and if anybody ever came to 
 take me away I was not to go? I was a little mite, but I gave 
 you my word, I remember, and I am going to keep it." 
 
 " But I was thinking of somebody else then, Elin. I 
 couldn't know that this gentleman would come — at a time 
 like this, too " 
 
 " But that makes no difference, grandma. Besides, if I 
 were to go to this gentleman and he were to treat me as if I
 
 380 THE PEODIGAL SON 
 
 were his own daughter, I should have to think of him as if 
 he were my own father. Would you like that, grandma? 
 And would Uncle Magnus like it ? " 
 
 " We should sacrifice ourselves, honey, we should sacrifice 
 ourselves that you might be well off and happy." 
 
 " But I don't want to be well off if you and Uncle Magnus 
 are going to be poor. And I shouldn't be happy at all — I 
 should be miserable." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Oh, dear ! " moaned Anna, unable to say more. 
 And then the girl turned with a smile to Christian Chris- 
 tiansson, who was throbbing with pride and pain, and she 
 said: 
 
 " It is very, very good of you, sir, and there isn't another 
 girl in the world who wouldn't be glad to go; but I can't, 
 you must see yourself I can't — I must stay with my uncle. 
 Grandma is going to do so, and why shouldn't I ? " 
 
 "He would be better without either of us, Elin," said 
 Anna. 
 
 " Don't say that, grandma." 
 
 " I do say it, my child, and if you only knew how cruel 
 the world is " 
 
 " But God isn't, and He will not separate us now after we 
 have been together so long. You said so yourself, you know, 
 when I talked of going into service. You said He would 
 find another way, and He will — I'm sure He will." 
 
 It wrung Anna's heart to have her own teaching coming 
 back to reproach her, yet thinking of Magnus she made one 
 more effort. " But don't you see, dear, that if you stay with 
 Uncle Magnus he will lose the land, whereas if you go with 
 this gentleman he will be able to keep it ? " 
 
 Then the innocent young face which had been so full of 
 beautiful trust in the greatness and the goodness of God to 
 triumph over all perils and privations clouded over for one 
 moment, and she said, " Do you want me to go, grandma ? 
 And does Uncle Magnus want it ? " 
 
 Neither of them answered her, and she looked from one to 
 the other — Anna brushing her eyes with the back of her 
 wrinkled hand, and Magnus standing motionless with a white 
 face broken up like the melting snow — and then the cruel 
 swelliug in the girl's heart subsided and her eyes shone like 
 the sun.
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 381 
 
 "I know you don't," she answered herself. "You are only 
 thinking about me." 
 
 And then the brave little soul tossed up her head with a 
 proud look and said, " As for the land — if it comes to losing 
 that or losing me, I know what Uncle Magnus will say. He 
 will say — I hnow he will — * Let me keep my little Elin and 
 the land — the land may go! ' " 
 
 " And so I do, my darling," cried Magnus, and he opened 
 his great arms to her, and she ran into them and was gathered 
 to his breast. 
 
 At the next moment Anna had joined them and Magnus 
 had put his arms around both, and it was just as if they had 
 conquered a great temptation — as if some dark shadow which 
 had threatened to separate them had passed away — for they 
 were clinging together and crying like children. 
 
 Christian Christiansson stood aside for a moment and 
 looked on at their happiness, feeling himself without part or 
 lot in it, and then, fearing that he might cry out and betray 
 himself or break down altogether, he turned away and fled 
 into the guest-room. 
 
 He threw himself face downward on the bed, and the 
 waters of Marah went over and over him. Sight of the hap- 
 piness he had lost the right to claim was the hardest 
 experience that had yet come to him, and he wept bitterly. 
 " My child ! My dear, dear child ! " he had wanted to cry, but 
 those were words of proud endearment which he might never 
 use except in the voiceless chambers of his empty heart. 
 
 But this mood lasted only for a few moments, and then a 
 fierce and almost savage jealousy took possession of him, and 
 he dried his eyes and sat up in contempt of his own weak- 
 ness. What right had any one to rob him of his child? 
 Elin was flesh of his flesh, and no man should take her away. 
 Even the law would recognize his right to his own offspring. 
 He had merely to say to the Sheriff, " She is mine," and the 
 Sheriff would have no choice but to deliver her up to him. 
 
 Then calmer moments came, and he saw that he could
 
 382 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 only assert his legal rig'lit to his daughter by disclosing his 
 identity, and that was out of the question. And even if it 
 were possible to carry his daughter away by force, it would 
 be a poor triumph to take her body if he could not also take 
 her soul. Every man wished his children to love him, and 
 unless Elin could love her father, what was the good of 
 claiming' her? 
 
 He opened his eyes to calm the deafening tumult of his 
 conflicting thoughts, and saw a little faded photograph in a 
 stand on a table that stood beside the bed. It was an old 
 photograph of Thora, and he remembered it immediately, for 
 it was the same that in the better time belonged to Aunt 
 Margret and stood on the drawers beside her door. He took 
 it up in his shaking hand and held the candle to look at it, 
 and then, in a moment, by that magic the Almighty knows, 
 he was back with Thora in the birth-room at Government 
 House, and she was saying, in the tremulous joy of her young 
 motherhood, " Kiss me, Oscar ! Put your arms about both 
 of us, dearest ! That way — so ! " 
 
 Something of the tenderness of Thora's sweet heart re- 
 turned to him with that haunting memory, and along with it 
 came a new and thrilling thought. If Elin belonged to him 
 by right of Nature, then Nature herself would speak for him. 
 He had only to say to her, "I am your father; you are my 
 daughter," and she would come to him — she could not help 
 herself — because Nature is a mighty thing and none of us 
 can resist the mysterious call that comes to our blood from 
 the blood that gave us birth ! 
 
 He would do so ; he would find the girl alone and speak to 
 her; he would whisper the secret of his life in the ear of his 
 own child, and then the marvelous Mother of us all would 
 do the rest. 
 
 When he returned to the hall, Elin was shaking out the 
 cloth and removing the last of the supper things — all except 
 the bottle and glasses, which she left on the table. " It must 
 be now," he thought, and though his heart quailed at coming 
 to this last throw in the game he had played for life and 
 love, he put his fortune to the test. 
 
 " It was very brave of you, my child," he said, " to choose 
 poverty when you might have chosen wealth. But you did
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 383 
 
 well, for wealth is only of this world's making-, and the angel 
 that brings us happiness docs not ask us if we are poor or 
 rich." 
 
 His voice faltered when he came to what he had to say 
 next, but he rallied and went on : 
 
 " It was very sweet of you, too, to remain with your uncle 
 and your grandmother, instead of coming to a stranger, for 
 being of your own flesh and blood they have naturally the 
 first claim upon you. But if — if, instead of Christian Chris- 
 tiansson, I had been your own father, would you — would you 
 have come to me then ? " 
 
 Elin did not answer him immediately, and he looked stead- 
 fastly into her face, feeling that all hope of happiness for 
 the remainder of his life hung on her reply. 
 
 "Would you?" 
 
 The sweet young face looked troubled for a moment, and 
 then slowly — very slowly and sadly — Elin shook her head. 
 
 He felt like a man who had been sentenced to death, but 
 while his face clouded and fell, the girl's rose and became 
 beautifully calm. 
 
 " I don't see how that could make any difference," she said. 
 " I couldn't feel as if you were my father unless I had known 
 you as long as I could remember, and longer even than that. 
 What I call a father is one who has nursed you on his knee 
 when you were a little thing, and kissed you and coaxed you 
 when you were sick, and thought of you and cared for you 
 always, not one who has been away from you all your life, 
 who has never cared for you at all, and whom you wouldn't 
 know if you met him in the road." 
 
 " But don't you feel, dear, that there is something in the 
 relation of a child to her father, however he may have neg- 
 lected her — something intimate and sacred — something she 
 can never know in her relation to anybody else, however 
 much he may have done for her — don't you feel that, Elin ? '^ 
 
 Again the girl thought for a moment, and again she shook 
 iier head. 
 
 " But if I were to say to you, * My child, my dear, dear 
 child, I may have done nothing for you, but still I am your 
 father, and you are the only one who is left to me now, and I 
 want you to come to me and be my daughter, and we shall
 
 384 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 never be parted again ' — if I were to say that to you, would 
 you still hold to your uncle ? " 
 
 The tremulous fervor with which he spoke these imploring 
 words brought tears to the girl's eyes, but her heart stood firm 
 and strong. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I couldn't help it, because Uncle Magnus 
 has been my real father after all." 
 
 It was all over. His last hold of the girl was lost. Again 
 he felt as if the world had gone away from him, as if the 
 dark column of hope which had shown its bright face for a 
 moment had turned again, and now all was hopeless darkness- 
 He had thought Nature would speak to the girl, but it had 
 not spoken. Nature was a great, inexorable instrument in 
 the hand of God, and God's hand was on him. As he had 
 done, so he was heing done hy — as he had taken the love of 
 Thora from Magnus, so Magnus, after many years, had taken 
 the love of Elin from him. It was right, it was inevitable, 
 and he must bow his head in speechless submission before 
 the justice and the vengeance of God ! 
 
 He must leave the house as he had come to it, not only 
 without revealing himself to his mother and brother, but also 
 without his child. It would be the bitterest moment of his 
 life, but he must meet it and go on. 
 
 " You are quite right, my dear — quite right," he said. 
 *' A child's love is like a flower in the window — it cannot 
 grow without somebody to water it. Your uncle has done 
 eveiything for you, and he is entitled to all your affection. 
 It wouldn't be fair if 3'our father could come back, after all 
 these years, and take you away from him. Cling to him, 
 Elin, love him, and comfort him, and may God bless you for 
 your loyalty and trust ! " 
 
 He had tried to speak bravely, but his voice broke and he 
 stopped. After a moment he said calmly: 
 
 " Can you give me pen and ink and a sheet of writing- 
 paper? " 
 
 She brought them instantly, and he sat at the table and 
 wrote a line or two. Then he took out his pocket-book, 
 opened it, and put the paper inside of it, and closed it up 
 again. 
 
 " Elin, will you do me a great favor ? "
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 385 
 
 ** Oh yes, sir," said the girl. 
 
 " It is late, and I've had a long day, and I may not be 
 ■up when the auction begins in the morning — ^will you take 
 this pocket-book and give it to the Sheriff the moment he 
 arrives ? " 
 
 " With pleasure, sir." 
 
 " You will not open it or show it to anybody else, but you 
 will carry it to your room at once and put it under your 
 pillow, and to-morrow morning you will be up early and give 
 it to the Sheriff before he begins the sale — will you do this 
 for me, my dear ? " 
 
 " Indeed I will, sir." 
 
 " Thank you ! And now you must go to bed. Good-by, 
 my child ! " 
 
 "But I'll see you in the morning, sir?" 
 
 " Who can say ? We may both have other things to think 
 about by that time, so we had better say good-by to each 
 other now." 
 
 " But am I not to see you again ? " 
 
 " Who can say that either ! I have come a long way, you 
 know, and now I may have to go — " he hesitated, and then 
 turning away he said, " I may have to go still farther." 
 
 " You have been so kind to me, sir — I am sorry I can not 
 go with you." 
 
 " Ah, God forbid ! — I mean, you can not — I see you can 
 not! But if you could have done so I should have been 
 so fond of you, and we should have been such good friends 
 together." 
 
 " I shall never forget you, sir." 
 
 " Nor I you. I shall always think of the brave little girl 
 I met once — only once — and then could see no more." 
 
 " You are only a stranger to me, sir, but — but " 
 
 " Yes, I am only a stranger to you, my child, but we have 
 come together on the great ocean of life, and now — now we 
 must say good-by and part." 
 
 "Good-by, sir!" 
 
 " Good-by, little girl, and God bless you I " 
 
 The girl stepped to her bedroom door and then stopped 
 and turned and looked back at him. Her eyes were full — she 
 knew not why. Nature was saying something to her at last — 
 she knew not what.
 
 386 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 He was looking after her with all his hungry soul in his 
 quivering face, and when she turned he stretched out his 
 arms to her. 
 
 " Elin ! " he whispered, and she came back to him, and he 
 folded her to his heart and kissed her on the foi-ehead and on 
 the lips. Ah, sweet, soft, wai-m lips, he felt them to the 
 last! 
 
 A mist floated before his eyes; he heard footsteps going 
 away from him; he heard a door open and close, and then — 
 his child was gone. 
 
 Christian Christiansson was alone. He felt that he had 
 come to the lees of his life and saw nothing but a blank 
 where he might crawl to die. Could he go back to Reykjavik ? 
 That was impossible, for the Minister and his people would 
 be preparing their banquet in honor of his visit, and to go 
 through such rejoicing would be a scorching martyrdom at 
 which the devil himself would laugh. Could he return to 
 England and resume his old life as the unknown composer? 
 That was impossible also, for he could never write as he had 
 written before, because the old impulse was gone, the fire 
 was burnt out, the life that had inspired him was dead, and 
 because the foundations of his fame were broken up by the 
 new consciousness that he had no right to it, by the sense 
 that his career and all that had come of it had been built 
 on the desecration of his wife's grave, and by the certainty 
 that his success had been paid for as by the sweat of his 
 very soul. 
 
 What then was before him? Old age? What was old 
 age without friends, without children, without love, without 
 respect and with memorj' — that last joy of a man's declin- 
 ing days — like a poisoned river running through a wasted 
 land ? 
 
 Was there nothing before him then? Yes, there was one 
 thing — one only — and as he lay in that room alone with his 
 head over his hands on the table, he had the trembling, thrill- 
 ing, palpitating sense of supernatural wings hovering above 
 him, and of an awful voice that seemed to say, " The Wages 
 OF SiK IS Death ! "
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 387 
 
 At that moment he became aware of other voices — more 
 human and homely voices — murmuring about him, and one 
 of them said, " He has fallen asleep, poor gentleman," and 
 another, " lie has drunk too much, perhaps." Then a hand 
 touched him on the shoulder and somebody cried in his ear : 
 
 "Hadn't you better go to bed, sir?" 
 
 It was his mother, with Magnus behind her, and looking at 
 both he could see that they supposed he was intoxicated. In 
 the wild laboring of heart and brain, it suited him that they 
 should continue to think so, and indeed the strain of nerve 
 had been so hard that when he rose to his feet he staggered 
 like a drunken man. 
 
 " Heigho ! What's this ? " he laughed. " Your brennie-vin 
 must be pretty heady, landlady. But no matter ! It will be 
 a good nightcap and make me sleep the sounder. I'm tired, 
 very tired, but I'm going to have a long sleep at last — a long, 
 long sleep at last." 
 
 " But to-morrow will be New Year's Day," said Anna. 
 " The bells ring at daybreak, and the Sheriff will be here 
 soon after, so you'll have to be stirring early if you want to 
 be ready for the auction." 
 
 " Why, so I shall — I had forgotten all about it — and since 
 we can not agree about the girl I must buy the farm what- 
 ever happens. I told you I wanted it for a particular 
 purpose, but I didn't say what it was. It's my secret, land- 
 lady, but I don't mind telling you. I want it for my 
 mother." 
 
 " Your mother ? " 
 
 " That's so ! She was born in these parts, and the poor old 
 thing would like to end her days here." 
 
 " So she tells you to buy up my farmstead?" 
 
 " Not she ! She doesn't know anything about it. That's 
 t^ be my surprise. I've not been a good son, but when I 
 go away never to come back again I want to feel that the 
 dear old soul is happy and comfortable and has a roof to 
 cover her." 
 
 He laughed, with the same sense as before of an hysterical 
 oppression of the heart, and then turned to Magnus and 
 said : 
 
 " Sorry to buy your house over your head, but business
 
 3SS THE PRODIGAL SOX 
 
 is business, you know, and anybody is at liberty to bid who 
 has money to pay." 
 
 Magnus moved aside with a contemptuous expression. 
 
 " Don't look so glum, my man. You think you've been 
 badly treated and perhaps you have, but you're the luckiest 
 m.an in Iceland if you ask me. You think because you've 
 done well you ought to be rewarded, but what right have poor 
 wretches like us to expect reward in this world? You think 
 because a man is rich he is to be envied, but what's the use 
 of having your pocket full if your heart is empty ? And you 
 think because Death kills the innocent and the happy it is 
 a cruel monster, but there are worse things than Death, and 
 Life is one of them when you've nobody to care whether you 
 live or die. Then cheer up, old fellow! You've got your 
 health and your good name, and your mother and that sweet 
 girl to love and to love you, so what the devil have you got 
 to complain of? Nothing at all!" 
 
 Saying this with a mixture of real emotion and its mock- 
 ing make-believe, a touch of the boy came back to him for a 
 moment and he put his arm across his brother's shoulder as 
 he used to do in the old days, but Magnus shuddered and 
 shrank away. 
 
 " Your candle is burning in the bedroom, sir," said Anna 
 coldly. 
 
 And then he saw that his mother also looked black at him, 
 as one who had come to turn them out of house and home, 
 and as one who had tried to tempt the girl away from them, 
 and as one who could laugh at their condition and have no 
 thought except for himself. And thinking that this was the 
 last he would see of her; that it was so different from the 
 parting he had expected ; that all hope of pardon and recon- 
 ciliation was lost; that his mother would never hear that 
 her lingering faith in her prodigal had been justified and 
 never know that he had been and gone, he had as much as 
 he could do not to break down and betray himself even at 
 the end. 
 
 But gathering up his clothes which had been drying by the 
 stove, he turned toward the bedroom, saying with another 
 laugh — a laugh that wont to Anna's heart like a sword: 
 
 " Don't look 60 downhearted, landlady. When things ara
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 389 
 
 at their worst they can't move without they mend. You've 
 had your troubles, but you shall drink my health under my 
 mother's roof-tree to-morrow morning. Good night ! " 
 And then he reeled into the guest-room. 
 
 VI 
 
 The stranger being gone, mother and son looked into each 
 other's faces. Then they spoken in whispers. 
 
 " Did you hear him ? " said Anna. 
 
 " About his mother's roof -tree ? " asked Magnus. 
 
 " About the auction — about everything. The man can 
 have no feeling — no pity." 
 
 " None." 
 
 " ' Business is business,' he said, when he talked of buying 
 the place over our heads. And when he spoke of his mother 
 ending her days here he never once thought of me." 
 
 " He never thought of Elin either. He would have taken 
 the girl away from us without a moment's hesitation." 
 
 " He would," said Anna. " * There's enough in this purse/ 
 he said, *to pay your interest twenty times over.' " 
 
 "Did he say that?" 
 
 "He did. He took his pocket-book out of his breast- 
 pocket and " 
 
 "His breast-pocket, you say?" 
 
 " Yes, * and I'll give the money to your son,' he said, ' if 
 he'll give me the girl instead.' " 
 
 Anna talked on in an innocent, helpless way without know- 
 ing what bad work she was doing, but suddenly, mysteriously, 
 at the mention of the purse a change passed over Magnus's 
 face and it grew ugly with evil passions. 
 
 " He must be rich," said Anna. 
 
 " Richer than anybody has a right to be," said Magnus. 
 
 " Surely God can not mean that anybody should be as rich 
 as that while other people are so poor." 
 
 " God ! " said Magnus, and his distorted face quivered. 
 
 " If he would only lend us enough to satisfy the Sheriff in 
 the morning ! " said Anna.
 
 390 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " What's the good of expecting a man to help us to keep 
 the farm when he has come to buy it for himself ? " 
 
 " It's hard, though, cruelly hard, to be turned out of house 
 and home by the first person who comes along with more 
 money." 
 
 " That's what I was thinking," said Magnus. 
 
 Down to this moment Anna had only been trying to sym- 
 pathize with Magnus's mood, but now something in his tone 
 m.ade her suspect that she had awakened a devil, and she 
 looked at him in terror. 
 
 He took up the bottle and drank ; he drank out of the neck ; 
 and there was a new devil in every drop. His eyes began to 
 gleam with a feverish luster, and Anna trembled. She re- 
 membered that Magnus had not taken any strong drink until 
 to-day since the day of Thora's funeral, and then she thought 
 of her father, and a sensation of extreme cold crept over 
 her, 
 
 " Let us not talk of it any more," she said, as she tried to 
 put the bottle away, but Magnus held on to it. 
 
 Mother and son looked at each other again, and then Anna 
 went over to the stranger's door and listened. 
 
 " Has he locked it ? " asked Magnus. 
 
 " 'No, I'm afraid — No, no, he has not." 
 
 "What is he doing?" 
 
 " The candle is out — he must be in bed already." 
 
 " Then," said Magnus, " he has thrown himself down with- 
 oat undressing and the pocket-book is on him still." 
 
 " Magnus, what are you thinking of ? " said Anna — her 
 teeth were chattering. 
 
 " Would it be so very wicked ? " 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " To take as much as would satisfy the Sheriff in the 
 morning ? " 
 
 " Magnus ! I didn't mean that." 
 
 " He would never miss it — never know it was gone — and it 
 would enable us to keep the farm and so save us from 
 starvation." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! What have I done ? " 
 
 " He's a prodigal himself, it seems. Very well, let prodigal 
 pay for prodigal."
 
 THE TRODIGAL SON 391 
 
 She could not breathe freely — she could only look at Mag- 
 nus in speechless surprise. He took up the bottle again and 
 gulped down the last of the liquor. 
 
 " He has drunk a good deal — he will sleep heavily — and he 
 won't awake until the auction is over." 
 
 " Let us go to bed," said Anna. 
 
 " Go yourself," he growled, for the furies that march in 
 the brain of the drunken man had mastered him. 
 
 " Magnus," said Anna, " if you will not go to bed I shall 
 stay up all night with you." 
 
 Then the devil that had changed Magnus into a cunning, 
 savage beast, showed him what he had to do. 
 
 " Very well, let us go to bed," he replied. 
 
 He bolted the outer door again and raked out the stove, 
 while his mother extinguished the lamp and re-lit the can- 
 dles. She thought the evil impulse that had come to him had 
 been conquered, and she talked of other matters. 
 
 " I've made up Eric's bed for you, and you'll find every- 
 thing comfortable," she said. 
 
 As she passed Elin's door she opened it gently and held her 
 head aside to listen. The sound of the soft and measured 
 breathing came out to them for a moment and then the door 
 was closed again. 
 
 " Poor child ! She would lay her head on her pillow full 
 of faith in the miracle that is to happen before to-morrow 
 morning. Of such is the kingdom of heaven ! " 
 
 They parted at the door of the badstof a, and a few minutes 
 afterward the little house lay silent and dark in the arms of 
 the hills and on the breast of the snow, but the wings of 
 Death hung over it. 
 
 Magnus did not go to bed. He threw himself on the eider- 
 down and went through a fierce fight with God as represented 
 by God's vicar, his conscience. A vision of the pocket-book 
 in the stranger's breast-pocket danced before his dark heart, 
 and he told himself that come what would he must take 
 enough of the stranger's money to pay the interest in the 
 morning. If he did not do so the man would buy the farm- 
 stead and Elin and his mother would be turned adrift.
 
 392 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 On tliis thought came compxinctions. To take the man's 
 money would be to steal, and Magnus had never stolen. But 
 faith being already gone, morality followed, and he wrestled 
 with his conscience and overcame it. What he was going to 
 do was what men did every day, only they called it business, 
 and they did it to wrong the right, whereas he would do it to 
 right the wrong. Magnus marshaled his reasons and justi- 
 fied himself. Here was a man so rich that he would not know 
 to-morrow morning that he had lost what was sufficient to 
 make his dear ones happy. That man was going to expose 
 them to poverty and destitution. Surely it was right, it was 
 necessary, it was his duty to prevent him. 
 
 In the mad tangle of his disordered brain he saw every- 
 thing that had happened that day in a sinister light, and it 
 seemed as if fate had thrown the man into his hands. He 
 might have gone to lodge at the Parsonage — he had come 
 there ! He might have concealed the purpose of his coming 
 ■ — he had revealed it ! He might have said nothing of the 
 pocket-book — he had shown it with childlike simplicity! 
 Surely this was the way out of his difficulties which Destiny 
 had marked out for him, and not to take it would be to cover 
 himself with self-reproaches when his dear ones came down 
 to want. 
 
 Having persuaded himself that he could not help but take 
 as much of the stranger's money as was necessary to pay the 
 interest, he began to ask why he should take so little. If the 
 pocket-book in the man's breast-pocket contained enough to 
 pay the interest twenty times over, why not take enough to 
 buy the farm out and out ? That would enable him to leave to 
 Elin the inheritance which he had lost through his brother's 
 extravagance and crime. This man was about to take it 
 away from her — he must not and he should not do so ! 
 
 Stage by stage he pushed back the bulwarks of conscience 
 until he came to ask himself why he should not take all. His 
 mind was clogged and numb by this time, but he knew well 
 what that meant. It meant taking the stranger's life. There 
 was at first an indescribable horror in the thoug'ht of killing a 
 human being, but after a moment it passed away. This man 
 alone stood between his dear ones and shelter — why shouldn't 
 he? This man threatened to take their lives by exposing
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 393 
 
 them to starvation — why shouldn't he take his life 
 instead ? 
 
 A momentary qualm came with the thought that he would 
 be attacking one who had trusted himself to the hospitality of 
 his house, a defenseless man in his sleep. But he thought 
 of the stranger's heartless laughter, his callousness to their 
 condition, and recalled what he had said of his mother, and 
 pictured her sitting there surrounded by every comfort while 
 his own mother, born in that place, was turned out to perish, 
 and then his gorge rose again and his heart knew no pity. 
 
 He began to ask himself how it could be done. It could 
 be done quite easily. Nobody except themselves had seen the 
 man ; nobody else would ever know that he had been to their 
 house. He could tell his mother and Elin that the stranger 
 had gone away in the early morning. They would believe 
 him, and even if they did not they would hold their tongues, 
 for his interest would be their interest, and all he would do 
 would be done for them. 
 
 A new and awful light illumined his gloomy mind, and he 
 saw himself doing everything. No other eye would see, no 
 other ear would hear. It was freezing hard to-night, and if ii 
 was found in the drowning pool when the ice melted the story 
 would be that the stranger had lost his way in the snowstorm 
 and stumbled over the rocks. 
 
 Having satisfied himself that he could defeat this world's 
 judgment, the tortured man in the toils of his temptation 
 began to think of the judgment of the next. But fear of that 
 vanished in a moment. Nothing was known in the other 
 world of what took place in this one, and God interfered but 
 little in the affairs of men ! 
 
 At the thought of God a singing noise came into his ears 
 like water in the ears of a drowning man. It was his con- 
 science going down after its last gasp, for he was telling him- 
 self that murder though it might be, and contrary to God's 
 law, God had done nothing for him, and therefore he was not 
 called upon to do anything for God. He had been a good 
 man all his life, yet God had left him in the lurch. God and 
 the world were letting his mother and Elin perish, therefore 
 he must fight the world — and God! 
 
 In the last convulsion of his human nature he remembered 
 26
 
 394 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 that once before the impulse to kill had come to him, and that 
 he had suffered the tortures of the damned whenever after- 
 ward he had thought of it. But that was different, that was 
 in the whirlwind of outraged passion, and if he had carried 
 out his threat it would have been the worst of crimes, the un- 
 pardonable sin, the sin against the Holy Ghost — a brother's 
 murder! A thousand times he had thanked God that Oscar 
 had not lived to come home, but how strange were the ways 
 of fate — another man, another heartless prodigal, had come 
 there, and if his dear ones were to be saved from starvation 
 and the consequences of Oscar's crimes, he knew what he 
 had to do ! 
 
 " Let prodigal pay for prodigal," he thought again, and 
 then he leaped up from the bed. 
 
 His brute nature, goaded on by the flattering devil of drink, 
 had conquered his conscience, yet his knees knocked together 
 as he went on tiptoe by his mother's room, and when he came 
 to Elin's door he could hardly breathe. Their pure souls 
 were sleeping in the protecting atmosphere of prayer; and 
 when he asked himself what he was to say in the morning if 
 they wanted to know where he had got the money, his mind 
 was so clogged and numb that he could find no answer. 
 
 But this thought, with the vision that came after it of how 
 his mother and Elin would look at him with searching and 
 suspicious glances — of how when all would be over and ho 
 hoped to be at rest he would find them sitting together in 
 silence, staring at nothing — nearly broke down the brute in 
 him and his whole body was shaken by a kind of tearless sob. 
 Nevertheless the flash of human light on his dark heart only 
 made the blackness more profound, and after a moment he 
 went on with his preparations. 
 
 When he stepped on tiptoe into the hall, the two sheep-dogs 
 who had been sleeping on the mat by the door got up and 
 stretched themselves and yawned, and lest they should make 
 a noise he took them out and locked them up in a shed. 
 After that he went over to the stable, which was at some 
 distance from the dwelling, and saddled and bridled the 
 stranger's mare, and then with a sharp cut of his whip he sent 
 her galloping and whinnying into the darkness. A breath of 
 icy wind was coming down the valley as if day were stirring
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 395 
 
 in its morning sleep, and a faint pink and white light in the 
 eastern sky, with a glint on the western glaciers, seemed to 
 say that the dawn was near, but the drink was in Magnus's 
 eyes and he could not see clearly. 
 
 No snow had fallen since the traveler arrived, and re- 
 turning to the front of the farmstead Magnus made back- 
 ward tracks from the porch to the river, partly in order to 
 obliterate the stranger's footsteps and partly to conceal his 
 own when he should come out again, carrying a heavy bur- 
 den. The man was gone by this time, and Magnus was like 
 a night-bird hovering about his own house and thinking of 
 his prey. 
 
 When he returned to the hall there was no sound there 
 except that of the ashes slipping in the stove, and of the clock 
 ticking in the darkness the deliberate seconds. He took off 
 his boots, leaving on his snow-stockings only, and then he 
 picked up a large cushion from the arm-chair and stepped to 
 the stranger's door and listened. 
 
 But heaven as well as hell is in the heart of every man, as 
 long as life is with him, and the tearless sob came back to 
 Magnus and shook his whole body, as he thought at the last 
 moment of the awful pity of the thing he had to do. Yet 
 telling himself again that God did nothing in this world, and 
 saying once more, " Let prodigal pay for prodigal," he turned 
 the handle and opened the door. 
 
 Then he stepped softly into the guest-room and bolted the 
 door behind him. 
 
 VII 
 
 Anna, at that moment, had awakened from a frightening 
 dream. On first going to her room she had been troubled by 
 the memory of what she had done to awaken evil thoughts in 
 Magnus, and visions had come to her of how, if anything 
 happened, Magnus might say, " You put it into my head, 
 mother." To banish her self-reproaches she had said a prayer 
 for forgiveness, telling God she had never once thought of 
 theft or violence, but only of Magnus and Elin and the in- 
 heritance they had lost through her importunity, and hoW
 
 396 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 cruel it seemed that while other people had so much more 
 than they wanted, such hard times should come to her dear 
 children. 
 
 Then she had g'one to bed, and the voice of the stranger, 
 ■which had teased her all the evening through with memories 
 she could not fix, haunted her again, and the light being out, 
 and her eyes no longer disturbed by sight of the stranger's 
 different face, she knew whose voice it reminded her of. It 
 was a voice very dear to her, a voice always near to her, 
 Oscar's voice, which she was never to hear again. 
 
 When, with a thrill of the heart, this thought came to 
 Anna, it altered the stranger altogether. His laughter ceased 
 to be cruel, and what he had said of himself not being a good 
 son became touching. And when she .thought of his poor 
 mother waiting for her prodigal and so soon to see him home 
 again, and pictured her joy when he should say, " Mother, 
 mother! I'm here at last, and we shall never, never be parted 
 again ! " her heart overflowed with sympathy, and she was 
 sorry she had not been kinder to him when he was going 
 to bed. 
 
 Then she went to sleep and the dream spirit took her 
 back to the good time when she had two boys in her house, 
 a dark one and a fair one, and the father had punished the 
 dark one unjustly, and his stern and gloomy soul, with its 
 sense of wrong, would not suffer him to explain, but the fair 
 one was sobbing out a confession — " It was not Magnus, it 
 was me, papa " — and a moment afterward two happy little 
 heads were on the same pillow side by side, and both were 
 laughing merrily. 
 
 In the shifting kaleidoscope of her dream this picture had 
 hardily gone when Anna awoke with the clearest conscious- 
 ness of Oscar's voice crying, " Mother! Mother! Mother! " 
 She thought it must have been the stranger calling in his 
 sleep, for the china ornaments on her dressing-table seemed 
 to ring, but when she listened there was no other sound. 
 
 Then the memory of Magnus's temptation came rolling 
 back on her like a thundercloud over a clear sky, and she 
 got up to go to her son's room to make sure that he was 
 in bed. 
 
 Magnus had not been to bed !
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 397 
 
 With candle in hand, and still in her night-dress, Anna 
 hurried to the hall, crying in a whisper of only half -realized 
 apprehension, " Magnus ! Magnus ! " 
 
 There was no reply. 
 
 She listened at the stranger's door and thought she heard 
 a movement inside the room, but she dared not enter or 
 knock. 
 
 " Magnus ! Magnus ! " she whispered again, but no an- 
 swer came back to her. She heard the neighing of a horse 
 that seemed to be running round and round the house and 
 her flesh began to creep, for that sound in the night was like 
 the cry of a disembodied soul. Then there came the dead- 
 ened noise of dogs barking, and she knew they were their 
 own dogs and that they must have been shut up in an out- 
 house. This started a new thought, and she ran to the outer 
 door to see if it had been opened. 
 
 The door was unbolted ! 
 
 She was about to open it and cry again when she heard a 
 noise behind her. It came from the stranger's room, and 
 putting her ear to the door she distinctly heard the sounds 
 of sobs. Some one inside was sobbing. 
 
 She knew the low, stifled voice. It was Magnus. He was 
 on his knees or prostrate on the floor, and he was sobbing as 
 if his heart would break. At that Anna boldly tried to open 
 the door, but found it fastened on the inside. 
 
 " Magnus ! Magnus ! " she whispered, but he did not 
 answer. 
 
 She was now sure that the awful thing she had thought of 
 had come to pass. Her suspense had deepened to fear, but 
 pity and love conquered every other feeling, and going down, 
 on her knees in her night-dress, she whispered through the 
 key-hole : 
 
 " Magnus ! Magnus ! Open the door. It is only mother I 
 It was all my fault, dear ! Let me come in ! " 
 
 But the smothered sobbing inside continued, and no other 
 sound came back to her. Then in the silence of all else she 
 heard the sound of sleigh-bells outside. At first she thought 
 this must be a ringing in her ears, but the bells grew louder 
 and came nearer, and then the dogs in the outhouse barked 
 again.
 
 398 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 Fear deepened to terror, the necessity for concealment 
 flashed upon her, and she knocked at the bedroom door and 
 cried in the same affrighted whisper: 
 
 " Magnus, there is some one coming. Wait till he has 
 gone. Don't stir. Don't come out. Only tell me you 
 hear me." 
 
 The sobbing ceased, but Magnus did not speak. Mean- 
 time the sleigh-bells came nearer and nearer, with the crack- 
 ing of a whip, the whoop of a driver, and the hiss of runners 
 in the soft snow. 
 
 " Magnus ! Magnus ! " cried Anna loudly, in a last effort, 
 but she was stopped by the near shout of some one outside, 
 " Helloa ! helloa there ! " — and she rose to her feet with an 
 intention of bolting the outer door. 
 
 Before she could do so there was a metallic knock on the 
 window-pane, a voice crying, " God be with you ! " and foot- 
 steps hurrying up the outer steps. Then Anna turned about 
 and fled back to her bedroom. 
 
 While she dressed she heard the outer door thrown open 
 and the sound of many persons trooping into the hall. They 
 were veiy bright and happy, for they laughed merrily and 
 talked all together, and the house was full of noise. 
 
 When she came out of the badstofa she met the postboy 
 on his way to the elt-house to boil water to give his ponies a 
 hot drink, and on returning to the hall she found the door 
 and the shutters of the window open, the daylight streaming 
 in, and the postman himself there with several passengers, 
 including the Factor, who was muffled up to the eyes, and 
 Margret Neilsen, who was unrolling herself from the folds 
 of a white bearskin, 
 
 " Helloa ! " cried everybody, and the postman said, " Here 
 we are at last, you see! We couldn't come yesterday by 
 reason of the snowstorm, but the Factor actually got me to 
 start away as soon as it stopped at eleven o'clock last night — 
 eleven ! " 
 
 " Well, we don't kill a pig every day, do we ? " said the 
 Factor, and while the men laughed and winked, Margret 
 Neilsen said : 
 
 "And how's Anna?" 
 
 Anna was speechless and ghastly white, so the Factor said»
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 399 
 
 " We seem to have startled her out of her senses, for she 
 looks as if she had seen a ghost. But where's Magnus? " 
 
 " Magnus ? Oh — somewhere about," said Anna. 
 
 " And how's my precious Elin ? " said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " She's not up yet," said Anna. 
 
 " Then I'll go and waken her. Which is her room — this 
 one ? " said Aunt Margret, making for the guest-room. 
 
 " No, no," said Anna, intercepting her and standing with 
 her back to the guest-room door. " That one," and Aunt 
 Margi-et went into Elin's bedroom. 
 
 " And now," said the Factor, with winks all round him, 
 " what about the other one ? " 
 
 Anna looked at the Factor in mute terror. 
 
 " The new-comer, you know ? Not stirring yet, I sup- 
 
 pose 
 
 1 " 
 
 " New-comer ? " 
 
 " Well, guest, friend, whatever you choose to call him." 
 
 "What friend?" 
 
 " Why, the friend who came last night, of course." 
 
 Anna, who had never lied in her life, wanted to lie now, 
 but she could not do so. " I don't understand you. Factor," 
 she said faintly. 
 
 " Well ! " said the Factor, and then, as if by an after- 
 thought, " I thought he wouldn't wish to startle you, having 
 been so long away and supposed to be dead. But don't you 
 know yet who he is ? " 
 
 Anna trembled and said, " Of whom are you speaking, 
 Oscar Neilsen ? " 
 
 " Of the tall fair man with the pointed beard who came to 
 lodge at your house last night." 
 
 Anna was now speechless with terror, and the company, 
 misunderstanding her silence, became suddenly very grave. 
 " Can it be possible that he lost his way in the snowstorm? " 
 said one. " But he knew every inch of the road, and could 
 find his way blindfold," said another. " Such a night, 
 though," said a third. " He got as far as the House of 
 Eest." " But the boy there said he would never see the end 
 of his journey." 
 
 " Well, this is serious," said the Factor. " The Minister 
 wanted him to stay at Government House over-night, but he 
 seemed so anxious to see you "
 
 400 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 " To see mc/" said Anna. 
 
 " Naturally, after his long absence. Strange I very strange ! 
 But do you mean to say that no traveler came here last 
 night?" 
 
 A vague shadow of the Factor's meaning had flashed upon 
 Anna's mind, and the terror of a moment ago had deepened 
 to horror. What had Magnus done in the blindness of his 
 passion and despair? But even then the desire to save her 
 son was above all other emotions, and she was about to deny 
 all knowledge of the traveler, when the door behind her was 
 opened and a voice over her shoulder said : 
 
 "Yes, a traveler did come here last night, but he went 
 away again in the early morning." 
 
 It was Magnus, and when Anna turned to look at him she 
 drew a deep breath of relief, for she knew he was telling the 
 truth. His face, since she saw it last, had undergone a 
 m;^'sterious and miraculous change. The gloomy arrogance 
 of despair had gone, something had carried light into the 
 darkness of his soul, and he looked like a man who had come 
 as from the immediate presence of his God. 
 
 " But this is stranger than ever," said the Factor. " It was 
 known that he had taken a large sum of money out of the 
 Bank, and everybody supposed he meant to buy up this 
 place at the auction." 
 
 " Yes," said Aunt Margret, coming out of Elin's bedroom, 
 " to give to his old mother." 
 
 And then Elin's soft voice was heard to say, " Has the 
 Sheriff come yet ? " 
 
 " Who is asking for the SheriiBF ? " said the Sheriff himself, 
 coming forward at that moment. 
 
 " The gentleman gave me this pocket-book last night, and 
 told me to deliver it to you before the auction began this 
 morning." 
 
 " It's not for me, though," said the Sheriff, who had taken 
 the pocket-book to the table and opened it, and was reading 
 the writing on the sheet of paper which fell out first, " ' For 
 Elin, Oscar's daughter, from Christian Christiansson.' " 
 
 " A present for Elin, perhaps," said the Factor. 
 
 " A thousand-crown note ! " cried the Sheriff. 
 • The gaiety of the company was bi'eaking into loud con-
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 401 
 
 gratulations, when the Sheriff, who was still opening the folds 
 of the pocket-book, said, "Wait! There's more than that — 
 much more! One — two — three — fifty thousand — another — 
 and another — and " — then the rapid rustling of bank-notes, 
 followed by the delighted cry, " Two hundred thousand 
 crowns ! " 
 
 " The very sum he took out of the bank ! " said the 
 Factor. 
 
 " Kiss me, my precious ! " said Aunt Margret. 
 
 " M«, too, granddaughter," cried the Factor. 
 
 Anna looked stunned, and Magnus like one who wished the 
 earth to swallow him. But the Factor rattled along with 
 shouts and laughter. 
 
 " JN'ow I understand everything. He has given the money 
 to the girl, but left it to her friends and relations to advise 
 her as to what she is to do with it." 
 
 Elin's blue eyes being still full of bewilderment, the Factor 
 kissed her again and said, " Now who do you think has left 
 you this great fortune, little one ? " 
 
 " Christian Christiansson," said the girl. 
 
 " Certainly ! But don't you know who Christian Chris- 
 tiansson is ? !N"o ? You neither, Anna ? " 
 
 Anna was trembling on the verge of discovery. " Who ? " 
 she said, but rather with her lips than with her voice. 
 
 " Why, Oscar — your son Oscar, who isn't dead at all, and 
 has come back and made amends to everybody! I always 
 knew there was good stuff in my godson ! " 
 
 The truth burst on Anna in a whirlwind of joy — joy that 
 her son was alive, joy that he had come home and justified 
 her faith in him, joy, too, though with a twinge of pain in it, 
 that he had gone away again and further trouble with Mag- 
 nus was averted. A prayer gushed from her heart and she 
 wanted to go down on her knees. 
 
 " My son ! " she said in a breathless whisper. 
 
 " My father ! " said Elin, with a tenderness the word had 
 never had for her before. 
 
 The company were now cackling and crowing again, but 
 the two women — the old one and the young one — looked 
 round for Magnus. He was standing at the back, his strong 
 face all broken up and melted. It was not at this moment
 
 4{J2 THE TEODIGAL SON 
 
 that the truth had first burst on him. That had come like 
 a blinding blow of light the instant he had entered the guest- 
 room and realized that God did something after all in this 
 world for His children. 
 
 " Mother — Elin ! " he stammered, and he opened his arms 
 to them. 
 
 " It's the miracle, isn't it ? " said the girl. 
 
 It was the miracle indeed. 
 
 There was no auction in Thingvellir that day, and when 
 the bells rang for service the company went to church. The 
 little wooden tabernacle was full of worshippers, for it was 
 'New Year's Day, and the farmers had ridden over with their 
 families from all the country round about. They sat, in their 
 thick mufflers and snow-stockings and the mist of their smok- 
 ing breath, as far up the church as the square rail enclosing 
 the communion table, on stools about the octagonal pulpit 
 and even among the refuse, the lumber and potted-meat 
 barrels that were stored in the gallery. 
 
 The Factor was there, very loud in his responses, fixing up 
 the figures on the tin plate which announced the hymns; 
 Elin, too, with the wonder not yet gone from her innocent 
 blue eyes; Anna with her tempered happiness and a heart 
 overflowing with thanksgiving, and (most strange of all) 
 Magnus himself, a changed and humbled man. 
 
 Everybody looked at Magnus, in surprise at seeing him 
 there, but Magnus looked at no one. While the Pastor read 
 the lesson (" All we like sheep have gone astray"), while he 
 gave out his text (" This day shalt thou be with Me in 
 Paradise"), while he preached his homely sermon on the 
 conversion of the dying thief on the cross, showing the short- 
 ness of time, the power of redemption, and the certainty of 
 death's sundering, and even while the deacon chanted the 
 anthem (" Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh 
 in the morning"), and the congi-egation sang the closing 
 hymn, and Elin's silvery young voice ringing up to the round 
 ceiling reminded him of her mother's, Magnus sat with his 
 face toward the picture on the wall above the communion- 
 table.
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 403 
 
 It was a picture of Christ in white robes and among warm 
 eaetern foliage, healing the blind man by the wayside, and 
 while he looked at it a great softening of the heart came to 
 him, for he thought of the blessed but awful moment, only 
 just passed, when the scales fell from his own eyes, and his 
 naked soul stood face to face with its Maker. 
 
 That was the moment when, with murder in his mind and 
 a spirit of war with God, he had entered the stranger's bed- 
 room and bolted the door behind him, and then found that 
 his victim had been snatched out of his hands and heard a 
 fearful voice which seemed to say, " Stop ! or the voice of 
 thy brother's blood will cry unto Me from the ground ! " 
 
 When the service was over there was much handshaking 
 and well-wishing outside the porch, for rumor of what had 
 happened in Anna's household had passed from mouth to 
 mouth, but Magnus took his old mother on his arm and 
 walked home with her alone, except for Elin, who tripped 
 through the crisp snow by their side, humming a little of the 
 last hymn. 
 
 The young people were racing the ponies to and fro in 
 their joy of the first snow; the old ones were gossiping in 
 groups on the exciting news of the day ; and the Factor, who 
 was swinging along in his plaid-shawl, with a contented ex- 
 pression, like an old cow going home in the evening with her 
 udder full, was saluting everybody, and inviting all and 
 sundry to the Inn-farm for a cup of coffee. 
 
 It was more than a cup of coffee he had had prepared for 
 them, for assuming command while Magnus seemed par- 
 alyzed by surprise, he had ordered a lamb to be killed, and 
 Aunt Margret remained behind to roast it. 
 
 The dinner was a large and long one, for everybody was 
 welcome to it, and before it came to an end the Factor rose 
 to propose a toast. 
 
 " Every snow-cowl has an end," he said, " and I am happy 
 to inform you all that the cloud that has hung so long over 
 the Inn-farm, over Anna Magnusson's family and over my 
 family, is now gone for good. ' Show the man and not the 
 table,' says one of our Sagas, but in this case we have had to 
 show you the table and not the man. He will be on his way 
 to Reykjavik by this time, I suppose, and, if prophecy is the
 
 404 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 wise man's guess, I guess he will get such a rousing welcome 
 there as no man ever had in this old island before. 
 
 " Brothers and sisters, I give you a health — Anna's long- 
 lost son, our long-lost son, Iceland's long-lost son — Oscar 
 Stephen-son ! " 
 
 The toast was received with shouts and the jingling of 
 glasses, but Anna did not drink, and Magnus dropped his 
 head. 
 
 vm 
 
 On the east of the plain and the lake of Thingvellir there 
 is a pass going over the mountain of Hengel to the little 
 trading station of Eyrarbakki. It winds through a number 
 of geysers and mineral springs Avhich seem to be always 
 smoking against the bare side of the fell. They are little 
 pools of simmering water in the crusted yellow earth, some of 
 them white and sparkling as a star, some round and deep- 
 blue as a woman's eye, some oval and blood-red, like the 
 living heart of some monstrous animal. 
 
 You walk warily on the path between, for the earth is hot 
 and thin under his feet, and sometimes it throbs like the lid 
 of a boiling kettle, and sometimes there is a smothered roar 
 beneath you as of mighty battles in the bowels of the earth, 
 and then the pools begin to boil and send up spouts of foam- 
 ing water and tongues of liquid flame, and the air is full of 
 sulphurous vapor. 
 
 An awful, evil, and devilish place, looking like a cauldron 
 over a circle of hellish fire. But higher up the pass the snow 
 lies white and calm and crisp, and higher still are the glisten- 
 ing glaciers, and there, while the mountain quakes in its 
 volcanic throes, the avalanche comes down in winter so 
 suddenly that no man can hear or see it, for it is loud as the 
 crack of doom and swift as the shaft of death. 
 
 At daybreak that day Christian Ghristiansson was crossing 
 this pass on his way to Eyrarbakki, intending to take ship to 
 Norway. Although it was only two hours since he had pushed 
 open the guest-room window and left the Inn-farm, he was 
 already a stronger and braver man. Then he had tkought
 
 THE PEODIGAL SON 405 
 
 of nothing but ending everything, and the shadow of self- 
 destruction had floated before him, but now he saw clearly 
 that until God ordained he should die it was his duty to 
 live. As he had sinned so he should sufFer. He must pay 
 his penalty to its last pang, its uttermost moment. His 
 penalty was to live on without the love he had forfeited, the 
 happiness he had lost the right to claim. It was hard, but it 
 was just, and he must face the end without flinching. Wel- 
 come life, then, as long as it lasted ! Welcome death when 
 it was due ! 
 
 After he had passed through the heat and smoke and come 
 out on the clear heights beyond he paused to look back. The 
 world around was all white and stark under the snow of last 
 night's storm, but a crimson shaft from the sun which had 
 not yet risen was crossing the topmost peaks, and the low- 
 lands were still sleeping in a veil of mist. He thought he 
 could hear the ringing of the church bell, and that sweet 
 human sound came winging its way up to him through the 
 vapor of the sulphur-pits as the singing of a star might rise 
 through the clouds of the world to the ears of the souls in 
 heaven. 
 
 Presently the sun strode up and the mist fell back, and 
 then he saw in the valley far below the little church itself 
 and the home he had left behind him. He had left happiness 
 there, and love, and warm comfort, for that was his repara- 
 tion to the dear ones he had injured, and now for his 
 atonement to God he was going out alone, stripped of every- 
 thing and unknown to any one. 
 
 It was as much as he could bear to think of that, but he 
 smiled to himself sadly while he pictured the surprise and joy 
 of the happy scene when the girl would come out with the 
 pocket-book and the auction would be stopped. He thought, 
 too, of his mother in church, with a soul full of gratitude, 
 and saw Elin with a ray of sunlight from the lead-lighted 
 window on the heart-breaking sweetness of her smile. It was 
 not thus that he had expected to leave them when for ten 
 years he had worked by the sweat of body and spirit that 
 he might come back and be forgiven. But it was not in this 
 world that the prodigal could be taken back; not here that 
 any earthly father could run to meet him and throw his arms
 
 406 THE PRODIGAL SON 
 
 about his neck. What he had sown he must reap, and not all 
 his penitence and tears could undo what he had done. 
 
 It was long before he could take his last look at the home 
 he was leaving forever, and when at length he drew a deep 
 breath and went on, he had to comfort himself with the 
 thought that Thora would be pleased with him for giving up 
 their child to Magnus, Her voice from the other world 
 seemed to come to him and say, " Well dope ! Poor, brave, 
 wounded heart, God's angels rejoice over you ! " But it was 
 hard to find solace in heavenly cheer while his blood ran 
 warm and yearned for human company. 
 
 Before he was aware of it he was at the foot of the glaciers, 
 those great lone homes of Nature never trodden by the foot 
 of man or animal, where no bird sings and no flower grows, 
 where only the wind moans over motionless billows of ice and 
 the sun rises in a blank barrenness on chasms of the frozen 
 deep. Looking back from this place he could see nothing of 
 the valley and the houses of men, or of anything but a wide 
 circle of mountain peaks, all silent and white, in which he 
 was the only living thing. And then the feeling of being cut 
 off from the rest of humanity amid these grand but grim sur- 
 roundings elevated his senses and affected him like music, 
 like composing, with a sort of ecstacy Avhich was part rap- 
 ture and partly pain. 
 
 In this ecstasy of emotion he asked himself if his life had 
 been wasted, if happiness was gone from him even if, because 
 he had sinned, there was nothing before him now but renun- 
 ciation and suffering. And then the teaching of his child- 
 hood came back to him with a new and sublime significance, 
 and he saw for the first time the lesson of life and the mean- 
 ing of death. The lesson of life was Duty — to do right 
 without expectation of reward or fear of punishment; and 
 the meaning of death was to bring to the sinful, penitent 
 soul the pardon the world can not give. 
 
 Then thank God for life, but thank God for death also I 
 Whatever a man's sin, Nature could not forget it, and the 
 laws of life could not forgive, but the mercy of God was 
 without measure of guilt, and the gates of heaven were wide I 
 
 God veiled His face from His creatures, and to man's 
 flueationing eyes the infinite wisdom was as blank as these
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON 407 
 
 «rkite walls of ice and snow, but two thousand years ago a 
 simple Galilean had read this riddle of life as no man before 
 or since has read it. lie had read it for all men, good or 
 bad, but most of all for wayworn sinners like himself, for 
 whom the world has no pity, and no forgiveness. And though 
 he was the guiltiest of the guilty, and his sin had found 
 him out, and as the price of his repentance he had had to 
 give up everything in life that he held most dear — the love 
 of his child and the hope of pardon and reconciliation — yet 
 love and pardon and reconciliation were waiting for him still 
 when God's own voice should call him, and " this mortal 
 should put on immortality." 
 
 By this time he was in that mood in which a man of his 
 temperament finds it difficult to distinguish the real from the 
 imaginary, in which he hears the sounds of Nature and 
 mistakes them for voices from the other world. He had wan- 
 dered without knowing it from the path of the pass, which 
 was marked by stones standing upright out of the snow, 
 when the volcanic fire in the womb of the mountain began to 
 shake it with mighty throbs, and then suddenly the awful 
 stillness was broken by a crash and a resounding rumble as 
 of echoing thunder coming down from the snow-capped 
 heights. 
 
 Oscar Stephenson did not see or hear or feel anything. He 
 was only conscious of a burst of heavenly music, of a sense of 
 ten thousand angels singing an anthem, a triumphant paean 
 or praise that grew louder and louder every moment ; a sense 
 of blinding light, and of traveling at a terrific velocity into 
 the realms of the sun ; a sense of the Day of Judgment, of the 
 life of the world being over, its busy throngs gone, its 
 pageants finished, its honors, distinctions, castes, gold, 
 wealth, and fame passed into nothingness; a sense of being" 
 outside the great Judgment Hall with an infinite multitude 
 of kings and beggars, good men and bad, the guilty and the 
 innocent, and of kneeling there among the meanest and most 
 ashamed ; a sense of a spirit stooping to him and taking his 
 hand and saying, " Come," of looking up into her face, and 
 seeing it was Thora, and of his breath coming so fast and 
 short that he could scarcely breathe; a sense of stumbling 
 along with his head down and the spirit leading him forward
 
 408 THE TRODIGAL SON 
 
 and singing as they ascended; a sense of an overwhelming 
 Presence somewhere in front of him, of the music dyinjf 
 down and becoming fainter and fainter, and then of an 
 awful hush and of a blessed Voice which said: 
 "For this my son was dead and is alive again, was lost 
 
 AND is found." 
 
 A moment afterward there was no one on Hengel moun- 
 tain, the great lone home of Nature was calm and white and 
 silent. 
 I 
 
 (6) 
 
 THE END
 
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