Part 23 (1/2)
”Therefore, we should go to bed early,” said the Pastor.
”But I cannot go to bed without thanking you, Herr Hardy, for your goodness to my father,” said Frken Helga. ”I have never seen him so bright, and I thank you.” She thanked him in her Danish manner by shaking hands.
”There is little need to thank me,” said Hardy. ”I have learnt much from your father, and am thankful for it; but I hope with time to win the same kindly trust from him as you already possess, and I think deservedly.”
Helga never forgot these words. They echoed in her recollection through the winter months, and Kapellan Holm was nowhere.
CHAPTER XIX.
”_Piscator._--Come, sir, let us be going; for the sun grows low, and I would have you look about you as you ride, for you will see an odd country, and sights that will seem strange to you.”
--_The Complete Angler._
John Hardy, before he retired to rest, had arranged with the hotel manager at Veile to telegraph to Baekke, where he designed to have a late breakfast, or rather lunch, and to a little inn, a few English miles further on, where they could pa.s.s the night. Thus the horses could rest at Baekke, and then go further to a station that would leave them but a little distance to reach Esbjerg.
It was eleven before they reached Baekke, travelling over not the best of roads, and when they got there Hardy's forethought in telegraphing was apparent. The Pastor was tired, but as conversational as ever.
Karl and Axel were obviously hungry, and as there was nothing to be had but fried eggs, and the usual indigestible _et ceteras_, Hardy was anxious to get on to their destination for the night. The Pastor went into the carriage, and Helga got up by Hardy's side, but her father had specially stipulated that she was not to drive the horses. This, of course, had to be obeyed, as the Pastor's wish once expressed was enough for Helga. The direction was over by-roads, and it was perhaps best the Pastor had been so decisive.
Helga talked as before, unreservedly, and the ring of her clear voice, with its transparent truth, was a pleasure to hear.
”Travelling like this is such a pleasure,” she said; ”the sound of the step of the horses even has its effect, as we feel they go easily to themselves. There is the succession of change of place and scene, fresh green meadows after dry and dusty roads, and, after a dull bit, there comes a pretty prospect of a country house, with its woods and lake. The coming also to a fresh place every night has its interest. I cannot think of a more pleasant way of travelling. Do you, Herr Hardy?”
”Yes,” said Hardy. ”I like a fresh breeze blowing in the wished-for direction, and an English sailing yacht, as a means of travelling. You do not go so fast as you appear to sail, but it is pleasant to see the bright wave flas.h.i.+ng by, and to feel the yacht rus.h.i.+ng through the sea.”
”But, then, there is not the varied change of scene as in travelling as we now do, Herr Hardy,” said Helga.
”There is nothing like yachting for variety, if there be favourable winds, but on that it is dependent,” said Hardy. ”For instance, the Mediterranean can be explored in a winter, and places in Spain and Portugal visited on the way to Gibraltar, and then Italy and the Ionian Islands and Greece.”
”It must be a great drawback to be so dependent on the wind,” said Helga.
”Yes; and particularly so in yachting on the coast of Norway, amongst the Danish islands, or up the Baltic,” said Hardy; ”but this difficulty is got over by the use of steam, and steam yachts are becoming the rule.”
”Have you a yacht, Herr Hardy?” asked Helga.
”I am having one built,” replied Hardy. ”My mother likes the sea, and I am having one built so that she may be as comfortable as possible.
It is a steam yacht, and we shall be at sea in a fortnight, and I shall take Karl, if he wishes.”
”He likes the sea, and when we go to Copenhagen from Aarhus in the steamer, we enjoy the journey,” said Helga.
”There is one small matter which has struck me with regard to Karl,”
said Hardy, ”and that is, you Scandinavians are liable to what you call Hjemve (home sickness). I wish you would ask your father to say to him that he goes to England to try to get on in life, and that it is childish to be afraid of meeting strange people, but to look to the future and not be occupied with the present.”
”Thank you very much, Herr Hardy; you are very thoughtful. Karl has been very quiet the last two days, and you have antic.i.p.ated what I had thought,” said Helga.
They had arrived at Hoisted, where they had to pa.s.s the night. The modest little inn did its best for them, and the Pastor was glad to rest; but after dinner his enjoyment of his pipe was great. It is not understood in England that such is good or necessary. _Tot homines quot sententiae_. The question is in England, Is it wrong for a parson to enjoy his pipe? The answer is, ”No,” with some people, ”Yes,” with others; but the question whether it is good for him is very generally answered in the negative.
”You have but few stories of the people, or, as you call them, Eventyr?” asked Hardy.
”There are very many,” replied the Pastor. ”But in Norway you will have found an even richer store. The grandness of nature there has influenced the imaginations of the people. Their legends, traditions, and stories are more romantic and weird. Their traditions of the Huldr are exquisitely fantastic and picturesque to a degree. Their Folke-Eventyr is rich in colour. There is a depth of thought and of the knowledge of human nature as it is that fills the mind with astonishment. There is in them all a sense of justice, a feeling of appreciation of what is good and true, as if the thought had been inspired. Nationally, the Norwegians are honest, and their Folke-Eventyr has contributed to form the character of the people. It has engendered a respect for what is good and true. There is also an idea of rough justice and humour; and I will tell you a story which will ill.u.s.trate this. There was once a priest who was very overbearing. When he drove in the roads, he shouted to the people he met, 'Out of the way, I am coming; out of the way!' He did this so often that the king determined to check his pride, and drove to the priest's. As he was coming, he met the priest, who shouted as usual.