III The Glory of the Lord
I
A day in June, of quivering, vital sunlight.... The irregular shadows of fleecy clouds drifting across an endless plain.... Sun and irregular, fleecy clouds—nothing but these all day....
Over the prairie, making toward the settlement by Spring Creek, rattled an old, dilapidated cart, antique of build, in a state so wretched that it seemed ready to fall apart at the next tussock it might encounter.
The nag in front was in perfect keeping with the vehicle: long-shanked and rawboned, and so lean and lanky that one could have counted every rib. Originally its colour might have been a light grey, but now it was no longer definable: dirty grey, rusty, yellowish-brown—it might have been any one of these, or just as accurately something else. Only a few miserable hanks were left of what probably had once been a flowing mane. Above the shoulders rose a big hump; when the animal stretched out its neck, one was reminded of a dromedary. Undoubtedly it had once been an authentic horse, but that must have been a long time ago.
The man in the seat was of even more uncertain age than either horse or vehicle. He might be forty-five, or he might just as likely be sixty-five. But for his beard and stoutness, one would be inclined to guess the former figure, for the expression of his face was still youthful, the eyes bright and sparkling with something boyish in their gleam. But the beard clearly suggested a more advanced age; it stretched from ear to ear, forming a thick fringe around the chin; it was perhaps an inch long, heavy and stiff, originally blond in color, but now streaked with grey. The clothes, too, testified to the man’s advanced age; especially the coat, which seemed to be neither coat nor jacket, but something out of the ordinary—a garment of thin black cloth, loosely fitting, too long to be called a jacket, yet not long enough for a topcoat.
The horse trudged slowly on, the cart jolting and rumbling behind; the man on the seat allowed him to dawdle as much as he pleased, and hummed tunes to himself to pass the time. After a long while the sod huts by Spring Creek began almost imperceptibly to lift their heads out of the ground; and not a bit too soon, for evening was fast coming on.
A couple of frame houses, one large and square, the other smaller and with a high gable, had long been visible. They seemed strangely conspicuous in the bare, level landscape; one could not help wondering if they really belonged here in the wilderness. The man on the cart, however, apparently paid no heed to them; as the sod huts came more and more within the range of his vision, his humming gradually grew fainter and more intermittent.
“Hm... hm.... Well, here they are. Move along now. King!” came coaxingly from out of the fringe of beard. “We must try to scratch gravel, you see, and get there before the folks go to bed. Go ’long, I tell you, go ’long!”
The sun had already set when the horse came to a standstill in front of one of the huts; the traveller did not get down.
“Anybody at home here?” he shouted in a strong voice.
Sounds of sudden movement were heard within. A stout toil-worn, red-faced man came hastily out, an equally stout but rounder woman rolled after him, both with their mouths full of food; the red-faced man was wiping his beard; both he and his wife were staring at the stranger.
“I asked if there were people here,” repeated the man, unconsciously falling into the idiom of his native tongue and using a phrase that carried a special meaning. Behind the fringe of his whiskers beamed a broad smile.
“Oh, the devil! Are you Norwegian, then?” shouted the red-faced man, jovially.
“So, so! Do you call on that fellow around here?”
The man on the ground immediately grew serious; he and his wife were staring at the stranger.
“Have you any more food than you need for supper, and a place to put up a tired horse that’s been on his feet all day?”
Without waiting for an answer, the speaker threw down the lines, stepped out of the cart, stretched himself, and sighed with relief.
“My, my! How stiff one gets from all this shaking!... What’s your name, my good man?”
“My name is Syvert Tönseten. What kind of a fellow may you be?” Tönseten came close up and looked inquiringly at the stranger, who had now turned to the woman:
“Have you got any food in the house, mother?” And ignoring the man, the traveller took from his cart a large, old, and well-worn satchel, which he deposited on the ground.
“Why, yes... of course... if you will take what we have!” said Kjersti, slowly. There she paused; moving behind her husband, she took her hand from under her apron and gave a pull at his jacket; she had now looked the stranger over and didn’t feel altogether relieved....
Tönseten was too preoccupied with himself to notice her. “I am asking you,” he said with pompous dignity, “what kind of a fellow you are and what you are after. Are you looking for land?”
The stranger put his hands against his sides, looked straight at them, and said, impressively:
“I am a minister. As for you, my good man, you ought not to stand there swearing into the face of strangers!... Now let me ask you again: May I stop here to-night?”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Tönseten, letting his breath go as if some one had hit him in the stomach.
“Oh, my! Oh, my!” wailed Kjersti, awe-stricken, yet overwhelmed with joy. “Is the man crazy? Can he really be a minister?... Of course he must stop here, if he can only eat the stuff we have!”
“Don’t worry about that, mother.” He turned to her husband. “And now you and I will attend to the horse.”
Tönseten’s knees were weak from penitent zeal; he trembled with eagerness to help; he wanted to talk, but his voice failed and the words would not come. But the horse was wonderfully well cared for; he even went back a second time, after they were through, to spread another layer of straw for bedding. While they worked the minister had many questions to ask; they took their own time about coming in.
At last Tönseten ushered the minister into the hut, placed a chair at the farthest end of the table, and bade him be seated. The table now was laid with a white tablecloth, on which had been placed a superabundance of food for only one person; there were römmekolle and flatbröd, fresh milk and boiled eggs; there were coffee and cakes; but even so, Kjersti thought it too little to offer such a distinguished visitor; now she was busy frying a couple of egg pancakes. Thank goodness, there was plenty of what she had! She had hurriedly tidied up the room; it looked cozy and comfortable inside the hut, and the minister could not refrain from expressing his admiration.
Finally he sat up to the table and began to eat, praising everything that he tasted and helping himself bountifully, like a healthy person whose hunger has been sharpened by a long fast.
Tönseten remained standing in the middle of the floor, talking with the minister; his manner was humble almost to the point of unction, his voice had taken on a tone of great solemnity. Kjersti hung in the background by the stove, where the room lay in shadow, listening closely to the conversation; she was more concerned about what her husband said than to follow the minister’s discourse—Syvert was so easily excited, poor fellow, and had so little experience in talking to people of quality! She watched the minister as he helped himself liberally to the food, and felt the blessing of it descend upon her. How kind of him to say the nice things he did about the food she had prepared!... And he chatted with them so pleasantly and naturally! No traces of sermonizing in his talk! Why, he and Syvert were just discussing ordinary everyday things—about conditions as they were around there, about crops and prospects, about the best way to run a farm.... Now and then Tönseten would turn their conversation toward the future; he was more interested in visualizing how things were going to turn out than in making a bare statement of how they actually were; that was something he could enlarge upon to the minister. And the minister seemed to have much good advice; thus they ought to do with that, he said, and so with this, but differently with the other.... At length he inquired about the religious life of the people in this locality. Tönseten cleared his throat at the question, which he had been expecting, and answered emphatically that that was a subject on which he wasn’t very well posted; you couldn’t expect a common farmer to know much about such matters. And then he began hurriedly to ask the pastor which way he had come, and whether he had seen many settlers in the parts through which he had travelled. This, in turn, gave him an opportunity to tell how the country looked hereabouts when he had first arrived six years ago; he waxed so eloquent on this point that it seemed difficult for him to stop.... Kjersti realized that he was now on extremely dangerous ground!——
At last the minister had finished his meal.
“Now then, my good man, be silent, and we will thank the Lord for this day.”
“Yes, yes—of course!”... Tönseten blew his nose vigorously; but not knowing what to do with himself next, he stuck his thumbs inside his trousers-band, and stood where he was in the middle of the floor, utterly unnerved.
Kjersti sank down on the wood-box, and wiped her eyes with her apron.... She wanted to tell her husband to sit down, but simply couldn’t screw up her courage to do it.
Placing his folded hands on the table, the minister began in a quiet way, as if addressing some one they could not see who stood very near; he seemed to be well acquainted with this unseen being, for he spoke in a low voice and very intimately, as to a dear friend who, unexpectedly, had done him a good turn. He thanked Him for the day that now was past, nevermore to return, entreating Him to cast into the ocean of grace all sins committed on this day; he prayed long and earnestly for the people out here, for the house in which he sat, and especially for the man standing there who was so prone to swear; in one way or another He must come to him and remind him constantly of what His holy law provided with respect to this grievous sin. But He must not be too severe with these poor people, for they had wandered far from home and some had gone astray, and long had they dwelt out here in the Great Wilderness, without a shepherd and without care. Truly, life had not been easy for them!... After saying amen, he remained silent for some time, with hands still folded; from the candle on the table a pale glow was thrown over his face, touching the fringe of his beard with pure silver.... Peace had fallen on the room.
Then the minister arose.
“Praise be to God, and thanks to you, good people, for this sumptuous feast!”
Tönseten again blew his nose violently; then, overcome with confusion, he wheeled about and walked out of the hut.
Kjersti sat on the wood-box, weeping with mingled emotions. The minister came over and took her by the hand. “A fine meal you prepared for me, mother, and here are my heartfelt thanks!”
“Oh, well—that’s nothing!”... She shook her head speechlessly, but could not let go his hand.
In a moment Tönseten returned.... This would never do, he wanted to explain. He wasn’t such a bad case as the minister seemed to think. He ought to hear some of the others when they let themselves go!... But as soon as he stood in the presence of the pastor, confusion overcame him again; he merely stuttered and stammered, and found nothing to say.
The minister now opened his satchel; first of all he took out a large, fat pouch, and then an ancient pipe, which he carefully cleaned and promptly filled. “A little incense, I think, will now be blessedly enjoyable.... No, just remain seated, mother.”
II
The sleeping quarters assigned to the minister were the spare sod house, a structure which was now to be found on every farm. Clothes were hung in it, and food was stored there, as well as tools and farm implements; it might even contain a blacksmith’s shop and a carpenter’s bench, if the size of the room was sufficient; but nearly always there was a bed, made and ready for use.
But the minister seemed more anxious to visit with them than to go to bed; he smoked pipe after pipe, striking it against his toe to knock out the ashes, each time filling and lighting it anew. He asked them all about their life, and the struggle they had had since they came to this place. This was rich for Tönseten; he never tired of telling.... Finally the minister knocked out the ashes of his pipe for the last time, got up, and laid it carefully aside.
“Well, now the day is done, and a fine, blessed day it has been; the night is approaching, so let us enjoy sweet repose.... Where do you intend to put me up for the night, mother?”
Both Kjersti and Tönseten felt that they must accompany him to the other hut. There stood the bed, with a small table at its side, covered with a rose-coloured cloth; the room was small and crowded, but seemed cozy and cheerful withal.
“Oh, here it will be sweet to stretch one’s weary limbs!” exclaimed the minister, joyfully.
“What a wonderful man he is!” thought Kjersti. She began to make many excuses because they had nothing better to offer.
With a mixture of jest and earnestness the minister rebuked her for such talk; soon they were all three laughing together, and it was so pleasant that the hosts could hardly tear themselves away.
Tönseten had aged considerably in the last two years; one who had known him before that time would scarcely recognize him now. He had struggled with a bad cough for two consecutive springs; this spring it had been so violent at times that he feared the end had come; but Kjersti had finally managed to boil and dose it out of him. It had left its mark, however; he became easily tired now, and needed a lot of sleep in order to keep going.
But to-night he didn’t get much sleep; and what little there was brought no rest. Serious things to think about had suddenly come forward.... Oh, my God!...
He would have liked to stay with the minister for a private and confidential talk; but he knew that Kjersti would never go away and leave them alone. While she was clearing the table, after they had gone back to their own house, he slipped out and walked over to the other hut; but when he got there he realized that it was too late; he couldn’t talk to the minister to-night—it would never do to disturb him now.
At last they went to bed together, Tönseten and his wife. Kjersti lost consciousness almost at once; but Syvert lay awake a long while, pondering over how he might be able to gain the ear of the minister.... “To-morrow morning,” he thought, “before the minister shows up, I’ll take some wash water over to him. I’ll sit down in the doorway while he washes, where I can see if anyone is coming; then, maybe, I’ll get a chance to talk with him.... I’ll tell him everything. There’s going to be the devil to pay! Useless to try any tricks here—I can’t get out of it. His eyes are too keen—they see right through you!... But suppose Kjersti comes along while we are talking? Well, there you are! He would be likely to refer to it again when we go over to the house, and that would give the whole thing away; he’s a terror when he begins asking questions! No, this thing has always been my own worry, and it shall continue to be.... O Lord! I dread it like hell! If he could make such a fuss over that little innocent word I dropped, just speaking naturally, what will he say about this?”... Cold sweat was standing on Tönseten’s forehead.... “No, it will probably be better to wait till he leaves; then I can go along with him a little way—get out of range of those eyes of hers.”
This decision brought him something like peace, but no sleep; for now he had to consider how to present the case in the best light possible. No sooner had he begun to think that over than the whole wretched business stood clearly before his eyes; there he lay, wide awake, staring at his great sin....
Tönseten was indeed in a terrible plight; none but himself knew how utterly heinous and desperate it was. Until last spring he hadn’t known it, either; but at that time, when he was lying prostrate and the cough was threatening to make an end of him, he had come to a full realization of the enormity of his deed; since then it had hung over him like a dark shadow, growing deeper and deeper the longer he turned it in his mind.... Just imagine a perfectly innocent man getting himself into such a fix! But had anyone, innocent or guilty, ever committed a sin like the one that lay at his door?
This minister seemed to have a lot of sense, though; perhaps he might understand that it wasn’t altogether Syvert’s fault, in a manner of speaking.... They had come to him, you see—he couldn’t get out of it. He had been legally elected, too; and one of the specified duties of his office was to do just this thing. Surely those who had laid down the law and forced ignorant people to perform such acts ought to be made to bear part of the blame!... Of course, he might have objected. Oh yes, that was just it—he might have refused. That was probably just what the minister would say; he felt it in his bones. Great God, what a mess!... The picture of it passed before his mind in rank and file, clearly and distinctly; he could both see and hear the actors of that hateful drama; and so he lived it over once more to the last detail, muttering to himself, and turning alternately hot and cold.
It would be just four years the coming fall since this transgression had taken place.... It had even happened on a Sunday afternoon.... Well, perhaps that wasn’t so bad. The whole crowd had come walking up toward the hut; nearly all the east-siders were in the procession, with Johannes Mörstad and his girl, Josie, in the center.... Halvor Hegg had explained their errand—Halvor, he was a pretty decent fellow. Tönseten couldn’t remember the exact words now, but their import was something like this: “You are a justice of the peace, Syvert Tönseten, and that is a very important office.” He remembered one thing distinctly, that Halvor had emphasized the word important. “Now, Johannes and Josie, they want to get married and live together, because Johannes, he needs help the way he is hustling; and there isn’t anyone else but you to perform the ceremony. According to law and justice, you’ll have to do it, too, as near as you can in the Christian manner; you realize that yourself.” That was the trend of Halvor’s remarks.... Tönseten groaned aloud, for he well remembered how frightened he had been when he had finally waked up to the grim fact that Halvor meant what he said. Since last spring, when he had lain there fighting with death, he had scarcely thought of anything else....
And that Sunday afternoon he had married the couple!
If he could only be sure, even, that he had done it properly according to law! But he had been unable to find the papers and instructions furnished him for such an occasion; not that they would have helped him much, for they were all in English.... The neighbours had elected him justice of the peace when they organized the town; the regulations called for such an official, and they had poked a lot of fun at him about his important office. At that time he hadn’t dreamed that it would ever call for legal or technical action, least of all for anything like that.... How could he, an ignorant layman, have dared to go to work deliberately and do such a sacrilegious thing! Tönseten spat on the floor and rolled over in bed; he was absolutely convinced that the heaviest sin one could commit was that of meddling in sacred matters.
... He had excused himself—he had tried to get out of it! He had insisted that he didn’t know how—the neighbours could testify to that!...
The worst of it was that the young people had made merry with him about it, both then and afterward; they had hurrahed for the “parson” as well as for the bridal couple, and had applauded the whole ceremony as if it were a joke.... And Johannes and Josie had moved at once into a house of their own and had lived together as man and wife ever since.... What infamy! The minister would simply have to do something about it!... Oh yes, he recalled the whole damnable business....
Why, hadn’t the two principals themselves, Johannes and Josie, stood before him without a sign of seriousness in their attitude; hadn’t they even laughed right into his face?... And he couldn’t be certain that he, too, hadn’t smiled, although he had tried hard to keep his face straight.... Then he had taken her hand and placed it in Johannes’s.... No, now let’s see, it must have been the other way around; it had been Josie, however, who had taken the notion that he wasn’t doing it right, and had insisted on changing the hands—the others had laughed and shouted fit to kill.... With that settled, in a deep silence he had pronounced these words: “Now, Johannes, you take this woman standing by your side—yes, I say, take her now, and use her decently and honorably, as is befitting good Norwegian folk!” After that he had uttered the word “amen” in a loud voice—for the life of him he couldn’t think of anything else to say. And Josie had looked up brightly into his face, her eyes snapping with mischief—she was such a pretty girl and had laughed so happily.... Since then these two had lived together as man and wife—in infamy! But after all, no serious calamity had befallen them, save that the children had come so terribly close together; at any rate, they were all pretty and well shaped!... Huf! Huf!...
Tönseten turned over for the twentieth time. Oh, well, he would confess to the minister in the morning, let the chastising be ever so severe. He must be absolved of this sin! If that cough should return next winter, there was no telling what might happen!...
Since children baptized at home could be rebaptized by a minister, as if the religious ceremony had only been postponed, there was no logical reason why a matter like this couldn’t be mended!
At breakfast next morning the minister kept asking a host of questions; he inquired at length about everything that his brief survey had shown him: Who lived in this hut and who lived in that? Who had built the big houses? How had those men happened to prosper ahead of the others?
Tönseten sat at the opposite end of the table, where he was served separately. This morning he didn’t seem to have any appetite—he couldn’t relish his food.... It was astonishing how many things the minister found to ask questions about.... Throughout the breakfast Tönseten sat in the grip of a silent fear, afraid of what might come next; as soon as the meal was safely over, he found a pretext for leaving the room.
A few moments later the minister came out into the yard, with his satchel in his hand, and glanced around at the neighbourhood where he had arrived. In his wake came Kjersti, bashfully tripping out of the house; Tönseten walked restlessly about the yard, handling one thing after another, but did not approach the minister; then the latter called out to him:
... Who lived directly west of them?
... Why, that was Hans Olsa—that is to say, Hans Vaag.
... And to the north?
... That was Per Holm—or rather Per Hansa, as he was called.
The minister scrutinized closely that part of the settlement visible from where they stood; then he went on with his inquiries about the people.
... Where was the largest house?
... Did he mean the biggest room? Well, that was at Per Holm’s; he had gone ahead and built on a big scale the very spring he came out; people had thought him crazy for putting up such a sod house, but it had turned out that he wasn’t so crazy, after all.... Torkel Tallaksen was now building a grand house of lumber, that would surely be a mansion when it was finished; but it wasn’t done yet....
“Well, now, let’s get to work,” said the minister, resolutely. “First of all, my good man, I must get you to help me. Will you hurry around to all your neighbours and tell them that to-day, at two o’clock, I shall conduct divine services at the house of this man Per Holm. Everyone must be present—tell them that they have to come! And you, mother”—he turned to address Kjersti—“I think it would be a kindness of you if you were to go over and help Mrs. Holm get the house ready for the service; it need not be anything extraordinary, but the place in which the Lord’s blessings are dealt out ought at least to be clean and tidy!”
They gazed at the minister in alarm, but for a while said nothing.
“Well—poor Beret!” sighed Kjersti, compassionately.
“Beret?... So that is her name? What is the matter with the woman? Are they so very poor?”
Suddenly Tönseten forgot his reserve and spoke up emphatically: “I’ll tell you about it. This Per Hansa—that is to say, Per Holm—he has got rich out here; he has done better than anyone else, though he came here without a cent to his name. And why shouldn’t he have done well? He has plenty of help in his own family, so he never needs to hire; and besides that, good luck has followed him right along. The first year we settled, for instance, the grasshoppers came and made a clean sweep of the rest of us; but Per Hansa saved his whole crop! The same year he made a big haul with his potatoes... why, he must have sold for a thousand that year, and nobody knows how much he has made these years on the fur trade that he’s carried on with the Indians.... He is now settled on three quarters of land!”
“Well, well! that’s fine! But what ails his wife?”
Now it was Kjersti’s turn; she shook her head sadly as she related all the distressing circumstances. Now and then Tönseten, fearing that she hadn’t made things clear enough, would put in a word. The minister prompted them with questions. After a while he had learned the whole sad story about Beret Holm.... His face clouded as he listened; it was as if the sun had suddenly darkened over a beautiful landscape, until it became drab and desolate to look upon. For a long time he stood there absorbed in thought, the two gazing at him apprehensively; they dared not speak to him in this mood. At last he said, quietly, “I think we had better arrange it this way, mother: I will go over there first, and you follow about noontime. As for you, my friend,” turning to Tönseten, “try to do your errand well! Remember that they must bring all the children requiring baptism. Don’t forget that! And tell them to be sure and bring their hymn books, too.”
The minister was now making his preparations to go to Per Hansa’s; as the distance was so short, he had decided to leave his horse.
Tönseten fussed about uneasily, delaying his errand; he assured the minister that he needn’t worry—he would get the message around to everybody in good season—it would only take a minute or two!... His red beard caught the sunlight every time he moved his head, which now kept bobbing around in a ridiculous way.
At last the minister took his departure and Tönseten was on hand to go along with him.
“Let me carry that satchel for you.... I’ll begin here on the north side and work east—that’s the shortest way.”
They walked on side by side, the minister deeply absorbed in thought; after a while Tönseten fell a little way behind.
“I want to talk to you about something,” he tried to say casually. His voice was so faint and low that the other could hardly catch it.
The minister stopped short and looked at him. Tönseten glanced this way and that; his eyes fell to the ground and he made nervous dashes here and there, as if seeking escape....
“Well?”...
Too late now!... Tönseten took a deep breath, summoned all his courage, glanced once at the minister—then turned his head away....
“I just wanted to ask you if... well... if it’s possible to marry a couple who are already married? Because in that case, I’d ask them to come, too.”
“You mean, they are divorced?”
“No, indeed, not divorced! Heavens! I should say not! But maybe it wasn’t done just right, you see, when the ceremony was performed....”
“I am afraid I do not understand you.”
Tönseten spat out a huge mouthful of tobacco juice, and looked up into the sky.
“You see, it happened here,” he confessed in a desperate voice, “that we had to organize the township; so we had to have officials, you see. Well, they went ahead and elected me justice of the peace.... How could I help it, I’d like to know?... And then, you see, there wasn’t a minister to be found in all Dakota Territory—there simply wasn’t one in sight!” Tönseten waved his hand with a wild gesture, still looking off into the sky.
The minister’s face expanded into a broad smile.
“And so you had to serve as minister?”
“You’ve hit it—that’s exactly what happened!... You see, this fellow, Johannes Mörstad, and his wife, they couldn’t wait any longer—they should have been married long before, for that matter. And so they pounced upon me!... I refused point blank, of course... I have witnesses to that. But then, you see, I really was justice of the peace; and at last I had to give in.... That’s the worst sin of all!”... Tönseten could only whisper now.
“And so you married them?” said the minister, slowly.
“Well, yes—I pitched in and did the best I could.... But now you’ve got to fix it up properly!” begged Tönseten.
The minister’s smile suddenly became a loud chuckle; Tönseten listened incredulously; that chuckle descended on the anxious old fellow like a warm shower; it gave him courage to glance again at his companion. So great was his thankfulness that the feeling surged through him: for that man he could gladly die!
He spat and sputtered, blowing his nose in stentorian tones; but he could not take his eyes off the other man’s face.
“Was it long ago?”
“It will be four years this coming fall.... It was the third Sunday after Trinity, to be exact. I put a mark in my hymn book.”
“You did what the law prescribed?”
“Of course I did!... Well, that is to say... I’m only an ignorant man....”
“Are there any children?”
“Children! Don’t talk about it! There are three of them already, with a fourth well on the way. As far as that part of it is concerned,” Tönseten observed in all seriousness, “everything seems to have been done properly enough! But... well, you’ll just have to do it over again!”
“No,” said the minister, still smiling, “that is your job, and I’ll have nothing to do with it. But tell them to bring the children with them.... And now see that you get started!”
“But wasn’t it a sacrilegious thing to do?”
“Yes, under normal conditions—undoubtedly. But at the time, as you say, conditions were far from normal out here, and you had been duly elected to perform certain official duties.... The Children of Israel wandered about in the desert; at first they used the barren desert for their house of worship, then came the tabernacle, finally the temple. And so with our people in this country. Such marrying practices as some people have here are sacrilegious and must be discontinued... you’re right in that.”
“Do you think the Lord will ever forgive me?”
“That I truly believe He will! This probably is not the worst sin you have committed!”...
Tönseten’s joy and relief were almost suffocating; he wiped his eyes as he gazed at the minister.... What a marvellously sensible man!...
“I’ll hurry right off and tell them!... But, please, I beg of you, don’t mention this at home. You see—well, Kjersti is not very strong.”...
And now Tönseten was speeding along in great excitement from farm to farm, announcing to all the people that a pastor had come to them at last and that they must gather to hear him, he was such a wonderfully able man. And the farther and faster he went, the easier became the road and the more wonderful did the minister grow in his mind, a fact which he emphasized at every place he came to and enlarged upon whenever he could stop long enough to draw breath. And he forgot neither the children nor the hymn books; he even found other items to bring to their attention.... All the while he was thinking: Just imagine, even he could splice a couple together so that it was all right with the Lord! Well, well, that certainly was a most remarkable thing!...
III
The minister stood in the corner next to the window, arrayed in full canonicals. The gown was threadbare and badly wrinkled, as a result of its many journeys inside the old valise; the ruff might have been whiter, perhaps; but such trifles were not noticed now, for here stood a real Norwegian minister in ruff and robe!... It was undoubtedly true, what Tönseten had said about him—he was an altogether remarkable man. The vestments which he wore seemed only to emphasize the strength of his features, whose youthful vigour, in spite of the grey-streaked beard, appeared at this solemn moment to have taken on a new glow of life.
The table, spread with a white cloth, had been placed so close to the window that the minister barely had space to stand behind it; on the table stood two homemade candles, one at either end; the candlesticks, too, were homemade, cut from two four-inch pieces of sapling, with the bark left on and painted white; at a little distance they looked like curious works of art. The candles were not yet lighted; a bible and a hymn book lay between them.
The time for the meeting had come. The people filed slowly in and took their places, settling down wherever space was available; on the beds sat women crowded close together, strung along the edge like beads; these were mostly the mothers, and behind them sat and lay the children all over the beds; on the big chest eight in all had taken their seats, running from big to little; the chest had been pulled out from the wall, so that people could sit on all four sides; the six rough benches which Per Hansa and Hans Olsa had hastily nailed together were now filled to capacity, mostly by women, young children, and older people who were not able to stay on their feet so long.
The beds stood in one corner of the room, the stove in another; in the third were the minister and the table; in the fourth, and on every available part of the floor, people were packed like sardines. As many as the room would actually hold had crowded in, eager to see the minister. But not all who had come could gain an entrance; quite a crowd had to remain outdoors: some stood along the walls; others had settled down on the grass. From those outside the house came the subdued sound of talk and laughter.
The women had dressed up in their best for the occasion, and most of the men, as well; but here and there one saw a man who had come straight from his work in the fields, his face covered with sweat and grime....
In the dense cluster of people by the door some one cleared his throat loudly; another was heard to mutter that it was a good thing they didn’t have to be particular about the floor! This latter remark caused a slight disturbance in the group; a voice laughed outright, and a couple of men tried to push the people ahead of them forward a little, so that they could clear a space to spit in.... The minister glanced up sharply, searching the crowd for the one who had spoken; the youthful look on his face changed to sternness as he rapped on the table:
“Let us have silence, good people! We will begin at once.” He raised his voice: “Those who are outside must keep perfectly quiet!”
And now a deep silence descended on the closely packed room; through this silence the sound of quiet breathing rose and fell, gently yet perceptibly, like the rise and fall of a heavy ocean swell.
The pastor read the opening prayer. Then he announced the hymn which they were to sing, and himself led the singing; a few joined in at first, one voice after another straggling along, like waves on a calm sea; but before the first stanza was ended every voice had picked up the tune and the room was vibrating to a surge of mighty song. After the hymn the minister chanted, conducting the full service just as if it had been in a real church.... How wonderful it seemed!... Before long the men had to slip their coats off, it had grown so warm in the room.
The minister preached on the coming of the Israelites into the Land of Canaan. He began by reminding his hearers of the dangers which the Children of Israel had been obliged to pass through, and of the struggles and tribulations which they had been forced to endure. He set forth what had been promised them if they would remain faithful to the heritage of their fathers and obedient to the law which the Lord had given them as their guide.
Then, in powerful strokes, he sketched the history of Israel. First of all, how had the ten tribes fared? They had been taken as prisoners to a strange country; they had remained there and had forsaken their gods; and then they had disappeared, leaving no trace, like the morning dew on the face of the Great Prairie. Where were the ten tribes now? Not a word nor a sign remained of them—not even a chance name, here or there, to indicate where they must have been! Was it not significant that a whole people could disappear so completely?... How different the story of the two-tribe peoples! They, too, had been put in chains and treated as slaves; but they had been held in bonds of loyalty to their race and to Him who had nurtured them; and they had endured and prospered. And so, at last, they had come back to rebuild the ruined walls of Zion—and from their loins had sprung the Saviour of mankind!
Then the minister shifted the scene, applying the parable to those who stood before him; they, too, had wandered in search of a Land of Canaan; from the ancient home of their race they had fared forth, far away over the ocean into a foreign country; here they had settled now, here they proposed to strike root again; and here their seed would multiply from generation to generation, ages without end. True enough, they had no hostile nations to fight against—and for that they should thank the Lord! Yet there were other battles, for the powers of darkness never rested; here were the long journeys to town, with their strong temptations; here was the force of heathendom, which constantly threatened them; and here, in all probability, would soon come wealth! Here was the endless prairie, so rich in its blessings of fertility, but also full of a great loneliness—a form of freedom which curiously affected the minds of strangers, especially those to whom the Lord had given a sad heart. Even the bravest would find it hard to face and conquer the strangeness of it all, the hopeless chill, the overwhelming might of this great solitude.
The minister was now spinning out his thoughts and holding them forth in the light for the people to see; he grew in greatness and power before their watching eyes, as he showed them their own feelings during the lonely hours. But when he even came to the grasshoppers at last, then Tönseten could no longer restrain himself; he had to make manifest his approval in some way or other. With a firm hand he pushed against the back of the person in front of him, gaining the room to spit which he greatly needed; then he looked around at the others triumphantly, as if to say: “Well, didn’t I tell you—isn’t he a wonderful minister?”... But there was no time to waste on such thoughts now!
For now the minister was busy with their future.... Did they fully understand what the Lord had given them here—and were they sufficiently grateful to Him for it?... The minister towered high and mighty before them.... In what manner had they thought to make use of the unbounded liberty which the Lord in His mercy had granted them? Here they were about to build a new kingdom—themselves to lay the foundations, themselves to raise the whole structure from the ground up. Had they begun to realize the greatness of that glorious responsibility which He had placed on their shoulders, and did they have sense enough in their heads to thank Him for it on bended knee?... He had spread before them here an opportunity the equal of which was unknown in human history; and here it would be tested out whether they could measure up to it—whether they were sprung from good stock or not—whether they were the children of free men or slaves.... Were they not glad of the chance?... Oh, they ought to sing like the birds of the plain in the morning sunrise—and then thank God, thank Him in all humility! In truth, they had not come here out of captivity and bondage—that, too, they should bear in mind in giving thanks. But they had found here the fairest promise that the Lord God had ever given to any people....
The words came with thrilling meaning; they took on a richer glow, a brighter texture, as the minister fired to his subject.... There was one point, he cried, where they and the ancient Children of Israel paralleled each other in a striking manner. For the kingdom which they were founding here would be a work of praise, a blessing to coming generations, only in so far as they remained steadfast to the truths implanted in them as children by their fathers. There was no other foundation to build upon; indeed, what other refuge did men have?... And now he stood here in their presence on this great day, a frail messenger of the Lord, to bring them this solemn question: Would they do as the ten lost tribes of Israel did, and disappear out of the world, or would they do as the two tribes had done, and never perish among men?...
The minister’s voice had sunk low, but his words bore in upon them with irresistible power; his eyes glowed with a secret light; his cheeks burned with the flush of his inspiration; all his boyish youthfulness had gone, and in its place was speaking the authority of ripe, mature experience.
The people sat and stood about while he was preaching, hanging on every word he said. Only a few were competent to climb the ladder of reasoning that he had raised for them. The others realized that he was preaching well, and let it go at that; it gave them a simple satisfaction just to listen; they rejoiced in their hearts that such a man had come here to-day; they felt that he wished them well. And it was so fine and jolly, too, this gathering together; now there would be some excitement in the settlement.... One was thinking about the congregation that they would have to organize; another about the location of the new church; still another about the cemetery, as to where it would probably be located; and to everyone the thought came that men would be needed to manage these activities; well, they would show him that they could govern themselves, that they were a well-conducted people!... One woman had it in mind that they would of course start a ladies’ aid, now that they had a minister; and that would be great fun, with meetings and cakes and coffee and sewing and all the rest; she proposed to begin some embroidering at once! But those who had not yet been confirmed dreaded the ordeal a little, though at the same time they were glad; at any rate, there would be a change in the daily monotony, and they would of course have some fine new clothes for the confirmation!... Tönseten had fallen into deep and serious thought concerning a matter of great importance—of very great importance. He was wondering how he could manage to help the minister out in the most valuable way.... Now, when the congregation was organized, they would as a matter of course have to elect a klokker!22 Well, if he had been able to splice a couple so that the knot held even before the Lord, he certainly ought to be able to serve as klokker.... He would have to see about it later on....
In the farthest corner by the stove sat a pale, delicate-featured woman, almost hidden by those in front of her. As soon as the minister began to talk she bent her head forward and a little to one side, until she had found an opening through which she could get a glimpse of his face. She listened intently to the sermon—at first with a wondering, happy look, which slowly grew skeptical and sad; all the while her eyes did not release their hold on the speaker. As the sermon progressed, the expression on her face became covert and cunning; her lips moved as if she were making objections, but no sound came.... “That! No, that shall not happen—it shall not happen!” was what the face seemed to say.... “He is playing us false... this man... he will lead us to something that is not good.”...
By her side sat a man with a handsome, fair-skinned little boy in his lap; the boy had sparkling blue eyes, which flitted about from face to face, looking at everyone, laughing mischievously when the look was caught and returned.... Now and then the man laid his hand on the woman’s shoulder, as if to reassure her; then she smiled strangely; she had no time to look at him, but the smile seemed to say: “Don’t worry, he shall not deceive me.... I understand it all.... He is sly, though, isn’t he?”...
When the hymn following the sermon had been sung, the minister said to them:
“Now, it is my advice that those who have been sitting all this time, and have the strength to stand, change places with those who have been standing; in this way we may help to bear one another’s burdens. Let the change be made with order and decency.... We shall now perform the holy act of baptism. I should appreciate it if all you grown people would remain, and thus call to mind your own sacred covenant with the Lord.... First let all unbaptized children come forward; and afterward those who have been christened at home.”
At this a considerable disturbance arose in the crowd; some people got up and pushed their way out of the door, talking in low tones as they squeezed through the throng; at the same time several who had remained outside during the sermon pushed their way in; hitherto they had heard only the voice, but now they wanted to get a glimpse of the man....
Sörine came in with a basin of water which she placed on the table, and laid a clean towel beside it.
Those who were to hold the children now took them in their arms and came forward; the sponsors stood up and looked around; there was scant room to move in the stifling crush, and several people had to go out at this moment; but little by little the disorder subsided, so that the ceremony could begin.
Most of the grown people knew the baptismal hymn by heart, and although the air was heavy and close in the crowded hut, the singing rose with great fervour. There were fourteen children who had not been baptized, one of them only three weeks old—a tiny being whose arrival had been looked for in the fond hope that it might turn out to be a baby girl, as indeed it had, and who now lay sweetly sleeping in its mother’s arms.
The first child to be baptized was four years old—a big, fat, dark-haired, hungry lump of a boy, who talked out loud and wanted to get down and run over to his mother. He didn’t seem to appreciate in the least what was about to be done for him, and aroused a good deal of merriment among the onlookers. However, the ceremony soon went on with all proper calm and decorum.... Josie, the one for whom Tönseten had performed the marriage rite, came last of all; she had three children, and had striven hard to get them ready for this service; she carried the youngest in her own arms. Tönseten regarded her and her offspring with a certain fatherly pride, and folded his hands devoutly as she came forward.
Then came three children who had been privately baptized by laymen. Sörine advanced first, holding up for his second christening the child at whose birth she had been present and for whom she had once before stood sponsor; the boy awakened in the arms of his godmother, turning two bright blue eyes toward the minister; he laughed aloud and asked Sörine who that man was with the whiskers and the long black skirt? Sörine tried by petting him to hush him up.... “He doesn’t have any pants!” said the boy, still laughing and putting his arms around her neck; those who stood near enough to overhear were doubled up with mirth.
But as the pastor asked the child’s name and she gave it, and he repeated it clearly and distinctly, so as to be heard throughout the room—“Peder Victorious, dost thou renounce—”... something extraordinary happened. From out that pale face over in the corner came a sound of anguish. Beret rose up and pushed her way violently through the crowd, which moved aside in sudden alarm to let her pass, then closed immediately in behind her; Per Hansa tried to follow, but found it hard to make a passage through the throng, which now was crowding forward in order to get a better view; and all at once her voice, shrill and vibrant, pierced the room: “This evil deed shall not be done!”... She was already halfway there. Some blocked her passage; others tried to silence her.... “Oh, let me go!” she cried. “This sin shall not happen! How can a man be victorious out here, where the evil one gets us all!... Are you all stark mad?” Her cries were shrill and piercing; they rose with a wild tremor of anguish, striking terror into the hearts of the men who stood about, not knowing what to do; the women hid their faces and did not dare to look; some of the weaker-nerved began to weep hysterically; on one of the beds a little girl had thrown herself face downward, crying and screaming; two half-grown boys, overcome by the horror of it, silently pressed their cheeks against the sod wall; the doorway was now crowded with curious faces, one tier above another. All wanted to see what was going on.
The minister paused in the service.
“Take your wife outside, Peder Holm! The air in here is close and bad for a sick person. I will talk to her afterward.... And the rest of you—please keep quiet!”
It took some time to calm the morbid excitement. Per Hansa had finally reached Beret; he lifted her in his arms, but the people crowded around so densely that it was difficult to get through, and all the while Beret was striking out wildly, pulling and pushing in a frantic effort to escape. She foamed at the mouth.... “This is the work of the devil!” she muttered through clenched teeth.... “Now he will surely take my little boy!... God save us—we perish!”
The meeting lasted inordinately long. When the pastor was finally through he announced divine services again two weeks from the following Sunday; at that time he would return to them and conduct Communion. “There must be many of you who need to unburden your hearts before your God and Father in Heaven!” he went on impressively. “We shall begin the service here in this room, promptly at eleven o’clock.” Hesitating for a moment, he looked around at the people and a tired smile crossed his face; in a lower voice he continued: “It would not be amiss, I think, if you men were to dress up a little; to the Lord it makes no difference, but it would seem more like the Lord’s day for you, and you would be edified thereby.”
IV
After the service the people remained standing around in groups out in the yard, talking about the minister and the sermon, and discussing in low tones the sad thing that had happened that day. The latter event claimed most of their attention. Everyone felt great sympathy for this family on whom adversity had laid such a heavy hand; some thought it was very wrong for Per Hansa to keep a person like Beret at home; a tragedy might happen at any time—and then it would be too late; various incidents of this kind were recalled; some remembered also that Per Hansa himself was a hard-hearted sinner who needed serious admonition; but they were all sorry for him, just the same.
None of the people of the house were to be seen. The crowd outside stood looking around, as if waiting for something to happen; no one wanted to leave until he knew....
A few women were still inside the house; they had planned to stay and help put things in order. Among them was Sörine, still carrying the child in her arms. The women were plainly anxious and disturbed; they talked in subdued voices, and couldn’t seem to take hold of the work with any heart.
The minister had seated himself at the table, folded his hands, and laid his head upon them; thus he sat for a long while in silence; then, as if noticing the people in the room for the first time, he got up and walked over to the group of women.
“I would suggest,” he said, gently, “that you all go home. Only let some one of you who is well acquainted here remain to help; if more are needed, we will send for you.... Let me have that fine little boy awhile,” he said to Sörine.... “Of course, I think it would be better if you all came often to see her, but never more than one at a time. And never ask her how she is feeling; just take it for granted that everything is as it should be. To me, things do not look entirely hopeless here; I believe it will all come right in the end. Yes, I truly believe it.”... He took the boy on his knee, and began to play with him.
“God grant that it might happen as he says!” sighed Kjersti.
The minister heard her.
“In His name, nothing is impossible!... Now I should leave at once, if I were you. Let the one who is best acquainted here, stay behind.”
Then the minister took the boy in his arms and went out into the yard; he approached each group standing there, talked to them quietly, and advised them to go home and keep to themselves as much as they could.... “For the word of God,” he said, “is like seed put into the ground; it must be undisturbed, if it is to germinate and bear fruit; but if it is too deeply covered, it will fail.”...
“We were just talking about organizing a congregation, you see.” The speaker looked in astonishment at the minister. Could it be wrong to discuss that idea?
“The time for that will come later on, without a doubt.”... The minister raised his voice.... “Now I will ask each one of you kindly to go to his own home, remain quiet the rest of the day, and think about what you have heard.”
“Well, yes—that’s probably all right, of course... but anyhow....”
The minister turned away and went to another group; the man had to quit talking and make the best of it. But he thought to himself: this must be a funny sort of minister who hasn’t time to discuss such an important matter as organizing a congregation!
Group after group broke up and melted away; people moved slowly homeward, and soon there was no one left in the yard; the day had closed and night was fast coming on.
The minister remained outside for some time, walking about the yard, still clad in his canonical robe; the boy toddled along beside him, hanging on to the black gown as if it were a great joke, and thoroughly enjoying himself with this queer man.
At length the minister bent his steps toward the new sod stable, from which seemed to come the sound of voices and the whimpering cry of a child; he took up the boy in his arms, went over to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside. The room had no windows; it was so dark in there that as he peered about, coming straight from the twilight, he could not make out the objects clearly. He was at once aware, however, of the presence of people; he walked farther in, looking around for what he knew was there.
They were sitting on a bundle of hay—Per Hansa and Beret, she with her face pressed close against his, he with one arm about her neck and the other about her waist; And-Ongen clung to her father’s shoulder, her arms clasped tightly around his neck.
“The sweet peace of God be upon you!” said the pastor, gently, as soon as he had discovered them. “The people have all gone. And now, Mother Holm, I should like very much to have you cook us a good cup of coffee, if there is any in your house; I want to take supper with you.”
The sound of his voice startled Beret. She sat up, brushed her hair back, and looked around with a puzzled expression. She felt abashed, just like a modest person with too few clothes on who unexpectedly finds himself in the presence of others.
“Oh, is this where we are?” she muttered, bending over and covering her eyes.
“I want something to eat!” cried the boy, tearing himself from the minister as soon as he heard his mother’s voice.
She seized the child frantically and hugged him close to her; pushing her face down in the hollow of his neck, she drank and drank....
“No, no, Beret—don’t be so violent!” begged her husband. “Please be careful!”
Then she threw back her head, the pale face flushed and distorted. “Am I not to love my own child!”
The minister came up to her and laid his hand on her head.
“That’s quite right, Mother Holm! Love him all you can; but do not forget to thank Him who has given you this precious gift. There is the promise of a splendid man in that fine boy; you will surely have much joy in him!”
Beret ceased caressing the boy and sat bent over him, listening to the words of the minister. Then she rose hurriedly and smoothed down her dress; again the minister got the impression that in some curious way she felt ashamed. Without saying a word, she took a child by either hand and walked out of the stable.
Per Hansa remained sitting on the pile of hay, resting his head on one hand; his hair and beard were unkempt, and quite grizzled now; his face was deeply furrowed, as if by the marks of a ruthless hand; his whole figure seemed fearfully ravaged and broken, like a forest maple shattered by a storm.
The minister sat down beside him; he began to confess Per Hansa with all the gentleness of a sympathetic and understanding pastor.
“Now tell me everything. Two can carry what one alone cannot lift. Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Without changing his position, Per Hansa looked down at the hay, sighed, and began to talk in broken accents: “I don’t understand it myself, you see.... I only know that damnation has come down upon us.... It can’t continue much longer—I’ll probably have to send her away.” Again he sighed, and then became silent.
It seemed to the minister as if the sum total of human tragedy sat talking to him.... A chill had entered the dimly lighted room.
“Perhaps you are right... otherwise, the cross might become too heavy for you to bear!”
A long pause fell.
“But she is not entirely deranged, is she?”
“Partly or entirely—what difference does it make? If the fiddle is cracked, it’s cracked....”
“Maybe so... yes, yes....”
Still looking down at the hay, Per Hansa continued:
“I don’t know that I am guilty of any other wrong toward her than that our oldest boy came before we were married; but in that matter we were equally to blame.... And then I brought her out here. I suppose that there is where the real trouble lies.... I don’t believe she grieves much about that other affair.... No, it’s this business out here—and for the life of me I can’t see any sin in it.”
“I think I understand,” said the minister, gently.
“But is a man to refuse to go where his whole future calls, only because his wife doesn’t like it?”... The question sprang out of Per Hansa’s soul, as if he were for the first time opening the door to many years of pent-up suffering. He turned his strong, resolute face toward the minister, begging for an answer.
“Indeed he may, my good man,” said the minister, earnestly. “But it would be better if they were both agreed upon it.”
“Agreed, yes—easy enough to say!... When the only disagreement, for instance, was that she advised waiting another year!... And it isn’t so much what she has said since we came out here.... Now. I wish you would tell me—” Per Hansa spoke softly, almost diffidently. “Suppose a husband and wife cannot agree—what, then, is he to do?”
The minister felt through the question the aching need of the man for relief and comfort.
“Therefore shall a man leave his father and mother, and shall be joined unto his wife, and they two shall be one flesh,” he quoted. “There you have the Lord’s decree. But if the law applies to man, it must apply to woman as well. Between you two there has, as I understand it, been no real disagreement?”
Per Hansa shook his head; the words came with great difficulty:
“I sometimes wonder if there ever were two people who cared quite as much for each other as we do.... But that hasn’t made things any easier; you can’t lift the ocean, whether it rages in a storm or lies quiet in a flat calm.... And now, please tell me, you who are a minister and understand the Scriptures, What is the man to do?” Per Hansa grasped the minister by the arm, clutching hard in his terrible agitation.
“He shall humble himself before the Lord his God, and shall take up his cross to bear it with patience!” said the minister, impressively.
“Ha-ha!” Per Hansa suddenly burst out in a bitter laugh. “That’s too scanty a fare for me to live on. You’d better put that kind of talk aside.... I ask as an ignorant man, and I must have an answer that I can understand: Did I do right or did I do wrong when I brought her out here? And what should I have done instead, when I saw nothing else ahead of me in the world?”
“That time you undoubtedly did right, my good man, if what you have told me is true; a man must go whither his heart and mind lead him, unless the Lord comes and says no.... You did right that time; but since then you have let yourself sink into the mire of a great sin, as I am told. And now you grumble—like those Israelites of yore—because the Lord is leading you on paths that you do not wish to follow.... You are not willing to bear your cross with humility!”
“No, I am not; and let me tell you something more.” Per Hansa’s voice hardened. “We find other things to do out here than to carry crosses!” Then he fell silent. The minister tried to find words with which to reprove him; but in a moment Per Hansa began again—and now it was he who rebuked the minister: “My experience has been that it is mighty easy for one to talk about things he has not tried!... I have sweat blood over this thing—and now I’m no longer equal to it.... Have you ever thought what it means for a man to be in constant fear that the mother may do away with her own children—and that, besides, it may be his fault that she has fallen into that state of mind?”
When the minister finally answered, he had become all gentleness again. “No, thanks and praise to God, such affliction He has spared me!” He put one arm over Per Hansa’s shoulder. “Tell me how all this came about.”
Per Hansa sat for a while without answering; he seemed like a man trying to climb a steep hill, whose strength has given out; all at once he got up and went over to the door, standing there and looking out a long time into the darkness of the night. The minister followed him....
“There isn’t much to say about such things,” Per Hansa began. “She has never felt at home here in America.... There are some people, I know now, who never should emigrate, because, you see, they can’t take pleasure in that which is to come—they simply can’t see it!... And yet, she has never reproached me. And in spite of everything, we got along fairly well up to the time when our last child was born.... Yes, the one you baptized to-day.... Then she took a notion that she was going to die—but I didn’t understand it at the time.... She has never had the habit of fault-finding.... She struggled hard when the child was born, and we all thought she wouldn’t survive—or him, either. That’s why we had to baptize him at once. In my heedless joy, after the worst was over and things had turned out all right, I went and gave him that second name.... And then everything seemed to go to pieces!”
“That name...?”
“Yes, the second name. It was very wrong of me, I know. I see that now.”
“What are you saying, man? Such a beautiful name!”
Per Hansa looked at him.... “Do you really mean it?”
“Of course I mean it! It is the handsomest name I can ever remember giving to any child. Peder Victorious—why, it sings like a beautiful melody!”
“Please tell me—is it really a human name? And wasn’t it a sacrilege on my part?” asked Per Hansa, incredulously, hardly daring yet to acknowledge his joy.
“My dear man, have you worried about that, too?”
“Have I?... Don’t mention it!... You mean that the name is all right?”
“Yes, indeed,” said the minister without hesitation. “There is nothing unusual about it, except that you have happened to find a more beautiful form than I have yet heard; the name itself is common in all languages.”
Per Hansa gazed at the minister, bringing his face close up in order to see him better in the growing dusk of the evening. Slowly his eyes began to light with a new courage; he took a deep breath, and straightened his body up for the first time in many a long day.
“I must ask you again, for I am an ignorant man: Is this really true?... And won’t you please tell her the same thing, too—as soon as you can?”
“I certainly will.... So she does not like the name?”
“No; that’s the trouble.... She believes it is an idea that the devil himself has given me in order to get us more completely in his power—but this we didn’t realize before her mind began to cloud. Now she can’t bear to hear the name; that’s why the attack came on her this afternoon, when you fastened it on the boy for good.... I was afraid, too, that something like that might happen.”
“Well, well! Is this possible? How long has she had these attacks?”
“It began with the grasshoppers.... However, she’s always had the heavy heart to fight against.... And then, those fears of hers—just utter fancies! Can you understand how a person gets possessed by fear, right on the level, solid ground?”
“You say it began with the grasshoppers?”
“Well, sir, I came home from work one evening to find a crazy woman!... She thought it was the devil himself who had cast the plague upon us—and maybe she wasn’t far wrong in that, either!... Pretty soon she began to see visions of her mother, who had been dead for some time then, though we hadn’t got the news....”
“What’s that you are saying?”
“Yes, sir, she saw her mother; and, will you believe it, she knew that her mother was dead half a year before the letter came!... Oh, you can’t imagine how bad it was!” The terrors that he had lived through seemed fairly to choke him as he remembered the awful scenes.
“She could not have actually seen a dead person! She must have been seriously deranged.”
“Yes—may God help us!—she both saw her and talked with her!... One night I lay asleep, the first summer after the grasshoppers had come. I had saved my whole crop and got it in. Suddenly I was awakened by some one talking aloud in the room. And there she was, pacing back and forth in the middle of the floor and talking to her mother, exactly as though she were sitting by her side.... I know that she saw her, I tell you; and the child—she was carrying the child in her arms!”... Per Hansa’s breath failed him for a moment.... “‘It’s no use, mother,’ she said. ‘The boy can’t come to you with a name that Satan has tricked Per into giving him!’ Those were the very words she used. I got up, lighted a candle, and as I watched her pacing there, with the little fellow in her arms, then, at last, I saw how it was with her... I saw it then. Until that time I had refused to believe it.... Pastor,” whispered Per Hansa, “do you know what it means to feel the skin creep up your back?”...
“Did she try to harm the child?”
“Not then.” He shook his head. “I can’t say whether she had such thoughts or not; but she took the notion that her mother wanted the child with her.... The rest came later.” Per Hansa pulled himself together with a strong effort.... “It will be two years this summer; it happened toward evening, one day when the grasshoppers came in such numbers that it was hard to see the sky. If Sörrina, our neighbour woman, hadn’t been making us a visit, it’s hard telling... but there she sat, holding the child.”
“The Lord show mercy unto you!”
“Well may you say it!... That afternoon, when the grasshoppers began to beat like hail against the walls, she remembered that some of the little fellow’s clothes were lying outside to dry. She ran out to get them, but when she picked them up there was nothing left but a few tatters of cloth.... Then the spell came over her in an instant, you understand. She ran into the house like a mad woman, wailing: ‘Now the devil has come for your clothes.... He’d better have you, too.... Until he gets you we will have no peace!’... Then she grabbed for the child!” Per Hansa groaned aloud.... “But what might have been in her mind I cannot say. I forgot to tell you,” he went on, controlling himself once more, “that the very night before, her mother was in the room with her; Beret talked with her just as plainly as I now stand here talking to you. She had got up and dressed herself, and was telling her mother all about everything, the way women do... and, would you believe it, she wanted to cook coffee for her!... ‘We aren’t so poor as all that!’ she told her mother.”
“And how was it afterward?” the minister asked, deeply moved.
“Well, you see,” said Per Hansa, wiping his eyes, “I had to do something about it. So I persuaded her to let Sörrina take the child during the summer.”
“You got her to agree to that?”
“Yes, after a while; at first she wouldn’t hear of it, but finally she gave in. And now I don’t know whether I did right or wrong; I believe it hurt her terribly to have the little fellow gone. I saw how she wandered about the room, as if longing to care and do for him, but he was not there.... And one night after the plague came—I couldn’t lie awake every night, you know—she got up quietly and stole over to the house where he was.... She wanted to get the child. Whether she intended to do him harm or not, none of us can be sure. She told Sörrina and Hans Olsa that visitors had come from afar, asking to see the boy, and so she must have him; there wasn’t any way out of it. Yes, that’s what she said!”
“The Lord has certainly laid a heavy cross upon you! But remember, He will remove it in His own good time!... Now, tell me, how is she between these attacks?”
“Well, you see, she may be all right for months; one who had never known her well would hardly suspect that anything was wrong with her during this time; she does her work like all the rest of us. In the dead of winter, of course, when the blizzards are raging and we don’t see any other folks for weeks at a time, she has days when she seems to go all to pieces; but I hardly reckon that as the disease—that sort of thing happens to a good many of us, let me tell you!”
“What do you intend to do about it this summer?”
“This summer?”... Per Hansa’s face was drawn with fear as he turned to the minister.... “If Satan lets his hosts loose upon us again this summer, then I don’t know what will happen!”
The minister patted him on the shoulder:
“Take no thought for the morrow! The plague cannot last forever. And remember that the Lord is always near. As the number of thy days, so shall thy strength be. And now take this advice from me: From now on keep close to her; be toward her as you were during those happy days when you first got her; let your affection warm her into the understanding that it is good to be human; and lighten her burdens in every way.... Above everything, do not take her child away from her again. You will simply have to be as watchful as you can.... And now I will perhaps stay here to-night; arrange it so that I can be alone with her awhile to-morrow.”...
The minister gazed before him in deep thought, his heart wrung with pity and compassion. “Perhaps the Lord will allow me to reach her mind with a clarifying idea. His word is living life and can move mountains.... When I return you must take her to Communion.”
His hand was patting the shoulder on which it rested. Per Hansa wept, his sobs coming in short gasps that shook his frame; he experienced a blessing descending upon him, and his burden grew lighter. There was much more he wanted to say, but just now he could not speak....
A long pause followed; then the minister spoke again: “Let us not stand here longer in fear and darkness, talking about sad things; our bodies need nourishment.”
They walked across the yard in the quiet prairie evening, Per Hansa so happy that he could gladly have offered the minister his whole crop as it stood in all its beauty... and he had a hundred acres seeded in, counting it near and far.
Just as they reached the door of the hut somebody rounded the corner on the run and called in a quick, scared voice, “Father!”
Both men jumped, so suddenly had the figure come out of the darkness.
“Is that you, Ola? What are you up to, anyway?”
“Father, come here!” The boy grasped Per Hansa by the arm and tried to pull him along. “Hans is sitting up on the Indian mound, crying and taking on! I can’t get him to come home!”
“Is he sick?”
“No!”
“What’s the matter with him, then?” The father shook the boy.
“He is afraid of mother... you must come right away!”
The boy sped away into the darkness.
Per Hansa gave the minister a look which seemed to say: “Now you see how things are here!”... And all the radiance that for a moment had lighted up his soul was suddenly gone out. He asked the minister to enter.... “Tell them that I and the boys will be right along.”... Then he too disappeared.
The minister stood there for a while in deep uncertainty; at last he turned toward the door, made the sign of the cross in front of it, said a prayer, then opened it and went in.
... But across the fields ran Ole, and the father went after him.
“Where is he?”
“Over there!”
“You run home. I guess I can find him. Is it over there by the grave?”
“Yes... here...”
Ole vanished on the other side of the mound.
“Store-Hans, where are you keeping yourself?”
A smothered cry came through the darkness.
Per Hansa followed the sound and almost stumbled over a writhing form which lay on the ground; he bent over and lifted it up in his arms.
“Hansy-boy, what’s the matter?”
The father sat down with the limp, slender body of the boy in his arms, rocking and lulling it.
“Is... is... mother queer again?”
“No, indeed! Mother is all right, and now supper is ready.”
“Did... did she... kill Permand?”
Per Hansa took a firmer hold of the boy, got up, and started to run.
“Did she do it?”
The father spoke harshly:
“I don’t want to hear any more of such wicked talk! Mother is all right... all of us are... and now she has supper ready, and everything.” He stopped and set the boy down. “Now wipe your face—we can’t come into the house this way.”... The father began to dry the boy’s tear-stained face. “You must wash yourself as soon as you get in the house,” he said, gently, taking the boy by the hand.
V
Nothing out of the ordinary happened that evening. When the minister came into the hut he greeted them in an even voice, “God’s peace upon this house!” Then he took off his vestments, folded them up and put them in his valise, looked around for a chair, and sat down. And now that he had removed his official garb he looked like a different man; the special odour of sanctity that had rested on him seemed to have departed; he sat there quietly, having little to say, looking like a man who has just passed through a great hardship and is very tired.... The table was set for supper; upon it had been placed one candle, and another stood on a little shelf by the stove. Sörine was still in the house, bustling about and helping with the meal; And-Ongen sat on one of the beds, playing with her baby brother, who had been washed and dressed for the night and was now ready to be put to sleep. Sörine kept talking and laughing with the children as she worked, and an air of cheerfulness had come over the room.
Beret stood by the stove, bent over, washing some pots and pans; she glanced once over her shoulder at the minister as he sat down; but very soon she had to look again. And then she did something that she often wondered at afterward: she wiped her hands, took a clean bowl from the cupboard, filled it with fresh milk, and offered it to him, saying: “Have some milk, please, to stay your hunger while you wait.”
The minister took the bowl without looking at her; he emptied it at one draught, put it down, and thanked her in a few brief words.
Almost immediately Beret grew bashful and uneasy over what she had done; in her nervousness she picked up a shirt that she was making for one of the boys, sat down by the candlelight near the stove, and began to sew as hard as she could; but she kept her face turned away from the minister.
Per Hansa and the boys came in; Sörine announced that supper was ready; the four men sat down and began the meal. The minister looked at the younger boy; his face was swollen, his eyes were red with weeping; a heavy veil seemed to hide his handsome features. At the sight of the boy the minister felt more like crying than eating; a sudden revulsion overcame him. Laying down his knife and fork, he asked for another bowl of milk, which he emptied slowly, and then waited for the others to get through. When he thought they had finished, he folded his hands on the table and began to pray to the unseen one whose presence was always near.
So quickly did he begin, that at first Per Hansa didn’t realize what was going on and was on the point of asking the minister what he said. The same thing happened to the others: Ole had just discovered that he wasn’t quite satisfied, and was reaching for another piece of bread; Sörine was about to offer them all more coffee. But Beret sat bowed over her sewing, trying to catch every word; she took a few stitches, and then the work dropped to her lap; something compelled her to turn and look at him. The light of the candle cast a reddish gleam over his face; his beard seemed more silvery than ever; the countenance was that of a good child who is tired and wants to be put to bed.... His voice was gentle and low.... He is really a fine man, thought Beret, and kept on listening....
During the summer there are at times dark days on the prairie; the rain is cold, the fog dreary and dank, sticking to one’s clothes like wool. But it may happen that toward evening, just as the day is nearly done, a curtain is suddenly drawn aside; in the western sky appears a window—not built by the hand of man—all luminous with splendour; out of it shines a radiance clearer and more glorious than anything the eye has ever beheld; all around the window night and darkness hang suspended like draperies—they too radiating a glory not of this world.... Thus was the splendour which now pervaded Per Hansa’s sod house. All had folded their hands without knowing it. Over on the bed the play continued; happy laughter arose, though it did not seem to disturb the prayer. But after a while that also quieted down.... Then Permand heard the voice of the one he had been playing with earlier in the evening; it tempted him so hard that he could not resist; clad in his little nightdress, he crawled out of the bed, toddled across the earthen floor to the minister, put both hands on the knees that rose before him, and looked up merrily into the man’s face. All who saw it felt shocked at the impropriety; they wanted to stop the child, but only feared a greater impropriety in anything they might do. Per Hansa was on the point of speaking sharply, but his voice failed; Sörine thought of snatching the child away, but only remained motionless and aghast,... “I suppose I shall have to do it myself,” thought Beret—yet she, too, could not get up from her chair.... The child had entered a glory where no one dared to follow.... Without interrupting his flow of words, the minister lifted the boy onto his knees, folded the baby hands within his own, and went on with the prayer.... “Oh, this is too bad!” cried Beret to herself, struggling to rise. “The child’s nightshirt is dirty—he mustn’t sit there!” But still she could not get up from her chair: the one with whom the minister was talking stood too near.... The words flowed on without a pause, softly and sweetly, like the warm rain of a summer evening. It was as if the minister had much to confide to that other one; the other one seemed to be objecting, as if He hesitated to do what was asked; then the minister prayed more fervently; not that he raised his voice—the words came with the same gentleness—but he threw his whole soul into them, as if he refused on any account to give in.
At last he came to the little boy who sat there on his lap—the child he had christened that day. And it seemed almost uncanny to listen to what he said; one could hardly make out whether he was talking to the unseen being or to the boy himself; at times it sounded as if they might be one and the same.... He laid his hand tenderly on the child’s head; his eyes seemed closed, but the words had caught a new inspiration; to those who listened, it seemed a wonderful thing....
“Set him aside, O God,” the pastor prayed, “as Thou didst formerly with Thy chosen ones in times of yore!... Set him aside, and consecrate him as a true Nazarene!... Let him indeed fulfil the promise of his splendid name and become a true victor here, both over himself and for the salvation of his people.... And now may Thy blessed peace rest on this house, for ever and ever... Amen!”
He sat with closed eyes for some time, his hand still resting on the boy’s head; the others were very still. Beret trembled throughout her body; a choking feeling came over her, and at last she had to cough. She glanced down in confusion at her sewing.
“I haven’t done this right!” she thought, distractedly, trying to calm herself. She looked at the sewing again, got up to fetch the shears, and ripped out what she had been doing.
Then the minister began to play with the boy, in a natural, happy way; and in a little while they both seemed to be having great fun. But he didn’t have anything to say to the others; and they, in turn, couldn’t find anything to say to him.
But the next morning, as they sat at the breakfast table, the minister was both merry and talkative, and helped himself so liberally to the food that it was a pleasure just to see him do it. He asked many questions regarding the life and conditions in that vicinity, and showed himself so well informed about farming that Per Hansa asked, without thinking, whether he had ever been a farmer.... Then he suddenly remembered what the minister had told him to do the evening before; he got up hastily, called to the boys, and they left the house together.
The moment they were gone Beret grew very uneasy; she found her sewing again, and sat down with it in a furtive, embarrassed way. The minister could see nothing unusual about her, except that her face was so singularly childlike; this impression came mostly from the way she used her eyes; it was hard to find them, because she kept looking down in extreme bashfulness and timidity; nor could he seem to easily draw her into conversation.
He came over and stood beside her chair.
“Well, now, Mrs. Holm, I have a request to make of you. Two weeks from next Sunday I shall return; and then I plan to conduct Communion services here in your house.”
Beret was so astonished to hear these words, that she forgot herself for a moment and looked straight at him.
“Here in our sod house?”
“Yes, right here in your house, where you live every day.... Don’t you think it would be a blessing for you to come to the Lord with your sins and taste the sweetness of His mercy?” he said in a quiet voice.
“Here...?” she asked, greatly agitated. “Oh no—that would never do—oh no!... It’s too filthy and dirty here.... There’s too much... it’s unclean!”... She stopped abruptly, blushed scarlet, and looked down into her lap again.
“No doubt there is much sin here,” resumed the minister. “That I am sure of. But the Lord will sanctify the house for us.... And now I want you to plan how nicely we can arrange it for His blessed purposes. Let us consider the matter before I leave.” He looked around the room. “The table had better be taken out—that will give us more room. That big chest we can perhaps use as the altar—that is, if your husband could fix up something for railing. We could probably find some fitting material to cover both that and the chest; perhaps you had better talk to the neighbour women about it.”... The minister talked on as if everything were decided, with only the responsibility for its execution left in her hands.
She gave him a quick look; her cheeks were flushed.
“That is my father’s chest... it is a nice chest, too.”
The voice had grown querulous again and bore the same childlike expression; the minister made no reply. He took her hand, thanked her briefly for her hospitality, and hurried out of the room. When he got outside his forehead was damp with perspiration. He saw Per Hansa coming in his direction, but turned away to avoid him....
When Beret sat down awhile later to dress the little boy she felt that she could sing aloud to-day—felt that she had to sing, that she could not help it. Both words and melody seemed to rise in her throat; it was the baptismal hymn that they had used the previous day, and she sang all the verses.... While she sang she handled the boy so gently... as if she were almost afraid to touch him....
VI
There was much stir and activity all through that summer and fall of ’77; many schooners sailed across the wide prairie, and with them came always excitement. The greater number of them, however, went drifting past, pushing still farther westward into the sun glimmer; but there were others that anchored in the settlement and tied up for good. Many were there already, and sod houses grew up like ant hills.... Prospects seemed favourable here, they said, especially if one would take the time to look around. The soil was probably just as good here as farther west.... Well, why not try it here?...
The Sognings in particular were clever at hanging on to prospective settlers: “No use talking, you couldn’t find better land than this, if you searched clear to the Pacific coast! As far as land is concerned, you might just as well settle here.... And this is an old settlement now, the community well organized, with schools and everything.... You can easily get help for both plowing and building.”... The Sognings were practical folk, and good talkers, besides; and so they had elected a committee to advise all land seekers that passed through the settlement; this committee had informed itself—at least, it talked that way—about every quarter section that was not yet taken.
The grasshopper plague had raged frightfully that season, but they would probably soon be rid of it—and, thank God, it took neither man nor beast! This year, too, the hay was spared, and some of their crops had been saved from year to year; several of the farmers even had a little ready money left, after buying the absolutely necessary articles of food and clothing. The herds of live stock were growing constantly, and now the flocks of poultry, larger and larger each season, helped to pay for many of the things that one had to buy.
One fine day a strange monster came writhing westward over the prairie, from Worthington to Luverne; it was the greatest and the most memorable event that had yet happened in these parts. The monster crawled along with a terrible speed; but when it came near, it did not crawl at all; it rushed forward in tortuous windings, with an awful roar, while black, curling smoke streaked out behind it in the air. People felt that day a joy that almost frightened them; for it seemed now that all their troubles were over, that there could be no more hardships to contend with—at least, that was what the Sognings solemnly affirmed.... For now that the railway had come as far as this, it wouldn’t take long before they would see it winding its way into Sioux Falls. Indeed, if this wasn’t a place fit to live in now, where would one find it?—that the Sognings would like to know.... Good neighbours, schools, the finest kind of land, a railroad and everything—what more could anyone wish?...
That summer a number of houses went up to the westward of Spring Creek. Before the minister had come the first time, Hans Olsa had already hauled the materials for both dwelling and barn; now he was building. After the first year he had gone into stock raising; he had the largest herd in the settlement, and was doing very well—for those days.... And Tönseten, after receiving absolution for his great sin, had become all aglow with high ambitions; his prospects were bright of being elected klokker—perhaps deacon, too; life for him was positively glorious, just one grand song. All day his head was full of the idea that he, too, ought to build himself a respectable house. But the plan never seemed to materialize; he still lived in the old sod house. At last Kjersti would lose her temper whenever the project was mentioned. The hut was good enough, she said; besides, they had no one to build for! This latter fact, however, she didn’t refer to oftener than seemed absolutely necessary; it only made her husband sulky, and then he would call her names, like “whimpering Jane” or “weeping willow.”... He probably wasn’t to blame, poor fellow, after all....
In the fall Henry Solum built an immense barn; he saw that Hans Olsa had done well by raising cattle, and intended to follow his example; the dwelling house could wait until he got some one to take care of it—and that might be next summer, if everything went as it should.... East of the creek, too, framed houses were rising above the sod huts. The Irish, west by the sloughs, were a little slower about building; there things made scant progress until the following year. The pest had raged worse in that locality than anywhere else, because the land lay lower. And the Irish acted with native caution. They have a wise proverb which says that a good barn may perhaps pay for a decent house, but no one has ever heard of a fine dwelling that paid for a decent barn.... These words of wisdom they believed—and put them into practice.
The new houses seemed so out of place, standing up on the open, bare prairie. Did they really belong there? They looked so defiant!... And that was exactly what the savage storm thought when he came along, winter or summer, found these unheard-of objects in his way, puffed and wheezed, took firm hold, and roared in anger. Well, perhaps he did more than that; it happened now and then that a house would be toppled over, or shattered and torn to pieces; but no matter how hard the storm raged and fumed and growled and took on about it, most of the houses remained standing, and their numbers steadily increased as the years went by. And the groves of trees which the settlers had striven so hard to plant and rear—they stretched and spread, they grew in height and breadth and richness every summer. As they grew they hid the houses, except where the driveway was to come in, when plans and visions became reality. There were settlers, even, who wooded themselves in so completely—perhaps to keep out all evil—that their houses could not be seen at all until one came inside the grove....
VII
The weather was beautiful on the Sunday of the Communion service; the pest had already begun, but only that form of it which bred in the soil there at home; nothing had come yet out of the sky. To-day a light breeze was blowing from the southwest; there was just heat enough to be comfortable; the air swept one’s face like a soft, silken veil. The young people felt like taking off their clothes; the sun quivered down through a greenish-blue haze far off in the deep sky; and over on the prairie the first meadow lark had sung that morning. Both the lark and the robin had found their way out there the second summer after the settlers came.
Several folks had arrived ahead of the appointed time, and were standing in little groups around Per Hansa’s house; most of them had walked over, but those who lived farther away had come jolting along in a lumber wagon, the load and the jolting apparently increasing together. The people were all laughing and talking together, full of life and fun; from their actions no one would have gathered that they were on their way to church.
Old Aslak Tjöme, who lived just northwest of Sam Solum, brought his wife in a wheelbarrow. She had fractured her hip on the ice that spring and was still unable to walk.... “God only knows when she’s going to get well again!” said Aslak. “It’s too bad, because even when she is well I have no more help than I need.”... And Aslak was bringing his wife to church for this reason: he had a notion—just a notion—that if the minister would lay his hands on her she might gain faster.... Anyhow, there was no harm in trying.... Aslak, with his wife in the wheelbarrow, made a funny sight; he had rigged up a high back-rest for her and had fixed a seat in the barrow, covered with a sheepskin rug; on this she sat like a queen on her throne. On either side of the wheelbarrow he had fastened short poles, connecting them with a rope. The woman clung to the rope with one hand; in the other she held a hymn book wrapped in a white handkerchief.
Folks passing them stopped and laughed, and offered to push awhile. “Oh no, thank you!” said Aslak, merrily. “Now I can manage her alone; but it hasn’t always been thus—no, indeed!” Then he laughed again as he pushed on, and looked lovingly at her. She nodded and smiled, laughing back at him.... “You take my place and let me push awhile!”... That gave them a good laugh together.
The minister had reached the settlement the evening before and had stayed overnight at Per Hansa’s. That morning they had been up early, had hurried through the breakfast, and immediately after had started to put the house in order for the service. It had been thoroughly cleaned and tidied up before he came. All kinds of wild flowers that were to be found on the prairie had been gathered and hung in bouquets of various sizes under the ceiling, or put into glasses and bowls that stood around in every conceivable place. There was something strange and haphazard about it, as if it had been done by children in play.... As the minister looked around, a chill hand seemed to clutch his heart....
The table had been carried outside and the big chest placed diagonally in one corner, just as he had directed on his first visit. Per Hansa had constructed a long, low bench, made up of several small benches; this ran along in front of the chest and was covered with two rugs that Sörine had brought over; the chest itself was draped with a white cloth. The minister took the paten and the chalice and placed them on the improvised altar; he also asked for the two candlesticks he had noticed the other time, and when they had been brought and fitted with candles, he set them on either end of the chest. Over the cold stove they spread another rug; yesterday the boys had stripped off a whole tubful of willow leaves; these were now brought in and scattered around on the floor.
The result was satisfactory. The minister looked around; he had scarcely spoken since he came.... “Now I am going over to the other hut to dress for the service; I shall be there until it is time to begin, and would rather not be disturbed.”... He glanced at the wife, then at the husband, and said as he went out, “God grant to both of you a blessed Communion!”
Entering the other hut, where he had slept the previous night, the minister slowly began to put on his canonicals. His lips moved in prayer; his brow was wet with perspiration. When he had dressed he sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned his head on one hand. As he sat there, his bowed figure seemed strangely powerless and insignificant; the strength that he had so fervently prayed for at this hour, he had not received. When he finally took the books from the valise his hand trembled. His face looked pale and tired; now he felt the need of a strong faith—and when he sought it he sought in vain!...
... In him the faith was lacking; of that he was painfully aware.
With a supreme effort he got up from the bed and went out into the yard.
When he reached the other house it was packed full of people; the elders had found places in the front of the room; there also sat Aslak Tjöme with his wife, the invalid woman comfortably propped up at his side; Per Hansa and his wife sat on the very first bench, right in front of the improvised altar. The minister scanned the crowd, paused for a moment, then came forward and spoke calmly to Per Hansa: “Now, when the service begins, you two will please come forward first. As soon as you have received Communion, you had better go outside, for it will be hot and stuffy in here.” Then he went from person to person, writing down the names of the communicants; at once a deep silence fell on the room.
As the text for the Communion sermon the minister had chosen The Glory of the Lord; rather, he had not chosen it—it had suggested itself powerfully to him on the day he had gone away after talking with Beret. He had at once recognized the fitness of the theme. And now, to-day, it had returned to him with overwhelming force; here sat people who, perhaps for many years, had had no chance, no single opportunity, to confess their sins before the Lord and receive His blessed remission. Among them was one soul, sore perplexed, that he must try to reach.... He had seen clearly on his last visit—at least, he thought he had seen—that what the woman needed above everything else was the gladness of salvation, the abiding joy that issues out of the faith and the firm conviction that life is good because the Lord Himself has ordained it all.... Until he faced her he had felt so happy over the theme.... Ah, well, perhaps the Lord would vouchsafe unto him the necessary strength... yes, if he only could find the faith within his own soul!...
He asked the assembly to keep quiet and remain seated during the Communion service, and began the service at once.
But as he started to preach the words he wanted would not come; in those that came there seemed to be no power; to-day something had happened to him which he could not control. He heard himself speak, and it seemed like the voice of another. He could not fathom it; here he stood before a remarkable congregation, under the most inspiring circumstances; he had been given a text more wonderful than any servant of the Lord could rightly hope to find; in all ways he was better prepared to conduct Communion services to-day than he had ever been before.... And yet he could not preach... the words would not come!...
They were failing him utterly now. Here he was preaching about the Glory of the Lord—and stuttering like a child!... “I must go a little slower and try to collect my thoughts; that may help me; perhaps it will bring the words I need.... It makes no difference if I don’t speak so loud; the people can hear me well enough, if I can only express myself simply and clearly!”... He struggled to find the right words, the aptest illustrations; his face grew flushed with the unusual exertion; great beads of sweat stood out on it and began to roll down.... But all to no purpose....
... “If I am not careful,” he thought, “I will break down completely; I’m not saying a thing that is worth while!”... And he spoke even more slowly, making long pauses between his sentences, so that it sounded like a sort of conversation—a one-sided argument against a silent adversary.... The man who had looked forward with such fervour to preaching this sermon on The Glory of the Lord was making a sorry mess of it as he rambled on in disconnected phrases.
But he must keep going; he had asked the people to remain seated, and they were expecting a long discourse; to disappoint them would be a scandal.
... “The Glory of the Lord—what is it? One might suppose it to be too wonderful for us to talk about.... Nothing to that remark!” he thought, as soon as he had said it.... “Nothing but empty words about holy things!”...
He began to enumerate all the examples from the Scriptures that he had been striving for two weeks to cull and arrange; everything calculated to show the real wonders of the Glory of the Lord:
... “Did not Adam and Eve behold the Glory of the Lord as they walked in innocence in Paradise? The Lord spake to them in the paths of the Garden; that was in the morning of time, when the world was still young and everything in it was pure and beautiful.... And Enoch who was translated that he should not see death.... Abraham and Sarah, as they saw the promise made to them fulfilled before their eyes in such a wonderful fashion.... Jacob, who fought with the Lord and wrestled with Him as man to man—what was he allowed to see?... And that man of God, up on Mount Sinai, as he stood face to face with the Lord of Hosts.... and Jonah, and all the rest?”... The speaker toiled through the entire Old Testament and pushed his way into the New.... “What was it that the little band of disciples experienced when they sat at table with Him and He Himself brake the bread for them and handed them the cup?”
The minister paused, wiping the perspiration from his face. Every time he drew one of these word pictures for them, the idea came to him more and more forcibly: “These people, sitting here in front of me, are Sognings and Vossings; the man of the house and his wife are fisher-folk from Nordland.... How can they understand the things that happened to an alien people, living ages ago, in a distant land? The Israelites were an Oriental race; they didn’t know anything about Dakota Territory, either; they had no experience of the hardships out here!”... He could have wept aloud in his sore distress; here he stood, an old and tried servant of God—and now he had preached himself through the whole Bible without finding the Glory of the Lord!...
... “This will never, never do!” he thought, and continued doggedly to speak in slow accents, like one who goes about looking for something while he talks aloud to himself. His eyes roamed helplessly over the rows of faces; they fixed on a fly buzzing around the room, and followed it while he talked. A little way off sat a young woman with three small children; she was a fine, bright-looking woman, tanned and burned by the sun; that must be the girl that Tönseten had married, he thought. The oldest child leaned up against her, the second lay with his head on her thigh; he seemed to be sleeping, for the minister saw only the curly head. She had the youngest child in her lap. He had been restless for a long time, and the mother had unbuttoned her clothes to nurse him. The fly buzzed and buzzed, made a turn in the air, and settled on the nose of the nursing child; the mother raised her hand and swept it away, and as she did so she drew the hand caressingly over the face of the child.
The minister kept on looking at the group.... He had talked himself into complete bankruptcy respecting all things great and beautiful, without finding a message that seemed to apply here. Now, taking a sudden shift, he began to address the little group directly before him; not that he actually pointed to the sunburnt, healthy woman who sat there watching the fly, too busy to listen to him; but he commenced to speak of the love of mother and child. And all at once he did something that he had never done before in a Communion sermon—he told a story; it was a sentimental story, too—and he had always despised sentimentality in preaching:
Once upon a time, he said, a Norwegian immigrant woman landed in New York City; her name was Kari—she was widowed and had nine children.... New York is a terribly large city. Imagine the difficulties a poor immigrant woman meets with there—one who can neither speak nor understand the language! And this woman hadn’t a single friend in all America. When she landed, and saw the great throngs of people, and looked at the whirlpool of traffic, she got terribly frightened, poor soul! She had been told that in this foreign metropolis almost anything might happen to a mother coming alone with nine children; and so she had prepared herself in her own way. Around her waist was wound a long rope; this she now unrolled, tying all nine children to it in single file, but keeping the end still securely fastened around her waist. In this fashion Kari plodded through the streets of the great city, a laughingstock to all passers-by. But just the same, she reached her destination at last, with all her nine children safe and sound!... Wasn’t that rope a fine illustration of a mother’s love?
It occurred to the minister that he had come down to very commonplace things—yet he spoke straight out, from the fulness of his heart.... The people were listening intently; the woman with three little children stopped chasing the fly; he longed to tell her to go on with her duties and not mind him.... But all at once she seemed to become his own mother, as plainly as if he had seen her in the flesh; and he remembered how she had struggled and suffered as a pioneer woman, first in Illinois, afterward in Minnesota. He was profoundly moved as he caught this reflection of her destiny; his words came faster, pouring forth without a trace of effort.... “But when such love exists between a poor pioneer woman and her plain, ordinary children, what must it not be when it rises to Divinity—the love of Him Who is the source of love itself—of Him Who cares for all life, yea, even for the worm crawling in the dust? The love of mother and child can be only an infinitesimal part of that other love; yet, small and imperfect as it is, it still carries a breath of the Divine omnipotence.... If you, pioneer mothers, have not seen the Glory of the Lord, then no preacher of the Gospel will ever be able to show it to you!... And now come forward to the altar of God and taste that He is good.... Come, with all your sins and all your sorrows.... Bring Him your trials and your grief! Love itself, eternal and boundless, is present here. He is ready and willing to lighten your burdens, just as a mother cares for her nursing child.... Come and receive freely of the abundance of grace. Come and behold the Glory of the Lord!”...
The minister ended his sermon, looked at his watch, and his brows knit in a puzzled frown. How had this happened? According to the watch, he had been speaking for an hour and fifteen minutes. Could it be possible?
The people came forward, knelt down before Per Hansa’s big chest, and received an assurance so gracious and benign that they could hardly credit its reality.... Many eyes filled with tears during that hour....
The absolution took a long time. The minister looked again at his watch; he still couldn’t understand where the time had gone. In his heart he blamed himself bitterly; not only had he spoiled the Communion sermon, but he had also made it so long that no time was left for the regular sermon of the day!
And so he omitted the sermon altogether, brought the Communion service to a close, and ended with a fervent admonition to the communicants to go directly home and remain quiet for the rest of the day.... They mustn’t stop anywhere to gossip and talk!... He would return at the end of four weeks, at which time he intended to take up the question of organizing a congregation.
He refused to stop for dinner; having hastily drunk a bowl of milk, he got into his cart at once and drove off.... The cart shook and rattled; the old nag ambled along; the minister sat immersed in a deep gloom.... “Never before,” he thought, “have I failed so miserably in any service!”
VIII
It rained both Monday and Tuesday, but not so hard that Hans Olsa had to stop building. With two carpenters to help him, he made such good progress that the day was gone even before it had begun—or so it seemed to him. Which was hardly to be wondered at, because from morning till night could be heard rumbling out of the caverns of his bulky chest a continuous monotone that was seriously meant to be a song; as steady and deliberate as everything he did—as he himself was, for that matter—the vocal performance droned and rumbled on and never came to an end; and so each day proved too short, both for himself and his song.
Yes, now Hans Olsa was building himself a real house, and he sang all day at his work. And why shouldn’t he sing? This was going to be a beautiful house, larger—very much larger, in fact—than he had originally planned; it was to have a roomy kitchen, both a dining room and a parlor, with three bedrooms upstairs and two downstairs.
Concerning the matter of bedrooms on the ground floor, there had been a long-drawn argument between him and Sörine; not a serious disagreement, exactly, but—well, they had talked about it a great deal! Hans Olsa was never in the habit of saying unkind things to his wife; and Sörine always smiled, even when she was provoked; so a real quarrel between the two was hard to raise. But in this instance she held tenaciously to her idea that there must be a bedroom downstairs, no matter how many others he might build elsewhere; and that plan called for an addition to the house, which seemed a needless extravagance. And it was so unlike her—she was never known to be extravagant! So he had tried to reason the idea out of her head; but he finally had had to give it up as a bad job. And since there was no way out of building an addition, while he was about it, he thought, he might as well extend it clear across the house. Thus it had come about that there were to be two extra bedrooms downstairs.... Very unwise, a needless expense, and so utterly unlike her; but there stood the framework, all complete. Nothing to do about it now.
That Sörine was a real gift from on high no one knew better than Hans Olsa himself; and now, this particular summer, there was nothing that he would not gladly have done for her. Ever since last spring, when she had confided to him that she was with child, he had been in a state of blissful anticipation—this time he felt sure that it would be a boy. Hence the new house—hence the song. As soon as she had told him the great news he had come to the decision that that event should never take place in the old sod house; and if it meant such a lot to her to get that room downstairs, she certainly should have it, no matter how unreasonable it might be.
Hans Olsa was fully aware, these days, how everything was arranging itself for his benefit, and he walked about in a state of blissful contentment and thankfulness; his herd had steadily increased from year to year; every season he got more and more land under cultivation; there must be an end to the plague some time, so all wise men said; here, where there was not a human being to be seen the year they came, large settlements were now springing up; the soil was good, the rain and the sunshine were plentiful. And now he was building a mansion for him who was coming.... How marvellous it all was!... Hans Olsa was both a sensible and a serious-minded man; but he would gladly have built two more rooms if she had asked for them, just to show his gratitude....
He had been present at the service last Sunday, had taken part in the Communion; and the longer the service had lasted the stronger and deeper had grown his felicity. He was only a common, uneducated man, and probably lacked a proper conception of the wonders the minister preached about; yet this he knew for certain, that nothing so glorious as that Communion service in Per Hansa’s sod house had he ever before experienced, and the happiness of that hour was still glowing with steady warmth in Hans Olsa’s heart.... As Per Hansa and Beret had knelt before the chest, he had looked at them, thinking of many things. Beret’s sad condition could easily be seen in her face. Ah no, when reason once leaves a person, it seldom returns!... And Per Hansa himself had become an old man long before his time: his hair and beard were grey; his face was thin and worn; not till then had Hans Olsa fully realized the terrible struggle his lifelong friend was going through. He had gazed at the kneeling couple until his large, heavy features drooped with sympathy. Could he at that moment have shared his own happiness with his friend, he would have handed it over to him without a question.
Coming home from the service that day, he had wandered about the place, pondering over an idea which he wasn’t ready to mention to his wife until he had given it more thought. But on Monday night he broached the subject to Sörine: Shouldn’t they offer to take Per Hansa’s youngest child?... Did she suppose that would be too much for her?... You see, he wasn’t any too sure about it, himself.... And now he told her all his thoughts of the previous Sunday.... What did she say—should they offer to take the child?...
Sörine laughed and asked him teasingly if he didn’t think he’d soon have enough with his own? The next instant, however, she too became serious; and now she confided in him that for a long time she had been thinking about this very same thing, herself. But she hadn’t mentioned it to Per Hansa because he knew that she was only too willing; had he wanted to bring it about, he would only have had to ask her....
They couldn’t be sure of that, her husband objected; Per Hansa knew that she was soon going to have one of her own, and he was not the kind of a man to impose on others.... He doubted very much, as a matter of fact, if Per Hansa fully realized the seriousness of Beret’s condition. Should the plague return this summer and that awful spell come over her again, there was no telling what might happen.... “Isn’t it really up to us, who can see the true state of affairs?”
Sörine gave an unexpected answer to this question: “I believe that Beret is jealous of me because I’m so fond of her little boy.... I think I’ve noticed it.”
Hans Olsa pondered this information awhile.... Perhaps his wife was right; and there were other difficulties, too.... Suppose they did take the boy. Could they be certain that he would thrive better here? And if he didn’t, where would be the gain?... And would it be fair to the parents even to suggest such a thing?... At any rate, if things came to such a pass that Per Hansa had to send Beret away—which wasn’t at all improbable—then some one would have to take the child permanently.... And just now, wouldn’t it be too great a burden for Sörine?... No, Hans Olsa couldn’t quite see his way clear....
Sörine only laughed at him.... Certainly she would undertake to be a mother to that blessed dear little boy—it would be only one more—that is, if it ever seemed necessary. But she doubted very much if Per Hansa would consent to the plan; he thought more of that boy than of any of the other children, unless she was much mistaken.... They discussed the matter at great length that evening.
IX
Wednesday afternoon of the same week a faint mist floated before the sun. A light, warm rain fell at intervals from drifting shreds of clouds. Between showers the sun peeped through the clouds to see what was going on down on the prairie; and he set the rainbow here and there as a sign that he was well pleased. There was a big blue heaven behind it all, the air very still... beautiful weather.
Beret sat in the old sod barn which Per Hansa long since had made over into a workshop and storehouse, sewing a shirt for little Permand. The door was open and she sat where she could look out. She had sent And-Ongen to the field with some water for the boys, who were hoeing the potatoes. Per Hansa was repairing the roof of the new barn. It had been leaking there since the frost went out of the ground last spring, because the willow poles used for supports had not been heavy enough. She could not see him from where she sat, but she could hear him working.
“Yes,” she sighed, looking up from her sewing, “he can manage his work all right. I only wish I could do mine as well.”... Her face carried the same childlike expression that the minister had noticed, her eyes had the same dreamy, far-away stare; they seemed to be seeing something she did not want to behold, looking for something that would never happen; hence the strange sadness that always shone through them.
She felt perfectly happy, however, but felt so tired and drowsy; it had been this way every day now since that remarkable man had placed his hand on her and in his prophetic voice had assured her that from this time forth she was released from the bonds of Satan.... That any man could have such power!... Yet she knew positively now that he hadn’t been deceiving her, because burden after burden had been lifted from her soul—she felt so light that she could almost float in the air.... But after a while this drowsiness had come on. She could not imagine what ailed her; she slept well at night, and yet was so sleepy during the day that it was a constant struggle to keep awake; to-day she had lain down right after eating and had fallen asleep immediately.
... A blessed man he was, indeed.... And the way he had got them to sing! She had to smile as she remembered it.... Just imagine! he had made them sing exactly the same hymns here in this sod house as the people sang in the churches in Norway—yet no harm had befallen the house on that account.... Melodies were yet hanging throughout the room; yesterday while at work she had heard them everywhere. She had even caught one up and followed it—had sung until Per Hansa came rushing in, to ask her what was the matter; he had looked at her so queerly.... He ought not to get frightened just because she sang!
As she recalled the incident now, snatches of the song came back to her again, and she began humming.... No, no—this would never do! She might scare some one again—people seemed so easily frightened here.... This had turned out to be a rather hard piece of sewing, but the child was going to look fine in his new shirt.... Would she be able to hear him in the other hut when he woke up?... Well, he had a pretty good voice!...
... Surely, now, mother will stop asking for him when she hears he is going to be a minister!... The smile on her childlike face broadened and lighted up.... A minister in the family—I, the mother of a servant of God—why, that is exactly as it is in the Bible!... Her hands trembled as stitch followed stitch. But thoughts were crowding rapidly on her now; she laid down her sewing.
... When mother comes—and she can be expected at any time now—I shall tell her all that has happened here lately. And then I shall say: “You would never have become the grandmother of a minister if I had remained in Norway. Such miracles do not happen there.”... But very likely she’ll not believe what I tell her.... Beret’s expression became thoughtful and troubled; she rested her hands idly in her lap.... Then I must tell her that now we have a church, right here in our house. At that she’ll only laugh and shake her head, and she’ll probably say: “Now, Beret, you don’t know what you are talking about!” That’s just what she’ll say.... But I will have to answer: “Now, mother, I certainly do. Listen to me: We have a real church. There is an altar with candles on it, and the altar is father’s big chest!”... That will astonish her still more.... “Beret, my child,” she’ll say, “you are too foolish—you must guard your speech. One doesn’t say everything that comes into one’s head, you know!”... But then I’ll show her how Syvert and Kjersti, Hans Olsa and Sörine and all the rest, knelt down before the chest and there partook of the Glory of the Lord. I shall describe it all.... She knows Hans Olsa and Sörine—she will believe them.... I must show her just where the chest stood.... Let me see if I can remember the exact words he used:—“the gracious forgiveness of all thy sins.”... Yes, he said all... all... I am sure of that... I remember it distinctly....
For some time Beret sat deeply absorbed in her thoughts, her sewing in her lap, her hands resting on it without motion.... Mother will sit by the stove, just as she always has done when she has been here. “Well,” she’ll ask, “are you sure now, Beret, that he is going to be a minister? Don’t draw hasty conclusions—you’ve always been so impulsive!” That’s exactly what she’ll say.... Then I must answer: “Yes, mother, you needn’t doubt it any longer; for I myself sat here and heard how this wonderful man argued about it with the Lord—and how he got his way, too. And both Per Hansa and Sörine heard it also. You can ask them if you don’t believe me.”... Then mother will look at me in her kind way, for a long, long time. At last she’ll say: “Well, if God can use him, it certainly isn’t proper for me to want him; though I would like to have some one of yours with me. But now you must take good care of him, my child!”... “Yes, mother, how can I help it? How can I ever forget that he is to go out into the world to give of the Glory of the Lord to the children of men?”... Then mother will get up to go.... I must say to her: “Don’t forget to greet father! You might just as well tell him all this, about his big chest.”...
Beret’s face had gradually grown very serious. But the sound of heavy steps in the yard brought her out of her reveries. Some one stopped at the barn, and then went in; in a moment she heard the voice of Per Hansa.... What can they want of him now?... Hm, hm—it’s Per Hansa this, and Per Hansa that! First one comes and takes him away, and then another; they never leave him a minute in peace! Can’t they understand that I need him at home?... And he is so easily talked around—he can’t say no to anyone.... I suppose it’s some more hauling—and then he’ll be gone for a long time....
She picked up her work again, but the sewing failed to claim her attention.... It took a long while over that errand. Who could it be?
Putting the work away, Beret stepped quickly out of the door, stealthily crossed the yard to the side of the new barn, and pressed herself close to the wall.... Oh, this was Hans Olsa! It was all right, then—he certainly didn’t need any more hauling.
She was straightening up to return, when something arrested her—kind words spoken slowly in a deep voice..... Hush! hush! They ought not to talk that way about her when she was listening!
... “Should Beret get another spell, you know what might happen—a calamity none of us could get over. We’ve all seen enough of such things.... Now, we will take the boy and care for him as though he were our own flesh and blood.... Sörrina and I have talked it over.”
Beret’s childlike features suddenly took on a peculiarly covert expression.... Ah-ha! So that’s his errand?... Hush! Hush! There is Per Hansa speaking!... His voice sounds so queer—can he have been frightened again?...
... “That’s more than good of you and Sörrina—I realize it all; but matters will have to take their own course.... She is the mother, and I can see how she clings to him.... This spring I worried a lot about what I ought to do when summer came; but now I’ve decided that she shall keep the child with her. If she doesn’t get well by having him at home, it certainly won’t make things any easier for her to have him away—that I know.... She risked her life for him once, and she shall not be bereft of the happiness of having him with her now, no matter what happens.... There’s a Destiny that rules us all—it’s bound to overtake us, whether we are here or there.”
... “Now I’m afraid you are taking too great a responsibility upon yourself,” said the other voice, slowly. “Remember what might have happened last summer when she had the spell.”
A short silence fell in the barn. Beret’s features grew tense. Bending over with a quick, fierce movement, she snatched up a piece of stake and grasped it tightly.
... “No,” came Per Hansa’s voice in meditative tones, “that’s just what none of us can say for certain. She might have escaped the attack altogether if the child had been at home.... I remember how pitiably she seemed to miss him. I’m not at all sure that isn’t what brought on the spell. Perhaps that burden, added to everything else, became too much for her.... And even if the spell had come on with him here at home, she might not have harmed him—I doubt it very much....”
As Beret drank in these words the tenseness all left her; the weapon she had seized dropped from her hand; her body straightened up; she looked about in wide-eyed wonder.... Were those church bells she heard?... But the voices were beginning again on the other side of the wall.... Hush! Hush!
... “Do you really think so?” asked Hans Olsa, seriously.
... “Well, I tell you, Hans Olsa, there’s hardly an angle to this affair that I have not considered. I’m thinking of nothing else, when I’m asleep as well as when I’m awake. And this I do know,” he added with great certainty, “that a kinder person than Beret the Lord never made; there’s nothing but kindness in her.... I’ve come to the conclusion that even in her beclouded moments she has meant no harm to the child—no matter how things may have looked to us.... When all is said and done, it’s my own fault from beginning to end.”
“O God! How beautiful these bells ring!” thought Beret.
... “Because,” Per Hansa went on, sadly, “I should not have coaxed and persuaded her to come with me out here.... Perhaps it was her misfortune that we two ever met.... You remember how it was in Nordland: We had boats that we sailed to Lofoten in, big crafts that could stand all kinds of rough weather, if properly handled; and then there were the small boats that we used for the home fishing; the last were just as fine and just as good for their own purposes as the other kind for theirs, but you couldn’t exchange them; you couldn’t sail to Lofoten with the small boats, nor fish at home in the larger ones.... For you and me, life out here is nothing; but there may be others so constructed that they don’t fit into this life at all; and yet they are finer and better souls than either one of us.... There are so many things we don’t comprehend.”
... “I certainly ought to know Beret,” remarked the other voice, thoughtfully. “We were playmates, she and I.”...
... “I doubt that very much,” interrupted Per Hansa, “though you are an observing man. I have lived with her all these years, yet I must confess that I don’t know her.... She is a better soul than any I’ve ever met. It’s only lately that I have begun to realize all she has suffered since we came out here. The minister was probably right; no one can ever fathom the depths of a mother’s heart.... The urge within me drove me on and on, and never would I stop; for I reasoned like this, that where I found happiness others must find it as well.... But you see how things have turned out!... The finest castle on earth I was going to build her—and here we’re still living in a mole’s hole—all my dreams have been crushed in misery.... But this I’ve decided, that she shall keep the baby—though I thank you for the offer.”... The sadness in Per Hansa’s voice had grown deeper and more profound than the grey autumn evening that falls on the bleak prairie.
... “You mustn’t feel hurt about the offer,” put in the slow voice of Hans Olsa. “We only thought it might do a little good.”
Beret listened no more; she walked away like one in a dream of happiness; she did not know where she was going nor what she did. In the southern sky floated transparent little clouds; rainbow ribbons hung down from them. She saw the rainbow’s glow; her face was transfigured; she walked on in ecstasy.... “Are there signs for us in the sky?... That is the Glory of the Lord now... See!... The whole heavens are full of it!... There... and there again... everywhere!”
She reached the other house, came to the door, and would have gone by, but in the house a child was crying loudly. Beret stopped short and passed her hand across her face, as if trying to wake herself from a dream that possessed her; then she went quickly into the house. Over on the bed sat Permand, crying as though his heart would break. Beret hurried to the bed, threw herself down on it, took the boy in her arms, and hugged him close; she felt as if she had got back a child that had been irretrievably lost; she wept as she fondled him, while wave upon wave of gratitude welled up within her.
The boy was so astonished at his mother’s strange behaviour that he stopped crying immediately and lay quiet; then he wriggled out of her arms and threw himself on the pillow, one of his forefingers in his mouth, the other pointing out into the air, as children often will do when they don’t know whether to laugh or cry. There was something so irresistibly comical about him as he lay there pointing at nothing, that a sudden surge of playfulness swept over her and she threw herself down beside him on the pillow. Then he gave her his very biggest smile, letting the finger that had been hovering in the air fall on her face. At that they both burst out laughing—she so boisterously that he withdrew the finger and gave her a frown. She stopped laughing at once, petting and fondling him until she had won him completely.
X
As Beret lay there playing with the child she was suddenly overcome with drowsiness; it seemed to her that she simply could not resist snatching a little sleep—it would feel so delicious. In a moment she had dozed off and was carried away into an infinite, glittering blue space with rainbows hung all around it. The air felt soft and warm about her. A voice, loud and clear, yet very beautiful, was speaking through the sky.... She could not have slept long, for when she awoke there sat the boy close by her side, poking a wet finger into her eyelid. She hastily raised up on one elbow and rubbed her eyes, unable to bring herself fully awake.... “My, how I must have slept!” she thought.... She gazed wide-eyed at the child beside her, and rubbed her eyes again, but could not seem to be able to connect things in her mind.... “Why, what am I thinking about?” she said, half amused. “This is my own little Permand!”
She sat up on the edge of the bed, lifted the boy tenderly, and put him down in her lap. To her own surprise, she was trembling in every limb; she felt a sudden overwhelming bashfulness, like a lover who for the first time comes close to his beloved.
“I want something to eat now!” murmured the boy in a voice that was full of well-being.
—Of course, this little fellow needs food! she thought.
The boy wriggled out of her arms and slid down to the floor.... She could hardly take her eyes away from him; she began to feel almost frightened because of all the vigorous life in that sound little body.
She hastily left the bed and started to find something for the child to eat. It was in her mind to get some milk from a shelf in the corner; but instead of going there she remained standing in the middle of the floor, looking about the room, her eyes still large with wonder.... Everything looked so strange in here to-day! What could have happened. It seemed to her that she hadn’t been here for a long time.... The child was growing impatient; he took hold of her skirt, shook it, and wanted her to hurry.... It confused her dreadfully to stand here like a stranger in her own house!... Well, anyway, there was the bowl of milk she had been looking for.... Where was the spoon, now, that she always used for skimming?... And used she not to have a special cup for the child?... And the bread—he had to have a slice of bread with his milk!... Where was the bread always kept in this house?...
Beret went searching about in her own home like a housewife who had been away on a long visit and returns a partial stranger. But the feeling of home-coming filled her with such joy, that she could only laugh at her bewilderment.... She found one thing here, another there; at last the boy had eaten his fill and was satisfied.
All at once another thought struck her; she glanced around with puzzled anxiety.... Where were the rest of the family to-day?... Surely Per Hansa was somewhere around. Hadn’t she just been talking to him?... And where could the children be keeping themselves?... It exasperated her, yet she couldn’t help laughing; here they had all been with her only a moment ago, and now she couldn’t recall the least little thing! Was she walking in her sleep, in broad daylight.... Thinking vaguely that she must try to get things cleared up, she went out of the door and looked around.
The mildness of the afternoon greeted her like a friend. She breathed in the pure air deeply, straightening her body, throwing back her arms.... What fine weather, these days!... The trees around the yard caught her eye; again she had the feeling of having just returned from a long journey. The idea! Look how big that grove is getting to be!... Over on the prairie, some distance away, rose a half-finished house. Well, that’s Hans Olsa’s. It will be fine for Sörrina to move into that new house! No matter how good care you take of a sod house, it’s never very satisfactory—dust and dirt keep falling from the ceiling all the time, especially when it gets old.... But who was that tall, stooping man coming out of the barn? Now he had greeted her quietly in a deep voice and walked on.... Beret began to be worried. Wasn’t that Hans Olsa? Didn’t she know her own neighbour?... Hearing some one still in the barn, she hurried across the yard and peered in.
“Are you in there?” she called.
A stocky, broad-shouldered man appeared in the barn door; his face was deeply furrowed; his hair and beard, heavily sprinkled with grey, were now full of dust and straw. As she looked at him she felt strangely uneasy and disturbed; but she couldn’t help giving him a bright smile:
“What in the world has happened to you, Per Hansa?”
He stood staring fixedly at her, unable to stir a muscle. No power on earth could have taken his eyes away from her face at that moment; he caught hold of the jamb of the door to steady himself.... God in heaven!—what had happened....
Beret saw his great agitation. Now her disturbance increased—her concern over him grew genuine. “Are you sick, Per Hansa?” she asked in tones of deepest sympathy, coming closer to him. “You mustn’t keep on with this work when you aren’t feeling well; there can’t be such a hurry about it, you know.”
Per Hansa cleared his throat to speak, but no words came... he could only look at her.
She noticed his pale, haggard face, and her anxiety grew insistent. “You’ve got to quit right now!... I’ll run in and boil some milk for you!”... She hurried off to the house, too full of her new-found solicitude to wait for an answer.
In the open door Per Hansa stood gazing at her as she went; he longed to follow her, to touch her, to talk to her, but he dared not do it.... There was a spade standing beside the door; he picked it up and set it down inside....
“No, it better not stand in here.” He picked it up again and put it back.... His eyes rested on a hammer lying on the floor—the one he had been using a moment ago. “I must remember to put that hammer away before it gets tramped into the ground.”... Next moment he forgot all about it.... He was shaking violently from head to foot; he had to lean up against the wall.... “God be merciful! I haven’t seen her like this for many years!”... Then he sighed wearily.... “But I don’t suppose it means anything.”
Beret came into the house, moving with purpose and confidence now, and hurried to light the fire. The boy was still sitting at the table; no sooner did he see her than he wanted more to eat. But she had no time to bother with him; she put a pan on the stove and filled it with milk.... “Poor fellow, he must have caught a cold, in all this rainy weather,” she thought. “And summer colds are hard to get rid of, unless they’re taken in time. I’d better mix some pepper with the milk.... If I could only persuade him to lie down so that I’d have a chance to cover him up and get him good and warm, I’d soon have him all right again.... Colds don’t usually last very long with him.”
As she was tidying up the bed she chanced to get a glimpse of herself in the mirror that hung on the wall behind it; she had to take a second look.... “Good gracious! What a sight I am to-day! No wonder he looked worried—he who always wants me so nice!”... While she was waiting for the milk to simmer, she washed her face and combed her hair; that done, she opened the big chest, found her best Sunday garments, and hurriedly put them on.... Now then, she wasn’t quite so much of a scarecrow....
The milk boiled; she lifted it off the stove, went to the door, and called Per Hansa.... As a timid child enters a stranger’s house and does not dare to put aside his cap, so now Per Hansa stepped across his own threshold. Permand was still sitting by the table; his father caught sight of him there, and walking over to him, picked the boy up and sat down in his stead; then he put him on his lap and gently stroked his hair.... His voice was gone—it would not come.... All the while he was casting furtive glances at his wife; big beads of sweat stood on his forehead.
She brought him a cup of the steaming milk. “I put pepper in it; now you must get it down while it’s still hot.... Then you shall go right to bed and get good and warm!”
Without protest he did as she bade him, sipping cup after cup of the strong hot mixture; he couldn’t keep his eyes off her face.... But still he found no words to say to her; whenever he tried to speak his throat closed....
While he was drinking she came and sat down by his side, telling him innocently how topsy-turvy things had seemed to her to-day. Why, she had just lain down for a moment with the child, and when she woke up it had seemed as though she had been gone for years and a day! She laughed merrily as she told him about it.
Per Hansa listened in silence, looked at her, and drank of the hot mixture until the tears rolled down his cheeks.... She chatted on unconsciously, her voice low but full and very sweet; as he gazed at her, he saw in her face only intelligent concern—only loving solicitude—exactly like the dear Beret-girl that he used to know!... When he found it impossible to swallow another drop of the hot pepper-and-milk, she insisted that he lie down at once; if he would only take a good sweat, this cold would soon pass off. Per Hansa obeyed like a docile child, while she herself came and tucked the quilt around him.... “Now try to drop off to sleep.... Don’t worry—you’ll soon be all right.”
He turned his face to the wall, crying silently; he had clasped his hands together with a grip of iron, but soon he had to break the grip, to wipe the tears away....
He lay thus until the paroxysm had passed and he felt that he could master himself. Then he flung the covers aside, sat up suddenly on the edge of the bed, and looked intently at Beret, long and slow.... He began to believe... and as he looked, he felt his old self returning....
“Are you getting up already?” she asked, greatly surprised. “I really think you ought to stay in bed the rest of the day.”
“Oh, well...!” He laughed boisterously, rose to his feet, and stretched himself. “I guess I’d better hurry up and get that rickety roof fixed.... We must begin building here as soon as Hans Olsa can find time to help with the hauling!... By God, we’re not going to live like moles all our days!... That drink of yours was pretty good. Have you got a drop left?” He came forward and began pacing up and down the room.... “God!”... But then he checked himself in time, caught Permand in his arms, and flung him up to the ceiling again and again, until the boy shrieked with delight.
“My, my, how funny we all are to-day!” smiled Beret as she stood there with the bowl in her hands, waiting for them to come to their senses.