Part 7 (2/2)

Carina had just completed her simple toilet when Guro, the chamber-maid, entered, and announced that there were some sick folk below who wished to see the wonder child.

”Tell them I cannot see them,” answered Carina, with a tremulous voice; ”papa does not permit me.”

”But this man, Atle Pilot, has come from so far away in this dreadful cold,” pleaded Guro, ”and his son is so very bad, poor thing; he's lying down in the boat, and he sighs and groans fit to move a stone.”

”Don't! Don't tell her that,” interposed Agnes, motioning to the girl to begone. ”Don't you see it is hard enough for her already?”

There was something in the air, as the two sisters descended the stairs hand in hand, which foreboded calamity. The pastor had given out from the pulpit last Sunday that he would positively receive no invalids at his house; and he had solemnly charged every one to refrain from bringing their sick to his daughter. He had repeated this announcement again and again, and he was now very much annoyed at his apparent powerlessness to protect his child from further imposition. Loud and angry speech was heard in his office, and a noise as if the furniture were being knocked about. The two little girls remained standing on the stairs, each gazing at the other's frightened face. Then there was a great bang, and a stalwart, elderly sailor came tumbling head foremost out into the hall. His cap was flung after him through the crack of the door. Agnes saw for an instant her father's face, red and excited; and in his bearing there was something wild and strange, which was so different from his usual gentle and dignified appearance. The sailor stood for a while bewildered, leaning against the wall; then he stooped slowly and picked up his cap. But the moment he caught sight of Carina his embarra.s.sment vanished, and his rough features were illuminated with an intense emotion.

”Come, little miss, and help me,” he cried, in a hoa.r.s.e, imploring whisper. ”Halvor, my son--he is the only one G.o.d gave me--he is sick; he is going to die, miss, unless you take pity on him.”

”Where is he?” asked Carina.

”He's down in the boat, miss, at the pier. But I'll carry him up to you, if you like. We have been rowing half the night in the cold, and he is very low.”

”No, no; you mustn't bring him here,” said Agnes, seeing by Carina's face that she was on the point of yielding. ”Father would be so angry.”

”He may kill me if he likes,” exclaimed the sailor, wildly. ”It doesn't matter to me. But Halvor he's the only one I have, miss, and his mother died when he was born, and he is young, miss, and he will have many years to live, if you'll only have mercy on him.”

”But, you know, I shouldn't dare, on papa's account, to have you bring him here,” began Carina, struggling with her tears.

”Ah, yes! Then you will go to him. G.o.d bless you for that!” cried the poor man, with agonized eagerness. And interpreting the a.s.sent he read in Carina's eye, he caught her up in his arms, s.n.a.t.c.hed a coat from a peg in the wall, and wrapping her in it, tore open the door. Carina made no outcry, and was not in the least afraid. She felt herself resting in two strong arms, warmly wrapped and borne away at a great speed over the snow. But Agnes, seeing her sister vanish in that sudden fas.h.i.+on, gave a scream which called her father to the door.

”What has happened?” he asked. ”Where is Carina?”

”That dreadful Atle Pilot took her and ran away with her.”

”Ran away with her?” cried the pastor in alarm. ”How? Where?”

”Down to the pier.”

It was a few moments' work for the terrified father to burst open the door, and with his velvet skull-cap on his head, and the skirts of his dressing-gown flying wildly about him, rush down toward the beach. He saw Atle Pilot scarcely fifty feet in advance of him, and shouted to him at the top of his voice. But the sailor only redoubled his speed, and darted out upon the pier, hugging tightly to his breast the precious burden he carried. So blindly did he rush ahead that the pastor expected to see him plunge headlong into the icy waves. But, as by a miracle, he suddenly checked himself, and grasping with one hand the flag-pole, swung around it, a foot or two above the black water, and regained his foothold upon the planks. He stood for an instant irresolute, staring down into a boat which lay moored to the end of the pier. What he saw resembled a big bundle, consisting of a sheepskin coat and a couple of horse blankets.

”Halvor,” he cried, with a voice that shook with emotion, ”I have brought her.”

There was presently a vague movement under the horse-blankets, and after a minute's struggle a pale yellowish face became visible. It was a young face--the face of a boy of fifteen or sixteen. But, oh, what suffering was depicted in those sunken eyes, those bloodless, cracked lips, and the shrunken yellow skin which clung in premature wrinkles about the emaciated features! An old and worn fur cap was pulled down over his ears, but from under its rim a few strands of blond hair were hanging upon his forehead.

Atle had just disentangled Carina from her wrappings, and was about to descend the stairs to the water when a heavy hand seized him by the shoulder, and a panting voice shouted in his ear:

”Give me back my child.”

He paused, and turned his pathetically bewildered face toward the pastor. ”You wouldn't take him from me, parson,” he stammered, helplessly; ”no, you wouldn't. He's the only one I've got.”

”I don't take him from you,” the parson thundered, wrathfully. ”But what right have you to come and steal my child, because yours is ill?”

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