TREACHEROUS GROUND 
 
 JOHAN BOJER
 
 THIS BOOK BBLJONGS 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 BLASCO IBANEZ 
 
 author of "Tht Four Hontmtn of the Apocalypst" 
 
 says : 
 
 'Johan Bojer is a Maupassant of the North, an impassioned, rapid thinker, 
 with Latin clarity .... Such a fiery, passionate way of telling the story!"
 
 Johan Bojer
 
 TREACHEROUS GROUND
 
 TREACHEROUS 
 GROUND 
 
 BY 
 JOHAN BOJER 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE GREAT HUNGER," " THE FACE OF THE WORLD, 
 " THE POWER OF A LIE," ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN BY 
 
 JESSIE MUIR 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 1920
 
 COPYRIGHT, I Q 20 
 BY MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
 
 ft 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 1062198
 
 Chapter I 
 
 KRISTIANIA, as usual, had been unfortunate in 
 its 17th-of-May weather. 1 But in spite of the 
 wind and the showers of hail that every now 
 and then whirled over the house-tops, the 
 streets were full of merry people, and high 
 and low flags flapped in the wind, even on 
 the roofs of the trams that moved cautiously 
 along with ceaseless ringing of bells. Later 
 in the afternoon there was the demonstration, 
 which ended in a square, round a platform 
 with speakers, where the demonstrators waved 
 their hats and shouted hurrah. The streets 
 were thronged, and resounded with laughter, 
 cries of all kinds, and sounds of merriment, 
 so that the birds of passage flying northwards 
 far above would think that down at the head 
 of the fjord lay a town that sang. 
 
 While this was going on, a solitary man was 
 standing in an entry just opposite the female 
 prison, apparently taking no interest in all 
 that was going on. The collar of his grey 
 
 x The 17th of May is the Norwegian national festival.
 
 8 Treacherous Ground 
 
 ulster was turned up about his ears, and his 
 felt hat drawn down over his eyes, as though 
 he were trying to escape notice. People 
 passing in and out of the entry thought he 
 must be ill or drunk; but he, lost in thought, 
 stood staring up at the dreary prison, as if he 
 expected to see a face that he knew at one 
 of the barred windows. 
 
 He had stood thus for a long time, when 
 suddenly he seemed to come to a determina- 
 tion. He walked across the street to the door 
 of the prison, and raised his hand as if to ring 
 the bell; but suddenly his hand dropped 
 to his side, and he retreated a few steps, 
 passed his hand across his forehead, and 
 moved away aimlessly, keeping close to the 
 wall, as if he were running away. 
 
 An hour later he was standing ringing at 
 the door on the first floor of a house down by 
 the fortress. 
 
 "Is the pastor at home 1 " 
 
 "Yes; please come in!" 
 
 But, although the maid had opened the 
 door wide, it was a moment or so before the 
 stranger could make up his mind to enter; 
 and even when he had done so, and had hung 
 up his ulster and hat in the hall, he seemed 
 inclined to put them on again and go.
 
 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Meanwhile the popular priest was walking 
 slowly up and down the dining-room floor, 
 flourishing a piece of paper that he held in 
 his hand. He was in evening dress, and was 
 going out to dinner, where he had promised 
 to make a speech. Even a zealous pastor, 
 after having preached in church, visited the 
 poor and sick, stood by a death-bed, and else- 
 where listened to all kinds of complaints and 
 confessions, may feel an uncontrollable desire 
 to refresh himself with something brighter; 
 and therefore to-day the priest had deter- 
 mined to make a lively speech. His steps 
 creaked cheerfully up and down, and gradu- 
 ally he seemed to see distinctly the guests, the 
 table and the flowers, and to feel the cham- 
 pagne glass in his hand. "And we priests, " 
 he heard himself say "well, we might be 
 gallants too, might we not, ladies'? " and he 
 could see the faces round the table begin to 
 brighten. That was a good thing to say. 
 The creaking steps were suddenly silent, 
 while he made a note of it on the paper he 
 held, and involuntarily his grey-bearded face 
 put on a smile such as he intended it should 
 wear during the speech. 
 
 "What?" he said, turning with a jerk 
 when the maid appeared, looking as if she
 
 10 Treacherous Ground 
 
 wanted something. "Does somebody else 
 want to speak to me? Who is it? Oh! 
 But I suppose you can tell me whether it's 
 the Emperor of Russia or an assassin!" 
 He was really cross at being disturbed just 
 now. He looked at his paper, but felt that 
 he could not get on with his speech until he 
 had seen the stranger: so with a sigh he put 
 the piece of paper in his pocket, and passed 
 through the drawing-room to his study. 
 
 When the stranger seated there heard the 
 creaking footsteps approaching, he looked 
 about him as if he would have liked to fly. 
 "What am I doing!" he thought. "At the 
 priest's I ! Am I really going out of my 
 mind?" 
 
 The next moment the door opened, and the 
 priest's white shirt-front appeared. An order 
 hung against his black coat. He stopped for 
 an instant, and looked over his spectacles at 
 the stranger ; but, as he did not know him, 
 he went a step or two nearer, put his hands 
 behind him, and threw back his head. 
 
 "Good-evening," he said at last. "What 
 
 can I Ah!" and he smiled a strange 
 
 smile. 1 1 No, really is it you ? ' ' 
 
 Without giving his hand to the stranger, he 
 went and seated himself in the arm-chair be-
 
 Treacherous Ground 11 
 
 side his writing-table, leaned back, and with 
 a wave of his hand bid his visitor be seated. 
 His face clearly showed how astonished he 
 was. 
 
 "Oh, so you know me again!" said the 
 young man at last, passing his hand in an 
 embarrassed way across and across his fore- 
 head. 
 
 "Yes; aren't you Herr Erik Evje? Yes, 
 of course. You must excuse my not recog- 
 nising you at once." 
 
 "It's more than a year since we met at the 
 Students' Club." 
 
 "Yes; I remember." 
 
 "I offended you then, Herr Pastor." 
 
 "Not me, but all of my cloth," interrupted 
 the priest, with an indulgent smile. ''If I re- 
 member rightly, you blamed us priests for 
 pretty well all the misery to be found in the 
 world, ha ha!" 
 
 "Yes; I'm sorry to say I've talked a lot of 
 nonsense in my time," said the young man in 
 a subdued tone. "But now I come to you, 
 Herr Pastor, just because because I've 
 written and said so much against you." 
 
 The priest looked attentively at the other 
 man, who was still standing and looking quite 
 helpless. This was indeed an unexpected visit.
 
 12 Treacherous Ground 
 
 This daring writer in the Social Democrat, 
 this maker of inflammatory speeches at all 
 strikes and labour demonstrations, this priest- 
 hater and atheist, suddenly standing here and 
 looking so humble. The priest involuntarily 
 bent forward to look at him more closely. Now 
 he goes at last and sits down on the other side 
 of the writing-table. Now he coughs. And 
 when any one is so pale, and keeps wiping his 
 forehead to remove perspiration that is not 
 there at all, and looks so timid hm, hm! If 
 he had come to humble himself, it would make 
 a sensation. 
 
 "You're surprised at my coming down 
 upon you like this, Herr Pastor, but all the 
 merry people in the streets were making such 
 a noise. I'm out of it all; and I happened to 
 pass here, and so I rang the bell." 
 
 " Aren't you chairman of a workmen's club, 
 HerrEvje?" 
 
 The man he addressed started. "No, no, 
 thank goodness that's over! Latterly I've 
 been wandering about homeless." 
 
 "Homeless?" 
 
 "Yes oh, you're looking at my clothes. 
 No, not in that way. Unfortunately I still live 
 comfortably upon the money that father 
 scraped together in his way."
 
 13 
 
 " Wasn't your father a factory owner in 
 the north?" 
 
 The young man smiled a melancholy smile. 
 
 1 'Oh, his unvarnished title was distiller and 
 forest-destroyer. I feel to-day as if I must 
 tell the truth, even about my father. He 
 turned the peasants' corn and potatoes into 
 spirits, and then, when they were drunk, he 
 bought their farms from them in order to 
 plunder the forest. He has made whole dis- 
 tricts poor, even in firewood ! and the well-to- 
 do people he has brought to beggary are almost 
 too numerous to be counted. But he became 
 rich, and gained orders and honour ; and when 
 he died, how the priest did praise him in his 
 funeral address! But I well, it all went 
 down the wrong way with me, and then I be- 
 came a socialist. ' ' 
 
 "He's just what he used to be!" thought 
 the priest, and he pressed his lips together as 
 he made a movement as if to rise. "Well, 
 
 Herr Evje!" he said aloud, "what may 
 j 
 
 Erik Evje sat thoughtfully running his 
 fingers through his beard. "Well, it was this, 
 Herr Pastor," he said in a thoughtful tone. 
 "It was " 
 
 The priest waited impatiently for the con-
 
 14 Treacherous Ground 
 
 tinuation. He could hear his wife moving 
 about in the drawing-room : it was really time 
 they started for the dinner. And before he 
 was aware of it, his thoughts were in the 
 middle of the speech he had just left, and once 
 more he felt the champagne glass in his hand, 
 and saw the table and the guests. 
 
 "It was this," the voice on the other side 
 of the table at last went on: "Is there really 
 a God?" 
 
 The priest started at the word God, rose 
 abruptly, and took a turn up and down the 
 room to collect his thoughts ; for at that very 
 moment he had been smiling in his thoughts 
 and saying: "And we priests, we might be 
 gallants too, might we not, ladies?" Now he 
 began to walk slowly up and down with closed 
 eyes, as if trying to put aside this frivolous 
 speech to catch sight of God. 
 
 "Tell me!" he said at last, stopping in 
 front of the other man. "Will my answer 
 have any real significance for you?" 
 
 The other smiled and shook his head. 
 "Well, no, to tell the truth; but still if you 
 could only get me to believe in something or 
 other again. Blessed is he that believes, for 
 he can sin."
 
 Treacherous Ground 15 
 
 "What?" exclaimed the priest, staring at 
 him through his spectacles. 
 
 "And blessed is the rich man, for he may 
 run into debt. Blessed is he who has many 
 friends, for what does it matter if he makes 
 enemies. But he who does not believe, and 
 yet has sinned ! Faith, you see, is a mountain 
 to stand upon, from which our sins look like 
 trifles down there in the valley. But woe be- 
 tide him who slips down ! He becomes so small 
 himself that the sins get beyond his control. 
 That's why we human beings need some sort 
 of God." " 
 
 He glanced at the priest, who was standing 
 before him with his hands under his coat-tails. 
 
 "But," he went on, smiling, "now I've got 
 to my real business, Herr Pastor. What's 
 the meaning of conscience? Can one really 
 depend upon its being a reliable measurer of 
 good and evil ? Isn't it rather a disease ? Be- 
 cause, do you see, if conscience is a divinity in 
 man, it's a cowardly divinity at any rate. It 
 only attacks us when it sees we are defence- 
 less. If some day you lose everything, and are 
 left lying by the roadside like any animal, you 
 may depend upon it conscience will dig her 
 claws into you. She circles above us, like 
 vultures above an army, waiting for a horse to
 
 16 Treacherous Ground 
 
 be unable to go on any longer. Then they 
 come ! Conscience is like that. That is not a 
 chivalrous God, Herr Pastor." 
 
 At that moment the door into the drawing- 
 room opened a crack, and a voice whispered : 
 "I'm ready." 
 
 "I'm coming," answered the priest, and he 
 took a step or two towards the drawing-room, 
 but only to return. "Well, well, Herr Evje," 
 he said in farewell, "since we differ so much 
 about the starting-point namely, God, we 
 two cannot have much to say to one another." 
 
 Erik Evje smiled. He was far too much 
 occupied with what he had upon his mind to 
 notice the priest's desire for him to go. 
 
 "One sins only against one's self and one's 
 fellow-creatures, Herr Pastor; but as long as 
 one believes in something great vaguely 
 one can crush any number of human destinies, 
 and conscience only sends the account in to 
 this vague something. But it's another matter 
 altogether when one's stock of ideals is ex- 
 hausted. That's why I've come to you, Herr 
 Pastor. You're a man whose conscience is as 
 a healthy, happy man's should be; and now 
 you must tell me whether I'm really guilty." 
 
 "Guilty?" repeated the priest mechani- 
 cally. He was going up and down with small
 
 Treacherous Ground 17 
 
 steps, while his thoughts were at the dinner- 
 table. "And we priests might be gallants 
 too." 
 
 Erik Evje looked at him earnestly. "Yes; 
 you know, of course, what I'm accused of?" 
 
 The priest passed his hand across his fore- 
 head, and tried to wake to the other's world. 
 
 "Accused of? No, I really don't!" As 
 he said this, he happened to look at his watch. 
 
 "Then you must be the only person who 
 doesn't, Herr Pastor, for the papers have 
 made a good thing out of it, I should think. 
 
 And suppose he were right, both he and 
 
 There!" He passed his hand across his fore- 
 head again, and sighed deeply. 
 
 "Of whom are you speaking?" 
 
 "Of Mogstad, of course, the felon, my 
 friend ha ha! who took the work-people 
 away from me, and had me kicked out. Didn't 
 you read that scandalous story in the papers ? 
 He got up at a meeting at the Institute, and 
 pointed at me, and said it was I who had 
 sent him to prison. It was I who had made 
 him a wounded bird. And they believed him, 
 and took his part. At the time I was certain 
 it was a lie, but since" he passed his hand 
 across his brow, and closed his eyes "it's 
 dangerous going about quite alone."
 
 18 Treacherous Ground 
 
 The priest again heard his wife's impatient 
 footsteps in the drawing-room, and became 
 more and more desperate. He had never felt 
 another's confidences so exacting. And, while 
 he was making an effort to keep his thoughts 
 upon this man, a recollection crossed his mind. 
 
 "The fact of the matter is," continued 
 Evje, "that we were fellow-students, he and I. 
 He was poor, but clever " 
 
 "Evje!" the priest broke in, stopping in 
 the middle of his walk, and putting his hand 
 over his eyes. "Two or three years ago I was 
 chaplain at the female prison here. Wasn't 
 
 there a young girl there, who What was 
 
 her name again?" 
 
 What followed was quite unexpected. Evje 
 suddenly rose, stared for a moment at the 
 priest, and then turned to the door and 
 hastened out. The priest was struck dumb 
 with amazement. At last he hurried out into 
 the hall in time to see the other disappearing 
 through the hall door, carrying his hat and 
 coat. "But, Evje!" he cried, "what's the 
 matter? What's the matter? Well I never!" 
 Going to the top of the stairs, he called once 
 more: "Evje!" But then he heard the street 
 door bang. 
 
 "Are you ready at last?" said a voice from
 
 Treacherous Ground 19 
 
 the drawing-room. "You don't seem to think 
 how late we shall be ! " 
 
 A little later, when in the carriage on his 
 way to the dinner, the priest took out his 
 paper again, and tried to pick up the threads 
 of his cheerful speech. "And we priests 
 might be gallants too." But suddenly he 
 made a grimace, and threw the paper out of 
 the window. The other man had really man- 
 aged to make him low-spirited. 
 
 "Was he mad?" he thought. "And what 
 is he doing with himself this evening?"
 
 Chapter II 
 
 Most people get their ideals like the wounded 
 animal, which instinctively makes its way to 
 water. It was thus that Erik Evje had 
 studied first theology, then medicine, and last 
 of all had become a labour leader, just as some 
 misfortune in himself required some special 
 alleviation. 
 
 During the summer when he came home 
 from his first term as a student, he fell vio- 
 lently in love with a cottager's daughter, who 
 was a servant in his father's house; and when 
 his father understood that it was his intention 
 to marry the girl, there was a great to-do. The 
 end of it was that at last Erik yielded and 
 gave up the girl although she was enceinte. 
 But when he went to the capital that autumn 
 to study law, he would often lie all day long 
 on his sofa, sick with memories of home. In 
 this big, strange town, where he had neither 
 a mother nor an intimate friend to whom he 
 
 20
 
 Treacherous Ground 21 
 
 could pour out his heart, he could see no other 
 relief but in God. Finally he determined, and 
 obtained leave, to study for the ministry ; and 
 that he now became so zealous in his studies, 
 so strong in faith and so earnest in his prayers, 
 was due to the fact that away in the north 
 there was a pale little face that always had to 
 be kept at a distance. 
 
 By degrees his efforts were successful, and 
 when, a couple of years later, he heard that 
 the girl had had a child by a married man, and 
 in her despair had killed it, he was strong 
 enough in his Christian zeal to think: " Was 
 she like that, too? " 
 
 One bright day in spring, he met under the 
 trees in the Students 7 Grove Inga Rud, the 
 daughter of the district doctor at home. 
 That evening his prayers were brighter than 
 usual. It was as if the Supreme Being had 
 been dressed in a pink dress and light straw 
 hat. Soon his fellow-students would look after 
 him in the street, and say: "Why, Erik Evje 
 has actually had his hair cut !" "And been to 
 his tailor ! ' ' another would add. When, a few 
 days later, he appeared at band-time in a silk 
 hat, a new light coat and pale yellow gloves, 
 people began to put their heads together and 
 whisper: "Who is she?"
 
 22 Treacherous Ground 
 
 They should only have known what Erik 
 went through during this time. The less en- 
 couragement the young woman gave him, the 
 more did he cling to God's aid. At last came 
 the evening when he threw himself upon his 
 bed after receiving a distinct refusal. " Thy 
 will be done! " he groaned into the pillows, 
 but this time it was a prayer through clenched 
 teeth. A few days after, he read the announce- 
 ment of her engagement with a young officer, 
 and the paper dropped from his hands. He 
 had hoped until now. "Thy will be done 
 no, no!" And when in the evening he folded 
 his hands as usual, he burst into a peal of cold 
 laughter. The officer would be sure to curse 
 and swear, but he got her. He himself prayed 
 and prayed and chastened himself, but only 
 had the disgrace. New, dangerous thoughts 
 began to fill his mind, and heaven became so 
 exceedingly empty. 
 
 Very soon after he was standing one rainy 
 summer day at his father's funeral, listening 
 to the priest's panegyric upon the deceased; 
 but at the moment Erik could see in his mind's 
 eye his father turning the cottager's young 
 daughter out of the house. "Shall I become 
 a hypocrite and a fool like this priest?" he 
 asked himself. "Is it any wonder that di-
 
 Treacherous Ground 23 
 
 vinity students are generally refused when 
 they propose?" 
 
 At that time science was called the religion 
 of the young, and when Erik came back to the 
 capital, he kicked his theological text-books 
 into a dark attic, and took up medicine. This 
 caused the first break with his mother, but 
 Erik went at it energetically, like one who has 
 lost his house and will clear the ground for a 
 new one. There was a sense of freedom in 
 venturing to be young again, and enjoying the 
 gay student's life. He had plenty of pocket- 
 money, and he made friends with clever young 
 men and joined a small enthusiastic party of 
 free-thinkers, who swore by the sun and a 
 clear brain. 
 
 For two bright, happy years, he himself, his 
 ideas and his work, seemed to be one and the 
 same. When his spirits became boisterous, 
 and he diligently scattered oaths about him, 
 it was because of a desire to kick the old 
 edition of himself, the theologian and under- 
 taker, who now seemed such a pitiable object 
 to him. 
 
 It was then that the story about Mogstad 
 came. This young man was Erik's best friend, 
 clever, but morbidly jealous of his honour, 
 perhaps because his mother was a laundress.
 
 24 Treacherous Ground 
 
 One day, a short while before they had to go 
 up for their first examination, he came up to 
 Evje's room, and dropped despondently into 
 a chair. "Well?" asked Erik. "This con- 
 founded money!" groaned the other. "My 
 mother can't do any more, and unfortunately 
 I haven't time just now to rinse her clothes 
 for her. There's great danger of my exami- 
 nation coming to nothing this year again, and 
 I suppose I shall have to go into the country 
 and turn tutor ! " " How much do you want ? ' ' 
 asked Erik. "Oh, three hundred miserable 
 krones." "Dear me, I ought to be able to get 
 you that!" said Erik. "You!" cried Mog- 
 stad, springing up and seizing his friend by 
 the collar and shaking him. "Did you say 
 that you- -Eh?" "Yes, but I haven't got 
 it here. I suppose you can wait a few days?" 
 Could he wait a few days ! Yes, indeed ! And 
 singing and delighted, Mogstad hurried off. 
 Why did not Evje immediately procure the 
 money ? It is true he had not the amount by 
 him ; but why did he not write to his mother ? 
 He was rather reluctant to do so, because lat- 
 terly she had complained of his extravagance. 
 Then why did he not pawn his gold watch or 
 his piano ? No, he was too much occupied with 
 his coming examination to be quite able to im-
 
 25 
 
 agine his friend's embarrassment. Mogstad 
 came again and again, and Erik always said 
 that he should have the money, but at the same 
 time he put off doing anything to obtain it. At 
 last Mogstad was angry, and asked if he meant 
 to help him or not. Erik was ashamed, but 
 would not explain matters. "As soon as I 
 get any," he said, "you shall have it." "As 
 soon as you get any, yes!" said Mogstad, with 
 a scornful laugh. "But I'd rather it were on 
 this side of the day of judgment!" Erik now 
 grew angry, too, just because he was ashamed 
 of himself. "Confound you, man; perhaps 
 you can get it quicker from some one else!" 
 Mogstad flushed crimson. "Oh, is that what 
 you say? By Jove, you're a scamp!" And 
 he sprang up and was about to go, when Evje 
 cried to him to wait. One word brought an- 
 other, until Mogstad called Evje a coward, 
 whereupon Evje turned him out of the room. 
 No one could suspect less than Erik what 
 the consequences of this would be. The follow- 
 ing morning a letter arrived, which brought 
 him very quickly out of bed. He turned the 
 paper this way and that, and read it once 
 more. He almost began a dance upon the floor, 
 then stood still and read the letter again with 
 starting eyes. Mogstad wrote from prison.
 
 26 Treacherous Ground 
 
 When Erik had been so long in fulfilling his 
 promise, the poor man had resorted to the ex- 
 pedient of forging a cheque ; and when he left 
 Evje in a rage, he had gone straight to the 
 police and given himself up. 
 
 When Erik had grasped the full extent of 
 this misfortune, he felt as if he were guilty of 
 manslaughter. He soon saw that his fellow- 
 students knew all about it, and that they would 
 have liked to thrash him. One day, too, he met 
 Mogstad 's mother. The old washerwoman 
 looked as if she would like to efface herself, 
 but yet gave him a look that cut him to the 
 heart. 
 
 At last he summoned up his courage and 
 went to the prison; but Mogstad refused to 
 see him. As he walked home with bowed 
 head, he would have liked to throw himself 
 into the sea. When he tried to bury himself 
 in his books and forget everything else, he once 
 more found a closed door ; for it was as if these 
 studies, which he and Mogstad had worked at 
 together, now asked: "What have you done 
 with him ? Can you really go up for this ex- 
 amination while your friend is being sentenced 
 to penal servitude?" 
 
 Erik Evje shut himself up, and could not 
 sleep at night. The painful memories of the
 
 Treacherous Ground 27 
 
 cottager's daughter revived again, like a dis- 
 ease that was supposed to have been healed. 
 He brooded over the questions of guilt and re- 
 sponsibility, but he fared like the horse that 
 has got into a bog the more he struggled the 
 deeper he sank; and, in ever-increasing de- 
 spair, he strained his eyes in search of some 
 one to help him out again. There was no 
 longer a God for him ; his mother did not un- 
 derstand him; his friends had turned their 
 backs upon him. And as the horse at last 
 utters a piercing shriek, so from Erik Evje's 
 pillow would arise, in the silence of the night, 
 a sigh of sorrow and contrition, asking: Is 
 there no power in heaven or on earth that can 
 comfort an unhappy being? 
 
 One evening he chanced to drop into a 
 labour meeting, at which a well-known so- 
 cialist leader was to speak. When he got home 
 that evening, he walked up and down the room 
 for hours, in a strange condition of mind. It 
 seemed as if the speaker had said: "You are 
 innocent. It is poverty." Evje felt it an 
 immense relief, but dared not as yet believe 
 it. "When you come to think of it," he said 
 to himself, "why did my father turn Olina 
 out of the house ? Why was she unworthy to 
 love me ? Poverty : that is clear enough. But
 
 28 Treacherous Ground ' 
 
 Mogstad why was he led to forge a cheque? 
 Would he have done it if he had been rich? 
 No, indeed! Poverty too!" The more he 
 thought it over, the clearer it became, that 
 society was really to blame both for Olina and 
 Mogstad. At last he could breathe freely. At 
 last he felt a crushing burden removed. And 
 since it was no longer his fault, his sympathy 
 could flow freely. ' ' Poor things ! " he thought. 
 "How they must have suffered!" 
 
 He had to go to several labour meetings, and 
 take part in the discussion; and, hurt as he 
 still was by the remembrance of Mogstad, his 
 words acquired warmth that made a sensa- 
 tion. Before long he had to lay aside his 
 medical text-books to read Karl Marx and 
 Lasalle. Instead of attending lectures, he 
 went to a working-men's association where he 
 was to give a lecture; and when his fellow- 
 students went up for their examination, he 
 was sitting at home writing an article for the 
 Social Democrat. Every accusation he could 
 bring against capital he felt as a plaster upon 
 a smarting wound ; every kind word he could 
 utter about the poor became a greeting to those 
 he feared he had crushed. He did not even 
 notice himself that more than once in his 
 speeches he had worked up his indignation
 
 Treacherous Ground 29 
 
 against capital by picturing to himself Olina 
 being turned out of the house, and no one could 
 notice in the winged sentences in the Social 
 Democrat that his pen had been dipped in 
 Mogstad's forgery and that they were a de- 
 fence of himself. 
 
 To his old set of free-thinkers he wrote, in 
 a farewell letter: "What use have people for 
 truth as long as they have no bread?" And 
 to his mother, who soon began to threaten: 
 "If I have to choose between my monthly 
 allowance from you and my conscience, I 
 choose the latter." The money continued to 
 come, however, but it seemed to burn his 
 fingers. He left his pretty rooms, and moved 
 into an attic, prepared his own breakfast and 
 supper, and gave the surplus towards provid- 
 ing books for the working-men. 
 
 The patient becomes fond of the doctor who 
 / at last makes him well, and Erik Evje grew 
 fond of his work, because it had healed his 
 diseased conscience. He twice went volun- 
 
 tarily to prison, first for libelling a factory 
 owner, and then for refusing to serve his last 
 year of military service. Each time he came 
 out again, his eyes had acquired a new, pe- 
 culiar brightness. 
 But Erik Evje also tasted the sweetness of
 
 30 Treacherous Ground 
 
 serving a great idea as when the small man 
 in his attic feels his soul expanding to include 
 countries, towns and ages ; or when he and the 
 ten thousand become one ; or when the thought 
 of dying becomes less terrifying, because the 
 other self, the idea, will live. As a lecturer he 
 knew a happiness that was greater and more 
 abundant than that which comes from ap- 
 plause and flattery. It was in converting his 
 secret pain into a cause that others again 
 adopt as their cause; in taking note of his 
 sorrow or joy, his repentance or hope, taking 
 possession of hundreds and making them one 
 with himself. It was then that he was happy. 
 From this time onwards he began to say 
 "we" instead of "I," because he always felt 
 himself one of a large company. "This is 
 what we're like!" he would say when he was 
 displeased with himself for a moment; and 
 when he went to bed, instead of his evening 
 prayer, it was a comfort to surrender himself 
 to the night with the thought, "I can never 
 again be quite alone." 
 
 He heard that Mogstad, on coming out of 
 prison, had emigrated to America, and once 
 more he felt a relief ; for although he was sorry 
 for him, he did not want to see him again. 
 A year had passed when one evening Evje was
 
 Treacherous Ground 31 
 
 acting as chairman at a working-men's asso- 
 ciation meeting, and a bearded man at the 
 other end of the hall rose to oppose him. Evje 
 started at the voice, and suddenly their eyes 
 met. It was Mogstad. 
 
 It was a strange moment for Evje. He 
 would have liked to have run away, or to have 
 the other turned out. After the meeting, he 
 saw his former friend standing in the back- 
 ground, smiling uncertainly at him, and Erik 
 felt his throat contract, but went out without 
 speaking to him. At the next meeting Mog- 
 stad was present again, and this time Erik did 
 not look at him at all, for he had a feeling as 
 if Mogstad were sitting there with a revolver. 
 Mogstad soon became a zealous member of the 
 association, and in all the discussions he held 
 an opinion opposed to that of the chairman. 
 Whenever their eyes met, it seemed to Evje 
 that Mogstad smiled an evil-omened smile; 
 and soon he felt as if he were being pressed 
 closer and closer against the wall in the sight 
 of every one. At last he could stand it no 
 longer, and burst out: "I wonder whether 
 that gentleman is the right one to find fault 
 with what others do ! " Mogstad, feeling many 
 eyes turned upon him, sprang upon a chair, 
 and, addressing the room, said: "Yes, dear
 
 32 Treacherous Ground 
 
 friends, it's true that I've been a convict; but 
 that man was the friend whose fault it was. 
 Don't believe him when he talks beautifully 
 about the poor ! I know him. He 's a scamp ! ' ' 
 
 A dead silence followed, and all eyes were 
 turned towards Evje, sitting, pale as death, 
 upon the platform. They were accustomed to 
 see him hold his own, but he was silent still. 
 He felt the room going round. The revolver 
 he had feared had at last been pointed at him 
 and fired. 
 
 Before he quite knew what he was doing, he 
 had risen and was making his way towards 
 Mogstad. Men stood upon benches and tables 
 in order to see better. Mogstad was still stand- 
 ing upon his chair, waiting for Evje. He was 
 smiling, but his hands were clenched. In an- 
 other minute the two men were shaking their 
 fists at one another. "It's a lie!" "No, in- 
 deed it isn't!" "Say once more that it was 
 I who who sent you to prison!" "I say it 
 again ! " " Then prove it ! " Mogstad laughed 
 scornfully. "No," he said, "I can't prove it; 
 for that matter you can send me there again." 
 
 When at last Evje recollected himself and 
 returned to his seat, he felt that his position 
 depended upon what he now did. With a vi- 
 brating voice he proposed that Mogstad should
 
 Treacherous Ground 33 
 
 be expelled from the association; and when 
 this proposal was rejected by a good majority, 
 he struck the desk with his chairman's staff, 
 and left the place. 
 
 A great many people rang at his door the 
 following day, but it was not opened, and the 
 morning papers lay untouched outside the 
 door. Where was he? 
 
 They could not see that a man was sitting 
 at the writing-table, supporting his chin on 
 his hands, and staring straight before him. 
 Every time the bell rang he started, but stayed 
 where he was. 
 
 He was worn out with pacing the floor and 
 raging against the work-men's association, 
 which had betrayed him, and against Mogstad, 
 who, it was evident, had not yet tortured him 
 enough. Now at last he had become aware 
 that something much worse had happened to 
 him yesterday namely, that this attack had 
 not only come from behind, ,from his own 
 people, but from within himself. And this was 
 just what he had felt was lying in wait for him, 
 from the moment he had seen Mogstad again. 
 
 Why was he sitting here and beginning to 
 feel so thoroughly ashamed ? He felt as if he 
 had been taken yesterday in the act of com-
 
 34 Treacherous Ground 
 
 mitting forgery, as if Mogstad had uncovered 
 a secret wound of his, for all to see. 
 
 He suddenly rose as if to shake the whole 
 thing off, and threw himself upon his bed, but 
 soon started up again, and put on his overcoat. 
 But at the door he stopped; for wherever 
 should he go I Of late years he had had only 
 party friends, and they, now? He took off 
 his coat again. In the letter-box he found a 
 request from his paper that he would give an 
 account of what had happened. Oh, indeed! 
 So the morning papers had made the most of 
 yesterday's scene, and now his enemies would 
 rejoice. Well, he was used to defending him- 
 self, but this? He passed his hand over his 
 forehead. To open the old wound, to defend 
 himself against a wounded bird ! He opened 
 the door, and, instead of picking up the papers 
 and reading them, he kicked them down the 
 stairs, and then shut himself in again, and sat 
 down gloomily with his elbows on the table. 
 
 One hour passed two. " Nonsense!" he 
 cried suddenly, rising. "Let that rabble 
 choose the convict for their leader if they like. 
 It'll be more suitable." 
 
 But when the letter was sent in which he 
 resigned the duties of chairman, he felt like a 
 man who moves his furniture out into the
 
 Treacherous Ground 35 
 
 street, without knowing where he is going to 
 move to. What now? 
 
 "Why, the cause and the ideas are the same 
 as before !" he said to himself, to give himself 
 courage ; but he soon found it was not so, for 
 when he at length pulled himself together to 
 write an article again, he could not get over 
 the fact that now the labour question for him 
 would only be to see Mogstad again, to be be- 
 trayed again, to have a secret wound opened 
 again. 
 
 He sighed, and in a little while got up and 
 looked involuntarily at his medical books, 
 standing covered with dust ; but soon he shook 
 his head. It was too late for that too. The 
 years had been passing : it was too late. 
 
 He sat on, staring straight before him ; then, 
 putting his hand to his forehead, he mur- 
 mured: "No, no; it cannot be true!" 
 
 When at last it grew dark, he crept down 
 and brought bread and butter enough for 
 several days. There was something he must 
 come to an understanding about before he 
 went out again. 
 
 A new day comes. He is sitting at the table, 
 reading, but thinking of other things alto- 
 gether. He has his pipe in his mouth, but 
 does not notice that it is out.
 
 36 Treacherous Ground 
 
 To go away home? And fall in with his 
 mother's wishes by taking over the farm and 
 the works? Oh yes! Become a capitalist 
 and employer of labour he! Continue his 
 father's work he! Swallow his delusions, go 
 home like the prodigal son ! Oh yes ! 
 
 But what then? Ah, he was going to read 
 that book. So he lights his pipe again. 
 
 This sudden transition from being busy to 
 sitting idle and out of everything! There 
 would soon be an empty space between him 
 and the outside world. He began to see a man 
 upon a shore, letting all his valuables be rowed 
 away. He has no more use for them. They 
 glide farther and farther off, and the man 
 gazes after them as after a lost paradise. 
 
 There came long days when Erik Evje sat 
 and let everything go. Making up his mind 
 was like looking into a catastrophe that he 
 would rather close his eyes to as long as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 But now, when he no longer had the well- 
 being and the faults of others to meddle with, 
 his thoughts began to revolve about himself. 
 The blind in front of the beautiful landscape 
 of ideas and people out there, which had re- 
 cently been part of himself, had been suddenly 
 pulled down, and he discovered how shrunken
 
 Treacherous Ground 37 
 
 he was, how exceedingly small lie liad become, 
 and he involuntarily sought for something dif- 
 ferent and greater, in which he could forget 
 himself. But what ? 
 
 Erik found it bad enough to wake to a new 
 day for which he had no use ; but it was still 
 worse to put out the light in the evening, and 
 enter upon a new night. Thoughts which in 
 the noise of day he had kept down, in the 
 silence of night raised their heads again ; and 
 now he had no defence against them. 
 
 He began to wander hand in hand with a 
 young girl one summer night beside a blue 
 fjord. What did he promise then? Where 
 was she now ? 
 
 He turned over and tried to sleep ; but in a 
 little while he was going through the years 
 when he and Mogstad were good friends. And 
 there stands a washerwoman, bent and toil- 
 worn, rubbing her fingers to the bone on 
 people's clothes; and on Saturdays she takes 
 a heavy basket of clean clothes, and goes out to 
 collect her coppers. For she has a son who is 
 to be helped on. At night she bends over the 
 steaming iron, and coughs a little, and grows 
 more and more hollow-cheeked; for her son 
 must have new books, and he must be decently 
 dressed too. Then one day she is unable to do
 
 38 Treacherous Ground 
 
 anything more. " Just you lie still and rest, 
 mother," says the son. "I have a friend who 
 has rich parents." 
 
 Erik Evje starts up suddenly and rubs his 
 eyes. " Plague take it! Am I not to get any 
 sleep either now?" 
 
 When he has lain for a little while, with his 
 head buried in the pillow, and the quilt rising 
 and falling with his breathing, his thoughts 
 have cunningly found their way into the 
 prison. 
 
 When you think of it, a whole day must be 
 intolerably long when you know you are locked 
 in and some one else has the key, and that you 
 will not get out to-morrow, nor the day after 
 to-morrow, nor even in a week's time. A 
 month must be an eternity ; and a whole year ! 
 Then think of seven years ! And that is what 
 she was sentenced to. 
 
 The slender little creature must be there 
 still. Has she seen blue sky in all these years, 
 or a blade of grass? Has she perhaps, for 
 seven years, not known whether it were winter 
 or spring ? 
 
 Is she one of those prisoners who have to 
 clean feathers, sitting day after day inhaling 
 that filth ? Her chest ! Perhaps she could not 
 stand it, and He suddenly writhes in his 
 bed.
 
 Treacherous Ground 39 
 
 It is a relief to turn his thoughts to a meet- 
 ing to protest against the barbarism of the 
 prisons; but, in the middle of his indignant 
 speech, Mogstad suddenly stands up on a chair 
 and interrupts him. "Do for once," he says, 
 "hold your jaw about the faults of society. 
 You know quite well that it's you yourself who 
 sent her to prison!" 
 
 "What? Upon my word, now he's declar- 
 ing that that's my fault too ! Did I ask her to 
 kill that child?" Mogstad answers: 
 
 "Think the matter over honestly. Who was 
 the first to lure her on to the downward path ? 
 Who led her astray? Who swore and 
 promised marriage? Who deserted her the 
 first time she was with child ? Ask her whom 
 she looks upon as her real executioner." 
 
 Erik sits up in bed to light the candle, but 
 finds no matches, and has to sink back on to 
 his pillows again. Whichever side he turns to, 
 he sees her more and more distinctly in the 
 prison. Her beautiful fair hair has been cut 
 off, and her face has become thin and grief- 
 worn. But she raises her eyes to his, and says, 
 with a melancholy smile: "All the other pris- 
 oners herd have visitors, but I know no one in 
 town except you. I knew you were here, and 
 several times during these years I have
 
 40 
 
 thought I heard your voice out in the pas- 
 sage." 
 
 1 'He had a good excuse!" says Mogstad. 
 "He has been so occupied with improving 
 others." 
 
 Erik turns over again, making the bed 
 creak. He can draw the clothes up over his 
 head, but he is just as helpless, and all the 
 ravens of the night can gather together if they 
 like to peck at his liver. And up there in the 
 height is nothing but cold, empty space. 
 
 The next evening Erik brought a bottle 
 home with him. A glass of whisky and water 
 would make him sleep. A few days later he 
 found it best to put the bottle on the table by 
 his bed. 
 
 In the occasional glimpses that his former 
 fellow-students had of Erik Evje, it was diffi- 
 cult to recognise him in the shabby figure 
 which they saw stealing along. No one could 
 make out what he was doing; but there was 
 no mistaking the fact that he had begun to 
 drink. At last every one knew that the former 
 eager combatant had gone to the dogs, and 
 people were too busy to occupy themselves any 
 further with the matter. 
 
 On rare occasions he would steal through 
 the streets, attracting as little notice as pos-
 
 Treacherous Ground 41 
 
 sible, to the district female prison, and when 
 he had stood there for some time gazing at 
 the gloomy building, he would go up to the 
 door as if to ring, but at the last moment 
 lacked the courage, and would stagger along 
 the rows of houses as if in flight. 
 
 It was thus he had stood on that 17th of 
 May, and thence he had gone to the priest in 
 order to be able for once to speak out. And 
 he confessed, and felt the relief of it, until the 
 priest happened to mention the girl in prison. 
 This was touching a wound that was far too 
 deep to be displayed; and confused as Erik 
 already was, he involuntarily fled down the 
 stairs and quickly away through the streets. 
 
 Late that evening he was standing in an out- 
 of-the-way corner of the Students' Grove, 
 watching the noisy crowds that streamed up 
 and down Carl Johan's Street, the confusion 
 of faces, the flirting and screaming, the rough 
 pleasure, the walking up and down. " These 
 people imagine that they are celebrating a 
 general festival," he thought; "while in 
 reality every single one of them is only think- 
 ing about himself. That's what we're like." 
 But a fresh burst of laughter from among the 
 crowd seemed to answer: " Perhaps that's 
 what you're like, but we're not."
 
 42 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Towards midnight he was trudging aim- 
 lessly along the Ekeberg Road, with his hands 
 buried in his overcoat pockets. When he found 
 himself in the dim wood on the hill, he stopped 
 and looked round in astonishment at finding 
 himself there, and seated himself upon a stone 
 by the wayside. The night had already begun 
 to grow lighter. Down in the valley below lay 
 the noisy town, half hidden in a thin mist. Out 
 among the islands a few pleasure-boats could 
 still be seen upon the blue fjord. 
 
 Evje bowed his head upon his hands. 
 " Why am I sitting here, when every one else 
 is down there? Why have I dropped out of 
 everything? " he asked himself. 
 
 He thought, as he had so often done lately, 
 of his mother. She was a widow and old, with 
 everything on her hands, while her only son 
 fooled and loitered about here with ideas that 
 only made him unhappy. 
 
 In a little while he was fancying himself at 
 home at Evje, up there between the fir-clad 
 hills and the fjord. His mother, in spite of 
 everything, has been expecting him, and she 
 welcomes and makes him comfortable. The 
 servants and farm labourers are the same as 
 before, and how healthily and reasonably they 
 look at everything in this world! The old
 
 Treacherous Ground 43 
 
 foreman, who is respected by the whole coun- 
 tryside, is standing outside the stable door 
 with a short pipe in his mouth, talking about 
 this affair with Mogstad. " A pretty thing, " 
 he says, " if every one who couldn't get money 
 lent him were to go and commit a forgery!" 
 And the old man cannot help laughing at such 
 talk. This simple, honest man has also just as 
 straightforward an opinion about the girl in 
 prison. "You must be crazy!" he says. "It 
 would be different if you had been father to 
 the child she killed ; but the one she put down 
 to you, you have paid, and paid punctually for, 
 like an honest fellow. If only all fathers were 
 like you!" 
 
 And Erik sat there upon the stone and went 
 home in imagination over and over again : and 
 it was a solace to him to make all the home 
 people seem alive, to hear distinctly what the 
 foreman said. 
 
 "If I were to go home," he thought, "I 
 should not only meet people who looked up to 
 me as they used to do, but I could also do some- 
 thing for the work-people there. Has not the 
 foreman been engaged for ever so many years, 
 and not been able to make enough to marry 
 upon? There is a great deal of uncultivated 
 land belonging to Evje. Supposing I
 
 44 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Erik's gaze was fixed upon the golden night 
 sky far beyond the dark hills in the west ; but 
 what he saw there at this moment was the 
 first dawn of a new idea, and he felt like a 
 shipwrecked man when he at last thinks he 
 can see a boat. 
 
 He was roused from his reverie by the cold. 
 The town below him had grown darker; and 
 with chattering teeth and cold feet he hastened 
 homewards. 
 
 When he at last crept into his den again, and 
 was met by all the musty thoughts, he found 
 that what he had seen was not a boat at all. 
 Home I Humble himself ? No, it was too late. 
 
 When the woman who cleaned his room for 
 him came in the following day, she found Evje 
 in bed with a cough and high fever ; and when 
 she suggested fetching a doctor, he turned his 
 face to the wall and murmured, no. "What 
 in the world should I get well for?" he 
 thought.
 
 Chapter III 
 
 Evje Farm is one of the largest in the district, 
 and stands upon green hills, with red farm 
 buildings running up to the fir wood, a white 
 house half hidden by great trees, and a garden 
 stretching down to the fjord. All round there 
 seems to rise from the hills, the wood and the 
 houses, a dull, ceaseless roar. It is from the 
 Evje Fall, which drives the saw, planing, and 
 flour mills of the farm, just inside the bay. 
 
 In the house, at one of the windows stood 
 Fru Asta Evje, shading her eyes with her 
 hand as she gazed down the road. Both the 
 hand and the sharp but ruddy face were worn, 
 and the whole figure was ponderous and im- 
 posing; but the yellow- white hair was gath- 
 ered neatly up at the back of her head beneath 
 the black silk cap, and the linen collar round 
 her neck was white and freshly ironed. One 
 could see that she knew how to command, but 
 also how to laugh. 
 
 45
 
 46 Treacherous Ground 
 
 What had become of Lars Brovold with the 
 milk-cart and the letters'? She had not re- 
 ceived the customary lines from Erik at the 
 beginning of the month, acknowledging the 
 money sent. It was true she had of late years 
 accustomed herself to the thought that this 
 son was lost to her also ; but now, when even 
 the sending of those few business-like words 
 was omitted, it was too much for her. What 
 could have happened to him? Each day she 
 waited with increasing uneasiness for the next 
 post. 
 
 What could have delayed Lars Brovold to- 
 day? 
 
 Asta Evje had faithfully striven, together 
 with her husband, to work up the farm, and 
 God as she used to say had added His* bless- 
 ing. It was bad enough to become a widow, 
 but last year she had suffered a misfortune 
 which threatened to crush her altogether. Her 
 eldest son, who was just about to take over the 
 farm and works in his own name, had sud- 
 denly died, leaving no child. 
 
 It looked as if the family at Evje were to 
 die out, for Erik, who was now her only child, 
 might almost be regarded as dead. After her 
 loss she had, it is true, once more put herself 
 into harness and been one of the first to rise
 
 Treacherous Ground 47 
 
 and the last to go to rest; but now she was 
 seventy, and would soon not be fit for any- 
 thing more. Of late she had often been unable 
 to sleep at night for thinking of what she 
 would soon be forced to do namely, to sell, 
 to let strangers in to the old family house. 
 
 It was now, however, at the non-arrival of 
 Erik's letter, that she discovered the hope to 
 which, in spite of everything, she had clung as 
 a last possibility namely, that some day Erik 
 would come to his senses and return home. 
 
 There at last was Lars Brovold with the 
 milk-cart ! She went out into the roomy hall, 
 and taking the leather bag from the fair- 
 haired boy, who had just come up the steps, 
 immediately began to turn over the letters in 
 the bag. No, she did not find Erik's well- 
 known handwriting. But there was a tele- 
 gram ! She dared not open it at once, for she 
 felt it was from him ; and it was not until she 
 was in the office that she tore it open. She 
 could hear her heart thumping. Was he dead ? 
 No, it said it said: 
 
 " Coming home to-morrow. ERIK." 
 
 Fru Evje dropped on to the sofa, and sat 
 there with her hands in her lap. At last she 
 looked upwards, as much as to say: "Has my
 
 48 Treacherous Ground 
 
 prayer really been answered?" A little while 
 after she rose with the expression she wore 
 when she gave orders. The courtyard had not 
 been swept and strewn with sand yet this year, 
 nor had the best carriage been washed and 
 brushed, and his old room must be got ready. 
 But as she reached the door, she paused and 
 breathed heavily at the thought that perhaps 
 he was only coming home to go away again. 
 
 To-morrow ! Fru Evje had to go back to the 
 sofa, where she collapsed. It would all be 
 settled to-morrow. The old lady folded her 
 hands and suddenly began to sob. 
 
 It was near the middle of June, and summer 
 had reached even these northern regions. 
 The following day, the little steamer from the 
 town steamed into a perfectly calm fjord. The 
 mountains on both sides, standing like rows of 
 upturned boats, are covered with a blue haze. 
 Towards the open sea they rise like gigantic 
 whales standing guard against the storms, so 
 that the land within can lie in shelter. Even 
 out on the water, the fragrance of the budding 
 woods along the shore is perceptible ; and the 
 warmth is so fresh that it is like inhaling a 
 mixture of sunshine and snow. 
 
 A small group, consisting of a gentleman 
 and two ladies, was standing apart upon the
 
 after-deck engaged in earnest discussion car- 
 ried on in subdued tones. It was the Govern- 
 ment engineer, Rein, his fair young wife, and 
 their friend, Froken Inga Rud. They were on 
 their way home from the town. 
 
 "Yes; but it is he all the same," said Fru 
 Rein. "There! He's turning his head. Didn't 
 I say sot " 
 
 All three cast furtive glances towards the 
 stern of the vessel, where a man was sitting in 
 a deep bamboo chair, with his back towards 
 them. In spite of the warmth, he sat huddled 
 up in a thick ulster. Now and then he threw 
 crumbs of bread out to two gulls that were 
 sailing along behind the vessel. 
 
 "Very well, then, say it's he," said Rein, 
 giving way. "But why won't he look at us? 
 Is it because of you, Froken Rud?" 
 
 The young lady blushed, but tried to laugh. 
 It was not her fault that people knew about 
 Erik Evje's unsuccessful wooing. 
 
 Rein continued, as he adjusted his pince- 
 nez: "They say he's come down in the world 
 lately. Perhaps the prodigal son's on his way 
 home." 
 
 "It's hard on his mother!" said Fru Rein. 
 "Her sons have not brought her much hap- 
 piness."
 
 50 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "And how dreadful he looks! He's like a 
 consumptive Englishman, who's determined 
 to come to Norway to die. ' 7 
 
 Inga Rud suddenly left the other two, as if 
 she did not wish to hear more ; and with bent 
 head she began to walk backwards and for- 
 wards across the deck, now and then stealing 
 a glance at her companions, as if she feared 
 they might guess her thoughts. 
 
 She was really agitated at meeting Erik 
 Evje again. It had brought back memories of 
 a time when she had been much admired and 
 constantly surrounded by young men, and 
 when all the world seemed to her like a ball- 
 room filled with music and admiring eyes. 
 
 Things were changed since then. The lieu- 
 tenant she had chosen then, and had been en- 
 gaged to for several years, had suddenly 
 broken off the engagement last summer, and 
 immediately after had married another girl 
 who was rich. For some weeks after, her 
 parents had fears for her reason ; and though 
 she had gradually regained her composure, she 
 was fully convinced that life, for her, was 
 over. 
 
 "Ah, then!" she thought, stopping to look 
 at Erik Evje. He belonged to the brightest
 
 Treacherous Ground 51 
 
 years of her life, and she did not like to hear 
 any one speak ill of him. 
 
 "But why doesn't he look this way? Is he 
 
 angry with me, or 1" She did not finish the 
 
 sentence even to herself. 
 
 Erik Evje had discovered his acquaintances 
 on board, but felt the greatest unwillingness 
 to speak to them. He was worn out with ill- 
 ness and emotion, and he had a feeling that 
 the train and the steamer were taking him 
 home without his actually wanting to go, al- 
 though at the same time he was too tired to 
 want to do anything else. He had sat gazing 
 at these two gulls until they began uncom- 
 fortably to resemble Mogstad and the girl in 
 prison. He might fly from them, but they kept 
 with him ; and his throwing food to them was 
 for the purpose of detaining them and gaining 
 a moment's respite. But they came again on 
 motionless, outstretched wings. He had no 
 more bread, and he closed his eyes and gave 
 himself up to the thought that had lately en- 
 ticed him more and more strongly. If he were 
 to give in to his mother, and take over the 
 farm, it would be rather a different matter 
 when he gave away land to the old head la- 
 bourer, for instance. It would save something 
 of that for which he had lived hitherto ; and as
 
 52 Treacherous Grownd 
 
 he sat with closed eyes, now and then hearing 
 the cries of the two birds coming nearer, he 
 withdrew farther and farther into this good 
 intention, and made it bigger and bigger in 
 order to find in it shelter and a defence. He 
 would give land to others besides the head 
 labourer. It would gradually become a colony 
 of labourers along the river, a little world of 
 happy homes, which he had created. Was this 
 to betray his past ? Mogstad might stand upon 
 his chair and jeer, but sensible people 
 
 "How do you do, Herr Evje?" said a voice 
 behind him, and he started and turned round. 
 It was Inga Rud. 
 
 Erik required a moment to come to himself. 
 He rose, but felt as if the ship were going 
 round. "How do you do?" he stammered at 
 last, seizing hold of the back of the chair to 
 keep himself up. 
 
 "You won't recognise old neighbours," she 
 said brightly. A pause ensued, as each saw 
 that the other had turned red, and felt some- 
 thing of a shock at hearing the other 's voice. 
 It was she who at last went on: "I suppose 
 you're going home for a summer visit?" 
 
 "Yes; that's to say He passed his 
 
 hand across his forehead. Must he confess to 
 this girl what a wretched state he was in f He
 
 Treacherous Ground 53 
 
 looked involuntarily at his fingers, which of 
 course were brown with tobacco, and thought 
 of his untidy hair and beard, and wished him- 
 self miles away. 
 
 Little by little, however, a conversation was 
 started. They stood leaning over the rail, and 
 perhaps neither of them quite knew what they 
 were talking about. The steamer stopped at 
 a pier that ran out into the water on piles, and 
 people went ashore and others came on board, 
 and then it set off again obliquely across the 
 fjord, leaving a dark furrow behind it on the ' 
 surface of the water, to call at a similar pier 
 on the other side. 
 
 The conversation became easier, although 
 Erik began to feel a growing defiance. "Of 
 course she has come up to me purely out of 
 pity ! ' ' he thought 1 1 She knows of my failure 
 in town ; she knows that I drink and that I am 
 now drifting home like any wreck. Perhaps 
 she is pleased that everything has gone so 
 wrong with me. I suppose she thinks she 
 hasn't worried me enough yet. " 
 
 "How delighted your mother will be to have 
 you at home now," she said, smiling. 
 
 "Yes," he stammered. "Mother's getting 
 old now." But he was almost confessing that 
 he was going to forswear his past; and for a
 
 54 Treacherous Ground 
 
 moment lie gazed helplessly over the water, 
 trying to find some justification, something to 
 raise himself in her eyes, in revenge for her 
 pity. 
 
 The idea about the workmen's holdings that 
 had just flitted through his mind was still 
 close at hand ; and this woman incited him now 
 to take it up and use it. 
 
 "The fact is," he went on, suddenly getting 
 the courage to meet her eyes, "I ought to have 
 gone home long ago. Up to the present IVe 
 only written and talked about what others 
 ought to do in this world ; but IVe never really 
 known whether I can do anything myself. " 
 
 "Well, this sounds interesting," she said, 
 looking at him intently. 
 
 Erik Evje never forgot the moments that 
 followed. How brutal it seemed towards him- 
 self to lay bare this idea, which had hitherto 
 only been to him as a remote, sweet dream, and 
 which was not nearly thought out and com- 
 plete yet. It was almost like holding up to her 
 an unfledged bird, which she could kill merely 
 with an ironical smile. He began almost in a 
 pleading voice, as if asking her to be lenient ; 
 but she came to his aid with little remarks that 
 gave him more and more self-confidence, until 
 the contemplated holdings actually grew into a
 
 Treacherous Ground 55 
 
 natural and important matter. Before long 
 he was enjoying the triumph of showing her 
 how mistaken she was, and that she need not 
 waste her pity. He had not gone back on his 
 ideas yet, nor had he come home a total wreck 
 either. 
 
 "Why, it's a grand idea, Herr Evje!" she 
 exclaimed enthusiastically. 1 1 1 wish you every 
 success." 
 
 Little by little this feeling of bitter triumph 
 changed into warm pleasure at having risen 
 in her estimation. Involuntarily he looked 
 for the two steely-grey birds, but they were 
 far behind. How nice it was of her to come 
 and speak to him ; he felt as if she had lifted 
 his thoughts out of a mouldy cellar. If she 
 thought this grand, then the only thing he had 
 to do was to set about it. He grew more ani- 
 mated, and was surprised to hear himself 
 laugh ; and finally, looking up, first at her and 
 then over the water, he exclaimed: "Why, it's 
 summer here!" 
 
 She laughed. "Of course it's summer here. 
 Have you only just discovered that?" 
 
 Inga Rud was really pleased at having ven- 
 tured to speak to this man; and as she stood 
 looking at and listening to him, it was not only 
 of him she thought, but of things altogether
 
 56 Treacherous Groimd 
 
 different. She found him just what he had 
 been in the old days, just as awkward, just as 
 full of his own plans, just as careless about his 
 personal appearance ; and all this of itself took 
 her back more and more to those happy, never- 
 to-be-forgotten years. 
 
 They glided past farm after farm with grey 
 or painted buildings toning in with the back- 
 ground of mountain until they were lost in 
 the blue summer haze. The wooded slopes 
 were as silent as if no shot had ever been fired 
 on them. The steamer seemed strangely soli- 
 tary out here on the wide, lifeless fjord. 
 People had cleared the ground and built here 
 for thousands of years, and yet there were no 
 ruins, no monuments to be seen ; all these hun- 
 dreds of generations had disappeared into the 
 abyss of time, without leaving behind them 
 anything more than a few scattered strips of 
 cultivated land. 
 
 "She's just like what she was in the old 
 days," thought Erik, and felt as if he had 
 grown young again, and was meeting her for 
 the first time. She still had a fresh colour and 
 the same beautiful dark eyebrows and soft, 
 black hair ; but round her eyes there were now 
 faint traces of much weeping. Yes, he knew 
 what had befallen her, and what that meant.
 
 Treacherous Ground 57 
 
 At this point, the engineer and his wife 
 thought it was about time to disturb the two 
 who seemed to be so enjoying one another's 
 society ; and as soon as they came up to them 
 and had shaken hands, Rein began to relate 
 a piece of good news about himself namely, 
 that he had received a Government scholar- 
 ship, and was soon going abroad for a year. 
 
 "And I'm going with him!" added his wife 
 rapturously. It was of course very nice for 
 them, but Erik and Inga Rud exchanged a 
 quick glance, as if they had been carried away 
 from a mutual pleasure. 
 
 In the meantime a carriage was being driven 
 down the avenue from Evje Farm. On the 
 box sat young Lars Brovold, and inside was 
 Fru Eyje, with an eager, tired face, looking 
 out over the bay, into which the steamer was 
 moving, with its bow in a wave of foam. When 
 at last the carriage drew up at the trading- 
 place, the vessel was just laying to at the pier. 
 Fru Evje did not feel equal to getting out, and 
 sat looking at the passengers, who were now 
 beginning to walk over the bridge and up the 
 shore. Had he not come? Her heart began 
 to beat. That tall, bearded man in an ulster f 
 Oh no!
 
 58 Treacherous Ground 
 
 " Good-day, mother!" he said, looking 
 towards her. 
 
 As Inga Rud's carriage had not arrived in 
 time, she accepted the offer of a seat in the 
 Reins' little chaise; but many a time after- 
 wards did she regret that she had not rather 
 walked. 
 
 The chaise was going slowly up a hill when 
 Fru Rein said : 
 
 1 'Well, Inga, what had Erik Evje to say 
 for himself to-day?" 
 
 Herr Rein, too, looked curiously at her. She 
 knew that she was the only person to whom 
 Erik had as yet confided his plans, and she 
 would have Liked to keep the confidence a 
 secret; but Rein's ironical smile irritated her. 
 Erik Evje was every bit as good as Rein, and, 
 to show him this, she told him about the work- 
 men's holdings. When she had finished, she 
 was a little curious about the effect. What 
 would he say? 
 
 "What do you say to that, Ingvald?" asked 
 his wife, turning to him. 
 
 Rein looked straight before him for a little 
 while, and cracked his whip once or twice. 
 "The fallow land on the Evje estate?" he
 
 59 
 
 said at last. "That must surely be along by 
 the river?" 
 
 "Yes," said Inga, "that's just where he 
 said it was." 
 
 "Hm!" And then: "That's rather tire- 
 some." 
 
 "Tiresome?" cried both women. 
 
 "Yes, unfortunately; for the land there is 
 quite uninhabitable." 
 
 "What?, Why?" 
 
 Until now, Rein had seemed to be joking, 
 but now he continued gravely : 
 
 "There can't be any harm in my saying it, 
 I suppose. Last year we were going to try 
 to lay the new railway-line along there, but 
 had to give it up, for the land lies upon a 
 quagmire, as if it were on a volcano. If you 
 clear away the trees that up to the present 
 have kept the hills together, and make holes 
 in the thin crust of earth by digging ditches, 
 it will only need one autumn or spring flood 
 to send the whole of Evje's colony sliding out 
 into the fjord. So it's quite unwarrantable 
 to set people down to live there, even if they're 
 only a few poor workmen." 
 
 Both women were silent for some time. 
 They knew what such a quagmire meant a 
 liquid, deceptive mass of clay, that may be
 
 60 Treacherous Ground 
 
 hidden under the finest land. It had been the 
 cause of many a farm, often a whole district 
 in these parts, sliding out into the fjord, or 
 disappearing as if swallowed up by an abyss. 
 
 "Oh, how dreadful!" sighed Inga. 
 
 "You always seem to think a thing's un- 
 warrantable when it's to do good, Ingvald!" 
 said Pru Rein a little bitterly. 
 
 "Well, well, it hasn't anything to do with 
 me, of course," said Rein, laughing softly; 
 "and we're going away, so I shall certainly 
 not disturb Herr Evje's philanthropic plans." 
 
 Inga Rud sat silent, with her head turned 
 away. What had passed seemed to darken her 
 brightest memories, which had become so vivid 
 to-day; and it was as if Erik Evje were about 
 to face some great danger. 
 
 But could she warn him $ Oh no, that would 
 be too heartless a thing to do !
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 Erik's home-coming was a very different 
 thing from that which he had feared. The 
 meeting on board, and his new plans, which 
 had become so real, had given him a new as- 
 surance and self-confidence. It was certainly 
 not humbling himself to embrace his mother, 
 and he could safely enjoy the sight of the first 
 Evje hills. The distant sound of the waterfall 
 awakened a number of memories from his 
 childhood; and to-day they seemed brighter 
 than they had ever been before. 
 
 And there was the house, with the flag flying 
 in his honour. 
 
 At last he was walking about the large rooms 
 at Evje. This was something very different 
 from an attic with a view of sooty roofs and 
 chimneys. With all this space and light, these 
 rooms seemed to be open to the sky and the 
 f j ord. ' ' How long you have been away ! ' ' were 
 the words he seemed to hear on all sides. i l But 
 
 61
 
 62 Treacherous Ground 
 
 all this can now be yours, the land, the forests, 
 horses, houses, furniture, silver and every- 
 thing." Was it true? And a new, pleasant 
 sensation came over him, the joy of owner- 
 ship, the ability to settle down here as in a 
 fortified castle, without the possibility of a 
 Mogstad's agitating or voting his dismissal. 
 
 He went from room to room, but in the 
 corner room suddenly stopped, and put his 
 hand over his eyes. What was it ? Over there 
 on the sofa by the round table he seemed to 
 see his father drinking with the peasants, be- 
 cause the sale of a farm was to be arranged. 
 " Nonsense!" he thought, and hurried out. 
 This was not a thing to think of now ; besides 
 his mother had sold the distillery to a com- 
 pany. There were other times and customs 
 at Evje now. 
 
 He went out on to the verandah, and leaned 
 over the railing. The grass and flowers were 
 high about the trunks of the apple-trees, whose 
 pink blossom stood out against a background 
 of summer-blue fjord. There was a smell of 
 the sea here, and from the garden rose a flood 
 of perfume; but down among the fruit-trees 
 a little grey-bearded man with a wheel-barrow 
 was moving about, and Erik again felt a slight 
 pang. Was it he?
 
 Treacherous Ground 63 
 
 "I expect you're both hungry and thirsty," 
 said Fru Evje, coming out to him with a large 
 glass of milk on a tray. She had not yet 
 brought herself to ask him how long he was 
 going to stay at home. 
 
 " Mother, who's that man there?" 
 
 "That's Peter Troen. Don't you know our 
 men again?" 
 
 Fru Evje did not notice that Erik: com- 
 pressed his lips as if he had had a sudden at- 
 tack of toothache; but Peter Troen was the 
 father of Olina, who was in prison, and he had 
 Erik's son to bring up, and yet he was going 
 about his duties here as before. "How am I 
 going to behave to him now ?" Erik asked him- 
 self, and, as he did so, he seemed to hear Mog- 
 stad's scornful laughter. 
 
 "Are you going to be home for long?" 
 asked his mother cautiously, not daring to look 
 at him. The answer did not come immediately, 
 and she had to sit down on a chair close to her, 
 for she was trembling with anxiety. Sir 
 waited for the answer as she would have done 
 for a blow on the head. 
 
 "Well, mother, I don't know. I had 
 thought," he said, beginning to pace up and 
 down the verandah, "to stay as long as you 
 liked."
 
 64 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "Erik!" she whispered, but felt unable to 
 get up and throw her arms round him, 
 "Erik!" she repeated, trembling with joy. 
 "Do you really mean it?" 
 
 "Mother, he said, stopping in his walk and 
 looking dc ,vn, "is Bertil Sveen still un- 
 married?" 
 
 "What?" she said, opening her eyes in as- 
 tonishment that anything so unimportant as 
 the head labourer and his engagement could 
 exist now. 
 
 Erik had to repeat his question, looking 
 anxiously at his mother. 
 
 ' ' Oh, Bertil ? Oh yes, he 's exactly as he was. 
 But why do you ask? Come here, Erik!" She 
 smiled with tears in her eyes. He went to her 
 and kissed her on both cheeks. He felt an es- 
 pecial pleasure in the knowledge that the man 
 was still unable to make enough to marry 
 upon, for then his plan of helpi. g him would 
 not be in vain ; the beginning, at any rate, of 
 his undertaking was assured. 
 
 During the next few days there was no lack 
 of little, painful impressions to be faced, and 
 it would have been hard for him to keep in 
 good spirits as he did, without these plans for 
 the labourers' holdings to counterbalance 
 them. They followed him like a good genie
 
 Treacherous Ground 65 
 
 that held him by the hand and said: "Never 
 mind! When once you set to work on this, 
 everything will be all right. ' ' 
 
 He learned that his mother had gone to law 
 about a salmon-fishing right, with some fisher- 
 men out on the shore ; and this brought before 
 him a vision of those toil-worn men in their 
 little cottages along the rocks. The salmon- 
 fishing was the half of life to them, and yet 
 his mother actually wanted to take it from 
 them, and the law and society would help her. 
 Would he have to take over this lawsuit too, 
 and go on with it, or leave his mother in the 
 lurch ? He was still more pained when she told 
 him one day that she was going to dismiss one 
 of the maids, because the girl was going to 
 have her second child. "The first time," she 
 said, "I was sorry for her, but now, upon my 
 word, she expects to stay with number two as 
 well! Oh, the servants one gets nowadays!'* 
 
 "This is Olina's story over again!" thought 
 Erik. The child's father was' young Lars 
 Brovold. ' ' Perhaps he has promised to marry 
 her as I did that time. Will I allow her to 
 be sent away?" 
 
 But was he going to begin at once to set 
 himself up against this mother of his, to whom 
 he had already been the cause of so much
 
 66 Treacherous Ground 
 
 sorrow, and by whose care for him he was now 
 touched twenty times a day? She seemed to 
 do nothing but go about pondering how she 
 could give him some little pleasure. It was 
 all so unspeakably nice after being so mis- 
 erable as he had been. Her way of speaking 
 to him, too, had become so submissively cau- 
 tious that he felt an involuntary desire to 
 spare her, to kiss her on both cheeks and say 
 that she was always right. 
 
 For the present he might well rest, and 
 forget all the darkness from which he came; 
 only eat and sleep and go quietly about and 
 collect his thoughts. "When once I get my 
 plans started," he thought, "everything will 
 come right." 
 
 It was a pleasure to go to his room at night, 
 the room in which he and his brother had slept 
 in the old days; to open the window to the 
 light summer night, and let the breeze from 
 the fjord blow the curtain about while 1.3 
 slept ; to wake late to find the room full of sun- 
 shine and to see his mother, fresh and smiling, 
 coming in with his coffee ; to go about all day 
 long without meeting enemies ; to lie on a bank 
 in the sun, gazing at the sky and the fjord, 
 and let the time pass. Bel ind those moun- 
 tains, it is true, there lies a 1 own, and in that
 
 Treacherous Ground 67 
 
 town there are two persons, who Non- 
 sense ! " I wish you every success, Herr Evje. ' ' 
 It would be better for him to think whether 
 he should call upon her parents. "Suppose 
 I were to be successful in love some day!" 
 And the grasshoppers chirped in the warm 
 grass, the sun shone warm on his closed eye- 
 lids, and the waterfall and the river sang their 
 song out into the air. 
 
 When he went round the fields and meadows 
 with his mother, while she tried to make him 
 acquainted with the conditions of the place, 
 he felt as if she were enticing his thoughts, so 
 that they should all come home again. 
 
 If only there had been no memories! 
 
 As the days passed, he felt greater safety 
 in being close to his mother. She looked at 
 everything from such a healthy point of view ; 
 she was so strong and tireless, always busy, 
 with a thousand things in her head, at one 
 moment with the farm labourers and the work- 
 people, the next in the office, giving orders to 
 the farm and forest overseers, and immedi- 
 ately ^afterwards in the kitchen and larder, and 
 always lively, whether she scolded or laughed. 
 She had had many difficulties to overcome, and 
 had worked hard; but she was still like a 
 young woman. One day she came in with a
 
 68 
 
 pair of scissors, and made him sit down, say- 
 ing: "I really will not see you with that hair 
 and beard any longer! We're going to shear 
 sheep to-morrow, but to-day you shall have a 
 turn. A young man, who's soon going court- 
 ing! For shame!" 
 
 During the operation, Erik happened to 
 say : ' ' Fancy ! It must be at least twenty years 
 since you cut my hair, mother." 
 
 "Any one would think it was thirty," she 
 answered. 
 
 Her good spirits and energy infected him, 
 and he began to help her. He sat in his 
 father's chair in the office and wrote her 
 letters; and he went about among the work- 
 people and farm hands, and gave them her 
 orders. Gradually, as he obtained informa- 
 tion from her about the work, he came imper- 
 ceptibly to think that, after all, what she said 
 was best and would be the best way to go on 
 in the future. 
 
 He had a feeling that he was drifting 
 quietly along, with his eyes closed to every- 
 thing that was painful, and with a dim per- 
 ception of an inferno of thoughts which he 
 would like to keep covered up. On rare oc- 
 casions, however, a voice would make itself 
 heard, and wake him up. "How is this going
 
 Treacherous Ground 69 
 
 to end? Why do I say nothing to mother 
 about my plans?" 
 
 Good heavens, could he not be left in peace 
 for a little while 1 
 
 One day he went with his mother to call on 
 the families in the neighbourhood, and as they 
 approached the parish doctor's long yellow- 
 painted buildings, his heart beat with excite- 
 ment at the thought of seeing Inga Rud 
 again. She was not at home ; but as they drove 
 away from the house, Erik was sure he caught 
 a glimpse of her up at an attic window. ' ' So 
 she will not meet me," he thought. "Well, I 
 might have known as much." 
 
 It was a little sad to return to Evje Farm. 
 It was as if the golden idea that had been his 
 daily comfort had lost its beautiful dark eye- 
 brows. 
 
 "No one cares about me but mother," he 
 thought ; "and I was going to offend her." 
 
 But if any one was happy just now, it was 
 Fru Evje. She had never dreamt that Erik 
 could be so accommodating and sensible 
 about everything; but, whenever she noticed 
 him grow silent and melancholy, she felt a 
 secret terror that he might suddenly take it 
 into his head to go away again. "If I let him 
 take over the whole thing," she thought, "he
 
 70 Treacherous Ground 
 
 would marry, and then lie would settle down 
 all right." ' 
 
 Something of the same sort was in Erik's 
 mind too. And one day they drove to the dis- 
 trict magistrate's to get the papers signed; 
 and when they drove back, Erik was owner of 
 Evje Farm with its forests and works. Fru 
 Evje breathed a sigh of relief, for now her 
 only son was bound to her and the farm. It 
 was, indeed, strange to let go her hold of it all ; 
 but in the meantime everything would go on as 
 before, and that was the main thing. 
 
 When Erik the next day went over the fields 
 to look at the crops, he was in a strange mood. 
 He was master here now : all this was his. He 
 once more heard voices from an inferno that 
 he would like to keep closed. They were re- 
 membrances of his own speeches and articles 
 against private ownership of land. "Is this 
 land," he thought, and he rubbed his eyes, 
 "that I'm walking on, really mine to-day? It 
 wasn't yesterday. Is it I who have cleared 
 and tilled it, since it suddenly belongs to me ? 
 And those twelve horses tethered there I may 
 now kill, or sell, or ill-treat, or use, just as I 
 like. That's what it is to own something." 
 
 It was the same thing when he came to the 
 sawmills, where the wheels hummed and
 
 Treacherous Ground 71 
 
 people ran backwards and forwards among the 
 timber and planks, and were very busy. He 
 had to ask himself why this waterfall drove 
 the wheels for him, and why these workmen 
 toiled and sweated to earn money just for his 
 pocket. "I haven't myself worked an hour 
 here; I haven't lifted a finger to set it going; 
 
 and yet and yet What did I write 
 
 once?" 
 
 In this way Erik's life as a large landed 
 proprietor began. It was not once only that 
 he felt ashamed, but on the other hand he often 
 felt a desire to give a kick to feelings such as 
 these, as though they had been Mogstad again 
 suddenly appearing and wanting to drive him 
 out of this position too. But he really meant 
 to put much that was crooked here straight, 
 and then there were the labourers' holdings. 
 
 But now, when at last he had a free hand 
 and could at once realise his beautiful idea, 
 now he kept on putting it off. It had been so 
 easy to give away land when he had none ; but 
 now? In the course of a few weeks he had 
 awakened to the fact that one's land, forests 
 and works are more than dead property; to- 
 gether they form one's home, and in time will 
 become more and more part of oneself. Here 
 he had been raised up again after the bitter
 
 72 Treacherous Ground 
 
 defeats lie had suffered out in the world ; here 
 he was master, and could drive Mogstad away 
 with a riding-whip, without putting it to the 
 vote. Here he would remain for the rest of his 
 life, like his forefathers. To his mother the 
 giving away of the land of the farm would be 
 like cutting off pieces of her own flesh. And 
 he himself ? 
 
 Then there were the reforms. And again 
 he awoke to the fact that i^s_easier_tg_JS?lite 
 about reforms in a newspaper, than to carry 
 them out. He sincerely meant to increase the 
 workmen's daily wage; but when he had dis- 
 cussed the matter with the fat, red-haired 
 overseer of forests, it ended with his having 
 to acknowledge that that experienced man 
 was right in saying that it was not the time 
 for that just now. He even had to agree to 
 that which had in his opinion been the worst 
 thing in his father's business, the continual 
 purchase of farms for the purpose of plun- 
 dering the forest. The forest overseer made 
 him see that it was the only way of insuring a 
 supply of timber for the saw and planing 
 mills; so it would have to go on, for the 
 present. 
 
 This large branch of the business was like 
 a huge machine, working on unchangeably;
 
 73 
 
 and he had not the courage to interfere and 
 alter the/ smallest wheel, for fear of disturbing 
 the whole. He would not for all the world 
 commit follies and become homeless once more. 
 
 But how was it going to end I 
 
 One Sunday morning, while the church bells 
 were ringing, he came, when wandering over 
 the fields, upon the remains of a house. He 
 came to a sudden halt, and turned away as 
 if he had seen a ghost. He remembered dis- 
 tinctly how his father had had an execution 
 sale at this house, and how he had seen the 
 man, with his wife and children, go from it 
 empty-handed, brought to beggary by his 
 father. The house became part of Evje, and 
 so easy a conscience had his father, that he 
 had not even removed the traces of the house 
 to wipe out the remembrance of his act. 
 "You have inherited this, Erik," said a well- 
 known voice. "It's a fine inheritance you 
 have to take up. Look here, good people! 
 Didn't I say so?" 
 
 When Erik returned to the house, his 
 mother, in a black silk dress, was standing 
 before the mirror in the drawing-room, ar- 
 ranging her bonnet. "Are you going out, 
 mother?" he asked, dropping into a chair. 
 
 "I'm going to church, of course," she an-
 
 74 Treacherous Ground 
 
 swered ; and he saw that she was on the point 
 of asking him to go with her, but kept silence 
 to spare him. 
 
 1 'How pale you are, Erik!" she said, look- 
 ing at him anxiously. "Don't you sleep well 
 here in the country?" 
 
 Erik tried to smile. "Oh yes! There's 
 nothing the matter with me. But I happened 
 to pass the place where that neighbour of ours 
 lived, who who sold his house to father. I re- 
 member they had a little girl Kirsten, I 
 think was her name whom I often played 
 with when I was a small boy. She was so neat 
 and pretty, and always wore a red ribbon in 
 her hair. Do you know at all what's become 
 of them?" 
 
 His mother shook her head. 
 
 "What a pity that things should have gone 
 so badly with them ! ' ' Erik exclaimed, looking 
 at his mother in the hope of a reassuring 
 answer. 
 
 Fru Evje sighed into the mirror, as she tied 
 her bonnet-strings. "Ah yes, the Lord some- 
 times punishes severely," she said. "You 
 don't know what a wicked house that was!" 
 And in her voice there was such sincere as- 
 surance that the ejection of their neighbour
 
 Treacherous Ground 75 
 
 was the Lord's doing, that Erik felt inclined 
 both to laugh and to cry. 
 
 "Good-bye!" she said, with a little sigh, go- 
 ing towards the door. 
 
 Erik remained standing on the verandah, 
 watching his mother as she drove down the 
 avenue in the pony-chaise. 
 
 " yhat's what it is to believe in a God!" he 
 thought. "You can do anything, and yet sleep 
 and be just as cheerful. But I who am 
 alone!" A strange feeling of giddiness came 
 over him, and he had to sit down; and once 
 more he heard voices from a lower world, to 
 which he would not listen in the day's activity : 
 "How is it going to end? Why do you always 
 avoid meeting old Peter Troen? Why are 
 you ashamed to look at the maidservant Petra, 
 who is going to be dismissed ? Why don't you 
 start your workmen's holdings scheme ? Were 
 all your youthful ideals nothing but empty 
 words? What is there left? Why, the la- 
 bourers whose wages are not to be raised, the 
 land of a neighbour whom your father brought 
 to beggary, the plundered forests, the lawsuit 
 with the fishermen, shares in a distillery 
 that's what you have to live for in the future !" 
 
 He covered his face with his hands. "Have I 
 drifted ashore here, and am I nailed fast to
 
 76 Treacherous Ground 
 
 all this ? I shall soon be exactly like my father, 
 and shall live his life; and my soul will rot 
 inch by inch." 
 
 When Fru Evje returned from church, she 
 found Erik sitting in a wicker chair on the 
 verandah, with a bottle beside him and a 
 cigar-end in the corner of his mouth. She 
 stood still and gazed at him, and he smiled an 
 idiotic smile. He was dead-drunk.
 
 Chapter V 
 
 A green-painted sloop, laden with timber, was 
 moving slowly out upon the fjord, whose 
 waters reflected the ruddy glow of evening, 
 with here and there the blue trail of a puff of 
 wind thrown upon their surface. At Hustad 
 Farm, on the other side of the fjord, the even- 
 ing bell begins to ring, and is immediately an- 
 swered by the bell at Evje. The slow strokes 
 go on sounding for some time, because the girl 
 at Hustad and the cook at Evje know one an- 
 other's way of ringing, and think it fun to 
 have a little chat in this way from either side 
 of the fjord. Out in the fields where the hay- 
 making has begun, work ceases, the horses are 
 unharnessed and tethered, and the girls 
 shoulder their rakes and are the first to make 
 their way to the farm. 
 
 Young Lars Brovold took his time so as to 
 be the last. He dreaded having to sit down 
 with the others, for latterly he had had to put 
 
 77
 
 78 Treacherous Ground 
 
 up with many gibes about Petra. Now, for- 
 tunately, she would not have many more days 
 at the farm, and a good thing too ! 
 
 Lars was a big fellow of twenty, with fair 
 hair and broad shoulders. He was a general 
 favourite, being just as cheerful when work- 
 ing hard as when playing the fiddle at a dance, 
 or singing songs with a girl on his knee. He 
 was considered quite a hero by the servants 
 at Evje, because he could venture to jest with 
 the mistress herself. 
 
 He stopped on his way up the hill, wiped 
 the perspiration from his forehead, and sighed 
 as he turned to the fjord; for it was and al- 
 ways would be inconceivable how, at Christ- 
 mas, he should have been so intoxicated as to 
 make his way into that girl's room, and she not 
 young either. Was it so certain, after all, that 
 he was the child's father ? There was another 
 girl up the valley, called Kristina ; and she had 
 the most beautiful voice in the church, and a 
 waist as supple as a willow-wand. But now, 
 when he was bantered by the whole country- 
 side, Knut Babben would get her after all. 
 
 Lars dropped on to the bank, and pulled a 
 blade of grass, which he began to chew. If 
 he were to go into the military college in the 
 autumn, and came home at Christmas and
 
 Treacherous Ground 79 
 
 showed himself at church in his uniform, that 
 might perhaps help to put matters straight. 
 He had better make up his mind to do some- 
 thing. 
 
 When at last he entered the house, the others 
 were half-way through their supper, and the 
 spoons were busy with the porridge plates, 
 while the red light from the sun fell across 
 two long rows of perspiring, weather-beaten 
 faces. The shoemaker, sitting by the window, 
 had not yet left his work, but was hammering 
 at a sole. To Lars's relief, no one seemed to 
 notice him; but there was some tittering and 
 whispering going on about something that it 
 was better not to speak too loud about. When 
 Lars had taken his seat at the bottom of the 
 table with his spoon, he found out that it was 
 about the family. Something must have hap- 
 pened. Young Herr Evje had not been seen 
 for a couple of days, and Fru Evje's face 
 showed traces of tc irs ; but there was nothing 
 to be got out of the maids in the house. What 
 could have happen jd ? 
 
 Toger, the shoemaker, rose at last, took off 
 his leather apron, removed the quid from his 
 mouth, and limped up to take his place at the 
 table. As he did so, a fair-haired girl came 
 in from the kitchen with more milk, and be-
 
 80 Treacherous Ground 
 
 hind her, through the half -open door, a little 
 red-haired boy slipped into the room. The 
 shoemaker twisted round upon his short leg, 
 and caught hold of the little boy, who was 
 dressed in a tunic. "Hi, boy, come here and 
 you shall have some porridge!" he said, lift- 
 ing the child up on his arm. A laugh began to 
 go round the table. The boy strove to free 
 himself, and began to scream; and the next 
 moment a big, red-haired girl came rushing in 
 from the kitchen, seized the boy, and swept out 
 again, banging the kitchen door after her, and 
 leaving the shoemaker with a quizzical look 
 on his face. "My goodness, Petra!" he cried. 
 "Even if we took your boy, you know quite 
 well that you'll soon have another." 
 
 Lars Brovold turned fiery red, and the por- 
 ridge nearly choked him ; for now he expected 
 he would get it. 
 
 He was right, too. When the shoemaker had 
 begun his porridge he remarked, without ad- 
 dressing any one in particular: "AJ well, 
 Petra has a great liking for young people." 
 
 The others tittered and looked at Lars. He, 
 however, meant to stop old Peter Troen's 
 mouth at any rate, and cried, as he brought 
 down his fist upon the table: "You can just 
 hold your tongue about it, Peter! Perhaps
 
 Treacherous Ground 81 
 
 your daughter's going to marry Evje when she 
 comes out of prison, is she V 9 
 
 This was a little too pointed for all to laugh 
 at it, but the hand of the old grey-bearded man 
 began to tremble, so that the milk splashed out 
 of his spoon. He brushed away the spilt 
 liquid with a quick movement of his hand, and 
 said: "Oh, you don't need to trouble about 
 my daughter, Lars; she'll get a ticket to take 
 her to America as soon as she needs it." 
 
 At this point the door opened, and silence 
 fell. It was Bertil Sveen, the head labourer, 
 who entered. The big man, with the small 
 brown beard under his chin, walked with a 
 heavy step across the floor, opened an old bu- 
 reau standing against the other wall, and 
 placed something in a drawer. But just as 
 the sloping lid descended, a photograph be- 
 came visible to all. It was sunk into the wood 
 on the inside of the lid, and they all knew that 
 it was that of the woman on the other side of 
 the fjord, to whom he had been engaged for 
 fifteen years. It was an engagement that was 
 universally laughed at ; but Bertil had lost all 
 his savings by standing surety for his brother, 
 and he still had .o pay upo^ that '" ebt. So the 
 marriage was put off ag?' j and again, because
 
 82 Treacherous Ground 
 
 the elderly couple could not afford to live to- 
 gether. 
 
 "How's your sweetheart ?" asked Lars Bro- 
 vold, in order to turn the conversation from 
 himself. All the others at the table looked at 
 him with wide-open eyes, as much as to say, 
 " You'd better be careful!" 
 
 Bertil did not appear to have heard. He 
 locked the bureau, came slowly across the 
 room, and seated himself at the table, on the 
 bench running along the wall. He then 
 reached over his shoulder for his spoon, which 
 he kept in a crack in the log wall, stroked the 
 bowl with his hand, and began to eat. 
 
 The low room, with its windows darkened 
 with plants in pots, gradually became un- 
 bearably hot. The sun was still sending a 
 stream of red light across the floor, and 
 swarms of flies buzzed about the milk and por- 
 ridge on the table, and settled on the hot faces 
 of the men and women. The women, one after 
 another, laid down their spoons, got up with a 
 little sigh, and left the table to get their hand- 
 kerchiefs to tie over their heads. 
 
 Once more the door opened, and the house- 
 maid from the house put in her blond head. 
 "Evje wants to speak to the head man!" she 
 said at haphazard, withdrew her head again,
 
 Treacherous Ground 83 
 
 and was gone. The men at the table looked 
 at one another, as if this meant something un- 
 usual. There would soon be news to hear from 
 the house. 
 
 Bertil took another spoonful or two before 
 he turned his head and growled "Oh"; but, 
 when he had gone on eating a little while 
 longer, he wiped his spoon upon the palm of 
 his hand, and put it back in its place in the 
 wall. If he was to go actually into the house, 
 he had better make himself a little tidy; and 
 therefore, when half-an-hour later he crossed 
 the yard with his thumbs in his waistcoat 
 pockets, he had washed his face and hands, and 
 changed his trousers. 
 
 In the meantime Lars Brovold was quietly 
 shaving himself in his little room, although 
 there was not much to take off. When he had 
 finished, he put on his best clothes, put his new 
 short pipe with the silver lid in his waistcoat 
 pocket, and his blue cap upon his fair hair, 
 and set off down the sandy white road to 
 Viken. He was free this evening, and he had 
 an idea that a certain young woman would be 
 coming into the shop, as it was post day ; and 
 she might as well know about the military 
 college. 
 
 Fortune favoured him, for he had not sat
 
 84 Treacherous Ground 
 
 long upon the rocks above the shop, before 
 he saw her coming down the road among some 
 others. She had a basket on her arm, and was 
 dressed in a dark dress, with a black handker- 
 chief on her head. She was walking quickly 
 and swinging her disengaged arm, all unaware 
 who was sitting there. 
 
 It happened that he was standing at the 
 counter when she came in, buying a packet of 
 sweets and some tobacco and matches ; for he 
 did not want it to look as if he had been wait- 
 ing for her. She reddened a little at sight of 
 him, and then said, looking at the bag of to- 
 bacco: "That doesn't make you ill now, I sup- 
 pose?" He was delighted at her speaking to 
 him, but looked consequential and said that it 
 was a good long time since he was a child. And 
 then it also happened that he was ready and 
 was just going when she went. 
 
 She allowed him to carry her breakfast for 
 her, and the two young people set off up the 
 road. He found out that she was the only per- 
 son in the whole countryside who was not sun- 
 burnt. She had a little scar in the corner of 
 her mouth, from a fall that she had had when 
 skiing at the time when they were at school to- 
 gether. Whenever he said anything, she gave 
 him a sidelong glance and laughed. "What
 
 Treacherous Ground 85 
 
 nonsense!" she said, and tried to be serious. 
 ' * That 's all rubbish, of course ! " " It 's as true 
 as I stand here!" he said earnestly, although 
 he did not really know what he had been talk- 
 ing about, so glad was he that she let him go 
 with her. 
 
 But to return to Bertil Sveen. When he 
 entered the house, he knocked, as was his wont, 
 at the office door, opened it slowly and went 
 in. He found Fru Evje sitting there with her 
 hands in her lap ; but on seeing him she started 
 up, saying: "What is it, Bertil?" The man 
 at last managed to tell her that Herr Evje had 
 sent for him, at which Fru Evje seemed very 
 much astonished. "No, really? Did he send 
 for you? Well, you must go up to his room, 
 and try knocking." 
 
 She stood listening intently to Bertil 's 
 heavy step upon the stairs, and then she heard 
 the key really turned in the lock up there, and 
 the man admitted. Why he especially ? What 
 was the meaning of this? She waited and 
 waited for Bertil to come down again ; but the 
 clock on the wall struck once, and then again. 
 What was going on upstairs ? 
 
 When Bertil entered Erik's room, he was 
 met by a close smell of tobacco and spirits. 
 The bed was unmade, the washing-basin was
 
 86 Treacherous Ground 
 
 full of dirty water, and Erik himself was 
 standing in the middle of the room in his 
 shirt and trousers. He looked hard at Bertil, 
 and made no answer when the man said 
 "Good-evening." He looked at him as if he 
 would find out whether he was really to be his 
 rescuer; for it had to be now. The house 
 /might tumble down, his mother go out of her 
 / wits, and his father turn in his grave, but if 
 / he himself was to be able to live, he must re- / 
 gain a little self-respect. For the moment he 
 was like a drowning man, who clutches at any- 
 thing by which he can keep himself up. Would 
 this prove to be more than a straw ? 
 
 "Sit down, Bertil!" he said at last, and lay 
 down on the sofa. Bertil seated himself upon 
 a chair that seemed much too small for so 
 big a man. 
 
 "Are you not well 1 ?" he ventured to say. 
 Erik did not answer, but closed his eyes for a 
 moment to collect his thoughts. The ticking 
 of his watch, as it lay on the table, could be 
 heard in the silence. At length he opened his 
 eyes. 
 
 "How long have you served on the farm 
 now, Bertil?" 
 
 "It'll be, twenty-five years this autumn,"
 
 Treacherous Ground 87 
 
 answered the man, with a look of surprise. 
 Was he going to be dismissed? 
 
 " Shouldn't you soon be thinking of getting 
 married?" 
 
 The middle-aged bachelor smiled an embar- 
 rassed smile, but in a little while, looking down 
 at his hands, answered: "Oh, I shall soon be 
 too old for that, I suppose." 
 
 Erik could not help smiling at the other's 
 embarrassment. He knew that of all things 
 their love affairs are what this class of men 
 most dislike to discuss. 
 
 "Is it true, Bertil, that five years ago you 
 had saved up enough money to marry on, but 
 then lost it all through your brother?" 
 
 Bertil kicked out one leg. "Ye-hes, it was 
 so, worse luck." 
 
 "And before that again, you and your sweet- 
 heart had waited for ten years until her 
 mother died, because the old lady was so set 
 against your marrying one another, and your 
 girl wouldn't leave her, because she was bed- 
 ridden?" 
 
 Bertil 's big face reddened, but after a while 
 he allowed that this, too, was true. 
 
 Erik began to feel a strange pleasure in oc- 
 cupying himself with the other's affairs; and 
 now that he was at last going to bring out his
 
 88 Treacherous Ground 
 
 trump card, lie felt a warm glow as of personal 
 happiness. 
 
 "I say, Bertil," he began. His voice 
 trembled, and he involuntarily closed his eyes. 
 ' ' We owe you a lot here at E vj e. If you 'd only 
 had fifty krones a year more for the twenty- 
 five years, that, with the interest, would have 
 made a nice sum. But now I want to ask you 
 whether you'll take a piece of uncultivated 
 land instead. There's such a lot of it up the 
 river, and it'll never be cleared by me. Of 
 course you'd have the right to fell timber and 
 take wood for firing in the Evje forest; and 
 for the present you could go on living and 
 having your meals here as before, if you liked, 
 while you worked for yourself, that is to say 
 after the hay-making's over, for we can't do 
 without you- while that's going on. And if your 
 sweetheart likes to move over here at once, you 
 can have the wedding here ; and then when the 
 hay's in, we'll help you to get your house built 
 by the winter. What do you say to that, 
 Bertil f" 
 
 He had spoken quickly, as if the words 
 burnt his mouth ; but now he opened his eyes. 
 It was said, and he breathed a sigh of relief, 
 like a man who has taken a f oolhardly leap and 
 accomplished it safely. The thing was done,
 
 Treacherous Ground 89 
 
 and could not be undone. It was no longer true 
 that he was a coward ; no, it was not true. 
 
 A long silence ensued, while Bertil sat 
 smiling like a man who understands nothing. 
 Was Erik ill, or drunk, or was he joking? 
 Bertil got up, brushed his yellow hair over to 
 one side, and looked as if he did not know 
 whether to go, or stay, or sit down again, or 
 say something. The smile on his face grew 
 broader and broader with irresolution; but 
 finally he slowly crossed the floor to the 
 window to look, as was his custom when he 
 wanted to think, across the fjord to the cottage 
 where Ingeborg lived. 
 
 Erik began to be uneasy. Why did the man 
 not speak? And what if he said "No, thank 
 you " ? It would cut like a knife. His feverish 
 pulling of himself together for this courageous 
 action would have been done in vain. 
 
 At last Bertil cleared his throat and turned 
 towards him. "But," he said hesitatingly, 
 "what does it mean ? How much should I have 
 to pay?" 
 
 "Nothing, Bertil. You've paid enough dur- 
 ing those twenty-five years, I should think. 
 Perhaps you'll get neighbours too." 
 
 But Bertil still could not feel sure that there 
 was not something behind all this.
 
 90 Treacherous Ground 
 
 " Should I be your tenant then?" he asked 
 doubtfully. 
 
 "No, no, confound it!" cried Erik impa- 
 tiently, beginning to explain again that Bertil 
 was to receive about ten acres of land for his 
 long and faithful service. "But perhaps you 
 don't want it, Bertil?" 
 
 "Don't want it!" Bertil laughed. 
 
 Fru Evje's patience was at last rewarded by 
 hearing the stairs creak ominously under 
 Bertil 's steps; and she opened the door and 
 signed to him to come into the office. He did 
 so slowly, but with a beaming face. 
 
 1 ' Well, Bertil ? " she said. She did not need 
 to say any more, for the man came up to her 
 with his great hand outstretched, and a smile 
 on one side of his face. 
 
 "I suppose I have to thank you, too, for 
 this," he said. "But it's almost too much. 
 God bless you!" 
 
 "Why, what is it, Bertil?" 
 
 In reply, the man told her hesitatingly and 
 a little bashfully of the gift he had received. 
 
 "Erik's been giving him brandy!" thought 
 Fru Evje. "Indeed, Bertil," she said aloud, 
 looking hard at him, "you've got both land 
 and a house, did you say?" 
 
 "Ten acres of land up the valley," Bertil
 
 Treacherous Ground 91 
 
 went on, "and not a farthing to pay for it ! Did 
 you ever hear anything like it? But you 
 know about it, I suppose." 
 
 "Oh yes, I know about it," she said, with a 
 strange laugh. She would have liked to box 
 the man's ears. "But sit down, Bertil, and 
 tell me a little about it." 
 
 When at last the man left her, she had to 
 open the window to get some air; and then 
 she sat on as she had done before, with her 
 hands in her lap, and staring helplessly at the 
 floor. 
 
 It was near midnight, and Erik was still 
 walking up and down in the same scanty at- 
 tire, quite confused with what had happened. 
 Alas, during the last few days, he had bee$ in 
 a dizzy world of mist, but now he had perhaps 
 found a firm foothold again. "Is it true?" he 
 asked himself again and again. "Did I really 
 manage it ? Have I really succeeded in rescu- 
 ing a little of myself again?" 
 
 He felt like a man benumbed with cold, who 
 has at last lighted a little fire and is stretching 
 out his stiff hands over it. And the more he 
 thought about Bertil Sveen's happiness, the 
 higher this fire rose and the warmer he felt. 
 "Now I suppose he's sitting and making up 
 some sort of a letter to her, ' ' he thought. t 'And
 
 92 Treacherous Ground 
 
 when she's read it, she'll perhaps turn up her 
 sleeves and try to write some sort of answer. " 
 And he laughed. 
 
 He opened the window and leaned out in 
 the fresh night air. The grass in the uncut 
 meadows was heavy with the dew, and down 
 in the reddish waters of the fjord the dark 
 pine-clad hills, green slopes and sleeping farm- 
 steads on the opposite shore were reflected. 
 Farther still the sky itself had melted into the 
 world below, while ruddy, sunwarmed clouds 
 rose out of a far-off blue abyss; and above it 
 all a solitary sea-bird was sailing in towards 
 the land. 
 
 But was not that Bertil going down the hill 
 towards the water, and so late f He was surely 
 
 never going to Yes, he was putting his 
 
 shoulder to a boat and pushing it into the 
 water. In the very middle of the hay-making 
 season he was giving up his night and rest to 
 bring the news to Ingeborg himself ! Now he 
 was rowing out over the smooth red water, 
 dipping his oars into golden clouds. 
 
 "He shall sleep until midday to-morrow, " 
 thought Erik. 
 
 As he was preparing to go to bed, and had 
 just filled a tumbler with whiskey, Erik 
 seemed to wake up. He suddenly felt as if
 
 Treacherous Ground 93 
 
 some one had taken hold of his arm, and he 
 involuntarily put down the glass and looked 
 about him. What was it? Well, perhaps he 
 would be able to sleep without it to-night. He 
 thought of those two who would bless him to- 
 night, and felt inclined to throw the glass out 
 of the window. Finally he placed it on the 
 table by his bedside, and got into bed ; but he 
 lay turning restlessly this way and that, tor- 
 tured with the desire for the accursed liquid. 
 As long as he could keep his thoughts on Bertil 
 and Ingeborg, it was all right ; but what would 
 happen to-morrow? How would he meet his 
 mother after this ? Would he be able to go on 
 
 as he had planned or And almost before 
 
 he knew what he was about, he had started up 
 and emptied the glass in two or three gulps. 
 Then he was soon lying in the same dizzy mist, 
 and at the foot of his bed stood, he thought, 
 Bertil and Ingeborg, blessing him, but also 
 saying that he was far too good to drink like 
 that. 
 
 Is it not too late to leave off? Can he still 
 be saved? "Help me!" he groaned, clasping 
 his hands and stretching them out towards 
 the good action he had just done. "Help me, 
 since there is no God !" 
 
 It was past midnight, and everything was
 
 94 Treacherous Ground 
 
 still on land and sea. Up on the hill, how- 
 ever, Lars Brovold was lying under a tree, 
 whistling up to the sky. He had taken the 
 short cut home through the wood, for he was 
 far too happy to wish to meet anyone. He had 
 been going to sleep at his parents' that night, 
 in the little grey fisherman's cottage on the 
 headland ; but then he had happened to throw 
 himself down under a fir-tree to sing a song 
 and to think a little, and it was so nice to lie 
 there. The pine-needles under him were so 
 warm, and all the birds in the forest were 
 silent. He was thinking of the time when he 
 was a boy and minded goats on the mountains, 
 and played on a horn, and how he would often 
 gather up everything that played and sang 
 in his mind into a kind of old wordless song 
 and send it far out through the horn, over the 
 distant plateaux. 
 
 "Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oil, doodeli, doodeli doo!" 
 
 It was true he lay here whistling, but in his 
 fancy he was blowing a horn ; and he gathered 
 it all together the light night, the sunny- 
 clouded sky, the red fjord, Kristina's having 
 been so nice to him that day, and his going to
 
 Treacherous Ground 95 
 
 the military college and coming home at 
 Christmas in uniform, ha ha! all together 
 into the old wordless song, which he blew 
 into the horn and far away into the wide sky 
 and over the distant plateaux. 
 
 "Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli, doodeli doo!" 
 
 When at last he got up from the ground, the 
 sky behind the hills in the east was flaming 
 blood-red. It was morning. It was too late 
 to go to bed now, but at any rate he could go 
 down to his parents' cottage, and take a scythe 
 and mow for an hour before he went up to 
 Evje. It would make his father wonder who 
 had helped him with his mowing in the night.
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 Waking the next morning was a very different 
 thing to Erik from what it had been before. 
 He did not lie on, dreading having to get up 
 and begin a painful activity. To-day it seemed 
 as if something particularly nice and bright 
 were waiting for him ; so he made haste to get 
 up, and walked about humming while he 
 dressed. Everything seemed much easier and 
 brighter than it had done for a long time ; and 
 he felt sure that a new time was beginning for 
 him. The action, to perform which he had 
 pulled himself together yesterday, really felt 
 like something secure to hold fast to; and, 
 having taken the first step, he would surely be 
 able to go on. 
 
 When he entered the dining-room, his 
 mother was already seated at the breakfast- 
 table. She looked up with a frightened ex- 
 pression, and returned an almost inaudible an- 
 swer to his greeting; but he was so taken up 
 
 96
 
 Treacherous Ground 97 
 
 with the thought of defending what had hap- 
 pened yesterday, and of at last asserting his 
 will beside hers, that he quite forgot to be 
 ashamed of his intoxication. 
 
 "Will the storm soon burst?" he thought, 
 when he had seated himself at the table, and 
 she had poured out his coffee. They both tried 
 to say something, but the attempts were un- 
 successful It hurt him to see how worn she 
 looked, and how little appetite she had; and 
 at last he took her hand and kissed it, saying, 
 with a little guilty smile: "Forgive me, 
 mother!" 
 
 It needed only this to make Fru Evje burst 
 into tears; but when she had calmed down a 
 little, he went on courageously: "Just think! 
 Bertil and Ingeborg can marry at last." 
 
 She gave him another frightened look. She 
 had hoped that what he had done yesterday 
 had been done in a state of intoxication, and 
 that it could be undone ; and she could hardly 
 believe her own ears when he went on: "It 
 surely can't be right, mother, for me to keep 
 all that uncultivated land, while men like 
 Bertil haven't as much as a plot of ground big 
 enough to build a cottage upon?" 
 
 Fru Evje only shook her head, and looked 
 straight before her. This was getting worse
 
 98 Treacherous Ground 
 
 and worse. She did not dare to begin to speak 
 about it, for she felt that if she did there would 
 be a perfect storm. 
 
 To-day Erik went about his usual occupa- 
 tions, and thought he had not had such a 
 pleasant day since he came home. The farm 
 labourers were industrious, and looked at him 
 so kindly; and he found himself joking with 
 the girls who were raking. There was a great 
 deal of hay at Evje this year, and the weather 
 had been all that could be desired; timber 
 prices had risen, and to-day he had the right 
 to rejoice over all this ; he even began to think 
 of enlarging the mill, so that that might be- 
 come a larger business. Why, he felt he could 
 be the gayest and the most capable of them all, 
 if only he could get these secret wounds healed, 
 that never gave him any rest ! What had hap- 
 pened yesterday really felt like a cooling 
 plaster, but it was not enough. 
 
 Erik no longer tried to account to himself 
 for the importance that his plans about the 
 labourers' holdings had acquired for him, nor 
 why the fate of the girl Petra made him per- 
 sonally ashamed. He only had an indistinct 
 feeling that he silenced that confounded Mog- 
 stad when he now forced himself to do some- 
 thing in the matter.
 
 Treacherous Ground 99 
 
 It was after supper that he went into the 
 men's quarters, and asked for Lars Brovold; 
 and, hearing that the young fellow was up in 
 his little attic mending shoes, he went straight 
 up to him. 
 
 Lars was sitting humming to himself while 
 he pegged the sole of a shoe; and he was ut- 
 terly confused when no less a person than 
 Herr Evje entered. Erik sat down on a chest 
 against the wall, lighted his pipe, and began to 
 talk about various things. He was a little em- 
 barrassed on account of what he had come to 
 say, for it was like sitting in judgment on him- 
 self. 
 
 "Well, Lars?" he said at last. "I hear 
 you're a favourite with the girls!" 
 
 The young fellow broke into a laugh. He 
 was thinking of Kristina, whom he yester- 
 day 
 
 "What have you thought about for your 
 future, Lars?" 
 
 Lars hammered away at his shoe-sole for 
 a little before he ventured to say, without 
 looking up: "What do you think about the 
 military college?" 
 
 "He wants to run away from her," thought 
 Erik, "and to town, as I did that time." And 
 town ! To Erik it was now the place where he
 
 100 Treacherous Ground 
 
 had wasted the years of his youth, until one 
 day he found himself drifting along with a 
 bottle as his only comforter. 
 
 "You're not thinking of going to town, 
 Lars, are you?" And Erik began to explain 
 what awaited a healthy country lad in those 
 accursed towns. He had tried it himself, and 
 he would rather never set foot in a town again. 
 
 Lars looked up in alarm. He had never 
 thought of that ; but at any rate it was nice of 
 a man like Evje to sit there and talk in such 
 a friendly way with him. 
 
 Soon, however, Erik began to talk of how 
 much a girl like Petra was to be pitied; and 
 he had not said many words before his voice 
 showed how much he was moved. He was soon 
 so deep in painful memories of himself and 
 Olina, and so filled with a desire to make up 
 for it again, that Lars, as he sat there, actually 
 seemed to be himself when he was twenty. 
 
 Lars had flushed a deep red. If it had been 
 any one els^e who had come to him and sug- 
 gested that he should marry Petra, that 
 person would have gone head first out of the 
 window; but this was different. There was 
 no admonishing, no upbraiding, no preaching ; 
 it was all kindness, and it was Herr Evje him- 
 self who condescended to sit here and talk
 
 Treacherous Ground 101 
 
 quietly to him, as if he had been his own 
 brother. 
 
 "I'm sure Petra's both a clever and a good- 
 natured girl, ' ' said Erik at last. He felt as if 
 he were saving a few poor words of praise 
 about some one else. 
 
 Lars hammered a peg into the sole. He 
 could not deny it; Petra was both good- 
 natured and clever, especially now when Herr 
 Evje himself was sitting and praising her so. 
 
 "IVe known a case like this once before," 
 continued Erik, almost as if it were a painful 
 confession ; ' ' and I can tell you one thing, and 
 that is that the man who was the father of the 
 child hardly had another happy day." 
 
 Lars threw another alarmed glance at Erik. 
 He had not thought of that either perhaps 
 never having another happy day ! 
 
 Erik then began to speak of what he would 
 do to help him to marry Petra. Lars sat with 
 the shoe in one hand and the awl in the other, 
 looking towards the window. Land, a house 
 like Bertil! He, the son of a farm labourer, 
 was to become a freeholder ! 
 
 But the girl with the supple waist and the 
 most beautiful voice in the church ? Himself 
 in uniform, at Christmas ? Ah no ! That was 
 all nonsense.
 
 102 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Erik spoke so earnestly, and with such 
 warmth in his voice, that it reminded Lars 
 how he had once been begged to go out to sea 
 one stormy night to rescue some men who were 
 clinging to the keel of an upturned boat. 
 Should he be brave this time too ? 
 
 When at length Erik went down, he passed 
 through the kitchen, where Petra was standing 
 washing-up cups. The tall, red-haired girl was 
 ready to sink through the floor with shame at 
 being seen in her present condition by Herr 
 Evje ; but Erik patted her on the shoulder and 
 said: ''Accept my congratulations, Petra!" 
 
 "What?" she exclaimed, turning round; 
 for she thought this must either be a sneer or 
 a jest. 
 
 "Oh, you just wait until Lars tells you!" 
 he said, laughing, and passed on. 
 
 Out of doors the evening was calm and 
 cloudy, with the fjord as smooth and grey as 
 the sky. Erik had no desire to go to bed yet, 
 and sauntered down towards the garden gate 
 with his hands in his pockets. 
 
 To-morrow it would be still easier to go 
 about here than to-day. It was as though some 
 of a torturing debt had been paid, and the 
 thought of Olina would no longer be so oppres- 
 sively painful.
 
 Treacherous Ground 103 
 
 Down in the garden he stood and looked at 
 the white house, which needed painting. He 
 was going to make things look nice at Evje 
 now. 
 
 Up in the attic stood Lars Brovold, leaning 
 against the wall and staring down at the floor. 
 What had happened? He had made up his 
 mind to go and meet Kristina again next Sat- 
 urday evening, but he only now began to 
 realise that he could not after what had hap- 
 pened. That was all over now, over for al- 
 ways; and instead there was Petra. 
 
 In a dazed way he put on his jacket, and 
 went down the hill. He must go home to his 
 parents, and consult them about this. 
 
 When he came up again about midnight, he 
 was cahner. His parents' delight over what 
 had happened had infected him too. He, who 
 had hitherto not been considered quite grown 
 up, had suddenly become a landowner, had 
 been put on the same footing as the head 
 man, Bertil, who was given the land as a re- 
 ward for long and faithful service. Lars 
 could not help thinking of Knut Rabben; if 
 that fellow really got Kristina after all, what 
 in the world would those two have to marry 
 upon? 
 
 When he came up to the servants' quarters,
 
 104 Treacherous Growid 
 
 he stole softly into the kitchen attic, where 
 Petra slept alone. She woke and started up 
 in bed ; and when she saw it was Lars, who had 
 been so rude to her of late, she told him to go. 
 What did he want there f Should she have 
 to call for help T 
 
 At last he got her to be quiet enough to hear 
 what he had to say. It was a little difficult to 
 get out a proposal ; but at any rate it was clear 
 enough that they together had got land and a 
 house. 
 
 Petra lay silent, looking up at the ceiling, 
 which was dotted with flies. Then she turned 
 towards the little red-haired boy, who lay be- 
 side her, and tucked the clothes in better at his 
 back, as if it were a little caress, and once more 
 lay looking up at the ceiling. At last she said 
 coldly: "I don't believe it, and wouldn't if it 
 were the priest himself who said it." 
 
 "Wait till to-morrow then, you silly, and 
 then you'll hear it." 
 
 Neither of them had ever dreamt that they 
 would become man and wife. But now the 
 minds of both were filled with the thought of 
 this unexpected wealth that had suddenly 
 brought them together. It raised them both 
 out of the same poverty, and provided for 
 their future.
 
 Treacherous Ground 105 
 
 He was a little embarrassed, and could not 
 bring himself even to stroke her cheek; but, 
 as he rose to go, she exclaimed anxiously, as 
 if she were suddenly going to lose both him 
 and the land: "Are you going to leave me, 
 Lars?" It sounded as if she were already his 
 careful wife, who called him home to his meals, 
 up there on their land. 
 
 Well, he would stay a little longer. He sat 
 down again on the side-board of the bed, and 
 felt with his hand over the skin bedcover until 
 he found the boy 's head. ' ' Poor little fellow ! ' ' 
 he said. * * I shall be waking him T ' ' 
 
 This was more than Petra could bear. She 
 was so touched at Lars's beginning to be kind 
 to her poor boy, that she began to cry. This 
 made Lars think that there was no help for it, 
 and he must begin to show her a little kindness 
 too. He noticed that she had happened to 
 move closer up to the wall, and, as they had 
 much to talk about now, he might just as well 
 lie down beside her. 
 
 That evening Erik fought another fight 
 against that miserable glass. Once more, from 
 habit, he had filled it when he was going to 
 get into bed; and once more it seemed as if 
 some one took hold of his arm, so that he awoke
 
 106 Treacherous Groimd 
 
 to what lie was doing just as he was about to 
 put it to his lips. 
 
 He mastered himself sufficiently to put it 
 down on the table, and then began to walk up 
 and down, barefoot, upon the cool floor. " Why 
 in the world should I empty that stuff into my- 
 self ?" he thought despairingly. It was nec- 
 essary perhaps during that time when he had 
 been afraid of the night, and when it tortured 
 him to stand alone and face the ruin he had 
 wrought; but was it not different now? 
 
 Involuntarily his thoughts turn to the 
 people he has made happy, and who now bless 
 him. After this they would be with him like 
 a good genie, who took his part. Yes, of course 
 it was different now from what it had been. 
 
 But when at last he was comfortably under 
 the clothes, Mogstad came again, that accursed 
 fixed idea that he has not yet been able to over- 
 come, and he stands up on a chair, pointing 
 and saying: "All this about Petra is only beg- 
 ging the question. Why do you still keep out 
 of Peter Troen's way? Have you courage 
 enough to acknowledge before all the world, so 
 that Froken Rud shall hear it, your son, and 
 give him and his mother a house and land? 
 Perhaps you'll meet her on the pier when she 
 comes? Ha ha! Ah no! I know you, my
 
 Treacherous Ground 107 
 
 friend. You are, and always will be, a scoun- 
 drel." 
 
 And this man on the chair goes on talking 
 so long that Erik suddenly starts up, seizes the 
 glass, which is still standing beside him, and 
 empties it greedily. 
 
 It is of no use ! All that he has done is of 
 no use! 
 
 Meanwhile, in another room, lay Fru Evje 
 with her head buried in her pillows, praying. 
 For how was this going to end? Alas, when 
 a few days ago she thanked and praised God 
 because the farm was at last saved for the 
 family, she did not dream that Erik would no 
 sooner have his hand on the property than he 
 began to waste it. All this about Lars and 
 Petra had come to her ears this evening, and 
 it had fallen like the stroke of an axe upon her 
 head. What would be the next thing ? Within 
 
 a year Ah no, she dared not think the 
 
 thought out ! Something must be done before it 
 was too late, but what ? As to reasoning with 
 Erik, she knew a little about the use of that 
 from experience. But what then? She 
 weighed and tested every expedient, until she 
 found herself gazing into one terrible one 
 namely, that of placing him under guardian-
 
 108 Treacherous Ground 
 
 ship. "Help me, O God, for Christ's sake!" 
 she moaned, pressing her hands together. 
 
 Two or three days after this, when she was 
 sitting in the office, trying to keep her thoughts 
 upon an account-book, she started as Erik en- 
 tered. What now? 
 
 He came in with an unwonted decision, with 
 a light, firm tread, and seated himself at the 
 other side of the writing-table. "Mother," he 
 began, looking first at her and then beyond, 
 out of the window, "if we two are to under- 
 stand one another properly, there's a little ac- 
 count between us that I think we'd better 
 settle at once. No, no, don't look so fright- 
 ened! it's nothing very serious. But, hon- 
 estly, why didn't you tell me that my son was 
 dead?" 
 
 There was a pause, and then Fru Evje took 
 off her spectacles, and laid them upon the ac- 
 count-book. "I was a little afraid of ap- 
 proaching those subjects," she began in a 
 trembling voice. "I meant no harm by it, 
 Erik!" They looked at one another with sad 
 eyes. 
 
 "Well, our views on that matter are so dif- 
 ferent, mother, and I'm sure you and father 
 acted in the way you thought right, when you 
 prevented me from marrying Olina. But now
 
 Treacherous Ground 109 
 
 I think the time has come when my view of the 
 matter and my conscience have something to 
 say. What we do wrong can't be done quite 
 over again; but to-day I've tried to right in 
 some measure a wrong that all these years has 
 tormented me more than anyone's had an idea 
 of." 
 
 He sighed, and looked down at his hands 
 that were clasped over his knee. In a little 
 while Fru Evje asked him in a quivering voice 
 what he had done. She was prepared for an- 
 other blow on the head. And Erik told her 
 that he had given Peter Troen land and a 
 house up the valley beside Bertil and Lars; 
 and when Olina came out of prison, as she 
 would soon do, she should live with her father, 
 and be his sole heir. He would do what he 
 could to regain her the esteem of her neigh- 
 bours ; and if she had a farm of her own, she 
 would be sure to get married too. 
 
 "I don't mind saying, mother, that this was 
 a bitter pill for me to swallow. In the first 
 place I discovered that, in spite of everything, 
 I was a big enough man not to like humbling 
 myself before a simple labourer like Peter 
 Troen. It was hard to go to him. It was ter- 
 rible to ask him about my son. It was still 
 worse to ask after Olina, I felt as if I were
 
 110 Treacherous Ground 
 
 stopping and begging this man's pardon. 
 When he told me that Olina was thinking of 
 America, I almost cried out with relief, but 
 became aware that this was another piece of 
 cowardice. No, she shall come here! I tell 
 you, mother, I'll look her in the face, I'll go to 
 her one day and beg her forgiveness. Do you 
 think it's nice giving away land belonging to 
 the farm ? No, indeed, it feels like amputating 
 a finger each time ; but it must be done, so that 
 I can be happy with you, and glad to be the 
 owner of all this. These days have been a 
 severe test of character, and you don't know 
 how glad I am that I've stood it. And now 
 there's just one thing more. Will you come 
 up with me to my room ?" 
 
 As he rose, he passed his hand across his 
 forehead, and looked almost radiantly at her. 
 She was sitting with her hands before her 
 face; and, when she mechanically raised her 
 head, and slowly rose to her feet, everything 
 seemed to be going round. 
 
 " What was I to do ?" she stammered, taking 
 hold of the back of a chair for support. 
 
 "I wanted you to come up with me to my 
 room for a moment," he repeated. He was 
 already leading the way, and she followed. 
 She had to cling to the door for a second be- 
 fore she could go on.
 
 Treacherous Ground 111 
 
 He was already on the stairs ; and when at 
 last she entered his room, he was opening a 
 trunk. 
 
 "Come here, mother 1" 
 
 Fru Evje had to lean for support against 
 the wall when she saw at the bottom of the 
 trunk a whole row of bottles. 
 
 "When you have nothing to live for, 
 mother, no God and no ideal, that is what you 
 have recourse to. But now I don't need it any 
 longer, so will you take the bottles into your 
 keeping, and lock them up and keep the key; 
 for I don't need them any more." 
 
 Fru Evje stood motionless, staring at the 
 bottles. She was so confused with Erik's hav- 
 ing again wasted some of the property that 
 she could not quite understand this. She 
 stood there, breathing hard and holding her 
 hand to her head. "I don't understand a bit 
 of it, Erik," she whispered at last. "Good 
 
 God. I I " and suddenly she sank on to 
 
 a chair, and burst into a violent fit of weeping. 
 
 It was some time before she had calmed 
 down sufficiently to be able to get up ; and then, 
 quite mechanically, she fetched a basket from 
 an attic, placed the bottles in it, and went 
 downstairs. 
 
 Erik had been prepared for her taking all
 
 112 Treacherous Ground 
 
 this to heart. There was no help for it, and 
 now the matter was brought to a conclusion. 
 He remained standing at the open window, 
 breathing with a sense of freedom. He could 
 now hold up his head and look every one in the 
 face. He felt as if, during the last few days, 
 he had been laboriously, bit by bit, saving his 
 soul.
 
 BOOK II
 
 Chapter I 
 
 Inga Bud lived very quietly at home with her 
 parents this summer. Although she had now 
 regained her peace of mind after the great 
 crisis of the previous year, she was not what 
 she had been at her best. As usual during the 
 holidays, young men had come to the neigh- 
 bourhood, and there had been dances and other 
 festivities. Inga would accept the invitations 
 too, but when she had helped to dress her 
 younger sisters, it always ended in her finding 
 an excuse for herself; and when they set off, 
 she watched them go with a sad smile. There 
 were boating expeditions out to the islands in 
 the light nights, when bonfires were lighted 
 and sounds of laughter and singing filled the 
 air; and there were expeditions to the moun- 
 tains and saeters, with baskets full of pro- 
 visions and wine, which Inga had prepared; 
 but some one had to be at home, and she always 
 contrived that it should be she. 
 
 115
 
 116 Treacherous Ground 
 
 To anyone who expects nothing more from 
 the future, bright -memories become even 
 brighter than before. The strange thing was 
 that when Inga's thoughts went back to those 
 never-to-be-forgotten years in the capital, 
 when the whole world seemed like a ballroom 
 full of music and admiring eyes, she would 
 often think of Erik Evje too, whom in those 
 days she could afford to make fun of. "I 
 wonder," she thought, "whether I was not to 
 blame for things turning out as they did with 
 him." 
 
 She did not even notice herself that, while 
 she sat plying her needle and looking back at 
 her vanished happiness, she was filled at the 
 same time with a growing sympathy for the 
 man to whom she had then been so unmerciful. 
 
 After Herr Rein had gone away, she kept 
 remembering his dark prophecy regarding 
 Erik's labourers' holdings. She soon found 
 out that she was the only person who knew 
 anything about it. Herr Rein must have had 
 other things to think about before he left, and 
 Inga was glad of this in a way, though at the 
 same time she felt a terrible responsibility. 
 Should she warn Erik or not ? 
 
 It was of no use for her to say to herself 
 over and over again that Rein might have
 
 Treacherous Ground 117 
 
 made a mistake ; she could not get away from 
 the thought that Erik's plan about labourers' 
 holdings might possibly end in a horrible ca- 
 tastrophe. 
 
 When Erik and his mother had called, she 
 had really been at home, but she had not felt 
 able to meet him for fear of hearing him talk 
 about this fateful idea of his. 
 
 Reports of his shutting himself up in his 
 room for days together to drink, also found 
 their way to the doctor's house, and it was not 
 exactly praise of him that she had to listen to 
 on all sides; but she bowed her head and 
 thought: "That is perhaps my fault again; 
 perhaps I encouraged him, only to hide myself 
 again. " 
 
 It made a stir in the district when a report 
 circulated that Erik had really begun to carry 
 out his plan about labourers' holdings. The 
 large landowners declared that the labourers 
 in the district were spoiled enough already, 
 and others were delighted at the thought of 
 the sleepless nights that the avaricious Fru 
 Evje must now be passing; but every one 
 prophesied that the wealth of Evje would soon 
 be a thing of the past. 
 
 Inga often felt a great desire to speak in 
 defence of Erik. Even if it were true that he
 
 118 Treacherous Ground 
 
 was addicted to drinking, this, at any rate, 
 was not wrong. She was silent, however, be- 
 cause Rein's prophecy was always sounding 
 in her ears. 
 
 The fact that Erik, in spite of his good in- 
 tentions, was perhaps doing something dread- 
 ful, surrounded him, in Inga's eyes, with a 
 tragic light, and aroused in her a desire to 
 help. 
 
 One evening, as she lay in bed, she folded 
 her hands and prayed earnestly to God that 
 Erik Evje might still be successful in this 
 thing, because the thought was a fine one. 
 
 But when Eein came back from abroad next 
 year, what then? Then perhaps Erik's act 
 would prove to have been in vain, and the poor 
 men have done the clearing and building all 
 to no purpose. 
 
 There was no one who could prevent this 
 except herself, and so one day she sat down 
 and wrote a letter to Erik. But, when she was 
 about to sign her name, she felt it quite im- 
 possible, for it reminded her too much of an- 
 other letter she had once sent him, and which 
 had probably made him unhappy for many 
 years. Should she do it again I 
 
 It would really be better to go and speak to 
 him herself ; and in order to convince him that
 
 Treacherous Ground 119 
 
 she meant it for his good, she would Yes, 
 
 what was it she would do ? 
 
 Well, she need not make that clear to her- 
 self just now; but one Sunday evening, when 
 she walked down the road towards Evje, it was 
 almost as if she were going to offer herself to 
 him. 
 
 She stopped often and hesitated, as if she 
 would have liked to turn round, She met 
 people she knew, but was scarcely aware of 
 their greeting. When she had gone so far 
 through the wood that she might at any 
 moment see the first Evje hills, she had to sit 
 down on a stone by the wayside to get up her 
 courage. She had never had such a weary 
 walk. When at last she had gone so far that 
 she could see the big house up on the hill, with 
 the sunlight flaming in its long row of windows 
 towards the fjord, she stopped again, and be- 
 gan making holes in the sand with her parasol. 
 She was going up there now, to kill what was 
 perhaps Erik Evje's dearest possession. 
 
 And suddenly she turned round and 
 hastened homewards. She could not do it; 
 she would never be able to do it !
 
 At last the day arrived when Bertil Sveen was 
 relieved from service, and when, his own 
 master, he set out from Evje with pickaxe, 
 spade and axe upon his shoulder. 
 
 It was a calm, warm autumn day, with a 
 yellow sky, and the fjord a deep blue. The 
 meadows had not yet had time to grow green 
 again after the hay, which was all in ; and the 
 corn stood tall and golden, bending before the 
 breeze. The first yellow patches had appeared 
 among the trees upon the hills. Bertil was in 
 a strange mood. Up on the bluffs he stopped 
 and looked down at the farm. There he had 
 served for more than twenty years. From 
 the time he was twelve years old and had be- 
 gun as a goatherd, he had worked for others. 
 But to-day to-day was the beginning of 
 something quite new. 
 
 He was passing the sawmills, and through 
 the noise from the waterfall and the wheels, 
 a voice shouted to him: "Come here and help 
 
 120
 
 Treacherous Ground 121 
 
 us, man!" But Bertil laughed, understand- 
 ing it was only a joke, and really meant, 
 " Congratulate you, Bertil!" 
 
 Above the fall, the river flows quite 
 smoothly, and birch and fir are reflected in it. 
 Here rises a perpendicular rock, making the 
 quiet stream dark with shadow ; there the sun 
 scatters gold through the leaves upon the 
 eddies, and farther on it is the blue sky that 
 gazes up out of the water. Bertil passed 
 through the gate into the hill pasture, and up 
 on the next slope ; he looked into a valley over- 
 grown with alder and birch with here and 
 there a fir-tree. The cattle had trodden paths 
 in every direction. The yellow leaves hung 
 motionless in the still air, cranberries were 
 reddening on their mounds, and in front the 
 fir-clad hill raised its curved ridge to the sun, 
 the fir-trees along it standing like a row of 
 church spires against the golden sky. 
 
 Bertil stopped in the middle of the piece of 
 land that had been allotted to him, laid down 
 his tools, hung his coat, waistcoat and hat upon 
 a stump, spat upon his hands, and seized his 
 axe. It flashed as it swung up into the sun- 
 light, and suddenly the sound of sharp blows 
 rang out over the silent forest. The hills an- 
 swered back, irritated at being disturbed in
 
 122 Treacherous Ground 
 
 their sleep; and it was echoed again far in 
 from the dark valley. 
 
 The chips flew about him; the great fir 
 sighed, swayed a little as if it were about to 
 faint, and suddenly the top described a long 
 curve towards the earth. Bertil lopped the 
 branches off the trunk, and dragged it a little 
 to one side. It left a little clear spot with a 
 tree-stump in the middle. This was Bertil 
 and Itigeborg's first patch of cleared ground. 
 
 Soon after, the hills were scolding again. 
 Then they grumbled a little, for it was alder 
 and undergrowth that was being cut down 
 with one blow. The pile of twigs and saplings 
 grew unceasingly. The cleared patch in- 
 creased in size; soon it was large enough for 
 a cottage, and a little while after for a cow- 
 shed too; but there were to be fields and 
 meadows as well. The blows resounded, and 
 the pile of branches became a little mountain. 
 
 Ding-dong went the bell down at Evje, ring- 
 ing for dinner. Bertil stood erect and looked 
 about him. He was to go home and get his 
 meals at the farm to-day as usual, thanks to 
 Erik Evje's offer. But before he went he 
 would like to try whether that stone there 
 could be moved ; it was lying exactly where the 
 celler under the cottage would be dug.
 
 Treacherous Ground 123 
 
 Bertil laid aside his axe, and, taking up a 
 crowbar, drove it in under the stone. It moved 
 a little, but slipped back again directly into 
 its place, as much as to say, "I've lain here 
 for a good many generations, and I'll do very 
 well where I am. " " Confound it ! " said Bertil 
 aloud, and struck the crowbar just under its 
 back. Bother ! then it must move after all ; but 
 in a little while it got the upper hand again, 
 and slipped down into its bed once more. But 
 now Bertil got angry, and drove the crowbar 
 right in under the middle of the stone. Heave 
 ho ! His knees were bent, his back was like a 
 bent bow, his face was contorted and his hands 
 and arms quivered with the strain. Heave ho ! 
 Still more and a little more and there! 
 The stone turned over and up on to the edge. 
 In the earth-brown hole it left, worms and 
 beetles crept out, and there were a number of 
 fine roots that had twisted themselves against 
 the stone. 
 
 This gave Bertil courage for more stones 
 that were lying in places from which they had 
 to be moved; and the perspiration ran down 
 his face. The scent of cut juniper and juicy 
 birch rose up in the heat. The sound of a 
 bell approached, and a mare with her foal 
 looked through the branches; the foal ven-
 
 124 Treacherous Ground 
 
 tured out to snuff at the heap of twigs, but 
 galloped away as Bertil straightened his back. 
 A goshawk hovered motionless, like a line, 
 high up in the sky. The mare and the foal 
 soon disappeared, and the only sounds to be 
 heard were the distant roar of the waterfall, 
 and Bertil 's crowbar against the stone. 
 
 Ding, dong! It was the Evje bell ringing 
 at three o'clock. Bertil wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his forehead, and wondered that he 
 should have forgotten dinner just that day. 
 He would go home now. He took a fresh quid, 
 and looked at the stumps standing out of the 
 rich mould, and at the pile of branches which 
 had grown into a small mountain. Ingeborg 
 would have wood for boiling her coffee-kettle 
 for some time to come, that was certain. 
 
 And he would be coming here to-morrow too, 
 and clear as he had done to-day, and nobody 
 would come and say: "You must do so and so 
 at such and such a time. And oats are to be 
 sown here, and potatoes planted there." No, 
 it was he who was master here, and if he liked 
 to sow something brand new, he could. 
 
 Suddenly the blows of the axe rang out 
 again. Twilight began to make the valley deep 
 with shadow, while the highest ridges still
 
 Treacherous Ground 125 
 
 glowed in the setting- sun ; but the blows of the 
 axe still rang out of the darkness. 
 
 Late that evening two men came up along 
 the bluffs by the river, each with a lantern in 
 his hand. They had been sent out by Erik 
 E v j e to look for Bertil. " It 's very likely he 's 
 fallen into the river in the darkness," said one 
 of them. ' ' Oh no, " said the other. ' ' It 's much 
 more likely that he's brought a tree down upon 
 himself, or cut himself badly." But at the 
 gate they stood still and listened, for the sound 
 of chopping rang out from the darkness of the 
 thick wood. 
 
 
 
 A few days later, Bertil was rowing across 
 the fjord with Ingeborg in the stern of the boat. 
 She was not allowed to help with the spare 
 pair of oars; she was to sit in grandeur like 
 the bailiff on his official expeditions. She had 
 her dowry round her, things that she had got 
 with her own savings. There was a chest of 
 drawers, an old chest full of dresses and un- 
 derclothing, and a large bundle of boots; for 
 a careful servant ought to put by at least one 
 pair of boots and two pairs of stockings a year, 
 and Ingeborg had served for a great many 
 years. She also had a bed and bedding, which 
 there had not been room for to-day ; and in the
 
 126 Treacherous Ground 
 
 bosom of her dress was a savings-bank book 
 with a couple of hundred krones in it. She 
 herself was a broad-shouldered, freckled 
 woman of about forty, with slightly hollow 
 cheeks, and hands that were coarse with the 
 long years of service in other people's kitchens 
 and cowsheds. 
 
 "How are you getting on?" asked Bertil, 
 with a smile. She had said nothing for a long 
 time. 
 
 "Oh, it's all so strange!" she said, looking 
 back. 
 
 "Yes, it is!" he answered, pressing his lips 
 together. 
 
 It was strange for her to be approaching 
 the other shore ; for, during the fifteen years 
 of their engagement, she had never been to see 
 him. Every summer they used to meet at the 
 church in her parish, and in the winter they 
 had exchanged a sort of letter to tell one an- 
 other that everything between them should be 
 as before. But many a time had she stood at 
 the kitchen window and gazed across, and been 
 sure that it was Bertil ploughing on the Evje 
 hills. In the course of years, the shore over 
 there had become a kind of dreamland, to 
 which she turned her eyes whenever she was 
 particularly tired or sad.
 
 Treacherous Ground 127 
 
 "I didn't think Evje Farm was so big!" 
 she said, as they drew near to the shore ; for 
 from a distance, everything over there had 
 seemed so small. 
 
 "I suppose you didn't think I was so big 
 either," he said, smiling. 
 
 On the shore stood a horse from Evje, and 
 when the load drew near to the house, Erik 
 himself came out and bade her welcome. 
 
 A few days after there was a double wedding 
 at Evje. The two couples drove to church, 
 each in their separate basket-chaise, and after 
 the wedding there was a festive gathering at 
 the farm, to which all the farm-hands, tenants 
 and neighbours were invited. At the table, 
 which was laid out in the courtyard of the 
 house, under the warm September sun, Erik 
 himself made a speech, and all who heard it 
 were of opinion that the priest himself could 
 not have spoken so beautifully. Fru Evje had 
 had to take a trip to town just then, but no- 
 body minded that; and in the evening the 
 young people were allowed to indulge in a 
 dance. The only sad thing that happened was 
 that one of the bridegrooms namely, Lars 
 Brovold, became so drunk, that his comrades 
 had actually to carry him to bed. 
 
 After the wedding, Petra and Lars went to
 
 128 Treacherous Ground 
 
 live with his parents; and Bertil's wife took 
 the cook's place at Evje until they could move 
 into their own cottage. 
 
 As the autumn went on, the hills up the 
 valley had a great deal to scold about. Bertil 
 was chopping, Lars was chopping and had his 
 father to help him, and old Peter Troen was 
 chopping and a son with him. Later on, when 
 the ploughing began, the three neighbours up 
 there had to take it in turns to help one an- 
 other. 
 
 But a few weeks after the wedding, Lars 
 heard something that quite dazed him. This 
 was that Kristina up the valley had, after all, 
 got engaged to Knut Rabben. And yet what 
 did it matter to Lars, now that he was a mar- 
 ried man and had other things than girls to 
 think about? What indeed! But though he 
 clenched his teeth and swore that he would 
 put that nonsense out of his head, it came 
 again and again, making him drop his axe or 
 crowbar, and sit down in dejection. 
 
 "What's the matter with you, boy?" said 
 his father, who was cutting and pulling up 
 roots beside him. 
 
 "Oh, it's nothing worth mentioning," said 
 Lars, setting to work again. 
 
 One day he heard that Knut and Kristina
 
 Treacherous Ground 129 
 
 were thinking of going to America, and that 
 night Lars could not sleep; for if Kristina 
 went so far away that he would never be able 
 to see her again, he did not know what he 
 should do. 
 
 He would have liked to injure Knut Rabben 
 for life, but that was scarcely the wisest ex- 
 pedient. At last, when Lars had pondered 
 the matter well for several days, it ended with 
 his going to Erik Evje and asking for a piece 
 of land for Knut too. 
 
 Knut was the son of one of the sawmill 
 hands at Evje, and as there was plenty of room 
 for several small holdings up the valley, and 
 Lars begged so earnestly, Erik could do 
 nothing but consent. 
 
 Lars was overjoyed, for now Kristina would 
 at any rate be his neighbour. 
 
 One fine day when he was busy upon his 
 land, he heard the sound of chopping just in- 
 side the wood. It was Knut beginning to clear 
 the ground for himself and Kristina. A 
 strange feeling suddenly came over Lars, and 
 he stood listening to the sound. To think that 
 some one else should clear the ground for the 
 cottage in which Kristina was to be wife, and 
 that it would never, never be he ! It felt as if
 
 130 Treacherous Ground 
 
 each stroke of the axe fell upon something 
 within him. 
 The strokes were echoed from the hills. 
 
 Bertil and Ingeborg had been married a 
 month, and in that time she had grown pale 
 and looked ill, and he was more taciturn than 
 ever. At first she often went up to Newland 
 with him, to consult with him as to how every- 
 thing was to be done; but when she noticed 
 that they had very different opinions about 
 things, she began to say that he could do it all 
 as he thought best. 
 
 No one could notice that they quarrelled and 
 disagreed; but neither were they as newly- 
 married people generally are. Perhaps they 
 had waited too long for this marriage, and had 
 grown to expect too much from one another. 
 
 The hardest thing for Ingeborg was that 
 every time she thought Bertil was not what he 
 ought to be, her mother's T Darning came into 
 her mind. "If you take 1 m, I shall 'turn' 
 in my grave!" The old woman had wanted 
 her to take a farmer, who was well-off; but 
 Ingeborg wanted to be faithful to the man she 
 loved and wait, and she had got him at last. 
 But now she began to dream at night that her 
 mother turned in her grave; and the oftener
 
 Treacherous Ground 131 
 
 she was disappointed in Bertil, the oftener 
 this bad dream returned. 
 
 One bright moonlight evening, Bertil wan- 
 dered up to his land again after supper. The 
 logs had been driven up now, and were only 
 waiting to be put up, and the cellar had been 
 dug. It had been raining, and the leaves 
 sparkled like so many stars in the wood, and 
 from the black shadow of the valley sounded 
 the quiet hum of the river. 
 
 Bertil walked round the logs with his 
 thumbs in his waistcoat pockets, ruminating. 
 The cottage would be sheltered enough here, 
 and stood in the middle of the ground too ; but 
 there was something wrong with it that he 
 had not noticed until the last few days the 
 fjord could not be seen from it. 
 
 A little later he was wading through the 
 alder bushes up a hill. The raindrops from 
 the leaves clung to his clothes, and began to 
 reflect the moonbeams. When he reached the 
 top, he put his hands in his trousers pockets 
 and turned towards the broad, moonlit fjord. 
 He could see the land on the other side too, 
 now, where Ingeborg had lived for so many 
 years. It was called Southland, and many a 
 time had he turned his face towards it when he 
 had had something to think about.
 
 132 Treacherous Ground 
 
 But the Ingeborg that had come here 
 seemed different to the one over there. 
 
 "If the house had stood here," he thought, 
 "I could have sat at the window and looked 
 across. What a pity I didn't think of that 
 before!" 
 
 He sighed and sat down upon a stone. If 
 only the cellar had not been dug down there ! 
 That was many hard days' work. 
 
 As he went down again, he saw the view be- 
 come less and less; and when Southland was 
 quite gone, and the fjord too, he felt quite 
 melancholy at the thought that it would be so 
 dark down here. 
 
 It would be harder work with the crops up 
 on the hill, it was true, and he had thought of 
 Ingeborg, who was to help him to carry in the 
 hay, when he had chosen the place down here. 
 In his innermost heart there was a silent long- 
 ing that he should not altogether lose the Inge- 
 borg that was still on the other side of the 
 fjord. 
 
 "If I had been younger,." he thought, taking 
 hold of a log, "I could have managed all the 
 same." 
 
 A new cellar might be dug, but he could not 
 possibly bother Herr Evje about horses to 
 move the material.
 
 Treacherous Ground 133 
 
 "If I had been younger!" And just for 
 fun, as it were, lie took up the log, and tried 
 its weight upon his shoulder. He managed it, 
 but it bent him nearly double ; and before he 
 quite knew what he was doing, he had begun 
 to move up the hill with this log through the 
 wet leaves that sparkled in the bright moon- 
 light. The hill almost took away his breath, 
 but at last he reached the top and dropped the 
 log. He then wiped his forehead and straight- 
 ened his back; and while he regained his 
 breath, he stood looking across at Southland 
 all the time. The effort had made him feel 
 almost as if he had saved some of what had 
 been his comfort and hope for so many years. 
 
 During the next few days, all the farm- 
 hands at Evje noticed that Bertil was un- 
 usually tired when he came home ; but the pile 
 of logs up there grew smaller and smaller, and 
 up the hill there went a black path with deep 
 marks of feet that had trodden hard. At last 
 nothing was left down below but a wide hole : 
 the material was moved. 
 
 "Too much water got into the cellar on the 
 old place," said Bertil to those who wondered ; 
 but he seemed crooked and bent from this 
 time, and generally walked with his hand on 
 his back.
 
 Chapter III 
 
 One Sunday afternoon large numbers of 
 people gathered about the steamer pier, for 
 to-day Olina Troen was expected home from 
 prison. As the boat ploughed its way into 
 the bay, however, and whistled, people began 
 to retreat up the grass slopes ; and when curi- 
 osity drove some children right up to the gang- 
 way, a sensible man came and sent them away. 
 Within the memory of man, nothing so hor- 
 rible had happened in these parts as Olina 's 
 murder of her child, so she was not a person 
 for children to come near. 
 
 The boat lay to at the pier, and people began 
 to go ashore. "Where is she?" it was whis- 
 pered in the groups on the grass. " That's 
 her with the basket." "Oh, my goodness!" 
 "She wore a handkerchief on her head when 
 she went away, but now she's got a hat!" said 
 a voice in the crowd. "See what it is to have 
 been to town!" 
 
 134
 
 Treacherous Ground 135 
 
 Little, grey-bearded Peter Troen came 
 down with a wheelbarrow. No one returned 
 his greeting as he passed, but all followed him 
 with their eyes. One woman was left standing 
 down upon the bridge, and though she looked 
 with a glance of recognition at several, they 
 all hurried past her. At last she caught sight 
 of her father, and now they saw her smile, but 
 immediately afterwards put her handkerchief 
 to her eyes. l i Poor man ! To be her father ! ' ' 
 said a woman up on the slope. "It's a good 
 thing her mother's in her grave. " But even 
 when her father had taken her basket and set 
 off, Olina still stood wiping her eyes. She did 
 not seem to know how to come any nearer to 
 those people who were staring so. 
 
 Suddenly a carriage from Evje turned in in 
 front of the boathouses, and Erik himself got 
 out, and began to walk down the beach. 
 " Good-day, Olina!" he called from a distance, 
 so that every one must hear it distinctly. 
 They did indeed stare open-mouthed when 
 Herr Evje shook hands with her and was as 
 polite to her as if she were a fine lady, and still 
 more when her things were put into the Evje 
 carriage, and she took her place beside Erik. 
 She too looked quite confused. As they drove 
 through the crowd, Erik raised his hat with
 
 136 Treacherous Ground 
 
 a curious smile, and the people could not but 
 return his greeting; and as Peter Troen 
 trudged along behind with his empty wheel- 
 barrow, several of them spoke a few words to 
 him too. 
 
 The road wound like a thread along the 
 autumn-grey fjord, while here and there lay 
 heaps of withered leaves, sometimes trodden 
 into the mire. When the carriage could no 
 longer be seen from the pier, the horse was 
 allowed to walk. 
 
 Erik was in a strange mood. He had been 
 dreading this meeting, but when he met her, 
 it was as if she were almost a stranger. Time, 
 the prison atmosphere, and her troubles had 
 done their work, and the woman who sat there 
 was certainly not the pure, maidenly being 
 his conscience had made her into. This, how- 
 ever, was only a relief. "I don't love her any 
 longer, " he thought with a sense of freedom; 
 "and perhaps she has never reproached me. 
 I may have been imagining an exaggerated 
 amount of blame in the matter." Perhaps 
 she had not been so very unhappy in prison 
 either. 
 
 "It's a long time since we met last, Olina, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 The woman turned her coarse-featured face
 
 Treacherous Ground 137 
 
 towards him, and tried to laugh. "Yes," she 
 answered, "it is a long time." 
 
 She had picked up a terrible town accent, 
 and added to that there was the miserable hat 
 and the clumsy attempt at finery. She pressed 
 her lips together, too, when she smiled, so that 
 her nose came right down to her mouth. She 
 began to talk volubly of how nice it was to 
 come home to her father again ; and, without 
 thanking Erik, she began in a practical 
 manner to wonder how long it would be before 
 they could keep a horse upon the little farm 
 he had given her. 
 
 When they got into the wood, and no one 
 was in sight, Erik turned to her with a melan- 
 choly smile, and said: "Are you angry with 
 me, Olina?" 
 
 At first she looked at him in astonishment, 
 and then gave him the side-glance that had 
 always bewitched him so, and that to-day was 
 like a last message from something that he 
 was never to see again. 
 
 "Oh no!" she answered at last, without 
 turning to him, and then blushing suddenly 
 at some thought that had come into her mind. 
 Erik kept down a rising emotion. It was this 
 question and this answer that had so often 
 robbed him of sleep.
 
 138 Treacherous Ground 
 
 In a little while she added quietly, as if to 
 herself: "It's so long ago now." 
 
 Long ago! He would like to tell her but 
 no, no! She might answer that she was still 
 unmarried, and he too; and that? Never! 
 He could see with his mind's eye a woman 
 with soft hands and beautiful dark eyebrows. 
 What he had now done for Olina would have 
 to be sufficient. 
 
 When Erik had set her down at her father's 
 little cottage, he felt that his account with this 
 cottager's daughter was now settled. But, on 
 his way homewards, he sat with bent head. 
 That these painful reminiscences of his youth 
 would not be likely to worry him any more, 
 was a good enough thing ; but, with the drop- 
 ping of this woman out of his account, he 
 seemed to be burying a large part of his own 
 youth. 
 
 "And what purpose has it all served?" he 
 thought sadly, as he drove up the avenue at 
 Evje. It almost seemed to him as if his own 
 conscience had befooled him.
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 It was after this that Fru Evje began to regain 
 her former good spirits; for something hap- 
 pened of which she had lost all hope. Erik 
 began to take his duties as master seriously; 
 and everything went more smoothly at Evje 
 now than they had done for many years, 
 because there was once more a man to hold the 
 reins. 
 
 What she found so difficult to accustom 
 herself to was the thought that everything did 
 not now rest upon her ; and many a time when 
 she hurried out with an order, she received the 
 answer that Herr Evje had told them that the 
 day before, and she could only laugh to herself 
 and go in again. 
 
 Something of the gentleness that results 
 from a more chastened view of one's own 
 troubles, began to come over Fru Evje. She 
 understood that those unhappy days in the 
 summer had been a trial sent by God; and 
 
 139
 
 140 Treacherous Ground 
 
 she therefore tried to win back in Christian 
 humility what she had lost in land. 
 
 Erik had really become' active. It seemed 
 as if he only now, when the matters of Olina 
 and the labourers' holdings had been settled, 
 felt the right to take full possession of his own 
 property. He was young, he had grown 
 strong again, and his energy had to find a 
 vent. He soon saw that, notwithstanding his 
 mother's capability, much at Evje had de- 
 teriorated during the last few years. The 
 large farm was not what it had been, the plan- 
 ing and saw mills had become antiquated, 
 and the flour-mill was only a parish mill. 
 Something quite different could be made out 
 of all this, and he already was beginning to 
 start extensions. 
 
 It was not long before he was so thoroughly 
 acquainted with all the details that he could 
 catch the old forest foreman in little falsifica- 
 tions. Fru Evje heard from her sitting-room 
 that there was a disturbance in the office, and 
 before long Erik came rushing in, quite red in 
 the face. "That confounded scoundrel shall 
 be sacked!" he swore. "Erik, Erik, don't 
 do anything you'll regret!" " Regret! He's 
 been all-powerful up to now, the old fox ; but 
 it's not going on any longer!" "Well, Erik,
 
 Treacherous Ground 141 
 
 there's no one who understands his business 
 as he does, and you're not able to take his place 
 yet." Erik at last allowed himself to be ap- 
 peased, but his suspicions had been aroused. 
 Then he discovered that the labourers, whose 
 work did not lie within the field of his mother's 
 supervision, used to spend the time in talking ; 
 so he began to take them by surprise. The big 
 business occupied not only all his thoughts, 
 but it began to transform him for its own use. 
 
 When the work of the week was over, and 
 Fru Evje, on Sunday morning, put on her 
 things to go to church, Erik would take a walk 
 up the valley to the labourers' colony, which 
 was now always called Newland. 
 
 It was a great event when he saw smoke 
 rising from one of the cottages there for the 
 first time. The following Sunday there was 
 one more, and later on yet another. The last 
 was from Olina's hearth, and he stood and 
 looked at that for some time. This project 
 of his, that had once been a distant dream, was 
 at last actually realised. "People may say 
 what they like about me," thought Erik; 
 ' ' but no one else has done that before. ' J There 
 was so much to think about in this matter that 
 he had to sit down upon a stone and light his 
 pipe. As he sat looking out upon this little
 
 142 Treacherous Ground 
 
 world that lie had created, it was not really the 
 cottages, the land, or their inhabitants that he 
 was thinking about. Every great undertaking 
 that has cost us labour gradually assumes an 
 appearance to us that it has not to other peo- 
 ple. To Erik, Newland was a collection of 
 precious memories of himself. It reminded 
 him of the evil days he had gone through, both 
 in the capital and here, but also of that through 
 which he had laboriously toiled up again. The 
 idea had come to him like a boat to a ship- 
 wrecked man. Newland also reminded him of 
 troubles that had been overcome, of sore recol- 
 lections that had been healed, of debts of con- 
 science that had at last been paid. The people 
 who lived there were the embodiment of some- 
 thing beautiful in himself. His youthful ideas 
 had seemed for a time as though they would be 
 wrecked, but they had come safely to shore 
 here, and the consciousness of this was always 
 with him like a great and good conscience. 
 
 After being, for six days, the practical man, 
 who reckons out carefully what will pay, Erik 
 found the Sunday walk to Newland to be a 
 kind of church-going, as up there he was sure 
 to find a cleaner and more beautiful edition 
 of himself. 
 
 Erik Evje had become a capable man, who
 
 Treacherous Ground 143 
 
 had begun to be respected. If he was to be 
 here at all, he would like to show people that 
 Evje was not going to deteriorate under his 
 rule. 
 
 One day just before Christmas, he came 
 home to dinner in great excitement over the 
 way the distillery, in which he and his mother 
 had a number of shares, was being managed. 
 A shameful want of cleanliness was reported 
 there, and anarchy reigned among the func- 
 tionaries and work-people; and now if they 
 weren't going to elect a school-teacher on the 
 board ! He was the man to put things right. 
 
 "Well, I suppose it's your own fault," said 
 his mother a little bitterly. 
 
 "What's that nonsense?" 
 
 "Well, you know you'd rather the whole 
 distillery went to ruin," she went on. "And 
 it soon will now, and then we may whistle for 
 the thousands that your father put into it." 
 
 "You can't be serious, mother! Do I want 
 it to go to ruin?" 
 
 "Yes, I suppose you do." 
 
 "When have I said so?" 
 
 "Haven't you been asked to become a mem- 
 ber of the board not once, but ten times?" 
 
 Erik looked down, and did not answer ; but 
 later in the day, after he had been walking ex-
 
 144 Treacherous Ground 
 
 citedly up and down the office, he came in to 
 her and said that he had decided to allow him- 
 self to be elected after all. He saw the matter 
 in a different light now. And he began to walk 
 about the room, and explain to her how he had 
 thought the irregularities might be corrected. 
 "What are you smiling at?" he said, stopping 
 suddenly. 
 
 "You should have seen how like you were 
 to your father," his mother answered. 
 
 Erik felt a slight shock. Indeed, had he 
 
 really begun to ? And for a moment he 
 
 seemed to hear a well-known voice saying, with 
 a scornful laugh: "Oh yes, already you're a 
 forest-plunderer, and now you'll soon be a 
 spirit-distiller. The next thing will be the 
 Order of St. Olaf." 
 
 "Nonsense!" thought Erik; and it was 
 really a comfort to be able to think that his 
 father would never have planned Newland. 
 
 A week later he was sitting in a sleigh one 
 frosty moonlight evening, driving homewards. 
 The fjord looked black against the white shore, 
 and the silver harness-bells rang clearly 
 through the snow-laden forest. Erik was now 
 a director, and he was wearing his father's 
 fur coat; but it seemed to him as if the bells 
 kept up an incessant cry of "Spirit-distiller!
 
 Treacherous Ground 145 
 
 Spirit-distiller!" He got no peace until he 
 had promised himself that the miller should 
 also have house and land on Newland. 
 
 There were some Sundays now when he had 
 not time to go up to Newland, but sat over his 
 papers in the office. He was risking large 
 sums of money upon his extensions, and the 
 thing was to get it to work. He still felt in- 
 experienced in many things, and it often 
 seemed to be getting beyond him; but he set 
 his teeth and went at it again, for he was de- 
 termined that he would get it to go. One 
 transaction followed the other; he made 
 enemies, against whom it was important to 
 make the right moves, and in his zeal he was 
 often hard-handed enough ; but the farther he 
 felt himself drifting away from the pure, un- 
 selfish ideas that belonged to Newland, the 
 dearer and higher did that spot become in his 
 mind. It was a comfort to turn to it when he 
 had done a bad action ; it soon stood out as a 
 far-off state of innocence, to which he still 
 hoped at some time to return ; it became a little 
 dreamland, lying on a height, where the sun 
 never went down. 
 
 The winter days followed one another with 
 snow-storms of sharp frost. He had looked 
 forward to a little social intercourse at Christ-
 
 146 Treacherous Ground 
 
 mas-time; but the day before Christmas Eve 
 something happened that altered the case. 
 
 He was standing on the pier waiting for 
 his mother, who was coming by the boat 
 from a neighbouring parish, when the doctor's 
 sleigh drove up in front of the boathouses, and 
 a young lady in light grey furs struggled out 
 of it. It was Inga Rud. 
 
 Erik laid down the reins, and walked in his 
 heavy fur coat towards her, and shook hands. 
 "Are you going away in this Siberian cold?" 
 he said, waiting anxiously for her answer. 
 
 She looked away as she replied: "Yes, I'm 
 going to stay with my sister in Kristiania." 
 
 "Keally? And you mean to leave us all 
 alone here at Christmas! Shall you be away 
 long?" 
 
 "Probably until the spring," she answered. 
 
 There was nothing to be said to that. The 
 frost-vapour drifted in from the leaden-col- 
 oured fjord, and wound itself about her well- 
 wrapped-up figure ; but her face was rosy and 
 fresh under her fur hat, and her eyebrows 
 were more beautiful than ever. 
 
 "Good-bye!" she said as the steamer ap- 
 proached, and she prepared to go on board. 
 
 "Good-bye! And a happy Christmas!"
 
 Treacherous Ground 147 
 
 A melancholy little smile flashed across her 
 face. What could it mean? 
 
 As he sat by his mother's side in the sleigh, 
 driving along the fjord, he watched the ship 
 that was carrying her away, until the grey 
 frost fog closed over it. It had at any rate 
 been a pleasure to know she was so near ; and 
 now the winter would feel darker and colder 
 than before. 
 
 Christmas came, and there were festivities 
 in the parish ; but Erik stayed at home. 
 
 It was long since he had spent a winter in 
 the country, and he began to feel the want of 
 some one to talk to, who shared his opinions. 
 As he went from window to window, he would 
 feel as if he were snowed up, far, far away 
 from the world. For weeks together the win- 
 dow-panes would be thick with ice, and the 
 frost would pour in like white smoke when- 
 ever the door was opened ; and there was some- 
 thing depressing about the stiffened landscape 
 that lay there day after day as hopelessly as 
 if under a winding-sheet. After a couple of 
 hours' daylight, the grey twilight would come 
 once more; and when Erik saw the yellow 
 lights appearing in the windows of the farms 
 on the other side of the fjord, they seemed to
 
 148 Treacherous Ground 
 
 him like signals from people in distress, whom 
 he was unable to help. 
 
 It was a change for him to go with the forest 
 manager on ski up to the timber-felling, 
 through white forest, across heaths and frozen 
 lakes, where only the occasional track of a 
 hare was seen. There he would sit in the snow 
 and eat the food he had taken with him, and 
 watch the piles of timber turning into moun- 
 tains of snow, the men's beards into icicles, 
 and the horses' coats into frost-brushes; and 
 then towards evening they would skim down 
 again over the hills on their ski, brushing 
 clouds of snow from the bushes and branches, 
 and with the cold air nipping their noses and 
 making them burn. 
 
 At last the sun was seen again, and the 
 weeks passed more quickly as the days grew 
 into spring. The fjord became lighter in col- 
 our, and the hot sun began to bring out the 
 smell of the sea and seaweed. When at last 
 May with its green woods and cuckoo-calls 
 and busy farm-labourers on the Evje hills 
 had come, great changes had taken place up at 
 the waterfall. The sawmills and planing-mills 
 were now new, modern factory buildings ; and 
 the flour-mill had been pulled down to make 
 room for a larger one.
 
 Treacherous Ground 149 
 
 Up at Newland, where the snow lay longer 
 than down by the sea, a little of the spring 
 farming work had at last been done, too, after 
 a fashion. Knut Rabben and Kristina had 
 moved up, and the miller was building; so 
 now there would soon be five little farms 
 standing upon ground that a year before had 
 only been uncleared land. 
 
 At last, one Sunday, Erik found time to go 
 up there again. He was strangely touched 
 when he saw the little patches of fields on the 
 hillsides, with the crops beginning to show 
 green; but it seemed to him as if what was 
 sown was not corn, but ideas. The young 
 shoots made him think of little children 
 stretching their arms up towards the sun. 
 
 "God grant it may be a good year now!" 
 thought Erik, as he rose with a feeling almost 
 of sadness at having to leave the place again. 
 
 But when he looked down from the cliffs 
 upon his own wide fields, where the corn was 
 much more forward, he stood still once more 
 in a strange emotion. It almost seemed as if 
 those patches of land in Newland had volun- 
 tarily made themselves so small, so that his 
 own might be all the larger. They lay in there 
 in the shade, so that his could lie in the sun. 
 Indeed it almost seemed as if the people in
 
 150 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Newland lived their life just there, so that 
 he could feel happy here in the sun. 
 
 "And now she will soon be coming home 
 again, I suppose, and then?" 
 
 When he reached home, a strange carriole 
 was standing in the yard. A maid came out of 
 the kitchen door, and he asked her whether 
 there were visitors. 
 
 "I think it's the district engineer," she 
 answered. 
 
 "Oh, has he come back?" thought Erik, as 
 he stamped the earth off his boots upon the 
 fir branches lying at the foot of the steps.
 
 Chapter V 
 
 Herr Rein was sitting talking to Fru Evje in 
 the large corner room; but, when Erik en- 
 tered he rose quickly and adjusted his glasses. 
 1 1 Good heavens!" he thought; "is this Erik 
 Evje?" This strong, sunburnt fellow was a 
 very different being from that poor pale thing 
 on the steamer last year. 
 
 "How do you do, Rein? And welcome 
 back!" said Erik, going forward quickly. 
 "Have you had a good time while you were 
 away ? But there's nothing left of your hand ! 
 Hadn't you anything to eat where you've 
 been?" 
 
 "Well, you've got a regular farmer's fist, 
 to make up for it," said Rein, shaking his 
 thin fingers after the pressure Erik had given 
 them. 
 
 Erik smiled. "Yes," he said; "that's 
 what comes of being a farmer." 
 
 "But now I shall be in the way," said Fru 
 Evje, making a movement to go. 
 
 151
 
 152 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "Oh dear, no!" exclaimed the engineer, 
 turning to her. "I hope Evje and I can have 
 a chat in the office." 
 
 "Is it as serious as that?" asked Erik. 
 ' ' But how is your wife ? Is she tired after her 
 journey?" 
 
 "Oh, thank you," Rein replied, a little con- 
 fused, for Erik's friendliness seemed almost 
 inopportune. "Can we go into the office, 
 then?" 
 
 "Why, certainly!" replied Erik, laughing, 
 as he led the way. 
 
 They entered a large room with leather sofas 
 and chairs and a writing-table in the middle 
 of the floor. The high windows, like those in 
 the sitting-rooms, were almost hidden by 
 plants in pots. Erik motioned his companion 
 to an arm-chair, and seated himself at the 
 table, facing him. "Well?" he said, with an 
 expectant smile. 
 
 Rein crossed one of his long legs over the 
 other, and taking off his glasses began to play 
 with them. "Well," he said ; "the fact is, this 
 is an unpleasant errand for me, my dear 
 Evje." 
 
 "Then perhaps we'd better help ourselves 
 to a cigar," Erik suggested, handing him a 
 box ; but Rein declined. His forehead wrinkled
 
 Treacherous Ground 153 
 
 nervously, and he kept on fingering his 
 glasses. "What nails that man is furnished 
 with, to be sure!" thought Erik, remembering 
 at the same moment that Mogstad also had 
 just such nails. 
 
 "I've been very reluctant to come on this 
 errand," Rein went on, with his eyes on his 
 glasses. "But on the other hand you will be 
 just the person to understand that I feel it 
 my duty to speak before it's too late." 
 
 ' ' Speak away, then ! ' ' said Erik impatiently. 
 
 "Your idea about the labourers' holdings 
 is admirable and good, and therefore it's a 
 very great pity that you'll have to give it up." 
 
 Erik grasped the arms of his chair and 
 opened his mouth in astonishment, then half 
 closed his eyes and burst out laughing. "Give 
 it up?" 
 
 "Yes," said Rein, looking at him at last. 
 
 "But, man alive, don't you know that there 
 are several families living up there already?" 
 
 "That's just the pity, for you'll have to ask 
 them to move out of it again." , 
 
 There was a short pause, but Erik still 
 laughed. "What shall I have to do, do you 
 say?" At this moment he resembled his 
 father again, when he threw himself back in 
 his chair.
 
 154 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Kein put on his glasses and looked towards 
 the window as if at the thing he was talking 
 about. 
 
 " There's a quagmire up there, and there 
 may be a landslip at any moment. An autumn 
 or spring flood will be enough to carry the 
 whole hillside down into the river. The 
 danger is doubled now that the settlers have 
 cleared away the wood that has held the slope 
 together up to the present ; and it is absolutely 
 unjustifiable to let people go on living there." 
 
 There was another pause, while Erik con- 
 tinued to look at Rein ; and then at last he said 
 in a toneless voice: "What are you talking 
 about, man?" 
 
 "The pity is that I wasn't at home when 
 you started this affair." 
 
 Erik rose from his seat and went to the 
 window, where he appeared to be looking out. 
 They were both silent for a time, and in the 
 silence the ticking of a clock could be heard. 
 But Erik was thinking of what the other had 
 said. Landslips were not uncommon things; 
 and now he imagined to himself the little cot- 
 tages in Newland slipping down, carried 
 down by sand and clay, and swallowed up in 
 an abyss, leaving the naked rock behind them 
 gaping like an open wound.
 
 Treacherous Ground 155 
 
 At last he turned. "How can you be sure of 
 this? "lie asked. 
 
 Rein told of his having to do with the lay- 
 ing out of the new railway, and how it was 
 the quagmire up there that had necessitated 
 the bringing of the line round the other side 
 of the hill. 
 
 "Does any one else know of this? For IVe 
 never heard a word of it before." 
 
 "The officer who helped me would be able 
 to certify it, and so would my assistants. I 
 can give you their addresses, if you like. ' ' 
 
 Erik began to walk slowly up and down the 
 room, the sunlight as it filtered in through 
 the leaves of the. plants in the window every 
 now and then catching his fair hair and 
 pointed beard. 
 
 "Well," he said at last, his head bent, "this 
 is a bad lookout for me." 
 
 "And still worse for those poor things up 
 there, who have had all their toil for nothing. " 
 
 "But, dear me, it can't be quite so bad as 
 you make out, Rein." 
 
 "It's worse, if anything. There are already 
 suspicious indications in the bed of the river 
 farther up. I was up there yesterday. I 
 wanted to be sure before I spoke to you." 
 
 Erik felt a cold shiver run down his back,
 
 156 Treacherous Ground 
 
 and his walk grew more agitated and in- 
 termittent. He passed his hand across his 
 forehead, looked towards the window, and 
 finally at Rein. 
 
 "But, confound it, there must be some 
 means of preventing a catastrophe!" 
 
 Rein shook his head. 
 
 "A bulwark of piles, for instance?" Erik 
 looked at him anxiously. But Rein could not 
 help smiling. "Whether it were of piles or 
 matches, ' ' he said ; "it would be equally worth- 
 less." 
 
 His absolute certainty began to irritate the 
 master of Evje. Rein seemed so inexorable. 
 It was really as if he had come with an ulti- 
 matum. 
 
 Rein now rose, evidently relieved at having 
 got through his difficult task. 
 
 "Well, well," said Erik, shaking hands with 
 him; "I must think the matter over." 
 
 "It will make no difference, however much 
 you think it over, Evje; and I sincerely hope 
 that you won't put off doing what ought to be 
 done. It's a question of many human lives." 
 
 Erik began to pace up and down again. 
 "But, confound it, I must have time to think 
 it over before I go and turn those people off 
 the land I've just given them, for I've no
 
 Treacherous Ground 157 
 
 other to let them have. But that's what you 
 want, is it? They're to leave the place, are 
 they? Pull down their houses, and leave the 
 little fields they've dug, which are now grow- 
 ing green ; reduce themselves to penury again, 
 man, wife and children? That's what you 
 want, is it?" 
 
 Rein sighed. "It's a pity, but " 
 
 "But?" Erik repeated, looking at him. 
 
 "Well, at any rate it's not my fault that 
 there's a quagmire on the Evje hills." 
 
 Erik felt a little repulsed, and began to pace 
 up and down again. "No," he^said; "and 
 goodness knows it isn't mine either. I cer- 
 tainly meant well, though it raised a great out- 
 cry among the rich farmers here. They de- 
 clared I was infecting the whole district with 
 socialism; and to this day those poor la- 
 bourers' holdings are a vexation to them all." 
 
 Rein had no wish to enter into this subject, 
 and therefore moved towards the door. 
 "Well," he said, "that's what I came for, and 
 I've done what / can. Good-morning." Erik 
 did not accompany him to the door, but con- 
 tinued to walk up and down. 
 
 In the meantime, Fru Evje had been occu- 
 pied with her own affairs ; but some time after 
 she had heard Rein drive away, she had oc-
 
 158 Treacherous Ground 
 
 casion to pass through the sitting-rooms, and 
 went into the office. Erik was then sitting 
 with his head in his hands. 
 
 "Well?" she asked, standing still and look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 He made no answer at first, but when she 
 had got it all out of him, she burst into a loud 
 laugh.. "Oh, that's too funny!" she cried. 
 ' ' That really is good ! ' ' 
 
 Erik rose with an expectant look. "Do you 
 know anything about this then, mother ?" he 
 said. 
 
 "Certainly I do," she said, sitting down. 
 
 "Have you heard that there is a quagmire 
 up there?" 
 
 "Not until we people who lived along the 
 shore were to have the railway on our side; 
 but then it suddenly became so full of quag- 
 mires that it was quite impossible for us to 
 have the railway. Oh, that Rein! He'll lend 
 himself to anything!" 
 
 Erik was thoughtful for a little while, and 
 then said: "Are you certain of this, mother?" 
 
 "Oh yes, Erik; I wasn't born yesterday." 
 
 Erik kept walking slowly from one window 
 to the other, and then turned and went up to 
 his mother, and, placing his hands on her 
 shoulders, said: "Are you perfectly sure,
 
 Treacherous Ground 159 
 
 mother? Is it all a made-up story that the 
 Newland people are in danger ?" 
 
 Fru Evje began to talk volubly about all the 
 intriguing that had gone on among the inhabi- 
 tants, of the valley in order to get the railway 
 over on their side. Erik didn't know yet what 
 people could be like ! 
 
 When she was gone, Erik remained standing 
 in the middle of the room with his eyes on the 
 floor. Of course his mother was right! Of 
 course ! 
 
 He wandered about for some time longer, 
 both out of doors and in, but at last sat down 
 to work to get rid of his uncomfortable 
 thoughts. But all the time a small voice with- 
 in him kept on saying: " Suppose neverthe- 
 less " 
 
 Erik was not happy during the next few 
 days. His mother's assurances had quieted 
 him, but not enough. 
 
 / There are some men who cannot think 
 clearly unless they have a cigar in their mouth. 
 When that little thing no longer smokes, their 
 thoughts, too, come to a standstill. It was thus 
 now with Erik Evje. The matter of the la- 
 bourers' holdings had been a necessity to his 
 mind. Of late he had worked steadily and 
 well, without giving much attention to it ; but
 
 160 Treacherous Ground 
 
 now, when it threatened to come to a standstill, 
 it was another matter. In the middle of a 
 letter to the Local Government Board, his pen 
 
 ceased to move. "Suppose nevertheless 
 
 What then?" Later on it was necessary to 
 write about a fresh purchase of a farm for the 
 sake of its forest. The pen was arrested again 
 in the face of this same catastrophe. When he 
 was among the men at the sawmill, it came 
 
 again "Suppose nevertheless " And at 
 
 night he lay awake, imagining he saw the New- 
 land settlers moving away, Newland lying de- 
 serted, an unsuccessful attempt, and he him- 
 self left with his business, his calculations and 
 lawsuits, forest devastation and distillery. If 
 only he could be quite sure that his mother was 
 right ! He would have liked to go and consult 
 some one, but whom? And the Newland 
 people must not be alarmed either. 
 
 One day, when he was sitting in his office, 
 there was a knock at the door, and Toger, the 
 little shoemaker, came limping in, took off his 
 cap, and wished Erik good-morning with a 
 beaming face. Erik asked him to sit down, 
 and he swung round on his short leg on to the 
 edge of a chair, where he sat twisting his cap 
 in his hands.
 
 Treacherous Ground 161 
 
 "Well?" questioned Erik, turning towards 
 him. 
 
 It was not very easy for the little shoemaker 
 to say what he had come to say, and he smiled 
 in an embarrassed way at his cap. It put 
 Erik in a good humour to look at him. His 
 face, like that of so many shoemakers, shone 
 with a bluish dampness. His head was round 
 and small, and covered with thick black hair, 
 and his thin shoemaker's hands were dyed 
 with leather and blacking. He was a merry 
 fellow, the only thing that made him angry 
 being to be made fun of by the girls for his 
 deformity. 
 
 "I wanted, " he began at last, "to ask you 
 whether you would have any objection to my 
 to my going up to live with Peter Troen." 
 
 "Indeed, Toger? I fancy it's with Olina 
 you mean, isn't it?" 
 
 "Well, perhaps it is, he he!" said the shoe- 
 maker, turning red and looking down at his 
 cap. 
 
 Erik got up and began to walk up and down. 
 He had hoped that Olina would marry, and 
 now it was to be with this man. He had really 
 nothing to say in this matter ; it was only out 
 of courtesy that he was asked. 
 
 "But suppose they have to move!" he sud-
 
 162 Treacherous Ground 
 
 denly thought. "Will he still have her?. I 
 ought to tell him of the risk he runs!" But 
 once he had told this man, he might as well go 
 up and tell them all, and then ? 
 
 Erik continued to pace up and down; but 
 at last stopped in front of the shoemaker and 
 held out his hand. ' * Good luck to you, then 1 ' ' 
 he said. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, thank you!" 
 
 "But you're to promise me one thing. 
 You've been a little too fond of strong drink, 
 and now you must turn teetotaller." 
 
 This the shoemaker promised, thanking 
 again. When the delighted little man was 
 gone, Erik remained standing with one hand 
 leaning upon the writing-table. 
 
 He was now responsible for another human 
 life up there.
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 The Government engineer, Rein, was not pop- 
 ular in the parish. Some people thought him 
 too obstinate, others too rough ; and he had had 
 more than one collision both with the author- 
 ities and with private persons. Wits had often j 
 f said that they would rather have to do with a / 
 \ scoundrel than with such a monomaniac in the 
 matter of rectitude as that Rein. 
 
 It was true, indeed, that he took his opinions 
 far too seriously. In politics, he would take 
 even little things so much to heart, that he 
 would lie awake half the night worrying over 
 them. Then, when he had given vent to his 
 indignation in a newspaper article, it often 
 happened that his manuscript was returned 
 because it was far too one-sided, far too vio- 
 lent; and the more righteous indignation he 
 had to swallow in this way, the more gloomy 
 and solitary he began to feel, and this was no- 
 ticeable even with his wife. 
 
 168
 
 164 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Fru Rein lived, as so many have done, upon 
 bright, happy memories of her father. He 
 had been a man out of the common priest, 
 schoolmaster and hymn-writer an idealist 
 and a fighter. He had suddenly resigned his 
 living, and it was whispered that there were 
 affairs with women. His school had to be 
 given up directly after for lack of pupils ; but 
 Fru Rein never doubted that her father was 
 the victim of persecution, and this shed a still 
 more golden light upon his memory. This 
 memory was her guide whenever she had to 
 make up her mind about anything ; and more 
 than once, when defending some case against 
 her husband, she felt, half unconsciously, that 
 it was really her father whom she was de- 
 fending. 
 
 Thus there were often scenes in the engi- 
 neer's house. She considered him far too scep- 
 tical, and he thought her far too simple, and 
 though they were often quite happy for a long 
 time, yet every fresh disagreement served to 
 widen the rift between them. Fru Rein often 
 sat and pondered the matter, but it only be- 
 came a new reason for living over again the 
 bright days of her youth in the parsonage, 
 where she could see her white-haired father 
 moving about the garden, tending his flowers.
 
 Treacherous Ground 165 
 
 From the day when Rein had first men- 
 tioned the quagmire on the Evje hills, Fru 
 Rein had instinctively advised him to do 
 nothing at all in the matter. Erik's idea 
 seemed to her so beautiful, that it reminded 
 her forcibly of her father. When they re- 
 turned from abroad, and Rein began to talk 
 seriously of interfering, she opposed him ob- 
 stinately. Rein despised himself a little for 
 actually taking this into consideration; but 
 one day they had a little dispute about the re- 
 ligious instruction for their children, and at 
 last she exclaimed: "I wonder what you really 
 do believe in, Ingvald!" 
 
 "What I believe in?" 
 
 "Yes. It can't be very much, for you must 
 needs even try to upset a thing like those poor 
 labourers' holdings at Evje." And he, with 
 the anger that only conjugal scenes can rouse 
 in a man, replied: "To put an end to this, 
 Sara, I'll go to Evje this very minute." 
 
 And he did it. To Erik, therefore, he was a 
 little colder than he need have been, because 
 he was also thinking of his wife. 
 
 Rein's white house stood in the shelter of a 
 fir-cjad promontory. The bay curved in right 
 up to his garden fence, and beyond the out- 
 houses, ducks and geese swam about in a large
 
 166 Treacherous Ground 
 
 pond. Fru Kein was fond of all kinds of ani- 
 mals, but especially birds. 
 
 The atmosphere of the house was a little 
 sultry during the first few days after Rein's 
 visit to Evje, and the husband and wife ex- 
 changed only the most necessary words at 
 table. More than once Rein thought to him- 
 self : " Goodness me, why does she meddle with 
 things that she can't possibly understand?" 
 
 One evening, when he had gone up to his 
 workroom after supper to smoke and read the 
 paper, he suddenly heard her light step upon 
 the stairs, and she entered the room. She was 
 a woman of about thirty, tall and pretty, with 
 a bright child's face beneath a wealth of fair 
 hair, and blue, expressive eyes. On this oc- 
 casion she was wearing a light dress, which 
 made her look quite young. She moved swiftly 
 and lightly across the floor, and sat down in a 
 chair on the other side of his writing-table. 
 
 "Ah, Ingvald," she began, "this is really 
 so sad." 
 
 He cleared his throat, and pressed down the 
 ash in the bowl of his pipe with his finger. 
 "M-yes?" he said, not quite knowing what he 
 should say. 
 
 "Sometimes it seems as if there were such 
 a tremendous distance between you and me."
 
 Treacherous Ground 167 
 
 "Oh no; does it really?" 
 
 "To think that you can go and do things 
 that that you know will hurt me so." 
 
 "Hm." ' 
 
 "How did he take it?" she asked suddenly, 
 turning to him. 
 
 Rein got up from the sofa on which he had 
 been half lying, and slowly crossed the room. 
 "Are we going to have still more of this?" he 
 thought, as he stood looking out of the window. 
 
 "Won't you answer me now, either?" 
 
 "Now look here, Sara Erik Evje's a grown 
 man after all. It'll be worst for the labourers ; 
 but I think even they will thank me. ' ' 
 
 "And suppose you're mistaken, Ingvald? 
 Do you know all you're pulling to pieces?" 
 
 "Do you think I should interfere in any- 
 thing like this without being sure?" 
 
 Fru Rein leaned against the writing-table 
 and sighed as she looked towards the window. 
 
 "It seems such a pity, Ingvald, that you 
 should always be the one to set yourself 
 against anything new and good. And you've 
 said that this time it was no part of your offi- 
 cial duties either." 
 
 Ingvald Rein laughed a strange laugh. "Do 
 you say that, Sara you who are such an 
 idealist? Do you think we're to let the world
 
 168 Treacherous Ground 
 
 go its own way when it's no part of our official 
 duty 1 ?" 
 
 Fru Rein rose quickly, offended at her hus- 
 band's having got the better of her. 
 
 "I think," she said, her voice trembling, "it 
 would be nice for once to see you doing a good 
 action. ' ' 
 
 "Isn't it a good action to save one's fellow- 
 creatures?" 
 
 She stood leaning against the table and look- 
 ing straight before her. "I've thought and 
 thought about this, Ingvald, and I'm afraid 
 it's Erik Evje's idea you want to pick holes 
 in." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" said Rein, involuntarily 
 bending his head to see her better. 
 
 "And you can't imagine how it hurts me. 
 Every day we see selfishness, deceit, falsehood, 
 hypocrisy and all kinds of evil around us ; and 
 then, for once, it happens that a man shows a 
 little ideality. He not only preaches about the 
 poor, but he actually gives something that's of 
 use. He holds a thing up before the eyes of 
 every one, and takes the lead himself. Nothing 
 so fine and great has been done in the district 
 within the memory of man. And then, Ing- 
 vald, you come forward and kick the whole 
 thing down. Oh, I can't bear to think of it."
 
 Treacherous Ground 169 
 
 And she suddenly hid her face in her hands 
 and groaned. 
 
 "Now, Sara, let's have done with these hys- 
 terics I" 
 
 "Yes, yes; I won't mention it again." 
 
 She bent her head and compressed her lips. 
 Rein returned to the sofa, and sat pulling his 
 beard. He was uncomfortable. As usual he 
 was looked upon as an evil-minded being, be- 
 cause he had asserted something that he was 
 quite sure about. 
 
 "It's not easy for the rest of us, Ingvald, to 
 live upon only mathematics and measure- 
 ments. You think Christianity and philan- 
 thropy are all humbug." 
 
 "When have I said that, Sara?" 
 
 "You showed it so often when you used to 
 make fun of father." 
 
 "But, Sara, that's simply untrue!" cried 
 Rein, rising once more. 
 
 She turned towards him, and threw back 
 her head to look at him. "Will you deny that 
 now, Ingvald?" 
 
 "Your father was a good enough man; but 
 when it's a question of judging about the quag- 
 mire on the Evje hills, I rely more upon my- 
 self." 
 
 "You rely upon yourself in everything. Is
 
 170 Treacherous Ground 
 
 there anything, I wonder, that you don't un- 
 derstand. Why, you understand the bringing- 
 up *of children, too, better than even their 
 mother." 
 
 "I never said that I understand so much. 
 But I won't have my children brought up on 
 lies, even if their grandfather was a priest. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, there you go, Ingvald. But can't you 
 leave father alone in his grave?" 
 
 And with this the quagmire on the Evje 
 hills had gone over into their own world, so 
 that they could continue to wound one another 
 while believing that it was still the labourers' 
 holdings they were talking about. 
 
 They did not hear the sound of carriole 
 wheels in the yard, and they were standing one 
 on either side of the writing-table, talking as 
 angrily as only married people who love one 
 another can, and Fru Rein was on the point of 
 bursting into tears, when some one knocked 
 at the door. Rein thought it was the maid, and 
 called out angrily, "Come in!" The door 
 opened, and Erik Evje came in. 
 
 "Good-evening!" he said, shaking hands 
 with them both. "Excuse my making such a 
 late call." But here he stopped short and 
 looked at them both. Fru Rein was incapable 
 of anything further, and after passing her
 
 Treacherous Ground 171 
 
 hand across her forehead, and attempting 
 to say something, she hastily crossed the room 
 and went out. The men stood for a moment 
 looking at the door as it closed upon her, and 
 then looked at one another. 
 
 "Sit down," said Rein, pointing to an arm- 
 chair, and seating himself at the writing-table.
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 Evje sat down with his light overcoat on, and 
 resting his hat on his knee, sat for a moment 
 looking at it. He saw that he had come at an 
 inopportune moment, but he could not well go 
 again immediately. Rein, who was excited, 
 forced himself to appear calm, although he 
 could not imagine what Evje had come for. 
 
 To his surprise, Erik began to talk quite 
 quietly about other things. They had once 
 been school-fellows. How quickly the time 
 passed. Erik thought it seemed such a long 
 time ago. Rein looked at him a little uncer- 
 tainly, and said something about its being 
 probably twenty years since that time. 
 
 "And at that time neither of us dreamt that 
 our ways would lie in such different direc- 
 tions/' Erik went on, with an attempt at a 
 smile. 
 
 Rein looked towards the window, where the 
 
 172
 
 Treacherous Ground 173 
 
 top of a birch-tree could be seen waving in the 
 wind. "No, indeed," he said. "Both ways 
 and views are different." 
 
 "But I'd gladly have changed with you, 
 Rein, for yours was a wise choice. You gained 
 happiness." 
 
 Rein still looked towards the window. "Oh, 
 we needn't talk of happiness, Evje," he said. 
 "If I were the owner of the most beautiful 
 part of the district, I don't think I should 
 complain." 
 
 "Wouldn't you? And I'm thinking of not 
 owning it any longer." 
 
 Rein nearly rose in his astonishment. 
 "What! "he said. 
 
 Erik nodded down at his hat. Yes, he 
 meant what he said. 
 4 "But surely you don't mean to sell it?" 
 
 Erik threw his hat upon the floor, and rested 
 his elbows upon his knees. "Oh, I've not 
 made up my mind yet as to the manner of get- 
 ting rid of it. The main thing is that I must 
 probably leave it all. If only there were some- 
 where to go." 
 
 This all sounded so impossible to Rein, that 
 he did not know what to say; but now Erik 
 rose, and, looking at him, went on: "That's 
 to say it all depends really upon you."
 
 174 Treacherous Ground 
 
 There was a pause, and Rein looked as- 
 tonished. i * Upon me ? " he said. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 1 i That sounds strange. ' ' 
 
 "That's what I've come for. To tell the 
 truth, I've not been comfortable since you 
 came to me the other day." Erik passed his 
 hand across his forehead, and his expression 
 was one of pain. "Many people would say 
 that I might safely laugh at your warning, but 
 all the same it's lain like a worm, gnawing and 
 gnawing inside me, so that I haven't even been 
 able to sleep properly. So I had to come up 
 and tell you that if I'm compelled to go to 
 Newland and ask those people to move away, 
 I shall feel it impossible to go on living at 
 Evje." 
 
 "There!" thought Rein, "I wasn't mis- 
 taken," and the irritation from his encounter 
 with his wife blazed up again. There seemed 
 moreover such a falseness about Erik's words, 
 in spite of the sincerity in his voice, that he 
 did not know whether to be distressed or 
 amused. 
 
 "But my dear fellow!" he said, leaning 
 back in his chair. "The quagmire doesn't 
 threaten your house at all." 
 
 "You misunderstand me, Rein. I never for
 
 Treacherous Ground 175 
 
 a moment thought of my own house. But 
 you must excuse my coming to ask you once 
 more : Is it absolutely necessary for the New- 
 land people to move?" 
 
 Rein took up a pencil and began mechani- 
 cally to draw upon the blotting-paper before 
 him. "I've nothing new to say upon that sub- 
 ject, Erik." 
 
 Erik bent his head. "I suppose not," he 
 said, with a sigh, and seemed about to go, but 
 hesitated, and turned to Rein again. "Per- 
 haps you've never thought very much, Rein, 
 what this means for me ?" 
 
 "No," Rein answered, looking up from his 
 drawing. "I've thought more especially what 
 it means for the people living up there." 
 
 Erik put his hands behind his back, and 
 slowly crossed the room. There was a pause. 
 When he came back, he stopped and passed 
 his hand across his forehead. "We were^ 
 speaking of happiness, Rein, ' ' he said. i i There 
 /comes a time when even the hope in one's" 
 breast is worn out. The disappointments and 
 defeats have been so numerous, that if this 
 should be a failure too, it'll go no farther. It's 
 a little like the last match; it mustn't go out." 
 
 Rein was going on with his drawing, but 
 now looked up, as if he understood nothing.
 
 176 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Erik smiled. "I suppose you think this is 
 a mysterious speech," he said. "It isn't 
 pleasant either to let others see into one's 
 secret chamber; but I wanted you to under- 
 stand the point of this. When I go from here, 
 it'll be either one thing or the other for me." 
 
 Rein was drawing again. He had a sus- 
 picion that his wife was in the next room, and 
 could hear everything, and now that Erik had 
 accused him of being a bird of ill omen, she 
 
 would The pencil in his hand began to 
 
 tremble. 
 
 Evje came a step nearer, and looked to- 
 wards the window with half -closed eyes. "It 
 was good of you to come to me, Rein," he said, 
 "and not to the people out there ; for of course 
 it's I who have the responsibility." 
 
 "That's what I thought," said Rein, with- 
 out looking up from his pencil. 
 
 "But to go up there and say: 'I've set you 
 on to something that isn't worth a penny. 
 You've been toiling here all for nothing. Your 
 hopes for the future are all a delusion. What 
 you've thanked me for is only a fraud.' Can 
 you understand what that means?" 
 
 "I can understand it may be unpleasant. 
 But now that it's a question of their lives'?" 
 
 Erik looked down, and said as if speaking to
 
 Treacherous Ground 177 
 
 himself: "Yes, of course." Then he slowly 
 crossed the room again, passed his hand across 
 his forehead and turned to his companion. ^ 
 *I say, Rein, how strange it is that some 
 get their view of life so easily, and when 
 they've got it, settle down with it, and sail with 
 j.t as a favourable wind to the end of their lives., 
 Et's different with me. You know, of course, 
 that I've tried one thing after another, and 
 each time I'd laboriously rolled the stone up 
 to the top of the hill, down it rolled again. 
 Then I'd set to work again, and then again. 
 But it gets heavier each time, and some day 
 it'll be the last. Honestly, I haven't the en- 
 ergy to begin from the bottom again. And to 
 think that it was to be you who who kicked 
 it down this time." 
 
 Rein still kept his temper, and said without 
 looking up : "It was a pity it should be me." 
 
 "Oh, of course you mean well too, at least 
 
 I think so, although they say But don't 
 
 let's talk about that. I think you mean well, 
 
 but ' He broke off and began walking 
 
 about again, seeming quite to forget that he 
 was not in his own room. Now and then a 
 pained expression came over his face, and he 
 passed his hand across his forehead, as if to 
 relieve it. At last he stopped once more.
 
 178 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "You must forgive me, Rein; I'm a little 
 bewildered to-day. And my coming here was 
 only like clutching at a straw. You don't 
 know how badly things are going with me; 
 I'm at my wits' end. You're the only person 
 who could save me by speaking one little word ; 
 but of course you won't do it. You won't, you 
 can't doit." 
 
 It became more and more difficult for Rein 
 to keep calm, for everything that Erik said 
 seemed to be a reproach against him person- 
 ally. 
 
 "Well, Evje," he said, going on with his 
 drawing, "I understand very little of all this." 
 
 Erik had begun to walk up and down again, 
 but stopped at this, pushed his hair up from 
 his forehead, and looked towards the window. 
 "Since I've said so much, Rein," he said, "I 
 may as well say the rest. Do yoii know what it 
 means to feel mentally homeless? It's as if 
 you were naked out in the snow, or as if you 
 and every one else and the whole universe were 
 playing out of tune, and it seems to suffocate 
 you. I often felt that ; it was like that when 
 I came home. Everything lay in ruins about 
 me. To comfort myself I turned to the most 
 vulgar of all comforts drink. All this you 
 know. But then a little ray of sunshine came
 
 Treacherous Ground 179 
 
 to me again. It was the idea for these work- 
 men's holdings. Why it became a matter of 
 conscience with me to do a little good to others 
 just in this way, is a thing by itself; but no 
 one knows what it has since come to mean for 
 me. There are so many forces warring about 
 one at home. I have duty to my mother, to the 
 family traditions and the work and all that; 
 and, to tell the truth, IVe been growing more 
 and more fond of it. But money and business 
 and calculating over and over again all that's 
 one thing; but whether at the same time one 
 keeps any of one's soul is another thing. I'm 
 one of those unhappy beings, Rein, who must 
 have a Sunday besides the weekdays. It's 
 true I don't go to church like you ; it's also true 
 that I don't believe in what the priest says. 
 But all the same one has one's dreams, and 
 even a free-thinker's heart has the need of a 
 little sunshine in its own way. What do we 
 know after all? Some people have a crucifix 
 on the wall, and that for them betokens peace 
 of mind ; I have Newland. Don't you see then 
 that that it means something?" 
 
 Rein raised his head. "Yes," he said, "I 
 understand that; but " 
 
 "But?" Erik looked at him eagerly.
 
 180 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "There are natural laws, Evje, that don't 
 take counsel with our dreams." 
 
 "What natural laws?" 
 
 "I'm thinking all the time of the quagmire 
 on the Evje hills. Do you think it'll take into 
 consideration that you have need of a cru- 
 cifix?" 
 
 This inexorable answer was like a jet of cold 
 water to Erik. He turned towards the door, 
 and took a few steps in that direction. It was 
 as though the mood he was in drove him to 
 reveal his most sacred feelings to a money- 
 lender, who answered with one humiliation 
 after another. But on the other side of that 
 door something still worse waited for him ; in 
 here there was still a kind of hope. 
 
 At the door he turned and took a step back 
 into the room. " You 're inexorable, Rein," 
 he said. "I don't think I could be like you." 
 
 "But, dear me, Erik, if I said that this quag- 
 mire business wasn't so dangerous after all, 
 do you think it would be any less dangerous 
 for that?" 
 
 "Oh no no, no." Erik sighed and looked 
 down. Then he picked up his hat which had 
 been lying on the floor, gave it a stroke with 
 his hand, and once more moved hesitatingly 
 towards the door. Finally he turned round
 
 Treacherous Ground 181 
 
 again, and said in a voice that sounded 
 strangely sad : 
 
 "IVe never understood as I do now, Rein, 
 that to lose his last ideal can be the ruin of a 
 
 man." 
 _ * 
 
 There was another pause. Rein adjusted 
 his eyeglasses, and after a little thought said : 
 "Then you think that if a man has the choice 
 between being ruined himself, or propping 
 himself up upon an ideal that brings others 
 into misfortune, he should first of all look 
 after himself?" 
 
 "Good gracious, Rein, how little you under- 
 stand me. Do you think I meant to lead those 
 people into misfortune?" He could not help 
 smiling, and shook his head. 
 
 "What you meant has very little to do with 
 the matter." 
 
 1 1 Indeed ! That 's something I didn 't know. ' ' 
 
 "I don't think the quagmire will show much 
 consideration for your good intention." 
 
 "Good-night, Rein!" 
 
 "Good-night!" answered Rein, breathing 
 more freely. Was this to end at last ? 
 
 But though Erik had opened the door, he 
 drew back once more, closed it again, and tried 
 to find an objection that would have an effect 
 upon Rein. But both his voice and his glance
 
 182 Treacherous Ground 
 
 seemed quite worn out as he said: "I didn't 
 think you were such a doubter, Rein." 
 
 "Perhaps not," answered Rein, standing 
 still in the middle of the floor and shifting his 
 glasses. But his hand trembled. Was he to 
 be treated to still more of this before it came 
 to his wife's turn? 
 
 "Yes, because you think that even if an ideal 
 helps us to be better, lifts us out of misery and 
 makes us strong and more or less virtuous 
 beings again, it can be humbug for all that." 
 
 "I don't remember ever having said any- 
 thing about it." 
 
 "And Nature doesn't care a hang that we've 
 staked everything upon making amends for 
 the evil we've done. That sorrows are re- 
 moved and tears dried, that the poor are 
 housed and fed, and that a great idea is raised, 
 that points out over centuries and millions of 
 human beings what the deuce do the laws of 
 nature care about all that ?" 
 
 "I haven't expressed an opinion about any- 
 thing but the quagmire." 
 
 "Oh yes, the quagmire. The whole thing is 
 so absurd. And yet we go about and fuss and 
 imagine that there's something above that 
 guides!" He turned his head to the door, 
 which he opened; and as he stepped out, he
 
 Treacherous Ground 183 
 
 looked back for the last time and said in a 
 tone that made it sound like a little hopeless 
 cry: "I wish you could at any rate let me keep 
 a little doubt. " 
 
 "What would be the good of it in this case I" 
 
 Erik shook his head, but tried to smile. 
 
 Rein shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I see," 
 he said. "You would use the doubt to let the 
 whole thing slide?" 
 
 Erik seemed to admit it. 
 
 "You don't understand the situation, Evje. 
 YouVe been talking about yourself all the 
 time; but don't you see that in reality this 
 doesn't concern you?" 
 
 Erik looked astonished, and then broke into 
 a scornful laugh. "No, of course it doesn't 
 concern me!" 
 
 "It concerns first of all the people up there. 
 It is their life that is being risked. But" 
 and a sarcastic smile passed across the 
 speaker's face "I would suggest your going 
 up to those people and saying: 'Will you go 
 on living here and daily hazarding your lives, 
 so that I can have an ideal to live for?' 
 
 "Good-night I" said Erik, stumbling out and 
 banging the door; and Rein did not go after 
 him. 
 
 The next moment another door opened, and
 
 184 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Fru Rein stood in the doorway, pale, and lean- 
 ing against the jamb. 
 
 Rein turned towards her. "Aha!" he said. 
 "Then I wasn't mistaken. But now, Sara, 
 hang it all, I will have peace!" 
 
 "Very well," she said, with a frightened 
 look at him. "If only you could get peace, 
 Ingvald." And she tottered across the floor 
 and out at the other door.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 It was well that the horse knew its way to 
 Evje, for the reins hung loose and the man in 
 the carriole did not seem to notice anything. 
 His head was sunk upon his breast, and every 
 now and then his eyes closed as if all he wanted 
 was to go to sleep. 
 
 But the horse wanted to get home, and 
 jogged steadily along beside the fjord in the 
 golden light of evening. Houses appeared to 
 start out of the twilight, and now and again a 
 passer-by took off his hat. 
 
 When one has made a confession out of one's 
 innermost soul, there is a feeling of emptiness 
 left ; and because Rein had been so inexorable, 
 Erik also felt foolish and ashamed. When he 
 had gone there, he had been in suspense, and 
 was now all the more unbraced. 
 
 ' ' Why, the sun is still shining on Southland ! ' ' 
 He raised his head and looked at the farms on 
 the other side of the fjord, where the windows 
 were aflame with the last rays of the setting 
 
 185
 
 186 Treacherous Ground 
 
 sun. "The sun! It doesn't care either in the 
 least about us human beings; it's only by 
 chance that it shines upon us." 
 
 He drove past the doctor's house, and rec- 
 ollected that the doctor's daughter was at 
 home now. This brought back in his mind 
 that summer day on the steamer the year be- 
 fore, when she came up to him and when she 
 made the idea of Newland so clear. And now ? 
 
 The carriole rolled on, and his head sank 
 upon his breast again. He could not think 
 any more. If only he could sleep I 
 
 "Aren't you going to get down?" He was 
 aroused by these words, and found he was at 
 home and the stableman holding the horse's 
 head. 
 
 Erik sprang from the carriole, and went 
 slowly up the steps with the whip in his hand. 
 In the entry his mother met him. 
 
 "Dear me!" she said, "I couldn't think 
 what had become of you!" Then, seeing his 
 face, she tried to cheer him a little. "But I 
 have a visitor," she added, with a peculiar 
 smile. 
 
 "Mother," he said, when he had hung up 
 his coat, "it may be you'll have to help me to 
 to pack a trunk this evening." 
 
 * ' What ? Where are you going ? ' '
 
 Treacherous Ground 187 
 
 "Oh, I don't quite know." He opened the 
 door of the drawing-room and went in. Some- 
 thing peculiar in the atmosphere struck him, 
 and he paused for a moment. As he did so, 
 the curtains at the door into the next room 
 parted, and some one in a light dress appeared. 
 It was Inga Rud. 
 
 "Good evening!" she said in slight confu- 
 sion, coming towards him with outstretched 
 hand. "I'm sure you're surprised to meet me 
 here; but I came with a message, and your 
 mother was good enough to ask me to stay to 
 supper." 
 
 "We waited ever so long for you," added 
 Fru Evje, who had also entered; "but at last 
 we got too hungry." 
 
 Erik was holding the little hand in his, as 
 if he did not know what to do with it. A 
 strange chill ran down his spine. Depressed 
 as he was when he came in, the appearance of 
 this woman acted as a revelation. But he re- 
 covered himself, and did and said more or less 
 what he should have done and said. He heard 
 himself asking how her people were, and he 
 heard her say something about a horse that 
 was ill. "Lady" had a bad foot, and Inga had 
 come to ask from her father whether Erik 
 could lend him a horse for a time.
 
 188 Treacherous Ground 
 
 To this Erik answered that he was quite 
 willing; and then he discovered that his 
 mother had left the room again, and that they 
 were still standing in the middle of the room. 
 
 "Sha'n't we sit down?' 7 he said, and going 
 towards the next room he drew aside the cur- 
 tain and stood aside to let her pass. 
 
 "Perhaps you'd like one of the lamps 
 lighted?" 
 
 "Oh no, not on my account. I like the 
 twilight so much, especially in the spring." 
 
 "Well, there's not much summer warmth 
 here yet," he said, when they were both in the 
 room. " I '11 ring and have the fire lighted. ' ' 
 
 "Oh no! We can light the fire; the box is 
 full of wood." And the next moment she was 
 on her knees in front of the stove, getting chips 
 together. He had to help her with some shav- 
 ings, and when at last the fire blazed up, they 
 were both close together on their knees, and 
 remained for a moment watching the flames. 
 
 A little while after, they were each sitting 
 in an arm-chair, with their eyes fixed upon the 
 reflection of the flame through the stove door, 
 flickering restlessly upon the floor. 
 
 "Perhaps you wouldn't mind playing some- 
 thing?" he began. "It's so seldom we have
 
 Treacherous Ground 189 
 
 any music here. That 's what I Ve missed most 
 since I came to the country." 
 
 "Oh no, let's talk. Besides, I shall have to 
 be going home soon." 
 
 "Very well." But then he sighed. "If 
 only I knew what to say. I'm not good at 
 talking to ladies, Froken Rud," he said, with 
 an attempt at a smile. 
 
 She bent forward, so that the light from the 
 stove flickered over her dark hair. "You 
 haven't been very happy of late, Herr Evje." 
 
 "Oh yes, pretty well." 
 
 "I know what!s happened, and what it 
 means for you. But the worst of it is that 
 really and truly it's all my fault. I've known 
 it all along, ever since last year." 
 
 Erik looked at her questioningly, and there 
 was a pained expression on his face. He did 
 not like this woman to sit and pity him. 
 
 "And many a time I've wanted to come and 
 warn you." Her voice trembled and grew al- 
 most tender. "But I hadn't the courage. I 
 I knew it would hurt you so. ' ' 
 
 It was a confession of interest, but now it 
 was said, and involuntarily she moved her 
 chair a little farther from his. 
 
 "That was kind of you," he said, with bowed 
 head. Again he felt a shiver run down his
 
 190 Treacherous Ground 
 
 back. Ah, so much had happened to-day ; was 
 there still something else going to happen? 
 
 "Perhaps it was unkind of me in a way. 
 But it wasn't easy for me either. You don't 
 know what a long year it's been." 
 
 Erik would have asked how she could have 
 known it, she alone, ever since last year; but 
 the fact that she had been suffering a whole 
 year for his sake made him forget the other 
 thing. 
 
 She went on, with her eyes fixed on the light 
 at the stove door: " There were so many who 
 objected to you at that time; and there must 
 be some one to stand upon your side." 
 
 He could not believe his ears. Her words 
 were like a caress, and he felt himself 
 strangely helpless. 
 
 "That was good of you. Thank you!" 
 
 Then he asked her whether she thought 
 there was as much danger as Rein said; and 
 she, having allowed herself to say so much, 
 could only say that Rein always exaggerated. 
 
 They talked a little more about Rein, the 
 quagmire and Newland ; but all the time they 
 both felt that they were really talking about 
 love. 
 
 "And so," he said, in order to get her to say 
 it once more, "you've known this for a whole 
 year, but "
 
 Treacherous Ground 191 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him be- 
 seechingly. "Yes; but you mustn't be angry 
 with me. I know it was wrong of me to keep 
 silent, but the idea was so beautiful. Do you 
 remember when we met on the steamer last 
 year? You told me about your plans; I was 
 the first person you had mentioned them to. 
 You seemed a different being when you stood 
 there and described it all to me. And after- 
 wards no, afterwards I couldn't come and 
 destroy it." 
 
 There was a silence, broken only by the 
 crackling of the fire. Inga leaned forward, 
 with her hands in her lap. Erik sat leaning 
 back in his chair, with one leg crossed over the 
 other. 
 
 "Yes; I remember, too, the day we met last 
 year. It was a wonderful day for me. ' ' 
 
 Once more she moved a little farther from 
 him, as if she were afraid of what he would say 
 next. Then they talked again about the quag- 
 mire and the danger the people were in; but 
 he once more returned to the same question. 
 
 "Fancy that you knew it!" 
 
 "If only you could believe that I kept si- 
 lence so as not to spoil it for you." And each 
 time she repeated this, her voice grew gentler 
 and warmer; and for him, to talk about the
 
 192 Treacherous Ground 
 
 quagmire, the danger the people were in, and 
 a possible catastrophe, became something 
 almost bright and wonderful, because it had 
 been the cause of her thinking about him for 
 so long. 
 
 "Poor thing!" he said, venturing now to 
 take her hand. 
 
 "Do you pity me? Then what about your- 
 self?" 
 
 "Oh, I'm so used to adversity." 
 
 In a little while she said, as she gently with- 
 drew her hand: "You don't know how often 
 I've thought about that too." 
 
 She raised her eyes from the fire to his face, 
 and looked at him with a melancholy smile. 
 
 "Are you sitting in the dark?" It was Pru 
 Evje, who had come in. 
 
 Inga Bud started up and said it was late, 
 and she must be going at once or they would be 
 anxious about her at home. Erik offered to 
 drive her, but she declined ; she thought it was 
 such splendid weather for walking. 
 
 "Then you must go with her on foot at any 
 rate," said Fru Evje ; and to this Erik had no 
 objection. 
 
 A little while after the two young people 
 came out on to the doorstep, dressed for their 
 walk. Everything around was still, the doors
 
 Treacherous Ground 193 
 
 all closed, and the servants gone to bed. And 
 these two set off alone down the avenue in the 
 grey light of the spring night. 
 
 Some hours later Erik Evje was standing 
 at the window in his room and looking at the 
 sun as it rose above the hills in the east. The 
 still waters of the fjord were coloured by it, 
 and Nature awoke ; but as yet no human being 
 was out, for it was only three o'clock, and only 
 the sea-birds were talking down on the shore. 
 
 Erik had undressed, but could not go to bed. 
 He looked at the blood-red sun and smiled, 
 then at the fjord and the hills and smiled still 
 more. A little while ago he had been down in 
 darkness and despair, and now he was up 
 among golden clouds. He felt inclined to burst 
 into tears or to roar with laughter. He could 
 thank the fates for the quagmire in Newland, 
 for without that she would never have found 
 her way to him. How wonderfully things 
 were connected ! "If only we love one another, 
 everything will come right, you'll see," she had 
 said. He still felt her kiss, warm and living, 
 upon his lips. 
 
 He remained standing at the window in a 
 dazed condition until the bell rang to wake the 
 farm-hands.
 
 BOOK III
 
 Chapter I 
 
 In order that the Newland people could earn 
 a daily wage, Erik had given them regular 
 work at the sawmill ; but he also decided that 
 they should have one day free in each week, 
 so that they could work on their own land at 
 home. Up the little, secluded valley, out of 
 which rose the sound of the rushing river, the 
 forest began to give place more and more to 
 fields and clearings. With the aid of their 
 daily earnings, the settlers were able to finish 
 their houses more quickly than settlers usually 
 do. Now the houses stood in a row upon the 
 hill, each on its piece of land ; and not a win- 
 dow was left unglazed, most of the walls were 
 boarded, and old Peter Troen was busy paint- 
 ing his cottage red, in time for Olina's wed- 
 ding. 
 
 The one who seemed to have done best was 
 Bertil. His little white-painted cottage was 
 like a polished box; there were flowers in the 
 
 197
 
 198 Treacherous Ground 
 
 windows, the yard was always strewn with 
 sand, and fresh fir-boughs were always lying 
 at the foot of the steps. This was indeed a 
 necessity, for Ingeborg kept everything so 
 well polished and clean inside, that people had 
 to rub their feet a long time before they dared 
 to go in. 
 
 But even Bertil's fields had an air of being 
 well cared for, and the reason probably was 
 that no sooner had he come home from the 
 sawmill and had something to eat, than he 
 took a spade and went out again. The even- 
 ings were so light, and here on his own land he 
 felt happy. No one could say exactly what 
 he did with the spade, but he left the ground 
 as smooth and clean as if he had carefully 
 broken every lump of earth. 
 
 It was out there that Bertil felt quite at 
 home; for to tell the truth it was a little too 
 fine for him up in the cottage. He did not 
 always remember to take off his muddy shoes 
 before he went over the floor; and if he was 
 so thoughtless as to lie down on the bed for 
 his afternoon nap, Ingeborg made the atmos- 
 phere of the cottage oppressive for days after. 
 
 In her heart of hearts, Ingeborg was not 
 happy. This was not what she had imagined 
 it would be, when year after year she used to
 
 Treacherous Ground 199 
 
 look across from the other side of the fjord. 
 She was here now, and there was nothing far 
 off to look for any longer ; but when she strove, 
 as she did, to keep everything clean and bright, 
 it was from an indefinable desire to make 
 her disappointment as small as possible. 
 
 There was something, too, that she could 
 never get out of her head, and that was the 
 thought of her mother, who was perhaps turn- 
 ing in her grave. 
 
 Ingeborg began to be very religious. Every 
 evening she sang a long hymn, and Bertil 
 tried to follow in the hymn-book, although he 
 did not know the tune; and then, while she 
 read a long discourse from a book of family 
 sermons, he sat by the window looking over 
 the fjord towards the shore where the real 
 Ingeborg still went about. It was for that 
 view that he had dragged the cottage up there 
 upon his back. 
 
 It was so beautiful over there of an evening 
 now. The windows in the houses were often 
 aflame long after the sun had gone down. He 
 would sit there looking across so long that he 
 would fancy himself back in his bachelor days, 
 and want to send a message over to Ingeborg 
 again, and say that everything should be as 
 it used to be between them.
 
 200 Treacherous Ground 
 
 The only one who did not work at the saw- 
 mill was Lars Brovold. He preferred felling 
 timber miles away in the forest, and he was 
 often away several weeks at a time. Bad 
 reports of him began to spread. Most of what 
 he earned he spent on drink, and the rest in 
 card-playing ; and on the rare occasions when 
 he was at home, he would ill-treat both his 
 wife and the children^ 
 
 No one could understand what made Petra 
 so cheerful. She had no one to help her man- 
 age the little farm, she had two children, and 
 had to spin and weave to earn the money that 
 her neighbours' wives got from their hus- 
 bands; and yet when the big, red-haired 
 woman was out in the fields, with the two chil- 
 dren sitting in the grass, she could be heard 
 singing as pleased and happy as anyone 
 could be. 
 
 She could not forget how strangely she had 
 been saved from being sent away from Evje 
 with her two children; and even if Lars was 
 a little unmanageable now and then, he might 
 improve as many others had done. 
 
 The reason why Lars did not get on at home 
 was not only connected with Petra. It was 
 chiefly because of the neighbour he had been 
 so anxious to get. To know that Kristina was
 
 Treacherous Ground 201 
 
 so near, and another man's wife, to see her 
 go in and out at the door, busy with her work, 
 to see the smoke rise from her hearth and 
 know that it was for another she was cooking, 
 and to know that it could never, never be done 
 over again, this gradually so oppressed him 
 that he dreaded each time that he had to go 
 home and see it all once more. 
 
 When he had been a week with his fellow- 
 woodcutters far away in the forest, he could 
 actually begin to forget that he was married. 
 Then his spirits would rise a little, and he 
 would begin to talk about girls like a young 
 bachelor, and the old dreams would come 
 back. He saw himself in uniform in church 
 again, and the girls putting their heads to- 
 gether and stealing glances at him. But there 
 was one not there, and that was Kristina. 
 There was no use now in going to church in 
 uniform for her sake. 
 
 ' ' But you 're a married man ! ' ' one of his com- 
 panions would say, when his tongue ran on 
 about girls. It was like a slap in the face, and 
 he would become silent, and then steal away 
 and sit by himself and mope. And as he lay by 
 himself under a tree, feeling ill and miserable, 
 a strange sound would come into his mind. It 
 was like an old wordless song, memories of
 
 202 Treacherous Ground 
 
 the time when he minded goats on the heath. 
 And now it was as though he gathered the 
 sorrows and joys into a ram's horn, and sent 
 the tones far, far out over distant moors. . 
 
 And he would lie there and put the whole 
 thing together, his marriage with a girl older 
 than himself, the knowledge that he could 
 never be anything in the world, that Kristina 
 belonged to another, and that he himself 
 drank and lost his money at cards ho ho ! it 
 would be a long wordless song to blow into the 
 horn, far out towards the great sky out there 
 behind all forests. 
 
 "Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli, doodeli doo!" 
 
 When the time came for him to go home 
 again for a while, he had to have more brandy.
 
 Chapter II 
 
 Erik and Inga's wedding was fixed for late in 
 the autumn, and almost every day Inga came 
 to Evje Farm to help her future mother-in- 
 law with one thing or another; but she also 
 had a suspicion that in spite of everything 
 Erik had his gloomy moments, which he tried 
 to hide, and she did not feel easy in her mind 
 unless she had a talk with him every day. 
 
 She was not mistaken either. When the 
 poor man inherits a fortune, he quickly be- 
 comes accustomed to his wealth, and imme- 
 diately brings new troubles on himself. Dur- 
 ing the first few days after his engagement, 
 Erik had gone about like a smiling somnam- 
 bulist, and his first thought on waking in the 
 morning was, "It isn't a dream, it's true!" 
 But at last the morning came when he did not 
 say it, because he knew it too well. A little 
 later he had to acknowledge to himself that 
 that painful matter with Rein was not by any 
 means done with because he was going to 
 
 203
 
 204 Treacherous Ground 
 
 marry this wonderful woman. He wondered 
 what steps Rein would take; and when he 
 met any of the Newland people, he felt a 
 strange fear that they might already know 
 what threatened them, and had come to say 
 that they would leave the place. 
 
 Newland had never been so precious to Erik 
 as now. It had a close personal connection 
 with his present happiness. Inga had con- 
 fessed that he had become a different man 
 in her eyes that summer day on board the 
 steamer, when he told her about hisddea. 
 
 How could he at the same time put himself 
 in the place of the Newland people, and look 
 at the matter from that side ? He was always 
 thinking of this danger of a landslip, but was 
 only concerned with what he himself would 
 lose ; and this time it was not money, property, 
 honour or esteem, but a moral quality that he 
 had been at great pains to gain. 
 
 " Really," he thought again and again, "I 
 became a different being then." And he abso- 
 lutely fondled this moral value in himself that 
 she had liked, but which Rein wanted to rob 
 him of. 
 
 He had a great deal to do with his new 
 schemes, and now he was working for two, and 
 planning for two at least. But in the midst
 
 Treacherous Ground 205 
 
 of writing lie would suddenly raise his head 
 and lean back for a moment to sun himself 
 in the thought of her, always accompanied by 
 the idea that had brought them together. He 
 saw himself on the steamer that bright sum- 
 mer day, pale and languid, with all his 
 thoughts down in a dank gloom. And then 
 she came. "Good-day, Herr Evje!" And he 
 rises in confusion, dazzled by her nearness; 
 and her face, with the beautiful dark eye- 
 brows, smiles at him, and warms his frozen 
 heart. He feels that he is ugly and unpleas- 
 ant, but he has recourse to this idea to adorn 
 himself with, like a little red favour upon his 
 poor soul. "But that is splendid, Herr Evje. 
 I wish you every success ! ' ' And her eyes light 
 up when she looks at him. Was not that a 
 wonderful time f While his gloomy ideas are 
 being drawn out into the light of day, this one 
 illuminates him and makes him beautiful in 
 her eyes. For him it had up to that time only 
 been like a clay bird, made by his clumsy 
 hands; but she breathed upon it and said, 
 "Fly!" and it became alive and flew. It gave 
 him marrow and backbone; and strength of 
 will and good spirits again. But Rein came 
 and said to Inga : "What you Ve loved in Erik 
 Evje is only humbug."
 
 206 Treacherous Ground 
 
 He would sit thus and let his thoughts run 
 on until he became so melancholy that he did 
 not know what to do. 
 
 One day Inga got him to go with her to see 
 her uncle, a famous painter, who was a pro- 
 fessor at an art school in Germany, and who 
 had now hired a house up there for the sum- 
 mer. 
 
 The house was up on the hill, not far beyond 
 the Evje lands. 
 
 When they had come out of the wood and 
 passed through the garden gate, they heard 
 the sound of music from the house ; but down 
 among the flower-beds was a little man in a 
 white coat, weeding. " There he is!" said 
 Inga. The little man stood up, moved his 
 spectacles, and made a grimace at being dis- 
 turbed; but all of a sudden he rushed up to 
 them, crying: "Why, Gott in Himmel, is it 
 you, Inga?" 
 
 The music indoors ceased, and soon a little 
 grey-haired lady came out on to the verandah 
 with a white shawl over her shoulders. It was 
 the little man's wife. 
 
 "Oh, how nice!" she said. 
 
 Erik had seldom met such pleasant people. 
 Nothing would do but that the two young 
 people should stay to supper. The professor
 
 Treacherous Groivnd 207 
 
 took it into his head that he would prepare 
 the meal this time, and his wife smiled and 
 told them that he had done that once before, 
 but that he had put mustard in the tea and 
 boiled the eggs for an hour and a half. The 
 professor laughed, his wife laughed, and the 
 other two enjoyed the way the two old people 
 kept poking fun at one another. 
 
 While they were sitting out on the verandah 
 after supper, the little professor wandered 
 about and enlarged with delight upon the joy 
 of being at home again. He kept himself 
 informed of all that that gone on when he was 
 abroad, and saw everything at home in a kind 
 of glory of home-sick longing. There was no 
 place like Norway. "Look there! Isn't that 
 wonderfully beautiful?" he exclaimed sud- 
 denly, spreading out his arms towards the 
 mountains and the open fjord, across which 
 the sinking sun in the west laid a great burn- 
 ing column. "Look there! Can you, in the 
 whole wide world, find anything to equal 
 that?" 
 
 Then he patted his wife's cheek, but sud- 
 denly turned to Erik. "And you," he said, 
 moving his spectacles, "you've founded quite 
 an ideal community up there. Wasn't it you, 
 Inga, who wrote to me about it last winter?"
 
 208 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "I may have mentioned it in a letter," she 
 answered, at the same time sending Erik a 
 radiant glance that said: "See how I thought 
 about you even then." 
 
 The professor was instantly ready to trot 
 up and down and rave about the time when 
 every single family would have its own house 
 and garden. But though Erik was .flattered 
 at the great man's interest, he could not help 
 at last saying: " There are, unfortunately, a 
 few people who prophesy evil about that 
 matter." 
 
 "Prophesy?" exclaimed the little man, 
 stopping and directing his spectacles at Erik. 
 "If you start anything good, you must be pre- 
 pared for prophecies." 
 
 "What do they prophesy?" asked the little 
 old lady, looking up from her work. 
 
 Erik had hardly said what it was before the 
 professor made a grimace and threw out his 
 hands. "What nonsense!" he cried. "Nor- 
 wegian land not able to support a few match- 
 boxes of houses! Ha ha! It must be a bird 
 of ill omen that prophesies things like that." 
 And he grew angry, and trotted up and down 
 more excitedly, while he tried to relight his 
 cigar. It was evident that he would not hear 
 of any fault in his beloved Norwegian land,
 
 Treacherous Ground 209 
 
 upon which he had at last set foot again; it 
 disturbed his ideal of the country about which 
 he had just spoken so enthusiastically. 
 
 "What nonsense !" he repeated. "A land- 
 slip on the Evje hills, because the land had 
 become a blessing to a whole lot of poor crea- 
 tures ? Don't you be alarmed, my friend. That 
 land up there has lain quiet for many a win- 
 ter's day before now." 
 
 It was the first time Erik had talked to any 
 one who spoke a comforting word so de- 
 cisively. It was true that the professor could 
 not give an opinion as an expert; but in this 
 matter Rein could not be absolutely certain 
 either. The whole thing was a question of ven- 
 turing or not venturing. 
 
 "What would you have done in my place, 
 Professor?" he asked. "Would you, on the 
 word of another man, have gone up and asked 
 them to leave the place?" 
 
 The professor adjusted his spectacles and 
 looked at his wife. * ' What do you say, Lisa ? ' ' 
 
 The old lady looked at him with a glance 
 full of reminiscence. "Oh, we two," she said, 
 "we two have always stuck to what we had 
 begun." 
 
 "Yes, we have," said her husband, begin- 
 ning to trot up and down again and to talk
 
 210 Treacherous Ground 
 
 about his own doings, about the time when he 
 broke with the Diisseldorf school. They had 
 prophesied all kinds of evil for him, but look 
 how things had turned out ! No, a man should I 
 go straight ahead, or he'll never be anything/ 
 "If I'd listened to the prophets then, I should 
 never have found myself, never." And both 
 the professor and those who listened to him 
 had a distinct impression that he was giving 
 Erik Evje good advice, although all the time 
 he was trotting up and down and talking about 
 the Diisseldorf school and himself . 
 
 As the two young people walked homewards 
 in the light June evening, they both felt in 
 such good spirits that they now and then put 
 their arms around one another, and joked and 
 laughed. 
 
 Inga's light summer dress looked almost 
 white against the green fir-trees, and the wide 
 brim of her straw hat waved up and down at 
 every step. Down by the water they stood 
 still and looked out over the fjord, whose 
 smooth surface reflected the blue sky and 
 the heavy, reddish-grey clouds. An eider- 
 duck with her young ones glided past, the 
 mother fussily careful, the little ones like balls 
 of feathers, working hard to keep up, but 
 leaving such tiny rings behind them on the 
 water.
 
 Treacherous Ground 211 
 
 "Have you noticed," said Erik, "that this 
 year there's something new among the eider- 
 ducks? There's always a lady companion 
 with the mother and the young ones, or per- 
 haps it 's a nurse. ' ' And he pointed to another 
 eider-duck going behind them . 
 
 She leaned her arm upon his shoulder and 
 smiled at the birds. "And I," she said at 
 last, "I suppose I shall have a lady companion 
 
 too, or " She stopped suddenly, and 
 
 picked up a small stone. 
 
 "Yes, or a nurse," he added. 
 
 "Be quiet!" she said, blushing a little; but 
 the eyes of both rested with fresh interest 
 upon the little birds, as the little waves rocked 
 them up and down on the water. 
 
 "Do you think Rein is happy with his 
 wife?" asked Erik suddenly. 
 
 She looked at him quickly. She had thought 
 that his thoughts were busy with their future, 
 which these young birds had reminded them 
 of. But once more the same everlasting 
 anxiety had dragged him away from that, and 
 she was quite unnecessary. 
 
 She answered a little coldly: "No, I don't 
 on the whole think that man's troubled with 
 affection." 
 
 "Ye-es," said Erik. "People like Rein suf-
 
 212 Treacherous Ground 
 
 fer perhaps most themselves. He's got a 
 splinter in his eye, and sees the whole world 
 in a magic mirror/' 
 
 But Inga knew all too well that it was really 
 not Rein at all that Erik was talking about. 
 For a moment he had been with her in an 
 idyll while they looked at the eider-duck and 
 her little ones; but suddenly he had seen the 
 bird of prey above them, the daily scruples and 
 anxiety always about the same thing, which 
 now began to be a disease in him. 
 
 This must be put an end to, and suddenly a 
 bold thought came to her. "I say!" she said; 
 "I think we should go up to Newland this 
 evening." 
 
 He looked at her quickly. "What? What 
 should we go up there for?" 
 
 Her face suddenly assumed an energetic ex- 
 pression. "Well, we may just as well go up 
 now, for it'll have to be done some time." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 She slipped her hand through his arm. "I 
 think we should tell them the truth, Erik, for 
 it can't always be hidden. 
 
 He became angry. "Truth! Truth! Are 
 you beginning to hold with Rein, too?" 
 
 "Why, dear me, Erik, surely it's better that 
 you prepare them for what Rein says, than
 
 Treacherous Ground 213 
 
 that it should come from others ? Then the 
 people up there can decide for themselves 
 whether they'll remain there or not. And then, 
 of course, you won't have any responsibility 
 any longer." 
 
 Erik pushed back his straw h'at and looked 
 down. "Yes," he allowed; "perhaps that 
 wasn't such a bad idea." 
 
 * ' No, is it, Erik ? Come along, then. ' ' And 
 she drew him with her. 
 
 But he still resisted. Suppose they alarmed 
 them quite unnecessarily, so that they did not 
 dare to live there another day. 
 
 "Oh, nonsense! Those people have com- 
 mon-sense too. But even if it were to be as 
 bad as that, it would be better to put an end 
 to it. As things are now, you think a great 
 deal more about Rein than about me." 
 
 "Yes," he said again, passing his hand 
 across his forehead. "And I should like to 
 have done with this." 
 
 They went part of the way homewards along 
 the fjord, he trying to talk of other things; 
 but as they approached the river where the 
 road turned up over the cliffs to Newland, he 
 began making excuses again. Anyhow it was 
 too late to go up there this evening. They 
 might have gone to bed.
 
 214 Treacherous Ground 
 
 But Inga took his arm again, and drew him 
 along. "Just you come!" she said as gaily 
 as she could. "It's no good your making any 
 
 more excuses.' 
 
 They crossed the river, which thundered 
 beneath the red wooden bridge, and Erik 
 stopped for a moment, and looked down into 
 the yellowish-blue water. "Is it you," he 
 thought, "who will one day wash Newland 
 away?" For an instant he gazed into the 
 question of the mighty, blind, natural laws, 
 which do not consider either evil or good in 
 the world. Was it so ? Was this river stronger^ 
 than a great, beautiful idea ? Man, driven by 
 a divine desire for the good, may build for the 
 good and happiness of perhaps thousands, but 
 a little river is enough to hurl it all into the 
 abyss. Was it so ? And he seemed to see the 
 fate of Rein scepticism, Mephistopheles, 
 hatred of all that was bright and good in the 
 world. He had the laws of nature upon his / 
 side. 
 
 "Come now!" said Inga, drawing him on. 
 
 A little way farther up he stopped. "Your 
 uncle, Inga, is a great optimist. How it 
 freshens one up to be with a man who looks at 
 everything so brightly."
 
 Treacherous Ground 215 
 
 "Oh, you'll come to look at things just as 
 brightly some day, too, Erik." 
 
 "If I could only think so!" he sighed, as 
 he moved on with her again. But the way 
 was more toilsome than it had ever been be- 
 fore. It was as though he were voluntarily 
 going up to his little community and putting 
 himself to shame in their eyes. And suppose 
 they were to leave the place this very evening ! 
 
 Erik kept on stopping to take breath. A 
 number of scenes from the past, connected in 
 one way or another with Newland, passed be- 
 fore his mind's eye. He saw himself alone 
 among the merry-makers that 17th-of-May 
 evening. That was when this idea was born, 
 coming to him like a friend offering him his 
 hand. ' * I will be with you ; you shall no longer 
 be alone. " Then he remembered the long, 
 torturing nights with pricks of conscience and 
 painful memories, when he sought in vain for 
 comfort and relief outside himself, in which 
 to forget himself. And then came again this 
 idea like a bright power that paid, as it were, 
 his debt of sin, and allowed him to be young 
 and happy again. And finally it was his home, 
 when sunk deep in drink and despair he seized 
 upon this idea as on a life-buoy. The farm 
 foreman came. Now or never. And from
 
 216 Treacherous Ground 
 
 that time the nights grew brighter than be- 
 fore: he felt no fear of falling asleep. He 
 was once more connected with something that 
 pointed out over his own short life ; indeed, he 
 had actually began to catch a glimpse of a sky 
 that was no longer quite so indifferent and 
 empty. 
 
 And now in a few minutes he would be 
 standing and pulling the whole thing to pieces. 
 
 When they came to the gate into the out- 
 field, he stopped again and looked back. "No !" 
 he said, passing his hand across his forehead ; 
 "I won't go any farther, Inga. You must 
 know it's too late this evening." 
 
 1 i Come now ! Come now ! ' ' She had already 
 opened the gate and was standing holding it 
 open for him. 
 
 "No; don't you hear? I won't go any 
 farther." And he sat down on a stone and 
 pulled a blade of grass, which he began to 
 twist between his fingers. 
 
 "Now, Erik, you surely don't want to bring 
 me to despair? If we go back now, I am 
 really at my wits' end." 
 
 There was a pause, and he sat looking down 
 at the piece of grass which he was twisting 
 mechanically between his fingers. At last he 
 said, with a sigh, without looking at her: "If
 
 Treacherous Ground 217 
 
 I hadn't told you about the workmen's hold- 
 ings last year, that day on the steamer, Inga, 
 we should hardly be engaged now. ' ' 
 
 "What nonsense you're talking. Do come, 
 Erik, when I beg you so hard." 
 
 At last he looked up at her, and tried to 
 smile. "And now, if they begin at once to 
 move down again, what will there be left of 
 me in your eyes?" 
 
 "Now, Erik, how can you talk like that. 
 It's really horrid of you." She came up and 
 kissed him, but took hold of him again, say- 
 ing: "Come now, dear!" 
 
 Erik felt a little ashamed of having let fall 
 his last remark, and in order to give it the 
 appearance of a joke, he rose and went with 
 her, although his feet could scarcely carry him. 
 
 They passed the sawmill, where the river 
 vainly dashed its spray against the wheels, 
 now that the work was stopped for the day; 
 and soon they came to the last hill, from which 
 the first cottage in Newland could be seen. 
 
 Inga, too, was anxious, for she knew what 
 this matter meant for her fiance; and as the 
 decisive moment approached, she felt like one 
 who watches the effect of a dangerous medi- 
 cine upon some one he loves. It might make
 
 218 Treacherous Ground 
 
 the patient well, but there was also another 
 possibility. 
 
 The nearer they came to Newland, the more 
 fateful did their errand seem. The people 
 must choose to stay on there they must, they 
 must? "Oh, if only they decide to do that!" 
 she thought. 
 
 At last they opened the last gate, and en- 
 tered Bertil's little property. 
 
 "They've gone to bed, I think," said Erik, 
 coming to a standstill. 
 
 "No, don't you hear the sound of wood- 
 chopping ? Come along ! ' '
 
 Chapter III 
 
 When Inga saw the big man -who stood out- 
 side the cowshed chopping wood, she stood 
 still for a moment, and during that moment 
 she found it impossible to think whether the 
 man was actually in danger by living here. 
 He seemed to be a mystic being, who was to 
 decide their fate by a "yes" or a "no." Erik 
 felt something of the same sort, and, as they 
 approached the house, their hands involun- 
 tarily met. 
 
 They exchanged greetings. Bertil wiped his 
 forehead, and stood, a little embarrassed, lean- 
 ing upon the handle of his axe. This visit, 
 so late as it was, was a little strange. 
 
 Inside the little cowshed could be heard the 
 sound of milking. Bertil was the first of the 
 Newland people who had invested in a cow. 
 
 They talked a little on various subjects. 
 Erik could see that the crops here were in 
 better condition than those of Bertil 's neigh- 
 
 219
 
 220 Treacherous Ground 
 
 bour, Lars Brovold. That, said Bertil, was 
 because Lars had been so late with his spring 
 work; but it might still improve there too, if 
 they had rain. 
 
 At last Ingeborg came out of the cowshed, 
 with the milking-stool in front of her, and her 
 skirts turned up. She was stout but pale, 
 and her face was one of those that look as if 
 they had long since given up laughing, and 
 had stiffened into seriousness that savours of 
 psalm-singing and gloomy weather. 
 
 Inga could not stand still, so impatient was 
 she. She could hear her heart beating, but 
 at last, at last Erik came to the object of their 
 visit. He stood nervously digging his stick 
 into the sand while he was at great pains to 
 repeat accurately and dispassionately what 
 Rein asserted ; but in conclusion he could not 
 resist adding what the Professor had said 
 about the land there having lain through many 
 a winter's day before this. 
 
 When he finished there was a pause. Inge- 
 borg had been standing with the milking-stool 
 in front of her, looking away to one side, as 
 if she were at a prayer-meeting. Bertil first 
 looked at her, but quickly turned his eyes in 
 another direction, until he found what he 
 sought, far off on the other side of the fjord,
 
 Treacherous Ground 221 
 
 where the sun flamed in the windows of a 
 house. 
 
 Inga looked from one to the other. She 
 was so anxious now, that she thought: "If 
 they say that they'll leave the place, I'll take 
 care to let them know how ungrateful they 
 are." 
 
 But it was not like Bertil to answer at once 
 to this. He withdrew his gaze from the dis- 
 tant spot out on the other side of the fjord, 
 looked along the land that he had tilled, re- 
 called the first day he was free and began to 
 clear the ground, and looked at the cottage 
 that he had carried up upon his back in order 
 to get a certain view. It was the whole of his 
 little world, beyond which his thoughts seldom 
 ventured. Give it up? Then all his hard work 
 had been in vain. 
 
 He began to wander about a little to think 
 it over, but came to a standstill opposite his 
 distant view. It seemed to Inga that it took 
 an incredible time. 
 
 "What do you say?" Erik asked at last. 
 
 Bertil considered again for some time before 
 he answered: "Oh, I think as you do, sir, that 
 the land has lain here for many a winter's 
 day before this." 
 
 Ingeborg sighed and added: "And if the
 
 222 Treacherous Ground 
 
 Almighty wants to punish us, it doesn't mat- 
 ter where we move to ; but if He wants to pre- 
 serve us, we're just as safe here as anywhere 
 else." 
 
 Erik and Inga soon went on farther, but, 
 when they had got behind the houses, Inga 
 had to sit down for a moment to dry her eyes. 
 She would have liked to breathe out freely, to 
 rejoice and throw her arms around Erik's 
 neck ; but it was not all over yet, for the others 
 might answer differently from Bertil. She 
 did say, however: "There, you can see, Erik. 
 And people who have worked upon the land 
 all their lives should be allowed to have an 
 opinion in such a matter. ' ' 
 
 Erik was pale, but smiled now. "Did you 
 hear what Ingeborg said? 'If God wants to 
 preserve us,' she said. Happy people, who 
 have kept the faith of their childhood like 
 that!" 
 
 They found Petra standing on her doorstep, 
 scrubbing a saucepan. Lars had come home 
 from the timber-felling, but just now was 
 in at their neighbour's Knut Rabben. Petra 
 planted her wet hands on her hips, and listened 
 with curiosity to what Erik told her about 
 Rein. 
 
 She glanced at the land that she had worked
 
 Treacherous Ground 223 
 
 upon alone so many a day already, at this 
 property that had so suddenly lifted her up 
 from shame and dishonour. To leave this I 
 How would Lars treat her then, if he had not 
 even this as compensation? 
 
 And she sighed and answered with the re- 
 mark that Erik had so sensibly made namely, 
 that the land had lain quiet enough here for 
 many a winter's day before this. 
 
 As Erik and Inga left her, they heard the 
 energetic scraping of the saucepan resumed. 
 The story did not seem to have alarmed her 
 very much. 
 
 They went on over rough ground, and 
 climbed over the fence into Knut Rabben's 
 land. Inga said: "I can quite understand, 
 Erik, why you've become so fond of these peo- 
 ple. Did you notice what pretty eyes Petra 
 has?" 
 
 A pair of crows flew up over their heads and 
 settled in the wood farther off. There was no 
 one to be seen outside Knut's house, but they 
 soon heard the sound of several voices inside. 
 They went into a little spotless room with fir 
 twigs strewn over the floor. Lars was sitting 
 upon the bench near the door, smoking, and 
 Knut and Kristina were having their supper ; 
 for in the summer country people end the day
 
 224 Treacherous Ground 
 
 late. Kristina started up and tried to find 
 something to put straight in the room, a coat 
 to move away, a chair to bring forward. The 
 slim young woman with the flaxen hair and the 
 scar on her cheek was soon to be a mother. 
 
 Inga and Erik sat down, and he began at 
 once to tell them his errand. He wanted them 
 to know, he said, and then they could judge 
 for themselves. 
 
 Kristina looked anxiously at her husband, 
 and put down her spoon. Knut pushed his 
 red hair up from his forehead and looked at 
 Lars; but Lars was looking at Erik almost 
 with hatred in his eyes. It was he who had 
 induced him to marry Petra. "Is he going 
 to do me out of the little I got in exchange 
 too?" he thought. 
 
 "Oh no!" he said aloud, looking as if he 
 were keeping back something that another 
 wanted to draw from him. "I say, too, that 
 the land has lain still here for many a winter's 
 day before this." 
 
 Erik looked at him, and read in his eyes what 
 he had feared. These people, who had hitherto 
 worshipped him, would ask why the deuce he 
 had fooled them into coming up here if the 
 land was worthless. 
 
 At last Knut laid down his spoon, and got
 
 Treacherous Ground 225 
 
 up to light his pipe. Erik and Inga looked at 
 him a little anxiously, for he looked irresolute. 
 
 "We-ell," he said, "landslips do sometimes 
 happen. ' ' Again Kristina looked anxiously at 
 him. 
 
 But now Lars was afraid that these two 
 might determine to move, and bad though 
 it was to see Kristina as another man's 
 wife, if they perhaps went so far away that he 
 could never see her any more, it would be a 
 thousand times worse. 
 
 "It's all nonsense!" he said. "That Rein's 
 always going about telling old- wives' tales. I 
 worked for him by the day once, but we were 
 well-nigh starved. He's a nice fellow!" 
 
 This seemed to be a good argument for 
 Knut. "Oh, is he that sort of man?" he said, 
 getting his pipe alight at last ; and in a little 
 while he said to Erik that if Bertil and Lars 
 could stay there, so could he. 
 
 Once more the two went on their way 
 through the light summer evening. But Erik 
 felt that the worst was still to come, for he 
 had to stand before Olina and, as it were, say : 
 "The compensation you received wasn't worth 
 a penny." 
 
 "I'm not equal to any more this evening,"
 
 226 Treacherous Ground 
 
 he said suddenly. " L We can come up here 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "No, no. You'll sleep better when it's all 
 over. Come now!" 
 
 Old Peter Troen was sitting upon the grass 
 outside the cottage, making a birch-broom, 
 while Toger was going about with a wheel- 
 barrow, and sprinkling sand outside the doors ; 
 for the wedding was to take place in a day or 
 two. Presently Olina came out on to the 
 kitchen steps, and when she saw Erik, she 
 made an unconscious movement of her hand 
 to smooth her hair. 
 
 Inga noticed this and winced; and while 
 the two men listened to what Erik had to say, 
 the two women stood looking at one another. 
 Inga said to herself: "So Erik has belonged 
 to that woman before he belonged to me ; and 
 if she decides to leave the place, I know he'll 
 be pondering over something else to give her." 
 
 "Does she grudge me the land here?" 
 thought Olina. "Does she want him to take 
 it back?" 
 
 The old man stood with his hands behind 
 him, looking down. He had toiled hard many 
 a day up here for Olina 's sake. Toger thrust 
 his hands into his pockets and looked at Olina. 
 Since his promotion to be a landowner up
 
 Treacherous Ground 227 
 
 here, people had not laughed at his deformity. 
 
 Olina looked at Erik, and involuntarily 
 pulled down her sleeves. "She sha'n't suc- 
 ceed in having me left alone with my shame 
 again,' 7 was her thought ; and she said to Toger 
 that she thought the same as Erik the land 
 up there had lain through many a winter be- 
 fore this. 
 
 Every time this remark was echoed by one 
 of the people up here, it sounded to Erik like 
 an assurance of confidence and devotion; and 
 each time it was as though a burden had been 
 lifted off his own shoulders, so that he could 
 go on free. 
 
 As they were climbing another fence, Inga 
 could not resist standing upon the topmost 
 bar and jodeling out over the hills until the 
 echoes rang, as a vent to her joy. 
 
 The miller was a fat little man, and was now 
 wandering about his little garden with a pipe 
 in his mouth. When he saw the two up on 
 the road, it gave him a little shock, and he 
 called in through the open window to his wife : 
 4 'Give the pigs a little food quickly to keep 
 them quiet; for there are visitors coming. " 
 
 The miller had rather a bad conscience, and 
 always tried to hide how many pigs he kept; 
 for already people were beginning to wonder
 
 228 Treacherous Ground 
 
 what he got his meal for. When, therefore, 
 Inga and Erik came up and he heard what 
 they had to say, it would be no worse for him. 
 He agreed with Erik that the land had lain 
 quiet there for many a winter's day before 
 this. 
 
 At last Inga and Erik started for home. 
 Down in the valley the calm river lay like a 
 sinuous strip of blue sky, and from the fir- 
 clad hill that rose, dark and thick, upon the 
 other side of it, came the sound of a single 
 cow-bell. 
 
 They walked hand in hand, but out on the 
 bluffs, where no one could see them, Inga 
 threw her arms around Erik's neck. "Are 
 you satisfied now, Erik?" 
 
 "This has been a wonderful walk, Inga," 
 he replied, stroking her cheek again and again. 
 
 ' ' Are you satisfied ? ' ' she asked. ' ' Will you, 
 after this, think a little about me too?" 
 
 He looked into her face for a moment with 
 a smile. A strange medley of scenes was 
 passing through his mind, and among them 
 that evening when the working-men's associa- 
 tion in Kristiania deserted him, and Mogstad 
 won. But now! Things had turned out dif- 
 ferently this evening. 
 
 "Erik, what are you thinking about?"
 
 Treacherous Ground 229 
 
 He pressed his lips to hers in a long kiss, 
 and the consciousness that together they had 
 succeeded in bringing something into port, 
 made them both tremble with love for one 
 another. 
 
 "Inga, Inga, how lovely you are!" 
 
 "Let me go! You quite take away my 
 breath." And she gently freed herself. 
 
 On the next hill, where the valley and the 
 silvery-grey fjord opened out before them, 
 they sat down, each on a little mound, and 
 looked down. Far out in the west, the sky 
 rose, pure and golden, from behind the blue 
 line of mountains. It was midnight now, but 
 there was no twilight, but a clear, silent day- 
 light. 
 
 "What are you thinking about, Erik?" 
 
 He lay back on the grass, put his hands 
 behind his head, and looked up at the sky, 
 which up there was of such a deep, intense 
 blue. Presently he said: "It's strange how 
 different the values are that we run after. 
 I wonder whether these simple people in New- 
 land don't understand more than we do, who 
 imagine that we've read and thought." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 But Erik was thinking about something else. 
 It was that remark that the land had lain
 
 230 Treacherous Ground 
 
 quiet for many a winter's day before this, 
 which the old artist had given out in his pa- 
 triotic enthusiasm. This Erik had seized upon 
 and constantly made use of ; it was so obviously 
 popular and said so much, and it acted every- 
 where like a magic bond that helped him to 
 bind the people to their homes up there. 
 
 As he lay there, he wished that this remark 
 had not had the effect of persuasion, but that 
 it had been the people's own common-sense 
 that had determined them. 
 
 "How silent you are, Erik!" 
 
 "I can't forget what Bertil's wife said. 'If 
 the Almighty wants to preserve us,' she said, 
 * we 're j ust as safe here. ' It 's touching to hear 
 such childlike faith. And perhaps they really 
 all have it, since they've all decided to re- 
 
 main. ' 
 
 There was silence again for a little while, 
 during which they heard only the rush of the 
 river coming up from the valley. Then Erik 
 turned his head and said, with a smile: "And 
 you believe in God, don't you, Ingaf" 
 
 She sighed a little, and answered: "Why, 
 don't you?" 
 
 He smiled, and looked up again into the 
 endless blue. "What do we know, Inga? I 
 know no more than you. But if after this my
 
 Treacherous Ground 231 
 
 mind is at rest and I am allowed to live many 
 years with you, I would gladly give up all de- 
 lights after death. " 
 
 She laid her hand upon his hair before she 
 said: "Your mind at rest? Why shouldn't 
 it be now? I'm sure I hope it will be, Erik." 
 
 "Yes, oh yes." He took her hand and 
 pressed it almost convulsively, as he said: 
 "Thank you, Inga, for going up there with me 
 this evening."
 
 Chapter IV 
 
 When a man recoils from an action that he 
 feels to be required of him, but which at the 
 same time will demand too great a sacrifice, 
 he often finds comfort in philosophising. This 
 was the case with Rein. As he flew along the 
 roads on his bicycle to inspect roads and 
 bridges, or sat in his office among papers and 
 drawings, his thoughts would sometimes take 
 a little rest from business matters, and a ques- 
 tion would come up in his mind that he could 
 now never get rid of: "What are you going to 
 do about Erik Evje? Why do you keep put- 
 ting off doing something?" 
 
 He often came home with the determina- 
 tion that it should be done to-morrow ; but to- 
 morrow came, and it was not done. He care- 
 fully avoided saying anything more about the 
 matter to his wife. They were once more on 
 good terms with one another, and her thought 
 for him, and the comfort with which she filled 
 
 Mi
 
 Treacherous Ground 233 
 
 the rooms, had the effect upon him of a prayer 
 that he would do nothing more in the matter. 
 He happened to be sitting on the sofa, lis- 
 tening to her playing, and, while the music 
 was going on he saw himself in a clearer light, 
 and preached himself a sermon. "Perhaps 
 it is true that I am a bird of ill omen. What 
 good do we do the world, we who take to heart 
 the evil that happens here or there ? We are 
 like a telephone station, always being rung 
 up from one place or another. Here a great 
 wrong has been done, there a dangerous lie 
 has been taken for truth by everybody, up 
 there a rogue has been elevated into a saint, 
 and down there a good man misunderstood 
 and wronged. It is always ringing, and 
 always feels like a stab in one's own heart. 
 'Oh!' we cry, and spring up and rush off to 
 put things straight; and we're so taken up 
 with feeling and putting right, that we haven't 
 a moment left for our own happiness. There 
 is, for instance, something called beauty. 
 There are women. There is poetry and music. 
 Flowers blossom in the gardens every spring 
 and summer. How much attention have you 
 paid to all this ? Now you have a home, with 
 a beautiful woman in it, and you might be 
 happy; but you imperil it all for a thing so
 
 234 Treacherous Ground 
 
 unimportant as that a few workmen will be 
 carried free of charge into the lower regions 
 some fine day. They must all die some day, 
 and, moreover, you've warned them. What 
 more can you do? Why in the world then 
 do you go and wail any more over it ? 
 
 He determined that there should also be an 
 end to those angry newspaper articles. He 
 would no longer take to heart things that did 
 not directly concern himself. Every time, up 
 to the present, that he had interfered in things 
 that did not concern him, he had only suc- 
 ceeded in bringing on himself vexations and a 
 great many enemies. It was about time that 
 he came to reason. 
 
 All this he said to himself over and over 
 again, and yet he could not quite get rid of the 
 thought of those five families, over whose 
 heads there daily hung an inevitable catas- 
 trophe. 
 
 The end of it was that one day he wrote a 
 letter to Erik Evje. His wife need know 
 nothing about it. But as if she had guessed 
 what he was engaged in, she came suddenly 
 into the room. Rein felt like a schoolboy that 
 is caught cheating, and quickly laid a piece 
 of blotting-paper over the letter. 
 
 "What are you doing, dear?" she asked,
 
 Treacherous Ground 235 
 
 coming up and seating herself upon his 
 knee. 
 
 "Oh, I'm writing, as you see. Leave me 
 alone for a little, and then perhaps we'll go 
 for a row when I've finished. 
 
 She drew the blotting-paper aside with a 
 smile, and at once saw Erik Evje's name. 
 At this she rose quickly, and going to the 
 window, stood looking out. 
 
 "Really?" she said at last. "Do you think 
 it's a suitable time to do this now, just as Erik 
 and Inga have got married?" 
 
 Rein sat pulling at his beard but did not 
 answer. 
 
 "For that matter," she added, "Erik Evje 
 has explained to the Newland people what you 
 told him; but they chose to remain there all 
 the same." 
 
 "What?" exclaimed Rein, getting up. 
 "They chose to go on living there, just the 
 same?" 
 
 "Yes," said his wife, almost triumphantly. 
 
 "Then he must have explained things in a 
 peculiar way." 
 
 "YouVe no right to say that, Ingvald. Inga 
 told me herself, and she went up there with 
 him." 
 
 Rein looked for a little while at the letter
 
 236 Treacherous Ground 
 
 he had begun, and at last said, "Very well," 
 and taking up the paper, tore it in pieces. 
 
 Fru Rein moved about the room putting 
 things away, and Rein stood looking out of the 
 window at the fjord running blue under the 
 north wind. 
 
 They had chosen to go on living there ! It 
 could not be from indifference to life. Oh no, 
 not at all. But Erik must have wrapped up 
 his warning in phrases that put the matter in 
 a false light ; for when people like these New- 
 land people had to choose in such a matter of 
 life and death, they could not be altogether 
 without common-sense. 
 
 "Didn't you say we could go for a row?" 
 asked Fru Rein from the other window. 
 
 Rein sighed. "Yes, certainly," he replied, 
 after a slight pause. ' ' By all means let us go. ' ' 
 
 Even after that day, however, Rein felt that 
 he was not quite finished with this matter. 
 They had chosen themselves, these people, but 
 how preposterously. He might go up and 
 explain things to them, but of course it would 
 be put down as policy, and it would benefit no 
 one, and only bring fresh annoyance to him- 
 self. There was nothing to be done. Rein 
 again had the feeling of having a newspaper 
 article returned, and again he had to go and
 
 Treacherous Ground 237 
 
 swallow his righteous indignation that no one 
 in the world took the slightest notice of. 
 
 "That's how things go," he thought, be- 
 ginning to philosophise. "If I were wise, I'd 
 throw the truth to the winds, and go in for 
 flowers and wine and beauty and a happy be- 
 lief in the good in man, and then perhaps 
 they'd call me an idealist too." 
 
 The good? Erik Evje's arguments during 
 their last encounter began to come into Rein's 
 mind, and they gave food for much reflection. 
 Newland was a crucifix to Evje, and an ideal, 
 and a matter of conscience. Rein would some- 
 times stand still in the middle of the high- 
 road to ponder on the connection between 
 ideals and conscience. 
 
 Autumn set in with rain and mist, and a 
 heavy white steam hung over the fjord. Every 
 morning when Rein awoke, he expected to 
 hear of a disaster at Newland; but towards 
 the end of September the weather became 
 bright again, and the trees stood in the sun- 
 shine like blood-red roses upon the hillsides. 
 
 On one of these days Rein was wandering 
 through the woods with his gun over his shoul- 
 der. He was tired after having been out shoot- 
 ing since the early morning, and he stopped 
 again and again to whistle to his dog, which
 
 238 Treacherous Ground 
 
 t . 
 
 he could still hear giving tongue away on the 
 hill. He saw that the shortest way down to the 
 village would be to follow the river down past 
 Newland, and he decided to do this. The river 
 twisted in and out through the rocks, and, as 
 Rein approached Newland, he suddenly 
 stopped and gazed across at the other side. 
 The river here was fairly rapid, but encoun- 
 tered the hillside, and had to turn to go around 
 it. But there in the turn it had torn down 
 a whole hill in the last few days; and, what 
 was worse, it seemed to disappear under the 
 hill, to return again in silent eddies. It had 
 eaten its way under the earth there, and would 
 be sure to eat its way farther in as the autumn 
 advanced. Newland lay just below, and a 
 landslip might take place -at any time. 
 
 "Now it's serious," thought Rein. "Now 
 I shall have to go up and speak to those peo- 
 ple." 
 
 But he did not. He had made up his mind 
 that he would do nothing behind Evje's back, 
 so it would be better to talk to Evje himself 
 once more. 
 
 When he came farther down, he found him- 
 self suddenly just opposite Newland. There 
 on the slope on the other side of the river lay 
 the five small farms, sending up smoke into
 
 Treacherous Ground 239 
 
 the still autumn air. A strange feeling seized 
 him. Could those smiling homes and their 
 owners be doomed? 
 
 He again whistled to his dog, and threw 
 himself down on the ground to wait for him. 
 The sun had made the heather warm, the sky 
 was blue, and high up above the ridge hung a 
 solitary hawk on the watch. 
 
 Rein put his hands behind his head, and 
 looked across to Newland, where the lands to- 
 gether formed a long strip cut out of the for- 
 est. On each man's land he saw people out at 
 work. On one they were digging up new land, 
 on another cutting the yellow corn, and on a 
 third a woman was trying to tether a cow on 
 the slope. At one place he saw a man coming 
 down from the wood with a great bundle of 
 wood upon his shoulder, which he threw down 
 outside the cowshed. As Rein lay there me- 
 chanically gazing across, he began to ponder 
 again. 
 
 " Those people," he thought, " believe it's 
 for themselves they're toiling, but in reality 
 it's so that Erik Evje shall have an ideal. 
 That's what it is. He's planted them there 
 just as we others plant pines as a shelter from 
 the north wind. His father used the people 
 inconsiderably for the benefit of his purse,
 
 240 Treacherous Ground 
 
 and Erik Evje for his conscience. The one 
 man's selfishness is just as brutal as the 
 other's." 
 
 Crucifix ! Ideals ! Conscience ! 
 
 He recollected a student of divinity who 
 had become a fanatical "dialect" agitator, be- 
 cause he had at one time scoffed at the dialect 
 spoken by his poor mother. She was now 
 dead, but he was going to atone, and for this 
 purpose all Norwegians must lend themselves. 
 
 The crucifix and conscience! 
 
 He remembered a friend who lost his wife 
 in a fire, and in his despair he became a mis- 
 sioner, and finally travelled along the high- 
 roads followed by a singing, weeping crowd. 
 It was a comfort to him to communicate his 
 funereal state of mind to old and young ; and 
 when he succeeded in converting the happi- 
 ness of a newly-married pair to the same de- 
 spair that he felt, he raised his eyes to heaven 
 and felt that he had entered into an alliance 
 with God. 
 
 r. How many human souls have prophets and 
 \ popular leaders crucified for similar reasons ? 
 1 ' l That man, ' ' thought Rein, raising his eyes, 
 "is modest after all. He is content with hang- 
 ing five families upon the cross. With that his 
 conscience is satisfied." '
 
 Treacherous Ground 241 
 
 The river roared and the sun shone hot upon 
 him, and so occupied was he with his thoughts, 
 that he did not notice his dog until it pushed 
 its nose into his face. 
 
 At last he started off again with his gun 
 over his shoulder and his heavy game-bag 
 upon his back. As he went, he threw a last 
 glance at Newland, saying to himself: "No, 
 they Ve themselves chosen to go on living there, 
 and if I went and told them the truth, they'd 
 only think me a reactionist and a hater of the 
 poor. It's no affair of mine. I've made up 
 my mind to be an idealist for the future and 
 not a bird of ill omen." And he tramped on 
 with a peculiar smile upon his face.
 
 Chapter V 
 
 Petra and Lars were carrying the sheaves of 
 corn in from the field lower down the hill. 
 The east wind was swaying the branches of 
 the trees on the slope, and now and then 
 whirled yellow leaves and straw above their 
 heads. Petra had a large handkerchief over 
 the back of her neck, to keep the ears of corn 
 from pricking her, and Lars, for the same 
 reason, wore a sou'wester. 
 
 There were only four corn-stakes left, when 
 Lars, on his way down, seated himself on a 
 stone and took out his pipe. Petra stopped 
 and looked at him. "Sha'n't we get in those 
 stakes now before it gets dark I" she asked. 
 
 " There's no more than you can manage," 
 he answered, beginning to scrape out his pipe. 
 
 Petra objected, saying that she had a good 
 deal still to do that evening, the children to 
 put to bed, the floor to wash, and the supper 
 to prepare ; but as Lars did not appear to hear 
 her, she sighed and went down to the field 
 
 242
 
 Treacherous Ground 243 
 
 alone. There she took hold of another stake, 
 dragged it backwards and forwards to loosen 
 it, and at last got it out of the ground and 
 balanced upon her shoulder. The heavy 
 weight bent her double as she began to work 
 her way up the hill, the broad surface of the 
 corn-stake hiding her head and back and leav- 
 ing only her legs visible toiling up towards 
 the barn. 
 
 "Yes, now she may go at it," thought Lars 
 as he lighted his pipe and remained seated. 
 For his part, he had done enough for that day. 
 
 But as Petra threw down the corn in the 
 barn, she heard the children screaming piti- 
 fully in the cottage. She went to the window 
 and looked in, trying not to be seen; for, if 
 they caught sight of her, the disturbance would 
 be worse than ever. 
 
 There in the darkening room she saw the 
 eldest boy, whom she had before her marriage, 
 creeping about on the table, picking up crumbs 
 and putting them in his mouth. In the cradle 
 lay the youngest, screaming because the little 
 dwarf, who should have been rocking the 
 cradle, was no longer paying any attention to 
 it, but sat making hooks out of brass wire. The 
 dwarf was a deformed lad that Petra had 
 taken at the cost of the parish, so that she
 
 244 Treacherous Ground 
 
 could earn a few coppers. He was twenty, but 
 so twisted with rheumatism that he was no 
 bigger than a boy of eight; but he was ener- 
 getic and neat-handed, and worked at little 
 things to earn a few pence to buy books. 
 
 Petra knocked carefully on the window- 
 pane, so that he, and not the children, should 
 hear her, and then hurried down to the field 
 again. 
 
 Lars, still sitting on the stone, watched 
 her. He found the work in his fields at home 
 harder and harder, and his neighbours were 
 already far ahead of him. Moreover, he be- 
 gan to feel that he had been persuaded to take 
 the land in exchange for Kristina ; and when 
 he thought over it, the work would drop from 
 his hands, and he would sit and brood as he 
 was now doing. 
 
 If he could only get out of his head those 
 fancies about some day being a bachelor again 
 and going to church in uniform; for they 
 always stopped short at the fact that Kristina 
 at any rate was no longer at church as an un- 
 married girl, no matter how fine his uniform 
 was. It was too late. What was done could 
 not be undone. 
 
 When all this came over him, it was a com- 
 fort to him to go home to his parents in the
 
 Treacherous Ground 245 
 
 little fisherman's cottage, and stay the night 
 there. In the little attic he seemed to find his 
 youth again, and could think about the future 
 as he used to do. 
 
 While he sat there, Petra came up the hill 
 with a corn-stake, but this time he did not see 
 her, for he was gazing vacantly across at the 
 hills beyond the river, where the twilight was 
 rising, together with the ceaseless roar of the 
 water. 
 
 When at last he rose, he saw that there were 
 only two corn-stakes left standing, and one of 
 those he might just as well have taken. But 
 he did not do it. When Petra once more went 
 down, he hurried up to the cottage, where he 
 found a little water to wash his hands and face, 
 and then crossed the field, climbed the fence, 
 and made his way through the thicket of alder 
 that still separated his land from Knut's. To- 
 day Kristina would be at home alone. And as 
 he approached the buildings, he saw that this 
 was the case, and that she was bringing in the 
 corn alone. 
 
 She had tied a sheet about her head to pro- 
 tect it from the ears, and when she came out 
 of the barn and saw him, she stood for a mo- 
 ment pushing locks of hair in under it, and 
 ashamed of her appearance.
 
 246 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "Are you working here quite alone?" said 
 Lars, as with Ms hands in his pockets he saun- 
 tered towards her. 
 
 "Yes, Knut's at the sawmill to-day, " she 
 answered, picking up an ear of corn from the 
 barn bridge, and rubbing it between her red 
 hands. 
 
 Lars felt his heart leap. Now they could 
 be alone together for a little. If only he did 
 not say something stupid again. When he was 
 away from her, it was so easy to think how 
 he should express himself; but no sooner did 
 they come together than it all came to a stand- 
 still. 
 
 "You've got in your corn, I suppose?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh yes," answered Lars. "I just carried 
 in the last stakes now, so perhaps I could take 
 a hand with yours. It's a shame that a poor 
 woman should go out and wear herself out with 
 such work." 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't give up your time to me," 
 said Kristina, glancing up at him in her old 
 way. "But it's a good thing, all the same, 
 that I can get away in to my little screamer." 
 And she went up to the window and peeped 
 into the room, where a little creature was lying 
 asleep.
 
 Treacherous Ground 247 
 
 All was quiet here, however, and she went 
 down with Lars towards the cornfield. Lars 
 pulled up a stake for her, and took one him- 
 self and started off with it. The corn felt 
 lighter here than at home. And when he came 
 out of the barn and met Kristina below the 
 bridge, a feeling of tenderness seized him at 
 sight of the pretty girl weighed down by her 
 heavy burden. "Give it to me," he said, lift- 
 ing it from her shoulders on to his own. "The 
 bridge is too steep at any rate for a little thing 
 like you." 
 
 When he came back again, she was standing 
 waiting for him, so that they could go down to 
 the field together. 
 
 It was nice to be beside her, but he must 
 give it up now, so that she could rest, poor 
 thing. "There are no more stakes there than 
 I can bring in alone," he said. 
 
 "Oh, that would be too bad!" she protested; 
 but he would not give in. She must be careful 
 and not do too much. 
 
 This care for her was the only way in which 
 he could show her his affection now ; for since 
 they had married, no word ever passed between 
 them of what had been. 
 
 It began to grow dark, and the valley below 
 became black. Kristina had gone in and put
 
 248 Treacherous Ground 
 
 the kettle on; but, even after it had grown 
 pitch dark, she could see from the window the 
 light corn-stakes moving up and vanishing 
 into the barn. 
 
 When Lars had at last finished, he thought 
 of slipping away quietly; but Kristina had 
 been on the watch for him, and would not let 
 him go before he had had a cup of coffee. 
 
 He never cared very much about going in 
 there, for there was so much in the cottage 
 that distinctly showed that she belonged to 
 another man; but now she had really made 
 things smart for him, for a white cloth was 
 spread upon the table, and the silver sugar- 
 basin and cream- jug were set out, as if he had 
 been a distinguished stranger. 
 
 Lars sat down carefully at the table, so as 
 not to upset anything, and folded his hands 
 for a moment under the table-cloth. Then he 
 had to drink two cups of coffee, and take some 
 ginger-bread with it, while she stood at the 
 stove and drank a cup. But every time she 
 came to him with more coffee, a thrill passed 
 through him because her skirts touched his 
 knee. 
 
 "I hope you aren't afraid about that non- 
 sense that Engineer Rein has been talking 
 about, " he said, so as to appear a little fatherly
 
 Treacherous Ground 249 
 
 towards her. And then he began to assure 
 her that there was nothing in it. Toger, the 
 shoemaker, was said to be afraid every day 
 now ha ha! because the river had torn 
 away a bank of clay up here in the bend ; but 
 that was nonsense. Kristina thought so too; 
 it was as Evje had said the land had lain 
 there quietly for many a winter 's day. And 
 for Lars there seemed to open up a long, safe 
 future, when they could always live here and 
 be so near one another. 
 
 "I wonder whether Knut won't soon be on 
 his way home," said Kristina suddenly, going 
 to the window. 
 
 "There! She misses him now too," said 
 Lars to himself, his courage sinking. He 
 made haste to leave the table and thank her 
 for the entertainment. She would not care 
 much about him after this, no matter how 
 much he came and helped her. 
 
 When he left the cottage, he made a detour 
 so as not to meet Knut; but when he got to 
 the fence, he sat down and began to scrape out 
 his pipe. A little later he heard footsteps, 
 and then some one climbed over the fence up 
 by the path. It was Knut, who passed close 
 by him, with an axe over his shoulder. 
 
 It seemed strange to see this man sauntering
 
 250 Treacherous Ground 
 
 homewards so indifferently, when a wife like 
 Kristina sat and waited for him. 
 
 Lars smoked his pipe out, and then another. 
 At last he rose, but still could not go home. 
 He wandered about in the dark for some time, 
 looking up at the lighted window in Knut and 
 Kristina 7 s cottage; and at last he approached 
 carefully, with noiseless step, and going up to 
 the window, looked in. 
 
 The two were sitting one at each side of the 
 table, eating their supper of porridge. They 
 were talking and laughing, for they were still 
 like a newly-married couple towards each 
 other. She became so merry that she splashed 
 a spoonful of milk into his face, so that he had 
 to dry his red beard ; and he revenged himself 
 by kicking her chair away from under her, 
 just as she was carrying a spoonful to her 
 mouth. When she fell on the floor, he rushed 
 to her and lifted her up, carrying her about 
 the room for a little before they took their 
 seats again. 
 
 Lars involuntarily clenched his fists, but re- 
 mained standing in the same position, breath- 
 ing heavily. He could not hear what they 
 said, but their faces showed how taken up they 
 were with one another, and that she had not 
 a thought for him, who had carried in the corn
 
 Treacherous Ground 251 
 
 for her. When they left the table, Knut first 
 helped her to clear away the dishes ; and then, 
 while she wiped the table, he stood stretching 
 himself and yawning. Then he put his arm 
 round his wife and drew her on to his knee. 
 To see this man's arm about her slender waist, 
 this woman upon another man's knee, made 
 the one outside the window long to rush in and 
 knock Knut down; but he stayed where he 
 was, though he had to close his eyes for a little. 
 
 When he looked in again, Knut was un- 
 dressing, his pipe in his mouth. He had to get 
 up early in the morning, and went to bed 
 early. Lars saw him get into bed, still with 
 his pipe in- his mouth, and presently heard him 
 call: " What's become of you, old lady?" and 
 her answer, "I'm coming!" from the kitchen, 
 where she was busy with something. 
 
 Lars stood and watched Kristina undress 
 too, while her husband lay waiting. She 
 scratched her bare, round arms, took off her 
 stays and petticoat, and stood for a moment 
 in her chemise and red underskirt before she 
 seated herself upon the edge of the bed and 
 drew off her stockings. Then Lars drew back 
 a few steps, and then a few more, as if retreat- 
 ing bashfully; but at last he stood still and
 
 252 Treacherous Ground 
 
 remained gazing at the lighted window, until 
 the light was extinguished. 
 
 When he finally saw the light from his own 
 cottage window, he had not the courage to go 
 in, after what had passed. He heard the 
 sound of scrubbing, so Petra was still washing 
 floors. 
 
 But Lars decided to go home and sleep at 
 his mother's again; and, without letting his 
 wife know what had become of him, he set 
 off, past Bertil's house, and down over the 
 bluffs. His footsteps rang out in the stillness 
 of the night, and presently he began humming 
 something, as though he felt the need of sing- 
 ing a melancholy song. Above the mountains 
 in the west rose the starry sky, with here and 
 there a dark cloud; and from the fjord he 
 could already hear the sound of the waves 
 splashing and singing upon the beach.
 
 Chapter VI 
 
 After the wedding, Erik Evje had moved the 
 offices into a small, separate building near the 
 factories ; and when it was time for him to go 
 home to dinner, he would wonder whether 
 Inga would come and meet him that day, and 
 if so, whether it would be by the head for- 
 ester's house, or by the smithy, or as far off as 
 the storehouse. Then when he caught sight of 
 her he would pretend he saw nothing until 
 the last moment, when he would start and be 
 quite astonished. " Nonsense!" she would ex- 
 claim. "You saw me well enough, you de- 
 ceiver!" And she would put her arm through 
 his, and talk all the way home of all the re- 
 markable things that had happened during 
 the few hours they had been separated. 
 
 A steady calm began to take possession of 
 Erik. He had at last come to a full under- 
 standing of his business, and knew what he 
 wanted and what he did not want in those mat- 
 
 253
 
 254 Treacherous Ground 
 
 ters. He had become accustomed to the 
 thought of living in this out-of-the-way corner 
 for the rest of his life, and yet filling a place, 
 and feeling satisfied. At home there were two 
 women, who only thought about making him 
 comfortable ; and in the business he had a safe 
 feeling that everything was going steadily and 
 surely forward. When he was alone on his 
 forest journeys and could give himself up to 
 reflection, his life seemed to him to be a con- 
 tinual journeying up a toilsome road. "Well," 
 he thought, stopping as if to look back; "that 
 and that had to be gone through, and now I'm 
 here." 
 
 It sometimes happens, however, that a man \ 
 who jokes and laughs has a little sore place i 
 upon his foot, which hurts at every step, al- / 
 though he thinks about other things and walks ( 
 as if nothing were the matter. Erik Evje also 
 lad a little sore place. It was a secret fear 
 that, in spite of everything, there was some- 
 thing wrong up at Newland. It was a fear 
 that he would not even confess to himself; 
 but when the conversation turned upon the 
 Newland people, his voice would acquire a 
 strange warmth, as if he were washing him- 
 self clean from an accusation, or were defend- 
 ing a condemned man whom he hoped to save.
 
 Treacherous Ground 255 
 
 When it had rained for a day, and people 
 said it looked as if it would go on, he would 
 sometimes become quite irritable. 
 
 * ' Rubbish ! " he would say. ' * How can any- 
 one know anything about to-morrow's 
 weather I" He feared this autumn rain, when 
 the river grew and became dangerous. It was 
 almost as if the laws of nature were already 
 coming forward and ranging themselves upon 
 Rein's side. Then, when the sun shone again, 
 he would be in the brightest of spirits ; but the 
 rain would come on again, and during the 
 night he would lie awake, listening to the grow- 
 ing noise of the waterfall, which bee; ne more 
 and more ominous to him. 
 
 They were sitting one evening after supper 
 the young couple watching the light from 
 the stove, while the storm could be heard beat- 
 ing against the windows outside in the autumn 
 evening. 
 
 Inga had been telling him with tears about 
 an encounter with her mother-in-law. She 
 had long suffered in silence, but to-day it had 
 been a little too bad of Fru Evje to come and 
 say within hearing of the servants that the 
 Evje kitchen had never been so dirty as it 
 was now. 
 
 Inga raised her dark head and looked at him
 
 256 Treacherous Ground 
 
 anxiously. If he sprang up and wanted to 
 go at once and reprove his mother, she would 
 ask him not to. To have him on her side was 
 all that mattered. 
 
 But Erik was thinking that that night, on 
 land or at sea, far more momentous things 
 might happen, so it was easy for him to treat 
 this matter lightly. 
 
 "I'm sure, dear/' he said stroking her hair, 
 "that mother didn't mean anything by it." 
 
 "No, of course not! She's always finding 
 fault with me, but she doesn't mean anything 
 by it! And you can't even imagine that it 
 hurts me?" 
 
 "Yes, I do, but we must show a little for- 
 bearance with old people. We young people 
 have other interests than a stain on the 
 brass ' 
 
 "Oh, as to interests," she interrupted. "We 
 women have only trivalities to attend to all 
 day long." 
 
 He bent forward to knock the ash out of his 
 pipe, and his hand turned blood red in the 
 light from the draught-hole in the stove-door. 
 
 "Now I'll tell you something, Inga," said 
 he, stretching his slim figure in the arm-chair. 
 "You ought to have something to occupy you 
 outside yourself and your own family. Have
 
 Treacherous Ground 257 
 
 you thought how much better off we are than, 
 for instance, the Newland people? They've 
 got their house and a little land, but what 
 about their intellectual horizon? What do 
 we do, who in this respect, too, have something 
 to give away? You could help me in this, 
 Inga." 
 
 Inga's eyes still watched the flickering light 
 from the stove, but at last she turned to him 
 with a conciliating smile. 
 
 "I help you? You shouldn't make fun of 
 me Erik." 
 
 But Erik grew quite eager. She, who had 
 more patience than he had, could, for instance, 
 bring these people together every Sunday, and 
 read to them, or give them instruction in some- 
 thing or other. It would be good for her too. 
 And he talked until she felt quite grateful. It 
 was as though he drew her thoughts away from 
 the little troubles up to something larger and 
 more beautiful. 
 
 "Perhaps I might teach the women up there 
 a little embroidery and art weaving," she said, 
 putting her arm about his neck. "I should 
 think it would be of quite as much use to them 
 as those everlasting prayer-meetings they go 
 to." 
 
 "Yes, I should think it would."
 
 258 Treacherous Ground 
 
 'Outside the rain poured down incessantly, 
 and the river would be sure to rise with it all ; 
 but it was a comfort to Erik to be sitting there 
 occupied with ideas for the good of the New- 
 land people, and to have his wife with him, so 
 that he was not alone. 
 
 From that time he felt a strange necessity 
 of always being occupied with the welfare of 
 the Newland people. It was as if he feared 
 that if he were not, the moral support that 
 Newland was to him would give way and die ; 
 and he had to keep on touching it to convince 
 himself that it was alive. He never met any 
 of the people without stopping and asking 
 how they were getting on; he advised them 
 as to which newspaper they ought to take in ; 
 he lent them books ; he went up on little visits 
 of inspection to see that they kept the air in 
 their cottages pure; he lent them horses for 
 ploughing; and he got them free medical at- 
 tendance by the doctor of the district. He was 
 never quite at ease unless some new thing or 
 other for their good was in view, as though 
 it were necessary to pile layer upon layer of 
 benefits over this fear that he was so anxious 
 to hide. 
 
 All this time Newland was becoming more 
 and more precious to Erik. Its spiritual value
 
 Treacherous Ground 259 
 
 grew and grew according to the sacrifices it 
 cost him, the sum of memories of himself be- 
 came greater and greater, and every time it 
 caused him a new anxiety, a new joy, it was 
 as if he carried a new treasure up there out 
 of his own soul. His secret fear of a landslip 
 became more and more an anxiety lest he him- 
 self had suffered, striven and longed -in vain ; 
 lest this time, too, he had made a mistake and 
 devoted himself to a phantom; lest the good 
 he had cherished in himself and practised 
 towards these people were quite useless; lest, 
 indeed, the debt of conscience that he thought 
 he had paid were also possibly self-deception, 
 and he just as guilty, just as spiritedly home- 
 less, just as rootless as he had been that sev- J 
 enteenth-of-May evening in the festive town. 
 It could not possibly be so, for he was far 
 too comfortable; but the secret fear was a 
 spur that was constantly forcing him into 
 gloomy reveries. Sometimes when he was 
 driving home from a party where he had been 
 the gayest of the company, he would suddenly 
 become silent and sad, because he realised 
 that all human pleasure only consists in for- 
 getting the dangers always lying in wait for 
 one. When he was out walking with his wife, 
 he would stand and look at a beautiful sunset,
 
 260 Treacherous Ground 
 
 but the next moment think: "Well, but what 
 do we human beings signify to all this ?" What 
 does the sun care, the mountains, the sea, the 
 quagmire, that men go about with a soul crav- 
 ing for beauty and eternity ? ' ' When at night, 
 after a well-spent day, he lay thinking with 
 pleasure of the services he had done the New- 
 land people, the dull sound of the waterfall 
 would suddenly begin to speak a different 
 language altogether. "Yes, you may do so 
 much good that Newland becomes a perfect 
 paradise, but some day it will be my turn." 
 Was it so I No, no, it could not be ! 
 
 But this hidden fear constantly required 
 fresh acts of kindness of him in order to be 
 kept down ; and gradually a great change took 
 place in Erik Evje. He began to interest him- 
 self in others besides the Newland people ; and 
 it soon became known in the parish that no 
 needy person went empty-handed from Evje 
 Farm, and Erik himself became gentle and 
 tolerant even towards persons whom he for- 
 merly could not endure. 
 
 It was as though he would say: "Well, 
 though that man may be wrong now, I may 
 be another time." People began to like his 
 company, not only because he had so much to 
 talk about, but because he could also be quiet
 
 Treacherous Ground 261 
 
 and listen, so that other people could say 
 something. 
 
 The autumn rains left off, and then began 
 again; then snow fell, and Erik breathed a 
 sigh of relief. The cold weather was coming, 
 and the danger was over for the present. But 
 the snow was carried away by fresh rain, and 
 the noise of the waterfall grew louder and 
 louder through the long nights. 
 
 It was then that Erik began to work upon 
 something in the evenings at home, and while 
 the two women sat near with their needlework, 
 talking in undertones so as not to disturb him, 
 his fair head was bent over his calculations 
 and writing, and books and papers surrounded 
 him. He was working out a proposal for a 
 law for the compulsory handing over of 
 uncultivated land to labourers, so that every 
 father of a family could have an opportunity 
 of acquiring a house, a garden and a cow of 
 his own. 
 
 Week after week he sat thus, and at last 
 Inga became impatient. "Why, dear me," 
 she said; "there's no getting a word out of 
 you now, Erik. You're in the office all day, 
 and now you sit without saying a syllable too." 
 
 He looked up and smiled, as if from a great 
 distance. "Fill that for me," he said, as he
 
 262 Treacherous Ground 
 
 handed her his pipe and went on with his 
 writing. 
 
 They were sitting thus one evening, when 
 Fru Evje, looking out of the window, called to 
 them to come and look. . Inga went, but Erik 
 sat motionless. The two women saw out upon 
 the fjord a long row of yellow, rocking lights, 
 moving inwards. They counted fifty of them. 
 It was like a gigantic fiery serpent, stretching 
 out over the fjord, as far as they could see. 
 1 1 It 's a fishing company, ' ' said Fru Evj e. "I 
 suppose the herring are farther up the fjord." 
 
 "Is it?" said Erik without moving. 
 
 The two women seated themselves again. 
 Inga's thoughts, of late, had been occupied 
 with a secret matter that no one knew of but 
 her husband ; but while she sat there wonder- 
 ing whether it would be a boy or a girl, and 
 have fair or dark hair she felt that his 
 thoughts were never occupied with her for a 
 moment, but far, far away in other things. 
 And when at last she rose to go to bed, he al- 
 ways said that he would follow her immedi- 
 ately; but she would often fall asleep, and it 
 would be very late when she was awakened 
 by his coming. 
 
 Erik sat far on into the night, calculating 
 and writing. He found it hard to tear himself
 
 Treacherous Ground 263 
 
 away from this work, for he had an undefined 
 feeling that by it he was moving his workmen's 
 holdings over on to firmer ground. He had 
 embarked so far upon this matter, which he 
 feared might be fateful, that he felt that he 
 must have more and more people associated 
 with it in order to feel easy in his mind. New- 
 land must become a national matter, and the 
 more beautiful it became, the richer it would 
 feel for his own heart. There would be thou- 
 sands of little cottages in which happy fam- 
 ilies lived, and he would sit there, and, as it 
 were, nod to them all, because he knew them. 
 There was Peter and Olina and Bertil and 
 Lars over and over again thousands of times, 
 /~and they were all like an embodiment of some- 
 thing beautiful in himself, created out of his 
 longing for things beyond the everyday life, 
 beyond death itself. The smoke would rise 
 from these cottages when he lay in his grave ; 
 there would be smiles behind those window- 
 panes when every one had forgotten him ; the 
 i flowers would bloom in those gardens through 
 j endless ages ; and the whole of it was created 
 by him ; it was as if his own soul looked up in 
 each smile, each loving word, each flower that 
 opened in the many gardens. That was one 
 way of being everlasting ; it was a resurrection
 
 264 Treacherous Ground 
 
 to life, over and over again. In Newland lie 
 saved his soul from stagnating, and now he 
 was saving it from death. It was a religious 
 joy that made his periods glow; and the hours 
 sped. 
 
 "Erik, aren't you coming to bed at all to- 
 night?" 
 
 "Yes, I'm coming now." 
 
 But even when he was in bed, he was too 
 wide-awake to sleep and, as he lay, the dream 
 seemed slowly to vanish, and his days become 
 grey and bare again. Outside in the night he 
 could hear the rain again, the waves sighing 
 and sobbing upon the beach, and the noise of 
 the waterfall going on and on in its old, cold 
 language. 
 
 "Yes, you may build up and build up gigan- 
 tic dreams but it all depends upon me in the 
 end. Your mind may be enlarged and make 
 not only the present time, but all ages, its 
 own, as it did this evening, when you hovered 
 above the whole agrarian development from 
 the time of Tiberius Gracchus, down through 
 the centuries to yourself. In the future the 
 whole world may be transformed into a garden, 
 and all men may dance for joy; but beyond 
 that am I. There I sing the concluding hymn 
 over you all. When this earth is a frozen, peri-
 
 Treacherous Ground 265 
 
 natetic churchyard, moving insanely about in 
 "empty space, where then is your soul?" 
 
 Erik lay listening to the ceaseless noise that 
 sounded like Nature's derisive laughter at 
 everything that man did, like a song from 
 lifeless lips, and a hissing from the barren, in- 
 finite nothing in which all things end. At last 
 he turned over. 
 
 "Are you asleep, Inga?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "May I come into your bed for a little?" 
 
 "Yes," she whispered, making room for 
 him. 
 
 He crept close to her, and in the darkness 
 his lips sought hers. It was true she had been 
 lying thinking about her little baby, and he 
 about something quite different; but never- 
 theless their lips met in a long kiss, as though 
 it were their souls that had sought refuge with 
 each other in the darkness. 
 
 "Why can't you sleep, Erik?" 
 
 "I don't know. Sometimes I lie and think 
 how meaningless it is that beyond everything 
 there shouldn't be a heart that took pity upon 
 us all." 
 
 She laid her cheek to his, and presently said : 
 "I've become so sure there is, since our little
 
 266 Treacherous Ground 
 
 baby received life. It seems utterly impossible 
 that it could ever be quite extinguished again. " 
 He lay quiet for a little, and then answered 
 her with a new kiss; and at last, with their 
 arms round one another, they fell asleep. And 
 while they slept, the waves and the water-fall 
 went on with their song all through the night.
 
 Chapter VII 
 
 The winter passed, and spring came and then 
 summer, and the life at Evje went on as usual. 
 This year Erik had a fresh reason to be 
 pleased, for he had received prizes for two 
 young horses that had been bred since he came 
 home ; and this presented a fresh opening for 
 his activity. 
 
 One day a young man, who was pursuing 
 scientific studies in the Evje woods, came home 
 to the farm, and said: " Fancy! All the ant- 
 hills about Newland have become empty dur- 
 ing the last few days, and there is a great emi- 
 gration westward. Wherever you look, they 
 are swarming in the same direction, away 
 from the old country. I should very much 
 like to know the reason." 
 
 No one took much notice of this, but the 
 same day, as .the doctor of the district was 
 driving up the hill below Newland, he saw his 
 black Finn dog appear up on the bluffs, and 
 the wise animal whined and howled, as much 
 
 267
 
 268 Treacherous Ground 
 
 as to say: "Come here, come here!" "Yes, 
 I should think so!" said the doctor to himself, 
 smiling, for he was acquainted with his dog's 
 little devices; but the next instant his horse 
 pricked up his ears, rolled his eyes, and, alter- 
 ing his step, suddenly set off at a wild gallop. 
 The mud splashed up from the road, and the 
 doctor held on to the reins with all his might, 
 vainly calling "Prr!" It was the first time 
 the steady old horse had ever taken fright. But 
 it was not until they were close to Evje Farm 
 that the horse was stopped by a workman, 
 and it was still trembling and snorting and 
 rolling its eyes backwards. The dog had 
 stayed behind upon the bluffs, and they could 
 hear it all the time howling dismally. A boy 
 was sent back to see if anything was the mat- 
 ter; but the only thing he discovered was a 
 flock of crows, hovering like a cloud over New- 
 land, and making a terrible noise. Up on the 
 little farms the people were in the cornfields 
 reaping in the sunlight, and the smoke from 
 the chimneys was rising straight up into the 
 clear, warm, autumn day. So no more was 
 said about this, although the dog's howling 
 could be heard all the evening, always from 
 the same quarter. 
 Bertil Sveen rose early the next morning, as
 
 Treacherous Ground 269 
 
 he was going to bring home a load of firewood 
 before he went to the sawmill. Ingeborg lay 
 without speaking, while she heard him groping 
 about after the porridge and milk. She was 
 at last going to have a child too ; but she had 
 gradually come to feel certain that it would be 
 stillborn, and that her mother, who lay in her 
 grave, was in some way or other to blame. It 
 was her punishment for taking Bertil, and it 
 was of no use trying to escape from it. But 
 whenever she let Bertil suspect her fear, he 
 made light of it and called it nonsense, just 
 as if he could know so much better than she 
 did. But she found it hard to forgive him for 
 taking it in that way. 
 
 When he went out, he said good-bye, but 
 she pretended to be asleep, and did not answer. 
 
 Suddenly, however, she heard his step re- 
 turning, the door burst open, and he rushed 
 wildly into the room. " Ingeborg!" he cried, 
 "make haste and get up! Oh, God help us!" 
 
 "What is it?" she asked, but did not move. 
 
 "The cowshed!" he stammered, taking hold 
 of her to make her get up. "The cowshed's 
 gone, Ingeborg!" 
 
 This was senseless. The cowshed gone? 
 Was he out of his mind ? She sat up in bed 
 and took hold of him. "Bertil, are you talk-
 
 270 Treacherous Ground 
 
 ing in your sleep? The cowshed, did you 
 say?" 
 
 "Oh, come, come, Ingeborg! Perhaps we 
 can escape still." 
 
 He took her up, as if to carry her out, when 
 suddenly a dish fell from the table on to the 
 floor, and the cottage rocked like a ship in a 
 storm. "Bertil! Bertil!" shrieked Ingeborg, 
 at last clinging to him. Bertil was carrying 
 her towards the door, but at that moment there 
 was a noise like the dragging of a heavy stone 
 over the ground. It was the cottage moving. 
 The stove fell down, and from the kitchen 
 came the sound of pots and pans tumbling 
 about ; and all the time the cottage seemed to 
 be sliding, sliding. When at last it came to a 
 standstill, the two occupants were thrown 
 against the wall, a window was broken, and a 
 little stream of water burst in across the floor. 
 The man and woman staggered about for a 
 while, bruised, bewildered with terror, but 
 driven by a mad desire to escape. It had be- 
 come pitch-dark in the room, so that they could 
 see nothing. They cried for help, again and 
 again; they moved about, but kept knocking 
 up against furniture that was beginning to 
 float about, as the water poured ceaselessly 
 in through the broken window. For a moment
 
 Treacherous Ground 271 
 
 they stood silent, holding on firmly, for they 
 heard the wall creaking under a pressure, and 
 they knew that if it gave way, they were lost. 
 But suddenly Ingeborg's terror turned to rage 
 against Bertil. " Why didn't you come sooner 
 to save me?" she cried. "It's too late now. 
 Oh dear, oh dear ! We sha'n't be saved, you'll 
 see!" And she began to sob in mingled rage 
 and despair. "Oh, God help us!" she stam- 
 mered, but the next instant she heard a move- 
 ment from Bertil, and exclaimed: "You al- 
 ways were so slow. Oh, if you'd only been a 
 little quicker! Oh, oh!" Bertil did not an- 
 swer. He was trying to feel whether the door 
 could not be opened, so that they could get out, 
 but he groped in vain, not knowing that the 
 cottage was half on its side, so that the door 
 was almost over their heads. At last he gave 
 it up and sank down on to what he found was 
 the table, which was lying tipped up. " It 's no 
 use, Ingeborg," he said at last. "We can't 
 get out." 
 
 "Is this the end, then, Bertil?" she said, 
 a little more gently. "Yes, I don't see how 
 we're to escape now." "What is it? Is it 
 the Day of Judgment?" "No, it's the land- 
 slip." "Oh, then I suppose we'r buried now. 
 Good heavens!" Ingeborg was moving in-
 
 272 Treacherous Ground 
 
 cessantly from place to place, as the water be- 
 gan to rise about her feet. 
 
 Suddenly she understood that death was 
 near. It might come at any moment. And 
 what she had been thinking most about lately, 
 the stillborn child, that had all been imagina- 
 tion. She still felt it living, and the day would 
 never come when she would be able to point to 
 the little creature with its closed eyes, and say 
 to Bertil: " That's because I married you." 
 
 It almost felt like an imposture. Why then 
 had she gone and gathered together all these 
 dark thoughts, and been in dread night and 
 day? 
 
 "The wall will soon give way," said Bertil. 
 
 "God help us ! That will be the end. Where 
 are you, Bertil; where are you?" 
 
 "Here! Here!" And they began to grope 
 after one another, until they met, and then 
 seized each other's hands as if afraid of being 
 alone when the wall gave way. 
 
 Thus they stood close together; every mo- 
 ment expecting the catastrophe ; but the min- 
 utes passed, the wall creaked incessantly but 
 still held, and only the water and the thick 
 clay could be heard streaming in. 
 
 "Oh, I'm getting so wet, Bertil." 
 
 "Poor thing! Wait a little!" And he
 
 Treacherous Ground 273 
 
 groped his way to the overturned table, which 
 he managed to set upon its legs, so that she 
 could sit upon it. 
 
 "Oh, I wish it would come soon, Bertil." 
 
 "The water !" he said, seating himself beside 
 her. And suddenly she understood what he 
 meant. The water that was incessantly run- 
 ning in would soon fill the room. 
 
 "Bertil," she said in a trembling voice, "I 
 I should like to have seen you once more." 
 And presently her hand passed falteringly 
 over his face as a caress. 
 
 "I think IVe got some matches," Bertil 
 remembered suddenly, feeling in his waistcoat 
 pocket. "If only they've not got wet." 
 
 But as he was taking one out, a number fell 
 into the water. It was no use thinking any 
 more about them, but the one he had in his 
 hand he struck carefully inside his jacket 
 where the lining must be dry. The sulphur 
 began to emit a green smoke, and then burnt 
 with a steady flame, that just allowed Berti] 
 to get an idea of how everything was floating 
 about in confusion, and to see that the water 
 that was streaming in was thick with clay. 
 
 Ingeborg no longer cared about this. It was 
 Bertil 's face she saw for a brief moment, that 
 face with the fringe of beard under the chin,
 
 274 Treacherous Ground 
 
 which had aged so in the last few years. 
 Was it her fault perhaps ? 
 
 She turned away, and began to sob again. 
 The match burned down to his fingers, and he 
 dropped it, and once more they sat in dark- 
 ness. 
 
 "We must make the best of it, Ingeborg," 
 he said, trying to comfort her. "Couldn't you 
 pray to Grod a little for us both?" 
 
 "I haven't been as I ought to have been to 
 you, Bertil," she sobbed inconsolably. 
 
 "Oh, don't talk like that!" 
 
 Their hands met again, and they sat on, each 
 moment expecting death. They were so pre- 
 pared for it now, that every second was felt 
 as something precious that must not be wasted. 
 
 "Poor Bertil," she said, stroking his face. 
 ' ' You 've worked so hard. And you won 't even 
 see your child either." 
 
 "No; it wasn't the Almighty's will, I sup- 
 pose." 
 
 "You won't be angry with me, Bertil, will 
 you?" 
 
 "No, no. How can you talk like that, 
 Ingeborg!" 
 
 And the water continued to rise, so that they 
 had to draw their legs up on the table; but 
 perhaps they still had a few moments to talk in.
 
 Treacherous Ground 275 
 
 They talked a little more, each word like a 
 caress, perhaps the last. 
 
 Suddenly Ingeborg happened to think of all 
 the times she had shown him a cross and un- 
 kind face perhaps every single day since they 
 had been together. If she could make up for 
 it, or only once smile at him, as she now felt 
 she ought always to have done. 
 
 "Bertil, haven't you got another match?" 
 
 "No, I don't think so. Yes, wait! Yes, 
 there is actually one more." 
 
 "Can't you try to light it ?" 
 
 Once more he carefully drew the little match 
 out of his waistcoat pocket. They both felt 
 now that in a moment they would see one 
 another for the last, the very last time. He 
 carefully felt his jacket lining, to see whether 
 it were dry, and struck the match ; the sulphur 
 smoked again, and soon blazed up and cast its 
 light on them both. 
 
 "Bertil!" she said, with a smile on her 
 tear-stained face. 
 
 And he saw his Ingeborg, to whom he had 
 been engaged for so many years, with a 
 brighter, more loving smile on her face than 
 he had ever seen in his life. 
 
 "Thank you, Bertil, for having been so good 
 to me."
 
 276 Treacherous Ground 
 
 "Ingeborg!" lie cried; and the strong man 
 was suddenly shaken with a strange sobbing. 
 At last it was the real Ingeborg from the 
 other side of the fjord who was sitting here. 
 
 The match went out, their hands met once 
 more, and the next moment she put her worn 
 arms about his neck. 
 
 "Oh, Bertil, Bertil! I I have loved you 
 
 so!" 
 
 . . [ . .1 
 
 The landslip that night acted in various 
 ways. One household disappeared without a 
 sound in a minute, while another was warned 
 by the shaking of the buildings. 
 
 In his tiny bedroom in Lars's house, the poor 
 cripple lay writhing with rheumatism, which 
 was particularly bad that night. But he did 
 not complain, he did not even make faces. 
 Since his parents died, and he had been 
 knocked down to the lowest bidder, one after 
 another, he had grown accustomed to being 
 unhappy by himself, for, anyhow, there was no 
 one to comfort him, no matter how much he 
 might complain. Since he had come here, he 
 considered his lot a very unfortunate one, 
 for here they used him as a nurse, and it was 
 not only that it was an exertion to him to rush 
 here and there on crutches after those chil-
 
 Treacherous Ground 277 
 
 dren, but it was especially bad to have to waste 
 hours in rocking the cradle, he who was so 
 neat-fingered and could do far more difficult 
 things. 
 
 "Oh!" he said suddenly, passing his hand 
 down his thigh, where the pain was pricking ' 
 and darting as if red-hot nails were being 
 hammered in. "Oh! That's enough surely. 
 Oh!" He writhed and looked towards the 
 window where the dawn was already showing ; 
 and, in spite of the pain, the usual dreams be- 
 gan to come. He hoped he should soon have 
 made enough hooks to buy an arithmetic ; for 
 he hoped by studying by himself that he might 
 perhaps manage to get into an office. That 
 would be something better than rocking a 
 cradle. And yesterday old Fru Evje herself 
 had come with a heap of broken crockery that 
 he was to rivet. He would get something for 
 that too, and, besides, her visit was the greatest 
 honour that had ever happened to him. He had 
 carefully put the crockery against the wall 
 over there by the window if only the children 
 did not get hold of it. 
 
 He heard Petra get up, but no man's voice, 
 so he concluded that Lars had not been at home 
 last night. Then he sat up in bed, and his 
 thoughts began to busy themselves with the '
 
 278 Treacherous Ground 
 
 new day. What had lie to dread or be glad 
 about 1 He dreaded having to rock the cradle, 
 and was sorry that Lars had not come home 
 with brass wire for the crockery, which he was 
 to have bought for him yesterday ; and he was 
 glad to think that a woman down in the village, 
 who owed him twenty ore for hooks, would 
 probably come and pay him to-day. What 
 else ? There was nothing more for him in this 
 new day. 
 
 Suddenly the cottage was shaken, and he 
 heard Petra run across the floor. The next 
 moment the crockery tumbled down from the 
 wall with a crash. He darted forward as he 
 might have done to save a child that was going 
 to fall into a well. The large dish was in four 
 pieces, the jug in two, the coffee-pot was 
 cracked right across, and the plates were in 
 several little pieces. Oh dear, oh dear! He 
 began to creep about on his knees and pick 
 up the pieces. Then he sat down on the floor, 
 and tried to fit the pieces together, and, yes, 
 with care most of them might still be mended, 
 although there would now be ten times as 
 much work. Suddenly the table was over- 
 turned, the windows rattled, and there came a 
 cry from the next room ; but the cripple was 
 quite taken up with a fresh destruction of his
 
 Treacherous Ground 279 
 
 crockery. The big dish was broken into still 
 more pieces, and with it his ambition and hopes 
 for a long time to come were destroyed. Once 
 more he began to crawl about to gather up the 
 pieces. He heard Petra shriek once more, this 
 time outside, and the babies screamed. Then 
 he heard some one laugh. Really, was this 
 anything to laugh at ? Thereupon the cottage 
 began to creak and move ; but the cripple had 
 caught sight of another fragment under the 
 bed, and he stooped and crawled under to get 
 it, and presently he was once more sitting upon 
 the floor trying to fit together the fragments of 
 the finest dish. Perhaps it might still do ; per- 
 haps there was still a possibility. 
 
 But suddenly there was a dull noise, and the 
 cottage began to slide like a sledge ; and fresh 
 cries came from outside, but this time they 
 seemed to come from the roof. Yes, they 
 might call for him as much as they liked, but 
 he was not going to leave this crockery. He 
 was thrown against the wall, and cried for 
 help ; but no one answered him, and. he was 
 so used to that. He recovered himself, how- 
 ever, there could not be so very much the mat- 
 ter; and once more his attention was turned 
 to the bits of china once more, almost in tears, 
 he began to gather up the pieces. But now
 
 280 Treacherous Ground 
 
 most of them were hopelessly broken ; perhaps 
 nothing could be done ; and his tears suddenly 
 began to fall. But see, that dish might be put 
 together for kitchen use at any rate ; and once 
 more he took courage and began collecting the 
 pieces, until another blow on the house broke 
 in the walls, and both he and the pieces of china 
 were buried under the inrushing debris. 
 
 Petra had understood at once what was the 
 matter, and she knew people had been saved 
 by getting up on to the roof. When she came 
 out of the house, she was greeted by a terrible 
 lowing from their cow in the cowhouse, but 
 there was no time to think about it now. She 
 managed to balance the ladder up against the 
 rafter, and had carried out the children half 
 dressed. She first began to crawl up the lad- 
 der with all three of them, but found she could 
 not ; so she left the two youngest and took little 
 Jens, the red-haired boy she had had before 
 her marriage, over whom she had shed most 
 tears. She held him under her arm, and clung 
 to each rung of the ladder with her unoccupied 
 hand. But when she reached the ridge of the 
 roof, she realised that if she left him up there 
 while she fetched the other two, he would only 
 fall off. It was a terrible choice to stay there
 
 Treacherous Ground 281 
 
 with him alone, or go down and perish with 
 them all. For a moment she saw the strip of 
 red sky in the east rising above the mountains. 
 In a couple of hours the sun would have risen, 
 and suddenly she felt such a desire to live that 
 she put her foot against the roof, and clasped 
 the boy to her breast, while the two children 
 below screamed and cried for their mother. 
 
 "O God!" she sobbed. "Save us! Save 
 me! Help, help!" 
 
 "Mother, mother!" came the cry from be- 
 low, and at last she could stand it no longer, 
 and began to feel her way to the ladder again. 
 
 "Lars, Lars!" she cried, although she knew 
 it was not possible for him to hear her. Sud- 
 denly the cottage was struck again, and the 
 ladder fell along the rafter and described an 
 arc in the air. She could not get down now. 
 
 "Mother, mother!" came the cry from be- 
 low. For a moment the poor woman pressed 
 the boy to her heart while she looked up into 
 the brightening sky, her red hair blowing about 
 her face; and then suddenly she broke into a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha!" she screamed, beginning to 
 swing round as if dancing. "Ha, ha, ha! Is 
 it you, Lars, who are bringing all this upon
 
 282 Treacherous Ground 
 
 us? Are you so angry? What have I done 
 to you? Ha, ha, ha!" 
 
 It was this that the cripple had heard while 
 he was crawling about among his pieces of 
 china.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 
 The weather during these days of October was 
 unusually fine and there was a daily stream 
 of people from village and town to visit the 
 scene of the catastrophe. The authorities, 
 with the civil governor of the province at their 
 head, came to draw up a report, journalists 
 telegraphed and wrote, and photographers did 
 good business. 
 
 People were constantly coming in to Evje 
 Farm, because it was so near the scene of the 
 disaster; and Fru Evje and Inga received 
 them and tried to satisfy every one. They 
 had to make excuse for Erik, for the disaster 
 had affected him so deeply that he could not 
 see anybody. 
 
 When Fru Evje had gone to rest after a 
 busy day, she would sometimes lie with her 
 hands folded on the sheet in front of her, think- 
 ing: "Yes; the Almighty wants to show that 
 He still exists. What He gives us He doesn't 
 
 283
 
 284 Treacherous Ground 
 
 want us to throw away. I said so to Erik 
 when he started upon this." And although 
 it was not at all what she had said, she 'be- 
 lieved so now, and that the Almighty proved 
 in the end that she was right. 
 
 It was a hard time for young Fru Evje 
 during these days. She would sometimes feel 
 a vague fear that she, too, had a share in the 
 blame for the catastrophe, but it was quite 
 thrown into the shade by all that rested upon 
 her now. She had to keep her husband up, 
 the daily inspection of the farm rested upon 
 her, and every now and then she had to attend 
 to her baby, which was already several months 
 old. When she sat with this little round blue- 
 eyed creature at her breast, everything outside 
 her seemed so strangely trivial, even her hus- 
 band's restless step pacing up and down the 
 attic above her, which at other times had such 
 a depressing effect upon her. 
 
 "Can you smile a little to-day ?" she said, 
 as the little one paused in its sucking, and 
 turned its face to look at her. " Smile, then, 
 little silly !" And when the baby smiled, she 
 felt so glad that she would often laugh aloud, 
 strange though it sounded now in the big, 
 gloomy house. 
 
 In Rein's house, too, the disaster had cast
 
 Treacherous Ground 285 
 
 its shadow, and for the first few days after it 
 had happened Fru Rein was at her wits' end; 
 for Rein became so strangely quiet after that 
 day. He showed no triumph over having been 
 right ; he did not scold her for her behaviour 
 in the matter. He would not talk about it at 
 all, and if visitors came and began to relate 
 something new about the disaster, he got up 
 and went quietly out. He had an unusual 
 amount of work to do, and sat writing and 
 drawing, eagerly and unceasingly, until far 
 into the night. Even when he came to bed, 
 his wife noticed that he did not sleep. His 
 manner to her was kind, but it was a kindness 
 that made her uncomfortable. The rooms 
 seemed to have become strangely cold, but she 
 had nothing to reproach him with. He let her 
 have her way in everything; it was only that 
 he was so busy that he could never be with her. 
 She began to wish that he would break through 
 this icy coat of mail, and would not have 
 minded if he had given way to a violent out- 
 burst, for it would have cleared the air. 
 
 It was to bring this about that she took 
 courage one evening and went up to him in his 
 study. Rein was standing with a green shade 
 over his eyes, drawing, and she sat down near
 
 286 Treacherous Ground 
 
 him, and boldly began to talk about the ca- 
 tastrophe. 
 
 He pushed back the shade and looked at 
 her kindly, but then went on again with his 
 drawing. 
 
 "And fancy!" she said. "Besides Lars 
 Brovold, there was only one little girl saved. 
 She was carried upon the roof of a house down 
 to the sawmill, but she can't tell how she came 
 to be upon the roof. She's one of the miller's 
 children." 
 
 In a little while Rein answered: "Yes, it's 
 very strange." As he spoke, he adjusted his 
 ruler preparatory to ruling a line. 
 
 Fru Rein talked on as if to get nearer to 
 the end she wanted to attain. She spoke of 
 Evje, and how he had not been equal to going 
 up to the landslip yet. And in a little while 
 Rein answered, as he turned the lamp a little 
 higher: "Yes, it's natural that he'll feel it." 
 
 Fru Rein talked on and her husband an- 
 swered her pleasantly; but she got no nearer 
 to him. She went on, however, until she could 
 stand it no longer, but said, almost in tears: 
 "And you were right after all, Ingvald." 
 
 He answered in a tone of apparent surprise 
 that he should mention anything so unimpor- 
 tant: "Oh yes!" Then, as he ruled another
 
 Treacherous Ground 287 
 
 line, he added casually: " There isn't always a 
 pleasure in being right. " 
 
 "No; is there, Ingvald?" And drying her 
 eyes she went on: "But, oh dear, a thing like 
 this is really enough to make anyone doubt the 
 existence of God." 
 
 Rein answered quietly, as if he were wonder- 
 ing whether his pencil were too hard or not : 
 "Oh, there may very well be a God, even if 
 you or I are mistaken about something." 
 
 She thought for a little and then said: 
 "And I've been imagining all the time that 
 it was the duty of every one to look as much 
 as possible upon the bright side of things." 
 
 "If only what's bright to us isn't dark to 
 others," said Rein, drawing again with re- 
 newed interest. 
 
 No, she got no further with him ; it did not 
 matter what she said, she might just as well 
 go. But, as she rose to go away once more un- 
 reconciled, she burst into tears, and sank 
 down again with her hands before her face. 
 
 "Ingvald!" she said. "Won't you help me 
 a little." 
 
 He very nearly dropped everything to go 
 and put his arms about her, but he restrained 
 himself. "For when people want to make 
 amends for even the worst of mistakes," he
 
 288 Treacherous Ground 
 
 said to himself, "they have recourse to the 
 easy way of shedding tears; but that won't 
 make dead people alive any the more." Aloud 
 he said, looking over the lamp, with a smile: 
 "You shake the table, my dear, so that I can't 
 draw." 
 
 She raised her head and looked at him with 
 eyes that grew more and more hopeless, then 
 got up and slipped quietly out. But no sooner 
 had the door closed than Rein dropped what 
 he had in his hands, and sat staring into the 
 lamp. 
 
 He made up his mind that he would not 
 see the scene of the disaster, but the following 
 day he received a command from the governor 
 of the province to go up there forthwith, and 
 report upon the cause of the landslip. Rein 
 shrugged his shoulders, and thought this had 
 come a little late; but he had the horse put 
 into the carriole, and drove off. 
 
 As he approached Evje Farm, he saw dis- 
 tinctly what he had fancied he saw from his 
 own windows namely, that the water of the 
 fjord at the mouth of the river was cut in 
 two, as it were, by a whitish-grey band. It 
 was the clay that kept running out from the 
 landslip, like blood from a wound that is in- 
 visible; and an uncomfortable feeling seized
 
 Treacherous Ground 289 
 
 him at the thought of having to go up to the 
 spot. 
 
 He left the horse and the boy at the bottom 
 of the bluffs, and went up alone past the saw- 
 mill. He was surprised to see that everything 
 was at a standstill here, and that the fall had 
 shrunk to a few scattered jets of muddy 
 water; but higher up he found the cause of 
 this, as he stood with the scene of devastation 
 in front of him. The landslip had stopped 
 here where the valley contracted above the fall, 
 and had heaped itself up across the river, thus 
 forming a little mountain, which dammed up 
 the river and turned the valley behind it into 
 a lake. Where Newland had once lain, 
 there was now a grey chasm, one side of 
 which descended in little terraces to the water. 
 The other side was bare rock, like bone from 
 which the flesh has been stripped. Water ran 
 unceasingly from the chasm, like matter from 
 a gigantic wound, flowing over the clayey 
 slope down into the clayey lake. In the middle 
 of the lake the gable and half the roof of a red 
 house stood up out of the water, looking like 
 a great animal that had got up on its fore- 
 legs, and was vainly trying to stand upright. 
 Trees, torn up by the roots, stuck up obliquely 
 here and there from the surface, upon which
 
 290 Treacherous Ground 
 
 there was sometimes a movement, an eddy, 
 that seemed to rise mysteriously from the bot- 
 tom, a monster bubble that rose and burst. 
 Something or other must still be going on 
 down in the depths. 
 
 It was still the same clear, warm, autumn 
 weather. Upon the hills round the lake, red 
 crowns of leaves stood out here and there from 
 among the evergreen trees, and the sky was 
 high and blue. Rein kept meeting people who 
 stopped to talk. 
 
 "What's that black thing on the roof of the 
 house?" he asked an old workman, who was 
 creeping about with a spade over his shoulder. 
 
 "It's Toger Shoemaker, God help us!" said 
 the man. 
 
 "What? A man? And he's alive per- 
 haps?" 
 
 He had been alive at any rate the first day 
 or two, said the man with the spade ; but since 
 yesterday he had been sitting motionless, lean- 
 ing against a stove-pipe that was sticking up 
 through the roof. Perhaps he was not alive 
 now. 
 
 "But, good heavens, why haven't you res- 
 cued him, then? It must have been possible 
 to get out with a boat?" 
 
 But the man assured him that that was just
 
 Treacherous Ground 291 
 
 what could not be done. The water was as 
 thick as soup, almost like porridge, and it was 
 impossible to get to him in any other way. 
 They had tried several times to lay down a 
 floating bridge, but the current had always 
 broken it up, and yesterday, at the last at- 
 tempt, a man had almost lost his life. The 
 shoemaker had cried and cried for help the 
 first two days, but now he had left off and did 
 not move at all. 
 
 Rein had to go on ; he could not look at that 
 house roof on the water any longer it was like 
 a big living being that kept on crying for help. 
 He met others, to whom he spoke, and it ap- 
 peared that the popular imagination was al- 
 ready at work. Some people declared that no 
 longer ago than yesterday they had heard cries 
 from the depths. They thought it was not im- 
 possible that some one or other of the buried 
 persons was still alive. A light had been seen 
 from below one night, as if a candle were being 
 burnt. During the first two days, while a 
 chimney still stood above the water, smoke had 
 been seen to rise from it, as if living beings 
 were still trying to light a fire down there. 
 
 Suddenly Rein met a man from town, with 
 spectacles, who evidently knew him, for he 
 stopped, raised his hat and said he was so-and-
 
 292 Treacherous Ground 
 
 so, a journalist, and would like to know 
 whether it was true that Rein had long ago 
 represented to Evje the danger of living up 
 there. Rein looked away, and considered a 
 moment, and then answered: "No; it must 
 be a mistake." 
 
 He went on again, and now and then thought 
 he met parents or other relatives of those who 
 had perished. A few people stood and gazed 
 down into the depths, crying and wailing. 
 
 Rein turned to go up the hill and get above 
 the landslip, and had to keep bending down to 
 avoid getting branches or twigs in his face. 
 The air was full of a strange, heavy scent, that 
 reminded him of the vapour from bad water, 
 and also of burnt clay or sand. He climbed 
 up, holding on to bushes and trees, for there 
 was no longer any path, those that the cattle 
 had trodden down having disappeared, like 
 thin threads that the landslip had cut off. At 
 last, when he had reached the top of the hill, he 
 came upon something that agitated him afresh. 
 It was a fur cap, hanging on a bough. Rein 
 took it down, and saw that it was worn and old. 
 One of the Newland men must have left it 
 there when he was in the forest chopping wood. 
 The cap had been saved but not the man. 
 
 As he came out on an open place from which
 
 Treacherous Ground 293 
 
 there was a wide view of the scene of destruc- 
 tion, he saw a man standing in front of him, 
 leaning against a tree. Eein did not pay much 
 attention to him, but put his field-glass to his 
 eyes and looked down. On the other side of 
 the lake, he could see a man pushing himself 
 out from the shore in a wheelbarrow, farther 
 and farther. It must be some one who was 
 hoping to find something or other that be- 
 longed to the victims of the disaster. It looked 
 a foolhardy proceeding. 
 
 "Do you know who that is?" asked Rein, 
 turning to the man whom he had seen near 
 him, and then involuntarily starting back, for 
 it was Erik Evje. 
 
 Since their fateful meeting last spring the 
 two men had met, it is true, but never spoken 
 to one another. And now they were to meet 
 here. Erik also took a step backwards, and 
 looked as if he wanted to escape, but the other 
 man had asked a question, and he thought it 
 best to answer it. 
 
 "That man?" he said, looking down at the 
 man pulling himself along in a wheelbarrow. 
 "That's Lars Brovold, the only person who 
 was saved. He was at home at his parents ' that 
 night. I suppose it 's his wife that he 's looking
 
 294 Treacherous Ground 
 
 for. But he's so foolhardy that we're all afraid 
 for him." 
 
 The words were spoken in a tired, trembling 
 voice, but they helped to divert the agitation 
 caused by the men suddenly coming face to 
 face with one another. 
 
 Rein looked again through his glasses, and 
 again found something to say, although his 
 voice shook. Erik answered; and gradually 
 they began to talk to one another, and now 
 and then glance at one another. 
 
 "It was fortunate that your saw and flour 
 mills weren't carried away too," said Rein. 
 
 " Fortunate? Oh yes. Though I could 
 almost have wished that that the blow had 
 fallen on me too." 
 
 Rein said nothing in answer to this, but 
 once more looked through his glasses; but 
 his hand trembled. Presently he heard Erik 
 say: "For that matter, I've lost something 
 too." 
 
 Rein looked at him questioningly. Erik 
 was holding* on to a branch above his head, 
 as if to keep himself up. His face was so 
 pale, so worn with want of sleep and with 
 emotion, that Rein felt as if he were looking 
 at a reflection of himself. For a moment they 
 looked at one another, their lips compressed.
 
 Treacherous Ground 295 
 
 Erik, like one who will ward off a blow by 
 holding up his arms before his face, repeated : 
 "Yes, IVe lost something too, you know." 
 
 Erik had been standing here for hours, and 
 had succeeded in looking into something that 
 lay far, far beyond this affair of the landslip, 
 and which was really the terrible catastrophe 
 for him. 
 
 Rein looked at him questioningly. Erik 
 passed his hand across his forehead and gazed 
 down into the clay-grey lake. " There's some- 
 thing, Rein," he said, " that's worse to lose 
 than property and life. That's what I 
 His voice failed him, and he could get no 
 further. 
 
 An icy laugh broke from Rein, and he drew 
 a step or two nearer to Erik, as he said: "Oh, 
 I thought it was those down there that you 
 were thinking about," and pointed out to the 
 landslip. 
 
 Erik retreated a step and covered his ears 
 with his hands. "Rein!" he cried, "I can't 
 bear it!" 
 
 "I daresay not!" said Rein, with the same 
 cold laugh, which he was unable to control. 
 "Those down there couldn't bear it either." 
 
 "Rein! What do you want me to do?" 
 
 Rein was on the point of saying: "I think
 
 296 Treacherous Ground 
 
 you should jump in too, Evje; for it must be 
 a little embarrassing to be going about un- 
 harmed when your community's lying there." 
 But this time he restrained himself, and said 
 aloud :" Do? Well, it's a little late now. Good- 
 bye ! ' ' And he raised his hat and went on. 
 
 He had been unable any longer to conceal 
 his own sickness of heart, and now he went 
 along quite dazed, with his glasses in one 
 hand, every now and then looking out over the 
 landslip and the clay sea, over which the gentle 
 autumn sun sent long gleams. 
 
 What had he said to Evje ? Had he got his 
 revenge? But, good heavens, what did he 
 want with revenge ? He had better have held 
 out his hand to the stricken man. 
 
 Finally he made his way down to the road 
 again. "It was one thing to give a profes- 
 sional opinion as to the cause of the landslip," 
 he thought, "but no one will care anything 
 about the moral cause." 
 
 As he drove home in the carriole, his head 
 sank lower and lower. He thought of the peo- 
 ple under the landslip, and of Erik above it, 
 with his loss of something more precious, and 
 of great spiritual leaders, who use men in 
 the same way.
 
 Treacherous Ground 297 
 
 "And I myself?" he thought, as the carriole 
 skirted the fjord. 
 
 The snow came in the beginning of Novem- 
 ber, the dam was broken through, and the lake 
 began to empty itself; but it was still impos- 
 sible to get out on to the boggy clay to look for 
 the victims. Only one man was there- every 
 day, going out where no one dared to follow 
 him. This was Lars Brovold. He had gone 
 back to live with his parents in the fisherman's 
 cottage by the fjord, and every morning when 
 he set off, his old mother would beg him to de- 
 sist. He went, however, without even answer- 
 ing; and when, in the evening she saw him 
 come back again, she thanked God that he was 
 still 'alive. 
 
 At last one day he. came into the cottage be- 
 fore anyone expected him, and said: "I've 
 found her!" 
 
 "God help us! have you, Lars?" 
 
 "And now I must put together a coffin," 
 he went on, passing his hand over his hair with 
 a weary gesture, "and then get a horse at Evje, 
 and drive her up the valley, home to her^ 
 parents." 
 
 His mother was surprised. * * Up the valley ?
 
 298 Treacherous Ground 
 
 But, dear me, Petra's parents aren't there?" 
 
 "Petra? It's Kristina, of course!" < 
 
 His mother stared at him, but was silent. 
 So it was not his wife that he had risked his 
 life to find. 
 
 "You must help me carry her in," he said 
 to his father, who was patching shoes. "I've 
 got her on a sled." 
 
 His father got up and went with him, and 
 presently the two men came in, carrying some- 
 thing black and frozen, a formless bundle with 
 snow and ice round it, which they straightway 
 placed upon the bed. The old woman thought 
 with a sigh of the bed-clothes, but would not 
 say anything. 
 
 A little later, Lars came in with some planed 
 boards and tools, and began hammering, while 
 his father tried once more to go on with his 
 shoe-patching. The old woman spread a sheet 
 over the large bundle on the bed. 
 
 Under the whining of the saw and the 
 strokes of the hammer, a box began to shape 
 itself. And while Lars stood working at this 
 coffin, he thought of much that had happened 
 in the old days, and of one occasion when he 
 had met Kristina at the shop, and she had let 
 him carry her basket for her a little way. 
 
 "How strange it all is I" he thought, But
 
 Treacherous Ground 299 
 
 bad though it was, still it was he who had 
 found her and got her up, so that she could be 
 buried in Christian earth. 
 
 Suddenly he went and drew back the sheet 
 that covered her, but started back. The 
 warmth of the room had melted the ice, and 
 she lay in her wet chemise, as on the night 
 when the landslip came while she was still in 
 bed. She had had a blow on the temple, but 
 her face was untouched ; the scar on her cheek 
 was there, and her flaxen hair lay loose over 
 the pillow and her shoulders. 
 
 Suddenly he called : ' ' Mother ! Come here ! ' ' 
 And when she came in from the kitchen, 
 "Look!" he said. "What's that? Look 
 there!" He pointed to the frozen eyes, which 
 had thawed; and now from beneath the lids, 
 tear after tear trickled down, as if, after being 
 dead for a couple of weeks, the girl had sud- 
 denly begun to weep. 
 
 The old woman folded her hands, her hus- 
 band came in, and they all three stood and 
 gazed at the dead girl, who was shedding tears. 
 
 When the coffin was finished, Lars washed, 
 and put on his Sunday clothes, and went to 
 Evje to borrow a horse; and meanwhile his 
 father and mother, at his request, washed the 
 dead woman and put on her one of Lars's clean
 
 300 Treacherous Ground 
 
 shirts. When he returned with the horse, the 
 coffin stood in the middle of the floor, and no 
 one lay on the bed. Lars had asked for this 
 too, for he coulfl not bear to hear the blows of 
 the hammer when the lid was fastened down. 
 
 As the two men carried out the coffin to put 
 it on the sledge, the black horse turned its head 
 to look, and its quivering nostrils dilated as 
 it uttered a little whimpering sound. 
 
 The old womai} stood at the window watch- 
 ing Lars as he drove off at a walking-pace, 
 sitting astride the coffin. "Poor boy!" she 
 said, wiping her eyes. "It's hard for him 
 too." 
 
 Lars drove along in the pale light of the 
 dying day past house after house, where 
 lamps were being lighted. He turned up the 
 valley and had the grey fjord behind him. The 
 dark ridges of the hill stood out against the 
 cold, deep sky, and the snow creaked and 
 crunched beneath the sledge. Lars had spread 
 a cloth over the coffin, and he sat beating his 
 feet together on account of the cold. He met 
 people both walking and driving, but the horse 
 went to one side of his own accord. As he 
 passed through the big Denstad Farm, a man 
 came out of a storehouse, and held up a lan- 
 tern so that the yellow light fell upon the horse
 
 Treacherous Ground 301 
 
 and its load. " What's that?" he asked, but 
 Lars did not answer. He passed the houses, 
 and entered a wood white with snow; and 
 here the little bell on the horse's chest rang 
 out clear and inelodious, like an old ballad. 
 Presently a red full moon peeped out above 
 the snow-white mountain-tops, reminding him 
 of the time when he wandered about alone up 
 there on the pale moors as a goatherd, and had 
 poured forth from his horn all that moved 
 and sounded in his brain. And almost un- 
 consciously, as he sat, he put it all together 
 the recollection of the prettiest voice in the 
 church, the slender waist, a uniform, of which 
 nothing would ever come now, and the girl 
 in the coffin, perhaps still silently weeping 
 it all seemed to grow together into a long-for- 
 gotten wordless song. And at last he raised 
 his head and sang softly, out towards the red 
 rim of the sky in the west, a sad melody : 
 
 "Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli doo! 
 Oh, doodeli, doodeli doo!" 
 
 THE END

 
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