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 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 A TALE OP 
 
 Bml miir §m\t$k fife m Statbm. 
 
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 FKEDRIKA BKEMEE. 
 
 AUTHOROP • 
 
 'THE NKIQHBOUES," "NINA," "THE PEESIDENT'S DAUGHTERS," "THE H FAMILY,' 
 
 "THB HOME," "HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD," ETC., ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED BT 
 
 MARY HOWITT. 
 
 ^ut^ori^eb ^mmcan SbHimi, ioxt^ i\t gi»t|jor'5 ^^bitatioir. 
 
 J) I) i I a iJ £ I p I) t a : 
 
 T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
 
 DEDICATION FOE THE MEEICAN EDITION. 
 
 A. J. DOWNING, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED IN LOVE AND GRATEFUL REMEM- 
 BRANCE BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 "The women must regenerate ns socially," was a favor- 
 ite saying of yours, my friend, a saying precious to me as 
 coming from a spirit so just, so observing, and discrimi- 
 nating as your's ; and as it seemed to me to express a feel- 
 ing inherent, though, only half conscious, in the people of 
 your country — the great New World, the land of promise 
 and of hope to millions of hearts in Europe. 
 
 It also corresponded deeply to the faith of my own heart. 
 But if woman shall be able to accomplish the great work 
 which we believe intrusted to her by the great Author of 
 life, our laws and customs, institutions and education, 
 must not counteract the normal development of her 
 noblest faculties, of her will and aspirations ; they must 
 rather be to her the very soil and sun in which the tree 
 of her life can grow, and develop its branches, and bear 
 its fruits, in full correspondence to its inward essence. 
 
 (xix)
 
 XX DEDICATION. 
 
 You will certainly assent to this, my^ friend, you, whose 
 skillful hand loved to raise plants of every kind so as to 
 propitiate their full growth and God-given beauty or grace. 
 But is it so with regard to human institutions, for the 
 growth of woman's mind, and the full development of her 
 God-given gifts ? 
 
 You know, my friend, that it is not so ; you observed it 
 already on earth, and must know it better still in that 
 blessed society where men and women commune as angels 
 before the face of God. Even in your native land, which 
 a friend and countryman of mine calls, "The promised 
 land of woman, and of the child," and where the women 
 are indulged and left fancy-free certainly more than in any 
 other country on earth, it is not so. There, even there, 
 indulgence has not yet become justice, and the love for 
 women not reverence to her mission, so as to command a 
 training for her mind, and opportunities for its develop- 
 ment corresponding to that mission — training and oppor- 
 tunities which alone can make her acquire her full worth. 
 JSTor has she yet been propitiated so far in any country on 
 earth, though superior natures have, in almost all coun- 
 tries, shown the worth and influence she is capable of. 
 
 Of her situation in my own land, with reference to our 
 laws and social customs, I have dra^^ni a picture in the 
 work under the name of " The Four Sisters," and which I 
 dedicate to you; then by men such as you, and to you 
 congenial, I should wish my work to be judged. Its bitter 
 parts must be excused on the score of bitter pain, not
 
 DEDICATION. XXI 
 
 of a selfish kind. Tlie patriarclial bonds which keep 
 back the growth of woman's mind and social life in 
 Sweden, and which sometimes amounts to the most crush- 
 ing tyranny, I have shadowed forth in these pages, often 
 with a heavy heart. 
 
 But I have done it for love for the moral growth and 
 worth of my people, in strong faith and hope that when its 
 noble spirit came to look facts in the face, and know the 
 suffering and debasement, or the bitterness of spirit arising 
 from this state of things, it will rise and carry out in the 
 liberation of woman, the noble motto of our present King, 
 " Truth and J'ust.'icey 
 
 My people was the first among the Scandinavian nations 
 to liberate its slaves, when the blessed voice of the Ee- 
 deemer was heard in the North, proclaiming the brother- 
 hood of all men and the freedom in the father God. Cer- 
 tainly it cannot long be one of the last to liberate the lov- 
 ing companion of man, woman ^ from a state of tutelage and 
 bondage, which other Christian countries have already 
 shaken off for her. More than this liberation, I do not at 
 present hope for. But when the day will come, when the 
 sons of the earth will better know their true welfare, they 
 will give much more still to her who is to be the Mother 
 and first teacher : in fact, the inspiring Egeria of the future 
 generations, the coming Man ! From your heavenly horae, 
 my friend, methinks I see you smiling down, "Amen." 
 
 Since we parted on American shores, the homes of my 
 country have drawn nearer to those of your land in sym-
 
 XXii DEDICATION. 
 
 pathy and love for their noble hearts, their beautiful life ; 
 and I am happy to know that I have some part in this, 
 though only as the well who gives back the images of the 
 flowers and stars looking down in her mirror. 
 
 Your noblest poets and prose-writers have begun to be 
 translated in my native tongue. "Uncle Tom's Cabin," 
 has been read passionately by rich and poor, in the 
 palaces and cabins of my land ; Longfellow's poems are 
 translated by a graceful Swedish muse ; and Washington 
 Irving's " Wolfert's Roost," is now read in our daily papers 
 throughout the land, with that peculiar pleasure and charm 
 awakened by this delightful writer, ever young, ever pure, 
 writing as no other, romantic interest with classical purity 
 and elegance, beloved by all classes, read in all lands. 
 
 Even your books, my friend, are spreading in my 
 country, and are, this moment, helping my brother-in-law 
 to build a house and plant a garden for his summer resi- 
 dence. 
 
 At my parting with you, I promised to give the right 
 of publication in America of a work of mine to a friend 
 of yours, whose generous spirit even I had learned to 
 know and to appreciate. In now giving my " Four 
 Sisters" in the hands of the Publisher, I am conscious that 
 I intrust to him the work, which, of all my writings, has 
 the deepest root in my own life and consciousness — a work 
 which sacred duty commanded me to write. And I am 
 happy to fulfill my engagement to him, and a wish of 
 yours. Fkedeika Bremer.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 AN EVENING PAETY. 
 
 " Nowhere," says the proverb, " do things happen more 
 oddly than in this world." And nowhere in the world did 
 things happen more oddly than on a certain evening in our 
 good town of Kungskoping ; for there was a great party 
 there, and people were heard talking in this style : 
 
 " Now, ladies and gentlemen, we must set to and arrange 
 everything ! Every group in order ! Camellias, mignonettes, 
 and roses, you all stand in that corner : good fairies and hob- 
 goblins in the opposite one. Gods and goddesses, stand for- 
 ward — Olympus to the right, Valhalla to the left ! — Jupiter, 
 Colonel Jupiter, where is he ? — 'Pon my honor, standing and 
 shaking hands with Odin. Colonel Jupiter, do you hear ? 
 What have you to do with Valhalla ? You belong to the 
 Olympian division. Mrs. Frigga, be so good as to take 
 charge of Odin and his people. We must keep order in the 
 world." 
 
 " Yes, certainly : only don't forget that Odin must dance 
 with Juno, and I with Jupiter." 
 
 " Of course, in the grand Polonaise. But now every one 
 must go to his own j^ost. Colonel Jupiter, be so good and 
 stand here beside your worthy offspring. Mars and Vvdcan, 
 Apollo and Bacchus ! General Odin, march forward ! — if I 
 may be so bold. Lieutenant Thor — superb ! Assessor 
 
 (23)
 
 24 THE rorR sisters. 
 
 Balder; very good! Miss Idvma, be so obliging! — ^Iron- 
 master Brage — ^where the deuce is he gone to ? Ha ! ha ! 
 he stands bowing to the graces of Olympus. Do you hear, 
 my good su-, leave all that till the great polska. Your place, 
 for the present, is in Valhalla, and on tliis side. The ParciB 
 here ; the Nomor there ; that is as it should be. Good 
 fairies and goblins, let me see you in your own region ! No 
 deserters now. It is enough to tm-n one's head. Apropos 
 of head, where have we a Mimer's head ? Where can we get 
 a Mimer ?» 
 
 " Professor Methodius !" 
 
 " Our one-eyed uncle ! Splendid. But where is he ?" 
 
 " There ! standuig with his forefinger to his nose, demon- 
 strating his system to the Countess P. He is, no doubt, at 
 this very moment amid the creation of the world. I can see 
 it in his face." 
 
 And that was true enough. The Professor, called Metho- 
 dius, was really standing before the Countess P., and replying 
 to her somewhat mischievous inquiry of "how the system 
 was going on ?" 
 
 " Thank you for the inquiry ; oh yes, it rocks to and fro 
 like the seaman aground in his vessel." And the Professor 
 laughed heartily at his oa,vti conceit. " The fact is, that as 
 yet I cannot get it rightly in order, cannot set it to work, as 
 they say. Nevertheless I have got part way. And if one 
 is only sure of the foundation, one may feel quite safe in 
 building up the house and putting the roof on. In the same 
 way, if one wtJI improve the state of the world one must 
 know something about the beginning of the world, and there- 
 fore must begm at the beginning. One must go methodi- 
 cally to work. Suppose now that we imagine the beginning, 
 I mean the creation. Imagine then, my gracious Countess, a 
 — movement, yes, just a movement, as of an immense mass 
 of meal porridge, which fills all space ; and the whole of this 
 mass moves and moves and seethes, just as one sees porridge 
 heaving and seething in a big pot. But through all this 
 heaving and this seething, the grains (the atoms, as the
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 25 
 
 learned call them, but we will express ourselves in a popular 
 manner) collect or mass themselves together into small 
 lumps and clmnps, and these again lump themselves together 
 mto still larger and larger lumps and masses — and so it goes 
 on till — till at last aU the porridge-grains have adhered in one 
 great lump or mass, which we caU the earth. Now it is 
 ready ; now there it lies, like a great ball, and now it gets a 
 good soimd blow or bang on its side, which sends it spinning 
 round and roimd into mfinite space, till " 
 
 " But, my dear Professor, who gave it the blow ?" inquired 
 the Countess. 
 
 " Blow here and bang there !" exclaimed Major von Post, 
 the hvely maitre des plaisirs of both the town and the present 
 company, interrupting at this point the history of creation ; 
 " pardon, good uncle, but since you helped our Lord in the 
 creation of the world, be so good as to help us a httle in 
 bringing our Valhalla into order, and lend us your head for 
 Mimer's head." 
 
 The good Professor seemed at the first moment somewhat 
 confounded by this unexpected proposal, but immediately 
 rephed with a good-tempered smUe : 
 
 " Most willingly, '-fi I can only be sure about what is going 
 to happen to my head. For as I remember, Mimer's head 
 had to undergo some extraordinary operations, such as being 
 cut oflf, being boiled, and " 
 
 " Ah, dear papa, there is no danger. I'll be answerable for 
 your head," interrupted, laughing, an elegantly attired lady, 
 over whose full, but still youthful countenance, such a sun- 
 shine of joy and kindhness was diffused, that it seemed as 
 though it could never have any wrinkles ; and while Mimmi 
 Svanberg endeavored with her white and soft hand to smoothe 
 down the Professor's disorderly grey-streaked locks, she con- 
 tinued ; " we assume here many dissimilar shapes, but always 
 remain ourselves nevertheless. I am going to be, one after 
 another, first a witch, then a goddess, and lastly Pax Domes- 
 tica, with a whole train of sweeping-brooms and dust-pans j— 
 papa, be a splendid Mimer !"
 
 26 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " Well, just as you like, my dear Mimmi ; but " 
 
 "Everybody must come; one go after another. Let us 
 begin, let us begin, ladies and gentlemen, or we shall never be 
 ready ! " exclaimed the Major. 
 
 " One moment ; just one moment more, my dear Major," 
 besought the lady of the house ; " let us first have tea. It is 
 just ready. And everything will go on with so much more 
 spirit when people have had some refreshment." 
 
 We hope that by this time we have corrected the suspicion 
 which our readers at the beginning might have entertained, 
 namely, that they were in a company of fools. They are now 
 aware most likely that they are in company with very rational 
 people, assembled to amuse themselves with a merry scheme. 
 The company have this evening met in Merchant Dufva's 
 large drawing-room, for the rehearsal of a great fancy-ball, 
 which was to take place a few days later in the splendid new 
 Assembly Rooms of the town, and which was to be the 
 crowning festivity of all the festive occasions of the present 
 winter ; " altogether most exquisitely, most divinely amusing," 
 said the young girls. 
 
 People had enjoyed this winter many public festivities in the 
 good tovm of Kimgskoping, which, although not properly 
 belonging to the small towns, yet, nevertheless, under ordinary 
 circumstances, participated in the ordinary mode of hfe pecu- 
 liar to small Swedish towns, which has been described by a 
 lady residing in a small town as follows : — " One day is so 
 terribly like another that people don't know how to dis- 
 tinguish one from another." For this reason many an 
 inhabitant of a little town, that he may not drop fast asleep 
 from sheer weariness, endeavors to keep himself awake by 
 drinldng punch, playing at cards, and many other such pas- 
 times, which have the result of making the purse light, and 
 the heart heavy. The ladies again, when they do not partake 
 of the gentlemen's pastime — which sometimes happens — 
 generally endeavor to amuse themselves with coffee-parties, 
 novel-reading, and petty scandal, by way of a little spice to 
 the thin, spiritual soup of daily life. And this especially dur-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 2T 
 
 ing our long northern winters. But this winter m Kungskop* 
 ing formed a brilliant exception to orcUnary winters. The 
 raih'oad, which was being laid down just outside the toMTi, 
 had brought to its social circles a number of young engineers, 
 for the most part lively and mtelligent men, who had given a 
 new spring to every pleasure, and people had especially afford- 
 ed them opportunities for cheerful exercise at their balls, and 
 their suppers, which had taken the character of balls. In short, 
 nobody could remember there ever having been so gay a 
 winter before at Kungskoping. 
 
 People talked also about three marriage engagements which 
 were on foot, besides one which was a settled thing. This 
 last was between the eldest daughter of the house where the 
 company were now assembled, and the rich iroimiaster, Tack- 
 jern, "a very good match," said everybody, because Eva 
 DuiVa would have her own house, her own carriage — to 
 say nothing of having a very respectable man I'or her hus- 
 band. 
 
 Eva Dufv^a, however, looked pale, and not very happy. 
 But she was one of many sisters of a family not rich, though 
 tolerably well to do — and they all, parents and sisters, had 
 been delighted with this wealthy offer. She would be able to 
 make them all happy ; could invite her parents to dinner, and 
 her sisters out into the coimtry to "\dsit her at her country- 
 house. Eva Dufva said yes to the iron-master Tackjern, who 
 offered her all this. The wedding was therefore to take place 
 in May, upon the silver wedding-day of her parents, and the 
 golden wedding-day of the old grand-parents; and in prepara- 
 tion for this great occasion Mr. Alderman Dufva repaired, 
 added to, and put in order his house, and the approaching 
 three-fold marriage festival cheered the house and the minds 
 of all with every kind of happy preparation. Mrs. Dufva 
 herself, a handsome woman, who loved to do everything on a 
 magnificent scale, appeared to be the moving soul in every- 
 thing, arranging and determining all with the utmost pleasure; 
 only now and then she cast a stolen and troubled glance at 
 the pale and grave bride elect, her daughter. But thought
 
 28 THE FOUE SISTERS. 
 
 she to herself, " when she is married, and sees herself pos- 
 sessed of everything so splendid and good, then " 
 
 And so thinks many a mother. 
 
 Now whilst tea and other refreshments are carried romid, 
 and the gods and goddesses, good fairies and goblins, seat 
 themselves in mndow-nooks and at httle tables, and enjoy 
 themselves and talk together, we will avaU ourselves of the 
 opportunity to become more iutmiately acquainted with some 
 persons and groups of the party, and listen to the conversation 
 which is going on amongst them. 
 
 We will first appi'oach a married couple, who look particu- 
 larly comfortable, because we love comfortable people and 
 married couples, and we can see plainly enough that they are 
 such ; that little clergyman, with his somewhat undersized 
 figure ; his broad chest, his almost chUd-like, round, and open 
 countenance, and that little lady whose appearance gives us a 
 foreknowledge that she imites in her own person both Mary 
 and Martha, and who now, laying her hand so confidentially on 
 the pastor's shoulder, says in a low voice : 
 
 " Now, my little old man ! Now I think it is a good oppor- 
 tunity for you to brmg forward your proposal." 
 
 " Now ? How so ? " sighed the httle pastor, \vith a comic 
 expression of terror, " my dear little old woman, let me 
 strengthen myself first ; let me get a little power and courage 
 by the help of this good tea, and these good biscuits, and — 
 and — a little glass of rum ! Do you see — this is a subject 
 which it is not so easy to introduce. Do you see — Here 
 comes Mimmi Svanberg ; only don't talk about that proposal. 
 Sit down and drink tea with us. What would you hke? 
 what would you have? A pair of old boots? I would very 
 wilUngly keep them for myself. Mother, don't you forget 
 that Mimmi is to have my old boots — nota bene — only I must 
 wear them out first." 
 
 " Ah, what is it that you good people are laughing at ? " 
 asked a lady with a singularly dark and mournful j)hysiog- 
 nomy, as she advanced towards the trio. This was the widow 
 Ulrika Uggla.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 29 
 
 Mrs. TJggla and Mimmi Svanberg are the greatest con- 
 trasts in the world. The latter smiles, and is always endeavor- 
 ing to make life more easy for herself and others ; the former 
 sighs over everything, and sees everywhere only that which is 
 painful and misightly. 
 
 " I do not know," continued she, " how people can be so 
 merry when there is so much sorrow and vexation m the 
 world." 
 
 " For that very reason," rephed Mimmi Svanberg, " one 
 must endeavor to make it more cheerful. Besides, there is 
 also a great deal which is very good, and which makes one 
 very happy." 
 
 " Yes, so it seems to you ; but to those who think a little 
 more seriously on things in general — in this very house, for 
 instance, it seems to me that all this joy is really sorrow in 
 disguise." 
 
 " In this house ! But where, in all the world, can one find 
 a more comfortable home, — a more agreeable family, — a more 
 beautiful understanding between parents and children, — more 
 amiable young girls ? 
 
 " Yes, those seven Miss Dufvas ! — it is really a cheerful 
 prospect to have so many gu-ls ; poor girls to be got rid of; 
 what is to become of them all ? " 
 
 " Oh, time enough for that yet ; such nice girls as they are. 
 Besides, one of them is already engaged." 
 
 " Yes, but how does she look ? As if she were ready to 
 make away with herself Nothing but sorrow will come out 
 of that mai'riage, that I can foresee ; and aU the other gu'ls — 
 they will, all of them, be Uke superfluous cards." 
 
 " There are no longer any such cards in the world," said 
 Mimmi Svanberg, laughing ; " now-a-days all people are need- 
 ed for the well-being of the public, and may each one takte 
 his proper place and help the others in private or pubho 
 societies." 
 
 " Psha ! with your pubUc societies ; they are the most 
 troublesome things that I know, and, if I have my will, Inge- 
 borg shall have nothing to do with them. They are all down*
 
 30 THE FOUR ASTERS. 
 
 right nonsense, and good-for-nothing schemes. Girls can make 
 fools enough of themselves in the world without adding these 
 public societies to their folly ! " 
 
 Mrs. Uggla's doleful countenance, and mode of expressing 
 herself, seemed so absurd to Mimmi Svanberg, that she burst 
 into an uncontrollable fit of laughter: the clergyman, how- 
 ever, took up the subject more seriously, and replied: 
 
 " I do not think so. If girls make fools of themselves in 
 the world, it is their own fault and the fault of their mothers. 
 Would to God that I had twice as many daughters as Mrs. 
 Dufva; I should find ways and means and employment for 
 them all, partly at home and partly from home, precisely in 
 some of those excellent societies for the well-being of the 
 community, which offer to all and every one an opportunity 
 of being useful, and serving our Lord, each one according to 
 his several talents and turn of mind." 
 
 " It is all talk!" said Mrs. Uggla, with an angry expression ; 
 " a girl ought to get married and have her own family and 
 domestic affairs to look after. And that Ingeborg might have 
 had, if she had not in her youth been a romantic simpleton, 
 and refused a good offer, merely because she was not in love 
 with the man. For that reason she now sits there hke a piece 
 of furniture, and is red-nosed, and old, and never wUl be any- 
 thing but an old maid. It is altogether nothing but stupidity 
 and vexation," 
 
 She, of whom these hard words were spoken, was a young 
 woman of about thirty, or somewhat more, and whose appear- 
 ance and manner betrayed a painful consciousness of a youth 
 which was passed, and a restless endeavor still to retain it. 
 She had handsome teeth, and therefore she oftentimes smiled, 
 although her smile was deficient in gladness, while her dress 
 was more youthful than became her age and her appearance. 
 When her mother's restless and gloomy eye was fixed upon 
 her, she might especially be seen to assume a gaiety and live- 
 liness which evidently did not proceed fi-om the heart. Hence 
 it followed that she appeared affected, and was considered to 
 be so.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 31 
 
 Minimi Svanberg, who understood and valued Ingeborg 
 TJggla better than her splenetic mother did, said : 
 
 " Ingeborg is not a common character, and may yet marry 
 well if she likes. Li the meantime I think that she showed 
 her good taste, and her noble, right feehng, by remaining 
 rather in her mother's house than marry a man whom she 
 could not like." 
 
 With these words Mimmi Svanberg, as if afraid of further 
 contention on the subject, rose up to speak with some other 
 persons in the room, calling forth, for the most part, wherever 
 she came, cheerful conversation and laughter. 
 
 We will now listen to what that group of young men are 
 saying. 
 
 A, " It is dreadfully slow here. There won't be a single 
 card-table this evening." 
 
 J^. " I doubt it. Let's make the best of a bad business. I'll 
 go and talk with the ladies." 
 
 A. " The deuce you will ! It is such hard work making 
 polite speeches. No, I'll be off to my club, smoke a cigar and 
 have a bowl of punch, which you're very welcome to empty 
 with me." 
 
 ^. " Not a bad idea ; but — I'll just have a little talk first 
 with little Miss D. She is a very nice little girl, and is said 
 to have in expectation her fifty thousand banko." 
 
 C. " Introduce me to her, my good fellow ! Be so good as 
 to introduce me ; but stay, tell me first, for I am only just come 
 to this place, which are the richest girls here this evening." 
 
 -S. " I can't exactly say — not precisely ; let's look round. 
 First there are the young ladies of the house ; my friend Von 
 Tackjern is betrothed to one of them, but the other six or seven 
 are yet to be had." 
 
 C " The sweet little doves ! but are they worth anything ? 
 you understand me !" 
 
 JB. " Not much to speak of, I fancy, except handsome fea- 
 thers — a good outfit." 
 
 0. " Well, we'U let them fly. There are two very pretty 
 girls sitting there, as much alike as if they were sisters."
 
 32 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 B. "The Miss Roses; the Roses, as they are generally 
 called : most charming girls ; they are very accomplished " 
 
 C. " Yes, but have they any money as well ?" 
 -S. " They have nothing but hearts and roses," 
 
 C. " Well, we'll leave them sitting there, then. Now let's 
 go on in the fail-." 
 
 jB. " Beside them sits JMiss Uggla ; not exactly poor, and 
 rather a niceish sort of gu"l ; but she's getting old now ; has 
 been at balls for I don't know how many years, so that she is 
 quite faded and passee." 
 
 C. " Pass her by then and go on to somebody else. Who 
 is that who sits beside her, dressed in black ? she has a fine 
 figure, but she looks so cursedly positive." 
 
 B. " Be on yom* guard against her, for she has a sharp 
 tongue ! She is nevertheless worth her twenty thousand banko, 
 that is to say, when papa, old Falk, is dead ; because, so long 
 as he is alive, he won't part with a single stiver, that's a cer- 
 tainty." 
 
 G. " Twenty thousand banko ! nay, that is too low a figure 
 for me to put myself under the petticoat government of such 
 a ruler. Such bondage as that must be pretty well gilded." 
 
 B. " Here comes the bridegroom elect, the future son-in-law 
 of the house, my friend Yon Tackjern, a rich and capital fellow 
 — coming to speak to me." 
 
 G. " Introduce me to him, my good fellow ; I am only just 
 come to the place, and should Hke to become acquainted with 
 the respectable " 
 
 The introduction took place. Mr. Von Tackjern was a for- 
 mal, substantial gentleman, Avho liked evidently that people 
 should bow down before him, but was not very much inchned 
 to bow to others. He looked as if an iron poker were rim 
 through him from head to foot. To the congratulations of 
 his friend on his betrothal with so amiable a young lady, he 
 replied coldly : 
 
 " She is a good girl, and will, I hope, be an excellent wife, 
 and make me happy. I look for the reality in happiness as 
 well as in life."
 
 THE FOT R SISTERS. 33 
 
 B. " A very right and prudent way of tliinking ; it would 
 be well if every one thought as rationally." 
 
 Von Tackjern. " Yes, people would render themselves and 
 their country better service in that way than by giving them- 
 selves up to every kind of fantastic and philanthropic whim. 
 That philanthropy, with all its societies and collections, it 
 totally rums " 
 
 J5, " Don't speak so loud, for here comes a lady very for- 
 midable on this scoi-e, one of our fellow citizenesses " 
 
 " Say formidable, because she is UTesistible by her good heart 
 and her good temper, this tutelar saint of the poor," said a 
 young man who stood near the speakers, " and one cannot 
 possibly say no to an3rthing which she desires." 
 
 " It is one of my principles never to put my name down to 
 any subscriptions," said Von Tackjern, and buttoned up his 
 coat. 
 
 " And it is one of mine always to do so," said the former 
 speaker, " when they are promoted by persons whom I know 
 to be really the friends of the poor, as is the case Avith my 
 cousin Mimmi Svanberg." 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg came up to the last speaker at this very 
 moment and asked in a merry and low voice : 
 
 " My good Yngve, your father was a warm friend of his 
 coimtry, and you are his worthy son, and — you have no doubt 
 an old pair of boots ! I want a pan- tliis week." 
 
 " They shall stand before your door to-morrow morning, 
 my dear cousin ; because if I have not any, some of my friends 
 have, which will be quite at your service. Whose old legs are 
 you going to make happy with them? — though it is all one 
 to me. But do you not v/ant two pair ? Go and ask our rich 
 ironmaster here " 
 
 " No thank you ; I shall take care not to do so. I know 
 to whom I go. Thank you, dear Yngve. But I have not 
 done with you yet ; I want to turn this evenuig to good 
 account ; and you must help me to do so. I want the price 
 of the tickets to be applied to the benefit of our inflint school. 
 Cannot you propose it, Yngve ? We must speak to our good 
 2
 
 34 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 pastor about it and endeavor to interest Mrs. Tupplander in 
 the subject. Wliere is she ?" 
 
 Mrs. Tupplander sate in the middle of the sofa, ghttering in 
 full feather and pomp of attire, enthroned like a queen, or 
 rather as one who would enact the queen. Mrs. Tupplander 
 would in fact be very wiEingly queen-regent of the town, the 
 greatest chicken in the hen-cooj), as the saying is, the first lady 
 in company, and as yet no one has contested the place with 
 her, because she is a rich widow, who gives hberal alms, and 
 extremely good dinners, to which her housekeeping companion, 
 a lady of good family, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, greatly 
 contributes. Miss Krusbjorn has a genius in this hne, and 
 manages Mrs. Tupplander's house both in a clever and splen- 
 did manner, which is precisely according to Mrs. Tupj)lander's 
 notions. Mrs. Tupplander and Miss Krusbjorn divide the 
 rule of the family, as in a constitutional government, into the 
 upper and lower house; but in case of difference of opinion, 
 which fi-equently occurs, the lower house generally carries its 
 own point. Mrs. Tupplander bears the name, but Miss Krus- 
 bjorn has the power. Yet Mrs. Tupplander and Miss Krus- 
 bjorn could not Uve without each other. But enough for the 
 present about these ladies. 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg, who saw the weaknesses of her fellow 
 creatures, and smiled at them rather than let them annoy her, 
 was nevertheless sometimes annoyed by Mrs, Tupplander, 
 though she always kept up a good understanding with her for 
 the sake of her poor neighbors ; and therefore she Hstened 
 with great patience to the description of a dinner which 
 Mrs. Tupplander was about to give, and of all the delicate 
 dishes and wines, the whole sprinkled with the praises of Miss 
 Krusbjorn and her talents. When, however, Mrs, Tupplander 
 approached the end of her dinner details, Mimmi Svanberg 
 attacked her on her weak side, as the friend and patroness 
 of the poor, and obtained the promise of her help on behalf of 
 a needy f:\mily, as well as her advocacy and co-operation in a 
 plan which would be brought forward that very evening. In 
 this way compelled to a certain degree, Mrs. Tupplander gave
 
 THE FOrR SISTERS. 35 
 
 her consent, but added vnih a little pepper, as it were, on the 
 tip of her tongue : 
 
 " I cannot for my part imagine, dear Mimmi, liow you can 
 undertake and have so many things on hand at once ; your 
 father, on the contrary, never seems to be ready with anything 
 which he is about." 
 
 " The reason is," repHed Mimmi gaily, " because papa lives 
 for eternity and I merely for the moment." 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg had in fact a mode of speaking and acting 
 very unlike that of her father. It might at the first glance 
 appear to be of that kind which many ladies are well versed 
 in, and which may be called the hand-over-head method. But 
 if all those who made use of this method were guided by so 
 good a heart and so clear an understanding as Mimmi Svan- 
 berg, then they would, in their hand-over-head proceedings, 
 always manage to say and to do the very wisest and best 
 things. 
 
 As a matter of course Mimmi Svanberg, with, these warm 
 impulses and this disposition, was a favorite in the toAvn both 
 with rich and poor, nor would it amaze any one to find that 
 she had a great number of uncles and aunts, above forty cou- 
 sins, and an almost incalculable number of good fi-iends and 
 acquaintances who looked up to her for counsel and help in joy 
 as well as in sorrow. Much more amazing was it to many 
 people, and to myself among the rest, that Mimmi Svanberg, 
 warm-hearted, universally beloved, and good-looking, should 
 not have fixed her heart steadfastly upon some one, instead of 
 moving about in an element of human love and beneficence, 
 like a bird in the air or a fish in the water, finding enough for 
 herself there without desh-ing anything besides. Perhaps 
 
 there might lie behind some concealed cause, which we 
 
 may discover on some future day. 
 
 We will now accompany her fight step to a group of ladies, 
 to whom we, a few moments ago, saw the eyes of two gentle- 
 men directed, assaying their worth. It was thus that some 
 young gu-ls talked of the party at which they were assembled. 
 
 "Ah, how gay it will be here ! Quite charmingly gay. But
 
 36 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 dou't you think that the bride elect looks very grave, and her 
 lover very stupid ?" 
 
 "Yes; this match is, on her side, a mere money match. 
 There was another whom she hked much better; but Von 
 Tackjern is rich, and she has accepted him to please her 
 family." 
 
 " Poor girl ! If I had been in her case I would have had 
 Lieutenant M. He is so handsome, and so agreeable." 
 
 "Excepting when he is a little — tipsy, which he is some- 
 times." 
 
 " Oh, but then he is so very charming to ladies. He is 
 so very nice ! It really becomes him to be a Uttle ' half-seas- 
 over.' " 
 
 "I would not thank you for a husband half-seas-over, let 
 him be ever so charming. No, much rather Von Tackjern for 
 me ; less charming but more sober. That will certamly be no 
 life half seas- over, but neither will there be any ruin. I know 
 nothing in the world worse than ruin." 
 
 " There are in the world many kinds of ruin. But what 
 does Hertha say about it ?" 
 
 The young lady now appealed to was the same that we 
 heard spoken of before, " with the fine figure, but who looked 
 so deucedly positive." A remarkably noble person and rich 
 golden hair were, in fact, the only things which agreeably 
 distinguished her. A cloud seemed to envelope her whole 
 being, and gave a sort of cloudy and unpleasant air to her 
 otherwise regular features. She sate silent and indifferent, 
 immovable almost as a statue, and apparently lifeless. If roses 
 had ever bloomed upon her cheeks they had already faded, 
 together with the spring-time of youth ; a grey monotonous 
 tint lay on her whole countenance; the eyelashes drooped 
 heavily over the dark, inanimate eyes. Her dress was distin- 
 guished by its simplicity and homeliness. It bore not, the 
 slightest superfluous ornament, yet it fitted her exquisite form 
 with the nicest exactitude. 
 
 At the words, "What does Hertha think about it?" she 
 slightly turned her head, and said coldly :
 
 THE FOLK SISTERS. 3t 
 
 ""I think it is a miserable state of things where a good and 
 charming girl cannot have any other choice than to marry a 
 man hall-seas-over, or a man without a heart, and who evi 
 dently does not trouble himself much about her." 
 
 The young girls laughed, and said in a low voice : 
 
 " Hertha speaks plain enough ! She is not afraid of saying 
 what she thinks," 
 
 "Afraid!" exclaimed Hertha; "no, I am not afraid — not 
 now, at least." 
 
 " But, my dear Hertha," said, anxiously, a httle elderly lady, 
 who was mcessantly twiddling her fingers as if she were wind- 
 ing yarn, or unravelling a tangled skein, " one must think a 
 little, though, about what people may say. Besides, just 
 remember ! Eva Duf\^a has no fortune, and will be so well 
 provided for all her days." 
 
 " I tliink," said Hertha, with the same cold indifference as 
 before, " that it is humiliating for a girl to marry merely to be 
 well provided for. Much more honorable would it be for her 
 to help to provide for those whom she loves. That it seems to 
 me is far preferable, is an honor." 
 
 "Ah," returned the little old lady, whose countenance and 
 whole person had a resemblance to a ravelled skein, "now 
 Hertha is again coming out ^dth her odd ideas." 
 
 " She is quite right," said a lady in the circle ; " marriage 
 is fi'equently unhappy because girls don't marry themselves to 
 souls, or hearts, but to — purses." 
 
 " No, no," sighed a pale young woman, " not to purses, 
 but to dreams, and that is not much better, at least for the 
 happiness of the heart. One sees so much that is beautiful 
 in him one loves ; one sees in him the ideal about which one has 
 dreamed, and which is to elevate one to the good and the 
 great. One fancies that one shall find a God, and one finds — " 
 here she suddenly checked herself, while a famt crimson suf- 
 fused her pale countenance, and she merely added — " and one 
 finds that which one did not expect." 
 
 " But, my dear Emily," said the elder lady, smiling, " if we , 
 do not find gods in oiir husbands, neither do they, indeed, find '
 
 38 THE YOVR SISTERS. 
 
 goddesses in us. And men are, in a general way, much better 
 informed, and much more thoroughly educated than women, — 
 that even you must concede, Hertha." 
 
 " They know much more, perhaps," rephed Hertha, " but 
 it is not the fault of the women that there are few things 
 which they can learn, and even those few so seldom thoroughly. 
 But even then, are men more just, more reasonable, more high- 
 minded than women ? Do ihey think and act more from the 
 innermost of life ? In a word, have they more true human 
 culture ? " 
 
 "But do women in a general way possess this?" asked 
 one of the ladies, in a depreciating tone. 
 
 " They would possess this, and might even impart it," 
 rephed Hertha, " if their feeling for the innermost of life 
 obtained — Hfe, truth. But it is not developed, and therefore 
 both sexes remain alike trammelled and fundamentally uncul- 
 tured." 
 
 " Xay then, Hertha has a regular frenzy to-day, quite first 
 rate ! " said the young girls, smiling. " Only think, if the 
 gentlemen heard you ! — You will certainly never be married, 
 Hertha." 
 
 " Well, and what then ? " said Hertha, bluntly, but at the 
 same time half smiling. " Is marriage, in a general way, so 
 haj^py in this world, that the highest happiness may be consi- 
 dered as bemg found in marriage ? " 
 
 " Ah, no," said the pale young lady, with a sigh, " but it 
 makes us mothers, and in that way it gives us a rich and deep 
 experience of life, which can never be the lot of an unmarried, 
 childless woman." 
 
 The young girls were quite silent, as if struck by the truth 
 of these words. 
 
 Hertha said, " All married women have not children. And 
 is there not a pecuUar, rich experience, a deep insight into life, 
 whicli can alone be the portion of the immarried woman ? " 
 
 Hertha's voice betrayed an inward emotion, as she conti- 
 nued : — 
 
 "If our education were not so utterly miserable, and the
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 39 
 
 object of our lives so utterly poverty-strickeu and circum- 
 scribed ; if we Avere early instructed, instead of seeking for 
 support out of ourselves, to seek for it in our own breasts, in 
 our own powers; if we were able to devote life and life's 
 energies to great and noble purposes ; if we were permitted to 
 listen to the inner voice, and follow its insijirations rather than 
 aU kinds of opinions around us ; if we were allowed to do the 
 work which we should love to do, — then I am certain that we 
 should become noble and even happy, should be lawgivers to 
 ourselves and even others." 
 
 " Good gracious ! my deai- Heitha, do you wish that ladies 
 should be lawyers, or perhaps attorney-generals, and sit on the 
 high seat of justice ? " said the little old lady, working with 
 her fingers more nervously than ever, and evidently very 
 uneasy. 
 
 "Not exactly so," replied Hertha, half smiling; "but 
 rather — more than that," 
 
 " What more ? what more ?" asked many ladies in the 
 group, smUing and inquisitive. 
 
 Hertha was silent for a moment, and then said, whilst a 
 faint crimson lighted up her cheek, though the melodious 
 voice continued calm as a tranquilly heaving wave : 
 
 " In the old times it was believed that something great and 
 deep was indwelling in woman, which could not be fuUy deve- 
 loped unless she remained alone, alone with the Divinity. 
 Then even women were priestesses in the service of the holy, 
 of the divine. This belief is now lost. Now people merely 
 wish that young girls should be ' sweet girls,' accompUshed' 
 and so on, that they may get married as soon as possible, it 
 matters little with whom, so that he can but provide well for 
 his wife. This is a miserable view of life and of the destiny 
 of woman, degrading to women and perhaps still more so to 
 men. For the blame of it lies very much in womanly cowar- 
 dice, but still more in the want of justice and high-mindednesa 
 of man ; and he lowers himself in the same proportion as he 
 lowers us." 
 
 " Nay, you are now going too far, dear Hertha !" exclaimed
 
 40 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 tlie little old lady, writhmg in agony : " consider what you are 
 saying. Things don't go on in this world as in le palais de la 
 Verity. You wUl make yourself detested both by gentlemen 
 and ladies." 
 
 " I know it," said Hertha, with her hands crossed, and tlie 
 calmness as of a sybil. 
 
 "And only think if any of the gentlemen here heard you ! 
 they would be so angry at you ! you would never be invited 
 to the balls. You'll be getting into the newspapers ; you'll 
 have, hke me, a lawsuit on your shoulders. It does not an- 
 swer, speaking one's mind so freely — you'U make yourself and 
 aU of us unhappy." 
 
 " Have you, then, so bad an opinion of us as to believe that 
 we could not bear to hear a httle keen truth ?" inquired a mild 
 and manly voice ; and a young man, who, leaning against the 
 window-frame, concealed from the group of ladies by the thick 
 curtains, had heard the conversation, now came forward, took 
 a chair, and seated himself in the circle just opposite Hertha. 
 His handsome person, the manly, frank, and genei'ous expres- 
 sion of his youthful countenance, the ease and calmness of his 
 bearing, which betrayed a certain modest assurance, or rather 
 certainty of not displeasing ; all these, combined with the me- 
 lodious voice, won for him immediately the cheerful atten- 
 tion of the whole group. 
 
 He continued, addressing his remarks to Hertha : 
 
 " You are perfectly right. We men are in many ways defi- 
 cient in the deeper human culture ; but it is incumbent on the 
 ladies to give iis this ; for they have, incontestably, an uiborn 
 deeper sense of the innermost of life than we. The latest work 
 of the Creator obtained this as her dower." 
 
 " But our legislators think quite otherwise," rei^lied Hertha. 
 " They regard women, at least in our country, as beings who 
 are still in their tutelage ; and, precisely as a consequence of 
 this, they frequently become weak, vacillating souls, that never 
 can attain to years of discretion, lacking faith in themselves. 
 I don't mean," continued she, her cheek again tinged with a 
 fai)it crimson, " the faith which is the offspring to blind self-
 
 THE FOUR STSTKRS. 41 
 
 love ; many nave too much of that ; I mean the faith A\hich 
 comes from confidence in the truth of our own being, in God's 
 hght and voice within us." 
 
 " True, very true," again said the young man. " Ladies 
 often rule more through feminine caprice and weakness, or by 
 their outward attractions, than by their nobler powers. The 
 greater number never imagine hoAV they would become a 
 thousand times more powerful if they had a pleasure in be- 
 coming true, high-minded women seekmg only the highest. 
 Then would they elevate us with themselves. If there were 
 now-a-days women such as the priestesses of antiquity, female 
 judges, vestal virgins, it is at their feet that I would sit, to their 
 words that I would listen, as to oracles fi-om the hohest depths 
 of life. And for my best knowledge and most valuable attain- 
 ments, I have to thank women of this self-Hluminatrng, guiding 
 class." 
 
 A light, as of the rosy dawn above the cloudy east, lit up 
 Hertha's cheek at these words, and her eyes flashed like dia- 
 monds, catching the rays of light. It brightened her whole 
 countenance, whilst the little lady at her side looked utterly 
 amazed and confounded. 
 
 Drawn on, probably as much by the bold candor and the 
 purport of Hertha's expression, as well as by the eifect which 
 it was evident his words had upon her, the young man con- 
 tinued to address his conversation principally to her. He had 
 for several years resided in foreign countries and ditferent 
 parts of the world, and he related various things to show the 
 position of woman, and her influence upon difierent races of man- 
 kind ; for, singularly enough, he appeared to have devoted his 
 particular attention to this subject. Every one within the cir- 
 cle of ladies listened attentively, and each word which he utter- 
 ed was a question eliciting fresh light on a subject which in so 
 many ways interested all. Hertha alone said nothing ; but the 
 narrator seemed nevertheless to speak more especially for her. 
 
 When soon afterwards he was suddenly called away from 
 the circle, and this broke iip, a whispering chorus was heard of, 
 
 " Who is that agreeable yomig man ? Most amiable ; in-
 
 42 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 teresting ! charming ! I am regularly in love with him ! (N. 
 B. It was an elderly lady who said that.) Who is he? 
 Where does he come from ? How happens it that nohody 
 has seen him before, or even heard speak of him ?" 
 
 " It happens in this way," said one of the elder gentlemen, 
 enlightening them, " that he never before was in our neighbor- 
 hood. His father was the proprietor of mines in Norrland, 
 and he is now appointed as engineer to our new railroad. I 
 don't know a more excellent or more promising young man 
 than Yngve Nordin. And he is generally much liked by the 
 ladies. But take care of your hearts, yoimg ladies, for he is 
 said to be what is called a great ladies' man, but somewhat 
 fickle m his fancies." 
 
 " I would willingly have him for my son !" said one of the 
 ladies. 
 
 The Roses smiled and whispered to Hertha : " Well, stern 
 Sybilla, what, have you to say against this young man ? I 
 fancy that he has found grace in your eyes !" 
 
 Hertha smiled with an air of indifference, and said : " He 
 was polite to us." 
 
 She now prepared, in company ^v^th the little, fidgety old 
 lady, to leave the party, and her countenance again began to 
 assume its gloomy, dissatisfied expression. 
 
 Candles were lighted in the drawing-room, but it was deep 
 twihght in the little parlor where Hertha and her companion 
 attired themselves. 
 
 "Don't foi-get to put your shawl on the wrong side out, 
 Hertha," said the Httle old lady ; " both your shawl and collar, 
 for it will be damp out of doors. We have stayed a very long 
 time. Heaven grant that papa is not angry ! Shawl on the 
 wrong side, Hertha ! Oh, that you should have such odd 
 notions, and talk so ! If you could but be like other people ! 
 Shawl on the wrong side — mind that !" 
 
 Whilst Hertha silently and mechanically followed the direc- 
 tions which were thus given to her, she felt her hand kissed 
 and wetted by a hot tear by some one whom she in the dark- 
 ness could not distinguish.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 43 
 
 "Who is it ?" said she softly, " that has kissed my hand?" 
 
 " It is somebody who admires you," replied, softly, a sweet 
 ft^minine voice, " and who wishes she had your courage !" 
 
 " My courage !" said Hertha. " Oh, God keep you, Eva, 
 ft'om ever experiencing that which makes me courageous 
 enough to — shock human beings," 
 
 She kissed the young girl and hastened into the hall, as if 
 afraid of saying more, whilst little aunt Petronilla fumbled 
 after her things, muttering, " Hertha ! Hertha ! now she will 
 certainly forget her gloves, Hertha, where is my green bag 
 and the tea-cake for little Martha's nameday ! Oh that she 
 should be so imguarded ! No, see, I have my bag on my arm 
 and the tea-cake is in it ! But which way is Hertha gone ? 
 I must ahvays take charge of her !" 
 
 The signal for breaking off the conversation, and which also 
 seemed to have occasioned the departure of Hertha and aunt 
 Nella, was an exclamation fi-om Major Von Post, which again 
 summoned gods and goddesses, good fairies and goblins, to a 
 general rehearsal of the groups and scenes of the fancy ball, 
 
 " Now you must make haste with what you have to say, 
 my little old man, or you will be too late ;" whisj)ered eagerly 
 the wife of the clergyman to her husband ; " I long to be 
 going ; I someway don't feel quite in sphits ; I don't rightly 
 know why." 
 
 The good pastor now started up and said in a strong, deep 
 voice: " Ladies and gentlemen, divmities of Olympus and Val- 
 halla ! will you allow a poor mortal to say a few words to you 
 before you begin your sports, and before I take my departure ? 
 Have I permission to speak ?" 
 
 The universally beloved pastor was always willingly listened 
 to, and " Speak," " Speak," was heard on all sides, 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen," continued the speaker, with a mix- 
 ture of mirth and seriousness, which sometimes was changed 
 to deep feeling, and then the voice became husky and falter- 
 ing, as if it struggled against emotion, and a sudden paleness 
 overspread the otherwise child-hke, joyous, and open counte- 
 nance : " Ladies and gentlemen ! we are now assembled here
 
 44 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 to arrange a something which it is beheved will be very en- 
 tertaining, and I beheve it will be so too. I believe also that 
 Kin Of Solomon was right when he said that there was a time 
 for every thing, and that mirth has its time and is good in 
 itself. But if one could at the same time both amuse oneself 
 and do good, then there would be a twofold advantage. I 
 believe that this may now be done. Allow me to tell you 
 how. But in the first place I must give a little introduc- 
 tion." 
 
 " Now in the name of common sense what's coming ? Some 
 Magdalen institution, or society for the encouragement of 
 criminals !" muttered Mr. Von Tackjern, between his teeth, 
 and buttoned still closer his breast pocket. 
 
 " It is both pitiable and laughable at the same time !" sigh- 
 ed Mrs. Uggla ; and Mrs. Von Tupplander shook her feather- 
 adorned head, and said half audibly, " Ah, so tiresome !" 
 
 The speaker continued : " Whilst we are here amusing our- 
 selves by playing at gods and goddesses, and ordering gallons 
 of punch and champagne for our Olympian feast, dozens of 
 poor ragged and sometimes half-famished httle children, with- 
 out care-takers either for body or soul, — for many of them 
 have wretched, some of them no parents at all, — are running 
 about our town, in our streets, under our very windows. 
 These children need guardianship, instruction ; they need 
 mothers and schools. My wife and a few other ladies have 
 long wished, and even labored, to establish an infant ragged 
 school into which such poor little children as these could be 
 received ; and they have succeeded so far as to bring about a 
 beginnmg, but ah ! so small a beginning, that it is literally biit 
 an infant school, and not sufficient to receive one-third part of 
 the children which require care. We want a locale, we want 
 funds to enlarge the place and to enable us to give the poorest 
 of the children their dinners at the school. Many of our good 
 and considerate ladies here know of a certainty how great 
 need there is to establish some superintendence over the poor 
 children and their homes, as well within as without the town, 
 and they will therefore im questionably consider that the pro-
 
 TnE POUR SISTERS. 45 
 
 position wliicla I am now about to make is not ill-timed, nay 
 rather that this is just the proper time and season m which to 
 bring it forward, I propose therefore that all the Goddesses 
 and Graces, that is to say, all the ladies here present, should 
 form themselves into a Ladies* Society to visit the homes of 
 the poor, look after the children, and take charge of and use nil 
 their means to support the infant school ; and I further pro- 
 pose that for the obtaining of the necessary fimds for this pur- 
 pose, the entrance-tickets for the approaching festivity may 
 be made chargeable with a sort of impost for the benefit of 
 the Ladies' Society and its Infant schools. 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen ! " continued the speaker with 
 earnestness, "many of you are perhaps not aware that at no 
 great distance from our Olympian company, here in the town, 
 there stands in a lane an old house, or rather a barrack, called 
 the Great Quarter ; there, for many years, has been assembled 
 together more misery and wretchedness than many of you 
 have even seen during the whole of your lives, and that 
 amidst these dregs, this scum of our town's j)opulation, live 
 children — little children, ladies and gentlemen, — whom any 
 mother's heart, here in this room, might thank God to call her 
 own, and yet which are in the Great Quarter cast down into 
 every kind of wretchedness. I say to you, ladies and gentlemen, 
 that this is a state of things which we ought not to tolerate, but 
 that we must cleanse out this quarter of hell, or at least rescue 
 the children from it, and let them come into God's light and life. 
 It is our Christian duty! My wife has often urged me to 
 speak to you on this subject, and now I have done it, — and I 
 am glad that I have ! " 
 
 The little clergpnan wiped the perspiration from his brow, 
 and then continued with a smile. 
 
 "It may seem a little bold to reqiiest the Muses and the 
 Graces to cleanse out the Great Quarter, but since tlie day 
 when — a God washed on earth the feet of the poor, the 
 Olympian sisters have not regarded it as below tlieir dignity 
 to help in obtaining shoes and stockings for poor children. 
 We have a good proverb, which says, ' A quick beginning is
 
 46 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 half the winning.' Let us therefore begin the work this very- 
 day, this very moment. Let us here at once form a Ladies' 
 Society." 
 
 "I am mtending to write a book against Ladies' Societies!" 
 said the Protocol Secretary, N. B. "I have already collected 
 the material." 
 
 " Yes, it is these philanthropic undertakings and societies 
 which are the ruin of us!" said Mr. Von Tackjern, whilst he 
 buttoned yet another of his coat-buttons. 
 
 "We are never going on right; we shall become a poor- 
 house and a hospital!" sighed Mrs. Uggla, shaking her whole 
 body. 
 
 "He might have waited till my dinner, then I could have 
 drawn out of the thing," thought Mrs. Yon Tupplander, with 
 displeasure, shaking her head. 
 
 Various gentlemen, in the meantime, both elderly and 
 young, had, at the mention of "a fund for a good purpose," 
 immediately put their hands in their breast-pockets to feel for 
 their memorandum-books ; and the Countess P., who had lately 
 come to the place, where her husband had bought a large 
 property, and who, on accoimt of her goodness and unassum- 
 ing manners, made the world forgive her beauty, rank, and 
 wealth, hastened, together with Mimmi Svanberg and a few 
 other ladies, to the good pastor, thanked him, and begged 
 him to "reckon upon them." 
 
 The prevailing tone of the company, however, remained 
 hesitating and doubtful. People were heard to say : " It is 
 not now the time." — " One must think about the thing." — 
 " After the fancy-ball one should have time to attend to the 
 question." — " Now one must think about Olympus and Val- 
 halla, and the costumes." 
 
 Yngve Nordin raised his voice to ask the decision of the 
 company resi)ecting the sale of the tickets, and the aj)j)ropria- 
 tion of the money to the before-mentioned fund. 
 
 It was agreed to with acclamation ; discussion of the main 
 subject itself was deferred till another time, and Major Von 
 Post's voice was again heard summoning gods and goddesses
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 4t 
 
 to take their places, and the arrangement of the merry di\djii- 
 ties came into full swing. 
 
 " Let us go now, my little old man," whispered the wife of 
 the pastor to her husband, who was again wdping his hot 
 forehead. " We have at all events obtained something, and I 
 want to go home." 
 
 " How ? Are you ill ?" 
 
 " No, not exactly so. But I feel an anxiety, an oppres- 
 sion! You know that I feel so sometimes. It is to me as if 
 the very floor were burning under my feet. By all means let 
 us go !" 
 
 " Du-ectly, directly ! Let us merely take leave of the 
 hostess!" And the good married couple soon disappeared 
 from the scene of action, where all was now in a state of 
 merry confusion.
 
 48 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 HERE AND THERE ON THE WAY HOME. 
 
 *' In a minute or two I will be with you again, but I 
 must now accompany papa home!" said Mimmi Svanberg 
 to her fi-iends, as she prepared to accompany her aged father. 
 
 In the hall she found Ingeborg Uggla, waiting with her 
 usual patience for her ill-tempered grumbling mothei-, who 
 was detaining Dr. Hedermann, the principal physician of the 
 town ; a man both beloved and feared ; beloved for his skill 
 and his benevolence, feared for his e^jigrammatic wit, espe- 
 cially by the ladies, to whose deceit and vanity he ascribed 
 the degenerate state of the present generation, and whom 
 he therefore continually attacked by his sarcasm. Mrs. 
 Uggla had seized upon the doctor just as he left the company, 
 and ha\'ing described her cramps to him for the thirtieth 
 time, and received a pi'omise of some drops, now proceeded 
 to unburden her heart. 
 
 " Is it not both pitiable and laughable at the same tune 
 with all these schemes ?" 
 
 " What schemes, my gracious lady ?" 
 
 " Oh, the fancy-ball and ladies' society !" 
 
 " The ladies' society !" exclaimed the doctor : " the most 
 rational proj^osition in the world, only it has something 
 serious about it. But it ^vill come to nothing. It will be 
 mere playwork. Ladies have not time for such things. They 
 have more serious business to attend to ; their dress, their 
 pleasures ; their worsted-work, theu' housekeeping also. I 
 ■ believe — nothing Av-ill come of it — nothing, merely amusement, 
 beUeve me. Good-night, ladies ! Much pleasure at the fancy- 
 ball, and — many catarrhs and pleurisies after it ; — for that's 
 generall}' the way ! Good-night ! "
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 49 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg laughed. " The good doctor," she said, 
 " he has his fixed idea ! I wish we could cure him." 
 
 " He hates women," said Ingeborg, with a sigh, the depth 
 of which, together with the expression of her eye, and her 
 paleness, Avere remarked by Mimmi Svanberg, and strengthened 
 her in the idea which she had long entertained, that a deep, 
 but unrequited sentiment attached Ingeborg to the eccentric, 
 though really amiable and universally esteemed physician. 
 
 " He is a rational man," said Mrs. Uggla, " because he 
 believes that everything in the world gets worse and worse." 
 
 " But we, with our societies, think of making everything 
 better and better ! " said Mimmi cheerfully ; " and I calculate 
 upon Ingeborg as a member of that which we are about to 
 estabhsh." 
 
 " Then she will certainly never get married," sighed Mrs. 
 Uggla. " These public societies, or unions, are altogether direct 
 hindrances to private unions." 
 
 " I don't believe so," said Mimmi ; " but if they sliould 
 help us to become more active and happy human beings than 
 hitherto mthout marriage, then, really, there would be 
 nothing to complain of. What do you say, Ingeborg ? " 
 
 "I acknowledge," said Ingeborg, not without emotion, 
 " that I consider a happy marriage as the happiest of all 
 unions, and the greatest happiness upon earth ; but, if this 
 cannot be obtained, it is then desirable to employ one's hfe 
 and one's energies in another direction. And in this way 
 ladies' societies may be very useful to those, who, Uke myself, 
 are too bashful or are not active enough to undertake any thmg 
 upon then' own responsibility. Social life," added she, in a 
 lower voice, as she stealthily wiped away a tear, " seema 
 emptier and emptier the older one grows ; one laughs and 
 chatters and looks as if one were amused, but — sorrow often 
 sits at the heart. Happy they who haA e a good home, and 
 some one there to live for ! " 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Mimmi, with a glance of tenderness at 
 her old father ; and then, Avith heartfelt sympathy, she watched 
 lueceborsr enter her own room with her mother, whose last 
 3
 
 50 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 mxitterings were heard to be something about " stupiil 
 schemes," and " Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 " Ingeborg must come to see us ; it must be made pleasanter 
 for Ingeborg," whispered Mimmi silently to herself. " But, 
 how is this?" continued she aloud; " ai-e not our old pasto? 
 and his wife standing there on the bridge and looking at the 
 house where we have been this evening, as if they had left 
 something behind them ? Good evening, my friends, what is 
 going on now ? What are you contemplating in the new 
 moon ? " 
 
 "I am looking back to the home of my childhood, to the 
 Dufvas' house," said the pastor's wife. " I know not why, 
 but it seems to me as if I should never more behold it. Just 
 here, on this bridge, there came such an extraordinary uneasi- 
 ness over me, and I could not help turning round. How 
 splendid and gay it looks, with lights in all the windows." 
 
 " If it does not befal our dear lady as it befel Lot's wife ! " 
 said Mimmi, jokingly. " We now go part of the way home 
 together, and our road lies past the Great Quarter, where I 
 have business with little Mina's mother. I cannot tell you^ 
 sir," said she, addressing the clergyman, " how glad I should be 
 to get that child out of that Great Rubbish Quarter. What 
 do > ou say ? shall we all go and pay a visit there this evening, 
 in this beautiful moonlight ? " 
 
 "But, my dear Mimmi," said the pastor, somewhat 
 alarmed, "you don't remember that it is late, and that, in 
 the moonlight, one may happen to see things in the Great 
 Rubbish Quarter, which are not the most edifyuig in the 
 world !" 
 
 " Oh, nothing that we need trouble ourselves about ; at all 
 events, not in the room which Mrs. Granberg inhabits," an- 
 swered Munmi, laughing; "and besides, we are a large 
 party altogether. I should just like to see how the Great 
 Quarter looks in the moonlight. Perhaj^s we shall not have 
 many opportunities of seeing it much longer, as it is con- 
 demned by the public. But where in the world are all the 
 old drunken women to go to, and where many of the sober
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 51 
 
 ones too, who live there with their children ? We must, dear 
 pastor, build some comfortable dwellings for the more respec- 
 table classes of the poor !" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! everything in regular course ; if we can only 
 do it ! You are so terribly energetic, dear Mimmi, and my 
 convenience, you see, requires time !" 
 
 " Your convenience," said Mimmi, laughing, " may take ita 
 time if we only may make a beginning. And in the first 
 place, begin with sweeping clean the Rubbish Quarter. It 
 was a good idea, just this very evening, to propose the 
 Ladies' Society ! When people have settled down again quietly 
 after the fancy-ball they will have time enough to think of 
 more serious things. I hope we shall be able to get some 
 good fellow-laborers. I have been speaking to Ingeborg 
 Uggla, and have hopes of Hertha Falk. What a pity it is 
 that she was not in the groups this evening, she would have 
 made such a magnificent ISTorna or Yalkyria !" 
 
 " Yes," said the pastoi"'s wife, " only too gloomy. It is 
 wonderful how that girl of late has grown dark and plain. I 
 fancied that when she grew up she would be good-looking. 
 But now she always looks as if she were in an ill-humor. The 
 second sister we never see now in company. It is said that 
 she is greatly out of health. At one time there was a talk 
 about her being married ; but the father, people say, was 
 opposed to the match." 
 
 " Poor girls !" said Mimmi, now quite seriously, " they are 
 certainly not happy at home. Their aunt was very severe to 
 them while she lived, and the old man, people say, is bcth 
 avaricious and cross. Ever since that afiair in the family they 
 have almost entirely ceased to have intercourse with other 
 people. The girls, nevertheless, are noble and good, espe- 
 cially Hertha, although she is a little peculiar, a little odd ; 
 but one seldom sees them, and they are very much attached 
 to each other. They have also a relation, a young man who 
 lives in the family, and who is, I fancy, a little insane. In 
 a word, there is a plentiful growth of wormwood in that 
 house."
 
 52 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " But now, see, wo are at the Great Quarter. Now light 
 your lanthorn, good Jacob, because the moon does not light 
 the steps of the Quarter, and we must not break our legs if 
 we can help it !" 
 
 The clergyman's servant, the respectable Jacob, who at- 
 tended his master and mistress, did as he was desii'ed, and 
 they ascended the steps. Professor Methodius endeavoring the 
 while to initiate the clergyman into the first principles of his 
 system for the improvement of society, to which the latter 
 listened without replying a word. 
 
 The narrow wooden steps led to a landing, on which were 
 several doors. Mimmi opened one of these, as an old acquain- 
 tance, and the party entered into a large, long room, in wliich 
 no less than six families resided, one in each corner, and two 
 in the middle. The room was lighted by the moon and one 
 single small tallow candle, before which a middle-aged woman 
 sat on a broken stool, mending old clothes ; upon a bench 
 near her sat two children busy sorting rags. The boy was a 
 handsome, well-grown child ; the girl, whom Mimmi called 
 Mina, had nothmg remarkable about her, except a pair of 
 bright blue eyes, which seemed to look loviugly and gladly 
 forth from a sickly, pale, and meagre countenan^-e. No one 
 could have imagined, from her expression, that her legs and 
 feet were withered, and that she was compelled always to 
 remain in one place, or to move herself along upon her 
 knees. 
 
 " That is our best little girl in the infant school," said Mimmi 
 Svanberg, in an under tone to the clergyman ; " and she has 
 a voice which makes it a joy to hear her. Besides, she is such 
 a good and contented child. When any of the other poor 
 children have food in the school she never begs any of ity her 
 large eyes only look so beseechingly that it really goes to my 
 heart when there is not sufficient for her to have some, or when 
 it is not her turn, for it is a certainty that she gets no dinner 
 
 at home. The mother Good evening, Mrs. Granberg, you 
 
 see that I have not forgotten you, and you shall have the boots 
 either to-morrow morning or the morning after, so that you
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS 53 
 
 can then sit out iia the market to sell your things without your 
 feet being fi-czen ; thank you, thank you, Mrs. Granberg. 
 Here is oui- pastor come to see you, and ^yould Uke to know 
 how you manage to provide for yourself and your children. 
 Just teU him how you contrive." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Granberg, whose eyes sparkled with gratitude in 
 her pale, emaciated countenance, said humbly, — "How good 
 you are to inquire after a poor creature like me ! " 
 
 She seemed embarrassed, and it was only after she had heard 
 the familiar remarks of the pastor's wife about health and sick- 
 ness, &c,, that she by degrees became more communicative. 
 
 " All," said she, then, " how fortunate they are who do not 
 know what sickness is, and how it deprives one of one's power ! 
 Many a time have I cried because I was not able to work and 
 earn a bit of bread for me and my children, as I used former- 
 ly ; but that has not been the case for some years. One trou- 
 ble I have that I shall carry with me to the grave, and that I 
 got before the girl was born. It was in the depth of winter, 
 and we lived outside the town. It was a bitterly cold and 
 snowy winter, and we suffered great want. Granberg had 
 been away for fourteen days, and I did not know where he was. 
 For three whole days we had not had a morsel of bread nor a 
 bit of meat inside the house. The child cried ; I spun, and 
 when I got very hungry and weak I laid me do^vn to sleep. 
 Anxiety and himger soon woke me again. But I would not 
 weep nor yet give in, because of the child to which I should 
 soon give birth, and for its sake I determined to keep in as 
 good heart as I could. I sate down again to my spinning- 
 wheel. At length I could bear up no longer ; I took my 
 homespun jacket, the only thing I had left belonging to better 
 days, and went to Fetter's Anna, and asked her to take it to 
 Stenbom's to put it in pawn, and bring me back something to 
 eat, for we could not go on famishing any longer. 
 
 " Stina went, and soon came back again, with two cakes of 
 bread, six-pennyworth of meal, and a herring. And Ave 
 cooked, and we ate, and how good they were. But Stma had 
 met Granberg as she was going out, and told him how badly
 
 54 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 off I was at borne ; and he knew it well enot.gh, and that was 
 just the very reason that he kept away 5 he knew that there 
 was nothing to be had. 
 
 " Some days afterwards we heard that Granberg had sold 
 the jacket at a public-house for eight rix-dollars. But I knew 
 nothing about it of a certainty before he came one day drunk 
 into the room, and threw upon the floor a sack which held 
 half a bushel of peas, and exclaimed, ' See, there you have 
 your jacket !' I then understood the whole thing, there was 
 a noise in my head, a rending pain in my body, and I fainted 
 away. After that little Mina was born — a poor little creature, 
 such as she is now, and I have never since then had a day free 
 from pain." 
 
 " Poor Mrs, Granberg ! " said the pastor's wife compassion- 
 ately, but in an undervoice, as she sighed, " My God ! my 
 God ! » 
 
 She and her husband then turned to the httle girl with the 
 bright, cheerful eyes. They asked her, if it were not weari- 
 some to be always sitting. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied the child, " it would be a deal nicer if 
 I could run and jump about, like the other children; but I can 
 always amuse myself, as it is ! " 
 
 " She is always so cheerful," said her mother, \vith a me- 
 lancholy smile, " she has been sitting to-day for a little while 
 at the top of the stairs, and heard the lark sing; and then her 
 geranium's coming into flower. She has always something to 
 be pleased about. She would sing all day long like a bird, if 
 only, poor child, I could feed her better. But since she has 
 gone to the infant school she is, for all that, very happy ! " 
 
 " The Almighty has blessed the chUd for your sake, and 
 he wtII bless you through the child ! " said the pastor with 
 emotion. 
 
 Whilst the good couple were talking with Mrs, Granberg, 
 Mimmi Svanberg had silently stolen away into a corner, where 
 a poor woman sufiering from cancer lay upon a straw mattress. 
 She had helped to lay her on her bed, and to dress her sore. 
 She had for some time attended her thus as a nvu'se.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 65 
 
 In the meantime the other inhabitants of the room Aveve 
 all in movement, thronging around the pastor and his Avdfe, 
 some of them with pitiful stories, and some of them evidently 
 in a state of liquor. 
 
 " Xow let lis go," said Mimmi Svanberg to her fi-iends ; 
 " you must talk another time vrith the pastor, good people. 
 You can very well understand that it is now too late. We 
 must aU go to bed. Good night ! good night ! " 
 
 Once more in the street, she said, — 
 
 " Take care now, dear pastor, that Granberg has some help 
 fi'om the guardian of the poor. She is well deser\-ing of it, is 
 she not ? " 
 
 " You artful Mimmi ! " said the pastor, jokingly threaten- 
 ing her with his cane. " I'll lay any wager that you had 
 that design in your head all the time, and fooled me up those 
 steps, where I was very near losmg my balance and falhng 
 backwards, just on purpose to accompHsh it ! Ay, you are an 
 excellent one ! Confess, now, that yo^^ did it on speculation ! " 
 
 " Yes, that I did ! " said Mimmi, laughing heartily ; " I 
 knew that my good pastor could not resist, if he saw the thing 
 brought before his own eyes ; and the guardians of the poor do 
 well to go among them a httle." 
 
 " Get along ^dth you ! Yes, if he have anything to give. 
 You don't know, not you, how he is beset ; and of a truth I 
 cannot see the bottom of this increasing misery, nor tell what 
 will be the end of it, if active ladies do not come to our rescue, 
 and take charge of poor families and childi-en, so that there 
 may be some order and improvement, and if they do not make 
 us better acquainted with the people so that we can separate 
 the goats fi-om the sheep." 
 
 " Yes, that is indeed exactly what we will do vnih our 
 Ladies-societies," said Mimmi Svanberg gaUy, " we wUl sepa- 
 rate between Mrs. Granberg, who is an invalid and a good 
 woman and mother, and JVIi-s. Bergstrom, who is a wretched 
 ditto, and teaches her childi'en to beg and to steal ; we will 
 endeavor to raise up the one, and look after the other and her 
 children. But then comes the Protocols-secretary, N.B., and
 
 56 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 writes a book agaiust Ladies' societies, and makes a dead-set 
 at us." 
 
 " He will not do it," said the pastor, " or else I will write 
 a sermon against him and the Philistines." 
 
 " Let him write, and let ns act," said the pastor's wife, " that 
 will he the best. Don't forget, dear Mimmi, that yon pro- 
 mised to come and help me to dress the bride in the morning. 
 It will be about noon, and you will stay and dine with us." 
 
 " Yes, if I may only go away in the afternoon, for I pro- 
 mised to help the Dahlstroms with the funeral, and after that 
 I am to be god-mother at Palmstjernas ; they have got such 
 a nice little boy — a great joy in the family." 
 
 " And now see, we are at home. I shall bring mth me a 
 flowering mptle-branch for the bride. Good night ! Don't 
 forget, dear pastor, poor Granberg and little Mrna." 
 
 Ten minutes later, Mimmi Svanberg was with her father, 
 who, wrapped in his large, flowery dressing-gown, seated in 
 his easy chair, at his writing-table, absorbed in the labyrinth of 
 his system, and involved m a cloud of Havanna ambrosia, was 
 as happy as any professor possibly could be, who saw an amend- 
 ed and a happier world shining through its fragrant and trans- 
 parent haze. Happy in his way, he kissed his daughter, and 
 said from the depths of his heart, " You are my own child, 
 that you are — you take after your father — you desire to make 
 your feUow-creatures happy. If you had only a method. But 
 you are deficient in method, my child. Well, weU, every bird 
 sings according to his bill, and every one has his own way." 
 
 "And all ways lead to Rome," said Mimmi, laughing. " And 
 there we shall certainly meet, papa, dear, if not before. And 
 now I must return for a short time to the Dufvas' to make my 
 appearance as PaxDomestica, with a great broom in my hand, 
 to endanger people's domestic peace. That "wall make a sen- 
 sation ! But I shall see papa yet again before morning." 
 
 We must now go back an hour of time in the evening, and 
 accompany Hertha and Aunt Petronella, or Nella, on their 
 way home from the evening party ; Aunt Nella keeping up 
 an incessant patter of small talk in this style :
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 5t 
 
 " To tliiiik that you will never learn to be prudent and to 
 act and talk like other people !" 
 
 " I don't wish to be like other people," said Hertha. 
 
 " Yes, that is just the misfortune. What can be the use of 
 being different to everybody else ? What can be the advan- 
 tage of saying everything that one thinks, as if one was in le 
 Palais de la Verite ? It only vexes people and leads to anger. 
 You'll be gettmg a lawsuit on your shoulders, just as I have 
 for my honesty's sake ; I msh that you would take warning 
 by my example. Then you might escape all the entanglement 
 that I am involved in, and that everlasting waiting, like me, 
 for a siunmons." Here Aunt Nella stopped, because Hertha 
 stopped as she said, 
 
 " I must go up to Amalia for a moment." 
 
 " To Amaha 1" exclaimed Aunt Nella, horrified, " and you 
 know that the Director has forbidden any of us to have inter- 
 course with her !" 
 
 " Nevertheless, I must see her this evening ; I have some 
 work for her, and she needs it. Go quietly onward, dear 
 aunt, I will soon overtake you." 
 
 " No, ah, no ; that I dare not — dare not go along the street 
 alone at this time of night, no. I would rather than that go 
 up with you to her, if you must go ; but " 
 
 Hertha had already gone into the house and knocked softly 
 upon the door of a room, within which a famt light had been 
 seen in the street, shining through a curtained window. After 
 knocking she said softly, " It is I, Amalia ; open the door." 
 
 "I'll not go in," said Aunt Petronella, angrily ; "I'll neither 
 compromise nor involve myself, by going to such — " 
 
 The door opened, and Hertha entered. It was a young 
 woman of fine figure, and even of an agreeable appearance, 
 who opened the door ; but her eyes seemed heavy and red, 
 and a bitter expression gloomed the whole countenance. 
 
 "You come, nevertheless, Hertha," said she, with emotion. 
 " Yon do not forget me." 
 
 " No, never ; see, there is some work, Amafia, at least for 
 a week ; you will be well paid. It is for Eva Dufva ; and
 
 '53 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 there is some bread and some cake. It was given me ; it ia 
 mine, and you can take it without hesitation. You have cer- 
 tainly had nothing to eat to-day." 
 
 " No ; but that does not mattei*. I have had food for the 
 poor little fellow ; it would have been harder to have been 
 without work. Then one's heart gets so heavy, and one is so 
 sad. But now — God bless you, Hertha !" 
 
 It was a little poverty-stricken room in which tliis conversa- 
 tion took place. All 'wdthin it, however, was neat and well 
 kept ; beside the bed stood n, cradle, in Avhich lay a sleeping 
 child. Hertha approached the cradle, whilst she said, 
 
 " If I could do all for you that I would, AmaHa, you should 
 never either want work or bread ; but I am able to do so 
 little." 
 
 " God bless you for your good-wiU, and for never upbraid- 
 ing or despising me, as others do. Oh ! it is so bitter ; so 
 very, very bitter, to be despised, and to know that one de- 
 serves it. When I think of what I was, and what I might have 
 been, it almost drives me mad." 
 
 " Your fault is small, Amalia, m comparison with his, who 
 misled you and deceived you. You loved him, but he did 
 not love you." 
 
 " Yes, if I had loved him much^ Hertha, then I would have 
 excused myself more ; but I only loved him sufficiently to be 
 
 easily weak ; if I had only had somebody or something to 
 
 Btrengthen me ! It was levity, curiosity, youthful impulses 
 which made me vmfortunate ; it was the want of somethuig 
 better to fix my feelings, my thoughts upon. My heart was 
 full, my life so poor, my brain and my future so empty ; I 
 wished to experience the feeUngs of life, if only for a moment ; 
 — All, I little thought that I should have afterwards to drink 
 its dregs during the whole remainder of my days ! And if 
 you had not sustained me, I could not have borne it !" 
 
 " You must bear it, Amalia," said Hertha, with sorrowful 
 earnestness, " you are a mother : you must live and work for 
 your child's sake ; and you will do it, I know, and I love you 
 for it I"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 59 
 
 " Yes, Hertha ! For this child have I worked and starved, 
 and starved and worked ; and my only consolation is that I 
 stand before God and man such as I am ; that I have conceal- 
 ed nothmg, evaded nothing, either responsibiUty or penalty. 
 Yes," she continued, rising and directing a fixed gaze on her 
 sleeping child, " I will be a mother^ I will Uve and work, so 
 that no want and no neglect may be the lot of my child ; but 
 1 feel myself weaker of late, and — if I should die!" 
 
 " Then is your child mine /" said Hertha, seizing Amalia's 
 hand ; " and so long as I Uve and can work, it shall want for 
 nothing. Of that, be certain, Amalia ; and if the world casts 
 stones at you, I will defend ^ou, and say that you were a good 
 mother ; that you were worthy of esteem, because you had 
 the courage to bear the scorn and contempt of society by 
 keeping your child with you and living for it, like a true 
 mother ; and I have not words to tell you how I despise those 
 who depreciate and condemn you. I honor you for it, Ama- 
 lia ; and if I were free and could " 
 
 "I know, I know; and don't say any more. I cannot tell 
 you how it consoles, how it strengthens me, that you ajjprove 
 of my conduct in this respect. It "«dll give me new courage 
 to live and suffer and to resist temptations; for oh, this soli- 
 tude and want of occupation are terrible ! Hertha, do not for- 
 sake me ! " 
 
 "Never!" replied Hertha, and pressed Amalia's hand as 
 she added, " I will come again very soon ; but I must go now. 
 I hear aunt coughing, and my father expects me. But, 
 Amalia, expect me soon again ! " 
 
 Hertha found Aunt Nella, who was waiting in the passage, 
 in a very excited state. 
 
 "You will compromise both yourself and me," said she, 
 angrily, "what will peoj^le think, what will people beheve, 
 from such visits, at this time of night ? It will biing me into 
 a thousand difficulties. Besides, it has kept us so long, and 
 the Director will be so very cross! And Heaven knows 
 what new accusations my enemies may advance against me 
 when the cause comes to be heard ! Oh ! oh! "
 
 60 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Thus talked and sighed the poor lady the whole way. 
 Hertha answered not a word, and by her expression no one 
 would have suspected that she heard a single syllable ; and the 
 truth is, that the talk about the enigmatical lawsuit brought 
 about by one or more mysterious enemies — all gentlemen — 
 and the incessant danger in which Aunt Nella stood, by 
 reason of its protracted hearing, had so often sounded in 
 Hertha's ears, that she was accustomed to hsten to it, as one 
 Hstens to the dissonance of a barrel-organ for ever playing the 
 same piece, with a certain submissive suffering, in expectation 
 of its some time ceasing. 
 
 It was an evening towards the end of March, and the 
 heavens shone bright with stars above the grey ice-clad earth. 
 Hertha's glance was I'aised with a gloomy expression to this 
 brilliant heaven, and then it fell upon the frozen ground on 
 which she was walking with a weary, heavy step. She seemed 
 to be drawing a comparison between the two, and to be think- 
 ing with the poet Henrik Wergeland : 
 
 Stars I if ye cotild only see 
 
 All earth's silent misery, 
 
 Oh 1 then in the heavens nightly 
 
 Ye could not shine forth so brightly i 
 
 Her steps and Aunt Bella's tongue stopped at the same 
 moment. They had no w reached —
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 61 
 
 THE OLD HOUSE. 
 
 Reader, has it not sometimes happened to thee, as thou 
 ■wert wandering in our towns, to cast thine eyes upon a house 
 fi'om which they were involuntarily repelled with an unplea- 
 sant impression, unless they became riveted upon it with that 
 kind of interest which is produced by dark mysteries ? The 
 house may be well-built, with its two or three stories, and 
 yet have a certain dark and ruinous appearance. It is flecked 
 and blotched with grey, and a sickly yellow-green, wherever 
 the plaster has fallen off, or is damp-stricken. No flowering 
 plants are to be seen in the windows, from all of which seems 
 to look forth a something dark and brooding. The tiles of 
 the roof are also dark, some broken and decayed, others moss- 
 grown. The steps look as if nobody gave themselves the 
 trouble to sweep them or keep them clean. Whichever way 
 you turn your eyes, they are met by some ill-conditioned 
 feature. There is a something dead, a something divested of 
 beauty and of life, about the place. 
 
 You maybe certain that many silent sighs are breathed 
 forth daily in such a house ; many bitter unseen tears are shed, 
 and tortured hearts beat, beat as though they would burst the 
 dark, imprisoning walls, in vain ! The old house stands there, 
 hke a dark mysteiy closing its walls around the burning strife 
 and agony of the hving soul from one ten years' end to 
 another, hiding them from the eye of the world. The pro- 
 found di-ama of human life goes on within it ; the chUd is born, 
 brought up, developed, loves, yearns, longs, sufiers, and 
 withers away. The old house speaks not a word about it. It 
 silently conceals the mysteries of family life from the cradle to 
 the cofiin, with all its unspeakable bitterness, its corroding
 
 62 
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 rust, which eats into the heart, as the old song says, and the 
 world around has no idea of it. It merely has an idea that 
 "wormwood grows in that house." 
 
 At times, however, these internal corroding disorganiza- 
 tions, these secret agonies, the measure of which has been 
 heaped up to over-flowing, burst forth, and then something 
 terrible occurs. Husband is murdered by wife, or wife by 
 husband, or child by the parent, or an incendiary fire takes 
 place which destroys the old house, and spreads desolation far 
 aroimd ; and these reveal, bow and then, the dark mysteries 
 of the old house to the world. Tattling tongues are thrust 
 forth from every window ; the walls talk for the first and per- 
 haps for the last time. There is then an end of the old house ; 
 that which remains is a ruin. 
 
 Sometimes the house still remains, but shunned of all who 
 would choose for themselves a dwelling. For such houses 
 are said to be haunted. Some uneasy ghost walks there. 
 But long before it arrives at that stage, the old house stands 
 from one ten years' end to another, silent and dark, as a moss- 
 grown graveyard, whilst hving hearts slowly bleed to death 
 witliin it. 
 
 There are many such houses in the world, though not 
 many with such good cause as the old house before which we 
 are now standing. 
 
 In the lobby. Aunt Nella made a hesitating pause, and said : 
 
 "If — perhaps — if I might escaj^e going up to, my brother- 
 in-law ! — I am quite sure that we have stopped over our 
 time, and he will certainly be so angry! — If you would 
 say " 
 
 "I shall say that you were tired, and obliged to rest!" 
 said Hertlia. "Go to my sisters, aunt dear, and give my 
 love to them. I will give a kind greeting to papa from 
 aunt !'' 
 
 And with these words Hertha sprung up-stairs. 
 
 " Well, if you think you can manage it so ; then — but 
 where is she ? — Well, well, if she ever is plagued with a law- 
 suit, as I am, she Avill not be so nimble-footed !"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 63 
 
 And sighing and twiddling the strhags of her reticule, 
 Aunt Nella trotted across the court to another part of the 
 house. 
 
 Hertha was very soon obliged to moderate her pace, 
 because there was no light on the stau-s, and it was very 
 dark. On the second flight of stairs she was met by a youth 
 carrying a candle, and who advanced towards her with agi- 
 tated haste. 
 
 " Hertha — cousin — what a long time you have been ?" and 
 the light of the small candle, which was stuck crookedly into 
 an old brass candlestick, fell upon the figure of a tall, but 
 not strong youth, the mass of whose dark hair had a dis- 
 ordered appearance, whilst his eyes, deep-seated under a 
 broad but low forehead, glanced forth with an unsteady, 
 imcertain gaze. There was something gloomy and bewildered 
 in the whole appearance of the youth, and his voice was 
 rough, as if breaking, although he seemed to be about twenty 
 years of age. 
 
 " Have I been so very long, dear Rudolph ?" said Hertha 
 kindly and calmly. " What o'clock is it?" 
 
 " Certainly twenty minutes past eight. Uncle sits vdih his 
 watch in his hand " 
 
 " Give me the candle, Rudolph ; you drop the tallow 
 on the stairs. Let us go in. Has it been a very tedious 
 evening ?" 
 
 " Most dreadfully tedious !" 
 
 "It is my fault. I ought not to have stayed so long. — 
 Help me ! — Thank you, I'll take off my over-shoes myself; 
 but my cloak — thank you, Rudolph ! I'll keep my shawl on. 
 It is so cold here ! — " 
 
 They stood in a large desolate room, lighted merely by the 
 thin candle crookedly placed in the brass candlestick. Hertha 
 shuddered involuntarily as she cast a long glance round the 
 gloomy room in which fire seldom burned. 
 
 " Let us go in together !" continued she, and advanced reso- 
 lutely towards a door on the left, in the large room. As she 
 put her hand on the lock, she involuntarily paused a moment
 
 64 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 whilst she drew a deep breatl ; she tlien opened the door and 
 went in. 
 
 Here, in a frugally-furuish-rid room, was merely one person, 
 and that a man. He sat on a sofa just opposite the door, 
 with a table before him, on which two candles were burning. 
 His feet were wrapped in flannel, and he held a gold watch in 
 his hand. There was was no possibility of mistaking Avho he 
 was. He was the master of the house and the bugbear of the 
 family. 
 
 He was a slender and rather small man ; his features wtre 
 regular -and well-defined ; his hair, steel-grey and bristly, stood 
 straight up from his high and commanding forehead ; and be- 
 neath the dark, bushy eye-brows lay a p.iir of large, dark-grey 
 eyes, whose stern and angry glance was now fixed upon Hertha. 
 
 " You've stayed over your time !" said Director Falk, ui a 
 fierce voice, to his daughter. " It is twenty-two minutes past 
 eight by my watch. What made you stop so long ?" 
 
 " I did not know what time it was ; — I forgot !" replied 
 Hertha coldly. 
 
 " Forgot !" burst forth the Director, " forgot ! Is that any 
 excuse ? Ought people to forget their duty ? That, perhaps, 
 you think nothing of; or think, perhaps, that it is beautiful, 
 noble, independent ! That I know is according to those mo- 
 dern theories of which you are so fond ; according to the laws 
 of female emancipation, I suppose, by which you will emanci- 
 pate yourself from obedience to jiarents ? Forgot, indeed ! 
 One of these fine days you'll be forgetting that you have a 
 father, or that you have any duties at all to perform towards 
 him. Forgot ! — and you tell me so in that obstinate way, as 
 if you had a right to demand whatever you liked, and in 
 whatever way you choose, without any reference to me. But 
 I will be master in my own house ! I will have obedience 
 
 there and subordination ! I'll be d d a thousand times, if 
 
 I will bear to have my people one time after another disre 
 garding my orders, and forgetting the time which I fix for 
 them. I know what I will, and I Avill have my will ! And I 
 will have my own will to be law in my own house ! J won't
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 65 
 
 endure to have people forgetting wliat I have said to them 
 above a hundred times. And more than a hundred times 
 have I said that I would have the gate locked at eight o'clock 
 in the evening, and I would not, on any pretence, have it 
 open after eight; and, therefore, you ought to he at home at 
 eight precisely every evening : before eight, or at eight pre- 
 cisely ! Have you heard that before now, or not ?" 
 
 " I have heard it !" repUed Hertha, as before. 
 
 " Veiy well ; then be so good as to act accordmgly, or I 
 will have the gate locked and barred every afternoon, and 
 you shall not so easily get out to any of your pleasure parties, 
 which make you forget your duties at home." 
 
 " But why must it be precisely eight o'clock ?" asked the 
 yoimg man in a grunting, ill-tempered voice. 
 
 " "Why ? you scoundrel ! Because I vnll have it so, and 
 that to the minute. That is enough, I hope, or what next ? 
 Bah ! What must you be mumbling for ? Keep your foolish 
 tongue within your teeth, till people speak to you ! Don't you 
 be meddling m that which is no business of yours. You've 
 nothing to say on the subject! If you had not been my ne- 
 phew, I would long since have turned you out of doors, you 
 good-for-nothmg, you ! Write and count a little you can, and 
 that little you have learned of me ; but sense you have none, 
 and that neither I nor anybody else could ever drive into 
 you ! You are, and will remain to be, a clown all your days, 
 and fit for nothing but to eat the bread of charity ! And if 
 ever you mix yourself uj) again in things that don't concern 
 you, I'll — give you a good dressing ! My feet are cursedly 
 weak, but my hands, thank God, are active enough, and that 
 you shall have some experience of! Be silent ! I have not 
 talked to you, but to Hertha !" 
 
 " Rudolph is a good lad I" said Hertha, with a flashing 
 glance, " and will some day be a clever man ; and able to pro- 
 vide for himself, without being obliged to eat the bread of 
 charity. Even now, he is very useful in the counthig- 
 house !" 
 
 " To whom are you saying that !" shouted the Director 
 4
 
 66 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 turning to his daughter ; " are you going to teach me ? Do 
 you understand such things better than I do ? Now, really 
 the pretension of young women is going too far. One thing, 
 however, I will advise you, and that is, to keep to your spin- 
 ning-wheel and your housekeeping aliairs; for more than that 
 neither you nor any other woman in the universe understands. 
 Thank God, if they can understand what is before them. 
 Shoemaker, stick to your last ! I won't aUow any one to en- 
 croach upon my rights. Ent now-a-days women will mix 
 themselves up in everything, and therefore everything goes 
 wrong. There's such a deal of talk about this genius ! and 
 this genius ! and this must be an artist, and that a book-keep- 
 er, and that an author, or a professor, or some other great 
 thing ! Cursed talk, altogether ! I wish that they were real 
 kitchen-geniuses ! then they would at least do something use- 
 fill in the world. But now they are too grand for that — Hea- 
 en help us ! — must Uve for a higher object, be fellow-citizen- 
 esses, or some folly or other ! It provokes me only to think 
 of it : and so long as I live, and am master in my own house, 
 my daughters shall not make a spectacle of themselves to the 
 whole world with any such stupidity, but shall attend projjer- 
 ly each one to her own business. I will not tolerate any 
 modern notions about freedom and emancipation in my 
 house." 
 
 Thus the Director continued to scold, turning towards his 
 daughter, who, from the moment when he again addressed 
 her, stood quite sUent, pale and immovable, her dark eyes riv 
 eted upon him with an expression of deep inward suffermg 
 which sometimes seemed transformed into hatred and defi- 
 ance. But not a syllable passed her jjale hps. Rudolph again 
 sat down by the wall, with his head drooped upon his breast, 
 his usual attitude, and his now darkly gleaming eyes fixed 
 alternately upon the Director and Hertha. 
 
 This painful scene was interrujited by the old servant, 
 Anna, who came in to say that supper was ready. 
 
 Aunt ZSTeUa now made her appearance, together with two 
 quite young girls of twelve or thu-teen years of age. Aimt
 
 THE FOUR STSTEUS. Ct 
 
 Nella made her salutation in an embarrassed manner, and 
 busily t^visted and twirled her reticule-strings. The girls made 
 their curtseys very diffidently, and did not advance beyond 
 the door, when they saw their father's angry and excited ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 He in the meantime called them up to him, and seemed to 
 become somewhat mollified whilst he looked at them; asked 
 them some questions, filliped their noses, and called them 
 names, which made them blush up to their ears, and filled the 
 eyes of one of them with tears. 
 
 Then they were called " simpleton" and " fool," and " cry- 
 baby," which caused the fountain of tears, so plenteous and 
 so easily excited at their age, to overflow, which provoked a 
 fresh ebullition of sneers — "What's the meaning of this? 
 Cursed sentimentality. I'll have nothing of that sort : I 
 won't allow it. If you can do nothing but cry, you may go 
 your way and amuse yourselves the best yoii can. Can't your 
 aimt teach you something better than crying? Can't she 
 teach you to be rational girls and not simpletons ? 
 
 "They are yet so young, so sensitive," stammered Aunt 
 Nella. 
 
 " Oh, bah, sensitive !" said the Director. " The devil take 
 your feelings and your sensibility, which is nothing but cursed 
 nonsense ! It is so beautiful and so afiecting to be so sensi- 
 tive, and to sit and sigh and read novels, and cry and pout at 
 everything, and be displeased with the whole world, and make 
 themselves unhappy about nothing. But I will not have my 
 daughters brought up in this way. I will have them made 
 useful and practical human beings, and not to live in dreams 
 and nonsense. I will have nothing to do with any such 
 thing. Do you hear me? Mind, then, that we have no 
 more grimaces. Now come and sit down to table." 
 
 Old Anna had just said that dishes were at the table. 
 
 The Director, supported upon the arm of the faithfu. old 
 servant, and by a stick, limped out into the dining-room, 
 followed by the others in silence. Two tallow candles, stand- 
 ing upon the table, dimly lighted the large dark room.
 
 68 TITK FOI'R SISTERS. 
 
 " IIow pleasant it is to have light here !" whispered Ru- 
 clolph to Hertha. 
 
 " What's that ? — What are y^u saying ?" asked the Direc- 
 tor, turning upon him a pair of threatening eyes. Rudolph 
 cowered before them, as it were, and was silent. 
 
 "I beheve that you'll be Uvely enough!" said the Director; 
 " and — there's that for you ! Be less nimble with your 
 tongue, and have more sense another time." 
 
 And Rudolph received a blo\r on the cheek, which made a 
 buzzing in his ears. Hertha's eyes flashed fire at this, and 
 Aunt Nella began to cry. 
 
 '■•Come, come, no nonsense!" said the Director; "sit 
 doTvni to table. Where is Alma, why does not she come up ?" ^ 
 
 " She is not well ; she is gone to bed,'* repUed Aunt Nella, ^ 
 who tried to swallow her tears in a glass of beer posset. 
 
 " Cursed nonsense !" mumbled the Director again ; but as 
 when the thunderbolt has fallen the storm gradually abates, 
 so now the Director's ill-humor seemed to have discharged 
 itself, and a certain depression took its j^lace. He seemed as 
 if he wished to dissipate it by talldng on indifferent subjects, 
 but he received either monosyllabic replies, or no reply at all, 
 if his remarks were not put in the form of questions. Tlie 
 frugal meal was veiy soon ended; no one seemed to have 
 enjoyed it, excepting Rudolph, who ate ravenously, and the 
 Director, who seemed to take his usual basin of wine-gruel 
 with his usual appetite. 
 
 When they all rose from table, the Director said a short 
 " Good night " to Aunt Nella, who curtsied, twisting the 
 whUe the strings of her reticule, and to the little girls, who 
 went forward and kissed their father's hand, while they 
 " thanked him for a good meal," and said "good night." His 
 glance rested gloomily and joylessly upon the children, who 
 seemed to wish to get away. 
 
 " Oh, how unbearable it is here," whispered the spirited 
 little Martha to her sister Maria ; " I would positively marry 
 at night if I were only sure of wakmg a widow the next 
 morning."
 
 THE FOUR SISTKRS. 69 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! don't talk so," admonished Aunt Nella, aa 
 she prepared to leave the room with the children. Hertha 
 and Rudolph had already accompan?bd the Director. 
 
 " Set out the table and give me the cards," said he. 
 
 Rudolph brought a roimd table which he placed before the 
 sofa, and Hertha laid upon it a well-worn pack of cards, and 
 they sat down to a three-handed game. A more lifeless and 
 joyless card party could hardly be conceived. Hertha played 
 mechanically ; she was very pale, and spoke coldly and with 
 constraint the words which the game required. Rudolph, 
 again, made continual mistakes, which gave the Director 
 occasion to be almost continually scolding him. Excej)ting in 
 this way, not a word was spoken. They did not play for 
 money. The Du'ector seemed pleased with winning the game, 
 which he almost always did, because the others played ill or 
 without interest. Thus were spent two hours. The Director 
 then looked at his watch and said, " It is now eleven, we may 
 close." 
 
 Rudolph and Hei'tha silently pushed away their chairs, 
 carried away the table, and put the cards aside. 
 
 " Good night, Rudolph ; you can go to bed," said the 
 Director coldly. " Hertha, stay, I wish to speak to you," 
 
 Rudolph bowed sullenly and left the room, after he had 
 cast a lingering glance at Hertha. 
 
 Father and daughter were now alone ; there was a deep 
 silence, each seemed to wait for the other to speak fii-st. At 
 length the Director said : — 
 
 " Hertha, you have failed in duty to your father. Do you 
 not think you should beg his pardon ? " 
 
 Hertha made no reply. Her heart was full of stonny feel- 
 ings and bitter words. She was afraid of speaking lest she 
 should say too much. The Director continued in a milder 
 voice : 
 
 "I desire nothing but the best interests of ray children, I 
 fulfil my duty to them, and I desire only that they should 
 fulfil theirs towards me — should show me obedience and grati- 
 tude."
 
 70 TUE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Again there was no reply. Astonished at Hertha's silence, 
 the Director looked inquiringly at her, endeavoring to inter- 
 pret the peculiar expression of her countenance, in the same 
 way that we puzzle over a difficult riddle. Many thoughts 
 and feelings seemed to be working there ; some seemed wish- 
 ful to find expression, but were opposed by others, which said, 
 " It is not worth while ; he cannot, he will not understand." 
 In the meantime there was something in the milder voice and 
 countenance of her father, together with his suffering state, 
 which seemed to touch her deeply, and she merely said with 
 melancholy seriousness, as she bowed her head, 
 
 " Good night, my father." 
 
 The Director looked at her and extended his hand for her 
 to kiss, for it was the custom in his house, morning, noon, and 
 evening, for the children to kiss the hand of their father. For 
 some years, however, this old usage of childish reverence had 
 become oppressive to Hei'tha, because her heart was not in it, 
 and this evening it was an impossibility to her. She repeated 
 merely in a constrained voice, " Good night," bowed her head 
 as a parting salutation, and went out, saying, " I will send in 
 Anna." 
 
 The outstretched hand remained thus for a moment, then 
 it was clenched convulsively ; a dark, angry red flushed the 
 pale countenance of the Director, and he exclaimed : — 
 
 " The devil take their notions of emancipation." 
 
 He sat silently staring with the expression of an enraged 
 beast until the faithful old servant, Anna, came in to help her 
 master to his bed. 
 
 She had lived in the family more then twenty years, was 
 accustomed to speak her thoughts, and the Director listened 
 to her more than to any one else in the house ; he was in the 
 habit of speaking more confidentially with her than with any 
 other being in the world. Now, therefore, from the necessity 
 of unburdening his heart after the scene which had just 
 , occurred, he began : — 
 
 "Things are getting madder and madder than ever.ui this 
 world."
 
 THE FOlll Si:>Ti:RS. 1 1 
 
 "Yes, yes; but — " said Anna, who was somewhat of a mis- 
 anthrope, "the older people get, the worse they get." 
 
 "That I don't know," said the Du'ector angrily, "but tliia 
 I do know, that young girls get more and more unreasonable 
 in their demands, and more and more disobedient and un- 
 grateful to their fathers." 
 
 "Yes, yes, but, poor things, — their lives are not so very 
 amusing either." 
 
 "Amusing! — Why should they be amusing? It is better 
 for young girls that their lives should be dull than amusing. 
 It teaches them to be serious, industrious, and domestic." 
 
 " Yes, but I don't think it would do any great harm if they 
 had a httle amusement at the same time. I don't mean any 
 giddy sort of amusement, but something pleasant to think 
 about and wish for, and which Avould enhven them, and give 
 them a sort of outlet. For life is very heavy, and very narrow 
 sometimes for us women." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense. What do you want ? What do my 
 daughters want? Have they not everything which they 
 require — whether of clothing or of food ? " 
 
 "Yes, certainly — yes, certainly. But look you. Director, 
 this is my way of thinking, — young people must have some- 
 thing to live for; something which is their own, and which 
 they can improve ; yes, something certainly to think about 
 and occupy themselves with for the future. Look you, I am 
 only a poor woman-servant, but I have my own certain oc- 
 cupation for every day, and my own certain wages for every 
 year, which I can do just as I like with ; some of it I can put 
 every year into the Savings' Bank for my old age, or else to 
 help a friend. And I believe that every human being ought 
 to have his own, and liberty to do with it as he likes ; because 
 that leads to peace and contentment." 
 
 "You are right, inasmuch as it applies to those who have 
 attained to mature years, and can properly take care of them- 
 selves, and that which belongs to them," said the Director. 
 " But young girls cannot do that. They are mere children. 
 If they had anj-thing of their o^vn, and Uberty to do what they
 
 t2 THE FOUR SISTER-. 
 
 liked with it, there Avould soon be an end of it. Precisely 
 because I wish my girls to have some time something to ma- 
 nage, and live upon, and not be dependent on others when they 
 get old, precisely for this reason must I manage and save for 
 them. And so I shall contmue to do even if they are un- 
 grateful. I know, however, that one day they will be thank- 
 ful to me." 
 
 "Yes, but Director, I still think that Mamsell Alma and 
 Mamsell Hertha ai*e old enough and sensible enough to be 
 able to manage for themselves." 
 
 " You don't understand it. I know better. Alma is a 
 good girl, but too weak to be able to take care of herself. 
 And Hertha is a headstrong, self-willed girl, who needs to 
 remain under guardianship all her days." 
 
 " Nay, look now, I say that the Director does her a great 
 injustice ! " exclaimed Anna, with the boldness of a faithful 
 old servant ; "and her deceased ladyship Hard did not under- 
 stand her any better. But this I say, that though she has a 
 head and a will of her own, yet that she is really an uncom- 
 monly clever young lady, and does not deserve injustice, and 
 could manage both a toA\m and a nation, if it came to that. 
 She has not been at all like anybody else ever since she was a 
 child, and may be a little peculiar and proud, but so good- 
 hearted and so noble-minded, so reasonable — " 
 
 "It was you and her mother who spoiled her with talking 
 in that way," interrupted the Director. "She is stubborn and 
 self-willed, I say, and needs discipline. It does not do for 
 girls to have their o-\\^l will or to be their own advisers. And 
 it is now, as it has been, my will that ray daughters shall 
 direct themselves according to my will, and not say or do 
 anythmg which is contrary to it. I am master of my own 
 house, I hope, and they are my children, and that's positive ! If 
 my daughters are wise they will find it best to obey their father." 
 
 " But if they should die ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ? — Wiiat are you talking about ?'* 
 said the Director violently, " why should they die ?" 
 
 "Ay, I believe, that — Mamsell Alma will not be very long
 
 '1 !IK F(H !l t-I^TKI'S. 73 
 
 in this world. I believe that sorrow has taken very deep hold 
 upon her," 
 
 " It is your foolish fancy and superstitiou," said the Director, 
 as before. " What is amiss "svith her ? Is she not in every day 
 to dinner, the one day like another ? I see no change in her." 
 
 "But she does not come up in the evenings any longer, and 
 she looks so deathly of late. And I know that she has got no 
 fileep the greater part of the night, ever since " 
 
 " Stupid stuff! stupid fancies !" again interrupted the Direc- 
 tor angrily. " She has been somewhat complaining for some 
 time. But the doctor sees her twice in the week, and she 
 will soon be better. But if any of the girls complain you 
 think directly that they are in the agonies of death. It is 
 nothing but stupid superstition ! Now then, help me into bed, 
 and give me over that little chest." 
 
 Old Anna was affronted by the often repeated accusation 
 of " stupidity," and said not another word, doing only, as a 
 machine, that which her master desired her. He now there- 
 fore dismissed her, saying coldly : 
 
 " Good night ! see that the lire is carefully taken down in 
 the kitchen, and don't leave till it is all black on the hearth. 
 Do you hear ?" 
 
 When the Director was left alone, he opened, half sitting- 
 up in bed, the little chest or cash-box, and Ms wrinkled angry 
 countenance grew brighter, as he opened, examined ^\dth the 
 candle, and again folded together various small strips of paper. 
 After that he smiled with satisfaction, and said half aloud to 
 himself: 
 
 " ISTot so bad ! not so bad ! Old Falk is a weU-to-do man ; 
 a well-to-do man, a substantial fellow, a rich man. Ay, ay ; 
 nobody shall look down upon him ! People shall take their hats 
 off to him — a rich man !" 
 
 And so saying he laid the chest under the pillow, extinguish- 
 ed the lamp, and turned himself to sleep, whilst his thoughts 
 repeated to him, like a lullaby, " A rich man ! A rich man !" 
 
 And no warning voice whispered in his ear, " Thou fool ! 
 this night shall thy soul be required fi-om thee !"
 
 THE rOlJR SISTERS 
 
 THE SISTERS. 
 
 When Hertha left her father's chamber, she found Ru- 
 dolph in the dinmg-room, who stood as if waiting there, with 
 the now nearly burnt-down candle in his hand. He advanced 
 towards her, flourishing the candle as he said : — 
 
 " Hertha, will you — wiU you ? Say only a word; I will do 
 whatever you wish !" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Hertha astonished. 
 
 " It is so cold here ! Don't you think that it is very cold 
 now ? — cold ! I saw you shiver. Do you know, I believe, 
 that it never will get any better !" 
 
 " Go to bed, Rudolph, you'll be wai-m there. Go to bed, 
 poor Rudolph, and sleep, and dream and forget. Good night, 
 dear Rudolph !" 
 
 " I will light you down, Hertha." 
 
 " Not this evening, Rudolph. I will light myself Give 
 me your candle for to-night and let the moon be your 
 lanthorn into your garret, thus you can oblige me, Ru- 
 dolph." 
 
 " I'll go with you for all that," said Rudolph, " because 
 something might happen to you on the stairs !" And he at- 
 tempted to I3ut his arm round her waist. 
 
 Hertha pushed him gently away, and said in a determined 
 manner, " I will go alone, RudoljA. I can light and help my- 
 self Good night, Rudolph." 
 
 She went, locking the door behind her. 
 
 Rudolph stood a moment silent and moody, muttering to 
 himself — 
 
 " Well, well, she'll have to fly to me for help some tune — 
 before she thinks !" and passed through another door from the
 
 Tlin I'OVU S'STF.RS. T5 
 
 dining-room, which led by a winding staircase up to his o"\vn 
 chamber in the attics. 
 
 Hertha went down two flights of stau'S, to the lower story, 
 and into the court. The Director's chamber faced the street 
 and was at the other end of the house. 
 
 Hertha entered a little stone passage, upon either side of 
 which was a door. She knocked softly upon the one to the 
 left. It was opened by Aunt Petronella. 
 
 " Are my little sisters still awake ?" asked Hertha softly. 
 
 " Hertha, Hertha, is it you ?" cried the young fresh voices 
 from the inner room. " Ah, come, come, and tell us some- 
 thing about the ball and the costumes, Hertha." 
 
 " Not this evening, but in the morning, my darlings," said 
 Hertha, as she bent over her sisters' beds, whilst her neck was 
 clasped by their young arms, " I am come to say good night 
 to you, and give you a few sweetmeats from the great enter- 
 tainment at the Dufvas'." 
 
 " Thanks, thanks, you dear, naughty Hertha ! Good night ; 
 now dream some wonderful dream that yovi can tell us to-mor- 
 row morning at breakfast!" 
 
 Hertha's dreams were celebrated in the family, and had 
 constituted for some years the most remarkable incidents in 
 this secluded family, nay, even their principal pleasures. 
 
 Hertha promised to pay particular attention to her dreams 
 this night. Aunt Nella had sat, before Hertha's entrance into 
 the room, deeply absorbed over a large portfolio, and, amid a 
 mass of letters, scraps of newspapers, patterns of collars and 
 needlework, verses, and every variety of paper-article lying 
 together in the utmost confusion, w^as endeavoring to catch 
 hold of and bring together the ravelled thread of that threat- 
 ening, mysterious lawsuit which was hanging over her head. 
 The endeavor seemed hopeless to uninitiated eyes, but Aunt 
 Xella, who had all her days found an exquisite pleasure in un- 
 ravelling tangled skeins, seemed not to have any doubt about 
 being able to accomplish it, and yet fully to bring to light the 
 mysteriously intriguing enemy, who most frequently showed 
 huuself as an indefinite, but prejudiced and oflcnded gentle-
 
 76 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 man, whom Aunt Nella in her youth had had the nusfortune 
 to stumble against, A yarringles stood near her, upon Avhich 
 was a tangled skein of yarn, the threads from which had be- 
 come entangled among the papers of the portfolio ; all seemed 
 to become more and more perplexed ; the old lady, however, 
 comforted herself by the entanglement on the yarringles, in 
 the hope, as she said sUently to herself, that the one ravel 
 might help the other. 
 
 Nor was it a bad idea either : Aunt Nella's countenance 
 and her law-prospects brightened considerably, as she, with 
 admirable patience and even skill, opened a way for the thread 
 through all the knots and the labyrinths of the skein ; and still, 
 as more and more the whole was subdued into order, and the 
 winding went on uninterruptedly, and the skein diminished 
 on the yarringles, hghter and brighter became her state of 
 mind, and more and more hopeful her thoughts of the ultimate 
 issue of the impending lawsuit. When Hertha, therefore, 
 came in from her sisters', the old lady having laid aside her 
 portfoUo for the tangled yarn-skein, and her state of mind 
 having begun to brighten with the decreasing entanglement, 
 she said quite kindly to Hertha : 
 
 "I am winding now to spole for your weaving, my dear 
 Hertha ; and if you were but as industrious as I am, it would 
 soon be ready," 
 
 Hertha only replied " Good night," with an unhappy expres- 
 sion of countenance, and crossed the passage to the second 
 door. Of this she had the key. She opened it and went in. 
 It was a large room, in which might be perceived the smell 
 both of smoke and damp, Ceilmg, walls, fire-place, all showed 
 evident want of repair. There was but little furniture, and 
 that of the most homely character ; although in this, as in 
 other things, the careful hand of woman was observable. A 
 loom and two spinning-wheels stood in the room. Its only 
 ornament was a little book-case and a few pictures, the work 
 of Hertha, In a deep recess on the left hand ; — but before w^e 
 proceed to this we will say a few words about the two 
 sisters themselves, who had spent together here the best part
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. TT 
 
 of their youth, who had here together laughed, and together 
 ■wept, loved, and comforted each other ; spent their days in 
 hard work, and often lain awake through the night to read 
 together the old heroic songs or history, Hertha's favorite 
 reading, or novels, which were Alma's ; together became 
 enthusiastic about grand ideas, laid out grand schemes, nay 
 even poured out then- warm feelings both in prose and verse 
 (but merely for each other, because they possessed no other 
 pubUc), and then seen their youthful dreams grow dun, and 
 their hfe change into — that which it was now. 
 
 Then- mother died in giving bii-th to the youngest of her 
 daughters. The two eldest were then much younger. The 
 mother's illness, occasioned in great measure from want of 
 happiness in her marriage, had gloomed the childhood of her 
 daughters. After her death their father's sister came to take 
 charge of the household. The difterence between the influence 
 of the foi'mer mistress of the family and the present, was hke 
 that between a soft, rainy summer, and a severe winter. Mrs. 
 Hard was a lady who exalted herself for her love of truth and 
 justice, nor will we deny her these qualities ; but she had not 
 love, and therefore her view of things was never entirely true; 
 she could never see the whole truth in any object which she 
 condemned, and her judgment was, therefore, neither just nor 
 enhghtened by the beneficent light of reason. 
 
 Hertha was thirteen years old when this lady came to live 
 in the family ; she was at that critical age, when the child 
 awakes from her slumber and looks around her with opened 
 eyes upon the world ; and when all the necessities and ques- 
 tionings of the soul burst forth thirsting for the light of 
 day. The unusual, and therefore restless temperament and 
 faculties of the child were misunderstood and misconstrued 
 by Mrs. Hard. She saw dangerous or altogether improi^er 
 tendencies in everything, and she considered that truth and 
 justice required her to represent to her lather every fault or 
 deficiency in its blackest color, which she called "its true 
 color," that the young girl might be punished in the sever- 
 est manner. Mrs. Hard beheved that she acted in this respect
 
 *18 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 as a model of conscientiousness and justice. The deeply 
 sensitive and enthusiastic girl, who saw her least mistake 
 represented as something monstrous ; her most innocent actions 
 suspected ; her best intentions often misconstrued to the very 
 opposite ; all her questionings about deeper subjects of life 
 repulsed as " needless inquiries," and every expression of her 
 young, aspiring soul sternly repelled, became at first miserably 
 unhaj^py, almost driven to despair, and cast into a state of 
 perfectly chaotic darkness as regarded herself, her fellow- 
 creatures, life, truth — everything. The necessity which there 
 ■was in her o^vn soul to pour forth love and reverence, and 
 which instinctively turned towards those who were her natural 
 guardians, was received by them only mth injudicious severity, 
 and in a spirit of worldly wisdom. She thought at first that 
 they must be right, and she herself wrong. But she saw her 
 sister, the gentle, and, according to her judgment, the almost 
 saintly Alma, condemned and severely treated also. At this, 
 her naturally strong mind released itself out of the slavish 
 depression M'hich was otherwise gaming the mastery over her, 
 and she overcame it through love to her sister. " That light," 
 of which the Gospel speaks, " which lights every man who 
 comes into the world," difi*used its illuminating beams through 
 her own conscience, to judge and condemn those who could 
 unjustly judge and act towards that angelic sister. The hght 
 within her own conscience was strengthened and awoke to a 
 still higher life, by means of the rehgious instruction which 
 she at this time, together with her sister and the young jseople 
 in the community where she dwelt, received. And although 
 this might be imperfect, and fettered by the mere literal 
 interpretation, as is generally the case, and although even 
 here her inquiries respecting difficult dogmas were repulsed 
 by the teacher with the remark that, " Peoj^le must not ask 
 questions; that Reason must be subdued under the obedience 
 cf Faith ; " still, nevertheless, her naturally powerful instincts 
 towards the highest justice and the highest good, obtained by 
 this means new words and an increased strength. Armed 
 with these, she now turned herself towards those who had
 
 THE FOUR STSTEI^S. 79 
 
 endeavored to curb her and her sister. She demanded a 
 higher standard of truth and of justice than theirs. They did 
 not understand her. But, nevertheless, there were moments 
 when Mrs. Hard trembled before the yoimg girl, whom she 
 wished to rule, so threatening was her glance, so commanding 
 was her whole being at the slightest unjust word or treatment 
 where Alma was concerned. Mrs. Hard did not venture 
 any longer to treat Alma with severity. But all the more 
 from this very cause, did she describe Hertha to her father as 
 of a factious and self-willed disposition ; and every word which 
 she spoke, and all her actions, wei'e retailed and represented 
 to liim from this point of view. And as she carried to the 
 father the most exaggerated reports of his daughters, so did 
 she Ukewise report to the daughters every word of his and all 
 his denunciations with exaggerated severity, at the very time 
 that she declared herself to be endeavoring to mollify him, 
 and to be a peacemaker between them; and, probably, she 
 really believed herself to be so, because a great many people 
 are struck with an extraordinary bhndness as regards them- 
 selves. By these means Mrs. Hard produced a gradually in. 
 creasing bitter misunderstanding between father and daughters. 
 
 We have drawn a dark pictm-e of family relationships. 
 Would to God that it were of rare occurrence ! 
 
 That which, also, still more clearly showed Hertha the 
 want of true insight and justice in the aunt, as regarded her- 
 self and her sister, was her perfect weakness and blindness 
 towards her own daughter AmaUa, a gay and handsome, but 
 self-willed young girl, who was very much addicted to pleasure. 
 The mother approved and allowed her to follow her own 
 whims and fancies ; let her amuse herself at parties ovit of the 
 house, where her Uttle triumiDhs were flattering both to her 
 own and her mother's vanity ; whilst the daughters of the 
 f house w6re compelled to hard work for the benefit of the 
 family. But it was not the work, in the meantime, that they 
 complained of; it was the want of light, as it were, in the 
 doing of it, the want of enjoyment, and any future advantage 
 from it. They did not, however, complain aloud; for they
 
 80 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 « 
 
 knew if they did so it would merely lead to reproof and ser- 
 monizing. 
 
 Under such a regime, spring up in young energetic natures, 
 amid the best circumstances, a great revolutionary taste, warm 
 sympathies for the Poles, the Hungarians, and for all oppressed 
 nations, together with the wish to fight for them ; in more 
 doubtful circumstances, many dark wishes for which people 
 bitterly reproach themselves, but of which they cannot prevent 
 the recurrence ; as, for instan'^e, the death of certain near 
 relations ; a fire or some other violent accident, or for anything, 
 in fact, which should interrupt the murderous compulsion and 
 monotony of daily life. 
 
 Fewer heavenly rays of light penetrate into such a hell of 
 domestic hfe than into any other shadowy region of the earth. 
 The negroes of the Slave States of America have their religious 
 festivals, when they can give full play to their souls in sermons 
 and in songs, and drink in new life from the light which flows 
 from the life and doctrine of the Saviour, when they enjoy to- 
 gether their bUssful communions and festivals. But in loveless 
 homes of the north, a young woman lives a more fettered and 
 gloomy life than that of the serf and the slave. It is not 
 clothing and food that is wanting, neither is it always enjoy- 
 ments of a common, empty, and short-hved kind ; that which 
 is wanting is an atmosphere of life, is freedom, and a future, 
 the bread and the wine which give pleasure to life. 
 
 In the first place arises in young girls, under such circum- 
 stances, the longing to become free, in the only way which 
 opens itself to them, through marriage. 
 
 " I 'svill get married, even to the devil himself!" said 
 Hertha, in her yoimger days ; " if only to deliver you, my 
 Alma, from this intolerable home !" 
 
 Alma, of a gentler feminine character than Hertha, would 
 not marry any one, and least of all " the devil," but . 
 
 Both Alma and Hertha were charming enough to attract 
 the attention and fancy of men ; but they went very seldom 
 inl o company, very seldom saw strangers at home, and never 
 young men. An exception, however, was made on behalf of
 
 THE FOUR STSTERS. Rl 
 
 one young man, a relative of the fjxmily, and of more than or- 
 dinarily interesting character. He supplied the young girla 
 Avith books, conversed with them on subjects which deeply 
 interested them, disputed with Hertha, and soon became 
 sincerely attached to Alma, as was she to him. He was very 
 modest, and, according to the old Swedish usage, first asked 
 the father's permission before he declared his affection for the 
 daughter. But he was rejected by the father, who considered 
 his worldly prospects not sufficiently promising, and who would 
 not give up Alma's share of her mother's property, her just 
 inheritance, into the hands of another. 
 
 The severity with which the young man's offer was rejected, 
 without reference to Alma's feelings, led him to suppose that 
 she had no Ukmg for him. Without any explanation with 
 her, therefore, he left the family, and even his country. 
 
 This took place about tliree years before. 
 
 At the same time an event occurred which rendered the 
 domestic circumstances still more difficult. The handsome 
 and gay Amalia, gladly escaping from her dull home, paid 
 frequent visits in the country to young friends gay and lively 
 as herself. The levity of her behavior here attracted atten- 
 tion, and Mrs. Hard was warned; she received these warnings 
 with proud disdam, yet nevertheless recalled her daughter 
 home — but too late. The thoughtless girl was — a fallen woman : 
 she acknowledged it, but obstinately refused to mention the 
 name of him Avho had brought her to shame, and reproached 
 her mother for having, through the education she had given 
 her, been the cause of her misfortune. This, together with 
 the sorrow and disgrace, were more than the j^roud, yet at the 
 same time morally weak, w^oman could bear. It broke her 
 do^Ti at once, and she did not long survive it. Amalia had, in 
 the meantime, removed to a distance, and it was not until two 
 years afterwards that she returned, under an assumed nairi(\ 
 and in the deepest poverty, to the town where she spent: a 
 portion of her giddy youth. 
 
 j\[rs. Hard's death freed the young daughters of the house 
 from an incessant oversight in which there was no love ; but, 
 5
 
 82 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 as their father's temper after this occurrence became extremely 
 irritable and suspicious, liis daughters' lives were, in some re- 
 spects, still more wretched than before. He seemed to become 
 every day more and more niggardly and petulant, and more 
 and more opposed to all freedom and cheerfulness within the 
 family. Aimt IS'ella had always been what the Director himself 
 called her, a cypher in the house, as regarded everything ex- 
 cepting the care which she took of the younger children. She 
 had taken charge of them from the time when they were born, 
 and had always been to them a good motherly caretaker and 
 teacher of the first rudiments. But she became more timid 
 and childish as years went on, and also more occupied by her 
 one idea — the impending great lawsuit. 
 
 Such was the state of affairs in the family at the time when 
 the great fancy-ball was to take place in the to^m, and when 
 Hertha, at her sisters' earnest desire, accepted — " in order to 
 enUven herself and them a little " — an invitation to the re- 
 hearsal, which she had received. We now return to the 
 moment when Hertha, returned from this rehearsal party, 
 entered Alma's chamber. 
 
 In a deep recess on the left hand stood the sisters' bed, on 
 which now, half reclining on high pillows, lay the elder of the 
 two sisters — hei-self still young. She wore a fine white night- 
 dress ; the light of a small iincostly nightlamp, on a table by 
 the bed, lit up a mild pale countenance, which was beautiful 
 rather fi-om the expression of soul than from the beauty of 
 the features, and in which at this moment, so much patience, 
 yet at the same time so much sorrow, was expressed, that no 
 one could have seen it without being afiected by it. She held 
 an open Bible before her, and had been reading in the book 
 of Job — that deep voice from a remote antiquity, which has 
 been through all ages, and still remains to be, the most faithful 
 interpreter of the groans and cries of the agonized soul. She 
 who now read it held a lead-pencil in her hand, with which 
 she had marked the following passages : — 
 
 " My breath is corrupt, my days are extinct, the grave is 
 ready for me."
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 83 
 
 " He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am gone ; and 
 mine hope hath he removed Uke a tree." 
 
 " Wilt thou break a leaf driven to and fro, wilt thou 
 pursue the dry stubble ?" 
 
 When Hertha entered, her sister closed the book, and a 
 faint smile lighted up the mild pale countenance. 
 
 Hertha threw off her cloak, and hastening to the bed, fell 
 upon her knees, and took one of her sister's hands, which she 
 covered with kisses. Torrents of tender tears now streamed 
 from those eyes, lately so cold and stern, and the voice which 
 was lately constrained now exclaimed, in the most sweet and 
 melodious tones — 
 
 " Alma, my Alma ! Sister, dear sister !" 
 
 And burning tears wetted the hand which she, with inex- 
 pressible love, laid upon her face. 
 
 " Hertha, my dear heart, why are you so excited ?" asked 
 the sick girl, as she bent her head down to her sister's fore- 
 head, and laid her other arm round her neck. 
 
 " Ah !" replied Hertha, " from a thousand causes ; because 
 I love you so much and hate others, and because I am afraid 
 that you are going away — away fi-om me, my Alma ! I have 
 been very wicked this evening, but that is nothing to what I 
 shall be when you are gone — you, my good angel ! I shall 
 become stern and full of hatred, because both God and man 
 are alike imjust and severe." 
 
 " Don't say so ! certainly, things are very strange in this 
 world, and there is a great deal which might be other- 
 wise ; but — some time — some time it will all be clear, all 
 good !" 
 
 " I don't know that, I don't believe that, as you do. If 
 God can some time and somewhere let the good have the 
 "victory, why not now and here ?" 
 
 " Yes, why ? That we don't know. But this we do knovv, 
 that the impersonation of the highest love died upon the 
 cross, and arose from the grave and spoke of peace and joy 
 beyond it !" 
 
 " Yes, He ! He was good and great. But He lived and
 
 84 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 died for a great purpose ; and we, and many besides ns, seem 
 merely to live to pine away slowly and die, without any 
 object !" 
 
 " Yes," said Alma, sadly, " that is the worst of it. The 
 long, bitter agonies !" 
 
 Hertha arose from her knees and wrung her hands as she 
 wept bitterly. At length she said : 
 
 '' You see what it is which embitters me so much against 
 the author of our hfe. You so good, so angeUc, so loving 
 that you would never let even a worm suffer, who never did 
 anything but what was good, why should you be so plagued ? 
 When we were children, and our mother was alive, and we 
 Avere happy in her embrace, then it seemed to me that I had a 
 sense of God and could love Hun. But since then it has become 
 so dark. I cannot any longer love God ; I do not love — I do 
 not understand this dark terrible power, which has called you 
 and me, and so many others, out of our nothingness, saying, 
 'Awake — love, yearn, suffer!' And then we awoke; we 
 tasted of life's bitterness, we loved and suffered, and had a 
 sense of the gloriousness of hfe, merely to know that we must 
 forsake it ; then again this power seizes upon us, saying, ' It 
 is enough ; lie down and suffer and die ; go down into thy 
 grave. Thou hast lived enough !' No, I cannot love a God 
 who acts thus towards us. I do not love the God which I see 
 in the government of the world ; nor the God which the Bible 
 talks of; he is not a good, not a just power !" 
 
 " My sweet Hertha, do not talk so ! There is so very 
 much which we are not able to understand." 
 
 " There is, however, a great deal which we do under- 
 stand. Alma ! — a great deal which our conscience tells us, and 
 which stands written there in ineffixceable characters. To 
 this I must and will adhere ; indistinct and insufficient though 
 it be, it is still the only light which now lights me in this dark 
 world, the only spot which is still green and fi-esh, which 
 belongs to me, and where I feel myself at home. If there be 
 a good God he talks to me thei'e, in my own conscience, 
 because it loves the good, it hates the wicked, it desires that
 
 THE FOUR BISTERS. 85 
 
 which is just. If I were no longer to trust to this light, no 
 longer to Hsten to this voice, then I do not know what I 
 should become or what I should do, 
 
 " I have held my peace so long, I have left unspoken so 
 much that stu-s my whole being, Alma ! With you alone can 
 I give vent to my feelings. You only can read my heart. I 
 feel as if your glance had a healing power. Lay yom- hand 
 there ; let it rest there for a moment ; perhaps it may allay 
 this bitterness, wliich I now feel towards them who gave us 
 life, against them whom we call our father in Heaven, and 
 our father on earth. Bittei-ness against one's father is a 
 frightful feeUng ! Oh, Alma ! when I think that it is our 
 father's fault that you are lying here heart-broken ; that you 
 might have been the happy wife of the man who loved you 
 if our father's obstinacy and covetousness had not separated 
 you !" 
 
 " Do not speak of it, Hertha !" interrupted Alma, whilst a 
 death-Hke paleness overspread her countenance ; " do not 
 touch upon that subject." 
 
 " Forgive me, beloved ! But I know that it is that which is 
 killing you. Ever since then have I seen you fade and waste 
 away, as by some secret malady ; your eyes become larger ; 
 your cheeks emaciated, and you — oh. Alma, sweet Alma ! I 
 feel I shall hate him !" 
 
 "Do not hate him. Pity him rather. Believe me, he is 
 not happy. He has not always been as he is now. Ever 
 since our mother's death, Anna says that his temper has be- 
 come gloomy and morbid ; and our aunt made him more 
 morose than he otherwise would have been." 
 
 " But he is also unjust and severe ! Had he gi\'cn us our 
 right, then you would not have been as you now are. Why 
 does he withhold from us our mother's property ? Why does he 
 render us no account of what we possess, or of what we ought 
 to have ?" 
 
 " We have, in fact, no right to desire it. We are, accord- 
 ing to the laws of our country, still minors, and he is our law 
 iul guardian."
 
 86 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " And we shall always continue to be minors, if we do not 
 go to law with our father, because it is his will that we should 
 ever be dejDendent upon him, and the laws of our country for- 
 bid us to act as if we were rational, independent beings ! 
 Look, Alma, it is this injustice towards us, as women, which 
 provokes me, not merely with my father, but with the men 
 who make these my country's unjust laws, and with all who 
 contrary to reason and justice maintain them, and in so doing 
 contribute to keep us in our fettered condition. We have 
 property which we inherit from our mother ; yet can we not 
 dispose of one single farthing of it. We are old enough to 
 know what we desire, and to be able to take care of ourselves 
 and others, yet at the same time we are kept as children un- 
 der our father and guardian, because he chooses to consider 
 us as such, and treat us as such. AVe are prohibited every 
 action, every thought which would tend to independent activ- 
 ity or the opening of a future for ourselves, because our fa- 
 ther and guardian says that we are minors, that we are child- 
 ren, and the law says, ' it is his right ; you have nothing to 
 say !' » 
 
 " Yes," said Alma, " it is unjust, and harder than people 
 think. But, nevertheless, our father means well by us ; and 
 manages our property justly and prudently mth regard to our 
 best interests." 
 
 " And who will be the better for it ? We ? When we are 
 old and stupid, and no more good for anything ! See, I shall 
 soon be twenty-seven, you are twenty-nine akeady, and for 
 what have we lived ?" 
 
 Alma made no reply, and Hertha continued : 
 
 " If we had even been able to learn anything thoroughly, 
 and had had the liberty to put forth our powers, as young 
 men have, I would not complain. Is it not extraordinary, 
 Alma, that people always ask boys what they would like to 
 be, what they have a fancy or taste for, and then give them 
 the opportunity to learn, and to develope themselves accord- 
 ing to the best of their minds, but they never do so with 
 girls ! They cannot even think or choose for themselves a pro-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS 87 
 
 fession or way of life. Ah, I would so gladly have lived upon 
 bread and water, and been superlatively happy, if I might but 
 have studied as young men study at universities, and by my 
 own efforts have made my own way. The arts, the sciences, 
 — oh, how happy are men who are able to study them; to 
 penetrate the mysteries of the beavitiful and the sublime, and 
 then go forth into the world and communicate to others the 
 wisdom they have learned, the good they have found. How 
 glorious to Uve and labor day by day, for that which makes 
 the world better, more beautiful, hghter. How happy should 
 one feel, how good, how mild ; how different that life must be 
 to what it is, where there seems to be no other question in 
 the world but, ' "What shall we eat and drink, and what shall 
 we put on ?' and where all Hfe's soUcitude seems to resolve 
 itself into this. Oh, Alma, are we not born into this world 
 for something else ? How wretched !" and as if overwhelmed 
 by the thought, Hertha buried her face in her hands. Pre- 
 sently she became calmer, and continued, looking steadily 
 ■upwards : 
 
 " How dissimilar are objects in the world, as well m nature 
 as among mankind. The Creator has given to each and all 
 their different impulse and destination, which they cannot 
 violate without becoming unnatural, or perishing. Tliis is 
 allowed to be an imquestioned law as regards the children 
 of nature. People do not require from the oak that it shall 
 be like a birch, nor from the hly that it shall resemble the 
 creeping cistus. With men it is the same ; they are allowed 
 each one to grow according to his bent and liis nature, and to 
 become that which the Creator has called them to be ; but 
 women, precisely they who should improve every power to 
 the utmost, they must become imnatural, thoughtless, submis- 
 sive tools of that lot to which men have destined them. They 
 must all be cast m one mould and follow one line, which is 
 chalked out for them as if they had no souls of then* own to 
 show them the way, and to give them an uidividual bent. 
 And yet how different are the gifts and the dispositions of 
 women ; what a difference there is, for instance, among ua
 
 88 THE POUR, SISTERS. 
 
 sisters, all children ot" the same parents. What a clever and 
 active practical woman Avill our Martha become, and Maria, 
 on the contrary, how unusually thoughtful and pleased with 
 study is she! You, my Ahna, are made to be the angel of 
 domestic life, and I — ah, I do not know, I cannot tell what I 
 was created to become. I yet seek for myself; but if I had 
 been able to develope myself in freedom, if the hunger and 
 the thirst which I felt withm me had been satisfied, then 
 I might perhaps have become something more than ordinarily 
 good and beneficial to my fellow-creatures. Because, though 
 it may be bold to say or think it, I laiow that I might have 
 been able to acquire the good gifts of fife in order to impart 
 them to the many ; I would hberate the captive and make 
 the oppressed soul happy ; I would work, and live and die for 
 humanity. Other objects are for me too trivial. There Avas a 
 time when I beheved what people and books said about home 
 and domestic life, as woman's only object and world ; when 
 I thought that it was a duty to crush all desires after a larger 
 horizon, or any other sphere of action ; weak, stupid thoughts 
 those, which I have long since cast behind me ! My inward 
 eye has become clearer, my own feelings and thoughts have 
 become too powerful for me, and I can no longer, as formerly, 
 judge myself by others. There was a time when, above all 
 things, I thirsted after an artist's life and freedom ; but that, 
 even that, is a selfish, circumscribed aim, if it be not sanctified 
 by something higher. Marriage is to me a secondary thing, 
 nay, a wretched thing, if it do not tend to a higher human 
 development in the service of light and freedom. That which 
 I seek for and which I desire is, a life, a sphere of labor, 
 which makes me feel that I live fully, not merely for myself, 
 but for the whole community, for my country, my people, for 
 humanity, for God, yes, for God! if he be the God of justice 
 and goodness — the father of all. Perhaps I may never attain 
 to that which I wish for ; perhaps I may sink down, buried in 
 the inner life, which is mine and so many other women's 
 portion in this world ; but never, never will I say that it is 
 woman's proper inheritance and lot, never will I submit,
 
 TTIK FOVH STSTKRS. 89 
 
 never will I cease to maintain that she has been created for 
 something better, somethmg more; yes, if she were able fanly 
 and fully to develope all the noble powers which the Creator 
 has given her, then she would make the world happier. Oh ! 
 that I could Uve and labor for the emancipation of these 
 captive, strugghng souls, these souls which are yearning after 
 life and light ; with what joy should I live, with what gladness 
 should I then die, yes, even if to die were to cease for ever ! 
 I should then, nevertheless, have lived immortally !" 
 
 "How handsome you are, after all, Hertha!" exclaimed 
 Alma, as she looked up with rapture to her sister, who looked 
 radiant in her longings after freedom and love. 
 
 " Handsome," repeated Hertha, blushing and smiling sor- 
 rowfully, " Ah, there was a time when I know I might have 
 become, might have been good-looking, if — ^but that time is 
 gone by, Now I grow plainer every day, because my soul 
 and mind are embittered more and more agamst both God 
 and man, I have sometimes had the most extravagant 
 thoughts of how I might deliver us fi'om this misery. I have 
 thought of going to Stockholm and sj)eaking to the King !" 
 
 " To the King ! Ah, Hertha !» 
 
 " Yes, to the King. They say that King Oscar is noble 
 and just ; that he does not refuse their rights to any of his 
 subjects, I should speak to him in this manner (now you 
 are the King and I am your subject) : ' Your Majesty, I 
 come on behalf of myself and many of my sisters. We have 
 been kept as children, in ignorance of our human rights and 
 duties, and held as minors, in order that we may not become 
 mature human beings. Both our souls and our hands ai"e ui 
 bonds, although God has bade us to be free, and although we 
 demand nothing but that which is good and right. In other 
 Christian countries, and even in our own sister-land, your 
 Majesty's kingdom of Norway, her rights have been deter- 
 mined by law to woman at a certain age, and this the age of 
 her best powers ; but in our country, in Sweden, the law 
 ordains, that the daughters of the country shall for all time be 
 under bondage, and declared to be under age, unless they
 
 90 THE FOUU «ISTEIIS. 
 
 happen to be widows, whatever their age may be ; or they 
 must appeal to the seat of justice to demand that freedom, 
 which still their guardians can prevent their obtaining.' " 
 
 " But now, if the Kmg should say, ' My dear child, you 
 and your many sisters need support and guidance. You 
 could not manage or keep things in order for yourselves.' " 
 
 "Then would I reply, 'Your Majesty, let us be tried, and 
 your Majesty will then see that it is quite the reverse. Many 
 noble-minded and liberal-minded women have shown it to be 
 so, and these might become more, might become many, if the 
 laws of our country allowed it. Children could not learn to 
 walk alone, if they were not released from the leading strings ; 
 they could not use their eyes unless hght were allowed to 
 enter their rooms. 
 
 " ' Let us only know that we may be, that we are permitted 
 to be our own supporters, and we shall learn to support our- 
 selves and othei'S. Your Majesty ! grant us freedom, grant 
 ns the right over our own souls, our lives, our property, our 
 future, and we will serve you, and our country, and all that is 
 good, with aU our heart and aU our soul, and with all our 
 powers, as only they who are free can do !' " 
 
 " Well said, my beautiful, noble Hertha !" exclaimed Alma. 
 " I wish that the King and the estates of the realm could both 
 see and hear you, they would then repent of having done an 
 injustice to the Swedish woman — having been willing to 
 depreciate her worth and hmit her future." 
 
 " And that of the community at the same time," added 
 Hertha, warmly, " because a great deal of that which is so 
 wretched in morals and in disposition, proceeds from the want 
 of esteem which women have for themselves, the want of fully 
 comprehending their high vocation as human beings. Our 
 l^oor Amaha, for example, and many besides her, had as- 
 suredly never fallen and become despised creatures, if they 
 had early been able to look up and onwards to some noble 
 and available destination for which they could live and labor 
 every day. How dark and narrow is the space which man 
 allots to woman in this world ! and when she feels it, when the
 
 TUE FOUR SISTERS. 91 
 
 hearth becomes too narrow for her, how lonely and unpro- 
 tected is she in the great world outside. Besides which, how 
 few are the women, and how happy the circumstances must 
 be for them, who become all that they might and ought to be, 
 in comparison with the mass who live and die imperfect 
 human beings not one half or quarter developed. And I, who 
 condemn them so severely, what am I myself but an imperfect 
 outline of a human being? and it is only my combating 
 against the condition that causes it, nothing else, which gives 
 me any respect for myself Because I know it — I might be 
 something different, something more !" 
 
 " And you will be that yet," said Alma, " because you are 
 not of the common class, and your rich and beautiful gifts 
 cannot be extinguished or grow rigid for want of use. I have 
 a feeUng within me, Hertha, that you have yet much that is 
 beautiful to experience and to live for. Some time — some 
 time I will speak to our father about you and the little girls. 
 He wishes, after all, our best interests ; he loves us in 
 his way." 
 
 " So also does the slave-owner his slaves and serfs, and it is, 
 ' only out of care and regard for them,' that he refuses them 
 their fi-eedom. I am weary. Alma, of so much and such useless 
 talk about love and love. I wish people would say less about 
 love and more about justice — true justice : especially that they 
 practised it more in the world. For injustice is the root of all 
 want of love, of all evil. Without justice there can be no true 
 love, neither can it be preserved. There was a time, when I 
 was a child, when I loved my father very much ; when I 
 looked up to him as to a higher being, and even now it some- 
 times happens, when I have seen him sitting there with his 
 strong, handsome features, like an old, deposed king, as now 
 when he is ill, that my heart has been drawn towards him 
 with wonderful power, — I would give a great deal to be able 
 to love him, and to be loved by him ; but, already, wliilst 
 I was yet a child, he taught me to fear him, and since then, 
 now that I understand his selfishness, his injustice — I have 
 lost all faith in him, all desire to do that which he wills, and I
 
 92 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 feel at times much more likely to hate than to love him. 
 Every day the relationship between us becomes more and 
 more bitter." 
 
 " And yet, yet it ought to be so different. "Wait, my sweet 
 Ilertha, wait yet awhile ; I have an impression on my mind 
 that a change is about to take place, — my mind is in such an 
 extraordinary state this evening, sad, and yet cheerful ! — But, 
 Hertha, I wUl now speak to you about somethmg else — • 
 beseech something from you." 
 
 " Ah, tell me what it is. Anything which you wish, and 
 which is in my power I will do." 
 
 " I want to talk to you about Rudolph. Sweet Hertha, do 
 not be too friendly with him. I very well understand the 
 reason of your kindness to him, but he may mistake the 
 motive, and fancy it proceeds from quite another cause." 
 
 " He is not very wise, poor lad ; he has never seemed to me 
 to be quite sharp ; but then our father has been so severe and 
 \'iolent towards hun. Through all the five years that he has 
 lived in this house he has never once had a kind word, nor a 
 kind glance, nothing but scolding and reproaches. Besides, 
 he is always hard at work, and very seldom enjoys any leisure. 
 One Avould be sick to death of such a life ! And he always 
 looks so melancholy and ready to hang himself; I have felt 
 that he reaUy needed a little sisterly kindness and care." 
 
 " Yes, if he would only take them in the right way. But 
 he is evidently in love with you, and ever since the day when 
 you rushed to him, and he saved you from the drunken man, 
 he seems to think that he must be near you. This makes me 
 xmeasy. It looks as if he thought he had a right to be your 
 protector." 
 
 "And that he has perfectly," replied Hertha, laughing, 
 * when it comes to saving me from a drunken man. He is 
 {all and strong, and on that occasion behaved stoutly and 
 courageously. I fancy even that since that time he has been 
 more lively and cheerful, and has seemed to have more self- 
 reliance. Ah, it is such a good thing to wia the esteem of 
 those nearest to us, to be able to do something for them. Do
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 93 
 
 not be uneasy, clear Alma, about Rudolph and me. He is 
 like a poor plant which has grown up in the dark, and Avhich 
 requires light to obtain its right color and form. Let me be 
 the Hght to him. We are almost brother and sister, and th« 
 poor fatherless and motherless lad has no one in all the world 
 who cares or thinks about him. There is in him a certaui ra"\v 
 strength which, properly developed, may make a man of him. 
 And even if he did for a time mistake my feeling for him, the 
 mistake cannot last long ; I am neither handsome nor agreea- 
 ble enough to be dangerous to any man's peace, and I become 
 less and less so every day." 
 
 " You do not understand. You may be more dangerous 
 than many a more beautiful woman to him, who see-s you in 
 your daily life." 
 
 " So say you, who were, and indeed still remain to be, my 
 only beloved lover. But I will do as jon say. Alma. I will 
 be circumspect with Rudolph. Poor Rudolph ! " 
 
 "Thanks ! How beautiful your hair is ! there are wonder- 
 fully lovely golden rays in it Avhen the light falls upon it side- 
 ways, as now." 
 
 "I will take great care of it, too, for your dear eyes' 
 sake." 
 
 " My eyes thank you for doing so ; it does them good. 
 What time is it ?" 
 
 " It is near twelve." 
 
 " Then I may take my opium drops ; otherwise I know that 
 I shall not sleep." 
 
 "I will give you them. Thank God for these friends, 
 which make us forget life and its misery. This has been a 
 bitter day to me : now I will take a sleeping draught with 
 you, and with you wander into the land of dreams. Perhaps 
 Ave may there obtaui the knowledge of why we live, for we 
 cannot do so here." 
 
 And Hertha took the same number of drops as she had 
 given to her sister, and lay down by her side on the bed. 
 
 " Will you not undress ?" 
 
 " No : what is the use of coutinually dressing and undress-
 
 94 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ing for — no pm-pose whatever. I am weary with this eter- 
 nally the same and the needless. Besides, I shall perhaps in 
 my dreams wake up his Majesty, and have to make a speech 
 for the captives ; and then all at once it might occur to me 
 that I was undressed in case — I were so. But now I am 
 ready for whatever adventure befalls." 
 
 "Yes: dream now some really remarkable dream, which 
 you can afterwards tell to us and to the king. Good night ; 
 but let me lay the coverUd over you. So then." 
 
 " Do you feel yourself better now ?" 
 
 " Yes, much better. I fancy that I shall have a good 
 night." 
 
 " Thank God ! Kiss me. Good night, my Alma ! Alma 
 mine ! Alma, thou my Alma ! Pray God for me, and for 
 us all !" 
 
 The two sisters laid their arms round each other, and soon 
 were soundly asleep, and Hertha dreamed a remarkable 
 dream.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 95 
 
 BERTHA'S DREAM * 
 
 It seemed to her that she was a soul newly born to earth. 
 She was reposing in the granite mountain as in her cradle. 
 She saw herself, as though the body was a transparent, ethe- 
 real form for the soul, and iu the soul she saw the clear — heart, 
 with its wonderful system of ventricles and arteries, through 
 which the life throbbed along warm crimson paths, and far 
 within it burned a flame, which now rose and now sank, now 
 seemed dimmer, now clearer, but evidently striving upward, 
 as if seeking for a freer space. 
 
 It was morning, and the sun rose brilliantly upwards. She 
 rejoiced in the Ught of the sun, and drank a greeting to it 
 from small beaker-like leaves with purple edges, which stood 
 around her cradle filled with bright drops of dew. Her 
 heart beat with longing for light and life. From her little 
 nook in the bosom of the granite mountain, where she lay 
 upon a soft bed of moss, she saw the heavens bright above 
 her head, and the hills and valleys of the earth spreading far 
 around. She saw a lofty, glorious, verdant tree, whose 
 branches stretched over the whole earth, and even up to heaven ; 
 they were laden with beautiful fruit, and she heard voices 
 singing from the tree-top in the words of the old Finlandio 
 proverb — 
 
 Listen to the tree-top's whispering, 
 At whose root thy home is planted ! 
 
 * The prevision of this dream will not fail to strike our readers as extra 
 ordinary. But who shall say that many a phantasm of a dream may not 
 be a prophecy of the future ? Hertha's dream must, as far as it deals with 
 events which haa not then occurred, be regarded as such.
 
 96 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 A clear fountain gushed murmuring upwards, not far from 
 the root of the lofty tree. She saw three beaxitiful 
 grave women fetch water from the fountain and water the 
 tree, which upon this seemed to grow ever gi-eener and fresh- 
 er. Swans with brilliantly-white plumage swam, singing the 
 while, on the waters of the fountain. Ilertha saw men com- 
 ing and going under the shade of the tree, plucking its fruit, 
 and then brinsfinof back ao-ain with exultation beautiful crea- 
 tions which they called their work. She saw glorious foi*ms, 
 proud erections, and the most exquisite ornaments proceed 
 from their hands : she saw them rejoice over their work, and 
 again and again derive power for fresh labor from the fruits of 
 the magnificent tree. 
 
 With a beating heart she inquired — 
 
 "Who are these?" 
 
 A voice answered. "These are the worshippers of the 
 Sciences and the free Arts ; and they who, in the shadow of 
 the tree of life and freedom, devote themselves to the callings 
 which ennoble and gladden the heart of man." Many of 
 these people seemed to pay an especial homage to woman. 
 They delineated her form in manifold ways ; they composed 
 songs and made beautiful speeches in her honor ; calling upon 
 her to beautify the earth and to make it happy. 
 
 Hertha felt the fire in her heart burn higher and higher, 
 and it inspired her to think, " Oh, that I, like one of these, 
 labored in the shadow of the beautiful tree, enjoying its 
 fi-uits, and gladdening the hearts of my fellow-creatures !" 
 
 With that she dreamed that she saw, looking down from 
 heaven above her, a countenance of infinite majesty and 
 infinite fatherly love, and involuntarily she looked upwards 
 and besought — 
 
 " Father ! let me labor and rejoice, as these my brothers !" 
 
 "Go, my daughter!" replied the glorious mild countenance, 
 with a smile of approval. 
 
 Hertha then gladly left her nook in the bosom of the prime- 
 val rock, and wandered towards the beautiful tree. But it, 
 was more distant than she had imagined, and she encountered
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 9T 
 
 many hindrances by the way. But she overcame them all ; 
 hastened courageously forward, because she never ceased to 
 hear the niurmur of the fresh fountain and the whispering in 
 the head of the mighty tree. She now saw it near at hand, 
 but she became aware that it was inclosed by walls, which 
 altogether prevented her from advancing farther. There were 
 various gates in the walls, distinguished by the different names 
 of academies and schools. These gates seemed at a distance 
 to be open, but as soon as she approached, with the intention 
 of passing through them, she found them closed. Shd 
 knocked, and prayed for admission. But the porters replied-— 
 
 " Men only have free ingress and egress here. "We have no 
 room for women in our halls of learning, nor have they any- 
 thing to do there." 
 
 Hertha rephed with humility : " I can learn to do beautiful 
 and noble work as well as my brothers. I will not interfere 
 with any one, but patiently woi'k and learn, in order that I 
 may be able some day to refresh the human heart. Therefore, 
 let me also gather fruit from the large tree of the world." 
 
 She was then answered with severity : " Go, the fruit is 
 not for you. Return to your nook in the rock, and learn to 
 cook or to spin. That is the befitting occupation for you and 
 your compeers. You have no part with the free." 
 
 Voices were now heard within the gates, saying, " Let tho 
 young woman in : she ought also to enjoy the fruits of the 
 tree." 
 
 But other voices said : " No." 
 
 And there was a contention at the gates, because some 
 wished them to be opened, but others opposed it. The latter 
 were stronger, and therefore the gates remained barred,* 
 
 * Hertha was not always clairvoyant in this dream, as appears from tlie 
 fact that she did not see that actually a certain number of female students 
 have been admitted within the last two yeai's into the Musical Academy of 
 Stockholm, neither were the later endeavors of the directoi's of the indus- 
 trial school at Stockholm for the formation of a female class revealed to her. 
 As regards the academy of the fine ai'ts, it has been closed against the ad- 
 mission of female pupils since the departure of the noble-minded Professor 
 G
 
 98 TTJV. Tova sT>;Tp;T!f?. 
 
 Spurned but not cast down, Hertha went on, seeking for 
 some gate by which she might enter. Anon she arrived at a 
 portal over which was written ia ornamental letters,- Industrial 
 School, beneath which was inscribed " Open to ladies." Her- 
 tha, well pleased, knocked at the gate as she thought, " at 
 last!" But the gate was not opened. She knocked again 
 and again. At length the porter was seen peeping from a 
 window. 
 
 " Be so good," said Hertha, " as to open the gate for me." 
 
 " Very willingly," said the porter kindly, " if I can do so. 
 But it is next to impossible ; it sticks so fast !" 
 
 And indeed it did stick fast ! The porter labored with all 
 his might, and even called a couple of men to help him, and 
 they all did their best to get the gate open, but in vain. 
 
 " It is set immovably fast with rust," said they. "It must 
 be greased before it can be opened, and that cannot be done 
 before the diet assembles." 
 
 Hertha wandered still onward, seeking for a gate through 
 which she might enter, but was repelled from aU, frequently 
 with scorn and severity. She looked through a lofty iron 
 gate ; saw the bright fountain and the beautiful women who 
 watched them, and besought of them : 
 
 Quarnstrom from his native land. It is necessary to observe that the deep- 
 ly-suffering mind of Hertha reflected itself in her dream, and caused her to 
 Bee every circumstance on its darkest side. Whether she saw them too dark 
 in Sweden may be questioned. Some able men in this country seem to 
 think not, as Bishop Agardh, for instance, in his pamphlet " On Life Insur- 
 ances for Swedish Women," and a profoundly thinking anonymous writer 
 of Gottlaad, whose excellent little pamphlet " On Girls' Schools, with a few 
 Words on their Advantage, and the duty of the State to establish and sup- 
 port them" (published by L. J. Hierta, 1850), deserves to be universally 
 known. The last mentioned pamphlet has for motto the following lines: — 
 
 " I will that Woman have instruction, 
 That she thereby may be accountable. 
 I will that woman be accountable, 
 That she thereby may share life's happiness." 
 
 We understand by this happiness, also, self-knowledge, nobility, and thank 
 the author most cordially for the noble-minded word.
 
 THE POTJR SISTERS. 90 
 
 " Give me a di'aught of water, to refresh me ! I am perish- 
 ing of thirst." 
 
 They looked at her, those beautiful, grave women, with 
 glances of deep compassion, and rephed : 
 
 " It is forbidden to us !" 
 
 And the eldest of the Nornor added : 
 
 A doom hath been spoken, 
 
 A curse from the old times 
 
 Lies on thee, O woman, 
 
 From verdurous Munlum. 
 
 Nor, till 'tis remitted 
 
 Canst thou taste the waters 
 
 From Urda the fountain, 
 
 The fountain which giveth new life. 
 
 The stern Noma Verdandi now spoke and said : 
 
 It is not for the feeble ; 
 
 It is only for courage heroic, — 
 
 For the will that o'ercometh, — 
 
 For him that doth honestly combat, — 
 
 He only is worthy I 
 
 But the younger of the three looked with a glance fiill of fire 
 on Hertha, and said : 
 
 Blessed are they who have seen, 
 Who combat in faith and in hope I 
 They shall be welcome ; 
 They shall win victory I 
 
 Hertha understood not the words of the Nornor. She imder- 
 stood merely that she was not worthy to di-ink of the life-giv- 
 ing fountain ; that they had rejected her. 
 
 Silent and with tearful eyes she turned back to her little 
 nook in the bosom of the mountain. All was as she had left 
 it. The small beaker-like leaves around her bed had filled 
 theiQselves mth tears of dew and stood sparkhng, and offering 
 her these drops of heaven's kindness. She drained them eager- 
 ly, kissed these small friends of her childhood gratefully, and 
 thought to herself:
 
 100 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "I will become such as you are, and rejoice in tlie light and 
 beauty of the sun for the sake of others. I will endeavor to 
 be like one of you, and desire nothing more." 
 
 But all at once the sky grew dark : the heavens were over- 
 cast with heavy leaden-grey clouds ; the sun disappeared be- 
 hind them ; the verdure of earth withered ; the leaves fell ; all 
 beauty vanished, and a dense, frosty-cold mist veiled every 
 object. Hertha was chilled to the bone ; she felt her limbs 
 stiifen, but still the flame burned brightly in her heart, kin- 
 dling up Ufe, as it were, still more, and calling forth a still more 
 burning desire for light and life, even after the earth and every 
 outward object were enveloped in the ice-cold mist. She saw, 
 as it were, still more clearly into her own being, and knew 
 that a powerful life animated her. She looked around her on 
 the granite mountain, and it revealed itself to her inward sight. 
 She beheld there a multitude of women, whom her soul called 
 sisters, sitting as she did, in narrow cells of the rock, and spin- 
 ning upon wheels (to which the epithet humdrum has ever 
 been apphed) which seemed to have neither end nor object, 
 because the flax appeared never to decrease on the distafl", nor 
 was the reel ever filled. The spinners gazed with alternately 
 longing and stupified glances out into the misty distance, sing- 
 ing to a monotonous and melancholy air : 
 
 We're spinning, we're spinning the whole day long ; 
 
 We're singing for ever the self-same song; 
 
 The days may be weary, the prison walls strong, 
 
 Yet we know that he comes, that he comes before long. 
 
 Oh, sisters, the friend whom no man gainsaith, 
 
 Our bridegroom, deliverer. Death 1 
 
 Hertha felt the deepest kindness and the most cordial 
 sympathy for these imprisoned souls. But below the moun- 
 tain she saw a mmaber of men who were called legislators, 
 keeping watch that the captives might not escape and become 
 j&*ee. 
 
 "What have they done then, Avhat have we all done," 
 asked Hertha bitterly, " that we are to be treated thus ? "
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 101 
 
 She sate silent for awhile with her burnmg heart, in the 
 cold Tinregardful world, and Avaited for an answer. But no 
 answer came. And the worst of it w^as, she saw herself sitting 
 like the others, spinning upon a humdrum wheel, and singing 
 like the others : 
 
 We're spinning, we're spinning the whole day long, 
 "We're singing for evei* the self-same song, &c. 
 
 And she thought wdthin herself, that rather than live in this 
 way it woidd have been better never to have been born. 
 
 But she did not sit long thus. Her soul Htled itself iip ; 
 she bethought herself of the words of the Nornor by tlie 
 Urda fountain, that its waters were only for the heroic-hearted, 
 and for them who combated in sincerity ! And at once there 
 dawned Avithin her a strong desu-e to free herself and her cap- 
 tive sister-souls. She threw away from her both distaif and 
 reel, arose and said, " I will combat in sincerity ! " 
 
 Then flamed aloft the fire within her heart, raised her froni 
 the earth, and floated her forth above the heads of the legisla- 
 tors through the regions of space. This feeling thrilled her Avith 
 joy and hope, and she thought : " The curse on me and my 
 sisters may then be annulled, and our portion, after all, may 
 be among the free ! " 
 
 She involuntarily turned towards the East — tOAvards the 
 region where she saAV the ascending sun ; and borne, as if 
 upon invisible wings, she floated forth over the earth. Sud- 
 denly, however, she felt her career impeded, and a harsh Aoice 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Halt ! Who goes there ? " 
 
 "A soul," replied Hertha, "which seeks freedom, life, :ind 
 happiness for herself and many sisters." 
 
 " What purpose can that serve ?" said the voice : " a s < 'I ? 
 and you are a Avoman? Away with such talk ! Here, in Tiiis 
 country, women have no souls. They are not reckoned in the 
 population. You cannot go forAvard hither. Face about, 
 marc3 -"
 
 102 THE rOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "Who are you ? " asked Hertha, " and what right have you 
 to command me ? " 
 
 " What right ? " thundered the voice. " I am the great 
 Imperial Ukase, and stand at my post to prevent anything 
 contraband from entering the country." 
 
 " But I am not contraband," said Hertha ; " I am only a 
 soul, who " 
 
 " Do not argue, but obey," interrupted the voice, " else 
 you'll have to work in Siberia." A female soul which is seek- 
 ing for liberty is the most dangerous contraband article in the 
 world. 
 
 " Let me merely pass uninteiTuptedly through your country, 
 O great Ukase ; I will not tarry in it, but only proceed on- 
 ward towards the East, yonder Avhere the sun rises ! " besought 
 Hertha. 
 
 " You are a well-behaved person," said the Ukase more 
 mildly, " and therefore, although I A^ill not allow you to go 
 uninterruptedly through my country, yet I will show you 
 something, eastward, which may perhaps cure you of your 
 fanaticism for hberty." 
 
 And with this he allowed her to look through a large tele- 
 scope, which gave her a view of the East, as far as China, 
 where not only the souls of the women, but also their feet 
 were imprisoned ; and everywhere, on the face of the earth, 
 towards the sunrise, she beheld women oppressed and despised, 
 excepting where they became feared as despotic and vengeful 
 powers, Avhich sometimes happened when they succeeded in 
 breaking their chains by violence. 
 
 " What have they done ?" inquu-ed Hertha, " to be thus 
 treated ?" 
 
 " What's the use of pitying them ?" replied the Ukase. 
 " They are treated as well as they deserve, or as they need to 
 be. Yes, in my holy country, very much better. Here 
 women are outrageously well used. They are not required 
 to pay tribute to the crown, as souls, and they are allowed to 
 inherit one fourteenth part of all property left by their rela- 
 tions. By this means they can dress themselves handsomely,
 
 THE rOUU SISTEKS. 103 
 
 and talk about trifles as much as they please, provided ouly 
 they are obedient and do not make undue use of their liberty, 
 Now hear me, girl, you are good-looking, and I have taken a 
 liking to you ; remain here and you shall become the white 
 slave of a rich Bojar. Come, you shall be very weU off." 
 
 And the great Ukase seized her by the arm. 
 
 Terrified and proud, at the same time, Hertha released 
 herself fi-om hia grasp and fled, hurling back as she did so a 
 glance of contempt at the great Ukase. She fled northward, 
 because she saw lights shinmg, and heard songs of rejoicing 
 on the shores of the icy-sea. Here she found a wild, nomadic 
 people, who wandered about its dreary plains and through its 
 frozen primeval forests. They were now celebrating their fair 
 and a wedding. Hertha saw the men knocking one another 
 about as if they were drunk, untU finally they fell upon the 
 snow, and there slept. In the hut, the women surrounded th« 
 bride, and gave her drink, and drank themselves out of a jug 
 amid loud laughter and noise. 
 
 " Are you free and happy ?" inquired Hertha, from them. 
 
 " What is free .^" replied they. " Is it any particular kind 
 of brandy ? If so, let us have some, that we may give it 
 to our fathers and husbands, that they may not misuse us. 
 Give us some, that we also may be happy. Otherwise, happy 
 she who dies on her third night. We are born to thral- 
 dom." 
 
 The north wind roared across the ice-field, and the wedding- 
 scene vanished in a cloud of whirling snow. After that it was 
 calm and the Aurora-borealis danced a torch-dance around the 
 arctic circle, so that it was as light as the brightest day ; and 
 in this light Hertha beheld crowds of men and women, who 
 were wandering around clad in skins, ^vith their herds of rein- 
 deer and their dogs. But every^vhere, among these wild 
 hordes, were the women servants to the men, and their equuls 
 only in their hours of debauch and of fight. Sometimes, 
 hoAvever, the women became witches, and were then called 
 "wise," and were both feared and obeyed, because their 
 power was great to do evil and to work revenge ; and their
 
 104 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 glance, which was called " the evil eye," had the power of 
 bringing down misfortune both on man and on beast. 
 
 Hertha turned away from this region and this people with 
 a shudder, and again she was wafted over the earth ; but this 
 time towards the warm countries of the South. 
 
 She saw a sky different to the cold sky of the north ; a 
 more beautiful, more luxuriant earth, affluent with flowers and 
 fruits. The air was delicious, as kindness itself; fountains 
 leapt upwards ; music filled the :tir — everything seemed to be 
 gashing over -with life and its enjoyment. 
 
 She found herself m a large garden near a large city. 
 
 " Oh," thought Hertha, " here human beings must be free, 
 good, and happy ; here I shall be able to meet with freedom 
 for myself and my imprisoned sisters." 
 
 Scarcely had she so thought, when some solemn and magis- 
 terial looking persons approached her, and said : 
 
 " You are talking about freedom : you are a suspicious 
 person : what are you doing here ?" 
 
 She replied, " I seek for freedom for myself and my 
 sisters." 
 
 The official gentlemen looked at one another and laughed, 
 as if they would say, " She is out of her mind." 
 
 And they said again to her, "What is it that you wish 
 for?" 
 
 She replied in the same words as before. 
 
 " Are you rich ?" they asked, 
 
 " Xo," she replied ; " my soul and my will are my only 
 wealtli." 
 
 " Then you are a simpleton," said they ; " get married if 
 you can, if not, go into a convent." 
 
 " No," replied Hertha, " I will live and labor in freedom 
 and innocence for the object after which my soul longs." 
 
 " 'No freedom is innocent," said they, " at least among 
 women. An old sin lies against your sex. And in any case, 
 you are a dangerous person, because you talk about freedom, 
 and you come from a country where freedom in the old tunes 
 struck deep root and grew to a large tree, as it is said, and
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 105 
 
 where the women, more than once, have fought for tlie free 
 dom of their country; therefore you cannot be left at hberty 
 here." 
 
 " Oh," thought Hertha, " they do not know how httle the 
 women of my own country can be called free." But she said 
 nothing, because she would not cast a slur on the laws of her 
 own land. 
 
 All at once she now heard a great cry : " To the convent, 
 to the dungeon, with the fool, with the enthusiast for 
 liberty !" 
 
 And a crowd of men dressed in black seized upon her, and 
 hui-ried her forward towards a large gloomy building with 
 small grated windows. Fear and anger gave her strength ; 
 she wrested herself out of their hands, and tied. Again the 
 fire in her heart flamed aloft and bore her away and away, 
 until she heard no longer the threatening derisive cry. 
 
 She now paused, and looking around saw that she had 
 reached a large city, the smoke of which was seen ascending 
 from a distance. Wearied, she sat down upon a stone, but 
 she felt herself so solitary, so forlorn, so depressed because of 
 the hardness of man, and because of the curse Avhich rested 
 upon her sex, that she began to weep bitterly. 
 
 With that a splendidly brilliant cloud came floating from 
 the near outskirts of the city, and settled down upon the 
 earth close to the spot where Hertha sat. It was as if woven 
 of fluttering gauze, spangled with silver and gold; lovely 
 young girls stepped forth from its brilliant depths, in airy 
 attu'e, with eyes that sparkled with joy, and garlands on their 
 heads. They approached her and said : 
 
 " Why do you weep ?" 
 
 Hertha replied : " I weep because there lies a curse upon 
 me and my sex, which banishes us from free labor and from 
 joy." 
 
 The girls laughed and said : " Oh, what curse ? — what 
 banishment? Don't trouble yourself about what the ill- 
 tempered say. Only be right merry and gay, and then you 
 may be as free as you will. You are too young and handsome
 
 106 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 to cry away your life. Come along with us and do as we do. 
 We wiU receive you into our company." 
 
 " And what is it that you do ? And what are you ?" asked 
 Hertha, with a beating heart, half-fascinated by the appear- 
 ance and the conversation of the girls, and half frightened by 
 a something which she saw in them, but to which she could 
 not give a name. 
 
 The young women laughed, looked at one another, and 
 replied : 
 
 " We are called ladies of pleasure ; because we live for 
 pleasure alone. We play with the hearts of men, and we rule 
 them. If they are somethnes cruel to us in their sport, we can 
 be revenged on them. And if we can once succeed in getting 
 them into our net, there is no escape for them all their days. 
 We ensnare, and laugh at those who fancy themselves our 
 masters." 
 
 "And what is the object of all this, and for what do you 
 live ?" asked Hertha once more. 
 
 The girls laughed and answered : " We live for the 
 moment. We ask for nothing more than to enjoy the day as 
 it passes, and to amuse ourselves in the best way possible. 
 We are the freest creatures in the world. We Uve freely, or 
 at other people's expense, in all countries. We follow no 
 laws but our own fancy ; we obey the voice of no duty. We 
 take husbands and then leave them, just as it pleases us. We 
 might have children like other women, but we do not bind 
 ourselves like other women to sit and slave for them; we 
 merely look after our o's\ti j^leasures !" 
 
 "You might have cliildren, and yet will not take charge of 
 them?" said Hertha, astonished. " Who then does take 
 charge of your little children ?" 
 
 " We don't exactly know," repUed the girls. " The people 
 at the Foundling Hospitals sometimes ; we have not time for 
 such things. We will be free women." 
 
 " Oh," said Hertha, " your freedom is not of the kind 
 which I yearn after. Your freedom is a mistake. You 
 believe yourselves to be free, but you are slaves "
 
 THE I'OUK SISTEilS. lOt 
 
 " What, we slaves !" interrupted the girls, laughing ; 
 " come, we will show you how we are bound !" 
 
 And they drew Hertha along with them in the dancing 
 circle ; in vain she besought of them to cease ; in vain to let 
 her go ; they dragged her along with them, whirling round 
 in the dizzy bewildering cii'cles untU her senses seemed about 
 to leave her, and anguish took possession of her heart. But 
 the gay ladies still danced and drank wine, exclaiming the 
 while : " Thus, thus to the end of life ; thus, thus in 
 eternity ! " 
 
 " Oh, it is horrible !" exclaimed Hertha, as she at length 
 freed herself from their trammels. " Away ! away ! with you ! 
 I will have no part in your freedom !" 
 
 The gay ladies laughed contemptuously. 
 
 And again they veiled themselves in the splendid cloud, 
 which now, borne away as if on millions of butterflies' wings, 
 was driven by the wind back to the great city. It was a 
 splendid sight, and Hertha heard for a long time then* merry 
 voices and laughter. 
 
 Hertha looked after them mth profound melancholy, and 
 said to herself: " These think themselves free and happy ; 
 and I ! » 
 
 The fire burned in her heart, and she felt that she was 
 born for something better than their hajipiness. But for 
 what ? 
 
 " Oh," thought she now, " I will go to the learned and the 
 wise of the earth, and ask them how the curse can be remov- 
 ed, under which I and my sisters, and even those giddy 
 beings who were here just now, are all lying, and which 
 deforms our hfe and our whole being. Of a certainty they 
 will know, and of a certainty they will tell me how ; and I 
 will then live and labor for this purpose every day and every 
 hour of my life." 
 
 The fire in Hertha's soul agam lifted her from earth and 
 floated her away to a country and a people who were the 
 most learned and the most deep-thinking in the world. In 
 that country German was spoken.
 
 108 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Hertha arrived at the very moment when a large genera] 
 assembly of learned and wise men were convened and had 
 divided themselves into three chambers, each one of which 
 had its own important science to attend to, and they were 
 just now met in comicil. 
 
 In the first chamber they discussed an important question, 
 viz, the beard of Thersites, because the learned interpreted 
 in different ways the word which Homer uses on this subject; 
 and they were now in such hot dispute, with their proofs and 
 counterproofs, that they were very near coming to blows, all 
 about "Thersites' beard." It was just at this moment when 
 Hertha announced herself and prayed to have an audience 
 granted her. 
 
 " What is she ? what does she want ?" asked the learned. 
 
 " She says," rephed the doorkeeper, " that she is a human 
 being who seeks the emancipation of an oppressed portion of 
 humanity." 
 
 " What kind of idea is that ?" repUed the learned, shak- 
 ing then- heads in a gentlemanly sort of way ; " what does 
 it concern us ? How dare she come with such common-place 
 business to an assembly occupied with the subject of Thersites' 
 beard ? It is the height of audacity and thoughtlessness ! 
 Show the human-bemg out ! She will not gain anything here !" 
 
 Thus rejected, Hertha went to the second chamber and 
 knocked at the door. Here they were at this moment most 
 deeply occupied on the tail of a new species of rat, as well as 
 by the digestive process of a peculiar kind of animalcule, 
 and they were so interested and so absorbed by these new dis- 
 coveries, that they merely replied impatiently to Hertha's pe- 
 tition : " We have not any time for souls ! Go to the legisla- 
 tors and statesmen." 
 
 Hertha presented herself therefore at the third chamber, 
 Avhere the statesmen and legislators were sitting in coundl. 
 They were just then engaged on one of the four points of the 
 Oriental question, and were skirmishing away with thousands 
 of pens. To Hertha's petition they made answer that they 
 were occupied with subjects of vital interest to the world, and
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 109 
 
 had not time to busy themselves with ladies' affairs. They 
 told her to lay her business before the ladies' chamber. 
 
 " Yes," thought Hertha, as she turned away from the 
 assembly of men, " I will go to the noble and thinking women 
 of the country. They will perhaps be better able to compre- 
 hend the importance of my business." 
 
 She proceeded, therefore, to a large assembly of venerable 
 matrons. They were all sitting and knitting stockings. 
 
 " Oh, mothers !" said she, addressing them, " aid me, for 
 the sake of your daughters, in removing the curse which hes 
 upon our sex, and which prevents us from perfecting our 
 being and attaining to the high pm'poses for which we would 
 strive !" 
 
 The matrons repHed : " What do you mean ? We have our 
 housekeeping to attend to ; our husbands and our children to 
 care for. Our daughters learn languages and music and 
 ladies' work and housekeeping-business. Our sons pursue 
 studies which will help them on in the world. We have 
 quite enough to look after. Do not come and annoy us with 
 your troubles !" 
 
 " Is there nobody in the whole world," said Hertha, asto- 
 nished and wounded, " who can understand me and my errand, 
 who wHl aid me in liberating the fettered and captive soiil of 
 woman ?' 
 
 " Go to France," repHed the matrons. " The French are 
 the politest men in the world, and are fond of revolutions. 
 Try there. But it would be much better to stop at home 
 and knit stockings. Between-times you could go to church 
 and attend lectures." 
 
 " Should I find justice and truth if I did so ?" asked Hertha, 
 sorrowfully, as she turned her glance from the council of 
 matrons to the assembly of young men. Here she saw a vast 
 number of young fellows smoking cigars and rocking them- 
 selves in rockmg-chairs, whilst in a half-sleepy voice they 
 asked, " What is truth? what is justice?" After which they 
 blew Ibrth such a quantity of smoke that Hertha was nearly 
 choked.
 
 lie THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Her thoughts and soul then sped her away, withe nt loss of 
 time, to Paris. But such a terrific noise and bustle prevailed 
 there that she felt wholly bewildered. It was at the time of a 
 great World's Exhibition, and everybody was pouring in 
 thither. One portion of the people sang, " What shall we eat 
 and drink, and wherewith shall we amuse ourselves ?" And 
 another portion were holding a council as to how they could 
 best destroy one another. Nay, they had appointed a com- 
 mittee to distribute rewards to such as had invented new 
 species of fire-arms, or other destructive machines, which in 
 the shortest possible time could destroy the greatest possible 
 number of human beings. And they were just now about to 
 reward a person who had invented a kind of explosive giant 
 bomb-shell, which would in a moment deprive whole batta- 
 lions of grenadiers of their eyesight. People were vastly 
 enthusiastic about this discovery, and it was intended to have 
 a medal struck in honor of its inventor, so that he might be 
 immortal. This assembly Avas in such a good humor, that 
 they proposed to Hertha to make her a citizeness of France, 
 on condition of her subscribing to the medal. But when 
 Hertha mentioned her business, the gentlemen replied smiling, 
 that that was quite another aifair, and that they had not now 
 lime to attend to it. But they bowed and protested that the 
 ladies ruled the world ; that they were aU powerful through 
 their charms ; and with that they rushed out to shout hurrah 
 for Queen Victoria, who at this moment was making her 
 entrance into Paris. And all the people of France drank the 
 cup of brotherhood with the people of England, and shouted 
 " Vive I'Angleterre !" 
 
 Hertha now recollected that she had always heard England 
 mentioned as the true native land of freedom and human 
 kindness, and her yearning and the fire in her heart carried 
 her at once thither. 
 
 When she reached that coimtry she felt herself invigorated 
 and re-animated, because she perceived a powerful public 
 spirit there, which made itself felt on all hands like a refresh- 
 ing breeze, and she saw that the glorious tree of liberty,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. HI 
 
 bearing its golden fruit, grew there more vigorously and to a 
 larger size than anywhere else on the face of the earth. 
 
 And here she saw the great John Bull standing in the midst 
 of an immense throng of people, distributing orders and work, 
 glancing meanwhile now and then into a French dictionary, 
 and repeating phrases from it, because having now become 
 very good friends with the suijermtendant of the French, 
 whom they called Emperor, he wished to interlard his conver- 
 sation with pohte phrases, John Bull looked so practical 
 and so jovial that Hertha took courage and addressed him. 
 
 "Good sir, help me to liberate myself and my captive 
 sisters." 
 
 " Je suis charm§ ! " replied John Bull. " I am a champion 
 of freedom and a great ladies' man, but — but — but — we are 
 now so much occupied by the war in the East, and are at this 
 very moment doing our best to perfect a huge projectile, a 
 gigantic projectile which, when it explodes, will poison a 
 whole city with its stench. It is a great matter, a very great 
 matter. This is, my good girl, a great time for humanity, 
 and if you and your sisters wiU come hither and help to 
 cast bullets, or to give lessons in the French language, 
 then—" 
 
 "We could not do that," replied Hertha. "But help us, I 
 beseech you, to gain our rights and our Uberty as human 
 beings; then we will serve you in another way; we will help 
 you to estabUsh Hberty, peace, and joy upon the earth." 
 
 "Peace!" exclaimed John Bull, "I do not wish now for 
 peace, but for war." 
 
 "War against the oppressor is a good and a right thing, 
 and it is a glorious sight to behold free nations allied for this 
 struggle," replied Hertha, "but we even amid war could 
 extend the kingdom of peace." 
 
 " I have not now time to aid you in such undertakings," 
 said John Bull, impatiently, "my miad is occupied by the 
 war in the East. Besides I am not quite sure that I should 
 approve of your notions. Woman's true sphere is domestic 
 life. I must have my tea and my comforts, and the ladies to
 
 112 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 look after tliem. Woman must not be taken out of the 
 family circle. I cannot therefore approve of your ideas and 
 schsmes of emancipation until I am assured that they wiU not 
 interfere with my tea and my daily comforts. Adieu, my 
 good girl ! But, by the by, you had better go to my half 
 brother Jonathan, who lives yonder across the sea; he has 
 plenty of time, and is always ready to take up wonderful in- 
 ventions and crotchets. Or stop. I can give you better 
 advice still. Go to Rome. There is at this very time a great 
 Convocation of bishops and the clergy there. Talk with 
 them. If they cannot give you counsel I don't know who 
 can. They sit with their bibles before them all day and sleep 
 upon them at night. They ought to be able to answer your 
 questions. Good bye, madame ! Comment vous portez-vous ? 
 Tres-hien^ je vous remercie .''" 
 
 "Rome, eternal Rome! " thought Hertha, and the fire in 
 her heart flamed aloft at the thought of all the greatness 
 which once had lived there, and of all the beauty which still 
 survived. "Yes," thought she, "I will go thither, I 
 wiU fling myself at the feet of those spiritual men, and 
 beseech of them to remove the curse which fetters me and 
 my sisters," 
 
 She saw Alma Roma, and the great ConciUum of the 
 clergy, their proud forms and haughty glances. It was 
 a time of great solemnity, and Hertha heard them say : 
 
 " Henceforth shall the whole of Christendom worship the 
 Virgin Maria, as a divine, supernatural being, for this has 
 been commanded by the Holy Ghost, through his high-priest, 
 Pio Nono." 
 
 And a great festival was ordained in honor of the divinity, 
 and there was a great jubilation. 
 
 Hertha heard this with astonishment, but rejoiced at the 
 same time, and bowing with profound reverence before the 
 venerable gentlemen, she said : " You have exalted an earthly 
 woman high above the Uving and the dead ; of a certainty 
 then you will aid her sisters, women now on the earth, in the 
 acquirement of their temporal and eternal rights. Of a
 
 THE FOLR SISTERS. 113 
 
 certainty you will give to them equal rights with men to 
 strive after liberty, happmess, and a sphere of labor ? " 
 
 " Wait a Uttle," exclaimed the spuitual men; "that is quite 
 another thing. Let us see what stands written." And they 
 began to turn over the leaves of their bibles, which lay open 
 before them, till they fomid a passage which they read aloud. 
 
 It stood written: "And thou shalt be subject to thy husband, 
 and he shall rule over thee." 
 
 With that the fire flamed upwards in Hertha's soul and 
 inspired her to say : 
 
 " You do not give the whole truth ; you speak only fi'om the 
 Old Testament. But I know there is also a New Testament, 
 and that it there stands written that woman has been made 
 free, and that man and woman are alike free m Christ. I 
 know also that it there stands written, that they who are 
 worthy of the resurrection from death, neither marry nor are 
 given in marriage, because they are like the angels, and are 
 the children of God. And do we not, indeed, pray daily 
 that the wUl of God may be done on earth as it is done in 
 Heaven? Why do not you, the servants and potentates of 
 Christ, speak to me the whole truth ? " 
 
 With this one of the bishops, a liberal man, raised his voice 
 and said : 
 
 "The young woman is right, and we have all done her an 
 injustice. She whom Christ called mother and sister, with 
 whom he conversed familiarly, and to whom he revealed him- 
 self after his resurrection, she, of a truth, has become free 
 thereby; her will ought not to be subject to the will of any 
 other than that of the Most High, and she ought to be free 
 to do all which God calls her to do. Let us enact laws more 
 just as regards her than any hitherto enacted by human 
 wisdom, that we may pi'omote the advent of God's kingdom 
 on earth as it is in Heaven." 
 
 But all the other bishops and spiritual men became angry 
 
 at this, and opposed themselves to him, and called him a 
 
 secret Protestant, a newsmonger, and a Adsionary. When the 
 
 noise had again subsided, Hertha prayed to be allowed to say 
 
 7
 
 114 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 a few words. But the clergy exclaimed with loud and stern 
 voices, " Let the women keep silence in the churches." And 
 they extended their crosiers ahove Hertha, and bowed her to 
 the earth. 
 
 Grief of soul and a noble indignation caused the fire to burn 
 more hotly in her heart, and insj^u-ed her to speak a great and 
 holy name, the name of the Saviour. At the sound of this 
 name the crosiers, which had pressed so heavily upon her, 
 were suddenly raised, so that she no longer felt them. She 
 named it a second time, and an invisible hand raised her up 
 and strengthened her as by magical power. Yet a third time 
 she named it, and the whole imposmg assembly of cardinals' 
 and bishops' robes grew dim, and seemed to fall together like 
 white ashes, and were seen no more. 
 
 A manly figure, full of majesty and beneficence, now 
 seemed to move alone over the earth, raising all who were 
 bowed down or oppressed — the slave, Avoman, the prisoner, 
 the poor, and the oppressed : thus passed he onward, whilst a 
 radiance difiiised itself as from the grey robe in which he was 
 wi'apped, until he aj^jDeared to vanish in the horizon. All 
 space seemed "ndth that to become vacant and desolate. 
 
 " Oh !" thought Hertha, " that was the Sa\H[our, the de- 
 liverer! Oh, that I could but find his kingdom! There 
 would I abide and labor as the lowest of his servants!" 
 
 And her soul's yearning and love caused her again to float 
 over the earth towards the regions where she had seen the 
 Saviour disappear. 
 
 But below her sounded a chorus of female voices, Uke a low 
 wind rising from the earth, which lamented : 
 
 " Thou wilt seek in vain for his kingdom on earth. As yet 
 justice has nowhere opened a path for the full revelation of 
 love. Nowhere as yet have mankind followed the doctrine of 
 the Saviour. We must yet for a long time pray, ' Thy king- 
 dom come !' Pray with us." 
 
 " Yes, I wiU pray and — die !" thought Hertha, and it 
 seemed to her that all hope had expired within her, and that 
 her fife must end. She felt weary of living.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 115 
 
 And now appeared before her inward eye a vision of her 
 native land. She remembered those grey moss-clacF moun- 
 tams, that old eternally green tree of freedom, the mnrmm- of 
 the Urda fountain, and the warlike songs of the swans. She 
 knew that there, in her father-land, women were more op- 
 pressed, and had less independence allowed to them, than in 
 any other Christian country ; but still it was her native land 
 — a land rich in great memories and noble powers. An un- 
 speakable longing seized upon her soul, and drew her hastily 
 thither. 
 
 She again beheld them, those moss-covered primeval 
 moxmtains, and heard from afar the soughing of the mighty 
 branches of the tree of the world, and heard again the 
 whispering voice amid it, which said : 
 
 " Listen to the tree-top's wliispering, 
 At whose home thy foot is planted 1" 
 
 And there, at the foot of the tree, but, ah ! so far, so very 
 far from her, she beheld the large grave Nornor sitting by the 
 Urda fountain, and it seemed to her that she heard their 
 voices speakiag amid the soughing of the mighty tree ; 
 
 It is for those spirits heroic, 
 
 Those who have seen, 
 
 For this, who have earnestly striven. 
 
 Ask not from man. 
 
 List to the voice of the spirit. 
 
 "Watch thou, and wait thou. 
 
 Only be worthy, 
 
 Strong in endurance. 
 
 The hour is advancing. 
 
 Who hath seen, he shall conquer 
 
 Invigorating as the wind from the mountains was the 
 sound of these rhythmical measured words. But their true 
 significance was concealed from Hertha, and they seemed to 
 have reference to others rather than to herself. 
 
 Again she was seated in her little nook in the bosom of the
 
 ]1(5 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 granite moitntain; she heard the monotonous song of the 
 spinners' all around her. The cup-like leaves stood as before 
 round her cell, and offered her the dew-drops which they had 
 collected in their hollows. She again found everything pre 
 cisely as it was before, only she herself was no longer the 
 same. She had lost the freshness of her youth and her former 
 cheerful hope. She sate silently with but one wish, and that 
 was to die. Days, weeks, months, years went on, but death 
 came not. The cloudy sky hung grey and leaden above her 
 head, and hard and cold the granite mountain inclosed her 
 like a prison. Hertha felt her limbs becoming stiffened, but 
 the fire within her heart neither grew chill nor dim. It burned 
 restlessly and consmningly. Sometimes Hertha was strength- 
 ened by the words of the Nornor, which seemed to sound 
 through infinite space above her head : sometimes her heart 
 died within her under the depression of her monotonous 
 existence, and she could not help sighing, " What wilt thou, 
 oh thou restless flame of life ! There are moments when thou 
 burnest brightly; but long weary times when thou merely 
 burnest and torturest me, revealmg the darkness mthm and 
 around me ! Die out, poor spark ! die out ! Let it be night, 
 and silent — for ever !" 
 
 " Nay, live ! Live, and enjoy life as we do !" exclaimed 
 voices at no great distance ; and Hertha again beheld the 
 brilliant cloud and the girls with their garlands of roses. 
 
 " Yod see," said they, " we are still near you. We are at 
 home in all countries, and everywhere are we alike — free and 
 alike happy. Be as we are !" 
 
 " Away !" replied Hertha. " Away, you lie ! I see that 
 your cheeks are painted, and your flowers are artificial. I see 
 beneath your gay demeanor a secret unrest. Poor sisters ! 
 you are afraid of old age and death. Of them I am not 
 afraid. I feel a something great within my suffering and 
 longing heart Avhicli I do not perceive in you. And rather 
 than live happily, according to your happiness, I will die un- 
 happy with those who are unhappy. I weep — you smile : and 
 yet, poor sisters ! I cannot but deplore you."
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. lit 
 
 With that the gay group departed in two companies. The 
 one laughing scornfully, but from the other were heard sor- 
 rowful, lamenting voices : 
 
 "And even we were at one time as thou art. We felt 
 something within our hearts ; we sought for light and for 
 freedom, but society barred to us the paths which led to hght 
 and to hfe ; and we were led astray by ignes fatui^ which 
 promised happiness and libei'ty, but which burned off those 
 very wings wliich had lifted us upwards. We have fallen : 
 we know it ; and that it is which makes our secret misery. 
 Who counts our silent sighs? We might have been so 
 different ! Now it is too late. Let us drink wine and forget ; 
 for we must indeed live !" 
 
 Again the two companies united into one group. But in 
 that same moment the rouge grew black upon their cheeks, 
 and flames bm-sting forth from the earth caught their flutter- 
 ing garments, and the splendid glittering cloud was changed 
 into a heap of ashes. Hertha heard a wild cry of horror and 
 anguish, which died away by degrees into lamenting sighs, 
 whilst a stormy wind dispersed the ashes into space. Hertha 
 wept over the fate of the daughters of pleasure. And anon 
 she turned to hear their dying voices hoarsely whispering in 
 the tempest : 
 
 " Weep for thyself. Thou art different, but thou art not 
 better than we, and thy fate may become still more dreadful !" 
 
 And it seemed to Hertha that her soul was changed, and 
 that the upward-striving, yearning flame within it assumed 
 another character. It had yearned to warm and to benefit : 
 now it would merely punish. She herself was transformed into 
 a horrible being, which spread destruction around her. The 
 flame in her heart extended itself through all her limbs, and 
 everything which she touched was kindled by it. Her hand 
 had become a flaming torch. She laid it upon her father's 
 house, and wild flames burst forth. She saw them grow high- 
 er and higher, and spread on all sides, setting fire to other and 
 yet other houses. She heard the bells tolling, the beat of the 
 alarm-drum, the shouts and terrified cries of people, the grating
 
 118 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 wheels of carts and of fire-engines. The noise and the tumult 
 increased every moment, and it seemed to be whispered into 
 her ear — 
 
 " Fire ! incendiary fire !" 
 
 An imspeakable anguish overcame her, because it seemed to 
 her that this was her work. All at oiicu the thought occurred, 
 as is sometimes the case in distressing di-eams, " It must be a 
 dream!" She endeavored to wake, striving violently with 
 the dream-spirit that held her captive ; at length she conquer- 
 ed, and — awoke.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 119 
 
 THE INCENDIARY FIRE. 
 
 A BED, "wildly flaming glare lit up the sisters' room, wliich 
 was situated within the cotirt. The bells tolled ; the alarm- 
 drum was sounding, and amid a horrible din of human voices, 
 one shrieking above another, the cries of " Fire ! fire ! Help ! 
 help! Water! throw it here! Quick! Help! — Save us!" 
 seemed to fill the air. Hertha fancied herself still dreaming, 
 or else delirious with the efiTect of the sleeping draught. But 
 a glass of water which she hastily swallowed, and a violent 
 blow upon the door, together with the words " Hertha ! Come 
 out ! WiU you be burned in your bed ?" cleared away all the 
 mists of sleep. She opened the door. Rudolph stood there, 
 with bewildered looks. " Come !" said he, " come ! I will save 
 you !" 
 
 " Help me to save Alma first !" said Hertha, at once calm 
 and decided. 
 
 Rudolph obeyed. Hertha hastily flimg on her sister's 
 clothes, wrapped her in a cloak, and led her, assisted by Ru- 
 dolph, into the court. Here they found old Aunt Nella and 
 the two youngest girls trembling and crying, and almost with- 
 out clothes. 
 
 A quantity of furniture, bedding and household utensils, had 
 already been thrown into the court, which was thronged with 
 people. 
 
 Hertha removed her sisters and aimt to as great a distance 
 from the house as was possible in the court ; and desired them 
 to wait for her there. This done, she turned towards the 
 burning house with a determined countenance, as it' considering 
 what must next be done. The whole of the upper portion of 
 the house was on fire, and wild tongues of flame flashed from 
 the winiowa of the second story.
 
 120 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " My father !" exclaimed Hertha, " where is my father?" 
 
 " Thei-e !" whispered Rudolph in her ear, with a wild sort 
 of insane joy flashing in his eyes, and pointed up to the second 
 story of the house, " there ! where the fire has just now caught! 
 He cannot escape !" 
 
 " Wretched being ! what have you done ?" whispered Her- 
 tha in reply, as a horrible idea presented itself like lightning 
 to her soul. 
 
 " Free yourself, and — me with you I" returned Rudolph. 
 " Come ! I will save you ! I will carry you through a thousand 
 fires ! " And, throwing his arms round her, he held her fast 
 as he endeavored to force her away. But Hertha thrust him 
 from her with all her strength, as, with a flashing glance, she 
 exclaimed, " Hence ! Begone from me ! Save him, or — I 
 will never see you more ! " 
 
 At that moment a horrible crash was heard. A portion of 
 the roof had fallen in, and volumes of thick smoke and whirl- 
 ing flame burst forth from the abyss which was thus made. 
 A moment's silence and astonishment succeeded. Then was 
 heard a wailing and an agonized cry for help, Hke that of a 
 weak old man or of a child. It seemed to proceed from that 
 part of the house over Avhich the roof had fallen. 
 
 Another cry answered it from the court below ; a strong 
 cry, sounding like " Yes !" full of resolution and strength, 
 and a yoimg girl rushed into the burning house. It was 
 Hertha. Rudolph was about to follow her steps, but a rafter 
 which fell from the burning roof struck him on the head. He 
 stumbled backwards, fell, and remained for some time without 
 consciousness. 
 
 Old Falk had been sound asleep over his treasures, 
 beneath his pillow, when he was awaked by the cry of fire and 
 the tumult in the street below. The chamber in which he lay 
 was full of a stifling smoke, which made his brain dizzy, and 
 almost took away his breath. His first movement was to 
 seize his cash-box, and with this in his hand, he raised himself 
 in bed, and tried to collect his senses. He called his faithful 
 old servant by her name, but received no answer. With dif-
 
 THE FOUR BISTERS. 121 
 
 ficiilty he raised himself to his feet, and endeavored to reach 
 the door which opened into the dining-room. But his brain 
 reeled, and his feet could not support him. He fell, and crept 
 from where he fell, on hands and knees, to the dining-room 
 door, shovmg before him his precious casket. He had now 
 reached the door, but both head and hands refused their 
 office, when he attempted to stand iipright. He called the 
 old servant ; he called Rudolph, and terror made his voice 
 loud and strong, but no voice replied to his, and no hand im- 
 fastened the bolted door. He fancied he could hear wild 
 shrieks of joy and derisive laughter in the room beyond, 
 mingled \vith the roar and the crackling of the fire. Every 
 moment the heat became fiercer m the chamber, and the smoke 
 thicker. The anguish, as of death, seized on the old man's 
 heart — and the sweat of agony burst forth from his forehead, 
 as in the depths of his soul he seemed to hear the words : 
 
 " Thou fool, this night shall thy soul be required fi'om 
 thee !" 
 
 And out of the darkness which thickened around him, he 
 seemed to see pale countenances looking forth, gloomy and 
 threatening ; gazing upon his torments. He knew them all 
 again. They were souls which had been intrusted to him to 
 protect and to make happy. They seemed now to ask him how 
 he had fulfilled his duty towards them. Smoke and flames 
 encircled him, nearer and nearer every moment. He felt 
 himself approaching the limits of life and beyond that he saw 
 nothing, except a something, shapeless, indefinite, threat- 
 ening, horrible, more horrible for its indefiniteness than the 
 most horrible form which reality could present ; a some- 
 thing unknown and yet inevitable, which approached, every 
 moment, nearer and nearer, beyond the most terrible death. 
 
 Terror again gave hun strength and consciousness sufficient 
 to raise himself up, seize the handle of the door, and also to 
 open it. But in the selfsame moment that the door was 
 opened the heat smote him across the face, and a horrible 
 crackling noise, together with a surge of smoke and flame 
 which filled the whole apartment, caused the wi'etched old
 
 122 THE POUR BISTERS. 
 
 man to fall across the threshold, and for the first time forced 
 a cry of lamentation and prayer out of that hard shut-up 
 breast ! 
 
 " Lord, my God ! wilt thou thus sufter me to die ? Lord, 
 my God, have mercy upon me ! Help, help !" 
 
 And his hands for one moment released their hold of the 
 cash-box, that they might be clasped together in an agonized, 
 death-agonized jjrayer. 
 
 Again a frightful crackhng noise of burning was heard iu 
 the room. The opposite door was flung open, and there, 
 enveloped in smoke and flame, stood, not the angel of judg- 
 ment ; but, like an angel of dehverance, the old man's daugh- 
 tei', Hertha. 
 
 He stretched towards her his trembUng hands. She rushed 
 forward to him and raised him in her arms. She never had 
 beUeved herself so strong as now, nor ever had she been so. 
 She carried her father through the burning dining-room. 
 His trembling hands grasped convulsively the precious 
 money-box 
 
 " There is yet time !" said Hertha, encouraging and com- 
 forting him. " Be not afraid, my father ! We soon shall be 
 out in the open air." 
 
 The flames almost choked the assurance on her tongue, 
 and seemed as if they would bar her onward advance. 
 They scorched her cheeks and her clothes, but she staggered 
 not nor hesitated. 
 
 " Courage, courage, my father !" whispered she as she 
 bore onward her precious burden through the midst of raging 
 fire, as calmly and resolutely as if no death-peril were at hand. 
 She knew of a certainty, she felt it "v\dthin herself, that she 
 should save her father. The flames stretched out, hissing 
 behind her, their serpent-like tongues ; soon they no longer 
 reached her. She went steadily down the long flight of 
 stairs ; the roof of the dining-room falling in behind her. 
 
 When Hertha descended the steps from the lobby into the 
 court, beai'ing her father in her arms, the people hurraed and 
 waved their hats. Then, and not till then, her limbs failed
 
 THE FOUK SISTERS. 123 
 
 her ; she sank down upon her knees, but did not loose hold of 
 the burden which she bore. Faithful as a mother who holds 
 her child clasped to her breast, held she her father, with her 
 eyes fixed only on him. He appeared almost unconscious. — 
 She drew a deep and strong breath. 
 
 " We are saved, father," whispered she, " breathe, breathe, 
 my father !" 
 
 People crowded round them, and conveyed them from the 
 immediate neighborhood of the flames, to the spot where the 
 rest of the family were assembled. The old man, by degrees, 
 regained the use of his senses ; but tho violent shock which 
 his nerves had sustained caused a tremor of the whole body, 
 and when, not without emotion, he had pressed all his chil- 
 dren to his heart, he sat gazing immovably, and without utter- 
 ing a word, at his consuming property. 
 
 Hertha, having drimk a glass of water, appeared perfectly 
 restored, and immediately busied herself in preparing hand- 
 barrows and bearers, and, having made beds with mattresses 
 and coverlets, on which to lay her father and Alma, had 
 them conveyed from the scene of conflagration. She and 
 the others, old Anna among the rest, — who had gone to sleep 
 that night by the kitchen fire, instead of her own room, 
 adjoining the chamber of her master, whence it happened 
 that she was not within his call, — now all left the court. The 
 fire had already caught several houses in the neighborhood, 
 and these now also were burning with a violence which defied 
 every attempt at extinguishing it. The inhabitants fled fi-om 
 all the houses in the neighborhood of this growing destruc- 
 tion ; they threw from the Avindows, bedding, mirrors, earth- 
 enware, in the wildest confusion. The fire, the terror, the 
 throng, and the tumult increased every moment. 
 
 Hertha, who observed, by the direction in which the flames 
 were driven by the wind, that the fire would probably extend 
 to the northern portion of the town, which consisted in great 
 measure of wooden houses, immediately turned her steps, 
 with those of her family, in the opposite direction, across a 
 bridge which spanned the river Klar, to a meadoAV, planted
 
 124 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 \ 
 
 with trees, outside the town, where the inhabitants amused 
 themselves in the summer, and which was called the King'a 
 field. Many of those who were already homeless, or who 
 feared to become so, followed her example. And they who 
 did so, did well. Because they who removed with their res- 
 cued property to houses or to situations near to the fire, had 
 a second time to leave their places of refuge for others more 
 remote from the increasing conflagration. The wind unfortu- 
 nately rose, and blew violently, so that the flames were driven 
 onward, in stUl more terrible career, from house to house, 
 fi'om lane to lane. The wooden dwellings were consumed 
 like tinder. 
 
 And now again was exhibited, both as regarded the extin- 
 guishing of the fire and the work of removing and saving the 
 inhabitants of the burning houses, the method which on so 
 many similar occasions has distinguished the temperament and 
 habit of the Swedes, and which we have already spoken of and 
 designated as " the hand-over-head-method," but which in this 
 particular case was governed by no kmd of internal harmony. 
 The superior authorities of the town, the sherifi" of the district, 
 and the Burgomaster, could not agree as to the mode by 
 which the fire should be extinguished. The fire-engines were 
 found either not to be at hand or else they were out of order ; 
 many of the hose were utterly useless ; water was called for, 
 but none came ; many commanded, but nobody obeyed ; and 
 perhaps could not obey because the commands were issued in 
 the most bewdldering confusion, hither and thither, now this 
 and now that. Besides which, a great number of persons 
 became, in the terror of that awful fire, perfectly confiised in 
 their understanding. One tall strong man was seen busily 
 occupied in saving a doll's chest of drawers, another hurried 
 along the streets with an empty drinking-glass in his hand, a 
 third wheeled out of the tOAvn four bundles of fire-wood in a 
 wheelbarroAV ; one old lady rushed out of her house with her 
 bunch of keys in her hand, and a young lady, too hurried to 
 attire herself, carried a ball-dress on her arm. 
 
 Many worthless people availed themselves of the horror
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 125 
 
 and confusion of the time to plunder and carry aT\ay the 
 property of others. And none were found to guard against 
 this mischief Many good citizens, who did not lose their 
 presence of mind, made xmheard-of efforts to extinguish the 
 fire and save hoth life and property from its destruction ; but 
 these were either each one for himself, or they were in 
 detached groups, so that system and co-operation were 
 wanting altogether. 
 
 In the meantime the fire advanced in its destructive career 
 with the increasing wind. Before morning had dawned, every 
 one of the lanes opening into the street in which stood the 
 house of the Talks, as far as the large market, was a heap of 
 smouldering ashes, and soon after, the market itself was 
 burning at every corner. The new Assembly House, with its 
 splendid ball-room, where the great fancy ball was to take 
 place, the anticipation of which had made so many a young 
 heart beat with joyful hope, took fire, and the flames danced 
 as if with joy through the spacious apartment, devouring all 
 the new silken curtains and furniture, melting the splendid 
 chandelier, and turning to ashes all the gilding and the other 
 grandeur. An hour afterwards, and the great house oppo- 
 site was also burning — that very house, where, the evening 
 before, gods and goddesses chatted so merrily together. 
 The silver-haired golden-wedded pair, the handsome host and 
 hostess, with their young daughters, the seven Miss Dufvas, 
 stood houseless in the market-place, and saw their comfortable 
 home become a prey to the flames. 
 
 In the course of the forenoon all the houses in the market- 
 place were burning, and the fire flung itself down into the 
 streets and lanes Avhere the poorer portion of the town's popu- 
 lation dwelt. Presently it had reached the Great Quarter, 
 that great nibbish-quarter, as Mimmi Svanberg called it, and 
 a whole mass of miserable old men and women, ragged queans 
 "with their streaming hair, and half-naked children, poured 
 forth pell-mell, together "svith piles of broken furniture, halvea 
 of tables and fragments of chairs, tattered bedding, coffee- 
 mills, dirty buckets ; every three-fourths of the whole being
 
 126 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 nameless indescribable tilings, in chaotic confusion. The con- 
 fusion among the laborers at the fire became also still greater 
 and greater. Many grew weary of their work, when they saAV 
 that the fire only increased more and more. Many also had 
 become pitiless, and not seldom were heard in reply to prayers 
 for help or succor the cruel words, " It is no business of mine !" 
 or " You may do it yourself!" 
 
 No one commanded, no one obeyed any longer. People 
 rushed about everywhere, and saved what they could, and let 
 the fire and fate take their own course. 
 
 "To-day it is come to pass that the gentleman and the 
 servant are all as one. He that will work, does so ; and he 
 who will not, lets it alone !" said a working man, whose whole 
 appearance proved how unceasingly and bravely he himself 
 labored ; " but then you see," added he, " I can't think, for 
 my part, how anybody can let working alone !" And so say- 
 ing, he again hurried out to render assistance wherever he 
 saw that it was needed. 
 
 It was the pastor's man-servant, the respectable Jacob, who 
 now saw the cause of his mistress's premonition, and contended 
 resolutely against its sad reahty. 
 
 The reality exhibited a surging ocean of flame, heaving in 
 the wind and spreading on all sides ; a tumultuous mass of 
 terrified and houseless people flying "with children and house- 
 hold stuff" out of the burning town mto the King's-field, where 
 now safety from the devouring element could only be looked 
 for. 
 
 In the midst of this press of people, and this confusion of 
 ruin, an elderly lady, around whose person a mass of parti- 
 colored garments fluttered like feathers, in the wuid, might be 
 seen, wildly seeking something, and hurriedly inquiring right 
 and left : 
 
 " Have you seen my noble young lady ? Can no one tell 
 me which way my young lady, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, 
 is gone ?" 
 
 " Oh, she's gone straight down the fire and brimstone pit !'* 
 said a working man, who wished to be witty.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 121 
 
 ** No," said another, " I saw her posting off to heaven, right 
 out of the fire, with outstretched arms and streaming hair, 
 and she kept shrieking, ' My noble lady ! my noble lady !' so 
 there need be no wailing about her !" 
 
 " And I," said a third, " I saw her running out of the 
 town, with a butter-tub \mder one arm and a huge cheese 
 under the other. She must be at Stockholm by this time, so 
 as she ran ! " 
 
 "That must have been before she set off to heaven," 
 remarked the former, "because I can swear that I saw a 
 noble young lady, who looked the very image of a curly 
 bear,* and who " 
 
 " Ah ! jo\i are a parcel of good-for-nothing fellows, and you 
 are telling Ues altogether !" exclaimed Mrs. Tupplander, for 
 it was she. " Oh, my unfortunate young lady ! Where is she ? 
 where is she? Can nobody tell me where the Honorable 
 Miss Krusbjorn is gone !" 
 
 Two ladies were now standing on the Httle bridge which 
 crossed the river Klar, watching the fire. They were the 
 pastor's wife, Mrs. Dahl, and Mimmi Svanberg. 
 
 " Ah, my presentiment !" said the former, " I felt such an 
 evident impression last evening, that a great misfortune hung 
 over the town. The poor, poor people ! " 
 
 A hand Hghtly touched the shoulder of the pastor's wife, 
 and a gentle voice said, " This is a terrible sight, dear Mrs. 
 Dahl, What is to be done ? Could we not help the poor 
 creatures one way or other ?" 
 
 The pastor's wife turned roimd and recognised the young 
 and lovely Countess P., who, dressed in a quilted petticoat, 
 with silk shoes on her feet, and a shawl over her head, had 
 hastened from the house, which they inhabited for a time, and 
 was now on her way to the fire. 
 
 " Of a certainty we ought to do so," said the ever-ready 
 Mimmi Svanberg, " at least, I, who am strong. The Countess 
 and Mrs. Dahl I think would do best not to stand here and 
 
 * Krusbjorn.
 
 128 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 run the risk of taking cold, but go home and order coffee and 
 soup to be made for the poor suiFerers, for I fancy there will 
 soon be great need of it. I have ordered my Lovisa to set on 
 the large coffee-jjot — I left papa himself busy grinding." 
 
 " Ah, good heavens ! have you none of you seen my noble 
 young lady !" cried a shrill, despairing voice, and the three 
 ladies presently beheld Mrs. Tupplander, in a costume almost 
 as remarkable as her looks were wild, commg towards them, 
 as if on flying feathers. " Where, where can she be gone ?" 
 
 " Where Avas she when you saw her last, dear Mrs, Tupp- 
 lander?" asked Mimnii Svanberg. 
 
 " Ah, she was in the midst of my salting-tubs," rephed Mrs. 
 Tupplander, "because, although the fire had not reached ray 
 house, yet it might do so without giving any notice, and, 
 therefore, I resolved to get all my things into a place of 
 safety ; and I and all my people carried off what we could. 
 But just as I thought that we had got most of the things safe, 
 and that Miss Krusbjorn should keep watch over them, she — • 
 was nowhere to be found, and nobody can tell me where she 
 is gone ! But when I saw her last she was among the saltuig- 
 tubs ! " 
 
 " Then she will come there again," said Mimrai Svanberg, 
 consoUngly ; " because, if she has once safely escaped the fire, 
 she "\nll assiiredly not run into it again." 
 
 " Yes, but who knows that ?" said Mrs. Tupplander, refusing 
 to be comforted ; " the fire makes people lose then* wits ! 
 Ah, my poor Krusbjorn ! My poor young lady !" 
 
 "I will go and give orders for making soup," said the 
 pastor's •wife ; " that is a good idea. Fortunately we have 
 lately killed a bullock," 
 
 " And I will order both soup and coffee," said the young 
 Countess ; " but now I should like to help the poor people to 
 save their things. Look, there are two young girls, who are 
 carrying a bed, and almost staggering under their load. 
 There is certainly a sick pei-son in the bed. Let us help 
 them!" 
 
 In the bed lay a poor, old sick woman from the Great
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 129 
 
 Rubbish Quarter. She lay crippled witli rheumatism, and 
 heard the tumult of the fire, and saw the flames thrust their 
 fiery tongues through the cracks of the walls, and thought to 
 herself, " I must be burned here in my bed, because nobody 
 ■will think of me, poor wretch !" 
 
 Biit two very yomig ghis — "yoimg baggages," as they 
 are called in the quarter, because their clothes were ragged, 
 and they could not get into service for want of better clothing 
 • — they thought of the poor old creature, and one said to the 
 other : 
 
 " Let us go and save the poor soul !" 
 
 And with that they burst open the door, carried out the 
 bed in which was the old woman, and so through the burning 
 streets in the direction of the King's-field ; but the bed was 
 heavy, and they w^ere nearly sinkmg beneath their burden, 
 when two ladies were seen hastening towards their aid. 
 These were Mimmi Svanberg and the young Countess. 
 With their help the old woman was brought into the field, 
 in safety fi'om the flames, and the Countess took off her own 
 shawl to defend her from the cold, whereupon she, spite of 
 all her protestations, was wi'apped in the woollen jacket which 
 Mimmi Svanberg wore under her cloak. After that the two 
 hastened to help others who also were heavily laden. 
 
 Every moment increased the number of the houseless who 
 fled to the Kang's-field. 
 
 And with every moment the conflagration grew ; and the 
 •wind rose more and more. It was an awful and a sorrowful 
 eight. Nevertheless, it was impossible for Mimmi Svanberg 
 to avoid smiling, as she saw Mrs. Tupplaiider fluttering about 
 in her extraordinary costume, seeking among the crowds of 
 fugitives, and incessantly crying, " My noble young lady ! 
 Has nobody seen my noble young lady !" Sometimes she 
 shrieked aloud in a shrill voice, "Miss Krusbjorn !" But no 
 voice rephed. 
 
 The Countess P. and Munmi Svanberg had now met with 
 an active fellow-worker in their Samaritan labors. This was 
 Hertlia, who had no sooner seen her own family in safety, 
 8
 
 130 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 grouped at the foot of a large oak-tree, than she hastened to 
 render all the help in her power to other homeless people. 
 
 It was noon, and no bounds were set to the destructive 
 element, which seemed as if it might extend its ravages over 
 the whole of the town. The mass of the people and the town 
 authorities were now ahke without courage or counsel, and 
 scarcely" any further attempts were made to stem the tide of 
 destruction. 
 
 At the distance of six English miles from the town were 
 working, this very morning, fifty men on the new railway, 
 under command of Lieutenant Nordin. 
 
 " There is a fire at Kungskoping !" said he to the navvies, 
 " and it seems to me that they are in want of a good deal of 
 help. I have seen a tremendous smoke ever since day-break, 
 and it appears to increase, rather than otherwise. I shall go 
 there, and any of you lads, who Hke to go with me, are 
 welcome. I should be glad to say to any such, that they 
 should have their day's wages. But that I cannot do, because 
 it is tolerably certain that they will have nothing for their 
 trouble." 
 
 Every one of the fifty, immediately and without hesitation, 
 accompanied their young and beloved overseer. 
 
 In about two hours they were on the spot. Yngve ISTordin, 
 and a couple of his acquaintances, hastily arranged a plan for 
 preventing the progress of the fire ; and when the fifty fresh 
 pair of aiTiis, which Yngve had brought with him, unani- 
 mously and vigorously obeyed their commander, a new turn 
 was soon given to the work of extinguishing the fire. It 
 began really to abate, and its fmther progress seemed stayed. 
 Nevertheless, they were met by unforeseen difficulties, partly 
 through the failing supply of water, and partly through the 
 want of harmony among the city authorities. 
 
 For instance, a number of young navvies had succeeded m 
 raising a sail-cloth to the roof of a house which stood in the 
 corner of a narrow lane, and just opposite to one which was 
 burning furiously. They considered themselves perfectly sure 
 of saving this house, and a whole row of others. There they
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 131 
 
 sat upon the roof, pouring torrents of Avater over tlicir sail- 
 clotli, when orders came from the magistrates that the sail- 
 cloth must be taken clown, in order to be placed upon another 
 house which was already on fire. The young fellows ventured 
 to act in opposition to the authorities assembled in the market- 
 place. The magistrates' messenger was sent crest-fallen away, 
 and they still sat triumphantly on the roof. But, as a matter 
 of com'se, they were the minority ; the majority in the lane 
 below were determined to have their own way; the navvies 
 were obhged to loosen their ropes and give up their own 
 schemes. The sail-cloth was carried oif in triumph, and the 
 end of it was, tnat the house itsehf, and many others near it. 
 together with tJie sail-cloth, were all consumed. 
 
 " We must pull down that house," said Nordin, an hour 
 later, speaking with decision to the magistrate, and pointing 
 to a house which had not yet taken fire, but was so situated as 
 to render such a step necessary. 
 
 " PuU it down !" exclaimed the other, almost shedding 
 tears ; " surely it is quite enough for the houses to be burnt 
 down without our pulling them down. No, that shall never 
 be done as long as I five!" 
 
 Ynge was obliged to restrict his operations to the well- 
 directed use of tne fire-engine tubes. He put himself at the 
 head of this part of the business, he himself working one of 
 the hose. But now water failed them. 
 
 " Be so good as to let us have some water here !" said he to 
 a gentleman who stood quite calmly at a short distance from 
 him, watching the fire, with his hands in his pockets, " we must 
 have more water here immediately, otherwise we cannot save 
 this house." 
 
 " It is no business of mine !" rephed Mr. Von Tackjern. 
 " I don't trouble myself about anybody's house but my own, 
 and that stands safe yonder. That is the house I keep watch 
 over." 
 
 " Certainly, your house is not yet in danger, and with God's 
 help it shall not be so," said Yngve ; " you can, therefore, 
 wittoat any risk, go and see after water."
 
 132 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " Go yourself, and the clevil take you !" replied the surly 
 and selfish proprietor of the unendangered house. 
 
 Yngve Nordin, as quick as lightning, gave him a box on the 
 ear, and was just about to rush after water hunself, when a 
 voice in the crowd exclaimed : 
 
 " Stay where you are ! — in a moment water shall be here !" 
 
 The voice was that of a woman ; it was Hertha's. She and 
 Mimmi Svanberg, in the course of their work of salvation, had 
 been brought to this place, and Jaad thus heard the altercation 
 between the two gentlemen. 
 
 Before many minutes were over, Hertha returned with a 
 liand-water-cart, which she herself drew. 
 
 In the meantime, Mimmi Svanberg saw Mr. Von Tackjern 
 talking, in an under-voice, to a strong-limbed, coarse-looking 
 working-man, to whom he gave some money. On this the 
 man nodded assentingly, and immediately as. Nordin, who 
 continued to direct the hose, turned round to look after the 
 much needed water, he received so violent a blow between the 
 eyes fi-om this hired ruffian, that the spectacles which he wore, 
 on account of being near-sighted, were smashed on his flxce. 
 Without staggering or pausing a moment, Nordin returned 
 him so heavy a blow on the side of his head as to knock him 
 down, after which he slunk off, uttering imprecations. Nordin, 
 near-sighted as he was, seemed, in the meantime, helpless, 
 although, fortunately, his eyes were uninjured by the blow, 
 and fortunately, also, he was not improvided for in case of 
 accident. "With the utmost calmness, as if nothing unplea- 
 sant had occurred, he took a second pair of spectacles from his 
 pocket, and turned himself again to work. 
 
 When, however, he was about to retake the pipe, he saw, 
 to his surprise, that it was in the hand of a young woman, 
 who was not for the moment directing it upon the fire, but 
 upon the fellow who had dealt the insidious bloAv, and the 
 person who had hired him. Both rushed away fi-om tlie unex- 
 pected dusch-bath. Hertha laughed, and then directed the 
 mouth of the hose against the fire. But the enraged fellow 
 tm-ned again, and was rushing towards her, uttering a volley
 
 Tl!E FOLK SISTERS. 133 
 
 of insult, when once more she du-ected the pipe against his 
 mouth, and the torrent of water drowned its coarse abuse, 
 after which it was again turned to the flames. 
 
 Yngve, who immediately recognised Hcrtha, stood for a 
 few minutes the silent spectator of her deeds, and seemed to 
 have great enjoyment in thus watching her. But Avhen he 
 saw the sparks of fire fall upon her beautiful plaits of hair, for 
 the handkerchief which had been tied on her head had fallen 
 back upon her shoidders, he took off his cap and put it on her 
 head. 
 
 " You work well, comrade," said he, smiling, and with a 
 tone that expressed heartfelt esteem, as he took the hose from 
 her hand, "but your hand is not strong enough for this 
 work ; it is better suited to mine. Thank you for the help 
 you have given." 
 
 " If I can be of any use here, say so at once," said Hertha, 
 replacing the cap on his head, and drawing the handkerchief 
 over her own. 
 
 "Take care, if possible, that there is no want of water here," 
 said Yngve, "and then, vnih God's blessing, we sliall soon 
 put an end to the fire." 
 
 " Good ! you shall not want water," said Hertha, hastening 
 away. She talked witli several of the unoccupied ]>eople 
 among the crowd, and succeeded, by her earnest words, and 
 her animated and resolute demeanor, in inducing them to 
 assist her, and in this manner she had soon organized a syste- 
 matic and regular line of water supply, from the Klar to tliat 
 part of the conflagration where Nordin and his men wore 
 working. Already the fire began to abate. It was evid'jut 
 to all who were near that this was the most important point, 
 and that if the fire could now be extinguished, any f n', !ier 
 danger of its progress was over. 
 
 "Now for it, my lads! " said Yngve. " Some of you ixist 
 mount on yonder wall, in order to direct the w^ater froi^i t'lat 
 elevation upon the opposite house. If you can extinguish ilio 
 fire there, all is riglit !" 
 
 More ready or braver-hearted people, in the hour of danger,
 
 134 THE rouii sisTP:iis. 
 
 than the Swedish working-classes, are nowhere to be met 
 with. In a moment the men were seen clambering up the yet 
 burning ruins. When they had reached the top of the wall 
 they raised an hurrah of trimnph. The force of the water 
 from this height was very great. 
 
 In half an hour the conflagration was stayed ; all danger 
 from its further extension was over. Again they hurrahed, 
 standing on their dangerous elevation, and the next moment 
 the wall fell, with all its array of brave laborers. An hour 
 afterwards Yngve Nordin was borne away from the smoking 
 ruins by his young comrades, with one knee and his left arm 
 greatly injured by the falling wall, the last achievement of the 
 fire. But he would not consent to be removed from the spot 
 before he had collected all his men around him, and convinc- 
 ed himself that no hves were lost of those who had scaled th*» 
 wall. He took counsel with the physician of the place respect- 
 ing such as were injured, and having arranged everythmg for 
 their comfort and well-being, allowed huuself to be removed 
 to the parsonage, outside the town, where, during the time 
 that his works on the railway would keep him in that neigh- 
 borhood, he had his home. 
 
 Night came down ; the conflagration was stayed ; the drum 
 beat in joyous announcement ; but more than two thousand 
 V>ersons, whom the tire had ruined, or rendered homeless, 
 vtmdered about the town or in the fields outside.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 135 
 
 NIGHT IN THE KING'S-FIELD. 
 
 The greater number of the fugitives were assembled iu the 
 Kiag's-field, becavise it lay nearest to the portion of the town 
 in which the fire had raged, and because its large although yet 
 leafless trees aflforded some little shelter. 
 
 Gloomy and leaden hung the sky of that March night above 
 the still burning ruins of the town. Now and then flames 
 were seen to leap up from amid masses of fallen houses, which 
 flung a dreary illumination over the desolation which lay 
 within, and the sorrowful spectacle in the field outside. There 
 might the miserable fugitives be seen wandering about, not 
 knowing what to do, or sitting in groups keeping watch over 
 then* rescued possessions, many with their heads tied up, or 
 with bandaged eyes or limbs, testifyuig of their too close 
 contact with the fire, and all pale, dejected, and wearied ; the 
 greater part of them hopeless and bewailing. The gloom of 
 the night seemed only to increase the misery. They wei'e 
 perished with cold ; children cried, and many a mother had 
 no means of keeping her little ones warm but by claspmg 
 them to her bosom. Many a poor wretch seemed perfectly 
 stupified by dark and gloomy despair. In vain Mimmi Svan- 
 berg and the young Countess went from one to another, ofier- 
 ing them warm cofl'ee and bread, and a comfortable fire-side 
 at either of their houses ; nobody was thirsty or hungry ; 
 nobody was willing or dared to leaA^e their rescued household 
 stuff. They thanked the kind ladies almost with indifl^erouce, 
 and continued to sit staring on the ground, at the reeking 
 ruins, or out into the darkness. The wailing of the children, 
 now and then a cry of misery, and heavy sighs of deep anguish, 
 alone broke the melancholy silence.
 
 136 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Here and there people were talkincj; about the cause and 
 origin of the fire ; dark suspicions Avere uttered, and the 
 '■vords, " it was done on purpose," were whispered from one 
 to another. Here and there also people were scheming how 
 they best could take advantage of the darkness and the con- 
 I'usion ; and Minimi Svanberg heard a mother say reproach- 
 i'ully to her son, a lad often years old : 
 
 "If you were only like a fox and brought home what you 
 could get, then you would be worth something !" 
 
 The lowest classes of the town's population, so long left 
 neglected in their wretchedness and ignorance, had become 
 dangerous, and the better classes, both of the poor and the 
 i-ich, were afraid of them, and not without reason. 
 
 Ilertha had succeeded in placing her family in a certain 
 degree of comfort. The father and the invalid sister lay on 
 mattresses at the foot of an old oak tree. The yomiger sisters 
 ■were also warmly clad ; and little Aunt Nella sat, not unlike 
 a great bundle of rags, restlessly working her fingers upon 
 the precious portfolio, in which lay the papers of the great 
 lawsuit, and puzzling her poor brain to find out whether this 
 fire would not deliver her from some of its involved intrica- 
 cies. 
 
 Rudolph had been unwearyingly helpful to Hertha in ar- 
 ranging all in the best possible manner for the comfort of 
 the whole family; and yet Ilertha Avould not reward hua 
 with one Tdnd word, nor even one glance. She spoke aftec- 
 tiouately to her little sisters ; she wrapped shawls around her 
 father's feet ; she warmed Alma's hands in her bosom and 
 upon her cheeks ; she looked after the comfort of Aunt Nella 
 and old Anna Avith kind solicitude ; for all she had words of 
 aft'ection and encouragement, but not for Rudolph, although 
 he seemed to watch for her eye, as the faulty and chastised 
 dog watches for the forgivmg eye of his master. 
 
 The Director sat almost immovable, gazing towards his 
 burned-down house, and his lips now and then muttered, as if 
 unconsciously, the thought which most haunted his soul ; " It 
 was not insured !" He continued to tremble as if shivering
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 131 
 
 •with cold. Now and tlu'ii lie convulsively clutclied at his 
 money-box. 
 
 The darkness veiled more and more the sorrowful picture, 
 but no sleep visited the eyes of the unfortunate fugitives 
 Snow-flakes fell and mingled themselves with the ashes, which 
 the night wmd scattered over their heads ; dull, lamenthig 
 cries and sorrowful groans were carried by it across the field. 
 
 All at once a strong voice was lifted up, which exclaimed ; 
 '"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
 I will give you rest !' thus, my afflicted friends, cried iho 
 Redeemer to you, yesterday and to-day. Listen to his 
 message." 
 
 At this unexpected declaration all heads were raised. But 
 the darkness at this moment was so dense that no figure could 
 distinctly be seen, no one could discern the messenger. All 
 the more powerful, therefore, was the impression produced by 
 those words which resounded across the field, amid the 
 dismal darkness of the night, from the lips of the invisible 
 preacher, who, with a voice and power full of inspiration, 
 conveyed the consolations and light of the Gospel to those 
 miserably unhappy people sitting in the midst of darkness ; 
 sho"\Wng them the all-seeing eye of the Father guarding them 
 in the gloom of night, the loving Father's heart ready to 
 console all, to help all. Never did any sermon improvised 
 for the moment produce a deeper eflfect upon its hearers. 
 The stupor of misery, silent despair, and gloom passed away 
 from the soul ; people spoke ; they wept ; they sobbed aloud ; 
 but it was no longer because they were inconsolable. They 
 were profoundly arrested, they were unspeakably affected by 
 the thought of Him who bore with us the crown of thorns and 
 the cross, and who bore them for our • salvation. Never 
 before had his image been presented so clearly and brightly 
 to the minds of the listening people. They poured out their 
 emotions, like the waves of a surging ocean, in sighs and 
 tears, as they listened to the powerful and faithful discourse 
 of the preacher. All at once, this was interrupted by a wild 
 ehriek of self-accusation :
 
 138 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "It was I ; it was I who caused all this misery, I ." 
 
 Here the voice was silenced, as if stifled by external violence. 
 The darkness prevented its being known from whom the cry 
 proceeded ; but some persons who were near fancied that 
 they saw a figure, like that of a youth, hastily raise itself, as 
 from the ground, but which was almost as hastily dragged 
 down again by another figure. 
 
 Darkness and silence again covered the scene. There was 
 a moment of deep and breathless silence. All seemed to be 
 expecting that a dark mystery was about to be revealed ; that 
 the author of the fire was about to come forward to avow his 
 guilt, and many hands were involuntarily in motion ready to 
 seize upon the criminal. They waited, one, two, three, four, 
 five mmutes ; but all remained silent. A dull, threatening 
 murmur, like that of approaching thunder, was then heard 
 rising from the mass of people in the field, the murmur 
 from a thousand breasts and lips ; but above this again was 
 raised, loud and powerful, the mild and manly voice of the 
 first speaker, exclaiming : 
 
 " Should there be here any guilt-burdened heart which 
 would accuse itself of causing accidentally, or by design, the 
 misfortune under which so many are suiFering, then — may 
 God have mercy upon him ! We desire not his confession ! 
 It wo'dd not be any benefit to us. It might make others 
 more unfortunate than they already are. Let him keep 
 silence. God will speak as a judge in the depths of his heart. 
 And if that voice should become more terrible than he can 
 bear, let the unhappy one remember, that the Lord our God 
 is a forgiving God ; that if our own heart accuses us, God is 
 still greater than our own heart, and knows all things. Let 
 us not judge one another !" 
 
 At this moment the blush of morning was kmdled in the 
 eastern horizon, on the other side of the desolated town, and 
 its rosy light gleamed beautifully against the dark clouds. 
 The preacher paused for a moment in order to turn the minds 
 of his hearers from thought of the incendiary to that of the 
 Redeemer.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 139 
 
 " See," exclaimed he, " see the sign of the Redeemer in the 
 sky ; the sun, the light which again ascends after the dark 
 night. Read the handwriting of fire in the Heavens ! No 
 night without a mormL.g ; no sorrow without God's mercy 
 over it ! As the Hght comes to the earth so comes the deli- 
 verer, the consoler to us. Behold His light ! Listen to His 
 words and His promises. My fiiends, let us stand up and 
 praise him by our song, ' Blessed is he who cometh in the 
 name of the Lord ! ' " 
 
 It was a profoundly afiecting sight, when that great multi- 
 tude of people, many of whom had lost their all in the fire ; 
 hundreds and hundreds of men and women, old people and 
 children, still pale and bearing the traces of the misfortune 
 which had despoiled them, all at once, as if impelled by a 
 mighty impulse, rose like one man, and under the guidance 
 of their spiiitual teacher struck up the glorious hymn — 
 
 " Hosanna to the Son of David." 
 
 Higher and higher ascended the flames of the morning 
 radiance, diffusing light over the whole country ; and still 
 louder and more powerful became the song, and every counte- 
 nance, lately so pale and gloomy, looked now, turned towards 
 the ascending light, and illumined by its splendor, like a choir 
 of redeemed and thanksgiving spirits. Tears ran plentifully 
 from many an eye, but there was no longer the pang of des- 
 pair. Many a year hence wUl more than one of those now 
 present testify, " For all that of which the fire deprived me, 
 would I not have been deprived of that moment." 
 
 Among those who took no part in the universal transport 
 of-devotion was Rudolph. Hertha's evident abhorrence of 
 him, and the sight of all the want and misery which the con- 
 flagration had caused, threw a terrible light on the dim 
 consciousness of the young man's mind. He now felt within 
 bim, impressed, as it were, in fire and burning flame, the per- 
 ception of the criminality of a deed which, according to the 
 measure of his dull faculties, was merely intended for the 
 nberation of himself and his beloved, as well as for the punish- 
 meit of the tyrant. The words which had been spoken amid
 
 140 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 the darkness of the night, tilled as it was with sighs and lamen- 
 tations, awoke in him a despairmg desire to acknowledge his 
 guilt and to die. Hertha would weep over him ; God would 
 forgive him. These thoughts opened for him a door of escape 
 from the gulf which threatened to swallow him up, and hia 
 newly-awakened feehngs broke forth m a cry of self-accusation, 
 which yet failed to reveal the dark mystery, because it wag 
 checked by the hand of Hertha, w^hich suddenly closed his lips. 
 
 " Silence ! Will you be the death of me ? Silence, or I 
 \W11 never forgive you ! " 
 
 With these words she drew him down to her on the ground, 
 and talked earnestly to him, in an under voice, whilst the 
 heavens tinged themselves with rosy light, and the Hosanna- 
 song resounded above their heads. She pressed mto his hand 
 the small sum of money which she possessed, and which she 
 had earned by her own labor, together with her only trmket, 
 a Uttle gold cross, which she had inherited fi-om her mother ; 
 and, before the hymn had ceased, or the sun had arisen above 
 the horizon, Rudolph was no longer to be seen on the Kmg's- 
 field. 
 
 The singing was over, and the throng of people who had 
 risen to their feet in the inspiration of the moment, soon again 
 sank down to earth, and to the troubles and wants of the day. 
 Again were seen on the King's-field the three ladies, who the 
 evening before had in vain oiFered refreshment ; they were 
 now attended by two girls, who bore upon a yoke on their 
 shoulders, large baskets, containing cofiee and bread. The 
 " young baggages " had been hastily clothed, and now resem- 
 bled very decent young women, as they followed, with their 
 huge baskets of rye-bread, Mimmi Svanberg and her compa- 
 nions from one suffering group to another, distributing the 
 refreshing beverage, together with consolatory and encouraging 
 words. And seldom had Mimmi Svanberg found greater 
 necessity for the cheering influence of her hand and tongue. 
 
 " Good morning, my dear woman. See here, drink a cup 
 of warm cofiee ; it will cheer you up. Yes, it is a great niis- 
 fortime ; but all evil in this world passes away. Look, here is
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 141 
 
 a roll to clip into jowr coffee. Wliat nice little children you 
 have ! It was of God's mercy that none of them were injured 
 in the fire. Yes, one has always something to be thankful for. 
 But such children as these always bring joy wth them. See 
 here, little ones, you shall each have a nice wheaten cake and 
 a drop of coffee. They are good, are they not ? And beau- 
 tiiU weather, too, we shall have to-day. After a storm God 
 always lets the sun shine." 
 
 " And, good Master Smithson, how are you going on ? 
 Badly enough I see. But our good, clever Doctor Hedermann 
 wiU come and dress your burns, and then, when they are bet- 
 ter, such a good, clever fellow as you are, will soon get your 
 forge and bellows up again, and you will have a great deal of 
 work to do when the town comes to be built up. It will be 
 the making of you, Master Smithson ; both you and your 
 family vnil be three times as well off as before ! Drink a cup 
 of coffee on the strength of it, and take a roll too. Every one 
 is the smith of his own fortune. Master Smithson, and that 
 you'll find one of these days." 
 
 " Poor Mother Greta, with such a lot of fittle ones ! Look, 
 here is something nourishing both for you and them. We 
 wiU, after this, have a famous large room for our Infant 
 School, and then Mother Greta must promise to let the chil- 
 dren go regularly to it. It won't do to let the young creatures 
 be running about the streets, as they have done. Look, Uttle 
 children, there's bread and warai coffee for jon. Now you'll 
 be good children and go regularly to school ; everything wiU 
 be so much better when you are not in that miserable, unhealthy 
 quarter. There is no misfortime so bad but that some good 
 may come out of it. And we must, all of us, try to brmg 
 good out of evil." 
 
 " And now good morning to you, old mother in bed. You 
 Avon't say no to a drop of coffee, I fanc3^ How old are jon ? 
 Eighty ! That is a good old age. You can do with two cu])s, 
 perhaps. Drmk, my good woman, and keep your heart up ! 
 It will, perhaps, be all the better for you in the end. Such a 
 misfortune as this brings you under the notice of peo))lft.
 
 142 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Look you, mother, there are the girls that carried you out of 
 the fire. They have got nice new clothes for that, and both 
 you and they may live to see good days yet. Our Lord 
 never forgets us, and everybody, one day or another, finds 
 that out. At noon I shall bring you some warm soup." 
 
 " Little Mina ! God bless the child ! There you sit on 
 your poor Uttle legs ! How did you come here ?" 
 
 " Mother put me on her back and brought me here," 
 replied the child. 
 
 " That was very good of mother — that it was ; but she'll be 
 glad of it some day. See, here is some breakfast for you, 
 and for mother and httle brother. It does me good, child, to 
 see you look so cheerflil, and with such bright eyes. Don't 
 you think it is a very sad thing to be sitting here in the open 
 meadow and shivering, without either house or home ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes : it was a good deal warmer in the room ; but 
 the sun shines so bright now, and we have had such beauti- 
 ful singing !" 
 
 " You are a good child ! Look, there is a nice twist for 
 you. When we once get the infant school rightly afloat, then 
 you shall sing with the children there. Don't you be anxious 
 about Mina, mother ; she Avill be smging mistress m the 
 school some day. A child with such a disposition is one of 
 God's blessings." 
 
 Li this way refreshment for the body and consolation for 
 the heart were distributed among the most indigent of the 
 homeless throng in the Kuig's-field, by those three kind 
 women, who, during the forenoon, found many fellow-laborers 
 in their task, both gentlemen and ladies. 
 
 Another group, also of three persons, had been busied 
 among the afiiicted on the King's-field ever since simrise, 
 afibrding on all hands help and comfort. These were, the 
 town's physician. Dr. Hedermann, attended by Plertha Falk 
 and Ingeborg Uggla. He examined the burns and injuries of 
 the poor sufierers, which were then treated with soothing 
 medicaments and bound up, according to his instructions, by 
 the two young ladies. These three moved along gravely, and
 
 THE FOrR SISTERS. 143 
 
 speaking but few words ; but the expressions of manly 
 earnestness and compassion in the countenance of the noble 
 physician and that of the warmest sympathetic feeling in the 
 two ministering ladies, together with the quietness and tender- 
 ness of their movements, made them beautiful to behold. The 
 countenances which appeared plain or old in the ball-room, 
 here, m the light of morning, looked young and beautiful, a3 
 if in a renewed youth. More than one remarked this, and 
 Mimmi Svanberg rejoiced silently over it, because she it was 
 who sent her friend, the good Doctor, the two assistants, 
 whose ability and disposition she knew. 
 
 These groups formed a refreshing contrast to the scene 
 which the King's-field presented at daybreak. It was that of 
 a camp, reminding the beholder of the horror and desolation 
 of war. 
 
 During the day might be seen many pale figures wander- 
 ing among the smoking ruins and the desolated places of the 
 town, then' countenances impressed with woe, seeking for what 
 had been, or for what still remained of, their former houses. 
 
 Near to the spot where lay the ruins of their former com- 
 fortable home, stood Mrs. Christina Dufva, with her husband 
 and then- chUdi-en. 
 
 " We have had," said she, " happiness and prosperity for 
 so many years ; may it then not be needful for us to be tried 
 by some afiliction ? We are, however, all preserved to one 
 another. We are in good health — we can work. Let ns not 
 lament, but rather thank God !" 
 
 " My girls ! my doves !" said the father, " thank God that 
 I have you all !" 
 
 The seven young girls gathered round their parents, like a 
 flock of doves, caressingly, " They would work for them, they 
 would help them, and one another." 
 
 Mrs. Tupplander also in the early morning stole to her 
 house, which she found untouched by the flames. The first 
 sight which met her eyes struck her with astonishment, and 
 for the first moment with horror, for it was her noble young 
 lady, the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn, who stood there,- living
 
 144 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 as life itself, in the kitclieu — eating bread and butter. We 
 will draw a veil over the eflects of the re-union and the 
 explanations which took place. 
 
 During the day Mrs. Uggla also went abroad, bewailmg 
 herself for that which had happened, and for all that which 
 would yet happen ; feeding her dismal imagination with the 
 most gloomy pictures of the future and of the irremediablfc>- 
 ness of all AAa-etchediiess, and — " those seven Miss Dufvas — for 
 them there was no longer any hope !" 
 
 The greater nimaber of the more affluent of the houseless 
 throng found themselves during the course of the forenoon 
 imder the shelter of a roof, either through the kindness of 
 friends and acquaintances, or else by means of payment. The 
 greater number of the poorer sort had to remain m the ojien 
 air for more than one four-and-twenty hours, and the old 
 woman of fourscore, three times fom--and-twenty hours. In 
 vain did the good occupants of the parsonage, Mimmi Svan- 
 berg, and several others, open their hospitable doors. The 
 number of the sufferers was too great ; and besides, many of 
 the to^vnspeople who were so fortunate as to possess their sub- 
 stance and their sjDacious homes untouched, reasoned Hke the 
 selfish man of property, when his help was asked, " It is no 
 concern of mine !" and remained unmoved spectators of their 
 brethren's want and labor. 
 
 Director Falk and his family removed to a small suburban 
 house which they rented, and Hertha's time and thoughts 
 were for the moment wholly occupied in settling them down, 
 here as comfortably as was possible, imder existing circum- 
 stances. For the first time her powers, both of body and 
 muid, were fully occupied, and this was very beneficial to her. 
 
 The town-authorities were fully occupied also, partly with 
 providing for the most necessitous of the sufferers, partly 
 with convicting and sentencing those villains who availed 
 themselves of the pubhc misfortune and consequent disorder 
 to rob and steal, and the judge of the district swore a solemn 
 oath, that none who were detected in such practices should 
 escape his vengeance and that of the law.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 146 
 
 CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 Hush ! She is about to speak ; she has something to say, 
 the dying young woman who Hes yonder on the bed. She 
 appears to be contending with the shadows of death, in order 
 yet to cast some glances, to speak some words, in the world 
 which she is about to leave. Those eyes, supernaturally 
 bright, seem at times to gaze into yet imknown infinitude, as 
 she exclaims again and again, " How wonderful ! how wonder- 
 ful !" But still the shadows hold her back. 
 
 " Light ! light ! more Hght ! It is indeed my weddmg- 
 day ! I shall indeed be married to Arvid ! Dress me in my 
 wedding-clothes ! Dress me as a bride ! Arvid's bride ! 
 Place the myi-tle-crown on my head ! No — no — in my hand ! 
 Arvid is reaUy away, and I am the bride of death ! My 
 father has wiUed it so ! He banished Arvid : he was very 
 severe ; and therefore I am lying here ! I should like to have 
 lived as a happy wife. Arvid loved me so much, and I loved 
 him ! We could have worked : we should have had enough 
 with my maternal inheritance. But my father — but don't let 
 him know ; it would grieve him. I would not willingly grieve 
 any one. But we will not speak of the past. What have I 
 said ? Ah ! I am so selfish ! I cannot forget ! But the 
 moment is come when I may speak, because I am about to 
 die. Father ! father !" Arid Avith a violent efiTort the dying 
 young woman raised her head, and the supernatxirally bright 
 eyes gazed searchingly among the figures of those who were 
 in the chamber with her. He whom she called for approach- 
 ed her bed — falteringly. The eyes formerly so severe and 
 unpitying are now dimmed with tears. 
 
 Oh, gentle angel of death ! thou makest the weak to be 
 9
 
 146 TTTB FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Strong, and the severe thou makest weak. Alma took her 
 father's hand and riveted upon him a penetrating glance. 
 " My father ! » 
 
 " Here I am. What wUt thou with me, my chUd ? " 
 " Father ! give thy children their right, — light, freedom ; 
 thou gavest them life ; give them that which alone makes life 
 valuable. They will then love — will love thee, as only the 
 free can love. Thanks ! I am going hence ; God has liberated 
 me. Hertha remains behind ! Father, give her freedom ; 
 dost thou understand me, my father ? " 
 
 " Yes ; and I promise to do that which thou desirest." 
 " Thank thee ! now I can die calmly. Be just to Hertha, 
 father ; greet Arvid, tell him — ah, no, forgive me. I know 
 
 not rightly what I am saying " 
 
 " Try to sleep, my child ; perhaps thou wilt be better ! " 
 " No, no ! I must now look upon those whom I love ! " 
 And Alma's glance turned from her father to her sisters, as 
 she whispered, " My sisters, kiss me ! " 
 They kissed her, weeping. 
 
 Alma's eyes now sought Hertha's, as she whispered, " Her- 
 tha, my beloved ! my only one ! " 
 
 Hertha was there ; laid herself softly by her sister's side, 
 wound her arms around her, and pressed her lips to hers. 
 Thus rested the two young sisters, who had so long trod in 
 company the narrow thorny path, now clasped together in a 
 heartfelt embrace, as though they never more would separate. 
 But it is the last time that they will ever rest thus ; it is the 
 last time that their lips have whispered to each other words 
 heard only by themselves and God.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 147 
 
 THE SONG OF THE BELLS. 
 
 The bells are chiming for the dead. And never do the 
 Swedish bells give forth more beautiful, more cheerful, and 
 more animating sounds than on such occasions. There is in 
 that funeral-chime a secret anthem of joy ; so cheerfully, so 
 freely, and exultantly peal forth those melodious tongues 
 through the fresh vernal atmosphere of an April evening. So 
 thought many a one who listened to them that day ringing 
 over the grave, where had just been laid a young woman, 
 dead in the prime of her life. Beside the grave stood one to 
 whom their song was more intelligible than to any beside. 
 She stood alone in the evening by the grave, which enclosed 
 the dearest friend she had on earth, and it was to her that the 
 bells sang : 
 
 Oh, for the youthful I 
 
 Hence taken early ; 
 
 Weep not, nor mourn for her. 
 
 It is well -with her I 
 
 From days dull and cheerless, 
 
 A pleasureless future. 
 
 From life without life's light 
 
 Hence is she taken. 
 
 Never more, never more, can she be captive 1 
 
 Death, the great reaper, 
 
 TTiou art more merciful 
 
 Than human hearts are, 
 
 Or human statutes ; 
 
 They ordain thraldom. 
 
 Thou givest freedom, 
 
 Releasest the bound one, 
 
 The patient, the loying. 
 
 She can no longer, no longer be captive.
 
 148 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Oh, glorious freedom 1 
 
 Love and truth changeless, 
 
 Fountains eternal, 
 
 In which she confided, 
 
 Towards which she pilgrimed. 
 
 You are her own now I 
 
 She is free, she is free, with the freed ones I 
 
 Therefore be joyous. 
 
 Be joyous and sing ye. 
 
 Sing ye, her sisters, 
 
 Rejoice for the life which 
 
 Was death to her, living, 
 
 By death is transfigured 
 
 To life everlasting I 
 
 Never more, never more can she be captive 1 
 
 She is free, she is free with the freed ones, 
 
 Well is it with her ! 
 
 Thus sung those melodious voices through the serene spring 
 atmosphere, to one heart whose unspeakable anguish was 
 wonderfully appeased by that spirit-like song, whilst torrents 
 of tears fell upon the newly-raised turf of the grave. High 
 above the grave carolled the larks in the deep-blue, and seemed 
 to Tf^p'iat, as in a tone of exultation. 
 
 She is free, she 13 free, with the freed onesl
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 149 
 
 FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 
 
 A FLOWER UPON THE GRAVE. 
 
 Director Falk sat in his little room at Kullen, as the little 
 suburban residence to wliich the family had removed after the 
 fire was called, and saw the sun set behind the budding fruit- 
 trees in the garden. He still sat with his feet swathed in 
 woollen socks and suffering from gout. The expression of his 
 countenance was less severe than formerly, but, if possible, 
 more gloomy. Both his head and his hands had visibly a tre- 
 m.ulous, palsied movement. His pale countenance and his 
 firmly-closed Hps showed that he had taken some resolute 
 determination, upon which he was about to act, although it 
 cost him a great effort to do so. He seemed to be expecting 
 some one or something. He expected — his daughter Hertha, 
 to whom he had sent a message that he wished to speak to her. 
 
 Three weeks had passed since the night of the fire, and one 
 since the corpse of Alma had been borne from the house. 
 The horrors of that night, and cold taken at the same time, 
 had hastened the progress of her disease, and rapidly com- 
 pleted the work which it had begun. 
 
 How many a time had Hertha, who well knew the original 
 cause of her sister's illness, thought in the bitterness of her 
 heart how she would by her death-bed one day reproach her 
 father aloud, because he was her executioner ; had thought 
 over before-hand the terrible words with which she would 
 punish the hard, selfish man. The hour came, but she then 
 saw her fether bowed and broken, trembling near his victim, 
 and she could no longer find words wherewith to reproach or 
 punish him. She had only tears for them both.
 
 150 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Since that event, however, father and daughter seemed to 
 avoid each other. Aunt Nella, or old Anna, carried question 
 and answer from one to the other, when this was needed. 
 Rudolph's name was never me'.-^tioned by the Du-ector, neither 
 did he seem to like to hear ^l-.-. vw .J^nfnd by any one else, 
 and the imfortunate youth wa> iftt?^^fflpr^*7 the family almost 
 as one dead. Every one belit,'3r?Lii guilty of originating 
 the fire. 
 
 Hertha now, more than ever, called upon to act both for 
 herself and others, and more than ever, therefore, in want of 
 that liberty which had been promised her, to direct her own 
 actions and manage her own lawful property, both wished and 
 feared, at the same time, to have some conversation with her 
 father. Thus things stood on that evening, when a message 
 came which summoned her to him. 
 
 If any one has done thee a great injury and by that means 
 called forth the demons of hatred and bitterness into thy heart 
 — and worse injury than that can no one do to a soul — and 
 God give thee grace to do thy injurer a great service, there 
 arises something great within thy whole being, which makes 
 it much easier for thee to forgive, even if thou art not besought 
 to do so. Thou hast acted like the Highest on the earth, and 
 His peace — which surpasses all peace and all strife — covers 
 with its wings the bitter waters of thy mind. 
 
 When Hei*tha came before her father, her glance was less 
 cold, and her demeanor less rigid than usual. She had car- 
 ried him like a child in her arms and on her breast, through 
 fire and flames. The memory of that had wonderfully molli- 
 fied her heart. Yet that heart throbbed violently as she 
 entered her father's room and advanced softly to the chair in 
 which he sat. He looked up hastily, and motioned with his 
 hand to a chair which stood near his, as he said : 
 
 " Sit down ; I wish to speak to you." 
 
 Hertha saw that the hand trembled ; it afiected her. 
 
 After a moment's silence the old man began, with a voice 
 which he endeavored to make firm. 
 
 " You have done me a great service ; you have saved my
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 151 
 
 life. I wish to show you my gratitude. Tell me what you 
 wish me to do for you ? " 
 
 " Give me my liberty, father," said Hertha, "s^nth a mild but 
 firm voice, — " and the property that I inherit from my mother. 
 I am twenty-seven years old, and I wish to be declared as 
 having attained my majority." 
 
 " It shall be done," repUed her father, " if I can only get 
 time to take the necessary steps. I am prepared to render an 
 account of the property inherited from your mother ; I have 
 been a just steward, according to the best of my ability ; the 
 last misfoitune does not touch it — that — that you can well 
 understand." 
 
 Hertha bowed her head in silent acquiescence ; her father 
 continued : 
 
 " The interest of your mother's property, together with your 
 proportion of your late sister's share, amounts to a sum 
 sufficient to enable you to Uve independently wherever you 
 would like. You have a right to do so. You are of the class 
 of strong women who are able to be theu- own support, and even 
 to support others. I have hitherto not beheved in the exist- 
 ence of such; I have, perhaps, been unjust in this respect, at 
 all events as regards you, as I saw at the time of the fire, and 
 even since then. Be therefore free, my daughter ; see and do 
 that which pleases you, and, in the meantime, take this sum of 
 money," — and with a trembling hand he laid in that of his 
 daughter, a roU of bills to the value of about a thousand rix- 
 dollars banco — "they are some of my savings, you can do 
 with them what you hke ; use them for a journey or whatever 
 else you have a wish for." 
 
 Money, as reward for an act of love, which saved him from 
 a horrible death ! and yet Hertha received it with gratitude, 
 because money is a means of much good, and of happiness to 
 many; besides she well imderstood her father's really good 
 intentions. Tears filled her eyes as she thanked him. He 
 assimied a harsher tone : 
 
 " I know that you do not love me, and perhaps it is not 
 altogether your own fault, because you have not understood
 
 153 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 my affection for you ; nevertheless, I know that I have wished 
 for and desired, the future advantage of my children." Here 
 he suddenly broke off and fixed his eyes upon the ground. It 
 was as if a pale shadow rising therefi'om had whispered, 
 " Why do I lie here ? I might have Hved happily as a 
 wife." 
 
 Hertha was sUent ; the old man Anped away the sweat- 
 drops from his brow. His whole frame trembled. After a 
 moment he resumed — 
 
 " If I have made a mistake, then I am, perhaps, severely 
 enough punished. In the meantime, may you be free and 
 happy, far from a father and a home which you do not love. 
 The interest of your mother's property can be paid to you at 
 any place wherever you may be. And I desire nothing more 
 from you than that you should tell me where you would like 
 to be." 
 
 "Here !" said Hertha, as she rose up and laid her hand on 
 the arm of her father's chair, " here, with you, my father, if 
 you will allow it. Oh ! you have little understood me and the 
 liberty which I have coveted. And you shall understand me 
 better, if you will promise me, what I now ask of you, and 
 which I know that I deserve." 
 
 " And what is that ?" asked the Director, as he looked up 
 to his daughter with an excited glance. 
 
 "Your confidence, father!" said Hertha, mildly and 
 gravely. " BeUeve that I desire what is right and good, and 
 let me remain with you to prove this to you. Have con- 
 fidence in me, and — ^be kind to me and my sisters, so that we 
 may love you, and endeavor to make you happy. I am no 
 longer a child, my father ! I wiU be a mother to my younger 
 sisters, and manage your house according to my best abiHty. 
 I know that this is my duty ; it will also be my pleasure, if, 
 father, you will only give me my freedom and your confidence, 
 and be kind to me for — Alma's sake .''" 
 
 Now it was spoken out: that reproachful, bitter word, 
 which had so long brooded in Hertha's breast, but a loving 
 , \gel had anointed the arrow's point with a healing balsam.
 
 \ 
 
 THE Torn R187"KRS. 153 
 
 It pierced the heart deeply, penetratingly, but at the same 
 time softenmgly, as with a chastising look of love. 
 
 The old man said nothmg ; he bowed his head, and large 
 heavy tears rolled down the deeply-furrowed cheeks. 
 
 Then another head bent down softly to his, and a young 
 fi'esh cheek, wet with tears, was laid close to his. A beautiful 
 sorrowmg memory united father and daughter in one common 
 bitter [)ain. Yes — blessed are they who can thus weep 
 together .' 
 
 Gentle feehngs produce profoundly beneficial effects upon 
 stem natures. It is the spring-rain which melts the ice- 
 covering of the earth, and causes it to open to the beams 
 of heaven. 
 
 Old Mr. Falk felt it to be so, and he raised his head, as he 
 said in the gentlest voice which his daughter had ever heard 
 from her father : 
 
 " Let it be as you have said. We will endeavor to begin 
 anew Avith each other. I am only afraid that — I may be quite 
 too heavy a burden to you, for I feel that some great change 
 is about to take place in my state of health." 
 
 He was not aware that it was precisely a presentiment of 
 this change ; the sight of that palsied hand and that tremulous 
 head, which had moved the daughter's soul to the resolve, 
 that her youthful strength and health should be his support.
 
 154 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 THE SON OF THE TWILIGHT. 
 
 It was almost dusk when Htrtha left her father and went 
 down to her own room. As she approached the door, how- 
 ever, she involuntarily started back, perceiving a dark, almost 
 shapeless form, lying upon the threshold, and glaring upon 
 her with a pair of terrible eyes from beneath a thick mass of 
 unkempt and disordered black hair. Hertha shuddered 
 involuntarily as she said, " Rudolph !" 
 
 He continued to stare into her face, which was lighted up 
 by the crimson of the sunset, as well as by the conversation 
 which she had just had ^vith her father. 
 
 " Rudolph !" repeated she, in a voice half of anger and half 
 of terror. " Rudolph ! is it you ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied he ; " and you ? are you the angel of 
 judgment ?" 
 
 " I am Hertha, your cousin. Stand up : don't lie grovelling 
 in that way. Stand up : be a man ! I have been expecting to 
 hear something from you for a long time." 
 
 " Don't talk sternly to me. It will do no good. I am too 
 much used to that. And now I don't care for the whole 
 world. Trample on me, if you like. Here will I die." 
 
 " Get up, Rudolph, and come with me into my room. I 
 will talk with you there." 
 
 The calm determination in Hertha's voice, and the words, 
 " in my room I will talk with you," produced a great eifect 
 upon the unfortunate young man. He rose up. She opened 
 the door of the room, and he followed her in. She surveyed 
 him attentively, and when she became aware of his wholly 
 desolate, and, as it were, shipwrecked appearance, she said 
 with heartfelt compassion :
 
 THE FOIR SISTKRS. 155 
 
 " Poor Rudolph ! Wliere have you been ?" 
 
 " I don't exactly know. In the great woods about here." 
 
 " You have need of something to eat and drink. Wait a 
 moment." 
 
 Hertha went out and soon returned with bread, some cold 
 meat, and a bowl of milk. 
 
 " The fire is out in the kitchen," she said, " and I cannot 
 now get up anything warm ; but take of this — eat and drink." 
 
 " Oh, Hertha ! Then you can still take some interest in 
 me." 
 
 " Yes — yes : I shall always be your friend, Rudolph. But 
 now, eat and drink. After that we will talk." 
 
 Rudolph ate and drank hke one who had neither eaten 
 nor drunk for several days. After awhile he said, "Thank 
 you, I have had enough." 
 
 " Let us now have some talk, Rudolph," said Hertha, with 
 calm resolution. " Tell me what you have thought — what 
 you think of doing for the future. What do you wish for — 
 what would you like ?" 
 
 " To see you !" 
 
 " And after that ?» 
 
 " Die— What have I to live for ?" 
 
 " You must not die yet, Rudolph," said Hertha, solemnly. 
 "You must Hve in order to reconcile to you those friends 
 whom you have ahenated ; to make amends for injuries you 
 have done, and to become a better man." 
 
 " How can I Uve ? Where must I go to ?" 
 
 "The world is large. You must go out into the world, 
 into a foreign land ; a long way from this place. People 
 already suspect you here. People are making inquiries after 
 you. If once you are seized, you will either be executed or 
 imprisoned as a malefactor. Oh, Rudolph, you have done 
 mischief enough already — do not make us still more unfor- 
 tvmate !" 
 
 " Tell me, tell me then, what shall I do ?" said Rudolph, 
 bewildered and unable to take counsel with himself. " You — 
 you I wlU obey. Oh, Hertha, you have a wonderfiil power
 
 156 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 over me. But, when I think of that horrible night ; the 
 flames ; the houseless throng, and you looking at me like the 
 angel of judgment and pmiishment " 
 
 " I shall not henceforth look at you in that way, Rudolph. 
 I am your friend, your sister. Now listen to me, Rudolph. 
 You must immediately go hence. Here is some money ; 
 three hundred rix-dollars ; they are my own, and now they 
 are yours. I know that you have a thorough knowledge of 
 money. With this you must Immediately go to Gotheborg, 
 and from thence to Copenhagen. You must there go to our 
 relation Banker Falk. I have written to him, and here you 
 have a letter to him. He will receive you ; of that I am 
 certain, and take charge of you for a time. As soon as you 
 reach Copenhagen write to me and tell me everything that 
 concerns you. And I will then write to you and send you 
 more money if you require it. " 
 
 " I shall not require it !" said Rudolph, " because I am 
 grown uj), and I can wi'ite and keep books for wages. I will 
 do everything that you bid me, Hertha, if you wiU only pro- 
 mise to think of me and write to me often. I know that I did 
 what is very wrong that night; — a wonderful Ught entered 
 my mind then — but, Hertha, do not abandon me ! — You are 
 the only, only person in the whole world who has any regard 
 for me ; the only one who asks after me ; who wishes me well, 
 the only one " 
 
 " No, not the only one, Rudolph," interrupted Hertha, in 
 whose sold at this moment the fountams of divine salvation 
 opened their depths, — " Jesus came to this world to save 
 sinners ; go to Him, Rudolph, and He will be with you ; He 
 will be your friend." 
 
 " How can I go to Him ? — You have never before talked to 
 me about Him ; do you believe in Him, Hertha ?' 
 
 " I did not formerly understand Him, as I do now, Rudolph. 
 My eyes have been closed. Alma knew Him better than I 
 did. Look, here is a little book about Him ; in which she 
 often read, and in which she has marked many passages. 
 Take it, read it, and do that which the Saviour commands,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 157 
 
 and He will lead you to God. The sin which you have hitherto 
 committed, God will forgive, because you knew not what you 
 did ; your reason was clouded, poor Rudolph, and you had 
 no guiding fi-iend. But now you know that what you did 
 was sin ; and God has opened to you a way by which you 
 can make atonement. I know that your heart is not wicked. 
 If you foUow Jesus it will become good, and you will never do 
 otherwise than what is right. Wherever you happen to be, 
 Kudolph, remember this : help the oppressed and the suffering, 
 whether they be human beings or animals. But never seek 
 vengeance for yourself, Rudolph; leave vengeance to God 
 who sees all things. Go, and be merciful to your fellow-crea- 
 tures, as Jesus has set you the example. Oh, Rudolph ! there 
 is a great deal which is dark and sorrowful and bitter upon 
 earth, but He is light and He is goodness, and with him as 
 your guide you will attain to light and the highest life. You 
 have much to Hve for, much which can make life noble and 
 good and divine. You have hitherto lived as a poor child 
 of darkness, Rudolph ; now you must Uve to become a child 
 ofhght and of God!" 
 
 Hertha's tears gushed forth as she thus talked with a 
 power and an enthusiasm which even affected herself. 
 Rudolph listened in silence with eyes riveted uj)on her, whilst 
 he many times breathed deeply, as if he felt a heavy 
 burden lifted from his breast and inspu-ed a new breath of 
 life. When she ceased speaking, he Ufted up his head and said : 
 
 " God has spoken to me through you, and I have rightly 
 comprehended and imderstood every word you have said; 
 and I will do as you have told me. Yes, I will be a child of 
 God ; I will follow Jesus ; and you follow him also, Hertha, 
 and thus we shall both go the same way, and in the end we 
 shall be united ?" 
 
 "Yes, Rudolph, yes, in heaven, as angels of God, if we are 
 worthy of becoming such. But now, dear Rudolj^h, you 
 must go ; before morning you must be on your way to the 
 coast. The steamboat to Gotheborg sails early to-morrow 
 from K * * *. You must make haste to be in time for it. Your
 
 158 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 whole futiire wellbeing may depend upon it. Remember 
 what we have talked about !" 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I will go. Farewell !" 
 
 He offered her his hand ; she took it and went out with 
 him into the court. It was a cold, bright night, at the close 
 of April ; hoar-frost covered the meadow. The stars shone 
 l)rightly above their heads in the blue expanse of heaven. 
 When they had reached the little lane which led from the 
 house to the high road, Rudolph said : 
 
 " Hertha, let me have a parting kiss." 
 
 She could not refuse him at that moment ; she raised her 
 face to his ; but he clasped her in burning love and pain, and 
 covered her face with hot kisses. 
 
 With an involuntary feeling of horror and disgust Hertha 
 tore herself from his arms, as she exclaimed, " Away, away !" 
 
 Rudolph turned and went on his way sobbing aloud. But 
 just as he reached the end of the lane, he felt a hand touch 
 his arm, and Hertha again stood before him Avith the light of 
 hope and compassion again beammg in her countenance ; she 
 pointed to heaven and said : 
 
 " There, Rudolph, there !'' 
 
 With tliese words, she hastened back ; gathered up the 
 hoar-frost from the grass, and washed her face with it, which 
 seemed to her polluted by Rudolph's kisses. So doing, she 
 listened to the sound of his footsteps, which became more and 
 more distant on the desolate high road in the silent night. 
 When she could no longer perceive them, she breathed more 
 freely. And as she stood there, alone beneath the brilliant, 
 starry heavens, in the silence of night, a joyfiil peace stole over 
 lier mind ; an indescribably wonderful and pleasant feeling of 
 approaching morning and spring came consolingly with the 
 breeze of night, which refreshingly caressed her forehead, and 
 touched her eyebrows as with a spirit's kisses. The strengthen- 
 ing and edifying words which she had spoken, the consolation 
 which she had given to another, came now like good angels 
 l>ack 10 her own bosom, with the presentiment, that an ever- 
 lasling love ruled the world, and tliat she might become its
 
 THE FOim SISTERS 159 
 
 messenger. The feeling of a living, inward commnnion with 
 a higher, holy, life-giving power, arose in her soul as a morn- 
 ing Avatch, and opened it to one of those unspeakable, almost 
 wordless, but not the less powerful, prayers by which earth'a 
 poor children, yet enveloped in night, endeavor to reach the 
 Lord of life and light, and which may be thus interpreted : 
 
 " O Thou, of whom I have a presentiment, Thou whom I 
 yet do not know, whom I yearn to know and to love — God ! 
 enlighten me with thy countenance, tm-n thy countenance 
 towards me, and give me thy light and thy blessing !" 
 
 The thought of Alma; the longing to experience something 
 about her, something from her, mingled itself with inexpressi- 
 ble melancholy in her sigh after divine light, which she 
 breathed forth into the silence of night. And who is there, 
 who, having lost by death a very dear fi-iend, does, not in 
 every hour of deepest hfe and longing, speak, with inexpressi- 
 ble sighs in the depths of his soul, the beloved name ; pray 
 for a sign, a token, ah ! merely an inward intimation that the 
 departed is present, that he hears, that he loves us, that he 
 enjoys the light, the blessedness of which we stand in need, 
 and that he obtains good for us, and for them who sit in 
 darkness, from the Father, whose ear he is nearer to than we ! 
 
 So it was with Hertha, as she stretched forth her arms into 
 empty space, and called in a low voice, " Alma ! Alma !" 
 
 But no sound, no sign, no token replied to her from the 
 desolate infinitude. She let her hands fall ; dried her tears, 
 and again entered her chamber in order to lay to rest in the 
 arms of sleep all uneasy questionings, all the pangs of thought 
 and of feeling. Tears soothe. It is a great relief to be able 
 to weep. Hertha's tears calmed the agitated biUows of her 
 soul. She slept and had a dream, which afforded her great 
 consolation. 
 
 She dreamed that it was night, and that she went into her 
 silent chamber to go to rest. Alma was dead, and she was 
 alone with heavy thoughts. She then saw the glimpse of a 
 white figure by the window, which seemed as if wishful to 
 withdraw itself behind the white window-curtain. A thought
 
 160 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 passed like lightning through Hertha's soul, " It is a sign from 
 Alma ! " And she sprang up hastily, as if to retain the fleet- 
 ing token ; she reached behind the curtaui, she wished to 
 take hold of the white floating spirit-veil, but when she with- 
 drew her hand, behold ! she held in it a bouquet of the most 
 beautiful flowers, such as she had never before seen ; little 
 bells, hke lilies of the vaUey, Alma's favorite flowers, of the 
 loveliest pale pink color, which hung in little fragrant clusters 
 on their graceful stems. Delighted and happy, she pressed 
 the beautiful bouquet to her Ups, to her heart, and returned 
 with them to her bed. On this there opened above her a 
 large window, and she saw the brightest deep-blue heaven 
 above her, and there, in the highest profoimd, shone — was it 
 a fixed star, or a beaming eye ? she knew not which, but only 
 that from the brilliant heavens it beamed down upon her, and 
 the flowers which she held in her hand, floods of a light, as 
 efiulgent, as gentle, and as pleasant as we might imagine 
 would be the glance of the blessed. 
 
 In many a dark hour which succeeded, Hertha's soul was 
 comforted by the remembrance of that dream.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. Ifil 
 
 NEW SCHEMES AND UNDERTAKINGS. 
 
 SOMETHING NEW UNDEK THE SUN. 
 
 Mrs. Tupplander is in all her splendor, the Honorable 
 Miss Krusbjorn is all activity, and every maid-servant in 
 the house as busy as a bee. There is going to be a great 
 breakfast of chocolate and bouillon, with the necessary cakes 
 and pastry for a great number of guests, how many is not 
 exactly known ; this only is sure, that there will be a great 
 many. That is to say, the Ladies'-Society which had been 
 proposed, but not organized, before the fancy-ball and the 
 great fire, and which, since the latter occurrence, had hastily 
 come into operation, both fifom external and internal necessity. 
 The same necessity had, with equal haste, led to the forma- 
 tion of a society of gentlemen under the name of the Poor's- 
 Rehef Committee, to assist and provide for the poor rendered 
 destitute by the fire ; and both these societies were this day 
 to meet at Mrs. Tupplander's to arrange their plans of pro- 
 cedure, and consult together as to some general means of 
 relieving the most extreme .cases of distress caused by the 
 late calamity. Pastor Dahl was to take the chair on this 
 occasion, and Mimmi Svanberg to act as Secretary. Proto- 
 col-Secretary N. B. was also to be there, on pretence of 
 collecting material for the work which he intends to write on 
 Ladies'-Societies. 
 
 Both ladies and gentlemen arrived — a great number of 
 them. People took off their things ; they shook hands ; they 
 asked one another how they did. They collected in little 
 groups, the ladies to themselves, the gentlemen to themselves, 
 as is so generally the custom here in the north. Each talked 
 10
 
 162 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 with his neighbor ia a low voice. Chocolate and biscuits were 
 handed round ; they sipped and they dipped ; they set down 
 their cups ; they seated themselves on chairs and sofas, and 
 then there was a silence, because our httle pastor stood up 
 upon a little elevation at the end of the large drawing-room, 
 and was about to make a speech, and, as usual, people were 
 very glad to hear what he had to say. 
 
 But now it happened to him, as it had not unfrequently 
 happened before, that his heart became warm, that his thoughts 
 took an imexpected turn ; in short, that he was inspired to 
 say something quite different to that which he had prepared 
 at his writing-table. Everybody could see that he was 
 affected ; that his mind was full of matter, that his eyes 
 beamed as though they would hght up the whole company. 
 AU at once he exclaimed : 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen! It will not be of any use our 
 coming together Uke strangers to each other — the men here, 
 the women there ! What ! Are we not brothers and sisters, 
 children of the same Father, and united here for the same 
 purpose in his service ? No : we must not break ourselves up 
 into a Ladies'-Society and a Gentleman's-Society, we must 
 have one Brethren-society, or a Brethren-Covenant of men 
 and women both, divided into famihes of brothers and sisters, 
 who wiU help one another in love to labor for the good of the 
 general household. 
 
 " When God created the human race, He created them 
 man and woman, and gave them to each other as helpers in 
 life, just as people set one half to another, to make a perfect 
 whole. And, look ! He has done it for one and for all human 
 beings, for the small and for the large world alike. Man and 
 woman must extend to each other their hands as brethren and 
 as married couples, not merely in the private home, but also 
 in the great home, which we caU social life. Thus was it in 
 the early Christian community, when men and women acted 
 together in concert, distributing bread and prayers. Thus 
 ought it to be again, and in more affluent measure, when that 
 parent community, which the Holy Ghost touched with his
 
 THE POUR SISTERS. 163 
 
 divine influence, has penetrated all peoples and all realms, and 
 the Christian family renews its spiritual relationship m every 
 sphere of Tinman life, and all by that means participate in work 
 — that is bread — and prayers. Then will the garden of Eden 
 again open its gates to the children of Adam and Eve ! Let 
 us to-day, on our spot of earth, and in our httle portion of the 
 large field of labor, begin the work : let us unite ourselves in 
 a more inner meaning of the word than hitherto : let us 
 extend to each other our hands for a true fi-aternal bond ; 
 thus shall we accomplish the Creator's design, who intended 
 not that man alone, or that woman alone, but that man and 
 woman united, the perfected human-being, should have 
 dominion over the earth ! " 
 
 " That is really and truly something new under the sun !" 
 said Mimmi Svanberg, smiling, to the pastor, as she hastily 
 noted down the principal points of his speech. " May it only 
 be carried out ! " 
 
 Protocol-Secretary N". B. raised his voice to protest against 
 the proposition, which, he said, was " imnecessary, and would 
 lead to nothing but confusion." He ended by demanding a 
 vote on the subject. It struck him with a sort of panic- 
 terror that he himself, as now a member of the Poor's-ReUef 
 Committee, should, in case the pastor's proposition was 
 carried, become in fact a bond fide member of the Ladies'- 
 Society ; and how then would it go with him and the book 
 he was about to write? He now therefore desired, by a 
 strong negative, to make a protest against the resolution, and 
 hoped to find a majority on his side. 
 
 But he was deceived. During the late terrible occurrences 
 in the town, £tnd the consequent suffering, men and women had 
 labored together as brothers and sisters in the common work 
 of rescue and relief, so that the present assembly, which 
 consisted for the most part of these very people, found them- 
 selves extremely well disposed to adopt the resolution ; and 
 when one of the most generally esteemed men of the town, the 
 noble old lawyer Carlson, rose to thank the speaker, and to 
 declare that he agreed in all the views of the reverend speaker,
 
 164 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 and seconded the resolution, the company rose with almost 
 general acclamation. Three or four Noes were overpowered 
 by the general Yes ! and other indubitable expressions of 
 cordial approval. Mr. Protocol-Secretary N. B. left the room. 
 
 The company then j)roceeded immediately, under the direc- 
 tion of their spiritual teacher, to organize the new society. 
 A main division or family, "was formed, which undertook the 
 management of the monetary affairs, as well as various other 
 families, each taking their respective portion of labor ; each 
 being empowered to lay do^wn its own laws or mode of 
 procedure, although in certain questions subservient to the 
 direction of the Head Family. Each division or family had a 
 father and a mother, who selected the other members of the 
 family group. By this means Dr. Hedermann became 
 " father" of the family whose duty it w^as to attend to the 
 health of the sufferers from the fire. And he summoned as 
 his children and assistants, half in joke and half in earnest, 
 Ingeborg Uggla and Hertha Falk, avIio more than willingly 
 placed themselves under his guidance. 
 
 The childless, and yet so truly the motherly, Mrs. Dahl was 
 elected unanimously as " mother" of the family which had 
 charge of the destitute children. She received the appoint- 
 ment with tears of joy, because she saw, in her mind's eye, the 
 Infant Asylum, the wish of her heart, the infant-school, flour- 
 ishing to her heart's desire under the shelter of her wing. 
 
 Mrs. Tupplander looked a httle confounded and affronted 
 when she heard herself proposed as the mother of the " Soup- 
 Kitchen Family," and she seemed to think that such an under- 
 taking was below her dignity ; but she suddenly brighten- 
 ed up when the amiable Countess P. hastened forward to offer 
 her assistance in the Commissariat Department, and to supply 
 the great copper with herbs, barley, and vegetables fi-om her 
 estate in the country. Her husband. Count P., on this declar- 
 ed, laughing, that he should not separate from his wife, but 
 should, as her brother in the soup-kitchen-family, send in two 
 fathoms of fire wood, and have a bullock killed for the use of 
 the family copper.
 
 iHE roua SISTERS. 165 
 
 All present came by degrees into the best possible humor. 
 The spirit of human-love, which had inspired the proposition 
 in the first place, communicated itself to and animated all 
 hearts. Pride and self-love vanished before a magical, gentle 
 influence : fear and mistrust of their own or other people's 
 powers disappeared also before a cheerful and strength-giving 
 courage ; many were affected, they knew not rightly where- 
 fore ; they joked, but with tears in then- eyes ; remarks were 
 made which sounded satu-ical, but the point of the satire wa? 
 sharpened by love : they called one another " father," " mo- 
 ther," " sister," " brother ;" they shook hands Hke members of 
 the same family. Mimmi Svanberg was a member of every 
 family, and was at length declared to be a " free-citizen- 
 ess," free to act according to her own pleasure, and to take 
 part, either by word or deed, as it pleased her, in every circle 
 alike. 
 
 They agreed upon their futuremeetings, whether family-^nse 
 or for general assembly, and then separated. Thus amid joke 
 and earnest, and amid general mutiial good-will, was formed the 
 little federal union which was destined to exercise so great an 
 influence upon the fate of many of its members, and which 
 Mimmi Svanberg called " Something new under the sun." 
 
 Mrs. Tupplander did not exactly know what to say about 
 the whole undertaking; whether it was a proper thing or 
 whether it was not. She looked at the Honorable Miss 
 Krusbjorn. But when the Honorable Miss Krusbjorn took 
 ofi" her wig to cool her enthusiasm, for she was reaUy of an 
 enthusiastic disposition, and declared that she had never seen 
 anything Hke it, and that she would make soup for the socie- 
 ty aU the days of her hfe, for that it was to make soup for 
 God the Father himself, and for all His family ! — then was 
 Mrs. Tupplander satisfied, and said, "That there should not 
 be any want of soap for the poor towns-folk as long as slie 
 herself lived there." 
 
 And thus these two also accepted their allotted parts v,\;ll 
 satisfied.
 
 166 THE FOUa SISTERS. 
 
 HERTHA'S PART. 
 
 Hertha's part, as well as that of Ingeborg TJggla, was, as 
 we have seen, decided by the shai-e the/ had taken in tho 
 labors of the first morning after the great fire. Dr. Heder- 
 mann called them, with a sort of fatherly pleasure, his daugh- 
 ters and amanuenses, and evidently entrusted to them the care 
 of those who had received burns and other injuries during the 
 fire. He supplied them with medicaments, and laid down the 
 mode of treatment, which he left the young female physicians 
 to apply and carry out, having soon had sufficient proof of 
 their skill in doing so, which he had witnessed, both with 
 pleasure and a certain admiration, though he took care not to 
 let it be noticed. His highest praise being merely : 
 
 " Very well done. Only go on as you have begun. Only 
 persevere !" 
 
 The good doctor in fact was so occupied by the amount of 
 sickness which foUowed the fire, by the colds, the catarrhs, 
 and pleurisies, which it occasioned, that he was greatly in 
 need of aU the extraneous assistance which could be rendered 
 him by the dififerent members of his new family. 
 
 Most people, when they think of wounds and the dressing 
 of them, think of something which is disagreeable and repul- 
 sive. We beUeve nevertheless that some there are who would 
 understand us if we spoke of the pleasure and charm of such 
 an occupation. Women in the old times were renowned for 
 their skill as leeches ; and from the most remote antiquity 
 have they been distinguished as such, even in the north, and 
 still there are some to this day amongst us who are thus 
 remarkable.* 
 
 * I trust it -will be permitted to me here to say a few -words of high 
 esteem and acknowledgment regarding the female surgeon of Stockholm,
 
 TlIK FOLK SlSTEilS. 167 
 
 The true female-surgeon looks upon the wound, as a mo- 
 ther looks upon a sick child ; and Avhen the wound, well cleans- 
 ed and washed, smiles at her with a certain fresh and calmed 
 expression as if it would thank her for the treatment, she on 
 her part regards it with a feeling of satisfaction and pleasure. 
 She lays upon it the fine white lint, spread with healmg omt- 
 ment ; she presses softly upon it folds of fine linen ; she binds 
 it with white bandages ; she tends it as though it were a httle 
 child, and feels involuntarily for it a tender and maternal 
 sentiment. When she thus sees it well attired and comforted, 
 and reads in the countenance of the patient how comforted he 
 or she has become, and thenceforward, day by day, sees her 
 nurse-chUd becoming better and better, which is the rule for 
 these injuries, then does the healing-art appear to her lovely 
 and agreeable, almost as one of the fine arts itself She 
 knows besides, that for this in reahty simple art, there are 
 wholly dissimilar gifts, and wholly dissimilar fingers, and one 
 and all with joy, know themselves to be artists in their parti- 
 cular branch. 
 
 Thus was it with Hei*tha and Ingeborg, and the peculiar 
 love and delicacy with which they pursued their vocations 
 made them doubly welcome and beneficial to their patients. 
 
 Among these was Yngve Nordin. He had, as the reader 
 may remember, been carried away after the fire was ex- 
 
 o 
 
 Miss Arberg, and at the same time to express the wish that some of the 
 ■wealthy who occasionally send their carriages to fetch the skilful surgeon- 
 ess, will some time or other take the trouble of seeing the reception which 
 she every day gives to the poorest population of Stockholm, who come 
 streaming in to her through open doors with their wounds and injuries. 
 Then they would be filled with admiration, as we have been, of the 
 unwearied patience, the cheerful temper, as well as of the liberality with 
 which she gives her time, her skill, and her ointments to the thousands who 
 have nothing to give her but their thanks, which sometimes even are 
 transformed by the ignorant and depraved into abuse. They would then 
 wish, as we have done, to provide her a better place for her benevolent 
 activity than she now has, and the means, without too great a loss, of eon- 
 fcinuing it ; and they would perhaps, more fortunate than ourselves, be abl« 
 to accomplish that which they wished.
 
 168 THE FOUIl SlSTEiiy. 
 
 tinguished, to the parsonage, with his left arm vogethei witt*. 
 his loiee greatly hijured by the falling of a Avail, Doctor 
 Hedermann took Hertha with him on his visits to this patient, 
 and taught her how to bind the injured Hmbs. In the begin- 
 ning, when Yngve suffered also from fever, he himself visited 
 him every day. But when he became convalescent he often sent 
 Hertha alone to attend to the jjatient, and came himself only 
 every other day, and after that only twice a week, in order to 
 ascertain that he was properly attended to. When the young 
 physicianess first came alone she asked the pastor's wife to go 
 in \t ith her to the invalid. The pastor's wife did so, but soon 
 went out again, partly because Yngve often talked with 
 Hertha on subjects which made her yawn, or read poetry to 
 her in language which she did not understand, and partly 
 because she could not remain long in the sickroom uninter- 
 rupted, being called out perpetually by many people and for 
 many things. 
 
 " But — is it Avell that they are so long together — those two 
 young folks ? " said the pastor one day, a little doubtfully, to 
 his wife ; " the young girl has no mother ; you ought to be 
 that to her ! " 
 
 " I would very Avillingly be so to her," replied the pastor's 
 wife, "if I could only escape sitting there the Avhole time, 
 while she dresses his wounds, and they talk about things which 
 don't concern me, and he reads to her English which I don't 
 understand, and I am obliged to sit there like a sheep. No, 
 that is more than I can do ; I must look after my house and 
 my servants. There is no danger with those young people, 
 you knoAV ; I think, for my j^art, that our Lord has them in 
 his good care ! " 
 
 Our Lord had so ; and in a much higher sense than the 
 pastor's wife thought of Yngve's injuries were not dangerous 
 for life or limbs ; he would certainly soon be well and wholly 
 restored, yet stUl they were of that kind — the injury to the 
 knee in particular — which required much care, much time, and 
 much patience. The young man had no remarkable share of 
 the latter, he longed fcr activitv. It was a severe trial to him
 
 TilK v. nil SISTKRS. 169 
 
 to be compelled to hear and to wait, Ilertha's society and 
 conversation became soon, therefore, as necessary to him as 
 her care. But his also at the same time obtained an imex- 
 pected influence over her. They had met and had stood by 
 each other's side in the hour of danger, amid fire and flame. 
 This, together with the similarity in thought which their first 
 conversation had betrayed, gave them, now that they were 
 again thrown together by fate, a feeling of fi-iendship, a 
 brotherly and sisterly acquaintance, which removed all em- 
 barrassment and made their intercourse easy and agreeable. 
 
 In order to occupy Yngve's thoughts and turn them to a 
 more pleasing subject, Hertha requested him to read some- 
 thing aloud to her whilst she was engaged in attendmg to her 
 surgical duties. He in tliis way made her acquainted w^ith his 
 favorite modern poets, and read to her in particular those of 
 his fi'iend the young American bard, James R. Lowell, in 
 vt^hich all the ideas of the new world and the new time, fi-ee- 
 dom, labor, pure joy and brotherhood, a perfected life for aU in 
 the great drama of the world, found an eloquent expression, 
 and wei"e presented in a bewitching form. These poems gave 
 rise to many questions and much thought. Yngve had sj^ent 
 two years in the United States, and had deep sympathy with 
 the young upward-struggling life which is in agitation there, 
 as well as in the free states of Europe, but which there found 
 a foller and freer expression. He loved to talk on this sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "And the women in the ne>T w^orld," inquired Hertha on 
 one occasion, " have they poured forth no song, no lofty and 
 large-hearted desires and aspirations as the men have done ? " 
 
 Yngve told Hertha of the noble women with whom he had 
 become acquainted ; whose religious earnestness and liberal- 
 minded fellow-citizenship had greatly influenced the develop- 
 ment of his own mind. He made her acquainted with the 
 movements in the Free States, which are there known under 
 the name of " Woman's Rights Conventions," and read to her 
 many large-minded sentiments of progress, from the lips of 
 women during these assembUes. He justified them against
 
 170 THE FOUU tJlSTERS. 
 
 the misconcejotions with which they were regarded hy prejci- 
 dictid eyes, and showed that, what women on these occasiona 
 demanded, beyond everythmg else, was their right to an 
 education and a freedom, which afforded to every one a possi- 
 bility and a means of becoming that which God, by the gifts 
 which he has bestowed upon her, calls her to be, 
 
 Hertha's heart beat high, proudly and joyfully at the same 
 time, when these communications were made to her. She 
 felt proud on behalf of her sex, proud of the words which 
 women had uttered, and of the future in which they were the 
 pioneers ; she felt humble when she thought of the great re- 
 sponsibility which was laid upon them, and happy when she 
 saw men combating for this object, as if it were their own ; 
 and when she heard a young man, as now, advocating these 
 views with earnestness. Never did Hertha feel less incUned 
 to insist upon the dignity of the rights of her sex than now. 
 She only felt a strong desire to be worthy of a noble justice. 
 Often did the two young friends imagine together pictures of 
 the future which would dawn; of the beautiful and the pure 
 life which would exist when man and woman should become, 
 m a far higher degree and significance than now, each other's 
 helper in Ufe, giving to each other a hand in all earthly labor, 
 each according to his nature and his gifts, as equals and as 
 friends, in want and in joy. 
 
 During such conversations it happened, as might be ex- 
 pected, that the two speakers looked deeply into each other's 
 eyes and each other's souls, and that they found each other 
 beautiful, as they thus beamed upon each other truth and 
 mutual satisfaction. It also happened sometimes, that the 
 minutes sped along on such rapid wings, that they never re- 
 marked the flight of time till hours were passed, and the 
 striking of the clock reminded Hertha that — she was " ex- 
 pected at home." 
 
 Once, during such a prolonged conversation, it happened 
 that they sUd unawares into the familiar thee and thou. It 
 came so naturally, so entirely of itself, that though both 
 crimsoned, Yugve exclaimed with enthusiasm :
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. ITi 
 
 "Ah, let it be so ; it is just as it ought to be. Are we not 
 on the familiar thee and thou terms in our feelmgs, our views, 
 our aspirations ? Why then should we not be so in reality ? 
 It was not mere accident which made the httle word escape 
 our lips. It was necessity ; it was truth. 
 
 " Be thou my good, my stern friend," continued he with 
 emotion. " I have never possessed such a one, but I need it. 
 My love, ray endeavors are pure : but I do not find in myself 
 the earnestness and the steadfastness which I wish for. I have 
 been, to a certain degree, spoiled by prosperity, by too partial 
 friends, by a mother who has been, perhaps, too tender and 
 aifectionate. I am too desirous of praise and easy success, too 
 much afraid of ofiending or running against the prejudices of 
 others, even for the sake of truth. I would become different, 
 I would become a man such as you could highly esteem. 
 Help me to be such, Hertha ; always tell me the truth ; never 
 spare that which you regard as weak or as blameable in me ; 
 be always honest towards me, and thus you will become not 
 merely my physician, but also my soul's friend and bene- 
 factor." 
 
 This pleased Hertha right well. She besought Yngve to 
 perform the same kindness to her in return, and thus was 
 formed a bond of friendship between them, the soul of which 
 was to be an incessant endeavor after the highest purity and 
 love of truth, together with the most unflinching candor. 
 
 This gave a new impulse and renewed life to their inter- 
 course and then* conversation. Hertha had long since been 
 accustomed to a certain independent mode of speaking what 
 she thought, Avithout regard to its offending or exciting an 
 antagonistic spirit in others. She had done it in bitter dis- 
 satisfaction with every-day life and people, and in the deep 
 consciousness of her own superior power. But in Yngve 
 Xordin she had met with a kindred soul, and if she in her 
 expressions also treated him, as she did his sex, ^\\\\\ a certain 
 unsparmg severity, it was because she maintained that men in 
 general were spoUed by the weakness of women towards them, 
 and by the laxity of public opinions which this gave rise to.
 
 172 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 She maintained that they needed a strong purifying bath of 
 truth, and this she, from time to time, gave to her friend in 
 no sparing measure. 
 
 Yngve Nordiu took it in good part — partly because m 
 many respects he participated in her views, partly because he 
 was a young man of more than ordinary nobility and excellence 
 of character, and besides, it was very interesting to him to 
 hear a young woman, taking her stand on pure womanliness, 
 express herself freely on a number of subjects, which are 
 commonly banished from the conversation between gentlemen 
 and ladies. Besides which he heard and saw that, during her 
 severe criticisms, she exhibited so great a love of truth and 
 the higliest excellence, and took so high a view of the destina- 
 tion of the human being as witness to the truth and servant 
 of the Most High, that he felt himself, as it were, to grow in 
 mental stature whilst listening to her. His contempt for the 
 mean and the depraved increased, and his love for the elevated 
 and the noble increased likewise. He often felt himself in a 
 high degree animated by the ideal which beamed so beauti- 
 fully in the soul of his stern, but noble friend, and sometimes, 
 on the other hand, depressed, dissatisfied with, and mistrustful 
 of himself. But never so as regarded her. He felt a deep 
 conviction that she was a noble, large-minded woman. It, 
 then, was not her fault, if he and others appeared to her eye, 
 yearning as it did after perfection, to be weak, imperfect, 
 " half human beings." And if it appeared so to her, it was 
 right in her to say so, and it was good for him to know it. 
 
 Besides, Hertha was beautiful when she gave vent to her 
 noble indignation against what appeared to her unworthy, 
 either in men or in society. Her demeanor was always calm, 
 but lightning flashed from her eyes. And however severe she 
 might be as a judge, she was always gentle and excellent as 
 nurse of the suffering young man, and tended his injuries 
 Avith hands as skilful as they were singularly beautifvil. 
 
 Yngve had, in the beginning, regarded her as a soi-t of 
 moral phenomenon, which was very interesting to him as a 
 study. But the power she exercised over his soxil increased
 
 THE FOUR 81STERS. 173 
 
 daily. Hg allowed himself to be, as it were, magnetised by 
 her, and he would have suffered himself to have been taken 
 captive by her, like a new Telemachu^s by a new Calypso, if 
 her influence had not been of that kind wliich aroused, instead 
 of lulling to sleep his spiritual power. 
 
 The subject of their first conversation on the occasion of 
 their fii-st meeting, was often resumed by the two friends, and 
 canvassed in manifold variations, nor was Yngve always as 
 gentle as he was then towards the weakness and frailties 
 of her sex. Neither did Hertha attempt to defend these ; 
 still she passed a milder judgment upon them than on those of 
 men. 
 
 " "Women," she used to say, ' ' are not yet all that they might 
 be. Their full day is not yet come. Wait till then before you 
 pass sentence upon them." 
 
 One day she spoke with much bitterness of the lenity with 
 which public opinion regards the offences of men against the 
 law of morality, in comparison with the severity with whit-h it 
 treats those of woman, especially if she be young, unprotected 
 and poor, — branding her all the more if she be noble enough 
 to bear the consequences of her false step. 
 
 Yngve perfectly agreed with her in this respect, but the 
 subject appeared to be painful to him ; he crimsoned, and 
 turned his eye away from her. Hertha also crimsoned, and 
 dropped the subject for the time, only to return to it on some 
 future occasion with deeper earnestness. But this subject cast 
 a shadow for the time over Yngve's image, which had begun 
 to beam in her soul with unusual purity and beauty. She re- 
 called to her mind the remark of the old lawyer, Judge Carl- 
 son, respecting him and his fickleness, on the first evening she 
 saw him, and she thought to herself: 
 
 " After all, then, he is like the usual run of men. Even he 
 is not blameless." This reflection grieved her, and she became 
 more reserved and stern in her behavior towards him. 
 
 Many would have fancied that Hertha's behavior and con- 
 versation might have awoke dislike in Yngve, and made love 
 impossible. Yes, certainly, that love Avhich is pictured as
 
 174 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 driving in the cloud in the effeminate chariots of Venus or 
 Freja. But there is a love of a higher character, which human 
 beings venerate and pay homage to with justice — 
 
 For he is a God ; 
 
 He knows his own paths, 
 
 And the paths which lead through the cloud. 
 
 Besides, persons of strong and independent character, Hke 
 Hertha, might very easily offend fine folks, high-bred ladies 
 and gentlemen (when they have not superior minds), and espe- 
 cially gentlemen of the corps diplomatique and all such as are 
 more versed in drawing-room hfe than in life's most holy sanc- 
 tuary ; but they exercise a pc werful influence on all such cha- 
 racters as feel an impulse towaids the morally pure and strong. 
 When such as these meet with a soiil free fi'om human fear, 
 loving to hve in those regions where unveiled truths dwell in 
 her sacred light, they are enchanted by it, even if it should 
 appear under the form of a Eumenid. 
 
 The Eumenides were women, and a secret love was mingled 
 with their chastising, scourging j^ower. 
 
 Hertha was regarded by Yngve in this light, and he gave 
 himself up "with a sort of rapture to the sentiment of pure admi- 
 ration with which she inspired him. She awoke within him, 
 however, sentiments of another kind. Often when, with crush- 
 ing invective, she gave vent to her indignation against some- 
 thing mean or unjust, Yngve fixed his eye upon her with a 
 keen and penetrating expression, as if he would ask, " How is 
 it that thou still so young hast become so bitter ?" It dis- 
 tressed him on her account, and awoke the desii'e in his heart 
 to reconcile her with hfe. 
 
 Neither this glance nor this desire was unobserved by Her. 
 tha. How little need is there of words between souls which 
 are in harmony with each other ! The magnetic spiritual cur- 
 rents pass through them with fulness of life. And occasion 
 soon offered for Yngve to operate openly on Hertha's soul. 
 
 Hertha's views, both of the world and of life, were in reahty 
 very gloomy. She had only seen the darkest side, whether of
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 1T5 
 
 life or of history. Human beings seemed to her, for the most 
 part, either to be executioners or victims, and in both cases 
 slaves. The former excited her hatred, the latter her compas- 
 sion. Injustice and suffering, force and falsehood and dark- 
 ness, seemed to her to have the world in dominion from cen- 
 tury to century. The one age of humanity was in truth no 
 better nor wiser than the other. Mankmd discovered, indeed, 
 new means and machines for their advantage or pleasure, or 
 else to destroy one another in larger masses ; but the indivi- 
 dual man continues still the same, equally circumscribed, 
 equally cruel, and equally weak, equally imperfect to-day as 
 yesterday, and for thousands of years past. We have a pre- 
 sentiment of the perfection of God in our consciences ; we 
 fancy that we sometimes perceive a ghmpse of his image in 
 some great and good human being who Avanders alone on the 
 earth, for the most part misunderstood, most frequently slan- 
 dered, and finally crucified by his age for the sake of his supe- 
 rior love. But the Great Invisible himself and his government 
 are hidden from us, and are incomprehensible to us ; they are 
 dark mysteries, and human life on earth a dark, and to the 
 greater number, a joyless riddle. We speak about a faith and 
 a hope which we in reality do not possess. We wander in 
 twilight, and know not whence we come, nor whither we 
 shall go. 
 
 To these gloomy views, which often returned, and which 
 exhibited the dark depths of Hertha's soul, Tngve opposed the 
 light which he derived from theology and history, his favorite 
 subjects, to which he had exclusively devoted himself when he 
 had studied with the intention of becoming a minister of the 
 Gospel, This career in life he had only abandoned from the 
 necessity not only of providing for himself as soon as possible, 
 but also for his tenderly-beloved mother. He selected there- 
 fore a path which would all the more rapidly conduct him to 
 this, object. Yet at the same time he did not neglect his 
 favorite studies, but steadfastly pursued in them the develop- 
 ment of the age and the human mind. A clear intellect and a 
 heart open to the innermost of life enabled him to separate the
 
 1T6 THE FOni SISTERS, 
 
 gold from the dross, and in any case to possess himself of the 
 pure ore. 
 
 He now endeavored to impart to his friend that which 
 he himself had found and possessed, as the most precious 
 treasure. 
 
 He endeavored to show her from the pages of history how 
 God, in the beginning dimly perceived by the darkened con- 
 science of man, yet entering into and brightening it by de- 
 grees, was partially comprehended at first in scattered rays, 
 circumscribed forms, or by lightning flashes, which for the 
 moment illumined, but often at the same time bhnded the still 
 weak, uncertain human glance ; he endeavored to show her 
 how He, spite of this, continually became more intelligible to 
 the eye of the world, until he fully unveUed his divine coun- 
 tenance in the Son, and revealed in him that which he in eter- 
 nity is, works and icills. Yngve endeavored to place human 
 history before Hertha as a means of education with respect to 
 self-knowledge and to God. He endeavored above all things 
 to fix her eye upon that form in whom he has revealed to us 
 his own being; for he maintained with the great historian, 
 Johannes von Miiller, that "from this point all the cardinal 
 questions, whether of Hfe or of history, may be answered ; all 
 enigmas solved, and the whole world itself, sunk in sin and 
 sorrow as it is, be elevated and enlightened." 
 
 Yngve saw in Hertha, more than once, a full comprehension 
 of the vision of light, which he called up before her. But it 
 endured in her soul no longer than the hghtning-flash through 
 the night, over which the clouds again close with impenetra- 
 ble darkness. She turned her sorrowful and questioning 
 glance upon human hfe of yesterday and to-day. Must it 
 remain thus, for ever ? 
 
 And then Yngve showed her also, from historical data, that 
 an augmenting flood of life and hberty is actually advancing 
 over the earth from one century to another, extending itself 
 still more and more. Sometimes checked — nay, even driven 
 back for shorter intervals — it appears in the long run ever 
 victorious, ever embracing new peoples and realms, or calUng
 
 XriE FOIH SJSTERS. 177 
 
 forth a higher devclopemcnt in those ah-eady secured. Even 
 as the Nile, as soon as it becomes fructified by a drop from 
 heaven, perpetually increases and fructifies the plains of 
 Egypt, so huiBan life, — especially since the history of Christi- 
 anity has become part of it, — has become an ever-advancing 
 progress into light, liberty, and happiness. 
 
 " You say," continued Yngve, " that the human being of 
 to-day is no better and no happier than his predecessor of 
 eighteen centuries ago ; that no human being is now holier 
 than the Virgin Mary or the beloved disciple John. That 
 may be, because the human being cannot attain to above a 
 certain degree upon earth. But this degree may be high 
 enough to make him worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven. 
 And I, for my part, should be quite satisfied Avith a heaven 
 peopled with beings whose life is truth and love. And from 
 century to century, especially smce the new birth-day of 
 humanity, the number of such as attain to this degree in- 
 creases ; the circle of such enlarges, as we, the community of 
 earth, obtain immunity asfi-ee citizens in heaven, and on earth 
 obtain the privilege and the possibility of the highest human 
 freedom and dignity. This is the explanation of God's govern- 
 ment, and of human life on the earth. Temporal happmess or 
 misfortune are exceptional moments. The important thing is, 
 that the human being attains to God ; every other good comes 
 with that, sooner or later. Earthly prosperity and happiness 
 grow as a consequence of spiritual freedom and self-govern- 
 ment, and continually bear a proportion to them. Compare 
 the whole popular life of the early Christian people with that 
 of the present day ; compare pagan China with the free com- 
 munities of North America, and you will see it plainly ; you 
 will see that God makes known his being in humanity by 
 means of a godly human life, and doctrine engrafted upon the 
 tree of popular life. If our social life still exhibits so much 
 imperfection and deficiency, it is witliout doubt because the 
 conscience is still in bondage to the latter; because the 
 Christian law of hberty is still only applicable to one-half of 
 txie members of society ; because the mothers have not yet 
 1]
 
 118 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 become tlie guardians of the sacred fire upon its altar. We 
 have yet much to do, but we shall do it. Because, God is 
 with us. 
 
 " But the imiumerable human masses, Avhich never can 
 enter the sphere of freedom ! the millions who live like cater- 
 pillars, and who die without having seen the light of the 
 spirit ? " inquired Hertha. 
 
 " God Almighty lives ! " said Yngve, with cheerful courage, 
 " and we know that he is the supreme justice and love. That 
 is sufficient. Such as he has revealed himself must he remain 
 to be in all eternity, and so must he work for all things, under 
 all circumstances, in all worlds. We know that he will that 
 all men should attain to the knowledge of the truth, and tliat 
 ' all things are possible to him.' They must all attain to it, 
 sooner or later, on this earth, or in other worlds. The sooner 
 or later in the calling of the individual, or of a people, to 
 enter into the vineyard, is a si;bordinate thing. All must 
 nevertheless come, all may choose and decide freely for them- 
 selves. That is the ritle of God's ordination, evident already 
 for us on earth." 
 
 " How happy you are, Yngve," said Hertha sometimes, 
 " to have been able to learn and tlunk so much, and to see 
 things so clearly ! One's heart and one's life may become 
 very dark, merely through ignorance." 
 
 The conversion of the sceptic is often described as the work 
 of a moment ; as a mii-acle of di\ane grace, in which the 
 human being's own endeavors and reason have nothing what- 
 ever to do. But we do not believe m this. The conversion 
 of St. Paul may be reckoned as the exception to the general 
 rule, which may be likened to the gradual but irregular break- 
 ing forth of the light from a cloudy sky. The doubt of the 
 soul, and the gloomy facts of Ufe and human nature are the 
 clouds. We believe that the sun is behind them ; we see it 
 sometimes burst forth in a bright ray, but the clouds again 
 collect and conceal it. We no longer have a glimpse of it, 
 and the whole world is veiled in shadow. Yet, the wind 
 blows, and the clouds disperse, or raise themselves aloft ; the
 
 THE FOUR STSTKRS. 179 
 
 light beams forth agam and again for the inquiring and heaven- 
 turned eye, until at length it gains the victory, and clouds no 
 longer obscure its heavenly image. " Out of darker into 
 Hght, through the shadows ! " is the usual course of the 
 development of the higher life in the soul of man. The 
 moment when the sun has fuUy arisen in the soul of the 
 sceptic is nevertheless a wonderful one, and to him a miracle. 
 
 This we have lately seen in the confessions of one of the 
 highest clergymen of Denmark, the richly-gifted Bishop 
 Mynster. We have seen his bitter doubts, and his spiritual 
 combat of many years, during which time he was the preacher 
 of a Gosjjel in which he was not a believer, but the beauty of 
 which often transported him ; we have seen how the hght which 
 at once broke in upon his soul, and made him a beheving and 
 enraptured, happy Christian, came to him suddenly, in his 
 solitude, whilst he was reading some passage in " Spinosa," 
 " wholly unconnected with the thoughts which all at once 
 arose in his soul, and made aU light and certainty within him." 
 
 But all actual miracles are flowers which conceal their roots 
 under the surface of the earth, and burst forth in deep con- 
 nexion with the eternal laws of nature, although our duU 
 human intellect cannot trace them out. 
 
 Hertha sought also, sought among the shadows of earth 
 for a God, not merely for her o'wm soul, her own happiness, 
 but for all souls. For this reason, therefore, Yngve's mode of 
 proving to her his existence, produced so powerful an efi"ect 
 upon her mind ; and from the same cause, therefore, arose so 
 many new questions, so many new enigmas to be solved. 
 Hertha's earnest spirit, thirsting anew after the truth, would 
 not be satisfied with the half, or the incomjjlete ; would not 
 be put off with any reasoning, the cogency of which she 
 did not acknowledge. Her stei'u conscientiousness compelled 
 Yngve stiU more deeply to reflect upon the doctrines which he 
 preached, and her questionings and doubts gave him new 
 problems to solve, and caused him to pass in their examina- 
 tion, more than one sleepless night. That he himself was an 
 honest inquirer, that he would not offer Hertha any solution
 
 180 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 of the problem of existence, of tlie soundness of whicn he 
 himself was not fully convinced, and that he candidly acknow- 
 ledged his ignorance, or his own doubts, where they occurred, 
 were circumstances which raised him in Hertha's regard more 
 than greater leai'ning would have done. Hence it followed 
 that she had the fullest confidence in his honesty, and she 
 herself was invited to seek vnth her friend for elucidations of 
 those difficulties Avhich the developement of theii* minds gave 
 birth to. 
 
 Hertha was one of those souls who must see in order to 
 believe ; she must see goodness in the being and the ways ot 
 God before she could put her trust in them. Until that was 
 the case she could not love liim, and he was not all-sufficient 
 for her. 
 
 Yngve in the mean time saw, with heartfelt joy, the influ- 
 ence which he had obtained, and could obtain, over the soul 
 of his friend. The noble young man's desire of doing good, 
 and of enlightening, was added to the desire of the young phi- 
 losopher to argue and prove ; and when he saw that it would 
 be months, probably, before he was sufficiently recovered to 
 return to his profession, he proi)Osed to himself to go through 
 a course of history which should make apparent to his friend 
 the good providence of God towards man, and which could 
 alone reconcile her to the government of the world and to its 
 governor. 
 
 Ev ery time Hertha came, Yngve read to her portions of 
 that work which was becoming of infinite value to Mmself, 
 and to which she, in her turn, made objections or remarks. 
 Frequently, also, she gladdened him by her cheerful approval. 
 Then were they both very happy. To all her questions regard- 
 ing the fate of the various nations and peoples of the earth, 
 which seemed opposed to the just and loving providence which 
 Yngve was endeavoring to establish, he had, finally, only one 
 re])]y, and that was : 
 
 "God is love!" And the light which then beamed in his 
 glance gave Hertha a presentiment that this answer really 
 might overspread the vv'hole field of dark questionings, and
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 181 
 
 the lofty image of Him who first made these Avords an ever- 
 lasthig proverb on the earth, stood forth all the more exclu- 
 sively and dominantly in her soul. 
 
 The hmiiau mind resembles the Swedish Island (Gottland, 
 the eye of the Baltic), which, according to an old legend, 
 alternately elevated itself above the surface of the sea, and 
 alternately sank below it, until its people carried fire upon the 
 island, after which it remained steadfastly above. So alternately 
 rises and sinks the uneasy island of the soul seeking for light, 
 until a fire is kindled in it, a fire which is called — love of God. 
 
 In the mean time spring advanced. The birches reddened 
 in the pasture fields ; their slender leaves put forth ; the star- 
 lings built their nests, and filled the air with their plaintive 
 whistling and trilling ; the hawthorn bloomed in the meadows ; 
 the hlacs were full of buds ; bees murmured, and all the fruit- 
 trees in the garden were fuU of blossom. The abundant waters 
 of the Httle river danced down the wooded steeps of the 
 mountain district, where it had its birthplace, and down to the 
 ever greener meadows amid which lay the parsonage of Sol- 
 berga. When Yngve was first able to support himself upon 
 his injured knee, he wandered, leaning on Hertha's arm, 
 beneath the blossoming trees of the garden, and through 
 copses of pine and bu-ch, down to the banks of the river. 
 How extraordinarily weak, and yet how elate he often felt him- 
 self! He was impatient at knowing himself an invalid ; he 
 was enchanted by the touching beauty of nature — a minor- 
 key pervades the life of the spring in our north, even as per- 
 vades the northern folk's song, — he was conscious of a heart- 
 felt gratitude to her upon whose faithful arm he was supj^orted 
 so firmly and tenderly ; he was made happy by the assistance 
 
 she rendered him ; and Hertha need I tell my lady-readers 
 
 that she Avas happy in rendermg him this assistance ? 
 
 The first time that he Avas able to go somcAvhat farther, she 
 conducted him to the churchyard, which lay on higher ground,
 
 182 THE FOUR SISTEKS. 
 
 at some little distance from the parsonage, and to Alma's grave. 
 She had plaited it with white roses and mignonette, and had 
 placed a seat opposite to it. Here, for the first time, Hertha 
 spoke of her beloved sister, and for the first time Yngve felt 
 what a depth of tenderness was concealed in her soul, and 
 that the bitterness of her feelings had its root in the strength 
 of her sympathy for the sufiering of others. Yngve repaid her 
 confidence by making her acquainted with his own family cir- 
 cumstances — his mother and her beautiful life. He described 
 her as one of those souls so filled with the love of the Saviour 
 that it became to her Uke a new nature and a perpetual inspi- 
 ration, which caused her to speak and to act with a clearness 
 and a straightforwardness which captivated or overcame, as 
 by the power of some beautiful music. He told her of his 
 happy childhood in this mother's home, with several brothers ; 
 how she taught him always to act according to his best 
 convictions, and thus to be regardless of consequences. She 
 used often to quote the words of an old hymn : 
 
 Do right ; do well in dying ; 
 And leave the rest to God 1 
 
 This had early given rise in him to a cheerful and joyous 
 disposition, and a certain fi-eedom from anxiety as regarded 
 the future. He described, also, this mother's person and man- 
 ners, — described how handsome, how gentle and lovable she 
 was ; how unceasingly and quietly she labored for others ; 
 seeking to strengthen, to raise up, to comfort ; and how the 
 inward peace seemed to beam around her whole being, like 
 the glory of a saint. 
 
 The two friends often returned to this place, and to this 
 subject. Yngve sometimes read to Hertha the letters which 
 he received from his mother, now closely occupied at the sick 
 bed of her brother, Yngve's uncle. And the peculiar life and 
 beauty which Yngve had so lovingly described, breathed forth 
 from the letters. Hertha listened to these communicationa 
 with the mingled feelings of pleasure and pain. Sometimes her
 
 THE i'OLK SISTERS. 183 
 
 eyes filled with sweet tears, as she contemplated tliis love, 
 this sweet relationship between parent and child. Sometimes 
 she felt a painful sting in her heart at the contemplation of a 
 beauty, a peace from which she was so far apart ; and the 
 great admiration and love which Yngve expressed for the 
 feminine type, as represented in his mother, at times gave rise 
 to a sentiment akin to jealousy in her heart. 
 
 The proud mind also raised itself at times in opposition and 
 self-defence. 
 
 " She has never experienced injustice and severe treatment," 
 said Hertha, on one of these occasions ; " she has always expe- 
 rienced love, and then it is an easy thing to be gentle and 
 amiable ! " 
 
 But she blushed at the tone and the spirit with which these 
 words were uttered, and aU the more so when Yngve's serious 
 eye was riveted upon her, as if enquiring what it could be 
 which had now wounded her. She endeavored to avoid it by 
 asking still more of his mother and his family circumstances. 
 
 The mother still lived as a widow, in the house of her elder 
 brother, and Yngve was not satisfied with her position there, 
 although she never complained ; he knew that she was not 
 happy. He looked forward with longing to the time when he 
 should be able to have a home of his own, and take his mother 
 to five with him. He talked with childish delight of how he 
 would arrange everything for her ; how her room should be 
 fiu-nished, simply and elegantly at the same time, as he knew 
 she liked things to be. Yngve was the eldest of his brothers, 
 and the mother had given all that she possessed for the educa- 
 tion of her sons, that it might be as complete as possible. She 
 was compelled, therefore, herself to five on very circumscribed 
 means. Yet she felt herself, and all her letters testified to 
 this, rich in her sons and their future. Yngve also spoke of 
 his brothers, whom he cordially loved. They were some years 
 younger than hhnself, and were only just now able fully to 
 provide for themselves, the one as tutor in a private family, 
 the other as a naval ofiicer. 
 
 " Good lads ! excellent lads ! " Yngve used to call them.
 
 184 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "jet nevertheless they had then- faults;" which evidently 
 had often caused their brother uneasiness. He talked about 
 them sometimes in a fatherly kind of tone, which made 
 Hertha one day laughingly ask him, " how much older he was 
 than his brothers ?" 
 
 This led to the discovery that Yngve and Hertha were 
 nearly of the same age ; Hertha only a few months the elder 
 of the two. Yet it seemed to Hertha that she was very old 
 in comparison with Yngve. He was in fact so young in soul. 
 Life and hope in him were in full blossom. Often, indeed, 
 would the youthful flow of his spirits carry him along into 
 playful extravagance. Then he would joke and laugh at 
 everything, and draw caricatures of the ladies and gentlemen 
 of their acquaintance, nay, even of himself and Hertha, which 
 made her smile in spite of herself; and however it might be, 
 even she herself became yoimger, as it were, during her inter- 
 course with Yngve. Her heart grew brighter, so also did the 
 expression of her countenance. Many remarked that she 
 began to be really good-looking, and it was only Mrs. Uggla 
 who suspected a galloping consumption from the heightened 
 and clearer color of Hertha's ;^,Leek.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 185 
 
 ,1 THE NEW HOME. 
 
 Hertha's new home, Kiillen, was about two miles from the 
 parsonage. Between the two places lay the consumed portion 
 of the town mth its ruins and heaps of rubbish. But at 
 KuUen as well as at Solberga, the garden was full of blossom- 
 ing trees. A garden in which lilacs and fruit-trees are in full 
 bloom, and aroimd which softly mixrmm' thousands of insects, 
 where every kind of shrub and plant puts forth fresh leaves 
 day by day, has always seemed to us like a poem w^hich must 
 some way or another call forth the poetical in every soul. 
 Yes, for every soul possesses, after all, a spark of the Prome- 
 thean fire, however crushed down it may be by the rubbish 
 of egotism or every-day hfe. Truly poetical natures require 
 but a very small portion of this glory of the spring to be 
 powerfully excited. E. G. Geijer enjoyed the whole wealth 
 of nature and of spring in a blossoming cherry-tree outside his 
 window. 
 
 Old Mr. Falk, during his town and business life, had almost 
 forgotten how a garden looked. Removed from his usual 
 siu-roundings, and in a great measure debarred from his usual 
 avocations, which the shattered condition of his health no 
 longer permitted him to attend to, and also in consequence of 
 this enfeebled state of health, rendered more susceptible than 
 formerly to gentler influences, he found himself, as it were, 
 astonished at the beauty which all at once surrounded him, 
 and spoke to him of many subjects with which he had in hia 
 early youth been acquainted, but which had since then passed 
 wholly out of sight. 
 
 The early summer was this year unusually beautiful. The 
 Dii'ector walked in the garden, beneath blossom-laden trees ;
 
 186 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 he watched the work in the garden as it went forward, and 
 presently began to take part in it ; he was especially interest- 
 ed in attending to the trees. Martha and Maria were seized 
 with a perfect passion for gardening ; the former planted 
 peas and beans, and laid out asi^aragus-beds ; the latter, flow- 
 ering-borders. Before long they might be seen working in 
 common with their father, whose temper in the mean time 
 became more cheerful and more amiable. To this contribut- 
 ed, in no small degree, the circumstance of his having, accord- 
 mg to his promise, given up with fuU confidence, the entire 
 domestic economy to Hertha's management. He allowed her 
 a certain sum monthly for this purpose, but interfered no 
 further in any of its concerns. Such an arrangement of domes- 
 tic aifairs cannot be sufficiently recommended, whether the 
 well-being of the man, the woman, or the family itself be 
 considered. The best of men become tiresome when they 
 take upon themselves " Martha's cares and anxieties ;" and 
 we have known some clever statesmen who have become 
 intolerable masters of the family because they busied them- 
 selves with the management of household details. Arago felt 
 with justice that his veneration for the celebrated La Place 
 was considerably decreased when he heard his wife ask him 
 in an under voice, for "the key of the sugar-box." It stands 
 to reason that we require from women that degree of skill 
 and management which will enable the men to leave these 
 cares in their hands, fully assured that they will be weU 
 attended to. On this subject, however, enough has been 
 akeady preached and dogmatised. But even here, in every 
 case must be allowed some rudimental state before the attain- 
 ment of the highest degree. No good housekeeper ever 
 became such at one bound. Only concede to a woman a 
 good will, time, and opportunity, and be easy. In nine 
 hundred cases out of a thousand, " she'U do it !" 
 
 Heitha was so desirous of rewarding her father's confidence, 
 so sohcitous to give him satisfaction, that she soon overcame 
 her natural repugnance to, and even her want of experience in 
 the business of household economy ; and never before had the
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 187 
 
 Director been so satisfied wiih his meals, and so contt;nted 
 with the management of his family. Besides which, since he 
 had left everything in his daughter's hands, he no longer 
 enquired after every glass which was broken, or every 
 sixpence that was expended, and this saved him many a petty 
 vexation and annoyance by means of which he used formerly 
 to embitter his own life and that of others. 
 
 By degrees also a little beauty began to be introduced into 
 the house ; and although the Du-ector at first regarded these 
 innovations with suspicion, he became reconciled when he 
 observed that they did not cost him anything. Some of these 
 were ornamental works made by the hands of his daughters ; 
 others also were purchased by a portion of the present which 
 her father had given her, and which Hertha thus appropriated 
 to the beautifying of his new home. There was, however, 
 one especial room in the house with a window on the 
 sunny side, and looking into the garden, which Hertha arrang- 
 ed and adorned with peculiar affection! it opened out 
 of her own chamber, and her sisters called it " Hertha's 
 cabinet :" but Hertha had, in her own mind, given it another 
 name. 
 
 The house was buUt of wood, spacious and well finished ; 
 and, all honor to stone houses, yet it has always seemed to us 
 that wooden houses are more comfortable, as well as certain- 
 ly warmer and more healthy. Something of the calm and the 
 peace of the forest surrounds us in these the offspring of the 
 forest. They generally assimilate also more to nature and 
 life. Pretty porches project into the gardens or beneath 
 green trees. 
 
 It was so at KuUen. The porch opened into the garden, 
 overshadowed by tall trees, whilst trails of fi-agrant honey- 
 suckle hung luxuriantly around its ornamental trellis-work. 
 Here might be seen, during the long, Hght summer evening, 
 the Director sitting smoking his pij^e, and Aunt Nella near 
 him, with her yarringles busily winding a ravelled skein, 
 whilst she entertained herself and her brother-in-law with 
 stories, to which he listened with more and more attention.
 
 188 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 These two had passed their youth together, and it is even 
 said that a mutual affection existed between them, in particu- 
 lar on her side, when her young and more wealthy half-sister 
 returned home from the school at Stockholm, where she had 
 finished her education, and at once gained possession of the heart 
 which Aunt Nella had begun to regard as her own property. 
 But she tenderly loved this sister ; and with bitter pain, but 
 without anger or complaint, silently drew back, so that nothing 
 might interfere with her sister's happiness. This was the 
 unknown, but beautiful, romantic episode in Aunt Nella's Ufe ; 
 and to it belonged also the unceasingly faithful devotion with 
 which she adhered to her sister, her brother-in-law, and 
 their children. Of her brother-in-law she entertained a dread, 
 mingled mth love, which made her, indeed, often suffer under 
 his power, but never blame him. She had been contented 
 with living in his house, like a silent night-lamp, valued and 
 called into requisition only in the hours of night and of dark- 
 ness. She had seen her sister fade away amid the gloom of 
 an inharmonious marriage, and had watched and wept over 
 her, and sometimes sUently thanked God that she herself had 
 not been married ; yet, nevertheless, she preserved a regard 
 for her first and her only love, which made her, to a certain 
 degree, blind to her brother-in-law's faults, which she called 
 his " fixed ideas," and bcund her to him and his children, as 
 the serf is bound to the house of his lord. The constantly 
 repelled flame of life had, in the mean time, in her own solitary 
 room, kindled the powers of imagination and called forth cer- 
 tain "fixed ideas" in her own mind, which had neither foun- 
 dation nor reaUty. In every other respect Aunt Nella was a 
 perfectly honest and prudent person. She had an excellent 
 memory, particularly as regarded the days and the acquain- 
 tance of her youth, and, like most elderly people, she was very 
 fond of living those old times over again. As many of these 
 belonged also to the youthful days of the Dkector himself, 
 Aunt Nella's conversation and reminiscences had an unusual 
 interest for him during the long summer evenings. He regu- 
 larly longed for tea-time, seven o'clock m the evening, because
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 189 
 
 now, instead of taking his tea, as formerly, alone in his room, 
 he desired to be taken out into the porch, and sent to Amit 
 Nella, requesting her to let him have " a cup of tea-water." 
 Aunt Nella was not slow in obeying his wishes. Her heart 
 throbbed in her breast, as she, with her yai-ringles in her hand, 
 hastened out to the porch and seated herself on the green 
 bench, exactly opposite her brother-in-law, who commonly 
 said: 
 
 " Well, Aunt, can you tell me about " such and such 
 
 an occurrence, or person, who had figured in the days of their 
 youth. And immediately the little old lady was ready to dis- 
 entangle the threads of innumerable youthful memories, which, 
 although, it is true, they were in a state of intricate perplexity, 
 yet always, like the knots tied upon the Quipas of the 
 Peruvian Indians, served as points of memory to indicate cer- 
 tain persons and periods. Now, the great lawsuit was the 
 most important of these points, or, more coi'rectly speaking, 
 was a thread which mysteriously ran through them all, and 
 when it became visible, the Director used to grow angry, and 
 say: 
 
 " Now then, now then ! Are we at that again ? Leave all 
 those absurdities, and let us stick to the reality ! " 
 
 But the great lawsuit was to Aunt Nella the reality of 
 realities, and she could not help it: the mysterious lawsuit, 
 therefore, came up again and again ; and when it, by de- 
 grees, Avas placed in new and pecuhar points of view, and 
 became mixed up mth legal process, in which the Director 
 hunself was mvolved, he began by little and little to listen to 
 the story with a certain degree of curiosity. There might 
 possibly, after all, be something in it. 
 
 Aunt Nella felt herself, in the meantime, j^robably as a 
 night-lamp would feel — if it ever feels at all — which was ad- 
 vanced from a corner in the nursery to the drawing-room, or 
 as a naught — thus — which finds the figure 1 set before it. 
 
 She felt herself quite important, and remarkable, and happy, 
 to be thus called out every evening and lighted for her 
 dreaded, yet, in reality, always beloved, brother-in-law. She
 
 190 THK FOUR STSTET^S. 
 
 felt herself important to the whole family, and so she was in 
 fact, when she could thus amuse the master of the family ; and 
 her histories became more and more animated, and the great 
 lawsuit assumed greater significance and more remarkable 
 form. Thus passed on the summer, and many things in the 
 family had become brighter. Hertha was allowed to employ 
 her time as she liked, and enjoyed this fi-eedom. If her father 
 only saw her at meal-times he was satisfied. 
 
 One subject, nevertheless, contmued to cause her trouble. 
 It was that her father took no steps for the accomplishment 
 of his promise as regarded her becoming legally independent. 
 She had twice ventured, with a beating heart, to remind him 
 of his promise to her ; but she was always put off with a stern 
 reply, either, that she need not trouble herself about it, or by 
 the enquiry, " why she was in such a hurry ? If she wanted 
 money she might ask him ! " 
 
 The emotion and the good- will which had been excited by the 
 events of the fire, and by Alma's death, seemed now to have 
 died away again, and his selfish disposition was once more in 
 the ascendant. 
 
 A young woman placed in circumstances such as those of 
 Hertha is very helpless. The nobler, and the more delicate 
 and sensitive are her feelings, the more difiicult is her position. 
 There are people who, without any desire to act unjustly, have 
 yet an mdescribable difficulty in giving out of their own hands 
 either money or power. We do not condemn them ; we know 
 that selfishness and avarice, as well as levity and indolence, 
 have their origin in natural organization, and that to a certain 
 degree they are beyond the power of man. 
 
 " Dear D., what am I to do to get rid of this cursed 
 avfirice ? " asked, more than once, the rich banker B, with a 
 sigh, from his friend and principal bookkeeper. He wished, 
 but he could not free himself from his hereditary sin. Many 
 a human being here on earth advances no further than the 
 wish to do right. It is good, nevertheless, for him to advance 
 so fur, and — " that which is impossible to man is possible to 
 God." We therefore condemn the selfish man no more than
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 191 
 
 any other sinner, but we sincerely wish that human life and 
 happiness could become as much as possible wholly indepen- 
 dent of either the feelmgs, the consent, or pleasure of indi- 
 viduals. Swedish women have still, in this respect, much to 
 desire from the laws of their native land. 
 
 Hertha would have felt still more acutely her father's breach 
 of faith towards her, had it not been very evident to her that 
 his powers of mind were decUning, and that, probably, in this 
 might lie the grounds of his procrastination. She saw with 
 uneasiness that his memory for later events was failing, and 
 that it was difficult for him to understand money affairs. Yet, 
 at the same time, he continued with inflexible obstinacy, the 
 sole management of them, and would communicate with no 
 one on the subject. " Tell me if you want money ! " said he 
 a few times, and seemed not to have any idea, or to be able 
 to comprehend how insufficient this was for his daughter's 
 peace or future prospects. She thought with great anxiety 
 of these future prospects, both as regarded herself and her 
 younger sisters, whose welfare she now felt it her duty to 
 guard with motherly care. She looked around her for a 
 helper in need, but the more she looked the more she per- 
 ceived how infinitely solitary she was; without relation or 
 friend who could give her advice. Circumstances called upon 
 her to be the support of the house and the family, but denied 
 her that which alone could have given her power as such. 
 Neither her freedom nor her property was in her own power, 
 and her whole soul was repugnant to applying to a stranger 
 for comasel, or appealing to the Swedish Court of Justice to 
 compel her own father to give her that freedom which he re- 
 fused to her. Besides this, she knew the feehng of Courts of 
 justice with regard to the lately agitated question of allowing 
 an unmarried woman to become legally mdependent at a given 
 age, and this had shaken her faith in their justice. 
 
 It was during these distressing circumstances that her soul 
 aroused itself and found peace in its o^^n pure desires, and in 
 the vionviction that the governing power of the world was 
 more just than human laws and judgments. The Gospel which
 
 192 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Yngve had revealed to her, began to diffuse its light through 
 her soul. She often thought of the words, "Righteous Fa- 
 ther, the world has not kno^^'n Thee," — and appealed from her 
 earthly to her Heavenly Father, now her only hope, and con- 
 tinued quietly to fulfil her every-day duties, attentively watch- 
 ing the Avhile for any favorable turn which circumstances might 
 take, in the hope that the moment would come when she could 
 take a decisive step to secure herself and her future. 
 
 She began during this time to exercise a more and more 
 beneficial effect upon the education of her young sisters. She 
 endeavored to accustom them to a settled course of daily 
 work, and showed them the ultimate object of this as beyond 
 our earthly life. They must serve God and His kingdom in 
 so domg ; that was the principal thing ; whether in wealth or 
 in poverty was secondary. The object of Hfe was, m every 
 case, grand and rich in results. She talked with them, more- 
 over, of the Saviour. 
 
 Thus talked Hertha ; but like the good man, whose spiritual 
 conflict we have lately mentioned, often fascinated by the 
 lofty doctrine which she promulgated, she yet withdrew many 
 a time to her own chamber to shed the bitter tears of doubt 
 and suffering. It often appeared to her as if she consecrated 
 the lamb for sacrifice ; and she wept over her sisters, over all 
 the young souls which would be born, live, and slowly die in 
 this hard unrighteous world. Afterwards, she dried her tears 
 and went from her own room, grave, but calm, ready to work, 
 to sustain, to comfort. She concealed the tomb in her own 
 heart, and let the flowers above it send forth their fragrance 
 for others. A certain, singular, lofty, and touching beauty 
 developed itself the while, in her glance, voice, and whole 
 being, together with an increasing power over the souls of 
 others, which she felt, not without pleasure. Her young sis- 
 ters, in particular, attached themselves to her with an enthu- 
 siastic devotion. Her glance, her words, seemed to operato 
 upon them, almost with a magical power. 
 
 It was about this time, when Providence brought her
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 193 
 
 A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 A FRIEND of mine, a witty lady, said, on one occasion, that 
 she did not compute her lile by ordinary years, but by the 
 acquaintances, who became important to the life of her soul. 
 Such a new acquaintance was to her a new-life's year. This 
 mode of computing life's years is to my taste, and I have good 
 reason to adopt it. Did not my youth, properly so-called, 
 commence through a new acquaintance, when the years which 
 are commonly called the youthful, lay a long way behind 
 me! 
 
 Hertha had said the same. " My youth is passed ; is passed 
 forever!" she had exclaimed, but the acquamtance of Yngve 
 Nordin had caused her to feel that she never before that time 
 had known the true youthful-Hfe of the soul, and day by day 
 only increased this consciousness. One day when she, as usual, 
 accompanied by the pastor's wife, visited her patient, they 
 found with him Judge Carlson, whom we have already men- 
 tioned as a "noble old man." His white hair; the unmistake- 
 able expression of earnestness and honesty in the fi-ank, cheer- 
 ful countenance, which seemed almost without shadows, im- 
 pressed the beholder favorably at the first moment, and few 
 were they who, on a nearer acquaintance, were not charmed 
 by his gentle humanity, at the same time that they felt a reve- 
 rence for his integrity and love of truth. Truth was his only 
 passion, and he sate at her feet like a disciple, listening and 
 learning. For this reason he never hesitated to abandon an 
 opinion which he discovered to be faulty, or openly to acknow- 
 ledge that he did so. People, however, who were afraid of 
 petty consequences, and who loved rather the Uttle, every-day 
 I than trutli lierself, imputed this to him as weakness and 
 
 vacillation, 
 
 12
 
 194 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 He had, as well as Yngve, been elected a member of the com- 
 mittee — nay the family, who were to prepare a plan for new 
 dwellings for the working-classes, to be erected in place of 
 those which were burnt down. 
 
 They now laid before Hertha and Mrs. Dahl then- groimd- 
 plans and elevations, and called upon them to become fellow- 
 workers in this family. 
 
 " I take it for granted," said Judge Carlson, " that mis- 
 tresses of families, in Swedish towns, have never been consult- 
 ed with regard to the construction of the house. I cannot 
 otherwise account for the want of convenience which prevails 
 in the arrangement of dweUing-houses, in particular in the 
 kitchens and domestic offices. In our country, too, where the 
 years may be counted by the winters, how important it is that 
 particular attention should be paid to the comfort and con- 
 venience of those within the house, the greater portion of 
 whose life is occupied by the daily business of the necessities 
 of life. On the principal floors, it is true, care is taken to have 
 the drawing and dining-rooms convenient, but the other rooms, 
 those appropriated to the domestics in particular, are placed 
 just how and where they can be ; and in smaller houses the 
 mistress of the family has often to look for the kitchen across a 
 court, a lobby, or even on another story. We must have this 
 different ; we must contrive some way of having comfort and 
 convenience for the inhabitants within the house ; and we must 
 now begin in our own town — you must help us in this !" 
 
 These last words were addi-essed to the two ladies now 
 present. 
 
 This proposal chimed in with the subject which was always 
 present in Hertha's soul, and the life, as it were, of her hfe. 
 
 " Thank you," she said, smihng, " that you will permit 
 ladies to give an opinion on a subject which nearly concerns 
 their comfort, — their well-being, it may be said." 
 
 There was no bitterness in Hertha's expression, although in 
 the words — she could not help it — there was a secret reproach. 
 The lawyer perceived it, and accepted the challenge in a 
 chivalric manner.
 
 THE Forn sTPTKn=!. 195 
 
 " There is probably no one," replied be mildly, " who 
 would more earnestly wish than I should that ladies were 
 consulted, and their opinions hstened to with regard to most 
 of the questions of life. Their natural tact and intuitive 
 perception would make them the best of councillors, 
 especially if they were educated fully to comprehend the 
 subjects which would be likely to come under discussion." 
 
 " Which are these subjects ?" asked Hertha. 
 
 But now a great difference was discovered in the views 
 entertained by Judge Carlson and Hertha. The old lawyer 
 conceded to woman the very highest influence, an influence 
 indeed which would operate upon the whole race, through 
 her action upon domestic life and raorals ; he would desire to 
 see her developed to her utmost power and extent, for the 
 benefit of home, husband, children, parents, brothers and 
 sisters, and through the domestic circle, for society at large ; 
 but he would not desire to see her education directed to any 
 sphere of action beyond domestic life and its immediate 
 world. He would have public seminaries for her, but only 
 with the intention of developing her for that sphere " which 
 nature evidently and natm'e's lord, created her for." 
 
 They were the views of the old school which he propound- 
 ed, although with some modifications in a liberal direction, 
 and with an exception in favor of imusually gifted ladies. 
 
 Hertha could not be silent ; could not Hsten to a noble- 
 minded man expressing, according to her views, opinions so 
 utterly imperfect, without her spirit raising itself like a north- 
 ern Amazon on her war-horse to the sound of the war-clarion. 
 
 " Can any human judge," said she gravely and without 
 temper, " pronounce judgment on this subject ? Has he 
 sate in council with God, and heard the Creator say to 
 woman, ' Thus far shalt thou go and no farther !' Is it not 
 to encroach upon the office of the Supreme Judge, and to 
 circumscribe his kingdom, when himian judges will brad with 
 their statutes a being whom He has created in His image ; 
 when they inclose her in a small, narrow circle, and say, 
 'Within this shalt thou breathe think, behold, but not
 
 196 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 beyond it. It is the will of God !' Oli no, God has not 
 willed it," continued Hertha, whilst a calm but inward fire 
 by degrees kindled her whole being, " God has not willed it 
 to be so. Ask all mankind and light-seeking souls of my sex 
 what the Creator speaks to them within their own conscien- 
 ces, and you wiU hear something very different. May I 
 speak ?" 
 
 " Yes, speak !" reiolied the lawyer, astonished at the young 
 girl's words and expression, at the same time that he was 
 extremely curious to know what she would say : " speak ; I 
 A\nll Usten and learn !" added he cordially, when she hesitated 
 a moment to express herself 
 
 Hertha resumed : " Thus He speaks to me, and to every 
 soul which seeks for freedom and hght : ' Thou art my child ; 
 and aU that is mine is thine, thy just inheritance and thy 
 share ; whether it be liberty, knowledge, art, power, happi- 
 ness, or whatever else which I have created in the world, and 
 which I gave to thee and thy brother to rule over and have 
 dominion in. Thou art my youngest child, and my last 
 witness among the created beings of the earth. In thy heart 
 have I WTitten my law of love. Go, possess thy portion in my 
 kingdom, in order that thou mayest in all parts of it testify of 
 me, and help thy brother to extend it over the earth.' 
 
 " Thus speaks the Father, every day to his daughter. But 
 what does the brother say to the sister ? Does he not say, 
 ' I am the first-born. The greater portion of the inheritance 
 belongs to me. Tliou must be contented with such 
 portion as I shall leave thee ; because I am the strong one, 
 and power and honor and glory are mine. Seek for labor, 
 for light, and for joy in the sphere which I shall point out to 
 thee, and then thou shalt have my support and my favor. 
 But take care not to intrude upon my share, otherwise it will 
 not be well for thee ; and thou wilt be going out of thy 
 proper vocation, which is to — amuse and to serve me !' " 
 
 Hertha paused ; the lawyer said, 
 
 " W^ll, I still recognise the justice of the brother's speech, 
 althv>r.gh it is now, in various countries, becoming considers^
 
 TUfi I'UUll SISTERS. 197 
 
 bly softened, more reasonable, more manly, but — let us bear 
 what the sister replies." 
 
 " ' Yes ;' she replies," continued Ilertha. " ' Brother, God 
 created us both hi his image, made us both rulers over the 
 earth, and gave ns each other for helpers, that Ave might 
 together glorify Him on the earth. He did not make thee 
 for my master, and when thou becamest such, the order of 
 the world Avas destroyed, and Paradise closed against us. 
 We were born as equals on the first morning when CA^ery- 
 thmg was yet good ; as equals, he has again given us birth on 
 that second day of Creation when the spiritual man is born 
 upon the earth, and has placed us again side by side, as two 
 pilgrims seeking for Eden, and only hand in hand can we again 
 find it. Thou dost not knoAV, I do not know as yet Avhat 
 poAvers he gi\'es to thee or me ; — but give me my paternal 
 inheritance of liberty, my portion of the kingdom of life, and 
 of all which God has giA'en ns, and all which is mine Avill 
 become thine and thy lot, even as mine wiU be tAvofold.' " 
 
 Again Hertha j)aused. The lawyer said : 
 
 " The sister does not speak amiss in ahstracto ; but noAv let 
 us come to the practical application of her speech. What 
 Avould it be, for example, at the present day ? What Avould 
 she ask of her brother ?" 
 
 " The possibility of an education and independent action 
 such as he enjoys," replied Hertha Avith earnestness and 
 warmth. " Open to her schools and colleges, Avhich would 
 give her an opportunity of knoAving herself and her inborn 
 poAvers ; and afterAvards open to her the paths in Avhich she 
 might freely exercise them ; otherwise they become both to 
 herself and society a dead and buried talent. Remove all 
 the old barriers and limitations, cast aside cowardly tVar ; 
 have instead, a large-minded confidence in God, that Ho v\n 
 guide and preserve his work. Let the sister as well n^^ t'le 
 brother ask herself, 'In what way can I serve God aii'! Mis 
 kingdom on earth?' And let them reply by the free dev^l'^p- 
 ment in his service of the gift, the talent Avhich He has gi\ cii. 
 Thus together seekmg for the Supreme Good, will they not
 
 198 THE FUUll SISTERS. 
 
 « 
 
 find each other and be inwardly united, as is now very seldom 
 the case ? Brother, sister, child of God ! Those words 
 ought to become truth on the earth, but they can only become 
 so when the freedom both of brother and sister introduces 
 the fulness and the perfection of both. Do not say, therefore, 
 that is the man's portion and that is the woman's portion, 
 but say, rather, man and woman are two portions of the same 
 humanity, called to serve God, the one as man, the other as 
 woman, according to the gift and the power which He has 
 given." 
 
 Hertha was silent ; but she had spoken with that enthusi- 
 asm which is the result of strong conviction, and which never 
 fails to produce a deep impression upon the hearers. Judge 
 Carlson had attentively listened to her and contemplated her 
 while she spoke, animated by a noble and heartfelt inspira- 
 tion. When she ceased speaking, he, too, remained silent 
 for a moment, and then said : 
 
 " You are the best advocate on this subject which I have 
 ever met with, and I confess that you have placed the subject 
 before me in a new point of view, and it is possible that the 
 one which has hitherto been mine, may be altogether too 
 narrow. In the mean time, however, let us look at the subject 
 a little closer, and I will give you a few cases to consider. 
 You have only as yet placed before us the bright side of the 
 results of emancij^ation. Let us for a moment contemplate 
 the other side." 
 
 The lawyer now advanced many strong instances of this 
 dark side, several of which were drawn fi-om real hfe, in 
 various coimtries, and gave various absurd descriptions of 
 emancipated women, all of which have been too often pro- 
 duced, and are too well known, for there to be any necessity 
 of our repeating them here. To this Hertha rej^Ued : — 
 
 " Have faith in the divine : give it fair play and it will 
 conquer ; awaken it, and let God be the guide. The absurdi- 
 ties you have mentioned have been produced from pure con- 
 tradiction ; in the same way that monsters among flowers 
 are j)roduced from deficiency of air and light ; they are the
 
 THE FOUR S18TER:5. 199 
 
 offspring of an endeavor Avliich has not found its projDer vent. 
 They prove the existence of a life, a longing which deserved 
 a better guidance. Give this, by means of justice and love ; 
 awaken the higher consciousness ; let the feminine ideal, or 
 rather the human ideal which woman represents, be it what it 
 may, in domestic or ci^dl Ufe, in science, art, mechanics, or in 
 the highest, the religious life, stand clearly forth before the 
 eye of woman in their glowing years, and they mil learn to 
 love it ; allow them hberty to form themselves according to 
 this type, and beauty will then drive away the ridiculous. 
 The educational abortions of which you sj)eak will vanish as 
 ignes-fatui at sunrise." 
 
 The conversation was long continued in this strain, and 
 Hertha, who was all the more inspired, as well by the influence 
 of the subject itself as by the enjoyment of an intellectual 
 combat with an opponent of superior knowledge, noble, far- 
 seeing, and her o^vn equal in love of truth, developed more 
 and more her own inward wealth of larger views, and feeling 
 for the general, although her insight mto the particular might 
 not yet be fully clear. 
 
 Yngve, at the beginning of the contest, had not, without 
 fear and some uneasiness, heard her keen expression of 
 opinion, but the further she went, the calmer, the more joy- 
 ous, the prouder he became of his friend, and observed with 
 delight the impression which her words and her manner pro- 
 duced upon the old lawyer. He had begun by suj^porting 
 Hertha, but afterwards amused himself by jocular remarks, 
 now ui favor of the arguments of one side, and now of the 
 other. 
 
 The pastor's wife, who probably considered the discussion 
 to be one of those " which did not concern her," went in and 
 out in the mean time, busied in covering a table in the room 
 with a dehcious entertainment of the fruits of the season. 
 Hertha now rose to assist her in these good offices. Excited 
 by the conversation, and the part she had taken in it, she 
 perhaps never looked so dignified, and at the same time so 
 gentle and charming, a? now when she presented to the gentle-
 
 SOO THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 men tlie boautifal fruits from the parsonage garden. Yngve 
 watched her, but he said nothing, whilst he listened to the 
 lawyer's admiration of her whom hitherto he had only known 
 by report. Hertha saw approving and loving looks riveted 
 upon her, and she felt herself wonderfully happy. 
 
 Who is there, to whom God has given a spark of the 
 eternal fire which they have felt long penned up, burning 
 ;uiiid ashes in the depth of the heart, and all at once, owing 
 to some circumstance, or conversation (for a word may be a 
 circumstance), the air reaches it, the light is admitted to it, 
 and it lights up treasures not hitherto known of, and becomes 
 conscious of its own riches ? — such will perfectly understand 
 Hertha's feehngs at this moment. 
 
 They may be easily understood by men of genius and intel- 
 lect, but scarcely at all by women of the present day, so rare 
 is it for their mental gifts to be made known in an atmosphere 
 worthy of them.. Wherever they exist, they are early en- 
 listed in the service of vanity and drawmg-room life, and 
 should they not avail for these j^urposes — they are either 
 crushed into a bureau-drawer or back again into the soul, even 
 though it should be choked Avith them. 
 
 When Judge Carlson rose up to go, he took Hertha's hand 
 with an expression of heartfelt esteem, and said : 
 
 " We have met to-day as combatants, but will you promise 
 me one thing ? — If ever you should need a fatherly friend, 
 and think that I could be of service to you, promise that you 
 will call upon me ? " 
 
 Hertha pressed his hand between both hers, looked into his 
 clear, benevolent eyes, and said : 
 
 " Will you sometimes allow me to talk with you ? It will 
 strengthen ray faith injustice and the progress of good." 
 
 " The progress of good ! " exclaimed the old man with the 
 fervor of youth ; " that is granted, that is inevitable a» the 
 providence of God. We ought not, especially at this time, 
 to doubt of the progress of any emancipation, any truth 
 which is dear to us. We require only patience and — courage- 
 ous and warm hearts such as — thine, young girl ! " And with
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 201 
 
 fatterly tenderness lie clasped Hertha to his breast, and im- 
 pressed a kiss ujjon her pure brow, as he added : " God give 
 thee light ; — enlighten thy sisters ! " He . then kissed her 
 hand, boAved deeply, and went out. 
 
 Hertha, captivated by a feeling, a delicious consciousness, 
 altogether new to her, had allowed her head to rest for a 
 moment on the old man's breast, after Avhich she stood silent, 
 sunk in thought. Yngve looked on the while, not without a 
 certain feeling of jealousy ; but when Hertha turned to him 
 beaming -with an inward roseate dawn, he could not resist 
 saying : 
 
 " How handsome you are, Hertha ! " 
 
 "Alma also used to say so sometimes," replied Hertha, 
 whilst an expression of melancholy overcast her beaming 
 countenance, " and I confess that I know I can be good-look- 
 ing to those whom I like, or when I am happy, but sometimes, 
 and "wdth those whom I do not like, I can be excessively 
 ugly." 
 
 " I can very well beUeve that," said Yngve smihng, " al- 
 though I have never seen it. To me you have always seemed 
 handsome, Hertha. You understand very well that I am not 
 talking about mere external beauty ; you know very well that 
 you are not what people commonly call handsome, but I am talk- 
 ing of expression — of the whole being. Just now, when you 
 offered us the fruit, you seemed to me a real Idima. And my 
 Iduna you are, and will continue to be, my sorrow and 
 wound-healing goddess ! " 
 
 "But who has very nearly forgotten her patient this 
 evening ! " said Hertha, gaily, as she seated herself at a table 
 to prepare the white bandages with which Yngve's knee still 
 requii'ed to be bound. The setting sun, which threw its rays 
 into the room, through the quivering leaves of trees, cast a 
 golden lustre over Hertha's hair and hands. Yngve had 
 never before been so conscious of their beauty, and he ex- 
 pressed what he felt. Hertha then looked at him with a 
 grave and almost reproachful glance, as she said : 
 
 " Don't talk in that way, Yngve ! "
 
 202 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " Why not ? " replied he, " if I say only what is true and 
 what I think. May I not say what I think ? And you — are 
 you now really candid, Hertha ? Can it actually displease 
 you that I think you lovely, and that I say so ? " 
 
 *' No ; on the contrary, it pleases me ; but tliis it is which 
 displeases me and — humiliates me ; that having hitherto found 
 our pleasure in the holy and the highest, the si^iritually 
 pure, we should now sink down into the common and the 
 petty." 
 
 " You are too severe, my friend. An innocent joy in the 
 physical beauty of others or of ourselves, if we jDOSsess any, is 
 certainly just and even beneficial. God has given us the 
 sense of beauty, and created the beautiful as an expression of 
 His glory. It is also a portal through which we get a glimpse 
 into His heaven." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right," continued Hertha, " and yet I 
 abide by what I have just asked. Perhaps it is because I am 
 afraid of my own weakness. I am afraid of becoming covetous 
 of admiration in the usual common way, and that — I will not 
 be. Life, it appears to me, is too earnest and too great for 
 such small endeavors and small pleasures. And if you are my 
 friend, you will not make a compact with them against me, 
 but will help me to despise them. Am I now candid enough, 
 Yngve ?" 
 
 " You are a — magnificent girl, and I will do all that you 
 wish. That is to say, that I will in certain cases not say what 
 I think. Because it cannot be forbidden to me to think and 
 to like. But you have an easy method in your own hands of 
 preventing me from thinking and talking as I have just done. 
 Let me see your ugliest countenance." 
 
 " I don't know whether I can show it you, but I will try. 
 Now I will see in you domination and injustice, as large as 
 life !" And Hertha assumed an expression of defiance and 
 menace. After that she laughed and said, " Now, was I ugly 
 and repulsive enough ? " 
 
 " Yes and no," replied Yngve. " You were not agreeable ; 
 but — I felt as if I Avould make a compact with you against
 
 THE FUUil tilSTEIlS. 203 
 
 that which you might be thus looking upon, and do battle with 
 It to the death — even if it ^ere — I myself!" 
 
 " Could you ? Oh, Yngve, that I shall not forget !" said 
 Hertha, " because now I imderstand how good you are ; and 
 I know that you perfectly understand me !" 
 
 Tears filled her eyes ; but she hastily diied them as she 
 said: 
 
 " But we have now been like a couple of children ; and yet 
 we have been so lately discussing such grave subjects. Will 
 you not, before the sun sets, take your evening walk ? Let 
 us see the sunset from Alma's grave ; and as we go along tell 
 me something about the beautiful old man whose acquaintance 
 I have just made, and whom I hke already. I felt my heart 
 expand whilst he was with us. That is a glorious feeling." 
 
 The two were soon on their way to the quiet grave, talking 
 the while on subjects which made the heart expand, because 
 they talked of the hfe and activity of a good man and fellow- 
 citizen. 
 
 The churchyard lay on high ground, and, from Aim 
 grave, the view was beautiful across the Klar river, the 
 meadows and farms on its banks, and the wooded region 
 beyond. 
 
 Yngve seemed this evening more fatigued with his walk 
 than usual. When Hertha sat down on the green-painted 
 bench by the grave, Yngve also seated himself as usual upon 
 a grave-mound close by, in order conveniently to stretch out 
 his suffering knee. The sun went down in glory above the 
 mirror-bright water; the evening breeze blew softly, but 
 refreshmgly, over the restmg-place of the departed ; the 
 fi-agrance of the mignonette was wafted pleasantly from the 
 grave. Yngve quietly leaned his head against the knee of his 
 friend. Thus they sate and contemplated the beautiful spec- 
 tacle before them until its splendor had paled. Neither of 
 them spoke; but to judge from the expression of their glances, 
 Yngve seemed to give himself up with thorough enjoyment to 
 the fulness of the moment by the side of his noble fnend, 
 whilst her soul released itself from the Ufe of the preseui
 
 204 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 moment to take in a remote prospect, which seemed to present 
 itself more and more clearly to her inward eye, and Avhich 
 caused the fire of her heart to burn higher, and her eyes to 
 beam "vvith a stiU more beautiful light. 
 
 Yngve observed it, but would not disturb her inward con- 
 templation, her soul's inspiration, by any question of his own. 
 He respected her silence, as in the ancient time the silence of 
 the priestess was respected to whom the Divinity spoke. 
 
 From this time the eye of Hcitha's soul really obtained a 
 clearer vision ; her heart a new hope. She often found at the 
 parsonage with Yngve her new friend and acquaintance ; and 
 the conversation which was carried on between them, and in 
 which the good pastor sometimes took part, according to his 
 peculiar humor, became, through her leading questions and 
 influence, all the more rich and illustrative. 
 
 Frequently when she walked homeward from these conver- 
 sations, it seemed to her as if her body had ^\dngs, and as if 
 she breathed -wdth fi-esli lungs. Her thoughts developed and 
 arranged themselves in a manner which gave her indescriba- 
 ble pleasure, and which astonished herself Discords dissolved 
 away before the eternal hai-mony that broke in upon them. 
 
 As she passed through the desolate ruins of the town she 
 felt as if she must break forth into singing. 
 
 When she, after such conversation, re-entered her home, 
 new hfe and the refreshment of new life seemed to enter with 
 her, and there was nothmg which did not ai-range itself and 
 become brighter under the influence of her enlightening, in- 
 vigorating, and cheerful disposition. 
 
 But we have occupied ourselves long enough with "Hertha 8 
 part ; " we must also look a little after the others Avho have a 
 part m our history, as leaves and buds in the life of a plant. 
 As on a fine dijy one goes out to make visits "^o one's friends 
 and acquaint^nr^es, to ask how they all are, and have a few 
 moments' friendly chat with them about health and sickness, 
 about marriages and deaths, about this and that in the circle 
 in which we live, so will w^e now go out and make among our 
 old acquaintance in Kungskoping a few —
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 205 
 
 SHORT VISITS. 
 
 No, ]. 
 
 PRorEssoR Methodius sits at Ms writing-table surrotmded 
 by books and spots of ink, hard at work to weld together by 
 the necessity and power of axioms the links in the chain of 
 the world's thoughts and transactions. In this manner, and 
 *' beginning at the begiiming," he will axiomatically and in- 
 coutrovertibly make it apparent how and by what means the 
 whole human race may be improved and rendered happier. 
 "Everything," says the professor, "depends upon the per- 
 fection of the system, and on the most accurate adherence to 
 the method, and on not passing over one single item." But 
 the professor had not yet got his system into a proper work- 
 ing state, the screw did not yet rightly hold, nor the cranks 
 move, as he was accustomed to say, but, nevertheless, he sees 
 the moment approaching nearer and nearer, and now, as a 
 beginning, the first sheet of " The History of the Creation of 
 the Earth and of the Human-race, together with theii- De- 
 velopment, ancient, present, and future," is going to press. 
 With secret pride and authorly joy the Professor writes and 
 re-writes, endeavoring to concoct in the best and most com- 
 prehensive manner the grand title of his work — 
 
 "The History of the Creation, and Development of the 
 Earth and the Human-race, past, present, and to come." 
 
 On the other side of the room sits Mimmi Svanberg, and 
 writes — 
 
 "My Deak Gustap: 
 
 " It is a fact that I am the best sister in the world, 
 because I have just now said No to five invitations, and
 
 206 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 neglected at least twenty-seven commissions for no othi^ 
 reason thau to sit down, according to your gracious com- 
 mands, and amuse you with the gossip of our good town, 
 which you contemptuously and high-treasonahly call, instead 
 of Kungskoping, ' Tattle-koping.' But that is too bad of 
 you. 
 
 " First, you wish to know ' how papa and I find ourselves.' 
 Thanks for the inquiry. Papa is just now sending to press the 
 first sheet of his great work, the long title of which I can 
 never remember. He — that is to say the author — is happy 
 over this first sheet, and, as usual, good and gentle as an 
 angel. I have a whole swarm of crotchets in my brain, and, 
 among the rest, have to discover how I am to get a dress for 
 Aunt Marianne, neither too coarse nor yet too fine ; neither 
 too homely nor yet too grand ; neither too old nor yet too 
 young ; neither too grave nor yet too gay ; neither too cool 
 nor yet too hot ; neither checked nor striped, and not too 
 dear ; and not too, — I don't know what, but becoming and 
 just what it ought to be. That is easy and amusing, don't 
 you think so ? But adieu now to crotchets, and let me have 
 a chat "s\dth you about all your ' inclinations and aversions ' in 
 Kungskoping. First, of the Corsair of Kungskoping, as you 
 styled the Honorable Mrs. Tupplander, because it is probable 
 that I shall shortly come into feud with her, however unwil- 
 ling I myself may be to do so. But I cannot calmly see poor 
 Amelia Hard trodden under-foot and ill-used for a by-gone 
 error, which she is endeavoring to retrieve with all her power, 
 and which she is better able to do than most in her circum- 
 stances. And if you were here I know I should have a cham- 
 pion in the fight, of which I will now say no more. Mrs. 
 Tupplander has been for some time in a great state of vigi- 
 lance, going in and going out of houses, large and small, and 
 her reticule is read} to burst, so cram-full is it of all the news 
 fihe gathers up, whether well-founded or otherwise, and I ex- 
 pect that something uncommon will proceed out of it, at aL 
 events a little piratical plunder. 
 
 " And now for your ' inclinations,' about which all sorts of
 
 THE FOUR STRTFRS. 20t 
 
 reports are abroad, and which it Avill require your whole 
 strength of mind to bear properly, 
 
 "First, your ' great inclination,' Hertha. She seems strongly 
 inclined to a young man, whose doctor and support she has 
 been ever since the great fire, and it is asserted that these two 
 will some time become one, which I heartily wish may be the 
 case, for they are a handsome and noble couple. If old Falk 
 will only not say No, because he is a young man without 
 proj^erty. In the mean time Hertha is become very much 
 better-looking and much happier than she ever was before, 
 and — it is a good thing that you are away on your own con- 
 cerns m Stockholm. 
 
 " Your ' httle incHnation,' Alina Dufva. Dear brother, take 
 care of yourself; there is an eagle which is hovering over that 
 little dove, and looks as if he wished to carry her off to his 
 nest. And it seems as if Mrs. Uggla would soon not have 
 more than four Miss Dufras to sorrow for and sigh over. 
 
 " Your ' old inclination,' Ingeborg Uggla — I prepare you, 
 my brother, for the fact, that she, perhaps, may not wait till 
 you come and bow before her. Our estimable Dr. Hader- 
 mann may, perhaps, stand in your way. I fancy that he is 
 likely to do so. The other day at a party where we were 
 both of us tolerably dull, he seated himself just opposite to 
 me, and began in this strain — 
 
 " ' Is not Ingeborg Uggla very much changed of late ?' 
 
 " ' How do you mean, doctor ?' 
 
 " ' Well, she is now so kind and active for others ; does not 
 sit always prick, pricking over her needlework, sewing at her 
 dress or her finery, as she used to be always doing — she 
 dresses herself simply, and is not always going out as former- 
 ly ; she is not always at parties, is not party-sick, as I call it, 
 but is beginning to be quiet, frugal, and comfortable.' 
 
 " ' Do you know,' said I, ' that if many gii'ls are party-sick, 
 it is because their homes are dull and joyless ? and that I think 
 is the case with Ingeborg. The mother is ' pleasure-sick,' and 
 * marriage-sick,' on her daughter's behalf, and makes her life 
 wretched. But if Ingeborg employed herself a good deal for
 
 208 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 her toilet, and made up her finery for herself, it was to save 
 her money for other purposes, because she does a good deal 
 of good silently, and has always done so, as long as I have 
 known her.' 
 
 " ' Is it possible ?' said the doctor, who seemed both asto- 
 nished and afiected. ' I thought,' continued he, ' that she was 
 one of those fine ladies who turned up their noses at poor 
 folks, and at simple creditable folks.' 
 
 " ' Then you deceive yourself^' said I ; ' Ingeborg is really a 
 fine lady, but she is at the same time a noble-minded creature ; 
 she has a warm heart for the sufieriug, and values nothing so 
 highly as a person of real worth, as for instance — yourself!' 
 
 " ' Me !' said the doctor, and became quite crunson ; ' it is 
 not possible !' 
 
 " I laughed and said, ' Ask her, and then you will hear !' 
 I then related to liini several beautiful traits which I knew 
 about Ingeborg. Our good doctor listened attentively and 
 looked quite tender-hearted, but merely said : ' How much one 
 may be mistaken !' 
 
 " And now I fancy that these two people, who hitherto out 
 of pure dread have not ventured to approach each other, will 
 come to — understand each other better. You understand me. 
 Ingeborg has, I know, long cherished a sentiment for Dr. He- 
 dermann, which she thought was unparticipated by him, and 
 that made her timid and shy ui his presence. I hope that you 
 can bear this discovery with strength of mind. But, my poor 
 brother, what will you say when I now proceed to tell you 
 about your ' fat inclination.' Set a bottle of water by your 
 side, before you read what follows. 
 
 " As you know, I like to mix in all our six or seven social 
 circles and coteries of the town, and therefore I was a short 
 time ago at one of the third or fourth rank subscription-balls, 
 which you are very well acquainted with. Aldennan-cheese- 
 monger Jonsson's wife and daughters, Adelgunda and Con- 
 cordia, were there, — all three as fair, fat, and good-temj^ered 
 as could be wished for, in the race, who you know make much 
 account of being in good condition. I determined, as usual,
 
 THE FOLTv sisT!a;s. 209 
 
 to have a little conversation with Mrs. Jonssoii, who amuses 
 ir»e greatly, and accordingly seated myself beside her dm-ing 
 the dancing and said — 
 
 " ' They really are very capital these balls, and the price is 
 so reasonable.' 
 
 " ' I don't exactly think so,' said Mrs. Jonsson blmitly, 
 ' every ball costs twelve skil lings, and in the course of the 
 evening there are hardly more than four dances, that is three 
 skillings a dance. That is dear enough, I think. And how 
 people tear about in the waltz ; enough to work all the flesh 
 off their bones ! I am sure that Adelgunda will be quite thin 
 with all that tearing about.' 
 
 " When the waltz was over, Mrs. Jonsson called Adelgunda 
 to her and they both went into the inner room. I accompa- 
 nied them, being a Uttle curious, and saw the tender mother 
 take a large sausage sand^vicll out of her bag, which Adelgun- 
 da must eat standing. 
 
 " ' You wish,' said I to Mrs, Jonsson, ' to coiuiteract the 
 effect of the violent exertion of the M'altz.' 
 
 " ' Yes, that is just it,' said she seriously ; ' it is not, you 
 may believe me, so easy to get uj) again the flesh which peo- 
 ple dance off then* bones ; and esjiecially when they are be- 
 trothed, — girls always get thin then.' 
 
 " ' Betrothed !' exclaimed I. ' Is Adelgunda betrothed ?' 
 
 " ' Yes, believe me, that she is. Did not Mamsell know ? 
 Yes, she is just betrothed to Lieutenant Krongranat. So 
 now she will have a little title of her o^na ; ay, ay, I thank 
 you!' 
 
 " I was surprised, and offered my congratulations, and look- 
 ea at Adelgunda, who stood there eating her sausage sand- 
 Avich, and looked calm, and fat, and fair, and actually quite 
 splendid. 
 
 " ' Well, that is excellent,' said I ; ' but where then is the 
 bridegroom?' 
 
 " 'He is now gone to Stockholm, to buy a few things,' re- 
 \ lied Mrs. Jonsson, mth a glance full of meaning, half at m© 
 &ad half at Adelgunda. 
 13
 
 210 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "' Yes, yes, I understand,' said I; 'I should not wonder ;( 
 Mamsell Adelgunda grew a little thinner ; it must make her u 
 little uneasy to know that her bridegroom is such a long way 
 off as Stockholm.' 
 
 " ' Oh, there's no danger,' said Adelgunda, with impertur- 
 bable calmness. 
 
 " ' Think if he should not come back !' 
 
 " ' Oh, there's no danger ; he'll come back again safe 
 enough,' said Adelgunda, 
 
 " ' And when is the wedding to be, if I may ask ?' 
 
 " ' At Martlemass,' replied Mrs. Jonsson ; ' I think my geese 
 will be fattened by that time. We shall have a large wed- 
 dmg, because all the relations must be invited, and I don't 
 beheve I shall be able to sit with my hands crossed till it's 
 over. And no help can I have from Adelgunda, for I will not 
 let her be fagging about and running the flesh oft' her bones. 
 No, I would rather be worried to death myself; that is the 
 lot of mothers and the way of the world.' 
 
 " You see now, my brother, ' the way of the world,' as far 
 as your inchnatious in Kungskoping are concerned, and I can 
 see from this distance what an efiect it produces on you ; I see 
 how you go to the stove and light — your cigar, and sit down 
 on the sofa to smoke it. 
 
 " For punishment thereof you shall now hear a little about 
 our society's affairs, our family-union. It succeeds better than 
 you, Mrs. Uggla, and Co. predicted ; nay, indeed, so well that 
 it is a pleasure to behold, and these new family-connexions 
 seem expressly calculated to make people pleasantly acquaint- 
 ed with one another, and to lead to alliances of friendship, and 
 even to some of a warmer land, as I have just related. And 
 then the visits to the houses of the poor, and the sympathy 
 excited for their circumstances; I tell you, brother, all thig 
 produces more good than you can believe ; nay, the simple 
 fact of a poor mother or father being able to pour out their 
 troubles, to speak of their prospects and wishes for their chil- 
 dren, it is like admitting fresh air into the breasts and the 
 dwellings of those who sit in darkness. Industry, comforti
 
 THE foi:r sisters. 211 
 
 and hope increase under the friendly countenance of thoso 
 who are better off in hfe. And one can sympatliise and help 
 in many ways without giving money. The Countess P. is 
 unceasingly active and kind. It is a delight to accompany 
 her on her visits to her district. The Covmt also is excellent 
 both in word and deed. Our good pastor's mfe busies her- 
 self about the children and the infant-school without intermis- 
 sion, (she is especially the mother of the motherless,) and 
 labors to obtam for the school a better situation than it now 
 rejoices in. A number of poor mothers come daily to beg 
 that their children may be there taken charge of during the 
 day, that they may be at liberty to go out and work for them. 
 I have been to-day with the pastor's wife to visit the school- 
 room into which the children were received after the great 
 fire. There was a terrific crowd, but all was neat and orderly. 
 A couple of loquacious children related to us the fate of the 
 school after the fire in the following manner : 
 
 " ' Just when the mistress had ended the morning prayer ; 
 that was on Monday, wasn't it? — Ay, it was; for you see, 
 Thursday was the fire, and on Friday everybody's heads were 
 turned, and Saturday was a hoUday ; so first on Monday the 
 children came here again, then the gentleman came m — he 
 that manages for the house. And he said, the mistress and 
 we all must get ready to pack off that very moment, because 
 the building must begin in a jiffey, spite of bm-nt-out folks. 
 •And then there was a pretty halloo-baloo, as you may believe ; 
 and we got ready to start. But just as we were going, the 
 lady talked to the works-director right well, and said it wasn't 
 a bit better than if we'd been burnt out of house and homo 
 altogether. And then the director was so good as to pack us 
 all in here altogether, and in that way we are again a school, 
 you see. But you see the worst of all is, that they are such 
 noisy folks that live in the other room, they are burnt-out 
 folks, such a lot of them ! Sometimes we are almost frightened 
 (»at of our little lives, they are so wicked, and make such a 
 dm ; all the more since the mistress has fallen sick, with all the 
 hurry and worry ; and if it had not been for Mother Amalia,
 
 212 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 we could not have got tlirough with our lives. But she is 
 such a rare one, she is ! and so clever, and teaches us so capi- 
 tal ! so — it's regularly jolly, now ! ' 
 
 " It was during dinner-time that we had this talk with the 
 child. But do you know who that ' Mother Amaha ' was who 
 went among the children and gave them their food, assembled 
 *,]iem to prayers and reading and singing, and instructed them 
 with a firmness and a motherly affection at the same time, 
 which made the children obey her as nature obeys our Lord ? 
 This ' Mother Amaha,' whom the children praised so much, 
 yes, she is no other than that same Amaha Hard whom you 
 can remember very well m her gay days, and whose later sor- 
 rowful history you also know. The infant-school had been 
 removed, or rather crammed into a room in the house where 
 she lived, and she had taken the sick school-mistress into one of 
 her two rooms, and nursed her whilst she was unable to perform 
 her duties in the school. Beside the cradle of her httle boy 
 now sits a little lame girl of nine years old, of cheerful disposi- 
 tion, with bright eyes and the most lovely voice, so that it is a 
 pleasure to hear her sing. Amalia teaches her new songs, 
 which she allows her to sing with the school cliildren, Amalia 
 always had a good heart, even in her giddy, youthful days, and 
 now she shows it, together with abihties, and a desire to do 
 good, which we had never before given her credit for. Love 
 for her child seems to have ennobled her, and developed in 
 her a maternal sentiment even for other children. If Mrs. N. 
 should not recover, as seems probable, because she suffers from 
 chronic affection of the chest, Amalia woiild probably be 
 engaged as mistress of the school, if there were not an if^ and 
 especially if Mrs. Tupplander were not in the way. The 
 world is very mijust which makes such a mighty sin of one 
 moment's false step, and pays so little regard to years of fidel- 
 ity, fulfilment of duty, self-sacrificing love, industry, and to the 
 unquestionable earnestness and power of a wish to do right, 
 A.malia seems now as if born anew, and quite happy m her 
 ti'esh occupation. If one could but see the end of it. I foresee 
 a regular struggle with our Corsair. The pastor's wife is not
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 213 
 
 nerself quite satisfied with tlie affair. But I hope that our 
 Lord will help us — I mean AmaUa, Hertha, and myself. 
 
 " Apropos of myself; I am in a fair way of losing my heart. 
 Can you guess to whom ? Why, to no other than to your 
 friend and the sworn enemy of the ladies' -society, the Protocol 
 Secretary — N. B. He is so good to our poor folks ! and m 
 that case he may be as angry as he likes with ladies'-socie- 
 ties. 
 
 " Towards me he is particularly gracious (although I turn 
 to him in all sorts of i^arish business), the reason of which I 
 opine to be, that I very often fool him into laughing. He 
 does everything that I ask of him. I have often remarked, as a 
 general rule, that what people will not do for the sake of neces- 
 sity, they win often do either for the sake of a joke or a good 
 laugh. And in this way your friend N. B. and I have become 
 very good friends. But you know what I have said, if I 
 should ever meet with a wealthy man — for I will not be poor 
 if I can help it, least of all as a marx-ied woman — ready to help 
 and do good — (in a rational sort of Avay, of course), Avhom I 
 can like, and who wiU have me — and papa along with me, then 
 — ^I wiU not promise for what may happen ! 
 
 " Now you laugh at me, and I do so too, and go and get 
 ready papa's supper, and look after seventeen other things, 
 
 " But remain for ever, and with my whole heart, 
 " Your devoted sister, 
 
 " MiMin S." 
 
 No. 2. 
 
 Mrs. Uggla sits in her arm-chair and reads the newspaper, 
 sipping every now and then her afternoon coffee. Now she 
 lays down the newspaper, takes off her spectacles, raises her- 
 self a little in her chair, and sighing with a secret satisfaction, 
 says: 
 
 *' Such a number of old ladies dead ! and three of them my 
 good friends ! — It is a fact though, that the newspapers are 
 very interesting. One learns so much from them. What,
 
 214 THE FOUil SISTERS. 
 
 is that you again, dear Ingeborg? Cannot I have any 
 peace ? " 
 
 "Not just now, mamma dear — impossible! I must have 
 fifty little children's blouses cut out by the day after to-morrow ; 
 I have not half done them, and if mamma Tvill not help me I 
 shall get into disgrace in my family, and be scolded by Dr. 
 Hedermann. I must now go with Hertha to visit our sick 
 outside the town, and if, dear mamma, you would be so good 
 and go on with the cutting-out while I am away, I shall then 
 get through my undertaking with credit; otherwise I shall 
 not." 
 
 " Well, in that case I suppose I must," sighed Mrs. Uggla, 
 rising from her chair ; " but it is very wretched with all these 
 schemes, which only give people trouble ! Now, where have 
 you put the scissors and stuff? It is quite certain that I 
 ought to have the title of mother in the cutting-out family !" 
 
 And so sighing, Mrs. Uggla began her work, half-smUing 
 the while at Ingeborg, who kissed the hand in which she 
 placed the large pair of scissors, and said cheerfully as she 
 went out : 
 
 " Only don't be too quick, mamma dear ; leave a little for 
 me to do ! " 
 
 Ingeborg went, and Mrs. Uggla began her work in good 
 earnest. Mrs. Uggla was really both more occupied and less 
 out of spirits than she used to be. Ingeborg knew what por- 
 tion of the business which occupied the attention of the family- 
 groups was calculated to caU forth her mother's interest and 
 sympathy, and this falling, as it were, into her hands, had 
 given a new turn to her thoughts and conversation. The 
 human-being — ^let naturaUsts say what they like on the sub- 
 ject — is a ruminant animal. He chews the cud of feelings and 
 thoughts, the bitter as well as the sweet, when he has time 
 for it. 
 
 " The human heart," says Luther, " is like a pair of mill- 
 Btones. If good corn is placed between them, they grind it 
 into good meal. But if they have no corn to grind, they 
 grind away themselves."
 
 THE FOUE SISTERS. 215 
 
 Witli this true observation we will proceed to our next 
 Tisit. 
 
 No. 3. 
 
 Two young laoies are walking together on the road that 
 fine evening, towards the end of summer. We recognise 
 Hertha and Ingeborg, Their steps are directed towards the 
 town. The evening sky glows with a warm but tender light ; 
 the air is calm, the crickets chirp in the grass. Ligeborg's 
 countenance, brightened by the evening flush, and animated 
 by her walk, is very unlike what it appeared in the ball-room 
 a few months ago. She now looks well, healthy, and cheerful. 
 The two young friends had walked in silence for some time, 
 when Ingeborg said : 
 
 " People say so much about a beneficent activity for our 
 distressed fellow-creatures being beautiful, but they never 
 speak of the joy it gives, nor of its beneficent, elevated 
 influence upon those who practise it. And yet it seems to 
 me that this is so great, that it is hke the reward of heaven 
 to those who labor in its service. I confess, that for many 
 years I have not felt so well and so cheerfiil in mind, as I 
 have done during these last months, when I have been obliged 
 to be actively employed for our society. Ah ! it is such a 
 good thing to be able to forget one's own poor I, and to 
 think about other people, and to work for them ; and when 
 one feels that one can be of some little use, can do some little 
 good by one's life and one's work, it elevates the mind. 
 Occupation during the day ; walks in the fresh air, on one's 
 visits to the dwellings of the poor, waft away many a germ of 
 disease, both of mind and body. Why, Hertha, should the 
 lives of so many of us be like a stagnant mere, when we 
 have both time and strength to give, and when there is so 
 much, and such countless numbers of people who need 
 them ?" 
 
 "I have often myself asked that question, Ingeborg,»» 
 replied Hertha, " but have not yet found an answer. A great
 
 216 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 deal of fault lies in the way in which society looks at the pro- 
 blem of our life, as well as in our education and position in 
 society. Much also lies in our own apathy, or, more properly 
 spealdng, selfishness. A greal deal of egotism prevails in our 
 sex ; and the feminine J is only too much inclined to see the 
 whole world in the little, narrow circle which it calls its own. 
 Many, too, there are who wish to do otherwise, but dare not. 
 In the mean time the benevolent societies, which are now 
 being established in all Christian countries, are signs of an 
 extended horizon, and a higher and more comprehensive Hfe. 
 The heart begins to expand its world. This is good, and the 
 well-inclined obtain therefi'om encouragement and guidance. 
 But I confess that the dii'ection into which it principally 
 extends itself is not sufficient for me. These works of benevo- 
 lence, as they are called, this activity for the outwardly poor — 
 does not satisfy my soul, nor the requirement of my spirit. I 
 desire an activity for the mind, a ser^'ice in the service of the 
 spirit. And — no need that it should be less 6^oc7's-service 
 than laboring for the hungry and the naked !" 
 
 " Ah, no," said Ingeborg, " the very contrary ; the bitterest 
 poverty is that of the spirit ; the most tormenting hunger is 
 that of the soul. But not many are able to satisfy it. You 
 who are one of the unusual and strong souls, you may do it, 
 and many, many will bless you for that reason. We all of us 
 need more fi-eedom and a wider future than we possess for 
 the powers which God has given us. But not many of us 
 feel the thirst for knowledge and light which you speak of. 
 The greater number of women, it seems to me, are created to 
 find their most beautiful happiness as wives and as mothers ; 
 they do not commonly covet anything higher!" 
 
 " But this is a defect, Ingeborg, and a contractedness of 
 mind in them who, being these, aim at nothing higher than 
 being merely happy. And that which beyond everything 
 else appears to me to be the fault of our sex, is 2:)recisely this 
 Tuict)nsciousness of its highest vocation. Therefore so many 
 of them live, suflfer, and enjoy as thoughtless, aimless beings, 
 ruled by circumstances instead of iniling them ; requiring
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 21 Y 
 
 everytldng from another, and living as parasites instead of 
 having life and peace in God, and living as His witnesses and 
 the benefactoi-s of their fellows." 
 
 "You speak beautiful and proud words, Hertha!" said 
 Ingeborg, whilst tears filled her eyes, " and it does me good 
 to hear them, although they show me how far I am from the 
 point of view which they assume. And many, Hke myself, 
 fettered by circumstances, over which they have no control, 
 may be able merely to raise themselves, by feebly fluttering 
 their wings, above them, — nay, many never can raise them- 
 selves before they have broken the chain of human life." 
 
 " And I too," said Hertha, smiling sorroAvfully, " am consi- 
 derably weaker than my words. I only say what I wish, and 
 
 what we ought all to be ! " 
 
 " What the devil are the grrls marching along for ?" soimd- 
 ed a harsh voice behind them, and at the same time some one 
 was heard advancing with hasty steps. They turned round 
 and saw Dr. Hedermann, who as soon as he had reached them 
 took off his hat, wiped his forehead, and said : 
 
 " I think you must have wings at your feet. Here have I 
 been on the full trot after you for the last quarter of an horn*, 
 all the way from the village yonder, in order to catch you. 
 ^ut you ran away as if you were afraid of me. Now confess 
 tnat you saw me coming, and hastened away because you 
 thought that I was going to the cottages after you, and you 
 were afi-aid of being scolded by the wicked doctor, who is 
 always finding fault ^-ith people, and especially with ladies 
 
 and their goings-on. Confess ! Was it not so ? " 
 
 But the young ladies had nothing of that kind to confess, 
 nor did they seem afraid of the wicked doctor, but, on the 
 contrary, glad to see him and to have his company the rest of 
 the way. The three were now soon in the fiill discussion of 
 their general family affairs, within the society, and of various 
 measures and proceedings with regard to the sanitary man- 
 agement of the poor children. The good doctor and Inge- 
 borg especially agreed on this subject, and while the twilight 
 gathered around them and the stars came forth in the heavens,
 
 218 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 thoughts also and plans were suggested for the destitute little 
 ones which would brighten their dim future. 
 
 Hertha took leave of her friends at her own door, and the 
 doctor accompanied Ingeborg to her own home. But the 
 couAersation which had hitherto been carried on so easily, 
 seemed now all at once to be stayed. A certain melancholy 
 silence overcame the doctor, and he answered nothing to an 
 attempt or two made by Ingeborg to renew the conversation. 
 The two became silent ; the doctor plucked now and then a 
 little flower from the dewy grass, a blossom of fi-agrant wliite 
 clover or a sprig of ladies' bed-straw, and thus they reached 
 the town and Ingeborg's home. 
 
 Here the doctor paused. 
 
 " Will you not come in and say a word or two to mamma ?" 
 said Ingeborg almost beseechingly. 
 
 " Not this evening," replied the doctor, decidedly, " but 
 another time, when I wiU ask you. Miss Ingeborg, something. 
 But — do you like field flowers. Miss Ingeborg? — simple, 
 every-day flowers ?" 
 
 " Better even than garden flowers." 
 
 " Indeed ! I could not have believed that ; but one makes 
 many mistakes in this world. "Well, it is pleasant that you 
 hke common flowers ; see, here are some. Good night." 
 
 And as the doctor gave Ingeborg the Uttle bouquet, he 
 fixed upon her a deep, strangely questioning glance, a glance 
 which went like an arrow to her heart, and awoke there a 
 feeling at once uneasy and delicious. Never before had he 
 looked at her in that way. 
 
 Ingeborg found her mother in an unusually excited state of 
 mind. An imitation had arrived to a grand entertainment in 
 
 the neighborhood, given by the Von X 's, he being a 
 
 lord of the bedchamber. " All the elite of the towai and 
 country would be there," said Mrs. Uggla, "and Baron 
 
 P and Count S ; and, Ingeborg, you must have a 
 
 new silk for the occasion." 
 
 " Now, mamma !" said Ingeborg ;" now, when such numbers 
 are without clothes in consequence of the fire. I don't feel as
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 219 
 
 if I ought now to think about a new ball-dress. Ah, no ! but 
 if mamma loves me, let me rather have the money which 
 it would cost, s»nd lay it out as I like." 
 
 " But, dear I ngeborg, it never will do to go to such a ball 
 in your old dress, everybody " 
 
 " Then do not let us go," said Ingeborg. 
 
 " Not go to the ball ?" said Mrs. TJggla with horror. 
 
 " "No, do not let us go," said Ingeborg, with more decision 
 than usual ; " I know, dear mamma, that you would go 
 merely for my sake, and I would much rather stay at 
 home." 
 
 " You might just as well be a nun, and go into a convent," 
 said Mrs. Uggla, both angry and vexed, " as you have made 
 up your mind to be an old maid, and hve a stupid unnatural 
 life." 
 
 " Is my mother then so tired of me that she wishes to get 
 rid of me d tout jyrix P" said Ingeborg ; " I am very sorry that 
 you are so tired of me, mamma." 
 
 " I am not, indeed, tired of you, my dear child," said the 
 poor old woman, sighing, " but don't you see, it is for your 
 own best interest. I know that my temper is bad, (ever since 
 your father died it has got worse,) and that I cannot make 
 your home happy, and it is distressing to me to see that you 
 must wither away in it, and lose your good complexion, and 
 have nervous headaches, and to hear people wonder that you 
 don't get married ; and I know that you might have made a 
 good match if you had not been foolish, and if you, like other 
 girls, would but take a little trouble to please gentlemen." 
 
 " Never, never again in that way," replied Ingeborg Tvnth 
 unusual emphasis. " If I cannot win a good husband othei'- 
 wise than by my dress and my dancing, then let me remain 
 for ever immarried. My /iear mother, we have hitherto only 
 thought too much about this matter. Let us now endeavor 
 not to think of it any more ; leave the whole calmly in our 
 Lord's hand, and think of something else ; for example, how 
 we can make each other happy in our home, and serve God 
 with the talent that he has given to us. Tell me, mamma, do
 
 220 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 you not think that I am looking more healthy, and that I aER 
 more cheerful than I used to be ?" 
 
 '* Yes, that you certainly are." 
 
 " And the reason, dear mamma, is because I have begun to 
 walk in another path than that of balls and suppers, and have 
 begun to labor for something else than endeavoring to please, 
 ■which is the hardest labor in the world, especially when 
 people have passed their youthful years. Will you now, 
 mamma, allow me to continue in the way which I have begun, 
 and I then promise that you may be perfectly easy and con- 
 tented on my account ?" 
 
 " You do not understand it," returned the mother mourn- 
 
 fiilly, " and I never can be easy and contented until Ah, 
 
 you do not know what it is to live a soUtary Ufe on small 
 means. But I know it, and therefore I wish you not to expe- 
 rience such a lot ; but if you will do so, then I cannot prevent 
 it. You may be an old maid and welcome for me, but it 
 would be much better to go into a convent, because then there 
 would be some credit in it." 
 
 And Mrs. Uggla in great warmth went into her bedroom. 
 
 " Would to God that we had convents in our country !" 
 sighed Ingeborg silently. " How beautiful and great to be 
 sustained by one common sanctifying spirit ; to be elevated by 
 holy songs ; to dedicate one's life in affectionate sister-com- 
 munion to a service not of the world, at peace with one's 
 conscience and with life. But no," continued she, as she 
 glanced upwards to the heavens, bright with stars, "I will 
 not sigh after the nnpossible, but will ask what God's spirit 
 requires from me in this place and at the present time." 
 
 A ray, a point of the light and hfe which announces the 
 advent of a new day, and which even in northern countries 
 calls forth new life and new creations, stirred the soul of 
 Ingeborg with the freshness of rich anticipation ; she recalled 
 to her mind the evening's conversation with Hertha and with 
 the doctor, and she felt clearly that she, too, had a vocation in 
 the present time's work of freedom, and a prospect towards a 
 new and more beautiful life.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 221 
 
 A new reliance on the fatherly giiidancc of God, and an 
 aasarance that she had now chosen the right path, the path 
 wnich He had appointed for her, filled her soul with an unusual 
 joy. Animated by this feeling, she went into her mother's 
 room, embraced her, kissed her, and said : 
 
 ** Don't be unhappy about me, mamma. All, believe me, 
 vn'i turn out right." 
 
 "liie poor unhappy mother looked astonished at the bright, 
 beaming countenance of her daughter ; but when Ingeborg 
 attempted to impart to her the feelings and thoughts which 
 occupied her whole being, she said : 
 
 '* f ou are a good girl, Ingeborg ; better than your mother. 
 You are perhaps right, but I am one of the old school. I 
 cannot follow you into all your modern theories. We shall 
 see who is right in the long run. God knows best. But you 
 must now act as you think right." 
 
 Again in her o-rni room Ingeborg laid the little bouquet of 
 "wild flowers on the table by her pillow, and thought pleasantly 
 of a fi-esh life of labor in the service of humanity, and in the 
 society of noble friends, and every thought became Uke a fresh 
 fragrance breathing clover-flower on the green field of life. 
 She would have slept well, but for the pecuUar glance which 
 Dr. Hedermann gave her at parting, and — what could he 
 mean ? asked she of herself The wicked doctor ! it was too 
 iate almost for him to give her such a glance now ! — if it had 
 been seven years ago ; — but now, now, was it possible that 
 
 Such thoughts and questionings prevented her from 
 
 sleeping. 
 
 Neither did ' Mrs. Uggla sleep. With many sighs, she 
 thought : 
 
 " To lose such a splendid chance ! but she is a simpleton — 
 and those modem notions ! She'll never be married ! never 
 be married ! Oh ho I"
 
 222 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 No. 4. 
 
 Mks. TuppLAisTDER IS in a state of great excitement ; sht» 
 throws her bag down u^^oii one chair, her cloak on another 
 her bonnet on a third, and exclaims : 
 
 " Miss Krusbjorn ! Miss Krusbjorn ! where can she be ? 
 Come, and I'll tell you the news ! Here's a pretty piece of 
 scandal ! But I don't mean to spread it ! I don't mean to lay 
 a cushion under the burden. Such an ungrateful creature ! 
 Did you ever hear anything like it, Miss Krusbjorn ? Amalia 
 Hird is come back to the town ; she has with her a child, and 
 she calls herself AmaUa Winter — I suppose on account of her 
 fxmily — and Uves in the house where the infant school is, and 
 she now goes and teaches the children. What do you think 
 of that ! Such a shameless proceeding ! Pretty instruction 
 will she give to the children who has an illegitimate child of 
 her own. And besides that, she receives, late in the evening, 
 visits from a gentleman, who, it is supposed, may be the 
 father of her child ; but who he is I cannot make out, though 
 I will know before I've done. Is not that a pretty tale ? And 
 our pastor's wife and Mimmi Svanberg can allow such 
 things ! But you see whether Hertha has not had somt* 
 underhand deahngs with them, on purpose to get a mainte 
 nance for her cousin. For they are cousins, Amalia Hard an<" 
 she ! But if I have any weight with the Directors of the 
 school, there shall soon be an end to such goings on. Is thei'e 
 nobody to be found of a creditable name and of good 
 conduct, who can undertake the managemen*t of the inflmt 
 school during the illness of the mistress ? I know of a 
 certainty there is. And such a one, and no other, shall have 
 that place as' sure as my name is Karin Tupplander. But 
 now there is a regular intrigue going on in the town. And il 
 comes of that and nothing else, that the engagement between 
 Mr. "von Tackjern and Eva Dufva is at an end — positively at 
 an end ! The girl has heard some gossip about some dispute 
 or other during the fire — all stupid talk ; and so she has
 
 THE rOIJK SISTEUS. 223 
 
 begged and prayea of iior parents to consent to her breaking 
 off her engagement. Now she is trying to become quite 
 learned, and her parents are afraid of her becoming a blue- 
 stocking, and therefore they intend to take her abroad for a 
 time. But if one betrothal is at an end, there are no less 
 tlian five others which are in progress! Young people are 
 thrown so much together by these society-famiUes, that it is 
 really frightf 1, Miss Krusbjorn ! In my time people did not 
 so easily and freely get acquainted, and for that very reason 
 modesty and good morals prevailed. My late husband. Miss 
 Krusbjorn, never once gave me a kiss even during our betroth- 
 al, but only tickled my elbow. And therefore he had respect 
 for me all his days. People did not formerly betrothe them- 
 selves so hastUy, nor make such a merriment of it as they do 
 now. A girl turned her tongue seven times in her mouth 
 before she said Yes ! She sate then at her sewing from 
 morning till night, and danced minuets at balls. She did not 
 leap and tear about in the waltz as she does now, Miss 
 Krusbjorn. But, other times other manners ! Now there 
 are no less than two of the Duf^as, who it is said are to be 
 married to the two brothers Orn ; and Hertha Falk, also ; 
 but she ought to be actually betrothed with Lieutenant 
 Nordin, because she has been his sick nurse all the summer. 
 At least it is not becoming for people to have such familiar 
 intercourse if they are not engaged to each other. And that 
 I shall let my dear Hertha understand ; and then I shall get 
 to know how it stands with the betrothal. Well, well, papa 
 Falk will have a word or two to say on that matter. But 
 now I must above all things make out who is the gentleman 
 Avho goes of an evening to Amalia Hard. He was with her 
 twice last week. 
 
 " Xow listen to me, Miss Krusbjorn ; I have promised to 
 have a coffee party on Sunday afternoon. One must see 
 one's friends sometimes, and prepare for what one has to do ; 
 and one can always make out such a quantity of puzzling 
 things when people are thus brought confidentially together. 
 Let us think how many biscuits and tea-cakes we shall
 
 224 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "equire for about twenty-five or thirty persons. Things are 
 dreadiiilly dear, Miss Krusbjorn, but still one must see one's 
 friends some time !" 
 
 After this visit on the outskirts of life, we will return to it* 
 innermost ; we will talk about
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 225 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 ^miracle of ear»h and heaven, 
 
 'fhou living breath of happiness, 
 
 Fresh breeze of the divinest bliss 
 
 To life's woe-stricken deserts given. 
 
 Thou heart that throbbest through creation, 
 
 Of gods and men, thou consolation. — Tegnkr 
 
 But we mean by this high and glorious love which really 
 deserves to be called 
 
 The fresh breeze of divinest bliss 
 To life's -woe-stricken deserts given. 
 
 "We are not speaking of its many imitations, or of that 
 dwarfish race to which people in a mistake give the name of 
 loves, and who fly abont shooting their arrows at random ; 
 butterflies which flutter from flower to flower ; " Loke's 
 fire," which kindles shavings, bums up quickly and soon goes 
 out. The " house-warming" of which people talk in Nor- 
 way, the child of habit and sluggishness ; the catch-fly which 
 is viscous in the spring, but dries up during the heat of 
 summer ; ignes-fatui, which dance upon life's swampy fields, 
 glimmer in the dark, but vanish like vapor at sunrise ; all 
 these and many other symbols of love have their prototypes 
 in life, yesterday as to-day ; and we will let them live their 
 Bttle life, if they "wiil only keep to the night, and not give 
 themselves out for any more than they really are, not set up 
 any claim to the nanie of true love. 
 
 Love is not love, 
 Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 Or bends with the remover to remov* 
 
 u
 
 226 TiiK ]"<)i;n sisters. 
 
 Oh, no , it is an everilxeJ ina; Ic, 
 
 That looks on tempt'sts, and is never shaken; 
 
 It is the star to every wandering bark, 
 
 Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
 
 Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips ana che<^k9 
 
 Within his bending sickle's compass come 
 
 Love alters not with his hrisS hoars and weeks, 
 
 But bears it out even to tiie edge of doom.* 
 
 'R-iie love loves the eternal in its object, and the nobler the 
 object the more the sacred flame increases, feeding itself with 
 esteem, approval, admiration, a divine and human joy over 
 the good and the estimable in- the beloved, sometimes also a 
 divine compassion over his deficiencies, when at the same time 
 the sonl is noble and the desire only after good. Happy thou 
 who lovest a noble object, — yes, even if thou art not beloved 
 in return ; thy whole life will be ennobled and enlarged 
 thereby ; thou thyself wilt grow by thy love, grow up in 
 heaven, and there be umted with thy beloved in the bosom of 
 eternal love. If, however, thou lovest thus, and art thus 
 loved in return by thy beloved ! — 
 
 Thus did Yngve and Hertha love each other Avith all their 
 souls' best power. The more intimately they became 
 acquainted, the more pure and inward was the joy which 
 they experienced in each other ; the more they felt themselves 
 to be deeply united. But the serious character of their 
 intercourse ; the subjects which furnished them with conver- 
 sation and thought kept in long abeyance the magical 
 enchanting sentiment which the poet calls 
 
 The heart which throbs through all OTSwtljsn, 
 
 wnicn Tnrougnuux; all nature cioiues m wonaerrni oeatuy oo- 
 ject for object, which makes the sea luminous, gives fragrance 
 to the flower, causes the birds to sing and adorn themselves 
 ■with the most brilhant plumage, and which makes one human 
 being see in his fellow human being, not an equal but a being 
 
 * Shakespeare's Somieta.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 227 
 
 of superhuman charm and superhuman power, whose mere 
 step and voice make the pulses beat with wonderful joy, and 
 whose silent presence even changes the whole existence to a 
 festival. 
 
 Yngve and Hertha had begun a league of friendship of the 
 most Spartan-hke severity, which should exclude every weaker 
 and commoner feeling. The inexpressible charm in each other's 
 being, the grace, the fascination, awoke love which stole upon 
 them like summer into the bosom of spring, as the sunbeam 
 steals into the folded bud and opens it for a new life. If Her- 
 tha in her intercourse with Yngve had always continued to be 
 the jjroud woman, whose words were keenly caustic, she would 
 stiU have contmued to be an object of esteem and also of ad- 
 mu-ation, but she would not have become dear to his inmost 
 soul. The affectionate and womanly heart, however, which 
 constituted the very essence of ter being, had, during her inter- 
 course with him, more and more revealed itself The upright 
 and noble disposition, the clear insight into truth which she 
 continually saw in Yngve, the manly gentleness which was the 
 principal trait in his character, had operated upon her, as a 
 calm bright day upon the tumultuous waves of the ocean agi- 
 tated by the storm of the night. Unconsciously to herself her 
 mind and her language became more and more gentle, her 
 whole demeanor more beautiftil and more agreeable, and not 
 unfi-equently did the bright, flashing glances exj)ress a deep 
 though imprisoned warmth of feeling. 
 
 Yngve resigned himself with joy, and with the fulness of 
 his whole heart, to the sentiment which so powerfully and 
 so blessedly began to captivate his soul. Not so Hertha ; she 
 resisted the feeling which attracted her towards Yngve. The 
 view which she took of woman's position and Hfe, especially in 
 the north, and the effect of her own peculiar cu'cumstances, 
 had made her suspicious and proud as regarded men in gene- 
 ral, and caused her to oppose herself, as it were, to the impres- 
 sion which Yngve made upon her. He was, in fact, a man, 
 and she had said in her heart, " I will not love ; I will not 
 give my soul and my happiness into the power of a man !"
 
 228 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 And this determination, together with the gloomy backgrouiid 
 of her own Hfe, which caused her to regard love and its joys 
 as a game for weak souls, a game too mean for the earnest- 
 ness of human life, gave to her a calmness and a power of self- 
 control much beyond what was in the power of Yngve. She 
 said to herself, " I mil be Yngve's friend ; I will be to him as 
 an elder sister, and love him as my brother!" But Yngve's 
 amiable image became ever more and more an abiding light 
 in her soul, and accompanied her even m her dreams. 
 
 One night it seemed to her that she was floating through 
 space, striving to ascend upwards towards the home of the 
 sun, but a weight as of lead lay upon her breast, she could 
 not breathe, and felt herself sinking downwards towards a 
 black, bottomless abyss, which yawmed beneath her. But all 
 at once the weight was hfted from her breast, she breathed 
 more freely, and felt herself sustained as by a new power ; 
 more easily and more securely than before she floated upAvards 
 towards the world of light, to " Himla the lofty palace, fairer 
 than the sun." At that moment she perceived that she was 
 not alone. A beaming angel with the glow of morning on 
 his beautiftil countenance floated towards her, took her hand, 
 and riveted upon her his beaming gaze, and that gaze was — 
 Yngve's. 
 
 Another time she again saw herself beneath the verdurous 
 tree of the world ; the lofty Nornor sate by the Urda fountain. 
 But the severity which she had formerly seen in their counte- 
 nances was softened to a maternal earnestness, and she heard 
 them say : 
 
 Hail to the spirits heroic, 
 
 They who have seen ; 
 
 They who have honestly striven 1 
 
 They shall win victory ; 
 
 They shall be welcome ; 
 
 Shall drink of the waters of Urda I 
 
 She saw the hfe-renewing fountain leap up, — oh, so clear, 
 so wonderftilly cleai* and glorious ! whilst brilliant rainbows
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 229 
 
 encircled its silver- white water-mist. She advanced toAvards 
 it ; and the Nornor filled a golden beaker with water from 
 the fountain and gave her to drink. But just when, with a 
 beating heart, she raised it to her lips, behold it was in the 
 hand of a youth, and the youth seemed beautiful and good as 
 Balder is described in the songs of the Edda ; he smiled upon 
 her as he extended to her the beaker, and she recognised in 
 him — Yngve. 
 
 Hertha made a sketch of this dream in her diary, and wrote 
 beside it : 
 
 " Oh, Yngve, much could I lose, much could I resign, but 
 not my hope of deliverance and my faith in thee !" 
 
 Under the influence of these feelings, Yngve and Ilertha 
 endeavored, almost involuntarily, to give each other pleasure 
 in a noble way, even in externals. Yngve adojited more and 
 more, both tn style and manner, the purity and delicacy wliich 
 distinguish the true gentleman. This pleased Hertha, and, 
 in reality, it pleased himself. Hertha, on the other hand, 
 although always grave and severe in her taste as regarded 
 dress, yet had a pleasure in wearing the colors which Yngve 
 said became her. Day by day they became more lovely to 
 each other, and more haj^py, but also more indispensable to 
 each other. 
 
 When the year advanced to midsummer, and the Apollo- 
 butterfly, with his large white wings and purple spots, flutter- 
 ed over the wild-roses, which in such luxuriance adorn our 
 hedges and woods, — when the harvest-crops blossomed and 
 waved fragrantly in the wdnd, Yngve and Hertha went out 
 together almost every day (he supported on her arm), now 
 along the harvest-fields, where the corn softly whispered, or 
 through the many chambers of the fir-woods, where the sun- 
 beams, as if bashful, stole between the lofty columnar bolls, 
 and the Linnea sent forth its perfiime from the moss, A\-!ii;'h 
 spread soft velvet carpets for the feet of the wanderers ; o- l)y 
 the river, which flowed like crystal between its fl'n\ .Ty 
 banks; and they conversed on subjects wliich cause tlic s .ul 
 to expand, or they walked silently in the deep and sweci v(;u-
 
 230 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 sciousness of their souls' inward commnnion, whilst they 
 listened to the soughing of the woods, and to the almost 
 spiritual melody of the thrush, and all was at once life and 
 peace. 
 
 Only when Hertha remained away for a day, she would 
 find her friend, on her next visit, in an excited state of mind, 
 vexed and irritable, but at the same time amiable, and 
 Hertha then immediately introduced some topic of general 
 interest, that the storm-cloud, which she called "a little sel- 
 fishness," might be dispersed, and Yngve soon forgot his an- 
 noyance. 
 
 Sometimes, during their wanderings, Hertha turned 
 Yngve's attention to the beautiful objects of nature, for which 
 she, like most women, possessed a deep feeling, but of which, 
 like the greatest number also, she possessed no scientific 
 knowledge. She inquired from Yngve about the trees and 
 flowers, about stones and insects. Yngve told her their 
 names and their peculiar qualities. He took up the lovely mosses 
 and leaves which grew around them upon the granite hills, 
 and showed her their wonderful formation, and told her of the 
 beautiful colors, and beneficial properties Avhich the Creator 
 had bestowed upon these, the most humble children of nature. 
 He talked to her about the sparks in the stone, and the life in 
 the insect. 
 
 " How happy you are, how happy you men are," sighed 
 Hertha, "who are able to learn so much! How fearfolly 
 ignorant are women in general on a vast number of subjects, 
 which at the same time lie so near to them, and whicli might 
 give such rich nourishment to their souls and to their whole 
 being. Thus, for instance, nature — we love it ; we live in the 
 midst of it. It has essential resemblances to ourselves, and 
 yet it is foreign to us, and we live amid it Uke strangers. 
 What do we know, what do we feel of its marvellous wealth, 
 order, and life ?" 
 
 " Ah !" replied Yngve, " do not say so ! you feel, you com- 
 prehend much more in the general than we do. We know 
 something about outward distmctious, classes, orders, divisions ;
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 231 
 
 but you comprehencl nature in its fulness — its innermost, its 
 divine life." 
 
 Hertha shook her head, and said mth a smile : 
 " I might thank you for the compliment, if it did not resem- 
 ble many other compliments by which men endeavor to 
 compliment us out of those spheres of life where they yet are 
 happy to be themselves able to live. I know, Yngve, that 
 you beheve and intend what you say. But if it be true that 
 God gives us the ability in a pre-eminent manner to compre- 
 hend the life and the divine in nature, would this ability be 
 diminished by our knowing something more about this Ufe, 
 its arrangement and character, its thoughts, if I may so ex- 
 press myself? Would it become less rich to us, less divine if 
 we were able to study it, to learn to thhik about it, learn to 
 comprehend it with awakened minds, instead of dreamily 
 losing ourselves in it ? Would not nature then really nourish 
 our souls, and we perhaps precisely because of our deeper 
 feeling, and with our sight strengthened by the microscope of 
 science, might be able to make observations, discoveries, 
 which — now are not made, and which, therefore, natural 
 science or human life have not the benefit of Should we not 
 by that means become acquainted Avith the actual divine pur- 
 poses of nature, instead of, as is now commonly the case, our 
 own dull fancies ? In my youth I used to look at the rocks, 
 the trees, the grass, and all objects of nature, with unspeaka- 
 ble longing, Mashing to know something about tlieir kinds, 
 their hfe, and their purpose. But the want of knowledge, 
 the want of opportunity to acquire it, has caused nature to be 
 to me as a sealed book, and still to this moment it is to me a 
 tantalising, enticing, and ever retreating Avave, rather than a 
 life-giving fountain which I can enjoy, and enjoying, th;uik 
 the Creator." 
 
 "Is it really so?" said Yngve ; "oh, then it ought to be 
 different. You are right, you are perfectly right! And I 
 bad not thought correctly on the subject. What egotists we 
 men are, after all ; will you begin to-morrow a little course 
 of natural history ? I will teach you anythhig that I know.
 
 232 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 It is not mucli ; but it might serve as an entrance-card, and, 
 by the help of good books, you could afterwards go on by 
 yourself But in the beginnmg Ave can study together." 
 
 '•Thank you, Yngve, you are very kind!" said Hertha, 
 and looked at him with a glance which shone through tears ; 
 and then she added, in an undervoice, as if to herself, whilst 
 she glanced over the landscape around them, which was 
 clothed as a bride in all the beauty of a northern midsummer, 
 " I shall yet become better acquainted with thee ! Oh, life, 
 after all, is so beautiful !" 
 
 These words, from Hertha's lips, gave a feeling of heavenly 
 joy to Yngve's heart, because he heard in them the fulfilment 
 of his heart's wish, which was to reconcile her "VAdth life. 
 
 And life became more and more beaiitiful to them whilst 
 they thus lived and learned together, contemplating God's 
 work and Avisdom in nature, in history, and, above all, in that 
 history Avhich alone is able fully to explain both the order and 
 disorder of the former. Because Hertha understood more 
 profoundly than YngA^e that — 
 
 Xature is a fallen angel, 
 
 But in the fallen angel's face shine clearly 
 
 The lofty features of a heavenly lineage, 
 
 And Daphne's heart beneath the bark is throbbing. 
 
 They never spoke of love, but they called it forth, they 
 loved it ; and its delicious fascination cast a magical light over 
 their life, and all whicli surrounded tliem. They AA^alked pure 
 and peaceful m each other's sight, illumined by the eye of 
 God, as were the first loving couple on our earth in the 
 Garden of Paradise.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 233 
 
 THE SERPENT. 
 
 Hektha said one day to Yngve : 
 
 " Yngve, help me to explain this old primeval story : but 
 first I will read it aloud to you; its contradiction has long 
 tormented me." 
 
 Hertha read : 
 
 " Now the sei'pent was more subtile than any beast of the 
 field which the Lord God had made. And he said unto thg 
 woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of 
 the garden ? 
 
 " And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the 
 fruit of the trees of the garden : 
 
 '• But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the 
 garden, God hath said. Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye 
 touch it, lest ye die. 
 
 " And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely 
 die: 
 
 " For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then 
 your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing 
 good and evil. 
 
 "And when the woman saw that the tree was good for 
 food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be 
 desired to make one "svise, she took of the fruit thereof, and 
 did eat, and gave also unto her husband " 
 
 Here Hei'tha stopped, looked at Yngve, and said : 
 
 " She had, after all, a great spirit, this our first mother, 
 because she sought for knowledge, sought to become as God, 
 even at the risk of losing life and all its daily enjoyments. 
 She obeyed a mighty inspiration." 
 
 " But the serpent tempted her," suggested Yngve.
 
 234 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " Yes, so it is written ; but now listen to me, Yngve. If 
 knowledge — the ' being made wise ' — ^is a means of attaining 
 perfection, of becoming as God, — and we know of ourselves 
 that it is a necessary means by which we can gain a knowledge 
 of God and his truth, — when then is it said that this knowledge 
 is forbidden ? And when the love of knowledge, the desire 
 for a higher consciousness, was the power which drew on Eve, 
 wherefore is she punished, and after her all her daughters — ■ 
 by an exclusion from the tree of knowledge, which taught good 
 and evil, and by the same rule from the tree of life, which 
 gives her permission to live for ever ? How irrational is that, 
 how unjust, — at least so it seems to me, — how unreasonable, 
 how severe appear both laAvgiver and judge !" 
 
 " From the Christian point of view, certainly," replied 
 Yngve, " and when we look at portions of the nari'ative in 
 detail and literally — taking it for granted that our translation 
 from the original is j^erfectly faithful. And to me it has 
 always seemed in these parts to bear traces of the darkness 
 which belongs even to the profoundest views of nations during 
 their age of childhood. But the basis of its idea seems to me 
 true, and those detailed portions of the narrative may be 
 explamed from this point of view. For in order to become 
 possessed of a full self-consciousness and to be a free agent, the 
 human being must pass through a strong temptation. That 
 is (in consequence of the spiritual-natural-law) for the human 
 being to make of his own Zthe centre, instead of the true 
 centre — God. Selfishness (as pride and love of pleasure) is the 
 temptation, ' the serpent' wliicli caused the human being to 
 fail in his allegiance to his rightful Lord and Benefactor, and 
 too soon for the sake of his own greatness, to grasp after that 
 which was the forbidden fruit — forbidden only during the 
 period of childhood, Avheu the human being could not digest 
 it. Obedience to, and faith in his highest benefactor, were his 
 first duties. The interdict which the Creator had imposed 
 He could have removed ; He could have appointed a time 
 when He, the fountain of all knowledge and wisdom, would 
 have taken the hmnau child bv the hand and led it to the tree
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 235 
 
 of kno^ ledge, and taught it what Avas good and what was evil. 
 Knowledge as well as pleasure are forbidden only to the selfish 
 principle in humanity. Man must attain to them only through 
 firm obedience and love to God. The faU was this — that the 
 selfish principle conquered ; that the human being became a 
 god to himself, and sought to obtain the highest, but not by 
 means of the Highest. The natural and inevitable conse- 
 quences of the fall are the loss of Paradise, the degradation, 
 the darkening of the whole human world. The restoration 
 begins with a new inspiration in the human consciousness — 
 how bright your eyes are, Hertha !" 
 
 " My soul is bright, Yngve. Oh, I see it — I understand it 
 now, — the powerful impulses of our first mother, the fall, the 
 long excommunication, and — the restoration, by means of the 
 new birth, in the soul of the new Eve. I see her sit at the 
 feet of the Saviour, see her illumined by his glance and guided 
 hj his word, impelled by a new, a higher inspiration, again 
 approach the tree of knowledge and thence pluck the fi'uit for- 
 bidden no longer, and give it to her friend — her husband. 
 The last witness of the Creator in the first Creation will come 
 forth as the last "«-itness of him in the second, bearing witness 
 to him fi-om the depths of conscience, and through a higher 
 knowledge, a more spiritual comprehension of Hfe and reahty. 
 Do you not see it as I do, Yngve ?" 
 
 " I see it is so if — the witness is j^ure, noble, holy in desires 
 and inchnation. The deeper tho insight the higher the know- 
 ledge. But the life of the heart is ever the strength of the 
 woman, and the means of the highest knowledge is pre- 
 eminently for her a higher love. Don't you think so, 
 Hertha ?» 
 
 " Yes, she must love truth, God above everything." 
 
 Both were silent. A painful feeling seemed to enter 
 Yngve's soul, and after a moment he said with a deep and 
 earnest voice : 
 
 " Can any one love God, can a human being understand his 
 love and how to love him witliout having first loved — his 
 fellow ? Can you do it — are you unlike me ? I never rightly
 
 236 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 understood what the love of God is, until I learned to love — 
 a fellow-creature." 
 
 Hertha was silent. Yngve regarded her with a tender in- 
 quiring gaze, as he continued — 
 
 " Could you not, with your whole heart, he able to love a 
 fellow-creature — your equal ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Hertha hesitatmgly, " but I should be 
 afraid of the selfish — the harrowing effect of such a feehng." 
 
 " But if you were loved by some one who, hke yourself, 
 loved the highest, should you then be afraid of respondmg to 
 his feelmg, Hertha — would you be afraid of loving — me ?" 
 
 Hertha grew pale ; cast a glance at Yngve, hke a flash of 
 lightning which is quickly concealed by cloud, and repUed 
 softly—" Yes." 
 
 The extraordinary confession in this word fanned to flame 
 the long-cherished fire in Yngve's breast ; he seized Hertha's 
 hand, pressed it to his breast, as he exclaimed — 
 
 " Beloved, beloved Hertha ! Be not afraid of me ; love me 
 as I love you ! God has given us to each other — I feel that 
 deeply. Oh, you are mine, mine !" 
 
 But whilst Yngve thus gazed on Hertha with burning 
 love, her countenance became paler and paler, and when his 
 warm lips rested upon her lips and her eyelids, she whispered 
 with unutterable depth of feeling : 
 
 " Oh, Yngve, why would you break the peace between us?" 
 
 She felt near fainting. " Give me a glass of water," she 
 said hastily, to remove Yngve and to gain time to collect her- 
 self. Yngve rose. 
 
 It was not agreeable that the pastor's wife came in at that 
 moment and interrupted the convei'sation of the lovers. And 
 the deUcious melon and other fruits which she brought with 
 her did not prevent Yngve from wishing the good lady at the 
 place where pepper grows, nor yet that Hertha, after a mo- 
 ment's pause, availed herself of her presence to leave the room. 
 
 Yngve followed her outside the door, when he said quickly, 
 and with an anxious tenderness, "Hertha, I must see you, 
 must talk with you to-morrow. I shall come to you !"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 237 
 
 *' Not to-morrow, Yngve," replied Hertha ; " to-morrow I 
 shall be prevented from seeing you ; but soon, if you wish it." 
 
 But there was in Hertha's expression a sadness which 
 Yngve could not understand, and which made him uneasy. 
 
 "Have I distressed you?" asked he. "Oh, just bear in 
 mnid that I have loved you so tenderly and so long in silence, 
 that I " 
 
 It was not agi'eeable that the pastor now came and inter- 
 rupted the declaration ; and he saw very plainly that he was 
 not welcome ; he exclaimed therefore in a jocular way : 
 
 " Oh, oh ! You have got something to say to one another 
 which I have no right to hear, I can see ! Well, well, I'll go 
 my way, and — when you have need of the old clei'gyman, you 
 can just let me know, children. I'll come immediately with 
 the book !" 
 
 But before he had left the spot, Hertha, with a hasty 
 salutation to both gentlemen, was speeding rapidly away from 
 them. 
 
 On her way home she endeavored to read her own soul, to 
 obtain a clear knowledge of her own excited feelings. What 
 had happened to her ? That which is of the most common 
 occurrence, — which happens to the most ordinary woman 
 from the most ordinary man ; her feelings had awoke under 
 the burning ray of the kiss of the beloved. Was she displeased 
 by his bold advance ? No, in reality not. This is never dis- 
 pleasing to a woman on the part of the beloved, when she 
 knows that the fire which burns ia it is not that of earth. 
 And Hertha could not be mistaken in the heart-felt reaUty, 
 the truth of Yngve's feelings. But still she mourned over this 
 their outburst, and the feelings which it awoke in her; 
 mourned as the sylphide mourns when, snared in the magical 
 web, she sees her wings fall ofi". Although enchanting as the 
 fragrance-laden zephyrs of the tropics, were the feehngs which 
 now were kindled in her soul, she still regarded them as 
 a fallmg away from the pure region in which she had hitherto 
 lived and breathed with Yngve. 
 
 *' It can never again be between us as it has been !"
 
 238 THE FOUR, SISTERS, 
 
 thought she with uneasy regret, as she felt that Yngve had 
 obtained a poAver over her which she did not vohmtarily 
 concede to him, and to which she would not willingly submit 
 herself. And then the old serpent of suspicion whispered : 
 
 " Perhaps he talked thus ; perhaps he behaved thus to the 
 fii-st girl whom he loved, and then — deserted. Perhaps she 
 was, like me, weak ; and I foolish, like her ! — Yngve has been 
 really inconstant — perhaps guilty — did I not once see an 
 
 acknowledgment of that in h's looks ? And I might Nay, 
 
 Yngve, you ^oU not find me so easily won. It is not for such 
 sentimental talk, for such selfish love that I have, through the 
 whole of my Ufe, longed and suffered, and now have been 
 graciously gifted by God with hght and hope ! — No ! away with 
 such wealvness ! away with these selfish feelings and thoughts !" 
 
 And Hertha walked with a proud step through the ruins of 
 the consumed town. Then came to her mind the remem- 
 brance of Yngve's noble and amiable character ; the remem- 
 brance of the beautiful devotion which he had shown towards 
 her ; of the light which in so many ways he had let in upon 
 her soul ; and she was filled with sentiments of unspeakable 
 tenderness and gratitude. And these, in connexion with her 
 pure, moral feelings, soon showed her a way to reconciliation 
 and harmony. 
 
 " I will talk openly with him," thought she, " I will open 
 my soul to him, and if he be the Yngve whicn I beheve him, 
 the noble Yngve whom I can love, he will hsten to me and 
 tinderstand me, and become clear before himself and before 
 me. I will take his hand and lead him into the most holy 
 sanctuary of hfe, and let a holy fire consume the burning coals 
 of sensual pleasure from our Hj)S, out of our hearts. I will 
 sanctify both him and myself in the service of the Highest. 
 Thus only, Yngve, can you become mine and I yours," 
 
 And Hertha's heart beat again freely and sti'ongly, and her 
 eyes beamed with a fire so pure and so glo^ving, that a seraph 
 of heaven might have beUeved it beheld one of its fellows m 
 this wanderer on earth. 
 
 " How bright your eyes are ! How handsome you are
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 239 
 
 after all, Hertlia !" said the young sisters, wlio rushed to 
 meet her on her return home. 
 
 "I think you are the handsomest creature in the whole 
 M'orkl !" said the enthusiastic Uttle Maria, embracing her. 
 
 Hertha kissed her sisters and smiled. She now felt herself 
 cheerful and happy. 
 
 But when late in the evening she went into her chamber, 
 she found, on the table beside her bed, a letter, at the sight 
 of which an unpleasant sensation involuntarily passed through 
 her. Its contents were as follows, in a handwriting unknown 
 to Hertha : — 
 
 " Friends of Hertha F. consider it to be their duty to 
 inform her, that the young man in whose company she is most 
 days, and to whom there is every reason to suppose that she 
 is betrothed, pays in the mean tim.e secret visits to a person 
 
 of not very good repute, living at No. 3, Lane, and who 
 
 is at the same time considered to be the father of her child. 
 This person calls herself Amalia Winter." 
 
 " It is a lie !" said Hertha coldly, as she flung the anony- 
 mous letter on the floor, " a scandalous lie ! Yngve, we have 
 seen each other for six months ; we have opened our souls to 
 each other, promised each other truth and integrity, and you 
 should have been able — no, it is not true !" 
 
 And she trampled on the letter with proud scorn and 
 anger. But she was feverish through the night, and did not 
 sleep a wink. The following day she occupied herself busHy 
 with the affau's of the family, and was incessantly employed 
 in them. But when twilight came, she put on her bonnet and 
 shawl, and went to Amaha's lodgings. 
 
 As she approached the place it was already very dusk ; 
 nevertheless she saw a man going out of the house, who 
 passed down the street in the direction opposite to that from 
 ■ which she came. True it was dusk, and he passed into the 
 twilight hke a shadow ; nevertheless the figure, the difficulty 
 Math which he walked, supported by a stick, an indescribable 
 but unquestionable feeling, which did not permit of a doubt, 
 told her his name.
 
 240 THE POTJR SISTERS 
 
 THE NAME. 
 
 Hertha entered Amalia's room in a state of feeling which 
 is easier to imagine than to desci-ibe. She foimd her alone, 
 sitting beside the cradle of her child. AmaUa was evideutly 
 in an excited state of mind, but not alone fi-om suffering, 
 though she appeared to have wept. She rushed towards 
 Hertha with agitated impetuosity, embraced her, and buried 
 for a moment her face on her shoulder. 
 
 Hertha released herself softly from her arms, took her head 
 between her hands, and gazed with her deep, earnest eyes 
 into those of her cousin, and said : 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, Amalia ? You are excited ; 
 you have been weeping." 
 
 " Yes," repUed Amalia, turning away and re-seating herself 
 by her child ; " yes, but not from sorrow. I have had a 
 pleasure, a comfort ; it will henceforth be better for me — 
 better than I deserve. But do not ask me any questions, 
 Hertha. I cannot, must not say any more !" 
 
 " You must tell me more, Amalia !" said Hertha, with 
 terrible earnestness ; " you mvist tell me the name of him who 
 is the father of your child." 
 
 " Impossible !" rephed Amalia. " Do not ask it from me, 
 Hertha! Everything, everything except this, will I tell you. 
 I have sworn not to reveal it. I should make him unhappy 
 should impede his future success No, no, never !" 
 
 " Answer me," said Hertha in a A^oice which sounded 
 almost awful, it was so calm, so low, yet at the same time so 
 fearfully imperative ; " is the name — Yngve Nordm ?" 
 
 Amalia started up. " My God, Hertha ! How, how have 
 you come to know the name ? I have never mentioned it to
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 241 
 
 •iny one ; I had sworn to conceal it, I vowed, tliis to Lira, 
 because — I was more guilty than he. My inexcusable levity 
 "was to blame ; I seduced him, and not he me ; that is the 
 truth — the whole truth. He was weak, but he is not wicked. 
 He will now make amends; — he will provide for his child. 
 Oh, he is in reality noble and good !" 
 
 AmaUa might have continued talking thus ; but Hertha 
 scarcely heard her after the first acknowledgment. The 
 room, the earth, the whole world, swam round as it were. 
 She felt dizzy, and was obliged to seat herself She sate 
 immoveable, with her head bowed into her hands, and with- 
 out speaking a word. At length Amalia approached her, 
 asking anxiously : 
 
 " Hertha ! why are you sitting so ? Will you not look at 
 me ; nor speak a word to me ? — Are you ill ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Hertha, rising slowly, " my head feels v.ery 
 strange, and — I must now leave you, Amalia ; but you shall 
 soon hear from me. Farewell !" 
 
 She was deathly pale, but the deep twilight prevented Amalia 
 from seeing it. 
 
 Amaha followed her anxiously. " You Avill soon be better 
 again," she said. 
 
 " I hope so — I trust so." 
 
 " And you'll soon come again to me ?" 
 
 " Soon — as soon as I can." 
 
 "And you'll hide the secret — the name — as if in the grave." 
 
 " As if in the grave," repeated poor Hertha, in a half-sup- 
 pressed voice, as she left the room. 
 
 She was obliged to pause when she reached the stairs. She 
 sate down on one of the steps and rested her head against 
 the wall, and wished for a moment to lose consciousness and 
 life together. People coming up the stairs obliged her to rise. 
 She walked homeward like some one in a frightful dream. An 
 intolerable burden lay upon her breast, and eternal darkness 
 seemed to spread out his black wings over life and the wliole 
 world. When she reached the desolated portion of the towni 
 she was again compelled to stop. She seated herself on a 
 15
 
 242 THE rOUU Slt^TERS. 
 
 blackened piece of wall. " Was the extremest truth — the ex- 
 tremest reality — of life and reality, a ruin ? Yngve ! Yngve!" 
 
 She reached home ; her young sisters rushed into her arms. 
 
 " You have stayed so long ! — and it is so dark ! We have 
 been so anxious !"" 
 
 Hertha kissed her darlings, asked them to leave her alone 
 for a moment, and went into her own room. 
 
 Before long she came out again, evidently calmer, in order 
 to join the rest of the family at table. The Director and 
 Aunt Nella were more loquacious and more lively than usual. 
 Hertha, as usual, attended to all at table, ate and drank also 
 a little, but still the young sisters every now and then cast 
 upon her questioning and almost sad glances. They saw that 
 everything was not right, that something out of the common 
 way, that something very sad had happened to her. 
 
 When the family separated for the evening, Hertha took her 
 sisters with her into her room, seated herself^ and putting an 
 arm round each of them, said — 
 
 " Little ones, I must go a journey which will require a week, 
 perhaps two, and you must, in the mean time, manage the 
 house, and see that everything is comfortable for papa and 
 aunt. 
 
 " Early in the morning you, Maria, must give this letter to 
 papa, and afterwards you must read the papers to him in my 
 stead. Martha must in the meantime undertake the house- 
 keeping. Here are the keys of the larder, the cellar, and the 
 store-room, and there the housekeeping money for the remain- 
 der of the month. Let me see, my little Martha, that you 
 can attend to this as well as you have already begun, as my 
 adjutant. Endeavor that I may be able, on my return, to 
 praise you both. Whatever you can think of as best for the 
 comfort of papa and aunt, that do. You must also think of 
 me, my dear children, and pray God for me, and I will — I will 
 write to you, and tell you the day when I shall return, and 
 perhaps I may be back before you expect. In any case I will 
 write to you." 
 
 The young girls began to weep.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 243 
 
 "What has happened?" asked they; "you are so pale, 
 Hertha ? And your hands are so cold. Something distress- 
 ing has happened ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but don't ask any more, now. Some time, perhaps, 
 I may be able to tell you — but now, good night, little sisters ; 
 good night !" 
 
 She clasped them in her arms, kissed them, and desired them 
 to go to their own room. But they clung sorrowfully round 
 her neck. 
 
 " Do not forsake us !" besought they, weeping, " we have 
 nobody to cling to and look up to but you. You are our only 
 support, and the only joy we have in the world. Don't leave us !'* 
 
 "No, no, never!" said Hertha, with decision, "never, with 
 my soul and my heart ; and if I go away for a little while, it 
 is only that I may be able all the more calmly to stay with 
 you, my sisters, my darlings !" 
 
 But Hertha could not separate herself from them until they 
 had covered her with their caresses and tears. 
 
 " Sister ? — if there is a word which is pleasant to me to 
 hear — pleasanter than the sweetest music, it is that word, sis- 
 ter !" said on one occasion to me a mother, with two separate 
 families of daughters, whom she had taught to speak that 
 word of love. 
 
 Happy the home where the name " sister" is spoken in love 
 and in joy. Heaven's innocence and the communion of angels 
 live and bloom there in sweet images, the growth of an inspi- 
 ration which, in scarcely any other relationship, is so pure, so 
 free, and so refreshing. Xo attachment is at the same time so 
 tender and so joyous, so productive of innocent mirth, of fresh, 
 ever-young laughter, and at the same time so affluent of peace, 
 of heartfelt love, as that between sisters. 
 
 But iinhappy the home where the word " sister" is spoken 
 in bitterness by bitter hearts! There lives the rust which 
 " eats into the heart," and there the intercourse which makes 
 life wormwood, and " embitters the well-springs of earth." 
 Sisters, who live together in this spirit, take courage and 
 separate !
 
 244 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Sisters, who during a heavenly communion afforded ma 
 heavenly joys, and bitter sorrow only Avhen Heaven took you 
 from me : beloved sisters, it is of you that I think when I 
 speak of the sweetest and most purifying sentiment in the 
 world, that which binds sister to sister, and enables, through 
 this love, much to be borne and much to be overcome. 
 
 When Martha and Maria were together in their little cham- 
 ber, they gave for a while free vent to their tears, as well as 
 to conjectures which did not atford them any Ught. Finally, 
 they endeavored to console themselves with thinking what 
 they should do in the house during Hertha's absence, and 
 which would give her pleasure on her return. And these lit- 
 tle plans for the future cast a roseate glow over the increasing 
 darkness of evening. 
 
 Hertha, on her pai't, had felt in her sisters' embrace the 
 renewal of a firm resolve to Hve for them ; but for that pur- 
 pose, precisely for that purpose, must she now leave them for 
 a little time ; she felt that she must do it. 
 
 Reader ! either by thy own means, or by means of another, 
 has a misfortune happened to thee, which thou knowest to be 
 irremediable ; which has struck thee with a kind of panic ter- 
 ror, and cast a fearful burden upon thy breast, and taken 
 away, as it were, thy breath, and dimmed thy sight — so that 
 it seems to thee as if thou couldst never more be happy, never 
 more breathe freely — then thoii v>n\t understand what Hertha 
 felt. If thou dost not die of this blow, or become insane, — as 
 sometimes happens, — then will a strange unrest take posses- 
 sion of thee, and thou wilt feel that in order to escape the 
 ravenous beast which threatens to tear thee to pieces, — the 
 night which seems as if it would swallow thee up, — that thou 
 must fly, fly away from the time and the place, away from 
 thyself, if possible, — away from the horrible oppression which 
 weighs upon thee, from that which is there, as a corpse, a 
 ghost before thine eyes, and which prevents thee from think- 
 ing or feeling aright, by the horror of its silent, sorrowful pre- 
 sence. And if thou so feelest, oh, well for thee if thou oanst 
 take wings and fly away from the time and from the place !
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 245 
 
 It is indeod merely an earthly, physical means ; but it is never- 
 theless a little helj) to obtain breathing room, and to give the 
 soul time and power to reflect upon itself, and upon that which 
 has happened. Travel diverts the mind. The black demon 
 which has eaten into our hearts is lulled to sleep by it. We 
 do not incessantly feel him stabbing and gnamng, and Ave are 
 able to gain strength to combat with him ; yet not alone from 
 travelling and action. 
 
 In order to escape fi-om the torturing pang which had over- 
 come her, and to avoid the visits and proximity of Yngve, and 
 to gain time for reflection on the line of conduct which she 
 ought to pursue with regard to him, — in order to endeavor, 
 from her ovm soul's depths, to obtain some light in the dark- 
 ness which now surrounded herself and him, Hertha felt that 
 she must go away for a time, — whither, was a matter of 
 indifference to her — only away, away from him. 
 
 Through the whole night she paced to and fro in her cham- 
 ber, restless and sleepless. Sometimes she stood by the wmdow 
 and looked up to heaven, but without prayer, and almost 
 without thought, except that dark abyss of doubt which had 
 so long lain like a Nidhogg at the root of her soul, and which 
 now again lifted up his head through the covering of flowers 
 which had latterly been placed there. The stars gUttered 
 brilliantly and coldly, and darkness overspread the earth. 
 
 At daybreak she dressed herself for her journey ; took a 
 little travelling-bag which contained some necessary articles 
 of clothing, together with a small sum of money, the gift of 
 her father, and with this in her hand set out on the way to the 
 harbor, which was between one and two miles distant from 
 her home. 
 
 Like Rudolph some months before, with the sense of a vast 
 unhappiness in her soul, she walked solitary along the dreary 
 high road to seek for rest somewhere, a long way from home. 
 " Poor Rudolph ! " sighed Hertha, involuntarily. She felt a 
 reproach of conscience for having almost forgotten him (al- 
 though she had written to him and he to her more than once 
 since his flight), for the feelings and thoughts which had dur-
 
 246 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ing the last few weeks engrossed her whole soul; and she 
 suddenly took the resolution of visitmg him at Copenhagen. 
 
 " I will see him ! " thought she ; " I can understand him 
 better than formerly, and that will help hun to bear his 
 imfortunate life ! " 
 
 And perhaps also help myself, whispered a low voice in 
 Ilertha's soul. There was now an object in her journey 
 beyond herself, and this object shone like a little star on her 
 gloomy path. It gleamed above her in the dark heaven ; it 
 lighted and guided her steps. 
 
 There is nothing which, for energetic and at the same time 
 truly feminine characters, is so sustaining under their own 
 calamity, or which is endowed with so great a power of com- 
 pensation, both for soul and mind, as the being able to comfort 
 and support another — above all, a friend. By the thought 
 of this the soul holds itself fast, as by an anchor, while the 
 stonn rages and the waves heave aloft, she feels her own 
 danger less ; — it may be that she forgets it. 
 
 When Hertha reached the harbor she found one of the 
 steam-boats just leaving for the western coast, and its dark 
 column of smoke circling aloft towards the clear blue heaven. 
 As soon as she was on board, the plank was drawn to shore.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. £47 
 
 THE JOURNEY; 
 
 GIAJJTS AJCD FAIRIES OF LIGHT. 
 
 What a poem is that gigantic work in Sweden, which 
 unites the Baltic with the Cattegat, and which we call the 
 Gotha Canal, the " blue ribbon of Sweden ; " what a poem, 
 from its history and natural scenery, the grandeur of its design 
 and execution, its great or dehghtful memories ! For three 
 hundred years have the kings of Sweden, from the first Gusta- 
 vus till the fourteenth Charles, assisted by the genius and 
 the great men of the country, Barsk, Polhem, Swedenborg, 
 Thunborg, Platen, striven for its completion, supported by the 
 arms and the money of the people. Opposed by natural impedi- 
 ments, and by all kinds of difficulties, after great adversities 
 and desolating war, amid internal discords, after great losses, 
 as that of Finland, have the rulers and the nation always anew 
 turned themselves to this internal great work, and have begun 
 together to labor upon it, as if in the common understanding 
 that it was in the internal power and life of the country that 
 the nation beheld their secure support and the hope of their 
 future. 
 
 What a poem is now the journey from the town of Birger 
 on the shores of the Maler Lake and the billows of the Baltic 
 Sea to the town of Gustaf Adolph, on the shores of the Catte- 
 gat, as we pass on the waters of " the Blue Ribbon " through 
 the interior of the country, where primeval mountains open 
 for us, thundering, their gates, and we are borne up on invisi- 
 ble arms, higher and higher, from plateau to plateau, till we 
 reach at length the uninhabited primeval forest, the bosom of 
 wild mountain lakes then silently break our way through the 
 bosom of the rocks, and are lowered from them into enchant-
 
 248 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ing lakes which we had just seen lying like Biirrors far below 
 our feet, set in frames of fertile country gemmed with towers 
 and castles and cottages ; then speed on through glorious 
 parks, whose leafy trees familiarly caress us in passing with 
 their green boughs ; then emerge into a wide, Avild coimtry, 
 in which the giants of nature wrestle, withovxt, however, dis- 
 turbing or impeding our way — 
 
 Wild waters down the cliffs are thundered; 
 
 Rage the Gold Island's powers unblest, 
 But genius comes — the rock is sundered, 
 
 And a ship lies on its breast ! — 
 
 and thus are we borne by the mighty arms of science into the 
 bosom of the loveliest scenery, and out uj^on the broad, calm 
 animated waters of the river Gotha; and all this, whilst a 
 whole world of ancient memories and present romance accom- 
 panies us on the journey with its vala-song ; its battles ; its 
 rvmes, its ancient saga, legend and history ; its heroes' graves 
 and landmarks ; giant-cauldrons and holy wells ; ancient castles, 
 ruins and so-called convents, — with here and there some 
 grand or tragic memory, — or the erections of the present day 
 in factories and forts, splendid gentlemen's seats and small red 
 cottages beneath the shade of fir trees, all in perpetual and 
 ever-varying change ; a wonderous runic song, in which the 
 wood-lady and the statesman, the mountain king and the 
 beautiful maiden, the water fairy and the queen, fiction and 
 reality contend for the laurels of poesy by the life-Uke pictures 
 which they present, the feelings which they awaken. 
 
 No point, diiring the whole journey, is however more 
 remarkable than that of TroUhatta. Thou hast left the heights 
 and the mountain-lakes behind thee, V/ettern with its spires 
 and fertile shores ; thou art in the great Wenner lake, into 
 which four-and-twenty rivers pour their waters from the pro- 
 vinces and the heights around ; thou hast left at a distance the 
 fruitful terraces of KinnekuUe, and beneath the gloomy shadows 
 of Hunne and Halleberg thou advancest into the forests of 
 "Westergylln. The waters of Wenner swelled by the four-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS 249 
 
 and-twenty rivers accomi^any thee, and cast themselves clown 
 the moiintam in the wild, stormy fall of Trollhatta. But thou 
 art at peace in the forest. Thou art borne silently through 
 its pine-wood parks upon the granite moimtaiu, and hearest 
 merely at a distance the thundering contest of the giants of 
 nature. Thou emergest from the forest just where the foam- 
 ing force vnth its powerful blue-green mass of waters, is all 
 at once changed to the deep broad river, which between 
 idyllian, flowery, and pleasant shores hastens towards a back- 
 gromid of blue-grey, distant, billowy mountains, on to the 
 sea. 
 
 And poets' songs are in his praise indited. 
 And ships and men go with him as he goes , 
 As guest by affluent towns he is invited ; 
 And fertile fields his devious path enclose. 
 But they detain him not ; he onward hasteth ; 
 The gilded tower, the fertile meadows by, 
 He hasteth ever onward, till he casteth 
 Himself into his father's arms to die. 
 
 The River by Tegxer. 
 
 How solemn, at the same time earnest and agreeable, is the 
 scenery of the very spot where this transformation takes place, 
 and the steamer emerges from the forest-covered mountain by 
 two arms between green wooded hills, to drop down into the 
 free waters of the river ! What a contrast is this peace with 
 the wild combat, the fall and the locks hard by, the crags and 
 thefallofTroUhatta! 
 
 Tlius, once upon a time, stood here, beautiful and affec- 
 tionate, Ogn Alfafoster^ the foster-child of Alferna, when, for 
 her sake, Starkodder, her giant-lover, wrestled and fought a 
 mortal fight beside these rocks, Avith her betrothed husband, 
 Hergrim. Yet she was not calm, as this scenery, for she 
 loved not the human wari-ior who conquered ; she loved 
 Starkodder the giant, and attended him in death. 
 
 But we have forgotten ourselves in these memories, and we 
 now return to the poor traveller, whom we accompanied
 
 250 THE FOUR SISTEKS. 
 
 hither, and who was scarcely in a state to enjoy the scenes ot 
 which we have spoken. 
 
 The morning wind blew cold, as the steam-boat worked her 
 way over the dancing waters. Silent and perturbed in mind^ 
 Hertha, wrapped in her dark grey woollen shawl, seated her- 
 self and watched the heaving Avaters, the careering clouds, the 
 flying shores, the whirling, beckoning trees, the leaves of 
 which were already tmted with the frosts of the autumnal 
 nights, and which seemed to be wafting to her their farewells. 
 Hour after hour passed on, and Hertha sate thus immoveably. 
 It was as if the pulses of hfe had stopped under the pressure 
 of a convulsive hand. 
 
 By degrees several gentlemen-passengers emerged from 
 their berths below, on deck. They smoked their cigars, spit 
 about, and made the deck filthy. They noticed the lady 
 with the fine figure dressed in black, and her immovability 
 excited their jocular remarks. They called her " the statue," 
 and began to wonder whether she actually were flesh and 
 blood ; whether she had the power of motion, could talk, and 
 so on. A sort of half-gentleman detei-mined to make the 
 attempt of giving life to the statue. 
 
 He seated himself beside her, smoking his cigar, every puff 
 fi'om which the wind blew in her face. She turned her head 
 mechanically away. 
 
 " Aha !" thought the new Pygmalion, " she can move. Let 
 me now see whether I cannot make her talk !" And he 
 began, between two puffs of cigar-smoke : 
 
 " Very — fine weather to-day ;" puff, puff, " but rather 
 cold ;" puff 
 
 IsTo answer from the statue ; not a movement. 
 
 Fresh puffs of cigar-smoke, spitting, smoke, puff, and a fi-esh 
 attempt : 
 
 " A very fine view ; — don't you think so ? — Have you any 
 commands ?" 
 
 The statue now turned her head and looked at the speakei-. 
 He drew back a little, and looked confused, again drew back 
 a little, returned to his cigar, spit, hummed a tune, and
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 251 
 
 went back to the tobacco-smoking group, to whom he whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " She is certainly mad. She looked at me with such a 
 glance, I was really frightened. It was a regular Medusa, 
 hu » 
 
 " A very well-grown Medusa !" said a tall, elderly gentle- 
 man, with a connoisseur's glance at Hertha, " and not so ugly 
 either ; though she is just now in a bad humor ; she might let 
 one talk to her when she is in a better temper." 
 
 Many gentlemen and ladies were now on deck, and the seats 
 were all occupied. The elderly gentleman seated himself by 
 Hertha, smoked and spat. After he had continued to do this 
 for some time, he said a few words to her in an imder-tone. 
 She made no reply ; again he spoke, and this time Hertha 
 rose and went to another part of the deck. But every place 
 was occupied, and she remained standing for a moment as if 
 hesitating. A yoimg man, with a pair of earnest, intellectual 
 eyes, rose and offered her his seat. She accepted it gratefully. 
 It was close to an elderly lady, who quickly began to talk to 
 Hertha, and when a few monosyllabic words gave her the hope 
 of being listened to, she proceeded to give an account of her 
 family, the purpose of her journey, her course of life, her 
 state of health, and all her confinements. She also inquired if 
 " the lady" were married or unmarried ; desired to know her 
 name, and informed her that her own name was Tallquist. 
 
 Hertha's young protector went below deck, but soon re- 
 turned, with a little printed tract in his hand, which, with a 
 polite and kind expression, he offered her. The tall gentle- 
 man now stood quite near Hertha, blowing great puffs from 
 liis cigar. The younger stayed also near her, but without a 
 cigar, and, while he seemed wholly occupied in looking at the 
 scenery through his glass, he thrust himself between Hertha 
 and her persecutor. She felt that she had a protector near 
 her, and a sense of gratitude was, therefore, the first feeling 
 which she experienced, through the four-and-twenty hours, 
 which was not painftil to her. Apparently hstening, but, in 
 reality, perfectly deaf to the old lady's account of her life, she
 
 252 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 sat with her eyes riveted upon the tract which she held in her 
 hand. By degrees some words attracted her eye, and she 
 read as follows, in Danisli : 
 
 " To be agonised as I am, and still may be, is certainly 
 what no one, humanly speaking, can call desu-able ; neverthe- 
 less, it may be that which, in a much higher state, I may 
 thank God for as the greatest benefit. To be agonised and 
 brought low, even for a noble cause, is, I can very well 
 understand, something which one, humanly speaking, cannot 
 desire, something which one would wish to avoid at almost 
 any price, if, by experience, one were not exalted by the 
 thought, that in a far higher point of view, this extreme of 
 suffering may be regarded as the greatest benefit." 
 
 Hertha turned the page and continued to read : 
 
 ^^ April 11. In torments which a human being has seldom 
 survived ; in agonies of mind of eight days' endurance, which 
 were enough to deprive the mind of reason, I am yet 
 sufficiently 
 
 " My wishes have often been for death, my longings for the 
 grave ! my desire that my wishes and my longings might be 
 fulfilled. Yes, O God ! if thou wert not Almighty ; if thou 
 couldst not all-powerfiilly compel; if thou wert not love 
 which could move irresistibly ; on no other condition, at no 
 other price could I be induced to choose the life which is 
 mine, again to be embittered by its unavoidable consequences, 
 the effect which mankind produces upon me. 
 
 " Yet thy love, O God ! prompts the thought of daring to 
 love thee, inspires me under the possibility of being all- 
 powerfuUy compelled — -joyfully and gratefully to desire to 
 become that which is the consequence of being loved by thee 
 and of loving thee ; a sacrifice offered for a i-ace to whom the 
 ideal is a foolishness, a nothing, to whom the earthly, the 
 temporal, are the only real." 
 
 Hertha did not inquire by whom this heart-rending con- 
 fession was made ;* but she felt that a combating and suffering 
 
 • S. Kirkegaard, in his laat " Moment"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 253 
 
 heart throbbed here in unison with her own, embittered, bleed- 
 ing, loving, and stUl, though as in the midst of the flr<.mes, seek- 
 ing to lay hold upon God ; and she felt less solitary in the world. 
 
 When the steam-boat reached the locks of Ti'ollhatta and 
 the company on board landed, as is usual, to visit the fall, 
 Hertha mechanically accompanied them. 
 
 Before long, however, it seemed to her intolerable to make 
 one of the merry, chattering groups of people, and she 
 dropped behind them all. As she was thus walking sohtarily 
 along the footpath, through the wood, she observed that some 
 one was follo^ving her ; presently he had overtaken and joined 
 her, and Hertha recognised her persecutor of the morning, 
 who now, with an inquisitive and bold glance, s'^ized her hand, 
 as he said : 
 
 " Why are you walking here by yourself; you who, never- 
 theless, seem so charming ?" 
 
 Hertha snatched away her hand, and looked at the speaker 
 with a glance which made him say : 
 
 " Bless me ! there's no great harm done ; and surely one 
 may speak to a ghl without hei' " 
 
 Hertha looked round impatiently for some of her travelling 
 companions, and just at that moment saw Mrs. Tallquist 
 coming after her, puffing and out of breath, calHng : 
 
 " Listen, Mamsell ! Mamsell ! How many locks are there 
 between here and Stockholni? Tallquist and I have laid 
 a wager about it ; but I don't know precisely whether I am 
 right ; I want to hear what others know about it, and Tall- 
 quist is in full chase after me." 
 
 " I really cannot tell you," replied Hertha, " but we can 
 very soon find out," added she, anxious to have Mrs. Tall- 
 quist's company until she fell in with the remainder of the 
 party; and Mrs. Tallquist had so great a desire to com- 
 mimicate one thing and another to her, that she had no need 
 of asking for her company, especially as Mr. Tallquist now 
 overtook them, still more out of breath, and still more 
 pantingly than his wife, but by no means in so good a humor 
 because of her unexpected escapade after Hertha.
 
 254 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " I only wanted to ask about the locks," said Mrs. Tallquist, 
 " and to know which of us was right." 
 
 " The devil take the locks !" growled Mr. Tallquist. 
 
 The Tallquists, Hertha, and her unhidden fellow-traveller, 
 soon reached the rest of the company now assembled on the 
 heights above the Hell-falls, and just about to continue their 
 way to the lower locks at Aker. 
 
 When at this latter place the company again went on board 
 to continue their joui-ney, Hertha was not with them. The 
 wild thundering falls, the solitary region, the wood-covered 
 mountains around them, the contest between the giant powers 
 of nature and the strong symboUc language in which they 
 seemed to address her, attracted her to them with a congenial 
 power. It seemed good to her to rest here and get rid of the 
 people ; to get rid of the familiarity of the intrusive gentleman 
 and the communications of Mrs. Tallquist. 
 
 When the steamer burst forward through the locks of 
 TroUhiitta on its way into the beautiful river, Hertha was sit- 
 ting alone on Gull, or Gold Island, with the thundering falls 
 roaring around her, and the words of Kirkegaard in her 
 hand. The deafening thunder of the fall seemed to her a 
 lullaby which would hush to sleep the wild combat in her 
 breast, and for the moment it did so. When evening came, 
 and with it darkness, she went to the Inn, and ordered and 
 obtained for nerself a room. 
 
 She passed a sleepless night. With the first flush of 
 dawn she went out. She wandered from the falls of Toppo 
 and GuUo, through the wood, and over the rocks, down to the 
 Hell-fall. She stopped for a moment at the Giant's cauldrons 
 in the primeval rock, only to recommence her wandering 
 immediately, from the necessity of allaying the torture of tlie 
 soul by the weariness of the body, and to gain a moment's 
 forgetfulness of life and suffering — a moment's sleep. But all 
 the more seemed darkness and the horrors of darkness to en- 
 compass her soul. Energetic natures are able to suffer a great 
 deal without being crushed or subdued ; nevertheless, there is 
 a state in which they have g'-eat difliculty in sustaining them-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 255 
 
 selves. It is that in which sleep deserts them and gives them 
 up a prey to dark phantoms which take possession of their 
 souls. Sleeplessness, which converts the four-and-twenty 
 hours into one unbroken day, and compels the dry, hot eyes 
 to stare unchangingly at one single dark point, is the old hag 
 who felled Thor to the ground after he had already wrestled 
 victoriously with gods and giants. Suffering, in its extremest 
 form, causes to us the loss of our higher consciousness, our 
 light and our strength. If any one had asked the restless 
 wanderer by the fall of TroUhatta, at this time, what she was 
 seeking for, she might have replied — " Myself!" 
 
 The words of Kirkegaard no longer consoled her. The 
 spirit which spoke to her in them was too much absorbed by 
 the combat, had not yet passed victoriously through it. In 
 the dark tumultuous state of mind in which she then was, she 
 threw the printed tract into the foaming waters. It whirled 
 round for a moment, sank, and vanished from sight. How 
 beautiful to sink thus, to vanish in the cool depths, and forget, 
 and rest ; — the thundering, whirling waters would be heai'd 
 there no longer ! 
 
 " Yngve ! Yngve ! How is it possible !" was the dark 
 unceasing thought in Hertha's soul, which lay there as the 
 coil of a serpent. And truth and love, abhorrence and scoi*n, 
 alternately attempted to unfold it — in vain. Her thoughts 
 began to be confused, and she dreaded insanity. 
 
 There stands on Gull Island a solitary blackened pine-tree, 
 which with its crown of wild, distorted branches, hangs over 
 the abyss, as if it would tumble into it, a strange demoniac 
 figure, which calls forth dark thoughts, and seems to be the 
 offspring of such. Did it spring up in the foot-pi'ints of the 
 beautiful giant-bride who once stood there, and hurled herself 
 into the abyss to escape the misery of life ? 
 
 The dark figure riveted Hertha's gaze with giant power. 
 It pointed into the abyss below, and seemed to say, " Down 
 there ! down there !" It was a moment when everything 
 appeared dark to her. But there came a caressing breeze 
 and fanned her burning temples, and made a murmur among
 
 256 THE FOrU SISTERS. 
 
 the pine-trees of the rock, Hertha seemed to feel the caresses 
 of her young sisters, and to hear their words : 
 
 " Do not forsake us !" 
 
 And she tui-ned away from the tempting falls, determined 
 to make every jx)ssible effort to gain a few hours' sleep, and 
 by that means to clear her mind. She obtained for herself a 
 soporific draught from the medical man at TroUhatta ; but it 
 afforded her no repose, only a trance fuU of fever-phantasies. 
 
 She was in a church at the hour of midnight ; the full 
 moon shining solemnly amid dark, threatening clouds, was 
 visible through the chancel window. Silent human figures 
 sate like shadows in the chancel, and at the farther end stood, 
 against a dark background, a lofty, golden crucifix, which 
 shed a pale gleam of fight through the chancel. 
 
 The organ pealed, and a voice sang — 
 
 " O Lamb of God, which takest away the sins of the 
 world !" 
 
 With that, the shadow-like forms advanced to the altar and 
 knelt there. Hertha, impelled irresistibly, accompanied them, 
 and partook of " the body and blood of Christ," with the 
 rest. 
 
 She then turned to leave the church and went to Yngve ; 
 she saw him lying in his morning slumber, handsome and 
 smiling, on his bed. But she awoke him, and said to him 
 with sorrowful earnestness : 
 
 " Yngve ! thou hast lied before heaven and before me, and 
 thou must now die. But I have sanctified my lips by the 
 blood which can make thee pure, and I am come to sanctify 
 thee !" 
 
 And she bent over him and kissed him. With that 
 Yngve's red lips grew pale, and a marble rigidity crept over 
 his features and his limbs. He gazed at her with a reproach- 
 ful and yet affectionate gaze, until it was set as in stone. 
 She closed his eyelids, and he was dead, and with him all her 
 joy in life.
 
 titt: yavn sts-tf.p.^;. 251 
 
 She saw another world, a wonderful kingdom of death and 
 Bilence. There was a great city with gates and streets and a 
 market, but of graves, and monuments he^vn in stone. Xot 
 a tree, not a flower, not a blade of grass was to be seen 
 among them, A starless, steel-grey sky expanded itself over 
 the graves, over the city of the dead, wliich seemed to ex- 
 pand into infinitude, over the whole earth. Deep twihght 
 I'ested there, and not a sound, not a tone of life was heard, 
 except a soft soughing which sometunes raised itself, then 
 sank and died away like deep beseeching sighs. 
 
 When Hertha's eye became accustomed to the deep 
 twilight which prevailed, she saw human forms by many of 
 the monuments which lay there in prayer, and again and 
 again laid their hps to the walls of the graves. They seemed 
 in the mean time to be exjDecting something. Hertha also 
 stood by a monument, a single column, which she embraced 
 with her arms and held clasped to her breast, and she very 
 well knew who lay below, and why her warm heart throbbed 
 against the hard stone. Thus passed on many, many years, 
 and many of the supplicating ones by the graves grew weary 
 and left their posts, to return to the cities and the pleasures 
 of Hfe. But Hertha did not grow weary, but stood faithfully 
 with her warm heart beating against the hard granite stone, 
 wishing for the moment when they who are in the graves 
 shall hear the voice of God, 
 
 Suddenly a light blazed in the east, and a strong voice cried 
 aloud, " The moment is come !" and the earth trembled and 
 the graves opened. The column which Hertha embraced 
 moved, and she felt that a heart was throbbing against her 
 heart. She held Yngve in her arms, and he opened his eyes ; 
 but oh, what a gloomy earnestness in his look as he said — 
 
 " Why hast thou woke me — only to lead me to judgment ?" 
 
 Hertha replied : " I have won thee from judgment, 
 Yngve, won thee, by watching and many prayers. Only 
 canst thou love me? Remember our bond, and speak the 
 ti-uth !" 
 
 Yngve's eyes turned away from hers and gazed in another
 
 258 THE Fom sisters. 
 
 direction, at a shadowy form which stood near, as if waiting 
 for him, and which bore the features of Amalia. Hertha at 
 this felt her heart contracted by an unspeakable pain, and 
 soon she again saw herself alone, wandering like a shadow 
 among the graves in the kingdom of the dead. 
 
 Such, and many more, were the delirious dreams amid 
 which Hertha's soul sought for some point upon which it 
 could rest. 
 
 One morning, after a dream kindred to the foregoing, she 
 rose and wandered into the country, in a direction opposite to 
 the fall, the thunder of which now began to be a torment to 
 her. She heard the bells ringing for church, and saw the 
 country people going churchward in their holiday attire, 
 whence she perceived that it was Sunday. She followed 
 them to a little country church, at the outskirts of the forest. 
 It was a simple, but tastefully built stone church, with a 
 spacious chancel, at the far end of which stood a tall, gilded 
 crucifix, which shone out brightly from the dark background. 
 It resembled that which she had seen in her dream. She 
 stood stUl, The peasants, in the costume of the country, 
 filled the church. The clergyman went to the altar. Hertha 
 could not follow every word which he said, she merely imder- 
 stood that he invited all to come to a holy — a consolatory 
 communion. And when the hymn was sung, " O Lamb of 
 God," and the congregation rose and advanced to the altar, 
 Hertha accompanied them, and bowed her weary head at 
 the foot of the cross. 
 
 The peacefulness of the church, the mystical words which 
 were uttered by the priest, the mild, earnest countenances which 
 surrounded her, among which many were elderly, some blind, 
 the sight of the cross, the thought of him whose ty[3e it was, 
 all operated forcibly on Hertha's soul ; and when the clergy- 
 man approached her and looked at her vnih an astonished and 
 hesitating glance, which she returned by an expression of so 
 much sufiering and so earnest a desu-e, he could not refuse her 
 the holy Communion, to which, however, according to the 
 Swedish ecclesiastical laws, she was not entitled, as her name
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 259 
 
 had not been announced for that purpose, nor had she been 
 present at confession. But he invokmtarily obeyed the inspi- 
 ration of the moment, certain that he had now before him a 
 human being who needed the means of grace. Hertha receiv- 
 ed them, bowed her head, and — ^her tears flowed apace. 
 
 A lofty and glorious form stepped between her and the 
 beloved but guilty man, who caused her anguish ; stepped 
 between her and the whole world, which now vanished from 
 before her eyes. At His heart, at His feet, she laid herself 
 down, her life, her sorrow, her beloved, his sin ; his and her 
 own life, everything, in deep and perfect resignation, and she 
 felt herself to be saved. Like the fainting wanderer of the 
 desert, she laid herself down at the margin of the fresh foun- 
 tain, and drank in new life. 
 
 Silent festival ! Who can tell the hidden miracles of salva- 
 tion which, ever since the hour of thy institution, thou hast 
 performed, and stUl performest. The forms of religion may 
 vary, churches become antiquated and changed, generations 
 come and go, but thou, silent, mystical festival, still remainest, 
 always the same, gathering together the scattered flocks, feed- 
 ing the souls with the same body and the same blood ; and all 
 the mysteries of existence centre in thee and beam forth from 
 thee. Silent, sacred festival, communion of all sects, mystical 
 bond of soul with soul and of all with the One ; preserver of 
 the life of love, in a world which is poor in love, yet which 
 requireth love ; preserver of hope ; nurse of the community 
 of heaven, so long as thou art administered in the church, or 
 thence sent out to the chambers of the sufiering, so long still 
 lives therein the life and power of Christ ; and if I, as well as 
 many others, look with longing towards a Church of the fu- 
 ture more true and more active than that which now, in our 
 north, rules the consciences of men, it is because they then may 
 more generally, more inwardly, come to thee and partake of 
 thy fulness, silent, holy festival, fountain of life ! 
 
 When Hertha wandered back through the soughing pme- 
 forest towards the fall, she felt that everything was not lost, that 
 One remained immoveable, firm, and steadfast ; one whom she
 
 260 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 might love and look up to, and attach herself to with all her 
 soul and all her might — the Shepherd and the Friend of every 
 soul. The falling waters, the roaring storm, all the disquiet of 
 human life, they had then- time and thek termination, but 
 He remamed for ever. They were the means, not the end, 
 because He was there, and she had been made cognisant of his 
 presence, his life. In the world was strife, but in Him she 
 could have peace, that she clearly felt. A calm, lofty, lovefiil 
 resignation possessed her soul, together with a grateful joy 
 over the change which she experienced, and the experience 
 which was her portion. 
 
 Such an experience is of inestimable worth for the whole of 
 life, and gives to the soul a certainty of the being of God, and 
 of his immediate relationship to her, which nothing is ever- 
 more able to shake. 
 
 And either He lifts the soul up to his heart and lets her 
 taste of the joy which no tongue can express, or bends her to 
 the earth, as the winds the reeds of the shore, so that she is 
 satisfied that He is with her and that He is love. In the deep- 
 est mnter's niffht this is her lio^ht. 
 
 Such were Hertha's thoughts as she went homewai-d through 
 the solitary wood, and in that light which now shone into her 
 soul all the dark enigmas of life seemed cleared up. Even the 
 confused, distorted image of Yngve became transfigured. Was 
 it not the doctrine which she heard from his Ups, and which 
 now she comprehended with a new feehng of its truth ? Could 
 he indeed be false — be a Uar ? Must not aU be a Ue rather 
 than this be true ? Hertha came hastily to the determination 
 to put the question to himself, and let the truth be judge be- 
 tween them. Fii-st, however, she must see Rudolph. She 
 now felt herself in a condition to benefit him ; and again serene 
 and determined, she resolved on the following day to continue 
 her journey to Copenhagen. She merely required a night's 
 rest. It was now the seventh night since she had slept. 
 
 This night she slept deeply and soundly. But the struggle 
 of the soul re-acted on the body, and she awoke in the morn- 
 ing with a terrible headache. She sent for the medical man
 
 THE FOUR sisxr.RS. 2G1 
 
 of the place, and asked from him a copious blood-letting. It 
 was with a sort of bitter pleasure that she watched the blood 
 flow imtil she nearly fainted. Could she but, with the whole 
 of her blood, have purchased Yngve's fi-eedom from blame ! 
 After the blood-letting and a sedative draught, Hertha remain- 
 ed lying comparatively free from pain. Thus she lay for the 
 Av^hole day with her eyes closed, and only now and then a tear 
 which slowly forced its way through her dark eye-lashes down 
 her pale cheeks, made known the silent sorrow of her soul. 
 
 Thus was she still lying in the evening, when she heard the 
 door open and some one softly enter the room ; but in tl^e 
 behef that it was one of the maid-servants of the house, who 
 had promised to look after her, she continued to lie still with 
 her eyes closed. She then felt a warm kiss impressed upon 
 her hand, which was at the same time bathed with tears. Her- 
 tha opened her eyes, and beheld a lovely young girl on her 
 knees, by her bed, watching her with an expression of the 
 most heartfelt love : 
 
 " Oh, pardon me! pardon me!" besought at- the same time 
 the sweet voice of Eva Dufva, " and don't send me away. I 
 heard that some one, who appeared very ill and out r[ spirits, 
 lay here, and I ^vished to know if I could be of any service to 
 her, because I myself also am sorrowful and sick at heart. 
 But now that I recognise you I cannot leave you. Oh, let me 
 remain with you till you are well again. Let me be like a 
 sister to you, or a servant. Who knows, perhaps the insigni- 
 ficant and the weak may be of some Uttle service to the strong. 
 That would be so agreeable to me. I will be so silent, so very 
 silent ; but I cannot leave you. It will do me more good to 
 be with you than anything else." 
 
 " How did you come here? " asked Hertha, as she caress- 
 ingly laid her hand on the young girl's neck. 
 
 "With my parents," replied Eva; "we are on our A^•a^• to 
 Copenhagen, where my father has business, and they iiave 
 allowed me and my sister Marie to accompany them, to di.L'i-t 
 my mmd and to enliven me, as they say. For I have oc.n, 
 and still am, very uneasy in my mind ever since — but I will
 
 2€2 TlIK FOUR S1STER8. 
 
 tell you all about that afterwards ; if I only may remain with 
 you. You will dissipate the uncertainty of my mind ; you 
 will enable me to become clear as regards myself and Avhat 
 I ought to do ; no one can do this if you cannot. Oh, let me 
 stay with you ! I would give up everything in Copenhagen, 
 if I might only remain here by your bedside. Sister Marie 
 can go with my parents to Copenhagen." 
 
 " Ask your mother to let me speak with her," said Her- 
 tha; and Eva, who heard a consent in the words, kissed 
 Hertha's hand passionately, and hastened to her mother. 
 
 It was soon arranged between Mrs. Dufva and Hertha, that 
 Eva should remain with the latter itntil she was sufficiently 
 recovered to be able to cross the Sound, when Eva should 
 accompany her and join her parents in Copenhagen. Hertha 
 had told Mrs. Dufva of her intentions of Adsiting an invalid 
 relative m that city ; and Hertha, although not properly 
 belonging to the circle of their acquaintance, was universally so 
 highly esteemed and respected, that Mrs. Dufva, Avithout 
 demur or deliberation, left Eva under her protection. 
 
 Eva Dufva was overjoyed at this arrangement. She was at 
 that agv"^ Avhen it is so common for warm-hearted girls to form 
 enthusiasu'c attachments to persons of their own sex, particu- 
 larly when these are distinguished by a force of character in 
 which they themselves are deficient, and Eva Dufva had long 
 since felt that attraction towards Hertha which the weak 
 climbing plant feels towards the strong tree, around whose 
 bole it is necessary to entwine itself in order to raise itself to 
 the light. 
 
 The little chamber, by the fall of Trollhiitta, which during 
 the foregoing four-and-twenty hours had witnessed such 
 gloomy suffering, exhibited this evening a pleasant picture. 
 
 It was the pale invalid, who, now evidently convalescent, 
 was sitting raised uj) in bed, with her rich golden hair thrown 
 back from her temples, and falling in unrestrained masses over 
 the snowy pillows, whilst her eyes, still weak from the effect 
 of fever, rested with motherly affection on the young girl who, 
 kneeling by her bed, held her hand between both hers, now
 
 THE FOUR SISTEUS. 263 
 
 pressing it to her lips, now laying it against her burning 
 cheeks, whilst she poured out her overflowing heart. 
 
 Eva related how she, in consequence of Mr. Von Tackjern's 
 behavior at the fire, felt the repugnance which she had 
 always entertained towards a marriage with him so increase, 
 that the thought of it became intolerable to her ; and how she 
 had prevailed upon her parents to consent to the engagement 
 between them being broken off. In the meantime, the circum- 
 stances of the family, in consequence of the fire and other losses, 
 became greatly embarrassed. She saw the distress of her 
 parents, and their evident wish that the engagement between 
 their daughter and the wealthy Mr. Von Tackjern should be 
 renewed. He, on his part, had expressed his willingness ; he 
 considered her having broken their betrothal as merely a 
 usual " woman's whim," which he was willing to forgive, and 
 proposed that the naarriage should at once take place, to 
 obviate the necessity of a second betrothal. 
 
 " And now I know what lies before me," contmued Eva ; 
 " after this journey, which is to ' dissipate my crotchets,' they 
 wiU urge me to make an end of the thing. My parents wiU 
 say that ' I can do as I like ; that they do not wish to persuade 
 me ; ' but they will look anxious ; I shall read in their looks 
 and their expression what they wish for ; I shall see how easy 
 I might make theirs and my sisters' future by my marriage ; 
 so that I should be able to please everybody, and make every- 
 body hajjpy excejDt — myself But is it right in me to regard 
 only my own happiness ? To disaj^point every one 'just for 
 the sake of my own pleasure ? ' Is not that wrong and ego- 
 tistical ? Ah ! I have gone from church to church that I 
 might meet with counsel and light ; but they have preached 
 about submission and obedience, which, nevertheless, my 
 heart rebelled against, because I do not know whether, in this 
 case, it is the will of God. If I could only know it ! I have 
 prayed to God for light, early and late, and yet — and yet 
 no light has come into my poor mind, and it has put me out 
 of heart, and — sometimes I have felt indifferent about myself 
 and everything else in the world, so that I could have thrown
 
 2G4 THE FOrR SISTERS, 
 
 myself away, seeing that God did not trouble himself about 
 me. Ah ! that was, after all, a sinful thought, ff>r he has 
 indeed led me hither to you, and you, I know, will teach and 
 enlighten me." 
 
 Hsrtha had allowed the young gu-1 to pour out her wholo 
 lieart ; she then said : 
 
 " Have you not sometimes thought that you might become 
 a mother in this marriage ? " 
 
 " No," replied Eva ; " at lenst I have not liked to dwell on 
 the thought. Hu ! no ! " 
 
 "It is, nevertheless, the only one which could give you 
 light on your way," said Hertha. " If you would choose a 
 father as guide and coimsellor for your child, would you 
 choose Mr. Von Tackjern ? " 
 
 " 'No ! " said Eva with decision. " ISTo : that I never would ! " 
 
 " Do you think that he might become different ; that he 
 might be changed through your influence ? " 
 
 " Ah ! " sighed Eva, " that is what people have said to me, 
 but I do not believe it. He is so much older — so much 
 more worldly-wise — so much stronger of will than I am. I 
 should never have courage to be entii-ely myself with him ; to 
 ask anything from him, I should, if united with him, become 
 less candid, less cheerful than T am now. I fancy even that 
 I might become cunning T^dth him , because I am afraid of him. 
 I ■would not like to depend upon him ; not be his son or his 
 daughter ! " 
 
 ••' Then do not become his ■wife," said Hertha with great 
 de-jision, as she laid her hand on the young girl's head, 
 " otherwise you will sin against God and against the vocation 
 of mother, Avhich He might give you, to watch over the well- 
 bemg of the children which might be born of this marriage. 
 Ah, Eva ! I wonder every day how people in a general way, 
 Avhether in or out of marriage, can so thoughtlessly bring into 
 existence — that great, bitter, awful existence, of Avhich heaven 
 or hell is the point of exit — childreu, human beings, ■with 
 immortal souls, which are capable of so much suffering, so much 
 despair, and which one day may reproach the author of their
 
 THE FOUil SISTERS. 265 
 
 "being for having called them into existence ! It is especially 
 to the maternal heart of the woman that the Creator has 
 intrusted the responsibility and the care of the children to 
 which she may give birth ; and yet how seldom does she reflect 
 on this M^hen she is about to give herself to a husband ! Eva ! 
 this is my last word to you on this subject — never marry a 
 man whose daughter you would not hke to be ! " 
 
 " Hertha! " exclaimed Eva, "you hove lifted a stone from 
 my heart ; you have removed the bandage from my eyes, and 
 I now see everything clearly ! Oh, you are right ! you are 
 
 right ! and it is God who has led me to you, because But, 
 
 Hertha, do not abandon me after this, for I shall stand in 
 need of your support and your advice. My parents are kind — • 
 very kind. But they fancy that a gui must either marry or 
 stop at home, occupied by her pretty ' ladies-work,' and that 
 she ought not to undertake anything but the care of her toilet 
 or making calls ; and that has never been sufficient for me, 
 and it will become less sufficing after this. There are many 
 of us at home ; we are not all needed there, and I must now, 
 of necessity, leave home for a time. If I could only undertake 
 something which would be helpful to ray parents and my 
 sisters ! — but then I am so ignorant ; know a little of many 
 things superficially, but nothing thoroughly. Nevertheless, I 
 would so vrillingiy work — work really hard at anything — if 
 I could only reap some benefit by it, and come out of that 
 state of uncertainty and incompleteness which is at present the 
 state of my mind and the state of my home-life. I go about, 
 as it were, in twihght : I don't know Avhat I am, nor what I 
 may be. I am seeking for myself. I am like a field lying 
 fallow, but which might become fruitful by the hand of the 
 cultivator." 
 
 The longer Eva continued thus to speak, the more Hertha's 
 glance beamed on the young girl ; she raised her head, 
 assumed once more the expression of self-consciousness, power, 
 and resolve which were peculiar to her, and her earnest gaze 
 penetrated with tender inquiry into the yoimg girl's soul 
 which had thus revealed itself to her.
 
 266 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 "I understand you," she said, " and what you say rejoices 
 me. For us women a great deal of the field of life lies falloAVj 
 and men would prevent us from bringing it up into cultiva- 
 tion. But a clear and steadfast will is able to break through 
 many impediments. Do you feel in your soul any longings 
 after a larger, more general activity, in any particular direc- 
 tion ?'' 
 
 " No, I do not," replied Eva. " I dread publicity, and fear 
 my own incapacity to work independently. But I should be 
 glad to devote my small activity, my sinall abiUty in life, to 
 some object which I felt to be great and noble, worthy of 
 living and laboring for. And I would gladly clasp a poor 
 child to my heart, and live and labor for it. That would 
 make me happy. I should not be afraid of poverty with that 
 child. I should be able to provide a frugal living for it, and 
 for myself. That has been and is my dearest dream for the 
 future. But first I will become a better, clearer, stronger 
 human being than I now am, and therefore let me love you, 
 see you, come to you sometimes, look up to you. It is so 
 beautiful, so glorious, to be able to look up, love, admire !" 
 
 "Ah! do not look up to a fellow-creature, your equal!" 
 said Hertha, with a deep and sorrowful earnestness. " You 
 will, in that case, find yourself deceived ; look up to God 
 alone ! This cannot be too often insisted upon ; human 
 beings are weak ; the best are imperfect, and true, bitterly 
 true, is our old proverb, ' Trust not m that which another 
 holds for you !" 
 
 There was such a sad earnestness in Hertha's expression, 
 Avhilst she continued to warn Eva of too much trust in or 
 dependence on another, that Eva was profoundly im^jressed 
 by it. But she said, still caressingly : 
 
 " You will really trust in me and my attachment to you. 
 I know that I could die for you. They who love you once, 
 must love you for ever, and become more earnest and better 
 in consequence. I do not wish, — I am not worthy to know 
 what is the reason of your thinking so ill of mankind ; but 
 certainly you have sufiered, and suffering darkens the mind,
 
 THE I'OUR SISTERS. 26t 
 
 and causes it, perhaps, not always to jiidge correctly. 
 Forgive me for venturing to talk thus to you, but — I am so 
 very found of you, and it grieves me so sadly that you should 
 feel thus." 
 
 And Eva covered Hertha's hand with her kisses and her tears. 
 
 In the old Saga of Gudi-um, who sate by the corpse of 
 Sigurd, but could not weep Hke other women, because she 
 " will merely die," it is said how — 
 
 the noble 
 
 Earl-daughters, 
 Gold-ornamented, 
 Sate before Gudrun; 
 Each one related 
 Her bitterest sorrow, 
 That which the sorest 
 Her heart had afflicted. 
 
 At length the mourner was so far consoled, that she burst 
 into tears and song. 
 
 Thus is individual sorrow alleviated by sympathy for 
 another. Thus also now were the sufferings of the two young 
 women alleviated by the deep sympathy which each felt for 
 the other. 
 
 Soon might Eva be seen, with a mind much calmer than of 
 late, graceftiUy and silently busied, and setting out a little 
 supper for Hertha, and seeming to forget herself in serving 
 her ; whilst Hertha allowed herself, with a quiet resignation, 
 to be waited upon, and even received with a smile, bread and 
 a glass of milk from her hand. And when, later in the 
 evening, Eva read aloud to her, Hertha fixed her eyes on the 
 innocent countenance of the charming girl, as it was lit up by 
 the lamplight, and sank into a dim dream about faith and 
 love upon earth. During this, she feU into a calm sleep ; and 
 after Eva had continued to read for a good half-hour, in order 
 to deepen her sleep still more, she made herself a little bed at 
 the foot of S[ertha's, and rested there better than she had 
 done for a long time — the good young girl !
 
 268 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 The following day Hertha felt herself very much better. 
 She wrote home to her father and sisters, fixing the day for 
 her return, and the day following, with Eva Dufva crossed 
 the Kattegatt to Copenhagen, where she restored the young 
 girl to her family — not Avithout having formed a close 
 compact with her for the future — and then went to seek out 
 Rudolph. 
 
 Well was it that she came to him at this moment ! The 
 unfortunate young man, pursued by unspeakable mental 
 disquiet, by the horrible memories of the night of the fire, 
 which seemed more and more strongly to rise up in his soul, 
 was just about to leave the house into which he had been 
 received, and to wander out into the world, without any other 
 object than that of flying from himself 
 
 Hertha did not dissuade him from this purpose ; on the 
 contrary, she strengthened him in his intentions of taking a 
 long pedestrian journey, and in concert with the relative who 
 had received him under his protection, laid out for him the 
 route of such a journey, and furnished him with letters which 
 would enable him to find friends and protectors at various 
 places on his way, in case he needed them. This was good 
 for the unhappy young man ; but oh, how much more so was 
 her presence, her strengthening, consolatory words, and the 
 thought that she had come to Copenhagen merely for his 
 sake ; that he was something to her ; that she had an interest 
 about him. Joy and gratitude for this made him as a child in 
 her hands. She, on her part, strengthened by the baptism 
 through which she had so lately passed, talked to the poor 
 son of the twilight with quite another ^asdom and quite 
 another power than formerly, comforting and strengthening 
 him at the same time. 
 
 When Hertha had, with motherly care, provided the suita- 
 ble equipment of Rudolph for his journey ; after she had seen 
 him, with his knapsack on his back, weeping but still happy, 
 happy by her blessing, set out on his solitary way Avith hig 
 pilgrim-staff in his hand, she, without a single glimpse at the 
 glorious works of art which are possessed by this northern
 
 THE POUR SISTERS. 269 
 
 Athens, turned her face towards her own country and her 
 own home. 
 
 Once more there she was received -with unspeakable joy by 
 her young sisters, whose tears and endearments made her 
 feel what she was to them. Her father received her with 
 dark and stern looks, but without saying a word, although 
 within himself he cursed and swore at woman's emancij^ation. 
 But he felt for his eldest daughter a high esteem muigled with 
 fear. He needed her, and was afraid of driving her away. 
 Aunt Nella, who was utterly confounded and perplexed by 
 Hertha's inexplicable joux-ney and return, said a good deal 
 about " Hertha's vnid ideas," and muttered still more about 
 their probable deplorable result, whilst she occuj)ied herself 
 with the interesting tangled skeins which she was getting 
 ready for a great weaving which was to be done in the 
 family. 
 
 The young sisters had a great deal to say about Yngve 
 Nordin ; how he had come to Kullen the very day that 
 Hertha set off; how he was extremely annoyed by hearing of 
 her sudden absence, and made many anxious inquiries about 
 her, to which they could only give sorrowful and unsatis- 
 factory answers. He had since then been there many times 
 to learn if there were any tidings of her, and, finally, he had 
 left a note for her. In this Hertha found only these words : 
 
 " Hertha, what is the meaning of this ? I have a right to 
 demand an explanation. Yngve." 
 
 Why did Hertha press these words with a convulsive 
 energy to her heart? It was because their frank spirit, 
 challenging as it were her suspicion, conveyed to her soul, as 
 with the speed of lightning, the conviction that they were 
 written by an innocent and injured person, by one who in the 
 candor of innocence demanded satisfaction. Oh, that it 
 might be so — that she had been mistaken ! But how was it 
 possible, credible ? — ^Dark enigma, how can it be solved ?
 
 210 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ST. BRITA'S SUMMER. 
 
 Not enchanting, as the North American Indian-summer, 
 but yet tender, charming, and beautiful, is that time in 
 Sweden which we call St. Brigitta's summer, or " the Britt- 
 summer." It commences at the same time as the American 
 after-summer, but it closes much earUer ; its life is like a 
 beautiful smile, which for a moment illumines a gloomy coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Already are housed the harvests of our fields, and night- 
 frosts and heavy rains, sometimes snow-flakes, have chased 
 away the beauty of the meadows and the leafy trees ; flowers 
 have drooped their heads, and leaves become withered; 
 when, at the commencement of October, occurs a time of 
 bright simshine and calm weather ; when the Swedish land- 
 scape aU at once presents a beaming autumnal splendor, with 
 its many-colored leafage, its brilliant bunches of fruit, the 
 wild-service, and the mountain-ash ; its gorgeous sun-flowers, 
 its whortle-berries in the heath, and its beautiful birds, circling 
 about in the tree-tops, and, like the novice, putting on their 
 most glorious attire, just at the moment when they are about 
 to take leave of the beauty of life, and go into their wintry 
 graves. 
 
 The northern saint, who sename-day occurs at this season, 
 and whose inward warmth was such that she, during the 
 severest winter, lay upon the earthen floor of the unwarmed 
 convent-cell of Wadstena, and was not conscious of cold, was 
 scarcely less remarkalble than is this summer in the midst of 
 the chill, autumnal life of November. 
 
 The wUd-service and rowan-trees which grew round the 
 parsonage of Solberga, were bright with crimson bunches of
 
 THE FOI.U SISTERS. QiTl 
 
 fruit, and flocks of gay silk-tails were circling around them, in 
 the brilliant sunshine of a fine morning in the Britt-sunimer. 
 The parsonage itself, bright and clean as hands could make 
 it, had altogether a hoHday appearance, just as if its inhabit- 
 ants were preparing for a festival. Fresh-gathered juniper 
 twigs were strewn on the floor of the entrance and dining- 
 room ; the sun shone gaily through the bright window-panes 
 upon the white tables and fresh flowers. 
 
 The pastor's wife had an incredible amount of things to do, 
 she had set all her maid-servants to work, and might be seen 
 herself, with her great bunch of keys, going from garret to 
 cellar, fi-om larder to dairy, from one press to another in the 
 house, looking out table linen and silver and china. 
 
 Just at the very time when she was absorbed in the linen- 
 press, in the agonies of choosing among several table-cloths, 
 between the large rose and the Httle rose, the traveller and 
 the star-patterns, the pastor came into the room and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " Well, my little old woman, it is no use trying to have a 
 moment's conversation ^vdth you to-day, is it ? It is really 
 terrible to think what a great deal you have to do, and how 
 much trouble these ' schemes and machinations,' as Mrs. 
 Uggla would call them, cause you." 
 
 " What's that ?" said good Httle Mrs. Dahl, cheerfiilly, 
 " trouble ! Don't you know that such trouble as this is my 
 greatest dehght, especially when it is for the benefit of the 
 Infant School ? And the object, and the occupation which it 
 gives — may God bless them! They are my life and my 
 pleasure, and ^dthout them I should not hke to live. To-day 
 I have been bustling about in the house like a flame of fire, 
 ever since four o'clock this morning, and everything to-day 
 has gone on so well, and fallen out as I wanted it, just as if it 
 were under the control of some good angel. The dough has 
 risen so beautifully that it is quite a pleasure to see it ; and — 
 you don't know what a nice present I have had this morning!" 
 
 " I guess — a haunch of venison !" 
 
 " A haimch of venison ? You are not very far wrong !
 
 272 THE FOUU PTSTF.RS. 
 
 something quite as good as that : three hares and a woodcock! 
 You know we must cook tnem for the feast." 
 
 " Three hares ! a leap for every hare, and a kiss for the 
 woodcock!" exclaimed the pastor, dehghted; "I thought 
 I smelt something uncommouly good in the kitchen. But, 
 harkye now, could we not give the sexton's family one of these 
 hares ?" 
 
 " That we'll see in the morning, father dear, that is to say, 
 if there happens to be a hare left after our evening-feast. 
 You must bear in mind that we shall have about thirty people. 
 But, as for that, we might ask the sextons to come and eat a 
 bit of the roast ; and — (I think I'll take the little rose ; it's 
 true that it is somewhat worn, but nobody will see it by 
 candle-light), and the old women in the poor-house shall each 
 have her loaf for Sunday." 
 
 " You are an excellent woman, and a rare housewife," said 
 the pastor, with aU his heart. 
 
 " Ah ! there is indeed some skill required in being a house- 
 wife, with no more means than I have. Do you know, my 
 old fellow, that I have actually thanked God this very day 
 because I was not rich, for in that case I should not know and 
 feel as I do now, what a pleasure there is in planning, and 
 schemmg, and working, so that one's small means may be 
 siifficient for all, and a httle oo spare ! And when I have 
 labored the whole week, and then at the end find that I havo 
 a little over, which I can give away, without detriment to the 
 family, to some poor body or other, is it not a pleasant 
 feeling ? It is, mdeed ! Besides, there is a fresh life both for 
 body and soul in these occupations which the rich never can 
 exj^erience. And when I, during the day, go about and look 
 into the farm-yard, or the larder, or the garden ; and thence 
 over the fields, and see how green they are gro\\dng, or how 
 the harvest ripens, or up to the sky, and see that it is bright 
 as to-day, or that blue openings through the clouds are 
 glancing towards me like friendly eyes, then I think that the 
 earth is so beautiful, God so good, and life so glorious, that I 
 am — ready to cry !"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 213 
 
 " Cry ?" said the pastor, astonished, " why cry ?" 
 
 " Why, for this reason, because I have not anythmg or 
 any one about me that could feel as I do ; for this reason, that 
 I am — childless ! Think if I had eight or nine daughters, or 
 at least half-a-dozen, to bustle about with, to teach hoAv to 
 work and to enjoy, as I do, how amusing it would be for them 
 and for me ! And for me, who am just now beginning to 
 grow old, and really have need of some one in the house in 
 whom I can trust, because servant-gii'ls are but servant-girls, 
 and one cannot leave them to themselves. I sometimes think 
 that I certainly shall have daughters in heaven, seeing that 
 that happiness has been denied to me on earth." 
 
 " But in heaven, my old Avoraan, people bustle about neither 
 with work, nor servant-maids, but they " 
 
 " Nay, my dear fellow," interrupted she, " don't talk to me 
 about your heaven, in which people are either to stand or sit 
 with palms in their hands, and sing jDsalms both day and 
 night, and do nothing else besides ! Because I tell you that into 
 such a heaven I do not wish to go, even though you yourself 
 were there. I should not continue long sitting there with 
 palms in my hands, and I am very certain, too, that our Lord 
 would not desire such an unnecessary thing, either of me or 
 anybody else ! No, to work, to strive, to go ever onward, 
 to have much to do, and much to care for, that must I have 
 there, as well as here, if I am to thrive at all. And don't you 
 tell me that our Lord has no other ways of employing me and 
 everybody else who wishes to serve him, than by sitting with 
 palms in their hands, and singing psalms. He has enough in 
 his great household, both larders and gardens, to look after — 
 they may be spiritual, such as Swedenborg talks of — and poor 
 souls who need to be fed from them. I desire nothing better 
 than to serve our Lord, but he must set me to some real work, 
 and not to hold palms in my hands. And if he is as good as 
 I believe him to be, he will give me some daughters to educate 
 and teach as his maid-servants, for then first mil the kingdom 
 of heaven become a true heaven to me ! — (N(, after all, I'll 
 take the large rose, the little rose has too many holes in it !)" 
 11
 
 274 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " Listen, mother," said the pastor, " you talk as often about 
 these daughters as about the kingdom of heaven. Why 
 should we not have such on earth, if we can ? We can aflord 
 it, and we have room enough since we came here, and I am 
 quite convinced that it would be amusing and good for us to 
 have a couple of young gu-ls in the family, whom we could 
 become attached to, and who would attach themselves to us. 
 Perhaps om- Lord has denied us any children of our own in 
 order that we might be all the more -vvilUng to adopt those of 
 others, who do not need them. If you like, let us, the sooner 
 the better, take one or two daughters into the house." 
 
 The pastor's wife now remained sitting with the large rose- 
 patterned table-cloth on her knee, looking at her husband with 
 an expression which evidently showed that his words had gone 
 to her heart. 
 
 At length, she said : 
 
 " If you only knew how often i nave thought of the very 
 fcsame thing ! But, hitherto, I have not seen any young girls 
 whom I would really with my whole heart wish to call mine, 
 and take into my house. But now I actually do know a 
 coiiple of young sisters to whom I feel that I really could 
 become as a mother, and whom you, of a certainty, Avould 
 also become fond of." 
 
 "Who are they ? who are they ? I'll go directly and himt 
 them up." 
 
 "They are Eva Dufv^a and her sister Marie. They are 
 both nice girls, and would become really clever and excellent 
 women if they found their right place and fell into right 
 hands. The mother is a splendid creature, but she does 
 everything in the house herself, and leaves to her daughters 
 nothing but trifles, and such occu23ations as can neither fill up 
 their minds nor yet their time. Besides, there are many 
 daughters in that family, and the Dufvas' affairs are in an 
 anxious state, so that I fancy they would be relieved if a 
 couple of the girls were adopted into a family as its own 
 children. And besides, Eva requires to go away from home 
 and out of the way of that engagement which I hke her for
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 275 
 
 having broken off. She i*equires to be removed out of the 
 way of all temptation and over-persuasion to its renewal. She 
 requires a new and a fresh sphere of activity, and that she 
 would have here. Marie is only a child, but she is an angel- 
 child, and has been fond of you ever since she read for 
 confirmation with you, so that I should have been quite 
 jealous if I had not been so pleased. I have a presentiment 
 that both those girls would be delighted to come to us, if 
 only their parents would consent. But what do you say 
 about it?" 
 
 " I say that it might have been planned in Heaven, so good 
 does it appear to me. I think that the parents mil be quite 
 agreeable. And as far as the girls are concerned, I mean to 
 set about it without delay, and tell them that if they do not 
 sprmg at once into our arms, and call us father and mother, 
 we will have nothing to do with them." 
 
 " Softly, softly, my dear old man ; don't be in too great a 
 hurry, else you will frighten them. Besides, we must say 
 that the thing is an experiment for a y^ear or two, that we 
 may see how we get on together, and so on." 
 
 " That is a matter of course ; but they will get on well with 
 us, and we with them, of that I am convinced. The girls are 
 coming here to-day with their mother, are they not ? This 
 very day the proposal must be made, and, if possible, the 
 matter arranged." 
 
 " I have had an impression all morning," said the pastor's 
 wife, " that something out of the common way was going to 
 happen to-day — something good." 
 
 " God gi-ant it !" said the pastor. " I, on the contrary, 
 have had, this very day, great anxiety about that poor lad, 
 Yngve. Ever since that witch-girl, Hertha — whom I should 
 really like to have m the confessional, and give a sound talking 
 to under four eyes — set off in that inexplicable and unaccount- 
 able way on her journey, without saying a word to anybody, 
 never has he been like himself, as you yourself know. He 
 neither eats, nor sleeps, nor reads, but goes and pines away in 
 grief and in anguish, which sometimes seems like contrition.
 
 2T6 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 I cannot understand the nifair. He ^\dll not say anything. 
 But I have seen him wring his hands till they have cracked 
 again, and strike his forehead, or strike the table with his 
 clenched fist, as if he were in a towering rage. And then 
 Between-whiles he sits gloomy and dark, beating his brains 
 about something, whilst I have seen fever flush his cheeks, 
 and his eyes flash angrily. I wish with all my heart that 
 Count P. would carry him off •mth him to France before she 
 • — the witch — comes back. It would serve her right, and 
 perhaps be the only salvation for him." 
 
 "Yes, but she is come back, and will probably be here 
 to-day." 
 
 "What do you say?" exclaimed the pastor, disturbed, 
 " and why did you not tell me before ?" 
 
 " Because I did not know till tliis morning that she returned 
 last evening to Kullen. And I have now sent a messenger to 
 her with a note, inviting her to join us and the other mem- 
 bers of the Brother and Sister Societies here to-day ; and I 
 told her that it would be best for her to come, if she wished 
 yet once more to see her patient, because he was going abroad 
 for the establishment of his health, according to the advice of 
 the physician ; and that Count P. had invited him to accom- 
 pany him to France next week." 
 
 " You have done all that this very morning ? " inquired the 
 pastor, amazed. " Of a certainty you are a remarkable woman 
 — sometimes. And I must go at once and tell this news to 
 the poor lad." 
 
 " Wait ! wait ! If he were to know that she is come home, 
 nothing would prevent him from rushing oft' to her ; and that 
 would never do, weak as he is, and with his lame knee. He 
 would be breakhig a blood-vessel or some mischief; he has 
 already, twice this week, spit blood. No, that will never 
 do!" 
 
 " Well, then, I shall myself go to her, and speak a httle of .< 
 my mind to her — ^the witch ! " said the pastor vehemently. 
 
 " Wait, my old man ; I expect my messenger back every 
 moment."
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 2Tt 
 
 "Wait, and wait, and wait: but I cannot wait," said tne 
 pastor impatiently. " Who knows when your messenger will 
 be back again ? I myself am the best messenger. Besides, I 
 want to see the gu'l, and, if possible, get to the bottom of this 
 business. And if she is not as much worn away and changed, 
 as he, Yugve, and does not look as unhappy, if she put on her 
 proud demeanor, then — God have mercy on her ! " 
 
 And with these words the httle pastor was outside the 
 door, and soon in full career towards the town. 
 
 " Those men ! " sighed the pastor's wife, and shook her 
 head, " they always will have their own way. There he goes 
 now, hurryiag along, and will get warm, and then chilled, 
 and — if he had only waited a quarter of an hour — ^but now I 
 may as well lock up my press, and I had better take out both 
 the large and the httle rose ; very Hkely there will be more 
 guests than I have calculated upon ; and, besides, the childi-en 
 will want some napkins — the mended ones are good enough 
 for them. But now I wUl go and look after Yngve and spiee 
 his breakfast with my good anticipations. He had better not 
 hear more at present." 
 
 AH this was spoken half aloud by our pastor's httle wife, 
 who, hke many eldei'ly ladies, had acquu-ed the habit of mut- 
 tering to herself. 
 
 She had no httle to do that day, our good lady of the 
 parsonage ; for, as we are already aware, there was going to 
 be a great feast there that day. The whole of the United 
 Benevolent Societies were to meet at the parsonage ; and 
 afterwards, all the poor children of the Infant School, the 
 greater number of whom belonged to the families who suiFered 
 by the fire. The children were, one and all, to receive a com- 
 plete suit of warm clothing for the approaching winter, (and 
 there were stMl a few little blouses, shirts, and pinafores to 
 finish, which were to be done this afternoon,) and the enter- 
 tainment was to close with a dance. As regarded the re- 
 freshments, several of the ladies were each to contribute a 
 portion, so that any want of eatables was a thing not to be 
 thought of. An entertainment on this plan was given twice a
 
 218 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 year at the parsonage ; and many of the participators of the 
 feast took care that it was not very costly to the minister and 
 his wife. Its spiritual portion, cheerfiilness, or its cheering 
 power, came as a matter of course ; and it was a saying in the 
 place, that peoj)le enjoyed themselves nowhere so thoroughly 
 as at the pastor's. Besides, people found there that which is 
 no longer so commonly met with, old mead and old-fashioned 
 cordiality. 
 
 When our little pastor returned, it was with an expression 
 very different to that with which he Avent away. 
 
 " I understand nothing about the whole story," said he, 
 " but it is more serious than I imagined. And not a word, 
 not even half a word can I get out of her in explanation. In 
 the mean time, I have a note from her for Yngve. As to 
 your messenger, my Uttle woman, I met him on the way to 
 Kullen, as I was returning thence. He had only some half- 
 dozen errands to do by the way, and " 
 
 " Ah, Avhat ? Half-a-dozen ! He had only four or five, — 
 but she is coming here to-day, is she not ? " 
 
 " Either six or seven ; — yes, she is coming, but whether it 
 will be a pleasure for anybody, God alone knows." 
 
 " How so ? Did she look stiff or proud, as she can look 
 sometimes ? " 
 
 " No, not a bit of it, and it is better that she did not ; 
 but as pale as marble, as if there were no blood in her body, 
 and an expression as if she were going to death or judgment. 
 I, who had gone to her determined to give her a very grave 
 curtain-lecture, I declare I stood before her Uke a school-boy 
 who has foi-gotten his lesson, and is ready to cry. But I tried 
 to look savage, and said, ' Yngve is ill, — wiU soon set out on a 
 long journey, — come and talk with him.' On which she 
 replied, quite mildly, but with a sort of death-like immovabil- 
 ity, and with colorless hps, ' I wall come.' 
 
 " ' To-day ? ' said I. ' To-day,' replied she, ' and — be so 
 good as to give Yngve this,' and she handed me this note, 
 which was ready written. 
 
 "I looked sharply at her, and asked her if she had nothing
 
 TUE FOUil SISTERS. 2T9 
 
 more to say. She replied, ' Nothing more at present I but — 1 
 will come ! ' 
 
 " ' Well then, in God's name welcome ! ' said I, and turned 
 round to go my way. Never before did I feel so awkward, and 
 in such a strange state of mind." 
 
 "Ah, if she only comes, everything wiU then get right 
 again," suggested the pastor's wife. " I don't understand the 
 matter any better than you do, but of this I'm sure, that, one 
 way or another, this will be a lucky day ; the bread is incom- 
 parably good ; everything has gone on weU in the kitcnen, i.n .1 
 I feel as excited, and at the same time in such a holiday state 
 of mind, just as if " 
 
 "You were going to have a couple of daughters in the 
 house," interrupted the pastor, " and it ^nU be so ; but — now 
 I must g9 to Yngve. May this note only not make him mad- 
 der than before." 
 
 Yngve seized it with passionate earnestness, the little white 
 note on which he recognised Hertha's handwriting. He broke 
 the seal, and read these words in silence ; 
 
 " Yngve, 
 
 " Meet me to-day, at five o'clock in the afternoon, 
 by Alma's grave. I wish to speak to you there. 
 
 " HJEETHA." 
 
 " She is come, she is come then, at last ! " exclauned Yngve, 
 with enthusiastic delight. " I shall then see her, hear her, 
 talk with her. My God, I thank thee ! By the grave. Yes, 
 there. And even if she comes to me with death, I shall 
 thank her. Oh, Hertha ! Hertha ! Thou dost not know ; thou 
 dost not understand " — and Yngve bowed his head into his 
 hands and wept. 
 
 " Poor youth, poor lad ! " sighed the pastor, silently, as he 
 wiped his own eyes. "It is horrible to be so desperately 
 in love : I was in love quite enough with my Elsa, but never 
 in this wise ! " And in order to avoid questions which he in 
 part could not, and in part feared to, answer, the pastor
 
 280 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 hastened to leave the room, as he said, " He had a child to 
 bajDtize," thus leaving Yngve to read and re-read the few 
 words which this little note contained. 
 
 Again alone, he pressed it to his heart, to his feverish lips, 
 and gave himself np to that pathetic folly, which is to the 
 lover — be his name what it may, Yngve Nordin, Napoleon, or 
 Palmerston — wisdom and the supremest life; that is to say 
 when they are beloved. 
 
 We now leave the pastor to his baptizing ; the pastor's wife 
 to ler manifold occupations ; and accompany Yngve to—
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 281 
 
 THE IHEETIN^G BY THE GRAVE. 
 
 ' It was a wooded church-yard planted with thick-branched 
 maple and Ume-trees, to which Yngve betook h imself, and 
 where he had akeady spent many happy hours, at the side 
 of his beloved. It was exactly a fitting place for a solemn 
 meeting. 
 
 The sun of the Britt-summer day shone stUl warm above 
 the trees, which also were bright with their varied tints of 
 gold and fire-color. And whether it might be or not, that 
 the heart of nature was stu-red by secret sjonpathy mth the 
 silent disquiet of the young man's heart, it too seemed to be 
 waiting for something upon whose word or look depended life 
 or death. Sudden gusts of •^dnd, which moaned through 
 and swayed uneasUy the branches of the trees, and chased the 
 clouds across the hitherto clear sky, alternated with pauses 
 of death-like stillness, when the lightest footfall might be 
 heard, and when tree and flower, and waving gi-ass, stood stUl 
 as if hsteniug. Then again the -wind rose and the trees mur- 
 mured, as if agitated by sighs, and the leaves fell over the 
 graves ; and the wind was warm as the wind of the tropics, as 
 the sweet, the bitter disquiet of love ; and again it became 
 hushed and stUl, and all things seemed to wait. 
 
 Yngve stood by Ahua's grave, with a strongly beating 
 heart, awaiting her who could give him life or death ; so it 
 felt to that agitated young heart, the emotions of which had, 
 by expectation and sufiering, been excited to the highest 
 pitch. Already he waited five minutes beyond the appointed 
 time ; think, if she should not come. 
 
 Yngve leaned against an old tree, shaded his eyes firom the 
 blinding light of the sun, and stood listening during a moment 
 of death-like calm ; he knew that he should recognise the
 
 282 THE FOUK SISTEKS. 
 
 Bound of her steps. Just then a genial breath of air fanned 
 his countenance ; the tree murmured, and somethmg said to 
 Yngve, " she is there !" 
 
 He raised his eyes, and she stood actiially before him, but 
 so changed, so pale, so solemnly earnest, that she might have 
 been but newly arisen from the grave, with the last, heavy 
 dream of human life upon her soul. 
 
 He involuntarily extended his arms towards her. And she — 
 the strong, proud girl — was obliged to support herself by the 
 seat at the grave, because her knees trembled beneath her 
 weight. Yngve's emaciated countenance bore evidence of the 
 amount of his suffering, but in its pure expression, now, as it 
 were, transfigured by the glowing light of the sun, was no 
 consciousness of criminality. The two contemplated each 
 other in silence ; which he was the first to break. 
 
 " Hertha !" said he, " you too have suffered ; I see that !" 
 
 " Yes," replied she, " and you ," she thought of adding, 
 
 " have been the cause of it," but she could not do so. The 
 longer, the more closely her glance questioned the countenance 
 of Yngve, the stronger appeared to her the impossibihty, the 
 heavenly conviction that he could not be guilty, and she ex- 
 claimed — " No, no, you are not false ; — no, you have not 
 acted deceitfully ; — no, I see by the expression of your coun- 
 tenance, that you are incapable of such guilt. Oh, my God ; 
 I will rather die at this moment than be deceived in this 
 belief ! — Yngve ! you are not the — you cannot be — the lover 
 of Amalia, the father of her child !" 
 
 "You are right ; I am not!" replied Yngve, calmly. 
 
 " I beheve you, I beheve you, and I thank God !" exclaimed 
 Hertha, with clasped hands. "But tell me — why did she 
 mention — Yngve Nordin ?" 
 
 " Because," replied Yngve, " that is the name of my 
 youngest brother, as well as my oAvn. All the three brothers 
 are called Yngve, but with the addition of another name; the 
 brother of whom you speak is called Alfred Yngve ; I, Yngve 
 Frey." 
 
 " Oh, I understand — understand all now !" resumed Hertha,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 283 
 
 greatly affected — "it is lie then who is guilty, and you — 
 
 you are Yngve Frey (Free!) Why, why did I not know 
 
 this before? A great deal of suffering might have been 
 spared !" 
 
 " Why did I not know until a few days ago that Amalia 
 was your near relative? You never mentioned her to me, 
 nor she you. I only received my brother's confidence a few 
 weeks ago, and had no right to betray his secret before — 
 circumstances, such as have now occurred, render it a duty in 
 me to do so." 
 
 " Oh, Yngve ! and I have beUeved you guilty ! How 
 shall I ever forgive myself!" 
 
 " Hertha ! — give me the right to obliterate this memory ; 
 give me your hand — become my wife ; henceforward let all 
 be clear, let there be no concealments between us — at least, 
 if this be the only thing which has simdered us !" 
 
 " Not the only thing ; hear me — now or never must all be 
 said. Yngve, I have been told that you were fickle; that 
 you loved another woman before you loved me. Answer me ! 
 Is there no woman who, more than me, has a title to your 
 fidelity ; no child which has a right to demand from you the 
 name and the protection of its father ?" 
 
 And Hertha's voice faltered not; but she herself was 
 deathly pale, and her countenance had resumed its solemn, 
 almost severe, gravity. 
 
 Well for Yngve that he needed not, as she expected, to 
 evade her eye ; that he could fearlessly look her in the face, 
 as he repHed : 
 
 " Give me your hand, mine is free, and no such responsi- 
 bility rests upon my heart. I have loved before I loved you, 
 yes, but from the overflowing life of youth, and not from the 
 fulness of the soul. I might have erred, have fallen, if my 
 mother had not stood like a good angel by my side. When 
 she saw my tendency to be carried away by the feelings of 
 the moment, she talked openly with me, showed me the 
 danger of being thus led away, and convinced me by exam- 
 ples out of every-day life, of the misery or the burdensome-
 
 284 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 ness of those connections which shun the light, and impose 
 duties or responsibilities upon us which oppressively or re- 
 proachfully accompany us through life. She made me feel it 
 to be a beautiful and noble object to preserve myself worthy 
 of a pure woman's love. And how I have thanked her, not 
 now alone, but ever since I knew you !" 
 
 " Is it then really so ?" exclaimed Hertha in a transport of 
 calm certainty, for Yngve's manly and fresh explanation had 
 dismissed every shadow of doubt from her soul ; " you are 
 then really and truly the man whom I sometimes dreamt you 
 to be, ray Yngve, Yngve Frey! and I may be proud of loving 
 you and of being loved by you ! Oh, Yngve, this is certainly 
 a heavenly delight ! whether we are separated by man, or by 
 fate." 
 
 " N"o," interrupted Yngve solemnly, " that shall not be ! 
 ' What God hath joined together let not man put asunder,' 
 and you are now mine before His sight. Become the same 
 also before man ; become my bride, and in a short time my 
 
 wife ; give me the right to watch over " 
 
 " Hush, hush, beloved !" interrupted Hertha. " Let us not 
 now talk about the future, not now ! Let us rest at this 
 moment, it is complete in itself — perfect. You are over-excit- 
 ed, my Yngve, by the disquiet of many days ; I am wearied 
 by the conflict and the agony of this time. Seat yourself at 
 my side ; let me hold your hand. How handsome you are, 
 Yngve ! how noble and good you are ! The smi loves you, 
 it smiles upon you ; God's spirit embraces us ; the trees, as it 
 were, clap their hands above us : the flowers caress your feet 
 because you are Yngve Frey ! They spring from the grave, 
 from the heart of Alma, which has obtained new Ufe through 
 my happiness. How beautiful life is, Yngve, my Yngve* 
 how great and glorious it is to live — to love !" 
 
 Thus spoke Hertha, Avith calm but rapturous emotion, as 
 she beamed upon him glances in comparison with the bright- 
 ness and fire of which the glow of the sun was faint. That 
 force of expression which was Hertha's characteristic, and 
 which gave to her countenance a captivating interest, was
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 285 
 
 now transfigured to beauty of no ordinary kind. Yngve 
 could only contemplate her with joy-bewildered eyes, while 
 he dr'ank in her words as an elixir of life. When they ceased, 
 it was because they were sealed with a kiss, 
 
 "As warm as life, as faithful as death," 
 
 whilst heart throbbed quickly and strongly against heart. 
 
 It was not the feeble soul's oblivion of all except the trans- 
 port of the moment ; not the ardent rapture of jmssion ; it 
 was the clear consciousness of an eternal union, a deathless 
 love, which here bound two loving hearts together. 
 
 But a thrill, as of an electric shock, hastily passed through 
 Hertha. The au* swayed around them, and in the same 
 moment was heard the loud tolling of the bell. The church 
 beUs tolled ; the chiming for the dead commenced. A little 
 troop of people dressed in black slowly advanced fi-om the 
 churchyard gate toward an open grave. 
 
 Now the procession paused. The chiming bells ceased, and 
 the monotonous voice of the clergyman was heard for a 
 moment, together with the restless soughing of the trees ; 
 then came the heavy fall of the three shovelfuls of mould on 
 the coffin in the grave, accompanied by the words : 
 
 " Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return. Our 
 Saviour Jesus Christ shaU wake thee up at the last day ! 
 Let us pray !" 
 
 After which the usual prayer was spoken by the clergy- 
 man: 
 
 " Man that is born of woman is of few days, and full of 
 trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down ; he 
 fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not !" 
 
 Yngve pressed Hertha's hand closer to his heart and said : 
 
 " Love is stronger than death !" 
 
 "Yes," replied Hertha, "I believe it; I know it." 
 
 " Be mine in life and death," returned Yngve. 
 
 " I am so !" rephed Hertha ; " but I have still something 
 to say to you before — how beautiful is that song, Yngve ! how
 
 286 THE POUR SISTERS. 
 
 it seems to sanctify the sleep of the grave — only it is too sad. 
 Joyful songs, Yngve, ought to be sung by graves; songs 
 which unite night with day, time with eternity ; songs about 
 the future and its anticipations ; songs about the beginning 
 and the completion. But you are pale, Yngve, and the 
 evening is growing chill ; the sun has set ; let us go home : — 
 support yourself on my arm, as you used to do, my Yngve !" 
 
 At that moment the chimes began again to play ; and one 
 of the men separating himself from the funeral procession, has- 
 tily approached them. 
 
 It was the little pastor, who, uneasy at the long conversa- 
 tion of the lovers by the grave, now came to look after them. 
 They offered him their hands, and their beaming looks told 
 him still more than their words, that all was clear, all was 
 right between them. 
 
 "Well, then, the Lord be praised!" said the pastor. " You 
 need not, however, sit here the whole night, but come with me, 
 like good cliildren, else mother at home there won't be pleased 
 either with me or with you. And the visitors will be wonder- 
 ing and asking. Come, children, come along with me." 
 
 Yngve and Hertha accompanied their friend, whilst the 
 funeral procession dispersed in various directions, though the 
 funeral chimes would yet continue for some time. 
 
 "Who has been buried this evening ?" asked Yngve. 
 
 "A young man, such as you, and who was only lately 
 betrothed," rephed the pastor sorrowfully. 
 
 The three walked in silence to the parsonage.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. ??7 
 
 MERRIMENT AND DANCING. 
 
 In the parsonage of Solberga all was life and cheerfulness. 
 People drank coffee and dipped in their biscuits ; they sewed, 
 talked, joked, and laughed. The gentlemen would help the 
 ladies in making the blouses and pinafores ; but they made 
 mistakes, and turned the little garments upside down, sewed 
 in the sleeves wi'ong, either pm*posely or by accident ; re- 
 ceived instruction, were scolded and also praised, sometimes, 
 when now and then they showed themselves willing to become 
 " c'ever with their needle," or to serve as sewing-cushions for a 
 moment or two, Avhich office, to speak the truth, they per- 
 formed very indifferently. In the mean time these occupations 
 gave occasion to a great deal of merry contention, and through 
 all one little garment after another was finished, exhibited, 
 praised, and criticised, with or without justice, and then raised 
 aloft, that is to say, put on the top of the little pile of clothes 
 which was arranged for every child, upon a large table. 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg levied a contribution on all the young 
 men of the place in these words : 
 
 " Cousin, I shall compel you to give me a twelve-skillmg 
 piece," or, " My dear Mr. M. N., will you give me a twelve- 
 skilling piece ?" And there was not a cousin, nor a Mr. M. N., 
 nor even a Mr. N. B., who did not give her his little silver 
 twelve-skilling, as cheerfully as it was asked, well knowing 
 that it was given for a good work. 
 
 After that little collection, Mimmi Svanbei'g became the 
 life and soul of the sewing society, whilst she now here, and 
 now there, contrived between one person and another, to knit 
 the threads which she held in her soft hands, and wliich were 
 always knit to somebody's advantage. Here it was a young
 
 288 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 governess who wanted a situation in a family ; there a family 
 who were in want of a governess ; here an old couple who 
 were willing to adopt a child ; there a httle child who needed 
 to be adopted ; here a shawl which requu-ed selUng ; and there 
 a lady who wanted to buy a shawl ; and here old aunts and 
 young cousins who wanted advice ; and Minimi Svanberg 
 must do all this and find counsel for all these. Mimmi had 
 really enough to do. 
 
 Then the children came, received their new clothes, and 
 began to sing their songs ; httle Mina led them Avith her clear 
 voice; and after that followed dancing — first with the chil- 
 dren, and afterwards among the company themselves. 
 
 Some of our readers may have experienced how an enter- 
 tainment which immediately follows or is connected with some 
 work of love in Avhich the company to be entertained have 
 taken common part, is animated by a more than usually good 
 and cheerful spirit. The heart enters, as it were, into the 
 dance, and the feet receive wings therefrom. Seldom had the 
 gay Swedish folk-dances, " Vafva-Vahmar" and the " Nigar- 
 polska," which comprehended both old and young, been danced 
 with more animation, nor amid more hearty merriment, than 
 this evening after the clothing of the children at the parson- 
 age. Every now and then, also, the pastor's wife refreshed 
 them with her home-brewed, foaming mead. And no hearts, 
 this evening, were more joyful than hers and her husband's, 
 for they had obtained a daughter in the house named Eva 
 Dufva, who accepted the invitation of the good couple, as 
 Noah's restless dove the twig of the olive-tree, which afforded 
 her a resting-place above the swelling waves, the dreaded 
 deluge. 
 
 When the dancing commenced, Hertha left the company to 
 return home, and Yngve accompanied her.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 289 
 
 CONVERSATION BY THE WAY. 
 
 The full moon had risen, and now, alternately concealed by 
 clouds, which an unsteady but not ungenial wind chased across 
 the heavens, and now shinmg forth brightly from between 
 them, lighted the lovers on their way. 
 
 Yngve was again supported on Hertha's arm, and both 
 walked silently, feeUng how momentous was the approaching 
 decisive moment. 
 
 Yngve, however, soon broke the silence. 
 
 " We must soon separate, Hertha," said he, " I must leave 
 you. In a few days, as you know, I must go abroad for the 
 winter, in order fully to establish my health, that I may be 
 able next spring to return to my former employment, to all 
 "which is dear to me, my native land, my mother, and — oh, let 
 me add, my bride ! Unless you agree to this, unless you de- 
 cide our fate, I cannot take the journey with calimiess ; and 
 besides that, the thought that I must preserve my health, not 
 for my own sake, but for yours, wiU be more beneficial to me 
 than all the watering-places in the world. You know, because 
 I have told you so, that I have not much property, but I am 
 without debts, and my prospects, in the career which I have 
 adopted, give me the hope of soon obtaining an independence, 
 both for me and mine. You know my heart, you know how 
 I love you, Hertha — why then many words ? — can jon not 
 love me ? cannot you trust yourself to me with your Avhole 
 heart and vnth. your whole soul, have faith in me, as I in you ? 
 then — I will ask nothing fi'om you. You have demanded an 
 undivided heart, I ask, I demand nothing less from you!" 
 
 " Then, now hear my confession, Yngve !" replied Hertha, 
 " and after that you yourself shall decide upon our future ! 
 you are not my first love, Yngve ! — although I have not loved 
 18
 
 290 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 any man before you. Mine has been a joyless childhood and 
 youth ; my first impressions of life were bitter, my first impres- 
 sions of home and marriage were that distress of mind and 
 anguish which are the results of domestic dissensions, of my 
 mother's tears and hysterical cries of unhappiness. These 
 produced in me an early disgust of marriage, and I made 
 a vow with myself, many a time, of late years, that no chUd of 
 mine should, amid deceitful caresses, be brought up to quafi' 
 that bitter wormwood draught called Life. I saw noble and 
 gentle women oppressed ; heard their silent sighs ; saw them 
 become pale and sink into the grave, after a life without joy 
 and without purpose, and, in proportion as my hatred to the 
 oppressor grew, grew also an infinite compassion, an ardent 
 love for all oppressed souls, which I might very well call my 
 first love, and I vowed to myself to live for them, and never 
 to give my heart and my hand to a husband. But you came, 
 Yngve ; I learned to love yOu, and through you I began to 
 have faith in man's justice, in man's magnanimity. That was 
 much, but you gave me more ; you gave me faith in God, by 
 the knowledge of his ways, by the insight into his revelation ; 
 oh ! I have to thank you for very, very much !" 
 
 " Is it then only gratitude ?" said Yngve ; " is it no more 
 than this which binds you to me ? in that case, Hertha, we 
 may easily part, because " 
 
 " No," interrupted she, " ah, no ! and you cannot wish for 
 more than my heart gives you, in the first place mvoluntarily, 
 I acknowledge it ; but afterwards of free will and cheerfully, 
 since I have come to know you fully ; and yet, nevertheless, I 
 cannot help dreading marriage, even with you, because I dread 
 its consequences ; dread the becoming a mother ; dread, in 
 partiou^lar, being the mother of a daughter ! How is it, Yngve, 
 that woman, the whole world over, is commended, as daugh- 
 ter, wife, mother, sister, fi-iend, nurse, comforter, — yet, at the 
 same time, among aU people, how common it is to regard the 
 bu'th of a daughter with indifference, or dissatisfaction, nay, 
 even with pity ? Is it not fi-om this cause that woman's lot on 
 earth is an inferior one ; that she is not entitled, as men are,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 291 
 
 by the laws of the land, to freedom, independent action, or to 
 seek for happiness in her OAvn way ? that she is destined to be 
 depreciated and to suffer much ? And here, in our native 
 land esjiecially, how gloomy is her path ; how circumscribed 
 her portion ! how is the whole of her Ufe crushed down by 
 unjust laws, and the pleasure of men! No, no ! I cannot be 
 the mother of a daughter !" 
 
 Yngve now replied, with as much tenderness and feeling as 
 if he were speakmg to a sick person : 
 
 " I understand you, my beloved. But you are too much 
 affected by your gloomy imjjressions, and not yet accustomed 
 to contemplate brighter scenes. But have faith in God, then 
 — ^how can you do otherwise than hope in the extension of his 
 kingdom, his justice and love on the earth ? Our laws, with 
 regard to the freedom of woman and her future, may be 
 changed ; yes, they must be changed ; if not, our nation 
 must abandon its share in the real elevation and advance of 
 free nations. It cannot possibly be long before all nations 
 discover the true means of their moral ennobling, and before 
 the stream of sj)iritual emancipation, which is permeating the 
 woi'ld, wUl also elevate and hberate our nation by means of 
 its most vital laws and institutions. I cannot doubt of it when 
 I think what Swedish women were and are for their native 
 land, even imder laws so narrow-minded as ours are with 
 regard to them ; I cannot doubt of it in presence of a woman 
 such as you. And you, and I, and all good citizens will labor 
 to speed forward the advent of that day." 
 
 Heilha looked up, whilst her eyes beamed with a sort of 
 bitter joy. " Yes," said she, " I will combat for that object, 
 even though it should debar me for ever from the more 
 delicious joys of life. Yes, I will remain faithful to my first 
 love !" 
 
 " How ? what do you mean ?" asked Yngve, astonished. 
 
 " Let us rest a moment here, Yngve ; you must be tired 
 with walking, and these walls," they were now among the 
 ruins, " afford us convenient resting-places ; we can taf ■ 
 better here."
 
 292 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Yngve seated himself upon a fallen wall and gazed with 
 excited attention at Hertha, who continued standing opposite 
 to him, as she rested her arm upon another blackened wall ; 
 the moon brightly illumined her expressive countenance and 
 noble figure. She continued in a grave and gentle voice : 
 
 " Is there no higher object for man and woman than 
 marriage, than that of building for themselves a little nest 
 and then living happily with each other, and with their 
 offspring, hke animals, or savages who approximate to 
 animals? I will not blame such as do not seek any object 
 higher than this in life ; but God has not permitted me to find 
 it all-sufiicing. Were it so, I should be disloyal to my first 
 love ; I should have lived and suflfered in vain. Yngve ! I 
 love you with my whole heart, and yet I cannot, I will not 
 live alone for your happmess and my own, — in that case I 
 should not deserve to live." 
 
 " Strange gh'l ! For what then will you live ?" 
 
 " To liberate my captive sisters," replied Hertha, with 
 fervor and earnestness, " to liberate those souls whose long- 
 ings and suflTerings God has given me to feel and to under- 
 stand ; as far as my ability and my little sj^here on earth 
 extend, to break the fetters which bind them, to inspire them 
 with the desire which inspires me ; to give them the hope 
 which has become mine, since I have become acquainted with 
 you, Yngve, and through you with the Lord of freedom and 
 love, I am not too sanguine in my hopes, as you are; I know, 
 Yngve, that such men as you and Judge Carlson are rare in 
 the world, and I fear that it will yet be long before our 
 Swedish legislators will concede to woman the right of unre- 
 stricted human and social freedom and development ; long 
 before they will throw open to the daughters of Sweden those 
 educational institutions which would give them an opportuni- 
 ty of acquirmg knowledge and self-reliance ; in a word, before 
 they will do for them that which they have done for the sons 
 of our country. Besides, I know that I am only a mean 
 woman, not having arrived at years of maturity in the eye of 
 the land, -Rathout the right to control my own property,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 293 
 
 or my own actions ; ignorant of many things which it is 
 important for me to know ; but I feel within myself a will, 
 and latterly a light, which may place me in a condition to 
 work towards a coming deliverance. 
 
 " I have of late often had a vision which will grow clearer ! 
 and clearer to my eye, until it becomes the light and object 
 of my life. I see — myself, in lofty, light school-rooms, sur- 
 rounded by young women, and conversing with them of their 
 souls' inner voice, and of God's voice in it, of the most impor- 
 tant object of life and of society, of the vast imj^ortance of 
 every individual life, every individual gift, and their conse- 
 quent connection with it ; of then* value as members of a 
 divine community on earth as in heaven, of their highest duty 
 and highest right. I would found an institution of education, 
 a higher school, where they shall not learn French or Ger- 
 nian, or music or dra\ving — all those can be learned elsewhere 
 — but where young girls, out of whatever class of society they 
 may be, Avhich have awoke to a consciousness of a higher 
 want and for whom the spiritual cell in which they have lived 
 has become too limited, may acquire the true knowledge of 
 themselves and of their vocation, as members of society ; may 
 teach themselves to reflect and to answer the questions, 
 ' What am I ? what can I do ? what ought I to do ?' 
 
 " I would imjjart to these young human souls an insight into 
 their own souls, and into life, which shall teach them to under- 
 stand their own position and calhng in it ; I would open their 
 ears to hear the voice of God, dedicate their desires to the 
 obedient fulfilment of its bidding. One and all should follow 
 their own mdividual course, but all tending to one common 
 object ; the freedom of the one should operate for the freedom 
 of all. Prayer and labor should be our tools ; our watch woi-d, 
 'Freedom in God through Christ.'* And a day will come, 
 
 * If any think that Hertha here propounded erroneous doctrine, we would 
 take the liberty of recalling to their memory the following texts, among 
 many others to the same purport: — 
 " For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus." 
 There is neither male nor female : for ye are all one in Christ Jesus." 
 
 Galat. chap. iii. 26 23
 
 294 THE rOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Yngve, when the voices from this little flock of enfranchised 
 and enlightened souls wUl arise and reach the ear of him who 
 sits upon the throne of our native land, — will reach the assem- 
 bly of legislators, not as the cry of emancipation for women, 
 feeble and inharmonious, but as a strong, harmonious, accord- 
 ant choir ; and then they must listen, then they must under- 
 stand, and then, perhaps, they will act according to justice and 
 truth. 
 
 " I perhaps may not live to see this day, but I may prepare 
 its advent ; see the rosy tints of its dawn ascend in young 
 combating breasts, on pure foreheads, and then — I shall die 
 contented. 
 
 " Many things in my plan are stiU immature and indistinct. 
 But I know that it will clear itself up, and that I shall mature 
 myself for it. Neither do I know the time nor the hour when 
 I may be able to set it in operation, but I feel within me that 
 it will come. And in the mean time I "will prepare myself for 
 it, will endeavor to acquh-e the knowledge in which I am defi- 
 cient ; will endeavor to become acquainted with such persons 
 as might be able to assist me, either by counsel or by action, 
 although I shall rely not alone on such aid — ^because how sel- 
 dom do we find that people will reach forth a helping hand 
 towards the accomplishment of a good work, which is peculiar 
 and out of the common everyday track ? Every one who 
 devotes himself to such a work must be prepared to stand 
 alone, unsupported — often perhaps to be abused and counter- 
 acted. But this gives me very little concern. One^ I know, 
 there is in heaven who will understand me, and one also on 
 earth — you, my Yngve ! And now I ask you, my Yngve, can 
 you, will you extend to me your hand as a helper in my under- 
 taking, and enter into my work ; can my love become your 
 love, my friends your friends, my life's object yours ?" 
 
 " You open to me a fore-court of the kingdom of heaven," 
 exclaimed Yngve, " and ask whether I Avill enter mto it ? Yes, 
 
 " As many as are led by the spirit of God, are the sons (children) of God ;" 
 " And if children, then heirs ; heirs of God, and joint heirs with Christ," 
 
 Bom. chap. viii. 14, 17. 
 " All things are yours."— 1 Cor. chap iii. 21. 
 
 I
 
 THE FOVR SISTERS. 295 
 
 Hertha, yes ! that I will, with all my heart and all ray soul ! 
 Neither do I see that my occupation as engineer can prevent 
 mQ from actively participating in a labor of higher importance 
 than all plans of advancement in time and space. Yes, I know 
 that it is precisely by means of such an intellectual activity 
 that my life's endeavors, my soul's desires will find their full 
 pm-pose and accomplishment. Only you must promise me one 
 thing ; for I also have my conditions, beloved !" 
 
 " What are they, Yngve ?" 
 
 "That you will allow youths as well as yoimg girls to 
 attend your classes, your lectures! Of special branches of 
 study, abstract philosophy, we can obtain sufficient knowledge 
 in our academies and colleges, but not a living view of hfe, of 
 society, and of ourselves ; this can be given best by a womanly 
 soul, such as yom-s ! Therefore — let youths also attend your 
 classes, Hertha !" 
 
 " Any one whom you may introduce to me, Yngve, shall be 
 welcome to me as a brother." 
 
 " Good ! we are then agreed on this. Give me your hand, 
 my bride, my wife — my helper in labor and pleasure, in joy 
 and sori'ow, in Hfe and death !" 
 
 In reply Hertha extended her arms and clasped her friend 
 in a faithful, warm embrace. 
 
 The evening wind fluttered aroimd them, and scattered 
 them with ashes and dust from the ruins around them. They 
 felt it not. They had built for themselves a home and a house 
 not made with hands, one wloich would stand when their 
 hands had become powerless, and in which they might dwell 
 when their hearts had ceased to throb on earth against each 
 other, as they did now. That they Icnew, and were happy, 
 nay blessed ! The joy of heaven united itself with that of 
 earth in their pure bosoms. 
 
 " Let us now go to your father," said Yngve ; " everything 
 must be said and done this very evening. In order to bear 
 the thought of a long separation from you I must know that 
 in the spring I may return and claim you as my wife." 
 
 Hertha sorro'svfully shook her head ; and now began to
 
 296 
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 prepare him for the diflficulties, nay, even the opposition which, 
 in all probabiUty, they would have to encounter frora her 
 father. They might expect long delay, possibly refusal. They 
 must arm themselves with patience. 
 
 Yngve would not hsten to this, he was impatient and irri- 
 tated by the thought that a woman such as Hertha, of matured 
 age, and mth her own independent property, should not be 
 allowed to decide her own choice or her own future, 
 
 " It is irrational ; it is not to be thought of," said he, " that 
 your father wiU refuse it to you !" 
 
 But the certainty which Hertha possessed, that tliis was not 
 only possible, but even probable, communicated itself by 
 degrees to Yngve, and depressed him. The certamty of their 
 hearts' inward union, and the thcaight of the bond which they 
 had formed, was not sufficient to sustain his joyous state of 
 mind at this moment, when in addition the approaching sepa- 
 ration hung hke a heavy cloud over his heaven. 
 
 The remainder of the way was passed in silence. As they 
 passed Kullen, Yngve said : 
 
 " I have a request to make of you, Hertha. I have had by 
 deo-rees aU my little store of books sent to me at the Solberga. 
 Will you take charge of them, and let my books talk to you 
 of me whilst I am far away ?" 
 
 " You could not give me a more j^recious gift, Yngve," said 
 Hertha, " excepting one, which I will beg of you !" 
 
 " Of me !" exclaimed Yngve, joyfully surprised, " what — ■ 
 what can I give you .^" 
 
 Never had Hertha's voice been so melodious, as now when 
 with humility and heartfelt emotion she said : 
 
 " Your influence mth your mother ; that she wUl consent 
 to come and be a mother in my home, a mother to me and 
 my young sisters. She shall find there daughterly respect 
 and love. I have spoken Avith my father on the subject, and 
 he sees it in the same light as I do. Our home needs a good 
 and prudent mistress, my young sisters an experienced and 
 motherly oversight, and I the leisure, in dependence upon this, 
 to prepare myself for my future undertaking. Thus, as I, 
 
 {
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 29t 
 
 through you, hecame acquamted with your mother, I feel that 
 I shall love her ; that she mil be a good angel m my home 
 and — for me, who will learn from her that gentleness in woman 
 which you, Yngve, value so highly. And there is in my home 
 a room withm mine, Avith a wmdow towards the setting sun, 
 a pleasant little room, which it will delight me to arrange 
 according to your mother's taste, and which I long since des- 
 tmed for her. Pray of her, Yngve, to c»me and take posses- 
 sion of it, and call it hers ; it will make me very happy ! Will 
 you, Yngve?" 
 
 " I know not how to thank you ?" said Yngve, deeply af- 
 fected ; " but I understand you, and I \7ill write to my mo- 
 ther." 
 
 Now they were at Kullen, and entered the house with an 
 uneasy presentiment as to the reception which they might 
 meet,— little dreaming, however, that they would meet and 
 be met by
 
 298 THE FOUR SlSiXKllS. 
 
 THE GREAT LAW-SUIT. 
 
 At the moment when Yngve and Hertha entered the halJ, 
 Aunt Nella came rushing in from her own room with her large 
 portfoUo imder her arm, her eyes wide open, and with altoge- 
 ther a most bewildered appearance. 
 
 " Yes," said she, addressing Hertha in a passionate and re- 
 proachful tone, " you are come in time to accompany your 
 father to prison, unless I can save him and us all ! Ay, now it 
 is all plain enough ; now we shall see what comes of it." 
 
 And so saying, Aunt Nella began hastily to ascend the 
 stairs with the great portfoho in her arms, incessantly talking 
 the while of " enemies," and " prison," and " law-suit," and 
 " I very well knew that it would come, that I did ! But I 
 shall be as good as they ! I shall show them my papers. They 
 shall see, they shall see, they shall see " 
 
 Greatly amazed, Yngve and Hertha followed Aunt Nella's 
 steps to the dining-room, where the door of the Director's 
 room which adjoined it, stood open. Within Hertha saw 
 lights burning, and her father pale with anger, standing before 
 two gentlemen, who were strangers to her. They seemed to 
 have brought a written document, which now lay on a table 
 between them and the Director, and upon Avhich he, from time 
 to time, cast angry glances. 
 
 " I will continue my suit against you as long as I live!" said 
 he in a voice tremulous with anger. 
 
 " As you please, Mr. DircctiJi-," said one of the gentlemen 
 with calm politeness ; "but tlie longer you do so, the more 
 you will lose. The verdict of the Court " 
 
 "The Court I" screamed .Vunt Nclla, as she stonned in
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 299 
 
 with her great portfolio, " the Court must first hear what I 
 have to say, and see ray papers !" 
 
 And before the astonished eyes of the two gentlemen Aunt 
 Nella held up the big portfoho, as she contmued, " And if it 
 comes to freeing my brother-in-law and myself from the talons 
 of the law, and from prison, means will not be wanting ; see 
 here ! and see here !" 
 
 And Aunt NeUa, from out of the confusion of letters, 
 scraps cut out of newspapers, and patterns for embroidery, 
 drew forth several small pieces of paper, which soon fixed the 
 attention of the gentlemen. These small pieces of jiaper were 
 actual scrip, some for several hundreds, and others thousands 
 of rix-dollars, and the amount of which, when all added 
 together, showed a total value of about ten thousand rix- 
 dollars. 
 
 The two gentlemen had evidently begun with the suspicion 
 that, " the old woman must be crazy !" but afterwards it 
 seemed to be that, " the old woman might perhaps be wiser 
 than j^eople imagined," 
 
 Aunt Nella continued : " My enemies have long persecut- 
 ed me in secret, but now when their maUce is revealed, and 
 they seek to drag in my brother-in-law also, it is my duty to 
 place in his hands those means which may free both him and 
 myself" 
 
 Aunt Nella said this with pathos, and not -odthout dignity. 
 But the Director, who wished to make an end of this scene, 
 said shortly : 
 
 " Keep your money, sister-in-law ; I have no need of it ; 
 but I thank you for your good intention. Gentlemen, we 
 have, I believe, nothing more to say to each other. I have 
 received your summons, and shall appear before the Court. 
 Good-bye," 
 
 The two gentlemen bowed coldly to the Director, and with 
 half a smUe to Aunt N^ella. 
 
 The Director again fixed upon her astonished and deferen- 
 tial regards. They said evidently, " This from Aunt Xella ! 
 Who would have expected such a thing of her ? Ten thou-
 
 300 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 sand rix-dollars ! The Nought (Nolla) is of more value than 
 I imagined." 
 
 Aunt Nella, who saw the astonishment and read the 
 thoughts of the Du-ector, sunned herself, in the expression of 
 his glances, without rightly comprehending that they had 
 reference to the nought^ which he had formerly considered as 
 her only value. The excitement which had so lately given 
 him strength, died away on the departure of the gentlemen, 
 and he sank down in his arm-chair with a deep sigh and 
 almost fainting. 
 
 Hertha went uj) to her father, as she said : 
 
 " Father, I am here. Will you not tell me what it is that 
 has so disturbed you ? Cannot I be of some use ? cannot I 
 help in some way ?" 
 
 " And I," said Yngve, also going forward and taking the 
 Director's hand, " cannot I be of some service to you ? Let — 
 oh, let me serve you as your son and as Hertha's husband ! 
 My w^hole life shall prove how highly I value this happiness !'* 
 
 Exactly as a wall of rock raises itself against a rushing flood, 
 and dams up its course, so now rose up the Director, and 
 gazed at the two with looks of astonishment, which became 
 all the more rigid and severe as he exclaimed in broken sen- 
 tences : 
 
 " Thank you — thank you — for the offer of so much help ; 
 but — ^I believe myself not altogether incapable of helping my- 
 self, of managing my own affairs. I do not feel as yet any 
 need of support — I feel myself as strong and as clear as I ever 
 did. And as regards your offer to my daughter, Lieutenant, 
 I am astonished that she did not prepare me for it, as, accord- 
 ing to my ideas, it was her duty to do — and I am — in conse- 
 quence — not prei:»ared with an answer. My duty, as father 
 and guardian, forbids me to give my daughter to the first 
 man that asks her, and of whom I know nothing at all ; and — 
 no disresj^ect to you. Lieutenant, but I think that the time for 
 your proposal might have been better chosen." 
 
 " If so," replied Yngve, calmly, and with cordiality, " then 
 permit me to return some other and more suitable time, which
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 301 
 
 you may yourself appoint, and when I may give you all the 
 information regarding myself, which you have a right to 
 demand." 
 
 There was something so good in Yngve's expression, his 
 manners were so pleasing, and at the same time so easy and 
 cordial, that sooner or later he won upon aU with whom he 
 came in contact. 
 
 Even the Director could not resist their influence, and 
 bowed his head as a silent assent to the young man's entreaty. 
 When, therefore, Yngve mentioned his approaching journey, 
 and requested that an opportunity for this much-desired inter- 
 view might be granted on an early day, the Du-ector replied : 
 " To-morrow evenuig at six o'clock." 
 
 When Yngve had taken his departure, the Director broke 
 out violently against his daughter, upbraiding her severely 
 for not having prepared him for Yngve's ofier. 
 
 " Don't tell me," said he, " that you were not prepared for 
 it yourself An old maid hke you knows only too well when 
 a man means to make her an offer, and it is in that case her 
 duty to prepare her father beforehand. Besides, you know 
 that I am no friend to surprises." 
 
 To Aunt Nella the Director said : 
 
 " I do not really need your money at this time, sister-in- 
 law, but you ought not to. let tliis scrip lie carelessly among 
 all sorts of loose papers ; it will be best for me to take charge 
 of it for you, and I >vill take care that you have your interest 
 regularly. I can place it to better account than you can. 
 And if I should have occasion to borrow your money, you 
 know that you have good security for it ^vith me." 
 
 " It is the savings of forty years, brother-in-law," said Aunt 
 Nella, and began to cry, affected at the thoughts of her- 
 self 
 
 " Yes, which you were able to make in my family for the 
 most part," said the Director, " and whilst you there lived free 
 of cost, and had no need to spend anything. But in any case 
 it is very beautiful, very beautiful of you, sister-in-law, and I 
 esteem you very much for your prudence and circumspection,
 
 302 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 and for the proof of friendship which you have given me to- 
 day. I shall not forget it ! I shall regard all yours as if it 
 were my own, and take just the same care of it." 
 
 And so saying, the Director laid Aunt Nella's scrip in his 
 pocket-book, and after that pressed and shook her hand, as he 
 said half-jokingly : 
 
 " Only think of a Httle creature like you being worth ten 
 thousand rix-dollars ! Who could have thought it ?" 
 
 Aunt Nella curtseyed and smiled, and was happy in the 
 commendation and the friendliness of her brother-La-law. On 
 her way down to her own room, however, it seemed as if the 
 portfolio had become considerably hghter, nor could she avoid 
 a certain imeasy feeling in this consciousness ; but then, again, 
 she thought how her and her brother-in-law's interests would 
 henceforth become one, both in the great law-suit and out of 
 it ; and in this way Aunt Nella seemed to be magnanimously 
 sacrificing herself like a real heroine of romance (and Aunt 
 Nella was — I know not whether I have mentioned it before or 
 not — in secret a great novel-reader) ; and she foresaw that an 
 hour would come in the course of the great law-suit, when 
 her noble conduct would be made known, and openly acknow- 
 ledged in some kind of protocol, because that was the way in 
 wliich things happened in the histories of heroines of romance. 
 Poor Aunt Nella ! 
 
 In the mean time she enjoyed the pleasure of being re- 
 garded by her brother-in-law, after this evening, with quite 
 other eyes than formerly; he considered her evidently no 
 longer a single cypher, but four cyphers with a one standing 
 befoi'e them.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. SU.J 
 
 A MOMENT. 
 
 In our northern folk-songs there commonly occurs between 
 the minor key of the beginnmg and the end, an interval of a 
 few bars in the major key which, in the most delicious manner, 
 soothe the ear and touch the feeUngs, in which the soul seems 
 to cast a bright glance, rich in promise, into a future affluent 
 in spring and love. The evening on which Yngve, according 
 to the appointment of the Dnector, again found himself at 
 Kullen, resembled such a major key in the life of the lovers. 
 
 The Director, who seemed to have taken his resolution with 
 regard to Yngve, received him with poUteness, and, without 
 any repulsive coldness, allowed him to explain his prosj)ects, 
 and then rephed that he wished to become better acquainted 
 with him ; wished him a more important position in society, as 
 well as more certain prospects of an independent income before 
 he could consent to his marriage with Hertha. Hertha, it 
 was true, possessed some property from her mother, but not 
 as much as people generally believed ; and not sufficient of 
 itself for the maintenance of a family. It was the Director's 
 duty, therefore, as her father and guardian, to watch over her 
 future prospects. The future alone could decide the issue of 
 Yngve's wishes with regard to Hertha, but he might openly 
 plead his own cause with her, and in the mean time would be 
 Avelcome to the house of Hertha's father. 
 
 All this was reasonable enough, and was more than Yngve 
 expected after the scene of the preceding evening. He there- 
 fore thanked the Director cordially, and expressed his hope 
 that before long he might be able to satisfy his reasonable 
 demands, and offer to Hertha a position in hfe secure from 
 pecuniary difficulties. Yngve also contrived to create an
 
 804 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 interest in the mind of tne Director for the undertakings in 
 which he was interested, and in which his future prospects 
 were involved. He produced altogether so agreeable an im- 
 pression upon the Director, that he received from him an 
 invitation to stay to supper. 
 
 Such an event as a young man being invited to stay to sup- 
 per, had not occurred for many a long year, never since the 
 time when Alma's lover visited with them. 
 
 The dining-room at KuUen exhibited this evening an unu- 
 sually agreeable aspect. The large fire of pine-logs, which 
 crackled and flamed merrily, threw a joyous hght upon the 
 father of the family, who sate in a comfortable corner, smok- 
 ing his pipe and talking with Yngve about the various schemes 
 for railroads and water conveyances in Sweden and other 
 countries : upon httle Aunt Nella, who sate by the fire busily 
 winding ofi" her yarn, and muttering to herself with an unu- 
 suaUy pleased expression ; on the supper-table, which was 
 spread and adorned with flowers by Martha and Maria ; and 
 lastly on Hertha, who came and went, as she silently attended 
 to her household duties. She appeared to Yngve, this while, 
 so noble and beautiful, that he sometimes became quite 
 absorbed, and forgot that it was needful to answer the ques- 
 tions of the Du-ector about railroads, or else he replied wholly 
 at random. For instance, when questioned about a certam 
 branch of railway, he answered hke one in a di-eam, " an 
 actual Iduna! " and as to the direction of another railroad, he 
 replied with warmth, " to all eternity ! " 
 
 The director looked at him in astonishment, but when he 
 observed the direction of his eyes, he smiled, puflTed the smoke 
 from his tobacco-pipe, and did not seem ofiended. They had 
 scarcely ever seen the Dkector so civil and so kind to any one 
 before. How happy the sight of this made Hertha, and the 
 pleasant anticipations for the futm-e which it gave rise to, both 
 in her breast and that of Yngve, may easily be conceived. 
 
 The evening meal became, under these circumstances, one 
 of the most joyous which had ever been partaken of in that 
 home. When it was ended the Director spoke to Yngve
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 305 
 
 about his mother, and now made lier, through her son, that 
 offer of a place in his family, which Hex-tha had prepared him 
 for. Yngve perceived that the Director regarded this matter 
 as an affair which would be advantageous to the family, and 
 he silently commended her consideration. 
 
 Before they separated Hertha led her fiiend into the room 
 wliich she had prepared and arranged for his mother. 
 
 " See, Yngve," said she, " your book-case shall stand there, 
 and here in this easy chair your mother shall sit, and I here, 
 beside her, when we read together your books and your let- 
 ters. Here, at this writing-table, will your mother, and — I 
 also sometimes — write to you." 
 
 Hertha wished, in this moment of separation, to leave upon 
 Yngve's mind the impression of her close connection with his 
 mother, and of the hfe she would lead in her new home. She 
 wished that he, in memory, should see them together. 
 
 Yngve was at the same time so affected, and rendered so 
 happy by all that had taken place, that when he took leave 
 of Hertha's sisters, he pressed them to his heart with an 
 earnest tenderness that at once astonished and affected them ; 
 he kissed Aunt Nella's hand and then her cheek, which 
 caused her to make such a start of pleasurable surprise, as 
 broke her yarn-thread ; for she discovered, all at once, a great 
 resemblance between Yngve and one of the ball-room admir- 
 ers of her young days, and she began to puzzle her brain about 
 some secret intrigue in connection with this circumstance. 
 Yngve was disposed to clasp the Director and the whole 
 family in his embrace, but the distant though polite demeanor 
 of the former checked any extraordinary demonstration as 
 regarded him. Nevertheless, when Yngve, mth an expression 
 of filial reverence and gratitude in his frank and handsome 
 countenance, yet once more shook his hand at parting, tlie 
 Director accompanied him to the door, and said, with undis- 
 guised good-wiU : 
 
 "I wisli you all success and a happy return. You are still 
 quite young, and while the Patriarch Jacob could wait seven 
 years, and again seven years, for his betrothed, it ought not to
 
 30G THE POUR SISTERS, 
 
 appear long to you to wait a year or two for one who is dear 
 to you. Time flies fast." 
 
 Hertha, this evening, kissed her father's hand, as she had 
 not kissed it since the time when she looked up to him in 
 blind obedience and love.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 307 
 
 SEVEN YEARS: 
 THE PATRIARCHAL RELATIONSHIP. 
 
 We read in the history of the Patriarch Jacob, that the 
 seven years which he served for Rachel " seemed to him btit a 
 few days, for the love he had to her." And I knew a Swedish 
 girl who devoted herself for ten years to wait upon her bhnd 
 and necessitous father, and who, although she was yoimg and 
 blooming when she entered upon this service, and was pale 
 and withered when it was ended (at her father's decease), yet 
 who found not those ten years to be either long or oppressive. 
 The reason of this was, that affection had been the impelling 
 principle, had sustained the soul, given wings to time, had 
 made even weariness dear, and changed life into a beautiful 
 pastime. 
 
 How different must it be when the service is for those whom 
 we cannot love, or when force or injustice enchain the free 
 soul to a lot which it has not chosen! how oppressive the 
 days then become ; how intenrunable the years ; how gloomy 
 the heart, life, the future. Providence — everything ! 
 
 We wiU pass with light and hasty steps over those years of 
 Hertha's history which we have now to describe, and only by 
 a few touches delineate their lights and shadows. 
 
 Half a year after the parting which we have described in 
 the foregoing chapter, Yngve returned to Sweden, his health 
 re-established, and full of earnestness, hope, and activity. 
 Two years afterwards he was advanced to a position in his 
 profession which gave him the certain prospect of a modest 
 competency for the future, and he now renewed his request 
 to Hertha's fether for his consent to then- union. Tlie Director 
 rephed that he did not consider Yngve's prospects as yet
 
 308 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 sufficiently established. Besides which, his health, he sail, 
 was such that he could neither dispense with his daughter's 
 care at home, nor yet could he look into the state of her 
 property. He considered it best, therefore, that the lovers 
 should yet wait for a year or two. 
 
 It was now, that Hertha for the iirst time broke the bonds 
 of silence, Avhich long custom and inherent reverence for the 
 patriarchal guardianship had imposed upon her. She spoke 
 seriously and plainly with her father, reminded him of all his 
 promises, told him of her own human right to dispose of her 
 own person, her own property, and to determine her own 
 future. She appealed to him in the name of justice and of 
 reason ; but, ah ! her father, in his favor, could oppose 
 against her the decisions of the law, " the Paternal Statutes." 
 After he had listened to her with an almost spornful calmness, 
 he proved to her out of the Statute-book itself, that she 
 possessed no right at all over her own property, over herself, 
 or her future, otherwise than in as far as her father would 
 consider it. She was " a minor" in the eye of the law, and 
 was bound to guide herself entirely according to the will of 
 her guardian. His promises to her — he could not remember 
 having made any. If he had ever made any promises, it 
 could only be on condition of his fulfilling them in case he 
 found it right to do so, but that nobody, either by force or 
 otherwise, should compel him to do anything which he was 
 not wUling to do of himself He was not one who would 
 allow himself to be compelled. He had now spoken his 
 mind, and there was an end of it, and people knew what they 
 had to do. 
 
 Hertha did not this time give way to the proud feeling 
 which rose up withm her. She besought her father to listen 
 to the voice of reason ; she reminded him, with tears, of 
 Alma's last prayer. Nor did she now even demand, she only 
 prayed on her knees before him — for her freedom, for her 
 human right, which if her father would not grant her from a 
 sense of justice, would he not do so out of kindness and mercy ? 
 
 But the Director at this moment was excited beyond liira-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 309 
 
 self. " Did she wish to kill him ?" he asked, " or to drive 
 him mad ? Could she not wait a year or two ? IMore he did 
 not ask for." And he ended by appealing to her afiection as 
 a daughter. " She ought to obey her father. He knew 
 better than she did what would contribute to her welfare. 
 He did not like sentimental scenes. He knew what he would 
 bave, and have it he would, and there was an end." 
 
 Reader, if thou hast ever prayed for something which was 
 right and reasonable ; prayed earnestly, put thy whole soul 
 iuto thy prayer ; humbled thyself, renounced thyself in order, 
 through love and sacrifice, to obtain — thy right, and yet 
 hast been denied, then perhaps wilt thou be able to under- 
 stand Hertha's feelings as she arose from her humble position 
 at her father's knee. Pale, rigid, with a gloomy expression 
 of eye, and with a dark presentiment in her soul, she rose 
 slowly and left the room without saying a word. But her 
 soul was in a state of tumult. 
 
 She was calmer, but gloomily resolute, when on the after- 
 noon of the same day she related the result of her conversa- 
 tion with her father to Yngve and Judge Carlson, who came 
 on purpose to hear it. 
 
 Both were exceedingly angry, and advised her to appeal to 
 the courts of justice, and let them decide between her and her 
 unreasonable father. Without doubt they would decide in 
 her favor. 
 
 " I beUeve so too," said Hertha : " but one thing is certain, 
 and that is, that I shall never appeal to them to obtain my 
 rights against my father." 
 
 " Then you do not love me," exclaimed Tngve, reproach- 
 fully; "you wiU let me die of Tantalus-agony rather than 
 consent to a bold but rational procedure. You do not under- 
 stand my affection for you — you cannot have the same for me. 
 You are afraid of your father — afraid of the world's judgment 
 of you, — I am nothing to you — my life and my happiness are 
 nothing to you." 
 
 Hertha fixed upon Yngve a look of unspeakable reproachful 
 anguish, but she said not a word.
 
 310 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " I honor your delicacy of feeling, your sense of filial duty," 
 said Judge Carlson, "but these may be carried too far. 
 Reflect that you sacrifice both your own and another's future 
 for egotistical perversity, for unbounded obstinacy. And you 
 have already mentioned to me your anxiety about your 
 father's afiaii'S, and his ability to manage them — reflect, 
 therefore, that you are probably sacrificing not only your own, 
 but your sisters' property, which is in his hands, — as well as 
 their future prospects." 
 
 Hertha bowed her head into her hands and sat for a mo- 
 ment silent. When she again raised her countenance it was 
 bathed in tears. 
 
 " Oh, my friends," said she, " do not be angry with me. I 
 cannot do otherwise ; my conscience forbids me. Because my 
 father is an unreasonable father, must I be an unnatural 
 daughter ? Must I rise up against him who gave me hfe, and 
 embitter his life ? — cast a shadow upon him through the whole 
 kingdom — reveal his weakness or his injustice ? No ; I will 
 not merit the reproach of having acted unworthily as a 
 daughter. I should in that case consider myself unworthy 
 of being one day a mother. No ; I will not appear publicly 
 as an accuser of my father. Rather let Yngve and me wait 
 patiently — die, if so it must be. I will do all that Hes m my 
 power, all that can be done by the performance of duty, 
 by persuasion — and perhaps a time may come when my 
 father's heart will not be so closed against me as now ; but 
 never, never will I through force and compulsion deserve his 
 hatred, his curse. And if you can accuse me for this, Yngve, 
 you are no longer the noble, the right-minded Yngve whom I 
 loved." 
 
 " But your sisters ?" resumed the lawyer. 
 
 " Show me," said Hertha, " a way of securing their future 
 prospects, without giving a death-blow to our father's respec- 
 tabihty, and to his life, perhaps, by my laying before the 
 monarch and the nation my suspicions of his stewardship of 
 our property. Can you show me any other way ? Do cut 
 laws afibrd no other means ?"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 311 
 
 Both Carlson and Yngve "were silent. Hertha rose up. 
 
 " Give me your hands," said she, " you cannot disapprove 
 of my feelings. Support me rather in the severe time of trial 
 which is at hand, Yngve !" — Hertha's glance spoke what no 
 words could exi^ress, the suffering which she endured on his 
 account. 
 
 He understood her looks, and replied by clasping her to his 
 heart. 
 
 " Forgive me !" whispered he ; " never more shall you hear 
 a reproachful word from me." 
 
 Yngve's resolution was, however, taken at this moment. 
 He would separate himself for a time both from Hertha and 
 his native land, and accept a professional offer wliich had been 
 made to hun abroad, and which afforded him more advan- 
 tageous prospects than he had at present in Sweden. For it 
 was to him unendurable to live near Hertha under the con- 
 straint which his half-engagement to her and her own wishes 
 imposed. And he was right. Hertha did not love Yngve as 
 he loved her. ISTo woman can fully understand the passion 
 which glows in the whole being of the enamored young man, 
 nor can she participate it. She loves equally as much, often 
 more, or better than he, but in quite another manner. 
 
 Carlson contemplated the two young friends with deep sym- 
 pathy, and Hertha with real admiration, because he perfectly 
 miderstood her. 
 
 " Remember your promise," said he to her at the close of 
 this interview, " to make use of me whenever you may want 
 the help of a fatherly friend, of one who would be a father to 
 you, and — would to God that I were so !" 
 
 Yngve set off soon afterwards -with one of his young friends 
 to Piedmont, whither his new engagement called him. Judge 
 Carlson removed to his magisterial district. Hertha remained 
 alone in her father's house. 
 
 The Dkector's health improved somewhat during the follow- 
 ing year, in the course of which he received various flattering 
 pubUc marks of honor. He had made himself known and 
 esteemed as a clever and unflinching servant of the government.
 
 312 TItE FOLK SISTEKS. 
 
 and therefore the order of the Knight of the ISTorth Star was 
 conferred upon hmi witli the title of Chief Director, and his 
 name was changed to that of Falkenhjelm, which name was 
 borne by an elder branch of the same family. He was spoken 
 of in general as a " substantial old fellow," a " close man," a 
 " prudent man," a " clever old gentleman," and so on, and 
 regarded as a man of great practical understanding, as well as 
 substantial wealth. Meantime the mysterious laAv-suit pro- 
 ceeded, regarding which Aunt Nella continued in profound 
 silence, to give significant looks and put on an important air, 
 but about which, from fear of her brother-in-law's displeasure, 
 she never dared to speak aloud, and about which he himself 
 never spoke, excepting to the lawyer to whom he had intrusted 
 his cause, and with whom he had long and mysterious con- 
 ferences. This law-suit and these conferences had evidently 
 a great influence upon the Director's temper, which in con- 
 sequence became more and more gloomy and irascible, in spite 
 of the hght which was cast from the sun of royal favor over 
 his civil services. Hertha, who sometimes doubted the justice 
 of her suspicions regarding her father's mismanagement of the 
 family projjerty, became nevertheless uneasy at the repeated 
 proofs which occurred of his failing memory and impaired 
 powers of mind, but still she could not even here attain to full 
 certainty. 
 
 There occuiTed at this time in her life, one of those long 
 states of twilight, which are so general in the lives of women 
 in the north, especially in Sweden ; states of twihght during 
 which every object is involved in shadows, and when one can 
 only act or work inasmuch as the little flame one lights can 
 enable one to see ; states which wonderfully remind us of the 
 Scandinavian " Hades," that wonderful world of mist, full of 
 rain-clouds, and shapeless magical forms, and clammy, poi- 
 sonous rivers. 
 
 But there are two kinds of twilight, that of evening, and 
 that of the morning. The former deepens into night ; the 
 latter brightens into day. Weak or melancholy temperaments 
 belong to the former, but energetic souls, and those also in
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 313 
 
 which the strength of God's love has kindled its ele-vating 
 flame, are — yes, even if the whole of their earthly life con- 
 tinues m twilight — they are the children of the rosy morning, 
 and their souls and their labors are tinged by its celestial 
 glow. 
 
 We need not say to which of these two classes Hertha 
 belonged; Her energetic soul, the light which came to her 
 from the friend who reconciled her to life ; faith in a superin- 
 tending, fatherly providence, which never deserted her, since 
 she had so evidently perceived its guidance in her heart, in her 
 hfe ; the purity and beauty of her connection with Yngve ; 
 the conviction that she had acted according to the highest 
 dictates of duty and conscience — all these helped her to over- 
 come the bitterness which unjust power awoke within her, 
 helped her also during the imhappy continuance of twilight in 
 her life and home, to kindle a light which did not merely 
 enhghten herself but others also, — nay, indeed almost every 
 one who came within her sphere of life. 
 
 Towards her father she continued to be an obedient and 
 careful daughter, even when she was obliged to give up all 
 hope of finding in him a fatherly support in any respect. Love 
 him she could not, neither show him the love, the sweet, affec- 
 tionate attention which lovr only can inspire. And although 
 he received all that he demanded; punctuahty, obedience, 
 order in everything which concerned him, — he complained not 
 unfrequently to his faithful, old servant of his eldest daughter's 
 obstinacy, want of affection, and insubordination towards him. 
 She was, he said, of an inflexible character, who would not take 
 the pains to please her fathei', or make him happy ; she was 
 stubborn, irreconcilable, imforgiving, selfish, and so on. 
 
 Oh, thou fool ! Thou desirest love and reconciliation, but 
 thou thyself exhibitest the opposite ; thou complainest of cold- 
 ness and want of feeling in look and manner, and thou thyseli' 
 art the cause of this by thy own behavior, thou thyself doing 
 nothing to call forth kindly feelings. She of whom thou corn- 
 plainest may have treasures of love and tenderness in her heart, 
 but thou wilt never experience them, and thou wilt never be
 
 314 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 able to see a true glance from those eyes, because thou hast 
 excluded from thee the sunlight of those eyes, by thy unwor- 
 thmess, thy severity ; thou hast built up a granite wall between 
 that eye and thine own. Thou fool ! which seest the mote m 
 thy neighbor's eye and perceivest not the beam which is in 
 thine own, accuse thyself, and become different to Avhat thou 
 art ! That soul is cold, thou sayest. What if she b*e merely 
 true and honest towards herself and thee ? Better, nobler is 
 it that she show herself as she is, than that she should dissem- 
 ble an affection, act a lie by appearing agreeable to thee, Avhen 
 she neither does nor can feel so. Esteem and love will not 
 come at call. They must be won. 
 
 Attachment to Yngve's gentle mother, as well as to her 
 yoimg sisters, were the Ught in Hertha's domestic life, and by 
 degrees a fresh light dawned in that active employment, of 
 which we have spoken, and which gave new life to her soul. 
 
 During the three years which Hertha devoted to those pre- 
 paratory studies which she herself considered absolutely neces- 
 sary, before bringing into operation the educational institute 
 which it was her intention to establish, she was fortunate 
 enough to become acquainted with two men of more than ordi- 
 nary knowledge and elevation of mind. They had become 
 attached to her as brothers, and ii aparted to her the wealth of 
 theu' OAvn large views and praciical knowledge, than which 
 nothing could be more valuable to her, whilst they themselves 
 were, in a high degree, benefited by the noble spirit and life 
 of this extraordinary young woman. Hertha came to expe- 
 rience that which she, who now traces the history of her life, 
 also has experienced, and which will ever live in her grateful 
 memory as one of her most precious human experiences, that 
 however unfavorable the laws and spirit of society may be to 
 the fuU development of woman, yet that it seldom, if ever hap- 
 pened, that a woman, gifted with any unusual powers of mind 
 or gifts of genius, does not sooner or later find manly fi-ienda 
 who faithfully offer their hands to help her to attain the object 
 towards which her natural gifts prompt her. 
 
 It is another question whether this extension of help can ever
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 315 
 
 become sufficient, whether it does not always come too late, or 
 is of necessity too partial to admit of her full development. 
 " No one," "wrote Mozart, on one occasion, to a dilettante 
 music-composer, " can ever, after all, become a master, who 
 has not already from childhood had experience of the master's 
 ' donnerwetter'' and the discipline of the school." Certain it is, 
 that technical certainty, clear insight into means and purposes 
 as well as the application of our o"\vn powers, are not obtained 
 without early, sure guidance, long practice and trial. Help- 
 less deficiency adheres even to genius which has been long left 
 to guide itself in the wide world by its own wUl. 
 
 Hertha, with deep sorrow, soon discovered aU this ; dis- 
 covered with what helpless deficiency she would have to com- 
 bat in herself, before she could accomplish her purpose. Her 
 courageous spirit, however, admonished her steadfastly to 
 persevere towards the object which she had set before herself 
 " There are subjects, after all," said she to herself, " on which 
 I can give instructions to young light-seeking souls, better 
 than even the most learned men," 
 
 In the mean time it soon became evident to her that, in 
 order to render her plan effective, it must be carried out in a 
 form more in accordance with the views and the point of sight 
 from which the circle in which she moved looked at things. 
 To accompHsh even this, her position in the family, as regarded 
 money and her father's peculiar temper, compelled her to 
 endeavor, by her own labor, to obtain the means of putting 
 her plans in execution. 
 
 Many of our young readers have doubtless wondered already 
 why Hertha did not endeavor, by means of authorsliip, to 
 acquire this needful independence. But Hertha knew that 
 she was not possessed of the necessary gifts for this purpose ; 
 she did not write as a matter of choice ; she talked better 
 than she wrote. Action and life were the springs of her 
 inspiration; it was when in living contact with other souls 
 that her own soul felt and extended its wings. Besides — but we 
 wiU let her speak for herself in some of the entries in her diary : 
 
 " May \s% 18 — . I have determined to commence a week-
 
 316 THE FOLK SISTERS. 
 
 day school, or Pension^ as it is called, where j'oung girls shall 
 be taught everything which is considered especially necessary 
 for them in this world ; that is to say, languages, history, geo- 
 graphy, needlework, drawing, music, etc. ; all of which are 
 unquestionably good ; and this school will aid me in carrying 
 out my plan for the other higher school, devoted to the 
 exercises of the soul and the powers of mind ; but which I 
 think of styling ' Practices in Language and Conversation,' 
 in order not to awaken any ' uneasiness in the camp,' or any 
 suspicion of any schemes of emancipation. The week-day 
 school, in which I shall be assisted by a male and female 
 teacher, will assemble every day. The higher, holiday-school, 
 for the practice of language and conversation, only twice in 
 the M^eek ; and only voluntary or select pupils shall be admitted 
 to it. The entrance to the former school shall be by payment : 
 to the latter only by Love to the Eternal. 
 
 " In the mean time I must have some money to provide a 
 store of books and materials for the week-day school, and for 
 this I must go to my father. I shall beg him to let me have 
 the small sum of interest due upon my maternal inheritance. 
 I will only ask for that which is my oAvn, and as a means of 
 providing a future competence ; nevertheless, I have a bitter 
 presentiment that I shall be refused. But I must make the 
 attempt. Alas, that the making of a reasonable request to a 
 father should be felt as a something dreadful ! " 
 
 " May Srd. My presentiment was right. I received a nega- 
 tive reply. ' Such were unnecessary establishments,' he said, 
 ' and served only to make girls full of pretension, unpractical, 
 and useless at home,' etc. etc. * There Avas, besides, already a 
 girls' school in the town, and that was more than enough. 
 Another could not support itself' ' It was the duty of a 
 guardian,' he said, ' to see that the minor's property was not 
 misapplied, but that, on the contrary, it was augmented by 
 the interest being added to the principal, and that such duty 
 he would fulfil, so long as it lay in his power.' ' I could do 
 just as I liked about the school, but I must not look to him 
 for any money.'
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 31T 
 
 "I have now written, therefore, to Judge Carlson, and asked 
 him for a loan. It is A'ery repugnant to my feelings to do so, 
 but it is my only resource. I shall see whether he will keep 
 his promise. 
 
 " ' Cannot you grind ?' I, on one occasion, heard a "svitty, 
 elderly lady say, with a cunning smile, to another, who com- 
 plained that she could not get her husband to perform a 
 promise which he had given her. And there is, I know, a 
 certain grinding in the house, a perpetual recurrence of 
 reminding, bothering, worrying, which, with the addition of 
 black looks, tears, or cold, cutting words and looks, is able to 
 overcome the stoutest resistance, and give such as are clever 
 in this art an incalculable power of obtaining whatever they 
 wish for. But another thing I know also, and that is, that I 
 neither can nor will avail myself of such ways and means. 
 The royal way of love and truth is the only one which I wiU 
 take. And the society or the house in which the object is 
 attained less easily by this means than by subterranean or 
 crooked ways, has something wrong in it." 
 
 '■'•May lOth. May the noble Judge Carlson forgive me for 
 having, for one moment, doubted of his chivalrous spirit : may 
 he forgive me for not having entirely relied upon his friend- 
 ship and his promise ! He has now, both by Avord and deed, 
 proved himself my fiiend. Father in heaven! this is Thy 
 work, and thy brmging about ! Henceforth I will alone look 
 up to Thee for help and counsel ; alone follow Thy guidance ! 
 Thou wilt stand by me. And now, henceforward — hencefor- 
 ward prayer and work !" 
 
 In the autumn of the same year Hertha wi'Ote : 
 
 " November 1st. My week-day school flourishes greatly ; 
 more pupils offer themselves than I expected. It gives me a 
 great deal of work, and not of the kind wliich I love ! I can- 
 not begin my holiday-school till the new year." 
 
 Early in the year we accordingly find the following entry in 
 Hertha's Diary : 
 
 ^^ January I8th. I have begun ray lessons in language and 
 conversation with some of the elder girls, by the reading of
 
 318 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Sophocles' Antigone ; tliat glorious woman, who, faithful both 
 by word and deed to the law of conscience and duty, defies 
 the strong command of the tyrant, the slavish usages of 
 society, her sister's timid counsel, and even the prayers of her 
 beloved, and stands fast in death, appeaUng to 
 
 which, 
 
 The law infallible ; unwritten law supreme, 
 
 From to-day dates not, nor yet from yesterday ; but 
 From eternity, the moment known to no man ; 
 
 She who, with all youth and womanhood's deep feeling of the 
 glory of life, and natural horror of the fearflil death which she 
 knew lay before her, if she persisted m the defiance of injus- 
 tice, yet still persevered, still stood firm, and although, in her 
 last moment, half doubting even the justice of the Gods, 
 doubted not the voice of truth in the depth of her own con- 
 science, but in entire self-consciousness accused her father's 
 city, because she had to suffer and die for havmg — 
 
 Held that as sacred which in truth is sacred. 
 
 " Tliis glorious image of the heroine of conscience, may 
 lead my young girls to rmderstand more fully the ideal of the 
 Christian woman, not merely (as is now so common) one- 
 sided in humihty, which so easily becomes slavish, but also in 
 heroism. 
 
 " I read this tragedy of Sophocles m the German translation 
 for the sake of the language, and we aflei'wards conversed on 
 what we had read. I have encouraged the young people to 
 wi-ite down their thoughts on this subject before our next 
 meeting. It will exercise them in thiukmg on topics which 
 give strength to the moral being." 
 
 " March 1st. We have finished the reading of Antigone, 
 and I am pleased with the result of this experiment. Among 
 the ten young gu'ls who attend my hohday-school, are some
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 319 
 
 who have received a lasting impression from this reading ; all 
 have in some degree become elevated by it, and theii* inward 
 sight has become clearer. 
 
 " Aurora, whose character and natural gifts impel her to a 
 strong demonstration of her feelings, and who certainly will 
 sometime be distinguished (if she can develope herself) as an 
 artist or a poetess, has learned fi-om Antigone to disregard 
 minor inspii-ations and petty conquests. She will allow herself 
 to be inspired alone by the Sun. 
 
 " JEva and Maria, those Egeria-natures, who would rather 
 live concealed in the sacred grove from which they wdiisper 
 the pure teachings of wisdom into the listener's ear, have 
 learned from Antigone faith in and dependence upon them- 
 selves or upon the inner voice, which reveals itself during 
 the intercourse mth God. 
 
 " Martha, the prosaic and practical nature, has learned that 
 with her more earthly gifts and power she also may become a 
 servant of the Highest," 
 
 Here follows a description of the talents and dis]30sitions of 
 many other young girls ; but as it would not greatly interest 
 the reader, we pass it over, and introduce two later entries in 
 the diary, by which it will be seen how Hertha's plan arranged 
 itself, and cleared up before her mind's eye. 
 
 In May she wrote as follows : — 
 
 " We shall now undertake exercises in the French and 
 Enghsh languages, the purport of which shall be the contem- 
 plation of the womanly Christian consciousness in relation to 
 a certain given mission or vocation i' i society, through pecu- 
 liar gifts or calling. The biography of noble and distinguish- 
 ed women, either celebrated or known but of few, will serve 
 as the text for our contemplation. 
 
 " The consciousness of thought ought to be a living obser- 
 vation and will. Biography is excellent for this pur2:>ose. 
 
 "This will be preparatory to Conversations on Society 
 We will contemplate in their mutual relationship, families, 
 communities, states, arts, sciences, and finally the Church, 
 as the mother, imder whose protection these various hmbs
 
 320 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 grow into one body and one soul in the kingdom of God — tlie 
 highest community, in which every natural gift is ennobled to 
 a gift of mercy. The most noble heroes of family-love, of 
 social-love (that is of humanity), of art and science, will en- 
 lighten us in our endeavor to understand the importance of 
 each in life, and in the extension of the kingdom of God 
 on earth. 
 
 " The conversation on Society will lead us to its innermost 
 life and guiding power — Religion. Read : General history of 
 Religion ; the biography of the various founders of Religion. 
 The relationship of natural religion, so called, to revealed ; 
 its light, its darkness, its insufficiency to solve the enigma of 
 existence, to answer the requirements and the questionings of 
 the human heart. The doctrines of the Christian religion : 
 God in Christ. The history of Jesus Christ. 
 
 " The ideal and the reality of society. The Christian work 
 oF redemption in the soul and in the world. 
 
 " Woman's part ia the work ; her peculiar vocation and 
 position in society. Her character, her duties, her rights. 
 Her vocation as Mother, or nurse, or whatever else she 
 may be. Her power as such influential. Without Egeria 
 no Numa. 
 
 "Woman in Sweden. Her position, past and present. 
 Swedish women in the history of their country. The future 
 of the Swedish woman, and her influence on the futui'e of 
 Sweden. 
 
 " My young girls must learn to think highly of their native 
 land, highly of their own mission, but not, therefore, highly 
 of themselves. They must ever look above themselves, who 
 are to grow contmually. 
 
 " Read the Vala-Song. Its last prediction, the renewal of 
 the heavens, the education of the new human race, ' born 
 of the morning dew,' in the sacred grove, can only be accom- 
 plished by the second Eve, the woman born anew in God. 
 
 " Natui-al history, in its more profound relationship to 
 human life, must also become a subject for the Conversation- 
 lessons of the holiday school, when — Yngve comes home, and
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 321 
 
 can teach and help me to initiate the young girls into its sanc- 
 tuary." 
 
 " June. — Intercourse with these young souls is like a refresh- 
 ing vernal breeze to my soul ; it is beautiful to see the Hght 
 of dawn in them, and to anticipate a fuller day in their 
 life! 
 
 "If I could surround them mth noble and beautiful objects 
 in the hohday-school, their consecration to the high and the 
 holy would be powerfully promoted. We shall see ! I some- 
 times think of fitting up the orangery,* which is now quite 
 empty, as a room — such as I see in my waking dreams. A 
 statue of the northern goddess of youth, Iduna, stands in the 
 centre, — around, on pedestals, busts of the heroes of humani- 
 ty ; at the farther end the statue of Christ, after Thorwaldsen, 
 the best which I have yet seen ; for the rest a few good 
 pictures, and beautiful plants ; and amid all these the young 
 human souls who will here advance in the worship and service 
 of the Divine ! Oh, if it could only be so ! Even the 
 Christian temple has a gate which is called 'the Beautiful !'" 
 
 '"'•July. — The summer is glorious this year. I take my 
 young gu'ls out in the woods and the fields ; it is refreshing to 
 both soul and body. We botanise together, and I talk Avith 
 them of their relationship with natm-e, and of the Ufe of 
 nature, 'the sighs of the animal creation,' and its explanation 
 in a ' new heaven and a new earth.' Read with them beneath 
 the great ash-trees, our deep-thoughted northern legends, of 
 the Neck, the Hill-people, &c., from the Swedish Sagas. 
 
 " Our Conversation-lessons have, during these beautiful 
 evenings, been held in the open air. There we have read the 
 Northern Mythology, and have contemplated the truth in its 
 scenes and symbols. In the evening the girls danced on the 
 grass, and it was a delight to see fresh, life-enjoying youth, 
 thus rejoice in and beautify nature. All educational institu- 
 tions for girls ought to be in the country. 
 
 * A large room with lofty windows, wMch extended from one end of 
 the house at Kullen. 
 
 20
 
 322 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " I have written to Yngve about my schools, and my future 
 plans regardmg them. His letters always strengthen and 
 encourage me, but they distress me at the same time, because 
 he is evidently not happy, although he never complains. Oh, 
 Yngve ! neither do I repose upon roses !" 
 
 Towards the close of the year we find this entry : 
 
 "I am very weary after many sleepless nights spent in 
 preparation for the examination of the week-day pupils, wind- 
 ing up the accounts of the year, &c., together with the fear, 
 the conviction that Httle or no profit wiU accrue to me, after 
 paying ofl" the loan and other expenses. My holiday-school 
 wiU have to wait a long time for the beautifal hall. 
 
 " Yngve, Yngve ! my soul cries after thee. I can disj)ense 
 with marriage, but not with thy presence, thy sympathy ; not 
 with the joy of seeing thee, of attending to thy happiness, my 
 fiiend, brother, Husband before God ! Something within my 
 soul tells me that thou standest in need of me, of my care, my 
 love. It is midnight, all are sleeping around me, — my heart 
 wakes, and thinks, Yngve, of thee !" 
 
 '"'■New Year'' s Day. A letter from Yngve, and in it a bill of 
 exchange. Yngve says that he wiU pay for his mothei-'s board 
 in my father's house. But so much, Yngve ! much more than 
 — ^but I understand thee, and am no longer proud towards 
 thee. I will do as thou wishest, Yngve, with regard to the 
 beautifiil hall, — ^the Iduna-hall, as it shall henceforth be called, 
 — and a couple of youths shall be admitted to its school in 
 memory of thee. 
 
 " I have also had a letter from Rudolph to-day, and a small 
 sum of money ' for the sufierers by the fire,' writes he. Poor 
 Rudolph !'' 
 
 In the following autumn Hertha wrote : 
 
 " My hohday-school begins to be celebrated, Yngve, and is 
 visited by some distinguished ladies and men of great intel- 
 lect, who take an interest in it. It pleases me on account of 
 my young girls, to whom it is beneficial to listen to the 
 thoughts and conversation of the visitors. Yet it is a restraint 
 on theii" cheerfulness, and ft)r this reason I receive these large
 
 THE FOrR SISTERS. 323 
 
 parties but once a week. Besides curiosity attracts many to 
 tlie Iduna-hall, who have no fresh, life-giving fi-uits to commu- 
 nicate. And, let it be as it may, the young ones and I are 
 happier by ourselves. The bashftd Eva, my thoughtful, quiet 
 Maria, and Aurora, ovei-flowing with life, as she is, are never 
 quite themselves excepting at such times. Aurora has yet to 
 acquire ease and tact, but she has unusual powers both of head 
 and heart ; she is the only one of my young girls who betrays 
 genius. The youths were uncertain and bashful at the com- 
 mencement, but they are beginning now to exhibit themselves 
 in a beautiful light, and they seem to be happy amongst us. I 
 feel for them, as for the girls, a maternal tenderness, and it is 
 delightful to me to see theii* confidence in me. 
 
 " A few days ago a young man called on me, who had once 
 been my protector when I stood in need of one. He now 
 wished for the situation of tutor in my week-day-school, and I 
 was fortunate enough to be able to give it to him; for this 
 school also must be extended to receive all the pupils which 
 are offered. Olof E. is a young man of noble character, and 
 M^iU be a support to the day-school and a welcome participator 
 in our evening conversations. 
 
 " Last evening the Conversation in the Iduna-hall was unu- 
 sually animated, I might say brilliant. It was my great recep- 
 tion evening, and I proposed 'The Right Comprehension of 
 Liberty of Conscience' as the subject of conversation. The 
 handsome Mrs. N. spoke in a manner which astonished me and 
 animated all. Ingeborg Hedermann expressed liberal and 
 excellent sentiments. The young were silent ; but I saw 
 beaming glances from the eyes of several. Judge Carlson 
 was present, and spoke judiciously and nobly on the subject of 
 liberty of conscience with reference to religion. I carefuUy
 
 324 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 kept the conversation to the general subject, avoiding all 
 reference to the circumstances of our countiy. Such rtfei- 
 ence will come of itself." 
 
 Hertha's diary during the following three years exhibits 
 an increasing development, both of her o^vn mind and her 
 plans. 
 
 In the spring of 1 8 — , she wrote : 
 
 " Yngve ! if I could now conduct thee into the Iduna-hall — 
 for now it is complete — show thee the statue of our noble, 
 grave, and yet mild Scandinavian goddess of youth, surrounded 
 by laurels and blossoming roses, and the yet more elevated 
 one of Him, who stands with extended arms inviting the 
 whole human race to his redeeming embrace ; and, ranged 
 around, busts of noble and wise men, who glance forth from 
 between evergreen trees — thou wouldst then rejoice, my 
 Yngve, because this is thy and my joint work. A handsome 
 collection of books, thy books among the rest, and some 
 good pictures, complete the ornament of the haU. It is 
 beautiful, and cheerful, and rich in instruction ; a fitting home 
 for young, pure, and upward-striving souls. Oh, if I could 
 only, beyond everything else, see thee, Yngve, among the 
 flock of young creatures that assemble around me ; hear thee 
 speak to them and teach them, as thou in former times 
 taughtest me ! When will that hour come ? 
 
 " Wilt thou know me agam, my Yngve ? I am much aged, 
 and I grow rapidly older each day that I spend in the week- 
 day-school, and by every sleepless night which it costs me. 
 Nevertheless I take care of my outward being as I never did 
 in my youth. In those days I was too proud to wish to please 
 by my physical 7", and too unhappy in my own soul to trouble 
 myself about my body. Now I take care of it, and adorn it 
 that I may please — my pupils ; that I may produce such an 
 impression upon them as is no way at variance with the pur- 
 pose of my hohday-school in the Idvma-hall ; I desire, even I, 
 to produce a beautiful, or at least an ennobhng impression ; 
 and for this purpose I consult my own taste and my mirror, as 
 ■weU as silently an — absent friend : fashion, on the contrary, I
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 325 
 
 regard very little, being only careful not very much to offend 
 against it. Every person who has a decided individuality of 
 character, which is stamped upon the exterior, ought to dress 
 as much as possible in conformity with it. 
 
 " My young friends flatter me : call me beautiful ; and if I 
 do sometimes appear so, it is because the brightness of their 
 glances and of their youthful souls is reflected back upon me." 
 
 It was inevitable, but that Hertha's conversations and 
 other " schemes " and " undertakings," as Mrs. TJggla termed 
 them, would call forth many kinds of opinion, and sometimes 
 not very favorable ones, in Kungskoping and its neighborhood. 
 The meetings in the Iduna-hall were regarded by many with 
 suspicion ; there was no vise in them, people said, and they 
 were afraid of the new and unsettled opinions which were 
 there propounded ; afraid of the young people bemg led away 
 by great thoughts of themselves, pretensions, and so on. 
 But the enthusiastic devotion of the young people themselves 
 towards their maternal instructor and friend, carried her tri- 
 umphantly through every attempt to de^Dreciate her influence, 
 and every doubt of her sound and salutary teachings. And 
 Avhen fathers and mothers saw their young daughters develope 
 themselves, not merely in outward grace and the ability to 
 acquire knowledge, but also in nobility and sweetness of cha- 
 racter, under Hertha's guidence, they permitted them to follow 
 it still further. Many parents also candidly acknowledged her 
 merits with regard to their children. As for as the children 
 themselves Avere concerned, they looked up to Hertha as to a 
 being of higher order. She stood amongst them like the 
 fruitful mother-tree of the Banana above a group of young 
 ofishoots which spring up at its feet. Every one of the disci* 
 pies called her by her name, and addressed her as thou ; her 
 relationship to each individual was of a deep personal kind ; her 
 keen but warmly aflectionate glance rested on all of them 
 with a fostering power. At the same time she was never fon- 
 dling and weak, her maternal tenderness was of much higher 
 character.
 
 326 THE FOUK SISTERS. 
 
 " I lia\'e now seen ' the Sibyl,' " wi'ote a young man, when 
 describing her, " and have also been present at some of her 
 ' Conversations.' She is a Christian Vala ; her inspirations 
 breathe forth a sentiment kindred to that of every nobly beat- 
 ing heart. I confess that I did not, in the first instance, 
 meet her without a prejudice, and that I went rather in a criti- 
 cal spirit than willing to learn. But she has conquered me by 
 the effect produced by her soul's attitude, if I may so speak, 
 with regard to the highest truth. Her beammg eyes, her 
 simple but imposing demeanor, her voice, her gestures, her 
 silence, her words. Thus, her whole being has produced upon 
 me an uneffaceable impression, and has awoke in me a love to 
 the true and the noble, which will henceforth guide me through 
 the Avorld's twihght, or ignes fatui. She must produce an 
 elevating effect upon every one who is not in soul a dwarf or 
 a mole. She is not handsome, but still there is a picturesque 
 beaiity in her noble bearing, her simple but dignified costiuue, 
 and I — should have fallen in love with her if I had dared." 
 
 " You wish to know something about her appearance, her 
 dress, her manners, &c.," wrote one of Hertha's elder pupils 
 to one of her friends. " She dresses generally in snow-white 
 muslin, made up to the throat, and which, entirely without 
 starch, falls in soft rich folds around her beautiful figure, — 
 sometimes also she wears agate-colored silk, — a black mantle, 
 of velvet in winter, and lace in summer, is worn on the 
 shoulders; with a small white lace collar round the neck. 
 Her rich, gold-colored hair, which grows naturally in soft 
 wavy masses, is turned back from the temples, showing the 
 beautiful growth and the etherially branching veins ; so that 
 the glorious countenance, with those wonderfully beaming 
 eyes, is presented freely and clearly. The hair simply platted 
 behind, is fastened low on the neck, as we see in antique busts. 
 She wears neither rings nor bracelets, for her hands and arms 
 need them not, nor any ornament whatever, not even a flower.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 32T 
 
 Frequently however will she gather from the flowers in the 
 hall and adorn our heads with them, for she loves to see us 
 well and tastefully dressed, according to our age; but she 
 cannot bear to see us wearing fine jewelry, or colors which do 
 not harmonize with each other, and any fault in taste or 
 arrangement she always notices. She wishes that the out- 
 ward human being should express the harmony of the soul ; 
 but not according to old ' ma bonne's' notions that we should 
 be all 'one like another,' but that every one should endeavor 
 to be entirely herself, in a nobler manner, ' as God has Avilled 
 it.' And I confess that I take more pains to please her in my 
 exterior, than I ever did to please any man. She herself at- 
 tracts us by her own demeanor towards the noble and the 
 beautiful, so that not many words are required to awaken in 
 us a yearning after the same. It comes with her to us, as of 
 itself, in the Iduna-hall. She looks so stately, and, if I may 
 so say, highborn, that one, at the beginning, feels oneself quite 
 small beside her ; one shrLuks as it were, but when she begins 
 to speak, when she looks on us, then there is in her something 
 so tender and maternal, that one is raised up by it, and one 
 seems, as it were, to begin to grow ; — and that one does really, 
 at least ra aspiration, after the good and the true, and in desire 
 to attain them. There are times when I feel a longing to lay 
 my head on her knee, and let her see my whole soul so that 
 she may enlighten it, and lift it upwards ! " 
 
 " Life and its purposes seem so great in the Hght where- 
 ■Rdth she enlightens them, and yet nevertheless the smallest 
 thing, of natural endowment, disposition, or action, acquires a 
 significance and value in this light. The whole of fife becomes 
 clear to us in her glance. Many persons consider her to be 
 stern. But I and all my young friends, are profoundly 
 acquainted with her goodness. To many of us she is more 
 than a mother, taking care of our bodies, as of our souls, our 
 health, our future, our happiness. Her sisters almost worship 
 her ! " 
 
 It was thus that the young regarded her. We have already 
 seen the state of Hertha's OAvn soid whilst she, developing hei"-
 
 328 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 self so beautifully, labored for others. Unhappy she "was not, 
 yet neither was she happy. 
 
 The week-day-school was a continual strain upon her mind, 
 and was by no means a satisfactory labor. The parents were 
 often stupid and unreasonable, and either could not or would 
 not understand what was best in the education of their chil- 
 dren. And besides this, she had incessantly to combat with 
 the small worries of every-day hfe. Within herself too, she 
 f-truggled, and not always successfully, against the bitterness 
 which her father's want of integrity towards her, awoke in her 
 soul, together with his increasing parsimony in the house. But 
 more than all, she suffered from the unspeakable tenderness 
 and anxiety which she felt for Yngve, as his letters betrayed 
 more and more the cruel want which he felt of her and of a 
 home, and as it became more and more evident to her that his 
 health was suffering in consequence. 
 
 He wrote less frequently, and a certain painful depression 
 was often perceptible in his letters, however rich they might 
 otherwise be in the life of affection and thought. 
 
 It was an understood thing between the two friends, that if 
 any change took place in the mind of the Chief Director with 
 respect to themselves, Hertha should lose no time in making it 
 known to Yngve, and that he should then immediately return. 
 But year after year had gone on and no change had occurred 
 which would justify Hertha in recalling Yngve. Seven years 
 had thus passed since the day when they plighted to each other 
 their faith in life and in death, and had been obliged to part, 
 and Hertha was now no longer young. 
 
 At this tune came another of these letters from Yngve, which, 
 without uttering a complaint, nevertheless caused Hertha to 
 press her hand upon her heart, as if she felt there an agonising- 
 pain, whilst the tears slowly filled those sorrowful eyes, which 
 seemed to gaze into distance. After this letter she sate down 
 and wrote : 
 
 "Yngve, come home! Come home, beloved friend! I 
 cannot bear any longer to be separated from you, to see you 
 suffer and to experience in myself, because you suffer, feelings
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 329 
 
 ■which are like pangs of conscience. For I see, Yngvc, though 
 you do not say so, that you are ill, both soul and body. Oh ! 
 come back, and let me once more be your physician ; it Avill 
 make me also young again, and God will once more bless what 
 you once called my ' power of lieaUng.' 
 
 " I have nothing new to tell you, as regards my home ; 
 everything remains unaltered as far as my father is concerned ; 
 or if either looks darker, more impossible, because his temper 
 is evidently more morose of late, — but still, still I say, ' Yugve, 
 come home !' A presentiment, an inexplicable presentiment, 
 a trembling but delicioua presentiment tells me that we soon, 
 soon shall be united to part no more. This life is short, and 
 
 come back, beloved Yngve ! Your mother prays for this 
 
 with your 
 
 " Hektha.," 
 
 To this sumimons Yngve replied by fixing the time for his 
 return; the exact day he could only state on his return to 
 Sweden. In about six weeks he would be there. 
 
 From the moment that Hertha with certainty could look 
 forward to Yngve's return, a quiet peace and joy settled down 
 in her soul. Durmg the spring-life which the thought of this 
 gave birth to in her whole being, a new youth, as it were, 
 blossomed within her. The beautiful form, which had seemed 
 somewhat to stoop and become attenuated, resumed its rounded 
 contour ; everything about her seemed to become brighter, — 
 even the temper of her father, who, now that his daughter no 
 .onger needed n.oney from him, but almost entirely furnished 
 the house-keeping funds from her own means, ceased to inter- 
 fere with her private affairs. 
 
 Yngve's gentle mother, whose increasing weakness evi- 
 dently showed that she was not long for this world, revived 
 anew in the prospect of her beloved son's return, and she had 
 now no other wish than to live to see him united to Ilertha, 
 the daughter of her heart. 
 
 Whilst Hertha's home exhibits this cheerful aspect, and she 
 herself awaits Yngve's return vnih a throbbing heai-t, and
 
 330 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 assisted by her young sisters arranges everything m the house 
 as beautifully and charmingly as possible for his welcome, we 
 will give ourselves a moment's repose, and inquire after old 
 friends and acquaintances at Kungskoping, and see what 
 changes seven years have made amongst them. 
 
 The last time, that we and our readers made a round of 
 calls in Kungskoping, they may remember that we found 
 Ingeborg Uggla and Doctor Hedermann together, and he 
 (the wicked Dr.) caused her a sleepless night pondering about 
 " the question " which he had to ask her. 
 
 As we have an especial httle fiiendship for Ingeborg we 
 will betake ovirselves fii-st to her in our round of inquuies at 
 Kungskoping.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 831 
 
 TALK UNDER AN UMBRELLA. 
 QUESTIONS ABOUT A DROMEDAEY. 
 
 After the evening's conversations whicli we have already 
 related in our " short visits," Dr. Hedermann remained absent 
 from Ingeborg's home for several days. She began to fancy 
 that he had forgotten her, and the question which he wished 
 to ask, and this grieved her more than she was willing to con- 
 fess even to herself. She was therefore glad to dissipate her 
 uneasy feelings by active employment. And this she found 
 daily in the so-called " Children's Dormitory," which had been 
 instituted by the doctor immediately after the fire, and placed 
 under Ingeborg's charge. Thither went Ingeborg daily, 
 whilst her mother sighed over all those new-fashioned under- 
 takings which converted young ladies into servant maids, 
 " and prevented all good matches " in the world. 
 
 One day Ingeborg went to her "Children's Dormitory" 
 without observing that the sky looked threatening and cloudy, 
 and therefore without an umbrella. When she reached the 
 children's home, it began both to rain and snoY\\ She ordered 
 a fire to be lighted, and let the small creatures gather round 
 it. She took up a little weeping child, which probably missed 
 its own mother's loAdng care, and walked up and down the 
 room with it, softly rocking it in her arms ; and on her warm 
 bosom it soon was hushed. 
 
 The fire burned and crackled cheerfully ; the httle children 
 chattered and played merrily on the floor hi its blaze, and the 
 little fellow slept sweetly, resting his head on Ingeborg's 
 breast. The cheerful comfort of the time stole into her heart. 
 She felt with joy ^\'hat it was which would help her to over-
 
 332 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 come all its disquietude ; silently thanked God, and clasped 
 with still deeper feeling the Uttle slumberer more closely in 
 her arms. 
 
 " Childless, and yet a mother," whispered she to herself; 
 and whilst tears, not of pain, fell upon the sleeping little one, 
 she softly sang — words which the moment and her own feelings 
 imDrovised — 
 
 Though I without husband or children may live, 
 
 A mother I still may be, 
 For the friend of all children, the Saviour, may give 
 
 His friendless, poor children to me ! 
 
 Thus sang Ingeborg softly to herself, castmg every now and 
 then an inquiring glance at the window, against Avhich pattered 
 the down-pouring rain, and remembering that she had not 
 brought an umbrella with her, and that her mother would 
 soon be expecting her home to dinner. But her uneasiness 
 was soon relieved, for, as good luck had it, she saw Dr. He- 
 dermann coming up the street with a large umbrella, and 
 presently both he and the umbrella were in the room. The 
 childi'en set up a shout of joy, sprang forward to meet him, 
 and climg round his knees. He gave a friendly recognition to 
 Ingeborg, set his umbrella down in a corner, and seated him- 
 self before the fire, whilst, with evident enjoyment, he per- 
 mitted the children to climb his knees, his arms, his shoulders, 
 and there perform every kind of evolution. Of Ingeborg he 
 took no further notice, nor said a word to her. 
 
 But when, after having laid the little one from her arms 
 upon the bed, and had some conversation with the woman who 
 had the charge of the establishment, she was ready to go 
 home, the doctor hastily shook himself free of his young 
 swarm, with a good-natured slap right and left, and rising i;p, 
 let them all tumble helter-skelter around him. He then took 
 up his great umbrella, and, Avithout a word, followed Ingeborg 
 out. 
 
 Away went both through the pelting rain, and the doctor 
 held his umbrella over Ingeborg.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 333 
 
 " I am afraid that you -will be wet on my accomit, Dr. He- 
 dermann," said Ingeborg, casting an uneasy glance at the 
 doctor's wet left shoulder. 
 
 The doctor made no answer, nor yet altered the position of 
 the umbrella, and Ingeborg, with a beating heart, had a pre- 
 sentiment that the important question was coming. At length 
 he spoke and said : 
 
 " I have a question to put to you. Miss Ingeborg, but — will 
 you give me a true, honest answer ?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly, as far as I can," replied Ingeborg, with an 
 anxiety which was evident in her voice. 
 
 " Very well," continued he gravely. " Tell me, then, is it 
 true that you — laughed at me and turned me into ridicule with 
 your young fiiends ?" 
 
 After a pause, Ingeborg replied : " Yes — it is true — ^biit — it 
 was many years ago." 
 
 " Is it true," continued the doctor as before, " that you 
 called me a dromedary or a camel ? I don't remember which 
 of the two animals?" 
 
 " Yes, it is true," again said Ingeborg, with burning cheeks 
 and eyes full of tears ; " but, Dr. Hedermann, it was not out of 
 maUce, but fi'om thoughtless, gu"lish gaiety, called forth by a 
 something pecuhar in your carriage and manner when you first 
 came to the town. If you only knew how often, since then, I 
 have been ashamed of that stupid talk, such as young girls often 
 indulge in, merely for the sake of a little laughter, or to say 
 something which they think is amusing, how I have repented 
 of it, you would forgive me, and not think ill of me, nor con- 
 sider me ungrateful, because I then — did not know you — did 
 not ^" 
 
 Ingeborg could not finish what she would say, because of 
 her tears. 
 
 " I don't think very badly of you," said the doctor, in a 
 low voice ; " I think it was very natural that a young, pretty, 
 and indulged girl should consider a great shaggy figure like 
 me laughable, and " 
 
 " But " interrupted Ingeborg earnestly, " I was then a
 
 334 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 thoughtless, worldly child, and could not judge of people, 
 
 could not understand " Again poor Ingeborg was unable 
 
 to proceed. 
 
 " I believe you," said the doctor, " and now — now we are 
 changed, judge differently — eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, very differently !" was all Ingeborg could reply. 
 
 " I believe you," said he again, " and I thank you, Miss 
 Ingeborg, for having so candidly answered my questions. 
 And now we are at your home, and you must go and dress 
 for the great ball at X, this evening." 
 
 " No, we are not going there ; my mother has consented to 
 let us stay at home." 
 
 " Then you will be at home this evening ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Will you see anybody ?" 
 
 " If any friend comes he will be welcome." 
 
 " Do you regard me as a ftiend ?" 
 
 " Yes, one of the best ; especially since you have asked me 
 this question." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, but — if I had yet another question to 
 ask you ? But I will reserve that tUl evening." 
 
 " And you are no longer angry with me ; you don't believe 
 me any longer to be one of those ' fine false souls,' unworthy, 
 ungrateful " 
 
 " I'll tell you what I think of you — in the evening," said 
 he, and left Ingeborg vnih a look which betrayed neither 
 anger nor yet an unforgiving spirit.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 335 
 
 ANOTHER QUESTION. 
 
 In the evening, the very same evening on which the great 
 ball was given, to which Ingeborg and her mother were invit- 
 ed, Mrs. Uggla sat in her small, handsomely furnished draw- 
 ing-room, shakuig herself in her arm-chair, with her snuff-box 
 in her hand, and a most mournful expression of countenance, 
 contemplating her daughter, who sat at a httle work-table, 
 busy hemming coarse towels. The coai'se work contrasted 
 with the deHcate white hand which flew over it in the rapid 
 movement of the needle, mth the elegant needlewoman 
 herself, and the room in which she sate, which was splendidly 
 furnished with the addition of many small needless articles of 
 luxury, and of which the temperature was almost too warm 
 whilst it agreeably breathed forth the fragrance of " Eau da 
 Portugal," which Mrs. Uggla kept near her in a scent- 
 bottle. 
 
 Mrs. Uggla sate and looked at her daughter, sighed and 
 took snuff, and thought of the extraordinary times in which 
 we live, which make young ladies of good family, like maid- 
 servants, and let them hem coarse towels instead of doing 
 elegant embroidery and beautiful work, and which now caus- 
 ed Ingeborg to sit there with red eyes, making no figure at 
 all, instead of, like the other young ladies of the town, look- 
 ing brilliant in their ball-dresses, ready for the great ball at 
 X. Mrs. Uggla sighed deeply, looked at Ingeborg, and 
 thought ; " she'll never make a good match ! It is all over 
 for that, now !' 
 
 At that very moment a ring was heard at the door. 
 
 "Who can that be?" said Mrs. Uggla, annoyed, "it must 
 be some beggar or other "
 
 33G THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 But it was Dr. Hedermann, one of the persons whom Mrs. 
 Uggla liked best to see in the world, but who was never 
 accustomed to visit her at this time of day. When she 
 had expressed her astonishment and delight at this visit, 
 the doctor said : — 
 
 " I found it was so excessively stupid to sit at home by 
 myself, that I thought I would come here and see whether 
 I could have any supper with you. But if you will ha\'e 
 me you must let me have pancakes for supper." 
 
 There are people who are always welcome ; and if Mrs. 
 Uggla had received a grand present, she could hardly have 
 been better pleased than by this request of the doctor, be- 
 cause Mrs. Uggla had at the bottom a true Swedish house- 
 wife's heart, and to this nothing is more welcome, nothing 
 gives greater delight, than to entertain a friend. She there- 
 fore rose up with unusual alacrity to give orders for supper, 
 and to have pancakes baked. 
 
 Dr. Hedermann seated himself opposite Ingeborg, and ask- 
 ed her to lay aside her work, saying in a voice which betrayed 
 deep emotion : 
 
 " You answered my question so honestly this morning. Miss 
 Ingeborg, that it gives me courage to come forward with ano- 
 ther, which may seem foolhardy enough, — but still, in any 
 case, I am certain that you will give me an honest and true 
 answer." 
 
 Ingeborg felt unable either to answer or to look up. But 
 when the doctor seemed to be waiting for her reply, she 
 said : — 
 
 " WeU ? The question ?" 
 
 " Can you like me ?" 
 
 Ingeborg let fall her work and looked at him with her clear, 
 honest eyes, and as she replied : 
 
 " Yes, that I can." 
 
 " Fancy me, as your husband ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Ingeborg, as before. 
 
 " Is it possible is it actually possible ?" said the doctor, 
 
 astonished and affected ; " but I must believe it when you
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 337 
 
 nay the deuce . — I shall say thou^ ever after this — when thou 
 tellest me so, and lookest at me with those eyes, and my bless- 
 ed, sweet Ingeborg, I would tell thee how happj'^ it makes me, 
 but — hang me ! — I can't do it !" And the doctor took In- 
 geborg's hand and jjressed it to his lips, to his tearful 
 eyes, and held it between his two great hands, as he con- 
 tinued ; 
 
 " Look you, child, it is a wonderful thing, a very wonderful 
 thing that such a great, rough sort of fellow as I am, should 
 yet always have taken a fancy to fine ladies, should have 
 liked then- society, and have had pleasure in the elegances 
 with which they surround themselves, and yet which I my- 
 self would not give a pinch of snuff for, when I look at the 
 thmg for itself. But now that has been my weakness, and 
 whenever I have thought of a wife, I have looked about 
 for a woman as deUcate as a real pearl, set in gold, but yet 
 at the same time a true human being in heart and deed, who 
 could put up "wdth the rough as well as preserve the smooth 
 in Hfe. I became several years ago in love Avitli such a pearl 
 set in gold, I loved her almost to adoration. She allowed 
 herself to be worshijjjjed by me, then made a fool of me 
 behind my back, with another lover as fine and false as she 
 was. When I first discovered this, I became ill, then an- 
 gry, afterwards bitter, and afraid of elegant, fine ladies ; I 
 suspected them altogether of being false, and became an ene- 
 my to them — excepting when I became their physician. And 
 when I fell m love with you. Miss Ingeborg, pretty nearly 
 fifteen years ago, I revenged myself on your and on my 
 own weakness by finding fiiult with you, until the time when 
 you had that affection of the eyes ; then I saw a somethmg 
 in the depth of those eyes, a something which affected me, 
 and made me tender-hearted. I fancied that I saw there 
 an angel with imprisoned wings, glancing forth with hea- 
 venly serenity from the mists which sought to dim its coun- 
 tenance, I did not beheve what I had seen, did not believe 
 my own feelings, iintil the reality of your life convinced me 
 that you were the woman whom I sought, fine as a true
 
 33S THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 pearl set in gold, and at the same time a real human being 
 in heart and in deed, an angel in goodness, a noble, truth- 
 ful woman ; and the only thing that I now wonder at is, 
 that I actually have found such a one, and that such a wo- 
 man can actually take a fancy to and like me !" 
 
 " Oh Dr. Hedermann !" 
 
 " Call me David, and say thou to me, or I will run away !" 
 
 " If thou didst but know," resumed Ingeborg, with quiet 
 tears, " how much more wonderful it seems to me that thou 
 canst Uke me, who was so deceitful, so full of faults, and 
 besides no longer young." 
 
 " Young enough for me," said the doctor. " Thou art ten 
 years younger than I am, and a thousand times more lovely 
 in my eyes now than before. And it is to me most difficult to 
 comprehend how thou really canst like me !" 
 
 "But do you then believe me still to be a thoughtless, 
 giddy girl ?" said Ingeborg, cheerfully ; " let me then tell you 
 how you — I beg pardon, thou didst convert me. When I had 
 that sad affection of the eyes, which threatened to produce 
 blindness, and thou wast my physician, I was so deeply 
 affected by thy kindness, thy care for me ; and Avhen I owed 
 the restoration of my sight to thee, I saw in thy eyes that 
 which I never forgot. Thy conversation, thy example, thy 
 whole life became beacons to me and helped me by degrees 
 to free myself from the fetters wherewith custom, and my 
 good mother's mistaken tendernes,s, had bound me to the mere 
 emptiness of life. I never loved it ; I hungered and thirsted 
 after something better, but knew not what, until thou 
 showedst me the way. Since then I have silently followed 
 thee as far as I was able, but without any hope of being able 
 to overtake thee, often made unhappy by thy bitterness and 
 mistrust of me, but yet more happy in the new duties which 
 thou hast pointed out to me in a life for others, than I had 
 ever before been for a moment, Avhilst I lived merely for my- 
 self" 
 
 " And thou art not afraid of a life of labor with me, Inge- 
 borg ? For Will not conceal from thee, that I regard myself
 
 TITE €'OUR SISTERS. 339 
 
 as one of our Lord's humble stewards on earth, and all that I 
 have obtained from him of spiritual or physical good, I must 
 employ in his service ; I do not like spending money in din- 
 ners and expensive wines, and such unnecessaries, but desire 
 to live a simple, frugal Hfe, as one of our father's laborers on 
 earth. Art thou not afraid of this, Ingeborg ? Thou art not 
 accustomed to it." 
 
 " I shall soon become so, if thou consider me worthy to 
 share it with thee." 
 
 " And thou canst fully trust thyself to me ? — ^I am snappish 
 and odd sometimes — very queer-tempered, — say cutting things 
 — Tsdlt thou not be afraid of me ?" 
 
 " If I am so, I shall tell thee." 
 
 " But if I get angry, unreasonable ?" 
 
 " Then I shall try to break thee of it. 
 
 " Well said, Ingeborg ! Thanks for the promise. Thy 
 courteousness and gentleness will be my correctors. I will 
 put myself under their teaching. 
 
 " Now look," continued the doctor, suddenly assuming a 
 humorous gaiety, " when a dromedary or camel will take his 
 driver upon his back, he falls down on his knees before hun, 
 as I do, and the other places himself on his shoulder, thus, 
 and takes the bridle in his hand, and then the obedient drome- 
 dary rises, and is guided by that hand, even though it be the 
 weak hand of a woman, and he carries her to the Herberg, 
 through the desert of the world, thus." 
 
 And so saying. Dr. Hedermann lifted Ingeborg upon his 
 shoulder, and marched with her along the room. 
 
 No wonder that Mrs. Uggla, who at that moment entered 
 and beheld this extraordinary " undertaking," believed that 
 the doctor was gone mad, and was very near fallmg into a fit 
 from sheer terror. But when she saw Ingeborg's calm and 
 smiling countenance, she stood stock-still Avith the door in her 
 hand, whilst the doctor exclaimed gaily to her : 
 
 " We are only rehearsing a scheme which we have agreed 
 upon carrying out through the whole of our lives. I am a 
 sort of dromedary which has undertaken to carry Ingeborg
 
 340 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 tlirougli the desert journey, and Ingeborg will be my gracious 
 leader and governor, yet with the proviso that Ingeborg's 
 mother gi^^es us her blessing on our way." 
 
 " Let me descend, my dromedary," said Ingeborg, " my 
 mother does not understand the joke." 
 
 " Then we mil explaia it to her in earnest !" said the 
 doctor as he obeyed Ingeborg, and tm'ning to her mother, 
 explained what had taken place, besought Ingeborg's hand 
 and her mother's blessing with such cordial feehng, that Mrs. 
 Uggla, both affected and astonished, had neither words nor 
 opportunity to express the many doubts which she felt with 
 regard to the match, nor yet her amazement at the way in 
 which it had been brought about. Mrs. Uggla really had 
 never thought of Dr. Hedermann as her son-in-law, and she 
 considered him, in fact, not altogether comme ilfaut, as her 
 daughter's husband. But she had too much respect for him 
 and his medical skill to let this be observed. 
 
 "But he is not a nobleman!" said she, sighing, to Ingeborg, 
 when they were alone. 
 
 " But he is an honorable man and the best of men !" said 
 Ingeborg, " and mamma's daughter will be happy with him." 
 
 "And he is a wealthy man — Hves in his own house — the 
 towns-people will say that Ingeborg has made a good match," 
 sighed Mrs. Uggla, w petto, with a sense of consolation. 
 
 She was one of the old school, the good lady, and firaily 
 adhered to the old style.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 341 
 
 A WEDDING AT KUNGSKOPING. 
 
 WHAT THE TOWITS-PEOPLE SAID. 
 
 Dr. HJEDERMAira' SO hurried on the publication of the banns 
 and the marriage, that in one month after the evening we have 
 just described he led his own Ingeborg into his own house 
 as his wife, and he made Ingeborg's mother such handsome 
 presents on this occasion, that she almost forgot to sigh because 
 he was not a nobleman. But then, on the other hand, he 
 .played her, on that veiy wedding-day, such a trick as she 
 never forgot and hardly ever forgave him. For, instead of 
 following the old Swedish custom, not the most agreeable, 
 according to our fancy, but which, in Mrs. Uggla's family, had 
 always been the ceremonial usage at weddings, just at the 
 very time when the bride ought to have vanished in a 
 mysterious manner from the little company, and when Mrs. 
 Uggla was giving significant hints to Ingeborg on the subject, 
 what should the doctor do, but take it into his head to play 
 the part of dromedary, snatch up his bride, place her on hia 
 shoulder, and carry her off before the eyes of all ! 
 
 Ingeborg's cheerful and consoling words to her mother, 
 " We shall soon come and see you again, mamma !" had very 
 little consolation in them, as she beheld Ingeborg placed in a 
 covered carriage, wrapped up in a cloak of the doctor's, who 
 then stepped into the cai-riage, and away it drove rapidly 
 with them — nobody knew where ! 
 
 Mrs. Uggla would have distressed herself hoiTibly at this 
 sort of abduction, had not Mimmi Svanberg, who was present 
 at the wedding, and had been admitted into the plot, com- 
 forted her somewhat by the assurance that this mode of
 
 342 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 procedure was modern and universally practised in England 
 and America, and would soon be the fashion in this country 
 also. Mimmi Svanberg laughed so heartUy at the whole 
 thing, and talked so about the story of Pluto and Proserjjiue, 
 that Mrs. Uggla really began to think that the affair was not 
 so terrible after all, and was ready to smile at Minimi's joke, 
 and promised not to trouble herself at all as to what the 
 Kungskoping people might say about the matter. 
 
 The Kungskoping peojDle were not very well pleased with 
 the wedding, which was carried on so quietly and silently 
 that they had hardly time to know anything about it before it 
 was all over, and the doctor had gone off with his wife. And 
 when the new-married couple after a few weeks' absence 
 returned to the town, and instead of paying visits or sending 
 out great invitations, as the Kungskoping people had cal- 
 culated upon, continued to live wholly in stillness and quiet, 
 ness, occupying themselves with the poor and the sick of the 
 town, rather than with its well-to-do inhabitants, the people of 
 Kungskopmg began to grumble, and say all kinds of things 
 about " meanness," and want of " knowledge of life," and 
 that the " doctor was a tyrant to his wife, and that she would 
 be very glad to see people if she dared ;" and in shoi-t, it 19 
 impossible to say what other extraordinary reports might not 
 have been circulated by the townsfolks, with their corsair 
 Mrs. Tupplander at their head, about the new-married couple, 
 " who did not behave hke other people ;" if they had not been 
 driven out of their heads by another wedding, which was 
 more in accordance with the honor of Kungskoping and the 
 respectabihty of its inhabitants. This was the wedding of 
 Adelgunda Jonson and Lieutenant Krongranat. 
 
 Mrs. Jonson, who was now fully entitled to call her daugh- 
 ter " her ladyship," spared nothing to make the wedding 
 worthy of her daughter's new rank and her own family's 
 respectabihty. 
 
 Long before, and long after the wedding, the people of 
 Kungskoping talked with admii-ation of the wealth and the 
 sohd luxury which was expended on this occasion. Never
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 343 
 
 before in Kungskoping had so many tables been seen so richly 
 covered with silver, and with so many dishes, so much " fatted 
 calf" and roast goose. And seldom among wedding-guests 
 had been seen before so great a number of jolly, fat, and, to all 
 appearance, substantial and well-to-do people. The queen of 
 the feast, Mrs. Jonson, shone like a sun of warmth and glad- 
 ness ; Adelgunda in her splendid silk dress, covered with luce, 
 was as fair, and round, and plump, as her tender mother could 
 desire, and was greatly admired by all the crowds, who 
 flocked thither from far and near, to " see the bride." 
 
 The wedding-feast lasted for five hours, healths were drunk, 
 and verses, composed by a Kungskoping poet, recited ; very 
 beautiful poems they were said to be, but the following three 
 lines only have reached us — 
 
 She is a tiu-tle fair and true, 
 He is 80 brave, so faithful too, 
 And both to love pay homage due. 
 
 And long after the wedding the standing topic of conversa- 
 tion at every coffee party in the town, was her new " lady- 
 ship," and all her new clothes, trinkets, furniture, &c. ; and 
 even the wedding-dishes and arrangements were all cooked 
 over again by the tongues of the to^vn, and served up again 
 with variations and remarks. Seldom did any wedding make 
 a greater stir. Mrs. Tupplander only shook her head about it, 
 and said there was far too much of it — ^far too much ; and that 
 it was not becoming to make such an ado about a wedding, 
 when the bride, " her new ladyship," was in fact only a cheese- 
 monger's daughter. 
 
 But after this speech became known in the Jonson family, 
 Mrs. Tupplander never again, as she had always done, received 
 the present of a fat goose at Michaelmas fi-om Mrs. Jonson. 
 
 The people of Kungskoping had soon many brides and 
 weddings to talk about, and one and another in the town 
 began to suspect that the great fire, which burned down so 
 many houses, had also kindled the hearts of the young people ;
 
 344 ' THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 because never, in the memory of man, had there been so many 
 marriages wittiin one twelve months in Kungskuping, as in that 
 which succeeded the great fire. Many also, besides Mrs. Tupp- 
 lander, attributed to the family-unions, and the acquaintance 
 which young people made one with another at its family com- 
 mittees, and the mutual working together which was the 
 result, a considerable share in the kindling up of these real 
 unions. And perhaps they were not altogether wrong in their 
 reasoning. 
 
 In social life, as it generally exists, young people meet those 
 of the other sex only m social circles, or at balls, where they 
 are only able to see and become acquainted with each other in 
 the most external manner, and with many people the mere out- 
 ward is not the best part of them. Vanity-fairs are the prin- 
 cipal scenes of their meeting. What wonder then that they 
 so seldom approximate in a cordial and earnest manner? 
 What wonder that marriage becomes, especially among the 
 educated classes, more and more rare, in proportion to the 
 many who are able, and perhaps who would wish to marry ? 
 When a winter-season at Stockholm is over, people hear two 
 or at most three marriages spoken of as the result of it, when 
 at the same time many hundreds of young people have flut- 
 tered about with each other at balls and other social pleasures. 
 
 If the intercourse of social life were more noble, natural, and 
 simple, if young men and women could meet and become 
 acquainted with each other, during their occupation, at their 
 work-places, in academies, or in Christian societies, formed for 
 useful and good social purposes, they would then be attracted 
 to each other by the interest of a common worthy purpose, by 
 noble emulation, by friendly mutual aid ; they would then 
 become acquainted ^dth each other, not merely by the exter- 
 nal, but above all by the inner man, by heart, will, and ability. 
 Then certainly many more and much happier marriages would 
 be contracted than is the case under existing cu'cumstances, 
 and those half or criminal connections, which at present people 
 the world vnth. so sorrowfully increasing a number of illegiti- 
 mate children, would, of a certainty, be greatly decreased.
 
 THE POUR SISTERS. 345 
 
 The true love would then have fair-play against the false. 
 Whereas the latter only is favored by our artificial social life. 
 
 We do not know whether the people of Kungskoping said 
 so or not, but we know that Dr. Hedermann and his wife, as 
 well as the sensible Mimmi Svanberg, would not contradict 
 these ideas, founded on many observations made behind the 
 scenes, by a participator in the world's drama of life. 
 
 But we will now return to our Kungskoping, to relate an 
 occurrence which took jilace there, during the time of Yngve's 
 visit to his native land, after his first short absence abroad, and 
 before his second long and sorro^vful one. 
 
 It will, however, be best introduced by the account of
 
 346 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 A CONTESTED ELECTION. 
 
 The directors of the Kungskoping lufant-School are assem- 
 bled, both gentlemen and ladies. 
 
 " No, that shall not be," exclaimed Mrs. Tupplander with 
 a shrill voice ; " no, I will never give my vote in her favor. 
 The woman who has had an illegitimate child is not a fit 
 person to be the Supermtendent of the Infant-School. How 
 would it look ? A pretty example would hers be for others 
 to follow ! That I know of a certainty." 
 
 " But," said Mimmi Svanberg mildly, " when she now sets 
 so good an example of maternal tenderness, fulfilment of duty, 
 industry, and many good quahties." 
 
 " What's the use of it ?" screamed Mrs. Tupplander, " when 
 she has an illegitimate child, which proves beyond everything 
 how virtuous she has been. No, far better take Miss Von 
 Schaf, who has no blemish on her reputation, or Mrs. Meri- 
 tander, who has brought up seven children herself, and is, in 
 every respect, a meritorious jjerson." 
 
 " But," said the pastor's wife, " Miss Von Schaf is a weak 
 woman, who has no authority, would command no respect, and 
 Mrs. Meritander is too sharp-tempered and severe, her own chil- 
 dren are not the best proof of her abihty for the instruction of 
 children. Of the three who are proposed for this situation, it 
 seems to me, that Amalia is incalculably the best fitted for the 
 purpose, although I concede that it is an annoying circumstance 
 that she is not fii-ee from blame. But she has conducted her- 
 self in an exemplary way for several years, and has during 
 Mrs. N.'s long illness, now for two years, attended both to her 
 and the infant-school in a maimer which is really admirable." 
 
 " But then she has a blemished reputation," shrieked Mrs.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 347 
 
 Tupplander ; " that is the case neither with Miss Von Schaf 
 nor Mrs. Meritander, Who knows Amaha Hard's merits? 
 Very few; but everybody knows that she has an illegitimate 
 child, which she has the shameless — the peculiarity, I will say, 
 of not conceahng, but always keeping with her." 
 
 " But she never goes into society," remarked a voice : it 
 was that of Hertha. 
 
 " What does it matter," rephed Mrs. Tupplander, " whether 
 she is out or in? It is quite sufficient that she has her cliild 
 with her, and that it is illegitimate. She shall never have my 
 support. It will be a discredit to the whole school. One 
 must pay some attention to what peoj^le think and say : one 
 must have some regard to chastity and good morals. What 
 would the world say ?" 
 
 Many of the directors took Mrs. Tupplander's view of the 
 case, and the debate began to be hot and stormy, when 
 Yngve Nordin requested attention to a few words which he 
 had to say. 
 
 "Allow me to inquire, are we not all agreed that Amalia 
 Hard is, both by her own wishes and ability, and especially by 
 her motherly disposition towards the children, the most suita- 
 ble of the three candidates for the situation of teacher in the 
 school ?" 
 
 Many voices assented to this. 
 
 " Very well," continued Yngve ; " then let our object be 
 the greatest benefit of the children, and let us take the best 
 instructress for them, and leave the world to say what it 
 Hkes." 
 
 " But that's nothing to the purpose," continued Mrs. Tupp- 
 lander in her shrill tone. "She has, as the mother of an 
 illegitimate child, no right, no claim to the place, and — what 
 must she be called ; what sort of name can she have ? " 
 
 " Call her Mother ! " said Hertha's melodious grave voice • 
 " she has suffered enough and endured enough to deserve the 
 beuig called so with esteem ; and I know that she wishes not 
 to be called by any other name than Mother Amalia^ as she 
 is already called by all the school children. Before God no
 
 348 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 child is illegitimate ; and it ought not to be called bO by man. 
 Let us all, who have not forfeited the world's casual esteem 
 by a casual error, unite in giving to Amalia that support and 
 reparation which she deserves from her later conduct ; let u.s, 
 instead of rejecting her and her child, do them justice, and 
 assist them in becomuig respectable." 
 
 " I put no cushions under crime — not I ! " again exclaimed 
 Mrs. Tupplander, and shook hei'self from right to left ; " but 
 I vote for Mrs. Meritander ! " 
 
 Yngve Nordin, who seemed assiduous in calUng forth the 
 fi-ee expression of dissimilar opinion among the directors, again 
 spoke : 
 
 "If it be especially the rank of Mrs., as a married woman, 
 in which AmaUa Hard is deficient, I am warranted in making 
 known to the directors, that she will in a couple of weeks be 
 legally entitled to this rank. To-morrow the bans wDl be 
 pubUshed in the Town Church of her marriage with the man 
 who is father of her child." 
 
 There was on this announcement a general silence of 
 astonishment. Mrs. Tupplander, quite beside herself with 
 surprise, remained sitting with her Ups apart and her eyes 
 wide open, staring at Yngve, who continued : 
 
 " Pecuniary circumstances Avill comjjel him for some years 
 to remain abroad, where he has been fortunate enough to ob- 
 tain a lucrative employment. In the mean time it is his wish 
 to give his betrothed and his child that reparation which a 
 name can give, xmtil he is able to return and fulfil his duty as 
 husband and father. In the mean time his wife can conduct 
 the infant-school." 
 
 " Who — who is he ? if I may ask ? " exclaimed Mrs. Tupp- 
 lander, beside herself with curiosity. 
 
 "That," said Yngve Nordin, "will be pubHshed in the 
 morning from the pulpit ; and any one who goes to church 
 may learn it. But let us now return to the business of the 
 meetmg — the election of a mistress," 
 
 The debate was resumed, but now with increased advan- 
 tage for Amalia, and finally she was elected, though by a
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 349 
 
 small majority, because Mrs. Meritander had various frienda 
 among the du-ectors, who wished to help her and her children 
 to " a living." JNli-s. Tupplander, very red and very angry, 
 withdi-ew her name as one of the dii-ectors of the mfant- 
 school ; nor was any protest made against her doing so, nor 
 any regret expressed-
 
 350 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ANOTHER WEDDlJye. 
 
 Silent as love's whisper of pardon for past errors was the 
 wedding which, united Amalia Hard with Yngve's brother. 
 They were married in her room by the well-known Httle 
 pastor: Yngve and Hertha alone were present. Such was 
 Amaha's wish. 
 
 After the ceremony was ended, a mother bent over her 
 sleeping child and whispered : " My child ! my child ! sleep 
 now peacefully ; sleep sweetly ; no one henceforth will call 
 thee illegitimate ! God has forgiven thy mother ! " 
 
 " And thy father also !" said a low manly voice, and with 
 that Yngve's brother laid his hand on the boy's head. 
 
 When AmaUa rose from her knees she was clasped in 
 Hertha's sisterly embrace. After that Amalia's husband led 
 her up to Yngve, saying, " Let us both thank him, who 
 taught me my duty towards thee and our child, and who 
 rendered it possible for me henceforth to raise you up." 
 
 Yngve's brother was also a handsome young man, but of a 
 weaker character than his elder, manher brother. 
 
 " Let us now eat and drink on the affair !" said the httle 
 pastor cheerfully, " because there cannot be a real Swedish 
 wedding without both eating and drinking ; and it does not 
 do to hurry over marriages as those mad people, the English 
 and the Americans, do ; just get the ring on the bride's 
 finger, then into a carriage, and drive away to the world's end. 
 JSTo : let us follow our forefathers' jog-trot manners; they never 
 forgot, on any suitable occasion, both to eat and to drink ; 
 and, therefore, do you now follow me to the bridal feast !" 
 
 And with that the pastor went out, down stahs, and led 
 the httle company into the school-room, which they found
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 351 
 
 sanded and strewn with fir-t"\vigs, and in the middle a well- 
 covered table, at Avhich Mimmi Svanberg and the pastor's 
 Avife were very busy. 
 
 This was a surprise for Amalia and Hertha. But there is 
 no need for us to say how agreeable was the entertainment, 
 spiced as it was with good-will and cordiality. 
 
 On the afternoon of the same day, Yngve departed with 
 his younger brother, the former to be re-called by Hertha 
 whenever she could give him the hoj)e of a favorable tm-n in 
 their affairs, as regarded the future, 
 
 The people of Kungskoping, who m our story occupy the 
 place of chorus in the Greek drama, made many edifying and 
 moral reflections upon this marriage, which upon the whole 
 was approved of, as quite in order, although Mrs. Uggla and 
 many other good souls shook their heads as to its future 
 prospects. Amalia in the mean time rose in the regards and 
 favor of the town, and Mrs. Tupplander's enmity was strand- 
 ed upon her good conduct and the steadfastness of her friends. 
 
 With respect to our other friends and acquaintances in 
 Kungskoping during the last seven years, we may state that 
 Mimmi Svanberg continued to be the councillor and the help- 
 er of all in the town, whence she was called by various of her 
 friends, " the town-councillor." We see her always active ; 
 now with a myrtle crown for a bride ; now present at a fune- 
 ral ; now making a collection for a cripple who needed the 
 water-cure ; now with a little bundle of coffee and sugar and 
 fine bread under her cloak, hastening forth in the twilight to 
 take a little joy into a poor home ; or at a great ball amid 
 joke and earnest, enticing people to help one another, without 
 their being aware of it. Always cheerful, always kind, spin- 
 ning a multitude of threads of mercy, on purpose to catch 
 somebody in them, she seemed to be always devising some 
 new joyous mode of obliging people, and showing how happy 
 any one may be by so doing. 
 
 Many wondered how Mimmi Svanberg, with only small 
 means herself, could yet have the opportunity of doing so 
 much for others.
 
 352 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 " My means," said she on one occasion, with a smile in 
 reply to such a remark, " are human hearts, and our Lord's 
 help." 
 
 And after all, these ought to be the surest funds. But one 
 must first put trust in them. 
 
 Eva Dufva blossomed as a rose at the parsonage, embraced 
 with unspeakable love by her adopted parents, dividing the 
 day between healthy domestic duties under the guidance of 
 the jDastor's wife, and affectionate attention to her new 
 parents, " for," wrote Mrs. Dahl to one of her friends, 
 " when the evening comes and I go into my comfortable 
 chamber to rest after the labor of the day, a pair of small 
 arms are thrown around my neck, and a sweet rosy mouth 
 whispers into my ears caressingly a pleasant name, and I feel 
 myself a mother, and know that life is rich and delightful. 
 I have never been so happy, especially now that I have Maria 
 with me." 
 
 The good, active pastor's wife had actually now the happi- 
 ness of haAang tAvo daughters in the house, " and that is 
 something," said she, happy in having two, but still longing 
 after more. She was, besides this, always endeavoring after 
 a better locale for the infant-school, but she always met with a 
 multitude of diihculties, which were the more to be lamented, 
 because the number of children in the school continually in- 
 creased after Mother Amalia had the management, and after 
 the little singer Mina, with the clear voice, and the clear, pious 
 eyes, taught the children such delightful songs. 
 
 In the mean time the town Avas rebuilt, and the family-unions 
 extended and flourished thereby, knitting up relationship 
 between the wealthy and the poor ; knitting up here and there 
 among its members a real union in marriage, or a bond of 
 friendship, such as might satisfy the warm heart's need. Such 
 was the friendship which grew up between the Countess P. 
 and Mimmi Svanberg, beautifymg the lives of both, and con- 
 tinuing even when the latter was married — but of this some- 
 what later. 
 
 Professor Methodius had not yet been able to get his system
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 353 
 
 into operation, and the first slieet of liis great work liad been 
 set up by the printer no less than seven times. 
 
 The Protocol Secretary, N. B,, had not yet finished his book 
 against ladies-societies. Rumor began to say that he himseii' 
 "was in a fair way to enter into a private ladies' society — that 
 he was intending to get married ! 
 
 But wilt thou see, friendly reader, at the end of these seven 
 years (and as a consolation for all the bitter and caustic things 
 which have been said m this book against matrimony), a reaUy 
 happy married couple, then look into the home of Dr. Heder- 
 mann and his Ingeborg. She always busy, domestic, ready 
 aUke for rough or for smooth — he, happy to sit beside her with a 
 son and daughter on his knees, and gazing with a love which 
 borders upon reverence on his gentle wife, whose " camel" or 
 *' dromedary" he every now and then does himself the honor 
 to become, either when Ingeborg is not strong, or not in a 
 condition to walk far. 
 
 " But what does it matter ?" says she ; " I am really so 
 happy, after all !" 
 
 She is her husband's help, not only at home, but also in his 
 life, as a good citizen, in her oversight of poor children, and of 
 the doctor's excellent institutions for them. 
 
 Mrs. XJggla, who cannot any longer sigh over the seven 
 Miss Dufs^as and their future, as at this time four are married, 
 two are adopted at the parsonage, and the parents have now 
 only one left at home, whom they would not part with at any 
 price, — Mrs. Uggla, who sees her daughter happy and in the 
 best possible circumstances, almost worshipped by the best of 
 husbands, whose only fault is that of being sometimes " rather 
 queer," does not rightlj' know what she, at the present time, 
 has to sigh about. She has begun therefore to trouble herself 
 about all the children which Ingeborg may probably have, and 
 to sigh over the future, especially if they should be daugliters. 
 
 All the people of Kungskoping had a great deal to say about 
 
 Ilertha's educational institution, and especially about the 
 
 evening Conversations of which we have already spoken ; but 
 
 in the m.piii time, she acquired more and more consequence in 
 
 22
 
 354 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 the town, and people became generally agreed in the opinion 
 that the week-day school was excellent, and that the Conver- 
 sation-lessons might be very useful as practice in foreign 
 languages. The young people of the town regarded Hertha 
 as a sort of Sibyl to whom they silently or openly propounded 
 all important questions. They asked themselves, " What 
 would Hertha say ?" 
 
 And now we will return to
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 355 
 
 HERTHA'S H03HE. 
 
 MOKNTNG. 
 
 Hertha's home was prepared as for a festival ; the clear 
 blue sky of midsummer and its blazing sun which " came 
 forth Hke a bridegroom from his chamber, and rejoiced him- 
 self as a hero to run his course, glanced in through the open 
 windows of the Iduna-hall ; brilliant butterflies fluttered iu 
 upon the wings of fresh warm summer breezes, to salute the 
 lilacs and lilies of the valley, which exhaled and difiused 
 fi'agrance around the beautiful image of the goddess of youth. 
 It is a glorious midsummer morning. 
 
 Do you see that tall and noble woman, who in snow-white 
 attire stands in the beautiful room as its priestess? The 
 breeze plays with the hght, black-lace mantle, which falls fi-om 
 her shoulders, and caresses with a rejoicing breath a counte- 
 nance, which, though no longer young, is nevertheless pos- 
 sessed of beauty — of a peculiar picturesque beauty. The eyes 
 and forehead, especially, are unusually full of expression, 
 whilst the bitter expression of the mouth is softened at this 
 moment by a quiet, melancholy smile. It is Hertha, and 
 Hertha expects Yngve home. This day, this very morning he 
 is expected. And as Freya, of old, took an oath of every- 
 thing in nature that it should not hurt her beloved son, so 
 seemed Hertha at this moment to conjure them all to join 
 with her in welcoming Yngve, her friend, her soul's bride- 
 groom, and to beautify his return home. She looked on the 
 beautiful plants, on the statues, on all which make the Iduna- 
 hall a temple for the soiil, on the butterflies, and up to the 
 clear blue sky, with a new love, because Yngve would soon
 
 356 THE FOTIR STRTERS. 
 
 see them in this room, and she, as it were, admonished tliem 
 to be more beautiful than ever to receive him, for all tliat was 
 hers was his also. Many, many things on earth at the same 
 time circumscribed her joy and her hope, but her soul at this 
 moment, rising above every oppressive fetter, ascended in a song 
 of thanksgiving to the Father in heaven for all that she had 
 won and for the wealth of this moment on earth. As a strong 
 tree raises itself again after the storm and lifts its head aloft 
 and spreads out anew its branches as a shelter for the birds of 
 heaven, so did Hertha raise herself after the conflict of so 
 many years, full of thanksgiving, of power and will to comfort 
 and to bless. 
 
 Her young sisters entered attired in their best ; they also 
 expected Yngve with eager yearning ; for it would make 
 Hertha so happy. 
 
 " How handsome you are to-day," said they, embracing 
 her ; " you look like a bride and hke a priestess at the same 
 time." 
 
 " Hush, hush, flatterers !" said Hertha, clasping them in her 
 arms, " you must not spoil me. Where is our little mother ?" 
 
 It was thus that Yngve'a mother was spoken of by the 
 daughters of the house. 
 
 She too entered from her room, not unlike a happy shadow, 
 so pale, but yet at the same time so full of delicious joy, in so 
 soon being able to see her beloved son. 
 
 Breakfast was set out in the Iduna-hall, in the midst of lilacs 
 and deliciously fragrant lilies of the valley. The table was 
 covered with the most exquisite delicacies which a country hfe 
 affords ; nothing was wanting to complete the whole but the 
 warm morning beverage, — this waited for Yngve's arrival. 
 Everything seemed to Avait for Yngve. 
 
 That was in the mornuig at Hertha's home. 
 
 At this very time, a scene of quite another character was 
 witnessed at about three English miles' distance. A steamboat
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 35t 
 
 was seen burning on lake Wener. It was making way towards 
 the nearest land. The shore towards which the steamer was 
 advancing was covered with forest, uninhabited and wild. 
 The peasants of the neighborhood lay as yet sunk m their Sab- 
 bath morning sleep, and such few as had become aware of the 
 fatal mischance, were a long time in getting the boats of the 
 shore in action. The occiirrence of any accident to a steamboat 
 is so rare in Sweden, that people are just as little prepared for 
 it as they would be for an exj)losion of the moon. 
 
 It was one of the canal-steamers on its way from Gotheborg 
 through the country, which had this morning taken fire. The 
 passengers, who had been woke out of their sleep by the out- 
 bursting of the flames, found themselves, as they rushed on 
 deck, enveloped in fire. The boats on board were found to be 
 unfit for serWce, but the land was near at hand ; they were 
 making rapid way towards it, and all still hoped. Suddenly, 
 however, it struck ; the engine ceased to work, and the fire 
 increased on all sides. They were not many fathoms from land, 
 but the water around the vessel was too deep for any to get to 
 shore, excepting such as could swim. An awful and heart- 
 rending confusion prevailed, amid which pale mothers besought 
 men to save their children. 
 
 One of the men sprang upon one of the paddle-boxes, and 
 cried aloud : " All here who can swim, do as I do !" 
 
 And with these words he threw himself into the water ; then 
 turning towards the vessel, he called to a young mother, who 
 stood by the gunwale with her child on her arm, " Jump over- 
 board ! I will catch you, and swim with you and your chUd 
 to land. Don't be afraid !" 
 
 She followed his injunction, just as the flames caught her 
 dress, and he swam with her to the shore. Another yoimg 
 man followed his example at the same moment, and yet two 
 others. These four brave men swam to and from the vessel, 
 saving all who could not save themselves. The first youngf 
 man, who was the most energetic and the best s^wimmer of aB, 
 rescued in this manner no less than fourteen persons, mostly 
 women and children His cordial manners and great courage
 
 358 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 — the animated glances of his unusually fine eyes — ^his coolness 
 and skiU — all contributed to give him the confidence of every 
 one ; the chief hope of all seemed to be centred in him. The 
 work of rescue had been carried forward so rapidly and so suc- 
 cessfully, that tot a single life was lost, either among the pas- 
 sengers or the steamer's company, nor yet even injured; and 
 although they were compelled to see from the shore the vessel 
 burn to the water's edge, and many had to deplore the loss of 
 their property, yet the predominating feeling at this moment 
 was that of having been rescued from a terrible sudden death, 
 and of gratitude towards the brave men who had saved them. 
 
 One of these saviors, however, the most active of them, did 
 not hear the thanks which were given to him. He lay, a little 
 apart from the throng, upon the mossy turf of the forest, and 
 a clear stream of blood poured fi-om his mouth over the mass 
 and the Hng. His cheeks, lately crimsoned as by the flush of 
 fever, now were ashy pale, and those beautiful eyes were closed 
 as in the sleep of death. Silent and terrified, the lately saved 
 throng gathered aroimd ; the women weeping, because he was 
 dying from the eftbrts he had made on behalf of themselves 
 and their children. Yet an attentive observer might have 
 remarked, from his sunken cheeks, that death had long before 
 begun its work in him and undermined his health. Still, how- 
 ever, he is beautiful, as he lies there with his well-developed 
 chest, bared to the wind, and the drenched, rich, dark-brown 
 iiair thrown back from the pure forehead. The dark pine-trees 
 extended quietly over him their waving branches, as if they 
 ^■ould shelter him from the hot beams of the sun. 
 
 " Who is he ?" asked all aloud, or in an undertone. "His 
 dress looks like that of a foreigner, but his speech and his 
 countenance, with its good, manly expression, are Swedish." 
 
 " My brother ! my brother !" exclaimed a voice of deep 
 anguish, and a yomig man pressed through the crowd, flung 
 himself upon the ground beside the apparently d}dng man, 
 and laid his ear to his heart. He again sprang up and ex- 
 cljamed : " Take care of him ! Let nobody remove him from 
 this place before I return !"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 359 
 
 And with these words he rushed through the forest in the 
 direction of Kungskoping. 
 
 The remainder stood irresolute round the pale young man. 
 Grateful hands wiped the blood from his lips, and bathed his 
 temples with water from the cold forest-sprin f. He lay quite 
 still with closed eyes, and they knew not whether he was alive 
 or dead ; they could not perceive that he breathed. But to 
 remove him they dared not. In the mean time the greater 
 number of the people began to proceed to the town, because 
 they could thence send help, and besides, each one had to care 
 for himself and his to find lodgings, dry clothes, etc. On the 
 other hand, the peasants of the surrounding district collected 
 and formed a close circle around the young man, who seemed 
 to have bled to death, or to contemplate the vessel which lay 
 upon the mirror-Hke lake, with extinguished engine-fires, but 
 still burning huU. 
 
 They talked about Yngve. 
 
 " He is certainly dead," said one. " He ought not to he 
 here," said another. " He ought to be carried to the town, 
 to the doctor," said a third. 
 
 " Do not touch him !" cried one of the women whom he had 
 saved, and who faithfully kept watch by his side : " the efliu- 
 sion of blood would begin afresh, and he would die by the 
 way. We must wait ; of a certainty some one will soon come 
 to him fi'om the town." And she related to the astonished 
 hstening people the noble achievements of the stranger that 
 morning. 
 
 They waited in silence ; the sun ascended higher in the 
 lieavens, and penetrated the thick forest with his beams. It 
 grew very hot. The throng talked together in a low voice: 
 
 " What a pity for the young man !" said one woman ; " he 
 looks just like one of God's angels !" 
 
 "A brave fellow!" said an old peasant, "and one of the 
 gentlefolks, too. It would be a good thing to have many such 
 in the coimtry if the enemy came." 
 
 The sun rose higher and higher, and the pine-tree branches 
 no longer sheltered the dying man from its fiery rays. " We
 
 360 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 cannot stay here the Avliole clay," said the peasants; "we 
 must go home, but we will first carry him into the nearest 
 cottage." 
 
 " Wait !" still besought the faithful watcher ; " wait a little 
 while longer ! Some one will soon come." 
 
 Some one came. A tall lady, clad in white, came through 
 the wood with rapid steps ; she was followed by men with a 
 softly-cushioned bier. The crowd hastily opened at sight of 
 her calm commanding presence, and made way for her. She 
 knelt by the side of the unconscious man, laid her hand upon 
 his heart, and then her ear to his mouth. She then smUed 
 and looked up : 
 
 " He still breathes ! he Hves ! " 
 
 She made a sign to the men with the bier; she herself 
 raised Yngve's head upon her arm, and carefully, with the 
 help of the men, placed him gently upon it. 
 
 "Friends!" said she, addressing some of the crowd, "go 
 on before us and clear the way through the wood, so that no- 
 thing may impede us. No one who serves this man to-day 
 shall fail to be well rewarded by me ! " 
 
 Willingly, but silently, they obeyed Ilertha's command. 
 She was known and respected throughout the country ; she 
 was well known in the dwellings of the distressed ; and, 
 besides that, every one felt deep sympathy for the young man 
 whose noble actions that very day they knew. 
 
 " Now, gently, step for step, through the forest to the town," 
 said Hertha. And on went the procession of men, women, 
 and children, dressed in the Sabbath and holiday attire of the 
 country, and soon opened a way through the forest. Close 
 beside Yngve's pillow walked, watchfully, two women — she 
 whom he had so lately saved, and she whom he loved so 
 deeply, and who now turned aside everything which might 
 touch his face — ah ! dearer to her now, as it lay in the 
 shadow of death, than it ever had been in the full glory of 
 life. When the procession emerged from the forest into the 
 blaze of the sun, these two ladies held over the head of the 
 slumberer leafy branches which they had broken off for that 
 purpose ; and thus they reached
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 361 
 
 HERTHA'S HOME. 
 
 IX THE EVENING. 
 
 The bridegroom is iii the liouse of the bride, but the Aved« 
 
 ding that is a long way oif ! Fartlier off it seems now, 
 
 than it ever did before, for Yngve seems at the point of 
 death ; yet he lives ; great is the power of love, great also 
 sometimes is the power of the physician's art. The physician 
 is sent for, and m the mean time Hertha is alone with Yngve. 
 She kissed his mouth, his eyes, his cheek ; she kissed his cold 
 hand. Who can now deny her that ? She can now permit 
 herself to do so, for he will, indeed, soon die. The angels in 
 heaven could not have given kisses of purer or more unselfish 
 love. Never had she kissed the life-warm young man with a 
 love like that with which she now kissed those cold and life- 
 less lips ! 
 
 And those kisses of Hertha's have aVoke Yngve from his 
 death-slumber. He fixes his eyes upon her ; he inhales new 
 life from her glances. He raises himself He soon rests his 
 head upon her shoulder, and he whispers M'ords of love and 
 joy at seeing her again. But Hertha lays her finger u^jon 
 his Hjis, he must not talk now. Soon comes the physician to 
 see what he can do. 
 
 Dr. Hedermann is here ; he gives the patient a composing 
 draught, which is administered by Hertha's hand. Perfect 
 rest is prescribed. Hertha alone may be near Yngve. He 
 cannot bear her from his presence ; he follows her Avith his 
 eyes; he seems to live in her sight. In the course of a lew 
 hours his pulse has become stronger; he gazes intelligibly 
 around him, he can sit up ; he would talk even, if he miLrlit
 
 362 THE FOUR SISTERS 
 
 "be permitted. But Hertha allows it not. The physician 
 warns of great danger, but still gives hope. Yngve may 
 possibly live. 
 
 Oh, how softly Hertha moves around him, and strengthens 
 and consoles him sUently by her presence, her own soul's ful- 
 ness and strength. Yngve's mother cannot do as much for 
 him now, because her own physical weakness has overcome 
 her soul's strength, and she cannot look at him without tears. 
 
 Bat Hertha has not this day shed a tear. It is now no time 
 for weeping. 
 
 The doctor has ordered a warm foot-bath for Yngve in 
 order to draw the blood from the chest. It is prepared for 
 him in the evening twilight, and mingled with beneficial and 
 fragrant spices. In the hour of twilight Yngve sat and 
 enjoyed its luxury. He asked not now whose are the soft 
 hands which bathe his feet. He closes his eyes and dreams 
 himself back to the time when he was a child in his mother's 
 home and her hands tended him. They would gladly do it 
 now, but they have become too feeble, and it is not the 
 mother, but she, who regards herself as his wife, who laves his 
 feet and calls the warmth of life down into the stiffened limbs. 
 Yngve had closed his eyes, leaning back among the pillows of 
 the easy chair ; Hertha believed that he slumbered, and when 
 she saw in his still handsome but emaciated countenance the 
 ravages of suflfering and hope long deferred, her tears fell for 
 the first time that day. They fell upon Yngve's feet which 
 she held in her lap, and she let down her rich and beautiful 
 hair, and dried them with it. Yngve had often reproached 
 Hertha for not being able to love as he loved, for not under- 
 standing what love was, and she had sometimes thought that 
 there was justice in his reproach; but now she felt that there 
 was not. 
 
 At night Hertha sat watching by Yngve's bed ; he slept, 
 but uneasily, and often awoke as if terrified by fearful dreams, 
 but at the first glance of that flxithful friend, he smiled and 
 was calm. During the stillness of the night Hertha prepared 
 herself for the morrow's combat with her father.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 363 
 
 ; FATHER AND DAUGHTER 
 
 YET OKCE MORE. 
 
 Early in the morning Hertha entered her father's room. 
 She saw, by his threatenmg and angry countenance, the 
 tempest which awaited her. But she was now in that state of 
 mind when the soul takes no heed of fear, and feels a deter- 
 mination and a power in its will which assures it of victory. 
 Therefore is she so calm, so composed in her demeanor, glance, 
 and voice. The strength Ues in the depth of the will. 
 
 The Chief-Director was deceived by this, and began with a 
 stern voice : 
 
 " "VYhat hberty is this which you are taking in my house ? 
 How dared you, ^dthout asking my permission, to bring a 
 stranger hither ? Are you, or am I, master of this house ?" 
 
 " You, my father !" replied Hertha. " But Yngve is in his 
 mother's room ; is her guest, not mine." 
 
 The old man knew not for a moment what to say to this, 
 but continued to look at his daughter with an angry exj^res- 
 sion, and then said : 
 
 -' At all events, I ought to have been asked, been consulted 
 wich 1 ought mdeed to have a voice in my own house !" 
 
 "Father," said Hertha, with sad earnestness, "you are 
 right, I might have asked your permission, have consulted 
 with you, but — you have made me afraid of you, and the fear 
 of strife, and the fear of your refusing me my prayer, pre- 
 vented my coming to you yesterday, because I must have my 
 own way as regards Yngve. But to-day — to-day I have come 
 to talk with you, to ask your consent to what I propose, to 
 what must be done."'
 
 364 THE FOUE SISTERS. 
 
 " Must^'' repeated the Chief-Director, astonished, " what is 
 it that must be done ?" 
 
 Hertha continued as before : " Yngve is dying. The most 
 Avatchful tenderness can alone, by any possibiUty, save him. I 
 wish to marry him, that I may have the right to attend ixpon 
 him as his wife." 
 
 The Chief Director looked at her with an immoveable gaze, 
 and seemed to be turning over in his mind the means of 
 opposition. 
 
 " Father," resumed Hertha, " for more than seven years 1 
 have waited for the freedom which you promised me on one 
 occasion, and which I consider as my right, that of disposing 
 of my own person and my own future ; I have waited for your 
 consent ; I have bowed myself to your will. I cannot do it 
 any longer. The life of another is at stake. I have taken my 
 resolution. Do not drive me to extremes. You may deny me 
 my freedom, forbid me to become Yngve's wife, but nothing 
 in this world shall henceforth prevent me from remaining 
 with Yngve, and being his faithful attendant, even though 
 I should forfeit my reputation by doing so ?" 
 
 " Do you threaten ? do you defy me ? will you compel 
 me ?" out burst the Director, beside hunself with rage. " You 
 intend perhaps to cite me before a Court of Justice ; to diag 
 your father into a court of law !" 
 
 " Never!" returned Hertha, pale and calm as before, " but 
 I warn you, my father ; I tell you what will be the conse- 
 quence if you forbid me to fulfil my duty to my betrothed. 
 Do not do this, my father, and fear nothing from me. Every- 
 thing in your family will remain just as it was before. I shall 
 demand nothing from you as my guardian, excepting what 
 you yourself may think well to give, Yngve and I possess 
 sufficient means for the present time. If he recover we shall 
 want nothing. Have no fear of us, my father, and give your 
 consent to that which I ask. Othei'wise I shall, with Yngve, 
 seek another home than yours." 
 
 " Do yoii promise," said the Chief-Director, gloomily, " to 
 be satisfied with such a statement of your mother's inheritance
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 365 
 
 as I shall render ; will you promise that on your own, and 
 your future husband's account ?" 
 
 " I promise, my father ! You know that you may depend 
 upon me !" 
 
 " Are you prepared, you and your future husband, to give 
 me a written engagement to that effect ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well then, send for the clergyman when you like. Only, 
 I will have no bridal ceremonies, no company invited ; that I 
 will be excused ; do you hear ?" 
 
 "Yes ; and there is no need of invitations. Bridal ceremo- 
 nies would not be seemly at a dying-bed. I thank you, my 
 father !'' 
 
 Thus separated, for this time, father and daughter.
 
 366 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 Again we see the Iduna-hall. A small, silent company ia 
 assembled there, in the midst of which is a man still young, 
 though he evidently has not long to live, for " roses of the 
 grave " bloom upon his sunken cheeks, and the fine eyes are 
 bright with a supernatural radiance. This was the bride- 
 groom. All seemed to wait. Anon a door was opened, and 
 accompanied by her maidens and beautiful from the expression 
 of nobility and earnestness, entered the pale but stately bride, 
 with the myrtle crown on her golden hair. 
 
 Here in the circle of their nearest connections, were united 
 Yngve and Hertha, by the warm-hearted Httle pastor, who 
 was so deeply aifected by the scene, that he was scarcely able 
 to read the marriage ceremony, but from that very cause 
 spoke M^ith stiU deeper emphasis the benediction on the new- 
 married pair, who seemed to be united rather for death than life. 
 
 And yet they looked moi'e happy, nay more blessed, these 
 two, than bridal couples do in general. 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg is present at the marriage, and by her 
 lively loquacity introduces a little gaiety into the seriousness of 
 the solemnity. It is the Chief Director in particular whom 
 she devotes herself to enhven, and she actually succeeds in 
 calling up now and then a smile on his morose countenance. 
 Hertha and Yngve are all-sufiicient to each other. Yngve is 
 better this evening than he has been since his return. The 
 fulness and the importance of the time seem to have given 
 him a renewed life. But his affectionate wife watches over 
 him and wiU not allow him to give hunself up to the aug- 
 mented excitement of the moment, without soon recalhng him 
 from the company to stillness and silence with her. Thus, as 
 in former years, she again supported him on her faithful arm.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. SG7 
 
 A SUNBEAM. 
 
 Ma2j^ — " he Cometh hke a flower, and is cut down ; he fleeth 
 also as a shadow, and continueth not." 
 
 These words often sounded in Hertha's memory during the 
 days which succeeded, and when she saw Yngve decHne more 
 and more in strength, more and more bend towards the grave. 
 
 But God in his love often permits his servant to beautify 
 for days and months the pilgrimage of a beloved being towards 
 " The second hght." This was Hertha's privilege. 
 
 Yngve seemed, especially dm'ing the few weeks after his 
 return home, to revive, as it were, and acquire new strength. 
 The presence of Hertha and his mother, their care and affec- 
 tion, the peacefalness and pleasantness with which Hertha 
 surrounded him, aE operated most beneficially upon him. Two 
 rooms on the other side of the Iduna-hall were fitted up espe- 
 cially for him — for the house was spacious and contained much 
 more room than the family required, and the Chief-Director 
 himself made no objection to his daughter's ordering and 
 arranging everything as she pleased in the house when he 
 saw that Yngve's residence there increased, instead of dimi- 
 nishing, the family income. 
 
 Yngve passed daily a few hours in the Iduna-hall. The 
 influence of the summer, the wholesome diet which was sup- 
 l^lied, produced a feeling of physical well-beiag, such as he had 
 not experienced for a long time. He began himself to have 
 faith in his restoration to health. 
 
 " How can I be otherwise than well, here with you ?" said 
 he fi-equently to Hertha ; " you seem to possess a health-giving 
 power." 
 
 Towards autumn, however, the daily fever returned with 
 augmented force. In order to devote herself to Yngve,
 
 36S THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Hertha was obliged to leave the week-day-school in a great 
 measure to the care of her sister Maria and Olof E. But she still 
 coutiuued her hohday-school ; and its Conversation-lessons con- 
 stituted one of Yngve's greatest enjoyments. But he only took 
 l)art in them by speaking merely now and then a word. If hia 
 interest in any subject under discussion induced him to do 
 more, or if he became animated in conversation, an affec- 
 tionate, and at the same time beseeching and commanding 
 glance from Plertha forbad it. Sometimes with affectionate 
 pleasantry she would present him with an occupation better 
 suited to his strength, by placing before him a basket filled 
 with fresh flowers and fruits of the season, which it was always 
 a pleasure for Yngve to distribute among the young people, 
 and it was beautiful to see the httle flock of life-enjoying 
 youth surrounding Yngve's chair Avith looks of reverence and 
 love. 
 
 Hertha looked on with an expression in which tender joy 
 contended with sorrow. For she could not disguise from 
 herself that the hand which now so kindly distributed fruits 
 and flowers, and then pressed hers so wannly — that this fever- 
 ish hand would before long lie stiff and cold in the grave. At 
 this thought a dagger seemed to pierce her heart, and she 
 repressed with difficulty a con vulsive sigh. Yet she did repress it. 
 
 When winter came, with its clear days and fresh snow, and 
 the bulfinch sang in the trees, ghstening with crystals of ice, 
 again Yngve's strength revived, and Avith it his hope of life. 
 He so thoroughly enjoyed the glorious winter of his native 
 land, and all those home-comforts which few countries possess 
 in equal measure with our own rural homes. He was now able 
 sometimes to sit with his father-in-law over his evening pipe by 
 the crackling pine-log fire, and the Chief Director was never 
 unfriendly towards Yngve, and appeared always glad to Pee 
 him. Yngve sometimes even playfully assisted Aunt Nella to 
 entangle her skein, imder pretence of bringing it into order; 
 in a word, he was now occasionally the life-enjoying Yngve of 
 former days. But it was only the blazing-up of the lamp 
 before it became extinguished for ever. Towards spring hia
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 3(59 
 
 strength visibly and rapidly declined, and an unusual depres- 
 sion at times took hold upon his mind. Hertha saw that "a 
 struggle was going forward in his soul." She understood it, 
 because she herself was passing through a silent conflict, and 
 that for his sake. And they conquered together. Yngve 
 submitted himself to his doom in loving obedience, and seemed 
 thenceforward only more fully to enjoy all which that beautiful 
 life had still to offer him — above all, Hertha's love. The weaker 
 he became, the more he loved to have her sitting by his side, 
 and to rest his head upon her shoulder. 
 
 Thus they sate one day towards the close of May, v/hen the 
 fruit trees opened their blossoms to the warm sun, and the soft 
 vernal wind, entering through the open windows of the Iduna- 
 hall, sported with the leaves of the plants which stood there. 
 Yngve enjoyed these delicious vernal breezes. A branch of 
 newly-opened apple-blossom lay on Hertha's lajD, and his hand 
 played with it as he admired its beauty. 
 
 The contrast between ever-flourishing and blossoming nature 
 and the dying man was great, and Hertha, otherwise so 
 watchftil over herself, could not prevent her tears from falling. 
 One fell on Yngve's hand ; he raised it to his hps and said : 
 
 " How beautiful, my Hertha ! to know that Nature is blood 
 of our blood, flesh of our flesh, and life of our life ; that it 
 will rise again and be transfigured with us beyond the gi'ave, 
 through Him who has hfe in Himself! — a new Heaven is not 
 without a new Earth ! Iduna and her fruits are imperishable 
 truth ! Iduna is an immortal thought !" 
 
 Hertha could not answer, but she knew that he understood 
 her thoughts, and that he who reconciled her to life will now 
 reconcile her to death by his death. She bowed her head to 
 his, and kissed his forehead. It felt so extraordinarily damp 
 and cold. 
 
 " How are you, my Yngve ? " whispered she. 
 
 " Well ! " he replied ; " very well, just noAv ! " And he 
 seemed to sink into a soft slumber. 
 
 Hertha embraced him supportingly. His head sunk to her 
 breast, and seemed heavy ; she no longer heard him breathe. 
 23
 
 370 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 She thus sat immoveably, and her sisters entering, found her 
 sitting almost as rigid, almost as cold as him whom she held 
 in her arms clasped to her bosom. 
 
 The three bore Yngve sUently to his room, and laid him on 
 his bed. He slept — slept deeply — and the kisses of his Avife 
 could not wake him more.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS 371 
 
 THE ANGEL OF DEATH, 
 
 Te sons of Adam of frail earth's shaping, 
 
 Crumbling again into the same I 
 Te are mine ; ye are Death's ; there is no escaping 
 Since sin into the world first came. 
 
 I stand in the east, 
 
 And the western clime; 
 
 And a thousand voices 
 
 Ye guests of Time 
 I bring ye, the Lord of Heaven's commands, 
 From air and fire, from seas and lands. 
 
 Te plan and build as the small bird buildeth 
 
 Her nest in the summer's verdant bower ; 
 She singeth in joy, and the forest shieldetb 
 The home of her love one little hour; 
 But where is the wild bird, 
 And where are her halls. 
 When the tempest raves 
 And the strong tree falls ? 
 
 We frequently see a family stand for a great number of 
 years, unmoved by the changes or tempests of tune, and 
 growing in calm security, when suddenly a storm comes, 
 which, within a few months or weeks, carries off its members 
 or changes its circumstances, so that it is, as it were, oblite- 
 rated from the earth, and is mentioned there no more. It is 
 the Angel of Death which has gone forth thither. Such are 
 occasionally the devastations of a tempest, which in a few 
 hours mows down, Uke corn, both the old and the young 
 trees of the forest, wliich had otherwise stood unremoved for 
 years. 
 
 Such a dispensation of Providence swept over Hertha's 
 family. After Yngve's decease one death followed another in
 
 3'72 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 rapid succession. First died Yngve's mother, or, more cor- 
 rectly speaking, peacefully Avent to sleep a few days after her 
 son's departure, thankful and rejoicing to be able to follow 
 him. Very shortly the Chief Director had an attack of 
 apoplexy, in consequence of the violent agitation of mind 
 caused by the then position of the great lawsuit, in which he 
 was compelled to pay down a large sum of money. He re- 
 covered, it is true, in some measure; but paralysed in the 
 lower hmbs, and after a severe struggle with death, because 
 he would not die, but live, and continue as formerly alone to 
 govern the pecuniary aifairs of the family without taking 
 counsel with any one. He felt himself, so he declared, as 
 strong and capable, as regarded his powers of mind, as he 
 ever had been, and he felt convinced that he should perfectly 
 recover his health, and live many years. He took after his 
 grandfather, he said, who had lived to be a hundred years of 
 age. With this prospect before him he concentrated all his 
 attention and all his care still more exclusively upon himself, 
 seeming to consider his restoration to health as the only im- 
 portant thmg in the world. Nevertheless he was not alto- 
 gether regardless of the anxious charge which his daughters 
 had in him, and he attached himself especially to Hertha, with 
 a kuid of childish confidence ; and she, from the hour in which 
 she saw in this despotic father, a weak, ailing child, felt once 
 mere that she could love him — could watch over him with 
 love. She thanked God for this renewed sentiment of filial 
 affection, and took little thought of all the weary watching 
 and wearing anxiety of mind which, together with her own 
 heart's silent sorrow, more and more undermined her strength. 
 And though her father occasionally acknowledged her devoted 
 affection, and appeared contented if he only saw her in his 
 room, he still merely thought of her with regard to himself, 
 and his selfishness seemed only to increase as his powers de- 
 creased. One day, towards the close of summer, a wasp had 
 flown into his chamber, and they sought to drive it out 
 through the window. 
 
 " Let it be !" said he impatiently, " it won't sting me /"
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 3^3 
 
 A few hours after he was dead. 
 
 Hertha's apprehensions as to the state of her flither's aifairs 
 proved, on his death, only to be too well founded. The Chief 
 Director died a ruined man. The maternal inheritance of his 
 daughters. Aunt Nella's forty years' savings, and his own 
 property, had all been swallowed up by the great lawsuit, 
 which was still going on at his death, and which he probably 
 still hoped in his last moments to win. During a slight deli- 
 rium, which came on a few hours before his death, he talked 
 incessantly of carrying his cause before the supreme court. 
 And he did so — but before a much higher tribunal than he 
 had thought of. 
 
 Poor little Aunt ISTella did not long survive the death of her 
 brother-in-law, and the result of the great lawsuit. During 
 the last few days of her life she was incessantly searching 
 among the papers of the large portfolio, and talking to herself 
 about the mislaid documents and the lost lawsuit. And thus 
 also her confused but innocent soul appeared before the Su- 
 preme tribunal, where she had no cause to dread a severe ver- 
 dict. Anna, the faithful old servant of the family, soon fol- 
 lowed her master. 
 
 Hertha, left alone in her home, with her sisters, was now 
 possessed of nothing, excepting what she herself had acquired 
 by her own labor, and the small sum of money which was 
 left her by Yngve. 
 
 " We are now poor !" said she to her sisters, as she clasped 
 them in her arras ; " but we are able to work ; we can earn 
 our bread in the sweat of our brows and never complain, but 
 on the contrary thank God. It will give us strength. Pro- 
 mise me, never to say a word in accusation of our father !" 
 
 Hertha Avrote in her Diary at this time as follows : — 
 
 "Yngve is gone, and with him all joy on earth. Work 
 remains. And now — to work ! Work for daily bread, for the 
 dear sisters' future, and for that calling which God has given 
 me. I shall not lay do'wn my pilgrim's staff so long as this hand 
 is able to hold it. But — I feel it already tremble. God ! be 
 my stay and strengthen me, for the sake of my motherless ones !"
 
 3Y4 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 Without a complaint for that which was past, Hertha turned 
 "with earnest zeal to the object which would henceforward alone 
 support her and her sisters, as well as render their future 
 secure. 
 
 But during the efforts which this required, and in conse- 
 quence of the consuming agony of mind through which she had 
 passed, she soon became convinced, beyond a doubt, that she 
 would not long be able to devote herself to her peculiar calling, 
 and that her career would be cut short. 
 
 There is a malady which seizes upon women much more fre- 
 quently than men, and especially on those who have been 
 stricken by some sudden sorrow, or who have been, as it is 
 said, worn out by a painfully laborious life. As an insidious 
 parasite of the tropics seizes upon the gloi'ious Ceiba-tree, fixes 
 itself in its soft bark, and grows, serpent-like, twining itself 
 roimd its stem and branches, sucking up its sap, until it lives 
 upon a — corpse, such is this malady ; it commonly first seizes 
 upon those parts of the body which are most beautiful and 
 tender ; those out of which the fountains of life well forth, and 
 thence extends its secret poison to the whole system. 
 
 The name of this malady is not mentioned without a shudder, 
 because it is known to belong to the incurable ; and that severe 
 suffering accompanies it. 
 
 Hertha was aware of her condition ; and knowing it to be 
 her duty to live and to work for her sisters, and for the great 
 object of her life's endeavors, besides the natural horror which 
 she had oi* the disease whose symjDtoms she believed she recog- 
 nised in herself, she consulted Dr. Hedermann. 
 
 He called her malady a " heart-complaint," but warned her 
 of its consequences, and prescribed what physicians always 
 prescribe, in such cases, rest from fatiguing labor ; as well as 
 bathing and the water-cure. Hertha thanked him; besought 
 him not to betray her confidence on this subject ; and he left 
 her without any idea that what he had prescribed for her, was 
 precisely that which her necessities prevented her making use 
 of. But she Avould not allow such a confession to pass her pale 
 lips.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 375 
 
 She told no one ; she allowed no one to have an idea of the 
 truth as regarded herself. With a calm, steady mien she 
 arose, and summoned all her powers to fulfil the duties of each 
 j^assing day, and left the future in the hand of God, in whose 
 fatherly guidance she had firm trust — to whose mspiration she 
 incessantly listened. With ever watchful and warm kindness, 
 and with eloquent lips, she stood among the young who 
 gathered around her; she revived all who came to her for 
 counsel or consolation with frankness and sympathy, and none 
 had any idea of the Nidhogg which gnawed at the root of her 
 tree of life. Sometimes a deep sigh Avould force itself from her 
 breast, which many fancied when they heard it to be a sound 
 of lamentation, but the sigh and the lamentation were so speed- 
 ily rej)ressed, as to be scarcely observable. She went out com- 
 monly for an hour each day, accompanied by one of her pupils, 
 for the benefit of fresh air. Sometimes it happened, on these 
 occasions, that she would suddenly pause, and stand for a 
 moment perfectly silent. This was when she felt a faintnes? 
 come on. Afterwards she would smile kindly and resume hei 
 walk and her conversation. Before long, however, the pro 
 gress of the destroyer became evident to all in the emaciated 
 form, and she was no longer able to conceal from those who 
 loved her, that the angel of Death was at her heart.
 
 3T6 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ALL-HALLOWS'-REST 
 
 Is the term applied, in some of the Swedish provinces, to a 
 season which occurs generally at the commencement of No- 
 vember, with All-Hallows' Eve. It may be, a few days, or 
 perhaps a week at most, of perfectly, almost wonderfiilly calm 
 weather, which succeeds the October storms. The lakes lie, 
 like dark agate, at the feet of the mossy primeval mountains, 
 reflecting them and the dark green forests, and every object, 
 however minute, on their shores, in their calm, mirror-Hke 
 surface, with the most perfect fidelity. Not a breath of air 
 stirs ; not a bird twitters ; heaven is veiled, everything seems 
 to rest and wait — the whole of Nature expresses a grand 
 resignation, as it prepares itself to meet its fate, to enter its 
 winterly grave. Still ascends, fresh and soft, the fragrance of 
 earth, from the forests and the leaf-clad primeval mountains ; 
 but yet a Httle time, and.it reposes stiff and cold beneath the 
 white, enveloping shroud. It knows it, and waits in — " the 
 calm of All-hallows." 
 
 We may perceive something resembling this calm, during 
 the latter periods of Hertha's history ; yet, at the same time, 
 something more. Man, the lord of nature, does not, hke 
 nature, yield to fate only in passive submission ; he meets it, 
 he bows himself before it, in the living consciousness of the 
 purpose of his change, and even at the approach of winter, 
 prepares himself for the Hfe of the new spring. It is his 
 glorious privilege. This was deeply acknowledged by Hertha ; 
 and it gave a fresh trait of nobihty to her not ordinary 
 exterior, and endowed her ^vith a new power over the minds 
 of others. And if her calmness was frequently disturbed, and 
 dark shadows at times fell over her peace, yet the fault of this
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 37*7 
 
 lay less in herself than in the world with which her honest soul 
 had still to combat. 
 
 They who saw her during the few months which preceded 
 her decease, were for the most part greatly struck by her ap- 
 pearance and manners. One of these thus describes a visit 
 paid to her. 
 
 " I waited alone for a short time in the Iduna-hall, Avhilst I 
 was announced, and occupied myself in contemplating its 
 beautiful statues and blossoming plants. I had not seen 
 Hertha for many years, not since the time Avhen I had con- 
 sidered her a proud and somewhat disagreeable girl, evidently 
 out of harmony with herself and the world. 
 
 " Presently the door of the hall opened, and a noble figure, 
 but wasted with early sickness, entered, supported on a staff 
 with a white ivory head; in this form I had difficulty in 
 recognising the Hertha of former years. The ambitious and 
 sometimes conteraiDtuous character of her expression, whieli 
 had formerly rather offended my self-love, was no longer 
 observable. There was something perfectly frank and friendly 
 in the smile with which she advanced to meet me. She 
 seemed to be above all the petty feelings and thoughts of this 
 world. It was in the beaming eyes and the noble, arched 
 forehead, that I was best able to recognise the former Hertha, 
 yet these now bore an expression of qiiiet power and serenity 
 which formerly was foreign to them. Every feature, every 
 line of her countenance seemed to me to speak of a rich 
 inward history. The strongly developed nostrils had no longer 
 their someAvhat arrogant expression, and all bitterness seemed 
 changed to quiet melancholy. But above all this, and over 
 the whole countenance, beamed those splendid eyes with their 
 transfiguring light. The hair which was put back from the 
 temples allowed their singularly beautiful outline to be seen, 
 whilst a simple white, cambric kercliief, or veil, fell softly, 
 shadowing as it were the head, and around the sunken cheeks. 
 Hertha, as she now is, might serve as a model for a Sibyl, or 
 for the Prophetess Vala, if the expression of patient power and 
 of a deep maternal tenderness did not render her rather
 
 BIS THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 the type of the Maccabean woman, ' the mother of the 
 Martyrs.' 
 
 " I was so affected by the sight of this noble ruin, of the 
 formerly stately woman, that I could scarcely restrain my 
 tears. But she spoke so calmly and kindly to me that I soon 
 became calmer, and hstened with indescribable pleasure to her 
 conversation, rich as it was in life's experience, and so filled 
 with great thoughts for the future. She is severe in her 
 demands from our sex, precisely because she estimates its 
 vocation so highly. She spoke of her pupils with great ten- 
 iemess, and in particular praised most highly two young 
 auder-teachers in the school. The old bitter expression, both 
 in voice and countenance, returned, however, when she spoke 
 of the false views which parents take with regard to their 
 daughters' education, and of the impediments which our laws 
 place in the way of the development of young women. But 
 the bitterness again disappeared before the trust and hope in 
 the future. 
 
 " She was unable to receive my daughters into her school, 
 because she foresaw that she inust shortly discontinue it, on 
 account of her health, which ^t11 not permit her much longer 
 to give the necessary attention to it. This subject however 
 she touched but lightly. I have been told that the physicians 
 consider it improbable that she will live over the year, and I 
 left her with the sorrowful feeling that I should see and hear 
 her no more. I shall never forget the light in her glance, nor 
 the affection which I saw beam from the eyes of the young, 
 as I accompanied her into the school-room. All seemed to 
 know that she soon would be taken from them, and it was 
 plain to see, both fi-om her looks and their eyes, how painful 
 this parting would be." 
 
 In the meantime, what was the state of that soul whose 
 silent conflict and innermost longing no one knew but God 
 and the friend who was no longer on earth ? We will obtain 
 our answer fi-om entries in her diary.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 3T9 
 
 SELECTIONS FROM HERTHA'S DIARY. 
 
 "It is now more than three years since I wrote anything 
 about myself. After Yngve's departure, I lost, in some 
 respects, interest in myself, and my time and thoughts were 
 occupied in working to live. Now again I write in order to 
 employ myself, for I have now leisure. Upon the cliffs of 
 Marstrand, with the great sea roaring around me, I enjoy a 
 little season of rest, for the first time during many years. How 
 beautiful, how delightful it is, for a little while to have nothing 
 more to do than the flowers and the trees ; to bathe in the 
 sunsliine and be caressed by the winds. Yet I should not 
 have come hither on my own account, because the soft air of 
 " the Madeira of Sweden" cannot benefit me, even if it can do 
 me any good, but my sister Maria requires sea-bathing ; her 
 white hjjs and cheeks attest sufiiciently that she sufiTers from 
 the disease so common to yo^^ng girls whose employment is 
 sedentary, and who are devoted to teaching. Ah ! this life 
 and labor is not proper for her, because she does not like it ; 
 but in what other way, excepting this, can she earn her living ? 
 I look around for her, but I can see nothing. She was not 
 formed to struggle with poverty and want. Martha can go 
 through this conflict much better. But will not the occupa- 
 tion which alone oflers to her, that of housekeeper, drag do-\vn 
 her upward-striving mind, and chain it to the petty, to the 
 common, drag down her soul ? And what is her future ? 
 
 " Sweden ! thou brmgest up thy young daughters too much 
 in the spirit of the step-mother, and this will be avenged upon 
 thy sons and daughters to the third and fourtli generation. 
 
 '■'- Aiigust \st. I accompHsh this day my forty-first year. 
 But I feel myself still young. I fancy I could now first right-
 
 380 TUE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 ly begin to live for others, if only I had the time. Fresh feel- 
 mgs, new thoughts, come up with tlie fresh breezes from the 
 sea ; and views open vast as infinite space. Could I develope 
 — could I impart all that dawns within me ; but it cannot be 
 on earth ; for I must shortly die. And I do not wish to hve 
 when I can no longer work. I wish not as a profitless burden 
 to consume the little that I may have to leave to my sisters, 
 my beloved care-takers. Maria is benefited by the sea-bath-, 
 ing, the fresh country-life, and I am also able to go out Avith 
 her in boat-excursions among the rocks. 
 
 " How fresh, and at the same time pecuharly Swedish, is the 
 character of this scenery. The stranger sees only, in the first 
 instance, naked grey cliffs, in the midst of the roaring waves ; 
 everywhere rocky islands and reefs. He approaches them, 
 and as if by magic, they open themselves, and reveal in the 
 bosom of the rocks, charming groves and gardens, in which 
 tall white lilies bloom, and ivy and wild honeysuckles clamber 
 around the mossy granite. The vegetation is splendid in the 
 little valleys at the foot of the mountains ; and from every 
 point the visitor gazes out over the restless blue sea, and 
 breathes its refreshing but soft air. Oh, this sea, how many 
 thoughts it awakens — thoughts, which here on earth I shall 
 never be able to work out. 
 
 " August Ith. Is it the disease which gains ground, or is it 
 this want of occupation which does not agree with me ? — but 
 my sleeplessness increases, and bitter thoughts and feelings 
 which I cannot bear, and from which I beseech of God to de- 
 liver me, have again awoke. The sight of my sisters even 
 awakes them, for what is to become of them when I am gone ? 
 My fatherly friend. Judge Carlson, is also gone. My sisters 
 have no friend in the world, no support. Both are well gifted, 
 but not extraordinary young women ; they are extraordinary 
 only in their nobility of mind and their self-sacrificing love. 
 How different Avould have been their lot if they had been early 
 accustomed to exercise their j)owers in a noble independence, 
 in an atmosphere of freedom, and if the property which — • 
 silence ! silence, bitter thought, silence.
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 381 
 
 " God — all good Father, it is not thee whom my voice 
 accuses, for thou hast declared woman to be free, and hast 
 endowed her with manifold good gifts, and hast created the 
 earth lich and beautiful. The bonds which thou hast laid 
 upon her are those of love, are those of His spirit. Oh, how 
 willingly do I bow myself before Thy laws. But before 
 human statutes, which bind what Thou hast unbound, which 
 close up the paths which Thou hast made open, which limit, 
 which impoverish, Vv'hich mete out the liberty which Thou hast 
 given to all, which clip the wings of conscience and power that 
 souls may be kept in the dust — before these statutes I will 
 never bow myself through all eternity, no ! and again no ! 
 And those human beings Av^ho maintain them, who cry peace 
 where there is no peace — ' They know not what they do ! 
 Father, take this bitterness out of my heart, and give me thy 
 peace, before I die!' 
 
 '■^August 10th. The venomous serpent will not give way, 
 and this is a sign to me that I must to my home, that I may 
 work, work for others while it is yet day. This will give mo 
 peace. I shall leave Maria in charge of Ingeborg Hedermann 
 and return home with my Martha. 
 
 " Iduna-hall, S^eptemher. Again in my home with my 
 accustomed surroundings, in my school, and I am better, 
 calmer. There is, in the activity of the mind for others, a 
 powerful, salutary influence. It is one of the renovating fruits 
 of Iduna. 
 
 " October. But I shall not much longer be able to work. 
 I must give up my week-day school. My last moments must 
 be devoted to my holiday-school. Dr. Hedermann assures 
 me that I shall not live over the winter. Thank God ! I 
 need not consume the little that I would leave to my sisters 
 by a long illness. 
 
 "I had yet much to say to them and my other young 
 friends, but I must now concentrate all in one central point, 
 in ' the one thing necessary,' foi their well-being, their life. 
 I will impress upon their hearts, or more correctly speaking 
 their consciences, as forcibly as I myself feel it, their eternal
 
 382 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 destination, their responsibility as hutnmi beings, and fellow- 
 members of a community, erribracing the whole human race, 
 to unite it though Christ in God, with his heavenly communi- 
 ty of free sanctified spiritual beings. And therefore be thou 
 alone our teacher during the remaining time, thou good 
 Shepherd of Souls ! and may thy greatness and those yiews 
 which thou openest into human life, nature, eternity, a new 
 heaven and a new earth, obliterate everything small and 
 circumscribed, and separate all selfishness from the young, so 
 that they may understand thy exhortation and thy love. 
 
 " Then I shall die contented. Some one more fortunate 
 than I may accompUsh the work which I begun, but never- 
 theless the work is begun, and I see around me a little flock 
 which will combat for a better future in the name of truth 
 and conscience." 
 
 In the spring her Diary contains the following : — 
 
 ^^ Ajyril. Dr. Hedermann has deceived both himself and 
 me. I still live, and may perhaps have long to live in this 
 state. My sisters ! my sisters ! Is it I who shall make you 
 poor ? I shaU be obliged to sell the drawing-room furniture 
 and my silk dresses to pay the rent. I would so gladly have 
 left them, Maria and Martha, to you my most tender nurses ! 
 Father ! let me not live to become a burden to them, to 
 impoverish them. 
 
 " 1)1 May. I have not for a long time had a dream worth 
 relating. But my last night's dream was beautiful. I yet 
 once more saw the three Nornor, the stern, motherly three, 
 whom I had often before beheld in my dreams ; they appeared 
 to come forth out of a gloomy forest, and beckoned me 
 ouAvard, as they again withdrew within its shadow. I obeyed 
 their call, but not ^vithout a shudder, for the forest was very 
 dark, and a cold wind struck xipon my breast. But when I 
 had entered, it opened its long columnar aisles, and the lofty 
 pine-tree stems gave forth a delicious fragrance. In the depth 
 of the temple of nature I saw, not the Nornor, but two figures 
 who seemed like shadows ; but they advanced towards me, 
 and evei-" as they came nearer, they assumed distinct form,
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 383 
 
 color, and radiant beauty. I recognised them. They were 
 Ahna and Yngve ; they siniled and beckoned, and — I awoke 
 with a throbbing heart, and Avith joy I perceived the signiti- 
 cance of the dream. 
 
 " August. My Iduna, all my beloved statues, ray library, 
 my pictures are — sold to a rich man, who "vvill convert them 
 into ornaments for his viUa. I have been compelled to sell 
 them, that I may not lessen the small, necessary capital which 
 I have set aside for my sisters. I endeavor to bear it with 
 indifference, but it wrings my heart. Had I been able to 
 retain my property, or had I lived long enough, I would have 
 instituted in the Iduna-hall an Industrial School for girls and 
 boys, and placed my clever Martha at its head, but — this plan 
 of the future must be buried hke many another. Well, 
 well ! So must it be, ' Naked was I born into the world, 
 and naked must I return out of it !' But yet for one more 
 evening before the Iduna-hall is empty and desolate will I see 
 my young sisters around me, the children of my soul, will 
 talk with them — yet once more — for the last time." 
 
 He who a couple of weeks later had seen the festive as- 
 sembly in the Iduna-hall, one beautiful September afternoon, 
 would not have had a presentiment that the silent, sorrowful 
 guest, whose image the Egyptians had ever pi-esent at their 
 festive entertainment as a " metnento mori^'^ Death, also was 
 present on this occasion, was here the secret guest, so beauti- 
 ful was the guise iinder which he was concealed ; so bright, so 
 gay seemed the picture of life which was here lit up by the 
 kindly beams of a bright autumn sun. There in its liglit 
 might be seen a company of festally attired young girls, all in 
 simple white, all with real flowers in their hair, and in the 
 midst of this group of young, graceful creatures — many of 
 whom were beautiful, whilst the countenances of all beamed 
 at this moment "snth an inward light which made all seem 
 lonely — sate in her arm-chair, a tall and noble female figure,
 
 384 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 she also attired in white, and one hand grasping a staff with 
 a white ivory head, on which she supported herself, as with 
 clear, beaming glances, and an expression of unspeakable 
 motherly kindness, she looked around her upon the young 
 girls, and spoke to them. True, her countenance was ema- 
 ciated, and as it were furrowed by suffering, but something 
 was yet there greater than suffering, something which pre- 
 vailed above its traces with a wonderful touch and daybreak, 
 as it were, of beauty, and gave to it a light, a life, a transfigu- 
 ration such as no artist, excepting the soul, can conjure up in 
 the human countenance. She still carried her head nobly, and 
 the expression of motherly love was blended in her eye with 
 that of the inspired teacher. Those young girls profoundly 
 recognised it. Delighted and humble, full of devoted affec- 
 tion, they clung around her, and kissed her hands and her 
 dress, and although she did not usually like or allow of caress- 
 es, she permitted them on this occasion. 
 
 She did not wish the young to have any idea that the 
 purpoi't of this festival was that of leave-taking, but there was 
 a something about it which seemed to tell them its object, 
 and which gave to their minds a profound and solemn impres- 
 sion. Two of these young girls belonged to the highest class 
 of society, other two were daughters of handicraft-workers ; 
 the greater number belonged to the middle class ; tliey were 
 all pupils of -the Holiday School. At the feet of Iduna stood 
 a table covered with flowers, tastefully arranged in vases of 
 the antique form, and Avith a rich j^rofusion of the fruits of 
 the season. Hertha was wheeled forward in her arm-chair 
 (the young girls were all emulous of this service) to the table ; 
 and here she partook of a meal with her young discijiles, after 
 having, in the name of all, thanked the giver of all good gifts, 
 for these His gifts. Hertha had not for a long time felt her- 
 self so free from pain, or so generally strong. The animation of 
 the moment restored color to her cheeks ; her young pupils 
 gazed at her with joy, and believed that she would be re- 
 stored to life ; that she would be regiven to them, and tears 
 of joy glistened in many eyes. Whilst she, as hostess, distri-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 385 
 
 buted "U'lth liberal hand the most beautiful of the fruits to her 
 young fi'iends, she turned the conversation to the ciiltivation 
 of fruit, to the vocation of man as the ennobler of nature, and 
 as usual she endeavored to awaken the thoughts of the young 
 to that portion of the labor which belonged especially to 
 woman, inducing them to express their own sentiments on 
 this subject, and, as ever, giving her own guiding, living 
 thoughts on the subject. She referred to the womanly influ- 
 ence partly by means of a developed sense of beauty, partly 
 also, practical, by means of garden-cultivation. She referred 
 to the beautiful myth of Iduna and her apples, as a symbol 
 of woman's relationship to nature and mankind. The Garden 
 of Eden gleamed forth, as it were, in her representation of 
 the earthly garden. 
 
 Olof E., the only young man present at the festival, read, 
 according to Hertha's programme, a short treatise on " Man 
 as the ennobler of nature." This yoimg man took a clear view 
 of his subject, for which he had a profound feeling, and his 
 thoughts accorded in every resjDect with Hertha's. Never- 
 theless he was not now listened to with the attention which 
 be deserved. The young people, it was evident, would, at 
 this moment, rather listen to Heitha alone. 
 
 When the cheerful meal was ended, she again collected them 
 around her, as was her custom in the hours of conversation, and 
 requested theii* attention to what she had to say to them ; and 
 no one can describe the profound attention with which their 
 glances, their souls hung, as it were, on the lips of their be- 
 loved instructress, whom they would now hear for the Inst 
 time. The feeble and sometimes broken voice, the superna- 
 tural glance of her eye, all told them this. 
 
 For the first time she now related to them portions of her 
 own life's history ; avoiding the mere outward, but si^eaking 
 of the inner ; of her soul's conflict, yearning, seeking, and 
 despair- until her meeting with Yngve. She spoke of him — • 
 oh ! with what expression, with what tones she spoke of him, 
 of how by his integrity, his goodness, his profound knowledge, 
 he gave peace and light to her soul, and reconciled her to life. 
 24
 
 386 THE FOUR SISTERS, 
 
 She then spoke of the covenant into wliich they had entered 
 on behalf of those whose suffermgs and desires she understood 
 better than most, because she had herself experienced them ; 
 she spoke of the plans which they had laid for its accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 " It became my lot," continued Hertha, " to carry out 
 alone that which we had planned together, and therefore it 
 has been imperfectly and only partially done. Ah ! I am my- 
 self only a fragment of the human behig, of the teacher which 
 
 I might have been for you if but the state of tutelage ui 
 
 which my youth was held, my long twilight, and still later 
 my grief for the loss of my departed friend, have diminished 
 my power, have bowed me so early. Love for you, my 
 children, has supported me ; still I have not been to you what 
 I might have been, what I wished to be. Let your youthful 
 powers, your earnest wishes, compensate for my deficiencies, 
 and attend at this moment to my words as to those of a dying 
 friend! Enter resolutely into God's service, as laborers in 
 his vmeyard ; this will give you strength to bear much, to 
 overcome much, to give up much, and yet never to feel your- 
 selves forsaken or poor. Gifts are manifold, and employments 
 in this world are manifold, but ' the Lord is One,' as the 
 Apostle says, and in all these we can serve the one. The 
 world is great ; God is greater ; and all that is in the Avorld is 
 his, and created for his glory. The sun in the firmament and 
 the least flower in the meadow aHke testify of Him. Thus 
 must you yoimg women, also, testify of Him, but m a higher 
 significance. Do you know why I invited you this day to 
 come to me, attired as for a festival ? It is because I am 
 pleased to see you so, and that I may impress it uj^on your 
 hearts, to stand forth, with the best and the most beautiful 
 which you have received from God, as witnesses of Him and 
 his truth. Dedicate all those gifts, both outward and inward, 
 which commonly belong to youth, and which so often minister 
 to vanity, dedicate them to Him, the Supreme ! Become his 
 servants in beauty and in truth. Scorn to serve anything 
 lower. Elevate, ennoble, the meanest object of earth by con-
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 387 
 
 secrating it to liis service. Fear not, if it be necessary, to 
 stand forth as the witnesses to his truth in the world ; but do 
 it nobly as beings guided by his inspiration, God has i)er- 
 mitted his latest work on earth to retain — even after the fall — 
 a perpetual memory of her first love and yearning towards 
 Him and his revelation. Guard this yearning towards Him as 
 your most sacred inheritance ; and hsten to God's voice in it ; — 
 obey its promptings ; let not the sacred fire be extinguished 
 on the altar of your hearts ; otherwise it will become extin- 
 guished in the communities of earth. Let it burn ever more 
 clearly, ever higher, stronger for all that is noble, good, right, 
 true, di\dne ; then will it penetrate, warm, and elevate all the 
 generations of the earth. 
 
 " Show yourselves, both by word and deed, by the whole 
 of your conduct in fife, worthy of the freedom, the self-respon- 
 sibility, which you have a right to demand fi-om the laws of 
 your country, and — it wiU be conceded to you or your succes- 
 sors. Force conviction on all, but do it through your own 
 wortliiness. 
 
 " Look around you in the world without fear, with no timid 
 or limited glance, and then ask, ' What is it that God requires 
 of me ? ' Ask honestly ; and according to the answer He gives 
 — that do, that become. But ask, like Mary, sitting at the 
 feet of Christ. Avoid pride, and not the less, fiilse humility 
 and slavish subjection to the opinion of the world. Cultivate 
 esteem for yourself, as a witness of eternal truth on earth. 
 Oh, young women ! yoitr vocation is great, your future glorious 
 in the ser\dce of the Most Holy. Devote yourselves to this 
 ^nth sacred earnestness, resolutely, courageously, humbly, but 
 steadfastly, and — everything else will be given you, through 
 Him. You may, in the begmning, encounter ojjposition, mis- 
 trust, ridicule, scorn, and hard judgment from many people, 
 but persevere patiently ; do not suffer anything or any one 
 to deprive you of your hope in the future, your faith in 
 the Redeemer ! They Avill conquer and you with tnem, for 
 yourself and for numbers ! — But I must make an end ; — I 
 shall soon leave you ; God calls mo hence ! Let me carry
 
 388 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 hence with me the hope of your fideUty to your hi<jhest voca- 
 tion, and — I shall die contented, because — I shall not then 
 have lived in vain ! " 
 
 She ceased to speak. The fever-flush crimsoned her cheeks, 
 and her bright eyes glanced with solemn earnestness around 
 her, inquiringly and searchingly, on the young people who 
 surrounded her. They all arose and approached her ; one after 
 the other, knelt before her, and laid their heads on her knees. 
 She let fall her staff, and with both her feeble hands raised 
 each of these youthful heads, gazed into their tearful eyes, and 
 blessed them with her looks, kissed their foreheads, and gave 
 to each one a few words of love and a parting gift. 
 
 " Farewell ! We shall meet again ! " were the last words 
 she whispered, as she finally took leave of them by a glance 
 and wave of her hand. 
 
 After this evening Hertha admitted no one to her privacy 
 excepting her sisters, her young friend Olof E., and her phy. 
 sician, so great were her sufferings. She passed her days and 
 nights sitting in her easy chau*, with but few hours of sleep, 
 and almost unable to take food. It was a pleasure to her to 
 be read to, in particular those portions of the Holy Scriptures 
 in Avhich large views of the word's emancipation were enun- 
 ciated. She then raised her head ; her eyes were again bright 
 as of old, whilst they gazed, as they had so often done before, 
 into the distance, beholding, as it were, some great and 
 glorious vision. Her intellect remained clear, and the expres- 
 sion of her countenance retained its serenity, excepting in those 
 few moments when it was darkened by suflering or some bitter 
 memory. To the very last she occupied herself, from time to 
 time, with writmg ; noting down various things which she was 
 no longer able to impart to her young disciples by word of 
 mouth, and often also made entries in her Diary. 
 
 A few days before her death she wrote as follows : — 
 
 " Thank God, it will soon be all over with me ! I need be here 
 no longer a burden to my friends. In the other state I may, 
 perhaps, watch over and work for them as a Guardian Angel, 
 They who circumscribe our private history, our relationships
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 389 
 
 of friendship merely to our time on earth, have not imdcrstood 
 all that the Gospel can teach ns. 
 
 "My sight becomes dim; my hand trembles; — but my 
 mind, my heart, are still young ! Alma ! Yngve ! I come to 
 you with a soul full of love and athirst for knowledge, that I 
 may with you, or through you — if I am but worthy of it — 
 behold the glory of God," 
 
 Shortly before her death Hertha again wrote in her Diary, 
 as if to dissipate uneasy and disturbing thoughts — 
 
 " Frequently in my youth, under an impression of my own 
 righteousness, I was severe and unsparing in my judgment of 
 others, and spoke with harshness whatever I regarded as right 
 and true. I have done the same wuthin these last days. A 
 distant relative, who lost his jsroperty through my father, 
 wrote to me, ' All your misfortunes might have been avoided 
 if you had in time compelled your father to render you an 
 account of your inherited property, and had availed yourself 
 of the means which our Swedish laws provide to obtain your 
 liberty. Then you might have married Yngve, he would have 
 lived ; you would not, as now, have killed yourself with work, 
 and your sisters would have been well provided for or esta- 
 blished in life. Everything would then have been different. 
 Do not let us throw the blame upon laws and upon circum- 
 stances, of that which is the consequence of our own indeci- 
 sion or fear of the world's judgment.' 
 
 " These words have wounded me deeply. Have I really 
 been the cause of all this ? — have I erred so much ? Yngve, 
 is it I who have dug thy early grave ? My sisters, is it I who 
 have destroyed your future ? I cannot see. I cannot clearly 
 i;nderstand things now. Disease has weakened me. The 
 shadows of death encompass me. Oh, this is a bitter cup ! 
 God be merciful to me !" 
 
 Tlie following words, without date, are written with a 
 steadier hand, but in much larger characters, as by one half- 
 blind : 
 
 " I have wished to do right ; I have obeyed the command
 
 390 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 of God and my own conscience. If I erred in so doing, if in 
 iullilling one duty I neglected others, then — the fault is ray 
 own. I could not do otherwise, and — I have been the 
 greatest sufferer. Before God I stand justified, because of 
 my honest intentions, but — 
 
 " My country! thou whom I loved so much, whom I wished 
 to serve with my whole soul and my whole strength, but who 
 didst lightly esteem my soul and my strength, thou whom I 
 nevertheless bless for the good thou gavest me ; towards 
 whose honorable future I still look amid the shadows of death, 
 to thee I confide my motherless ones. Be to them a tenderer 
 mother tlian thou hast been to me. Give to them, for the sake 
 of thine own future, give to all thy daughters, that which thou 
 hast denied to me ; Freedom ; a Future ; a Home for the Life 
 of the Soul. For myself I desire nothing more. My pilgrim's 
 staff is laid down : my pilgrimage is ended ; 
 
 I lift my hands confidingly 
 Up to God'? holy hill 1
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS. 391 
 
 KUNGSKOPING PEOPLE. 
 
 Never had any person's illness and last moments caused 
 so universal an interest and sympathy throughout the whole 
 social circles of Kungskoping, as those of Hertha. But 
 there were very few of the better families of the town of 
 which a daughter or other relative had not been educated at 
 her school, and who had not to thank her for having given 
 them a higher and more beautiful conception of Ufe. 
 
 "When she was gone, they sung her praises in chorus, and 
 fine poems, warm from the inspiration of the heart, were 
 composed in her honor. During her long sickness all kinds 
 of things were sent to her which it was thought would please 
 or comfort her, nor would greater gifts have been withheld if 
 Hertha by one word would have allowed it. But her inborn 
 pride forbade this. She only besought from her nearest 
 friends that they would be kind to her sisters when she was 
 dead. And was it piety towards her memory, or the effect 
 of that heavenly guardianship, which Hertha sometimes 
 pleased herself "with the idea of being able to afford her 
 sisters, when she was gone, but certain it is that people were 
 kind to them, and that a propitious star seemed to rule theu- 
 
 lives. Already before Hertba's death had Olof E and 
 
 Hertha's sister, Maria, become siacerely and devotedly 
 attached to each other, and now when we take our leave of 
 
 them, we see Olof E promoted to a situation which 
 
 enables him to offer his hand and a safe position in life to his 
 gentle Maria. Martha, it is said, is nominated to the super- 
 intendence of an Industrial School, which some of the Kungs- 
 koping people have uistitutcd in memory of Hertha, for
 
 392 THE FOUR SISTERS. 
 
 young girls, and for which they repurchased the statues 
 Avhich she liad destined for it. The spirit of life and of love 
 for a higher development, Avhich she had awoke, survived her, 
 and still lives in the town. 
 
 Hence it is that the good pastor's wife lived to see the 
 fulfilment of her wishes for the Infint-school. Who became 
 the teacher after Amalia left the town to join her husband at 
 some other place, we know not. After Marie Dufva's mar- 
 riage, the pastor and his wife obtained a new daughter for 
 their house, and they are yet wishing for another. The good 
 couple have still room in their house and room in their 
 hearts. 
 
 Mimmi Svanberg still continued her manifold activity as 
 " town councillor " in the town, even after she was married to 
 a wealthy man of the place. Her protegee, the bright-eyed, 
 but lame little singer, Mma, is appointed singing-mistress in 
 the Infant-school, and divides, her innocent cheerful Ufe be- 
 tween this and her noAV much happier mother's home (one of 
 the good Avorks of the Family Union), and never, on the face 
 of the earth, did a lame being more resemble a singmg-bird, in 
 Ufe and disposition. 
 
 Mrs. Tnpplander continues to give coffee-parties; to contend 
 against the principles of this age " Avithout rule or morality," 
 and bitterly complains that Miss Krusbjorn is more and more 
 infected by them, and actually defends them. 
 
 Professor Methodius still has not brought his system into 
 operation, nor has Protocol-secretary ISr.B. written his book 
 against Ladies' Societies. He has, however, done muoh 
 better ; he has become a member of a private lady's society — 
 lis is married to Mimmi Svanberg. 
 
 Mrs. Uggla, Avho can no longer sigh over the seven Miss 
 Dufvas, nor her own daughter Ingeborg's many daughters, 
 inasmuch as she has only one and two sons, nor yet sigh over 
 her daughter's fate, has noAV taken it upon herself to sigh over 
 the five Miss Hoppenstedts and the scA^en Miss Ugglas (her 
 relations) and their uncertain prospects. 
 
 In conclusion, we will speak of tAVO i^ersons i:i whom Hertha
 
 THE FOUR SISTERS, 393 
 
 had great interest, and with whom she was in constant inter- 
 course while she lived, though we have but Uttle to say of thcni. 
 
 Rudolph — " poor Rudolph," as Hertha used to call him, 
 continued lais pedestrian pilgrimage for several years. Every 
 now and then Hertha received a letter from him in which wa* 
 a small sum of money " for the sufferers by the fire." Aftci 
 Hertha's death all mtelligence of him ceased, and it is probable 
 that he did not long survive her. By his letters it was evident 
 that he found neither rest nor repose on earth, but was 
 continually pursued by the memory of the terrible night of the 
 fire, as well as by a voice which seemed to call to him " hence ! 
 hence !" But he also heard another voice which caused him 
 to raise his head and his eyes upwards, and Avhich repeated, 
 " thither ! thither !" A voice which whispered of a God 
 greater than our own heart, one who knows all things and 
 with whom there is much forgiveness. And as there are 
 human comets which in the course of their eccentric career 
 are seen for a little time above our horizon and then never 
 more return, but may be attracted by other planetary systems, 
 and in their orbit find order and rest, so are there also among 
 mankind nebulosities which never during their earthly lifetime 
 are able to fashion themselves to a decided nucleus ; and even 
 for these we look confidingly to Him who can and will 
 perfect all His work. Pie has placed the one human being as 
 a sun to the other, and thus we see Rudolph, the poor " son 
 of the twilight," through his connexion with Hertha, advancing 
 on his way to light and life. 
 
 Eva Dufva lived, Egeria-like, concealed in the sacred grove, 
 Avliere she, through infiuence, rather than by words, imparted 
 a beautiful doctrine of life's wisdom to all who came near her. 
 Long may she blossom at the Parsonage, pretty and fresh as 
 a rose, and, though in time withering and growing old as 
 other roses, still will she retain an imperishable fragrance of 
 youth in her quiet, active life as daughter, friend, and mother 
 to fatherless httle ones. She will never marry; her only 
 passion in this world was Hertha.
 
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 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 6 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS' WORKS. 
 
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