Part 74 (2/2)
Look at me--don't forgive me--I won't ask that--you _can't_ forgive me,--but _pity_ me!”
He took her hands and laid them round his neck,--he drew her gently, soothingly,--closer, closer, till he pressed her to his heart.
”Down in the dust are you?” he whispered brokenly. ”My poor wife! G.o.d forbid that I should keep you there!”
BOOK III.
THE LAND OF THE LONG SHADOW
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
”They have the night, who had, like us, the day-- We, whom day binds, shall have the night as they-- We, from the fetters of the light unbound, Healed of our wound of living, shall sleep sound!”
SWINBURNE.
Night on the Altenfjord,--the long, long, changeless night of winter.
The sharp snow-covered crests of the mountains rose in white appeal against the darkness of the sky,--the wild north wind tore through the leafless branches of the pine-forests, bringing with it driving pellets of stinging hail. Joyless and songless, the whole landscape lay as though frozen into sculptured stone. The Sun slept,--and the Fjord, black with brooding shadows, seemed silently to ask--where? Where was the great king of Light?--the glorious G.o.d of the golden hair and ruddy countenance?--the glittering warrior with the flaming s.h.i.+eld and spear invincible? Where had he found his rest? By what strange enchantment had he fallen into so deep and long a drowsiness. The wind that had rioted across the mountains, rooting up great trees in its shrieking career northwards, grew hushed as it approached the Altenfjord--there a weird stillness reigned, broken only by the sullen and monotonous plash of the invisible waves upon the scarcely visible sh.o.r.e.
A few tiny, twinkling lights showed the irregular outline of Bosekop, and now and then one or two fis.h.i.+ng-boats with sable sails and small colored lamps at mast and prow would flit across the inky water like dark messengers from another world bound on some mournful errand. Human figures, more shadowy than real, were to be seen occasionally moving on the pier, and to the left of the little town, as the eye grew accustomed to the moveless gloom, a group of persons, like ghosts in a dream, could be dimly perceived, working busily at the mending of nets.
Suddenly a strange, unearthly glow flashed over the sombre scene,--a rosy radiance deepening to brilliant streaks of fire. The dark heavens were torn asunder, and through them streamed flaring pennons of light,--waving, trembling, dancing, luminous ribbons of red, blue, green, and a delicious amber, like the flowing of golden wine,--wider, higher, more dazzlingly l.u.s.trous, the wondrous glory shone aloft, rising upward from the horizon--thrusting long spears of lambent flame among the murky retreating clouds, till in one magnificent coruscation of resplendent beams a blazing arch of gold leaped from east to west, spanning the visible breath of the Fjord, and casting towards the white peaks above, vivid sparkles and reflections of jewel-like brightness and color. Here was surely the Rainbow Bridge of Odin--the glittering pathway leading to Valhalla! Long filmy threads of emerald and azure trailed downwards from it, like ropes of fairy flowers, binding it to the earth--above it hung a fleece-like nebulous whiteness,--a canopy through which palpitated sudden flashes of amethyst. Then, as though the arch were a bent bow for the hand of some heavenly hunter, crimson beams darted across it in swift succession, like arrows shot at the dark target of the world. Round and round swept the varying circles of color--now advancing--now retreating--now turning the sullen waters beneath into a quivering ma.s.s of steely green--now beating against the snow-covered hills till they seemed pinnacles of heaped-up pearls and diamonds. The whole landscape was transformed,--and the shadowy cl.u.s.ter of men and women on the sh.o.r.e paused in their toil, and turned their pale faces towards the rippling splendor,--the heavy fis.h.i.+ng-nets drooping from their hands like dark webs woven by giant spiders.
”'Tis the first time we have seen the Arch of Death this year,” said one in awed accents.
”Ay, ay!” returned another, with a sigh. ”And some one is bound to cross it, whether he will or no. 'Tis a sure sign!”
”Sure!” they all agreed, in hushed voices as faint and far-off as the breaking of the tide against the rocks on the opposite coast.
As they spoke, the fairy-like bridge in the sky parted asunder and vanished! The brilliant aurora borealis faded by swift degrees--a few moments, and the land was again enveloped in gloom.
It might have been midnight--yet by the clock it was but four in the afternoon. Dreary indeed was the Altenfjord,--yet the neighboring village of Talvag was even drearier. There, desolation reigned supreme--it was a frozen region of bitter, shelterless cold, where the poverty-stricken inhabitants, smitten by the physical torpor and mental stupefaction engendered by the long, dark season, scarcely stirred out of their miserable homes, save to gather extra fuel. This is a time in Norway, when beyond the Arctic Circle, the old G.o.ds yet have sway--when in spite of their persistent, sometimes fanatical, adherence to the strictest forms of Christianity, the people almost unconsciously revert to the superst.i.tions of their ancestors. Gathering round the blazing pine-logs, they recount to one another in low voices the ancient legends of dead and gone heroes,--and listening to the yell of the storm-wind round their huts, they still fancy they hear the wild war-cries of the Valkyries rus.h.i.+ng past air full gallop on their coal-black steeds, with their long hair floating behind them.
On this particular afternoon the appearance of the ”Death-Arch,” as they called that special form of the aurora, had impressed the Talvig folk greatly. Some of them were at the doors, and, regardless of the piercing cold, occupied themselves in staring languidly at a reindeer sledge which stood outside one of the more distant huts, evidently waiting for some person within. The hoofs of the animals made no impression on the hardened snow--now and again they gently shook the tinkling bells on their harness, but otherwise were very patient. The sledge was in charge of a youthful Laplander--a hideous, stunted specimen of humanity, who appeared to be literally sewed up from head to foot in skins.
This cortege was evidently an object of curiosity,--the on-lookers eyed it askance, and with a sort of fear. For did it not belong to the terrible _bonde_, Olaf Guldmar?--and would not the Laplander,--a useful boy, well known in Talvig,--come to some fatal harm by watching, even for a few minutes, the property of an acknowledged pagan? Who could tell? The very reindeer might be possessed by evil spirits,--they were certainly much sleeker and finer than the ordinary run of such animals.
There was something uncanny in the very look of them! Thus the stupefied, unreasoning Talvig folk muttered, one to another, leaning drowsily out of their half-open doors.
”'Tis a strange thing,” said one man, ”that woman as strong in the fear of the Lord as Lovisa Elsland should call for one of the wicked to visit her on her death-bed.”
”Strange enough!” answered his neighbor, blinking over his pipe, and knocking down some of the icicles pendent from his roof. ”But maybe it is to curse him with the undying curse of the G.o.dly.”
”She's done that all her life,” said the first speaker.
”That's true! She's been a faithful servant of the Gospel. All's right with her in the next world--she'll die easily.”
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