Magnhild 
 
 Etc.
 
 IRVINE
 
 THE NOVELS OF 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 Edited by EDMUND GOSSE 
 Fcap. Svo, cloth, 3^. net 
 
 Synnovl Solbakken 
 
 Arne 
 
 A Happy Boy 
 
 The Fisher Lass 
 
 The Bridal March, (5^ One Day 
 
 Magnhild, & Dust 
 
 Captain Mansana, 6^ Mother's Hands 
 
 Absalom 's Hair, dr 5 A Painful Memory 
 
 And other Sttort Stories and Novelettes 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 21 Bedford Street, W.C.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 & 
 
 DUST 
 
 BY 
 
 BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 
 
 (Translated from the Norwegian) 
 
 LONDON 
 
 WILLIAM HEINEMANN 
 1897
 
 All rights rawed
 
 BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE 
 
 [MAGNHILD was originally published in Copen- 
 hagen in October 1877. It was begun in Rome, 
 in the spring of 7575, and completed at Bjornson's 
 new property, A ulestad, in Gausdal, during 1876. 
 The publication of this book produced a violent 
 impression in Scandinavia, and led to much pol- 
 emical discussion. Bjornson replied several times 
 to his assailants. The book was translated into 
 Swedish and German in 1878, but it has remained 
 one of the least known of his productions. 
 
 E. G.]
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 A RANGE of lofty precipitous mountains from 
 which at this moment a storm is clearing away. 
 The valley is narrow and perpetually winding. 
 A rapidly flowing river winds along with it, 
 skirted by a road. Higher up on the slope lie 
 numerous farmhouses, for the most part low 
 and unpainted. Fields of cut hay and half- 
 ripened corn surround them. 
 
 When the last bend in the valley is rounded, 
 the fjord is seen. It lies shining now under the 
 lifting fog. The mountains so enclose it that it 
 seems like a lake. 
 
 A carriole crawls along the road at the usual 
 jog-trot. In the carriole a waterproof and a sou'- 
 wester are visible, and between these a beard, a
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 nose, and a pair of spectacles. A trunk is 
 lashed to the back seat, and on the box, riding 
 backwards, sits a grown-up girl in place of the 
 usual post-boy, bundled up in a shawl. She 
 has coarse shoes on her dangling feet. Her 
 arms are tucked in under the shawl. All at 
 once she cries out : " Magnhild ! Magnhild !" 
 
 The traveller turned and looked round at a 
 tall woman in a waterproof who had just passed. 
 He had caught a glimpse of a long face with 
 delicate outlines under the hood which was 
 drawn forward over the head ; now he saw her 
 stand still, with her forefinger at her lips, 
 staring. As he kept on looking at her, she grew 
 red. " I'll come indoors the moment I've put up 
 the horse," cried the post-girl. They drove on. 
 
 " Who was that ? " asked the traveller. 
 
 " She is the wife of the saddler down at the 
 port," was the answer. 
 
 Presently they had gone far enough to catch 
 sight of the fjord, and the outskirts of the village 
 at the port. The girl stopped the horse and got 
 down. She first groomed the horse a little, and 
 then set her own dress to rights. It was not 
 raining now, so she took off the shawl, folded it
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 up and put it in the little pocket in the front of 
 the carriole. She thrust her fingers in under her 
 headgear to tidy her hair, which hung down in 
 wisps over her cheeks. 
 
 " She seemed odd that woman ;" he pointed 
 the way they had just come. The girl looked 
 at him and hummed a little. Then she inter- 
 rupted herself: " Do you remember the land- 
 slip you passed a couple of miles back in 
 the mountains?" "I've passed so many land- 
 slips." 
 
 She smiled : " Yes, but this one was on the 
 other side of a church." "An old landslip?" 
 " Yes, it's a long time since the thing happened, 
 It was there her people's farm used to be. The 
 landslip came when she was eight or nine years 
 old. Her parents, all her brothers and sisters, 
 and every living creature on the farm were killed ; 
 no one was saved but her. The landslip carried 
 her over the river, and when the people came to 
 the rescue, she was the first thing they found ; 
 and she was unconscious." 
 
 The traveller fell into a reverie. " She must 
 be destined for something," he said at last. The 
 girl looked up. She waited some time ; but
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 their glances did not meet. She seated herself 
 on the box and they drove on. 
 
 The valley widened out down here by the 
 port : the farms lay in the level bottom. The 
 church, with the graveyard round it, lay to the 
 right, a little apart from the village, which was 
 a small trading port. The houses were some- 
 what numerous, mostly of one storey, painted 
 white or red, or else not painted at all. Along 
 the fjord were the wharves. A steamboat was 
 just getting up steam ; farther away at the 
 mouth of the river a couple of old brigs were 
 taking in cargo. 
 
 The church was new, and was an attempt at 
 the style of the old Norwegian stave-churches. 
 The traveller must have understood that ; for he 
 paused, looked a moment at the exterior, and 
 then alighted and went in through the gate, and 
 then through the church door ; both gate and 
 door were standing open. He was scarcely 
 inside before the bells began to ring ; and he 
 saw through the open door a bridal procession 
 coming up from the village. As he came out 
 again, the procession was close to the gate of the 
 churchyard, and he stood there while it passed 
 
 4
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 by : the bridegroom, an elderly man with huge 
 fists and a huge face ; the bride, a young girl, 
 thick-set and heavy. The bridesmaids were all 
 dressed in white and wore gloves. Not one 
 of them dared look at the stranger, unless it 
 might be with a side glance ; most of them were 
 round-shouldered, one was crooked ; indeed there 
 was scarcely a single really well-built girl among 
 them. 
 
 Their masculine ideals came after them in 
 grey, brown, and black felt hats, in baggy coats, 
 pea-jackets, or round ones. Most of them had 
 their hair twisted into a curl just in front of 
 the ear, and their beards, when they had any, 
 were wisps under the chin. Their faces were 
 hard ; their mouths generally coarse, and for the 
 most part tobacco-stained at the corners. Some 
 of them carried a plug in the cheek. 
 
 The traveller thought involuntarily of the 
 woman in the waterproof. Her story was the 
 story of the landscape. Her delicate, though as 
 yet unawakened face, was as full of longings as 
 the mountains of drifting rain showers ; all that 
 he saw both landscape and people became a 
 background for her figure. 
 5
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 As he came towards the road, the post-girl 
 went over to the wayside where the horse was 
 browsing. But even while she was drawing the 
 horse back by the bridle she looked intently at 
 the bridal procession. "Are you engaged to be 
 married ?" he asked, smiling. " The man who 
 is to have me, hasn't got eyes," she answered, in 
 the words of a proverb. " Then you are longing 
 for something more than you can find here," he 
 said, adding "perhaps for America?" She 
 looked taken aback ; the question evidently 
 struck home. " Is it to earn the passage-money 
 more quickly that you do posting ? The tips are 
 liberal, eh ?" She was blushing now. She 
 answered not a word, but resumed her seat with 
 her back to him even before he had got into the 
 carriole. 
 
 They were soon among the hotels which lay 
 on each side of the road, close to the edge of the 
 town itself. They drew up in front of one of 
 them. By the railing stood several loungers, 
 most of them mere lads ; they had no doubt been 
 watching the bridal procession, and were waiting 
 now for the travellers who would be coming by 
 
 the steamboat. The , newcomer alighted and 
 6
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 went indoors, while the girl untied the box. As 
 she did so, some one must have offered her 
 help ; for as the traveller came to the window 
 he saw her push away from her a tall hobblede- 
 hoy in a short jacket. Presumably she said 
 something rough at the same time, and got as 
 good as she gave, for the bystanders burst into 
 a peal of laughter. The girl came in with the 
 heavy box. The traveller opened the door for 
 her, and she laughed as she came up to him. 
 As he was counting out the money for her, he 
 said : "I agree with you, Ronnaug, you should 
 get away to America as soon as possible." He 
 gave her two dollars for herself : " Let me add 
 my mite," he said, gravely. She looked at him 
 open-eyed and open-mouthed, took the money, 
 thanked him, and tried to push back her hair 
 with both hands, for it was falling down again. 
 But in so doing she lost several of the coins she 
 had in one of her half-closed fists. She stooped 
 to pick them up, whereupon several hooks in her 
 bodice gave way, so that the kerchief round her 
 neck was loosened and one end of it fell out ; 
 for something heavy was tied up in it. While 
 she was busied putting it right, she dropped her 
 7
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 money again. However, at last she got away 
 with all her riches, and was received outside 
 with a coarse jest. But this time she did not 
 answer. On the contrary, she glanced shyly in 
 at the window as she passed, driving the horse 
 at a brisk pace. 
 
 He was to see her once more ; for later, when 
 he went down to the steamboat, she was standing 
 with her back turned to the street in a doorway, 
 over which hung a sign with " Skarlie, Sadler " 
 painted on it. He drew nearer and saw Magn- 
 hild standing inside in the passage. She had 
 not yet taken off her waterproof, though the rain 
 had long ceased. Even the hood, she still wore 
 over her head. Magnhild saw him first and drew 
 back ; Ronnaug turned and also retreated into 
 the passage. 
 
 That evening Ronnaug's ticket was bought ; 
 for the sum was made up. Magnhild did not 
 undress when Ronnaug went home, late as it 
 was. She sat in a big chair in a little low 
 room, or paced up and down. And just once 
 leaning her heavy head against the window- 
 pane, she said, half aloud : "Then she must be 
 destined for something." 
 8
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 SHE had heard these words before. 
 
 The first time was in the churchyard, that 
 gusty winter's day, when fourteen of her kins- 
 people were buried, all those she had cared for, 
 parents, grandparents, and brothers and sisters. 
 She stood there once again ! The wind had 
 here and there swept the snow away ; the 
 palings of the fence stuck sharply out ; big 
 stones cropped up as if they were the heads of 
 monsters who lay with the rest of their bodies 
 in the drift. The wind whistled behind them in 
 the open aisle of the church, and down from the 
 old wooden belfry the shrieking clangour of the 
 bell cut its way, stroke by stroke. 
 
 The people stood round, blue with the cold, 
 
 their hands in mittens, and their coats well 
 
 buttoned up ; the pastor in sea boots and a fur 
 
 coat under his cassock. He too wore great 
 
 9
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 mittens, as one noticed when he gesticulated. 
 He pointed with one of them at her. " This 
 poor child kept her footing, and with the rope of 
 her little sledge still in her hand, she was carried 
 down and across the frozen river the only 
 creature whom the Lord was pleased to save. 
 For what is she destined ? " 
 
 She drove home with him, sitting in his lap. 
 He had commended her to the care of the 
 community, and now took her along with him 
 "in the meantime," in order to set a good 
 example. She nestled cosily against his fur 
 coat, with her little numb fingers inside his 
 great mittens, against his soft fat hands. And 
 the whole time she sat and thought, "For what 
 am I destined, I wonder ! " 
 
 She thought she would find that out when she 
 got indoors. But she saw nothing here that 
 she had not seen before, until she went into the 
 inner room, where a piano, which some one was 
 playing on at the moment, fascinated her. 
 
 But for that very reason she forgot what had 
 been in her mind when she came in. 
 
 The pastor's family consisted of two daughters, 
 rather thick-set girls, with small round heads and
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 fair hair in plaits. They had a new governess, 
 a pallid person, stoutish, with more bare neck 
 than Magnhild was accustomed to see, and with 
 open sleeves. Her voice sounded as though her 
 throat were not quite clear ; and Magnhild more 
 than once found herself coughing in this lady's 
 stead, as though that might relieve her, but it 
 didn't. The governess asked Magnhild her 
 name, and if she could read ; Magnhild could, of 
 course, for all her family had been book-lovers. 
 Then the governess proposed (always speaking 
 in the same husky voice) that Magnhild should 
 have lessons with the other girls in order to spur 
 them on. Magnhild was a year older than the 
 elder one. 
 
 The mother sat a little apart doing some 
 embroidery. She now looked up at Magnhild 
 and said : " A very good plan," and then bent 
 over her embroidery again. She was a woman 
 of middle size, neither thin nor stout, with a 
 small head and light hair. The pastor, large 
 and ponderous, came downstairs after having 
 taken off his cassock. He was smoking, and 
 said, as he passed through the room : " I see a 
 fish-cart coming along ; " then he went on out.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The younger girl began practising her scales 
 again. Magnhild did not know whether she 
 ought not to go out to the kitchen. She was 
 still sitting on the wood-box by the stove, 
 tortured by this uncertainty, when they were 
 called into the next room to dinner. They all 
 laid aside their work, and the little girl at the 
 piano closed the instrument. When Magnhild 
 was alone, and heard the knives and forks 
 clattering, she began to cry, for she had had 
 nothing to eat that day. In the middle of the 
 meal the pastor came out of the dining-room ; 
 for the family had agreed that he probably had 
 not bought a sufficient quantity of fish. He 
 opened a window, and called to the man to wait 
 till they had finished dinner. As he turned to 
 go into the dining-room again, he saw the 
 child sitting on the wood box. " Are you 
 hungry ? " he asked. She did not answer. He 
 had lived long enough among peasants to under- 
 stand that silence meant yes, so he took her by 
 the hand and led her to the table, where they 
 quietly made room for her. In the afternoon 
 she joined the girls in playing with their little 
 sledge, and afterwards she read with them and
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 had a lesson with them in Bible history ; then 
 shared an afternoon bite with them and played 
 again till supper-time, when she came to the 
 table with the rest. She slept that night on a 
 sofa-bed in the dining-room, and did her lessons 
 the following day with the pastor's daughters. 
 
 She had no other clothes than those she was 
 wearing, but the governess cut down an old dress 
 for her ; she got some old linen one of the girls 
 had done with, and she went about in a pair of 
 boots belonging to the mistress of the house. 
 The sofa-bed she slept on was moved when the 
 dining-room had to be given up to the shoemakers 
 who came to overhaul the shoes of the house- 
 hold. It was placed in the kitchen, but there it 
 was in the way; then it went into the servants' 
 room, but the door was always banging against 
 it ; and at last it was taken up to the children's 
 room. Thus it happened that she came to eat, 
 to work, and to sleep with the pastor's daughters ; 
 and as no clothes were ever made specially for 
 her, it ended by her going about in theirs. 
 
 In the same haphazard way she came to 
 play the piano. It was discovered that she had 
 a greater aptitude for music than the daughters 
 13
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 of the house ; so she had to learn in order to 
 help them. 
 
 She grew tall, and developed a pretty singing 
 voice. The governess trained it, but chiefly in 
 singing by note, at first merely because the 
 governess cared most for the mechanical part of 
 music, but afterwards too, because in their 
 solitude up there they found amusement in the 
 remarkable proficiency the girl attained in sing- 
 ing at sight. The pastor would lie on the sofa 
 his favourite attitude and laugh aloud when 
 Magnhild ran through all kinds of exercises, up 
 and down like a squirrel in a tree. The result 
 for Magnhild was that she came to learn more 
 not of music, as one might have anticipated, but 
 of basket-weaving. 
 
 For at this time the opinion spread like an 
 epidemic, that dexterity in handicraft must be 
 cultivated amongst the peasantry, and emissaries 
 of the new doctrine visited this parish among 
 the rest. Magnhild was chosen for the first 
 pupil : she was the one likely to have the 
 greatest "dexterity." After basket - weaving 
 came the double spinning-wheel ; after that 
 weaving, especially the more artistic kinds ;
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 after that embroidery, &c. &c. She learned it 
 all very rapidly ; that is to say, she learned with 
 ardour until she had mastered it ; to carry the 
 thing further did not amuse her. But now that 
 she was obliged to teach others, both adults and 
 children, it became an established custom for her 
 to go twice a week to the parish school, where 
 many pupils gathered. What had once become 
 fixed as a habit she thought no more about. 
 The house she was brought up in set her the 
 example. 
 
 The pastor's wife went her regular rounds in 
 kitchen, cellar, and dairy ; afterwards she 
 worked at her embroidery ; the entire house was 
 embroidered through and through. One might 
 have taken her for a fat spider with a little round 
 head, that hung her web over chairs, tables, beds, 
 sleighs, and carriages. Her voice was seldom 
 heard : she was seldom spoken to. 
 
 The clergyman was much older than his wife. 
 His face was remarkable, in that it had so little 
 nose and chin, and so little eye ; but so much 
 of everything else. In his college days he had 
 barely passed his examinations, and then sup- 
 ported himself by giving lessons, till, in middle
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 life, he married one of his former pupils a girl 
 with a fortune. Then he devoted himself to 
 looking for a clerical charge, " the only thing 
 about which he ever displayed any perseverance," 
 as he used to say in jest. After ten years' seek- 
 ing, he had (not very long before) obtained this 
 living, and he could hardly hope for anything 
 more. He lay on the sofa, for the most part, 
 and read ; chiefly novels, but periodicals and 
 papers as well. 
 
 The governess sat in the selfsame chair in 
 which Magnhild had seen her the first day ; she 
 took the same daily walk to church and back 
 again, and was punctual to the moment with her 
 work. She had gradually grown excessively 
 stout, had still the bare neck and the open 
 sleeves, and still the muffled, husky voice, as if 
 from a throat which no healthy action had ever 
 cleared. 
 
 The clergyman's daughters grew large and 
 heavy, like their father, with small, round heads, 
 like their mother. Magnhild and they were 
 friends, that is to say, they slept in the same 
 room, worked, played, and ate together. There 
 was no circulation of ideas in the parish. If 
 16
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 any came from without, they did not, in any 
 case, penetrate further than the study. The 
 clergyman did not impart them. The utmost 
 he did in that way was occasionally to read 
 aloud some old or new novel, which he hap- 
 pened to find entertaining. 
 
 One evening they were gathered round the 
 table. The clergyman had yielded to their en- 
 treaties, and had just begun to read aloud 
 " The Pickwick Club." Thereupon, the kitchen 
 door was slowly opened, and in was thrust a 
 great bald head, with a broad, snub nose, and a 
 smiling aspect. A short leg, with very wide 
 trousers, next appeared, and after that another, 
 crooked, and, therefore, shorter still. The 
 whole figure seemed lopsided, as he turned on 
 the crooked leg to shut the door. In doing so, 
 he exhibited the back of the same great head, 
 with a little fringe of hair, low down a square 
 back ; and disproportionately large hind quarters, 
 only half covered by a pea-jacket. Again he 
 made a lopsided turn towards them, and again 
 presented to them his smiling face with the 
 snub nose. The girls bent their heads down 
 over their sewing, a suppressed titter came first 
 17 B
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 from one young seamstress, and then from the 
 other. " Are you the saddler ? " asked the 
 pastor, rising. " Yes," he answered, hobbling 
 forward and offering his fist, which was so 
 extraordinarily large, and had such wide, round 
 finger-tips, that the pastor could not but look at 
 it as he took it. The fist was offered all round, 
 and when Magnhild's turn came, she burst out 
 laughing just as her hand vanished into his. 
 One peal followed another, and was in turn 
 suppressed. The pastor hastened to say that 
 they were reading " The Pickwick Club." 
 " Ha ! Ha ! " was the saddler's response. 
 " Yes ; you can't help laughing at that." 
 " Have you read it ? " asked the pastor. 
 " Yes, during the years I was in America I read 
 most of the English authors in fact, I've got 
 them all at home now," he answered, and began 
 to tell of the cheap popular editions one could 
 get. But the laughter of young girls is not 
 so easily suppressed ; it kept bubbling up 
 again, even after the saddler had lit his pipe, 
 and the reading was resumed. Now, indeed, 
 they had a pretext. The pastor grew tired after 
 a little, and wanted to stop ; but the saddler 
 18
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 offered to read on, and actually did so. He 
 read in a dry, sedate way, and with such an un- 
 usual pronunciation of the proper names, that 
 the humour of the thing became irresistible. 
 Even the pastor joined in the laughter, which 
 no one any longer restrained. The girls kept 
 on laughing, scarcely knowing what they laughed 
 at. Even when they went up to bed they were 
 still laughing, and while they were undressing 
 they imitated the walk of the saddler, said 
 " good evening," and talked as he did, and 
 spoke the foreign words with his (English) 
 pronunciation. Magnhild was the cleverest in 
 taking him off: not much had escaped her. 
 
 At this time she was fifteen : in her sixteenth 
 year. 
 
 The next day they spent every moment of 
 leisure in the dining-room, which was now no 
 longer the dining-room, but the work-room. 
 The saddler told about a residence of many 
 years in America, and of his travels in England 
 and Germany ; he talked away without inter- 
 rupting his work and was always putting in 
 some jest. An incessant titter from his listeners 
 followed the narration. They scarcely noticed 
 19
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 themselves how by degrees they stopped laugh- 
 ing at him, and laughed at the humour of his 
 talk instead ; nor did they notice until later how 
 much they all learned from him. He was so 
 much missed, that, when he went home, the talk 
 about him took up more than half their time for 
 many days after, and, indeed, never absolutely 
 ceased. 
 
 Two things had made the deepest impression 
 on Magnhild. The first was the English and 
 German songs he had sung for them. She had 
 not understood the words, unless, perhaps, a 
 fragment now and then ; but how the melodies 
 had enthralled her ! It was while singing 
 psalms on Sunday, they had first noticed that 
 Skarlie had an excellent voice. After that he 
 was made to sing perpetually. These foreign 
 airs blowing hither out of a fuller existence, 
 haunted Magnhild the whole summer long. 
 They conjured up images which, for the first 
 time, awoke real longing. One may say, too, 
 that she never before understood what song 
 was. One day when she was practising again the 
 everlasting scales, as a preparation for singing at 
 sight, she suddenly felt this tuneless exercise
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 like the beating of wings against a cage ; they 
 seemed to be fluttering up and down against 
 the walls, the windows, the doors, in constant 
 and unavailing protest, until silently the sound 
 sank down like cobwebs over the furniture of 
 the room. With hts songs she could sit alone 
 out of doors. While she hummed them, the 
 tints of the forest melted into a picture, and this 
 was a new experience. The effect of density 
 and strength, as one tree-top towered over 
 another up the whole mountain side, almost 
 overwhelmed her ; the rushing sound of the 
 river fascinated her. 
 
 The other thing which had made so deep an 
 impression on her, and acted upon her in the 
 same direction, was his story of how he had 
 become lame. As a young man in America, he 
 had rescued a twelve-year old boy from a burn- 
 ing house. He had fallen with the boy under 
 the falling ruins. Both were dragged out : 
 Skarlie with a broken leg, but the boy unhurt. 
 Now, this boy was one of the most remarkable 
 men in America. He had to be saved : " he 
 was destined for something." 
 
 This reminder ! The thought of her own
 
 MAGNHILU 
 
 destiny had hitherto been associated with the 
 churchyard's wintry aspect, frost, and weeping, 
 and the penetrating sound of bells ; it had been 
 something gloomy. Now it shifted to big cities 
 beyond the seas, among ships, burning houses, 
 song, and lofty fortunes. From this time on, 
 she dreamed about the thing that she was des- 
 tined for as something remote or vast. 
 
 22
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 LATE that summer, all three girls were con- 
 firmed. This was so much a matter of course 
 to them all, that the thing that chiefly occupied 
 them was what kind of dress they should have 
 for the great day. Magnhild, who never yet 
 had worn a dress which had been cut out and 
 made for her, was wondering if she should at 
 last have one. No. The little girls were given 
 silk dresses ; but for her, an old black gown 
 was made over, one which had become too small 
 for the pastor's wife. 
 
 It was too short, both in the waist and skirt, 
 but that she scarcely noticed. She got a little 
 coloured silk kerchief from the governess to put 
 round her neck, and a brooch ; she borrowed 
 her everyday shawl from the pastor's wife, and 
 the governess lent her a pair of gloves. Her 
 inward preparation was no more elaborate than 
 her outward. 
 
 23
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The day slipped pleasantly away without any 
 special excitement. Religious sentiments at the 
 parsonage, as, indeed, generally throughout the 
 parish, were a placid matter of habit. There 
 was some crying in the church, the parson pro- 
 duced wine at dinner, and drank healths ; and 
 there was some discussion as to what was now 
 to become of Magnhild. This last affected her 
 so far as to make her get up after the coffee was 
 served, and go out and sit by herself. She 
 gazed across at the broad streak of bare stone 
 and sand down the side of the wooded moun- 
 tains, and finally at the vast stretch of debris 
 in the middle of the plain for it was there her 
 home had stood. 
 
 Her little brothers and sisters stood before her, 
 one bright face beside another. Her mother 
 came as well ; the melancholy eyes rested upon 
 her. She saw once more the lines about the 
 mouth. Her gentle voice flowed around her in 
 a beautiful psalm. They had just that day been 
 singing in the church one of the psalms she used 
 to sing. Her father sat again at his bench with 
 his silver work, at which he was a master hand. 
 
 A book or a paper lay at his side he would 
 
 24
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 pause in his work now and then, glance down 
 at the open book, or turn a page. His long 
 delicate face was turned at intervals towards the 
 room and the people in it. 
 
 The old grandparents sat in the next room. 
 Grandmother trotted about getting some tidbit 
 for Magnhild ; while grandfather told the children 
 a story. The dog lay and stretched himself by 
 the fireplace, shaggy and grey. His whining 
 was the last sound of life she had heard behind 
 her as she was carried down. That horrible 
 day overshadowed the whole picture of her child- 
 hood, with night and thunder and shuddering. 
 She covered up her face and burst into tears. 
 
 The saddler's songs came crooning, bringing 
 with them longing and indistinct images. Out 
 of the half-understood songs and out of his 
 stories, which she often quite misunderstood, a 
 motley multitude moved by; and, wearied out 
 with the day's thoughts, emotions, and longings, 
 numbed, overcome, she fell asleep. 
 
 The evening brought Ronnaug. They had 
 come to know her at the meetings for confirmation 
 preparation. She was in service in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and had a holiday in honour of the 
 25
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 occasion. She brought with her a lot of stories 
 about the various love affairs in the parish. 
 The young girls of the parsonage, who knew so 
 litttle of such things, sat with wide eyes and 
 listened. It was Ronnaug's fault that the 
 youngest made a rent in her new silk dress. 
 Ronnaug rolled over and over down the slopes 
 with such marvellous speed that they got her to 
 do it again and again, and at last the parson's 
 daughter must needs imitate her. 
 
 After that she often came in the evenings 
 when her work was done. They all took 
 delight in her irrepressible, high spirits. She 
 was as healthy and frolicsome as a young calf, 
 having scarcely clothes enough to cover her, for 
 she was always tearing them in bits ; and she 
 had an endless labour with her hair, which was 
 for ever coming down over her face, because she 
 had never properly done it up. When she 
 laughed and that was a thing she did not do by 
 halves she threw her head back so that they 
 could see past a row of teeth white as a wild 
 beast's, and far down into her throat. 
 
 Skarlie came again in the autumn. There 
 
 was a difference between the reception he had 
 26
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 now and the former one. They all three stood 
 about his sledge, they carried in his things 
 despite his laughing remonstrance, and they 
 laughed with him too as he stopped in the hall 
 to take off his fur coat. 
 
 An unceasing storm of questions pelted about 
 him the first time they sat with him in his work- 
 room. There were obscurities and doubts 
 saved up since the time he had last talked to 
 them, and a variety of other things besides, 
 which they thought he would be able to explain. 
 About few things in the parish did he express 
 the current opinions ; but he would turn things 
 off with a joke when they pressed him too hard. 
 If he chanced to be alone with Magnhild, he 
 would express himself more freely ; at first with 
 caution, but by degrees in stronger terms. 
 
 Never before had she in any way criticised 
 her surroundings ; now she quickly learned to 
 laugh with him over the pastor's last sermon, 
 or his lazy life, or over the mistress's spider-like 
 activity, which he described in such an amusing 
 way. " The fat tranquillity " of the governess, 
 even her little friends' "round yellow heads," 
 she could laugh at, because the jesting tone in 
 27
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 which he touched them off was so surprisingly 
 new ; she did not perceive how this jesting little 
 by little loosened the solid earth under her feet. 
 
 The customary pastime in the country of 
 accusing a young girl of being in love found in 
 the meantime a somewhat unprepared victim in 
 Magnhild. They called her " the saddler's 
 wife," because she was always sitting with him. 
 He got to hear of it himself, and began at once 
 to call her "his wife" "his tall wife," "his fair 
 wife," "his very young wife." 
 
 The following summer, the pastor's daughters 
 went to town to finish their education. The 
 governess remained behind " for the present." 
 
 The saddler came again in the autumn to 
 complete his work. Magnhild was naturally 
 oftener alone with him now. He was livelier 
 than ever. His favourite jest was about travel- 
 ling round the world with " his young wife." 
 They had a dreadful lot of accidents by the way, 
 and saw many remarkable things, which he 
 described at length, with the advantage of per- 
 sonal experience. But the most amusing thing 
 of all was the picture of the two travellers 
 
 he limping on before with a travelling bag, 
 28
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 and she following with waterproof and umbrella, 
 irritated by heat and dust and thirst ; tired, and 
 heartily sick of him. Then they would rest in 
 his little house at the port, where she would 
 have her own way in everything and live like a 
 princess. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the face of 
 the pastor when one evening the saddler came 
 up to the study, sat down opposite him, and, 
 after a very simple preface, asked if the pastor 
 had any objection to Magnhild's becoming his 
 wife. The pastor was lying on the sofa, 
 smoking. He took the pipe out of his mouth, 
 the hand that held it dropped; the muscles of 
 the fat face were relaxed till it looked like dough 
 in which were stuck eyes as expressionless as 
 two raisins ; until he all at once gave a jerk, so 
 that the springs under him creaked and cracked. 
 The book which lay upside down on his knee 
 slid to the floor ; the saddler took it up with a 
 smile and turned over the leaves. The pastor 
 had risen. "What does Magnhild say to it?" 
 The saddler looked up still smiling. "I, of 
 course, wouldn't have asked, if it were unlikely 
 that she would agree with me about it." The 
 29
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 pastor raised the pipe to his lips and puffed 
 away. By degrees he grew more calm, and, 
 without pausing in his walk, he said : " As a 
 matter of fact, I don't know what is likely to 
 become of the girl." The saddler looked up 
 again from the book he was glancing through, 
 and which he now laid aside. " It's really more 
 a kind of adoption than a marriage. Down there 
 with me she can do anything she likes with her 
 life." The pastor looked at him, puffed and 
 walked up and down and puffed again. " I 
 suppose you're very well off ? " " Well, if not 
 exactly well off, I have at least enough to marry 
 on." He laughed. 
 
 But there was something in the laugh that did 
 not altogether please the pastor. He did not 
 like either the indifference Skarlie affected in the 
 matter. He liked least of all being taken so by 
 surprise. " I must speak to my wife about it," 
 he said, and drew a long audible breath. "Yes, 
 that is what I must do," he added, with more 
 conviction, " and speak to Magnhild too," came 
 as an afterthought. 
 
 " Of course," said the other, and rose. 
 
 A little while after, his wife was sitting where 
 30
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the saddler had sat. She let both hands lie open 
 on her lap, and gazed after her lord and master 
 as he paced up and down and smoked. "Well, 
 what do you think ?" he repeated, stopping 
 before her. He received no answer, and began 
 his walk again. " He is far too old," she said, 
 at last. " And rather underhand in his ways," 
 added the pastor. He paused near her and 
 whispered : " No one really knows where he 
 came from or exactly why he wants to stay here. 
 He could easily have a big workshop in a large 
 town. Well off, as he is, and such a clever 
 dog !" In everyday life the pastor was not 
 overchoice in his terms. 
 
 " Fancy ! that she should let herself be 
 cajoled into this," whispered the mistress of the 
 house. " Cajoled ! just the word cajoled ! " 
 repeated the pastor, and snapped his fingers. 
 " Cajoled !" he smoked away. 
 
 " I am so sorry for her," said the wife, and 
 she let several tears fall. The pastor took up 
 this "Look here, mother, we will talk with her, 
 we two," and he moved heavily away. 
 
 A moment or two later Magnhild stood within 
 the study door wondering what they wanted 
 31
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 with her. The pastor began : " Is it really true, 
 Magnhild, that you have agreed to be the wife 
 of this saddler fellow ? " The pastor often 
 used this word " fellow," instead of speaking 
 the name. Magnhild grew redder than she had 
 probably ever been before. Both construed this 
 as an admission. " Why have you not con- 
 sulted us about a thing of this kind ?" said the 
 pastor, annoyed. "It is so strange of you, 
 Magnhild," said his wife, weeping. Magnhild 
 was utterly dismayed. 
 
 " Do you really want to marry him ?" asked 
 the pastor, stopping with decision in front of 
 her. Now the truth was, Magnhild had never 
 been accustomed to expressing what she felt. 
 Questioned in this tone she had not the courage 
 to explain simply that the thing had at first been 
 a joke ; that later she perhaps had suspected a 
 strain of earnest in it, but that the matter was 
 constantly mixed up afresh with jesting, so that 
 she had not taken much trouble to protest. How 
 could she, while the pastor stood over her, begin 
 such a long story ? So she began to cry 
 instead. 
 
 Now, the pastor had no wish to pain her. 
 32
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 What was done was done. He was sorry for 
 her, and so in the goodness of his heart he tried to 
 help her to find reasons for her choice. Skarlie 
 was really a man in very good circumstances, he 
 said, and she was a poor girl ; so far as that 
 went, she could not certainly expect to make a 
 better match. He was old ; but he had said 
 himself that he regarded it more as an adoption 
 than as a marriage ; her happiness was his chief 
 object. But Magnhild could not bear to listen 
 to all this ; she flew to the door. Outside in the 
 passage she burst out crying as if her heart 
 would break ; she was obliged to take refuge in 
 the attic, so as not to disturb the house. There 
 she began gradually to realise the reasons of her 
 grief. It was not because the saddler wanted 
 her that she was crying, but because the pastor 
 and his wife did not want her. 
 
 That was the construction she had put upon 
 it. 
 
 When the governess was made acquainted 
 with the matter, she did not take at all the same 
 view of it as the pastor's wife, who could not 
 understand Magnhild. Now, the governess did, 
 perfectly. He was a clever man, positively 
 33 c
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 witty. He was rich, full of spirits a little 
 ugly ! Yes, but that didn't matter so much down 
 at the port. (Her literal words.) And in this 
 strain she talked to Magnhild too, when finally 
 she succeeded in getting hold of her. Magnhild 
 was red with weeping, and broke out afresh at 
 this ; but not a word did she say. 
 
 The pastor expressed himself rather curtly to 
 the saddler, to the effect that, things being as 
 they were, it was best that he should lose no 
 time. This was the saddler's own desire. He 
 had finished his work here too. However much 
 he tried to get speech of Magnhild, he could not 
 once manage to see her. So he was obliged to 
 go away unsuccessful. 
 
 Magnhild did not show herself on the follow- 
 ing days either in the sitting-room or at the 
 table. No one sought her out to talk to her ; the 
 governess thought it so natural that she should 
 wish to be alone at so serious a juncture. 
 
 One day, to their surprise, the post brought a 
 letter and a big packet for Magnhild. The 
 letter ran : 
 
 " In order to carry out our delightful joke to 
 the end, dear Magnhild, I have come down here. 
 34
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 My house was painted in the summer inside and 
 out, a joke which now looks like earnest, eh ? 
 
 " I deal in beds, furniture, bed-clothes, &c., 
 so I can buy them of myself. When I think 
 of the object of all this, it becomes the most 
 amusing business I ever engaged in. 
 
 " Do you remember how we laughed the time 
 when I measured you to prove how much too 
 short your dress was in the bodice, how much 
 too wide across the shoulders, and how much 
 too short in the skirt ? I happened, by chance, 
 to write down your measurements, and according 
 to them I am now having made for you : 
 
 " One black silk dress (Lyons taffeta), 
 
 " One brown (cachemire), 
 
 " One blue (of light woollen material). 
 As I have always told you, I think blue becomes 
 you best. 
 
 " These things are not ready just at the 
 moment, so they will come at the earliest oppor- 
 tunity. Other things you may perhaps need I 
 telegraphed to Bergen for, the moment I came 
 here ; there all such things are to be had ready 
 made. You will probably get what I sent for, 
 by the same post that brings you this letter. 
 35
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "As you see (and shall continue to see later 
 on) there is a good deal of fun in being married. 
 I have to-day drawn up my will, and have left 
 everything to you. 
 
 " With respectful greeting to the pastor and 
 his honoured family, I sign myself your most 
 obedient jest-maker. 
 
 "T. SKARLIE." 
 
 Magnhild had taken refuge in the attic with 
 both the letter and the large parcel. She had 
 devoured the letter, and came out of its perusal 
 confused and angry ; then she tore open the 
 parcel and found several sets of everything 
 needed for a complete outfit of feminine under- 
 clothing. She threw the things from her right 
 and left, her face in a flame, indignantly 
 ashamed. Then she sat down and cried 
 bitterly. 
 
 Now she had courage to speak ! She rushed 
 downstairs to the pastor's wife, threw her arms 
 about her neck, whispered "Forgive me!" then 
 thrust the letter into her hand and vanished. 
 
 Her mistress did not understand her "forgive 
 me ! " but saw, of course, that she was crying, 
 and was in great excitement. She took the 
 36
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 letter and read it. it was singular in form, it 
 seemed to her, but the contents appeared much 
 clearer, for they indicated the care of a sensible 
 elderly man, and that was worthy of all praise. 
 This quality, of course, recommended itself to an 
 old housewife, and she took the letter to the 
 pastor. He felt the same : he began to think 
 that Magnhild might quite well be happy with 
 this singular man. His wife searched the house 
 for her, to tell her that both she and the pastor 
 thought things promised well. She was told 
 that Magnhild was up in the attic ; so she put a 
 shawl on (for it was cold), and went up to her. 
 She met the governess and took her along with 
 her. They did not see Magnhild, but they saw 
 the things which were thrown about over the 
 floor and over the boxes and trunks. They 
 gathered them together, counted them, examined 
 them, and pronounced them remarkably nice. 
 They understood that a gift of this kind might 
 make a young girl feel embarrassed. But, after 
 all, he was an elderly man, who had a right to 
 treat her in fatherly fashion. They said as 
 much to her when at last they found her. And 
 she had no longer the courage to confide in 
 37
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 them ; because the pastor's wife, supported by 
 the governess, gave her what they called 
 rational advice. She mustn't be proud, but 
 must remember she was a poor girl without 
 relations and without a future. 
 
 In the days that followed she went through a 
 secret struggle. But she had no power of re- 
 sistance. Where should she have got it from ? 
 What was to become of her, since the pastor's 
 family were so obviously tired of her ? 
 
 A little while afterwards came a box, con- 
 taining her dresses, &c. Magnhild would not 
 touch it ; but the governess, who imagined that 
 she thoroughly understood this shyness, took 
 care to have it opened. She and the pastor's 
 wife took out article by article, and before long 
 they had Magnhild standing, first in one dress, 
 then in another, before the great mirror in the 
 sitting-room. The doors were locked, and the 
 pastor's wife and the governess were much 
 excited. At last came the black silk dress, and 
 by this time Magnhild had, little by little, lost 
 her indifference. She felt a blushing satisfaction 
 at seeing her figure in the glass robed in fine 
 stuffs. She discovered her own beauty, point 
 38
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 by point. Even as to her face she had never 
 noticed clearly, before to-day, how the faces of 
 those whom she saw around her were more or 
 less undistinguished, while hers she saw her 
 own with the vision which a handsome, 
 well-fitting dress had suddenly awakened in 
 her. 
 
 This image of herself stood before her for 
 days. She took care not to disturb it by look- 
 ing in the glass. Again the old dreams came 
 crowding about her dreams that drifted over 
 the sea towards something foreign and vast. 
 
 But the marriage ? She cast the thought of 
 it away from her in moods like these, as if it 
 were nothing more than a gangway, which is 
 drawn ashore when it has been used. How 
 was she able to regard it so ? Ah ! how many 
 times, in the years that followed, did she not 
 pause to ask herself that question. But it 
 always remained inexplicable. 
 
 She was not to be persuaded to put on one 
 of the new dresses the day that Skarlie was to 
 come, nor to go out and receive him ; on the 
 contrary, she went and hid herself. Later, and 
 as if by chance, she made her appearance. She 
 39
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 consistently treated both him and the marriage 
 as matters that did not concern her. 
 
 Skarlie was in high spirits, for both the pas- 
 tor and his wife tried to make up for Magnhild's 
 want of civility, and he met their advances in 
 the most winning way. The governess found 
 him positively lovable. 
 
 Magnhild sat in the dining-room the next 
 evening, putting in order some things belonging 
 to the school of handicraft, which she was now 
 to return. She was alone. Skarlie came in 
 softly, and smilingly shut the door slowly be- 
 hind him, and sat down by her side. She was 
 conscious of the leathery odour of the saddler, 
 but she did not raise her eyes. He talked at 
 length of indifferent things, so that she began 
 to breathe easily again. At last she even dared 
 to look down at him, as then he sat leaning for- 
 ward and smoking. She saw the bald head, a 
 bushy eyebrow, and the end of the snub nose ; 
 and then his great fists, and the characteristic 
 nails shapely, and set far down into the flesh, 
 which completely surrounded them, like a thick, 
 round frame. There was dirt under the tips of 
 
 the nails a thing that the governess, who, her- 
 
 40
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 self, had pretty hands, had made her pupils 
 regard as a deadly sin. She looked at the brist- 
 ling reddish hair, which completely covered these 
 fists. He had been silent a moment ; but, as 
 though he were conscious of being scrutinised, 
 he drew himself up, and, with a smile, stretched 
 out one of the fists towards her : " Yes, yes, 
 Magnhild ! " he laid it over both her hands. 
 A shudder went through her, and the moment 
 after she was sitting like one paralysed. She 
 was incapable of any movement or any thought, 
 other than that a great lobster had taken hold of 
 her. His head came nearer : the eyes were 
 those of a lobster, too they went through her. 
 She had never noticed this look in them before. 
 She sprang to her feet : he remained sitting. 
 She did not look back, but busied herself 
 where she stood with some other things belong- 
 ing to the school of handicraft. Still, she 
 did not leave the room : a moment after, he 
 did so. 
 
 The next day the governess decked her out 
 in her bridal finery ; the pastor's wife was pre- 
 sent, too it was a pleasure to her, she said. 
 Magnhild allowed them to do what they liked 
 41
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 with her, without moving, without uttering a 
 word, and without shedding a tear. 
 
 The same in the sitting-room. She sat 
 motionless. There was something like defiance 
 in her attitude, now. A group of servants and 
 cottagers sat or stood by the kitchen door, and 
 among them, peeping out, she saw the heads of 
 children. The clerk started the singing the 
 moment the pastor came down. 
 
 She did not look at the bridegroom. The 
 pastor pulled out the pathetic stop ; his wife 
 wept, and so did the governess ; but Magnhild's 
 coldness chilled both him and them. The ad- 
 dress was short and commonplace. Afterwards 
 came perfunctory congratulation, and a painful 
 silence. Even the saddler lost his smile. The 
 thought that dinner awaited them, came like 
 salvation. 
 
 During the meal the pastor tried to make a 
 speech, and began : " Dear Magnhild, I hope 
 you do not take it ill of us " he got no further, 
 for Magnhild burst into such violent weeping 
 that, by degrees, it infected the pastor's wife, 
 the governess, even the pastor, and for a time 
 everything was at a standstill. At length the 
 42
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 pastor managed to add merely : " Remember 
 us." But here again the same heartrending 
 weeping interrupted him, so that no health was 
 drunk. What was actually the matter was not 
 clear to any of them, unless perhaps to the 
 bridegroom ; he was silent. 
 
 During dessert, one of the servants came in 
 and whispered some words to the bride. 
 Ronnaug was outside, she wanted to say good- 
 bye ; she had waited ever since they had sat 
 down to table, and she could not stay any 
 longer. Magnhild went out. Ronnaug was 
 standing outside the porch, numb with the cold. 
 She had been afraid of being in the way if she 
 went inside, she said. She looked at the bride's 
 dress and considered it elegant beyond words. 
 She drew off one mitten and stroked the gown 
 with the back of her hand. " Yes, I suppose 
 he's rich but not if he had given me a heap of 
 silver would I have " and she added something 
 which cannot be set down ; something on account 
 of which Magnhild, with flaming face, dealt her 
 a sound box on the ear. Her shawl protected 
 her somewhat, but the blow was exceedingly 
 well directed. 
 
 43
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Magnhild came in again and sat down, not in 
 her place by the bridegroom, but on a chair by 
 the window ; she wouldn't eat anything more, 
 she said. In vain they begged her at least to 
 sit with them till the others had finished ; she 
 could not, she said. 
 
 The party broke up soon after the coffee was 
 served. But just then a circumstance occurred 
 which relieved the strain of emotion, of whatever 
 sort it might be. This was that the bridegroom, 
 looking at first blush like some shaggy beast, 
 came in carrying a fur cloak, a pair of lined 
 shoes, a jacket, hood, fur gloves and muff. He 
 dropped them all in front of Magnhild, saying, 
 with dry earnestness : 
 
 " I lay these at your feet !" 
 
 A burst of laughter followed, in which even 
 Magnhild was obliged to join. They all gathered 
 round the things which lay scattered over the 
 carpet, and were loud in praise of them. It was 
 obviously not unpleasant to Magnhild either, 
 facing a winter journey for which she had 
 borrowed a quantity of things, to see such an 
 offering laid at her feet, 
 
 A little while after, she stood arrayed in her blue 
 44
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 dress, and in so much was she child or woman, that 
 she found the experience pleasant. Immediately 
 after, the new travelling things were put on one 
 by one, in the midst of general interest, which 
 reached its height when Magnhild was drawn 
 forward to the mirror in order to see herself. 
 The horse was brought to the door, and Skarlie 
 came in at that moment. He, too, was dressed 
 for the journey, in dog-skin overcoat, with shoes 
 and leggings of reindeer skin, and a flat fur cap. 
 He was very nearly as broad as he was long, 
 and just to make them laugh, he hobbled over to 
 the mirror and placed himself, with a droll look, 
 by Magnhild's side. They all laughed ; even 
 she joined in, but instantly became silent again. 
 This mood lasted through the leave-taking. It 
 was not until the parsonage was finally left 
 behind, that she burst into tears again. 
 
 She looked at the snow-covered waste where 
 her father's home had stood, but in a dull 
 fashion, as though there were something in her, 
 too, covered with ruins and with snow. 
 
 The weather was cold. The valley became 
 narrower, the road lay through a thick wood. 
 One single star was in the sky. 
 45
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Skarlie had been cutting figures in the snow 
 with the whip ; he pointed with it, now, towards 
 the star, and began to hum, and then to sing ; it 
 was a Scotch a Highland air. It followed 
 them like a melancholy bird, from one heavily 
 snow-laden fir-tree to another. Magnhild asked 
 what it was about, and its meaning seemed to 
 harmonise with a journey deep into the heart of 
 a forest. Skarlie told her more about Scotland, 
 its history, and about his sojourn there. 
 
 Once started, he kept on, and, by-and-by, 
 told her such lively stories, that Magnhild was 
 surprised when they came to their first stopping- 
 place surprised that she had been able to laugh, 
 and that they had already driven nearly fourteen 
 miles. 
 
 He helped her out of the sleigh, and showed 
 her into the sitting-room of the inn, but he went 
 out again immediately, to feed the horse. 
 
 In the room, by the fireplace, sat a young 
 lady, warming herself. Scattered about on the 
 benches were her wraps, made of so fine a 
 fabric and fur, that Magnhild's curiosity could 
 be satisfied only by feeling them. In cut and 
 
 material, the lady's travelling dress produced 
 4 6
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 something of an exotic impression : she sug- 
 gested a creature from another part of the 
 world. Her face showed she was young, and 
 expressed a kind of gentle sadness ; she was 
 fair, with languishing eyes, and a nose slightly 
 aquiline. Her hair, too, was done up in an un- 
 familiar fashion. A thin young man was pass- 
 ing to and fro ; his travelling boots stood by 
 the hearth, he wore little morocco-leather slippers, 
 lined with white fur. His movements were 
 graceful and easy. 
 
 "Are you Skarlie's young wife ? " asked the 
 landlady. She was an oldish woman, and was 
 placing a chair for her by the fire. Before 
 Magnhild could answer, Skarlie came in, bring- 
 ing several articles out of the sleigh. The bald 
 head, half emerging from the huge mass of furs, 
 the reindeer shoes, spreading out like great 
 roots over the floor, attracted the astonished 
 gaze of the lady. 
 
 " Is this your wife ? " repeated the landlady, 
 turning towards Skarlie. 
 
 " Yes, my wife," he said, gaily, and hobbled 
 out again. 
 
 The young man looked at Magnhild. She 
 47
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 felt herself growing red as fire under his 
 gaze. 
 
 There was something altogether new to her in 
 this stranger's expression. Was it scorn ? Now 
 the lady was looking at her too. The hostess 
 invited Magnhild to sit by the fire. But she 
 remained on the bench away in the shadow. 
 
 It was well past ten o'clock when they reached 
 the port, and all the lights were extinguished, 
 even in the house before which they drew up. 
 An old woman, wakened by the ringing of the 
 bell, came to the street door, opened it, peered 
 out, and then went back and lit a lamp. She 
 met Magnhild in the passage ; she held the light 
 so that it fell on her face, and said finally : 
 " You are welcome." 
 
 A strong smell of leather filled the passage ; 
 for the workroom and shop lay to the left. 
 The disgusting odour prevented Magnhild from 
 replying. They entered a room on the right. 
 She began to take off her wraps hurriedly ; she 
 felt a sensation of nausea. Scarcely had she 
 got rid of her outdoor things when, without 
 glancing round, or saying a word to the woman 
 who stood behind the lamp, looking at her, she
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 went over and opened a door that she had 
 noticed the instant she came in. She first held 
 the light so that it shone into the room, and 
 then went in herself. She closed the door be- 
 hind her. The woman heard a rumbling noise, 
 and went to the door. She could hear that one 
 of the beds was being dragged across the floor 
 .... Immediately afterwards Magnhild came 
 out with the lamp. Her face reddened in the 
 glare of the light. She wore a look of deter- 
 mination. 
 
 She told the woman she did not need her. 
 
 It was not till long after that that the saddler 
 came in, for he had been returning the horse 
 which he had borrowed for the journey. The 
 lamp stood on the table in the sitting-room. 
 Every one had gone to bed. 
 
 49
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SINCE that evening two years had gone by, and 
 a good part of the third. 
 
 Magnhild was as thoroughly broken in now 
 to the new routine, as she had been to the 
 old. 
 
 The pastor came to see her three or four 
 times a year. He slept in the room over the 
 workshop where at other times Skarlie slept 
 when he was at home. In the daytime, he was 
 with the Captain or the Custom House Officer 
 or the Bailiff. These visits were called the 
 " Priest's Ride." 
 
 There was chess-playing by day and cards in 
 the evening. The pastor's wife and the young 
 ladies had also paid her a visit. In the village 
 itself there was scarcely any one with whom 
 Magnhild associated. 
 
 She and Skarlie had made one journey to 
 Bergen. Whatever it may have been that 
 5
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 happened or did not happen on that occasion, 
 certain it is that they made no more excursions 
 either to Bergen or elsewhere. 
 
 Skarlie was oftener away than at home ; he 
 was engaged in speculating ; his trade was 
 almost abandoned, but still he kept his shop. 
 Magnhild herself, shortly after her arrival, had 
 probably at Skarlie's suggestion received an 
 invitation from the school commission 10 under- 
 take the management of a school of handicraft. 
 Now she gave a lesson or two every day at the 
 great public school, and besides this she gave 
 special instruction to grown-up girls. Her time 
 was taken up for the most part with walks, with 
 singing, and with a little sewing ; she read 
 almost not at all. It bored her. 
 
 ROnnaug came down to the port directly 
 after Magnhild's arrival. She had got employ- 
 ment at the nearest posting-house in order to 
 earn the money for the passage to America as 
 quickly as possible. She was tired of being 
 where she was regarded as the scum of the 
 earth, she said. 
 
 Magnhild received and took charge of ROn- 
 naug's money, feeling dismayed at the rapidity
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 with which the sum increased ; for about this 
 plan of going to America she had her own 
 thoughts. Now the ticket was bought, and 
 Magnhild was to be left utterly alone. 
 
 She could not help brooding upon the idea 
 that it should be so easy for one and so difficult 
 for another to cross the sea, and seek out the 
 strange and perhaps great things beyond it. 
 
 One morning, after a sleepless night, she took 
 her usual walk to the pier to watch the steam- 
 boat come in. She saw the usual number of 
 commercial travellers landing, the usual number 
 of trunks being carried after them. But to-day 
 she saw, in addition to these, a man with pale 
 complexion, long soft hair, and large eyes, who 
 was walking round a packing case, which he finally 
 got lifted up on the wagon. "Take care! take 
 care!" he repeated again and again. "It must 
 be a piano ! " 
 
 On arriving home, after having looked in at 
 the school-house on the way, she saw the same 
 man, with the box behind him, standing at the 
 door of her own house. One of the hotel- 
 keepers accompanied him. Skarlie had furnished 
 the rooms above the sitting-room and bed- 
 52
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 chamber for the accommodation of travellers 
 when the hotels were full. This traveller was 
 an invalid who preferred to live privately. 
 
 Magnhild had not intended to let the rooms 
 for any lengthened period, and so saddle herself 
 with more or less responsibility. She was 
 doubtful about doing so. The man came up to 
 her. Eyes like his she had never seen, nor 
 ever before so delicate, so intellectual a face. 
 Absolutely irresistible was the charm of his eyes 
 as they rested upon her. It was as if there 
 were two expressions in this look, the one behind 
 the other. She was powerless to fathom it more 
 exactly, but it engrossed her to such a degree 
 that she put her forefinger to her lips and forgot 
 to answer. 
 
 Now his face changed, it became observant. 
 She was conscious of the change, came to herself, 
 blushed, made some answer and went indoors. 
 What had she answered ? Was it yes or no ? 
 The hotel -keeper was following her. It was 
 yes. She must first go up and see if all was in 
 order, for she was not exactly proud of the way 
 she kept things. 
 
 There was a great to-do when the piano was 
 53
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 carried up. It took some time, as it necessitated 
 the moving of the bed and sofa and so on. But 
 at last the disturbance came to an end, and 
 everything was quiet. The pale traveller must 
 be tired. Before long she heard neither step 
 nor sound overhead. 
 
 There is a difference between the stillness 
 which is significant and that which is blank. 
 
 She dared not move. She waited, listened. 
 Should she hear the piano ? He was a composer, 
 the hotel-keeper had said. It seemed to her, 
 too, that she had read his name in the paper. 
 What was it like when a man like that played ? 
 It must be miraculous. At all events, a note 
 was to be struck in her empty life, that should 
 echo through the days that were to follow. 
 She longed for some revelation of commanding 
 genius. Her wandering glance fell upon the 
 flowers that adorned her windows, and among 
 which the sunshine played. With eyes fixed on 
 " The Caravan in the Desert " which hung 
 framed and glazed by the door, and which all at 
 once seemed to her so animated and so beauti- 
 fully arranged both as to the grouping and the 
 individual figures with ears attentive to the 
 
 54
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 twitter of the birds in the opposite neighbours' 
 garden, and the magpie's chatter further away in 
 the meadow she sat in rapturous expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 Straight through her joy the question clove 
 its way : " Will Skarlie be satisfied with what 
 you've done ? " The new sofa may come to 
 harm and the new bed as well. The man is an 
 invalid ; who knows whether " She rose, 
 took pen, ink, and paper, and for the first time 
 in her life wrote to Skarlie. The letter occupied 
 her more than an hour. 
 
 " I have let the rooms over the sitting-room 
 and bedroom to an invalid who plays the piano. 
 The terms are left to you. 
 
 " I have allowed one of the new sofas to be 
 carried up (the horse-hair one) together with 
 one of the spring mattresses. He insists on 
 having an easy bed. Perhaps I have not done 
 right. MAGNHILD." 
 
 She had struck out " Now I shall be able to 
 hear some music." The opening formula had 
 given her trouble ; she decided to use none. 
 "Your wife" she had written for signature, but 
 
 55
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 she struck that out too. In this condition the 
 letter was copied and sent, and she felt relieved. 
 She sat down again quietly, and waited. She 
 listened he was having luncheon. Then she 
 ate a little herself as well, and slept awhile ; she 
 had really scarcely closed her eyes the previous 
 night. 
 
 She awoke ; still he was not playing ; she 
 slept again, and dreamed that a bridge was 
 thrown from mountain across to mountain. 
 She said to herself that it was the bridge at 
 Cologne, of which a large lithograph hung on 
 the partition wall between the sitting-room and 
 bedroom. 
 
 This bridge extended from one high mountain 
 across the valley to the other. The longer 
 she looked at it, the more airy and many-hued 
 it became, for behold ! it was woven of rainbow 
 threads, and rose high up and soared aloft, 
 radiant and translucent, until its coping formed 
 a straight line from one mountain crest to the 
 other. Then over this another bridge was 
 stretched crosswise, and both of them seemed 
 to vibrate in a slow double rhythm, and soon 
 after the valley was an ocean of light in which 
 56
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 every hue under the sun flashed and scintillated, 
 but the bridges had vanished 1 Nor were the 
 mountains there any longer flying colours filled 
 all the imaginable distance. How vast the 
 outlook was ! how far away she could see ! 
 She grew frightened at the vision of infinitude 
 
 and awoke There was the sound of 
 
 music overhead ! A crowd of people stood 
 before the house, silent, and with upturned 
 faces. 
 
 She did not stir. The notes streamed richly 
 out, a luminous charm shone through his music. 
 She sat listening till she felt as if the harmony 
 were descending in drops over her head, her 
 hands, her lap. It was a benediction over her 
 little house, the mist of tears was shot with 
 light. She pushed her chair further back into 
 the corner. But where she sat she had a 
 sense of being found out by the all-bountiful 
 Providence which had her destiny in its keep- 
 ing. The music seemed to speak from the 
 depths of a knowledge that was not yet hers, to 
 a passion born of the moment. She stretched 
 out her arms, drew them back again and burst 
 into tears. 
 
 57
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Long after the music had ended the crowd 
 gone and no sound from the room above she 
 still sat there. Life had meaning ; she too was 
 finding access to a treasure-house of beauty. 
 The songs that were singing within her now, 
 should one day ring out audibly. She took 
 more than half an hour to undress, wandering 
 to and fro between the sitting-room and the 
 bedroom. She lay down for the first time in 
 her life with the feeling of having something 
 worth rising for on the morrow. She heard 
 his footsteps overhead, his tread was lighter 
 than other people's. In all his movements he 
 made but little noise. His eyes, with the 
 subtle fascination behind their beaming kind- 
 ness, were the last thing she saw with distinct- 
 ness. 
 
 Indescribable days followed. She went away 
 to attend her classes, and then hastened home 
 to be received by the sound of music, and 
 find the house surrounded by a listening crowd. 
 Except to the school she now hardly ever went 
 out. Either he was at home, and she waited 
 for him to begin playing, or he had gone for a 
 walk and she waited for him to return. She 
 58
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 blushed when he bowed to her, and shrank 
 away. If he came into the sitting-room to ask 
 for anything, she was stricken with trembling 
 the moment she heard his footstep approach ; 
 she stood covered with confusion when he 
 appeared, and scarcely understood what he was 
 asking for. She had not perhaps spoken ten 
 words with him in ten days. But she already 
 knew his smallest habit and every peculiarity in 
 his attire. She noticed whether his soft brown 
 hair was smoothed behind his ears or fell over 
 his face ; when the grey hat was pushed back, 
 and when it was drawn over the brows ; whether 
 he wore gloves or not, whether or not he had a 
 plaid over his shoulders. And as for herself? 
 She had ordered two new summer dresses and 
 was wearing one of them already ; and she 
 bought a new hat. 
 
 She believed that music was her destiny, but 
 she felt no need of taking any sort of first step 
 towards it. His playing and his presence were 
 enough for her. 
 
 Day by day fresh thoughts burgeoned in her 
 mind. They sprang from seeds sown in her 
 former day-dreams ; but if she was to live, 
 59
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 music was the air she needs must breathe ; 
 that she felt clearly now. She did not realise 
 that his delicate personality (which ill-health had 
 still further etherealised) brought a new quality 
 into her life, tender and full of suggestion. The 
 delight with which he inspired her and which 
 made her blush, she attributed to music alone. 
 
 At the school she interested herself in the 
 pupils individually as she had never done before. 
 She would even talk with the sailor's wife, who 
 did her house-cleaning. Day by day, veil after 
 veil fell away from her soul ; she became as 
 tender as a woman at that transition stage, 
 which she had never experienced. Books that 
 she had read or heard read at the pastor's 
 came home to her anew. Forms rose before 
 her that she had never seen before, with blood 
 in their veins, with colour and motion. In- 
 cidents in life as well as in books, which had 
 passed cloud-like over her mind, threw off their 
 mist-wreaths and stood forth as pictures before 
 her memory. She awoke, as an oriental girl 
 shut up in a seraglio wakes one day at the 
 sound of singing beneath the window, and at 
 
 the glimpse of a turban. 
 60
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AFTER having finished dressing one morning 
 Magnhild, humming softly the while, went gaily 
 into the sitting-room to open the window that 
 looked on the street. A lady was standing at 
 the open window of a house across the way. 
 
 The house was rather low and was surrounded 
 by a garden. It was the property of an absent 
 official. The windows were wreathed in creepers, 
 and long sprays hung down over them here and 
 there. The lady was just parting the tangle 
 which was in the way. Her head was framed 
 in curls of a shade nearer black than brown. 
 Her eyes sparkled, her forehead was low arid 
 broad, her eyebrows tolerably straight and the 
 nose the same, but inclined to heaviness; the 
 lips full and the throat so beautifully set on the 
 shoulders that it attracted even Magnhild's 
 attention. The open sleeves of her dress had 
 fallen back as she busied herself at the lattice, 
 61
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 and showed her arms. Magnhild could not take 
 her eyes away. When the lady noticed her, 
 she nodded and smiled. 
 
 Magnhild was confused and drew back from 
 the window. At that moment a child joined the 
 lady, she bent down towards it and kissed it. 
 The child had curls, too, but they were fair ; 
 the face was not the mother's and yet it was 
 like, too, in a way. It was the colouring that 
 misled one, for the child was fair. It climbed 
 up on a chair and looked out. The mother 
 again turned her attention to the creepers, but 
 she glanced at Magnhild. It was a strange look. 
 Magnhild put on her hat ; it was time to go to 
 the school, but that look had the effect of making 
 her go out by the back door and come in an 
 hour later in the same way. 
 
 He was playing. She stood still a moment 
 in her little garden listening. But presently 
 she felt she must go in and see what effect this 
 playing had on the beautiful lady. She went 
 into the kitchen and thence to the sitting-room, 
 but kept herself out of sight. No, there was no 
 strange lady at the window over the way. 
 
 Magnhild felt relieved and went forward. She 
 62
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 wanted to move some of the flower-pots round 
 to the sun a thing she did every day. She 
 very nearly let the plant she held fall into the 
 street, for the strange lady put her head in 
 through the open window that very moment. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," she smiled. There 
 was a persuasive note of appeal for forgiveness 
 in her voice, that exceeded everything in the way 
 of gentle entreaty that Magnhild had ever heard 
 before. 
 
 " I may come inside, mayn't I ? " And 
 before Magnhild could find an answer she was 
 already on the way. 
 
 The next moment she stood before her, tall 
 and beautiful. Some rare perfume floated about 
 her as she moved about the room, talking now 
 about the lithographs on the walls, now about 
 the valley, the mountains, or the condition of the 
 people. The voice, the perfume, the way she 
 moved, the eyes, even the fabric and fashion of 
 her dress, and especially its bold colouring, took 
 the senses captive. From the moment she 
 entered the room, everything in it seemed to 
 belong to her. If she smelt a flower, or in any 
 way observed it, it became a flower twice over. 
 63
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Whatever these eyes looked at acquired exactly 
 the value that she gave it. 
 
 There was a sound of some one walking over- 
 head. The lady paused, Magnhild blushed, 
 the lady smiled. Magnhild hastened to say : 
 
 " That is a lodger who " 
 
 " I know ; he came to meet me yesterday 
 evening at the pier." 
 
 Magnhild's eyes widened. The lady came 
 closer. 
 
 " My husband and he are intimate friends." 
 She turned away humming a little ; she looked 
 at the clock in the corner. 
 
 " Is it so late as that ? " She glanced at her 
 watch. "We are going out for a walk at eleven 
 to-day. You must go too, won't you ? And 
 show us the prettiest places in the wood behind 
 the church and over among the hills." 
 
 Magnhild agreed at once. 
 
 " Stay ! I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll run up 
 to him and say that you're coming too, and then 
 we'll set out directly, directly ! " 
 
 She gave Magnhild's hand a soft pressure, 
 opened the door and ran upstairs to his room. 
 Magnhild remained behind ; she was quite pale. 
 64
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 There was a noise overhead, the murmur of 
 voices, and then a slight sound of something 
 falling. Immediately after, blank silence. There 
 were one or two creaking steps overhead and 
 after that nothing. 
 
 She must have stood there a long time. She 
 heard some one at the door, and her hands flew 
 to her heart. She wanted to run away, but the 
 fair, curly head of the little child appeared, and 
 with a soft seriousness in her eyes she said 
 cautiously : 
 
 " Is mother here ? " 
 
 " She is upstairs," answered Magnhild, and at 
 the sound of her own voice and the significance 
 of the words themselves, she felt the tears start 
 to her eyes and was obliged to turn away. The 
 child had drawn back her head and shut the 
 door. 
 
 She had no time at the moment to get clear 
 as to what had happened, for the child came 
 downstairs again and joined her. 
 
 " Mother's coming. I am to stay with you. 
 Why are you crying ? " But she was not 
 crying. She did not answer the child. " Here 
 comes mother." 
 
 65 E
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Magnhild heard her on the stairs, so she went 
 into the bedroom. She heard the mother and 
 child exchange some words in the sitting-room, 
 and then, to her dismay, some one turned the 
 handle of the bedroom door ; the lady came in. 
 There was not the faintest shadow of guilt in 
 those eyes, they shed a warm glow of candid 
 happiness over the room. But when they 
 encountered Magnhild's glance the expression 
 changed, so that Magnhild was confused and 
 looked down. 
 
 The lady came forward ; she put one arm 
 around Magnhild's waist, the other hand on her 
 shoulder. Magnhild was obliged to look up 
 again, and in so doing met the lady's pained 
 smile. It was so kind, and at the same time so 
 firm and consequently so persuasive, that she 
 allowed herself to be drawn to her ; and after a 
 moment she was kissed at first softly, as 
 though it were only the lady's breath that 
 touched her cheek, while the strange fragrance 
 that always followed her enveloped them, and 
 the silk gown rustled like a whisper. Then 
 the lady kissed her impetuously, her breast 
 heaving against Magnhild's and her breath coming 
 
 66
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 in deep-drawn sighs as if from a life-long 
 sorrow. 
 
 Again silence and then a whisper, " Come 
 now ! " She led the way, holding Magnhild by 
 the hand. Magnhild was really a child yet in 
 experience. With conflicting feelings she found 
 herself in the pretty low house where the lady 
 lived, standing before open trunks, looking at a 
 wardrobe which was spread about in the two 
 rooms. 
 
 The lady was searching for something in one 
 of the trunks and finally drew out a white lace 
 fichu. " This will suit you better than the one 
 you have on, for that doesn't suit you at all.' 
 She untied the one Magnhild wore and knotted 
 the other one in a bow. Magnhild felt, too, that 
 it went well with the red dress. 
 
 " How have you done your hair ? You see 
 you have such a long face so that to wear the 
 
 hair like this No, it won't do," and before 
 
 Magnhild could offer any resistance, she was 
 pressed into a chair. " Now I'll ! " The lady 
 began to take her hair down. Magnhild rose, 
 blushing furiously and frightened. She said 
 something, but was met with a firm : " Certainly 
 67
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 not ! " It seemed as if will-power radiated from 
 the lady's words, her arms, and her* fingers. 
 Magnhild's hair was loosened, let down, smoothed, 
 and then gathered in a knot on her neck, the 
 shorter locks being allowed to wave about as 
 they liked. 
 
 " Look now ! ' And a mirror was held before 
 her. 
 
 All this increased the younger woman's confu- 
 sion to such a degree, that she scarcely knew 
 whom she was looking at when the glass was 
 held up. The stately lady before her, the per- 
 fume floating about her, and the child at her 
 knee, who was saying with an earnest look in 
 its eyes : " Now you are pretty," and the man 
 at the window over the way, looking down upon 
 them, smiling. She felt like running away ; 
 and stood up, but only to be embraced by the 
 lady and drawn further back into the room. 
 
 " Don't be bashful. We shall have a nice 
 time together." In her friendliness, Magnhild 
 was again conscious of that infinite goodness of 
 heart which she had never experienced the like 
 of before. " Run along now and get your hat, 
 and we'll be off 1" 
 
 68
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Magnhild obeyed. She was no sooner alone, 
 than she felt an uneasiness, a sadness tightening 
 round her heart, and the lady seemed hateful and 
 intrusive, even her kindness was distorted into a 
 lack of moderation ; she couldn't find words for 
 what was torturing her. 
 
 " Well now, aren't you coming ? " It was 
 the lady, wearing a turned-up hat with a nodding 
 feather, and beaming in at Magnhild through the 
 window. She threw back her curls and drew 
 on her gloves. " That hat becomes you rather 
 well. Come along ! " And Magnhild went. 
 
 The child clung to her from the start. " I 
 am going with you," she said. 
 
 Magnhild did not hear, because she was 
 listening to some one coming downstairs. Tande, 
 the composer was to go with them, too. 
 
 " Your hand is trembling," said the child. 
 
 A rapid glance from the lady made the colour 
 rush to her neck, cheeks, temples ; another 
 glance from Tande, who was now standing on 
 the steps of the front door, himself not altogether 
 free from embarrassment. He bowed. 
 
 " Are we going into the wood ? " said the 
 
 child, still holding fast to Magnhild's hand. 
 69
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "Yes," answered the lady, "isn't there a 
 short cut over the fields behind the house ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " We'll go that way, then." 
 
 They went into the house again and out by 
 the back way, through the garden across the 
 fields. The wood was over there to the left 
 of the church, and covered the flat bottom 
 and the nearest slopes. Magnhild and the 
 child went on before ; the lady and Tande 
 came behind. 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked the child. 
 
 " Magnhild." 
 
 "Oh how nice, for my name's Magda ; it's 
 almost the same as yours." Immediately after- 
 wards, she said : " Have you seen father in his 
 uniform ? " 
 
 No, Magnhild had not. 
 
 " He's coming here soon, and I'll ask him to 
 put it on." She continued to talk about her 
 father, whom she seemed to love beyond every- 
 thing on earth. Some things Magnhild heard, 
 some she did not. The couple behind spoke so 
 softly, that she could not catch a word, although 
 they followed close. Once, glancing hastily back, 
 70
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 she noticed that the lady's expression was 
 troubled and his was serious. 
 
 They reached the wood. 
 
 " See ! here we are already in the most delight- 
 ful spot possible ! " exclaimed the lady ; and now 
 she was radiant again, as though she had never 
 in her life been in any other than the most joy- 
 ful mood. " We'll stay here ! " and as she 
 spoke she sat down with a little exclamation and 
 a laugh. He sat down with deliberation a little 
 way off. Magnhild and the child were opposite 
 them. The little girl was instantly on the wing 
 again, for the lady wanted some flowers, grasses 
 and moss. She began to make nosegays ; and 
 it was evidently not the first time that the child 
 had gathered flowers for her, for she knew all 
 the different kinds by name, and burst into 
 shouts of glee whenever she found anything that 
 her mother had not yet seen, but which she knew 
 was a prize. 
 
 The lady's conversation flew from topic to 
 topic some of her remarks, not all of them, 
 were taken up by Tande, who stretched himself 
 out on the grass, and seemed to want to rest 
 quietly. But from the moment they touched
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 upon an incident that had taken place only a few 
 days before that of a married woman who had 
 left her husband and was afterwards abandoned 
 .by her lover he took an ardent share in the 
 discussion. He made a violent attack upon the 
 lover, whilst Mrs. Bang excused him. It wasn't 
 easy to go on pretending a love that no longer 
 existed. " But duty, at least might have," 
 Tande said. "Ah," replied the lady, "they had 
 already said good-bye to duty," and she stuck 
 some flowers in Magda's hat. 
 
 Further, talk disclosed incidentally that the lady 
 moved in the highest circles ; that she had 
 travelled a great deal and had evidently the means 
 to live wherever and however she liked. And yet 
 she was full of quiet consideration for Magnhild, 
 for Tande, for the child. For everybody who 
 was mentioned she had an amiable word. The 
 most trifling remark she would seize upon, turn 
 it over in her mind, and make something out of 
 it, just as she did with the stalk of flowering 
 grass which she was putting into one of her 
 posies, and doing it in such a way that it showed 
 to the best advantage, instead of being lost in the 
 mass. 
 
 72
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Tande's long pale face, framed caressingly in 
 soft hair, and with its wonderful shadowy smile, 
 had grown animated little by little. 
 
 The ardent woman by his side, with her 
 wealth of colouring, was she not part of the 
 world he lived in, and interpreted in music ? 
 
 The place where they sat was surrounded by 
 birches and aspens. The fir trees had not yet 
 succeeded in crowding them out, although seed- 
 lings were already sprouting here and there. 
 Until these grew up just so long had the 
 flowers and grasses to live, not a moment 
 longer. 
 
 73
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 MAGNHILD awoke the next day to no such 
 joyous recollection as had come to her every 
 morning during the preceding weeks. There 
 was something in this new state of affairs that 
 she had to rise and face, that frightened as well 
 as pained her. And yet there was a fascination 
 in it. What was she to pass through that 
 day ? 
 
 She had slept late. When she came into the 
 sitting-room, she saw the lady at the open 
 window, and instantly had a nod and a greeting 
 from her. She was holding up a hat and turn- 
 ing it about. It was not long before Magnhild 
 was so bewitched by her kindness, her beauty, 
 and her animation, that she had very nearly 
 forgotten the lessons she had to give. 
 
 A general shout greeted her at the school, 
 when she appeared with her hair dressed in a 
 new way, a new hat, and the white lace fichu 
 
 74
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 over the red dress ! Magnhild had felt a little 
 embarrassed in appearing in this new guise, and 
 became still more so. But the genuine approval 
 expressed on all sides soon consoled her, and 
 she came away with the feeling of an official who 
 has been promoted to a higher rank. 
 
 On this day, too, the weather was fine, so it 
 was decided that in the afternoon they should 
 make a little excursion. In the morning Tande 
 played. The windows everywhere were open, 
 and the lady sat by hers and wept. People 
 went by and stared ; but she paid no heed. 
 There was a note of passionate feeling, and 
 sometimes of pain, in his playing to-day. Magn- 
 hild had never before heard him play like that, 
 Perhaps he too felt that he was in danger of 
 losing his self-control, for he rallied, and con- 
 jured up a wealth of fair and radiant images, 
 which seemed to dance in the sunshine and 
 mingle with buzzing insects. It seemed as 
 though all at once the dewy Indian summer 
 day were rich with fresh discoveries ; in the 
 street-dust, which was beginning to dry, there 
 were glittering points of light, the meadows 
 were clothed in green where a second crop of 
 75
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 grass had grown, in yellow and brown where it 
 had not. The play of colour over the woods, 
 running through yellows, reds, browns and 
 greens, was everywhere shifting and changing. 
 The blue tone of the highest mountain range 
 had never been deeper. It stood out clearly 
 against the greyish tints of the fissured moun- 
 tains by the sea. The music rose to a climax : 
 again the sense of pain was present, but like 
 an echo, or melted into raindrops, which now 
 and then fell in showers down through the 
 strong sunlight of the new mood. The lady 
 had laid her head on her arm. Magnhild saw 
 the convulsive movement of the shoulders, and 
 turned away. She did not like such an exhi- 
 bition. 
 
 During the afternoon walk, Magnhild was 
 again obliged to go on before with the child, 
 and the other two followed, talking in whispers. 
 Another place was chosen to sit in to-day, a 
 little way up the hillside ; the lady had been 
 crying. Tande was silent, but looked perhaps 
 more spiritual than usual. 
 
 The talk to-day ran on the Norwegian fjord 
 scenery, and whether the mountains which 
 76
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 hemmed them in on all sides left their impress 
 upon character. They spoke of all the obstacles 
 to the spiritual development of the people ; old 
 conventions, the life of habit, and more particu- 
 larly hypocrisy and routine Christianity, passed 
 gaily under review. 
 
 " Just look now, she's sitting with her finger 
 at her lips again," laughed the lady. Magnhild 
 was excessively startled, and that increased their 
 gaiety. 
 
 As Magnhild sat with Magda some little 
 distance away from the others, she allowed the 
 child to put flowers and grass in her hair. She 
 was humming softly, as she had been in the 
 habit of doing ever since the time she practised 
 singing at sight at the pastor's. This time she 
 put more spirit than usual into her somewhat 
 formless song, for her thoughts filled it as the 
 wind fills a sail. The higher up the scale she 
 ran, the stronger her voice sounded until 
 Magda said : 
 
 " There comes mother." 
 
 Magnhild was silent. True enough the lady 
 was coming, and a little behind her came 
 Tande. 
 
 77
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " Why, my child, is that you singing ? " 
 
 In the course of the day, they had begun to 
 say " du " to each other ; at least, the lady 
 said " du " to Magnhild. Magnhild could not 
 say it to her. 
 
 " Yours is the highest and clearest soprano I 
 have heard for a long time," said Tande, who 
 had come up by this time flushed from having 
 walked a few paces more quickly than usual. 
 Magnhild rose, letting fall the grasses and 
 flowers in her lap, and at the same time she 
 put up her hands to her hair, in order to take 
 off Magda's decorations ; whereupon the latter 
 set up a terrible clamour. But Tande's words, 
 his whole appearance, and the expression of the 
 eyes he now fixed upon her, bewildered her, and 
 she felt it kind of Mrs. Bang to make a move- 
 ment as though to shield her. 
 
 A moment afterwards, they were on the way 
 home, and they went straight to Tande's room 
 to try Magnhild's voice. 
 
 The lady stood and held her by the hand. 
 
 Magnhild struck all the notes with extraordinary 
 
 certainty, and sang the scales in such a way 
 
 that Tande paused and looked up. Little by 
 
 78
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 little she gave herself up to a sense of happiness, 
 for they were fond of her, there was no mis- 
 taking that. And when they set to trying a 
 little two-part song, and Magnhild was able to 
 sing the soprano at sight, and the same with 
 a second and a third, there was such delight in 
 the little circle that Magnhild took fire at their 
 enthusiasm, and revealed a beauty which she 
 had certainly never before possessed at any 
 moment of her life. 
 
 The lady had a good alto; the voice was not 
 so much cultivated as sympathetic ; it was not 
 strong either, but so much the better did it go 
 with Magnhild's, for though hers might be more 
 powerful, she had never learned to make the 
 most of it, nor did she use any greater volume 
 now. 
 
 As they grew more and more familiar with 
 the songs, Tande put more character into the 
 accompaniments. 
 
 The street outside was full of people. 
 Nothing of the kind had ever been heard before 
 in the little village. A host of new feelings and 
 ideas descended upon the people. They thought 
 and spoke that evening with a delicacy unknown 
 79
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 before. The children dreamed of foreign lands. 
 A drizzling rain fell, the lofty mountains on both 
 sides of the valley and circling the fjord stood 
 with muffled crests, yet they rose before the 
 imagination all the mightier for being half 
 veiled. The tints of the forest, the unruffled 
 surface of the sea, darkened by the rain, the 
 fresh aftermath of the meadows, the mad rushing 
 of the river, and, except this last, no sound to 
 mar the evening's peace. Suddenly a carriage 
 approached, and then stopped. 
 
 The silence of the crowd in the street in- 
 creased the exultation of the little group in the 
 house. 
 
 When at last the music came to an end, 
 Tande declared that he must devote an hour 
 every day to teaching Magnhild how to use her 
 voice, so that she could practise by herself when 
 they had gone away. For the rest, they must 
 continue to sing together, because that gave one 
 style. Mrs. Bang added that it would be pos- 
 sible to make something out of a voice like 
 that. 
 
 Tande's eyes followed her searchingly, so she 
 
 was glad when the time came to go. 
 80
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 She forgot to take a sheet of music that 
 belonged to her, so she turned at the door, and 
 came back for it. Tande was standing by the 
 door. "Thank you for to-day," he whispered, 
 and smiled. In her extreme embarrassment, 
 she stumbled at the threshold, and had almost 
 made a false step at the top of the stairs as well. 
 She came down utterly confused. The lady 
 looked at her, for she was still standing there 
 waiting to say "Good-night." She paused an 
 instant before saying it, and then did so coldly 
 and absently. But she had not gone many 
 steps before she turned round, and saw Magn- 
 hild still standing there in astonishment. She 
 ran back instantly and embraced her warmly. 
 
 A little while ago, there had been an evening 
 that Magnhild had thought was the happiest of 
 her life. But this one ? 
 
 When she heard a movement overhead, all 
 her body quivered. She saw again his wide- 
 eyed gaze, as he looked up in the course of 
 playing. The diamond on his left hand sending 
 circles of light over the piano the blue-veined 
 hands, the long hair that fell over his face his 
 fine grey clothes, his whole quiet personality! 
 
 8l F
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 everything translated itself into melodies and 
 harmonies. And then his whispered : " Thank 
 you for to-day ! " 
 
 All was dark in the lady's house. 
 
 Not before midnight did Magnhild go to bed, 
 and not even then did she sleep ; he was not 
 sleeping either; on the contrary, he just then 
 began to play. It was a simple, melancholy old 
 song he played ; first, as if for a soprano solo, 
 then as though for a chorus of women ; the 
 harmony was very delicate. Unconscious of the 
 train of association, she was sitting once more 
 on the hill that afternoon of the confirmation, 
 looking over to the place where her home had 
 been. All her little brothers and sisters gathered 
 round her. He was playing variations on the 
 original theme, but it constantly presented the 
 same images to her. 
 
 At the school, the next morning, she was 
 besieged with questions about the preceding 
 evening whether she had sung with them and 
 what had they sung, questions about the other 
 two, and whether they were going to sing 
 again. 
 
 The questions filled her with delight ; a great 
 82
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 secret, her secret, lay behind out of sight. She 
 felt a strange tension. Never had she made 
 such haste to get home as to-day. She was 
 actually going, that very same morning, to have 
 a singing lesson with him. 
 
 And she did so. He sent a message down 
 by the sailor's wife, that he expected her at 
 twelve o'clock. Shortly before this hour she 
 heard again the mournful little melody of the 
 night before. 
 
 He received her without speaking. He 
 merely bowed, went straight to the piano, and 
 turned his head as if inviting her to approach. 
 She sang the scales he nodded, usually with- 
 out looking up. The whole hour passed like an 
 ordinary matter of business. She was grateful 
 for that. 
 
 After leaving him, she went across to see the 
 lady. Mrs. Bang was sitting, or rather lying, 
 on the sofa with an open book in her lap ; but 
 Magda stood before her and she was talking to 
 the child. She was serious, or rather melan- 
 choly. She looked up at Magnhild, but talked 
 on with the child quite as though no one had 
 come in. Magnhild remained standing, dis- 
 83
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 appointed at this reception. Then the lady 
 pushed the child away from her and looked up 
 again. 
 
 "Come nearer," she said, languidly, and 
 made a gesture with her hands which Magnhild 
 did not understand. 
 
 " Sit down on this footstool, I mean." 
 
 Magnhild did so. 
 
 " You have been with him ? ! ' Her fingers 
 loosened Magnhild's hair. "The knot is not 
 done rightly," and a moment after she said, 
 patting her, " You are a sweet child." 
 
 She sat up and looked her in the eyes, turn- 
 ing Magnhild's face towards her. 
 
 " I'm determined to make you pretty 
 prettier than I am myself. Just see what I've 
 bought for you to-day." 
 
 Behind Magnhild, on the table, lay the 
 material for a summer dress. 
 
 " That is for you ; it will suit you beauti- 
 fully." 
 
 " But, Mrs. Bang " 
 
 " Don't say a word, my friend ! I am not 
 happy when I am not doing something of that 
 kind, and for this I have my own reasons into 
 8 4
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the bargain." Her wonderful eyes were swim- 
 ming. "There now," she said, and rose 
 hastily. 
 
 " Now we will dine together. But first a 
 little walk, and in the afternoon a long walk ; 
 and after that some singing, and after that a 
 delightful siesta. That's what he likes ! " 
 
 But they had neither the little nor the long 
 walk, for it rained. The lady took Magnhild's 
 dress in hand at once. She got a dressmaker 
 close by to make it from her measurements. 
 
 They sang together, a longer time even than 
 on the day before. Some two-part songs had 
 been telegraphed for, and a couple of days later 
 they came. In the days that followed, most of 
 the songs were gone over with great care. 
 Magnhild had her regular lesson every day. 
 Tande behaved throughout with the same busi- 
 ness-like silence as on the first day. She began 
 to take courage. 
 
 Miraculous days ! Singing again and again 
 and being with them, chiefly at the lady's house, 
 where they usually both dined and supped. One 
 day the lady would be in the most brilliant 
 spirits, the next she would be tortured with 
 85
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 headache ; and at such times she would wind a 
 black, red and brown handkerchief round her 
 head like a turban, and would sit or lie in a 
 languid reverie. 
 
 As they were all sitting together one day, 
 Magda, who stood at the window, said : " There's 
 a man going into your house, Magnhild ; he's 
 lame." Magnhild got up, very red. 
 
 " What do you say ? " asked the lady, who 
 was lying on the sofa with a headache, and 
 talking in a whisper to Tande. 
 
 "Oh, it's only " Magnhild looked 
 
 about after her hat ; she found it and went out. 
 Through the open window she heard the child 
 saying, " It was an ugly, lame man." 
 
 Skarlie was working that year out on the 
 coast. A foreign ship had been wrecked there. 
 Skarlie and a couple of men in Bergen had 
 bought it, because they saw that it could be 
 repaired with far less outlay than was originally 
 supposed. They had driven an uncommonly 
 good bargain. Skarlie took in hand the car- 
 pentering, painting and leather work necessary 
 for the ship's repair. Now he had come home 
 after fresh provisions for the workmen. 
 86
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 He was more than a little surprised on enter- 
 ing his house. Everything was in order and 
 the rooms filled with fragrance. Magnhild 
 entered ; it was a lady who walked in ! Even 
 her face was changed ! It came upon him like 
 a revelation. The waving hair over her neck 
 and down her slightly stooping shoulders shed a 
 bright radiance round her head and figure. She 
 remained standing on the threshold in the 
 corner ; he was wiping the sweat off his bald 
 head. When his first amazement subsided, he 
 said, " How do you do ? " 
 
 No answer. But she came in and shut the 
 door after her. 
 
 " How fine we are here ! Is it your 
 lodger " 
 
 He pursed up his mouth, the eyes grew small. 
 She looked coldly at him. But he continued 
 good-humouredly : 
 
 " Has he made you a new dress, too ? " 
 
 She laughed. 
 
 " How are things going ? " she asked, after a 
 moment. 
 
 " Oh, I'll soon have finished now." 
 
 He had taken on some of the breadth 
 
 87
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 of manner of a person driving a prosperous 
 trade. 
 
 " It is warm here," he said. The sun had 
 just come out again after continued rain, and 
 was scorching hot, as it can be only in Septem- 
 ber. He stretched out his legs as far as their 
 crookedness permitted and leaned back, letting 
 both the great fists hang down over the arms of 
 the chair, like the huge flippers of a sea-monster. 
 
 "You're looking at me," he said, with his 
 most comical expression. She turned with a 
 searching glance towards the window. 
 
 The room was already filled with the odour of 
 leather, which always accompanied him. She 
 had thought of opening the window, but changed 
 her mind and came back. 
 
 " Where is your lodger ? " 
 
 "He is over the way." 
 
 41 Is some one living there, too?" 
 
 " Yes ; a Mrs. Bang and her daughter." 
 
 " Then it's with them you've struck up 
 acquaintance ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 He got up and took off his coat, and then his 
 
 waistcoat and necktie. He filled his cutty-pipe, 
 88
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 lit it and sat down again, this time leaning on 
 one elbow and smoking. He looked at his 
 better half with a whimsical smile. 
 
 " So you want to be a lady now, Magnhild ? " 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "Well, then, I suppose I must begin to be a 
 fine gentleman, eh ? " 
 
 She turned and looked at him with a laugh. 
 His breast, covered with thick dark red hair, was 
 bare, for the shirt was open. The face was sun- 
 burnt and the bald crown white. 
 
 " The devil ! how you stare at me ! I dare- 
 say I'm not nearly so handsome as your 
 lodger ! " 
 
 " Will you have something to eat ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " I had dinner on board the steamer." 
 
 " Something to drink then ? " 
 
 She went out after a bottle of beer, and set it 
 on the table, with a glass. He poured some out, 
 drank it, and in doing so happened to look across 
 the street. 
 
 " That's a devil of a fine woman ! Is that the 
 lady ? ? 
 
 Magnhild grew red as fire, for she too could 
 89
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 see the lady standing by the window, with wide 
 eyes fixed on the half-undressed figure ! 
 
 She rushed into the bedroom, and, through it, 
 into the garden, where she sat down. 
 
 She had not sat there more than a few 
 minutes, when she heard the bedroom door 
 opened, then the kitchen door, and immediately 
 afterwards her husband appeared at the door 
 leading into the garden. 
 
 " Magnhild ? yes, there she is ! " 
 
 Little Magda's fair curly head was thrust out 
 and she looked about everywhere, till she dis- 
 covered Magnhild, and then she came slowly 
 towards her. Skarlie had gone back. 
 
 "I've to ask if you won't come over and dine 
 with us ? " 
 
 "Say I'm very much obliged, but I can't 
 now." 
 
 The child stood still with an inquiring look, 
 and asked : " Why can't you ? Is it because of 
 the man ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Who is he?" 
 
 Magnhild had on the tip of her tongue: " He 
 
 is my ," but she could not get it out ; she 
 
 90
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 turned away instead, to hide her emotion from 
 the child. Magda stood still a long time. At 
 last she said : " Why are you crying, Magn- 
 hild ? " 
 
 It was said so sweetly ; it brought in upon 
 her the recollection of the whole bright world 
 which was closing its gates against her. Magn- 
 hild pressed to her heart this little representative 
 of all that she was losing, and the tears dropped 
 over her. Then she whispered : 
 
 " Don't ask me any more, little Magda. Go 
 home again this way, through the garden gate 
 and tell mother that I can't come any more." 
 
 Magda went out, looking back every few 
 steps. 
 
 Magnhild brushed away all traces of tears, 
 and went out to do the marketing, for her larder 
 was nearly empty. 
 
 When -she came home again and passed 
 through the sitting-room, she found Skarlie 
 still sitting in his chair. He had, no doubt, 
 been having a nap. Now he was yawning and 
 filling his pipe. 
 
 11 Did you say she was married, that woman 
 over the way ? " 
 
 91
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Is he married, too ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " I saw them kissing each other," he said. 
 
 Magnhild grew pale first and then red. 
 
 " I have never seen such a thing." 
 
 " No, no ; they little thought I saw it either/' 
 he said, and lit his pipe. Magnhild could have 
 struck him. 
 
 She went out into the kitchen, but she could 
 not avoid coming in again. He said : 
 
 "It's no wonder they're fond of you; you 
 make a very good blind." 
 
 She had come in with a cloth to lay the table, 
 and she flung it straight at his grinning face. 
 But he caught it and laughed the louder 
 laughed till the tears stood in his eyes ; he 
 couldn't restrain them. 
 
 She had rushed back into the kitchen and 
 stood before the butter and cheese and milk that 
 she had been about to carry in stood there and 
 cried. 
 
 The door was opened ; Skarlie came limping 
 out. " I have laid the cloth," he said, still not 
 
 having quite got over his fit of merriment, " for 
 92
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 that was no doubt what you intended." And 
 with that he took up everything that was set out 
 and carried them one by one into the next room. 
 He asked good-humouredly for something that 
 was lacking, and Magnhild answered. Shortly 
 afterwards she roused herself and put on water 
 to boil for the tea. 
 
 Half an hour later they were sitting opposite 
 each other having early supper. Not a word 
 now about the people over the way. He was 
 telling her about his work on the steamer, but 
 stopped suddenly, for Tande began to play. 
 Skarlie had a taste for music. The piece which 
 was beginning was stormy, almost angry, but 
 how serene it became ! And it ended in the 
 little melody that always had the effect of trans- 
 porting Magnhild in imagination to her parents' 
 house and gathering round her the fair heads of 
 all her little brothers and sisters. Skarlie was 
 visibly delighted, and when the piece ended he 
 praised the playing enormously. Then Magnhild 
 said that she had been singing with Tande ; he 
 had found she had a voice. She got no further, 
 for the playing began again. When it came to 
 an end for the second time Skarlie said, " I'll tell 
 93
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 you what, Magnhild ; you just let the man give 
 you all the instruction you can get out of him, 
 because he's a master. As for the rest, you've 
 nothing to do with that ! " Skarlie was still in 
 excellent spirits, when, tired out after his journey, 
 he went up to the big room over the workshop 
 to go to bed. 
 
 He filled his pipe and took an English book 
 and the lamp along with him. 
 
 Magnhild ventilated the place thoroughly after 
 him, opening all the windows. She wandered 
 up and down the room a long time in the dark 
 before she went to bed. 
 
 The next morning she stole out by the back 
 way to school and returned the same way. 
 
 There, at school, there was great rejoicing 
 over a piece of news Skarlie had just brought 
 them, that a quantity of hand-work, that he had 
 taken upon himself to find a market for in the 
 towns, had been sold at an unexpected profit. 
 Indeed, he had told her as much in the course 
 of the morning, but she had been so taken up 
 with her own affairs that she scarcely noticed 
 what he said. Hardly was this theme exhausted 
 when one of the girls (in this class there were 
 94
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 both children and adults) began to express sur- 
 prise at Magnhild's appearance, so different from 
 that of the previous days. They inquired if 
 anything was the matter with her she was not 
 wearing the dress either that had suited her so 
 well, that is to say, the one the lady had given 
 her. It was especially Mary the hunchback, 
 and tall, big-eyed Ellen, who were loudest both 
 in their joy and their surprise. Magnhild felt 
 uncomfortable among them and went away early. 
 The moment she got home the sailor's wife told 
 her that Tande was expecting her. A short con- 
 flict and she put on the dress again that was 
 most becoming. He received her as he had 
 done yesterday, the day before, and every day. 
 He greeted her with a slight bow, sat down to 
 the piano and struck the first notes. She was 
 so grateful to him for his reserve, particularly 
 to-day, that she could have done she did not 
 know what in his service. 
 
 When she came downstairs she saw Skarlie 
 and the lady standing talking together over by 
 the lady's door. They were both laughing. 
 Magnhild stole in unobserved and watched them. 
 
 There was great play of expression over both 
 95
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 faces ; in that respect they were alike, but with 
 that all likeness came to an end, for Skarlie had 
 never yet been so ugly as he was now, contrasted 
 with the lady. The shiny hat he wore covered 
 his forehead into the bargain, so that the whole 
 face seemed squeezed together ; for his forehead 
 alone was almost as big as the rest of his face. 
 Magnhild was conscious of him in that moment, 
 down to the very tips of her fingers. 
 
 The lady was all animation. She positively 
 sparkled as she tossed her head so that her curls 
 waved about her, or shifted from one foot to the 
 other, bending over an instant or emphasised 
 some thought with a gesture of the hand, or 
 illustrated another with a spirited movement. 
 
 The quick direct glances they exchanged gave 
 an impression of conflict. He laughing and 
 trying to circumvent her, she radiant with the 
 joy of trying her mettle. There seemed no end 
 to it. Were they amused with each other, or with 
 their antagonism, or with their theme ? If 
 Tande had not come down they would scarcely 
 have left off that morning. However, greetings 
 were exchanged, Skarlie came away hobbling 
 and still smiling, and the other two went into 
 96
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the lady's house, she laughing as hard as she 
 could. 
 
 " She's a devil of a woman ! " said Skarlie, 
 in high spirits. " She can certainly turn a man's 
 head if she likes." And while he cleaned out 
 his pipe he added, " If she weren't so nice there'd 
 be something positively uncanny about her, she 
 sees everything." Magnhild stood and waited 
 for more. He looked at her once or twice while 
 he filled his pipe. He looked as if he might be 
 thinking " Shall I say it or not ? " She knew 
 the expression and turned away. But possibly 
 just that movement gave his inclination to tease 
 the upper hand. " She had actually noticed 
 that there was a light in the room over the work- 
 shop last night. I thought she was just about 
 
 to ask whether " Magnhild was already in 
 
 the kitchen. 
 
 At noon a carriage stopped before the door. 
 Skarlie was to drive out into the country, in 
 order to make a purchase of cattle for the supply 
 of his work-hands out on the coast. 
 
 After he had gone the lady came running 
 across the street. It happened as it always did. 
 She no sooner stood smiling there in the room 
 
 97 o
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 than all the evil thoughts that Magnhild had had 
 about her crept shame-faced out of sight, and 
 Magnhild, silently asking pardon, yielded to the 
 cordiality with which the lady pressed her to 
 her, kissed her and laid her head caressingly on 
 her shoulder, this time without saying a word. 
 But Magnhild felt sympathy in every stroke of 
 the hand, just as she had previously in the 
 embrace and kiss. When the lady released 
 her, Magnhild turned away from her and broke 
 several withered sprays off a plant in the 
 window. 
 
 Then she felt the lady's warm breath over 
 cheek and neck. " My friend," is whispered 
 softly at her ear, " my sweet, pure little friend. 
 You are leading a beast of prey with the hands 
 of a child." 
 
 Magnhild quivered at the words, at the warm 
 breath, which fell on her like witchcraft. The 
 lady saw that tears were falling down over 
 Magnhild's hand. " Don't grieve," she whispered. 
 " In your singing you possess a magic ring that 
 you have only to turn on your finger when you 
 want to go away. Don't cry." She turned 
 
 Magnhild to her and pressed her against her. 
 98
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "It's fine this afternoon. We shall be together 
 in the woods and in the sitting-room, and we'll 
 sing together and laugh together. Alas ! we 
 haven't many days more." 
 
 Magnhild felt a stab at her heart. Autumn 
 was near, and then she would be alone again. 
 
 99
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN the afternoon they were standing upstairs by 
 the piano when they heard Skarlie come home 
 and enter the room below. But they did not 
 exchange a syllable in reference to it, and merely 
 went on. They kept on singing at the last 
 with lamps lit, but with open windows. 
 
 When Magnhild came down Skarlie had his 
 windows open too he sat on the chair in the 
 corner. He rose and shut the door. He pulled 
 down the blinds, and after that he lit the lamp. 
 But even while they were still in the dark he 
 began to express his admiration of the singing 
 he had heard, particularly of the accompaniment. 
 He praised her voice too, as well as the lady's 
 also, and repeated speaking of Magnhild's 
 soprano " It is pure, like yourself, my child," 
 he said. He was just holding the match to the 
 candle, and stood over it looking almost attrac- 
 tive ; so calm and serious was his shrewd face. 
 
 IOO
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 But not long after other thoughts began to play 
 over it. A reaction was about to take place. 
 
 " While you were singing her husband arrived, 
 Captain Bang." Magnhild thought he was joking. 
 But Skarlie added, " He leaned out of the 
 window and listened." Skarlie laughed. 
 
 The news startled Magnhild so, it was long 
 before she could get to sleep that night. For 
 the first time she regarded the position from the 
 point of view of the lady's possible aversion for 
 her husband. If then these two really loved 
 each other ! Suppose she were in such a position ! 
 She felt herself blushing hotly, for suddenly 
 Tande's image stood before her. 
 
 When she awoke the next morning she began 
 involuntarily to listen. Had the storm already 
 broken ? She dressed herself hurriedly, and 
 went into the room where Skarlie was finishing 
 his preparations for his journey. Some of the 
 things he expected to take along had not come 
 he was obliged to go with what he had, and 
 return again in a few da}'s. He said good-bye 
 quite amiably. 
 
 Magnhild accompanied him as far as the school. 
 Scarcely had she reached home again before she 
 
 101
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 saw a man with a red beard and light hair, coming 
 out of the lady's house ; he was holding Magda 
 by the hand. It must be Magda's father. The 
 little girl's hair was the same colour as his, and 
 she had something of his expression, but nothing 
 of his manner or figure ; he was rather heavily 
 built. 
 
 They came across the street, entered the 
 house, and went upstairs it was impossible 
 there should be any quarrel when the child was 
 allowed to come with him ! Magnhild heard 
 Tande moving about as he dressed, and then she 
 heard a loud " You here! How do you do!" 
 in Tande's voice. Then nothing more ; no doubt 
 they had shut the door. She was so full of fear 
 that she listened for the least unusual sound 
 overhead. But she merely heard them walking 
 about, first one and shortly both of them ; now 
 the door was opened, she heard voices, but no 
 sound of disagreement. They all three came 
 downstairs and went out. There in the street 
 already was the lady gaily dressed, and wearing 
 her brightest smile. Tande greeted her, she 
 cordially gave him her hand. All four passed 
 by the front door and through the garden in 
 
 102
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 order to take the usual path across the fields to 
 reach the wood and the mountain. At first they 
 walked altogether and quite slowly afterwards 
 the father went with the child who seemed to 
 want to lead the way after them came the lady 
 and Tande, walking very slowly, and with an 
 air of familiarity. Magnhild stood looking after 
 them stupefied with surprise. 
 
 In the afternoon Magda came over with her 
 father. The latter smiled as he approached 
 Magnhild, and made an apology ; his little 
 daughter had insisted that he should eome and 
 make the acquaintance of her friend, he said. 
 
 He was asked to sit down, but did not comply 
 at once. He looked at her flowers, talked about 
 them with an amount of information that she had 
 never heard equalled, and asked to be allowed to 
 send her several other kinds, and he explained 
 what sort of treatment they required. " It is 
 really little Magda who sends them," he said 
 with a smile, as he turned towards Magnhild. 
 This time she felt that he was observing her 
 shyly. 
 
 He looked at the pictures on the walls, the 
 
 Bridge at Cologne, the Waterfall of Niagara, the 
 103
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 White House at Washington, the Caravan in 
 the Desert, and Judith, by Horace Vernet. He 
 also examined several photographs of unknown, 
 and for the most part, awkward-looking men and 
 women, some of them in strange costumes. 
 
 "Your husband has travelled, I suppose 1" he 
 said, and his eye wandered from the photographs 
 back to Judith, while he stood stroking his 
 beard. 
 
 " Have you been married long ? " he said, 
 sitting down. 
 
 " Very nearly three years." She blushed. 
 
 " You must put on your uniform, so that 
 Magnhild can see you in it," said the child. 
 She had been standing between his knees, play- 
 ing now with his shirt-studs, and now with his 
 beard. He smiled. Some lines about his eyes 
 and something about the mouth became more 
 noticeable when he smiled, and bore witness to 
 some sorrow. He caressed the little one's hair 
 thoughtfully. She laid her head close against 
 him, with an air of finding comfort and safety. 
 
 He roused up out of his reverie with a quick, 
 shy glance at Magnhild, and began to stroke his 
 beard, and said, " It is very pretty here." 
 104
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " When will Magnhild get the flowers you 
 spoke of?" the child interrupted. 
 
 "As soon as I go back to town," he said, 
 caressing her. 
 
 " Father builds fortifications," the child ex- 
 plained, not without pride. " Father is building 
 a house for us too," she added. " Father is 
 always building something, and now we've got a 
 tower to our house, and the rooms have been 
 made so beautiful, you just ought to see them ! " 
 And she began to describe them to Magnhild, 
 as for the matter of that she had already done 
 before. 
 
 He listened to her with that smile that some- 
 how was not a smile at all. By way of changing 
 the subject he said, hastily, " We were out for a 
 walk this morning, and went a little way up the 
 mountain " (Magda explained instantly where it 
 was) " and from where we were " He cer- 
 tainly intended to add something, but another 
 thought must have put the first out of his head. 
 
 He again became abstracted. Presently Tande 
 began to play overhead. His face became ani- 
 mated, he gave a wide startled glance, and then 
 
 bowed his head and stroked the child's hair. 
 105
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " He plays very beautifully," he said, rising. 
 
 The next day the Captain went away. He 
 might possibly have to return, in order to meet 
 the General with whom he was to undertake a 
 tour of inspection. The life of those he left 
 behind, flowed on in its accustomed course. 
 
 One evening, at the lady's house, Magnhild 
 met with a very noticeable accident in her dress. 
 
 The moment the lady discovered it she made 
 a sign to Magnhild and covered her retreat. 
 Magnhild was so ashamed that she was unwilling 
 to go back again. In the midst of the lady's 
 laughing efforts to reassure her, Magnhild was 
 suddenly touched by her unceasing kindness, 
 her loving care. It was so unusual to hear 
 Magnhild speaking out as she did that the lady 
 embraced her and whispered, " Yes, child, you 
 may well say I'm kind to you, for you're kill- 
 ing me ! " 
 
 Magnhild hastily tore herself free from her 
 embrace. She did not in words ask for an 
 explanation, she was altogether too astonished 
 for that ; but her eyes, her general air and 
 attitude ! The door was opened, and she 
 lapsed from amazement into shame. 
 106
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Tande meanwhile hummed away, and turned 
 away towards Magda, as if he had noticed 
 nothing. He began to play with the child. 
 Later he talked to Magnhild about her singing, 
 telling her that she mustn't think of interrupting 
 her studies again. If it could be arranged that 
 she could live in the town (and that should not 
 be difficult to arrange) he would both help her 
 himself, and procure better help for her than his 
 own. 
 
 The lady went to and fro getting things ready 
 for supper. The servant came in with a tray on 
 which were cream, and other things. Somehow 
 or other the lady knocked against the tray just 
 in front of Magnhild and Tande, and her endea- 
 vour to prevent the things from falling was 
 frustrated by the other two not coming quickly 
 enough to her assistance everything was over- 
 thrown. The dresses of both ladies were covered 
 with cream. Tande instantly seized his pocket- 
 handkerchief and wiped Magnhild's. 
 
 " You are less attentive to me than you are 
 to her," laughed the lady, whose dress had 
 suffered much more than Magnhild's. He 
 
 looked up. 
 
 107
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "You and I are older acquaintances," he 
 answered, and went on drying the dress. 
 
 She grew ashy pale. " Hans I " she cried, 
 and burst into tears. She hurried away into the 
 next room. Magnhild understood all this as 
 little as she had understood what had happened 
 just before. Indeed months passed by before 
 one day (while walking alone along the country 
 road in muddy winter weather with her thoughts 
 a thousand miles away from the lady and the 
 whole scene) suddenly she stopped she under- 
 stood in a flash the meaning of the lady's words. 
 
 Tande had risen ; for Magnhild had drawn 
 back in order not to accept his help any further. 
 That she had been so carried away, and that 
 his name was " Hans " that was all she as yet 
 realised. Tande walked up and down the room. 
 He was very pale as well as Magnhild could see, 
 for it had begun to grow dark. Should she 
 follow the lady or go home ? Magda was in 
 the kitchen. At last she determined to go to 
 her. She helped the child to take preserves out 
 of some jars and put it in dishes. From the 
 room adjoining the kitchen she soon heard low- 
 voiced conversation and sobbing. When Magda 
 1 08
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 and she went into the sitting-room with their 
 dishes, Tande was not there. Supper was 
 delayed so long that Magda went to sleep and 
 Magnhild went home. 
 
 Not long afterwards she heard Tande come 
 in. The next morning she had her lesson with 
 him ; he was exactly as usual. The lady met 
 her by accident in the afternoon in the street ; 
 she made some slight criticism of Magnhild's 
 playing of the finger exercises which she had 
 heard shortly before through the open window ; 
 at the same time she adjusted Magnhild's hat 
 it was not quite straight. 
 
 Skarlie came back. He said that in a journey 
 he had made to Bergen he had travelled with 
 Captain Bang. 
 
 " Some one at the table," he said, " knew of 
 Mrs. Bang's relations with Tande, and introduced 
 the topic." Magnhild had a strong suspicion 
 that this some one was himself ; because after 
 his last stay at home she had heard hints of 
 these relations both from the woman who waited 
 on Tande, the sailor's wife, and from several 
 others. 
 
 "The Captain was very nice," said Skarlie. 
 109
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " He considered himself altogether too unworthy 
 to be loved by such a woman. Therefore he 
 was glad that she had found her equal at last." 
 
 Magnhild said, " You look delighted. Your 
 
 looks are still more disgusting than your " 
 
 She was on the point of going across to the lady, 
 and went out without condescending to finish 
 her sentence. 
 
 She was to go with Magda to a " perform- 
 ance " which was to be given by an old Swedish 
 conjuror, assisted by his wife and child, in the 
 meadow behind the house. 
 
 When Magnhild came in, she found the lady 
 ready too ; she was going with them. The 
 explanation of this was close at hand, for Tande 
 arrived to keep them company. He reported 
 that the General had come. 
 
 Then they set out, Magda and Magnhild, the 
 lady and Tande. A number of people had col- 
 lected, the majority as yet still outside the 
 enclosure, the fact being that there every one 
 paid what he pleased. Inside the enclosure was 
 a " reserved place " that is to say, a few 
 benches and towards these the lady with her 
 retinue made their way.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The old " artist " was already at his post, 
 where, with the help of his wife, he was getting 
 his things in readiness. He bore a comical 
 likeness to Skarlie, was bald, snub-nosed, strongly 
 built, with a face not destitute of humour. And 
 scarcely had Magnhild discovered this, before she 
 heard Magda whisper to her mother, "He's like 
 Magnhild's husband." The lady smiled. At 
 the same moment the old man approached them. 
 For among the " reserved " seats were some still 
 more " reserved," that is to say, a bench with a 
 back to it. He was very hoarse, and his speech, 
 in so far as it was audible, was such a queer 
 mixture of Swedish and Norwegian that those 
 in the front rows laughed, and the burlesque 
 politeness with which he retorted upon the 
 laughter made those who were farther off join in 
 it. The moment the laughing began, Tande 
 moved back a step or two. The lady went 
 forward, Magda and Magnhild followed. 
 
 The old " artist " had a wife much younger 
 than himself, a black-haired, hollow-eyed lean 
 creature, with a certain air of refinement about 
 her. Now a boy sprang out of the tent a boy 
 with curly hair and bright eyes, who conveyed an 
 in
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 impression of something refined, delicate in face 
 and figure, which he did not get from his mother, 
 and still less from the old clown. He wore the 
 fool's dress, but had little of the fool in his com- 
 position. He stood quietly by his mother and 
 asked her about something, speaking French. 
 The lady, who was displeased at Tande's self- 
 conscious shyness, spoke to the child in his 
 mother tongue. The boy came forward, but only 
 just far enough to look at her with a superior air. 
 This amused her, and she took out her purse 
 and gave him a good-sized coin. " Merci, 
 madame," he said, and bowed. 
 
 " Kiss the lady's hand," commanded the old 
 showman. The boy obeyed with shy haste, and 
 ran back to the tent, whence came the sound of 
 several dogs barking. 
 
 A commotion arose in the crowd behind where 
 they sat. It turned out to be a woman with a 
 three or four year old child in her arms, who 
 was trying to get to the front. She couldn't 
 stand and hold the child to all eternity, she said ; 
 she wanted a seat. She was as good as any- 
 body else. 
 
 But there seemed to be no vacant place, except
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 on the front bench. So she made her way to 
 the front row amidst the merriment of the crowd, 
 for everybody knew her. It was no other than 
 " Machine Martha." Two years before she had 
 come to the village with a child and a big 
 and a little sewing machine, by means of 
 which she supported herself for she was 
 clever. She had left her husband, and gone 
 off with a travelling trader, who among other 
 things dealt in sewing machines. He had de- 
 serted her. Since then she had taken to the 
 unfortunate habit of getting drunk now and then, 
 and in her cups she was a coarse and hardened 
 creature. 
 
 At the present moment her face and hair bore 
 evident signs of disorderliness. But she seemed 
 to have a good deal of strength left to work off. 
 She plumped herself down beside the lad}', who 
 moved a little, for the woman reeked of Bavarian 
 beer. 
 
 The old " artist " had observed this involun- 
 tary movement of the lady's, and was instantly 
 on the spot, ordering Martha hoarsely and 
 roughly to take another seat. 
 
 She was perhaps frightened at finding herself 
 113 H
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 in the company of all this silken magnificence, 
 for she actually got up and went away. 
 
 Magnhild looked after her and discovered 
 Skarlie. Just beside him the woman stopped. 
 Presently she came forward again. She said, 
 
 " I don't care, I'm going to sit here." She 
 sat herself down and found the child a place at 
 her side. The old man interrupted his prepara- 
 tions ; he was angry. 
 
 " You confounded " He probably re- 
 membered the distinguished company before 
 him, for he continued, " It costs money to sit 
 here ! " 
 
 " Here's a mark," said the woman. She held 
 out the coin. 
 
 " Very good," he croaked ; " but sit here on 
 another bench. Will the distinguished company 
 sit closer together ? " he asked of those who sat 
 on the nearest seats. Whether this was done 
 or not Martha did not stir. 
 
 "The devil take me if I'll go," she said. 
 
 "Let her be," whispered the lady. 
 
 " On no account," answered the obsequious 
 old showman. "This place is reserved for the 
 distinguished company," and he seized hold of 
 n 4
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the child. At that Martha got up, looking like 
 one possessed. 
 
 " You Swedish troll ! Will you let my 
 young one alone ! " At this the crowd shrieked 
 with laughter, and that encouraged her so she 
 went on. " Distinguished company ! rubbish ! 
 
 She is a just as much as I; that's what she 
 
 is ! " The name is not to be written down, 
 but she looked at the lady. A great burst of 
 laughter from the crowd, and then, as if at a 
 word of command, a deathly stillness. 
 
 The lady had risen looking proud and beauti- 
 ful. She glanced round for her escort. She 
 evidently wished to leave the place. Tande 
 was standing not far off between two tourists 
 who had asked to be allowed to introduce them- 
 selves to the well-known composer. 
 
 The lady's blazing eyes met his. He looked 
 steadily back at her. All eyes were fixed on 
 him, but no one saw any further into that look 
 of his than into a polished steel ball. 
 
 But however unfathomable the look was, one 
 
 thing it said plainly enough, " Madam, I don't 
 
 know you." And his delicately arched brow, 
 
 the regular lines of the nose, the close shut 
 
 "5
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 expression of the mouth, the slightly hollowed 
 cheeks, even the sparkling diamond studs in his 
 linen, the whole impression of distinction given 
 by the man's attire said : " Do not come near 
 me ! " Veil after veil seemed to drop over his 
 eyes. 
 
 It had all happened in no time. The lady 
 turned to Magnhild as though to call her to 
 witness, and yet that couldn't be ! For no one in 
 the world beside him and her could know what 
 sacrifices he was at that moment allowing to 
 consume away in smoke, and how great a love 
 he was putting away. 
 
 Again she turned towards him, so abruptly 
 that it seemed all to pass in a flash. What 
 indignation, what protests, what a rush of 
 memories, what pride, what contempt, did she 
 not hurl at him in that look. The last gleam 
 of it fell on Magnhild as she turned to what 
 was she to do ? Her face showed all at once 
 the most pitiable sense of desertion, and with 
 it a look of touching appeal such as a child's 
 might wear. The tears trickled down. Magn- 
 hild, entirely swept along with her in her 
 emotions, held out her hand to her. She 
 
 116
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 grasped and pressed it, so that Magnhild had 
 difficulty to keep from crying out. The insulted 
 and repudiated woman summoned all her strength 
 with an obvious effort, and then drew herself up, 
 smiling at the same time. Look there ! Across 
 that part of the field over which the company's 
 thin line was extended and which was to be 
 kept clear, a couple of officers were advancing, 
 observed by every one, for who could be bold 
 enough to bar the way before a general's 
 uniform ? And that was what the tall man 
 wore who came forward with long strides and 
 a swing of the arms, as if he were both 
 Commander of the Army and the army itself, 
 with his adjutant on his left wing. Already 
 even in the distance he was bowing most 
 respectfully to his Captain's beautiful wife. 
 She hastened to meet her deliverer. She was 
 conducted back to her place on the General's 
 arm, and he took a seat by her side. The 
 adjutant fell to Magnhild's share after an 
 introduction by the lady. The General glanced 
 frequently at Magnhild, and the adjutant was 
 civility itself; that was about the only thing 
 
 she was conscious of. She was trembling. 
 117
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The lady scintillated with wit, gaiety and 
 beauty. Only now and then she seized 
 Magnhild's hand and pressed it with the same 
 almost unendurable strength. She fortified 
 herself with a moment's assurance of some 
 one's integrity. The physical pain she caused 
 Magnhild corresponded to the mental anguish 
 the girl was undergoing. She heard the 
 adjutant talking at her side, and Magda's 
 cries of wonder. She herself saw several balls 
 twinkling in the air, and she saw the weight of 
 a large one tested by an on-looker, and then 
 saw it thrown by the old athlete like a child's 
 ball in the air, and caught again on his arm, 
 his shoulder, or his breast but at the same 
 instant, she heard the lady say to the General 
 that when he left the next morning she would 
 accompany him ; she had merely been waiting 
 for him since her husband was unable to come 
 for her. Of course Magnhild had realised now 
 that everything was over but so soon as 
 to-morrow ! A shout, chiefly from the boys, 
 pierced through her sense of pain. The old 
 juggler had thrown up the heavy ball with quite 
 a little one, and kept them going in the air 
 
 118
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 with both hands. In Magnhild's fancy the 
 little one stood for herself, and the big one ? 
 It was not that she was on the look-out for this 
 simile, and she did not carry it out in detail, 
 but everything seemed to her symbolic ; the 
 constant twinkling of the balls in the air came 
 to be like the icy glance that a little while before 
 had made her shiver. 
 
 "The old man has extraordinary strength," 
 said the adjutant. " I saw a man once in 
 Venice who stood with another man on his 
 shoulders, and this fellow who was being 
 carried bent down and helped another one to 
 balance himself on htm ; and fancy ! they took a 
 fourth who balanced himself on the shoulders of 
 the third. The first man walked about carrying 
 them all, while the fellow on top kept balls 
 going in the air. 
 
 " If I were to die this instant," the lady was 
 saying on the other side, " and my spirit lost 
 remembrance of everything here, and entered 
 upon a new range of marvellous problems and 
 limitless possibilities, so that I was transported 
 from one discovery to another could anything 
 more glorious happen ? " 
 119
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " I don't think so far ahead as that," answered 
 the General's steady voice, " but I would wager 
 my life that to live and die facing one's duty, 
 is the greatest happiness that a well-organised 
 human being can experience. All the rest is 
 a matter of indifference." Magnhild felt a 
 burning hand clasp. 
 
 " Applaud, ladies and gentlemen, applaud," 
 the clown said, with hoarse good humour. The 
 people laughed a little, but did not disturb 
 themselves. 
 
 " Aren't the dogs coming out soon ? " asked 
 Magda ; she heard them barking impatiently 
 inside the tent. 
 
 The mountains stood with their summits 
 wrapped in fleecy clouds ; a faint stir in the air 
 betokened change of weather ; the fjord was 
 darkening already as gust after gust swept over 
 it. There was something inimitably vast hover- 
 ing over the landscape, something that inspired 
 a sense of dread. 
 
 It began to turn cold. They felt the sombre 
 depression of the people behind. Now the 
 clown's wife was coming forward ; she was to 
 
 walk the tight-rope. The emaciated beauty of 
 120
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 other days wore a low cut gown with short 
 sleeves. The lady shivered as she looked at 
 lier, complained of having cold feet and rose. 
 The General and the adjutant got up with her 
 and were of course followed by Magnhild ; only 
 Magda remained in her seat looking very 
 appealing ; she was waiting to see the dogs. A 
 single glance from her mother was sufficient ; she 
 rose without a word. 
 
 They went out the same way the officer had 
 come ; not one of the party looked behind. The 
 lady was laughing in her clearest note, the 
 harmony rippled out over the crowd. Every 
 one's eyes followed her. The General walked 
 rapidly so that her light elastic gait showed to 
 the best advantage. The General's stature 
 seemed to lend hers a peculiar charm, his stiff 
 carriage and outlines brought into strong relief 
 her willowy grace. The contrast of colours in her 
 dress, the feather in her hat and the impression 
 left behind by her laughter, gave to one man in 
 the crowd a sensation as of receding music. 
 
 When the officers said good-bye at the lady's 
 door she said not a word to Magnhild, she did 
 not look once in her direction as she went 
 
 121
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 indoors. Magnhild felt that her intense sym- 
 pathy was repulsed. She went across to her 
 own house in distress. 
 
 Tande came in late. She heard him pacing 
 up and down, up and down, with a more rapid 
 step than usual. The light footfall over her 
 head seemed to say those same words, " Don't 
 touch me ! " At last they kept time to the 
 phrase. The shimmer of the diamond studs, the 
 distinction of his dress, the intense reserve in 
 the face pursued her. The lady's devotion 
 seemed to cry out under these footsteps. 
 What must she not be suffering now ! " That 
 she should think of me in the midst of the 
 thunder and lightning of her pain," thought 
 Magnhild, "would be unnatural." In her first 
 terror she had hastened to her as to some 
 shelter, but of course in the next moment all 
 that was forgotten. 
 
 Some one was coming into the passage. 
 Was it a message from the lady ? No, it was 
 Skarlie. She recognised the step in triple time. 
 He glanced quickly and searchingly at her as he 
 came in. 
 
 " I supposed it's time for me to go," he said. 
 
 122
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 He was cordiality itself and began to get his 
 things together. 
 
 " Have you been waiting for the carriage ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " No, for the meat I had ordered and had to 
 leave behind last time ; it came a little while 
 ago." She said no more, and he was ready. 
 " Take care of yourself." He had taken up his 
 belongings and was looking at her. 
 
 " Skarlie," she said, " was it you who gave 
 Machine Martha the money ? " 
 
 He blinked several times. "Dear me, what 
 harm was there in that ? " 
 
 Magnhild grew pale. " I have often despised 
 you," she said, " but never so much as at this 
 moment." She turned away and went into her 
 bedroom, bolting the door after her. She heard 
 him go, and then threw herself down on the bed. 
 
 Several bars were played on the piano over- 
 head, but no more followed ; probably he him- 
 self was frightened at the sound. 
 
 These few measures had acted as an involun- 
 tary check upon her thoughts. She was once 
 more obliged to follow the sound of the footsteps, 
 
 which began again. 
 
 123
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 A new suggestion of the mysterious, the 
 incalculable, had enveloped Tande. She had 
 grown afraid of him. Even heretofore she had 
 felt herself trembling in his presence. Now she 
 was conscious of the same sensation when she 
 merely thought about him. 
 
 The footsteps stopped, and her thoughts glided 
 from the unfathomable back to Skarlie, for on this 
 subject she was clear. How she hated him ! 
 And when she remembered that in a fortnight 
 he would come back again and behave as if 
 absolutely nothing had happened, she would 
 clench her hands with fury and open them again 
 because she knew just as it had been a hundred 
 times before, so would it be again. She would 
 forget everything because, after all, he was kind 
 and allowed her to live as she pleased. 
 
 A keen sorrow at her own unworthiness 
 shrouded her thoughts in darkness. She burst 
 into tears. She was in no condition to think 
 clearly about anything, whether it concerned others 
 or herself, nor to arrive at any helpful resolution. 
 Indeed, what resolution was possible ? 
 
 The footsteps began again, still more rapid, 
 
 still softer. And again she was overtaken by 
 124
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 this inexplicable and yet not unpleasant trem- 
 bling at the thought of Tande. 
 
 At last it grew dark; she rose and went into 
 the next room. Over at the lady's house there 
 was a light, the blinds were down. Magnhild 
 also was obliged to light the lamp. She had no 
 sooner done so than she heard a step in the 
 passage, and some one knocked at the door. 
 She listened. The knock came again. She 
 went to the door herself. It was a message 
 from the lady that she must come over to her. 
 She put out the light and went. 
 
 In the lady's house everything was changed. 
 Open cases, already packed, trunks, boxes, bags, 
 and Magda sleeping on top of her own little 
 basket, a hired woman, busied, as well as the 
 maid, in further preparations. The maid got up 
 and said : 
 
 " Madam went into her own room a moment 
 ago to lie down. I'll let her know." Magnhild 
 simply knocked at the door and went in. 
 
 The lady, wearing a lace trimmed nightdress, 
 
 lay behind white bed curtains. She wore 
 
 the Turkish handkerchief on her head ; it was 
 
 indissolubly associated with her headaches. 
 
 125
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The lamp stood a little behind, covered with a 
 soft red paper shade which vibrated. She lay 
 supporting herself on one elbow, deep among 
 the pillows ; she gave Magnhild her free left 
 hand languidly ; a weary look of pain accom- 
 panied the action. How beautiful she was ! 
 Magnhild again fell under her fascination, indeed 
 to such an extent that she flung her arms 
 around her and burst out crying. As if the 
 invalid had received an electric shock, she lifted 
 herself up in the bed, and with both arms she 
 pressed Magnhild close to her full warm breast. 
 She seemed to wish to draw understanding and 
 sympathy to her with all her might. 
 
 " Thank you ! " she whispered over Magnhild's 
 head. Her despair could be felt by the tremb- 
 ling through every portion of her body with 
 which Magnhild came in contact. The embrace 
 relaxed ; Magnhild rose, the lady fell back and 
 made Magnhild take a chair and sit down beside 
 her. 
 
 " We may be overheard," she whispered, 
 
 indicating the door. Magnhild brought the 
 
 chair nearer. " No, sit here on the bed," said 
 
 the lady, and she made room. The chair was 
 
 126
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 again put back. She took Magnhild's hand and 
 held it between both of hers. She looked her 
 in the eyes, which were still full of tears. How 
 good, how true, how full of understanding she 
 looked. Magnhild bent down and kissed her. 
 Her lips were languid. 
 
 " I have sent for you, Magnhild," she said. 
 " I have several things to say to you. Don't be 
 afraid " and she pressed her hand, " it isn't 
 my personal history and it won't take long 
 either, for I feel the need of being alone." As 
 she spoke the last word, the tears trickled down 
 her cheeks. She realised she was crying and 
 smiled. 
 
 " You are married I don't understand how, 
 and I don't wish to know." A shudder ran 
 through her ; she stopped short, and turned her 
 head away a moment. Then she went on ; 
 
 " Don't try to ," but she could get no 
 
 further. She covered her face with her hands, 
 turned quite over to the other side and cried 
 with her face buried in the pillows. Magnhild 
 saw the convulsive movement in her back and 
 arms. She herself sat up again. 
 
 "That was stupid of me," Magnhild heard at 
 127
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 length. The lady had turned aside, and bathed 
 her eyes and brow with toilet water which filled 
 the room with fragrance. " I have no advice to 
 give, and besides, what would be the use of it ? 
 Sit down again." 
 
 Magnhild sat down ; the lady put down the 
 scent-bottle and took her hand with both of 
 hers. She patted and stroked it, with a long 
 questioning look. 
 
 " Do you know that you are the cause of 
 what happened to-day ? " Magnhild flushed up 
 as though she stood before a great fire ; she 
 tried to rise, but the lady held her fast. " Sit 
 still, my child. I have been conscious of his 
 thoughts when we have been together. You 
 
 are pure and I " She closed her eyes and 
 
 lay motionless as the dead. Not so much as 
 the sound of her breathing was heard, until 
 at last she drew a long, long sigh, and looked up 
 with a glance so full of suffering. 
 
 Magnhild heard the beating of her own heart ; 
 she dared not stir, she tried to draw her breath 
 softly. She felt herself perspiring. 
 
 "Well, well, Magnhild take care of your- 
 self ! " Magnhild stood up. The lady turned 
 128
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 her head towards her. " Don't be proud," she 
 said. " Have you any place you can go to 
 now ? " Magnhild did not hear what she said. 
 The lady repeated quite calmly, " Have you 
 any place you can go to now ? Answer me ! " 
 
 Magnhild could hardly collect her thoughts, 
 but she answered " Yes," merely out of habitual 
 obedience to the lady. She did not think of 
 going anywhere, except of getting out of that 
 room, now, instantly. But before she could do 
 so, the lady who had watched her the whole 
 time said, " I will tell you one thing you don't 
 know. You love him." 
 
 Magnhild drew herself up as quick as light- 
 ning, returning the lady's look steadily. There 
 was a brief conflict during which the lady's eyes 
 seemed to breathe upon hers. Magnhild grew 
 confused, reddened and bowed her head in her 
 hands. The lady sat up and seized her by the 
 arm. Magnhild still resisted, her breast rose 
 and sank, she tottered as though seeking 
 support, and at last she leaned over in obedience 
 to the pressure of the lady's hand. 
 
 She lay on her breast and wept bitterly. 
 
 129
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TANDE had not risen the next morning when 
 the sailor's wife brought him a letter. It was 
 enclosed in an elegant, old-fashioned, yellowish, 
 glazed envelope, and the address was in an 
 unpractised feminine hand with delicately formed 
 letters ; and each letter that went below the line 
 had a little superfluous flourish, afraid of being 
 round and yet trying to be. " Who can it be ? " 
 He opened it. At the bottom was written. 
 " Magnhild." He felt a little glow run through 
 him, and read : 
 
 " HERR H. TANDE, 
 
 " I thank you very much for your 
 kindness to me, and for the lessons you 
 have been so good as to give me. My 
 husband says he will accept no rent for the 
 rooms. 
 
 " I am called away, and shall have no oppor- 
 130
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 tunity of saying this to you. Once more my 
 best thanks. " MAGNHILD." 
 
 He read it five or six times. Then he studied 
 every word, every letter. There had been ten 
 rough drafts and rejected copies of this note, he 
 felt sure of. " Magnhild," was more freely 
 written than the rest. That must be the result 
 of practice. 
 
 But with such minor discoveries he could not 
 deaden the great accusation that stared at him 
 out of this letter. He lay still for a long time 
 after letting it fall. 
 
 Presently he began to drum on the sheet 
 with his right hand ; it was the treble of an 
 air. If it had got as far as the piano, and 
 Magnhild had heard it, she would have known 
 it again. 
 
 Suddenly he sprang out of bed and into the 
 next room. Standing behind the curtain he 
 looked cautiously over the way. Just as he 
 expected : all the windows were open and two 
 women were engaged in cleaning. The house 
 was empty. He walked up and down and 
 whistled.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 He kept pacing to and fro till he was chilled. 
 Then he began to dress. Usually this process 
 occupied an hour, during which he went now and 
 again to the piano. To-day it took two hours, 
 yet he did not touch the piano. 
 
 He went for a very long walk that morning, 
 but visited none of the places where they had 
 all been together. In the course of the walk 
 the whole experience already began to adjust 
 itself in his mind, so that he did not seem so 
 much to blame. The next day he felt he was 
 not to blame at all. On the third day towards 
 evening he felt less at his ease, but the next 
 morning he was able to look back with a smile 
 upon the whole adventure as a thing of the past. 
 
 The first day he had twice begun a letter to 
 Magnhild, but both times tore it up again. On 
 the fourth day, the idea of the letter gave place 
 to a musical motif. He saw in the thing a rich, 
 many-hued piece of instrumentation, full of 
 splendid unrest. A few bars of the strange 
 delicate melody that had conjured up pictures of 
 her childhood before Magnhild's imagination, 
 should be scattered through the main theme. 
 
 Did they not seem to struggle with each other ? 
 132
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 But as the thing obstinately refused to take 
 proper shape, he saw that this was not the time 
 and place to work it out. He stayed on for 
 about a week, and then he packed up his things. 
 He left the piano behind with the key in the 
 lock. He went to Germany. 
 
 133
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 WELL on in the fifth year after these events, one 
 Sunday evening in spring, a party of young girls 
 took their way up the one street of the little sea- 
 port. They walked arm in arm, and as they 
 went others joined the procession. They were 
 singing a part song for eight voices. 
 
 Outside the saddler's house (from which the 
 sign and the shop window had disappeared) they 
 slackened their pace as though they were anxious 
 that just here their singing should be thoroughly 
 well heard. Perhaps, too, they expected to see 
 a face at one of the low windows ; but none 
 appeared, and the procession went on its way. 
 
 When the last stragglers had passed by, a 
 woman got up out of the big chair in the corner. 
 She was not more than half dressed, and had on 
 a pair of slippers down at the heel, and her hair 
 was in disorder. Knowing that she had no 
 opposite neighbour, and seeing no one in the 
 134
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 street, she ventured over to the window, and there 
 fell into a reverie, with her head leaning on her 
 arm, and her arm against the window frame. 
 She listened to the harmonies which now and 
 then floated back to her. 
 
 Their singing reminded Magnhild of how she 
 once had loved song, and thought to find in it 
 her destiny. For it was Magnhild herself who 
 stood there, and who, in spite of its being Sunday, 
 or perhaps just on that account, had not thought 
 it worth while to dress herself. It was six 
 o'clock in the evening. 
 
 She was roused by the sound of carriage 
 wheels from the other direction. The steamboat 
 had evidently come in. She was so accustomed 
 to this single break in the dreary life of the village, 
 that she forgot that she was not dressed. She 
 must see who was arriving. It was two ladies, 
 one with a child in her arms and a parasol, the 
 other with a fluttering veil and bright eyes set 
 in a roundish face. She wore a travelling dress 
 of Scotch plaid. As the carriage went rapidly by 
 she nodded toward Magnhild, the travel-browned 
 face beaming : now she was turning round and 
 waving a gloved hand.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Who in the world could this be ? Magnhild 
 was so taken by surprise (and with her that 
 always meant an attack of shyness as well) that 
 she drew far back into the room. Who could 
 it be ? 
 
 There was something familiar about her that 
 she was trying in vain to get hold of, when the 
 same lady came running down the street again. 
 Her dress allowed her to move quickly ; now she 
 was springing up the steps and stood in the open 
 doorway. They looked at each other. 
 
 " Don't you know me ? " said the fine lady in 
 the broadest dialect of the district. 
 
 " Ronnaug ! " 
 
 " Of course ! " and they embraced. 
 
 " My dear ! I am here for no reason in the 
 world but to see you. 1 assure you that all these 
 years I have often thought of this moment. My 
 dear Magnhild ! " 
 
 She spoke three languages ! English, the 
 local dialect, and a few words of ordinary Nor- 
 wegian. 
 
 " I have spoken Norwegian only a couple of 
 months and I can't talk very well." 
 
 Her face had altered for the better ; her eyes 
 136
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 sparkled even brighter than ever, her full-lipped 
 mouth had learnt to express every shade of 
 humour, kindness and determination. Her figure 
 had grown even more exuberant ; but her energetic 
 movements and handsome travelling costume 
 tended to conceal the fact. Her broad hands 
 broad from her days of toil grasped both of 
 Magnhild's very warmly, and presently the two 
 were sitting side by side, while Ronnaug told 
 hurriedly the strange story of these last four or 
 five years. She had not cared to write, for if 
 she had done so no one would have believed 
 what she had to tell. And the reason she hadn't 
 kept her promise of writing as soon as she 
 reached America, was simply that already in the 
 course of the voyage she had been promoted 
 from the third to the first class, and the circum- 
 stances that brought about that result would have 
 been misconstrued by every one. 
 
 As they steamed out of Liverpool she had 
 gone forward and sat by the big ship's bulwark. 
 A man came up to her and said in bad Norwegian 
 that he knew her ; for just as she sat there so 
 she had sat behind his carriole a moment before. 
 ROnnaug remembered him too, and they talked 
 137
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 together that day, and the next, and the next 
 again. One day he brought a lady with him. 
 The day following he came again with the same 
 lady and asked ROnnaug if she wouldn't go back 
 with them to the saloon ; whereupon there ensued 
 a conversation in English between her and the 
 lady with the help of the man. There was a 
 great deal of laughing, others joined in, and the 
 end of it all was that Ronnaug was to join them 
 and travel first class, though she didn't really 
 know who they were. She took a bath and 
 was given new clothes from top to toe, several 
 of the ladies contributing, and from that time 
 forward she was treated like a guest by them all. 
 Every one was kind to her. When they left the 
 ship, she accompanied the lady, who was an 
 aunt of the man who had first spoken to her ; 
 and she soon discovered it was he who had paid 
 her passage, and was now paying for the educa- 
 tion and the lavish maintenance she received. 
 He bore the expense, too, of the long tours they 
 afterwards made all together. Two years ago 
 she had become his wife, and she had now 
 brought with her her child, a little over a year 
 old. And Magnhild must see the child not 
 138
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " to-morrow " and not " after a while," but now, 
 this very instant ! Magnhild was not dressed. 
 Well then, she must put on her things with all 
 possible speed. Rennaug would help her and 
 in spite of Magnhild's resistance, they presently 
 found themselves in the bedroom. 
 
 As soon as Magnhild was well advanced in 
 her toilette, Ronnaug made a tour of the rooms, 
 asking Magnhild meanwhile only a single question, 
 namely, why she was not dressed at that time of 
 
 day, receiving only a long-drawn "Oh " for 
 
 an answer. Ronnaug began to hum softly as 
 she walked about the outer room. Presently she 
 began talking to herself in English, but Magnhild 
 heard one word distinctly it was " disappointed." 
 Magnhild understood English ; during the last 
 three winters Skarlie taught her the language. 
 She was already able to read to him out of the 
 American weekly paper, which ever since he had 
 been in America he had come to regard as one 
 of the necessaries of life. She consequently 
 knew the meaning of " disappointed." What a 
 change it will sometimes make in our mood, when 
 the sun which has been flooding the whole room 
 is suddenly hidden, and the air, indoors and out, 
 139
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 becomes cold and grey ! In the same involuntary 
 fashion Magnhild was seized with an indescribable 
 fear; and sure enough, the next the time Ron- 
 naug, still humming, passed the open door 
 (examining the pictures on the wall) she threw a 
 quick side-glance in at Magnhild. It was not 
 exactly unfriendty, but Magnhild felt it as though 
 it had been a pistol-shot. What on earth had 
 happened, or rather what had been discovered ? 
 She could not conceive. When she was dressed, 
 she went into the next room and looked round 
 with close scrutiny, but in vain, for the least sign 
 of anything that she could have wished to con- 
 ceal, or anything that could raise disapproba- 
 tion. What was it ? Ronnaug's expression had 
 certainly altered. What could it be ? 
 
 They went out ; both were now silent. Even 
 out in the street, where there was so much that 
 must have been familiar and suggestive, she who 
 had just been chattering away in three languages, 
 managed to hold her tongue in them all. They 
 passed a man in a carriole who was talking 
 vehemently to a younger man whom he had 
 stopped ; both of them greeted Magnhild, the 
 
 elder with indifference, the younger with a look 
 140
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 of triumph in his pimply face, and sparkling eyes. 
 Then and not till then, did Ronnaug rouse herself. 
 Although nearly five years had passed since she 
 had sat behind the carriole of the stranger who 
 had talked about Magnhild's destiny, and who 
 had seen herself under conditions she blushed to 
 remember, she recognised him instantly. She 
 seized Magnhild's hand hastily. 
 
 " Do you know him ? What is his name ? 
 Does he live here ? " she cried in English, for- 
 getting in her eagerness to try to speak her 
 mother tongue. 
 
 Magnhild answered only the last question. 
 " Yes, since last winter." 
 
 " What is his name ? " 
 
 " Grong." 
 
 " Have you ever had any talk with him ? " 
 
 " More with his son that was he standing 
 there." 
 
 Ronnaug looked after Grong, who at that 
 moment drove rapidly, one might even say 
 angrily, past them. 
 
 They came to the second hotel on the right- 
 hand side of the road and asked a servant whether 
 
 a lady with a child had not put up there. They 
 141
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 were shown upstairs. There they found the 
 lady who had accompanied Rfinnaug. The latter 
 asked her in English how the child was, at the 
 same time introducing Miss Roland to Mrs. Skarlie, 
 whereupon they all three went into the next room 
 to the sleeping child. 
 
 " Oh, have we really got a cradle ! " exclaimed 
 Ronnaug in English, and threw herself on her 
 knees beside it. Magnhild stood facing the 
 cradle at some little distance. It seemed a pretty 
 child, so far as she could see. Ronnaug bent 
 over it ; she neither looked up nor spoke. But 
 Magnhild saw that great tears were dropping 
 over the fine counterpane that covered the cradle. 
 The silence was painful. 
 
 Ronnaug rose, and with a side glance at 
 Magnhild, passed quickly by her into the adjoin- 
 ing room, whither Magnhild at last felt she must 
 follow her. There stood Ronnaug by the 
 window. At that moment a carriage stopped 
 outside. Magnhild saw that it was pulled along 
 by three men. It was a handsome new travelling 
 carriage, the handsomest she had ever seen. 
 
 " Who does it belong to ? " 
 
 " To me," answered ROnnaug. 
 142
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Betsy Roland came in and asked some ques- 
 tion. R6nnaug followed her out of the room. 
 When she returned the moment after, she went 
 straight over to Magnhild who was still sitting 
 and looking out at the carriage. Ronnaug put 
 one arm round her neck. 
 
 " Will you make a tour with me in this carriage, 
 Magnhild ? " she asked in English. 
 
 The moment Ronnaug touched her, Magnhild 
 had a sense of dread ; Ronnaug's eyes pierced 
 her, she could feel her breath, her arm weighed 
 on her like an iron bar, though there was pro- 
 bably no real pressure. 
 
 " Will you travel about the country with me 
 in this in this carriage, Magnhild ? " Ronnaug 
 repeated in patois ; and her voice trembled. 
 
 " Yes," whispered Magnhild. 
 
 Rdnnaug released her, went to the other 
 window and looked out. 
 
 " Did the carriage come from America ? " 
 
 "From London." 
 
 "What did you pay for it?" 
 
 " Charles bought it." 
 
 " Is your husband with you ? " 
 
 " Yes yes ; " and she added, " not here
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Constantinople delivery of guns September 
 we are to meet Liverpool." And with that she 
 gave a wide-eyed look at Magnhild. What did 
 she mean ? 
 
 Magnhild said she must go. Ronnaug accom- 
 panied her downstairs. They both went out to 
 the carriage, around which several people were 
 standing, who now drew back a little. Ronnaug 
 showed Magnhild some of the conveniences it 
 contained, and while she had her head inside 
 the carriage she asked : 
 
 "Your rooms upstairs, are they to be let?" 
 
 " No, it's too much trouble." 
 
 RSnnaug said good night abruptly, and ran 
 upstairs. 
 
 Magnhild had not gone many steps, before she 
 felt that she certainly should have offered to let 
 Ronnaug have those upper rooms. Should she 
 turn back ? No. No. 
 
 That was one of Magnhild's sleepless nights. 
 Ronnaug had frightened her. And this journey ? 
 Never in the world would she undertake it. 
 
 144
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE first thing she saw when, some time after 
 ten o'clock, she came out of her bedroom, was 
 ROnnaug again, who had at that moment come 
 down from the village, and just looked in to see 
 her no, not to see her, but the pastor, the 
 young chaplain who lodged in Magnhild's house, 
 occupying the room that had been the workshop. 
 RCnnaug with the pastor ! When the clock 
 struck eleven she was still there, and when she 
 came out accompanied by the pastor, who was a 
 bashful young man, she merely put her head in 
 at Magnhild's door, said " Good morning," and 
 disappeared again, still in company with the 
 pastor. 
 
 Magnhild's wonder did not end here ; for 
 later in the day she saw Rfinnaug with Grong. 
 It vexed her ; she could not quite tell why. 
 The next day ROnnaug came to see her ; but 
 only in passing. They talked about different
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 people in the village with whom it amused 
 ROnnaug to renew acquaintance ; but not a 
 word was said about the tour. Several days 
 went by, and still it was not mentioned. Perhaps 
 she had given it up. 
 
 But soon Magnhild began to hear of this 
 journey from others, first from the sailor's wife 
 who did the cleaning, then from the person she 
 bought her fish of, finally from every one. 
 What pretext should she have recourse to ? 
 For on no account would she make one of the 
 party. 
 
 ROnnaug told her she was reading Norwegian 
 with Grong, and with the Pastor too, in order 
 not to bother either of them too much at one 
 time ; she wrote exercises too, she said, laugh- 
 ingly. In the same brief fashion she would 
 touch upon people and things, dwelling an 
 instant upon some salient characteristic, and then 
 off instantly to something else. Magnhild was 
 not invited up to the hotel. ROnnaug often 
 wheeled her child about in a little perambulator 
 she had bought; she would stop and show the 
 child to every one she met, but she never brought 
 it in to Magnhild. 
 
 146
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Rdnnaug created the most extraordinary 
 sensation in the village. It was not unusual in 
 a seaport town to meet with singular ups and 
 downs of fortune. But to judge by the presents 
 Ronnaug made, and by her proceedings in general, 
 she must be very rich indeed, and yet she was 
 the most unaffected, sociable person in the 
 village. Magnhild heard her praises sounded 
 perpetually. It was only the pastor who re- 
 marked incidentally that she certainly had all 
 the impatience that characterised the child of 
 fortune. 
 
 And what meanwhile did Ronnaug hear of 
 Magnhild ? For there could be no manner of 
 doubt that she made inquiries elsewhere, if she 
 did not question Magnhild herself. And this, as 
 a matter of fact, she did, but very cautiously. 
 There were, indeed, only two people to whom she 
 put direct questions ; one was the pastor, the 
 other was Grong. 
 
 The pastor said that in all the time he had 
 been there, and that was nearly a twelvemonth, 
 he had never seen or heard anything that was 
 not to her credit. Skarlie was a more dubious 
 character; according to universal testimony he 
 M7
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 had taken up his abode here merely in order to 
 make a thorough study of the situation and then 
 turn his knowledge to account "without com- 
 petition and without control." He was "an 
 ironical creature and a cynic ; " but the pastor 
 could not deny that it was sometimes amusing 
 to talk with him. The pastor had never had 
 any reason to doubt that Skarlie was considerate 
 to his wife or rather his adopted daughter, for 
 they could scarcely be said to stand in any other 
 relation to each other. And the bashful young 
 pastor seemed greatly discomposed at having to 
 say even as much as that. 
 
 Grong, on the other hand, called Magnhild an 
 idle, selfish, pretentious hussy ; she could not 
 bring herself to garter up her stockings properly 
 he had noticed it himself. The school of 
 handicraft she had started had long been handed 
 over to a hump-backed girl called Mary, and a 
 tall girl called Louisa. Magnhild now and then 
 taught them something new, but not even for 
 this were they indebted to Magnhild herself, but 
 to her husband, who came across these ideas in 
 the course of his travels, and spurred her on to 
 
 carry them out here at home. Skarlie was on 
 148
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the whole a clever go-ahead fellow, who had put 
 life into the whole of this ignorant idle com- 
 munity. Perhaps he had cheated a little too, 
 but people can't expect to learn without paying 
 for it. 
 
 Magnhild's destiny ? Bah ! He had long 
 ceased to bother about destinies ! Three years 
 ago he had seen an old man in the North who 
 in his childhood was the only one saved in a 
 little parish, an avalanche having disposed of the 
 other inhabitants. The man was a great donkey. 
 He lived to the age of sixty-six without making 
 a farthing except by rowing a boat and he had 
 died last year in the workhouse. What kind of 
 a destiny was that ? Very few people are 
 destined to anything at all. 
 
 Grong was at that time in a bad humour, he 
 had thought his gifted son was destined for 
 something. He lived only for him and the 
 boy couldn't think of anything better to do 
 than to go and fall in love. But Ro'nnaug, who 
 knew nothing about Grong's own history, was 
 greatly horrified at his severe verdict. She could 
 not thresh the matter out with him either, for he 
 declared point blank that Magnhild bored him. 
 149
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 So she went again to see Magnhild herself, 
 but found they were so out of touch with each 
 other that it was impossible really to get at her. 
 
 If Ronnaug was to hold fast to her purpose, 
 then there was nothing else for it but to worm 
 herself into Magnhild's confidence by degrees. 
 
 In the most indifferent tone in the world, 
 therefore, she one day announced that the day 
 after to-morrow, she intended to set out on her 
 journey. Magnhild need not take many clothes 
 with her, for when they stopped anywhere, they 
 would buy her what she required. That was 
 what Ronnaug herself did. 
 
 This happened about nine o'clock in the morn- 
 ing ; until mid-day Magnhild was struggling with a 
 telegram to her husband, who had just announced 
 that he had arrived in Bergen. The telegram 
 in its final state ran thus : 
 
 " Ronnaug, married to rich American, Charles 
 Randon of New York, is here ; wants me to 
 accompany her on long tour. 
 
 " MAGNHILD." 
 
 She felt guilty of treachery as, just on the 
 stroke of twelve, she handed in the telegram. 
 150
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Treachery ! Towards whom ? After all she 
 was accountable to no one. 
 
 In the afternoon she went out, so that no one 
 might find her. In the evening when she came 
 home there lay the telegram. 
 
 " Home to-morrow by steamer. Skarlie." 
 
 Ronnaug came to see Magnhild at eight o'clock 
 the next morning. She wanted to surprise her 
 with a ready-made travelling dress which was 
 waiting for her at the hotel. But everything 
 was shut up at Magnhild's. She went round, 
 and looked through the window of the bedroom 
 where a blind was drawn up. Magnhild had 
 gone out. She who rarely got up before nine 
 o'clock ! 
 
 Never mind ; back again at nine. Door still 
 locked. Half past nine : locked. Ten o'clock : 
 the same. After that, back every quarter of an 
 hour, but always to find everything shut up. 
 Then she began to suspect something, and at 
 eleven o'clock she paid a couple of boys 
 handsomely, to keep watch and let her know 
 when Magnhild came home. 
 
 She herself waited at the hotel. One, two, 
 three o'clock came ; no tidings. She suspected 
 151
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 her sentinels : no, everything all right. Four 
 o'clock came, then five. A second inspection. 
 Six o'clock struck, then a boy came tearing 
 along, and Ronnaug, with her hat in her hand, 
 flew down the steps to meet him. 
 
 She found Magnhild in the kitchen, bustling 
 about so that Ronnaug could not draw her into 
 conversation. She flitted to and fro unceasingly 
 between the kitchen, the back-yard and the 
 other rooms. She went down into the cellar, 
 too, and stayed there a long time. Ronnaug 
 waited ; but seeing that Magnhild was never 
 likely to have done, she followed her into the 
 dining-room. She asked her whether she could 
 not come to the hotel with her a moment. 
 Magnhild had no time. She was in the act of 
 putting butter on a plate. 
 
 " For whom are you preparing ? " 
 
 "Oh " The hand that held the butter 
 
 spoon trembled. Ronnaug saw that. 
 
 " Is Skarlie coming by the steamer to- 
 night?" 
 
 Magnhild could not deny it, because she 
 would have been so soon convicted of untruth, 
 so she said " Yes." 
 
 152
 
 MAGNH1LD 
 
 " Then you sent him a message ? " 
 
 Magnhild laid down the spoon and went into 
 the next room. Ronnaug followed. 
 
 It now became apparent how much good 
 sturdy Norwegian Ronnaug had learned, though 
 it was still not quite pure or correct. She first 
 asked whether this meant that Skarlie would 
 prevent her from going on the tour ; and 
 whereupon Magnhild, instead of answering, took 
 refuge in the bedroom. Ronnaug followed : she 
 said that to-day she should not escape her. 
 
 This "to-day" told Magnhild that Ronnaug 
 had long wanted to see her. If the window 
 before which Magnhild now stood had been 
 somewhat larger, she certainly would have made 
 it a means of escape. 
 
 But before Ronnaug had fairly begun some- 
 thing happened. From the street were heard 
 noise and laughter, and mingled with them the 
 voice of a man in a hurry. 
 
 " And you want to prevent me from taking 
 the Sacrament, you hypocritical devil ! " 
 
 All at once there was silence, and then a roar 
 of laughter. Apparently the man had been 
 seized and carried off. Hooting and laughter 
 153
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 of boys and old women was heard, growing 
 more and more distant. 
 
 Neither of the two in the room had gone out. 
 They had both looked through the doorway 
 towards the sitting-room windows, but had both 
 turned back, Magnhild towards the garden. 
 But the interruption reminded Ronnaug of 
 Machine Martha, who in her time had been 
 the laughingstock and terror of the village. No 
 sooner had the noise ceased than she said : 
 
 " Do you remember Machine Martha ? Do 
 you remember I said something to you about 
 your husband and her ? Now I have made 
 inquiries, and I know more. It is unworthy 
 of you to live under the same roof with a man 
 like Skarlie." 
 
 Magnhild turned round pale and proud, 
 " It doesn't concern me." 
 
 " It doesn't concern you ? You live in his 
 house, eat his bread, wear his clothes, and 
 bear his name it doesn't concern you ? " 
 
 But Magnhild swept past her into the next 
 room without vouchsafing her a reply. She 
 took up her stand by one of the windows that 
 looked out into the street. 
 154
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "Yes, if you aren't ashamed of it, Magnhild, 
 then you have fallen lower than I thought." 
 
 Magnhild had just leaned her head against 
 the window frame. She now raised it far 
 enough to look up at Ronnaug and smile ; 
 then she resumed the same position. The smile 
 brought a blush into Ronnaug's cheeks, for she 
 read in it a comparison between Magnhild's 
 youth and her own. 
 
 " I understand what you're thinking " her 
 voice trembled ''' and I couldn't have believed 
 you were so wicked, though I saw perfectly well 
 when I first came that I had been mistaken in 
 having longed so to see you again." 
 
 This seemed to Ronnaug herself too strongly 
 expressed, and she stopped. Besides it was not 
 at all her intention to break with Magnhild ; 
 quite the contrary. And now she was hurt 
 that Magnhild had been able to make her 
 forget herself to such a degree. Had it not 
 been just the same from the first ? With what 
 enthusiasm she came and how coldly she had 
 been received ! Following out this train of 
 thought she began to speak aloud. 
 
 " I could imagine nothing lovelier in the
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 world than to show you my child. I had 
 really no one else to show it to. But you 
 didn't even want to see it, you didn't want 
 the trouble of dressing for so little." She had 
 begun quite composedly, but before she ended her 
 voice was quivering, and she burst into tears. 
 
 Suddenly Magnhild started up from her place 
 and made first for the kitchen door but that 
 was just where Ronnaug was then towards the 
 bedroom door, but she remembered it was of no 
 use to take refuge there, so she turned back, 
 confronted Ronnaug, couldn't make up her mind 
 what to do, and finally returned to her old 
 place. 
 
 But Rftnnaug scarcely saw all this, for she 
 was struggling with her own strong emotion. 
 
 " You have no heart, Magnhild, though it is 
 terrible to say so ! You've let yourself be 
 trailed through the mire so long that you've 
 lost all feeling yes, that you have ! When I 
 dragged you to see my baby, you didn't even 
 care to kiss it. You didn't even bend down 
 over it, you didn't say a word, no, not one single 
 word ; you did not see how pretty it was ! " 
 Once more her tears forced her to pause. 
 156
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " But that's easily understood," she went on ; 
 "you've never had a child yourself. And I 
 thought of that, or else I would have gone away 
 again instantly, I was so disappointed. Well, 
 I wrote that to Charles too ! " She interrupted 
 herself with a different and a stronger emphasis. 
 " I don't know what you can be thinking about. 
 Everything must surely be dead within you, when 
 you have complete freedom offered you, and you 
 choose Skarlie. To think of writing for Skarlie ! " 
 She paced rapidly up and down, and then said, 
 " Well, well ! So this is Magnhild, who used 
 to be so fine and pure that she could rescue me." 
 She paused and looked at Magnhild. " But 
 that I can never forget, and so you shall go away 
 with me, Magnhild ! " Then with a sudden 
 movement, " Haven't you a word to say to me ? 
 Can't you understand that I love you ? Have 
 you utterly forgotten, Magnhild, how I've always 
 loved you ? Doesn't it matter at all to you that 
 I've come all the way from America ? " 
 
 It never occurred to her that she was letting 
 
 out her whole secret ; she stood waiting to see 
 
 Magnhild wake up, and turn to her. She was 
 
 not near enough to see that there were tears 
 
 157
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 dropping there within the window-frame. She 
 saw only that Magnhild did not stir, did not 
 make the slightest movement. This exasperated 
 Ro'nnaug, and being hasty in her resolves when 
 her heart was full, she turned and went .out. 
 Magnhild saw her hurry along the street, weep- 
 ing, and without looking in as she passed. 
 
 And ROnnaug's weeping did not cease, not 
 even when she threw herself down by her 
 child and kissed it. She pressed it against 
 her again and again, as if she wanted to assure 
 herself that, after all, her life had not been 
 fruitless. 
 
 She had expected that Magnhild would follow 
 her. It was eight o'clock no sign of Magnhild ; 
 it was nine, and she did not come. Ronnaug 
 threw a shawl over her head and stole past the 
 saddler's house ; Magnhild's husband must have 
 arrived long ago. The house was quite quiet, 
 and there was no one at the windows. She 
 went home again and pondered as she went to 
 bed what she should do now, if she really were 
 obliged to go away without Magnhild. It was 
 only for a moment that her thoughts took this 
 turn. No ! she would stay and summon pthers 
 158
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 to help her. She would risk a battle even with 
 Mr. Skarlie, supported by the pastor, and Grong, 
 and other worthy people. She considered the 
 affair perhaps from a somewhat American stand- 
 point ; but her mind was made up. 
 
 She lay and dreamed that Mr. Skarlie and 
 she were fighting ; with his great hairy paws he 
 had taken hold of her by the head, the shoulders, 
 the hands ; his disgusting face with its toothless 
 gums, looked laughing into her eyes. She 
 couldn't get away from him he had her again 
 by the head then Magnhild called to her 
 repeatedly and loudly and she awakened. 
 Magnhild stood beside her bed. 
 
 " Ronnaug ! " 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " 
 
 " It is I Magnhild." 
 
 ROnnaug sat up in bed half drunk with sleep. 
 " Yes, I see you is it you ? Really you, 
 Magnhild ? Are you coming with me ? " 
 
 " Yes." And Magnhild threw herself into her 
 arms and burst into tears and what tears they 
 were ! Like a child's who after long-continued 
 terror finds its mother at last. 
 
 " Good Heaven ! What has happened ? " 
 159
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " I can't tell you ! " and again the long bitter 
 weeping, and then she quietly disengaged herself 
 and withdrew a little way. 
 
 " But now you're coming with me ? " 
 
 " Yes," she was heard to whisper, and upon 
 that she began to cry again. And Ronnaug 
 stretched out her arms, but as Magnhild did not 
 come into them, she jumped up and gave expres- 
 sion to her joy by dressing herself in a tearing 
 hurry. There was gladness, there was triumph, 
 in her heart. 
 
 As she sat on the edge of the bed dressing 
 herself, she looked more closely at Magnhild. 
 The summer night was quite light enough to see 
 distinctly, and Magnhild had raised one of the 
 blinds, opened a window and stood there. It 
 must be about three o'clock. Magnhild wore a 
 long cloak over her petticoat. A bundle lay on 
 a chair it was her dress, perhaps. What 
 could have happened ? ROnnaug went into the 
 big sitting-room to finish her toilet, and when 
 Magnhild followed, there lay her new travelling 
 dress, which ROnnaug presented to her. She 
 did not say " Thank you," she scarcely looked 
 at it, but sat down by it and began to cry afresh. 
 
 160
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Ronnaug was obliged to put on the dress for her. 
 While she was doing so she whispered : 
 
 " Did he want to use force ? " 
 
 " He has never done that," said Magnhild. 
 " No, there are other things," and such a violent 
 fit of weeping seized her that Ronnaug said 
 nothing more, and soon had got both Magnhild 
 and herself ready. She hurried off again to 
 wake her American friend, and then went down- 
 stairs to rouse the hotel people ; she wanted to 
 start in an hour. On her return she found 
 Magnhild in the same position in which she had 
 left her. 
 
 " Come now, pull yourself together. In less 
 than an hour we shall be off ! " 
 
 Magnhild sat unmoved. It was as though her 
 strength was exhausted by the mental conflict 
 which had preceded her resolution. Ronnaug 
 let her alone. She had quite enough to see to. 
 Everything was already packed, and last of all 
 the child was wrapped up in its travelling rugs, 
 still sound asleep. In less than an hour, as 
 Ronnaug had said, both they and their luggage 
 were comfortably stowed away in the beautiful 
 
 travelling carriage. All the world was asleep. 
 
 161 L
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Away they went in the clear morning light, past 
 the church. The sun was not visible, but the 
 sky over the mountains in the east was redden- 
 ing, and the landscape lay swathed in dark 
 shadows, the higher mountain slopes being of a 
 deep blue-black hue. The river, without a ray 
 of light over its seething surface, clove its way 
 forward, like an army of wrathful and savage 
 visitants from the mountains, who had chosen 
 this moment of awakening to invade the valley, 
 rushing on without pause, without pity, laughing 
 loudly over their wild purpose, and over the 
 fortune that followed them. 
 
 Any impressions and emotions which Magn- 
 hild might otherwise have felt during this drive 
 (as she left behind the scene of many years' 
 suffering and sped over the first miles of her 
 new life-road in the beautiful carriage belonging 
 to her childhood's friend), all drowsed away into 
 a weary vacant doze. Her daily life had for so 
 many years been one long rest in unbroken 
 routine, that a single evening's excitement had 
 absolutely drained her strength. She longed for 
 nothing so much as for a bed. And Ronnaug, 
 
 bent on carrying the miracle of contrast to its 
 162
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 highest pitch, was determined not only to arrive 
 in her own carriage and pair (when they came 
 to the steep inclines she wanted four horses) but 
 had also made up her mind to sleep in one of 
 the guest chambers at the posting station where 
 she had been in service as a girl. She carried 
 out her plan, and they had three hours' sleep 
 there. The woman of the house recognised 
 Ronnaug, but as Ronnaug had not liked her, 
 they had not much to say to each other. 
 
 After having slept, they had something to eat 
 and paid the bill, and then ROnnaug must 
 needs write with her own hand in the register. 
 It was too delightful. Then she read the last 
 entry before her own, which ran, " two persons, 
 horse next station," and in the margin of the 
 book was written : 
 
 Two birds we met by the way, twit-twit ! 
 Think ye with us to stay, twit-twit ? 
 
 Dear birds, we think of naught, tra-ra ! 
 We love beyond all thought, tra-ra ! 
 
 "What foolishness is this ?" she said. Both 
 of the others looked at it. It had to be trans- 
 lated for Betsy Roland. 
 
 Now they all remembered that just as they 
 163
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 drove in they had seen a lady and gentleman in 
 a carriage drive out and pass by at a rapid pace. 
 The gentleman had turned away as if he did not 
 want to be seen ; the lady was veiled. 
 
 They were still talking over this circum- 
 stance as they took their seats in the carriage 
 and drove away, all the people about the place 
 assembling to witness their departure. The 
 travellers came to the conclusion that the verses 
 must have been written by some happy bride 
 and bridegroom, and Magnhild (by that associa- 
 tion of ideas that is so utterly beyond one's 
 control), found herself recalling those two young 
 people, the man in the morocco shoes, the girl 
 with the oddly dressed hair, whom she met that 
 evening on her wedding journey at the next 
 posting station. This led her to think of her 
 marriage, and what she had gone through in all 
 these years, and to remember how aimless her 
 life stretched before her, aimless whether she 
 looked backwards or forwards. 
 
 It had meanwhile turned out a marvellously 
 fine day. The sun had risen above the moun- 
 tains, which were very high at this point. The 
 
 valley, though narrow, was so situated that it 
 164
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 caught the full flood of light. The river here 
 flowed in a more contracted and stonier channel, 
 foam-white where it met with any obstruction ; 
 grass-green, where its brawling ceased ; blue, 
 where the hills overshadowed it; and grey where 
 it eddied over a clayey bottom. The grass 
 along the bank was coarse and stubbly, and 
 further up, the slope was dotted with yellow 
 buttercups, the largest they had seen. 
 
 The highest mountain peaks were glittering. 
 The dark firwood on the bosom and in the lap of 
 the range produced such an effect of serene 
 luxuriance, that whoever viewed it aright must 
 inevitably be refreshed. Close by the roadside 
 grew deciduous trees, for here the firs had been cut 
 down, but nevertheless there were some which 
 forced their way victoriously forward again from 
 the vast army in the rear. The road was free 
 from dust. On the outskirts of the wood grew 
 mountain flowers, glittering with the last remain- 
 ing dewdrops. The travellers bade the driver 
 stop that they might gather some of them: after 
 that they sat and amused the child with the 
 posies, weaving garlands, and twining them 
 round the little one. A short distance further 
 165
 
 MAGNH1LD 
 
 up, where the stream had sunk so far beneath 
 them that its roar no longer drowned all other 
 sounds, they heard the jubilant chorus of the 
 birds. The thrushes, now singly, now in 
 flocks, flitted from tree to tree, it was re- 
 freshing to hear their lusty piping. A startled 
 wood-grouse with strong beating pinions flew 
 away through the branches. A dog that had 
 been following the horses started some ptar- 
 migan ; they made shrill cries, flapped their 
 wings and hid in the heather ; then were 
 startled afresh and sought by roundabout ways 
 to get back to the spot they just rose from 
 (no doubt they had their nests there), where 
 a rich growth of birches surrounded a little 
 patch of heather. 
 
 "Ah! how I've longed for this journey! 
 And it is Charles who has given it to me ! " 
 The tears stood in Ronnaug's eyes, but she 
 checked herself after kissing her child. " No 
 tears ! why should I cry ? " And she began to 
 sing: 
 
 Shed no tear ! Oh, shed no tear ! 
 The flower will bloom another year. 
 Weep no more ! weep no more ! 
 Young buds sleep in the root's white core. 
 1 06
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " This is our summer outing, Magnhild ; our 
 summer journey in Norway. So we must go 
 on too." 
 
 But Magnhild bowed her head and covered 
 her face with her hands. 
 
 " You shall live happily, Magnhild. Charles 
 is so kind. There's nothing he won't do for 
 you." 
 
 But here she heard Magnhild sobbing, so she 
 said no more. 
 
 The sunny day, the strong aromatic mountain 
 air, the rapture breathed forth from the forest, 
 bringing childhood's memories in its train it all 
 acted on Ronnaug like a powerful tonic. She 
 forgot Magnhild, and began to sing again. 
 Then she turned to the child, and chattered 
 away to it in the most exuberant spirits, and to 
 Miss Roland. She was taken by surprise when 
 Magnhild asked, 
 
 " Do you love your husband, Ronnaug ? " 
 
 " Do I love him ? Well ! When Mr. Charles 
 Randon said to me, ' I will take charge of your 
 education, RCnnaug ; I look forward to taking 
 great pleasure in your progress,' well, it did give 
 
 him pleasure. When Mr. Charles Randon said 
 167
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 to me, ' My dear Ronnaug, I am considerably 
 older than you, but if nevertheless you con- 
 sented to be my wife, 1 am certain that so far as 
 I'm concerned I should find happiness,' well, he 
 found happiness. And when Mr. Charles says, 
 ' My dear Ronnaug, see that you take good care 
 of little Harry, and see that I meet you all in 
 Liverpool in September, and your Norwegian 
 friend with you,' well, he will meet us in 
 Liverpool in September, little Harry well, and 
 my Norwegian friend at my side ! " And she 
 kissed the child and made it laugh. 
 
 They changed horses at the inn. Miss 
 Roland and Magnhild remained in the carriage. 
 Ronnaug got out partly in order to look once 
 more over old haunts, partly because she wanted 
 to write in the register. " It was the proper 
 thing to do," she said. The next moment she 
 came out laughing and bringing the book. 
 Under the same entry, viz., " two persons 
 bound for the next post station," (how charac- 
 teristic of these two persons in their relation to 
 the practical concerns of life that they had not 
 troubled to ascertain the name of the next 
 station !) the following lines were written ; 
 
 1 68
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Love's at once the end of May, 
 Summer's flower and Autumn's store. 
 Iron Winter's ice-clad hoar 
 Fain would break the branch away. 
 " Stop," we cry, " kill all the tree, 
 Half life were but misery." 
 
 Ronnaug translated it for Betsy Roland, and 
 they all three made different guesses about it. 
 They agreed that it must be a case of two lovers 
 taking a journey under exceptional circumstances ; 
 but what kind of people could they be ? Were 
 they newly married, or merely lovers were 
 they running away, or only having a bit of fun, 
 perhaps, after some happily ended crisis ? There 
 were all sorts of possible theories. Ronnaug 
 wanted to copy the verse, and Magnhild offered 
 her a leaf out of her pocket-book. As she took it 
 out of her pocket to her astonishment a letter fell 
 out. Then she remembered that she had received 
 it by post an hour after her husband arrived the 
 previous evening. Absorbed in the struggle 
 with him, she had put it in her pocket-book for 
 the time being. She never received letters, so 
 she could not imagine from whom this could be. 
 The other two did not discover that the letter 
 bore foreign stamps, but Magnhild noticed it at 
 169
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 once. She opened it ; it was written in a 
 delicate hand on fine paper a long letter. It 
 was dated Munich, and signed could she have 
 read aright ? Hans Tande ! She refolded the 
 letter hastily, without being conscious of what 
 she did, while a deep flush overspread her face 
 and neck. Both her companions behaved as if 
 they had observed nothing. Ronnaug busied 
 herself with copying the verse. 
 
 They drove rapidly on and meanwhile left 
 Magnhild to herself. But her embarrassment 
 increased to such a degree that it was painful to 
 her to sit there in the carriage with the others. 
 She begged humbly to be allowed to get out and 
 walk a little way. Ronnaug smiled and ordered 
 the coachman to stop ; there was a stretch of 
 level ground here where the horses could rest 
 awhile. When the travellers had alighted, 
 Ronnaug took Magnhild and led her a few steps 
 toward the wood behind them. 
 
 " Now then," she said, " go there and read 
 your letter." 
 
 When Magnhild got a little way into the wood 
 she stopped. Her emotion overmastered her. 
 
 She peered about, as if even here she dreaded 
 170
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 the presence of people. The sunlight flickered 
 here and there over the fallen yellow pine needles 
 over the prostrate and decayed tree trunks, 
 over the dark green moss that covered the stones 
 and over the heather in the glades. All around 
 her was absolutely still. From the sunny 
 margin of the forest there floated to her the 
 twittering of a solitary bird, the babble of the 
 child, and Ronnaug's laughter, which ran clearly 
 through the trees. 
 
 Magnhild roused herself again to take out the 
 letter. She unfolded it it had been folded 
 wrongly. She laid it open before her, and 
 regarded it as an older woman might a bridal 
 dress that had long been folded away. A single 
 fleck of sunlight falling through the branches lay 
 across the letter, shifting now round, now 
 oblong. She saw within this ring of light a 
 word, two words, more plainly than the others : 
 " great hopes " and " failed " stood there 
 "great hopes" and "failed." She read and 
 trembled. Alas ! alas ! alas ! Over and over 
 again she read it, becoming so filled with expecta- 
 tion, with fear, with memories of blessedness and 
 
 conflict, she could no longer remain sitting still. 
 171
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 She rose, but only to sit down again and try to 
 command herself. A long gay peal of laughter 
 from Ronnaug reached her like a staff held out ; 
 she grasped it and leaned upon it. She took 
 courage from Ronnaug's courage, and glanced 
 through the letter here and there, not in order to 
 read it, but to form an idea as to whether she 
 dared read it. But she was too over-wrought 
 to be able to piece its broken sentences together, 
 and glided unwittingly into reading straight on. 
 She did not follow all she read ; but still it was 
 a communion it was like the touch of a hand. 
 There was a sound as of music in the air ; his 
 music ; she was in his presence again she was 
 conscious again of the perfume, the glance, the 
 bashful silence in which, at his side, she had 
 tasted the supremest joys of earth. The diamond 
 cut rings of light across the piano, his delicate 
 hands played " Flowers in the meadow." Com- 
 pletely under his influence again, she gave her- 
 self up to a second reading, understanding it 
 better pausing, exulting silently and reading 
 on again, while the tears streamed down her 
 face. She paused unconsciously, merely because 
 
 she could no longer see, began again not knowing 
 172
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 she began broke off, had her cry out, and read 
 on to the end, only to begin all over again, three, 
 four, five times over and over, till she could read 
 no more. 
 
 Meanwhile she was going through an endless 
 succession of thoughts and feelings that she had 
 had thousands of times before, and of thoughts 
 and feelings she had never dreamt of till that 
 moment. 
 
 Her first distinct impression, as she sat there 
 hidden in the humid forest shadows, was as of a 
 sheaf of quivering sunrays. It was the divina- 
 tion that came over her it was not expressed, 
 and yet it breathed forth from every line of the 
 letter (sweeter so, a thousandfold !) the divina- 
 tion, the certainty rather, that he, yes, he had 
 loved her ! And then to think of the full under- 
 standing he had had of her love for him long, 
 long before she herself had been aware of it ! 
 And to think, too, that he had never hinted at 
 it, never by so much as a glance. How for- 
 bearing he had been ! And yet, what had he 
 seen in her ? Was it true could it be true ? 
 Ah ! it was all one now ! But that she should 
 at last come to realise to the full all that he had
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 felt this it was that shone through her sorrow 
 like the sun behind the humid air penetrating 
 the vapour veils one after another with a thousand 
 iridescent glories, never so much as dreamt of 
 before. It was like drawing a long free breath 
 again after years of emptiness, longing, brooding ! 
 
 It was not for some time that distinct thoughts 
 stood out in her mind not really until Ronnaug 
 came to her. The letter read so stiffly, too ; it 
 sounded here and there like a translation from a 
 foreign language. But now the letter itself: 
 
 " I am on my way back from the south. I 
 thought I was strong enough. Alas ! The 
 papers have no doubt told you that I am ill ; but 
 the papers do not know what I know now. 
 
 " In my new certainty, the first thing I do is 
 to write to you, dear Magnhild. 
 
 "You will naturally feel a pained surprise at 
 the sight of my signature. I awakened great 
 hopes, and failed at the moment when they should 
 have been fulfilled. 
 
 "A thousand times since I have thought how 
 
 you must have shrunk from the thought of going 
 
 to the piano, and trying a song over that we 
 
 three had studied, or an exercise that we two had 
 
 174
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 gone through. It would be nothing less than a 
 miracle if you could bring yourself to do it. 
 
 " A thousand times I have turned the question 
 over in my mind whether I should write to you, 
 and say what I now at last am saying, that this 
 has been the heaviest sorrow of my life. 
 
 " You released me from a once beautiful but 
 afterwards unworthy entanglement, and that was 
 the saving of me. The germs of innocence were 
 no longer stifled. The whole extent of this 
 emancipation I did not realise as long as we 
 were together. 
 
 "And in gratitude for what you have done 
 for me, I have shattered your life, so far as I 
 had the power. But I have also longed to tell 
 you what I now believe, and that is that our 
 destiny on earth is not only that of which we 
 ourselves are conscious, not only that which we 
 believe is the main object of our life. When 
 you, without knowing it yourself, gave me a 
 purer, loftier impulse, you fulfilled a destiny, 
 dear Magnhild ; it was perhaps a little thing, 
 but perhaps too it was only a hundredth part of 
 a wider influence which you have exercised over 
 a great many others without suspecting it. 
 175
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " Magnhild, I can say it now without being 
 misconstrued, and moreover with'out doing any 
 harm, because you are four years and a half 
 older and I am going away yes, I believe it 
 will be a help to you to hear it. So let me tell 
 you. In the midst of your strange fortunes, the 
 innocence of your soul had grown into a purity, 
 which in you, more than in any one I ever met, 
 proclaimed itself a power. It was so much the 
 more beautiful, in that it was unconscious of its 
 manifestations. It spoke in your every move- 
 ment, in all your shy awkwardness. It was 
 apparent to me not only in your blushes, Magn- 
 hild, but in the tones of your voice as well, in 
 the direct relation you assumed towards every- 
 one you spoke to or looked at, or merely greeted 
 in passing. At your side the woman who was 
 not pure became detestable. You taught even 
 the fallen the beauty of purity. 
 
 "You have a perfect right to rejoice over 
 what I am telling you here. Would that it 
 might do more than gladden you ! It is not 
 good to brood over a lost destiny, Magnhild, 
 and from letters received from Grong, I can see 
 that that is what you are now doing. For he 
 176
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 who does not attain his first and greatest 
 ambition must not directly relapse into careless 
 inactivity, for in that way he nips in the bud the 
 thousand-leaved destiny that belongs to the tree 
 of life. Perhaps the very disappointment was 
 
 necessary to him. 
 
 " Five days later. 
 
 11 Magnhild, I do not say this to excuse my- 
 self. Whenever I think of your singing, I 
 know what I have destroyed. It had purity 
 untouched by passion, so that it swept through 
 my soul leaving it cleansed of vileness. It 
 brought with it the perfume of fair memories 
 memories of my childhood, my mother, my kind 
 teacher, my first conceptions of music, my first 
 love, longing or thirst for the beautiful. I saw 
 life again in the, first pure colours it had worn 
 in my eyes hues, not deep, but at least uncon- 
 taminated. 
 
 "I think of the perfection of art in your 
 singing, of the spirituality shining through it 
 what did it not prophesy ? And this I have 
 destroyed ! 
 
 " While we were together, I bought several 
 brooches which your father had made. I let no 
 
 177 M
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 one see them. In my surroundings at that 
 time it would have given rise to suspicion and 
 reproaches. But I felt, Magnhild, that these 
 brooches indicated the mission of a race a 
 mission which it should be yours to carry 
 forward. In your father's workmanship there 
 is innocent fancy and patience, in its very 
 imperfection one seems to hear a sigh from still 
 higher but imprisoned power. 
 
 "Has all this come to nothing now, because 
 you have come to nothing you who are the last 
 of your race and without children ? No, I cannot 
 forgive myself. 
 
 "(Again I have been at a standstill for many 
 days. Now I must try to finish). 
 
 " Do not let the wrong I've done you (and 
 through you unhappily to many others, both 
 now and hereafter) do not let it stand as an 
 excuse to yourself for doing absolutely nothing 
 more with your life. I assure you, you can, if 
 you will, bring out what powers you have, if not 
 in one way then in another. And now do this, 
 if for no other reason then because I beg you 
 to. You can make my guilt less of a murder to 
 
 my mind, just in these last hours of life. 
 
 178
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 "Even as I write these words my spirit is 
 eased. The kind feeling which in spite of all, I 
 am sure, you entertain for me (I feel it) brings 
 me a message from you. 
 
 " In so far as you can, you will preserve the 
 labour of my life even where it did not carry out 
 the thing begun. You will build higher and 
 build better, Magnhild ! 
 
 " Do you not feel even in this prayer a 
 certain consolation ? 
 
 "(I could get no further. But to-day I am 
 better.) 
 
 " If this letter helps to open the world to you 
 again, so that you enter into it, and take hold of 
 it yes, if all the things that you quite neglected, 
 or only half did, can come to serve as a link in 
 the chain of your life-work, and thus become 
 dear to you then I too am the happier for it. 
 Remember that ! Farewell ! 
 
 " Alas ! yes, farewell ! I have other letters to 
 write and little strength. Farewell 1 
 
 " HANS TANDE 
 " Eight days later. 
 
 " I copy into my letter to you the following 
 from another letter to another person: 
 179
 
 MAGNH1LD 
 
 " ' It is not true that love is for all the 
 entrance into life. Perhaps it is not that, for 
 one-half even of those who attain to a real life. 
 
 " ' There are many who waste their existence 
 in craving for love, or in following where love 
 leads. Some of them, perhaps, could not do 
 otherwise (people are so different circumstances 
 so often alter cases). But those I have seen 
 under these conditions could undoubtedly have 
 obtained mastery over themselves and thereby 
 gained fresh strength. As a matter of fact, they 
 abandoned all attempt in this direction, under 
 the influence of a literature and art whose short- 
 sightedness arises from an infected will.' " 
 
 1 80
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 MAGNHILD and RSnnaug came arm in arm out of 
 the wood, whence ROnnaug had finally been 
 obliged to fetch her, and where so much had 
 been told, discussed and weighed. They came 
 out into the open. In what depths of blue ether 
 the mountains seemed steeped ! and within their 
 frame, as it were, they saw the firwood yonder ; 
 the heather nearer at hand, and the level fore- 
 ground where Miss Roland and the child were 
 seated on blue and red rugs beside the carriage. 
 From this foreground the mother's vision, 
 quickened by imagination, roved over the scene 
 with a yet stronger impression of contours, light 
 and colouring. 
 
 " Our summer tour in Norway ! Our summer 
 tour in Norway ! " she said to herself in English. 
 One could divine from every word, that they said 
 more to her imagination than all the rest of her 
 English vocabulary. 
 
 181
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Slowly they walked about. To Ronnaug, 
 Magnhild appeared a new creature ; she saw the 
 complexity of her mental state, and that a light 
 shone out of her face which seemed to trans- 
 figure it. Had not she for nearly five years 
 been brooding over her lost destiny and her lost 
 love, those twin brethren who had lived and 
 died together ? She had now laid open her soul 
 to another ; and that had already produced its 
 effect. 
 
 They had the horse put to and continued 
 their journey. But nature's midday rest was 
 unbroken by them scarcely disturbed even by 
 the rattling of the carriage ; for they drove 
 slowly along the grassy slopes. 
 
 At the next posting station they read in the 
 Register the following : 
 
 A croaking raven met us on our way, 
 
 We both knew well the evil augury 
 
 Yet to the angry gods nought offered we, 
 
 Nor to the kind ones are we wont to pray. 
 
 Not much cared we. There's one God ; we adore him ; 
 
 Him have we with us. Innocent before Him 
 
 At omens laugh we, and no haste betray." 
 
 These little verses came to seem like a choir 
 
 of birds over the heads of the travellers. 
 182
 
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 But gladness in different keys makes discord, 
 and here, too, there was a premonition in the 
 verse ; for they had gone only a little way from 
 the inn, before they saw the church spire on the 
 height, beneath which Magnhild's parents and 
 brothers and sisters lay, and the moraine to the 
 left on the mountain where her childhood's home 
 had been. 
 
 The barren moraine had risen up in Magnhild's 
 memory as an image of her long wasted life- 
 journey. It was in this mood that she looked at 
 it again. The voice of comfort she had recently 
 heard was for long struck dumb within her ; 
 there was so much to haunt her that was 
 unsolved, uncertain. She was now nearing the 
 starting-point of her whole story; from the height 
 the pastor's house could be seen. 
 
 It was agreed that they should stop here. 
 The carriage moved easily along towards the 
 hospitable house, through an avenue of birch 
 trees. Ronnaug described the pastor's family 
 circle, for Miss Roland's benefit, in humorous 
 fashion. They were all startled at that moment 
 by the threatened overturning of the carriage. 
 Just at the sharp turn leading up to the door the 
 183
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 coachman had driven over a large stone which 
 la}' in the way and offered its lowest side at just 
 that point. Both RcMinaug and Miss Roland 
 gave a little shriek, and when the incident came 
 to an end without further peril they laughed. 
 To their delight Magnhild laughed with them. 
 Small as the event was, it helped to rouse her. 
 It showed her that she had indeed returned 
 to the parsonage. That stone ! How many 
 hundred carriages had not been driven against it 
 but who had ever thought of taking it away ? 
 There stood old Andreas, old Loren, old Knut. 
 There was old Ane looking out too. A dog's 
 bark sounded from the sitting room. 
 
 Magnhild asked, " Have they got a dog ? " 
 ROnnaug answered, " If so, I'll wager that he 
 strayed here of his own accord." 
 
 Old Ane took the wraps, Ronnaug took the 
 child. They all went from the passage straight 
 into the sitting-room. But there was no one 
 there but the dog, a great, shaggy creature, who 
 at the first friendly word abandoned his angry 
 intentions, and went about lazily from one to 
 the other snuffing and fawning, and then retired to 
 the stove, laid himself down, fat and prosperous ! 
 184
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 There was a creaking and cracking overhead. 
 It was the pastor getting up off the sofa. Well 
 Magnhild knew this music of the sofa springs. 
 The dog knew it too ; he got up and showed 
 that he wanted to go out, and bear his master 
 company. But the latter, who was heard coming 
 down the groaning staircase did not go out, but 
 came in, so the dog merely acknowledged his 
 presence, wagged his tail and went back again 
 to the stove, where he threw himself down pant- 
 ing after so great an exertion. 
 
 The pastor was just the same as ever. He 
 had heard about RQnnaug and was glad to see 
 her. His fat hands held hers in a long and 
 friendly clasp. Magnhild he held even longer. 
 He welcomed Miss Roland, and amused himself 
 with the child. There was lively comment on 
 the new things in the room, particularly the 
 dog. 
 
 When he had lit his pipe, and got every one, 
 himself included, comfortably seated on the 
 embroidered chairs and sofas, he was constrained 
 to tell them the very first thing (because it was 
 only a month since the matter had been so for- 
 tunately settled) that " the little girls " had 
 185
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 been provided for in other words they had each 
 received an annuity. It was extraordinarily 
 well secured. God in his infinite mercy had 
 been so good to them. They had been more 
 troubled on account of Mademoiselle (as the 
 former governess was called.) It is true they 
 had thought of doing something for her, although 
 what they could have done would scarcely have 
 been adequate, their means hardly sufficed and 
 she was no longer able to earn anything 
 because she had grown so unwieldy. But God 
 in His inscrutable mercy had thought of her too. 
 She no longer needed any provision. She had 
 been making a visit to a relative not many miles 
 from here ; while there God had called her to 
 Himself; she had not been able to bear the 
 journey. The news had reached them a few 
 days before and the pastor was in great doubt 
 as to whether he could go to the funeral it 
 depended upon a young bridal pair, and whether 
 they could postpone their wedding for a few 
 days. " So it goes, dear Magnhild, from one 
 extreme to the other in this life. One to the 
 grave, the other to the altar. Alas, yes ! That's 
 
 a handsome dress you're wearing, my child. 
 1 86
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Skarlie is a truly good husband to you. No one 
 can deny that ! " 
 
 At last the pastor's wife came in, and the two 
 daughters. The slightly wet hair, the clean cuffs, 
 the freshly ironed dresses, showed that they had 
 stopped to make their toilet. They did not talk 
 the pastor looked after that detail ; they only 
 curtseyed as they shook hands, found their 
 embroidery, and sat down each on her embroidered 
 chair. One of the daughters, however, soon got 
 up, and whispered to her mother. One could 
 understand from the direction of first her own 
 and then her mother's glance that it was a 
 question of whether the gauze over the mirror, 
 the pictures, and a couple of plaster casts, should 
 be taken off. When the girl sat down again, it 
 had evidently been decided that they should 
 remain. 
 
 " And so poor Mademoiselle is dead ? " said 
 Magnhild. All three let drop their embroidery 
 suddenly and lifted their heads. 
 
 " She died of apoplexy," said the pastor's 
 wife. They sat motionless awhile, then they 
 went on embroidering. 
 
 The pastor got up to put the dog out. The 
 187
 
 MAGNHfLD 
 
 beast obeyed, excessively ashamed, which state of 
 feeling won him the pastor's praise. Thereupon 
 followed a tedious narrative of several of the 
 dog's good traits. He had come to them three 
 years before. God alone knew where from; but 
 He alone also knew why he had come, for it was 
 no later than the next summer that he had saved 
 the life of the governess, when Ole Bjorgan's mad 
 bull had confronted her on her accustomed walk 
 to church. 
 
 The third great piece of news, that old Andreas 
 had cut his foot, came next in an equally tedious 
 story. The pastor repeated exactly what Andreas 
 had said when he had carried him in and put 
 him on his bed, and then the story was inter- 
 rupted by a humble scratching at the door of 
 course it was the dog. The ponderous pastor 
 rose at once to let him in, and administered a 
 few kind words of advice which were received 
 with reserve and a wagging of the tail. 
 
 The dog looked round, and as the eyes of the 
 pastor's wife obviously regarded him more mildly 
 than the rest, he went over to her and licked the 
 hand she held out to him. 
 
 At the same moment Magnhild rose ; she went 
 
 188
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 to the pastor's wife and stroked her hair. She 
 felt that every one, most of all the pastor's wife, 
 was looking at her in embarrassed surprise, and 
 Magnhild had not the power to make more com- 
 prehensible what she had intended to convey by 
 the action, so she hurriedly left the room. 
 There was silence in the sitting-room after this 
 incident. 
 
 What was it ? What had happened ? This 
 had happened, that Magnhild had that morning 
 received a letter, as we know. After that she 
 looked at the life of the parsonage with new 
 eyes. She saw behind what had been tedious, 
 and into a goodness of heart and an innocence 
 she had always overlooked, and she began to 
 have a new vision of things. 
 
 In the pastor's stories, from first to last, not 
 a word that indicated a recollection that he or 
 any of them had done anything praiseworthy. 
 People were obliged to discover that for them- 
 selves. The dog had discovered it before Magn- 
 hild had. 
 
 The dog had rendered thanks ; had she ever 
 done as much ? And it was powerfully borne in 
 upon her, that she too had a debt of gratitude to 
 189
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 pay. Not until she set about it did the general 
 surprise make her conscious of how unaccustomed 
 they were to thanks, or any sign of gratitude from 
 her, and this frightened her so that she left the 
 room. 
 
 She went along the road to the church, perhaps 
 because the church had just been spoken of. 
 For her own part, she was entirely engrossed by 
 her new faculty of sight. It is true, she had up 
 to that moment seen clearly all their foibles. 
 They had annoyed, amused or bored her. But 
 she had not seen before this moment that those 
 qualities in her nature, which had recently been 
 praised, she had acquired in this house. Their 
 influence had spread itself protectingly over her 
 soul, as did the embroideries over the furniture in 
 their rooms. If Skarlie had been able to utilise 
 all the foibles of the family to steal a march upon 
 her, she, nevertheless, had gained in this house 
 the strength whereby she had held out against 
 him to this day. 
 
 If she had lived here without making ties, it 
 was due not merely to the quiet routine of the 
 house, but chiefly to her own habits, which had 
 
 already in those early days shut her into her 
 190
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 world of dreams. In the face of this, it required 
 all the forbearance which was peculiar to the 
 house to bring her to the point of development 
 she attained. In another house she would have 
 been turned out of doors gloomy, unlovely, 
 ungrateful as she had been. 
 
 Yes, ungrateful ! Whom had she ever thanked ? 
 Yes, there was one he who had done her the 
 most harm but the most good too. Because 
 she loved him. That couldn't be counted. 
 
 But who else ? No one here. Not Skarlie, 
 though even he had been perseveringly kind to 
 her in many ways. Not Mrs. Bang, and how 
 good she had been ! Not Ronnaug ! No, not 
 even Rflnnaug ! 
 
 She was appalled ! She really communed 
 face to face with herself for the first time in her 
 life, and yet in a sense she had done little else 
 than commune with herself. 
 
 Now she understood for the first time (although 
 it had once before momentarily dismayed her) 
 now she understood what it must have been for 
 RSnnaug to have longed to see Magnhild for 
 years, in order to tell her of the fortunate change 
 
 in her life to show her her child, to set Magnhild 
 191
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 herself free and make her happier and then to 
 find a woman who did not even want to accom- 
 pany her to the hotel a hundred steps away, 
 because she could not trouble to dress herself ! 
 
 She sat down again on the high ground 
 opposite the ruined home of her parents, and 
 covered her face in shame. 
 
 Out of the thoughts that were born in her 
 sitting there she did not rouse herself until 
 towards evening, when she returned to the 
 pastor's, weary in body and soul. 
 
 When she said good night to Ronnaug, late 
 that night, she put her arm round her and leaned 
 her head against her. But she could not find a 
 word to say ; one does not the first time one 
 tries. 
 
 192
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 IN her dreams the next morning Ronnaug heard 
 a sound of singing. She still heard it when 
 she awoke, and in a little while she had collected 
 her thoughts sufficiently to ask herself if it 
 really could be Magnhild who was singing ? 
 This thought made her wide awake she sprang 
 out of bed. 
 
 She had no sooner slipped on her dressing- 
 gown than she opened the window. From the 
 sitting-room, that is to say, from downstairs at 
 the other end of the house, came up the sound 
 of singing to a soft piano accompaniment. The 
 song was pure and high. It must be she ! 
 
 Ronnaug hastened to dress and go down, 
 She took up her boots, which were outside in 
 the passage, intending to put them on out there, 
 for fear of waking Miss Roland and the child. 
 Some one was coming upstairs. She put the 
 boots down hurriedly, and stood in front of them. 
 193 N
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The head that appeared was Grong's. What 
 was he doing here ? 
 
 He bowed to her with a keen quick glance, 
 and without a word went into an adjoining 
 room. 
 
 RSnnaug sat and listened to the singing 
 while she went on with her toilet. It flowed 
 along so smoothly and softly ; there was 
 certainly joy in it, but repressed, one might 
 almost say purified. 
 
 She kept quite quiet till Magnhild had 
 finished, and even then paused for a moment or 
 two. Then she went downstairs. The door 
 was half open ; that was why she had been able 
 to hear so well. Magnhild had turned round 
 on the piano stool and sat talking with the two 
 friends of her childhood, who were placed one 
 on either side of her. She had been singing 
 for them, it appeared. 
 
 They all rose as Ronnaug came in. Magn- 
 hild pointed to the clock. It was actually ten 
 o'clock. Magnhild had been up a long time, 
 and she had been singing ! 
 
 The pastor's daughters withdrew to see about 
 
 breakfast. The moment they were alone Magn- 
 
 194
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 hild hastened to ask ROnnaug if she knew that 
 Grong was there. Ronnaug told her she had 
 just met him. 
 
 "Yes," Magnhild said in a whisper, "he is 
 going after his son. " Just think, he has run 
 away with the girl he was engaged to. He is 
 twenty years old, and she is perhaps sixteen ! " 
 
 " The verses then ? " 
 
 " Were of course by him. Grong is furious. 
 He wanted to educate him for a poet." They 
 both laughed. " The boy was really exceed- 
 ingly gifted," Magnhild continued, " and his 
 father had for his sake read everything he could 
 lay his hands on, and had travelled with him in 
 Germany, France, Italy, and England. Now he 
 wanted him to get an impression of the scenery 
 and life of his own country, when lo and 
 behold ! away he goes." 
 
 Grong was heard on the stairs, so no more 
 was said. But he gave them a sharp look as 
 he came in. He walked to and fro, hidden in 
 his beard as in a forest, and concealed behind 
 his spectacles like a reflection in a pool. 
 
 They sat down to the late breakfast, to which 
 the pastor's wife welcomed them one by one 
 195
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 with friendly embarrassment. The pastor was 
 attending a meeting down at the school-house. 
 
 After breakfast, during which Grong had not 
 opened his mouth except to eat and drink, he 
 went through the sitting-room and the passage, 
 straight out to the front door steps. Ronnaug 
 went bravely after him, for she wanted to talk to 
 him. He observed this, and wanted to escape, 
 but he was overtaken and obliged to walk along 
 the road with her. But when he heard what it 
 was she wanted to talk about, he cried out : 
 
 " Deuce take it, I'm so weary of that gawky 
 woman and her tiresome destiny that you won't 
 get a word out of me. Besides, I'm expecting 
 my carriage." He wanted to turn back, but 
 RSnnaug took hold of him laughing, and led 
 him back to the subject. But before she suc- 
 ceeded in telling him what she wanted him to 
 know, he interrupted her : 
 
 "She has simply no destiny whatever, that is 
 the secret of the situation. Her singing ? 
 Tande has written me so often about that sing- 
 ing. Now, I listened to it this morning, and do 
 you know what I think about it ? It has cer- 
 tainly precision, technique, purity of tone ; but 
 196
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 no imaginative quality, nothing in it to carry one 
 away, no substance. For that matter, where the 
 devil should she have got these things from ? 
 Had she had imagination, then she would have 
 had energy ; and with her musical endowment, 
 her sense for technique, she would have been a 
 great artist whether there had ever been such a 
 person as Tande or not whether she had 
 married Skarlie or Farlie ! " 
 
 In spite of the harsh and rude way he put it, 
 there was enough truth in what he said to make 
 it worth while to unfold Magnhild's history fully. 
 Grong could not withstand the attraction a 
 spiritual experience had for him. He became 
 all ears, forgetting both his annoyance and his 
 carriage. 
 
 He heard of the Magnhild who would scarcely 
 take the trouble to dress herself, and who allowed 
 Skarlie to do and say what he liked ; but who, 
 the moment Skarlie couples her name and 
 Tande's that is to say, the moment he intrudes 
 upon her privacy that instant flies from him 
 away to America ! Perhaps there was no energy 
 in that ? 
 
 He came to hear of the Magnhild who, arrested 
 
 197
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 in the greatest things of life, cared for nothing 
 more. Her relation to Tande was laid bare to 
 him ; indeed Grong knew something of it from 
 Tande himself. Ronnaug thought it right, too, to 
 tell him about Tande's letter. She remembered 
 it, for it had made a strong impression on her. 
 What an impression it made now upon Grong, 
 too ! 
 
 What must it not have cost this man in his 
 day to give up what he had believed himself 
 destined to achieve, and now again to give up 
 his son ? How could she and Magnhild have 
 laughed at such a struggle as they had done 
 that very morning ? 
 
 "There is a comfort in thinking that our 
 destiny is greater and more complex than we 
 ourselves see. Yes, for any one having no will 
 of his own, submits himself blindly to the 
 unknown providence. I can't do it." 
 
 He raised his clenched fist, but let it drop 
 again quietly. " Is it a crime to steer straight 
 for a definite goal to fix one's will, one's 
 sense of responsibility upon it ? See this insect 
 here. It is going straight ahead its will is 
 
 bent to some definite end. Now I'll crush it 
 
 198
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 under foot. There it's done ! " After a little 
 he continued. "You should have seen my wife 
 She was a creature of light and vivacity her 
 eyes, her very thoughts sparkled. Just as with 
 my help she was beginning to be mistress of her 
 powers she was snuffed out. A shooting star ! 
 I had a friend. What gifts and what ambition ! 
 How beautiful he was 1 At twenty or a little 
 more he fell in the Danish war hardly men- 
 tioned, hardly remembered. A shooting star ! 
 But what care is taken of lives that neither wish 
 to, nor can come to anything ? That fisherman 
 in the North was saved he alone when the 
 people of a whole district met their death. And 
 he managed to live over sixty years, stupid as 
 the codfish he hauled up out of the sea. For 
 the sake of others ? To serve as an educative 
 influence ? For the benefit of posterity ? Oh 
 yes, console yourself with that ! What I am to 
 believe I must see, I must feel. I can't live a 
 mole's life in darkness at the mercy of chance, 
 even with the assurance that sometime the 
 light will break in to wit on the other 
 side of eternity. I admire the people who 
 can ! " 
 
 199
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " That is to say you despise them," Ronnaug 
 interjected. 
 
 He looked at her but did not answer. 
 
 Ronnaug wanted to know what one ought to 
 advise Magnhild to do now. 
 
 He answered quickly : " Advise her to go to 
 work." 
 
 "Without any object ? To work for the sake 
 of work ? " 
 
 He stopped. " I'll tell you one thing, my 
 dear lady. Magnhild's misfortune has been that 
 all her life long she has had everything she 
 wanted provided for her every meal, every 
 dress. Had she had hard work to do, or to bring 
 up children, then she would not have dangled 
 after dreams." 
 
 " Then you recommend work without any 
 object," repeated Ronnaug. 
 
 " There are so many kinds of objects," he 
 said crossly, then relapsed into silence. It was 
 obvious that he had passed round the circle of 
 feeling, and come back again to his annoyance at 
 what had befallen himself. 
 
 They had retraced their steps, and were in 
 the pleasant birch avenue leading to the house.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 From the house came the sound of singing. 
 They went nearer, stood still and heard dis- 
 tinctly ; for the windows were open and every 
 note came to them with equal distinctness. 
 
 " Yes, there is innocence in that voice," he 
 said, " that's true. But innocence is a passive 
 quality." They walked on. 
 
 " You recognise more than mere technique ? " 
 asked Ronnaug. 
 
 He made no answer to this. He had dropped 
 into another vein of thought. As they stood in 
 front of the house he stopped. " She, like my- 
 self, is in reality the inheritor of a half- 
 perfected race-mission. Yet her family race 
 dies out with her and mine ? Bah ! One 
 could easily go mad thinking of it ! Where is 
 my carriage ? " 
 
 He marched past the house and went towards 
 the courtyard behind, ROnnaug following at a 
 slower pace. The carriage had not come. He 
 grumbled a little and sauntered up to the coach- 
 house, the door of which stood open. In it he 
 saw Ronnaug's carriage. She came up and he 
 talked about it. It was too light for a travelling 
 carriage, he thought. One of the fore-wheels 
 
 2OI
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 must have already got injured, for it had been 
 taken off. Consequently it depended on the 
 blacksmith how long the ladies would have to 
 remain here. But he was going to set off 
 instantly for there, at last, was his conveyance 
 coming. 
 
 He said good-bye indifferently, as if he were 
 only going round the corner, and went into the 
 house after his things. Ronnaug, however, 
 made up her mind to wait till he came out 
 again. 
 
 She felt kindly towards him. Perhaps, after 
 all, the son had not made such a mess as the 
 father thought. Grong had such an unquiet 
 nature. Perhaps that was because he had many 
 sorts of ability, but no particular gift. She had 
 once heard him use this expression, half in jest, 
 about another. But she felt it was essential 
 that ability should be concentrated in one 
 particular direction. This was Magnhild's 
 case ; but perhaps she had too little ability. 
 Technique ? Well, if that was her chief gift, 
 that, too, could no doubt find its expression in 
 song. 
 
 The matter grew no clearer for her, and it
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 was very disheartening ; for here was a case 
 where advice should be given, and a resolution 
 taken. She prayed to God to help her friend, 
 and to help that melancholy man who was now 
 coming out of the house followed by the pastor's 
 wife, the only one to whom he seemed to have 
 said good-bye. 
 
 " Remember me to my old teacher," he said, 
 leaning over the side of the carriole as he took 
 his hostess's hand. " Tell him no, tell him 
 nothing." He cut at the horse with the whip 
 so suddenly, the post-boy nearly fell off behind. 
 
 The pastor's wife said something to the effect 
 that he did not seem to be happy ; and then re- 
 mained standing there looking after him. 
 
 At that moment a woman came towards them 
 from the same direction. She nodded to the 
 pastor's wife with a smile as she passed by on 
 her way to the kitchen. 
 
 " You were able to sell it ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I can see it in your face," and turning to 
 Ronnaug she said, " I can assure you that 
 woman made Magnhild happy this morning." 
 
 " How was that ? " 
 
 2Oj
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " She was on her way to the storekeeper's 
 with the work she had done ; he is agent for a 
 dealer in the town. At that moment Magnhild 
 came down into the kitchen. When the woman 
 saw her she recognised her she's a great one 
 for talking and she began to cry and to tell us 
 how poor she used to be, but how comfortable 
 she was now, she and her children too. 
 Magnhild, you see, had had a school of needle- 
 work up here for several years and this woman 
 was one of the cleverest pupils. I can tell you 
 this needlework business has taken hold of the 
 people ; there are hardly any poor people to be 
 found about here now." 
 
 " But Magnhild was she happy over it ? " 
 
 " She was very happy, for soon afterwards we 
 heard her singing. And when she was here 
 last three or four years ago we were never 
 able to get her to touch the piano." 
 
 Ronnaug spoke to Miss Roland and her child, 
 who came up at that moment. A little while after- 
 wards she was about to go from the passage 
 into the sitting-room when she heard singing 
 going on again. The pastor's daughters were 
 
 singing a duet with thin voices, one a little less 
 204
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 clear than the other. They sang in very slow 
 time : 
 
 All are in the Father's keeping. 
 
 The door stood open. One of the girls sat at 
 the piano and the other stood by her side. 
 Magnhild sat opposite them, leaning on the 
 piano. 
 
 Peace radiated from the little hymn, because 
 they who sang it had peace in their hearts. The 
 small yellow heads above the dress collars were 
 motionless, the piano almost whispered. But 
 the sunshine that played over the embroidered 
 furniture and embroidered covers was like an 
 accompaniment from afar. 
 
 When they had finished, one of them told how a 
 lady who was travelling in that part of the country 
 had taught them the hymn, the other added that 
 the governess had set it to music. Magnhild, 
 without speaking or altering her position, held 
 out one hand, which was taken by the nearest of 
 the girls. 
 
 A voice was heard outside ; it was the pastor's, 
 who had returned accompanied by several men. 
 
 They were coming straight to the front entrance, 
 205
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 so ROnnaug went into the sitting-room. Soon 
 a stamping was heard on the front steps. Those 
 in the sitting-room rose to their feet. Magnhild 
 went over and joined Rfinnaug. First the dog 
 appeared, then the pastor made his ponderous 
 entrance, and after him came in slowly one man 
 after another, stolid work-worn people, six or 
 seven of the farmers belonging to the little 
 mountain parish. Magnhild shrank closer to 
 Rdnnaug who also retreated a little, so that they 
 found themselves standing before the great gauze- 
 covered mirror. The pastor said good-morning 
 first to Mrs. Randon, then to Magnhild, and 
 asked how they were. Afterwards one peasant 
 after another went round the room shaking hands 
 with every one. 
 
 " Call mother in," said the pastor to one of 
 his daughters, and cleared his throat. His wife 
 came in ; again the peasants one after another 
 went up and shook hands and retired again. 
 The pastor wiped his face, placed himself in 
 front of the dismayed Magnhild, bowed, and 
 said : 
 
 " Dear Magnhild, do not be alarmed. The 
 
 representatives of our little parish have chanced 
 
 206
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 to meet to-day in the school-house, and I happened 
 to say that you were stopping here on your 
 journey through this part of the country, and 
 some one said, ' We owe it to her that the poor- 
 rate is so low,' and then several others made the 
 same observation. So I said that they ought to 
 say that to her in person, and they all agreed. 
 We feel that you have never been really thanked, 
 my dear child, neither here nor down at the 
 port, although down there the results of your 
 labour are still greater, and have extended to the 
 parishes on both sides of the fjord. Dear child, 
 the ways of God are inscrutable. So long as we 
 see his hand in our little destinies we are happy ; 
 when we cannot see His hand we are miserable. 
 (Here Magnhild burst into tears.) When you, 
 with the rope of your sled in your little hand, 
 were carried in safety out of the landslip, it was 
 in order that you should be a blessing unto 
 many. Do not despise the gratitude of this 
 poor parish it is a prayer for you in the ears of 
 the Almighty. You know yourself what He has 
 said, ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of 
 the least of these my brethren ye have done it 
 
 unto me.' May it be granted you to realise that." 
 207
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 The pastor turned away, and in the same 
 solemn tone in which he had been speaking he 
 said to his wife, " Let these men have some 
 refreshment." He went about among them with 
 pleasantries which re-echoed through the whole 
 house. The greater Magnhild's emotion, the 
 happier he seemed. 
 
 Magnhild wanted very much to say something 
 to the pastor, for if she had not been received 
 into his house, none of these things would have 
 been done for which she was now receiving un- 
 deserved thanks. But his boisterous geniality 
 held her back. 
 
 The men were given some refreshment. 
 Again they shook hands with every one present, 
 and took their leave, conducted by the pastor, 
 the sound of whose voice reached them almost 
 as far off as the schoolhouse. 
 
 208
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 LATER in the afternoon the post came in from 
 the port, bringing a letter for Magnhild. She 
 was afraid to open it, and gave it to Ronnaug, 
 who soon returned it with the information that 
 this she could quite well read. " It will show 
 you what has been the effect of your journey," 
 she added. The letter was from the tall 
 Louisa. 
 
 " DEAR MAGNHILD, 
 
 " I looked in to see you to-day to 
 get the pattern which you promised to explain 
 to us, but I found Skarlie at home alone, and he 
 was not exactly well, how shall I put it, for I 
 have never seen a man so miserable. He said 
 you had gone on a journey. 
 
 " I heard later that you had gone away with 
 JVIrs. Randon, and so I thought that by now 
 
 you must be up at the pastor's, so I write to 
 209 o
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 you there. For you must not go away from us, 
 Magnhild ! or else go if you must, but come to 
 us again. 
 
 " We have understood quite well all of us 
 that you were not happy, but you never seemed 
 to wish to speak of it, so neither did we. But 
 can't you stay with us ? 
 
 " How are we to get along with the new kind 
 of work that we've just been beginning ? We 
 can't get it right alone, and the singing too ! 
 Dear Magnhild, Maria and I are always getting 
 thanks, for of course we are at the head of the 
 thing now. But we all know to whom we are 
 indebted for being able to make a comfortable 
 living, for being so happy together, and able to 
 stand by one another. Now that you have 
 gone we feel so dreadfully that you have never 
 had any real satisfaction out of your work for 
 us, that you don't really know us. 
 
 "We could do much to make you happy 
 another time, you may be sure, if only you 
 would let us try. Don't go away from us ! Or 
 at least came back to us when your journey is 
 over. 
 
 " Your deeply, deeply grateful, LOUISA."
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Then followed an exceedingly neatly written 
 postscript from Maria : 
 
 " I was so distressed when Louisa told me. 
 She has more energy than I, poor humpback ! In 
 what she has written she has said what we all 
 yes, every one of us think about that matter. 
 
 "But I have the greatest reason for writing. 
 What in this world would have become of me if 
 you had not come to the school and made me 
 skilful in just the work I was fitted for ? But 
 for you I should have been a burden upon 
 others or I should have had to work at something 
 I could find no happiness in. As it is, I have 
 a share in an ever-growing industry. Yes, 1 am 
 happy now ! 
 
 " Well, I have told you at last ! How often 
 have I not wished to do so, but I did not quite 
 like to, you were so reserved. 
 
 " I'm sure we could have been such good 
 friends. Might it not still be possible V 
 
 "Thy 
 
 MARIA. 
 
 " Postscript. You will perhaps think that I 
 mean that you have overlooked us. No indeed. 
 
 211
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 You have been too patient towards us for one to 
 think that. 
 
 "But it seemed as if everything was in- 
 different to you, people as well as the rest ; that 
 is what I mean. 
 
 " Can't you, as Louisa says, stay with us ? 
 We will gather round you like a swarm of bees 
 about their queen. Dear Magnhild ! " 
 
 There is no better way of expressing what 
 had just befallen Magnhild, than to say that new 
 sources of life were opened up. This help, 
 coming to her from something she had never 
 thought of otherwise than as a way of passing 
 the time, and as a matter of habit, had its effect. 
 She must try to deserve this affection ; she knew 
 now what she ought to do. 
 
 She went out into the court-yard, and talked 
 with ROnnaug. The evening was drawing in. 
 The hens had gone to roost and were ranging 
 themselves, cackling, on their perches ; the cows 
 went by driven home from the fields. The 
 fragrance of the hay which was being carted was 
 wafted into their faces. 
 
 Ronnaug felt so confident of her position that 
 
 212
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 she ventured to tell Magnhild what the same 
 post had brought, namely newspapers containing 
 telegrams from Munich announcing Tande's 
 death. The news had no other effect on 
 Magnhild than to make her pause a moment, and 
 then walk on in a long silence. She had really 
 never thought of him except as something far 
 off; she felt him rather nearer now, and what 
 he had recently sent her by way of guidance 
 became a deeper truth. 
 
 When next she began to speak it was not 
 about Tande but about Skarlie. It was perhaps 
 best to send a message to him so that they might 
 come to an understanding before she went away. 
 Ronnaug was inclined to agree to this only she 
 desired that it should not be Magnhild, but herself, 
 who should undertake to arrange matters. There 
 was really nothing to do but to tell him what 
 Magnhild had now determined to do with her life. 
 
 The conversation strayed here and there, like 
 their footsteps. All the pastor's household were 
 out haymaking, and Miss Roland and the child 
 had gone with the rest. They thought they 
 would follow too. Just then a boy came into 
 the garden, whistling, and with both hands in his 
 213
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 pockets. On catching sight of the two ladies 
 he stopped and left off whistling. He struck an 
 attitude which brought the weight of his body 
 on the right foot he stuck the left out and 
 rested it on the heel, while he moved his leg so 
 that the foot waggled back and forth. 
 
 Presently he approached. " Is your name 
 Magnhild ? " he said, in the sonorous dialect of 
 the district. He chose the right one to put the 
 question to, and she answered " Yes." " I was 
 told to ask you to come down to our place, 
 Synstevolden ; for there's a fellow sitting there 
 waiting for you." 
 
 " What's his name ? " asked Ronnaug. 
 
 " I wasn't to tell," said the boy. 
 
 Again he put forward the left heel, waggled his 
 foot backwards and forwards, and stared up at 
 the barn. 
 
 Then RSnnaug relapsed into dialect as she 
 asked if the " fellow " wasn't lame. 
 
 " Well, I don't say he isn't," answered the 
 boy, and laughed. 
 
 Ronnaug ran to old Andreas, who was just 
 coming out from the barn with an empty wagon 
 
 and preparing to drive off again. The rattling 
 
 214
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 of the cart prevented him from hearing her call ; 
 she was obliged to run after him. 
 
 " Is it you who have taken the forewheel off 
 my carriage ? " she asked. 
 
 " Forewheel off the carriage," queried old 
 Andreas; "is it taken off? Stand still, you 
 fool," he cried, jerking so hard at the reins that 
 one of the horses, being young, began to back 
 instead of going on. 
 
 But meanwhile Ronnaug saw her course clear, 
 and she turned away and left him. She told 
 Magnhild what she believed she had discovered, 
 in slowly enunciated English, so that the boy, 
 who still stood there, should not understand. 
 Andreas drove away. 
 
 Magnhild laughed. " Yes, he has come. It is 
 he ! " and she turned to the boy and said that 
 she would go with him at once. 
 
 Ronnaug tried to get Magnhild to stay behind, 
 and allow her to go. But no, Magnhild would 
 go herself. She had already started off, when 
 Ronnaug called after her that she was coming 
 presently to see how things were going. Magnhild 
 turned and smiled. 
 
 "That you are welcome to do." 
 215
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Some time afterwards Ronnaug took her way 
 towards Synstevolden. She knew well enough 
 that Skarlie could not offer Magnhild anything 
 that would tempt her ; but he might be disagree- 
 able, perhaps rude. The incident of the fore- 
 wheel struck a note of warning ! 
 
 There was probably no one to whom Skarlie 
 was so repugnant as to Ronnaug. She knew 
 him ! No one but Ronnaug had any idea how 
 he had tried in every possible way, coward as he 
 was, to infect Magnhild's imagination, in order to 
 break down her sense of honour. Magnhild's 
 frequent blushes told their story. 
 
 What was it that bound him to her so closely ? 
 At first of course it was hope that was baffled. 
 But afterwards ? The pastor had said on the 
 previous evening, when the talk turned on the 
 Catholic converts, that Skarlie, who was a 
 travelled and thoughtful man, had remarked that 
 in the monasteries the monks prayed night and 
 day, in order to make up for the frequently 
 neglected prayers of the rest of the world. That 
 was why people were so willing to give money 
 to convents. It was paying off by instalments 
 
 their debt of sin. 
 
 216
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Ronnaug had sat and turned this over in her 
 mind. What if Skarlie had confessed in these 
 words his own relation to Magnhild ? He was 
 paying for her by instalments. And so he 
 grudged her to any one else. 
 
 If only he had been severe and impatient with 
 her, Magnhild would have left him instantly. It 
 was just the unfortunate part of it that he was 
 cowardly, and that he'could never bring himself 
 to give her up altogether. He would be depre- 
 catory after having been intrusive, and would 
 become quite friendly and interesting the moment 
 after being malignant. And this was how he 
 had managed to keep things going. 
 
 Reflecting on these, and kindred subjects, she 
 had made her way over the fields in order not to 
 be seen from the place of meeting. Here the 
 grass was not mowed, she trod it down unmerci- 
 fully but paused before a patch of flowers whose 
 variety of colouring attracted her notice. At 
 that moment she heard voices. In front of her 
 were some bushes. Through them she caught 
 sight of the two people she was looking for. 
 
 There sat Skarlie and Magnhild in the grass, 
 he in his shirt sleeves and without a hat. 
 217
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 Half alarmed on Magnhild's account, and 
 without the least regard for him, she at once 
 began to spy upon them. She was concealed 
 between two bushes ; but the couple were in 
 full view, for the ground behind them was open. 
 
 " Then I'll shut up shop down at the port. 
 I'll follow you." 
 
 " That you are quite welcome to do. But 
 have done now with all these threats. For the 
 last time I tell you I'm going ! I am doing so 
 that I may see and learn. Then I shall come 
 back and teach others." 
 
 " Will you come back to me then ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Oh, you know very well." 
 
 " Yes, maybe I know that too. For if you 
 have altered I may come back to you yet, but I 
 don't believe you can alter ; so I may as well 
 say at once that I will not come back to you." 
 
 " You don't know all I will do for you." 
 
 " You're saying the same thing over again ! 
 Let us drop all that." 
 
 She sat and twisted a flower, looking down at 
 it. He had doubled the shorter leg under him, 
 
 his face was contracted ; his eyes gleamed. 
 218
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " You have never appreciated me." 
 
 " No, that is true. I have much to thank 
 you for which I have accepted without thanks. 
 With God's help I shall yet show my gratitude." 
 
 " Couldn't everything be made right ? What 
 do you want ? To travel ? We will travel ; 
 we have means enough." 
 
 "As I've said, let's have done with all such 
 talk." 
 
 He sighed, he took up his pipe and laid his 
 forefinger over the bowl of it. It was filled ; 
 he took out his match-box. 
 
 " If you can smoke, there's not so much amiss 
 with you," she said. 
 
 " Oh, I don't care for smoking, it's only an 
 old habit." He sighed heavily. " No, Magnhild, 
 there isn't any hope left for me, if you're going 
 away. It's practically shutting my door in my 
 face and driving me away. People's gossip will 
 be too much for me." He was looking really 
 miserable now. Magnhild reached after more 
 flowers ; but if he expected an answer it was in 
 vain. " It is a bad thing to have so strong a 
 nature as I have," he said. " The devil gets the 
 
 upper hand in many ways. I thought you would 
 219
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 have helped me. I can assure you if we had 
 had a comfortable home and a child " 
 
 She rose hastily and the flowers slid off her 
 lap. 
 
 " I tell you, have done with that sort of talk. 
 No one with good intentions begins as you did, 
 and in spite of the beginning . . . you might 
 still have . . . But how did you behave ? I 
 tell you, say no more ! " She walked away a 
 few steps and came back again. " No, it was 
 not when I married you, that I made the 
 mistake, for you promised that I should live 
 and do exactly as I liked, and I was such an 
 inexperienced child that I did not at all under- 
 stand that you had taken me in. The mistake 
 was, when I learned how matters really stood, 
 I did not instantly leave you. And even after- 
 wards I did not. I let things go. But there were 
 many reasons for that . . . and about them we 
 must not talk now. Now, the only thing is for 
 each of us in his own way, to make good what has 
 been ill done. Let me go, and do you try to do 
 your duty towards others." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " His eyes 
 blinked, and his face grew sharp.
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 " I mean that I have heard that you have 
 outwitted others here for the sake of gain. Try 
 to make it good again, if you are really so bent 
 on turning over a new leaf." 
 
 " That is not true. Besides, that doesn't 
 concern you." 
 
 " No, no ; I suppose that is all your ' turning 
 over a new leaf will come to in this as in 
 other things. So good-by. It will be as I've 
 said." 
 
 He looked up and contracted the muscles of 
 his face into a grin, so that the eyes almost dis- 
 appeared under the heavy eyebrows. " You 
 can't go away from here if I refuse to let 
 you." 
 
 Oh " 
 
 " Besides, have you considered what you are 
 doing ? Have you any right in the sight of 
 God ? " 
 
 ' You know how I feel on that point." 
 
 ' Pooh ! All that about immoral marriages is 
 downright rubbish. There isn't a word about it 
 in the Bible. I've looked to see.' 
 
 She happened to be just stroking her hair 
 away from her forehead. " Then it's written
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 here," she said, and turned as if to go. At that 
 Skarlie began to get up. He was greatly ex- 
 asperated. 
 
 Ronnaug at once rose and came forward ; or 
 now they might see her at any moment. 
 
 Suddenly they all three found themselves face 
 to face. 
 
 Ronnaug went straight up to Skarlie with a 
 gentle and amiable expression, took him cordially 
 by the hand, and said in English that she was 
 really delighted to see him, he had frequently 
 been so excessively kind to her. Then she 
 began to jest ; her talk was at once insinuating 
 and daring ; he was obliged to laugh, and made 
 some answer, also in English. Then she made 
 some humorous remark, for which he had a 
 reply read}', and soon they were laughing 
 heartily. Under the influence of this hand- 
 some, finely developed woman he was as if 
 transported to another place before he knew it, 
 and fresh images filled his mind. The fun 
 became still livelier. The talk was in English, 
 which it amused him to speak ; it amused him 
 too to show his ready wit, for that he certainly 
 possessed. She held him in a kind of fine
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 enchantment, thereby making a not wholly 
 favourable impression upon Magnhild. It 
 alarmed Magnhild to see the powers Ronnaug 
 had at her command. She seemed to wind 
 herself around him by her glances, by what 
 she said, by the seductiveness of her figure, but 
 there was an ominous gleaming in her eyes 
 underneath the laughter : she was itching to 
 give him a box on the ear ! There is an 
 esprit de corps among women, when it is a 
 question of defending or avenging one 
 another. 
 
 In the midst of the stream of talk, Ronnaug 
 got him to hobble after her round the bushes ; 
 when they reached the other side she turned 
 towards the bush behind which she had hidden 
 herself while she was eavesdropping. Then she 
 pushed aside a couple of branches and asked 
 him, laughingly, if he was not gallant enough to 
 help them to trundle home the wheel that lay 
 hidden there. He could not possibly stand 
 by and see the ladies do it by themselves. 
 
 He joined in with her laugh but did not stir 
 to render any assistance. He was in his shirt 
 sleeves, he said ; he would have to fetch his 
 223
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 coat if he was to go into the house with them. 
 Oh, some one could be sent after the coat and 
 he could roll the thing best in his shirt sleeves, 
 said Ronnaug. She began to hoist the wheel 
 up by herself, singing out, " Ahoy ! " The 
 moment she got it up, down it fell on the 
 other side. " Now see it takes two to do it." 
 She bent down again and in that position 
 glanced up at him with roguish eyes. Like 
 magnets they drew him towards her laughing 
 face and rounded figure. Without a moment's 
 delay he took hold of the wheel and lifted it 
 upright. They rolled it along, each one giving 
 it a push in turn ; she skipping along, he 
 hobbling. Gay words and laughter in plenty 
 accompanied the proceedings. Magnhild fol- 
 lowed them slowly. Ronnaug sent her a 
 glance over Skarlie's bald head ; her eyes 
 flashed lightnings of merriment and triumph ; 
 they might well have left two stripes of scorn 
 branded down the flesh of his neck and back. 
 
 The road could scarcely be called short ; he 
 began to groan. Presently Ronnaug felt the 
 perspiration dropping from his forehead upon 
 
 her hands. But so much the faster did she 
 
 224
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 trundle the wheel. His sentences became 
 words, his words became syllables ; he tried to 
 laugh in order to disguise his exhaustion. 
 Finally he could no longer propel either his 
 own body or the wheel, and fell flat in the 
 grass as red as a bunch of rowan berries. 
 His eyes were fixed and staring, his mouth 
 wide open. He gasped for air and tried to 
 collect his scattered senses. 
 
 Ronnaug called out to old Andreas, who was 
 just passing along the road with a load of hay, 
 and told him to come and take away the wheel. 
 Then she slipped her arm in Magnhild's, bowed 
 to Skarlie, thanked him a thousand times (still 
 in English) for his invaluable assistance, now 
 they would be able to start on their journey early 
 to-morrow morning good-bye ! 
 
 When they had gone a little way along the 
 road, they stopped and looked back. From 
 Andreas' attitude they could see that he was 
 asking Skarlie how the wheel had come there. 
 Skarlie made an angry gesture with his hand as 
 if he would have liked to sweep both Andreas 
 and the wheel to the ends of the earth, or 
 
 perhaps he wished them both in that place to 
 225 p
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 which in Norway it is not unusual to consign 
 unpleasant acquaintances. They saw Skarlie 
 turn towards the road. Ronnaug instantly 
 waved her pocket-handkerchief and called out 
 good-bye. An echo answered through the 
 evening air. 
 
 They had gone only a few steps further on, 
 when Ronnaug stopped again to give expression 
 to the rest of her indignation. She poured forth 
 a stream of words for the most part in a whisper. 
 Magnhild heard very few of the words, but those 
 she did catch were survivals from the time when 
 Ronnaug was playing the part of post-girl on the 
 roads hereabouts ; they bear the same relation to 
 the usual vocabulary as the hippopotamus to the 
 fly. 
 
 Magnhild drew back. Ronnaug was staring 
 at her wildly, then she recovered her self-control. 
 " You are right," she said in English, but a brisk 
 outburst of wrath and disgust followed. She 
 was overcome by her memories of the time 
 when she had struggled as best she could down 
 among the slimy creatures in the blackness of 
 that social abyss. She remembered how such 
 
 wretches as the man down there on the hillside 
 226
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 sat on the brink of the pit and fished , she 
 
 felt in her pocket for Charles Randon's last 
 letter, which she always carried about with her 
 till the next one came. She pressed it to her 
 lips, and burst into tears, and kept on crying till 
 she was obliged to sit down. 
 
 It was the first time in their lives that 
 Magnhild had seen her cry. Even on the deck 
 of the steamer as she was leaving for America 
 she had not cried ; indeed quite the contrary ! 
 
 227
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THEY remained at the pastor's for several days. 
 For when they heard that Magnhild was going 
 away to America, the good people were so 
 alarmed, that it was necessary to give them time 
 to get accustomed to the idea. Magnhild too 
 wanted to remain with them for a little while. 
 
 One day all the ladies went for a walk. 
 Ronnaug and Miss Roland had little Harry 
 between them, so they did not get on very 
 rapidly. On the child's account they all gave a 
 wide berth to the great travelling carriage that 
 was coming along behind them ; for the motion 
 which one makes, others are apt to imitate in 
 sympathy. 
 
 " Magnhild," some one called out from the 
 carriage before the pedestrians had quite turned 
 round to face it. 
 
 Magnhild looked- up. A lady dressed in black 
 
 was smiling to her. Instantly Magnhild rushed 
 
 228
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 towards her. The coachman drew up. It was 
 Mrs. Bang. 
 
 She clasped Magnhild in her arms and kissed 
 her. A stout military man who sat by her side 
 bowed. The lady was thinner. She was 
 fashionably dressed in mourning. Her dress 
 was embroidered with jet, which shone with 
 every motion she made. From the turned-up 
 hat with its floating feather a black veil dropped 
 down over her face and was wound round her 
 neck. Her eyes seemed to flash from the depths 
 of night ; in this setting they acquired an 
 enthralling lustre. It seemed as if a melancholy 
 resignation held command over her face, 
 governed her nerves, formed the smile on her 
 lips, and languished in her eyes. " Yes, I am 
 altered," she said, faintly. 
 
 Magnhild glanced from the lady to the stout 
 military man. The lady's eyes followed her. 
 " Don't you recognise my husband ? Or did 
 you never see him ? " 
 
 He sat there, pillowed as it were in tenfold 
 
 layers of fat, taking up three parts of the carriage. 
 
 The lady was squeezed into the corner. One of 
 
 his shoulders and one arm lay over hers. He 
 
 229
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 looked good-natured and thoroughly contented. 
 But when one looked from his podgy face and 
 great body to the lady, she seemed etherealized 
 down to the very hand from which she was now 
 drawing off her glove. Constantly following 
 Magnhild's eyes, she stroked from her forehead 
 a lock of hair which had escaped and she let 
 her hand glide slowly and softly over her 
 cheek. 
 
 "You are in mourning," said Magnhild. 
 
 "So ought the whole country to be, my child." 
 A moment after she said in a lower tone, " He 
 is dead." 
 
 ' ' Remember we must make haste, if we are to 
 catch the steamer." 
 
 She did not look up as her husband spoke ; 
 she was still occupied with the lock of hair 
 which she had a moment before put back. Her 
 husband gave the coachman a sign, the carriage 
 began to move. 
 
 " I'm going to America," whispered Magnhild, 
 as she left the carriage steps. 
 
 The lady looked after her and then seemed to 
 comprehend the meaning of Magnhild's speech in 
 
 all its bearings. Skarlie's wife was going away, 
 230
 
 MAGNHILD 
 
 far away ; what must have preceded such a 
 resolution, and what might result from it ! Her 
 face took on something of the old fervid look, 
 her limbs the old strength. In an instant she 
 had risen in her seat and turned quite round, 
 and waved back to them. What grace there 
 was in the action ! 
 
 Her husband would not let the carriage stop 
 again. He merely stretched out one hand to 
 steady her. The movement must have been 
 accompanied by an admonition to sit down ; for 
 she did so instantly. 
 
 The feather could be seen waving close by 
 his shoulder. Nothing more of her was visible ; 
 she must have slipped back into her place. 
 
 231
 
 DUST
 
 DUST 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IT was about a two hours' drive at a steady 
 pace from the town to Skogstad, the Athing's 
 great property with the mills along the Skog 
 river ; but for a sleigh, in the present condition 
 of the snow, it took barely an hour and a 
 half. 
 
 We followed the highway along the fjord. 
 Driving from the town, I had the fjord on my 
 right, and on my left broad meadows sloping 
 gradually down from the hills. Dotted over 
 them lay villas and farms surrounded by groves 
 and approached by avenues of trees. 
 
 Farther on the hills became mountains, and 
 skirted the road more closely. Here, too, the 
 way became rougher and rougher, until at last 
 there was nothing but pine woods from the top 
 of the ridge straight down to the fjord, nothing 
 235
 
 DUST 
 
 but woods, woods. They belonged to Skogstad, 
 and provided the mills along the river with their 
 raw material. 
 
 The Athings were a French Huguenot stock, 
 and of humble origin ; but they had risen in the 
 world by intermarriage with the once powerful 
 family of Athing, and had taken that name, which 
 sounded something like their own. 
 
 I enjoyed my drive. It had just been snowing, 
 and the snow lay on the trees ; no breath of 
 wind had left its trace in the wood. On the 
 other hand, there had been a little thaw, and 
 the deciduous trees, which here began to appear 
 among the pines, had been cleared of their burden. 
 The snow that lay on them now was only that 
 which had freshly fallen during the morning. 
 
 Between the two stretches of white shore, and 
 in the snow-laden air the fjord seemed black. 
 It was not far to the opposite side, where higher 
 mountains rose, white now as well, yet with 
 the subdued tone imparted by the atmospheric 
 distance. 
 
 Here, where I was driving, the sea came close 
 up to the snow. Nothing but seaweed and a 
 
 few slippery stones, and, in some places, not 
 236
 
 DUST 
 
 even that, divided the two forms and colours of 
 the same element, the reality from its transfigura- 
 tion, which indeed is as real as the reality, only 
 not so lasting. 
 
 As soon as I entered the forest, it absorbed 
 me entirely. The fir trees held great burdens 
 of snow, in some places almost more than they 
 could bear ; yet enough remained uncovered to 
 give the wood, as a whole, a dark green tinge in 
 the midst of the whiteness. As you looked 
 more closely, you saw here and there a solitary 
 uncovered branch jutting defiantly forth, with its 
 reddish limbs thrust through the snow sheet. 
 Underneath stood the mighty trunks, most of 
 them dark but some younger and lighter-coloured, 
 like a company of caryatids, and this made it 
 sombre deep there in the thicket. The nearest 
 trees, which one could see best, and which in 
 growing up had been injured by men and animals 
 (perhaps also by their having served to break 
 the force of storms), were not so regular in their 
 growth as the others. They were more gnarled, 
 so the snow had lodged in them at will. Their 
 lower branches were in some places quite bowed 
 down to the ground, so that the tree looked like 
 237
 
 DUST 
 
 a white heap. Others were fantastically trans- 
 formed into clumsy dwarfs with bodies only and 
 no legs, or into other kinds of mannikins with 
 white sacks over their heads, or shirts which they 
 had put on awry. 
 
 By the side of these monsters, deciduous trees 
 would, as it were, trip along, wearing the merest 
 suspicion of snow. Here and there a single tree, 
 standing out free against the sky, seemed, as its 
 topmost white branches tapered ever finer and 
 finer, to melt away in the air. Then there would 
 come young fir trees in regular snow terraces, 
 pyramid on pyramid. Down by the sea, where it 
 was more stony, a few briars grew here and there. 
 On every spine the snow had lodged, so the 
 bushes looked as though sprinkled with white 
 berries. 
 
 I drove round a point of land adorned with a 
 pier, and here began Skogstad proper. The ridge 
 of hills falls back and leaves an open space below, 
 which is divided by the river into two parts. 
 Again we come among gently sloping meadows, 
 and here lies the Athings' house. The river 
 winds away to the other side of the house and dis- 
 appears in the distance. A number of red roofs 
 238
 
 DUST 
 
 are seen along its course, and a row of buildings 
 on the opposite side. Separated from the great 
 house by fields on this side and by a wood or 
 park on the other, the labourers' cottages and 
 farm buildings lay to the right and left of the 
 manor. 
 
 Once in the park, I forgot everything else. 
 This was originally designed to extend down to 
 the sea, but the stony character of the soil here 
 had no doubt made this impossible, so at the 
 lower end a rectangular space has been cleared, 
 but in the course of years, instead of the pines, 
 a luxuriant growth of deciduous trees had sprung 
 up, and these trees, all dating from the same year, 
 were of uniform height and grew close up to the 
 huge old pine trees of the park. It made a 
 beautiful effect, this delicate fringe round the 
 sombre centre, this airiness contrasted with 
 density, this even diminutiveness crouching 
 under gigantic strength. 
 
 The eye wandered over it, trying to distinguish 
 forms. Either I gathered many boughs together 
 in one general survey because they ran in the 
 same direction to the same height ; or I chose 
 out a single branch from the others, followed it 
 239
 
 DUST 
 
 from the trunk in its first division, and from 
 division to division on to the last twig. It seemed 
 an outstretched transparent white wing on an 
 enormous fern sprinkled over with white down. 
 Finally, I gave up tracing outlines, and turned 
 my attention to the colouring. The uneven 
 sprinkling of snow brought out a myriad 
 nuances. 
 
 I turned my back on my travelling companion 
 the fjord, and swung round towards the house. 
 Where the park ended the garden began, the 
 road skirting it in an easy ascent. This also had 
 once been woodland with a path leading through. 
 But scarcely more than a yard or two of the 
 ancient forest remained on either side, forming 
 an avenue. The great old trees were being 
 gradually supplanted by the younger growth ; 
 and that so thickly that in some places I could 
 scarcely see through. But here too the snow 
 told its fairy tale. Decaying giants were draped 
 with white flags ; the young and hale stood 
 snow-powdered ; the hunchbacks seemed bent on 
 Yule-tide mummery. 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 COMING events are foreshadowed in external 
 nature. What thing then, white and delicate 
 was I to encounter here ? 
 
 Memory did not picture her as dressed in 
 white, this fair-haired creature whom I was 
 about to see again. It was on her wedding 
 journey in Dresden, something like nine years 
 ago, that we had last met. Every day she used 
 to be in gala dress ; it was a caprice of the 
 love-intoxicated young bridegroom. She was 
 oftenest dressed in blue, but never once in 
 white indeed, it would probably not have 
 become her. 
 
 I remember them specially as they sang at 
 the .piano ; he sitting to play the accompaniment ; 
 she standing, and generally with her hand on 
 his shoulder. But what they sang was in truth a 
 white song a hymn of praise. She was the 
 daughter of a dissenting pastor, and they had 
 241 a
 
 DUST 
 
 just come from the parsonage and from the 
 wedding festivities. I had since heard of them 
 now and then at the parsonage, and had received 
 repeated invitations to come and see them the 
 next time I was in their neighbourhood. Now I 
 was on my way. 
 
 I had heard their manor-house spoken of as 
 one of the largest wooden structures in Norway. 
 It was grey, and immensely long. One Athing 
 had never been content with what the former 
 Athing had built, so the house had been added 
 to in each generation and partially rebuilt, in 
 order to make the new harmonise with the old. 
 I had heard that by a number of long corridors 
 (celebrated over and over again, it would seem, 
 n the family feast songs) an attempt had been 
 made to unite the interior parts with the same 
 success or unsuccess with which the outbuildings, 
 sloping roofs, balconies and verandahs main- 
 tained the harmony of the exterior. I have 
 heard how many rooms there are in the house, 
 but I have forgotten. 
 
 The last addition has been made by the 
 present owner, and is an attempt at a kind of 
 
 modernised Gothic. Behind the main building 
 242
 
 DUST 
 
 lie the offices and dependencies in the form of a 
 crescent, which, however, bulges badly on one 
 side. I drove on between these houses and the 
 main building, and by the post-boy's advice, 
 drew up at a porch in the Gothic wing. I did 
 not see a living creature about the place, not 
 even a dog. I waited a little, but in vain, and 
 then went through the porch into a passage, 
 where I took off my things ; and thence to the 
 right into a large bright ante-room. Not even 
 here did I see any one, but I could hear the 
 voices either of two children and a woman, or of 
 two women and a child. I knew the song, for 
 it had travelled the country over, this little girl's 
 lament that everywhere she was in the way 
 except with God in Heaven, who was glad to 
 have unhappy children with Him. Such a doleful 
 ditty sounded somewhat strange in that bright, 
 cheerful room, full of guns and other weapons 
 of the chase, reindeer horns, fox and lynx skins, 
 and similar objects, arranged with scrupulous 
 taste. 
 
 I knocked, and entered one of the most 
 beautiful morning rooms I have ever seen in this 
 country, spacious and luxurious, with a bright 
 243
 
 DUST 
 
 outlook over the fjord. The highly polished 
 panels of the wainscot were divided by carved 
 designs, each of which supported a bust or small 
 statue. Tasteful furniture was carelessly dis- 
 posed over the Brussels carpet. Moody and 
 Sankey's moonstruck song flowed over the room 
 like a whitish yellow sheet. Some Christian 
 songs are among the most beautiful things I 
 know, but this one produced the same sort of 
 impression as if there had been a mediaeval crypt 
 under that modern chamber, where prisoned nuns 
 by the light of smoking lamps held services for 
 the dead, and whence the smoke and the sound, 
 indissolubly blended, stole upwards into the 
 luminous atmosphere and pleasant art of the 
 nineteenth century. 
 
 It was a woman and two boys who were 
 singing, the elder seven years old or thereabouts, 
 and the other a year younger. The woman 
 turned her face towards the door and paused in 
 astonishment at my entrance. The boys had 
 turned away to the window and did not observe 
 her ; they were absorbed in their singing, and 
 kept on a moment or so after she had 
 stopped. 
 
 ^44
 
 DUST 
 
 One of these two boys resembled the father's 
 family, the other the mother's ; but her large 
 eyes lit up the faces of both. The elder boy 
 had a long face with high forehead and reddish 
 hair, and his skin was freckled like his father's. 
 The younger had his mother's figure slightly 
 stooping on account of the head's not rising 
 straight from the shoulders ; and, as a conse- 
 quence, being carried a little tilted back, as 
 though to readjust the body's balance. Another 
 result was, the mouth stood a little open, while 
 the great questioning eyes, the fair curling hair 
 over a delicate arched brow, were the mother 
 to the life. The eldest was tall and thin, and 
 had the father's loose-limbed gait and small feet, 
 well turned out. So much I saw in a moment, 
 while the boys were going over to the table by 
 the sofa, as the lady turned away from them. 
 After a little hesitation, she came towards me. 
 She was clearly not sure whether she knew me 
 or not. On hearing my name, she discovered 
 smilingly that it was only my portrait she 
 had seen, the portrait in the album which my 
 hosts had brought home from their wedding 
 journey. She said that Athing was over at the 
 245
 
 DUST 
 
 works, and came home to dinner; that was to 
 say, in an hour's time, and that Mrs. Athing 
 was in one of the cottages I had seen from the 
 road ; she had gone to see an old man who was 
 dying. 
 
 She said this in a pleasant though somewhat 
 thin voice, and with a pair of searching eyes 
 fixed on me. She had evidently heard some- 
 thing about me. I had never thought to see 
 one of Carlo Dolci's Madonna's step down out of 
 her frame and stand talking with me in a modern 
 drawing-room, so that my eyes were probably 
 no less searching than her own. The pose of 
 the head on the shoulders, its droop to one side, 
 the outline of the face, and, above all, the eyes 
 and eyebrows, even the bluish-green head-dress 
 drawn well forward, and from which the pale face 
 took something of the same hue altogether 
 genuine Carlo Dolci ! 
 
 She went out noiselessly and left me behind 
 with the boys, to whom I immediately turned 
 my attention. The elder was called Anton and 
 could walk on his hands, at least very nearly. 
 The younger, Storm, narrated this and much 
 
 more of his brother, whom he admired without 
 246
 
 DUST 
 
 reserve. The older, on the other hand, said of his 
 little brother, that he had not outgrown a certain 
 infantine weakness, and on that account he had 
 been whipped to-day by father. Stina had told 
 father about it. She who had just left us was 
 called Stina. 
 
 After this not very discreet prelude to 
 acquaintance, they presently came and stood one 
 on either side of me, and told me what for the 
 time being was occupying their minds to an 
 absorbing degree. Both, the elder in particular, 
 but with explanatory additions from the younger, 
 told how over there in one of the workmen's 
 cottages that I had passed there Hans lived, 
 little Hans. That is to say, he had lived there 
 because the real true little Hans was with 
 God. He used to come here to the big house 
 to play with the boys nearly every single day. 
 Still, sometimes they had been allowed to go 
 over to the cottages, which I could see was to 
 them the Promised Land here on earth. Hans 
 was to have gone home one evening in the 
 twilight now a fortnight ago. That was before 
 the snow came, and in the park he was to go 
 
 through was the fish-pond, very black and 
 247
 
 DUST 
 
 shining. So he thought he would like to have a 
 slide, and went from the footpath on to the 
 pond ; for the footpath skirted it. But that 
 same da} T they had cut a hole in the ice to catch 
 fish, and had forgotten to mark the place ; so 
 little Hans slid straight into the hole ! They 
 had heard a child's cry for help down at the 
 house ; the milkmaid had heard it ; but only 
 once, and she had not thought very much about 
 it, for all the boys used to play there in the park. 
 So little Hans had gone away, and no one could 
 say where he was. 
 
 Then the ice in the pond was broken up, and 
 they found him, but the boys were not allowed 
 to see him. On the other hand, they had been 
 allowed to go to the funeral with the little bo} r s 
 and girls of the factory school. But he was not 
 buried in the chapel where grandfather and 
 grandmother lay, he was buried in the churchyard. 
 Oh, it had been so beautiful when the children 
 sang. The schoolmaster had sung bass, and the 
 old brown horse had drawn Hans, who was in a 
 white painted coffin that father got from town, 
 and there were wreaths on it. Mother and Stina 
 
 had made them. All the children got cakes 
 248
 
 DUST 
 
 before they went away, and currant wine. But 
 the song : that was it that the boys had just 
 been singing. Stina had taught it to them. 
 Hans had been so poor, but now he was very 
 well off indeed ; he was with God. It was only 
 the coffin that went into the ground. What 
 was there in the coffin ? Oh, that was not the 
 real Hans, for Hans was made all new, you see. 
 Angels came down to him in the pond with all 
 the things that the new Hans ought to have on, 
 so he didn't feel cold. He wasn't really in the 
 pond. All the children who died went to God. 
 They went up with a hundred thousand million 
 tiny little angels. The angels were here all 
 round us, too, only we couldn't see them, because 
 they were invisible ; and Hans was among them 
 now. The angels could see us and were very 
 kind to us, particularly to children ; and the most 
 miserable children of all they were glad to have 
 with them, and so they took them away. It is 
 much, much, much nicer to be with the angels 
 than to be here. Yes, indeed it is, for Stina 
 says so. Stina too would rather be with the 
 angels than be here. It was only for mother's 
 sake that Stina didn't go to them ; for, if she 
 249
 
 DUST 
 
 did, mother would be so lonely. All the angels 
 had wings. Now Hans' father lay ill and he was 
 going to God, he too. He would have wings 
 like the rest, and become a little angel and fly 
 about here and wherever he liked, even up to 
 the stars. For the stars were not only just stars, 
 they were so big, so big when we got near them, 
 as big as the whole earth, and that was tre- 
 mendously big, bigger than the biggest mountain. 
 There were people in the stars, and there were 
 many things we didn't have here. This after- 
 noon Hans' father would be allowed to go there 
 straight up to God. For God was up in the 
 sky. They would like so much to see Hans' 
 father get his wings, but mother wouldn't take 
 the boys with her. And now already Hans' 
 father had grown so beautiful as he lay there, 
 that he looked almost like an angel. Mother 
 had said so, but they weren't allowed to see 
 him. 
 
 Stina came in as they were telling me about 
 this. She told them to come with her and they 
 obe3 r ed. 
 
 A door stood open on the left. I could see 
 
 bookshelves within, so I supposed it must be 
 
 250
 
 DUST 
 
 the library. I thought I would like to discover 
 just what the father of these boys read, supposing 
 he read at all. 
 
 The first thing I found, open on the writing- 
 table by the side of a letter, account books, and 
 samples of manufacture, was a book of Bain's 
 and Bain's English friends were the first things 
 my eyes fell upon on the nearest shelf. I took 
 out a volume, and I saw it had been read. This 
 tallied with what I had heard of Athing. 
 
 At this moment a bell sounded in the house. 
 I thought Mrs. Athing had come home, and I 
 put back the books in the same order in which I 
 had found them. As I did so, some of those 
 behind fell into disorder, for they were ranged 
 in a double row ; and these (which were thus 
 hidden) I also wanted to look at. Doing so 
 took time. I came out of the library at the 
 moment Mrs. Athing entered the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 251
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MRS. ATHING was obviously glad to see me. 
 She had a peculiar gait, much as though she 
 never quite straightened her knees. 
 
 She came quickly up to me and seized one of 
 my hands with both of hers and gazed long into 
 my eyes, till her own filled with tears. It was, 
 of course, the wedding journey I recalled to her 
 the fairest days of her life but tears ? 
 
 No, unhappy she could not be. She looked 
 so nearly the same as of old, that had she not 
 filled out a little, I should not have detected the 
 slightest change in her at least, not at once. 
 The expression was just the same, innocent and 
 questioning. There was not the suggestion of 
 a harsh line, or of any loss of colour. Even 
 her hair lay in the same ringlets on the head 
 that was held well back as of old, and the 
 mouth with parted lips had the same softness, 
 untouched by strong purpose. Her eyes had 
 252
 
 DUST 
 
 in them the old gentle gladness ; even the 
 slightly veiled tones of her voice were as child- 
 like as ever. 
 
 " Life seems to have left no trace on you since 
 I saw you last," was the first thing I felt impelled 
 to say. She smiled up at me without a shadow 
 of denial in her face. We each drew forward a 
 chair and sat down near the library door. We 
 turned our backs to the windows and faced a 
 wall, where among the busts and statuettes, 
 supported by carved designs, a picture or two 
 hung here and there on the polished panels. 
 
 I gave an account of my journey, and she 
 thanked me for having found my way to them at 
 last I gave her a message from her parents, of 
 whom we talked a little. , She said she had been 
 thinking of her father that day she would have 
 been so glad to have had him with her ; for she 
 had just come from the bedside of a dying man, 
 whose end was the most beautiful she had ever 
 seen. While saying this, she had assumed her 
 favourite attitude ; that is to say, she sat bending 
 forward a little, with the head well thrown back 
 and her eyes fixed high on the wall, or as far 
 up as the ceiling. She sat pressing one finger 
 253
 
 DUST 
 
 against her underlip, repeating the same move- 
 ment at intervals. Now and then she rocked 
 her body slightly to and fro. The eyes were as 
 though fixed ; they never sought mine either in 
 asking or answering a question, unless some- 
 thing quite unusual induced her to relinquish 
 her attitude. And even then she resumed it 
 instantly again. 
 
 " Do you believe in immortality ? " she asked, 
 without looking at me, and as if it were the 
 most natural question in the world. When I, 
 astonished, turned to look at her, I saw that a 
 tear was trickling down her cheek and that her 
 wide eyes were swimming. 
 
 I felt instantly that this question was a 
 conversational short-cut. She was thinking of 
 her husband's belief, and I thought I would spare 
 her the trouble of leading up to it. 
 
 "What does your husband think?" 
 
 " He doesn't believe in personal immortality," 
 she answered. " He says we live again only 
 through our influence on other people, through 
 our work, and especially through our children ; 
 and that immortality, he says, is enough for 
 him." 
 
 254
 
 DUST 
 
 Her gaze was fixed as before, and the tears 
 were still in her eyes ; but the voice was gentle 
 and calm, without a trace of discontent or 
 reproach behind the simple statement. 
 
 No ; she is not one of your simple child- 
 wives, thought I ; and if she has the same 
 innocent questioning expression of nine years 
 ago, it is not because she has never thought or 
 put life to the test. 
 
 " So you discuss these questions with 
 Athing ? " 
 
 " Not now." 
 
 " In Dresden you seemed to be quite of one 
 mind about such matters. You sang to- 
 gether . . . ." 
 
 " He was under father's influence at that 
 time. And I don't think he himself was quite 
 clear about things. That has come by de- 
 grees." 
 
 " I've noticed that some of the old books are 
 shifted into the back rows now." 
 
 14 Yes, Albert has altered." 
 
 She sat quite still as she made these replies, 
 except that one finger played upon the under- 
 lip. 
 
 255
 
 DUST 
 
 " Then who has charge of the children's 
 education ? " I asked. At that she turned half 
 towards me. I thought for a time she was not 
 going to answer ; but as last she said : 
 
 " No one." 
 
 " No one ? " 
 
 " It's Albert's wish that they should not learn 
 anything for the present." 
 
 " But, my dear Mrs. Athing, even if they're 
 not taught anything, they're told this and that." 
 
 " Yes, if any one cares to. As a rule it's 
 Stina." 
 
 " Then the whole thing is left to chance ? " 
 
 She had turned away from me and was sitting 
 as before. 
 
 "Quite to chance," she said, almost indiffer- 
 ently. 
 
 I told her briefly what Stina had said to the 
 boys about the life beyond, angels and so forth, 
 and asked if she approved of it. She turned 
 and faced me. 
 
 " Yes ; why not ? " 
 
 The great eyes looked innocently at me, but 
 when she saw I did not answer at once, she 
 grew slowly red.
 
 DUST 
 
 " If they are to be told anything about these 
 matters," she said, " it must be in a way that 
 takes hold of a child's fancy." 
 
 " That blurs reality for them, Mrs. Athing ; 
 and to do that is to blur all their faculties." 
 
 "To make them stupid, do you mean?" 
 
 " Well, if it doesn't make them stupid, it pre- 
 vents them from using their faculties aright." 
 
 " I don't understand you." 
 
 " When you teach the children that the life 
 here is nothing compared to the life hereafter, 
 that the visible is as nothing to the invisible, 
 that to be a human being is nothing compared to 
 being an angel that to live is nothing compared 
 to being dead all that is not the way to make 
 them look rightly at life or to love life, or to find 
 the proper spirit to meet it, the strength to work, 
 the love of their country . . . ." 
 
 " Oh, that's what you mean. Well, we shall 
 have to see to all that later on." 
 
 " Later on, Mrs. Athing ? After all this dust 
 has settled on their souls ? " 
 
 She turned away from me, resumed her old 
 attitude, and gazed upward at the ceiling lost in 
 thought. 
 
 257 R
 
 DUST 
 
 " Why do you use that word dust ? " 
 
 " By dust I mean something that has existed, 
 but now is disintegrated, and which drifts about 
 and gathers into empty corners." 
 
 She was still an instant. 
 
 " I have heard of dust that carried poison 
 germs from diseased tissues I suppose you 
 don't mean that kind ? " 
 
 There was nothing mocking in the tone, 
 nor angry either, so that I did not know 
 what she was driving at, and half evaded the 
 question. 
 
 " It depends upon where the dust falls, Mrs. 
 Athing. In the case of healthy people it creates 
 only a fog, a haze so they cannot always see 
 clearly." I paused that she might throw in 
 something about the sick ; but she said nothing, 
 so I continued to speak of the healthy. " If 
 there is no movement then the dust will often 
 gather an inch thick, until it is difficult for the 
 machinery to keep going." 
 
 She turned towards me more than usually 
 animated, leaned against the arm of the chair, 
 and put her face nearer to mine. 
 
 " How have you come to think of that ? Is 
 258
 
 DUST 
 
 it because you have noticed how much dust there 
 is in here ? " 
 
 I confessed I had noticed it. 
 
 " Yet the parlour-maid and Stina are for ever 
 trying to get rid of the dust, and I used to do 
 nothing else when I first came here. I don't 
 understand it. At home with mother I heard 
 nothing talked of so much as dust. She used to 
 follow father about with a damp cloth ; he used 
 to be so annoyed because she disturbed his books 
 and papers. But she insisted that he gathered 
 the dust about him more than any one else. He 
 no sooner came out of his study than she was 
 after him with a brush. Then my turn came. 
 I was like father, she said, and trailed dust 
 wherever I went, and I could never do the 
 dusting well enough to please her. I was so 
 tired of hearing about dust, that when I married 
 I thought it would be heavenly to have nothing 
 to do with it and to get others to do the dusting. 
 But in that I was disappointed. Now, however, 
 I have given it into other hands ! It's no use. 
 I probably have no talent for keeping clear 
 of it." 
 
 " It is strange," she continued, as she let 
 259
 
 DUST 
 
 herself slip back in the chair, " that you too 
 should bring up the subject of dust." 
 
 " Indeed I hope I haven't hurt you." 
 
 " How could you think so?" and she added in 
 the calmest and most innocent tone in the world, 
 "one who has lived nine years with Albert has 
 no over-sensitiveness left." 
 
 I was excessively embarrassed. Why the 
 devil had I mixed myself up in all this. I had 
 been foolish to use the simile, but why admit that 
 I had noticed the dust, and as to that, it was in 
 Albert's library. I said not a word more. She 
 too sat, or rather lay, quite a long time without 
 speaking, and drummed with her fingers on the 
 arms of the chair. At last I heard as from a long 
 way off: 
 
 " But still the dust on the butterfly's wings is 
 pretty," and so, long after, through many by- 
 ways of thought to which she gave but little clue, 
 a question would slip out. 
 
 " The broken ray of light . . . ? the different 
 broken rays . . . ? " 
 
 She left the sentence incomplete ; she listened 
 and stood up, she had heard Athing's step in the 
 ante- room. I rose at the same moment. 
 260
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE door opened wide ; Athing came lounging 
 in. The tall thin man in loose clothes (whose 
 condition betrayed the fact that he had been 
 visiting the mills), bore in face, movement, and 
 carriage the easy self-assurance born of long 
 descent. 
 
 The grey eyes under the imperceptible eye- 
 brows blinked a little when he saw me, and then 
 over the long face- came a genial smile. His fine 
 teeth gleamed between the full short lips, as he 
 cried out, " Is it you ? " He took both of my 
 hands between his hard freckled fists, and then, 
 releasing one of them, he put his arm round his 
 wife's waist. 
 
 " Isn't it delightful, Amalie eh? The days 
 in Dresden, dear eh ? " 
 
 When he released us, he inquired eagerly 
 about myself and my journey ; he knew I in- 
 tended taking a short trip abroad. Then he 
 261
 
 DUST 
 
 began to tell me what was chiefly busying him 
 at the moment ; meanwhile sauntering up and 
 down the room, taking up some object between 
 his fingers, fiddling with it, then putting it down, 
 and taking up another. He did not handle a 
 small object as we would, with the tips of the 
 fingers. With capacious grasp he took the thing 
 in his hand, so that his fingers quite enclosed it. 
 Whatever he talked of, too, he seized in much 
 the same way, and with a kind of superabundant 
 vigour, as a rule, only to cast it aside again for 
 something else. 
 
 Mrs. Athing had gone out, but came back 
 directly announcing dinner. At the same moment 
 my host flung himself down at the piano, where 
 a new piece of music lay open, and proceeded to 
 characterise its features in a word or two. 
 Then he began to play and sing verse after 
 verse of a long song. When he had finished, 
 his wife reminded him that dinner was waiting. 
 
 It was only then he seemed to notice that she 
 was in the room. 
 
 " I say, Amalie, let us try this duet," and he 
 began the accompaniment. She smiled across 
 at me, but took her place beside him and began 
 262
 
 DUST 
 
 to sing. Her sweet, somewhat veiled soprano, 
 melted into his warm barytone just as I had 
 heard it nine years before. Both voices had 
 acquired that richer quality which comes of a 
 life that has itself been rich in experience ; their 
 technique, on the other hand, was about the 
 same. 
 
 Any one who a moment before might have been 
 at a loss to understand how these two had come 
 together, needed only to stand beside them while 
 they sang. There was in both temperaments a 
 strain of lyrical self-abandonment, and in their 
 different ways were entirely at one in following 
 the impulse of the moment. Like two children 
 in a boat, they went gliding away, letting their 
 dinner get cold, the servants grow impatient, 
 their guest think what he liked, and upsetting the 
 order of the house and their own engagements 
 for the day. 
 
 There was no force in their singing, no 
 evidence of training, no delicate finish about 
 this simple number which they were perhaps 
 trying over for the first time. There was 
 simply an even, indolent, happy, gliding along 
 together over the melody. The bright colours 
 263
 
 DUST 
 
 of the voices met and mingled like a caress, 
 and over the whole there was a certain 
 charm. 
 
 Verse after verse they sang, and the longer 
 they went on, the better and more joyously did 
 their voices blend. 
 
 When at last the song was over, she took my 
 arm, and with that somewhat heavy gait of hers 
 led me to the dining-room. Athing meanwhile 
 went swinging on ahead to give the key of the 
 winecellar to Stina. There was no longer any 
 questioning in the wife's eyes, only gladness, 
 gentle, beautiful gladness : and the husband was 
 whistling like a canary bird. 
 
 We sat down to the table before he came back, 
 and waited an interminable time for him. Either 
 he had not found Stina, or else she had not 
 understood him. He had gone himself to the 
 cellar, and came back so cobwebby in conse- 
 quence that we shouted with merriment. Mrs. 
 Athing, however, stopped in the midst of the 
 laughter, and then sat silent until he returned 
 having washed and changed his clothing. 
 
 He swallowed spoonful after spoonful of soup 
 with voracious haste, and his good humour 
 264
 
 DUST 
 
 returned when the edge was taken off his hunger. 
 He talked incessantly, and suddenly, while he 
 was carving the joint, he inquired about the boys. 
 They had had their dinner ; they couldn't wait so 
 long. 
 
 " Have you seen the boys ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, and I spoke of their 
 naturalness, and of how strangely one of them 
 resembled his family and the other his wife's. 
 
 "The unfortunate thing is," he interrupted, 
 "that in both families the imagination is dis- 
 proportionately developed. That is an element 
 of weakness, and the boys have inherited it from 
 both sides. A fortnight ago, a distressing event 
 happened here. One of the boys' playmates was 
 drowned in the fish-pond. What the boys (with 
 Stina's help, of course) have made out of this is 
 simply incredible. I've been thinking about it 
 to-day. I have said nothing heretofore, because 
 it was amusing in the main, and I've not wanted 
 to disturb their relation to Stina. But it is 
 stupid, that's what it is ! Fact is, Amalie, it 
 would be almost better to have them away at 
 school than let them go on drinking in all this 
 
 nonsense." 
 
 265
 
 DUST 
 
 His wife made no answer. 
 
 Anxious to turn the conversation, I asked if 
 he had read Spencer's " Treatise on Education." 
 
 He became animated at once. He was just 
 about to try some dish, but he forgot it, finally 
 took a bite or two, and forgot it again. I think 
 we must have sat an hour over that one dish, 
 while he descanted upon Spencer. That I, 
 having asked if he had read the book, was very 
 likely to have read it myself, concerned him not 
 the least. He detailed to me the contents of 
 the book, for the most part item by item, adding 
 comments of his own. One of those was that 
 if, as Spencer would have it, the science of 
 education were introduced into schools and made 
 a subject of almost supreme importance, most 
 people notwithstanding, will still be able to bring 
 up their children properly, because the educa- 
 tional faculty was one possessed by few. He, 
 for his own part, intended, the moment his boys 
 were big enough, to send them to a lady who he 
 knew had this talent, and who had the indis- 
 pensable knowledge as well. He was an enthu- 
 siastic adherent of Spencer. 
 
 He said this as though it were a plan formed 
 266
 
 DUST 
 
 and settled long ago. His wife listened" as if to 
 an old story. I was much surprised that she 
 had said nothing of all this to me a little while 
 before, when we had spoken of the boys. 
 
 I do not remember now just what subject we 
 were on when he suddenly snatched his watch 
 out of his pocket. 
 
 "I have utterly forgotten Hartmann. I ought 
 to have gone into town. Yes, yes, there's time 
 yet. Excuse me." 
 
 He laid down his napkin, drank another glass 
 of wine, rose and left the room. Mrs. Athing 
 explained apologetically, that Hartmann was her 
 husband's agent, that there was unfortunately no 
 telegraph out here, and that probably something 
 required an answer within an hour or so. 
 
 At least an hour to the town, at least a 
 second hour there for the sake of the horse, if 
 for no other reason ; and then an hour and a 
 half back, for one could not well drive so long a 
 distance with the same horse at the same pace 
 there and back. I sat thinking this over while 
 I went on with my dinner, and came to the 
 conclusion that my visit was inopportune. So I 
 
 thought I would take my leave after the coffee. 
 267
 
 DUST 
 
 We both finished and left the table. She 
 excused herself on the plea of having something 
 to attend to in the kitchen ; and I, now I 
 was alone, thought I would stroll about the 
 place. 
 
 When I got as far as the steps of the porch, 
 I was met by the sound of loud laughter from 
 the boys, immediately followed by a word that I 
 would never have expected to hear uttered by 
 them, still less screamed out with all their 
 strength, and that in the most open fashion. 
 The elder shouted it first, and the other repeated 
 it after him. 
 
 They were standing on the barn bridge, and 
 the word was meant for a servant-maid who was 
 busied over a little sledge in the wood-shed 
 opposite. The boys then shouted another word 
 worse, if possible, than the first ; and another 
 and another without intermission and amid peals 
 of laughter. It was clear that they were being 
 prompted from behind the barn door. The girl 
 did not answer. She glanced up from her work 
 every now and then, not at the boys, but at 
 some one behind the barn where the carriage- 
 house was. 
 
 268
 
 DUST 
 
 Soon I heard a jingling in that direction. 
 Athing appeared, ready for his drive, and lead- 
 ing his horse. Consternation seized the boys 
 when they saw their father. In a flash they 
 either comprehended what they had been saying, 
 or if they did not quite realise it, they, at all 
 events, saw that they had been behaving badly 
 to some one. 
 
 Their father called out : 
 
 "Just you wait, boys, till I come home. Both 
 of you shall certainly have a thrashing." 
 
 He took his seat in the sleigh, and let the 
 horse have the whip. He saw me as he drove 
 past, and shook his head. 
 
 The boys stood a moment petrified. Then 
 the elder took to his heels with might and main. 
 The younger tore after him : 
 
 " Wait and take me with you. Do you hear ? 
 Don't run away from me, Anton ! " 
 
 He began to cry. They disappeared behind 
 the wood-shed ; but for long after I heard the 
 younger crying. 
 
 269
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 I FELT ill at ease, and thought of taking my 
 leave at once. But when I went indoors I found 
 Mrs. Athing sitting on the large Gothic settee or 
 sofa over by the door of the dining-room ; and 
 no sooner had I appeared than she leaned across 
 the table in front of her and asked : 
 
 " What do you think of Spencer's ideas about 
 education ? Do you think we can put them into 
 practice ? " 
 
 I did not wish to be drawn into this discus- 
 sion again, so I merely answered : 
 
 " Your husband's method, at all events, does 
 not coincide with Spencer's." 
 
 " My husband's method ? He has none." 
 
 She said it as any one else might say : 
 " That's nice stuff your coat is made of." 
 
 "You mean he doesn't trouble about the 
 boys ? " 
 
 "Oh, he's like most men about that," she 
 270
 
 DUST 
 
 answered. " They amuse themselves with their 
 children now and then, and whip them now and 
 then, too, when something happens that incon- 
 veniences them." 
 
 " You think, then, that both parents should 
 have equal responsibility in the matter ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly I do. But men have divided 
 this responsibility as they have the others in 
 the way that suited them." 
 
 I began to make my adieus. She was evi- 
 dently not expecting me to go just then, and 
 asked if I would not at least have a cup of coffee 
 first. 
 
 "Though it's true," she added, "you will 
 have no one to talk to." 
 
 She is not the first married woman, thought 
 I, who has made covert attacks on her husband. 
 
 " You have no reason, Mrs. Athing, to say a 
 thing like that." 
 
 " No, I know I haven't. You must pardon 
 me." It was rather dark, but if I'm not mis- 
 taken she was on the point of crying. 
 
 Accordingly I sat down on the opposite side 
 of the table. 
 
 " I have a feeling, my dear Mrs. Athing, that 
 271
 
 DUST 
 
 it is you who need some one to talk to ; but I 
 don't suppose I'm the right person." 
 
 She sat with both elbows on the table, and 
 looked across at me. 
 
 " Well, if for no other reason, because that 
 sort of conversation requires to be renewed, it 
 gives one so much to think about ; and I must 
 leave you to-day." 
 
 " But can't you come again ? " 
 
 " Do you wish it ? " 
 
 She was silent a moment; then slowly she said : 
 
 " As a rule I have only one great wish at a 
 time, and that you should come here again is 
 part of the wish that is in my mind now." 
 
 " What is your wish ? " 
 
 " Oh, I can't tell you that unless you promise 
 to come again." 
 
 "Very well, I promise." 
 
 She gave me her hand across the table. 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 I turned towards her and took her hand. 
 
 "What is it, Mrs. Athing?" 
 
 " No, not now," she answered, " but when 
 you come again. You must help me if you think 
 
 it is right to do so." 
 
 272
 
 DUST 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " For you think as Athing does on many 
 points ; he will listen to you. 1 ' 
 
 " Do you think so ? " 
 
 "At all events, he won't listen to me." 
 
 " Do you take any pains to make him listen 
 to you ? " 
 
 " No, that would be the worst thing I could 
 do. With Athing everything must come in 
 incidentally." 
 
 " But, my dear Mrs. Athing, I have seen 
 enough to know that your relation to each other 
 is in reality an excellent one." 
 
 " Oh yes ; we often have a very good time 
 together." 
 
 I felt sure she did not want to have my eyes 
 upon her, so I had moved again and sat by the 
 table as before. The twilight deepened. 
 
 " Do you remember us in Dresden ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " We were two young people playing at life 
 then. It was delightful to be engaged, but to 
 be married must be still more delightful, we 
 thought ; and to come to our own home and 
 keep house oh ! tremendously delightful ! and
 
 DUST 
 
 yet even that was less than having a child of 
 one's own. And here I am in a house I cannot 
 manage, and with two whom neither of us can 
 bring up properly at least, so Athing thinks." 
 
 " But do you never set resolutely to work ? " 
 
 " The housekeeping, you mean ? " 
 
 " Well, yes, at the housekeeping." 
 
 " Good Heaven, what would be the use of 
 that ? I got little but scolding when I tried." 
 
 " But you have assistance ? " 
 
 " Yes ; that is just the trouble." 
 
 I was about to ask what she meant by that, 
 when the dining-room door just by us opened 
 noiselessly. Stina came in with lights. She 
 came in two or three times, on each occasion 
 bringing lights ; but nevertheless the great room 
 was far from being brilliantly illuminated. 
 During all this time not a word was spoken. 
 
 As Stina was about to go, Mrs. Athing 
 asked about the boys. Stina said they were 
 being looked for ; they were not about the 
 place. Mrs. Athing paid no particular attention 
 and Stina went out. 
 
 "Who is Stina?" I asked, as the door closed 
 behind her. 
 
 274
 
 DUST 
 
 " Oh, she is an unfortunate creature who 
 had a father that used to beat her. Then she 
 married a bank cashier, who in his turn fell to 
 drinking and ill-using her. He is dead now." 
 " Has she been here long ? " 
 " Since the time I was expecting my first 
 child." 
 
 " But this is sad companionship for you, Mrs. 
 Athing." 
 
 "Yes, she is not very enlivening." 
 " Then you should assuredly send her away." 
 " That would be contrary to the traditions of 
 the house. There must be a middle-aged person 
 to look after the children, and that middle-aged 
 person must live and die in the family. Stina 
 is a good soul." 
 
 Once more she of whom we spoke entered 
 noiselessly with the coffee. There was some- 
 thing essentially spectral about this bluish-green 
 picture of Carlo Dolci's gliding to and fro in 
 the great room, as she looked for a shade to 
 place over the lamp on the coffee- table, as though 
 it were not dark enough already. The shade, 
 by the way, consisted of a perforated picture of 
 St. Peter's in Rome. 
 
 275
 
 DUST 
 
 Stina had left the room and Mrs. Athing was 
 pouring out the coffee. 
 
 " And so you men are bent on taking the 
 hope of immortality away from us into the 
 bargain ? " 
 
 As to what " into the bargain " meant, I might 
 take that as I chose. She handed me a cup of 
 coffee and went on : 
 
 " As I was driving over to the other side of 
 the park this morning, to see the man who is 
 dying, it occurred to me that the snow on the 
 leafless trees really symbolises most beautifully 
 the hope of immortality, as it spreads over the 
 world. Don't you think so ? Coming spotless 
 from above, and mercifully shielding us." 
 
 " Do you believe it falls from the sky, Mrs. 
 Athing ? " 
 
 " It falls down on the earth." 
 
 " That is true ; but it rises from the earth as 
 well." 
 
 She did not seem inclined to listen to this view 
 but continued : 
 
 " You spoke of dust a little while ago. But 
 this pure white dust on the wintry boughs and 
 over the grey world well, to me it seems like 
 276
 
 DUST 
 
 the poetry of eternity." And she laid a musical 
 emphasis on me. 
 
 "And who composed the poem, Mrs. 
 Athing ? " 
 
 Her great eyes met mine, and this time not 
 questioning but confident. 
 
 " If there is no revelation from without, there 
 is one from within. Every creature who feels as 
 I do has it." 
 
 Never had she been more beautiful. At that 
 instant I heard a noise in the hall. She turned 
 her head and listened. 
 
 " It's Athing come home," she said, rising and 
 ringing for another cup. 
 
 She was quite right, it was Athing. As soon 
 as he had taken off his things he threw the door 
 wide open and came in. His agent Hartmann 
 had become uneasy and had met him on the 
 way. Athing had settled the business then and 
 there. 
 
 His wife's questioning eyes followed him as 
 he sauntered about the room. Either she was 
 not pleased at the interruption or she saw he 
 was in a bad humour. While he was taking 
 
 the coffee she offered him, he told her what had 
 277
 
 DUST 
 
 happened about the boys. He did not repeat 
 the word the boys had shouted with such glee, 
 but he said enough to let her understand. 
 While he drank his coffee, he told her he had 
 promised them a thrashing. 
 
 "But there's something more than a thrashing 
 needed in this case." 
 
 She remained standing in the same position 
 as when she had given him the coffee although 
 now he had finished and hurried away. There 
 was terror in her face and attitude. Her 
 eyes followed him about the room. She waited 
 for this other thing that was more than a 
 thrashing. 
 
 " Now I'll tell you what it is, Amalie " the 
 words came from the other end of the room 
 ' ' the boys shall go away to-morrow I say to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Her eyes followed him wherever he went 
 She sank down slowly on the sofa so slowly I 
 do not believe she was conscious of having sat 
 down. Anything more helpless, more miserable, 
 I have never seen. 
 
 " I should think you ought to care enough 
 
 for the boys, Amalie, to make up your mind to 
 
 278
 
 DUST 
 
 this. Now you can see what has come of my 
 giving in to you the last time." 
 
 If he went on like this he would kill her ! 
 Couldn't he see ? 
 
 Whether she noticed my sympathy or not, 
 she suddenly turned her eyes and hands towards 
 me while he was pacing the room with his back 
 to us. A despairing appeal lay in that glance, 
 in that little gesture. Instantly I understood 
 that this was the sole wish she had spoken of; 
 here was the matter in which she wanted me to 
 help her. 
 
 She bent her head down over her hands and 
 remained motionless. I could not hear that she 
 was crying; probably she prayed. He walked 
 up and down ; he looked at her, but his gait 
 grew more and more determined. The little 
 things that he picked up and played with he 
 tossed ever more violently and further away from 
 him. 
 
 Just then the dining-room door opened slewly ; 
 it was Stina again. But this time she remained 
 standing on the threshold, paler even than usual. 
 Athing, who had just turned towards us, 
 
 paused. 
 
 279
 
 DUST 
 
 " What is it, Stina ? " 
 
 She did not answer at once. She looked at 
 Mrs. Athing, who raised her head. 
 
 " What is it, Stina ? " she also exclaimed. 
 
 " The boys," said Stina, and stopped. 
 
 " The boys ? " they both repeated. Athing 
 stood still, his wife rose. 
 
 " They're not anywhere about the place nor 
 any of the cottages. We have looked everj'- 
 where, even down by the mills. 
 
 " Where did you see them last ? " asked 
 Athing, breathless. 
 
 " The milkmaid says she saw them running in 
 the direction of the park, and crying because 
 you had said they should have a thrashing." 
 
 " The fish-pond," I found myself saying 
 before I had time to think, and the effect on 
 myself and on them all was as though there had 
 been an explosion in our midst. 
 
 " Stina ! " cried Athing. It was not reproach, 
 but a cry of pain, the most agonised I had ever 
 heard ; and out he rushed. His wife ran after 
 him, calling his name the while. 
 
 "Get lanterns," I said to the servants I 
 
 saw standing behind Stina in the dining- 
 280
 
 DUST 
 
 room. I went out and found my things, 
 returned again and met Stina who was wander- 
 ing round and round in a circle with her hands 
 folded. 
 
 " Come now and show me where it is." 
 
 Without answering and possibly without 
 knowing what she did, she began to move 
 straight forward instead of round and round, still 
 with her hands folded and praying aloud. 
 
 41 Father in heaven for Jesus' sake. Father 
 in heaven for Jesus' sake ! " It was pathetic, it 
 was impressive, and she continued thus as we 
 passed through the house along the outbuildings, 
 through the garden and into the park. 
 
 It was no longer cold it was snowing. The 
 tall dark spectre flitted before me under the trees 
 through the snow mist, the prayer echoing be- 
 hind her. I followed like one in a dream. I 
 said to myself it was conceivable that two little 
 boys should go down to the fishpond to find God 
 and the angels and the new clothes ; but that they 
 should muster up courage to jump into the hole 
 if there was one together it was impossible, 
 unnatural, absurd 1 How in the world had I 
 come to think or suggest such a thing? But 
 281
 
 DUST 
 
 what avail are all the rational reflections one 
 makes at such a moment ? The worst and the 
 most incredible fears get the upper hand, and 
 this " Father in heaven for Jesus' sake Father 
 in heaven for Jesus' sake," sounded a note of 
 mortal terror in my ears, and awoke ever new 
 apprehensions in my heart. 
 
 If they had not gone at all to the fishpond, or 
 if they had gone but had not dared to jump into 
 the water, they must have wandered away some- 
 where else. Hans's father was to get his wings 
 in the evening ; what if they, too, in their agony 
 of fear, were crouching under some tree or other, 
 waiting for the same thing ? If so, they were 
 freezing to death. In my mind's eye I saw them 
 before me ; the two poor little benumbed creatures 
 not daring to go home ; the younger one 
 crying, the elder finally crying too. It seemed 
 to me I could literally hear them. 
 
 " Hush ! " 
 
 "What is it?" she said, turning with instant 
 hopefulness. '' Do you hear them ? " 
 
 We both stood still. But there was nothing 
 to hear but our own breathing, when I could no 
 
 longer hold my breath. There was nothing in 
 282
 
 DUST 
 
 sight either, that looked like two little huddled 
 forms. 
 
 I told her what I had just been thinking, and 
 she whispered in a tone of suppressed agony, 
 coming up to me with folded hands : 
 
 " Pray with me ; oh pray with me ! " 
 
 "What shall I pray for? That the boys 
 may die now, and go to heaven and become 
 angels ? " 
 
 She started aghast, turned away and went on 
 as before, but now without uttering a sound. 
 
 We followed a footpath through the wood. 
 It led to the pond, but we had to cross more 
 than half of the park in order to reach it. The 
 pond was of considerable circumference, and was 
 formed by the damming up of a brook which ran 
 through a little ravine. We had to leave the 
 path and climb up the embankment in order to 
 reach the edge of the pond. Stina was still in 
 front, and when she saw the pond and the father 
 and mother out on the ice, she dropped on her 
 knees, praying and sobbing. I could not but 
 pity her. 
 
 When I came up to her and could myself see 
 the two Athings, I, too, was deeply moved. At 
 283
 
 DUST 
 
 that moment I heard voices behind me in the 
 wood. It was the servants with lanterns. The 
 shimmering light softened by the falling snow 
 which the four lanterns shed over those around ; 
 the snow and the tree trunks, the deep shadow 
 into which at the same time much of the sur- 
 rounding forest was thrown ; all this associated 
 itself for all time in my memory with words I 
 heard at that moment from the direction of the 
 pond. 
 
 " There is no opening in the ice." 
 
 It was Athing's voice shaken with emotion. 
 
 I turned and saw his wife had thrown herself 
 into his arms. Stina had sprung up with a cry 
 that ended in a long low " God be praised and 
 thanked." Still those two out on the ice stood 
 locked in each other's arms. With some difficulty 
 I made my way down to the ice and approached 
 them. Still she clung about his neck, and he 
 bent over her. I paused at some distance, 
 respecting their emotion. They were whisper- 
 ing to each other. The lights up on the dam 
 were what first roused them. 
 
 " But what next ? Where shall we look ? " 
 
 asked Athing. I came up to them and repeated 
 284
 
 DUST 
 
 to the father and mother, only more mercifully, 
 what I had just been saying to Stina, that 
 perhaps the children were, sitting somewhere 
 under a big tree waiting, in their agony of 
 dread, for the pitying angels to come down ; 
 the great danger was that they were suffer- 
 ing already from the cold, and in that case they 
 might have caught a dangerous chill. Before 
 I had finished, Athing called to those up on the 
 dam : 
 
 " Had the boys their wraps on the last time 
 you saw them ? " 
 
 " No," answered two different people. 
 
 He asked if they had their caps on, and on 
 that point there was difference of opinion. I 
 maintained that they had ; some one else said no. 
 Athing himself could not remember. At last it 
 was concluded that the elder had his cap but the 
 younger was bareheaded. 
 
 " Oh, poor little Storm ! " wailed the mother. 
 
 Among the people over on the dam some were 
 crying so, that we heard them from where we 
 stood. I think about twenty people were stand- 
 ing in a group round the lanterns. 
 
 Athing called out : 
 
 285
 
 DUST 
 
 " We must search the entire park ; we will 
 begin at the cottages." 
 
 He led the way, climbed up to the dam and 
 helped his wife to follow. 
 
 Here Stina met them. 
 
 " Mrs. Athing ! Mrs. Athing ! " she whispered, 
 imploringly. But neither paid any heed. 
 
 I gazed down into the ravine below us. 
 Looking at snow-covered trees from above is like 
 looking at a petrified forest. 
 
 " Dear Athing, won't you call ? " the wife 
 begged. 
 
 He stood a little way from the group and all 
 were silent. Then he called slowly over the 
 woods : 
 
 " Anton and little Storm ! come home again 
 to father and mother. Father isn't angry any 
 more 1 " 
 
 Was it the vibration of air, or was it the 
 falling of some last particle of snow that caused 
 an overloaded branch at last to let slip its burden, 
 or had some one brushed against a bough ? How- 
 ever that may be, Athing had for answer a fall of 
 snow from a great branch in front, but a little to 
 one side. It gave a dull crash, and sent an echo 
 286
 
 DUST 
 
 through the wood. The branch swayed and 
 swung back,- and we were enveloped in snow 
 mist. But at the shock, all the overweighted 
 branches of the tree loosed their burdens ; 
 thunder and snow-mist enveloped us ; and be- 
 fore we knew what was happening, the next tree, 
 too, let slip all the snow that covered its branches. 
 This sent such vibrations through the air, that 
 two more, then five, six, ten, twenty trees let 
 slip all their heavy burdens with a crash and 
 reverberation through the wood, sending up a 
 steam as though from an avalanche. 
 
 One circle of trees after another followed suit 
 those beside us, those farther away, those just 
 in front ; the impulse extending at first in two 
 great arms which gradually split into many more. 
 The whole wood stood trembling. The thunder 
 rolled far off, then close beside us again, now in 
 single peals, now in a long intermittent rumble. 
 Before us all was wrapped in a white mist. At 
 first we were startled by the trampling march 
 through the wood ; by degrees, as it passed on 
 and gathered strength, it became so stupendous 
 that we forgot everything else. We ourselves 
 looked like snow men. 
 
 287
 
 DUST 
 
 The trees stood erect and free, and darkly 
 green once more. All the lanterns had been put 
 out. We lit them and brushed the snow off our 
 clothes. Then we heard some one crying : 
 
 "What if the children are lying under a snow- 
 drift ? " 
 
 It was the mother who said it. Several people 
 made haste to say that it could not possibly 
 have hurt them the most it could do would 
 be to throw them down and perhaps stifle them 
 for an instant ; but they would be able to 
 work themselves free of it. Some one said that 
 they would be sure to cry out the moment they 
 got free. 
 
 Athing called " Hush ! " We stood still for 
 more than a minute and listened, but heard 
 nothing except the distant crash of snow from 
 one or other isolated group of trees that had 
 lagged behind the rest. 
 
 But if the boys were on the outskirts of the 
 wood, it would be difficult to hear them from 
 where we stood. 
 
 " Come, let us go and search for them," said 
 Athing, with emotion. In the meanwhile he went 
 
 out to the edge of the embankment, turned towards 
 
 288
 
 DUST 
 
 those of us who had begun to descend, and bade 
 us keep still. 
 
 " Anton and little Storm ! Come home again 
 to father and mother. Father isn't angry any 
 more ! " 
 
 It was heartbreaking to listen to. No answer. 
 We waited a long time. No answer. 
 
 He came back despondently, and went down 
 the path with the rest of us. His wife leant on 
 his arm. 
 
 289
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WE came to the verge of the wood, and stationed 
 ourselves just far enough apart to keep each other 
 in sight as well as all that intervened. We went 
 up through the wood, then took the next strip 
 and passed down it slowly, slowly ; for all the 
 snow from the trees now covered the old crust on 
 the ground ; in some places it was packed so 
 hard that it bore our weight, but in other places 
 we sank in up to our knees. The next time we 
 all came together, before we separated again I 
 asked if it seemed likely two little boys would 
 stay out in the woods after it grew dark. But 
 no one shared my view in this. They were 
 accustomed to roam about the wood the whole 
 day long, and in the evenings as well. There 
 they met other boys who made snow men for 
 them, fortresses and snow huts, in which they 
 would often sit with a light. 
 
 This reminded them of all these erections, and 
 290
 
 DUST 
 
 of the possibility of their having taken refuge in 
 some one of them. But no one knew where 
 they had been building this year ; the snow had 
 come so recently. Besides, they used to build 
 sometimes in one place, sometimes in another. 
 So all we could do was to keep on. 
 
 It so happened that this time Stina was walk- 
 ing next to me. When we came to the ravine, 
 its windings brought us close to each other, 
 She was obviously in a new frame of mind. I 
 asked her the reason. "Oh," she answered, 
 " God has spoken to me so clearly ! Now we 
 shall find the boys ! And now I know why all 
 this has happened. Oh, I see it so clearly." 
 
 Her madonna-like eyes shone with the rapture 
 of enthusiasm. Her delicate pale face was trans- 
 figured. 
 
 " What is it, Stina ? " 
 
 " You were very hard on me ; but I forgive 
 you. Dear Lord, have I not sinned myself? 
 Have I not doubted God ? Have I not mur- 
 mured at His ways ? Oh, they are marvellous ! 
 I see it all so clearly, so clearly." 
 
 " But what do you see ? " 
 
 "What do I see? For the last six months 
 291
 
 DUST 
 
 Mrs. Athing has prayed God for just one thing. 
 That is a way she has. She learned it from 
 her father. For one thing only has she prayed, 
 and we have prayed too. It was that the boys 
 should not be taken away from her. Athing has 
 threatened that. If all this had not happened 
 to-night, he might have carried out his threat. 
 But God has heard her. Perhaps I too have 
 been a tool in his hand. I could almost believe 
 it. And little Hans's death ; yes, little Hans's 
 death, of course ! Suppose the two dear little 
 souls are sitting shivering somewhere, and wait- 
 ing for the angel. Ah, the dear, dear boys, they 
 have the angels with them indeed. Do you 
 doubt it ? No, don't doubt it ! If after this the 
 boys are ill, and they certainly will be, well, it 
 will be for their good. For when father and 
 mother have watched together by the sick bed 
 oh, the boys will never be sent away after that. 
 Never, no, never ! Then Athing would see that 
 it would kill her. Oh, he sees it already to- 
 night. Yes, I'm sure he sees it. He has already 
 given her a solemn promise. For a moment ago, 
 she looked me full in the face quite differently 
 
 from the way she looked before. Her look 
 292
 
 DUST 
 
 seemed to say she had something to tell me ; 
 and what else could it be but that, in the midst 
 of her anxiety ? She too has learned to know 
 the ways of God His wondrous ways. She 
 gives thanks and praise to Him as I do. Yes ; 
 praise be to God for Jesus's sake, for ever and 
 ever." She spoke in a whisper, but with heart- 
 felt conviction. These last words of praise, 
 however, she said with bowed head and folded 
 hands, softly, as though to herself. 
 
 At intervals we were parted from each other, 
 and then met again where the winding of the 
 gorge drew us together and all searching, so far 
 as we were concerned, was out of the question. 
 
 "There is one thing I want explained," I 
 whispered to her. " If all these things from 
 the time of little Hans's mournful end have been 
 ordered so that Athing's boys might remain with 
 their mother, then the great snowfall that we have 
 just seen and heard must have something to do 
 with it too. But I cannot see in that way." 
 
 " That ? Oh, that was only a natural event, 
 a mere accident." 
 
 " Is there such a thing as accident? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "and it often plays an 
 293
 
 DUST 
 
 important part. But here I can't see in what 
 way. It is a great mercy vouchsafed me that I 
 can see as much as I do. Why should I ask 
 for more ? " 
 
 We looked around us, but we felt it was useless 
 to search for the boys here in the ravine. Stina 
 was still taken up with my last words. 
 
 "What did you think when the snow came 
 down ? " she asked, softly, the next time we met. 
 
 " I will tell you. Mrs. Athing had said to 
 me a little while before we came out into the 
 park, that the hope of immortality falls from 
 heaven over this life of ours as white and soft 
 and noiseless as the snow on the naked earth." 
 
 " Ah ! how beautiful ! " Stina burst forth. 
 
 "And so I thought when that great noise 
 came and the whole wood trembled and the snow 
 fell thundering from the trees pray don't be 
 angry I thought then, that in the same way the 
 hope of immortality had fallen away from Mrs. 
 Athing, and you and all of us, in our great fear 
 for the boys' lives. We had been running up and 
 down weeping and wailing, some of us filled with 
 rebellion, thinking that perhaps the children at 
 
 that moment stood on the brink of eternity." 
 294
 
 DUST 
 
 " Yes ! Heaven knows we did." 
 
 " And yet the hope of immortality has been 
 with us for many thousand years ; it's much 
 older than Christianity, and yet how little have 
 we accustomed ourselves to it." 
 
 " Oh, you are right, a thousand times right ! 
 Just think of it ! " she said, and went on silently 
 meditating. 
 
 " You said just now that I had been harsh to 
 you, and yet all I had done was to remind you 
 of that belief in immortality which you had taught 
 the boys " 
 
 " Ah, that's true ! Forgive me. Yes ; you 
 are right." 
 
 " For you had taught them hadn't you ? 
 that it was much better to be with God than to 
 be here, that to have wings and be an angel was 
 the highest best thing that could befall a little 
 child, and that the angels themselves came and 
 took away the unhappy children " 
 
 " Ah, no ! No more ! " she moaned, and 
 covered her ears with her hands ; and then : 
 
 " Ah ! how thoughtless I have been," she 
 said. 
 
 " Don't you believe in it, then ? " 
 295
 
 DUST 
 
 "Yes, indeed, I believe. There have been 
 times in my life when these thoughts have been 
 my only comfort. But you seem utterly to con- 
 fuse me." And then she went on in the most 
 touching way to tell me that her mind was not 
 so strong as it had been ; she had wept and 
 suffered too much ; and the hope of a better life 
 after this, had often been her only comfort. 
 
 Athing's melancholy cry, always in the same 
 words, was heard at intervals, and just at this 
 moment it rang out again. It brought us back 
 all at once to the terrible reality, that we had 
 not yet found the boys, and that the more time 
 passed before we found them, the more certain 
 it was that they would have to pay the penalty 
 of illness. It was still snowing, so that in spite 
 of the moonlight we were walking in a mist. 
 
 Then a cry sounded through wood and snow- 
 mist in another voice than Athing's, and of a 
 quite different quality. I could not distinguish 
 what was said. Then we heard a fresh cry in 
 another voice, and then a third, and the last one 
 sounded clear. 
 
 " I hear them crying." It was a woman who 
 
 called out. I hastened forward with the others 
 296
 
 DUST 
 
 before and behind me, all making for the place 
 from which the cry came. We had grown tired 
 wading in the deep snow, but now we ran as 
 nimbly as though there were solid earth under 
 our feet. The light from the lanterns danced 
 around and upon us, lighting and dazzling us. 
 No one spoke ; not a sound was heard, except 
 our hurried breathing. 
 
 " Hush," cried a young girl, and stood still. 
 The others stopped as well. We could hear the 
 two little ones wailing as children do, who have 
 been crying in vain for a long, long while, and 
 find that consolation is coming at last. 
 
 " Oh God, oh God ! " said an old man. He 
 knew what such crying meant. 
 
 We could hear that the boys were no longer 
 alone. We went on, but more quietly. We 
 were high up now past the fish-pond, a little 
 way from the ravine at a sheltered point where 
 the trees were more of a uniform growth. The 
 crying, of course, grew more distinct as we drew 
 nearer, and at last we heard voices mingling 
 with it ; the voices of the father and mother, who 
 had been the first, after all, to reach them. 
 
 As we drew near enough to distinguish objects 
 29?
 
 DUST 
 
 through the trees and the snow-mist, we saw 
 before us two dark shapes standing out against 
 something high and white. It was the father 
 and mother on their knees each clasping a child, 
 and behind them was a snow-fortress, or a ruined 
 snow-hut, in which the boys had sought shelter. 
 As the lanterns came near, we saw how pitifully 
 frozen and exhausted they were. They were 
 quite blue; their fingers were benumbed; they 
 could hardly stand. They were both bareheaded. 
 Their caps, if they had worn them, had probably 
 been lost in the snow. They made no response 
 to their parents' questions and caresses. Not a 
 single word did they speak ; only went on crying 
 and crying. We stood round them; Stina sob- 
 bing aloud. The boys' weeping, and the parents' 
 sorrowing questions and caresses, their alterna- 
 tions of joy and grief touched me profoundly. 
 
 Athing rose and took up the child he held. 
 It was the elder boy. His wife got up too, lift- 
 ing the younger in her arms. Several people 
 begged to be allowed to carry him. She made 
 no answer ; only went on with the child, com- 
 forting him, weeping, talking to him without a 
 
 moment's pause between the words, until she 
 298
 
 DUST 
 
 made a false step and fell down, the boy under 
 her. She would not be helped, but struggled 
 up again, the boy in her arms ; went on a little 
 further, and fell a second time. 
 
 Then she looked up towards Heaven, as 
 though asking how this could be, how it was 
 possible ! 
 
 From that day to this when I think of her, 
 her faith and her helplessness, I see her again 
 with the boy lying stretched before her in the 
 snow, and she by him on her knees looking up 
 to Heaven with questioning and tears. Some 
 one took up the child while Stina helped the 
 mother to go on. But when the boy found 
 himself in another's arms, he began to wail 
 4< Mother ! Mother ! " and stretched his two stiff, 
 numb little hands out towards her. She wanted 
 to take him in her arms again at once, but the man 
 who was carrying him hurried on and pretended 
 not to hear her, though she begged and implored 
 him. 
 
 They had hardly got down to the path again 
 before she hastened forward, stopped the man, 
 and took the boy into her arms once more, 
 
 whispering all sorts of endearments over him. 
 299
 
 DUST 
 
 Athing was no longer to be seen. I let them all 
 go on in front of me. 
 
 But as I saw them before me, through the 
 snow-mist and the trees, and heard the sounds 
 of weeping and of consolation I fell back again 
 into my old thoughts. 
 
 300
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 I LEFT Skogstad at once, without taking leave of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Athing, who were with the children. 
 I took a horse to the first posting-station on the 
 way to town, and was soon driving slowly along 
 the highway. The new-fallen snow made the 
 road heavier than when I came. 
 
 There were still a few flakes drifting about, 
 but it gradually cleared and the moonlight by 
 degrees grew brighter. It fell with weird effect 
 on the snow-laden forest, which here stood un- 
 disturbed. Individual forms were lost, but the 
 contrasts of light and shade were stronger than 
 ever. 
 
 I was weary, and the state of my body reacted 
 on my mind. The forest seemed to be under 
 the dominion of the snow, like a crushed and 
 vanquished nation. Its burden was more than 
 it could bear. It stood patiently, nevertheless, 
 tree after tree, on and on without end like the 
 301
 
 DUST 
 
 multitudes of mankind from the beginning of 
 time to this hour the dust-laden oppressed 
 multitudes. This Heaven-sent merciful snow ! 
 
 And just as it has happened to all symbols 
 from the very earliest, that some of them have 
 thrown off their figurative character and have 
 acquired a substantive existence of their own, so 
 it was now with mine. I saw the past genera- 
 tions enveloped in a dust cloud, fighting with 
 and killing each other by millions in their blind- 
 ness. And ever there stood some one strewing 
 dust, more dust, over them, often tender and 
 delicate souls who in so doing performed the 
 highest duty they could conceive. I saw, too, 
 every relation of life, even the healthiest, overlaid 
 with a film of dust, and I knew that the attempt 
 to free mankind from it means the direst, the 
 only true revolution. 
 
 As I grew wearier, these things faded out of 
 consciousness, and all my recent experiences 
 came to the front again. I plainly heard the 
 sound of crying from amidst the snow-dust, 
 though the snow was no longer falling. It was 
 the boys I heard. 
 
 The two poor children had believed what 
 302
 
 DUST 
 
 grown-up people had taught them. They had 
 believed in beings more loving than we, and in a 
 life warmer than ours. For this they had defied 
 the cold, and amid all their grief and fear had 
 sat and waited steadfastly. When the thunder 
 sounded, they had perhaps waited tremblingly to 
 be lifted up on high, only to find themselves 
 buried alive. 
 
 I came out of the wood, and drove along its 
 edge to the station. When I got there, I stood 
 up and looked back. The trees were shining in 
 the clear moonlight, which now was brilliant. 
 
 Arising in the infinite past, far, far before the 
 beginning of history, a dream has haunted all 
 races of men, taking ever new forms, the one 
 growing out of the other, and in each transforma- 
 tion lying more lightly over life and concealing 
 less of it. 
 
 The incomprehensible and the infinite we shall 
 always have to reckon with, but they must no 
 longer appal and oppress us, they must fill us 
 with reverence, not choke us with dust. 
 
 I took my place again in the sleigh, and the 
 monotonous jingle of the bells lulled me to 
 drowsiness. The crying of the boys rang again 
 303
 
 DUST 
 
 in my ears, mingled with the sound of bells. 
 I wondered wearily how it fared with the two 
 little ones, and what aspect things would wear 
 in the sick room at Skogstad with those I had just 
 left. 
 
 How different was my forecast from what 
 actually took place ! 
 
 It recurred to me when, two months later, I 
 drove along the same road with Athing, and he 
 told me what had happened. I had just come 
 from abroad and he met me in town. 
 
 I do not pretend to repeat in his own words 
 what he said that I cannot do ; but this is the 
 substance of what he told me. 
 
 The boys were attacked by fever, which 
 developed into inflammation of the lungs. 
 Every one saw from the very first that it was 
 serious. But Mrs. Athing was so confident that 
 the whole had been ordered to the end that she 
 should be allowed to keep her boys at home, 
 that the others were infected with her faith. 
 
 However severe the illness might be, it would 
 
 only lead the way to peace and gladness. In 
 
 the wood that very night she had received a 
 
 solemn promise from her husband that the boys 
 
 304
 
 DUST 
 
 should not be sent away, that a tutor should 
 come and have them under constant supervision. 
 And in the long nights and quiet days passed by 
 the sick bed, he had repeated the promise as 
 often as she had desired. She had never been 
 more beautiful, he had never loved her more 
 deeply than now ; in fact, she was in a perpetual 
 state of exaltation. She confided to Athing that 
 from the very first time, six months before, when 
 he had said that the boys must go away, she 
 had prayed God to prevent it, prayed to him 
 unceasingly, and, during all that time, for this 
 and this alone. She knew that what one prayed 
 for in the name of Jesus would be granted. 
 She had done it many times before, in cases 
 which seemed to be turning-points in her life, 
 and, guided by her faith, things had always 
 turned out happily. 
 
 On this occasion she had asked her father's 
 prayers as well, and finally Stina's ; both had 
 promised to pray for nothing but this. It 
 never for a moment occurred to her that 
 there was another way to attain her end ; 
 for example, in so far as she had strength, 
 and in so far that as her faith permitted, 
 305 u
 
 DUST 
 
 she might have studied Athing's idea of 
 education, and endeavoured to induce him to 
 try whether they could not solve the problem 
 together. She took it for granted that she could 
 not do it. Indeed, what could she do ? But 
 with God all things were possible. It was more- 
 over his own cause more than any other that he 
 before had helped her to win, and so she was 
 confident he would grant her prayer. In every 
 incident, every creature who came to the house, 
 she saw the hand of Heaven. In one way or 
 another these things would turn out to be a link 
 in the sequence of events that should lead 
 Athing to other views. When in her guileless 
 confidence she told Athing this, he felt that at all 
 events it was not within human power to resist 
 her appeal. He was himself so carried away^ 
 that he was not only certain the boys would 
 recover he did not even notice how ill she her- 
 self was. 
 
 The long exposure in the park, without any 
 wraps, and with wet feet, the terrible mental 
 suspense and the night watching, the way in 
 which, regardless of herself, she fixed her mind 
 
 on one thing only, so that she even forgot, and 
 306
 
 DUST 
 
 indeed did not require, to eat, all this finally 
 robbed her of the last remnant of strength. But 
 the first symptoms of illness seemed so much a 
 part of her restless overwrought condition, that 
 neither she nor any one paid heed to them. At 
 last she had to take to her bed ; but at the same 
 time there was joy, indeed such rapture over her, 
 that the others felt no need for anxiety. Her 
 fever fancies so mingled with her life, her 
 longings, her faith, that it was often not easy to 
 distinguish them. Every one saw that she was 
 ill, but not that she was in danger. The doctor 
 was one of those who are not much given to talk 
 but still, had there been danger, he would 
 have said so of course he would. Stina had 
 undertaken the care of the sick room, and she 
 lived in her own world of dreams and hope, and 
 explained away everything when Athing showed 
 uneasiness. 
 
 One afternoon, he came home from the mills, 
 warmed himself at the fire downstairs, and then 
 went up to the great room where all the patients 
 lay, for the mother insisted upon being where 
 the boys were. Her bed stood so that she could 
 see them both. He came softly in. The room 
 307
 
 DUST 
 
 was airy and pleasant and full of peace. No 
 one but the patients, so far as he could see, was 
 in the room, but he discovered afterwards that 
 the nurse was asleep in a big chair, which she 
 had drawn away into the corner nearest the 
 stove. He did not wake her ; he stood a while 
 over each of the boys, who were either asleep 
 or dozing, and then went softly as before over 
 to the bed of his beloved wife, and rejoiced 
 that she lay so peacefully and perhaps sleep- 
 ing, for he heard none of that feverish babble 
 which at other times greeted him. A screen 
 was placed before the window, so that 
 he could not see distinctly till he came 
 quite close. She was lying with open eyes 
 and tear after tear was trickling down from 
 them. 
 
 " What is it ? " he whispered in alarm. By 
 the light of her altered mood, he saw at once 
 how worn, how terribly worn she was. How 
 in the world had he not seen it before ? Or had 
 he shared to such an extent in her security as to 
 count it as nothing ? For the moment it seemed 
 to him he would fall to the ground, but his fear 
 
 for her gave him strength. 
 308
 
 DUST 
 
 As soon as he could command his voice he 
 whispered : 
 
 " What is it, Amalie ? " 
 
 " I see in your face that you know what it is," 
 she answered, in a slow whisper. Her lips 
 trembled, her eyes rilled and overflowed ; but 
 otherwise she lay quite still. Her hands oh 
 how thin they were ! He had noticed before 
 that her ring was much too large for her finger ; 
 but why had he not thought of what it meant ? 
 Her hands lay fully outstretched on each side of 
 her body, which seemed so thin under blanket 
 and sheet. The lace round her wrist lay in 
 perfect order, as though she had not moved since 
 her toilet had been made for her, and that must 
 now be several hours ago. 
 
 " Oh, Amalie 1 " he cried out, and knelt down 
 beside the bed. 
 
 " I didn't mean it in that way," she answered 
 in so soft a whisper that under other circum- 
 stances he would have heard nothing. 
 
 " What do you mean by ' in that way/ 
 
 Amalie ? Oh, try again to tell me, Amalie ! " 
 
 He saw that she wanted to but could not, or 
 
 else changed her mind. Her eyes filled and 
 
 309
 
 DUST 
 
 overflowed, filled and overflowed, and her lips 
 trembled ; but as noiseless as was their quiver- 
 ing, so motionless she lay. At last she fixed 
 her great eyes upon him. He bent down closer 
 to her in order to hear. 
 
 " I did not want to take them from you," he 
 heard her whisper as before. The word " you " 
 was detached from the rest, and, even in that 
 low whisper, was steeped in a mournful tender- 
 ness such as nothing on earth could surpass. 
 
 He did not venture to ask again, though he 
 did not understand. He only gathered that 
 something had happened that same morning that 
 had changed life to death. She was benumbed. 
 Her motionless attitude was terror ; something 
 overwhelming had stricken her down to voiceless 
 stillness, had crushed her. But he also under- 
 stood that behind this ghostly silence there lay 
 an agitation so great that it must shatter her ; 
 he understood that there was danger and that 
 his presence increased the danger ; that is to 
 say, he understood that if he did not go away 
 the mere expression of his face as it must now 
 appear, was enough to kill her. He does not 
 
 know how he left the room. He remembers 
 310
 
 DUST 
 
 coming down a staircase ; for he remembers a 
 picture she herself had hung there of St. Christo- 
 pher carrying the Christ child over a stream. 
 Then he found himself lying on a sofa in the 
 large room, with something wet on his forehead 
 and some people around him, one of whom was 
 Stina. For long he struggled as with a bad 
 dream. At the sight of Stina his terror came 
 over him again. 
 
 " Stina, how is Amalie ? " She was in a high 
 fever. 
 
 " What can have happened this morning 
 while I was away ? " Stina knew nothing. 
 She did not even understand his question. It 
 was not she who had attended Mrs. Athing in 
 the morning ; she had had the night watch, and 
 then Mrs. Athing was wandering in rapturous 
 fever dreams as now she did again. 
 
 Had the doctor been with her in the morn- 
 ing ? 
 
 No, they were expecting him now. He had said 
 yesterday that he could not come until later to-day. 
 That seemed to indicate that the doctor felt secure. 
 
 Had Mrs. Athing spoken with any one else ? 
 It could only be with the nurse. 
 3"
 
 DUST 
 
 " Fetch her ! " Stina went, he sent away the 
 other woman, too ; he needed to collect himself. 
 He seated himself with his head between his 
 hands, and before he knew what he was doing 
 he burst into tears. He listened to his own 
 sobbing in the great room, and he shuddered. 
 He felt ah, he felt that he was destined to sit 
 alone here, listening to the sound of his own 
 grief, for weeks on weeks. And out of his 
 boundless sense of loss her image came, and 
 stood clearly before him ; she came as though 
 from her bed in her white garments, and told him 
 word for word what she had meant. Her prayer 
 to God had been that she might keep the boys ; 
 and now her prayer was being granted in terrible 
 earnest, for she was to have them wi<:h her in 
 death. It was that knowledge that had stricken 
 her down, and that was why she repeated, " I 
 didn't mean it in that way, I didn't want to take 
 them from you." 
 
 How had this all of a sudden occurred to her ? 
 Why had her immovable conviction taken so 
 terrible a form ? 
 
 The nurse knew nothing. Towards morning 
 
 Mrs. Athing had fallen asleep, and had gradually 
 312
 
 DUST 
 
 grown calmer. When she awoke, well on in 
 the day, she lay still a little before they made 
 her toilet. She was exceedingly weak, so the 
 housekeeper had assisted. No one said so 
 much as a word to her of her condition. She 
 herself did not say a word, except once, that 
 was when she had taken a little soup, and what 
 she said was : 
 
 " Oh no, it's not worth while." 
 
 Then she lay back and closed her eyes. 
 They urged her to eat, but she didn't answer. 
 They waited a little, then left her in peace. 
 
 Late in the evening the fever increased. By 
 the doctor's advice she was carried out into the 
 next room. She thought she was being trans- 
 ported to Paradise, and sang as they carried her, 
 in a faint husky voice. Now, too, she went on 
 talking without intermission ; but except that 
 Psalm about Paradise, there was nothing in her 
 babble to indicate that she remembered anything 
 of what had been in her mind during the interval 
 in which her reason had returned. She was 
 now all smiles and happiness again. Towards 
 morning she fell asleep, but presently wakened 
 and was immediately seized with that unspeak- 
 313
 
 DUST 
 
 able pain on which the death-agony soon 
 followed. In the course of it, she noticed that 
 the boys' beds were not there. She looked at 
 Athing and opened her hand as though she 
 wished to take his. He understood ; she thought 
 that the boys had gone before her and she wanted 
 to comfort him. With that little cold hand in 
 his, feeling the slight twitches it gave in the 
 last struggles of departing life, he sat until the 
 end. 
 
 Then he gave himself up to his infinite grief. 
 He no longer asked how all this had come about, 
 or what had happened that morning. Now he 
 knew, nothing whatever had happened. A new 
 fancy, nothing more, just as unaccountably as 
 the first, came that now all was to be well, and 
 the children were to be always at her side, so 
 too, came the second, that it was beyond the 
 grave in eternity that they were to be together. 
 One day she gave herself life, the next she gave 
 herself death. 
 
 In all this was there nothing that could have 
 been done ? 
 
 Ah, what remorse seized him, remembering 
 how he had allowed her to live an enfeebling
 
 DUST 
 
 and dangerous life of fantasy, for having left to 
 her all the household cares and the bringing up 
 of the children ! In his half considerate, half 
 easy-going way, he had taken her under his 
 wing wherever they went ; amused himself with 
 her when it occurred to him, but never attempted 
 to work in common with her. It was with these 
 thoughts that he now wrestled, finding neither 
 consolation nor forgiveness, for this it was that 
 had brought her to the grave. 
 
 One night, as he wandered aimless abroad 
 under a clear and starry sky, the first soothing 
 thoughts came to him. Would she ever have 
 given up her childlike ideas to follow his ? 
 Would not the attempt to disturb them merely 
 have made them unhappy opened a gulf 
 between them ? So he had always thought 
 in the last analysis it was this that had 
 determined him to live his life while she lived 
 hers. 
 
 It was strange to hear him thus at one 
 moment devoting all his acuteness to searching 
 out everything that could increase his responsi- 
 bility, and the next moment pacifying himself 
 with the thought that it would probably have 
 315
 
 DUST 
 
 been useless, and even hurtful, to bring any 
 pressure to bear upon her. 
 
 Later on, he would say on occasion that it 
 was not in this that he had erred towards her 
 and the children, but in other matters numerous 
 and painful enough, yet not so painful. 
 
 What these were he did not say; but he 
 looked ten years older. 
 
 The doctor came to him a few days after her 
 death, anxious to explain that if he had said 
 nothing of the danger of Mrs. Athing's case, it 
 was because he had felt sure that she would 
 pull through. But something must have hap- 
 pened that morning. 
 
 The doctor added that the boys were quite 
 out of danger ; the elder had been so all 
 along. 
 
 In his own mind Athing had not yet for a 
 moment separated the mother from the sons. 
 During their illness he felt that they must live, 
 in those last days he had never doubted that 
 they must follow her to the grave. He could 
 not conceive their mother without them even 
 there. 
 
 And now, when he had to separate them, the 
 316 

 
 DUST 
 
 first feeling was not gladness ; no, consternation 
 over the fact that in this too the dear one had 
 deceived herself! It was as though she were 
 alive, and could see that she had been mistaken 
 in everything, and that this last mistake had 
 needlessly killed her. 
 
 The two little boys, dressed in black, were 
 the first people we met. They looked pale and 
 frightened. They did not come to meet us, and 
 did not return their father's caress. 
 
 In the passage we met Stina. I expressed 
 my sincere sympathy with her. 
 
 She answered quietly, that the ways of God 
 were unsearchable. He alone knew what was 
 for our good. 
 
 Athing took me with him to the family 
 burying-place, a little stone chapel deep in a 
 grove in the direction of the river. On the way 
 he told me that whenever he tried to have some 
 intimate talk with the boys, and to be both 
 father and mother to them, it all rushed back 
 upon him so that he could not. It must come 
 little by little. 
 
 The family vault was a pretty little chapel, 
 where the coffins stood on the floor. The door,
 
 DUST 
 
 however, was not a common door, but an iron 
 grating which now stood open ; for some repairs 
 were being made. We uncovered our heads 
 and entered. The dust arising from the work 
 of repairing had settled in a thin film over the 
 coffins. We went up to the little one in which 
 she lay, and Athing wiped the dust away with 
 his handkerchief. We did not speak. Not till 
 I looked around at the other coffins, and the 
 inscriptions on them, did he tell me that his 
 wife's was to be enclosed in a casing of stone. 
 I said that in that way we were apt to preserve 
 more of our ancestors than was wholesome for 
 their descendants. 
 
 " But the custom is a reverent fme," he 
 answered, as he passed out. 
 
 The warmth of spring was in the air. Over 
 the bluish snow the fresh breath of the fjord 
 swept- like a menace. 
 
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