Part 39 (1/2)

She was silent, but her face was eloquent with feeling still.

Olof went back to his place, took her hand and kissed it again and again, with tears, as if praying for forgiveness. For the first time he realised the inner meaning of his mother's nature as he knew it--the undertone of sadness in her gentle ways. And he could not free himself from a strange, inexplicable feeling of guilt in himself, though till that day he had known nothing of her secret.

”And for the man ... well, well, let him rest in peace! 'Twas not from any thought to soil his memory--but you're grown men now, my sons, and when you've wives of your own.... Ay, a good man he was in many ways, a clever worker. And I know he suffered himself for--for the other thing. He'll be judged, as we shall all be judged--we've all of us enough to answer for....”

For a long time the sick woman lay as if overwhelmed by stress of feeling, unable to speak. Olof, with tears in his eyes, sat deep in thought; the elder son had not moved.

”And now I can leave it to you,” she went on more calmly. ”'Tis all tied up, as I said, with thoughts of that time, ay, and hopes and prayers, all the best and the hardest in my life. And I'm not the only one that's had such things to bear through life. There's many a one the world knows nothing of, for a woman can bear a great sorrow and never speak of it. And I've heard since, that there was trouble of the same sort here in the house before my day.... Heaven grant I may be the last to suffer! And so I wanted you to take the thing between you--half to each--the scar's between them, so you'll share that too.

Remember it, and tell your children some time. And they can pa.s.s on the legacy to theirs--with all the hopes and prayers and tears it brought--only let the name be forgotten!”

All three looked earnestly at the grim heirloom that stood there reaching from floor to ceiling; it seemed to grow, as they watched, into a monument over the grave of many generations.

The sick woman turned anxiously to her sons.

”Will you take it?” she asked. ”Will you take it, with all that it means...?”

Olof pressed her hand to his lips in answer. The elder brother sat motionless, as before, his eyelids trembled as if he were on the point of tears. His mother read his answer in his eyes.

”I'm glad it's over now,” she said in relief. ”And now I've no more to give you, but--my blessing!”

Her face lit with the same great gentleness that had softened it for years, she looked long and tenderly at her sons.

”Olof,” she said at last, as if to wake him from his thoughts; ”_it happened at the time before you were born_....”

The elder son looked at his mother in astonishment--why should she tell them what they had known all along?

But Olof looked up suddenly, as if he had heard something new and significant. The quiver in his mother's voice told him what she meant, the look in her eyes seemed to shed a light on what had been dark before.

Questioningly he looked at her, as if silently asking confirmation of his thought.

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

”I have often thought of that, these last sad years....”

Olof felt as if a mighty storm had suddenly torn away a dark, overshadowing growth, laying bare the heart of a fearsome place--deep clefts and stagnant pools and treacherous bogs.

”Ay, there's much that's hard to understand,” she whispered in his ear. ”But go to your work, now, sons. I'm tired now, leave me to rest....”

The young men rose and left the room. In the doorway they turned and cast a last glance at their mother, but she seemed no longer to heed them. She lay with her hands folded on her breast, gazing calmly at the old cupboard where it stood by the wall, like a monument above the grave of many generations.

THE HOUSE BUILDING

The funeral was over.

The two brothers sat by the window, in thoughtful mood, and speaking little.