l( 
 
 ^mm^ \
 
 THE FISHING GIRL.
 
 \
 
 "SHE NESTLED CLOSELY, AS THE BIRD UNDER ITS COVERT." 
 
 aft 46.
 
 THE 
 
 FISHING GIRL. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE NORWEGIAN 
 OF 
 
 BJORNSTERN BJORNSON. 
 
 BY 
 
 AUGUSTA PLESNER AND FREDERIKA RICHARDSON. 
 
 LONDON AND NEW YORK : 
 
 CASSELL, FETTER. AND GALPIN.
 
 8-8X1 
 
 F5AES 
 
 \&So 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 How PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL 10 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION . 20 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 PETRA'S LOVERS 32 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 PETRA'S MISFORTUNES 48 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT 60 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 PETRA'S AMBITION 73 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS 89 
 
 75871 4
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY 102 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 A CONTROVERSY 121 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL 142 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 THE RISING OF THE CURTAIN 159
 
 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH. 
 
 b N the shore of inlets, which the herrings have for 
 a long time made their resort, townships will 
 spring up, if other conditions are favourable. 
 Of such places, it is not only true to say they are cast up 
 out of the sea, but from a distance they even look like 
 wrecks and timber washed ashore by the waves, or like a 
 group of arched boats, that the fishermen have drawn 
 over them on a stormy night. On coming nearer, we see 
 how the whole has been built at random : here a wreck 
 stands in the middle of a thoroughfare ; there the town 
 is broken up by inflowing waters, while the streets crawl 
 and meander in and out. But one quality is common 
 to all such places there is shelter in the harbour for the 
 largest vessels ; there they are snug as in a box and 
 therefore these inlets are much prized by ships, which, 
 with their sails torn and gunwales battered, come drifting 
 in from the wild seas, seeking a breathing-place. 
 
 In such a townlet there is quiet; all the bustle is 
 sent off to the wharves, where the peasants' boats are 
 tethered, and the ships lade and unlade. In the townlet 
 where the scene of our story is laid, the only road runs 
 along the wharves, on the other side of which stand the 
 one-storied white-and-red houses ; not, however, wall to 
 
 B
 
 2 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 wall, but interspersed with pretty gardens : thus, there is 
 one long, broad street, where, by the way, when there is a 
 breeze from the sea, one may know at a whiff what is on 
 the wharves. Here the people are quiet not for fear of the 
 police, for as a rule there is none ; but for fear of gossip, 
 as all are known to each other. When you walk down 
 the street, you must never miss to give a salutation at 
 every window, where generally an old lady is seated, who 
 returns the greeting. Furthermore, you must salute each 
 one you meet ; for these quiet people all walk about 
 thinking of what is proper in general, and for themselves 
 in particular. He who oversteps the limits marked out 
 for one of his rank and social standing, loses his good 
 reputation ; for not only is he known to all the people, 
 but so are his father and his grandfather ; and investiga- 
 tions are set on foot, to find out whether improper ten- 
 dencies have ever, in former days, been revealed by any 
 of his family. 
 
 To this quiet town came, ever so long ago, a much- 
 respected man, Per Olsen by name. He was from the 
 inland country, where he had gained a livelihood by 
 pedling and playing the fiddle. He opened a shop in 
 the town for his old customers, where, besides pedlery, 
 he sold bread and brandy. In the back-parlour, behind 
 the shop, one might hear him pacing up and down, play- 
 ing springing dances and wedding-marches ; each time, 
 on passing the glass-panelled door, peeping through with 
 an eye to business, to see if any one were in the shop ; 
 when customers came in, he would wind up with a 
 tremulante, and go in to serve. His business flourished ; 
 he married ; and had a son, whom he named after him- 
 self, not " Per," however, but " Peter." 
 
 Little Peter was to be what Per felt he was not a 
 man of education ; so the boy was sent to the Latin 
 School. Now when those who should have been his 
 comrades drove him from their games, and thrashed him 
 home, because he was the son of " Per Olsen," Per Olsen 
 thrashed him back again : otherwise, you see, the boy
 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH. 3 
 
 could not get educated. Consequently, little Peter felt 
 lonely at school ; he grew slothful, and gradually so care- 
 less of anything, that the father could thrash neither 
 smile nor tear out of him. Then, at last, Per gave up 
 the thrashings, and placed him to serve behind the 
 counter. Great was his astonishment, when he saw 
 the lad dealing out to everybody what they wanted, 
 never giving a grain too much, never allowing himself 
 to eat a plum; but weighing, counting, and entering the 
 sales slowly, it is true, but with irreproachable accuracy 
 all without a muscle of the face altering, and without 
 a word, if it could be helped. 
 
 The father, once more taking heart, sent him by a 
 herring-boat to Hamburg, where he was sent to a mer- 
 cantile school to learn fine manners. There he stayed 
 for eight months long enough, to be sure. When he 
 came back, he had provided himself with six new suits of 
 clothes, which, on landing, he wore, one over the other, 
 because no duty is charged for the clothes one stands up 
 in. But next day, having put off his extra circumference, 
 he made much the same figure as before. He walked stiff 
 and upright, his hands straight down by his side, acknow- 
 ledging all greetings with a sudden jerk, as if slack about 
 his joints, then growing suddenly stiff again. He had 
 become the quintessence of politeness ; but all was done 
 without uttering a syllable, and with a certain shyness. 
 He no longer spelt his name "Olsen," but "Ohlsen," 
 which gave the wag of the town occasion for the following 
 riddle: "What did Pedro Ohlsen gain in Hamburg?" 
 Answer : " One letter." He even meditated calling him- 
 self "Pedro;" but as this matter of the If caused him 
 so much annoyance, he gave up the idea, and wrote his 
 name " P. Ohlsen." 
 
 He extended his father's business, and, when only 
 twenty-two years of age, married a coarse, red-handed, 
 shop-girl, that she might look after the house; for his 
 father had just become a widower : and it was safer, on 
 the whole to have a wife than a housekeeper. On that 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 day twelvemonth she presented him with a son, who, 
 the week after, was named " Pedro." 
 
 The worthy Per Olsen, having now become a grand- 
 father, felt as if it were an inward calling to grow old. 
 He made over the business to his son; tor himself, he 
 sat down on the bench outside, and smoked quid in a 
 clay pipe. One day, as he sat out there, a fit of weariness 
 came over him ; he wished that he might soon die ; and 
 as all his wishes had been quietly fulfilled, so was this 
 one. 
 
 Now, whereas the son Peter had exclusively inherited 
 one of his father's talents, viz., the shrewdness in trading, 
 so, on the other hand, the grandson Pedro seemed to 
 have inherited the other, viz., the talent for music. He 
 was uncommonly slow at learning to read, but knew how 
 to sing when a wee boy; and played the flute so well 
 that it could not but rouse attention ; he was weak of 
 sight and tender of heart. All this, however, only 
 bothered the father, as he wished his son should be 
 trained in his own business-like accuracy. If, then, young 
 Pedro happened to forget anything, he was not scolded, 
 nor thrashed, as his father had been he was pinched ; it 
 was done very quietly, and in a gentle, one might almost 
 say a polite manner, but it was done on the slightest 
 occasion. His mother counted the black and blue spots 
 every evening when undressing him, and kissed them, 
 but made no remonstrance ; for she, too, was pinched. 
 For every rent in his clothes they were the old, re-made, 
 Hamburgian ones of the father for each blot in the 
 school-books, she was taken to account. So it was an 
 eternal " Don't do that, Pedro ! " " Be careful, Pedro ! " 
 or " Remember that, Pedro ! " He was afraid of his 
 father ; his mother wearied him. Amongst his comrades 
 he was not ill-used, for he would at. once take to crying, 
 and begging them to spare his clothes ; but he was nick- 
 named " Wizen-stick," and was not much thought of. 
 He resembled some sickly, featherless duckling, limping 
 along behind the rest of the brood, hobbling on one side
 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH. 5 
 
 for any little bit it might filch on the sly ; nobody shared 
 with him, and he shared with nobody. 
 
 But he soon found out that among the children of the 
 lower class he fared better ; for being of better parentage, 
 they tolerated him. A tall, strong girl, who ruled the 
 whole of this set, took him under her wing, He never 
 got tired of looking at her ; her hair was raven black, all 
 in curls never combed except with her fingers ; she had 
 strong blue eyes ; and every feature, merged in one, 
 flashed on him. She was always busy ; always in excite- 
 ment ; in summer bare-footed, bare-armed, and sunburnt ; 
 during the winter dressed in what other people would use 
 for summer wear. Her father was a pilot and fisherman ; 
 she flew about, selling his fish and beating up his boat ; 
 and when he was out piloting, she managed the fishing 
 alone. Any one meeting her could not help turning 
 round to have another look, for she was bright with 
 self-reliance. Her name was Gunlang, but she was 
 called the " Fishing Girl," a title she accepted as a dis- 
 tinction due to her. At their games she always took the 
 weakest side, from a sheer want to help others : now 
 she protected this delicate boy. 
 
 In her boat he could play the flute, which had been 
 banished from his home, lest it should draw his attention 
 off from his lessons. She rowed him out on the fjords; 
 she took him with her on her long fishing expeditions ; 
 soon he joined her on her nightly ones too. Then, at 
 sunset, in the radiant summer calm, they rowed seawards, 
 he playing the flute, or listening to her as she sat telling 
 him of all she knew of mermaids and ghosts, of wrecks, 
 and foreign lands, and black men, just as she had heard 
 from the sailors. She shared her meals with him, she 
 also shared with him her store of knowledge ; for as he 
 had left his home destitute of food, so had he left his 
 school void of imagination. They would row on till the 
 sun had set behind the snowy mountains, when they would 
 anchor near some islet, and light a fire ; that is to say, 
 she gathered twigs together, and lit them, he sitting looking
 
 6 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 on the while. Then she would wrap him in one of her 
 father's sailor jackets and a rug winch she had brought 
 with her ; and while he slept she tended the fire, keeping 
 herself awake by singing odds and ends of hymns and 
 ballads ; she sang in a full clear voice till he slept, then 
 she lowered the tone. When the sun rose again on the 
 other side of the heavens, darting as its harbinger a yellow 
 cold streak of light along the mountain-tops, she awoke 
 him. The forest still stood black and grim, the meadows 
 lay dark and sun-left ; but soon meadow and forest gleamed 
 brownish red, the mountain-ridges glowed, and all Nature's 
 colours gushed forth in the rays of the rising sun. Then 
 again they put out their boat, and in the morning breeze 
 cut a white track through the dark water, soon coming 
 on the ground where lay the other fishing-boats. 
 
 When the winter set in, their excursions came to an 
 end ; then he sought her out in her home ; he came fre- 
 quently, and sat looking at her while she worked ; but 
 neither he nor she spoke much ; it seemed as if they were 
 watching together the advent of summer. When it came, 
 that fresh hope of his life was taken from him. Gunlang's 
 father died, and she left the town, whilst Pedro, by the 
 advice of his teachers, was placed in the shop. There 
 he served with his mother; for his father, who had 
 gradually become the colour of the oatmeal he was in 
 the habit of weighing, had to keep to his bed in the back 
 parlour. Still, from thence he would superintend the 
 business ; would know what each had sold, but would 
 pretend not to hear till they came within pinching distance. 
 And when the wick had burnt quite dry in this poor lamp, 
 one night it went out. His wife wept, she did not know 
 exactly why ; but the son could not squeeze out a tear. 
 Having by this time made sufficient to live upon, they 
 gave up the business, consigning to oblivion every reminis- 
 cence thereof, and altering the shop itself into a sitting- 
 room. There the mother took up her station by the 
 window, and knitted stockings ; Pedro betook himself to 
 a room on the other side of the passage, and cultivated
 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH. 7 
 
 his flute-playing. But no sooner did summer set in, than 
 he bought a light little sailing-boat, went over to the islet, 
 and laid himself down on the spot where Gunlang used 
 to lie. 
 
 And as one day he lay reposing there in the heather, 
 he saw a boat making straight for the same spot ; and on 
 arrival, who should step out but Gunlang ! She looked 
 the same as ever, only now she was full grown, and taller 
 than other women. As, however, she caught sight of 
 him, she slowly retired. She had forgotten that he, too, 
 must be grown. 
 
 This thin, pale face she did not recognise it was no 
 longer sickly and refined, it was heavy and dull. But 
 gazing at her, dreams from bygone days lit up his eyes 
 with a light; she drew nearer, and with each step 
 forward a year seemed to recede from him ; and when 
 she came up to him, where he had jumped up, he laughed 
 like a child talked like a child : that old face covered a 
 " stale child " he had grown older he was not grown 
 up, after all. 
 
 Still, it was just this child whom she sought; and 
 now, having found it, she knew not what next to do : she 
 laughed and blushed. Involuntarily he felt as it were a 
 power rising within him for the first time in his life. At 
 that same moment he grew handsome perhaps but for 
 one moment but in that moment she was won. 
 
 She was one of those natures who only love the 
 weak, whom they have protected. She had intended to 
 stay in town only two days; she stayed there two 
 months. In these two months he grew more than any 
 other time of his youth ; and he was so far awakened 
 from dream-life and lethargy that he laid plans he 
 would travel abroad make music his profession. But 
 one day, when he mentioned this plan, she grew pale, 
 and said, "Yes, but first we must get married." He 
 looked up at her ; she gave him back a firm look ; then 
 they both blushed, and he said, " But what would people 
 say about it ? "
 
 8 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 Gunlang had never for one moment imagined that 
 he could have a will of his own, jarring with hers, for 
 the simple fact that she never nourished a wish that was 
 not his. But now she read from the depths of his soul 
 that he never for an instant had intended to share 
 anything of his, but only what was hers. She had first 
 taken him by the hand from compassion she had 
 finished by loving him. Ah, had she only had a little 
 patience with him ! He saw her passion rising, and 
 trembling with fright he cried aloud, " I will ! " She 
 heard it ; but her anger at her own folly and his 
 wretched littleness, at her own shame and at his 
 cowardice seethed up with a sudden fire to the point 
 of bursting : and never did love, commenced in child- 
 hood amid sunset glow and pale moonlight, rocked by 
 the waves and accompanied by tender music and song, 
 have a more pitiful end. For she seized hold of him 
 with both her hands, lifted him up from the ground, and 
 knocked him about to her heart's content ; rowed then 
 back to the town, and started off at once, inland, across 
 the mountains. 
 
 Poor Pedro had sailed over, that morn, as a love- 
 stricken youth, striving for manhood ; he rowed home 
 again, an old man, who had never known what manhood 
 was. His life owned but one remembrance : this was 
 gone for ever, through his own .folly; there was in the 
 world only one spot of earth that he cared for thither 
 he dared not return. Whilst pondering on his misery, and 
 how all this had come to pass, his late enterprising mood 
 sank, as it were, into some deep swamp, never to rise 
 again. The urchins in the streets, marking his strange 
 ways, soon began tormenting him, and as he was always 
 an alien to the townsfolk, nobody knowing anything 
 about his ways and means, no one took the trouble to 
 interfere for his protection. Soon he dared scarcely 
 go out of doors, at least not in the street. His whole 
 life was one constant warfare with the boys ; very likely, 
 however, they proved of service to him, as gnats on a
 
 PEDRO'S YOUTH. 9 
 
 hot summer-day ; for without this constant excitement, 
 he would have sunk into unbroken torpor. 
 
 Nine years later Gunlang came back to the town as 
 unexpectedly as she had left it. She was accompanied 
 by a little girl, about eight years old, the image of herself 
 in bygone days, only there was something dreamy about 
 the child, something refined. Gunlang had been married, 
 people said, some money had been left her, and now she 
 had returned to start an inn for sailors. 
 
 This she managed cleverly ; and gradually merchants 
 and ship-owners came to her house to seek the men they 
 wanted, and sailors came to be hired. For these sorts of 
 transactions she never charged a farthing, but despotically 
 wielded the power with which it invested her. Although 
 she was but a woman, and never passed the threshold 
 of her house, she was the power of the town. Her name 
 was now " Fish Gunlang," or " Gunlang on the Hill." 
 Her old title of "Fishing Girl" was transferred to her 
 daughter, who was the leader of all the small boys of the 
 town. 
 
 Her story it is which we purpose here to relate ; she 
 had inherited somewhat of her mother's strong nature, 
 and she had occasion to use it.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 HOW PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. 
 
 tHE many pretty gardens of the town, clad in 
 autumnal blossoms, were fragrant after rain. The 
 sun went down behind the eternal snow-moun- 
 tains ; there, yonder, the sky was fire and flame, and the 
 snow-peaks gave back a softened reflex. The nearer moun- 
 tains stood in shadow, but a wealth of tinted woods glowed 
 through. The islets in the middle of the fjord, that 
 followed in a string one after another, just as though they 
 were rowing, had a still richer hue. On the sea there 
 was a dead calm a large ship was being warped in. The 
 townsfolk sat without, on their wooden stairs, half enclosed 
 by rose-bushes, clustering up on either side. They 
 chatted away from stairs to stairs ; pausing in their gossip 
 from time to time, to greet the passers-by, on their way 
 to the long avenues outside the town. Tones of a piano, 
 through some open window, might come floating by, but 
 hardly any other sound broke in on the conversation ; 
 the last sun-rays, sleeping on the sea, intensified the 
 feeling of peace. 
 
 But on a sudden rose from the centre of the town 
 a tumult, as though the place were being stormed. The 
 girls began to scream, the boys to yell and hurrah ; old 
 dames scolded, and screeched out for order ; the police- 
 man's big dog barked, upon which there was not a dog 
 in the place but bayed back an answer. Out ran the 
 people from every house : so tremendous grew the noise 
 that even the magistrate, turning round upon his stairs, 
 let fall the words : "There must be something going on !" 
 "What is it?" asked the people, rushing from the
 
 How PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. n 
 
 avenues, of those upon the stairs. "Ay, what is it?" 
 these asked back again. " What is it, dear ?" every one 
 cried to those who came from the centre of the town. 
 But as this town lies in a crescent on a bay of slow bend, 
 it took some time ere the answer spread to every quarter : 
 " Oh, it's only the Fishing-girl ! " 
 
 This adventurous young soul, screened by a mother 
 of formidable renown, and sure of the protection of 
 every seaman (who, as the price of his devotion, received 
 a dram gratis, at the mother's), had, at the head of her 
 army of boys, made an attack on a large apple-tree in 
 Pedro Ohlsen's orchard. The plan for the venture was 
 as follows : some of the boys were to lure Pedro to the 
 window by slapping the rose-bushes against the panes ; 
 meanwhile, one was to shake the tree, and the others to 
 fling the apples in all directions out over the fencing 
 not to steal them, dear, no ! but merely for the sake of 
 the fun. 
 
 This ingenious plan had been hatched that same 
 evening behind Pedro's garden ; but Fate willed that 
 Pedro should be seated just inside the hedge, so that 
 he heard every word. Somewhat before the appointed 
 time he had the boosy policeman and his large dog 
 safely lodged in the back parlour, where both were hand- 
 somely regaled, that they might have spirit for the emer- 
 gency. Pedro meanwhile allowed the little rogues in 
 front of the house to shake the rose-bushes to their 
 hearts' content, whilst he kept up a stealthy watch in the 
 back -parlour; and soon the curly head of the Fishing- 
 girl was seen over the fence, whilst lots of little anxious 
 faces peeped up on either side of her. 
 
 When the whole party had got into the garden, 
 and in profound silence gathered round the tree, just as 
 the Fishing-girl, her bare legs covered with scratches, had 
 climbed up to give it a shaking, the lobby-door burst open 
 Pedro, the policeman, and the huge dog at their heels, 
 rushed out upon the intruders. A scream of terror broke 
 from the boys ; a flock of little girls, who in unconscious
 
 12 THE FISHING GIRL, 
 
 innocence had been playing " touch last " on the other 
 side of the hedge, thought some one must be being mur- 
 dered in the garden, so they screamed shrilly too ; the 
 boys, who had managed to escape, hurrahed ; those who 
 had been caught with one leg over the fence roared as 
 they were belaboured by the rod ; and, to make the 
 whole complete, the old women set up an unearthly 
 shriek, as usual, mingling their shrill, scolding voices 
 with the clamour of the boys. Even Pedro and the 
 policeman got alarmed, and began to negotiate with the 
 old women, during which time the boys made their 
 escape. The dog, who had been the greatest bugbear of 
 all, clearing the fence, ran after them this was fine 
 sport for him and along they flew, like wild ducks : 
 boys and girls, dog and screams away over the town. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Fishing-girl sat quiet as a mouse in the 
 tree, thinking nobody had noticed her. Coiled together 
 in the top, she watched through the foliage the course of 
 the battle. But when the enraged policeman had gone 
 outside to parley with the dames, and Pedro Ohlsen 
 stood alone in the garden, he walked up close to the 
 tree, looked up, and called out : " Come down instantly, 
 you imp ! " Not a sound was heard from the tree. " Will 
 you come down, I say? I know you are there !" Still 
 all was quiet. " I shall go and fetch my gun, and shoot 
 up at you ; I shall indeed ! " 
 
 " Hooh-hooh-hooh-hooh !" something howled up in 
 the tree. 
 
 " Yes, cry and squall, if you please ; for I shall fire a 
 whole shot up at you there, and no mistake." 
 
 " Ooh ! hooh-hooh-hooh-hooh ! " was hooted, " I'm so 
 afraid ! " 
 
 "Are you indeed? You are the worst scapegrace 
 of the gang ; but I've caught you now ! " 
 
 " Oh, you dear darling duck of a man ; I'll never, 
 never, do it again ! " 
 
 And at the same moment she flung a rotten apple 
 down right on his nose ; and whilst he was rubbing it
 
 How PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. 13 
 
 off, she sprang down, and was at the fence ere he could 
 reach her ; nay, she had all but cleared it at a bound, 
 only frightened at feeling him at her heels, she slid back. 
 
 But when he seized her, she gave a screech piercing, 
 shrill, jarring, wild; and, startled, he loosed his hold, 
 at once. At her scream of terror, a crowd of people 
 gathered on the other side of the hedge ; she heard them, 
 and that gave her fresh courage. 
 
 " Leave me alone, or I'll tell mother!" she threatened : 
 she was now all fire and passion. That face was familiar 
 to him, and he cried : 
 
 " Thy mother ? Who is thy mother ?" 
 
 " Gunlang of the Hill. Fish Gunlang," she added, 
 triumphantly ; for she saw he was alarmed. He was so 
 near-sighted, he had never remarked the girl before : per- 
 haps he was the only one who did not know who the 
 " Fishing-girl " was ; he did not know, even, that Gun- 
 lang was in town. Like one possessed, he cried out : 
 
 " What is thy name ?" 
 
 " Petra ! " she called back, even louder. 
 
 " Petra ! " screamed Pedro, and ran into the house, 
 as though it were the Enemy himself who had spoken 
 to him. 
 
 But pale horror and pale wrath look alike : she thought 
 he had rushed to fetch his gun ; and, in her fright, she 
 felt already the shot in her back. The garden gate had 
 been broken open from outside, she rushed through it, 
 her dark hair flowing behind her like a stream of terror ; 
 her eyes aflame ; the dog, which she had just encountered, 
 turned and pursued her, barking so she fled, dashing 
 in at last upon her mother, who was just leaving the 
 kitchen, soup-dish in hand. The girl fell against the 
 dish down it crashed, and she with it, a " drat it ! " from 
 the mother accompanying the crash. Where she lay among 
 the fragments of the broken dish, and drenched through 
 with the spilled soup, she screamed : " He will shoot me, 
 mother ! shoot me !" 
 
 " Who will shoot thee, wench?"
 
 14 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " He Pedro Ohlsen : we took apples in his garden 1" 
 she never dared but to speak the truth. 
 
 " Who are you talking about, child ? " 
 
 "Pedro Ohlsen; he is running after me with a big 
 gun ; he will shoot me ! " 
 
 " Pedro Ohlsen ! " said the mother, fiercely; and then 
 she laughed, and seemed to grow more tall. The child 
 burst out weeping, and wanted to hide herself. But the 
 mother bent over her, her white teeth clenched ; and she 
 clutched her by the shoulder, and held her close. 
 
 " Did you tell Pedro Ohlsen who you were ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes," answered the child. But it seemed the mother 
 did not hear or heed ; for again she asked, and still again 
 
 " Did you tell him who you were ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes, yes ! " and the child raised her hand 
 imploringly. Then up rose the mother to her full height. 
 
 " He has heard it then ! What did he say ? " 
 
 " He ran in to fetch a gun ; he wanted to shoot me." 
 
 " He shoot you ? " She laughed in loud scorn. 
 
 The child, frightened and bespattered from her bath 
 of soup, stole into a corner, where she stood wiping her 
 soiled dress, crying the while. Presently the mother 
 came up to her once more. 
 
 " If ever you go near him," she said, shaking her, 
 " or speak to him, or listen to him, then God have mercy 
 upon both you and him ! Tell him this from me ! Tell 
 him this from me!" she repeated in a threatening voice, 
 for the child did not answer directly. 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes, yes ! " 
 
 " Tell it him from me/" she said in a low voice; 
 and nodding her head at each word, she walked off. 
 
 The child washed herself, put on her Sunday clothes, 
 and sat down outside on the door-step. But remembering 
 the terrors she had just gone through, she commenced 
 sobbing afresh. 
 
 " Why are you crying, child ? " asked a voice, more 
 gentle than any she had ever heard. She looked up :
 
 How PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. 15 
 
 before her stood a man of slender build, and of noble 
 countenance. She rose at once, for this was Hans Ode- 
 gaard, a youth to whom every one in the town paid 
 respect. " Why are you crying, little girl ? " 
 
 She looked up into his face and said she had been 
 taking apples from Pedro Ohlsen's garden, with " some 
 other boys;" but then Pedro and the policeman had 
 come after them, and then ; on remembering that the 
 mother had derided the story of the gun, she dared not 
 tell it, but instead drew a deep sigh. 
 
 " Can it really be true," he said, " that so young a 
 child could be so wicked ? " 
 
 Petra looked at him : she had known, indeed, that it 
 was wrong, but it had always been brought before her in 
 the following manner : " Thou black-eyed imp ! Thou 
 wretched jade ! " Now she felt ashamed. 
 
 " What a pity you don't go to school and learn God's 
 commandments, and good from evil ! " 
 
 She stood stroking down her frock, then answered, 
 that her mother did not wish her to go to school. 
 
 " You cannot even read, perhaps ? " Yes, she could 
 read. 
 
 He brought out a small book and gave it into her 
 hand. She looked in it, turned it about, then looked at 
 its cover. "I cannot read such small print," she said. 
 But she had to try, and felt at once so heartily stupid 
 that her eyes and lips drooped, and all her limbs seemed 
 unstrung : " G-o-d spells God ; t-h-e, the ; L-o-r-d, Lord ; 
 God the Lord ; s-p-a-k-e, spake ; God the Lord spake to 
 m-m-m." 
 
 " Do you call that reading ? And you must be 
 twelve years old ? Don't you wish to learn to read ? " 
 
 She sobbed forth that she did wish it, indeed. 
 
 " Then come with me; we will set to work at once." 
 She moved, but it was to look into the house. " Well, 
 that's right ; tell your mother," he said. 
 
 The mother was just passing, and seeing the child 
 with a stranger, she came out on the steps.
 
 1 6 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " He wants to teach me to read," said the child, fixing 
 her eyes hesitatingly on the mother. 
 
 She gave no answer, but with arms a-kimbo gazed at 
 Odegaard. 
 
 "Your child is very ignorant," he said ; "you cannot 
 excuse yourself before either God or man for letting her 
 grow up like this." 
 
 " Who are you ? " Gunlang asked, fiercely. 
 
 " Hans Odegaard, your Pastor's son." Her face 
 brightened a little : all was good she had heard of 
 him. He began afresh : " I have noticed this child of 
 yours from time to time when I have been at home. 
 Again to day she has been laid on my mind : she must 
 no longer waste her energy on evil." 
 
 The face of the mother most clearly expressed : 
 " What business is that of yours ?" 
 
 He asked calmly, however, " She is to learn some- 
 thing, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 A faint flush overspread his face : " Why not ? " 
 
 " Are they better, you think, who get education ? " 
 She had had but one experience to that she clung. 
 
 " I am astonished that any one should ask such a 
 question ! " he returned. 
 
 " Ah, well ; / know they are not better." She went 
 down the steps to make an end of this palaver ; but he 
 put himself in front of her. 
 
 " Here is a duty you may not shirk," he said. " You 
 are an unjust mother." 
 
 Gunlang measured him from head to foot. 
 
 " Who told you so ? " she said, as she passed him by. 
 
 " You did ; this very moment ; if you were not, you 
 must have seen that the child will be ruined." 
 
 Gunlang turned round ; their eyes met ; she saw 
 he was resolved that she should hear him, and grew 
 uneasy. Ere this, she had had only sailors and trades- 
 people to deal with ; this tone was new to her. 
 
 " What do you want to do with my child ?" she asked.
 
 How PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. 17 
 
 "To teach her what is necessary to save her soul, 
 first; then, to find out what she is fitted to be." 
 
 " My child shall be nothing, but what / choose." 
 
 " Indeed, though, she both shall and will ; she shall 
 be what God wishes her to be ! " 
 
 Gunlang was dumfoundered. "What do you mean?" 
 she said at last, coming nearer to him. 
 
 " I mean that she must cultivate the faculties God 
 gave her : that is why he lent them her." 
 
 Now Gunlang came quite close. 
 
 " Are you not I, who am her mother to have 
 authority over her?" she asked, as though she really 
 wanted to understand. 
 
 " No," he returned, " you are still to have authority ; 
 but you are not to shut your heart against the advice of 
 those who know better ; above all, you are not to shut 
 your heart against th'e will of God." 
 
 Gunlang stood silent for a little. " But if she learns 
 too much ? " she asked. " She, the child of poor folk ! " 
 she added, looking tenderly at the girl. 
 
 " If she learn too much for her position, she earns by 
 that a higher one," he answered. 
 
 She caught the sense of his words at once, and said, 
 as though thinking aloud, her saddened gaze resting on 
 the child the while, " Ah, that is dangerous ! " 
 
 " We must not pause for that," he returned in a gentle 
 voice ; " the question is, what is right ? " 
 
 Into her strong eyes came a strange expression : again 
 she gazed on him intently : but his voice, his words, his 
 face, bore the stamp of perfect sincerity, and Gunlang 
 was won over. She went up to her child, and laid her 
 hands upon her head, but she could not speak. 
 
 " I shall teach her from this day until she is con- 
 firmed," he said, coming to her assistance ; " I want to 
 take this child by the hand." 
 
 " Then you will take her from me ? " 
 
 He was startled, and looked at her inquiringly. 
 
 "Well, may be you are right, and know better far 
 
 c
 
 1 8 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 than I," came struggling forth at length ; " and yet, if you 
 had not spoken of God's will " she stopped. She had 
 been smoothing down her child's hair, now she unpinned 
 the kerchief from her own neck, and tied it round hers : 
 that was the way she gave her consent that the girl should 
 follow the young master. Then she walked off behind 
 the house, as though she would see no more. 
 
 A sudden awe fell upon him, as he recognised the 
 charge he had taken on him, with the eagerness of youth. 
 The child, too, stood abashed and timorous before him 
 who had been the first to subdue her mother. 
 
 And with such feelings master and pupil entered on 
 their first lesson. 
 
 As time went on, it seemed to him, not only that each 
 day added to her knowledge, but that her intelligence 
 grew more bright ; so it came about that his conversations 
 with her took often a peculiar turn. From the Bible, or 
 from history, he would draw instances of those who had 
 received a special call from God. He would dwell on 
 Saul roving about aimless ; on David, the shepherd-lad, 
 tending his father's flocks, until Samuel came and laid 
 his hand on him. But most of all he would tell of that 
 Highest Call, when the Lord himself wandered upon 
 earth ; how he paused in a little fishing hamlet to give 
 this Call ; and how in answer the poor fishermen rose up 
 and followed Him through suffering unto death, content 
 alway; because the knowledge of a Call supports one 
 through all hardships. 
 
 The thought of this so followed her that at the last it 
 was more than she could bear ; need was that she should 
 ask him what might her own Call be. He looked at 
 her till the red blood crimsoned her face, then answered 
 that it was by labour one earned that knowledge : " it 
 may be modest and small," he said, " yet the Call goes 
 forth to every one." 
 
 Then a new ardour took possession of her, thrilling 
 through work and play with an intensity of life that made 
 her cheek grow white and her childish frame more frail.
 
 IIow PETRA WAS SENT TO SCHOOL. 19 
 
 All manner of strange fancies and restless longings 
 crowded on her mind ; she was fain to cut short her 
 hair, and in the dress of a boy to go forth to war, that she, 
 too, might do and dare ! Only one day her teacher told 
 her she had pretty hair, and that she ought to keep it 
 bright and smooth ; and so she grew to care for it, and 
 gave up the thought of being a heroine, for love of her 
 long, glossy hair ! 
 
 Later yet, she thought more of being a girl ; stiller 
 llowed on her work, floated round by shifting dreams. 
 
 c *
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 
 
 'ANS ODEGAARD'S father had, while a young 
 lad, wandered out from Odegaard's tract in the 
 Stift of Bergen ; and his birthplace had given 
 him his name. People had taken him by the hand, and 
 he had become a learned man and a severe preacher. 
 He was an authoritative man too ; in action still more 
 than in speech. " He could not forget the gown," people 
 said of him. But this man, who held to his own with 
 such a will, was to be worsted in a quarter where he 
 least expected, and where it would be most hard to 
 bear. 
 
 He had three daughters and one son. Hans, the son, 
 was the pride of the school ; his father himself prepared 
 him for his studies, and the task was a daily joy to him. 
 Hans had a friend, whom he helped to be next to him 
 in the school, and who therefore loved him beyond all 
 on earth, save his own mother. They were together at 
 school ; together they went to the university ; they passed 
 the two first examinations at the same time ; and together 
 now were about to take their degrees. One day, having 
 mapped out a plan for study, they came bounding joy- 
 ously down the stairs, Hans, in the exuberance of high 
 spirits, leapt suddenly on to his comrade's back; the 
 other missed his footing, and fell from the top to the 
 bottom of the stairs. A few days later, death followed 
 that fall. Dying, the youth implored his mother a 
 widow, whose only child he was who made this last 
 request out of tenderness for him, to take Hans in his 
 stead, and let him be as a son to her. But almost with
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 21 
 
 her boy the mother died ; only, keeping that last Avish 
 in mind, she left her fortune to Hans Odegaard. 
 
 Years passed by ere Hans recovered from this shock. 
 A journey in foreign lands so far roused him from his 
 grief, that he could resume his theological studies and 
 take his degree ; but he could not be persuaded to enter 
 actively on his sacred profession. 
 
 The father's one hope had been to see him his curate. 
 Now he could not be persuaded to enter the pulpit, even 
 once ; he always gave the same answer : he " felt no 
 call." This was a bitter disappointment to the father, 
 and it aged him many years. He had commenced life 
 late : now he was an old man, and had worked hard 
 with this goal always in sight. In the same house sat 
 the son, in his fine suite of rooms ; beneath, in the 
 small study, by the lamp that shone dimly on the night 
 of his old age, sat the old Pastor, working always. After 
 this sore disappointment, he would not, could not, take a 
 stranger to help him ; nor would he follow his son's 
 advice, and resign his cure : therefore he knew no rest, 
 summer nor winter. Every year the son made his 
 journeys abroad longer. When he was at home, he held 
 scant intercourse with others ; only he dined at his 
 father's table, more or less taciturn, as the case might be ; 
 but if any addressed him, they were answered judiciously, 
 and with an earnestness which warned off trifling. He 
 never went to church ; but he devoted more than half 
 his income to benevolent purposes, never failing to give 
 the most precise instructions as to its use. 
 
 This large-handed munificence, so at variance with 
 the chary habits of this small town, was a bewilderment 
 to every one. Added to this, his reserve, his frequent 
 absences during those long journeys, the shyness all felt 
 in addressing him, made them, as you may imagine, fling 
 by sober sense, and invest him with all manner of mys- 
 terious and impossible qualities. 
 
 When this man stepped down, and deigned to take the 
 Fishing-girl as his daily charge, she was nobilitated. In
 
 22 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 no time one and all wished also to take her under their 
 patronage, most especially the women. 
 
 One day she came to him, dressed in all the colours 
 of the rainbow ; she had put on all her presents, thinking 
 this would be quite to his taste, as he always wished her 
 to look neat. But the moment he saw her, he forbade 
 her ever to accept anything; he called her vain, silly; 
 told her she aimed at nothing but what was empty and 
 shallow, took pleasure only in foolishness. Next morn- 
 ing, when she appeared, her eyes red with weeping, he 
 took her for a walk outside the town. There he told her 
 of David; as usual, giving the story a new form, and 
 making what was familiar new once more. First he de- 
 picted him in his youth, as he walked there in his 
 beauty, rich in strength and childlike faith. Ere he 
 was a man, he took his stand among the train of the 
 elect. From a shepherd he was called to be a king : he 
 who had lived in caverns builded Jerusalem ! Clad in 
 fak apparel, he played the harp, to soothe the stricken 
 Saul ; but when he, too, was a king, and sick and sorrow- 
 ful, and on him were the rags of remorse, he swept his 
 hands across the harp's strings, and sang to soothe him- 
 self. His great deeds accomplished, he rested with sin ; 
 then came the prophet and the punishment : once more 
 he was a child. David, who with his song of jubilee 
 lifted the Lord's people, lay himself crushed at the 
 Lord's feet. Was he greatest when, crowned with vic- 
 tory, he danced before the ark to his own songs, or 
 when in his closet he begged mercy from the chastising 
 hand ? 
 
 The night after this conversation, she had a dream 
 through life she never forgot it. She dreamed she, too, 
 was in a triumphal train, riding on a white horse ; but 
 behold ! at the same time she was dancing before the 
 horse, and in rags. 
 
 One evening, a long time after this, she sat on the 
 verge of the forest, studying her lessons, when Pedro 
 Ohlsen who after that day in the garden had sought to
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 23 
 
 strike up an acquaintance with her passed close by, and 
 whispered, with a strange smile, " Good evening !" 
 
 Though years had rolled by, her mother's command 
 was still vividly before her; so she did not return the 
 greeting. But day after day he passed in the same way, 
 repeating his " Good evening ! " Soon, when he did not 
 come, she waited for him. After awhile, he would ask 
 a small question as he passed ; then it came to two 
 questions ; and at last it grew into a conversation. 
 
 One day, after such a talk, he dropped a silver dollar 
 into her lap, then walked off rapidly, seemingly delighted 
 beyond measure. Now it was against the mother's order 
 to talk with him ; against Odegaard's to accept presents 
 from anybody. The first charge, she had gradually 
 grown to disregard, now she called it to remembrance, 
 since it had led to the transgression of the second. 
 
 To be rid of the money, she invited the first person 
 she met to have a treat at the pastrycook's ; but, with the 
 best will in the world, they could not eat more cakes 
 than four ore* could purchase. Then she began to 
 repent this too, and to wish she had given the dollar 
 back, instead of having wasted it. The money that was 
 left seemed as though it would burn a hole in her pocket : 
 so she flung it into the sea. But even then she was not 
 free of the dollar it had branded her soul. If she con- 
 fessed all, she would be free that she felt ; but the 
 mother's anger the last time, and Odegaard's trust in her, 
 alike stood in the way, scaring her back. The mother 
 noticed nothing, but Odegaard soon discovered there was 
 a struggle going on within her, which made her miserable. 
 Tenderly he asked one day what ailed her ; and 
 when, instead of answering, she burst into tears, he 
 thought there might be want at home, and gave her ten 
 species. But his giving her money, in spite of her sin 
 against him money that she could frankly give the 
 mother honest money made a violent impression on 
 her ; she felt as though the guilt were taken off her, and 
 
 * !Oo6re=l Riksdalerzz Is. I$d. nearly.
 
 24 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 gave herself up to the most extravagant delight. She 
 took his hand between hers, she thanked him, she laughed, 
 she leapt on the spot where she stood, joy beaming 
 through her tears, while she gazed at him with that look 
 of intense devotion with which the dog's eyes watch the 
 master whom he is to follow, and whom he loves. He 
 knew her no longer ! She, who at other times was held 
 in thrall by his word, exerted the power now ! For the 
 first time, a strong, wild nature opened out in his sight ; 
 for the first time a never fuller life thrilled his pulses 
 through, and he drew back, half startled, half angry, with 
 himself and her. But she rushed to the door, and up 
 the hills, to go home behind the town. There she put 
 the money on the table before her mother, and flung her 
 arm round her neck. 
 
 " Who gave you this ? " asked the mother, whose 
 anger already rose. 
 
 " Odegaard, mother; he is the first man in the world." 
 
 " What am I to do with the money ? " 
 
 "I do not know, mother dear ; if you knew " 
 
 and she threw herself again upon her neck now she 
 could and would tell everything. 
 
 But the mother shook her off impatiently. "Would you 
 have me receive alms ?" she asked. "Take him back his 
 money immediately ! If you told him I wanted it, you lied !" 
 
 " But, mother " 
 
 " Take back the money directly, I tell you, or I'll go 
 and fling it in the face of him of him who has taken 
 my child from me ! " 
 
 The mother's lips quivered at the last words : Petra 
 shrank away, growing pale and ever paler slowly she 
 opened the door, slowly walked away from the house. 
 Ere she knew what her restless fingers were about, the 
 ten-dollar note was torn to shreds. The discoveiy called 
 forth a burst of indignation against the mother. 
 
 " But Odegaard shall know nothing ! " she said. 
 " Nay," she added quickly, " but he shall though ; there 
 shall be no lying to him ! "
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 25 
 
 A moment later she stood in his room, and told him 
 the mother would not receive any money ; and that she, 
 in anger at having to bring it back to him, had pulled the 
 note to pieces. She had said more, but with a cold look 
 he bade her go home directly, and reproved her for failing 
 to show obedience to her mother, even though it seemed 
 hard to her. This sounded strange from him, for she 
 knew that he did not do what his father wished most 
 of all. 
 
 On her way home her grief was too much for her, 
 she burst into a flood of tears ; just then she met Pedro 
 Ohlsen. She had avoided him all this time, and she 
 would have done the same now; for was not he the cause 
 of all her misery ? 
 
 " Where have you been ?" he asked, coming after her. 
 " What has gone wrong with you ? " 
 
 In her breast the stormy waves had risen so high that 
 they might cast her wherever they would ; besides, for 
 that matter, was there any reason why her mother should 
 forbid her to have anything to do with him ? No doubt 
 it was a whim merely, like this which had brought her 
 into trouble. 
 
 " Do you know what I have done ? " he asked, almost 
 humbly, when she had stopped crying. " I have bought 
 you a sailing boat ; I thought you would like sailing "- 
 and he laughed. 
 
 The kindness of this offer, made humbly as a poor 
 man's prayer, touched her just now ; she nodded a silent 
 consent. Then he grew excited, and asked her in an 
 eager whisper to go round behind the town, into the alley 
 to the right, straight along to the yellow boat-house ; 
 there, behind, he would come and fetch her and that 
 way no one could see anything of it all. She agreed and 
 went ; he came and took her to the boat. They sailed 
 about awhile in the fresh breeze ; then, laving by at an 
 islet, they fastened the boat safe, and went on shore. 
 He had brought all sorts of sweetmeats for her ; and he 
 took his flute out and played. For the time being she
 
 26 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 forgot her own sorrow, seeing his happiness ; and as the 
 joy of a weak nature awakens a sort of tender pity in the 
 more vigorous, it came about that from that day she 
 began to love him. 
 
 After this day there was a new and perpetual secret 
 from the mother, which gradually led to her keeping her 
 outside of everything. Gunlang asked no questions ; 
 she wholly trusted, until she had been made wholly to 
 distrust. 
 
 From Odegaard, also, Petra had secrets from this day; 
 for she received many presents from Pedro Ohlsen. 
 Neither did Odegaard question her; his instructions were 
 given each day in a more reserved manner. Petra's life 
 was thus divided between three ; with neither could she 
 speak of the others, and she had something she hid from 
 each. 
 
 Meanwhile, without realising it herself, she had be- 
 come a grown-up girl ; and one day Odegaard announced 
 to her, that now it was time she should be confirmed. 
 
 His words filled her with anxiety ; for she knew that 
 when she was confirmed there would be an end of the 
 lessons; and then, what was to become of her? 
 
 The mother had an attic built on to the house ; for 
 after the confirmation she must have a room to herself: 
 the perpetual hammering and knocking were painful 
 reminders to her. Odegaard marked how she grew more 
 and more silent ; sometimes he saw that she had wept 
 even. Under such circumstances, the preparation for the 
 confirmation impressed her strongly, though Odegaard 
 carefully avoided everything likely to excite her. He 
 therefore closed his instructions a fortnight before the 
 confirmation, c.irtly informing her that this would be the 
 last lesson. He meant the last with him, for certainly he 
 intended to extend his care of her further, but through 
 others. She, however, sat as though nailed to the spot : 
 the blood left her face, she could not take her eyes from 
 his. Moved, in spite of himself, he hastened to add a 
 reason.
 
 FETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 27 
 
 "All girls, you know, are not grown up at their con- 
 firmation : but, surely, you must feel it's the case with 
 you." 
 
 As though scorched by the blaze of a furnace, there 
 sprang a fiery blush into her cheeks at that ; her bosom 
 heaved, and large tears swam in her anxious eyes. All 
 his resolution vanished. 
 
 " Shall we go on with our lessons, then, all the same ?" 
 he asked hurriedly. 
 
 Only when it was too late did he feel what he had 
 done. It \vas wrong he would take back his words ; 
 but already her eyes were raised to his ; no " yes " fell 
 from her lips, but it could not be spoken more clearly. 
 
 To excuse himself to his own conscience, he asked, 
 " I dare say, now, there is some special pursuit you would 
 like ; something you " bending down to her " some- 
 thing you feel a Call for, Petra ? " 
 
 " No," she answered, so quickly, that he grew red, 
 and cooling off, fell once more into the scruples of many 
 years, which her off-hand answer hc.d called back. 
 
 That a peculiar life moved within her, he had not 
 doubted from the time when, as a child, he saw her 
 marching at the head of the boy-companies of the town. 
 But the longer he taught her, the less he could make out 
 what her special endowment was. In her every impulse, 
 and in each thought and each desire, was revealed fulness 
 of life, both of body and of spirit, and over all, gleams 
 of wayward beauty. But if described in words, or, still 
 v/orse, put into writing, it seemed mere childishness. 
 She seemed the image of Fantasy to him that seemed 
 much the same as restlessness. She was very diligent, 
 but her reading aimed less at learning than at getting 
 further what might be on the next page especially 
 occupied her. She had religious feelings, but as the 
 Dean worded it no tendency for a religious life, and 
 Odegaard fell often anxious about her. Now it was as 
 though he stood again at the starting-pci:it ; in thought, 
 he was taken to the stairs where he had received her as
 
 28 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 his charge ; he heard the mother's sharp voice lay the 
 responsibility on him, because he had named our Lord. 
 Having paced the room up and down several times, he 
 collected himself. 
 
 " I am going abroad now," he said, with a certain 
 shyness ; " I have asked my sisters meanwhile to take 
 care of you, and when I come back we will again work 
 together. Farewell ! We shall see each other, I dare 
 say, before I leave ! " 
 
 He walked quickly off into the next room, and she 
 had not time even to take his hands. 
 
 She saw him next, where least she expected, in the 
 pulpit beside the choir, right before her where she stood, 
 among the flock of giris, waiting in the church, to 
 be confirmed. This excited her to such a degree that 
 her thoughts for a long while wandered away from the 
 holy rite for which she had prepared in humility and 
 prayer. Yes, even Odegaard's old father held his breath, 
 and looked at him long, when he stood forth to com- 
 mence the service. 
 
 But Petra was once more to be startled in church, 
 for who should sit there, somewhat lower down, but 
 Pedro Ohlsen in new stiff clothes ! He stretched his 
 neck to look, over the heads of the lads, to the 
 girls to her. He stooped down again immediately, 
 but ever and anon she saw him popping up his 
 sparely-covered head, only to duck down again. This 
 drew off her thoughts ; she did not want to see, and yet 
 she saw. And there just when all the others were most 
 deeply moved, many of them shedding tears Petra was 
 terrified to see Pedro rise, then start and remain with 
 open mouth and staring eyes, growing pale and stony, 
 unable to sit down or move : for opposite him stood 
 Gunlang, drawn to her full height. Petra shuddered in 
 looking at her, for she was white as the altar-cloth. 
 Her black, crisp hair seemed to rise, while her eyes sud- 
 denly got a repellant power, as though they said, " Off 
 from her ! what have you to do with her?" He cowered
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 29 
 
 on the bench under this look, and a moment later he 
 stole out of the church. 
 
 After this, Petra got rest; and as the service pro- 
 ceeded she followed ever more earnestly. Then, after 
 having plighted her vow, she looked through her tears 
 to Odegaard, as the one who was nearest all her good 
 purposes, and promised in her heart she would not 
 betray his trust. The faithful eyes that looked back on 
 her seemed to ask that of her ; but when she had 
 returned to her seat, and once more sought him, he 
 was gone. Soon she was on the way home with her 
 mother, who, while walking, let the words fall : " Now I 
 have done my part : let the Lord do His." 
 
 When they had dined together the two alone she 
 said, as she rose 
 
 " Well, we must go over, I think, to him the parson's 
 son. I don't know how it will turn out, what he has 
 taken in hand, but I dare say he meant well. Put 
 on your things again, my child." 
 
 The way to the church, which they so often had 
 trodden together, lay above the town. In the street they 
 had never appeared together; the mother, indeed, had 
 scarcely set foot there since she had returned. Now, 
 however, she entered it : she would pass all along the 
 street : she chose to pass there with her grown-up 
 daughter. 
 
 On the afternoon of Confirmation Sunday, the people 
 of such a small town are on the trot, one and all ; either 
 paying congratulatory visits from house to house, or lin- 
 gering in the streets to see and be seen. Neighbours 
 stop, and exchange greetings, and shake hands; and each 
 step brings down a fresh shower of good wishes. The 
 poor man's child appears, dressed out in the rich one's 
 cast-off clothes, and comes out to show off by way of 
 gratitude. The sailors of the town, in foreign finery, 
 the hat on three hairs, are the very pink of the fashion ; 
 the shopmen, especially courteous in their greetings ; 
 walk about in knots ; the half-grown boys of the Latin
 
 30 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 school, each with his best friend in the world under 
 his arm, lounge after, dealing out green criticisms. 
 
 But to-day one and all were cast in the shade by the 
 lion of the town, the young merchant, the richest man 
 there, Yngve Void, who had just returned from Spain, 
 eager to take in hand his mother's fishing-trade. With 
 a light hat on his sunny hair he was such a taking 
 sight that the young catechumens were nearly forgotten ; 
 every one gave him welcome ; he spoke to every one, 
 laughed with every one j up and down in the street was 
 seen the light hat on the sunny hair, and was heard 
 the ringing laugh. 
 
 When Petra and her mother entered the street, he 
 was the first they came upon, and, as though it had 
 been a formidable encounter, he started back at sight 
 of Petra, whom he did not recognise. 
 
 She had grown tall if not to her mother's height, 
 still, taller than most girls graceful, refined, yet fearless ; 
 the mother, and not the mother, in changing glimpses. 
 Even the young merchant, who followed them, could no 
 longer attract the eyes of the loungers ; the two, mother 
 and daughter together, were a more wonderful sight. 
 They walked quickly, greeting few, because they rarely 
 were greeted by any but sailors ; but they quickened 
 their step still more, when they turned out of the street 
 having heard that Odegaard had just left his home for 
 the steamer that was about to sail. Petra hurried on ; 
 she must she must see him, and thank him, before he 
 went away ; indeed, it was wrong of him to leave her in 
 such a manner ! She had eyes for none of the many 
 who looked at her : it was the smoke from the steamer, 
 yonder above the house-roofs, that she looked at and it 
 seemed to grow more distant. 
 
 When they came to the bridge the steamer righted, 
 and, with tears in her throat, she hastened further out 
 in the alley ; she flew rather than walked ; and the 
 mother strode after. Since the steamer took its time to 
 turn in the harbour, she came soon enough to run down
 
 PETRA'S CONFIRMATION. 31 
 
 the bank, step upon a stone, and wave her handkerchief. 
 The mother stood behind in the alley, not choosing to 
 go down with the daughter. Petra waved her kerchief 
 high and ever higher she waved it but no one waved 
 back. 
 
 Then her grief broke loose, and as she wept so, she 
 had to take the way home behind the town. The mother 
 followed in silence. 
 
 The attic-room that the mother had given her to- 
 day, where she had slept for the first time last night, and 
 where this morning, full of joy, she had put on her new 
 clothes now, in the evening, received her all in tears, 
 and without a glance for anything ; she would not go 
 down where sailors and guests had arrived ; she took off 
 her confirmation-dress, and sat down on her bed till night 
 should fall. Oh me ! to be grown up was the most wretched 
 thing in the world !
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 
 
 NE day, soon after the Confirmation, she went over to 
 Odegaard's sisters, but quickly found out that this 
 arrangement must have been a mistake of his ; 
 for the Dean appeared not to see her at all, and the 
 daughters, both older than Odegaard, kept stiff and 
 distant. They satisfied themselves with giving a scanty 
 message from their brother as to what she was to do for 
 the future : the whole of the forenoon she was to take 
 her part in domestic work in a house outside the town, 
 and in the afternoon to go to a sewing- school; she was 
 to sleep, breakfast, and have her supper at home. 
 
 She followed up this arrangement, and thought it 
 pleasant enough, so long as it was new; but later, especially 
 when summer came, she grew tired ; for this time of the year 
 she had been used to stay in the forest the whole day 
 long, reading her books, and now she missed these with 
 her whole heart, just as she missed Odegaard as she 
 missed companionship. As it was, she took what came 
 next to hand. 
 
 At that time a young girl had come to the sewing- 
 school, by name Lise Let that is to say, "Lise," but 
 not "Let." "Let" however, was the name of a young 
 midshipman who had been at home during the Christ- 
 mas holidays ; and on the ice he and she got engaged 
 to one another while she was a mere school-girl. 
 She would vow on her life it was not true, and weep 
 whenever it was mentioned ; nevertheless her name 
 henceforth became "Lise Let." Little brisk Lise Let
 
 PF.TRA'S LOVERS. 33 
 
 wept often, and laughed often ; but, whether she laughed 
 or wept, she thought of love. A very beehive of 
 thoughts, new, strange, soon filled the sewing-school. 
 Was the hand stretched out to take the snell, or reel, 
 some one made some one else a proposal, and the snell 
 either accepted or refused the offer; the needle be- 
 came engaged to the thread, and the thread sacrificed 
 herself, stitch by stitch, for her cruel mate ; the one 
 who pricked herself, shed her heart's blood ; she who 
 changed needles was fickle. If two of the girls whispered 
 together, there was something remarkable in the wind ; 
 presently two others whispered, then two more; every 
 one had a bosom friend, and there were a thousand 
 secrets : it was enough to turn every head ! 
 
 One afternoon in the dusk, a small dri/zly rain 
 was falling. Petra, a large shawl over her head, stood 
 outside her home, peering into the passage where a 
 young sailor stood whistling a waltz. With both hands 
 she kept the shawl tight under her chin, so that 
 merely her nose and eyes were visible ; but the sailor 
 quickly discovered her winking at him ; and with a leap 
 he was down-stairs, and by her side. 
 
 " Listen, Gunnar ; will you go for a walk ?" 
 
 " Why, it rains !" 
 
 " Pooh ! what of that ?" 
 
 And so they went to a small house somewhat higher 
 up. 
 
 " Buy me a couple of cakes," she said ; " those with 
 cream : you know." 
 
 " You always want cakes." 
 
 " Those with cream !" He came back with some ; 
 she put out a hand from beneath her shawl, took them 
 in, and walked on eating. When they were up beyond 
 the town, she said, giving him a piece of cake, " Listen, 
 Gunnar ; we have always been so fond of each other, 
 you and I I have always liked you better than all 
 the other lads ! Don't you believe me ? It is really true, 
 Gunnar. And now you are second mate, and will soon 
 
 D
 
 34 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 have your own ship. Now, I think you ought to be 
 engaged, Gunnar. Why don't you eat the cake, 
 dear ?" 
 
 "Cake? No, I have commenced chewing quids." 
 
 " Well, what's your answer ?" 
 
 " Ah ! But there's no hurry about it" 
 
 "No hurry ? why you're going away the day after 
 to-morrow !" 
 
 "Yes, but I'll come back, I trust." 
 
 " But I mayn't have time then ; how do you know 
 where I may be, all that time off?" 
 
 " Then you're to be the one ?" 
 
 " Yes, Gunnar, that you might have understood ; but 
 you've always been so stupid ; and that's why you became 
 but a sailor." 
 
 "Ah! that I don't regret; it is very nice to be a 
 sailor." 
 
 " I dare say, when your mother has her own ship 
 but, now what do you say ? you are so dull !" 
 
 " Well, what am I to say ?" 
 
 " What are you to say ? Ha, ha, ha, ha ! perhaps 
 you do not wish to have me ?" 
 
 " Ah, Petra, you know perfectly well I want to ; but 
 I don't think I can feel certain about you." 
 
 " Indeed, Gunnar, I will be so faithful, so faithful !" 
 
 He stood quiet for a moment : " Let me look into 
 your face, Petra." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I want to see if you are in earnest." 
 
 " Do you think I'm trifling, Gunnar f" She was angry, 
 and opened the shawl. 
 
 " Well, Petra, is it to be real true earnest ? then give 
 me a kiss as proof for one knows what that means." 
 
 " Are you mad f She closed the shawl and walked 
 onwards. 
 
 " Wait, Petra, wait : that you don't understand. When 
 we are sweethearts " 
 
 " What stuff you talk 1"
 
 FETRA'S LOVERS. 35 
 
 " Well, I should think I know what the custom is, for, 
 as to knowing something of the world, I am far ahead of 
 you. Remember all that /have seen." 
 
 " Faugh ! you've seen like a fool, that you have, and 
 talk as you have seen." 
 
 "What do you mean, then, by being sweethearts, 
 Petra ? Indeed, I must ask that : to run after each other 
 on the hills, is but poor fun I should think." 
 
 " No ; there you, at least, are right;" she laughed, and 
 stood still. " Now listen, Gunnar, while we stay a little 
 to take breath hoof! I'll tell you how sweethearts do 
 behave. When you are in town, you must wait outside 
 the sewing-school every evening, and take me home to 
 our door ; if I am elsewhere, you must wait about for me 
 in the street till I come out. When you have left, you 
 must write to me, and buy things and send home. For 
 instance, we must give each other a pair of rings, with 
 your name on one, and mine on the other, and the year 
 and date ; but I have no money, therefore you must buy 
 them both." 
 
 " That 1 will gladly do, but " 
 
 "Well, what else is there? what's the 'but?'" 
 
 " Dear me ! I only meant, then I must have the 
 measure of that finger of yours." 
 
 " Well, that you shall have directly :" she broke a 
 blade of grass, measured, and bit it off. "Now, don't 
 throw it away !" 
 
 He laid it in a paper, and put the paper in his pocket- 
 book, she looking on till the note-book was again safely 
 deposited. 
 
 " Now let us be off, I am tired of standing here so 
 long." 
 
 " But I think, indeed, this is somewhat shabby, Petra." 
 
 " Well, if you don't like it, sir, it's all the same to me." 
 
 " But I do like it : it's not that. But won't you let 
 me even hold your hand f 
 
 " Where's the good of that ?" 
 
 " To prove we really are engaged." 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " Why should that be a proof, to take each other's 
 hands ? For all that, you may take mine, if you like : 
 there it is ! No, thanks, no squeezing, sir !" She drew 
 her hand back, and again it was hidden inside the shawl ; 
 but suddenly she lifted the kerchief with both her hands, 
 and her whole face appeared. 
 
 " If you tell anybody, Gunnar, then I will say, ' It 
 is not true !' There !" 
 
 She laughed, and walked on again, down the hill. 
 After a while she stopped. 
 
 "To-morrow the school will not be over till nine 
 o'clock ; then you must wait behind the garden do you 
 hear?" 
 
 "All right." 
 
 " Yes, but now you must be off." 
 " Will you not give me your hand to say 'Good-bye?'" 
 " I do not understand why you always want to have 
 that hand : no, I shall not give it you. Farewell !" she 
 called out, and sprang away from him. 
 
 Next evening she managed to be the last at the sewing- 
 school ; it was nearly ten o'clock when she left, but when 
 she came outside the garden no Gunnar there ! She 
 had thought of all sorts of mishaps, but not of this one. 
 It hurt her pride, so that she waited, just to give 
 it him, when he should come. Also she found good 
 entertainment, while walking up and down behind the 
 garden ; for the merchants' singing-club had just com- 
 menced practising near the open windows : a Spanish 
 song came luring to her through the balmy eventide, 
 carrying her away to Spain, where her praises were being 
 sung from an open balcony. Spain was the land of her 
 longing ; each summer came the dark Spanish ships to 
 the harbour, the Spanish songs to the streets, and 
 Odegaard's room was hung with beautiful pictures from 
 Spain. She saw him there to-night and she was witli 
 him. But suddenly she was recalled. Some one 
 came hastily forward from behind the apple - tree 
 here he was at last ! She ran forward to meet him
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 37 
 
 but it wasn't Gunnar. She knew by the light hat on the 
 sunny hair that it was the merchant's son. 
 
 " Ha, ha ; ha, ha !" laughed the clear laugh, " do you 
 take me for somebody else ?" 
 
 "No!" she said eagerly, hastily, and ran away in 
 anger; but he followed her, talking quick all the while 
 he ran, in that mixed accent people get who speak several 
 tongues. 
 
 "Ah, I can easily keep up with you, for I'm a first- 
 rate runner : it's no use trying. I must speak with you ; 
 it's too quiet here at home ; everybody is dead. Only 
 you are not dead that I can see. I must speak with you ; 
 it's the eighth evening I've been walking here " 
 
 " The eighth evening ?" 
 
 " The eighth evening ; ha, ha, ha ! I shouldn't mind 
 walking here eight more, for we two suit each other don't 
 we ? It's no use your running, I shall not leave you ; for 
 now you're tired that I see." 
 
 4 No, I am not." 
 
 ' Indeed, you are." 
 
 ' No, I am not." 
 
 ' Yes, you are ! Speak, if you're not tired !" 
 ' Ha, ha^ha !" 
 
 ' ' Ha, ha ; ha, ha !' well, that's not talking." Upon 
 this they stopped short ; some quick questions and retorts 
 were exchanged half joke, half earnest. Then, in glowing 
 words, he spoke of Spain ; picture chased picture 
 and he wound up by cursing the small town at their 
 feet. The first part Petra followed with beaming eyes; the 
 second passed by like a puff of wind, whilst her eyes 
 glided up and down a golden chain, wound twice round 
 his neck. 
 
 " Yes," he said hurriedly pulling out the end of the 
 chain to which a cross was fastened ; " look ! I brought 
 it here this evening, to show it to the singing-class. It 
 came from Spain : you must hear the story." And then 
 he commenced it : 
 
 " When I was in the south of Spain, I went to a rifle-
 
 38 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 men's meeting, and won the prize. At the festival it was 
 handed me with these words : ' Take it home to Norway, 
 and give it, with the Spanish cavaliers' homage, to the 
 most beautiful woman in your homestead.' Then fol- 
 lowed cheers and fanfares ; banners waved, the cavaliers 
 clapped, and I received the prize ! " 
 
 " Nay, how charming ! Go on, go on ! " Petra ex- 
 claimed ; for before her appeared at once the Spanish 
 festivity, the Spanish colours, the Spanish songs; there 
 stood the dark Spaniards in the evening glow, under the 
 vine-hills, sending their thoughts to the fairest of women 
 in the snow-land. 
 
 He did as she begged ; he added to her longing by 
 new stories ; and, altogether transported into that wonder- 
 ful land, she began to hum the Spanish song she heard a 
 while ago, and presently her feet began to move in 
 measure to the tune. 
 
 " What ! you know how to dance Spanish dances ? " 
 he cried. 
 
 " Yes, yes, yes ! " she sang, in dancing time, snapping 
 her fingers, to imitate the castanets, and making some 
 quick steps on the spot where she stood; for she had seen 
 Spanish sailors dance. 
 
 " For you is the gift of the Spanish cavaliers!" he 
 exclaimed, enraptured ; " you are the fairest woman I 
 ever saw ! " 
 
 He had raised the chain from his neck, and with a 
 light hand thievv it round her, ere yet she understood 
 what he meant. But when she understood, that deep 
 blush of shame which was peculiar to her overspread 
 her face, and tears started to her eyes ; so that he, who 
 had fallen from wonder into wonder, was more bewildered 
 yet only felt he must not stay, and went away forthwith. 
 
 At midnight she stood yet at her attic's open window, 
 with her chain in her hand. The late summer night lay 
 stilly over town and fjord and distant mountains; from 
 the streets sounded again the Spanish song, for the class 
 were following Yngve Void home. Word by word could
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 39 
 
 be heard. Only two voices sang the words ; the others 
 imitated the accompaniment of guitars : 
 
 " Take this wreath, thou fairest maiden, 
 
 All with fragrant kisses laden ! 
 
 Freshest leaves and fluttering grasses, 
 
 To the brightest of young lasses. 
 
 Snowy lilies, frail and light, 
 
 To a flower more pure and white ; 
 
 Crimson buds, that long to blow, 
 
 To a rose of richer glow. 
 
 Blossoms sweetest, blossoms rarest, 
 
 To the best beloved, the fairest ! 
 
 Take this wreath, thou dearest maiden, 
 
 All with fragrant kisses laden ! " 
 
 Next morning, when she opened her eyes, she had 
 been in a forest, through and through aglow with sun- 
 shine ; and all the laburnum-trees there were heavy with 
 golden rain ; the long bright clusters nearly touched her, 
 as she swept on through the forest. At once she remem- 
 bered the chain, seized it, and hung it round her neck. 
 Next she put on a black neckerchief over her white 
 night-dress, and laid the chain upon it; it showed off 
 better on the black. Still sitting in her bed, she looked 
 at herself in a small hand-mirror : was she really so 
 beautiful ? She got up to dress her hair, and again look 
 in the looking-glass ; but then, remembering her mother, 
 who as yet knew nothing of all this, she made haste ; for 
 indeed she must run down and tell her. Just as she had 
 finished, and was about to hang the chain round her 
 neck, she took to wondering what the mother would say, 
 what all the people would say, and what she was to 
 answer when they asked why she wore this costly 
 chain. As it would be a reasonable question enough, it 
 came to her heavy, and ever heavier, till she got out a 
 little box, laid the chain in it, and put the box in her 
 pocket : for the first time she felt poor. 
 
 She did not go that morning to her work. Above the 
 town, just on the spot where she had received the chain, 
 she remained sitting with it in her hand, feeling as if she 
 had stolen it.
 
 40 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 In the evening, she waited behind the garden for 
 Yngve Void, even longer than the evening before she 
 had waited for Gunnar, for she wanted to give him back 
 his chain. But the vessel to which Gunnar belonged was 
 Yngve Void's, and it had weighed anchor the preceding 
 day, waiting at the next town on the coast for the young 
 merchant to come on board. Having undertaken several 
 transactions, Yngve Void stayed away three weeks. 
 
 During these three weeks the chain gradually had 
 passed from the pocket into the chest of drawers, thence 
 into an envelope, the envelope being put into some secret 
 hiding-place. Meanwhile she herself had passed from 
 one humiliating discovery to another. For the first time 
 she became fully aware of the distance between her and 
 the fine ladies of the town. They might wear the chain 
 without anybody asking how or whence it came. To one 
 of them, however, Yngve Void would not have ventured 
 to offer the chain, without offering his hand at the same 
 time : it was only to the Fishing-girl he dared do this. If 
 he had wished to give her something, why might it not 
 have been something she could use ? But he scorned 
 her ; and it was a double mockery, this giving her what 
 she could never wear. The story about " the fairest " 
 was all romance ; for had the chain been given her for 
 that reason, he would not have brought it her thus, 
 stealthily and by night. Anger and shame gnawed her 
 more and more, since she had determined not to confide 
 in any one. 
 
 No wonder, then, that when next time she met him 
 him upon whom all these indignant thoughts turned 
 she blushed so deeply that surely he would misconstrue 
 it ; and feeling this, she blushed more deeply still. 
 
 She went home again quickly, snatched the chain, 
 and, though it was still daylight, she sat down above the 
 town to wait for him now he was to have it back. She 
 felt sure he would come ; for he also grew red on seeing 
 her, though he had been away that long time. But soon 
 these very thoughts began to speak in his favour. He
 
 FETRA'S LOVERS. 41 
 
 would not have turned red, if he had not cared for her ; 
 he would have come sooner, if he had been sooner at 
 home. , 
 
 Dusk was falling : for the last three weeks the even- 
 ings were closing in. But with the dark our thoughts 
 often change. She sat close above the road, between 
 the trees ; she could see, but not be seen. When it had 
 lasted a while, and he did not come, all sorts of conflict- 
 ing feelings flamed up ; now in anger, now in fear, she 
 listened : she heard each passer's step long ere he came 
 in sight, but it was never he ! The birds, changing 
 their places, half sleepily, between the leaves, frightened 
 her. Every noise from the town, every cry, attracted her 
 attention. A large vessel weighed anchor, and from it 
 sounded the sailors' song. It was to be warped out to- 
 night, that it might take advantage of the first breeze of 
 morn. Ah, that she might follow thither, out on the 
 wide sea ! she was all longing. That floating-upwards 
 song was her own. The sound of the slackening ropes, 
 as they surged the capstan, gave her buoyancy for what ? 
 to bear her whither ? 
 
 Ah ! there stood the light hat in the road, straight 
 before her! She jumped up with a faint scream, and, 
 frightened at what she had done, she ran away, but while 
 running remembered she ought not to have fled ; this was 
 error upon error ; so she hastened on, ever faster. But 
 shame and confusion overwhelmed her ; he was close 
 behind; she tried to hide behind the trees. When 
 he came near, she lay panting so that he could hear each 
 breath she drew ; and the same power she had had over 
 him last, when bright with mirth, she had to-day, when she 
 lay shrinking with fear. 
 
 He bent over her and whispered, "Do not be afraid!" 
 
 But she trembled ever more. Then he leant down 
 on his knee, and tried to take her hand ; but he, too, had 
 grown timid, so he took it lightly. No sooner did she 
 feel his touch than she sprang up as though scorched by 
 fire, and started off again, leaving him behind.
 
 42 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 She did not run far ; she had no breath left. Her heart 
 was throbbing wildly ; it seemed as if her breast would 
 burst she pressed her hands against it, and listened. 
 She heard a footfall in the grass, a rustling between the 
 leaves. He came straight towards her. Did he see her ? 
 No, he did not : yes ! merciful heavens he did ! No 
 he went by. Then she sank down, weary and exhausted. 
 
 Thus she lay long ; then rose, and walked slowly down 
 the hill, stood still, then walked as one who has got no aim. 
 When she reached the road again, there he sat, waiting; 
 and now he rose. She had not seen him ; she walked as 
 if in a fog ; now a faint scream escaped her, but she did not 
 move ; she only put her hands before her eyes and wept. 
 Then he whispered again : " I see it ; you love me. I 
 love you : you shall be mine. You don't answer : you 
 cannot ? Well, rely on me ; for from this hour you 
 are mine ! Good night ! " And lightly he touched her 
 shoulder with his hand. 
 
 She stood there as though dazed by a rush of light ; 
 a faint fear crept through it ; then all was light again ; for 
 this truly was a wonder ! 
 
 She had dwelt so much on Yngve Void during the 
 last three weeks, that the way was bridged over to all 
 manner of new thoughts. He was the richest man of the 
 town, of its first family, and, regardless of all else, he 
 would raise her to him. This was something so different to 
 all she had fancied during her last time of anger, and 
 suffering, that alone it was enough to make her happy ; 
 but she felt so, more and more, as she drew in sight of 
 her new relations. She saw herself the equal of any, 
 near the goal of all her longings. She saw Yngve Void's 
 largest vessel being put out as flagship ; and when guns 
 had fired, and salutes and fireworks been let off, she saw 
 them stepping on board and being wafted off to Spain, 
 where glowed the wedding-sun. 
 
 Next day when she awoke, the servant came and told 
 her it was twelve o'clock. Petra was painfully hungry ;
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 43 
 
 had something to eat ; more to eat ; felt a violent head- 
 ache, and was so tired she fell asleep again. When she 
 awoke, about three o'clock, she felt well. The mother 
 came up, and said she had slept from some illness ; and 
 that was just what she herself always used to do. But 
 now she must get up, and go to the sewing-school. Petra 
 sat upright in her bed, resting her head on her hand, and 
 without looking up, she answered that she should not 
 now go any longer to the sewing-school. The mother 
 thought perhaps she felt still a little giddy ; and went 
 down to fetch a parcel and a letter, that had been brought 
 by a sailor-boy. Ah ! here were the presents already ! 
 
 Petra, who had again lain down, rose quickly, and, 
 when left alone, opened with a certain solemnity first the 
 parcel, which contained a pair of small French shoes. 
 Somewhat disappointed, she was about to put them away, 
 when she felt they were rather heavy in the toe, and 
 putting in her hand drew out a little parcel wrapped in 
 fine paper : it was a gold bracelet ; out of the other shoe 
 came another parcel, also in careful wrappings ; it was a 
 pair of French gloves ; and from the right glove she drew 
 out a paper, holding two plain gold rings. "Already!" 
 Petra thought ; her heart throbbed : she looked for the 
 inscription, and read in the one, " Petra," year and date 
 that was all right; and on the other "Gunnar!" 
 
 She grew pale, threw the rings and the whole parcel 
 on the floor as though it burned her, and tore epen the 
 letter. It was dated Calais, and she read : 
 
 " BELOVED PETRA, After having arrived safely, with 
 fair wind, from 61 latitude to 54, and after that, with 
 a good stiff breeze, direct to this ; which is unusual even 
 for better vessels than ours, who is a gallant ship under 
 sail. But now you must know that all the time I have 
 thought of you, and what last passed between us two. 
 And it is a plague I could not take a proper leave of you ; 
 and for that I went on board out of sorts ; but all the time 
 I never forgot you never except just now and then, for
 
 44 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 a sailor has hard lines. But now we have arrived here, and 
 I have spent all my wages on presents for you, as you 
 asked me, and also the money I got from mother, so I have 
 nothing more. But if I can get leave, I shall be with you 
 as fast as the presents ; for, as long as it is a secret, it is not 
 safe, because of other people, especially the young men, of 
 which there are many ; but I will make it safe, so nobody 
 shall have an excuse, for I'll let them know they may beware 
 of me. You may get a trimmer sweetheart than I, for you 
 may get whosoever you wish, but you can never get a faith- 
 fuller and such am I. 
 
 " Now I will finish, for I have used two sheets, and 
 my letters will get so big ; for it is the worst I like doing ; 
 still I do it, since you wish it. And now, lastly, I have to 
 say, that I should think you were in earnest; for if you were 
 not, it would be a great sin, and might cause the misery of 
 many. 
 
 " GUNNAR ASK, 
 
 second mate on the Brig, The Norwegian Constitution" 
 
 A great fear fell on her. In a moment she was out 
 of bed and dressed. She must go out to get advice, if 
 advice could be had ; for all had become dim, unsafe, 
 dangerous. The more she thought, the more entangled 
 got the mesh : some one must help to unravel it, or she 
 could not get loose ! In whom dared she confide ? In 
 the mother in whom else ? 
 
 But when, after a long straggle, she stood in the 
 kitchen with her, timid and tearful, yet firmly resolved to 
 give perfect confidence, that she might gain perfect help, 
 the mother said, without turning round, and thus without 
 noticing Petra's face : 
 
 "He has been here, a while since; he has come back 
 again." 
 
 " Who ?" Petra whispered, and had to support herself; 
 for if Gunnar had come already, there was no hope left. 
 She knew Gunnar; he was dull and goodnatured; but 
 once roused to passion, he was reckless.
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 45 
 
 " You are to go there directly, he said." 
 
 " There ? " Petra trembled : in a moment it flashed 
 across her that he had told his mother everything, and, 
 oh dear ! what would come next ? 
 
 " Yes, to the parsonage," said the mother. 
 
 " To the parsonage ? Is it Odegaard who has come 
 home?" 
 
 The mother turned to look at her. 
 
 "Yes: who else?" 
 
 " Odegaard !" Petra cried, rejoicing ; and this rush of 
 gladness chased all clouds away in a breath : " Odegaard 
 has come back, Odegaard ! O God in heaven, he has 
 come ! " 
 
 She was out of the door, and up across the fields. 
 She flew onwards, she laughed, she shouted aloud ; it 
 was him, him she wanted ; had he been at home, no evil 
 would have happened ! With him she felt that all was 
 safe ; she had no thought now, save of his noble, bright 
 countenance, his mild voice ; nay, of the very room even 
 so quiet and so rich in pictures where he lived : and 
 as she thought of this, her mind was lulled, and she felt 
 secure once more. She paused and collected herself. 
 There was light over town and country in the late- 
 summer eventide : the fjord lay in strong radiance ; 
 farther, in the Sound, curled away the last smoke of the 
 vessel that had brought Odegaard. Oh, only to know 
 that he was at home again made her good, earnest, 
 powerful ; she prayed God to help her, that Odegaard 
 might never again leave her alone. 
 
 And just as she had been raised by this hope, lo ! she 
 saw him come smilingly towards her : he had known 
 which way she would take, and had come to meet her ! 
 This touched her, she sprang towards him, seized both 
 his hands, and kissed them ; and over and over she re- 
 peated : 
 
 " How beautiful it is that you have come ! No, I 
 cannot believe it is really you ! Oh, you must never go 
 away again do not leave me ! "
 
 46 THE FISIIIXG GIRL. 
 
 Here came a burst of tears ; he drew her head gently 
 to his breast, as though he would stay them, and soothe 
 ner to rest : he felt she was in need of comfort. Close to 
 him she nestled closely, as the bird under its covert 
 fain never to leave it more. Moved by this trust, he 
 threw his arm round her, as though he would promise 
 the shelter she sought. But when she felt that, she raised 
 her tear-wet eyes to him ; her eyes met his ; and all a 
 glance can speak when contrition meets love, and grati- 
 tude the glad devotion of the giver ; when "yes " rushes 
 forth to merge with "yes" was here revealed ; he threw 
 his arm round her neck, he pressed his lips to hers : 
 early he had lost his mother this was his first kiss, and 
 hers. Their lips parted, but only to meet again. He 
 trembled. But for her, she was all light and blushes ; 
 she flung her arms round his neck, and, like a child, 
 clung to him. They sat down ; and she could stroke his 
 hands, nay, his very scarf and pin, which she had been 
 wont to look at so respectfully from a distance ; he 
 begged her to say "thou" not "you" to him, and she 
 could not ; then he told her how rich she had made his 
 poor life from the first ; how he had struggled against it ; 
 all because he would not have her cramped through him, 
 nor seem to pay himself thus : and then he found out 
 she did not understand nor realise a word he spoke ; and 
 he began to feel, too, there was no sense in all his words; 
 but she wanted to go home with him; and he laughed, 
 and begged her to wait a few days, when they would go 
 away far, far, and together. Then it was, as they sat 
 there between the trees, fjord and fell before them in the 
 evening sun, and the notes of a horn and a song stealing 
 to them through the distance, that they said, and that 
 they felt, this was happiness. 
 
 " When eyes first meet, and hearts first greet, 
 Oh ! as forest-whisperings sweet ! 
 Passing sweet, as wavelets sighing, 
 Whiles the sun's last glow is dying.
 
 PETRA'S LOVERS. 47 
 
 " Vaguely sweet, as sounds the horn, 
 
 From the mountain-crannies under ; 
 On the airy billows borne, 
 
 Thrilling Nature through with wonder." 
 
 " That first time when lovers meet 
 Is as forest warblings sweet ; 
 Sweet as song upon the sea, 
 When the sun sinks tenderly ; 
 Or, as when the mountain-horn, 
 On the silence swiftly borne, 
 Wakes the wonder of the hills, 
 And the heart with Nature thrills."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PETRA'S MISFORTUNES. 
 
 EXT morning, when Odegaard rang for his coffee, 
 a message was brought him, that the merchant, 
 Yngve Void, had already called twice that morn- 
 ing, asking for him. To have a stranger's thoughts in- 
 truded on his mind just now jarred on him ; but he who 
 sought him thus early must have some important errand. 
 And, in truth, he had hardly time to dress ere Yngve Void 
 was there again. 
 
 " You are surprised, I dare say. So am I myself. 
 Good day ! " 
 
 They exchanged greetings ; and he laid by his light 
 hat. 
 
 "You're a late riser; I have been here twice already; 
 there is something heavy on my mind. I must speak 
 with you." 
 
 " Pray take a seat." And Odegaard himself sat 
 down in an easy chair. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks ! I prefer Walking ; I cannot sit 
 I'm in a heat. Since yesterday I'm out of my mind 
 quite mad ; neither more nor less ! And it is your fault !" 
 
 "Mine?" 
 
 " Yes yours. You have brought out the girl ; but 
 for you, no one would have thought of nor noticed her. 
 But now well I never saw aught so peerless so am 
 I not right ? Nay, in all Europe I have seen nothing so 
 witching, curly-haired, bewildering! have you? I could 
 get no peace ! I was bewitched. Everywhere, and 
 always, she came in my way. I left came back again.
 
 PETRA'S MISFORTUNES. 49 
 
 It was no sort of use, eh ! At first I didn't know who 
 she was. The ' Fishing-girl,' people said. ' The Spanish 
 girl,' they should have said: 'the Gipsy:' 'the Witch:' 
 all fire, eyes, bosom, hair eh ! All flame, light, flash- 
 ing, dancing, laughing, singing, blushing a beauty! I 
 ran after her, you must know, up there in the wood 
 amongst the trees; she fairly turned my head with her 
 strange beauty, and I gave her my chain : upon my life, 
 I had not thought of it the minute before ! 
 
 " Next time I saw her it was in the same place, and I 
 had a chase again ; she was afraid and I yes, would you 
 believe it ? I couldn't utter one mortal word : dared not 
 touch her ; but when she came back could you believe 
 it ? I proposed ! I hadn't thought of it the second 
 before ! Now yesterday I looked into my mind, well 
 I would keep clear of her but, upon my life, I'm mad : 
 indeed, I cannot. I must be with her ; if I cannot have 
 her, I shall shoot myself : there that's it thafs the story. 
 I care not a doit about my mother, nor about the town ; 
 it's a paltry town a downright paltry town paltry bah ! 
 She shall be sent away rise high above this place. She 
 shall become a fine lady go abroad to France Paris. 
 I'll pay it all, and you must arrange about it. I'd go 
 away myself, and settle abroad ; leave this vile hole for 
 ever ; but, you see, there's the fish. I should like to 
 make something of the town ; it's in a perfect doze ; no 
 thought, no speculation ; still, there is the fish ! But the 
 fish the fishing-trade is badly managed the Spaniards 
 the foreign countries complain ; things must be done 
 in another style ; there must be a different way of drying 
 
 a different method different Yes, the town must 
 
 have a lift there must be a spirit given to the trade the 
 fish ! Where am I ? the fish, the Fishing-girl (they go 
 together, by-the-bye) ; the fish, the Fishing-girl, ha, ha, 
 ha ! Well, then, I pay ; you make the arrangements ; she 
 shall be my wife and then " 
 
 He got no further ; so far he had not noticed Ode- 
 gaard, who, pale as death, had risen to his feet ; but at 
 

 
 50 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 this point he turned upon the other, a thin Spanish rod 
 in his hand. His amazement cannot be described ; he 
 warded off the first stroke. 
 
 " Take care, you might hurt me ! " he cried. 
 
 " Yes, I might hurt you ! Spanish, Spanish rod ; 
 they go together, too, you see ! " and the strokes rained 
 down on his shoulders, arms, hands, face, just as they 
 chanced. The other sprang from side to side. 
 
 "Are you mad? are you out of your senses?" he 
 cried. " I'll marry her, I tell you marry her ! " 
 
 " Be off ! " screamed Odegaard, as though his last 
 strength was put in that cry ; and out rushed he of the 
 sunny hair ; out of the door, down the stairs, away from 
 this lunatic ; and stood presently in the street, shouting 
 loud for his light hat. It was thrown down to him from 
 the window. Then a heavy fall was heard. 
 
 When they came, there lay Odegaard, senseless on 
 the floor. 
 
 At that same moment, Petra sat in her room, half- 
 dressed; she could not get on further that day. Each 
 time she tried, her arms fell down in her lap. Her 
 thoughts, too, were quiet with the greatness of 
 her joy : it was like a summer calm, when the corn 
 is fully ripe and the flowers cannot stir for their 
 weight of honey. Stillness, peace, changeful visions 
 hovered over that bright world, where now she dwelt. 
 She lived through again the ' meeting of yesterday 
 each word, each look, each pressure of the hand. She 
 would fain pass through it all, from the meeting to the 
 leave-taking ; but somehow the end was never reached, 
 for each remembrance died into a dream, and each dream 
 glowed into a promise. Sweet though this was, she must 
 waive it, to take up the thread where it had broken off; 
 but that was no sooner done, than it slipped from her 
 grasp again, and again she was lost in wonderland. 
 
 When she did not come down, the mother fancied 
 she had taken up her lessons again, now Odegaard had 
 returned ; so her meals were sent up, and she was to be
 
 PETKA'S MISFORTUNES. 51 
 
 left in peace for the day. Towards even she rose to get 
 ready; she was going to meet her Love. She dressed 
 herself in her very best all the fine things from her con- 
 firmation. They were not grand : she had not felt it till 
 now. The love of finery had had no place with her 
 before ; but to-day the taste came to her. First one thing, 
 then another looked ugly ; she chose out the nicest gar- 
 ments there, and even so the effect was not handsome. 
 To-day, what would she not have given to be indeed 
 " The Fairest /" but with that word there came a remi- 
 niscence ; she waved it off with her hand : nothing, 
 nothing of trouble, must break in upon her now. She 
 stepped about softly ; quietly she arranged one thing and 
 another in her room ; for the time had not yet come. 
 
 She opened the window, and looked out ; red, warm 
 clouds had pitched their tents over the mountains, but a 
 breezy air floated in, charged with a message from the 
 near forest. " Yes, now I am coming ! I am coming ! " 
 she whispered back. Once more she walked to the 
 looking-glass, and smiled to the face that blushed there 
 like a bride's. 
 
 Then she heard Odegaard's voice below heard it 
 being told him where her room was : he was coming now 
 to fetch her! A bashful joy enwrapped her; she looked 
 around to see if all was in order, then moved to the 
 door. 
 
 "Come in," she answered low, to the knock that 
 was low too, and stepped back a little. 
 
 As though an icy sea had overwhelmed her. as though 
 the earth had yawned at her feet, she felt the Face that 
 from the doorway looked at her! She started back, 
 grasping at the bedpost ; but her thoughts, hurled from 
 abyss to abyss, found no stay ! A second had transformed 
 her from the happiest bride on earth to the most guilty of 
 beings ! He could not forgive her through time, nor 
 through eternity as though it had been sounded in 
 thunder, his countenance told her that ! 
 
 " I see it : you are guilty," he said in a hoarse 
 
 F. 2
 
 52 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 whisper. He leant against the door, and grasped the 
 handle, as though without it he should fall. His voice 
 trembled; his face, though cold, was flooded o'er with 
 tears. 
 
 " Do you know what you have done ? " he said, and 
 his eye crushed her to the ground. She did not answer, 
 not with tears even : a faintness of despair had stunned 
 her. " Once before, I gave my soul away, and he, to 
 whom I gave it, died through me. Never could I rise 
 from beneath that sorrow, save that one should come to 
 me, and give me back the fulness of a soul : that you 
 did : you gave it me. Oh, but it was a lie ! " 
 
 He stopped, sought vainly several times to speak, 
 then broke forth with a sudden sob of pain. " And you 
 could do this ! Could break down all I had piled 
 together, year after year ; thought upon thought ; break 
 it down, as though it were but soulless clay ! Child, 
 child, did you not understand, it was myself I raised 
 once more in you ? Now it is gone ! Cannot you con- 
 ceive it ? all that was warmest, highest, truest, I gave ; 
 and like flame in the winter air, it has passed away ; and 
 now not a trace is left ! Who are you, terrible child ? I 
 believed you were my holy sanctuary, and now you have 
 long since been profaned." He wept for the greatness 
 of the pain. 
 
 " No, you are too young, you cannot understand it ! " 
 he repeated ; " you do not know what you have done. 
 Yet," he exclaimed presently, "this you must under- 
 stand, what it is, when that which shines down into life, 
 which one believes shall give blossom and fruit to all one 
 waits for, is nothing but one vast delusion ! Say, what 
 have I done to you, that you could deal with me so 
 cruelly? Child, child, had you but told it me, even 
 yesterday ! Why why did you lie so terribly ? It must 
 be my fault mine ; while I taught you, did I then forget 
 to speak of honesty? No. But where, then, did you 
 learn this ? " 
 
 She heard him : after all there was truth in what he
 
 PETRAS MISFORTUNES. 53 
 
 said. (Re staggered to a chair near the window, that he 
 might rest his head on a table that stood near. He rose 
 again ; and wrung his hands ; and groaned beneath his 
 sufferings ; again he sank down, and was quiet. 
 
 " I am not able to help my old father," he said, as to 
 himself. " I cannot ; I have no calling. Therefore I 
 may be helped by none, and all I take in hand crumbles 
 away ; therefore all fail me, and I am deserted by all." 
 
 His strength was gone, his head fell on his right hand, 
 the left hung loosely down ; he could not move, and 
 sat motionless there and silent. Then he felt something 
 warm on his hand, and started : it was Petra's breath ; 
 with down-bent head she knelt beside him ; clasping her 
 hands, she looked up to him with an unspeakable prayer 
 for mercy. He looked down on her : neither shrank 
 from the other's eye. Then he raised his hand, as though 
 to shut out her appealing gaze ; for it raised in him, 
 too, an imploring voice, and he must not listen to it. 
 Quickly, vehemently, he turned aside to take his hat 
 which had fallen off, and hurried to the door. But 
 quicker still, she was in his way, threw herself down, 
 clung to his knees, her eyes fastened on his all without 
 a sound ; yet he saw and felt, she wrestled for life. 
 
 Then his old love grew too strong ; once more with 
 a tender, rueful look he bent over her, took her head 
 between his hands, and drew her close to him. Once 
 more she lay upon his breast. But there love's song 
 wept only ; and there was but the last, lingering sigh the 
 organ breathes when the tune is past and dead. He 
 pressed her again and again close to him : it was for the 
 last time. Then he unloosed his hold with a vehement : 
 
 " No, no, you can give away yourself, but not love." 
 He was overwhelmed. " Unfortunate child ! " he cried ; 
 " I cannot rule thy future ; God forgive thee that thou 
 hast ruined mine." 
 
 And so he passed her by ; she did not more ; she 
 could not, could not tell him what till now she had not 
 known that life had seemed a fanciful story to her till
 
 54 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 his love had made it earnest that she had been 
 childish and frivolous, but never false to him in thought 
 nor deed : she could not utter a word : he opened 
 the door, and closed it ; still she spoke not ; she 
 heard him descend the stairs ; she heard his last step on 
 the pavement and over the road ; then relief came to 
 her ; one scream broke from her lips one only : on that 
 came the mother. 
 
 When Petra came back to life, she found herself lying 
 in her bed, undressed, and tended carefully ; but before 
 her sat the mother, with her elbows on her knees, her 
 head resting in both hands, and her kindling eyes fixed 
 upon the daughter. 
 
 " Have you now had enough of reading with him?" 
 she asked. " Have you now learned something ? What 
 are you going to be now ? " 
 
 An outburst of tears was her answer. Long, very 
 long, sat the mother listening to this, then said with a 
 certain solemnity : 
 
 " May the Lord heartily curse him ! " 
 
 The daughter started up : " Mother ! mother ! not 
 him, not him but me, me ! " she cried. 
 
 " Ah, I know the tribe ; I know who deserves it ! " 
 
 " No, mother, he is deceived, terribly deceived ; and 
 by me it is I, who have deceived him ! " 
 
 Sobbing and hurriedly she told all ; not one moment 
 should he be suspected ; she told of Gunnar ; what she 
 had asked of him, without quite understanding ; next 
 about Yngve Void's unfortunate gold chain, which had 
 taught her so much, and involved her so deeply; and 
 then about Odegaard : how at sight of him she had for- 
 gotten all else. She did not know how it had all come 
 about : only she knew that she had sinned grievously 
 against them all ; and most against him who had raised 
 her up ; and given her all one human soul can give 
 another. 
 
 For a while the mother sat silent ; then she said, 
 
 " And me is there no sin against me ? Where have
 
 PETRA*S MISFORTUNES. 55 
 
 I been all this time, that you have not told me one 
 word?" 
 
 " Oh, mother, mother," begged the girl, " help me j 
 -do not be hard on me now ! I feel that my life through 
 I shall have to suffer for this : also will I pray to God 
 that I may soon die ! " then clasping her hands, and up- 
 lifting them, she prayed : " Thou dear, kind Lord, hear 
 me ! Already life is lost for me ; there is nothing before 
 me. I am not able I cannot live life is too difficult ! 
 Thou dear Lord, let me die ! " 
 
 Gunlang, who had hard words ready, swallowed them, 
 and laid her hand on her daughter's arm, to bend it from 
 this prayer. 
 
 " Curb thy passion, child," she said, " do not tempt 
 God. One must live, even though it smart ! " 
 
 She drew two or three deep sighs and rose : she had 
 no comfort to offer. The daughter, certainly, had now 
 made her her confidante, but not till it was too late : she 
 never again set her foot in the attic-room. 
 
 Odegaard, meanwhile, had fallen into an illness that 
 threatened to be fatal. The old father moved up to him, 
 arranged his study close by, saying to every one who 
 begged him to spare himself, that this he could not ; his 
 work was to watch the son, each time the son lost one 
 whom he loved more dearly than his father. 
 
 Thus matters stood when Gunnar came home. 
 
 He almost frightened the life out of his mother by 
 appearing before her long ere the vessel arrived : she 
 believed it was his ghost she saw and equally startled 
 were his acquaintances. To all questions of wonder he 
 gave but spare reply. Presently, however, people got 
 better informed ; for on the very afternoon of his arrival, 
 he was driven out of Gunlang's house, and by herself in 
 person. On the steps she screamed after him till it rang 
 through the holloway. " Don't you come here any more ! 
 now we've had enough of you chaps ! " 
 
 He had but got a few steps off, when he was overtaken 
 by a girl with a parcel; she had another besides, and
 
 56 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 gave him the wrong one ; for Gunnar found in his a large 
 gold chain. He stood still ; weighed it ; and looked at it. 
 Before, Gunlang's wrath had been a mystery; now, he 
 could not for his life see why she had sent him a gold 
 chain. He called the girl back, and asked if she had 
 not perhaps made a mistake. On that she gave him the 
 other parcel, and said, " Is this the right one ? " The 
 parcel, on being opened, was found to contain his gifts 
 to Petra. Yes, it was this, very likely ; but who, then, was 
 to have the gold chain ? " It was for Yngve Void," 
 answered the girl, and went off. 
 
 Gunnar stood there pondering : " Merchant Void ? 
 Gives her presents? and has Gunlang found them out, 
 too ? It is he, then, who has stolen her from me 
 Yngve Void well, then, he shall " His excite- 
 ment, his passion, must have some outlet; something 
 must be broken to pieces ; and Yngve Void it should 
 be. 
 
 To make the long short, the ill-fated merchant was 
 once more unexpectedly attacked, and on his own steps. 
 He took refuge from this other madman in his office, but 
 Gunnar was on his heels. Here all the clerks fell on the 
 intruder, who kicked and dealt blows on all sides ; chairs, 
 tables, and desks were thrown about ; letters, documents, 
 and newspapers whirled round like smoke. Fresh en- 
 forcements presently arrived from Yngve's lading-places, 
 and after a great fight, Gunnar was thrown out into the 
 street. But here the fight was carried on in good earnest. 
 Two ships lay by the lading-place, one a foreign, the 
 other a Norwegian one ; it was just the dinner-hour, and 
 the sailors gladly took to this fun by way of dessert. 
 They fell to work without delay crew against crew 
 strangers against natives. The crews of other vessels 
 were sent for, and came at the top of their speed; 
 labourers, who had been dawdling by, dropped in, and so 
 did women and urchins : at last nobody knew about 
 what, nor against whom was the fight. In vain skippers 
 swore ; in vain venerable burghers commanded that the
 
 PETRA'S MISFORTUNES. 57 
 
 one policeman of the town should be summoned ; just 
 now he was quietly fishing, out on the fjord. They ran 
 to the burgomaster, who was also the postmaster. He had 
 locked himself up with the post-bag, that had just arrived, 
 and answered, through the window, he could not be 
 with them : his clerk was at a burial : they must wait. 
 But as they would not stop murdering each other till the 
 letters had been sorted, several, especially anxious wives, 
 cried that Arne, the blacksmith, should be sent for. 
 This was agreed to by the venerable burghers, and so 
 his own wife went to fetch him, " for the police was not 
 at home." 
 
 He came, to the enjoyment of all the schoolboys r r 
 made a couple of dives into the crowd, and fetched out 
 a doughty Spaniard, thrashing at hap-hazard the others 
 with him. 
 
 When all was over, the burgomaster came walking, 
 staff in hand. He found some old crones and chil- 
 dren talking on the battle-field. These he severely 
 admonished to go home to their dinner : and so did he 
 himself. 
 
 But next day the trials came on ; and these lasted for 
 some time though nobody had the slightest idea as to 
 who had fought. Only upon one thing all agreed, viz., 
 that Arne, the blacksmith, had had a hand in the game, 
 as they had seen him beating the others with the 
 Spaniard. For this behaviour Arne, Blacksmith, had to 
 pay a fine of one specie-dollar ; wherefore his wife, who 
 had got him into the scrape, had a thrashing on the 
 Eleventh Sunday after Trinity : that she would not forget 
 in a hurry. This was the only judicial consequence of 
 the battle. 
 
 But there followed others. The little town was no 
 longer a quiet town. The Fishing-girl had set it in an 
 uproar. The strangest rumours were set afloat : first, 
 from jealous spite, that she should have managed to 
 attract the cleverest man of the town, and its two 
 richest eligible youths, having besides "others" in.
 
 58 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 reserve; Gunnar coming to stand gradually for "other 
 young men." 
 
 Presently rose a general moral storm. The blame of 
 a great street fight, and sorrow in three of the best 
 families of the town, lay on the young girl, who had been 
 confirmed only half a year ago. Three engagements at 
 the same time, and one of them with her teacher the 
 benefactor of her life ! Ay 1 the rage burst out in 
 flames ! Had she not been an offence to the town ever 
 since she was a child ? and had she not, nevertheless, 
 had their fair expectations in gift when Odegaard took 
 her under his protection ? and had she not now scorned 
 them all ; and crushed him, following the propensity of 
 her nature, and choosing for herself a path which would 
 assuredly lead her to be an outcast from the community, 
 with an old age in a house of correction ? The mother 
 must be her accomplice ; in her sailor-home the child 
 had learnt levity. 
 
 No they would no longer put up with the yoke 
 Gunlang had laid upon the town ; they would no longer 
 bear them amongst them neither mother nor daughter ; 
 it was agreed they should be driven out. 
 
 One evening, sailors who owed money to Gunlang ; 
 drunken labourers for whom she would not get work ; 
 young lads to whom she would not lend, gathered upon 
 the hill, led on by those who should have known better. 
 They whistled, they hooted, they called for the Fishing- 
 girl, for Fish-Gunlang ; presently a stone was hurled 
 against the door, followed by one through the attic 
 window. The crowd did not disperse till after midnight. 
 Behind the windows all was dark and still. 
 
 Next day not a human soul would look in to Gun- 
 lang ; not even a child passed by, up on the hill. But in 
 the evening there was the same riot, only with the 
 difference that now everybody joined in it; they trampled 
 down everything ; they smashed all the windows ; they 
 pulled up the garden palings ; they uprooted the young 
 fruit trees ; and then they sang
 
 PETRA'S MISFORTUNES. 59 
 
 " ' I've hooked a seaman bold, mother ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, say'st thou so?' 
 ' I've hooked a merchant's gold, mother !' 
 
 ' Ah, say'st thou so ? ' 
 ' Mother, I've hooked our parson's son ! ' 
 
 ' 'Tis idly done ! 
 For cling and clang, 
 For bing and bang ; 
 Beneath, he'll slip, thy nose's tip ! 
 Thou mayest get him in thy net, 
 But not on board thy ship ! ' 
 
 " ' He's gone, the seaman bold, mother ! ' 
 
 ' What say'st thou so ? ' 
 ' 'Tis lost, the merchant's gold, mother !' 
 
 ' What say'st thou so ? ' 
 ' Mother, the parson's son has fled ! ' 
 
 ' Ah, so I said ! 
 For cling and clang, 
 For bing and bang ; 
 I knew he'd slip thy nose's tip ! 
 Thou mightest get him in thy net, 
 But not on board thy ship ! ' "
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 
 
 tHE first evening, when the hooting, groaning, and 
 whistling commenced, Petra had been in her 
 room. She leapt to her feet as though the house 
 were in flames, or the walls about to fall on her! Round 
 and round the room she ran, as though lashed by 
 scourges : her soul was all pain. Oh, the smart and the 
 burn of it ! She panted to escape somewhere some- 
 how ; but down to the mother she dared not go : and 
 there outside the only window, they stood ! A stone 
 came dashing through it, and fell upon the bed ; with a 
 scream of terror, she ran to a corner behind a curtain, 
 and hid among her clothes. There she cowered down, 
 hot with shame, trembling with fear ; visions of unknown 
 horror drifted by ; the air was filled with faces leering, 
 gaping faces ; they came close to her they swam in a 
 rain of fire ; oh, horror ! it was not fire, but eyes : 
 it rained eyes large, fiery eyes j small, twinkling eyes ; 
 eyes that had a stolid stare; eyes that rolled and goggled 
 and could not keep still ! " Christ Christ save me ! " 
 
 Oh, what a relief it was when the last scream died 
 into the night when it was totally dark, totally quiet ! 
 
 Then she ventured forth from the corner ; she threw 
 herself on her bed, and hid her face in the pillows ; but 
 she could not hide from her thoughts : in them rose her 
 mother, threatening, grim, like storm-clouds that gather 
 round the mountain for what was not her mother 
 suffering for her sake ! No sleep fell on her eyelids, no
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 61 
 
 calm on her soul ; day came, but it brought no solace. 
 She walked up and down, up and down, thinking, over 
 and over, how she might escape; she dared not face 
 the mother ; she dared not go out while it was day, and 
 with the evening they would return ! She must wait 
 before midnight flight would be dangerous. And whither 
 should she turn ? She was penniless, and there was no 
 road known to her; but, surely, there must be merciful 
 men somewhere, as there was a merciful God. She 
 listened for her mother's steps below; she could 
 not hear them; the fear of hearing her ascend the 
 stairs made her tremble; but she did not come. The 
 servant-girl, no doubt, must have run away, for no 
 one brought her any meals. She did not venture 
 herself to go down ; neither dared she approach the 
 window : somebody might be lurking there, still on 
 the watch for her. A chill air had come through the 
 broken window in the morning ; it was keener still, now, 
 that evening had set in. She had made up some clothes 
 into a small bundle, and dressed herself in readiness. 
 But she must wait for the furious mob, and endure what 
 was yet in store for her. 
 
 There they were ! The whistling, the cries, the 
 stones ; worse, far worse than last evening. She crept 
 back into the corner again; clasped her hands, and 
 prayed, and prayed. Oh, that the mother might not go 
 out to them ! Oh, that they might not break in ! 
 
 Then they commenced singing it was a mocking 
 song ; and though every word was a separate stab, she 
 could not but listen to them all ! But when she under- 
 stood that her mother's name was mixed up with hers 
 that they were so falsely, shamefully, unjust she leapt up 
 and rushed forward ; she would speak out her mind ; she 
 would tell this cruel rabble how base they were, or fling 
 herself down upon them ! But a stone, and another 
 stone, and a whole loadful, flew through the window; 
 the broken glass jingled, the stones flew about in the 
 room, and she shrank behind her curtain. The sweat-
 
 62 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 drops burst forth on her brow, as though she stood in 
 the hottest sun ; but she wept no longer, and fear was 
 over. ' 
 
 Presently the noise abated. She ventured forth, and 
 when every sound had died away, thought to go to the 
 window to look out ; but she trod on the broken glass, 
 and stepped back then the stones rolled under her 
 feet, and she stood still, not to be heard : for now was 
 the time to steal away. She waited half an hour yet, 
 then took off her shoes, and with the bundle in her 
 hand, softly opened the door. Again she paused some 
 minutes, and then noiselessly crept down-stairs. She felt 
 it pain, to leave the mother whom she had so grievously 
 injured, without even seeing her; but terror hunted her 
 onwards. 
 
 " Farewell, mother ! farewell, mother ! " she whis- 
 pered to herself at every step down the stairs : " fare- 
 well, mother ! " 
 
 She stood at the bottom ; gasped once or twice for 
 breath, and went to the front door. Then she was 
 seized by some one from behind ; she gave a faint 
 scream and turned round. It was the mother. Gunlang 
 had heard the door open, and understanding at once 
 what was her intention, stood waiting for her. Petra 
 felt there would be no passing by her, without a struggle. 
 Explanations would be of no avail : no words she could 
 say would be believed. Well let there be a struggle 
 then. Nothing in the world could be. worse than the 
 worst ; and that she had gone through already. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " asked the mother, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 "I. must flee." She answered low, too, though with 
 throbbing heart. 
 
 " Whither wouldst thou flee ? " 
 
 "I don't know anywhere anyhow so that I be 
 away from here ! " 
 
 She clutched the bundle firmer, and strove to break 
 away.
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 63 
 
 " Not thus ! " said the mother, still holding her by the 
 arm ; " follow me ; I have arranged it all ! " 
 
 At that Petra gave herself up at once, as one casts 
 by a heavy burthen; drew a deep breath, as after a 
 struggle ; and let the mother do with her as she would. 
 Gunlang went before her into a small, windowless closet 
 behind the kitchen, where a light burned ; here she had 
 sat hidden whilst outside the riot Avent on. It was so 
 narrow a place they could hardly stir. The mother took 
 out a bundle, somewhat smaller than the one Petra had 
 herself, opened it, and took out a sailor's suit. 
 
 " Put this on," she whispered. 
 
 Petra understood why this was to be, at once; it 
 touched her that her mother did not say the reason. 
 She undressed, and put on the sailor-suit, the mother 
 helping her. As she did so, she came near the dip-candle, 
 so that Petra could see her face ; and for the first time 
 she noticed that Gunlang was old. Had she grown so 
 these last days ; or had Petra not seen it before ? The 
 child's tears flowed down on the mother ; but she did 
 not look up, and so the girl kept silent. A sou'-wester 
 was the last thing handed over to her; when she had put 
 it on, the mother took the bundle from her, blew out the 
 light, and whispered 
 
 " Now come ! " 
 
 They went out again into the passage, but not to the 
 front door ; Gunlang opened the door to the yard and 
 locked it after her. They passed through the garden, 
 all trampled down ; over the uprooted trees ; the 
 broken fencing. 
 
 " You had better look round," said the mother ; " it 
 is not likely you will come here any more." 
 
 The daughter shuddered she did not look round. 
 They took the upper path along the wood ; there where 
 she had passed half her life, the evening with Gunnar, 
 those with Yngve Void, and that last with Odegaard ! 
 
 They walked on among the sere leaves that had 
 begun to fall ; the night air was chill ; she was cold in
 
 -6 4 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 this unfamiliar dress. The mother bent her steps towards 
 .a garden : Petra recognised it, though she had not been 
 there since the day when as a child she had stormed it : 
 it was Pedro Ohlsen's garden ; the mother had the key 
 of the garden gate, and they entered it. 
 
 It had been hard to Gunlang to go to him in the 
 morning; it was hard, too, now to bring the unhappy 
 daughter, to whom she could no longer give a home. 
 But it must be done, and what must be, Gunlang could 
 go through. She knocked at the lobby door, and almost 
 directly they heard steps and saw a light ; presently the 
 door was opened by Pedro, who stood inside in travel- 
 ling boots and travelling suit, looking pale and fright- 
 ened. He held a tallow candle in his hand, and sighed 
 when his eyes fell on Petra' s face, swollen from weeping ; 
 she looked up at him ; but since he did not venture to 
 recognise her, she did not venture either to give any 
 sign. 
 
 " He has promised to help you to escape," said the 
 mother, without looking at either of them, as she walked 
 up the few steps leading into the passage, leaving the 
 two others to follow her into Pedro's room on the other 
 side. The room was small and low; a strange, musty 
 smell met them, which made Petra feel sick for more 
 than twenty-four hours she had neither eaten nor slept. 
 From the middle of the ceiling hung a cage with a canary 
 bird : one had to keep a sharp look-out not to run 
 against it. The old heavy chairs, a weighty table, a 
 couple of large carved cupboards that reached the 
 ceiling, frowned big and dark on all in the room, making 
 it look smaller even than it was. On the table lay music 
 and a flute upon it. Pedro Ohlsen shuffled about in his 
 big boots, as though he had something to do : a feeble 
 voice was heard from the back room : " Who is it ? 
 who is there ? " He walked about still faster, muttering 
 the while, "Ah, it is hm hra. It is hm hm." 
 Whereupon he went in, to where the voice proceeded 
 from.
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 65 
 
 Gunlang sat by the window, with both elbows on her 
 knees, and her head in her hands, staring down upon the 
 sanded floor ; she spoke not, only heaved at times a deep 
 sigh. Petra stood by the door, one leg over the other, 
 and her hands crossed on her breast; she felt sick. 
 An old clock chopped the time to pieces; the tallow 
 candle on the table guttered away, leaving a lolling wick. 
 The mother, wishing to give a reason for their coming 
 here, said : 
 
 " I once knew this man." 
 
 Not a word more said she; nor was any answer given. 
 Pedro had not yet returned ; the candle ran down mourn- 
 fully; and the clock chopped away. Petra grew more 
 and more sick : in her ears burred the mother's words 
 
 " I once knew this man !" 
 
 The clock took up the words, and began ticking : 
 
 " I once knew this man." 
 
 Later, wheresoever she met this musty smell, the 
 room stood before her; the faint sickness came back, 
 and again she heard the clock ticking : 
 
 " I once knew this man." 
 
 She never came on board a steamer, to the stench of 
 oil, and rotten sea-water under the cabin floor, mingled 
 with the smell of cooking, but she felt sea-sick, and 
 through the ache and the nausea she saw the room, and 
 the clock ticked wearily by day and by night : 
 
 " I once knew this man." 
 
 When Pedro came in again, he had got on a worsted 
 cap and an old-fashioned stiff cloak, the collar turned up 
 over his ears. 
 
 " Well I am ready," said he, putting on his mittens, 
 just as though he were going out in the hardest winter. 
 " But we must not forget," he turned round, " the cloak 
 for for " He looked at Petra, and from her to Gun- 
 lang, who took a blue coat that hung over the back of 
 a chair, and helped Petra to put it on ; but when it came 
 close up under her nose, it smelt so strong of the sickly 
 room that she cried out for fresh air. The mother, seeing
 
 66 THE FJSISING GIRL. 
 
 she was about to faint, opened the door, and led her 
 hastily into the garden. Hei e, standing out in the pure 
 night, she drank in full, long draughts of Uie fresh 
 autumnal air. 
 
 " Where am I to go ? " she asked, when somewhat 
 revived. 
 
 " To Bergen," the mother answered, and helped her 
 to button the cloak ; " it is a large town, where nobody 
 knows you." When she had finished, she placed herself 
 by the gate. 
 
 " You shall have 100 specie-dollars," she said ; " so 
 that if you do not get on well, you may have something 
 in reserve ; he lends them you he there " 
 
 " Gives them you gives," whispered Pedro, walking 
 by them out into the street. 
 
 "Lends them you," repeated the mother, as though 
 he had said nothing; "/ shall pay them back." She 
 took the neckerchief off herself, tied it round the 
 daughter, and said 
 
 " You may write, when you get on well ; not till 
 then." 
 
 " Mother ! " 
 
 " And he will row you on to the vessel, that lies out- 
 side " 
 
 " O God ! Mother " 
 
 " Well, that's all. I shall not follow you any farther." 
 
 " Mother, mother ! " 
 
 " The Lord be with thee ! Farewell !" 
 
 " Mother, forgive me, mother ! " 
 
 " And don't take cold on the sea." 
 
 She had pushed her gently out of the garden gate, 
 .and now closed it. 
 
 Petra stood outside, looking at the closed gate. She 
 felt as wretched and lonely as a human soul can feel. 
 But of a sudden sprang up a presentiment a faith out 
 of the dark of exile and of wrong ; like a new-lit fire it 
 flickered, and seemed to die away; then rose higher, 
 then fell again ; but at length broke into a glory of
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 67 
 
 light. She raised her eyes, and there was only darkness 
 around her. 
 
 Silently, through the deserted streets of the little 
 town ; by the leafless gardens, all closed ; by the dark 
 houses, closed too, and barred ; she walked wearily, after 
 the stooping figure who shuffled on in his big boots and 
 heavy cloak, muffled so that there was no head visible. 
 They reached the avenue, where they again trod among 
 the ^yithered leaves, and saw the bare, crooked branches, 
 held out like skeleton fingers clutching down at them. 
 They crept down the mountain, behind the yellow boat- 
 house where the boat lay moored ; out of which he com- 
 menced to bale the water ; he rowed her out from the 
 land, which now had gathered into one black mass, on 
 which that leaden sky weighed down. She saw nought 
 of all she had known since childhood till yesterday : it 
 had locked itself up from her, like the men, and women, 
 and the town itself, this night that she was made an out- 
 cast and so she went forth with no farewell. 
 
 On the ship, that lay at anchor close to shore, waiting 
 for the morning breeze, a man paced up and down. 
 When he saw them alongside, he lowered the ladder, and 
 gave notice to the captain, who came up on deck imme- 
 diately. She knew them, and they knew her; but no 
 questions were asked, no sign of pity shown ; only a few 
 necessary instructions as to where her berth was, and 
 what she were to do, if she wanted anything, or felt sick, 
 were given her. And sick enough she felt the same 
 moment she came down into the cabin ; so she made 
 haste to change her clothes, and to hurry upon deck 
 again. There a savoury odour reached her ; ah it was 
 chocolate ! She felt terribly hungry ; it was as though 
 something gnawed her ; and lo ! the same man who had 
 helped them on deck from the boat came, bringing her a 
 whole bowlful of the delicious beverage, and cakes too ! 
 
 It was from her mother, he said. 
 
 Whilst she enjoyed it, he chatted away, telling her 
 that a chest had been sent on board from the mother, 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 with her best clothes, linen, &c. ; and, besides, victuals 
 and other good things. 
 
 Then her mother came back forcibly to her mind. 
 She saw and knew her now better than she had ever 
 done before, and through all her after-life she kept that 
 more loving picture of her in her heart. As it rose 
 before her now, she prayed confidently, yet sadly; and 
 there came a promise that she should one day return the 
 mother in joy the sorrow she cost her now. 
 
 Pedro Ohlsen sat beside her when she sat, walked 
 beside her when she walked, always trying not to be in 
 her way, and therefore always running up against her on 
 the deck, overstocked as it was with goods. She could 
 see nothing of his face, save the big nose and his eyes, 
 and these not over clearly ; still he gave her the impres- 
 sion of wanting hard to say something, but not being 
 able to manage it. He sighed, he sat down, he rose, he 
 walked round her, sat down once more; but no word 
 would come from his lips ; and she did not speak either. 
 At last he gave it up ; hesitatingly he drew out a huge 
 leather note-book, whispering that in it were the 100 
 specie dollars, and a little more. She stretched out her 
 hand and thanked him; and in doing so she looked 
 into his face, and saw his eyes fixed on hers, glistening 
 with tears. For with her passed away the last glimmer- 
 ings of life from out his darkly-ebbing existence. Fain 
 would he have told her what might have gained him a 
 tender thought when he was no more ; but this he was 
 forbidden to do. For all that, he had done it ; had told 
 her everything, only he could not ! If but she would 
 have helped him to speak ! But Petra was tired, and 
 the recollection of it being he, who had tempted her to 
 that first sin against her mother, would not leave her, just 
 now. She could not bear him any longer : it grew worse, 
 not better, as she sat there, for when one is tired, one 
 grows impatient. 
 
 No doubt he felt it, poor fellow ! Well, he must go ; 
 he managed to whisper at the last, " Farewell," taking
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 69 
 
 his shrivelled hand out of the mitten. Her warm hand 
 was laid in it ; they both rose. 
 
 " Thank you and bear greetings from me," she said. 
 
 He sighed, or groaned, again and then again; let fall 
 her hand ; then turned away ; and, walking backwards, 
 descended in silence the ship's ladder. She ran to the 
 gunwale : looking up, he waved her a last greeting ; then, 
 sitting down in the boat, rowed off slowly, into the night. 
 She waited till he was lost in the darkness, then went 
 down-stairs. She could hardly stand, so weary was she ; 
 and though she felt sick on entering the cabin, she had 
 scarcely laid her head to the pillow, and said the two or 
 three first petitions of the Lord's Prayer, ere she sank 
 off into slumber. 
 
 Up by the yellow boat-house sat the mother ; she had 
 followed them slowly the whole way, and sat down there 
 just when they pushed from land. From this spot had 
 Pedro Ohlsen, in bygone days, started his boat with her ; 
 it was long, long ago ; but she had to remember it now, 
 when he rowed away with the daughter. 
 
 As soon as she saw him coming back alone, she rose 
 and went away; for now she knew the daughter was 
 safely on board. She did not turn her steps homeward, 
 but went further off, and found in the dark the path that 
 led over the mountains : this she took. Her house in 
 town stood empty and dilapidated for more than a 
 month : she would not return till she had heard good 
 news from her daughter. 
 
 Meanwhile the people had had time to try their 
 feelings towards her. Small natures, as a rule, feel a 
 pleasurable excitement to unite in persecuting the 
 stronger ; but only so long as they meet resistance : when 
 they see the victims quietly submit to ill-treatment, shame 
 comes over them, and he who would yet throw a stone is 
 hooted down. People had looked forward to hearing 
 Gunlang's powerful voice roaring through the hollowway ; 
 they had fancied her calling the seamen to her assistance
 
 /o THE FISHING GIRL, 
 
 and waging a street-war. When the third evening came, 
 and she did not appear, it was hardly possible to keep 
 the crowd quiet ; they would find her ; they would cast 
 the two women out into the street; chase them out of 
 the town ; drive them away. The windows had not 
 been mended since last night ; under the hurrahs of the 
 crowd, two men crept through them to open the door, 
 and in stormed the mob ! They sought in every room, 
 above and below ; they burst the doors ; they broke 
 down what stood in their way ; searched every nook 
 from attic to cellar, to find mother and daughter : but 
 no one was there. A sudden stillness fell on them when 
 they made this discovery ; those who were inside came 
 out, one after the other, and slunk away behind the 
 rest : a few minutes more, and the place before the 
 house was left lonely. 
 
 Soon it was said, first by one then by another of 
 the townsfolk, that this had been unworthy conduct 
 towards two defenceless women. 
 
 At last, when the event had been sufficiently sifted, 
 people came to the conclusion that, whatever had been 
 the fault of the Fishing-girl, Gunlang had had no share in it, 
 and she, at all events, had been unjustly used. Her loss 
 was sadly felt in town ; fighting and rioting in the streets, 
 as results of drunkenness, became the order of the day 
 for in her, the town had lost its police. Passers-by missed 
 the sight of her commanding figure standing in the 
 doorway ; the sailors especially were loud in their 
 laments. 
 
 " No place, after all, was like hers," they said. 
 
 There every one had been treated as he deserved ; 
 had kept his position in her confidence ; had had her 
 help in whatever might befall. Neither the sailors, nor the 
 skippers, nor the masters, nor the housewives, had known 
 the value of her till now when they had lost her. 
 
 And so, like a message of joy, ran through the 
 town the news that she had been seen sitting in her 
 house, and cooking and roasting as before. Every one
 
 PETRA'S BANISHMENT. 71 
 
 must needs go up and see for himself, and be convinced 
 that new panes had been put in, the door been mended, 
 and that the smoke curled up from the chimney. 
 Yes, it was all right ! There she sat again ! People 
 climbed up the other side of the hollowway to see 
 better : there she was before the hearth, neither looking 
 up nor around, but her eyes following her hand : and her 
 hand worked; for she came back to regain what she had 
 lost, and, first of all, the 100 specie-dollars she owed to 
 Pedro Ohlsen. At first, people contented themselves with 
 looking at her; for they felt conscience-stricken, and 
 dared not cross her threshold. 
 
 By-and-by, however, they came : first the housewives 
 gentle, good creatures ; they found no opportunity, 
 however, to talk with her of anything but business 
 Gunlang would listen to nothing else. Then came the 
 fishermen ; next, the merchants and skippers ; and last of 
 all, on the first Sunday, the sailors arrived. There must 
 have been an understanding between them ; for, as the 
 evening advanced, the house became on a sudden so 
 overcrowded, that not only both rooms were filled, but 
 the tables and chairs, that during the summer stood in the 
 garden, had to do service, and were placed in the passage, 
 kitchen, and back-kitchen. No one, on seeing this 
 assemblage, could have conceived what were their feel- 
 ings whilst they sat here ; for no sooner had they crossed 
 Gunlang's threshold than she had resumed her silent 
 command over them ; and the staid composure with 
 which she gave each what he wanted, checked every 
 welcome and every question. She was the same as 
 before, only her hair was no longer black, and her 
 manner was more subdued. But when the sailors began 
 to grow merry, they could no longer keep quiet, and 
 each time she and the servant were out of the way, 
 they attacked Knut Boatswain, who had always been 
 her favourite, and urged him on to propose her 
 health, when she came in again. He, however, could 
 not possibly summon up courage for the feat till his
 
 7 a THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 brain began to spin a little ; then, when she was about 
 to gather the empty glasses and bottles together, he rose, 
 and said 
 
 " That it was brave she had come back. For it was 
 true indeed that that it was brave that she had come 
 back!" 
 
 This the sailors thought a fine speech indeed ; they 
 rose and cried 
 
 " Yes it was brave ! " 
 
 Those who were in the passage, and those in the 
 kitchen, or in the other rooms, joined in, whilst the 
 boatswain handed her a glass, and roared 
 
 " Hurrah ! " 
 
 And hurrahs burst forth that might have lifted the 
 roof and sent it spinning up to the clouds. Presently 
 one proclaimed she had been wronged most abominably ; 
 then more swore to the same ; and soon the whole com- 
 pany swore, she had been most abominably wronged. 
 
 At last they subsided, hoping for a word from her ; 
 then Gunlang said she thanked them. 
 
 " But," added she, continuing to gather the empty 
 glasses and bottles together, "whilst I choose to hold my 
 tongue about it, you might do the same, I think." 
 
 Then, having collected as much as she could carry, 
 she walked away, returning calmly to fetch the remainder. 
 From this moment her power was inviolate.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 
 
 Cii 
 
 fN the dusk of even, the vessel cast anchor in the 
 harbour of Bergen. Half dizzy from the sea- 
 sickness, Petra was taken through numbers of 
 ships, small and great, then on to the bridge crowded 
 with seamen, and through the narrow lanes filled by pea- 
 sants and street-boys. They stopped before a pretty little 
 house, where an old woman at the captain's request took 
 Petra into her good hands. She was in want of food 
 and sleep, and she had both now. When she awoke next 
 day about noon, she felt fresh and bright; strange sounds 
 broke on her ear, and, when the blinds were up, there 
 was a strange nature around her, strange faces, a strange 
 town. She, too, seemed a stranger to herself, when she 
 paused before the looking-glass ; this face was not her 
 old one. What was the difference she could not clearly 
 tell ; she did not understand how, at her age, any great 
 shock or sorrow refines and makes more spiritual ; yet, as 
 she looked in the mirror, she could not but recall the last 
 nights; and at the recollection she shuddered. 
 
 So she made haste to get ready, and be off down to all 
 the strangeness that awaited her. In the parlour she found 
 her hostess and several ladies, who, having thoroughly 
 scrutinised her, promised to do their best for her, and, by 
 way of beginning, offered to take her round the town. 
 She had to buy several small things, and ran up to fetch 
 the note-book ; being ashamed, however, to bring down 
 the clumsy thing, she opened it in her room to take out 
 the money. Why there were not 100 specie-dollars, but 
 300 ! Ah, here was Pedro Ohlsen forcing money on her
 
 74 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 again, without her mother's wish or knowledge ! So 
 little did she understand money's worth, that she felt no 
 .astonishment at the largeness of the sum; so it never 
 came into her mind to wonder at his great liberality. 
 Instead of a letter of thanks, overflowing with joy and 
 half surprise, poor Pedro received a letter from Gunlang, 
 written by Petra to herself, in which the girl betrayed her 
 benefactor, and asked, with half-concealed anger, what 
 she was to do with this smuggled gift. 
 
 The grand scenery around made the first strong im- 
 pression on her. She could not free herself from the feel- 
 ing that the cliff hung so near, that she must be on her 
 guard. Each time she raised her eyes it weighed her 
 down ; and anon came an impulse to stretch out her 
 hand and knock to be let in there. Then at times she 
 felt as though there were no outway. Gloomy and sun- 
 left stood the cliff there ; the clouds lay heavily on its 
 brow, or drove away over it ; gusty winds and rain- 
 showers shifted continually : they came from the cliff : it 
 was the cliff that loosed them upon the town ! 
 
 But this frowning shade did not oppress the men who 
 thronged there. She soon felt happy amongst them, for 
 the freedom and merry lightness with which they went 
 about their business was something new to her, and after 
 all that she had gone through, it came to her like smiles 
 and welcome. Next day, at dinner, she said she liked 
 best to be where many people were together. 
 
 " Well," was answered, " then you must go to the 
 theatre ; there you would see hundreds in the same 
 house." 
 
 A ticket was bought ; the theatre stood close by, and 
 at the appointed hour she was taken to it, and had a 
 place in the first row in the balcony. In the full glow of 
 the lights she sat, surrounded by crowds of joyous people 
 dressed in gay colours ; whilst talk and laughter floated 
 about from side to side, like the murmur of the billowy 
 sea. 
 
 What next she was to see, Petra had not the faintest
 
 FETRA'S AMBITION. 75 
 
 idea. She knew nothing, indeed, but what Odegaard had 
 taught her, and what she had learned from her chance 
 acquaintances. But of theatres Odegaard had never 
 told her a word. The sailors had spoken of theatres, 
 where one saw wild beasts and marvellous equestrian 
 feats ; and the lads, they never dreamed of talking to her 
 about plays, though they knew about such matters from 
 school ; the little town itself had no theatre, not even a 
 house called by the name ; travelling beast-tamers, rope- 
 dancers, and " Punches" used for their performances 
 either a booth on the sea-shore or the open field. From 
 sheer ignorance, she did not know what to ask about, but 
 sat in delighted silence, waiting for something wonderful 
 in the shape of camels, monkeys, or the like. Little 
 by little, possessed by this idea, she began to trace an 
 animal's in every face around her horses, dogs, foxes, 
 cats, mice, and was much amused. Thus it happened 
 that the orchestra assembled without her noticing it. 
 
 All at once she jumped up startled ; a sudden burst of 
 bugles, drums, bassoons, and cornets opened the over- 
 ture ; she had never in her life heard any music, save 
 occasionally a couple of violins, or a flute perhaps. 
 
 With something of what she had felt listening to a 
 dark stormy sea, she sat there, half fearful lest the voice 
 of the tempest should grow more terrible, yet loth that it 
 should cease. Presently a sweeter melody rose : it was 
 like the upward flight of spirits; as they winged their way 
 on high, the air was filled with joy; they seemed to brood 
 awhile to gather near together, then suddenly to break 
 apart, and in the boom of a great cataract to be whirled 
 away ! But from the tremendous din broke one sweet 
 clear note like a bird's song heard through a tempest, 
 timid at first, then rising, and conquering all by its sweet- 
 ness, and at length dying away in a very rapture of 
 harmony. 
 
 She rose involuntarily as it closed. There could 
 be nothing beyond ! But what new marvel was this ? 
 There, that beautiful painted wall right in front of her
 
 76 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 rose, quite up to the roof. She was in a church, a church 
 with arches and pillars, with organ-peal and lustre of 
 light ; and people stepped towards her, clad in garments 
 the like of which she had never seen before ; and they 
 spoke there in the church ; and in a language she did 
 not understand. What ! now they spoke behind her 
 too. " Sit down ! " they said ; but why ? there in the 
 church was nothing to sit on ; those two in the church 
 remained standing too. Ah, the more she looked at 
 them the more plainly she saw that their dresses were 
 just like those on a picture of Olaf the Saint. Yes; 
 there, too, they spoke of Olaf the Holy. 
 
 " Sit down ! " was again said behind her ; " sit 
 down ! " exclaimed several. 
 
 " Perhaps something is going on there behind too," 
 Petra thought, turning round quickly. 
 
 A number of angry faces, some really threatening, met 
 her eyes. 
 
 " This cannot be right," Petra thought, and wanted to 
 get away ; then an elderly lady, who sat next her, pulled 
 her gently by her dress. 
 
 " For goodness' sake sit down, child," she whispered ; 
 " those behind cannot see." 
 
 In a moment she was down in her place; for, of course, 
 there, before her, was the theatre. 
 
 "The theatre," she repeated to herself, as though 
 anxious to impress the word on her memory. " Yes, the 
 theatre we are to look at." 
 
 Again she looked into the church ; but she could 
 not understand the man who spoke. When it struck 
 her, however, that he was indeed a very handsome young 
 man, she caught a word here and there; and later, 
 when she heard him speak of love, she understood 
 nearly all that he said. A third entered, who at once 
 drew off her attention ; for she knew from the picture he 
 must be a monk, and she had so longed to see a real live 
 monk. The monk stepped so softly, was so quiet yes, 
 he had very pious manners ! He spoke so honestly and
 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 77 
 
 slowly, she could follow every word. But on a sudden 
 he turned round, and said just the opposite of what he 
 said a moment since. Heavens ! he is a scoundrel. 
 Listen, he is a scoundrel ! ah, and he looks it ! Dear, 
 why can't that young, handsome man get his eyes 
 opened? whyever doesn't he listen to what he says? 
 
 " He deceives you," she whispered, half aloud. 
 
 " Hush, dear !" said the old dame, in a warning tone. 
 
 " Oh, the young man did not hear; there, he has gone 
 off, trusting that traitor ! " Every one left the stage. An 
 old man entered. What does this mean ? the old man 
 speaks like a young one still he is an old man. 
 
 But now see ! see ! there came a procession cf 
 maidens all in shining white. Noiselessly they pass 
 through the church, walking two and two; and before 
 her memory floated back a vision from her child- 
 hood. One winter she had gone with her mother 
 over the mountains; wading along through the newly- 
 fallen snow, unawares they scared away a brood of 
 young ptarmigans, that, soaring up, suddenly filled the 
 air before them ; white they were ; white was the snow ; 
 white the forest long after all her thoughts swept by, 
 white too : here for a while she felt the same. 
 
 But now one of the white-clad women steps forth 
 alone, a wreath in her hand, and kneels; the old man, 
 too, kneels down, and she talks with him, for he bears 
 a missive to her from foreign lands. He takes out a 
 letter one sees it must be from one of whom she 
 is fond. Ah, how beautiful ! here they all love each 
 other ! She opens it : it is no letter, it is all music. 
 See, ah, see ! he is himself the writer of it. The old 
 man is the young one; and he is the one whom she 
 loves. They embrace. Heavens, they kiss each other ! 
 
 Petra blushed crimson, and hid her face in her hands, 
 listening all the same, intently. 
 
 Hark ! he tells her that they must marry immediately, 
 .and she pulls his beard, laughing, and says he has grown 
 a. barbarian ; and he says she kas grown so lovely ;
 
 7 8 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 and he promises her velvet and scarlet, golden shoes and 
 golden belt ; he takes leave merrily, and goes to the king 
 to speak of their wedding. His betrothed looks after him, 
 radiant with joy; but when she turns, and he is gone, it 
 is so void. 
 
 Then quickly the wall again slides down. Was it 
 over now, when it had just commenced ? Flushing with 
 eagerness, she turned to the old lady, and asked : " Is it 
 over?" 
 
 " No, no, child ; 'tis the first act only. There are five 
 of them there are, indeed ; five of them," she repeated, 
 sighing. 
 
 'All about the same?" asked Petra. 
 'What do you mean by that?" 
 
 ' Do they come back, and does all go on?" 
 
 ' You have never been to a play, I should think." 
 ' No." 
 
 ' Ah, no : there are not many places where they have 
 a theatre, I dare say it is so expensive." 
 
 " But what is all this ?" Petra asked, anxiously staring ; 
 for she could hardly wait for the answer. "Who are 
 these people ?" 
 
 " Naso is the manager : 'tis his company it is a 
 first-rate company, and he is so clever." 
 
 "Is it he who invents it all or what is it? For 
 mercy's sake, do give me an answer ! " 
 
 " My dear child, don't you know what a play means? 
 From what part of the world do you come ? " But when 
 Petra remembered her home-place, she remembered also 
 her trouble her flight ; so she was silent, and dared ask 
 no further question. 
 
 The second act commenced. The king entered yes, 
 it was the king : here she was to see a king, too ! She 
 did not hear what he said; she did not see to whom 
 he spoke ; she looked at his kingly robes, his kingly 
 manners, his kingly airs. She was lost in the sight, but 
 woke up when that young man entered ; and then they 
 all went off to fetch the bride !
 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 79 
 
 Then she had to wait again. During the interlude 
 the old lady leaned over to her : " Don't you think he 
 acts splendidly ?" she said. 
 
 Petra looked at her bewildered. "Acts ? what do you 
 mean by that ? " 
 
 She did not notice that around her every one stared ; 
 that the old dame was put on to draw her out, whilst all 
 the people round were laughing at her. 
 
 " But they don't talk as we do ? " she said, when she 
 got no answer. 
 
 " Ah, they are Danes," returned the dame ; she, too r 
 commencing to laugh. 
 
 Then it dawned upon Petra that the good lady 
 thought it ridiculous she should ask so many questions, 
 so she kept silence, her eyes henceforth fixed on the 
 curtain. 
 
 When again it rose, she had the pleasure of seeing an 
 archbishop. But now, as before, she was so completely 
 absorbed in looking on, that she did not hear a word 
 of what he said. Then came music ah, so hushed, so 
 far away ! but it came nearer. There was the song of 
 women, the music of flutes, and violins, and another 
 instrument not a guitar, and yet like a guitar, only 
 softer, fuller, more mellow; the full harmony gushed 
 forth in long waves. And when the music had given 
 its rich tone to all, lo ! there came a procession : soldiers 
 with halberds, choristers swinging censers, monks bearing 
 lights, and the king with the crown on his head, and by 
 his side the bridegroom, in white garments. Then came 
 once more the white women, scattering roses, and play- 
 ing before the bride, who was clad in white silk, and had 
 red roses in her hair ; by her side walked a stately 
 woman, wearing a train of scarlet, dotted with gold 
 crowns, and with a small glittering crown in her hair: 
 surely she must be the queen ! The whole church was 
 filled with music and colours; and all that now took 
 place from the moment when the bridegroom led the 
 bride to the altar, where they knelt down, the followers
 
 8o THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 kneeling behind them, till the archbishop came with his 
 train of crusaders seemed but new variations of one rich 
 melody. 
 
 But now, as the wedding was to take place, the arch- 
 bishop raised his crozier, interdicting it. Their marriage 
 was against the sacred laws ; never in life could they be 
 united. O heavenly Father, have mercy ! The bride 
 swooned ; and Petra, too, fell down with a piercing cry ! 
 
 "Water! Bring water!" was cried from several 
 quarters. 
 
 " No," answered the old lady. " She has not fainted ; 
 it is not needed." 
 
 " It is not needed," people repeated. " Hush ! 
 hush ! " was called from the pit. " Be quiet, up there !" 
 " Hush ! hush !" sounded from everywhere. 
 
 " You mustn't take the matter to heart like this," 
 whispered the old lady : " it is mere play and nonsense ; 
 but Madame Naso acts splendidly." 
 
 " Hush !" now Petra too urged : she was again lost 
 in the play ; for the diabolical monk had now come back 
 with a sword in his hand. The two lovers had to hold a 
 cloth between them, and he cut it in twain. The Church 
 cut them asunder : all that was cruel as the sword 
 which severed man from Paradise ! Weeping women 
 took the wreath of red flowers off the bride, and gave 
 her a white one instead. With it she was wed to the 
 cloister for lifetime. He who owned her beyond time 
 through eternity would know she was alive, and yet 
 could never be his; would know she was entombed, 
 there within, but that he could never behold her more. 
 Ah, it was heartrending, the farewell they bade each 
 other ! Surely, on earth was no misery like to theirs ! 
 
 " Dear Lord ! " whispered the old dame when the cur- 
 tain dropped, "don't be so foolish; it is only Madame 
 Naso, the manager's wife." 
 
 Petra opened her eyes wide, and stared at the 
 good lady. She must be mad, she thought. Now the 
 same opinion of Petra had ceme into the old lady's
 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 81 
 
 mind, so they spoke to each other no more ; only from 
 time to time interchanged shy glances. 
 
 When the curtain again rose, Petra could follow the 
 acting no longer : the bride behind the convent-wall ; 
 the bridegroom outside there, watching by night and 
 by day in despair she saw them only ; suffered their 
 pain; prayed their prayers all else passed dead and 
 colourless before her eyes. Suddenly she was recalled : 
 a deep, utter stillness that was ominous wrapped the 
 scene. The empty church grew large ; through it passed 
 alone the twelve strokes of the midnight hour. Beneath, 
 in the vault, it boomed, the walls shook : Olaf the Holy 
 had risen out from his coffin, in his winding-sheet ! Tall 
 and terrible he strode onwards, spear in hand; the 
 guards fled before him ; there fell a thunderbolt, and 
 the monk was stabbed through with the avenging spear ! 
 Then darkness set in; and the apparition sank down. 
 But the monk was a heap of ashes, left lying where the 
 thunder struck ! 
 
 Petra unconsciously had clung to the old lady, who 
 felt rather uneasy at her spasmodic clutch; and now, 
 when she saw her growing white and whiter, she said, 
 hastily : 
 
 " God bless you, child ! it is merely Knudsen ; 'tis 
 the only part he can act. He has such a thick voice." 
 
 " No, no, no, no ; I saw flames around him," said 
 Petra; "and the whole church trembled under his step !" 
 
 " Can't you be quiet, there ? Hush ! " was cried from 
 several quarters ; " let those be off, who can't keep quiet!" 
 
 " Be quiet in the balcony !" cried those in the pit. 
 
 "Hush!" returned those in the balcony. Petra 
 crouched down to hide herself, but soon she forgot them 
 one and all : for, lo ! there come the lovers. The 
 thunder and lightning has burst a way to them, and 
 they seek to escape together. They press close, they 
 cling one to the other. Heaven protect them ! 
 
 But there rises a clamour of bugles and loud shout- 
 ings. The bridegroom is torn from hr side. He has
 
 82 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 to do battle for his country ; and, oh, he falls wounded ! 
 He sends his farewell to his bride he is dying ! 
 Petra understands that ; now the bride enters, strangely 
 still, and sees his corpse ! Then it is as though every 
 cloud of sorrow gathers over this spot. But an up- 
 ward glance chases them away. Yes, the bride looks 
 up from the breast of the Dead, and prays that she, too, 
 may be taken home ! Heaven opens to that gaze ; there 
 is light aloft ; the bridal-chamber is up yonder ! May 
 it be opened to the bride ! Ah, she looks into it. Peace 
 beams from her eyes peace like to that on the high 
 mountain-tops ! Then her eyelids droop the struggle 
 has found a higher close ; their faithfulness has earned a 
 worthier crown they are together now ! 
 
 Long sat Petra quiet; she was penetrated with the 
 strength of the greatness she had witnessed. She rose 
 with a smile for every one; they were brothers and 
 sisters ; the evil that separated was no longer it 
 lay crushed beneath the thunder. People smiled 
 back at her; why, it was she who had seemed half 
 mad during the play; but she saw in their smiles 
 but the reflex of the victory she bore within. In the 
 belief that they smiled with her, she smiled back so 
 radiantly, that needs was they should smile again ; , she 
 stepped down the broad staircase between two receding 
 lines who reflected the joy that beamed from her took 
 beauty from the beauty with which she shone. The 
 radiance within us, at times grows so strong, that it sheds 
 light around, though we may not see it ourselves. This 
 is the grandest triumphal procession on earth to be 
 announced, borne, and followed by one's own light- 
 shedding thoughts. 
 
 She came home she hardly knew how and asked 
 what all this might be. Here were people who under- 
 stood her, and could explain the matter. 
 
 Now, when it had been told her fully what plays 
 were, and what was the power true actors had, she rose 
 to her feet.
 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 83 
 
 " There is nought so great on earth ! Tins is my 
 Call ! " she said. 
 
 To their astonishment, she seized her bonnet and 
 cloak : she must be alone in the free Nature. She 
 walked out of town, on to the beach where the wind 
 blew high. The waves broke, roaring against the cliff, 
 but on both sides of the bay lay the town in a haze ; 
 through it glimmered scattered lights that could but just 
 pierce the veil, but might not raise it nor lighten it. 
 This became an emblem to her soul. 
 
 The Dark, that stretched itself at her feet, moaning 
 ever, warned her of dread, unfathomable depths ! Now 
 came the struggle ; would she sink there or be with those 
 who fight up to the Light ? She asked herself why these 
 thoughts had never stirred her before. She gave herself 
 the answer : it was because power came to her but by 
 moments ; but she felt, too, it was indeed a power she 
 then held. Now she saw it as many moments would be 
 given her, as there were lights glittering there ; and she 
 prayed God that she might do her full in each of them, 
 so that He should not have lighted one of them in vain. 
 
 She rose, for there blew an icy-cold wind ; she had 
 not been away long ; but, when she turned homewards, 
 her path henceforth lay clear. 
 
 The following day she stood before the manager's 
 door. A loud quarrel sounded from within ; one of the 
 voices, she thought, was like that of the lady lover's from 
 yesterday ; now, indeed, it had a different pitch still 
 it thrilled through Petra. She waited a long while ; but 
 when this seemed as though it would never end, she 
 knocked. 
 
 " Come in ! " was cried, in an angry male voice. 
 
 " Ugh ! " screamed a female voice, and as Petra 
 opened the door, she saw, like horror personified, a stream 
 of hair and a night-dress disappear through a side-door. 
 The manager, a tall, thin man, with sore eyes before 
 which he quickly placed gold spectacles walked up 
 and down in a passion. His long nose so domineered 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 over his face that all the other features seemed to be 
 there only on its account. The eyes were two gun-holes 
 behind this wall ; the mouth was a ditch before it ; the 
 forehead a slight bridge leading from it to the forest or 
 the "barricades." 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked, crossly ; "is it you 
 who wish to be chorus-singer ? " he added, quickly. 
 
 " Chorus-singer ? What is that ? " 
 
 " Ah ! well you do not know that hm ! hm ! What 
 is it, then, you do want?" 
 
 " I want to be an actress." 
 
 "Ah! that's what you want? Indeed hm ! and 
 you do not know what a chorus-singer is good ! But 
 you speak a dialect ? " 
 
 " Dialect ? What is that ? " 
 
 " Good ; you don't know that either ; and yet you 
 want to be an actress ! Very good ! yes, that is like 
 a Norwegian. Dialect is, that you do not talk as we 
 do." 
 
 " No ; but I have tried to the whole morning." 
 
 "Ah ! indeed ! Very good. Let me hear." 
 
 Petra took an attitude like the lady-lover of yester- 
 day ; it was full of pathos 
 
 " My love, I greet thee ! Good morning ! " 
 
 "I say, you must be possessed, to come here and 
 mimic my wife ! " 
 
 A ringing laugh came from the side-room. The manager 
 opened the door, and, without a shadow of recollection 
 of the recent mortal quarrel, said into the room 
 
 " Here is a Norwegian hussy who wants to caricature 
 you ! Pray come out and look ! " 
 
 A lady's head, with undressed, black, obstinate hair, 
 dark eyes, and a large mouth, looked in, and laughed. 
 Petra ran towards her, for she must be the lady-lover 
 nay, her mother, she thought, when close to her. She 
 looked at the lady, and said : 
 
 " I don't know is it you, or is it your mother ? " 
 
 Now the manager laughed too; the woman had
 
 PJSTRA'S AMBITION. 85 
 
 drawn back, but laughed in the side-room. Petra's 
 embarrassment was so vividly pictured in her coun- 
 tenance, attitude, and features, that the manager's atten- 
 tion was drawn ; he looked at her a moment, and said, 
 as if nothing in the world had happened 
 
 " Come here, and read to me, my girl ; but read just 
 as you speak." 
 
 She did so. 
 
 " No, no ; this is wrong. Now, listen." 
 
 He read to her ; she repeated as he had read. 
 
 " No, no ; that is wrong ! Can't you read Norse ? 
 bother take it ! Norse ! " 
 
 Petra read again as before. 
 
 "No, I say; it's wrong! out and out wrong! Do 
 you understand me ? Are you stupid ? " 
 
 He tried again and again ; took the book she had 
 and gave her another. 
 
 " Look ! there is something quite different. This is 
 comic read it." 
 
 Well, Petra read; the same scene was repeated, till 
 he grew tired, and cried 
 
 " No, no, no ! Ugh ! leave off, I say ! What is it 
 you want to do on the stage ? What the deuce is it you 
 wish to act ? " 
 
 "The part I saw yesterday." 
 
 " Oho ! of course you will ! Well, and next ? " 
 
 " Yes," she said, feeling somewhat bashful ; " yester- 
 day I thought it was so beautiful; but to-day I have 
 thought it would be still more beautiful, if the end had 
 been good ! I would alter it, and make it end well." 
 
 " Ah ! would you ? very good ! There is nothing to 
 prevent it : the author is dead. Of course, he is no 
 longer correct ; and you, who can neither speak nor 
 read, will alter his play ! That is Norse indeed !" 
 
 Petra did not understand one word ; only she under- 
 stood that matters were against her, and began to feel 
 fearful. 
 
 " Shall I be admitted ? " she asked, in a low voice.
 
 86 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " Goodness, yes ! there is nothing in the way. Ad- 
 mitted ? Oh, by all means ! Listen ! " he went on, in a 
 totally altered voice, walking straight up to her. " You 
 have no more idea of acting than a cat. And you have 
 no capacity either for the comedy or tragedy. I have 
 tried you in both. Because you have a pretty face and 
 a pretty figure, people have made you believe, I dare 
 say, that you would be a much better actress than my 
 wife of course ; and so you would appear as the 
 heroine in the first play in the repertoire ! Ah ! isn't that 
 true Nonvegian ? They are the people to drive the world 
 before them ! " 
 
 Petra drew her breath short and ever shorter ; battling 
 with herself, she at last broke forth, in a whisper 
 
 " May I really not be admitted ? " 
 
 He had stood at the window, looking out, and felt 
 certain she was gone : he looked round in astonishment ; 
 but, on seeing her emotion, and the wonderful force with 
 which it transformed her whole being, he stood silent for 
 a while ; then suddenly seized the book, and said, in a 
 tone whence every trace of what had just passed was 
 effaced 
 
 " Read this piece, but slowly only let me hear your 
 voice. Now, let me hear." 
 
 But, being unable to distinguish a letter, she could 
 not read. 
 
 " Don't be downhearted. Come ! " 
 
 She read, at length, but her voice was cold toneless ; 
 he begged her to read it again, but with more feeling ; 
 this made it still worse. Then calmly, he took the book 
 from her. 
 
 " That's enough ! I have tried you now in every 
 possible fashion, and I can't do more. I assure you, my 
 good lady, if I were to send my boot on the stage, or 
 you, the effect would be exactly the same and a strange 
 effect it would be ! And now let there be an end to 
 this ! " 
 
 But, as a last effort, Petra said, imploringly
 
 PETRA'S AMBITION. 87 
 
 "I do believe I should understand, if I only 
 might " 
 
 " Yes, of course, you understand ! Every paltry 
 fishing-town knows better than we do : the Norse public 
 is the most enlightened in the world ! Well, if you won't 
 be off, I will ! " 
 
 She turned to the door, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Listen ! " he said, for by this strong emotion a light 
 flashed upon him. "Wasn't it you who last evening 
 caused such a scandal in the theatre ? " 
 
 Glowing red, she turned round and gazed at him. 
 
 " Indeed it was you ! Now I recognise you ' The 
 Fishing-girl/' When the play was over, I was with a 
 gentleman from your native town ; he knew you well 
 enough / Ho, ho ! that's why you wish so much to go on 
 the stage ? there you want to try your tricks ; good ! 
 Listen ! My theatre is a proper institution, and I beg to 
 refuse any kind of attempt to make it otherwise. Be off ! 
 be off, I tell you ! " 
 
 And off went Petra out of the door, and sobbing aloud 
 down the staircase and out into the street. Weeping and 
 running, she made her way through the crowds in the 
 streets; but a young girl, who by broad daylight ran 
 crying along the streets, as one may imagine, caused some 
 commotion. People stood still ; street-boys ran after her, 
 ever increasing in numbers ; in the buzz behind her, 
 Petra heard again the mutter from those nights when she 
 sat in the attic ; the faces in the air surrounded her again 
 she fled ! But with each step the recollection grew 
 stronger, as did the noise behind her ; and when she had 
 reached the house, and banged the street door, and 
 gained her own room, and locked the door, she flung 
 herself down in a corner, and beating the air with her 
 hands, sought to keep off that sea of faces. Presently, 
 from sheer exhaustion, her sobbing grew calmer, and she 
 realised that she had nothing here to dread. 
 
 That same afternoon, towards even, she left Bergen,
 
 88 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 to go inland. She knew not herself whither, only she 
 wanted to go where no one knew her. She sat in the 
 cariole* with the box tied to it, and on the box a postboy. 
 The rain poured down ; she crouched under her enormous 
 rain-hat, and looked timidly up towards the cliff, and 
 again to the steep along which she drove ; before her lay 
 the forest, one brooding mass of fog, the haunt of ghosts : 
 next moment would take her into it ; but the fog receded 
 more and ever more as she drew nearer. A mighty roar, 
 that grew ever louder, added to the feeling that she moved 
 within strange boundaries, where everything had its 
 significance, mysterious and harmonious ; where man was 
 but a timid passenger, who had to be on his guard, if he 
 wanted to get further. The boom came from several 
 cataracts, which in the rainy season had swollen into 
 giants ; and now, bounding, dashed themselves from crag 
 to crag with thundering roar. The way led over narrow, 
 hanging bridges ; she saw the seething underneath in the 
 chasm. Now the way curved and wound downwards ; 
 here and there lay a lonely, cultivated spot ; some turf- 
 thatched cottages stood near each other. Then again it 
 ran upwards to the forest and towards that deep-mouthed 
 roar. She was wet and she felt cold; but she would go 
 farther and still farther, this day and next day onwards, 
 onwards, till she found a place where she durst rest ! 
 
 Thither He would help her He, the Almighty, who 
 guided her now, and led her through dark and tempest ! 
 
 * A kind of vehicle peculiar to Norway.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 n MILD autumn in the sheltered and fertile spots 
 ^ among the mountains of Bergen Stift has some- 
 times summer days, even late in the harvest time. 
 Then the cattle that had been taken to the winter fodder 
 are again let out into the fields during midday; and 
 when they are coming home at even, well-fed and frisky, 
 they fill the farmyard with life. 
 
 Thus, just as Petra was driving past a large house, 
 came towards it, down a mountain track, cows, sheep, 
 and goats, lowing, bleating, and sporting to the tinkle of 
 many bells. The day was fine ; the long, white, wooden 
 house shone with its numbers of bright window-panes in 
 the sunlight, and above the house stood the mountain, 
 wrapped in such a cloak of fir, birch, ash, elder, and 
 mountain-ash, and on the crags of wild juniper, that it 
 seemed as though the houses must get warmth from it. 
 In front of the dwelling-house towards the road lay a 
 garden, rich in apple, cherry, and mulberry trees ; 
 whilst by the paths and along the hedges grew an abun- 
 dance of currant and gooseberry bushes ; but high above 
 all some ancient ash-trees reared their mighty crowns. 
 The house looked like a nest, hidden away in foliage 
 beyond reach of any save the sun. But this just 
 roused a longing within Petra; and when the sun 
 illumined the window-panes, and the bells rang out 
 merrily, and she heard this was a rectory, she seized 
 the reins quickly.
 
 90 THE FISHING .GIRL. 
 
 " Here I must enter ! " she exclaimed ; and drove 
 into the garden. 
 
 A couple of Finland dogs rushed furiously towards 
 her as she drove into the court. This was a large square 
 with buildings on every side ; right against the dwelling- 
 house stood the cowshed ; to the right, another wing 
 which was used as a dwelling ; to the left, the brewery 
 and the servants'-hall. The courtyard at present was 
 filled with the cattle, and in the midst of them stood a 
 lady, tall and slight ; she wore a tight-fitting dress, and a 
 small silk kerchief over her hair ; round her, close upon 
 her, stood goats white, black, brown, piebald goats ; each 
 had its little bells tuned in trichord : she had a name for 
 every one, and gave them something good out of a dish 
 that frequently was filled by a dairymaid. 
 
 On the low steps that led from the centre building 
 down into the court stood the Dean, a dish of salt in his 
 hand, and before him came the cows, licking the salt 
 from his hand, and the steps, on which he strewed it. 
 The Dean was not a tall man, but close-built, with a 
 short neck and low forehead; his bushy eyebrows 
 shaded a pair of eyes which, as a rule, did not look 
 straight out, but from time to time sent out flashing glances 
 from one side. His thick, close-cut hair was grey, and stood 
 on end round his head ; it grew almost as thickly down 
 the back of his neck as on his head ; he wore no necktie, 
 but his shirt was fastened with a stud; it was open in 
 front and showed his shaggy chest ; his wristbands were 
 unbuttoned, and hung down over the small, strong hands 
 that dealt out the salt : hands and arms were covered 
 with hair. He looked from one side sharply at the 
 young girl, who had alighted and forced her way onwards 
 amongst the goats till she stood near his daughter. 
 
 What the two talked about he could not possibly hear 
 for cattle, dogs, and bells; but now both girls looked 
 over to him, and with the goats around them, they came 
 towards the steps. A cowherd, on a sign from the 
 Dean, drove the animals away. Signe, the daughter,
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 91 
 
 cried and Petra could not but notice the beauty of her 
 voice 
 
 " Father, here is a lady, who wants to rest with us 
 from her journey a couple of days." 
 
 " She is welcome ! " returned the Dean. He handed 
 the dish to somebody and went into his study to the 
 right, most likely to wash and make himself look tidy. 
 Petra followed the daughter into the passage, or one 
 should rather say the hall, for it was a large, light room. 
 The postboy was paid, the luggage taken into the house, 
 while she herself arranged her dress in a side room 
 opposite the study ; on coming out again, she was taken 
 to the sitting-room. 
 
 What a large, light room ! The wall to the garden 
 was nearly all window ; the middle casement served as 
 garden door. The windows were broad and high, and 
 reached nearly down to the floor; they were filled 
 with flowers : there were flowers in the wire stands, 
 flowers in the window-sills ; ivy garlands ran along the 
 curtains; and creepers hung in baskets down from the 
 windows. Altogether, what with bushes and blooming 
 plants growing outside, up the wall, along it, and at the 
 balcony, and farther off on the lawn in front, it seemed 
 like coming into a conservatory that had been built in the 
 middle of a garden. Yet one had hardly been a minute in 
 this room, ere the flowers were no longer noticed the 
 church standing alone on a hill to the right was what one 
 saw ; and the blue water that took in its image, then 
 flowed glittering away among the mountains, so far, that 
 one knew not whether it were a lake or an arm of the sea. 
 And then the mountains themselves ! Not an isolated 
 one ; but chains of mountains one mighty ridge per- 
 petually rising behind the other, as though here were the 
 bounds of human homes ! 
 
 When Petra again took back her eyes, all in the room 
 had been made holy by the sight without ; it stood pure 
 and light, and, together with the flowers, framed in that 
 grand picture. She felt surrounded by something unseen
 
 92 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 that watched her doings, her thoughts ; she walked 
 around, examining and touching the different things, 
 herself unconscious of what she did. 
 
 Then she saw on the long wall, against the daylight, 
 over the sofa, the portrait of a lady, life-size, smiling 
 down upon her ; her head was bent a little on one side ; her 
 hands folded ; the right arm rested on a book that had 
 the inscription, " Sunday-book." Light-haired and of 
 transparent complexion, she shone down, giving Sunday 
 calm to all she beamed upon. The smile was earnest ; 
 but its earnestness was that of resignation. She looked 
 as though she could draw the world to her in love. She 
 seemed to understand all, because in all she saw but that 
 which was good. Her face bore traces of delicate health ; 
 but in her weakness must be her strength, for there could 
 not be one that would wound her. A wreath of 
 imnwrtelles hung round the frame she was dead ! 
 
 " She was my mother," she heard some one say 
 behind her, mildly ; and, turning round, she faced the 
 daughter. 
 
 From this moment the whole room was filled with 
 the portrait : all led up thither ; all took light from it ; 
 all was arranged with regard to it; and the daughter 
 was its soft reflex, only still more silent, more reserved. 
 The mother met one's gaze, and returned it fully; 
 the daughter's eyes were downcast, still they shone with 
 the same light, the same mildness. Her build was like 
 the mother's, but without a trace of weakness ; the 
 lively colours of her tight-fitting dress, of her apron, and 
 the necktie fastened with a Roman pin, on the contrary, 
 lent to her face a warmer hue, and indicated here was 
 taste and love of beauty it was clear she was daughter 
 to her whose portrait hung here, the soul of this dwelling. 
 
 While she walked there between the flowers, Petra 
 felt a yearning toward her. To live here, near her, must 
 give growth to all that was good ah ! if only she 
 might be allowed to stay ! 
 
 She felt doubly her loneliness. Her eyes followed
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 93 
 
 Signe wherever she went or stood. Signe felt it, and 
 tried to escape that look ; but it was in vain ; so she 
 stooped bashfully over the flowers. Petra, when it 
 became clear to her that she had been intrusive, 
 wished to apologise; but there was something in this 
 carefully-arranged hair, this smooth forehead, and this 
 neatly-fitting dress, that warned her to be cautious. 
 
 She looked up at the mother : ah, her she had dared 
 embrace at once ! Was it not as though she bade her 
 welcome ? Ah, might she but believe it was so ! None 
 had ever thus looked at her before. That look said 
 she kne-v all that had happened to the wayfarer, and yet 
 would furgive her. She so needed forbearance ! She 
 could not turn away from these merciful eyes ; she bent 
 her head like that of the portrait ; she folded her hands 
 like those ; then turning, almost without knowing, 
 " Ah ! let me stay here ! " she said. Signe rose, and 
 looked round : for sheer astonishment she could not 
 answer. 
 
 " May I stay here ? " Petra begged again, taking a step 
 towards her ; " here it is so beautiful ! " and her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 " I will ask father to come in," said the young girl. 
 
 Petra's eyes followed her till she had disappeared 
 through the side-door ; but no sooner was she left alone, 
 then a fear fell upon her at what she had done, and 
 she trembled when she saw the Dean's face full of amaze- 
 ment in the doorway. He came out, dressed a trifle 
 more carefully than on his last appearance, and with his 
 pipe in his mouth. He held it with a firm grasp, letting 
 the mouthpiece drop from the lips each time he had 
 drawn in the smoke, which he again let out in three puffs, 
 each time with a little smack ; this he repeated several 
 times, as he stood right in front of Petra, in the middle 
 of the room, without looking at her; but as though 
 expecting her to speak. 
 
 Before this man she dared not repeat her prayer, for 
 he had a stern look.
 
 94 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " You wish to stop here ? " he asked, giving her a 
 sharp, side-glance. 
 
 Fear made her voice tremble. 
 
 " I have no home." 
 
 " From where did you come ? " 
 
 Petra mentioned the town and her own name in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " How did you come hither ? " 
 
 " I do not know ! I am seeking for ; I want to 
 pay for myself I yes I don't know ! " 
 
 She turned away, unable for a while to go on ; but 
 again she took courage, and said 
 
 " I will do anything you tell me to do, only may 
 I stay and be spared going further ? Oh ! do not let me 
 have to beg you more ! " 
 
 The daughter had followed her father into the room, 
 but had stopped at the stove, and stood playing with the 
 dry rose leaves that lay there. The Dean did not answer ; 
 one heard but the smacks from the pipe, while now and 
 again he looked first at her, then at the daughter, and at 
 the portrait there. But the same influence may guide 
 different ways ; for while Petra prayed that the portrait 
 might inspire him with forbearance, he fancied it whis- 
 pered, " Protect our child ; take not the stranger in to 
 her ! ;; He turned to Petra with a sharp side-glance 
 
 " No ; you cannot stay here ! " 
 
 Petra grew pale, drew a deep, passionate sigh, looked 
 round her bewildered, then rushed through a half-open 
 door into a side-room, and flung herself down, with her 
 face on a table, giving herself up wholly to her grief and 
 disappointment. 
 
 Father and daughter looked at each other ; such want 
 of good breeding ! to break without further ado into 
 another's room, and there sit down by herself, had only 
 its equal in coming in from the high road, begging to 
 remain, and bursting into fits of sobbing directly her 
 prayer was refused. The Dean walked after her, not 
 to talk to her, but to shut the door behind her. He
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 95 
 
 came back red and hot, and said, in a smothered voice, 
 to the daughter, who still stood by the stove 
 
 " Did you ever see anything like that woman ? Who 
 is she ? what is it she wants ? " 
 
 The daughter did not answer directly ; at length she 
 said, in a voice even lower than the father's 
 
 " She has odd ways ; but there is something 
 uncommon about her." 
 
 The Dean walked up and down, looking towards the 
 door ; at last he stopped and whispered 
 
 " She cannot be in her right mind." 
 
 When Signe gave no reply, he came closer, repeating 
 more decisively 
 
 " She is mad, Signe cracked ; there, that is what is 
 uncommon about her ! " 
 
 " No, I don't believe that ; but she is, no doubt, very 
 unhappy;" the daughter whispered, bending down over 
 the dry rose leaves, amongst which her fingers moved list- 
 lessly. The tone of her voice would have told nothing 
 of her emotion to a stranger ; but a change came over her 
 father at once ; he took a couple of turns up and down 
 the room, looked at the portrait, and said at last, in a 
 half whisper 
 
 "Do you think, because she looks unhappy, that 
 that the mother would have asked her to stay ? " 
 
 " Mother would not have answered till in a few days," 
 the daughter said low, bending more over the withered 
 roses. 
 
 The slightest remembrance of the mother, when un- 
 veiled by the daughter like this, could make this shaggy 
 lion's head meek as any lamb's. He felt the truth 
 directly ; stood like a schoolboy caught in being sluggish ; 
 forgot to puff and walk, at last whispered 
 
 " Shall I ask her to stay here a few days ? " 
 
 "You have already given her an answer." 
 
 "Yes; but there's a difference between keeping 
 her a few days and telling her to take up her abode 
 with us."
 
 96 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 Signe seemed to ponder the matter ; at last she said 
 
 " You must do as you think best." 
 
 The Dean, it seemed, chose to weigh the proposal 
 somewhat closer, for he paced the floor up and down 
 again, smoking energetically. Stopping, at length, he 
 said 
 
 " Will you go in, or shall I ? " 
 
 " It would do more good, if you were to," said the 
 daughter, looking up with a smile. 
 
 He was about to seize the door-handle, when a ringing 
 laugh sounded from within ; then came stillness then a 
 loud peal of laughter again. The Dean, who had retired, 
 rushed forth once more, the daughter following him : the 
 stranger must certainly have been taken ill. 
 
 On opening the door they saw Petra in the place 
 where she had first sunk down ; an open book lay before 
 her. Without knowing it, she had laid her face upon it 
 when she came in. Her tears had fallen on its leaves, 
 and seeing that, she would have wiped them off. Then 
 her eyes were caught by one of those funny expressions 
 she knew from her days of street life, but never thought 
 a book would dare repeat. For sheer astonishment she 
 forgot to weep, staring only down into the book. What 
 on earth was this madness about ? She read with open 
 mouth. Oh, dear oh, dear ! it got worse and worse, so 
 plain-spoken, but, oh ! so irresistibly funny that she 
 could not but read further. She read till she had thought 
 for nothing else; read herself away from sorrow and 
 tears ; away from time and place : away with old Father 
 Holberg^/0r it was he! She laughed such peals of 
 laughter ; even when the Dean and his daughter stood 
 opposite her, she did not see their gravity ; she had for- 
 gotten her errand, and only asked, laughingly, " What in 
 the world can this be?" 
 
 She herself turned to the title-page. 
 
 The blood left her face ; she looked up to them, then 
 again down into the book at the well-known writing. 
 There are encounters which wound the heart like a bullet ;
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 97 
 
 what one thought to have fled from, and left behind 
 hundreds of miles, lo ! it is there right before one ! On 
 the first leaf was written, " Hans Odegaard." 
 
 " Is this book his ? Will he come here ? " she 
 asked with a deep blush, as she rose. 
 
 " He has promised to," answered Signe. 
 
 And now Petra remembered there was a clergyman's 
 family in Bergen Stift whom he had met abroad. She 
 had only travelled in a circle ; she had rushed straight 
 towards him. 
 
 " Is he coming soon ? He is here already, perhaps ? " 
 She now wanted to fly ; to journey further directly. 
 
 " No ; he is very ill," said Signe. 
 
 " Ah, true ! he is ill," Petra repeated, mournfully. 
 
 " But tell me ! " burst out Signe ; " are you, per- 
 haps 
 
 " The Fishing-girl ? " the Dean supplied. 
 
 Petra looked up at them imploringly. 
 
 " Yes ; I am the Fishing-girl ! " she said. 
 
 They knew her well; for Odegaard had spoken of 
 her again and again. 
 
 " This alters the case," said the Dean for he felt 
 here was something broken, something that wanted the 
 help of friends. " Stay here as long as you wish : we will 
 help you !" 
 
 Petra looked up, soon enough to see the warm look 
 with which Signe thanked him ; it did her good, and 
 going up to her, she took both her hands, and said, 
 though bashfully 
 
 " When we are alone, I will tell you everything." 
 
 An hour later, Signe knew Petra's story completely, 
 and told it at once to her father. On his advice, Signe 
 wrote to Odegaard that same day; and continued to send 
 him letters while Petra stayed in their house. 
 
 That evening, when Petra laid her down to rest in 
 the soft bed, in the cozy room, a fire of birch wood 
 crackling in the stove, and the New Testament laid 
 between the two candles on the white dressing-table, 
 
 H
 
 98 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 she thanked God, as she opened the Book, for all he had 
 sent her evil and good. 
 
 The Dean had, when a young man, of burning zeal 
 and natural eloquence, wished to be a clergyman ; his 
 rich parents had opposed it, as they wished him rather to 
 choose what they called "an independent position." But the 
 difficulties they raised only increased his zeal ; and when 
 he had taken his degree, he went abroad to pursue his 
 studies further. During a temporary stay in Denmark, 
 he often met a lady who belonged to a religious party 
 which was to him highly objectionable ; for he thought 
 their doctrines not severe enough. He wanted per- 
 petually to influence her ; but the manner in which, on 
 such occasions, she would look at him, and thus reduce 
 him to silence, he could never forget through all his 
 journeys. When he came back, he went to her directly. 
 They saw each other often, and grew in each other's 
 liking till they were engaged, and soon after married. 
 Now, however, it appeared that they had both had a 
 by-thought : he had purposed to lead her with all 
 her womanly grace over to his gloomier doctrines ; she, 
 in childlike faith, had hoped to win his power and 
 eloquence for her party. His first, ever so faint at- 
 tempt, met halfway her equally faint effort ; he with- 
 drew, disappointed, suspicious. She was quick enough 
 to see it, and from that day he watched her motives 
 incessantly, and she watched his. Neither of them, 
 however, repeated the attempt ; both of them had been 
 scared. 
 
 He feared his own passionate nature; and she was 
 afraid by another unsuccessful attempt to lose all chance 
 of winning him over for not once did she give up hope 
 of that. This had become her life-aim. Yet there was 
 never any struggle ; for where she was, there could be 
 no disputes. But his fermenting desire, his suppressed 
 passion, must have an outlet this they found every time 
 he came into the pulpit and saw her sitting beneath him.
 
 PETRA'S NEW .FRIENDS. 99 
 
 He carried the congregation on with him ; they were 
 fired by him, and presently he by them. She saw it, 
 and let her anxious heart find solace in benevolent 
 actions ; and later, when she became a mother, the 
 daughter she held in her arms, she folded in her spirit's 
 embrace too, and bore her to her quiet hours. There she 
 gave there she received there with her child's innocence 
 she hushed to rest the child within her own heart ; there 
 she held her feast of love, and came from it, back to him, 
 the stern man, with the mildness of the woman and the 
 Christian ; and then, how could he say anything to her 
 but what was kind ? He could not but love her above 
 all on earth ; but the more sorrowful felt he, and the 
 more his heart bled, because he could not help her in the 
 cause of her salvation. With the mother's quiet right, 
 she took the child from his religious teaching. The 
 child's songs, the child's questions, soon became to him a 
 new and deep source of pain ; and when in the pulpit he 
 had been goaded to hardness by his violent mental 
 sufferings, his wife would meet him, on their homeward 
 walk, only with greater mildness her eyes spoke though 
 her lips were silent ; and the daughter hung by his hand, 
 and looked at him with eyes that were the mother's. 
 
 In this house all was freely spoken of, save that one 
 thing which was the root of all their thoughts. But this 
 constant mental strain could not be borne for ever. 
 True, the smile came still to her face, but only because 
 she dared not weep. When the time approached for the 
 daughter to be prepared for confirmation, and he conse- 
 quently, by right of his office, could draw her over to 
 his teaching, as the mother hitherto had kept her to 
 hers the strain came to its uttermost. After that Sun- 
 day, when notice had been given that candidates for 
 confirmation were to meet, the mother fell ill, just as 
 any one else sinks down tired. She said, with a smile, 
 she could not walk any more ; and a few days later, with 
 as bright a smile, that now she could not sit upright 
 either. She wanted always to have the daughter with
 
 zoo THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 her; though she could not talk with her, she could see 
 her at least. And the daughter knew what the mother 
 liked best of all ; and she read to her of the Book of Life, 
 and sang to her the psalms of her childhood those new 
 blessed songs of the communion to which she belonged. 
 
 The Dean for some time did not understand what was 
 passing here ; when he understood, all else vanished. To 
 him there was but one thought left now : to hear her 
 say something to him only a few words ; but this she 
 could no longer do she could not speak any more. He 
 stood at the foot of her bed, and gazed ; and prayed. She 
 smiled to him, till he fell on his knees and took the 
 daughter's hand and laid it in the mother's, as though he 
 would say, "There, keep her; with thee she shall remain 
 thine for ever ! " 
 
 Then she smiled as she had never smiled before ; and 
 with that smile she entered into peace. 
 
 After this the Dean was not to be talked to for a long 
 time; another was appointed to takfe his duty in the 
 parish ; he himself wandered from room to room, from 
 place to place, as though he sought something. He 
 stepped softly ; when he talked, it was in a smothered 
 voice, and only by entering upon these hushed ways 
 could his daughter gradually come into communion with 
 him. 
 
 Now she helped him in that search : each word of the 
 mother's was called back ; what she had wished became 
 their guide as they went onwards. The daughter's life 
 with her that to which he had been outside was the one 
 he began to live now. From the first moment the child 
 could recollect, everything was gone through : her psalms 
 were sung ; her prayers prayed ; the sermons she had 
 loved best were read one after another ; and her words 
 and interpretations faithfully called to mind. 
 
 Thus occupied, he soon wanted to go to the land 
 where he had found her, there to continue in the way he 
 had commenced. 
 
 They went ; and, in taking into him her life in its
 
 PETRA'S NEW FRIENDS. 101 
 
 completeness, he rose from his prostration. Himself a 
 novice, his mind was drawn to all that was germinating 
 around him : the great national life, the smaller political 
 one ; these gave him of their own youth. His power 
 again came flowing back, with it his aspirations ; now he 
 would preach the Word, so that it might prepare for life 
 not for death alone ! 
 
 Before again shutting himself up, with this his beloved 
 work, in his mountain home, he longed to take a wider 
 view of what was outside. So they travelled farther 
 abroad. Now, their journeys over, they dwelt in the 
 companionship of many remembrances. 
 
 Such were those who had taken Petra home.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 
 
 b NE Friday, a few days before Christmas, on the 
 third year after Petra's arrival, the two girls sat 
 together in the gloaming; the Dean had just 
 come in with his pipe. 
 
 The day had been spent like most days of these 
 years : a walk in the morning, then, after breakfast, 
 an hour's singing and music ; next, lessons in language, 
 &c. ; and then small household work. The after- 
 noon all passed in their own rooms. To-day Signe 
 had been writing to Odegaard, after whom Petra never 
 asked, for she never wished to speak of former days. 
 Towards dusk they had taken a sledge-drive, and now 
 met to chat or sing, or later in the evening to read aloud. 
 For this the Dean always joined them. He was a fine 
 reader and so was his daughter. Petra learned the style 
 of both, and their language as well. Signe's accent and 
 expression had a peculiar charm for her, and the melody 
 of it rang in her ear when she was alone. In every- 
 thing Petra held Signe so high, that any man would have 
 termed the fourth part of such devotion glowing love; 
 and often, indeed, she made Signe blush by her enthusiasm. 
 By reading aloud every evening, the Dean and his 
 daughter Petra never could be persuaded to read had 
 gone through the first poets of Northern literature, 
 gradually progressing to those of other nations. Dramatic 
 works had the preference. 
 
 This evening, just as they were about to light the
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 103 
 
 lamp and commence, the kitchen-maid came in and said 
 there was somebody outside who had brought a message 
 for Petra. It turned out to be a seaman from her native 
 town ; her mother had charged him to find her as he 
 was going to these parts ; he had come a distance of 
 about five miles, and was in haste, for his ship was soon 
 to sail. 
 
 Petra walked with him part of the way ; she wished 
 to have a longer talk, for she knew from former 
 times that he was a worthy man. 
 
 The evening was rather dark ; also in the rectory 
 every window was black, and only from the laundry, 
 where was a great washing, gleamed a fire. Along the 
 road no light was to be seen, and hardly could they find 
 the path till the moon had made its way above the 
 mountains. Still she walked bravely on with him into 
 the forest, though sinister shadows crept between the 
 pines. 
 
 One bit of news that had especially tempted her 
 to go with him was this : Pedro Ohlsen's mother had 
 died ; on that, he had sold his house and moved to 
 Gunlang's, taking up his abode in Petra's attic. This 
 had happened about two years ago, though the mother 
 had never mentioned a word of it. But now it dawned 
 upon Petra who wrote the letters for her mother; she 
 had often inquired about this, but always in vain ; 
 though at the end of each one was written, " And 
 a greeting from the person who writes the letter." 
 The seaman was commissioned to ask how long she was 
 to stay in the rectory, and what she intended to do next. 
 To the first question Petra replied, she did not know; and 
 to the second, that he might tell the mother there was but 
 one thing in the world she cared to be, and if she could 
 not be that, "she should feel miserable all her life ; as yet, 
 however, she could not tell him what it was. 
 
 Now, whilst Petra was thus talking with the sailor, 
 Signe and her father sat in the parlour, speaking of her and 
 of the joy she had brought to them. They were inter-
 
 104 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 rupted by the foreman's entering. Having given account 
 of the day's work, he asked whether any of them knew 
 that the strange " Jomfru," who stayed with them, stole 
 of a night from her room by a rope-ladder, and crept back 
 by the same way. He had to repeat it three times ere 
 either of them understood what he meant; he might just 
 as well have told them that she walked up and down the 
 moonbeams. The room was dark ; and now it became 
 very hushed not even the Dean's pipe was heard. At 
 length he asked, in a strange, muffled voice 
 
 " Who has seen this ? " 
 
 " I have with these very eyes," was the answer. " I 
 was up to fodder the horses ; the clock might have been 
 at one " 
 
 "Did she go down a rope-ladder, you say?" 
 
 " And mounted it again." 
 
 Again there was a long silence. Petra's room was 
 up-stairs, in the corner that turned to the entrance ; she 
 was the only person up there. Consequently, there could 
 be no mistake. 
 
 " She did it in her sleep, I dare say," said the lad, and 
 was about to retire. 
 
 " But how about the rope-ladder? she could not have 
 made that in her sleep ! " said the Dean. 
 
 " No, that's what I thought ; and so I've come to tell 
 it you, father.* I have not said a word to any one 
 else." 
 
 " Has any one seen this but you ? " 
 
 "No; but if you doubt me, father, I suppose the 
 rope-ladder would be proof enough ; if it isn't there up in 
 her room, my eyes have cheated me, that's all !" 
 
 The Dean rose directly. 
 
 " Father ! " prayed Signe. 
 
 " Bring a light ! " returned the Dean, in a voice 
 which did not allow of any objections. 
 
 * In Norway, in the country, the peasants in addressing their 
 clergyman, and servants their master, use " Father. "
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 105 
 
 Signe herself lighted a candle. 
 
 " Father ! " she pleaded once more, as she gave it 
 him. 
 
 " Yes ; I am her father too, so long as she is in my 
 house; it is my duty to see into this." 
 
 The Dean went before with the candle ; Signe and 
 the foreman followed. In the little room everything was 
 in proper order ; only on the table before the bed lay a 
 number of books open, and piled up on each other. 
 
 " Does she read at night ?" asked the Dean. 
 
 " I don't know ; but she never puts out her light till 
 one o'clock." 
 
 The Dean and Signe looked at each other ; bedtime 
 at the rectory was from ten to half-past, and the hour for 
 meeting again in the morning six to seven. 
 
 " Do you know anything about it?" asked the father. 
 
 Signe did not answer. But the foreman, who was on 
 his knees in a corner, groping about for something, 
 answered " Why, she is not alone." 
 
 "What do you say?" 
 
 " Ay, there is always some one talking with her ; often 
 they speak very loud ; I have heard her both begging for 
 mercy and threatening. Very likely, some one has got 
 her in their power, poor thing ! " 
 
 Signe turned away. The Dean had grown pale as 
 death. 
 
 " And here is the ladder," continued the foreman ; he 
 took it out and rose. Two clothes-lines were joined 
 together by a third, that, running across, and fastened 
 with knots, formed steps, that was how the ladder 
 was made. It underwent close inspection. 
 
 " Was she long away?" asked the Dean. 
 
 The foreman looked at him. " Away ? What do you 
 mean?" 
 
 "Was she away a long time after she had gone 
 down ?" 
 
 Signe stood trembling with cold and fear. 
 
 " She did not go anywhere ; she went up again."
 
 io6 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " Up again ? Who, then, went away ? " 
 
 Signe made a movement, and burst into tears. 
 
 " There was nobody with her that night, I believe ; 
 it was yesterday." 
 
 "No one on the ladder, you say, but her ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " And did she go down, and up again directly ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " She has been trying it, then," said the Dean, and 
 drew a deep breath, as if somewhat relieved. 
 
 " Yes, before she let any one else get on it," the 
 foreman added. 
 
 The Dean looked at him. " It is your opinion, then, 
 that this is not the first one she has made ?" 
 
 " No : how else should people have come up to 
 her ?" 
 
 " Have you known long that some one used to come 
 to her?" 
 
 " Not till this winter, when she took to having a light 
 late." 
 
 The Dean asked sternly : " Then you have known 
 it the whole winter; why did you not tell me before?" 
 
 " I thought it was one of the people of the house who 
 was with her ; but when I saw her on the ladder last 
 night, it struck me that it must be some one else. Had 
 I thought of that before, I should have told you sooner." 
 
 " Yes, it is clear as daylight, she has deceived us all !" 
 
 Signe looked up imploringly. 
 
 " She ought not, perhaps, to have had her bedroom 
 so far from other people," the foreman suggested, as he 
 rolled up the ladder. 
 
 " She ought not to have her bedroom anywhere in this 
 house," said the Dean, leaving the room; the others 
 following him. But when he was down-stairs again, and 
 had set the candlestick on the table, Signe threw herself 
 on his breast. "Yes, my child, this is a hard dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 A few minutes later, Signe sat in the corner of the
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 107 
 
 sofa, with a handkerchief pressed to her eyes ; the Dean 
 had lighted his pipe, and walked quickly up and down. 
 Then they heard screams from the kitchen, and people 
 running on the staircase, and along the passage, overhead. 
 Both hurried out. There was a fire in Petra's room ! 
 From the candle, no doubt, a spark must have fallen in 
 the corner, for thence the fire had risen ; in a moment it 
 had run along the papered walls, and caught the window- 
 frames, whence it was seen from the road by a passer-by, 
 who had instantly walked into the laundry where the 
 women were at work. 
 
 The fire was soon mastered ; but in the country, 
 where from year's end to year's end all goes on in 
 its even way, the smallest disturbance is enough to 
 upset people's minds. Fire their worst and most dan- 
 gerous foe is seldom absent from their thoughts, and 
 when this dreaded monster overtakes them in the night, 
 springing as it were from the abyss, his red tongues 
 licking up greedily everything, they shudder, and it is 
 weeks ere they regain their calm sometimes it is a 
 lifetime. 
 
 Now, as the Dean and his daughter stood together in 
 the parlour, after this, having lighted the lamp, an uneasy 
 feeling crept over them at the thought that it was Petra's 
 room that had been razed the remembrances of her 
 that had been burned. The next moment they heard 
 Petra's ringing voice calling and questioning ; she leapt up 
 and down the stairs, from loft to passage, from passage 
 to kitchen, and finally came rushing into the room with 
 her outdoor things on. 
 
 " Heavens ! it is my room that has been burned !" 
 
 No one answered ; but in the same breath she asked : 
 " Who has been there ? When did it happen ? How 
 did the fire come?" 
 
 The Dean now said it was he who had been there ; 
 they had sought for something and he looked at her 
 sharply. But not by the faintest sign did Petra betray that 
 she thought this strange ; neither did she show any
 
 io8 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 uneasiness as to what they might have found. That 
 Signe did not look up from her sofa-corner did not make 
 her suspect something wrong ; it was owing to the fright 
 from the fire, she thought, and went on asking questions, 
 " how it had been discovered how put out who had 
 been first on the spot," &c. &c. ; and when the answers 
 did not come fast enough, she rushed out swiftly as she 
 had entered. Presently she burst in again, half of her 
 outdoor things taken off, and began to tell Signe and 
 the Dean how all had passed ; that she had herself seen 
 the flames, and run along, oh! so dreadfully fast, but 
 now was so glad that things were no worse. During 
 this, she had finished taking off her things, and, having 
 carried them away, came in again, took her usual place 
 at the table, incessantly talking of what this one or that 
 one had said or done. Why, the whole house had been 
 turned topsy-turvy ; it was real fun ! When father and 
 daughter still remained silent, she complained that this 
 had spoiled their evening ; she had so looked forward to 
 " Romeo and Juliet," which they were just now reading 
 aloud, and she had so wanted Signe to read again the 
 scene she thought the finest of the whole Romeo 
 taking leave of Juliet on the balcony. In the midst of 
 her chatter a laundrymaid came in, saying that they 
 wanted clothes-lines ; a bundle was missing. Petra 
 blushed crimson and rose. 
 
 " I know where the}' are ; I'll go and fetch them." 
 
 She made a few quick steps, then remembered the 
 fire stopped, and grew hot. 
 
 " Heavens ! they must be burned ! They were in my 
 room !" 
 
 Signe had turned towards her. The Dean took a sharp 
 view of her from the side. 
 
 "What use have you for clothes-lines?" he asked, 
 and drew his breath rapidly, scarcely able to articulate. 
 
 Petra glanced at him ; his sternness half frightened 
 her, but the next minute it tempted her to laugh : she 
 strove against it for a minute, but, after another glance
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 109 
 
 at the Dean, burst into a fit of hearty laughter, not to 
 be repressed ; there was no more evil conscience in that 
 laugh than in the babbling brooklet. Signe understood 
 that by the ring of it, and jumped up from the sofa. 
 
 " What is it ? what is it ?" she cried. 
 
 Petra turned away, laughed, and tried to escape ; but 
 Signe stepped before her. 
 
 " What is it ? Oh, Petra, tell me ! " 
 
 Petra hid her face on her breast, but laughed on, 
 still. Nay, guilt could not behave thus ! The Dean 
 felt it; and as his rage cooled, from his heart there 
 broke a laugh also. Signe joined in with it so catch- 
 ing a thing is laughter above all, when one does not 
 know the cause or meaning of it. The vain attempts, 
 made first by Signe, then by her father, to find out 
 what all this was about, only increased their merri- 
 ment tenfold. The maid, who stood at first staring at 
 them, gave way at last, and fell a-laughing too ; but she 
 had a way of laughing of her own, bringing out guffaws 
 with convulsive struggles, and being conscious that it 
 would not be the proper thing among gentlefolk and 
 fine furniture, she hastened out of the door down to the 
 kitchen, there to give her feelings full vent. Thither, of 
 course, she carried the infection, and presently shouts 
 came ringing from the kitchen, where, if possible, they 
 were even more unconscious what they were laughing 
 about, and this added fresh fuel to the hilarity in the 
 parlour. 
 
 At length, when they ceased, from sheer exhaustion, 
 Signe made a last effort to be heard. 
 
 "Now, you must tell me !" she cried, holding Petra's 
 hands. 
 
 "No ; not for the whole world !" 
 
 "Ah ! but I do know what it is!" she cried again. 
 
 Petra gave a scream, and looked at her ; but Signe 
 went on : " Father, too, knows !" 
 
 This time Petra did not scream she positively 
 yelled, tore herself away, and rushed to the front door
 
 no THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 There Signe caught her, but Petra turned to struggle 
 with her; cost what it would, she must get away. She 
 laughed while fighting, but the tears were in her eyes ; 
 then Signe let her loose. Petra rushed out, but Signe 
 followed her, and dragged her into her own room. 
 
 There, Signe took her round the neck, and Petra 
 flung her arms round her. " Heavens ! you know it, 
 then ?" she whispered, and Signe whispered back : 
 
 " Yes, we were up there with the foreman ; he had 
 seen you, and we found the ladder !" 
 
 Another scream, and a new attempt to fly this time, 
 however, no farther than to the sofa-corner, where she 
 hid herself. Signe was soon by her side, and, leaning 
 over her, told in her ear the whole journey of discovery, 
 and what had resulted from it. That, which a moment 
 ago had cost her tears and fright, now became a source of 
 amusement, and she told it with humour. Petra listened, 
 stopped her ears, looked up, and hid her face by turns. 
 When Signe had finished, and they were seated in the 
 dark, side by side, Petra whispered 
 
 " Do you know what it is ? I cannot possibly sleep at 
 ten o'clock, when we all go to our rooms. What we 
 have read has too great a power over me. Then I learn 
 it by heart ; or all the best parts of it. I know whole 
 scenes ; and I repeat them aloud to myself. When we 
 got to ' Romeo and Juliet,' it seemed to me of all things 
 on earth the most beautiful ! I got wild and mad. 
 Something forced me to try that with the rope-ladder. I 
 had never fancied before one could get up and down on 
 a rope-ladder. I got hold of some cord and there 
 that rascal has stood beneath, watching me ! Ah ! it 
 is no laughing matter, Signe : it was so dreadfully 
 torn-boyish ; but, indeed, I shall never be anything 
 but a torn-boy ; and now, of course, to-morrow I 
 shall be the laughing-stock of the whole neighbour- 
 hood!" 
 
 But Signe, who was seized by a fresh laughing-fit, 
 fell upon her neck, kissing and caressing her; then
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. in 
 
 starting up, and running out, " Nay, father must know 
 this !" she cried. 
 
 " Are you raving, Signe ?" 
 
 One upon the other came rushing into the room, 
 nearly overturning the Dean, who was just about to set 
 oft" in search of them. Signe commenced telling the 
 story. Petra ran away again, then recollected she ought 
 to have stayed, and prevented Signe's telling so she 
 tried to get in again ; but the Dean put himself against 
 the door, so that she could not possibly open it. Then 
 she took to thumping at it with both hands, shouted 
 and jumped, to drown Signe's voice ; but she only spoke 
 louder. 
 
 When the Dean had heard all, and laughed as heartily 
 as Signe at the new way of reading the classics, he opened 
 the door ; but off flew Petra. 
 
 After supper, when Petra had been sufficiently quizzed 
 by the Dean, she had to repeat what she knew, by way 
 of punishment. Then it came out, that she had learned 
 all the most famous scenes not the part of one person 
 only, but of them all. She repeated them, as they used 
 to read them ; at times taking fire, but smothering it 
 directly. When the Dean perceived this, he asked for 
 more expression ; but that only made her the more shy. 
 Thus it went on ever so long it went on for hours. She 
 knew the comic scenes as she knew the tragic : both 
 amazed them and made them laugh ; she herself joined 
 in the laughing, and begged them only to try too. 
 
 " I should wish the poor actors an eighth of your 
 memory," said Signe. 
 
 " God in his mercy save her from ever becoming an 
 actress !" said the Dean, turning grave of a sudden. 
 
 " But, father, you don't think, do you, that Petra has 
 any thought of such a thing ?" said Signe, laughing. " I 
 only mentioned the stage because I have heard, and 
 seen too, that it is not those who from their youth have 
 known the poetry of their nation, who long so for the 
 stage ; but they who first have had poetry opened to
 
 ii2 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 them when they were fully grown ; these are they to 
 whom the desire comes madly. It is the yearning for 
 poetry, suddenly awakened, which lures them on." 
 
 "That's true enough," said the Dean; "for one 
 seldom finds a man of sound education go on the stage." 
 
 " And more rarely still," added Signe, " one of poeti- 
 cal education." 
 
 " True ; and when it is the case, there is, no doubt, 
 some deficiency of character, that allows vanity or levity 
 to get the upper hand. I have known many actors both 
 from the time of my student-days and from my journeys 
 but I never knew myself, nor found any one who knew, 
 an actor that led a truly Christian life. They may have 
 had religious inclinations that I have seen but there has 
 always been something restless, something shattered in 
 their life, and it has been impossible for them to bring 
 harmony there, even long after they had left the stage. 
 If I have spoken to them of this, they have themselves 
 admitted it ; but soon added : ' It must be our comfort, 
 that after all, we are no worse than others.' This, how- 
 ever, I should call a poor comfort. A life that cannot 
 possibly raise the Christian within us must be a sinful 
 one. May the Lord help them, and keep those who are 
 pure in heart from such a life ! " 
 
 Next day, Saturday, the Dean got up, as usual, before 
 sunrise, inspected the various works going on ; after which 
 he took a longer walk, and came home in the dawn. 
 Then he noticed, just as he walked by the house into 
 the court-yard, an open copy-book, or something of that 
 sort, that most likely had been thrown out of Petra's 
 window yesterday, and not been observed, being about 
 the colour of the snow it lay on. He took the book 
 with him into his room, and spreading it out to dry, he 
 saw it was an old French exercise-book in which verses 
 were now written. He did not think of reading them, 
 but his attention was caught by the word "Actress," 
 written everywhere, in all sorts of ways ; ay even in 
 the verses. He sat down to examine closer into this.
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 113 
 
 After manifold attempts and erasures, he found the 
 following rhymes, which, though they were still full of 
 corrections, were legible : 
 
 "Dear, come hither, and listen to me, 
 While I whisper you trustfully what I would be ! 
 1 would fain be an actress, and show to mankind 
 The heart of a woman, her passions, her mind ; 
 How she smiles and delights, how she mourns and deplores ; 
 How wholly she trusts, how fondly adores : 
 How she smiles down on life, when tender and winning; 
 How she blights like a curse, when scornful and sinning ! 
 O God ! on my knees, Thine assistance I claim ! 
 Devote Thou my life to this one cherished aim ! " 
 
 A little lower down was written : 
 
 " O God ! among Thy glorious band 
 Of Workers let me take my stand !" 
 
 Then, further on, as comments, no doubt, on a poem 
 they had read some months ago : 
 
 " Roaming, rambling, over the lea, 
 
 Airily, 
 
 I'll away, away, 
 A Naiad a Fay 
 With a ladder of moonbeams under my arm 
 
 Warily ! 
 
 A ladder of moonbeams, wrought by a charm 
 Of moonbeams and mist, 
 By the long grasses kissed, 
 As I hide there, or wander wherever I list. 
 If any dare peep, as I'm flashing along, 
 If any dare list, whiles I warble my song, 
 
 He shall die ! 
 Shall he die? Nay, surely, 'twere wrong." 
 
 And, after many crossings-over and alterations : 
 
 " Hop, sa, sa- hop, sa, sa, 
 Dancing with all, but with no one remaining, 
 
 Tra, la, la tra, la, la, 
 Winning all hearts, but my own heart retaining. " 
 
 Then, distinctly and clearly, the following letter : 
 
 " MY HEART'S HENRICH ! Thinkest thou not, thou and I are 
 the wisest out of the whole comedia? Far are we from being 
 appreciated, but that is of little significance. I delegate thee to 
 take me to the masquerade to-morrow evening, for I have never 
 
 I
 
 ii4 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 yet been to one ; and I am longing for some real mad pranks ; here 
 within this house it is so very quiet and melancholy. 
 
 " Thou art a great rogue, Henrich ! 
 
 " Prithee where art thou roaming whilst here sits thy 
 
 " PERNILLE?'' 
 
 Then came in large letters, written distinctly and 
 repeatedly, the following verse, she might have found 
 somewhere, and now wished to learn by heart : 
 
 " Thoughts beyond my thoughts' control 
 Wake a tumult in my soul ; 
 They are strong and I am weak, 
 Power to give them birth I seek. 
 Thou, who gavest them to me, 
 Loke bind, set Balder free, 
 Satisfy the thirst for Thee ; 
 Water from the hidden spring 
 Give me grace for men to bring. " 
 
 There was much more, but the Dean could read no 
 further. 
 
 It was in order then to become an actress that 
 she had come to his house, and taken lessons from 
 his daughter. It was for this secret aim she listened 
 so eagerly every evening, and learned it all by heart 
 afterwards. She had deceived them the whole time, all 
 all along, even yesterday, when she appeared to disclose 
 everything to them, she had kept back something when 
 she laughed her loudest she was lying ! 
 
 And that secret aim ! One which the Dean had con- 
 demned in her presence over and over again and she 
 dared to deck it in the light of a Divine Call, and to pray 
 for God's blessing on it ! A life full of external show and 
 vanity; of jealousy and passion, of idleness and sen- 
 suality, of lying and ever-increasing instability ; a life 
 over which all evil vultures gathered as over a carrion 
 this it was she longed to give herself up to this it was 
 she prayed God to sanctify ! And she had been helped 
 onwards to this by the Dean and his daughter, in the 
 quiet parsonage, and under the eyes of his congregation !
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 115 
 
 When Signe came in, fresh and bright as the fine 
 winter morning, to greet her father, she found the study 
 quite filled with tobacco-smoke. This was always a sign 
 he had some trouble on his mind : the more so when 
 the hour was early. Nor did he speak a word to her ; he 
 only gave her the book. She saw at once it was Petra's ; 
 reminiscences of pain and suspicion from yesterday 
 flashed across her ; she dared not look into it ; her heart 
 throbbed so that she was forced to sit down. But the 
 word that had first caught her father's eye now also 
 caught hers. She was obliged to look again to read 
 more. Her first feeling at it was shame not on Petra's 
 account, but on her father's that he should have 
 read it. 
 
 But soon she felt the deep humiliation of being 
 deceived by those one loves. At first it seems that to 
 be capable of disguisement they must be superior, more 
 keen and clever than oneself. Nay, as they pass from 
 one, they gain the rank of mystery. But soon indigna- 
 tion gives the soul clearer vision, and in the strength of 
 honesty one can afford to scorn what a moment since 
 made one feel small. 
 
 In the parlour Petra had sat down to the piano, and 
 presently they heard her singing : 
 
 " Joy has waken'd, Day has risen, 
 Stormed the Night-god's cloudy prison! 
 O'er the mountains, flushed with gold, 
 The Light-king's tents their wings unfold. 
 Awake, O birds of silvery notes ! 
 Awake, sweet laugh from childish throats ! 
 Awake, my hope in the sun-glow ! " 
 
 Then the piano was worked up into a storm, 
 from it pealed the following song : 
 
 " Warning voices, I thank ye well, 
 
 But I and my boat are away, 
 To the sound of the luring billows' swell, 
 
 In the whirl of winds and of spray ! 
 I must range the new path, I must hunt o'er the main, 
 Though I gaze on the Fatherland never again ! 
 
 I 2 
 
 and
 
 n6 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " Oh, not for pleasure and not for gain, 
 
 Drawn drawn from the fading shore 
 I would seek the bounds of the trackless plain, 
 
 The vast Unknown I'd explore. 
 So long as my barque cleaves the breakers in twain, 
 So long range I the path so far hunt o'er the main !" 
 
 No, this was too much for the Dean ; rushing by, he 
 pulled the book out of Signe's hand, he burst to the 
 door, and this time she did not hold him back. He 
 rushed straight up to Petra, flung the book on the piano 
 before her, turned, and made the round of the room. 
 When he came back, she had risen ; she pressed the 
 book to her heart, and looked round her with bewildered 
 eyes. He stopped to give her the benefit of his mind, 
 but his anger at having for two years been made the 
 dupe of this mere girl, and even more at the thought 
 that his warm, loving-hearted daughter had been befooled 
 too, came upon him so violently that at the moment 
 he could find no words, and when he found them he 
 felt they were too hard. He took another turn round 
 the room, walked once more right up to her, his face 
 fiery red and then, turning his back upon her. left the 
 room without uttering a syllable, and returned to his 
 study. When he came there Signe was gone. 
 
 Each of them passed the whole of this day alone. 
 The Dean dined by himself; neither of the girls appeared. 
 Petra was in the housekeeper's room, that had been left 
 her after the fire. She had tried everywhere, and in 
 vain, to find Signe and give her an explanation ; Signe 
 could scarcely be in the house. 
 
 Petra felt she stood before a crisis. Her life's most 
 secret thought had been wrested from her ; they would 
 force upon her an influence she could not admit. She 
 knew that were she to give up this aim, she should drift 
 before the wind without ballast and without a goal. She 
 could be glad with the glad, trustful with those who 
 trusted her, secure in everything ; but it was by force of 
 that one aim, of that one hope, that she might attain
 
 .PETRA'S MYSTERY. 117 
 
 that which her powers strained after, and grew towards ! 
 Trust herself to any one, after that first ill-starred attempt 
 at Bergen? No, that she could not do no, not even to 
 Odegaard himself. She must have it alone to herself, 
 till it had grown to a strength that could dare doubt 
 to breathe upon it ! 
 
 But now things were altered. The Dean's angry face 
 looked incessantly down into her frightened conscience. 
 Now the moment was come she must save herself ! 
 
 She sought Signe ever more arduously, more im- 
 petuously ; but when the afternoon came, Signe had not 
 yet been found. The longer lasts the absence, the more 
 does one exaggerate to oneself the cause of the separa- 
 tion ; so it came to pass that at length it dawned upon 
 her that it had been treacherous to Signe secretly to use 
 her friendship for what she held a sin. God, the All- 
 knowing, would be her witness, that this view of the matter 
 had never till now risen to her mind : she felt herself a 
 great sinner. 
 
 Just as in her home, in former days, she stood with 
 the feeling of a great sin on her conscience, of which 
 she had the moment before not had the faintest percep- 
 tion. That something so terrible could be repeated ; 
 that she had as yet not gained a step farther, raised her 
 fear to dread. Before her rose a future full of misery. But 
 as her own sense of guilt grew, Signe's image rose in 
 purity of soul, in noble-hearted affection. Truly it 
 heaped coals of fire upon her thoughts ; she wanted to 
 throw herself at Signe's feet : she would cry and pray, 
 and not give up clinging and begging, till Signe had 
 given her once more, only one mild look ! 
 
 Darkness had set in; Signe must have come home 
 now, wherever she might have been. She ran down to 
 the side wing, where Signe's room was : it was locked a 
 proof she was inside. Her pulse throbbed loudly as she 
 seized the handle and begged 
 
 " Signe, pray let me talk with you ! Signe I can- 
 not bear it ! "
 
 n8 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 Not a sound came from the room ; Petra bent down, 
 listened, knocked. 
 
 " Signe, oh, Signe ! you do not know how miserable 
 I am ! " 
 
 No answer ; a long pause : but no answer. If one 
 gets no answer, one begins to doubt if there be any life 
 there, even though one knows there is : if it be dark, 
 too, one at the same time grows uneasy. 
 
 " Signe, Signe ! if you are there, be merciful do 
 give me an answer ! Signe ! " 
 
 All was silent still and remained silent. She 
 began to tremble and shudder. The kitchen door was 
 opened ; there came a broad, bright, stream of light, and 
 brisk steps sounded across the yard. This gave her an 
 idea ; she would herself go out into the yard, climb the 
 ledge of the stone fundament on which the side wing 
 rested ; walk along the ledge, round the building, and 
 gain the other side where it was very high. She must 
 peep in at Signe ! 
 
 It was a bright, starlit evening ; mountains and houses 
 rose with sharp lines, but only the outlines were visible. 
 The snow sparkled ; the dark pathways across it adding 
 to the light by its whiteness. From the high road sledging- 
 bells rang out. The clearness around and the excite- 
 ment gave her courage ; she sprang on to the ledge. She 
 strove to cling to the projecting planks in the wooden 
 covering of the house, but lost footing, and fell. She 
 got an empty barrel, rolled it close to the wall, mounted 
 it, and gained the ledge. Now she scrambled, with 
 hands and feet a few inches at each step ; the strong 
 fingers of a strong hand were needed to hold firmly; 
 she could not grasp round the planks, for they projected 
 hardly an inch. She was afraid any one might see her, 
 for they would naturally connect this new exploit with 
 the rope-ladder. If only she could get clear off the side 
 that faced the court, and gain the gable wall; but 
 there was a fresh danger when she came there ! The 
 windows had no blinds, and she had to crouch while
 
 PETRA'S MYSTERY. 119 
 
 she passed each of them, at great risk of falling. On 
 the front wall the fundament was very high, and under- 
 neath ran a gooseberry hedge that, certainly, would 
 receive her, if she fell. But she had no fear. Her 
 fingers smarted; the sinews quivered; her whole body 
 trembled ; but she went on. Only a few steps more, 
 and she would reach the window. 
 
 No light burned in Signe's room, and the blinds were 
 not down ; the moon shone straight into it, so that she 
 could see its innermost corner. This, too, gave her fresh 
 courage. She reached the window-sill ; now she could 
 at last gain a hold with her whole hand, and rest, for her 
 heart began throbbing, so that it almost took away her 
 breath : and since this grew worse the longer she waited, 
 she must hasten. On a sudden she stretched herself along 
 the window. A wild cry simultaneously broke from the 
 room. Signe had sat in the corner of a sofa, and sprang 
 up now, in a moment, into the middle of the room, 
 warding off with both arms the scaring vision ; wildly she 
 did this, and with horror ; then she turned and fled. 
 
 This figure against the panes in the moonlight ; this 
 reckless, perilous daring ; the face marked out by the 
 moon, excited, glowing. Petra felt in a moment that her 
 ill-timed whim was enough to strike her with terror and 
 .disgust ; nay, that her image would henceforth, perhaps, 
 be a fright to her for ever. She lost consciousness, and 
 fell down with a piercing cry. 
 
 People in the house ran out on Signe's cry, but found 
 no one ; they heard another cry like that. The whole 
 house was startled ; they sought, they called, but found 
 nothing. It was by mere accident that the Dean hap- 
 pened to look through the window -in Signe's room, and 
 see by the moonlight Petra lying crushed down between 
 the bushes. A great fear fell upon them all ; it was with 
 difficulty they got her loose from the thorns ; she was 
 carried into Signe's room, as the housekeeper's was cold ; 
 she was undressed and laid in the bed ; some bathed her 
 hands and neck which were very much scratched, while
 
 120 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 others made the room warm, cozy, and light. When she 
 had regained full consciousness and looked round her, 
 she begged to be left alone. 
 
 The quiet comfort of the room ; the pure white, with 
 which windows, toilet-table, bed, and chairs were covered, 
 reminded her at once of Signe. She called to mind her 
 pure loveliness, her calm voice, her delicate thought for 
 others, her tender benevolence. From all this she had 
 now shut herself out : soon she should have to leave this 
 room to leave this house. And where then should she 
 turn ? For the third time no one is picked up from the 
 high road ; even if it might be, she would accept of 
 it no more, for it would only end in the same way. No 
 one could have confidence in her; whatever the cause 
 might be, she felt that so it was. She had not gained 
 one step, and she never would, for without trust what 
 could she do ? How she prayed, how she wept ! She 
 threw herself down, writhing in the trouble of her soul, 
 till worn out, she fell asleep. 
 
 Presently, in her sleep, all became snowy white, and 
 gradually too, so lofty ; never had she seen aught so high, 
 aught so bright ; and millions of stars were glittering.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 
 
 she awoke, she was still up there; the 
 thoughts of the day before, that came at once 
 streaming in, were taken prisoners, and bound 
 by a holy breath in the air the sound of the church 
 bells on this Sunday morning. She jumped up and 
 dressed, went to the larder, and took a slice of bread, 
 wrapped herself up carefully, and hurried off ; such thirst 
 for God's Word she had never felt before. When she 
 came there, the service had commenced, and the door 
 was locked. It was a cold day ; her fingers smarted 
 when she seized the key to turn it round. The minister 
 stood just before the altar, so she stopped, waiting down 
 by the door till he had finished reading, and the clerk 
 had taken off the vestments ; then walking up to the 
 so-called bishop's pew, that stood in the choir, and had 
 curtains. The real pew of the clergyman's family was in 
 the aisle, but if for any cause they wished to sit secluded, 
 they took the bishop's pew. On reaching it, and slipping 
 in, she saw Signe sitting there already, in the furthermost 
 corner ; she retreated a step, and would have retreated 
 altogether; but just then the Dean turned round to go 
 from the altar, past her, into the vestry ; again she hurried 
 into the pew, seating herself as near as possible to the 
 entrance. Signe had put down her veil. This struck Petra 
 painfully. She looked away over the congregation who, in 
 their winter wrappings, sat in the high wooden pews the 
 men on the right, the women on the left ; their breath
 
 122 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 hung over them in floating mist ; the ice was thick on the 
 windows. The heavy wood carvings, the slow, dragging 
 singing, the muffled -up people, all were alike cold, 
 distant ; she remembered how the whole earth was chill 
 that afternoon when she left Bergen. Here, too, she was 
 but a stray wayfarer. 
 
 The Dean entered the pulpit ; he also looked severe. 
 His text was, " Lead us not into temptation." " We 
 knew," he said, " that the powers God had given us, all 
 bore within them temptation ; but let us pray Him to be 
 merciful, and not tempt us beyond our strength. One 
 thing we should always remember ; that it was only by 
 humbling our powers to Him that they could be to our 
 salvation." The sermon further explained our double 
 task first, to follow our vocation, each where we have 
 been placed by our faculties and our position, and to 
 develop the Christian within ourselves and those entrusted 
 to our care. One should be cautious in one's vocation : 
 for, alas ! there might be one which in itself was sin ; 
 and, again, another might be sin to us, either because 
 it did not suit us, or flattered but too well our foolish 
 desires. Again, whilst every man must try to choose 
 according to his faculties, so, nevertheless, might a 
 choice, both right and good, be our temptation, if 
 we let the work, because it suited us, absorb all our 
 thoughts and time. Our Christian man must not be 
 neglected any more than our duties as parents. We 
 must be at peace within, so that the Holy Ghost could 
 continue his work there ; we must plant and tend the 
 good Christian seed in our children. There is no duty, 
 no pretext that can free us from this. 
 
 And now he went further into the life-work of those 
 who sat there, into their houses, their relations, their 
 opinions. Then he selected instances from other posi- 
 tions greater works throwing flashes of light upon 
 theirs. The Dean, expounding from the pulpit, was 
 another being to all who knew him in everyday life. 
 Even the outer man became new; his strong, square
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 123 
 
 countenance opened out, and became transparent to the 
 under current of thoughts ; his eyes were filled with soul 
 they looked straight out with a firm look, bringing 
 great messages; all that had been suppressed and hidden, 
 rose, and was unfolded At times his voice had the 
 depth of thunder ; at times it could break into short, 
 cutting sarcasm ; or, again, sink to a tender earnestness 
 that was full of eloquence and power. He could only 
 speak in a large place, and where the infinite alone 
 roofed in his thoughts ; his voice had no beauty till 
 it rose to its full pitch ; there was no brightness on 
 his countenance ; but small clearness in his thoughts till 
 the glow of his impassioned mind was on them. Not 
 because the ideas had not been found till then ; in this 
 soul where sorrow had heaped treasures, thought, too, 
 had largely done its work he was an earnest, secluded 
 labourer. But in the commonplace he was at a loss ; he 
 could not coin thoughts for general conversation ; he 
 must be the only speaker ; at all events, he must be able 
 to pace quickly up and down. To commence arguing 
 with him was to attack a man nearly weaponless, but, 
 nevertheless, dangerous, for on a sudden his conviction 
 would flash forth so impetuously that he had no time to 
 give reasons for it ; but if pressed further, one of two 
 things happened either he fell on his assailant with 
 such a heat of wrathful logic, that his words seemed harsh 
 as blows, or afraid of committing himself, he fell into 
 a stubborn silence. No one could be more easily 
 silenced than this strong, eloquent man. 
 
 Petra had trembled directly the Dean commenced his 
 prayer, for she felt at what it aimed. The further he 
 went, the nearer she felt his words draw to herself; 
 she shrank back, and she saw Signe do the same. But 
 he went on, powerful, merciless. She felt hunted 
 penned in there ; there was no escape. But, though 
 the pursuit was fierce, once seized, she was held 
 tenderly in the hand of mercy. It was as though 
 all word of doom unspoken she had been taken
 
 124 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 prisoner to be laid on the bosom of the All-Loving. 
 And there she prayed, there she cried ; and she heard 
 Signe doing the same, and loved her for it. 
 
 When the Dean went down from his chair of truth- 
 fulness, and passed by, on his way to the vestry, the 
 radiance from his meeting with the High One was bright 
 on his countenance. His eyes fell straight on Petra, and 
 inquiringly ; when she looked full into them, a ray of 
 mildness came there, while, as he walked on, he glanced 
 quickly at the daughter in the corner. 
 
 Soon after Signe rose, but her veil was down ; so 
 Petra dared not follow her, and went later. But to-day 
 they sat all three together at the dining-table. 
 
 The Dean spoke a little ; but Signe was shy. He 
 evidently wished to bring forward what had occurred ; 
 the daughter, however, turned off the faintest allusion so 
 gently, and with so much tact, that the Dean could not 
 but think of the mother ; so he relapsed into silence, 
 and soon into sadness. 
 
 Ah ! there was not much needed to bring him there. 
 
 Now, there is nothing more uncomfortable than an un- 
 successful attempt at reconciliation. They rose without 
 being able to look right into each other's eyes, and still less 
 to shake hands, whilst in the parlour they felt it soon so 
 oppressive, that each of the three would fain have left 
 the room, but none would be first to do so. As to 
 Petra, she knew that if she left, it would be for ever. 
 She could not see Signe again, if not allowed to love 
 her; she could not bear to know the Dean was sad 
 through her fault. But, were she to go away, it must 
 be without leave-taking : how could she bid them fare- 
 well ? The mere thought was such a pain, she could 
 scarcely bear it and keep still. 
 
 Each moment of such an oppressive silence, when 
 each longs for the other's voice, grows more unbearable. 
 One dares not stir, lest it should be remarked; every 
 sigh is audible ; the perfect quiet is heard too heard 
 like a reproach ; one grows nervous, because no word
 
 A CONTR OVF.RSY. 125 
 
 is spoken ; tmd yet one dreads that any one should 
 speak. 
 
 Petra could endure this no longer she felt that if she 
 didn't run away she would be obliged to scream. 
 
 But at that moment the sound of sledge-bells was 
 heard, and soon they saw, sliding along, in front of the 
 garden, and into the court, a small sledge, with a man 
 wrapped in wolves' skin in it, and a boy behind. All drew 
 their breath lighter and listened relief was near. They 
 heard some one come into the hall, take off his travelling- 
 boots and overcoat, and speak to the servant who helped 
 him ; presently the Dean rose to receive the traveller, but 
 turned back, not to leave the two girls alone. Again they 
 heard the stranger's voice in the hall ; now it came nearer, 
 and made all three look up, whilst Petra rose, her eyes 
 nailed to the door : some one knocked. 
 
 "Come in!" said the Dean; and he was ex- 
 cited. A tall man, with a bright face, stood in the 
 doorway : Petra, with a cry, sank down : it was Ode- 
 gaard ! 
 
 He had been expected at the rectory at Christmas, 
 though no one had mentioned it to Petra ; but his coming 
 just now that was through Providence; this they felt 
 directly, one and all. 
 
 Petra knew nothing till he stood before her, and held 
 her hand ; he held it long, very long, but he did not 
 speak : neither did she ; she was unable even to rise. 
 But two large tears rolled down her cheeks, whilst she 
 gazed at him. He was very pale, but calm and tender ; 
 he drew back his hand at last, crossed the floor, and 
 went over to Signe, who had slipped away amongst her 
 mother's flowers in the furthermost window. 
 
 Petra craved to be alone, and so made her escape. 
 Signe had household arrangements to make, so the Dean 
 and Odegaard settled down in the study with some warm 
 beverage, of which the wayfarer, no doubt, stood in need. 
 Here he had a short account of what the last days had 
 brought about ; after which he fell into deep thought, but
 
 i?6 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 kept silence. Presently, however, they were interrupted 
 in a singular way. 
 
 Before the window came passing along, one after 
 the other, two women and three men ; and the Dean 
 hardly saw them, ere he jumped up, and cried out 
 
 " Here they are again ! now for patience/' 
 
 In came, first the women, then the men, slowly, 
 silently. They ranged themselves along the wall under 
 the book-shelves, right against the sofa where Odegaard 
 was seated. The Dean offered them chairs, fetching 
 some more from the parlour, and all sat down, save a 
 young man, dressed in town's fashion, who remained 
 standing against the doorway, with a somewhat defiant 
 look, and with his hands in his pockets. 
 
 After a long silence during which the Dean filled his 
 pipe, and Odegaard, who did not smoke, took a view of 
 them a fair, pale, slight woman, of about forty years, 
 opened the conversation. Her forehead was rather 
 narrow, her eyes were large, but timid : they hardly knew 
 where to stay. 
 
 " You, father, gave us a fine sermon to-day ; it just 
 touches on our thoughts ; for we on the Oygars have 
 lately spoken much of temptation/' 
 
 She sighed ; a man, whose big broad forehead seemed 
 to domineer over his thin lips and scanty chin, sighed 
 also : 
 
 "Turn away mine eyes from beholding vanity, and 
 quicken Thou me in Thy way !" 
 
 At that, Else, who had first spoken, sighed again, and 
 added : 
 
 " Lord, wherewithal shall a young man cleanse 
 his way? by taking heed thereto, according to thy 
 word." 
 
 This sounded somewhat strange from her lips, for she 
 was no longer young. And a middle-aged man, who sat 
 with his head on one side, rocking himself to and fro, 
 his eyelids never quite raised, then quoted, as if in a half 
 sleep :
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 127 
 
 *' None are safe from Satan's guile, 
 Sore temptation, many a wile, 
 Must the Christian's valour try, 
 Minded with his Lord to die." 
 
 The Dean knew them too well not to be aware this 
 was merely the preamble ; therefore he waited, as if 
 nothing had been said, though there was again a long 
 pause, broken only by sighs. 
 
 A woman of low stature, who seemed shorter even 
 because she stooped, and who was muffled up in so out- 
 rageously many kerchiefs that she looked like a parcel, 
 her face being quite packed out of sight, now began to 
 rock and wave about, emitting groan-like sounds. Di- 
 rectly the fair woman was roused, and said 
 
 " There is an end of all kind of play and dancing 
 
 now in the Oygars, but " She stopped, whilst Lars, 
 
 he with the large forehead and the thin lips proceeded : 
 
 " But there is a man, no other than Hans Fiddler, 
 who will not give it up." 
 
 When Lars hesitated to say the rest, the young man 
 gave it out : 
 
 " Because he knows that the Dean also has an instru- 
 ment, to which they both dance and sing here in the 
 parsonage." 
 
 "It cannot be any greater sin for him, I should think, 
 than it is for the Dean," said Lars. 
 
 " The truth is the Dean's music is a temptation to 
 them," said Else, cautiously, so as to smooth matters a 
 little. But the young man added eagerly : 
 
 " It gives offence to the little ones, and it is written, 
 ' Woe unto him through whom offences come : it were 
 better for him that a millstone were hanged about his 
 neck, and that he were cast into the sea, than that he 
 should offend one of these little ones.' " 
 
 " And " Lars took the word after him " hence is 
 our request to thee, that thou shouldest send off that 
 instrument of thine, or burn it, so that it may not be an 
 offence "
 
 128 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " To thy parish children," added the young man. 
 
 The Dean steamed and puffed, and said, at length, 
 with an evident effort at calmness 
 
 " To me this instrument is not a temptation ; to me 
 it is a solace and relief. Now, you know that whatever 
 is able to free our spirit makes us more disposed for holy 
 and beautiful thoughts, and better able to comprehend 
 them ; therefore it is my firm belief that anything like this 
 instrument is a help to me." 
 
 "And I know there are clergymen who, to follow 
 St. Paul's word, would nevertheless give it up when their 
 parish children asked it," said the young man. 
 
 "Perhaps I, too, have formerly thus understood his 
 words," returned the Dean, " but that time is past. One 
 certainly may give up a habit, or a pleasure ; but not be 
 prejudiced nor foolish with the prejudiced and foolish. 
 Then I should be acting wrongly, not to myself alone, 
 but also to those to whom I am to be an example: for I 
 should give a wrong example : one against my conviction." 
 Except in the pulpit, it was a rare thing for the Dean to 
 enter on so detailed an argument. He added : 
 
 " I shall not give up my instrument, nor burn it : I 
 shall often listen to it; for I need it much and often; and 
 I do wish, that you, too, could in an innocent way unloose 
 your spirit in song and music, and in dancing : for I hold 
 these things to be good and right." 
 
 The young man turned aside his head ; " Pshaw ! " 
 he said scornfully. 
 
 The Dean's face grew fiery red, and a deep stillness 
 ensued. Then the rocking one gave out in a loud 
 voice : 
 
 " My God, on ev'ry side I see 
 Anguish, and pain, and care : 
 For men, whate'er their state may be, 
 Bend 'neath the cross they bear ; 
 And feeble flesh and blood rebel, 
 As every mortal knoweth well." 
 
 Lars spoke next, in a soft voice :
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 129 
 
 " You say, then, that music and singing and dancing 
 are right ; you do. Good ! It is right, then, to rouse 
 Satan through the senses. Good! So our clergyman 
 says. Well, now we know it at last ! Ay, that is what 
 he says that all such things as are done in idleness and 
 sensuality are to our help are setting us free ; that what 
 leads to temptation is right ! " 
 
 But here Odegaard interposed, for he saw by the 
 Dean's face that this was taking a wrong course. 
 
 " Tell me, my good man, what is there that does not 
 lead to temptation ? " 
 
 All looked towards him from whom came these 
 authoritative words. The question itself broke upon 
 them so unexpectedly, that Lars knew not for the 
 moment what to answer, nor did the others. Then 
 sounded, as from the deep of a well or cellar, the reply : 
 
 "Labour!" 
 
 The voice came out from the many kerchiefs : 
 it was Randi, who for the first time put in her 
 word. A smile of triumph lit up, a moment, the wooden 
 face of Lars ; the fair woman looked towards her with 
 faith; even the young man, who leant against the door- 
 frame, lost the scornful curve of his upper lip. Odegaard 
 understood that here was the head though it could not be 
 seen. 
 
 So he turned to her. " How must labour be, to 
 bring no temptation ?" he asked. She did not choose to . 
 answer ; but the young man said 
 
 " It is written, ' In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou 
 eat bread ' one's labour must give sweat and pains." 
 
 " And nothing but ' sweat and pains ?' no profit, for 
 instance ?" 
 
 Now, he did not answer either ; so Lars felt called 
 upon to unlock his tight, thin lips again : 
 
 "Certainly, as much profit as one can obtain!" he 
 said. 
 
 " But then there must also be temptation in labour : 
 the temptation of gaining too great profits ? " 
 
 J
 
 130 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 In this strait, reinforcement came from the depth : 
 " Then it is the profit that tempts, not the labour." 
 
 " Well, but what does it show, when labour is ex- 
 aggerated on account of profit?" 
 
 She shrank back again, but Lars was not to be silenced : 
 
 " What is the sense of ' labour exaggerated?'" he asked. 
 
 " It means, when it makes thee like the beast of the 
 field : keeps thee in thraldom." 
 
 " It is meant to be thraldom ! " said the young man r 
 who had talked quite unctuously of " sweat and pain." 
 
 " But is it able as thraldom to lead to God ?" 
 
 " Labour is worshipping God !" cried Lars. 
 
 " Dare you say so of all your labour ?" Lars kept 
 silence. 
 
 " Nay, be sensible, and grant that labour may be 
 exaggerated as though we lived only for that. Thus, in 
 labour there is temptation too." 
 
 "Yes, there is temptation in all things, children 
 in all things," fell the sentence of the Dean, while he 
 rose, and, by way of finish, knocked out his pipe. A sigh 
 was heard within the many neckerchiefs, but no answer 
 followed. 
 
 " Listen," Odegaard began once more, and the Dean 
 filled his pipe afresh ; " when the labour gives profit 
 that is to say, fruit may not we be allowed to enjoy this 
 fruit ? and if it becomes abundant; becomes wealth may 
 not we enjoy the wealth ?" This caused a great deal of 
 uncertainty : one looked to the other. 
 
 " I shall take upon me to answer, while you think it 
 over," he said ; " God must have given us permission to 
 try to transform the curse into a blessing, for he himself 
 led the patriarchs, led the whole people on to enjoyment 
 of riches." 
 
 " The apostles were to possess nothing," thrust in the 
 young man, feeling sure of the victory now. 
 
 " True : for them he wished to place outside and abtn>c 
 all human conditions ; they were to see God only it was 
 their Call !"
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 131 
 
 "We all have a Call." 
 
 " But not in that sense : ' art thou called to be an 
 apostle ? ' " 
 
 The young man's face turned deathly pale ; his eyes, 
 under that projecting wall of forehead, grew sinister: there 
 must have been some reason why this came home to him. 
 
 " But he who is rich must work too," suggested Lars ; 
 "we are told that man must work." 
 
 "True; that he must, though his ways and tasks 
 may differ. All have their own. But tell me, is man to 
 labour incessantly?" 
 
 " He must pray too," put in the fair woman, folding 
 her hands, as if calling to mind that she had too long 
 been forgetful of that. 
 
 " Hence, whenever man does not labour he must 
 pray ? Is it possible that any human being could do so ? 
 What would be his prayers, what would be his labours ? 
 Is he not to rest too ?" 
 
 " We are not to have rest till we cannot work any 
 more ; thus we are not tempted by evil thoughts ; alas ! 
 alas ! thus we are not led into temptation ;" Else repeated. 
 
 And the Rhymer struck in : 
 
 " Go, then, tired heart and frame, 
 Seek your rest in Jesu's name ! 
 For ye, too, shall trouble cease, 
 For ye, too, shall come a peace 
 A little bed within the soil, 
 Free from any care or toil." 
 
 " Be quiet, Erik, and listen," said the Dean. 
 
 Then Odegaard drew the knot tighter. " You admit," 
 he said, " first, that labour bears fruit ; then that rest is 
 needful. Now, as to song, music, and such social plea- 
 sures, it is my opinion that they are the sweet fruits of 
 labour, which afford the spirit strengthening rest" 
 
 At that they were a bit perplexed. All looked to 
 Randi ; now was the time for the chief force to advance. 
 She rocked herself to and fro, to and fro ; then came out 
 a voice, slow, calm : 
 
 J 2
 
 132 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " The rest is not to be found in worldly songs, nor 
 music, nor dancing ; for these are things to excite the 
 senses to sinful desires. That which corrupts and wastes 
 labour cannot be the fruit of labour." 
 
 " Alas ! there is great temptation in such things," said 
 the fair woman, with a sigh. 
 
 This set Erik off into a Psalm-verse : 
 
 " Each day we see, worse than before, 
 How sin is growing more and more. 
 Lies the garb of truth are wearing, 
 Vice the form of good is bearing ; 
 Entering on our spirits, slyly, 
 There to rear their foreheads highly." 
 
 " Be quiet, Erik !" said the Dean. " This is rhyming 
 without reason." 
 
 "Ah, well ; you may be right, I dare say," said Erik, 
 setting off again 
 
 " If specious flatterers seek to win, 
 
 Do not thou be led astray ; 
 Dread the open path of sin, 
 Keep thou in the narrow way. " 
 
 " Come, pray, let there be an end to this, Erik ! 
 Hymns are good things in their time and place." 
 
 " True, true, Father; you are quite right : all in its 
 time and place : 
 
 " In every place, at every time, 
 
 May thy soul be praises singing ; 
 Then shall every heart beat chime, 
 Like the bells for worship ringing." 
 
 " Nay, my good man ; thus prayer, too, would become 
 n temptation ; you would have to turn Roman Catholic 
 and enter a monastery." 
 
 "God forbid!" exclaimed Erik, opening his eyes 
 wide, then closing them again, he muttered : 
 
 " As foulest mire to purest gold 
 Is Faith, to Popish error sold ! " 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Erik ; if you cannot be quiet,
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 133 
 
 you must say what else you want, outside. Now, where 
 did we leave off?" 
 
 Odegaard, who highly amused had followed Erik, did 
 not recollect. Then, out of the many kerchiefs sounded 
 peaceably, " It was I who said that, that cannot be foi 
 rest, nor be the fruit of labour, which " 
 
 '' Ah, now I recollect : ' That in which there was 
 temptation,' and then came Erik, and proved that there 
 might be temptation even in prayer. Let us then look 
 into the matter farther. Have you not noticed how 
 people of a glad mind work better than the melancholy ? 
 Why is this?" 
 
 Lars, who saw at what he aimed, said : " It is faith 
 that gives the glad mind." 
 
 " True, if it be bright ; but you must have seen that 
 there is a faith which makes things look so gloomy, that 
 the world around is turned into a house of correction." 
 
 The fair woman heaved sigh upon sigh, until all the 
 kerchiefs were shaken by it. Lars gave her a sharp look, 
 and then the sighs left off. 
 
 Odegaard resumed, " Going on in the same groove, 
 be it of labour, or prayer, or pleasure, makes dull and 
 dreary; you may dig and burrow and till the ground 
 till you grow an animal ; pray till you become an auto- 
 matic gabbler ; amuse yourself till you turn into a loose- 
 jointed buffoon. But, now, if you mix them, by the 
 mixture, mind and thought will gain strength ; your 
 labour will prosper, your faith beam brighter." 
 
 "Ah, we, too, are to make merry, now!" said the 
 young man : he laughed. 
 
 " Yes, for then you would enter into communion with 
 your fellow-men ; for it is only when you are glad, you 
 can see what is good in others, and love it. Again, it is 
 only by loving your fellow-men that you learn to love 
 God." 
 
 When, for the moment, there were no contradictions, 
 Odegaard again tried to bring them to the point. 
 
 " That which liberates us, so that the Holy Spirit may
 
 134 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 be able to work within us (He has no work within those 
 who are in bondage) that which cheers or elevates us, 
 must bear a blessing within it; and so do the things 
 in question." 
 
 The Dean rose ; he had again to knock out his pipe. 
 
 In the stillness which now ensued, and which was 
 broken by no sighs, the many kerchiefs were seen heaving; 
 and at length was meekly said : 
 
 " It is written, ' Whatever ye do, do it all to the 
 glory of God ;' but are worldly singing, music, and 
 dancing to the glory of God ?" 
 
 " Directly: no ; but may we not ask the same question 
 about eating, drinking, sleeping, dressing ? And yet we 
 must do these things. This then can only mean that 
 we must do nothing which is sinful." 
 
 " Yes, but are not these things sinful ?" 
 
 For the first time Odegaard almost lost patience. He 
 restrained himself, however, saying : "We see in the 
 Bible that both singing, music, and dancing were allowed." 
 
 " Yes ; to the glory of God." 
 
 " True ; to the glory of God. But the reason why the 
 Jews named God always, and in everything, was because, 
 like children, they had not learnt to particularise. To 
 children every stranger is ' the man ' or ' the woman ;' to 
 the child's question, ' from where comes ? from this, whence 
 that ? ' we always answer, ' from God,' without naming 
 the medium ; but, if the full-grown speak to the full- 
 grown, he names the medium too, and not only the First 
 Cause, God. Thus, for instance, a beautiful song may be 
 to the glory of God, even though his name be not men- 
 tioned in it. Our dancing too, if it be really that of 
 innocence and health, praises him who gave the health, 
 and loves the child within our heart." 
 
 " Listen well to this," said the Dean ; he felt that for 
 a long time he had himself misunderstood these things, 
 and misinterpreted them to others. 
 
 But Lars had sat silent, pondering ; now he was 
 ready : the grain had sunk from the high forehead down
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 135 
 
 to the short, crabbed, lower face ; there it had been 
 crushed and ground, and now they were to have the 
 benefit of it. 
 
 "All sorts of fairy tales, romances, and legends that 
 now-a-days fill the books are they, too, permitted? Is 
 not it written, ' Let each word that proceedeth from thy 
 mouth be truth?'" 
 
 " I am glad you have brought this forward. You 
 see, it is with your thoughts exactly as with the house 
 you live in. Were it so narrow that you could hardly get 
 your head in and stretch your legs, you would have, I 
 suppose, to make it larger. Well ; poetry makes our 
 thoughts larger and more lofty, and so prepares us for 
 the better and higher life whither our faith should lead." 
 
 " But is not romance something that has never existed; 
 and consequently, is it not a lie?" asked Randi, some- 
 what hesitatingly. 
 
 " Often it brings truths home to us, more forcibly, than 
 aught we see around," Odegaard answered. 
 
 They all looked at him incredulously, and the young 
 man said 
 
 " I never knew before that there was more truth in 
 the story of Cinderella, than in what I see before my 
 eyes ! " 
 
 They all laughed, slyly. 
 
 " Then, tell me, do you always perceive the whole 
 truth of what passes before your eyes ?" 
 
 " I may not be learned enough for that." 
 
 " Ah, the learned may find it still less ! I am speaking 
 of those things in one's daily life, which bring pain and 
 sorrow, and which ' one may think oneself grey on,' as the 
 saying is. Have not you tried this yourselves?" 
 
 The young man gave no answer; but the many 
 kerchiefs were shaken by a groan, "Ah ! often," was 
 whispered softly. 
 
 " But now, if you heard a fancy story, resembling your 
 own so closely, that when you heard it, it explained your 
 life to you would not you say of the story that thus
 
 136 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 threw light, and gave you the comfort and strength of 
 understanding, that it had had more truth for you than 
 the real history of your own, which had been all dark 
 before ?" 
 
 " I once read a story," said the fair woman, " that in 
 a great sorrow helped me onwards, so that what had been 
 hardly bearable, became to me almost a joy." 
 
 At this there was a fresh tremor of Randi's wrappings, 
 and a timid voice pronounced, "Well, that is true, never- 
 theless, woman." 
 
 But the young man could not agree to this. " Is it 
 possible that the story of Cinderella could be a comfort 
 to anybody ? " he asked. 
 
 " Ay, in its own way ; what amuses has great power, 
 and this story shows, in an amusing manner, that the one 
 of whom the world thinks least, often is worth most ; that 
 all helps him, who keeps a good heart, and that he gets 
 on, who works and perseveres. Are not these good 
 things for many a child to call to mind? ay, and for 
 many a grown-up person too ?" 
 
 " But to believe in fairies and witchcraft, isn't that 
 superstition ?" 
 
 " Who has told you to believe in it ? it is figurative 
 language." 
 
 " But we have been forbidden to use images and sym- 
 bols, as all sham is of the devil." 
 
 " Indeed ! where is that to be read ?" 
 
 "In the Bible !" Here the Dean broke in ; " No, this 
 is a misunderstanding : the Bible itself uses pictures." 
 
 All looked at him. 
 
 " It uses pictures on every leaf, as Eastern people are 
 wont to do. We ourselves use pictures, in our churches; 
 in our language ; pictures in wood, in stone, on canvas , 
 and we cannot image to ourselves the Divine, save through 
 pictures. Further yet: Christ himself uses pictures. Has 
 not God taken upon Him manifold forms, when reveal- 
 ing himself to the prophets ? Came he not to Abraham 
 in Mamre, in the shape of a ' stranger,' and dined at
 
 A CONTROVERSY, 137 
 
 his table ? Since Divinity stoops to assume various forms, 
 and use pictures, man, I should think, may do it too." 
 
 They could not but agree; but Odegaard rose and said, 
 touching the Dean slightly on the shoulder : 
 
 " Thank you ! there you proved capitally from the 
 Bible, that dramatic art is allowed." 
 
 The Dean stopped, frightened ; the smoke he had in 
 his mouth curled slowly out of itself. 
 
 Odegaard crossed over to her of the many kerchiefs, 
 and bent down, vainly seeking to get a glimpse of her 
 face. 
 
 "Is there more you wish to know?" he asked; "for 
 it seems to me, you have thought earnestly upon these 
 matters." 
 
 " May the Lord help me ! I don't think much that is 
 right, I fear." 
 
 " Ah ! in the first hour of the grace of conversion, one 
 is so taken up by its wonders, that all other things seem 
 needless and wrong. One is as the lover, who yearns only 
 to see the beloved one." 
 
 " Well, but look at the early Christians : they, at all 
 events, should be our example." 
 
 " No : their hard conditions amongst the heathens 
 are no longer ours ; we have other tasks we must bring 
 Christianity into life as it is now." 
 
 " But there are so many words in the Old Testament, 
 which are against what you say," said the young man, and 
 for the first time he spoke without bitterness. 
 
 " Yes, but those words are now dead ; they are ' done 
 away,' as St. Paul says. ' We are the ministers of the New 
 Testament not of the letter, but of the spirit :' and, 
 further, ' Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is liberty,' 
 and 'all is permitted/ says St. Paul further, but adds, 
 ' not all is useful.' We are fortunate enough to have a 
 man's life before us, which illustrates what St. Paul meant : 
 Luther's. I suppose you believe that Luther was a true 
 and enlightened Christian ?" 
 
 That they did believe.
 
 138 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 11 Well, his faith was bright it was that of the New 
 Testament ! He thought, of gloomy faith, that behind it 
 the devil was lurking. He thought of temptation, that 
 he who fears least, is least tempted. He used all the 
 faculties God had given him, those for gladness as well as 
 the others : he comprehended life in its entireness. Shall 
 I tell you an instance ? The pious Melancthon once, full 
 of zeal, wrote a defence for the pure creed, and so eager 
 was he, that he grudged himself rest for meals. Then 
 Luther took the pen out of his hand, ' We serve God, not 
 merely by labour,' he said, ' but also by rest and quiet : 
 therefore God has given us the third commandment, and 
 established the Sabbath.' Further, Luther used pictures 
 in his speech playful or earnest, as the case might be ; 
 and he was full of good, often even of waggish, jests. He 
 rendered, too, old popular tales into his mother tongue, 
 and said in the preface that, next to the Bible, he knew 
 no better lessons than they. He played the guitar, as 
 you know, and sang with children and friends not only 
 psalms, but also old merry songs ; he was fond of social 
 games ; played chess, and allowed the young to dance in 
 his house ; only requesting it should be done with pro- 
 priety. This, an old simple-minded disciple of Luther, 
 viz., the minister Johan Mathesius, has written; and told 
 it to his parishioners from the pulpit. He prayed it 
 might be to their guidance let the prayer be ours too !" 
 
 The Dean rose : " Now, my friends, we shall end for 
 to-day." 
 
 All rose. 
 
 " Many words have been spoken for edification : 
 may God give his grace to the sowing ! 
 
 " Dear friends, you live in sequestered places : live on 
 the heights, where cold blights the corn oftener than 
 the lightning. Yon barren highland fields never ought to 
 have been cleared ; let them once more be given up to 
 the freebooter and the grazing herds. Spiritual life 
 up there is bleak, and grows stunted, like the herbs. 
 Prejudices cast their shadow on life like the cliffs where-
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 139 
 
 under they were bred darkening, separating. May the 
 Lord gather, may the Lord lighten! Thanks to you, 
 friends, for coming here : this day has brought light to me 
 also." He grasped the hand of each, and even the young 
 man gave him this friendly leave-taking, though he did not 
 look up. 
 
 " You go across the cliff? When, then, shall you be at 
 home?" asked the Dean, as they were leaving. 
 
 " Ah some time or other in the night," replied Lars, 
 " a great deal of snow has been heaped up, and where it 
 is blown away there are ice-patches." 
 
 "Indeed, friends, it does you honour to seek the church 
 under such circumstances : may the Lord lead you home 
 in safety !" 
 
 Erik said calmly : 
 
 " If God but keep me in His care, 
 
 Assault me all who may, 
 I can rejoice my heart in prayer, 
 And tread the narrow way." 
 
 " Well said, Erik, this time you have hit it ! " 
 
 " Wait yet a moment," said Odegaard, as they were 
 about to leave, " it is natural you should not recognise 
 me ; I wonder, however, whether I have not got relatives 
 in the Odegaards?" 
 
 All turned towards him, even the Dean, who had 
 known this once on a time; but had forgotten all 
 about it. 
 
 " My name is Hans Odegaard, and I am the son of 
 Kneed Hansen Odegaard, the Dean he who wandered 
 out from you once, with the pedlar's pack over his 
 shoulder." 
 
 " Dear Lord ! he was my brother ! " sounded now 
 from out the many kerchiefs. 
 
 They had all gathered round him, but no one was 
 able to speak ; at last Odegaard asked : 
 
 " It was with you then, I stayed, when once, as a 
 little boy, I went with my father up yonder?" 
 
 "Yes, it was with me."
 
 140 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 "And you stayed with me for awhile too," said 1 
 Lars ; " your father and I are cousins." But Randi said,, 
 with sadness 
 
 "You, then, are the little Hans : how time flies !" 
 
 " How fares it with Else ? " asked Odegaard. 
 
 " That is Else," said Randi, pointing to the fair woman. 
 
 " Are you Else ? " he exclaimed ; " you had a heart 
 grief at that time : you wished to marry the fiddler of the 
 tract ; had you your wish ?" 
 
 No one answered. Though dusk was falling fast, he 
 saw Else turn red as fire, and the men looked down 
 all, save the young man, who stared at Else fixedly. 
 Odegaard understood that his question had been an 
 awkward one ; but the Dean came to his assistance. 
 
 " No, Hans the Fiddler is unmarried. Else married a 
 son of Lars ; but now she is a widow." 
 
 Again she blushed crimson ; the young man saw it, and 
 smiled scornfully; but Randi said 
 
 " Ah ! you, no doubt, have travelled far about. You 
 have learned much, I can hear." 
 
 " Yes ; hitherto I have travelled ; now I shall keep 
 quiet and work." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; that's the way ! Some people go abroad, 
 and gain learning and light, others are left behind." 
 
 And Lars added : " The native soil is often hard to 
 till ; and when we raise a man who might be our help, 
 he leaves us alone." 
 
 " Each one must follow his call," said the Dean : " it 
 is not the same to all." 
 
 "And the Lord truly can join together what is dis- 
 connected," said Odegaard. "My father's work shall, 
 if it be God's will, reach back hither." 
 
 "Ah, yes; so it may," said Randi, gently; "but 
 waiting is often hard it lasts so long ! " 
 
 So they parted. The Dean took his place by one 
 window, Odegaard by the other, to look after them : now 
 they had to go across the mountain ; the young man went 
 behind. Odegaard heard how he came from the town, and
 
 A CONTROVERSY. 141 
 
 hew there he had striven to do much, and set much agoing, 
 but had only succeeded in getting into hot water with his 
 neighbours. He thought himself called to something 
 grand no doubt, to be an apostle ; but, strange to say, 
 now he had come to a standstill in the Odegaard's tract 
 from love of Else, some said. He was a soul of flame, 
 who had gone through many disappointments, and for 
 whom more were waiting. 
 
 They were once more visible on the mountains : the 
 roof of the cattle-house hid them no longer. They walked 
 wearily upwards now hidden behind trees, then re-appear- 
 ing high and ever higher. There was no path on the 
 deep snow ; the trees were their guides in the wilderness. 
 Sidewards, far, far away, the snow-clad cliffs told where 
 lay their home. 
 
 But within, from the room, came warbling a prelude, 
 .and then the following song : 
 
 " I give my lays to the Spring, to the Spring ! 
 
 To the Spring that is yet unborn ! 
 I give my lays to the Spring, to the Spring, 
 
 And I marry Hope to the Morn, 
 And longings to longings, and my heart to the hour 
 That kindles the air with a mystic power ! 
 And our youth and warmth we, too, will ally, 
 And join together the Spring and I 
 And woo, and win over, the Sun to our side, 
 Grim Winter to baulk of his gloom and his pride, 
 Bursting his fetters, and freeing the rills, 
 To dance and sparkle over the hills ; 
 And to din their laughter into his ear, 
 Till he needs must know that his fall is near ; 
 Then, hunting him off from valley and brake, 
 By the fragrance of myriad blossoms that wake. 
 I give my lays to the Spring, to the Spring ! 
 
 To the Spring that is yet unborn ! 
 I give my lays to the Spring, to the Spring, 
 
 And I marry Hope to the Morn 1"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 
 
 that day the Dean was very little with 
 the others ; partly because his Christmas duties 
 claimed his time, and partly because he found it 
 hard to make up his mind, whether or no a Christian 
 could sanction dramatic art. The very sight of Petra 
 sent him off into a brown study. 
 
 But, whilst the Dean sat in his room, either over his 
 sermon, or pondering Christian ethics, Odegaard sat with 
 the two girls, whom he could not help constantly com- 
 paring. Petra sparkled, and was never the same ; he 
 who would follow her was kept in incessant excitement, 
 as by the reading of some interesting book. Signe, on 
 the contrary, had a soothing influence by her ever 
 womanly gentleness. Her movements never came unex- 
 pectedly ; for they reflected her mind. Petra's voice had 
 all tones sharp and soft every degree of strength. 
 Signe's owned a peculiar beauty, but was not changeful, 
 except to the father, who with the skill of love under- 
 stood its slight modulations. Petra had thought and 
 care for but one thing; her other occupations were 
 never thoroughly attended to. Signe took an interest in 
 all and every one, and gave herself up without one's- 
 noticing it. If Odegaard spoke with Petra about Signe, 
 he was met with a flood of passionate laments ; but, on 
 the other hand, Signe said but little about Petra. 
 
 The girls, between themselves, spoke often and with- 
 out restraint, though always upon indifferent matters.
 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 143 
 
 Odegaard owed much to Signe, for to her was due 
 what he called " the new man " within him. His first 
 letter from Signe, after his great sorrow, came like a soft 
 hand on an aching forehead. With tender touch she told 
 how Petra had come to their house, misunderstood and 
 ill-treated ; and her gentle feminine assurance, that the 
 accident which had led the wanderer thither was of God's 
 willing, so that "nothing should be broken asunder," 
 sounded like distant calling in a wood, when one stands 
 doubting where is the path. 
 
 Signe's letters followed him wherever he went, and 
 were the clue that guided him. She meant by each 
 line to lead Petra straight into his embrace, but did 
 just the contrary ; for, in these letters Petra's artist's 
 nature rose before him ; that centre-point in her endow- 
 ments, which he himself had sought vainly, Signe kept 
 constantly in sight, all unconsciously; and directly this 
 became clear to him, he understood both her error, and 
 his own ; and it gave him new life. 
 
 He carefully avoided writing to Signe upon what her 
 letters had taught him. The first word must come from 
 Petra herself, not from her surroundings, or it might be 
 premature. And now he saw Petra in a new light. These 
 ever-flitting moments each fully felt, yet each essentially 
 contradictory to the other must be the dawn of the 
 artist's nature. What now remained to be done was to 
 concentrate and harmonise all this varied strength, other- 
 wise all would be patchwork, the life itself merely artificial, 
 and, so as to check her from entering this course too- 
 early, to be silent as long as possible, and even to a 
 certain extent to resist her. 
 
 Having decided thus, he hardly was aware ere Petra, 
 had once more become the constant problem of his soul, 
 but this time the task was for no personal aim. Closely 
 he surveyed art around him, and artists ; particularly those 
 of the stage. He saw much to horrify the Christian ; 
 saw the enormous abuses. But did he not see the same 
 everywhere ? Did he not see it even in the Church ?
 
 144 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 Because there were shallow priests, was not the call great 
 to all eternity? Since the service of truth gained life 
 and strength in poetry, should not the stage, too, help 
 the spread of light? Gradually he gained certainty. 
 He saw from Signe's letters that Petra was rapidly de- 
 veloping, and that Signe was just the one to help her. 
 Now he had come home to hail this Fylgje,* who did 
 not know herself what she was to him. 
 
 But he had come, too, to see Petra again. How far 
 had she gained ? The ice had been broken, and so he 
 could discuss the matter freely with her ; this was a relief 
 to them ; thus they did not need to touch upon the past. 
 
 Soon, however, they were disturbed by visitors from 
 the town invited and not invited. Matters, meanwhile, 
 had now reached a stage when a single happy chance 
 could clear the air ; and this the visitors furnished. For 
 their sake a large party was given ; after dinner the 
 gentlemen assembled in the study, and the conversation 
 turned on acting, while a chaplain of the Bishop noticed 
 an " Essay on Christian Ethics," open on the Dean's 
 table, and his eyes met the alarming word " Play." An 
 eager argument ensued, in the midst of which the Dean, 
 who had been called to a sick-bed, entered. He was 
 in a grave mood ; would have nothing to eat, and did 
 not to join the conversation ; but he filled his pipe, and sat 
 listening. Directly Odegaard saw the Dean settled, and 
 following the discussion, he took a part in it. But for 
 a long time he sought in vain to keep to the point of 
 the argument ; for, whenever any parallel or example was 
 put forward to make the chain of proofs complete, the 
 Bishop's chaplain was sure to call out, " But I deny that 
 fact ! " And then that special statement had to be proved, 
 and so the matter receded rather than proceeded. 
 
 They had already wandered from the theatre to the 
 art of navigation, and from thence had branched off into 
 the science of agriculture. But this style of thing would 
 
 * Guardian spirit ; from the Scandinavian mythology.
 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 145 
 
 not do. Odegaard appointed himself chairman. Besides 
 him there were several clergymen, and a captain a short, 
 swarthy gentleman, of vast circumference, supported by a 
 pair of spider legs, that moved under him like drumsticks. 
 Odegaard gave the word to trie chaplain, so that he might 
 there and then set forth his objections to the stage. 
 
 "The most virtuous among the pagans themselves 
 disapproved of the dramatic art," he said, sententiously : 
 "we find that Plato was of opinion that morals were thereby 
 corrupted. Aristotle coincides in this persuasion. So- 
 crates, indeed, is said to have honoured some dramatic 
 performances with his presence. But what then ? will 
 any be disposed to conclude, on the strength of that, 
 that Socrates approved of plays ? I positively deny the 
 fact ! Nay, I do not hesitate to assert the exact contrary. 
 One has to look at much one does not approve of ! The 
 early Christians were strenuously warned against acting 
 read Tertullian. Since, in modern times, there has been 
 a revival of the stage, earnest Christians have written and 
 spoken against it. I can here enumerate such names as 
 Spener and Francke, and refer you to such a Christian 
 moralist as Schwartz. I shall name Schleiermacher." 
 
 " Hear, hear!" cried the captain, for this name was 
 familiar to him. 
 
 "The two latter grant the legitimacy of dramatic poetry: 
 Schleiermacher even suggested that, in private circles, and 
 by amateurs, a good drama may be acted, but he con- 
 demns the professional actor. Acting, as a profession, 
 has manifold temptations to the Christian, and therefore 
 it is his duty to avoid it. And is it not also a temptation 
 to the spectators ? to be moved by feigned sufferings, to 
 be exalted by imagined heroes of virtue ; this of all which 
 one may more easily guard against in reading, one may be 
 lured to believe one's own case, on seeing represented ; 
 it weakens energy and self-exertion, it debases the mind, 
 stimulating a thirst for vain sight and sound, which feed 
 an unhealthy imagination. Am I not right ? Who are 
 they that frequent the theatres ? Idlers, who want to be
 
 146 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 amused ; sensualists who want excitement ; the vain and 
 frivolous, who want to be seen ; visionaries, who take 
 refuge here from real life that which they dare not 
 face. Sin is behind the curtain, sin outside it ! I never 
 heard a truly earnest Christian who disagreed with me ! " 
 
 As he wound up thus, the captain exclaimed, " On 
 my word, I'm clean scared ; have I, indeed, been into 
 such a wolf's den each time I have been to the theatre ? 
 then may the " 
 
 " Fie, captain," a little girl interposed, who had come 
 in unawares ; " you must not swear ; if you do you will 
 go to hell !" 
 
 " Yes, my child, no doubt, no doubt ! " 
 
 Here Odegaard interposed : 
 
 " Plato had the same objection to poetry as to the 
 play; Aristotle's opinion is doubtful so I shall leave 
 them both alone. As to the early Christians, they 
 did well in keeping away from pagan performances so 
 I shall leave them alone too. That earnest Christians 
 have their scruples as to the play, I can understand 
 I have had them myself. But, if you grant that the 
 poet is free to write a drama, then, too, the actor must 
 be free to act it ; for does not the poet, as he writes it 
 with all the might and fervour of soul and mind, act it 
 in his thoughts ? and, by Christ's own words, we know that 
 he who sins by thought is guilty. When Schleiermacher 
 says the drama must only be acted in private, he says 
 the faculties we have received from God are to be 
 neglected. Again, there's not a day passes that each 
 one of us does not do a bit of acting. Supposing we 
 mimic another in jest, or in play or earnest repeat an 
 opinion not our own ? Well, there are some in whom 
 this faculty is the ruling one : if they neglected to 
 cultivate it, there would be the sin ; for he who does not 
 follow his vocation becomes unfit for other work, unclear, 
 vacillating in short, a far easier prey to temptations 
 than if he had obeyed his call. Where labour and 
 desire go together, many a temptation is shut out. But,
 
 FETRA'S BETROTHAL, 147 
 
 people say, that the temptation here is in the vocation 
 itself. Well, each may feel this differently : to me there 
 seems no call so prone to lead into temptation as that 
 in which one may grow to esteem oneself righteous, 
 because the Righteous One has charged one with a 
 message, and to assume one's own faithfulness, because it 
 is one's work to rouse the faith of others. To speak more 
 plainly, to me the office of a pastor is, of all others, full of 
 most sore temptation ! " 
 
 A confusion of tongues ensued : 
 
 " That I deny ! " 
 
 " He is right ! " 
 
 " Listen ! " 
 
 " I deny it, I say ! " 
 
 " It's true, I repeat," &c. 
 
 "Well," said the captain, "that it was worse to 
 be a parson than a player, I never should have thought." 
 
 Laughter, and cries from various quarters of : 
 
 " No, he never said such a thing ! " 
 
 " Why, what the ? " began the captain. 
 
 " Now, captain," said the little girl, " if you will go 
 on like that, he'll come and fetch you ! " 
 
 " No doubt you're right my child, but " 
 
 Odegaard once more took the lead : 
 
 " The temptation of flattering the senses by ear and 
 eye and fancy, and of putting on the heroic virtues of 
 others, and holding oneself up to be admired and loved, 
 are in the church too ! " 
 
 Here the confusion grew louder than ever. 
 
 But the ladies could not hear all this stir without 
 wanting to know what it was about. Presently the door 
 was opened slightly, and Odegaard caught sight of Petra; 
 so he raised his voice and said : 
 
 " No doubt there may be some who waste lachrymose 
 sentiment on the stage, thence they run to the church, 
 and carry their morbid tears there too : the one is as 
 contemptible as the other. Again, there are shallow 
 gabblers, who would have been worse than useless in any 
 
 K 2
 
 148 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 other profession ; but who, as actors, serve at least as 
 speaking-trumpets. But for all that it is a well-known fact 
 that the actor's life is as full of tempests as the sailor's 
 even. Think of the moment that precedes his entry on 
 the stage: is it not terrible with anxiety? The unexpected, 
 the great, lie before him. Often is he a tool in the hand 
 of God, and therefore he bears in his heart a sense of his 
 unworthiness, with much reverence and many longings, 
 and we know Christ was near to the humble publican 
 and the woman who repented. I am not giving them a 
 plenary indulgence : on the contrary, the higher I esteem 
 their mission in the land for the worthy actors are few 
 and far between the greater I hold to be their guilt, 
 when they let their profession draw them into envy 
 and enervated frivolity. But just as there is no 
 actor but has, through repeated disappointments, 
 learnt the slight value of public applause and adu- 
 lation even though he may appear to trust therein 
 so we also see their faults and shortcomings, but 
 know not what is the position of the inner man, which 
 is, after all, the question from the Christian point of 
 view." 
 
 A great many of them, having a deal to say, com- 
 menced speaking ; but from the drawing-room came the 
 sound of music, and the first bars of the popular air : 
 
 " When my age was only fourteen years," 
 
 and all flocked thither : for it was Signe who sang ; and 
 there was something in the tone and style in which Signe 
 gave the Swedish popular, songs which surpassed all they 
 knew. Song followed song, and when these, the popular 
 songs of the world, true messengers from the soul of a 
 great people, had raised the mind to expectancy, Ode- 
 gaard rose, and asked Petra to read a poem. No doubt 
 she had expected this, for her face was already in a glow. 
 Still she stepped forth, though trembling, so that she 
 had to cling to a chair, and, growing pale as death, she 
 commenced :
 
 PETKA'S BETROTHAL. 149 
 
 " He longed for the life of a Viking bold : 
 
 He pined for the stormy sea ; 
 His mother was feeble, his father old 
 There was none, save he, the house to hold. 
 
 'Now here,' said the father, 'is a marvel to me, 
 That thou shouldst so pine for the stormy sea, 
 Who hast not a lack to be told. ' 
 
 " He sat and watched the clouds at night 
 
 Drift dark through the gloomsome sky : 
 
 He looked and longed, with main and with might, 
 
 Warriors seemed they, bound to the fight ! 
 He sat and watched the morning break, 
 And the glorious sun bound forth, awake 
 
 A monarch, whose robes were light. 
 
 " He wandered adown to the rocky shore, 
 
 (Small share of work did he), 
 He heard the blustering breakers roar, 
 Shouting the deeds of the days of yore ; 
 
 He saw, in the fight, the seething spray 
 
 Torn from the billows and tossed away : 
 And the heat of his heart grew more. 
 
 " The world was just free of old Winter's chain : 
 
 It was in the sweet Springtide ; 
 And out on the stormy, steel-grey main, 
 A war-ship fought to be free again, 
 
 Tugged at her anchor, and flapped her sails 
 
 (Tattered and torn by a hundred gales), 
 And writhed like a creature in pain. 
 
 " The sailors slept mid the ocean's roar, 
 
 Or caroused on the brine-washed deck ; 
 When a voice fell down from the beetling shore 
 Reckless and mad were the words it bore 
 
 ' Do ye fear to ride, now the waves run high ? 
 
 There is joy in the venture that death is nigh ! 
 Give me the rudder I'm longing sore ! ' 
 
 " Long and loud laughed the scornful crew ; 
 
 ' Hark, how the bantling crows !' they said, 
 And they fell to their cups and their ease anew. 
 But a crag he tore from the rock, and threw 
 
 Two men fell crushed, with a shriek of pain ! 
 
 The sailors sprang to their feet again, 
 And all their weapons drew.
 
 1 50 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " Up flew the darts, like birds of prey 
 
 Athirst for his young heart's blood ; 
 Head bare, he stood to the open day ; 
 He tossed, with his hand, the arrows away. 
 
 ' Wilt thou yield the rule of thy brig to m?, 
 Or fight, which lord of us twain shall be 1 
 Whether, O chieftain, say.' 
 
 " For answer, sped through the air a spear, 
 
 It grazed the gallant's cheek. 
 Loud fell his laugh on the Viking's ear : 
 ' The arm is not forged that my life should fear ! 
 In Walhalla, as yet, they wait not for me 
 But long, O chief ! hast thou ploughed the sea : 
 For thee, the port looms near. 
 
 " ' So thy barque and her fortunes yield to my hold, 
 For the pulse of my heart beats high ! ' 
 
 The skipper smiled : ' Thou art daring and bold, 
 
 If thou longest so sorely, as thou hast told, 
 
 Come, be my warrior ! ' He answered, ' Nay 
 I was born to command, and not to obey ! 
 
 The young must supplant the old.' 
 
 " Then down he sprang on the loose crags, nigher, 
 And flung these words o'er the wave : 
 
 ' Champions, bound not by love of hire, 
 
 But who follow the lead of the soul of fire, 
 Let the stoutest arm in the battle prove 
 Which of us twain has the War-god's love 
 
 Which of us twain is the higher ! ' 
 
 " To the corsair's brow leapt an angry glow, 
 He dashed him into the wave ; 
 
 He cleft the breakers with many a blow, 
 
 Fighting to shoreward, fiercely and slow, 
 
 Till he clutched the shingles, free of all harms, 
 And was taken up by the strong young arms 
 
 Then all on board breathed low. 
 
 " But the chieftain looked in the stripling's eye, 
 
 And read there the soul of fire ; 
 And it pleased him well, though his hour was nigh, 
 That the mien of his foeman was gallant and high. 
 
 ' Fling him arms, ' shouted he to the watchers on board 
 ' If I perish to-night, it shall be by my sword 
 In a hero's hand that I die !'
 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 151 
 
 *' All under the cliff, by the rock-strewn shore, 
 
 Ah, fierce was the strife, and strong ! 
 Rang many a shout mid the tempest's roar : 
 Crashed many a blow, that the wild winds bore 
 
 The crags moaned back : in the heart of the mere 
 
 The foul sea-dragon snorted for fear, 
 Then grew still for the fight was o'er. 
 
 *' All under the cliff, on the lonesome strand, 
 
 Lay the chief of the corsair crew. 
 Then rose a shriek from the lawless band : 
 ' Perished our lord, by this wolf- whelp's hand !' 
 
 And over the vessel, and into the wave, 
 
 Breaker and hurricane daring to b uve, 
 Reckless, they battled to land. 
 
 ** But up he raised him, the skipper bold, 
 
 And, feebly, thus spake he : 
 ' The Saga ends when the triumph is told, 
 And the life must close when the heart grows cold ; 
 
 Warriors ! here is a chieftain, fain 
 
 To storm with ye o'er the restive main : 
 The young must supplant the old ! ' 
 
 " Dark, dark, they stood there, the pirate-horde, 
 Wild, wild, sobbed the swelling sea ; 
 
 He showed, with his finger, the youthful lord, 
 
 His place was waiting at Odin's board : 
 
 And his spirit fled. And the waves wailed loud, 
 The youth stood fearlessly there, and proud, 
 
 And leaned on the chieftain's sword. 
 
 -" Slow, slow, all eyes were on him turned, 
 
 There leapt to his cheek a fire ; 
 His bosom throbbed, and his temples burned : 
 He sprang to a rock that the rough sea spurned 
 ' Warriors ! rear me a hillock of stones. 
 That a trophy be raised o'er the hero's bones, 
 As his dauntless deeds have earned ! 
 
 *' ' But, ere eve, our barque must be on the wave, 
 
 And all our sails unfurled ; 
 For many a hazard have we to brave, 
 And many a venture and exploit to crave. 
 
 Life, my masters, is eager and fleet ; 
 
 And idle and vain are the loitering feet, 
 That stay to mourn o'er a grave !'
 
 152 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " All over the sea, at the close of day, 
 
 Swept a dirge, like a bird of night ; 
 It died mid the rocks where the chieftain lay : 
 It died and the glow of the sun's last ray 
 
 Crimsoned the white of the fluttering sails, 
 
 Unfurled once more to defy the gales, 
 And fly o'er the trackless way. 
 
 " Proud stood the youth at the rudder's head, 
 His hair in the gusty wind. 
 
 Close by the coast the vessel sped, 
 
 'Who steers the corsair's craft ?' they said ; 
 
 ' He will run the barque on the surging reef !' 
 But the father looked on the youthful chief, 
 
 And could not speak, for dread. 
 
 " Ah ! he smiled on his sire with mirthful glee, 
 
 From amid the surf and the spray : 
 ' I am here to claim permission,' said he, 
 ' A lord of the winds and billows to be ! 
 
 A lack have I, that must needs be told 
 
 I long for the life of a Viking bold, 
 I pine for the stormy sea !'" 
 
 Tremblingly the poem was said solemnly too. There 
 was no assumption, no vanity in the girlish voice. All 
 stood there, as though before their eyes, in the midst of 
 them, had sprung up, a hundred feet in the air, a fountain 
 of clear water, bright, transparent, and on it the radiance 
 of the rainbow. No one spoke, no one stirred ; but the 
 captain could no longer stand this ; he jumped up, 
 panted, stretched himself, and said 
 
 " Well, I don't know how it is with you others j but 
 when it comes upon me in this way, the " 
 
 " Captain ! there you swore again," said the little girl,, 
 threatening him with her forefinger ; " didn't I tell you 
 the devil would be here presently to carry you off, if you 
 went on like this ?" 
 
 " All right, my little one ! but let him : for whether the 
 d take me or no, I must have a patriotic song ! " 
 
 And he tuned up, in a voice so tremendous, that one 
 might think the enormous stomach acted as organ-bellows j 
 the others chimed in more modestly :
 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 153 
 
 " My land will I defend, 
 
 My land will I befriend 
 And my son, to help its fortunes and be faithful, will I train ; 
 
 Its weal shall be my prayer, 
 
 And its want shall be my care, 
 From the rugged old snow mountains to the cabins by the main. 
 
 " We have sun enough, and rain, 
 
 We have fields of golden grain ; 
 But love is more than fortune, or the best of sunny weather ; 
 
 We have many a Child of Song, 
 
 And Sons of Labour, strong, 
 We have hearts to raise the North Land, if they only beat together. 
 
 " In many a gallant fight 
 We have shown the world our might, 
 
 And reared the Norseman's banner on a vanquished stranger's shore j 
 But fresh combats will we brave, 
 And a nobler flag shall wave, 
 
 With more of health and beauty than it ever had before ! 
 
 " New valour shall burst forth ; 
 For the ancient three-cleft North 
 
 Shall unite its wealth and power, yielding thanks to God the Giver I 
 Once more shall kinsmen near 
 To their brethren's voice give ear, 
 
 And the torrents of the mountains wed their forces in the river ! 
 
 " For this North Land is our own, 
 And we love each rock and stone, 
 
 From the rugged old snow mountains to the cabins by the main ; 
 And our love shall be the seed 
 To bear the fruit we need, 
 
 And the country of the Norsemen shall be great, and One again ! " 
 
 But Signe went over to Petra, and drew her away 
 from the others and into the study. 
 
 " No," she said, " you have conquered me ! I cannot 
 keep this on my heart. Petra, let us be friends once 
 more !" 
 
 " Oh, Signe ! then at length you will forgive me?" 
 
 " Anything ! I could forgive you anything now I 
 Petra, do you love Odegaard ?" 
 
 "Signe " 
 
 " Dear, I have thought it from the first ; and now I
 
 154 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 was sure he had come to These last years, in all I 
 had to do with you and him, I had this in view. Father 
 believed it too ; and, for certain, he and Odegaard have 
 spoken of it." 
 
 " But, Signe " 
 
 " Hush !" She laid her hand on Petra's lips, and ran 
 away : some one was calling her ; supper was ready. 
 
 The table was amply spread, because the Dean 
 had had no dinner. But he, who all the time had been 
 very grave and very quiet, sat still, as if no one were pre- 
 sent, till people were about to rise. Then, all at once, 
 he said : 
 
 " I have to announce a betrothal !" 
 
 All looked at the young girls, who sat side by side, 
 scarcely knowing whether to escape from their seats or 
 to stay. 
 
 "I have to announce a betrothal," said the Dean 
 again, as though he felt it difficult to get on. " I must 
 admit, that at first, this was not after my heart." 
 
 All the guests looked at Odegaard in great amazement ; 
 it grew when they saw how calmly he sat, gazing back at 
 the Dean. 
 
 "To be candid, I did not think the spouse elect 
 worthy of the bride." 
 
 The guests here felt so bashful, that none of them 
 dared glance up ; and since the girls from the beginning 
 had looked down, the Dean had but one face to address 
 that of Odegaard : it expressed the most supreme 
 calm. 
 
 " But now," the Dean, went on, " now, that I better 
 know the consort she has chosen, my thought has changed; 
 and if there be any doubt left, it is rather whether she 
 be worthy of so high and grand a lord for the spouse is 
 Art, the great Art of the Drama, and Petra, the dear 
 child of my adoption, is the bride ! May you be happy 
 together ! I tremble at it : but those who belong to each 
 other, shall be joined together. God be with thee, my 
 daughter!"
 
 PETRA'S BETROTHAL. 155 
 
 In a moment she had glided over to him, and now 
 lay upon his breast. 
 
 They could not resume their seats, and presently the 
 whole party left the table. But Petra went over to Ode- 
 gaard, who took her at once to the furthermost window ; 
 he had something he wanted to say to her, but she was 
 first. 
 
 " It is to you I owe everything ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " No, Petra ; I have only been to you a good brother. 
 It was sin in me to wish to be aught else, for if that had 
 been, your whole career had been spoiled." 
 
 "Odegaard!" 
 
 They held each other's hands, but did not look at 
 one another, a moment then he loosed her hand he 
 was gone ! 
 
 But she threw herself down on a chair and wept. 
 
 Next day Odegaard left. 
 
 Soon after Christmas, Petra received a large letter 
 with a great official seal ; she felt nervous at it, and took 
 it to the Dean, who opened and read it. It was from 
 the burgomaster of her native town, and ran thus: 
 
 " Pedro Ohlsen, who died yesterday, has left behind him a will 
 to the following effect : 
 
 " ' All that is left behind me, and that is accurately noted down 
 in the account-book which lies in the blue chest that stands in my 
 room, in Gunlang Aamund's daughter's home, here on the hill and 
 of which the aforesaid Gunlang has the key, as she is the only 
 person who knows the whole I desire in so far as Gunlang 
 Aamund's daughter is agreeable to it, which she cannot be, unless 
 she gives her consent to the condition which I have added being 
 fulfilled, which she alone can, being the only one who knows about 
 it to bequeath to aforesaid Petra, daughter of the above-named 
 Gunlang Aamund's daughter; it is to say, if Jomfru Petra will 
 deign to remember an old sick man, to whom she has done good, 
 even though she knew nothing as how should she ? the only joy 
 of whose last years she has been ; wherefore he has thought he 
 would, once in return, give her some little joy, which she must not 
 refuse. God be merciful upon me, poor shiner ! 
 
 ' PEDRO OHLSEN.' 
 
 " I take the liberty to ask if you will yourself write to your 
 mother respecting this, or whether you desire me to do it ? "
 
 156 THE FISHING GIRL, 
 
 By next post came a letter from the mother, written 
 by Odegaard's father, the only person she now dared trust 
 in ; it was to the purport that she consented to fulfil the 
 condition, namely, to tell Petra who Pedro was. 
 
 The tidings, and the money that thus fell to her, had 
 a strange influence on her mind. It was as if things were 
 now getting ready : here was another reminder. 
 
 For this artist-aim of hers, then, had old Per Olsen 
 played for that first money at many a wedding and 
 dance ; for this had he, and his son and grandson, toiled 
 and struggled. The sum, though not large, would suffice 
 to bear her farther on. 
 
 But bright as the sunlight rose the thought to her, 
 that now the mother could come and live with her ; she 
 could give her mother joy everyday ; she could repay her 
 mother ! By each post she wrote her a long letter ; she 
 could hardly wait for her answer. When it came, there 
 was a great disappointment. Gunlang thanked her, but 
 thought " that each sat best by herself." 
 
 Then the Dean promised to write, and when Gunlang 
 had his letter, she could not restrain herself any longer ; 
 she had to tell her sailors and other acquaintances that 
 her daughter was going to be something grand some- 
 where, and wanted to have her to live with her. Upon 
 this the matter became a question of great importance in 
 the town ; it was discussed both on the wharves and the 
 ships, and in every kitchen. Gunlang, who until this time 
 had never mentioned her daughter, henceforth hardly 
 spoke of anything but " my daughter Petra" as, hence- 
 forth, nobody spoke to her on any other subject. 
 
 The eve of Petra's departure was drawing near, and 
 yet Gunlang had given no decisive answer, which greatly 
 grieved the daughter. But Signe and the Dean had both 
 solemnly promised they would come to her, and be pre- 
 sent at her first appearance on the stage. 
 
 The snow began to glide off the mountains, the fields 
 were getting green. There were only a few days ere she 
 was to leave the parsonage, and Signe and she went
 
 FETRA'S BETROTHAL. 157 
 
 round, and said farewell to every one and everything ; 
 and first of all, to the places they both had grown to 
 love so dearly. Then a peasant came, and told them that 
 Odegaard had come up to the Oygarne, and intended to 
 come to see them in the rectory. The girls both grew 
 timid, and left off going out. 
 
 But when Odegaard came, he was more bright and 
 happy than any had known him before. His errand 
 in the tract was to found there a higher popular school ; 
 and during the early days, till he found a teacher that 
 -quite suited him, he purposed to take the management 
 himself; later, he hoped to set other and greater things 
 .a-going. He paid in this way, he said, some of his 
 father's debt to the tract; and his father had promised 
 to come and live with him as soon as he had completed 
 building his house. It was to stand close to the par- 
 sonage. The Dean, as well as Signe, was highly delighted 
 at getting him for a neighbour and so was Petra 
 though it struck her strangely that he should come to 
 live there just as she was going away. 
 
 The Dean wished they should take the Holy Supper, 
 the day before Petra's departure, together. Through this 
 .a great solemnity fell upon the last days, and even when 
 they spoke together it was in a subdued voice. These 
 days the Dean never went by Petra, but he passed his 
 hand gently over her hair; and at the holy rite in the 
 church, where, besides themselves, only the officiating 
 clergyman and the clerk were present, he addressed her 
 especially ; talked to her, as at home when on birthdays 
 or holy evenings, they were together. "It was now soon 
 to be proved," he said, " whether the time she closed to- 
 day praying for the grace of God, had laid a foundation. 
 No one could be completely faithful till he had gained 
 his right work. Her work would be that of proclaiming ; 
 and the one who came with truth, and was worthy to 
 deliver the high message, would earn the greatest and 
 most lasting fruit. God certainly used often those who 
 were unworthy, as, indeed, in a higher sense we all were
 
 158 THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 unworthy ; he took our longings in his service. Cut there 
 was a message which was not of our own imagining 
 would she not seek to spread that message to strive 
 that her talents should serve the highest human aim ?" 
 He repeatedly begged her to come again to them for 
 that is the sense of community, that communion in faith 
 helps and strengthens. If she were erring, she would 
 here sooner find mercy ; and if it were not clear to her- 
 self she had gone astray, they would tell it her more 
 tenderly than any. 
 
 At their parting meal the next day he bade her the 
 most loving farewell. 
 
 " He agreed with her friend," he said, "that she ought 
 to start on her course just as she was now, and start alone. 
 In the struggle she would feel, it did good to know there 
 was a spot where friends dwelt in whom she could feel 
 safe ; to know with certainty that they continually prayed 
 for her she would find, too, that helped her." 
 
 After his farewell to Petra, he proposed a toast to 
 Odegaard : 
 
 "The best prelude to loving each other is to join in 
 love for the same end ! " 
 
 Most assuredly the Dean had not the faintest idea 
 of what there was in this toast that made Signe blush r 
 and after her, Petra. Whether Odegaard did the same 
 they could not tell, for neither of them ventured to glance 
 at him. 
 
 But when the horses stood before the door, and the 
 three friends surrounded the young girl, whilst the whole 
 household stood round the carriage, Petra whispered, as- 
 for the last time she embraced Signe : 
 
 " I know I shall soon hear great news from you r 
 God's blessings on them ! " 
 
 One hour later she saw but the white gables that told 
 where the house lay.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RISING OF THE CURTAIN. 
 
 B NE evening, a little before Christmas, every place 
 in the theatre of the capital was taken : a new 
 actress was to make her first appearance, of 
 whom great things were told. She was of the people 
 her mother was a poor fisherwoman and, assisted by 
 others who had noticed her talents, she had now reached 
 this point. Before the curtain rose, many things were 
 whispered among the public. She was said to have been 
 the most mischievous of street imps ; further, when grown 
 up she had been engaged to six persons at the same time, 
 and kept this a-going for about half a year ; then, she had 
 been sent out of the town by the police, because, on 
 account of her misdeeds, it was in a complete uproar. It 
 was astounding that the manager should allow such a 
 person to appear on the stage. Others, on the other 
 hand, maintained not a word of this was true. From her 
 tenth year she had been educated in a quiet clergyman's 
 family in Bergen Stift ; she was refined, and a lovely girl ; 
 they knew her well she must have wonderful talent, for 
 she was so pretty. 
 
 There were others who sat there who knew better. 
 First, the great fish-merchant, well-known throughout the 
 land, Yngve Void. He had come here accidentally on 
 business : true, people said that the fiery Spanish lady 
 whom he had married, made the house at home so hot 
 that he went away to get cooled down. Now, he had 
 taken the largest box in the theatre, inviting all his chance 
 acquaintances at the hotel to go with him, and look at
 
 c6o THE FISHING GIRL. 
 
 " something really devilish." He was in high spirits till he 
 
 caught sight of could it really be he ? in a box in 
 
 the dress circle, and with a whole ship's crew around him? 
 nay ! yes ! indeed it was Gunnar Ask ! Gunnar Ask, 
 who, by right of his mother's money had become the 
 owner of the Norwegian Constitution,^^, on tacking, when 
 sailing out, off the fjord, come alongside another ship 
 that bore the name of the Danish Constitution. This, 
 Gunnar fancied, tried to get ahead of him, which he could 
 by no ways allow. He put up all the sails there was a 
 creaking in the old Constitution, and the result was, that 
 in trying to hug the wind as near as possible, he ran the 
 barque on ground in a perfectly unreasonable place. Now 
 he was penned up in town, much against his will, while 
 the Norwegian Constitution was being patched up. One 
 day in town he had met Petra she had overtaken him, 
 and been so truly kind to him then and later, that not 
 only did he forget his old spite, but called himself " the 
 biggest stockfish that ever had been exported from their 
 native town," to have fancied for one moment that he 
 deserved "a girl like her." He had to-day bought tickets 
 at double price for himself and his whole crew, and sat 
 there with the private resolution to treat them between 
 each act ; and the sailors, who were all from Petra's native 
 town, and welcome guests in that earthly paradise, the 
 mother's house, felt Petra's honour to be their own, and 
 promised each other they would clap as had never been 
 heard or known before. 
 
 But down in the pit was seen the Dean's thick bristly 
 hair. He sat quietly : he had trusted her case to One 
 more mighty. By his side sat Signe now Signe Ode- 
 gaard. Her husband, she, and Petra, had just finished 
 a three months' trip abroad : she looked happy, and 
 smiled over to Odegaard, whilst between them sat an old 
 woman with snow-white hair, which rose like a crown over 
 her brown face. She was taller in sitting than the rest 
 around her, and could be seen from everywhere in the 
 house, and soon, too, all glasses were turned upon her;
 
 THE RISING OF THE CURTAIN. 161 
 
 for she was the mother of the young actress, people 
 said. The powerful impression she made was a pledge 
 of assurance for the daughter. 
 
 She herself saw no one, nothing ; what all this might 
 mean she cared little enough she was only there to see 
 if the people were kind to her daughter, or no. 
 
 The time drew near; the gossip died away in the 
 excitement that little by little took possession of .all ; and 
 made them earnest. 
 
 A deep roll of drums, bugles, and horns suddenly began 
 the overture. "Axel and Valborg," by Ohlenschlaeger, 
 was to be given; and Petra had begged for this overture. 
 Behind a side-scene she herself sat and listened ; but, in 
 front of the curtain, all those of her countrymen whom 
 the house could hold sat with drawn breath they 
 trembled, waiting there to have revealed to them the 
 genius that was their own. It was as though this hour 
 belonged to each; in such moments many prayers arise, 
 even from hearts not apt to pray. 
 
 The overture died off; calm fell upon the melodies : 
 they melted together, as into one sunlight. The music 
 ceased : there fell a breathless hush : 
 
 Then the curtain rose ! 
 
 THE END.
 
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