Part 17 (1/2)

”Well, there's Eli Boen; she might be one who would please him.”

”You may be sure I've thought of that.” She rocked the upper part of her body backwards and forwards.

”If we could contrive that they might oftener see each other here at the parsonage?”

”You may be sure I've thought of that!” She clapped her hands and looked at the Clergyman with a smile all over her face. He stopped while he was lighting his pipe.

”Perhaps this, after all, was what brought you here to-day?”

She looked down, put two fingers into the folded handkerchief, and pulled out one corner of it.

”Ah, well, G.o.d help me, perhaps it was this I wanted.”

The Clergyman walked up and down, and smiled. ”Perhaps, too, you came for the same thing the last time you were here?”

She pulled out the corner of the handkerchief still farther, and hesitated awhile. ”Well, as you ask me, perhaps I did--yes.”

The Clergyman went on smoking. ”Then, too, it was to carry this point that you confessed at last the thing you had on your conscience.”

She spread out the handkerchief to fold it up smoothly again. ”No; ah, no; that weighed so heavily upon me, I felt I must tell it to you, father.”

”Well, well, my dear Margit, we will talk no more about it.”

Then, while he was walking up and down, he suddenly added, ”Do you think you would of yourself have come out to me with this wish of yours?”

”Well,--I had already come out with so much, that I dare say this, too, would have come out at last.”

The Clergyman laughed, but he did not tell her what he thought. After a while he stood still. ”Well, we will manage this matter for you, Margit,” he said.

”G.o.d bless you for it!” She rose to go, for she understood he had now said all he wished to say.

”And we will look after them a little.”

”I don't know how to thank you enough,” she said, taking his hand and courtesying.

”G.o.d be with you!” he replied.

She wiped her eyes with the handkerchief, went towards the door, courtesied again, and said, ”Good bye,” while she slowly opened and shut it. But so lightly as she went towards Kampen that day, she had not gone for many, many years. When she had come far enough to see the thick smoke curling up cheerfully from the chimney, she blessed the house, the whole place, the Clergyman and Arne,--and remembered they were going to have her favorite dish, smoked ham, for dinner.

XIV.

FINDING A LOST SONG.

Kampen was a beautiful place. It was situated in the middle of a plain, bordered on the one side by a ravine, and on the other, by the high-road; just beyond the road was a thick wood, with a mountain ridge rising behind it, while high above all stood blue mountains crowned with snow. On the other side of the ravine also was a wide range of mountains, running round the Swart-water on the side where Boen was situated: it grew higher as it ran towards Kampen, but then turned suddenly sidewards, forming the broad valley called the Lower-tract, which began here, for Kampen was the last place in the Upper-tract.

The front door of the dwelling-house opened towards the road, which was about two thousand paces off, and a path with leafy birch-trees on both sides led thither. In front of the house was a little garden, which Arne managed according to the rules given in his books. The cattle-houses and barns were nearly all new-built, and stood to the left hand, forming a square. The house was two stories high, and was painted red, with white window-frames and doors; the roof was of turf with many small plants growing upon it, and on the ridge was a vane-spindle, where turned an iron c.o.c.k with a high raised tail.

Spring had come to the mountain-tracts. It was Sunday morning; the weather was mild and calm, but the air was somewhat heavy, and the mist lay low on the forest, though Margit said it would rise later in the day. Arne had read the sermon, and sung the hymns to his mother, and he felt better for them himself. Now he stood ready dressed to go to the parsonage. When he opened the door the fresh smell of the leaves met him; the garden lay dewy and bright in the morning breeze, but from the ravine sounded the roaring of the waterfall, now in lower, then again in louder booms, till all around seemed to tremble.

Arne walked upwards. As he went farther from the fall, its booming became less awful, and soon it lay over the landscape like the deep tones of an organ.

”G.o.d be with him wherever he goes!” the mother said, opening the window and looking after him till he disappeared behind the shrubs.

The mist had gradually risen, the sun shone bright, the fields and garden became full of fresh life, and the things Arne had sown and tended grew and sent up odor and gladness to his mother. ”Spring is beautiful to those who have had a long winter,” she said, looking away over the fields, as if in thought.