MANHOOD

I.

"----Justification has its origin in the mercy of God. It cannot have it in the sinner or his moral struggles with self; for he is unjust. And as such he neither deserves it nor can he lay claim to it. God's sublime will alone can justify him."

The clergyman walked backwards and forwards, learning by heart from the written sheets he held in his hand. The sun was shining brightly in at both windows; they looked to the southwest and were wide open; a milky whiteness seemed to come through the furthest window and shed itself over the gray varnished floor; fluttering aspen-leaves were reflected on the window; the aspen-trees stood trembling by the railing outside on the road. The scent of auriculas, lilacs, and laburnums streamed in from the garden; he recognised each particular scent floating through the air; for he had planted both trees and flowers himself; they were his pets. If the breeze were a little stronger, regardless of everything, it would waft through the whole garden a powerful whiff from the budding birches and fresh pine-needles on the fir-trees which stood outside his domain; each time followed by a whiff of all sorts of things from the open fields; there was a smell of growing.

Hush!

"----What makes God so merciful to the poor unjust man, who can do nothing by himself? It is His unfathomable love for sinners, His unmerited loving-kindness, that makes him so."

The steamer whistled for the third time; no, this was irresistible, he must watch the steamer as it steamed away from the pier in a long curve, and out across the lake, cutting the mirror-like water in two; the larger share fell to the islands yonder, the lesser to the shore here by the town. He took up his telescope from his desk. The pier down below was full of many-colored parasols, with a mixture of men's hats, mostly dark in colour, and here and there were linen hoods and kerchiefs, oftenest several of them together.

He heard steps to the right in the sand; they came from his mother's garden and were coming to this one--steps of a grown-up person and two small child's steps to one of the other's. "I say, mother, what has the steamer got inside its stomach?" "Ha, ha!" Then there came a woman who gave one the impression of great power and strength. A powerful throat and full chest, exceptionally well made; a dark-looking face, rather large and with a hooked nose; the hair was almost black. She had on a cream-colored muslin dress spotted with bright-red flowers; it was made with a red silk yoke and a belt of the same stuff and colour. It was a striking contrast to her dark complexion, black hair, and clear eyes; she showed her appreciation of the warm spring day by her consummate brilliancy of colouring. But directly she saw the smiling Melancthon face in the window, she let down her red parasol between them. She led her little boy by the hand, a pretty little fellow about four years old, with fair hair and a face like the face of him standing in the window. The boy dropped his mother's hand, opened the gate between the two gardens, and ran past to open the next gate out to the road. As his wife passed by, the clergyman whispered: "I congratulate you! You are charming!" But there was a bitter sweetness in the tone. Ought a clergyman's wife to dress as she did?

Without lowering her parasol, she walked on to the open gate and along the road down toward the town; the little boy hastened to shut the gate and ran after her. "Where are you going?--Down to see!" shouted the boy as he ran on. The back of her neck seen under her hat, her figure against the sunlight, her walk, the bright colours ... the clergyman stood in the window drumming on the sill and whistling noiselessly. His glistening eyes continued to follow her--till he got up, giving a powerful push to the sill with all five fingers.

"----God does not punish, He is long-suffering, He wishes to save. But not as the leader of an army gives quarter, or a king grants an amnesty (perhaps they won't all understand 'amnesty;' should I say--oblivion?... No, that's not enough; 'merciful oblivion;' well then--); but not as the leader of an army gives quarter or a king grants merciful oblivion; not like that does God judge; no, that would be contrary to God's eternal holiness. Justification is certainly an act of mercy, but it is also an act of judgment. It needs a fundamental law, that is, the claims of the law, which is God's own, must be fulfilled."

Now this was decidedly very juridical.

He looked down into the book which lay open on the desk between the two windows; he compared it with the one he held in his hand. All the while he listened to the roar of the steamer which came cutting in across the lake. He felt obliged to look out of the furthest window, and the result was that unconsciously he sat himself down there. The sun was shining on the steamer's white awning, a line of foam stretched between shore and island like a rope; not the tiniest cloud was in the sky, so that the smoke rose up against a clear background and the noise of the steamer was heard distinctly. The clergyman looked from the steamer to the town, to the shore, across the lake, and towards the hills away on the other side of the lake; the snow still lay on most of the distant blue hills. The noise of the steamer seemed to fill everything, like another sermon following upon his own. The modest fragrance coming from his own little garden attracted his eyes from the greater to the less. Little Edward and he had done it all together, that is to say, he had really done it, and little Edward had been there to make mischief. The minister examined first the beds on which as yet nothing had come up, then he looked at those that had been first finished, they already wanted weeding. Little Edward could very well help with that. Tiresome, very; but he had promised himself that nobody but he should touch the garden this year; bending is a healthy thing, it causes the gall to mix freely with the blood. His thoughts turned unconsciously to his wife; when would she come to him with a glass of wine and a bit of cake? It is in the nature of women to guess our weaknesses and to be lenient to them. He looked up, she had disappeared; he then stood bolt upright:

"----The claims of the law, which are God's own, must be fulfilled. If a sinner could do this by himself, then there would be no mercy in justification; consequently it must be by the help of another.

"But even this atonement by another must come of God's saving mercy, if it is not to do away with justification (oh, how juridical!). If this work of mercy is to be a benefit to all, then the atonement must be extended to the whole of sinful humanity. If only the Almighty Himself can bring about a like atonement, a like reconciliation and justification.

"It is a basis of faith for all Christians, that this doctrine of the salvation of the world, and the forgiveness of sins of the whole of humanity, once for all, are obtained through Jesus Christ, and that each individual sinner can reap the benefit thereof."

He looked up. Surely the steamer should be ... yes, there it is. He went to the window and remained standing there. The ship shot out in a straight line towards the headland, which stretched so far that it almost reached to the island. The large town which lay to the right, and of which the headland formed the nose, stretched itself out almost the whole way across; the sea lay between. Farm upon farm lay in the sun, verdant and fruitful; here and there were large gaps that showed the distance between the farms. But that side which stretched out toward the island appeared to be nothing but a flat tongue of land; the steamer had to go through the narrow strait out yonder and disappear in the large bay beyond.

What a puffing and groaning! Just as if nature had learnt to speak! That is to say, the entire surroundings, not only a part of them. Supposing a string were strung across the whole country and a bow were to be drawn over it, it would be like the sound of the steamer's noise----

Hush!

"----God has so willed it, and has ordained it so, that a sinner can be justified by His grace, through Christ who has fulfilled the law for us. The merits of Christ and the righteousness of Christ have paid all our debts. Everyone can in a way take a share for himself of the righteousness that Christ has gained for the world." No, stop a bit, is not that going rather far? Still that is about the meaning of it.

Soon after this he lay stretched out at the window, leaning on his elbows, as if he had no intention of ever getting up again. As Josephine had not returned with the little one, he gazed down the road and over the sea and island, thinking of the islet that lay out there to the left; he could not see it from here; but he knew it was there, and that it was so amusing. His thoughts flew rapidly from the mountains to the steamer again; it was struggling forward towards the little strait. The island out yonder had a garden hat on, and now it seemed as if a veil were added as well from the smoke of the steamboat. Surely the wind was blowing from a different quarter out there? No, now it seems the same over here too. The wind chops and changes at this time of year. No scent from trees, gardens, or fields was wafted towards him now, we shall probably soon see the fan of the screw drawing black lines through the water. To the left, down by the sea, an engine whistle screamed shrilly; perchance a train was about to start, or perhaps they were only shunting a luggage train.

Good heavens, how quiet everything was otherwise! He could hear children's voices from afar, even the very vibrations were audible. Hammering and sawing could be heard every now and then in the new house at the corner of the beach street and the road that turned up this way; the sound seemed to proceed from an empty space. The staccato puffs of the groaning steamer could still be faintly heard in the distance. The house he was in lay in a free and open space, it was therefore that he had so extensive a view and could hear everything so distinctly; all this, however, would be over when once the fields were parcelled off for building purposes.

He fell into deep thought on this subject; would it not be wise for him to buy up land? He wished to do so very much; but house and ground and everything they had belonged to his wife. His own little fortune was invested in the tiny house and garden to the right, where his mother lived.

There are many advantages in having a rich wife, even though the marriage contract may leave her free to dispose of her fortune as she chooses; many little comforts are gained which make life pleasanter and work easier; besides it certainly increases one's authority--particularly a clergyman's. Much good may be done which others have to deny themselves, and this may be turned to power. He had felt this and had felt the comfort of it. It pleased him.

But----. All "buts" proceed from the person who has the disposal of the fortune. "Just as the congregation is subject to Christ----" Hush!--Again he began to read, aloud this time: "An outer foundation for justification is therefore that Jesus has fulfilled the laws; the inner condition is that the sinner believe this. However much God may be reconciled with the world, He can grant His grace to that sinner only who is attached to Christ through faith in Him as his Saviour."

The book was lowered, the minister was not conscious of what he was reading. There was a certain passage in Ephesians that made him pause. If the wife be not subject in all things, ... now, just the fact of the wife having the disposal of her fortune, would sow seeds of dissent.

He was so firmly persuaded of this and could produce such convincing proofs, that he neither saw nor heard a thing, near or distant--except as though he were listening to another person's account of it. He drummed on the window-sill and looked down the road. Two newly awakened butterflies circling round each other above and below his window, had not the smallest idea of all the difficulties that can ensue when one has a fortune and not the disposal of it. A little further away, shaded by the boy's footstool which had stood there forgotten for some days, a graceful declytera with its thin stalk covered with little red bells, rang her wedding-bells, a wedding without the slightest regard to the epistle to the Ephesians, V. 24. Therefore it was overlooked by the minister. Not even the bees belonging to Nergård the gardener--up here perhaps for the first time this year (would they remember the way, now that the wind had changed and the scent of the flowers gave them warning)--not even the bees did he hear buzzing round the new blossoms shaded by the house. Matrimonial difficulties as regards Ephesians V. 24, can weave a covering for the head even though the sun's rays be shining on the hair. His eyes were blind as the wind itself as he let them wander over the town, yonder on the gentle slope, with its three shades of green, the meadows, the corn-fields, and the woods. Just at that moment there lay a long black stripe across the water, and some single wavy lines; he was in the midst of it all, but saw nothing. A cow tethered over the way was lowing for water, water! All around him seemed in a state of invisible expectancy ... until the despairing cry of a child seemed to pierce the warm spring air, ... one single scream. He seemed to hear each vibration, it was like a cutting hand laid on his chest; he started up, listening breathlessly for the next. Would it never come, that next scream; the child must have disappeared after the first ... no, there it is again. The first scream had been despairing, this next was horror itself, and the next one too and the following one!... The minister stood there quite pale, with all his senses on the alert. He heard rapid footsteps across the sand to the right; it was his mother who came to the gate between the two gardens; she was a thin old woman, a black cap covering her chalk-white hair, which framed in a cautious and dry-looking face.

"No," exclaimed the minister, "no, God be praised, that is not Edward; that flourish in the crying was not his; no, there are no flourishes about him; he bellows right out, he does!"

"Whoever it is, it's a bad business," answered she.

"You are right, mother," and in his heart he prayed for the little one crying so pitifully. But when he had done that, he gave thanks that it was not his boy, which was quite allowable.

A tall man in light clothes and with a Stanley hat on, was walking up the road while this was going on. He kept looking at the house and garden; the minister looked at him too, but did not recognize him. He bent his way to that side of the road, straight up to the steps--a tall man with short, sun-burnt face, spectacles, and a peculiar rapid way of walking; but, in all the world?... The minister drew back from the window just as the stranger reached the steps, which he must have taken at a bound, for now there was a footstep in the passage. Then came a knock.

"Come in!"

The door opened wide, but the stranger still stood outside.

"Edward!"

The other made no answer. "What, Edward? you here! without first letting me know? Is it really you?" The minister advanced to meet him, gave him both hands and drew him in. "Welcome! dear old fellow, you are heartily welcome!" His face was red with delight.

Edward's sunburnt hands pressed those of his brother-in-law in answer, his eyes glistened behind his spectacles; but he had not yet spoken.

"Have you not a word to say, old fellow?" exclaimed the minister, dropping his hands and laying his on his shoulders. "Did you not meet your sister?"

"Yes, it was she who told me where you lived."

"And did you run and leave her? You wanted to get on quicker? I suppose the boy walked too slowly for you?" asked the minister, his kind eyes looking into the other's with unmixed joy.

"That was not the only reason. What a pretty place you have here!"

"I am sure your house will be just as nice, although I would have preferred this north side of the town to the centre."

"But there was no choice left me."

"No, that is quite true. As you were going to buy the infirmary, you were obliged to buy the doctor's house as well; for they go together. Everyone thinks it was very cheap. And convenient in every way, and a good deal of ground to it! What a long time you have been away! A long time at a stretch.--And why did you not write now, and let me know? Good heavens, how could I not know you directly! You are really almost totally unchanged." He looked at his brother-in-law's thin face, which seemed to have gained a milder expression. Then he went on talking. They walked up and down beside each other, sometimes standing together at the window. Then Edward turned to him:

"But you, Ole, you are not unchanged."

"Indeed! I thought I was. In fact, everyone says so."

"No, you have got something of a clergyman's manner about you."

"A clergyman? Ha, ha! you mean that I have got stouter? I assure you I do everything a fellow can to prevent it; I work in the garden, I take long walks; but all to no purpose!... You see, my wife takes too good care of me. And everyone here is much too good to me."

"You should do as I do."

"And what do you do?"

"I walk on my hands."

"Ha, ha, ha, on my hands? I, in my position?"

"In your position? If you walked up the church on your hands, that would be a nice sermon!"

"Ha, ha, ha! Can you really walk on your hands?"

"Yes, I say, can?" At the same moment he proceeded to walk on his hands; his short, loose tussore silk coat fell down over his head, the minister gazed at it and at the back of his waistcoat, and at the piece of shirt which showed between it and the band of his trousers, at part of the braces, and lastly at the trousers down to the stockings, and leather shoes with thick, gutta-percha soles. Kallem ran round the room in no time. Ole hardly knew how to take it. Kallem stood panting on his feet again, took off and wiped his spectacles, and began to examine the bookshelves closely in his short-sighted way.

The minister could distinctly feel that there was something the matter. Something must have put his brother-in-law out. Could his sister have said anything to wound him? No, dear me; what could it be? She who admired him so greatly? He would ask right out what it was; why not have it cleared up on the spot? Kallem had put his spectacles on and passed across to the desk; a woodcut of Christ by Michael Angelo hung just above it; he glanced casually at it, and then looked down at the open pamphlet lying on the desk. And before the minister was sufficiently recovered to ask any questions, Kallem said: "Johnsen's systematic theology? I bought it at once at Kristianssand."

"That book? You bought it?"

"Yes, it was never to be had before. However, now it lay on the counter. It was just like a new landchart."

"Yes, it is not like Norway any longer," said the minister. "The most of it is nothing but impossible jurisdiction."

Astonished at the minister's answer, Kallem turned towards him. "Is this way of thinking general among the younger Norwegian theologians?"

"Yes. I laid it there so as to find out to-morrow all the different opinions that exist on the doctrine of propitiation."

"Ah, I see, that is a capital plan." Again Kallem looked out of the window, for the fourth or fifth time. There could be no doubt that something was the matter.

"There they are!" he said. He was standing at the furthest window, and Ole Tuft in front at the other; from it he could see his wife's parasol above her muslin dress; she was walking slowly, and held her little boy by the hand; he was evidently talking incessantly, for his face was turned upwards towards her, whilst he jogged along the uneven road. They kept to the other side. But here, just by the hedge, a lady was walking. She raised her green parasol (what a beauty it was!). She was not as tall as Josephine, but slight; she was looking about and turned slightly; she was fair, with reddish hair, and had a tartan travelling dress on; it had a decidedly foreign cut; she must surely be a stranger. It was not at all wonderful that Edward ran on in front; he wished to be alone and leave them by themselves.

"Who can that lady be walking with Josephine? Did she come by the same steamer as you?"

"Yes, she did."

"Do you know her, then?"

"Yes; she is my wife."

"Your wife? Are you a married man?"

He said this with such a loud voice that both the ladies looked up. In went his head into the room; but nothing but vacant air met him there; the doctor's head was still outside. It was from out there the answer came. "I have been married for six years."

"For six years?" Out popped the minister's head again and stared at Kallem with the greatest astonishment. Six years, he thought. "How long ago is it since?... My dear fellow, it is scarcely six years since?..."

The ladies were now close by; the strange lady walking by the furthest hedge, while Josephine and the boy had crossed over to the other side. "I say, mother, why do little boys fall and knock their heads?" No answer. "I say mother, why don't they fall on their legs?" No answer. "Because the upper part of the body is heaviest, my boy!" It was Kallem who said that. They all three looked up.

He left the window to go and meet them, the minister followed after; but he stopped at the bottom step.

The strange lady's eyes were full of tears when Kallem joined them; in vain she tried to hide it by looking about her on all sides. Josephine was cold and stiff. Little Edward ran up to his father and told him how Nicholas Andersen had climbed up the "ladder" (the boy pointed down to the new house) and "then fallen down." And "the new lady" had tied up his head with her handkerchief. This did not seem to interest the minister as much as the boy expected, so he ran round the house and in to tell his grandmother all about it.

"I suppose I need not introduce her?" said Edward Kallem, with his hand in his wife's and looking at the minister. The latter tried to find something to say, but failed and glanced over at Josephine, who did not look as if she were willing to help him.

It was hardly a week ago since the zealous minister had written condemning the numerous divorces that occurred, followed by fresh marriages; it was an article in the Morgenblad entitled "Marriage or Free-love?" And he had shown, by the most convincing proofs, that, according to the Scripture, the only ground for divorce was infidelity between man and wife. Whatever man could convict his wife of adultery, was free and could marry again; but if any man divorced his wife for other reasons and got married again during her lifetime, then the first marriage was valid and not the other one. Hardly a week ago he had written all this, and with the full consent of his wife. And just because this case of Kallem and Ragni Kule was still so fresh in his memory, he had written how the wife of a sick man had grown weary of the path in life chosen for her by God, and had had secret love-dealings with another man; but as soon as it was discovered, she had left him and got a divorce. Supposing, he wrote, that that woman were to marry the man who had aided her in deceiving her husband? who could call such a marriage as that aught but continued adultery?

He had written it word for word. His wife entirely agreed with him; beforehand, she hated the woman who had captivated her brother. And now they both stood there before her, and Ragni was her brother's wife.

This reunion could hardly have been more unfortunate. They had both been so certain that he was now quite steady. He was a learned man now, and had been offered a professorship; he was in fact the one of all the younger doctors who was most thought of by the others.

This was a dreadful disappointment! And think what it would be to live together with them and introduce them to their circle of friends in the congregation as Mr. and Mrs. Kallem? after putting his name to a declaration that their marriage was not valid!

Of course Kallem must have read it, he who was so eager to keep up with the Norwegian bent of the times, that he actually read Johnsen's dogmas.... In all probability, he would first and foremost read the papers. He had read it, of course, and that explained all. There she stood, not knowing which way to look, but pressing closer to him. And he----? His right arm was round her, as though he wished to proclaim she was his. She held her parasol up in her right hand and persisted in trying to screen herself, but she could not bear it for long, she had to look for her handkerchief, and not finding her own, took possession of Kallem's.

Mechanically the minister said: "Shall we not go in?"

They did as he wished. He showed them over the house, while Josephine went to get some refreshment ready. From the study, which looked into the garden, they went into the large drawing-room looking on to the road, into the drawing-room behind that again, and from there to the kitchen at the north side of the house, and to which there was a separate entrance; on the same side was the larder, and a spare bed-room out to the garden, next to the minister's study, and with a balcony in front corresponding to the steps at the other end of the facade. Upstairs were several bed-rooms, etc. It barely took five minutes to show them over the house. Nothing but a few necessary remarks on the part of the minister, and from Kallem a sneering allusion to the minister's occupying the spare bed-room, while Josephine was upstairs with her boy; a similar speech later on, as he stood before a rare collection of celebrated theologians hanging round Luther's portrait on the largest wall of the room. He refused the refreshments Josephine offered them, said good-bye and went.

Ragni followed them about like an invisible being. As they were going away, her long, narrow, hand whisked through the hands of her brother- and sister-in-law like an ermine through a hole in the wall. Her eyes glanced timidly at them like the shadow of a wing. The minister went out to the steps with them, Josephine remaining behind at the big window.

Kallem walked so quickly that Ragni was obliged to take a little hop at every third step; the minister stood and looked after them. This rapid walking increased her agitation so that, when they had got about half-way between the beach and the minister's house, she asked him to stop. She began to cry.

Kallem was surprised at this display of feeling so different to his own; he was very angry. But he soon understood that she was probably crying on account of his behaviour. He drew her up to the railing, and leaning his back against it, said: "Have I not acted rightly?"

"You were so cruel--oh, so cruel, and not only to him and to her, but to me too; yes, especially to me. You never looked at me, never paid the slightest attention to my being there."

"But, my dear, it was just on your account."

"Well, then I would rather go away again! I cannot bear that!" She threw herself in his arms.

"My dear! did you see what Josephine looked like?"

"Of course I did," answered Ragni, and her head peeped up again, her hat falling off, and her hair tumbled. "She will kill me some day!" and again took refuge in his arms.

"Well, well," said he, "she will not succeed in doing you any harm. But am I not to fight your battles?"

Forth she peeped again: "Not in that way! I would never have thought you were like that! It was so--so unrefined, Edward," and she took and shook him by the coat-collar.

"Listen to me," said he, quietly; "what that fellow has written about us, that is unrefined. And her silence? I thought that worse than anything he had written."

To this she answered nothing. After a pause he heard: "I am not suited for this."

He bent over her head; her hat had fallen off, but they neither of them noticed it; he whispered softly through her reddish hair; she must not give in at once, nor speak of dying or going away again. "We must take it in a more manly way than that, don't you think so too?"

"Yes, yes." Her rough head peeped out again: "But you must remember that now I am with you; you cannot behave quite as if you were alone."

No, he quite saw that, and stood there with a guilty conscience.

At the same time Josephine was again in the room looking on to the road; there was only one window there, but a larger one than was usual, and she stood leaning her head against the window-post. The minister stood behind her. He considered it an untoward accident, his having written that in the Morgenblad.

"Your brother said he had been married six years?"

Josephine turned right round. But after she had thought the matter over, she only said: "Rubbish!" and turned to the window again. The minister thought too that it must be a mistake. They could not have been married before she was legally divorced.

"He was always acting a part," said he; "he took to walking on his hands." She turned towards him again, with eyes wide open with astonishment. "He walked right round the study on his hands," the minister assured her. "He advised me to walk up to the altar in that way. Well, as he even ridicules Luther, I ought certainly to be able to endure his ridicule."

She evidently did not wish him to speak of this meeting at the present moment; it caused her too much pain. He retired to his study, and looked anything but pleased whilst he was filling his pipe.

Josephine had reckoned so much on meeting and living with her brother. She would never listen to the slightest insinuation of a possibility of things turning out differently to what she expected. Perhaps her present suffering was wholesome for her.

Had he himself acted rightly to-day? He certainly thought he had. He only hoped he would always be able to take things as meekly; he was quite certain this was not the last of it.

He enjoyed his pipe and took up his sermon again; but thoughts about Josephine would keep cropping up. He never could feel the same confidence in their married life as others had. She was irritable at times, and this last outbreak had been a bad one. Without doubt, because her thoughts had been entirely taken up by the expected visitor.

Hush!

"----Conversion is a spontaneous proceeding, conclusive forever. All our sins are washed away; we are as pure and holy in God's sight as Christ Himself!"

II.

These two who had just made friends on their way down the road, walked on arm in arm.

Andersen, the mason, was standing on the scaffolding at the corner of the road and beach street; he was a large man, with a long brown beard, and he had blue glasses on; he was covered from top to toe with lime. He saw the fair lady again who had helped his little boy, and as she was walking arm in arm with the man with spectacles whom he had just seen go up yonder, he concluded it must be the new doctor; the minister was his brother-in-law, and they were now coming from his house. Andersen left off working and took off his hat to them; Ragni stopped her husband, and Andersen could remark she was saying something. He silenced the hammering and asked what the lady was saying? She wanted to know if the little boy had fallen asleep? Yes, he was asleep; but they would be glad if the doctor would have a look at him when he awoke; "for this is the new doctor, I suppose?"

"You are right, it is he."

The people who were in the house came to the window at once, also a few in the neighbouring house; a passer-by stopped and stared at them, then moved on and told the tale all the way down the street. Andersen took the opportunity of mentioning his bad eyes; the doctor would also have to look at them presently. As they walked on they had spectators from open windows and down the street; they got many a greeting. They were young; it did not require much to make them forget what had so recently happened, and they began to feel that they might live very comfortably here.

Amongst those who greeted them was a very young man with masses of hair, fair, arched features, slightly built, but tall; there was something refined and rather shy about him. As they looked at him he blushed.

"By Jove! you have made a conquest there," whispered Kallem.

Shortly after they met a very odd-looking fellow, slouching along in a knitted jacket, with a leathern apron in front; dusty black hair, an unwashed face, indeed it was begrimed with dirt; he was carrying some tools in his thin, narrow hands, which were appended to unusually long arms that swung in a kind of bow behind him; had they swung both together they must undoubtedly have come into collision. He wore no hat, his short clipped hair showed the entire shape of his head. His forehead was neither broad nor high, but peculiarly well-shaped; long in the jaw, with projecting bones. His small, cold eyes and tightly pressed lips gave him a cynical look. His nose was flat and small, and his chin pointed.

"Do just look at that man!" whispered Kallem.

"Disgusting!" she replied.

The man now passed close beside them, scanning them carefully. Kallem returned the glance, and when they had gone past they turned to have a mutual look at each other. An old woman came hobbling along.

"Who is that man?" asked Kallem. She looked at him and then after the man.

"It is Kristen Larssen."

"Is he a locksmith?"

"What kind do you say?"

"Locksmith!"

"Yes, he is. But he is also a watchmaker and gunsmith; in fact, everything you like."

The beach street was open to the sea, and without even a stone wall in front of it. Things lay rotting in the sea as also on land. There was an unfinished appearance about the whole town; a large house next to a small one, then a house built of stone, then a wooden one, all of them erected in haste and as cheaply as possible. The houses were not even in a line, the street was on the whole scarcely bearable. The people they met were neither town nor country folk, they were "wary but friendly," as Kallem said; "medium goods."

They had now arrived at the market-place, where the road turned up to the church, tall and graceful. It was here they had met Josephine on their way up; for up to the right by the church, in a park, lay their house with the garden in front; they could, however, not see it from where they were.

The street divided just in front of the church, and continued to run on either side of it; their home lay on the road to the right. As they came nearer the church, they could discern the park behind their own house, and in it the gables of the large hospital. At last--they were walking slowly, without uttering a single word--at last the large garden appeared, and their own house! It was a large wooden building in the Swiss style, rather too broad, with big windows all open now.

Steps led down from the veranda to an open space strewn with sand. The flower-garden was nearest to this, then the kitchen-garden further on, and at the side, down toward the town, lay the fruit-garden, a very large one. The two owners looked at it simultaneously. Here it was! For six long years had they each of them worked for this; they had dreamed of it in various forms and ways, but never quite like this; they had fixed it at many a place, but never just at this stop. Not one of all their dream-pictures was in what now lay before them! They both turned and surveyed the breadth and beauty of the landscape, smiling the while at each other. It was strange that just at that moment there was not a creature to be seen, not a sound or a noise that recalled anything, either far or near. Just those two and their home! The one saw exactly the same as the other saw, the sight and the feelings of the one were rendered more intense by the knowledge that the other shared them too. Ragni took her arm out of Kallem's, went over to the railing, which was of juniper branches, she reached through and gathered some grass and leaves; she came back with this in her hand, and fastened it in his coat. He espied a tuft of cowslips further up, went and pushed his hand through, and gathered them; she took them and gathered more; it looked very pretty when there were many together.

At the side of the house and in the yard at the back, lay packing-cases, furniture, straw, sawdust, mats. Ragni's grand piano had just been taken out of the case and the legs screwed on; but there was no one visible.

A large dove-cot stood out in the yard. "Fancy, if pigeons came flying here now? We must keep pigeons!"

"But, fancy, if a dog came running to us now. We must keep a dog!"

At this side there was no gate; but on the road which divided the park and garden. They stopped there, and turned once more to look across the wide landscape.

Here, in this rich country, the richest and sunniest in all the land, their own home was to them as the centre of the compass. Ragni glanced across to see if the minister's house was visible from there; but not a bit of it! Kallem guessed what she was looking for, and smiled. Through the open windows they heard the work-people in the rooms; they went down the veranda steps with much noise and laughter; they came out there and went straight up to the piano, not noticing the two who stood there. Then they carried off the piano to the veranda and went tramping up the steps again. Kallem and Ragni looked behind at the park; there were beautiful tall trees, through the trunks of which one could see the hospital, a large wooden house built on a stone wall or foundation, and with large, many-paned windows. Then they went through the gate into the garden and down to their own house.

With the exception of one little outhouse on this near side, the building lay free on all sides.

The fruit-trees were just beginning to blossom, so it must be a sheltered spot. And the garden! Ragni never gave it a thought that this well-stocked garden was Josephine's work, she only looked forward to herself taking charge of it. The house needed painting; and it must have a different colour than this common-looking yellow. It was their house, their home! Kallem stamped three times on the ground, it was his too. He wanted to go in there, but she wished to go round to the front and up the veranda steps. So they went round by the straw and packing-cases, and peeped in at the windows. The house was low in comparison with the length and breadth of it, the roof projected very much, lying heavily on the house. But that was a good thing.

The veranda was out of proportion, too, but it was broad, and the steps up to it were easy.

Arm in arm they walked up, but were met first of all by a disappointment; the entrance door, which was of glass, was not in the middle, but at the extreme end of the south wall of the room. But they soon saw that if the veranda was to be in the centre, it could not be otherwise; to the right there were two more rooms leading out of the drawing-room. The men who had carried in the piano came out to meet them; they understood at once who it was, and as Ragni looked at them, first the one, then all of them, took off their hat or cap. Kallem returned their greeting, Ragni escaped in to the piano which stood in the middle of the floor, took out the key and opened it, as if it had to be examined very closely and she must absolutely try if it had kept in tune. With her gloves still on, she struck the first chords of Longfellow's "Sweet Home." On hearing the first notes of this hymn to home, Kallem took his hat off. The others saw it, and supposing it to be a psalm, they did the same.

Ragni stood with her back turned, and did not therefore notice two people who came from the right--a man with a round, shining face, and behind him a little woman anxious to see and yet remain unseen. But then the door just in front of her was opened and a peasant girl looked quietly in, attracted by the sweet sounds. Ragni understood that it must be their servant come from the kitchen, and she went up to her.

"Are you Sigrid?"

Yes, it was she.

"Well, I am the doctor's wife."

"I thought so," said she, coming quite into the room. She was a stout, nice-looking girl.

"Is it the first time you are in service?" asked Kallem.

Yes, it was.

"And it is the first time we keep house," said Kallem; "it will be great fun!"

Ragni went out to the kitchen; there she saw their new dinner-service, which had just been unpacked and washed. She was not fit for more, so she went out into the passage and upstairs, to be alone. The door to their bed-room stood open just in front of her, she went in and out on the balcony over the veranda. How had she deserved such great happiness? What was all her longing, and all her work, compared to what now awaited her in a rich man's home? But there was a terror of something, through all this undeserved happiness. And here she again glanced over northward--was the minister's house visible from here? No, it was not possible to see it.

Josephine disliked her; she could feel it at once. And even if her brother thought it a shame--still he was very fond of his sister; there was something about her that he particularly admired; she was never mistaken in such matters.

Down below, Kallem went round the rooms. The two who had stood in the right-hand door had retired again, and the men were hard at work. It was a large room, there were windows in it that looked both to the church and the garden; but he thought he would propose to shut up the former. The walls were self-coloured, light gray, the ceiling pale blue with gold stars; the paint was old and faded, only the floor had been freshly painted, light gray too. The room to the left was still being papered. Goodness! were they not yet ready? Nor in the next room either? There were two people at work, the man and woman who had appeared in the doorway.

"Good-day!" said Kallem.

"Good-day!" came the answer from the round shiny face, with a Danish accent. Kallem went up to the table where the man stood cutting; the woman was standing beside, but now she sidled behind him.

"Is this your wife?"

"Yes, it is; and she is my assistant too; both wife and assistant; but for all that a proper kind of wife too." The little woman behind him giggled, though almost inaudibly. The man had prominent rolling eyes with a roguish twinkle in them.

"I fancied everything was ready."

"There are always hindrances to one's work, doctor."

She laughed heartily, but in a muffled sort of way.

"Is she Danish too?"

"No, she is Norwegian, but we get on very well together for all that."

She dived down deeper than ever, laughing continually.

The room they were in was oblong; Kallem saw directly that it was the dining-room; probably also the waiting-room for patients. The inner room, with windows both to the front and to the southeast, was of course his work-room; he would receive people there when not at the hospital. He did not go into it, but out of the dining-room and into the passage again. To the right was the kitchen door. He was met by an array of beer-bottles on the kitchen dresser; some empty, some full.

"Whose are those bottles?"

"They belong to the saddler."

"To the paper-hanger, you mean?"

Then it dawned upon Kallem what kind of "hindrances" he had alluded to; and that he was quite tipsy at that very moment, and his wife still tipsier! That was why the men had been so long before they moved in the piano; they had been treated all round.

"Will you kindly ask the Dane to come to me here?"

The girl went directly, and directly too appeared the round, shining face with hundreds of twinkles in his eye; his wife was behind him, peeping out first at one side, then at the other.

"Are those your bottles?"

"Not altogether."

"Have you gone shares with the others?"

"Yes, in drinking them."

"But did you buy them?"

"Yes, I bought the beer, but not the bottles; they are to be returned."

The woman was heard to titter.

"May I ask what is your name?"

"Sören Pedersen, that's my name."

"Look here, Sören Pedersen, will you let me buy the bottles of you?"

"Do you mean the beer?"

"Yes, the beer."

"All right, then."

"We shall have something, then, to drink to-night; for we must work all night, we must be ready to-morrow. We will help you with your work. Do you agree to that?"

"As you wish, doctor."

"Then will you kindly sup with us this evening?"

Then Kallem went upstairs in three-four strides; Ragni was out on the balcony, standing in the sun. She turned to him. He asked if she had finished her prayer? Yes, she was quite ready.

He, too, stood on the balcony, looking at the little islet at play beside the mother-island--it was visible from there--and the sea with its ripples, and the mountains yonder in distant grandeur. He looked over to the right, where the minister lived--she noticed it at once.

"They would never dare to treat us as though we were not married, eh? It will be amusing to see what they do!"

She drew him in and pointed to the colour of the walls in their bed-room; it was exactly as she had asked for it to be, white, a dull oil-colour. Everything was to be white up there except the long curtains and hangings draped from the ceiling down over both beds, at the balcony windows, and before the door; they were blue in colour and pattern, and matched the ornamentations on the beds and the other furniture. Then she became very talkative; but Kallem wanted to see the hospital, and she thought she would like to go with him.

The first thing he wished to have altered when they stopped in front of it, inside the park, was that several beautiful old trees, that were too close to it, should be taken away. The hospital was a two-storied house, painted yellow, with exceptionally large windows, but very small panes. The ground floor of the building was brick and contained the servants' rooms and offices; it all looked very snug, with curtains in the windows and plenty of flowers standing in them. The entrance was at the left side of the house; and there was a very large yard railed in by a high fence. Kallem was pleased to see a row of shady trees by the paling; he knew that in about a fortnight he would have some American tents there for the use of the patients in summer-time.

The door was open, but no porter (concierge) to be seen; in the window there were religious books and tracts for sale. There was no notice put on the door to say when the patients might receive visits. Presently they saw the porter in the inner yard; he was an elderly man with a searching, solemn eye; he had spectacles on, but looked over the top of them and took them off directly he had taken in who it was.

"Are you the new doctor?"

"Yes."

Then he took off his hat too.

"Welcome!"

The patient he had been talking to crept on before them; he was pale and had a thick woollen scarf round his neck, even on that warm day; he kept at a distance and did not bow. The porter accompanied them.

In the hospital there was a suite of rooms on each side of a light and airy corridor, those to the front were large and those to the yard were small, both stories were built in the same way. The porter was not only porter, but he was also steward, and the oldest inspector the house had; he therefore felt called upon to introduce the other members of the household one by one as they met them. They were all respectable-looking people, both men and women; there were two deaconesses among the latter, and they seemed the pleasantest of them all.

The first thing Kallem intended to do was to do away with the old-established typhus-fever rooms, and to build a separate typhus-pavilion for winter use. The operating-room was very light, but there must at once be a new polished floor put in. The ventilating apparatus was most faulty. With the exception of these and a few minor drawbacks--such as the small windowpanes--it was a capital house, high rooms and roomy passages, and generally airy; altogether he was well pleased.

The beds were pretty well filled, considering the time of year; tubercular disease of the lungs, his special study, was represented by three individuals, two boys and a girl about ten years old, poor, thin, waxy-pale creatures, whom he looked forward to seeing in his American tent. The late owner of the infirmary, old Dr. Kule--an uncle of Ragni's former husband--was dead; Kallem had bought it very cheap, because just at that moment there was no one else who could entertain the idea of buying. Here he would be able to arrange himself and his time exactly according to his own wishes; he had great plans. The parish gave their contribution, and a committee, consisting of the district physician and one other doctor besides, had the supervision of it; but he was entirely his own master. They were both of them quite delighted with this first visit. They went back to their own home in excellent spirits, but dreadfully hungry, took a bite of something in the kitchen and a glass of wine; thought fit to drink an extra glass on account of the important event that they were breaking bread for the first time in their own house.

Everything in the drawing-room was topsy-turvy; but in spite of it Ragni made her way to the piano. She had often attempted translations from that foreign literature--it had been like her own for five or six years--especially translations of poetry. Slightly flushed with the wine, and just a little shy, she struck some chords--begging him not to stand before her--then again more chords, and with a small, gentle voice, she recited more than sang:

Here let us live! May our friends and our fancies, Our life's by-gone chances

Flourish and grow--

In thoughts as in things, In trees as in tones, In voices, entwining

Around us.

Here may my heart Through thee be laid bare To myself and to thee

Who wert blind--

And joyfully, sinfully, Gladden thee, wound thee; Though yearning with years For a happy reunion

With thine.

III.

The next morning they were awakened by a loud and continued noise. When they could collect their thoughts they knew it was the church bells ringing for service; they had slept very late, but then they had worked till three o'clock, that is to say, until broad daylight.

Kallem was out of bed in a second, and into the bathroom, next door, where he took a tremendous shower-bath; evidently, the former doctor had had a taste for that kind of thing! And hardly was he half dressed before he ran out onto the balcony to look at the view. He shouted in to Ragni to take her shower-bath too, and dress herself and come out to look at it; but she had felt the water so fearfully cold yesterday, she lay there with wide-open eyes, debating as to whether she should shirk it or really venture to take it. She made up her mind to shirk, so she quickly appeared at his side in a very pretty dressing-gown, which she had thrown round her. But although she looked so sweetly at him, and eagerly began praising the view and the exquisite day, he did not forget the shower-bath. Yesterday she had solemnly promised that she would begin the very first morning; susceptible to cold as she was, she must look upon a shower-bath as her daily bread, especially up here, where the change from heat to cold was so very sudden. Therefore----! She made the most piteous face, and tried to laugh it off; but he pointed to the shower-bath--would she really break her promise? If she broke it now, this first time, she would break it too often later on. She kissed him and said he was cruel; he kissed her and said she was sweet; but how about the shower-bath? So she darted in and undid her dressing-gown, as though she meant to take the bath, but popped into bed instead. When he came in, she pulled the clothes over her head; but without more ado he took up the blanket and its contents, and carried it to the door; but she begged and implored him to let her off, and seemed so frightened that he went back with his burden. She put her arms round him and dragged him down to her; she kissed him and whispered to him, and with her sweet caresses completely defeated his logic.

The bells went on ringing and ringing, carriages drove past away from the town. Hardly had one gone by before another came. The door was open; every time the bells stopped preparatory to the well-known three peals, they could hear the flies buzzing about the room, and the birds outside. They also heard the puffing of a little steamer out on the lake; they had seen it cut across from the other coast, probably with tourists. There must be some festivity going on somewhere to account for the way people were streaming in.

There was a light southwesterly breeze, filling the room each time with sweet scents; it poured in from the fields and trees. Through the clanging of the bells one could hear it whispering and sighing, the air seemed full of sounds.

Shortly after, they again stood on the balcony and watched the people going to church; well-packed carriages drove constantly past the church and continued upwards. The steamer came quite close; now the train whistled too. They both caught sight of two swallows that were evidently playing with their own shadows in the sand outside the veranda. They flew above and past each other, the shadows on the sand imitating each swoop; the birds wore down close to the sand and then a little way above; whenever they flew too high and the shadows disappeared, they darted down again to find them. She whispered to him that next year they would put out boxes for them to build in.

They finished dressing and went down to lunch. Sören Pedersen and his wife had arrived some time ago, and had their meal; they were now hard at work.

Then they heard that everyone was bound for the neighbouring parish, where the clergyman, Pastor Meek, was to celebrate his fifty years jubilee, and to preach a farewell sermon. Foot passengers had been on the go all the morning; now came those in carriages; and a steamer full of people from the opposite coast. Meek had had this same living all these fifty years--"a truly delightful man."

Kallem and Ragni were lunching in the big room; but their lunch was interrupted by someone knocking, and in came a thin, elderly man, smiling and noiseless, with horn spectacles on his nose; this was Dr. Kent, who was temporary manager of the hospital; he came from there just now. They both got up. He had a soft, pleasant voice, and a knowing smile accompanied all he said. He sat down at a little distance from them while they went on with their lunch, and gave a short account of the patients over at the "establishment," and of the sanitary state of both town and country. He answered dryly and briefly all questions as to those functionaries Kallem would have to call upon, as to the leaders in town and parish matters, and those of the local government board he ought to know. The purest business matters became pleasant when spoken of by Dr. Kent. When his gig came to the door--he was going on his rounds out in the country--Kallem asked leave to drive with him; but Ragni at once did the same too. So they hired a larger carriage and soon they were all three seated in it. Just as they were starting, Ragni remembered that the piano wanted tuning slightly, and she asked Sören Pedersen if he knew anyone who could tune at any rate for the present? Yes; there was Kristen Larssen.

So the drive began with an account of Kristen Larssen. Kent told them he was born up in one of the worst and most remote districts, and had been punished by the law for some trifling slip--he thought it was because he had called a tune he played, "the forgiveness of sins." Kristen Larssen was an inventor too; there was a knitting machine much in use now which was his invention, and various kinds of tools. He was a cold man--cold as iron in the winter time. Sören Pedersen and his wife were the only people he had anything to do with. And who were those two? He knew nothing about their "antecedentia;" she was from these parts, he was from Funen. They were both clever at their work; but people soon found out that they drank. The minister tried to correct this failing; he had grown attached to them from the time they had worked for him in his new house. Strange to say, his efforts were crowned with success; not only did they give up drink, but Sören became a most zealous temperance man and very religious; at last he knew the Bible by heart. It was literally true, he knew it by heart! He often told them how it was his greatest delight to make Aase hear him, and in some few small assemblies, he would repeat by heart whole chapters out of the Bible, while his hearers sat and followed attentively. The minister put his name down to get him into a Bible school, and he had no higher wish than to belong to it, but he expected Aase to be taken in too. As they did not agree to this, he gave up the Bible class and became unsteady again in everything.

He then became acquainted with that Jack of all trades, Kristen Larssen, who had just settled in the town. Kristen Larssen had heard about Sören Pedersen's powers of learning by heart, and tried to find out the mechanism of it. But there was none; the whole thing was a gift of God's mercy; all things were possible for God.

That is in the book of Matthew, answered Kristen Larssen; but in the book of Judges it is written that the Lord was with Judah, but Judah could not make the enemy flee from the valley, because they had chariots of iron.

The worthy Sören Pedersen was much shocked that the God of the Jews had not gained the victory over the chariots of iron.

In the same book of Moses, continued Kristen Larssen, it is written, "Thou shalt not kill," but it is written too that the Lord constantly gave orders to kill. So there are contradictions.

This was altogether new to Sören Pedersen, and yet he knew his Bible by heart. He was anxious to know the rights of it, and at every religious meeting he demanded explanations. At last he had no less than a hundred contradictory questions to inquire into; it was no longer possible to keep the peace. Half of them went into fits of laughter, the other half got angry. It ended by his being turned out of the meetings, both he and Aase. "I don't know," said Dr. Kent, "whether I may tell you how your brother-in-law, with his own hands, turned out Sören Pedersen and his wife Aase--out of the meeting-house! They had sat themselves down there before anyone else, and they would not move. Your brother-in-law is very strong, but Sören Pedersen held on, until it struck the minister that he would take Aase first, and then they both pulled away at her as if she were a stick of firewood."

Kallem and Ragni roared with laughter at this.

"I myself have witnessed one of the encounters," said Dr. Kent. "The minister was holding an examination at the school; I am one of the school committee. Sören Pedersen and his wife, Aase, were present, and everyone suspected there would be mischief. 'God cannot lie,' said the minister. Then Sören Pedersen rose up and said: 'It is written, that the Lord gave unto the prophets a spirit of lying.' Again Sören Pedersen had to depart."

The scenery through which they were driving, as they listened to all these amusing anecdotes, was an elevated, sunny plain divided by large and small ridges of woodland--or contrariwise, a wood divided by cultivated fields. The farms were all well built, the fields fertile, the road varied, first through woods, across fields, hills, and undulating over brooks and streams. There were heaps of stones in the most unexpected places, and paths and roads in all directions. Anyone coming from the prairies of America and the regularity of Central Europe, would be put in good spirits by all this variety. The same dazzling sunshine as yesterday, the same strong scent from meadow and wood--and such a display of flowers, such singing of birds; hark, that was the cuckoo!

It was not long till midsummer's day, and the vegetation was thereafter; Ragni was enchanted with the luxuriance of it all. Botany was her favourite branch of study, and the contrast between the flora she had studied, and that of the country here, interested her greatly. She asked if there were many places in Norway where barberry and columbine grew wild? Dr. Kent thought that they must have been brought into the country a long time ago; probably by the monks from the cloister down yonder.

As they passed again from the meadow into a narrow strip of wood, principally fir-trees, she saw the linnæa for the third time; she could not sit still in the carriage any longer; they all got out.

It had just begun to open its bell-shaped pink flowers; its spicy fragrance filled the wood; Ragni at once began her little whisperings to it; if only she were allowed to be alone now--for six years they had not seen each other, or, indeed, as it was spring when she started, it was six years and a half. She gathered and lifted up some of them, and her eye fell on a "pyrola uniflora" bending low in melancholy solitude; Kallem had just found the same; she asked him what it was called in Norwegian? He asked Kent if it was not St. Olaf's candlestick--he asked as an apothecary, and received an answer from a herbarium.

Ragni went further and further away from them both. The scent of the flower as she gathered it seemed to attract her still further in; it was sent to entice her on. So she went further, but kept a little behind--away from the others. She heard them talking; one hears so distinctly in the wood; she heard too a pair of startled birds. But here at hand was nothing but the rustling of her own footsteps through the grass and moss. She found one single wood-sorrel in flower, a last loiterer. It looked so out of sorts midst all its clover-like leaves; did it know its companions had left it?

The flowers all told her to go on; indeed, both the linnæa, and the holy candlestick, and the wood-sorrel drew her on; the latter had stood so long waiting on purpose for that. And there was Ragni--in a large family gathering of star-flowers; they were all waiting to see her; no one else had trodden that way this year. Ragni knelt down among them and told them how she had come from so very far away, she told it all in flower-fashion, without words; speech was not necessary between them. How she had opened one door after the other to find her way back to Norway; each time she had opened one, there had been another beyond ... until at last she was with them all. As soon as she saw the linnæa she knew that she had reached the end. This was the innermost of all. All great dangers from outside, direct from the sea, all that strength and cruelty, variable and busy, all this splendour and alarm, all impels us further and further in; right in here we must come to understand that everything does not fall in a thousand pieces. It is they who are in there who can control all.

"We have been waiting for you too. Here we keep the innermost secret."

"Oh, tell it to me!"

"Be kind to others."

"Indeed, I think that is the only thing I have a talent for. But if the others will not----"

"Let the others be as they will; but be you kind."

Then she understood, because she had gone so deep in. She understood now what had the greatest strength. The star-flowers.

"Ragni," shouted Kallem, in the distance, the wood resounded with his clear voice. "Yes!" Some of the family must go with her, she gathered them and took them up.

Then she hastened back again nearer to the road. On the edge of the wood stood an "actea"--it seemed to stand there just to show the way in, if she had got out of the carriage there. Now it wished to join the party. And just by the road, well hidden under the bank, was a whole party of lilies of the valley; where could her eyes have been? They knew well enough where she came from, for they, too, had been posted as sentinels to show the way in. They saw and understood one another directly; but that is always the way amongst those of the same family. Some of them must go with her too.

"Ragni!" shouted Kallem.

"Yes, yes!" and she came out on to the road and saw how far behind she was.

The two men were standing by the carriage, talking; they were on the top of the bank, and Kallem's tall figure and the other's little slight one stood out clearly defined. Both of them had their hands full. As she hurried toward them she could hear Kallem discoursing; it was on a branch of black alder which he swung as he stood there; he repeated in German, a German botanist's delight over this stately poison-bearer which he had come across in Norway. Dr. Kent presented her with a "polygula amara;" he knew that the little blue flower would be new to her coming from America. She thanked him warmly. They got into the carriage and began at once arranging their treasures, and begged Ragni to choose what she liked; they had gone through a small bog; Kent had the flower of a bog-fir fastened in his coat, and they had both gathered everything, down to the very buttercup, "that wild beast," said Ragni; she wouldn't have it; it was so "muddy" too.

"You are æsthetic in everything," said Kallem. She shot a glance at him, sweet as the scent of her flowers.

"Do you notice that we are quite alone on the road?" remarked Dr. Kent; he told them that everyone was at church, as old Pastor Meek was to preach a farewell sermon on this his fifty years jubilee day. When he was twenty years old he had become curate to his own father--that was in those times--and he had inherited the living. He was now seventy years old, and was going to start on a journey abroad with his grand-daughter. He must be a strong man? Yes, and led a healthy life; always on the move, always busy. He was the go-between here. Go-between? Yes, each district must have one to intercede for science and for practical matters. Much of the prosperity of this district proceeds from him and has been passed on to others. Then he is popular? The most popular man of the neighbourhood. How is he "in the pulpit?" "Well, he has stood there now fifty years and related anecdotes. At first this was made fun of, and there were some who thought it profanation; now there are several who have followed his example."

"What sort of anecdotes are they?"

The last one that Dr. Kent had heard was about a woman who had been thirty years in prison in St. Louis, in America, and who, although she was seventy years old, was the worst of all the prisoners. Once the prisoners had to be moved to another prison which was under the management of a woman who was a Quaker. The old woman refused to be moved; she resisted with all her strength, and at last they had to tie her in a chair and carry her away. As they arrived with her, the woman who had the management of the prison stood in the doorway and received the furious old creature. "Unloose her!" she said. "But is it safe?" "Unloose her!" And they did so. As soon as the old woman was unbound, her new superintendent bent down over her, put her arm round her neck, and gave her a kiss of welcome as from one sister to another. Then the old woman fell on her knees and asked: "Do you really believe that there is some good in me?" From that time she invariably was quite obedient.

Here Kent and Kallem left the carriage; they had to turn up to a peasant's house a little way back from the road. There was a black dog lying in front of the gallery; he looked at the carriage and barked; but only once or twice, then he went down a few steps toward them, sniffed at them all round, and then went back and lay down.

There was no one else to be seen. The driver turned the horses and drove to one side. The two doctors went in to the patient, and Ragni walked up and down the yard. Through the window she could see an old man in bed and his old wife sitting beside him; she sang to him with trembling voice, and did not stop even when the door was opened behind her.

Ragni looked about her in the yard; then went and sat down on the store-house steps.

Nothing has such a quieting influence on one as a peasant's farm at rest. Not even the wood, for there is always a rustle or sound of something, and one must be on the look-out both sitting or lying down; nor yet the sea when it is quiet, for it never can be perfectly at rest; nor the meadow, for that swarms with life and we can see it too around us. But a peasant's farm which is not at work--the hens going about scratching and picking up food, make you feel comfortable, the dog lying down, and the cat that creeps stealthily a few paces, stops, then creeps on again, and the ploughs leaning up against the harrows, the grinding-stones standing dry, the carts with shafts down, the dinner-bell silent; everything that has been at work rests like you, and that which still moves about only adds to the general peace. Should you see a pig in the distance rooting up the ground, it is entirely occupied with that; or a horse champing and whisking away flies, that is its pleasure; should the little birds come and chirp their greeting to you, it increases the light-heartedness which is the foundation of all peace.

Suddenly, in the midst of this peaceful rest, the fright from that meeting with Josephine came over her. Was there nothing in her conscience that could accuse her? No, a thousand times, no! Not even her sister's children? No, for she could not even have lived for them under such circumstances. What then? What had she done? She had loved him. And why should she not do so?

The quiet was over; she went up above the house and found there two kinds of "orobus" not very far apart, first of all the bird-pea out on the meadow, and then one other in a cup with petals; she could not remember the name of the latter. As she went down the path again she found a splendid cock's-comb and a third kind of violet; the others had already given her two kinds. What flowers there were! Look there! The loveliest veronica; ah, the head fell; but there is another, that will keep. Afterwards she heard that the fragile flower is called here "man's faith."

Again she went in to the farm-yard; through the window of the bed-room she saw Kallem with his ear pressed to the old man's chest. Dr. Kent soon came out and the wife with him; he screamed at her, but she heard almost nothing. Kallem looked so tall standing there in the door, now he came to join her. How she loved him.

They were sitting together in the evening in the doctor's work-room; it was now all arranged as it was to be, with the exception of the books. Sören Pedersen, followed by his wife Aase, came in from the passage through the dining-room; he looked cunning, she looked alarmed; they announced that the minister and his wife were just coming in at the gate!

Kallem saw that Ragni turned pale. As the others were present, however, he said nothing but: "Come along!" went into the drawing-room, and from thence out in the passage to receive them.

The meeting was a stiff one. The minister begged they would excuse their coming so late, but it was the most convenient time for him, he had just come from evening service. They only came in to ask if Kallem and his wife would go home with them to supper? On Sundays a clergyman is seldom his own master before the evening.

His voice had still a little of the solemnity of a sermon in it, and there was a reflection of church in both countenance and manner. Josephine stood and looked about her, in which her husband speedily followed her example.

He thought it all very snug and cosy, and the piano was a "splendid piece of furniture." As they were looking at it, Josephine opened her lips for the first time, and turning to Ragni, said quickly: "I hear you play so beautifully!"

"Oh----"

"Won't you play something for us?" The minister added: "Please do!"

Ragni looked at her husband--as one who is drowning looks for help. "Ragni requires to be in the proper mood to be able to play," said he.

"Very likely she is tired," said the minister, excusing her; they sat down, the minister and Kallem opposite each other, Josephine on one side; Ragni remained standing.

"Of course you must both of you be tired," continued the minister; "you have been travelling now for so long, and then arranging the house here; I heard from Dr. Kent that you had very nearly finished?"

Yes, so they were; but they had had capital help from Sören Pedersen and his wife Aase. Ragni was afraid that those two were still in the dining-room, and hurried in to see; but they were gone, and were not in the doctor's room either.

The minister's face had assumed quite a fatherly expression. "We have been obliged to employ Sören Pedersen and his wife because the people we otherwise employ were not at liberty. But one ought not to give work to that kind of people."

"Indeed?"

"Oh, they are good workers; but they drink up everything they earn, and then stay away from their work for days; it was the same here too. They scandalize the whole congregation."

"Dear me, that's a pity."

In passing Kallem, Ragni stroked his head with her hand; she had to fetch something off the piano. The minister was nothing abashed by the doctor's flighty tone.

"We have striven to do what we could for them both--yes, for she drinks just as much as he does. You would be astonished if you heard how kind everyone has been to them. But all in vain, and worse than in vain. But I will not go further into that story." He looked at his wife, who sat there in her tight-fitting dress, stiff and impenetrable, a piece of perfection from top to toe. Her eyes so well trained that they saw everything without appearing to see. She would have liked Kallem to have come and spoken to her. Ragni stood farther back, unseen by the others, but directly opposite him.

"It is provoking," he said, "that the former doctor built his house so close to the hospital. It is not pleasant to have strangers so near one."

"Yes, but the old man built it for his brother-in-law. And now he is dead too."

"So I hear; if I could afford to sink more money in houses, I would buy this, although I should have no use for it."

Josephine turned half round, doubtless to see if Ragni still stood there. "I don't think it is for sale," said she; "I know the heirs." Then there was a pause for a little while.

The minister started a new subject; that same morning he had been reading in the Morgenblad about the general state of insecurity all over America. He spoke like one who knew all about it, and turned continually to his wife; if he did look at the others--for instance at Ragni, who had just come back from America--it was merely a passing glance; he invariably returned to his wife.

Pastor Tuft was a stately, good-looking man, especially as a certain degree of stoutness had filled in his bony face; he had a pleasant voice, and his Melancthon eyes sparkled and glistened at all that was said. His speech and manners were, if anything, persuasive; but one felt his power under cover of all his mildness.

His wife quite unexpectedly made an upward movement with her head. "Of course it must be time to be going now," said he, as he rose from his seat; "I am quite forgetting myself. Well--will you go with us?"

Josephine got up too, so did Kallem. But he, too, had a wife who could give glances, warning and imploring.

"Thanks, but we are both tired, we will put it off till another time."

And so they accompanied the others to the door. Kallem then went to the window and looked out after them as they walked away, both so tall and strong-looking. Soon they had left the church behind them; everyone who met them greeted them most respectfully. He stood on there even after they were out of sight. He walked up and down the room a few times, then he turned a somersault (made a wheel on his hands). "Go and fetch Sören Pedersen and his wife Aase to me!"--but he went himself. They were not to be found anywhere; Sigrid told him they had gone directly the minister and his wife came. "Hang it all, now you'll see they are making themselves tipsy! Just go down to them and invite them to come to supper with us. Say we are quite alone." Off went the girl; Kallem shouted out after her: "Insist upon their coming, whether they want to or not."

"Now listen to me, Mr. saddler!" said the doctor, when they both appeared in the parlor again, the wife behind the husband; "listen to me. The minister says that you drink, Pedersen, both you and your wife, and that he cannot get you to give it up?"

"The minister speaks the truth."

"But it is a dreadful disease, Pedersen."

"Oh, yes--in the long run."

"Will you leave it to me to cure you?"

"Oh, most willingly, doctor! but seriously, now; will it take a long time?"

"Two minutes."

"Two minutes?" He smiled; but before the smile had vanished, Kallem was upon him with his eyes, which had a strange and startling expression. The saddler changed colour, he retreated a few steps. The doctor followed and told him to sit down. He did it without hesitation. "Look at me!" Aase was fit to faint. "Sit down, you too!" said the doctor over his shoulder to her, and she collapsed into a chair. Yesterday already the doctor had seen what kind of people he had to do with; it did not take two minutes, before Sören Pedersen was completely mesmerized and his wife Aase too, though she had only been looking on. The doctor commanded them to open their eyes again; they both did so at once. "Now listen here, Sören Pedersen! You just leave off drinking brandy or spirits in any shape or form whatever; no more wine either, nor strong beer--not for one whole month. Do you hear? When that month is past--it is now half-past six--you come here to me on the stroke of the hour. And you too, Aase. Every time he wants to drink, you must cry out. And afterwards you can sing, both of you."

"But we can't sing."

"You will sing all the same."

IV.

Josephine left the town, she took her boy with her to the west-country, to have some sea-bathing; the minister was soon to follow them, he had not had a holiday since he had taken holy orders. He had come here as curate, directly after his examination, and had so completely gained the good-will of his congregation, that when, two years ago, the town and country parishes were separated, the congregation voted unanimously for him, and he got the living. He had worked very hard for about six years; he much required a little rest. Josephine went up to her brother's house one day when he was not at home, she announced that she was about to travel, said good-bye, and left a greeting for her brother.

Ragni understood at once that this journey had simply been arranged so as to escape the necessity of introducing her into society; they would not help to smooth her path. She did not mention it to the unsuspicious Kallem. He soon forgot the whole affair, for he got such an amount of work to do. As Kent wished to go abroad, Kallem would have to take both their practices, in consideration of his having attended to the hospital before Kallem's arrival. The third doctor who belonged to the place was a young military surgeon, he was now at the manœuvres. His name was Arentz; he was possessed of a remarkably broad, powerful chest. Kallem recognized, by the accuracy of his knowledge, the very words of the books he had studied from; at first he had great difficulty in not calling him Niemeyer, but he admired his upright and honorable character. When Kallem found that this life passed on highways and streets was becoming quite unbearable to him, he thought of asking Arentz to help him; if he wished to become an independent man, he must arrange things very differently.

Ragni saw him gulp his food down in the middle of the day and return home in the evening. Sometimes he sat on the veranda with her for a while, or took a turn arm in arm in the garden, or helped her if there was anything she was busy with; but seldom--as he had to go in to his books. A great change took place, however, when his colleague returned; his only thought was that of regaining lost time, so now he was a fixture in the laboratory or office. Ragni very soon installed herself in this sanctum; she got her own chair, her own book-shelf; in fact, the office became the sitting-room.

They each read their own book by the hour, scarcely exchanging ten words. He had got into a long, self-engrossing study, and had no idea what he looked like when he, at intervals during his reading, stretched full length on the sofa, silently gazing at her; or, as was generally the case, stood looking out of the windows. If he did move away a few steps, it would only be to return again at once to his old place at the window. He declared that there was no place where he could think with so much ease as there; this was an inheritance from his father.

He was much attached to his home, and seldom returned to it without a grateful feeling, and went about as happy and light-hearted as a bird. After dinner he was very fond of listening to music; but did not always as much as remark what Ragni was playing.

But she? Each day she bound herself faster and faster to the animate and inanimate things of her home. She again called him her "white pasha," her piano "a fairy tale." "Now for a fairy tale!" she said, when she felt inclined to play, and soon taught him to do the same. She called their bed-room, "amongst the stars." The pigeons which were given her at Whitsuntide, she called "her Whitsuntide-lilies;" Sigrid she called "the seven-armed woman." When she and Kallem were-sitting reading in the office, she felt as if they were out sailing, each in their own boat, each to their own country. "Shall we go in and have a sail?" was what she called it.

He had discovered by her letters from America how fond she was of using figurative language: "We are each working slowly toward each other at opposite ends of a tunnel through the world," she wrote in one of her letters, and always kept returning to the subject of the tunnel; at last "they had reached so near to one another that she could hear him speak!" About the steamers, "that swim above," passing each other with their letters, she wrote that "the desire of the one attracted the other after it."

One evening that they were sitting on the veranda (it was raining, but they were protected by the projecting roof), she said: "A house like this should have a head."

"A head?"

"Yes, a head between the wings as every worthy hen has."

"Oh, that's what you mean, is it?"

"I always feel as if I were under a pair of wings, being hatched."

"Tell me how it is that you did not use biblical figures of speech in your youth?"

"Because I had a father who taught me what the origin of everything was from my tenth year; plants, animals, and people all belong to one family--that was a doctrine that I loved! After that I got a step-father who was a clergyman, and insisted that the earth and human beings had been created perfect from the beginning, and that everything was made for the use of man; but I did not believe it. My own father was a quiet, delicate man, I loved him dearly; I was afraid of my step-father, he was such a strong, violent man."

Kallem asked her to give him a description of her childhood and education, but she answered decidedly, no.

Kristen Larssen had got work to do at the doctor's, he had arranged his laboratory and put up the ventilators, etc. Kallem had never had anything to do with a more silent, suspicious man; but neither with a more clever one. He came one Sunday morning in the beginning of August, arrayed in his best clothes, a long-tailed brown cloth coat, with extraordinarily tight sleeves, an old rusty waistcoat, much too short, and a pair of gray trousers made of the so-called English leather. He went about bare-headed, as a rule; but on grand occasions he carried a hat in his hand; he could not bear anything on his head, unless the weather were fearfully cold. There he stood in the office, tall, thin, with closely-cropped hair, well-scrubbed face with black stubby beard. His whole appearance was lightened up by a white collar spread over a red-striped scarf. The doctor asked him to sit down, and inquired what was the matter with him. His answer was--first an inquiring glance, and then that he had not complained of his health.

Kallem remarked by the answer he had just given him, that it was not easy to tell him what he wanted; but he thought to himself: Now, my friend, you may be content.

At last he said that he knew that "the doctor's wife" had been five or six years in America; and that perhaps she might have some English books to lend him. As he had taught himself a little English, perhaps she would tell him how to proceed further.

Was he thinking of emigrating? Oh, that would not be freedom; "to go and be a slave for the Norwegians ... over there too; no, I don't feel drawn toward that."

"How old are you?"

"About forty, or rather more."

He looked over fifty.

"I daresay my wife would with pleasure teach you English, Larssen, maybe in the evenings."

No, he would not hear of that on any account. Kallem, however, explained to him that pronunciation must be learned by ear; Ragni happened to come in at that moment, and Kallem told her that if Kristen Larssen knew English, it would be like giving him a pair of wings. She blushed, for it was not the first time that her husband had given her some tiresome work to do; of course, he thought she had not sufficient occupation. She, however, would have preferred not to agree. But as she stood looking at Kristen Larssen, she remembered that her husband had never met a cleverer man; she began to feel a certain amount of compassion for him. He was studying an English book at that moment, and could barely understand what it was about. She not only proposed to help him, but tried to persuade him to accept her proffered help. On that very same afternoon, about five o'clock, they began; they sat spelling through a very easy book. When Kallem came home he found them with their heads close together, poring over the same book, the one black and rugged, the other small and well-formed with reddish hair; the one a stiff, grubby face with furrows and wrinkles; the other possessed warm bright eyes and dazzling colouring, and was full of spirit. She held her handkerchief to her mouth, it was evidently a struggle for her to sit beside him at all. Kallem then remembered that he himself had remarked that Kristen Larssen's breath was not of the sweetest. Kallem at once arranged that they were each to have their own book and sit at opposite sides of the table. As soon as ever she could, she escaped. To make up for this Kallem invited Larssen to spend the evening with them, and tried to thaw him up a little; but no, he was just as stiff and wary when he left as when he came. Kallem's thoughts were much taken up by him. Who in all the world could he be, and how had he managed to become like this?

One day Kallem had occasion to go to his house. There he found a thin, stiff-looking woman who was Kristen Larssen's wife, her head wrapped in a black shawl; if the husband had too little covering on his head, she certainly had too much. No children. No fire on the hearth; she said she cooked the food for many days at a time. She went about knitting with a shrewd and suspicious air. Kallem began to think they had agreed to live as cheaply as possible, so as to scrape as much money together as they could for the journey they wished to take. As he wanted an excuse for this visit, he had taken a revolver with him that would not go off; it was in its case, so he had taken case and all with him, but only remarked now that the ammunition for the revolver was in it too. He showed it to her.